Let's Do It – Ella Fitzgerald

Shelagh. Shelagh. Shelagh. Her – her beautiful name – name joyfully bounces about in his head as the fog from the road slowly begins to dissipate around them. Curling his fingers into the lapels of his jacket that he placed around her, he takes a step closer so that the tips of their shoes kiss.

A curious sensation sizzles from the tip of his nose all the way down to his bones with an overwhelming desire to touch her, almost as if her soft skin is the only element his body needs in order to survive. Letting go of his jacket, he draws the pad of his thumb along her cheek.

Closing her eyes, she knows, just from his simple touch, that she has made the right decision in choosing this path; arduous and dark at first, now shines as brightly as the blessed sun. Everything that felt so wrong a few months ago, now feels so right as his fingers lightly dance along the path of her neck.

Grasping his free hand with both of hers, she leans down and gently kisses his palm; just like he had done at the fête, except he doesn't pull away. Glancing up through her eyelashes, her knees nearly collapse at the dusk of desire that fires through his eyes. "I… I wanted to write you back, but I was unsure how to put that in a letter."

"I love you." Snapping his lips closed after his words blurts out of his mouth, he is relieved to find that a soft smile stretches along her cheeks and reaches the creases of her eyes. Grasping both of her cheeks, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on hers. "I don't know when it happened, but it did and I am so happy to have found you."

-Beep! Beep!-

Patrick chuckles at the car horn cutting through the hazy fog of love that has clouded all of his senses. "I brought someone with me and he is anxious to see you."

Leaning out of their embrace, just slightly, Shelagh peeks over his shoulder to find Timothy wildly waving at her. Blushing at the thought of his son witnessing their passionate embrace, she buries her face into his chest.

Patrick gives her a quick kiss on the forehead, before picking up her suitcase with one hand and pulling her towards the car with the other. "He wants to see you, desperately."

Opening the door and stepping out onto the dirt road, Timothy runs the rest of the way before crashing into her with a monster of a hug. He knows that without a doubt that his father is in love with her. And while the true thought of "love" makes him wrinkle his nose, he is happy to see his father happy again and to know that Sister Bernadette is healthy.

Pulling away with blush tinging both of their cheeks, he murmurs, "I'm so glad we found you Sister Bernadette. I'm also glad that you are well enough to come back to Poplar."

Shelagh looks to Patrick first before smiling back at Timothy, "I'm glad to be coming back."

Hearing the thunder rolling miles away, Patrick encourages them to move, "Let's get into the car before it begins to rain." Opening both passenger doors, Timothy squeezes in while Shelagh gingerly slips in the front. Dropping her luggage into the boot, he quickly walks around the car before shoveling in himself. Instantly, he turns to her and asks, "Have you eaten?"

"Not since breakfast," she softly replies.

Timothy pops up from behind them, "There was a restaurant not to far back, dad. We can take Sister Bernadette there as a celebration for getting better."

She blushes, "I don't want to impose. Besides, I have to meet with Sister Julienne and find suitable boarding before the day's end."

Timothy's "We are hungry too," crashes against Patrick's "It's not an imposition," and both look at each other crossly.

It is Patrick who wins the stare down battle and speaks, "It is no imposition simply for the fact that you are recovering from an illness and you need to keep up your strength."

Timothy patiently waits his turn before blurting out, "And we are starving and I don't think you want to punish yourself with dad's version of cooking."

"Oi!" Patrick barks as Shelagh giggles into her fingers. Hearing her small laugh instantly diverts his attention from his son back onto her. A goofy grin settles along his lips as he softly replies, "We will be able to get you back in time for you to complete your errands."

As he drives away from a vestige that he will always remember as the spot where they found each other, he nervously fills in the silent void that has overtaken the car, "If you need a reference to rent a room, please put my name down. In fact, I believe Mrs. B. is in need of some help since falling a few months back. She has not taken kindly to neither mine or Sister Julienne's advice on taking in someone to help with her daily chores. She might, though, be more comfortable with you since she knows you."

He finally stops his rambling and takes a brave peek over to her to see that she is staring out of the window. Not wanting to make her transition anymore awkward than it already is, he wisely seals his mouth shut and focuses on driving with a tightening grip on the steering wheel.

That is until Timothy speaks up, "Are you no longer Sister Bernadette? Do we call you Bernadette or do you have another name?" The precocious eleven year old leans forward with his arms and rests his chin on his hand, yet he – curious of the changes happening right before his eyes – doesn't stop his line of questioning all in one long breath. "Are you leaving the nuns because you kissed dad on his hand? Can you still be a nun and stay with us? Oh, and what–"

"Timothy! That's quite enough from you," his father sternly calls out to him with a steely stare from his perch in the rear view mirror.

Shelagh covers Patrick's hand on the gear shift with her own. "It's quiet alright. I'm sure I'm going to have to answer the same questions when we return to Poplar."

As she turns to face the eager young boy in the back seat, she naturally tries to slip her hand from his, but he doesn't allow it. Stealing a glance over to him, she silently understands that there is no more need to hide their 'forbidden' feelings from those around them – at least from the people who know about our relationship and, the only ones who are privy to it, are sitting in this very car on its way to a celebratory lunch.

Giving him a gentle squeeze, she keeps her hand with his as she partially turns towards Timothy, "I have decided to resend my vows as a nun, so in essence, I am no longer Sister Bernadette."

"What shall I call you," Timothy interrupts.

She gives him a warm smile, "You shall call me Shelagh. That was my name before I joined Nonnatus House as a nun and that is the only name I wish to go by from here on out."

"Shelagh? Shelagh. Shelagh." Her name bounces about in his head and off of his tongue as if he is trying to get used to saying it. All my life I have known her as 'Sister Bernadette'. "It's a very pretty name," he slowly begins, "but I might accidentally call you Sister Bernadette from time to time."

"That's okay," she gives Patrick an affectionate smile when she feels him squeezing her hand, "I know there are a lot of changes that we will all have to get used to."

"You mean you kissing dad?" He scrunches his nose and makes a face. "Kissing is gross. Jack and Benny told me that nuns can't kiss men, but you're not a nun anymore so I guess that means that it's okay for you and dad to kiss. Just promise me you won't do it in front of me and my friends."

While Timothy overlooks his bluntness with another 'grossed out' face, Shelagh glances down at the crack of the seat in embarrassment.

Trying to clear the somber mood that has now stiffened in the air between the two adults, Patrick warns, "Timothy…," his reproach is caught by the younger Turner with wide, unknowing eyes as to why he is in trouble. "Timothy, this is all brand new for Shelagh. Your questions and comments are bordering on rude."

Volleying between the two adults, Timothy notices Shelagh's rather red cheeks and says in earnest, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry. I'm just curious as to where we go from here."

"You are not the only one," Shelagh soothes. Lifting her chin, she gives him a small smile. "I would appreciate your confidence, though, until we have figured out where that path will lead us."

In truth, Timothy was itching to tell his two best friends that he saw a nun kissing a man, but he doesn't want to embarrass her or himself in the long run. "I promise."

"That's a good lad," his dad calls back as he pulls into a bed and breakfast that is open to the public for lunch.

As his dad parks the car, Timothy notices that they are looking at each other while trying not to get caught. He is about to roll his eyes when he sees his dad's eyes light up from a bright smile that she gives him. Now, I think I understand. "You have made my dad happier than I have seen him since mummy died. I'm glad you came back to us as Shelagh instead of Sister Bernadette."

Tears gather in the corners of her eyes at his last comment. Speechless as to how to reply back, she can't help but feel that she has crossed her first – and hardest – hurdle since walking out of the sanatorium without the sanctity of her habit. I've scaled my mountain and I'm lucky to have them waiting for me on the other side.

Carefully watching the exchange on her face, Patrick tuns to his son and murmurs, "You have helped make that path a little more easier to see, son." As confusion settles in the knit of Timothy's brow and Shelagh hastily wipes at her cheek, he opens the door and quickly makes his way to the other side. As they both step out, he quips, "I'm hoping they have something other than fish and chips."

As Timothy gives another 'yuck' face, Shelagh giggles, "That is actually something I have been looking forward to eat since I have been discharged." Enjoying the sheer look of slight disgust on both Turner men faces, she stifles another laugh as she makes her way to the entrance.

..::..::..

Gripping the curves of his hat, Patrick glances up at the wooden cross juxtaposed against the colorful stained glass. It had been a long time since he has been in a church by himself and an even longer time since being confronted with his catholic upbringing on his own. Prayers in solitude have been more challenging to me as opposed to the monotony of prayers in church.

Glancing at the closed door to Sister Julienne's office, he mentally wonders if he has time to give the prayer of thanks. It is rather long, yet, he looks back at the cross, you did bring Shelagh into my life. What better place to give thanks than in the building she has called home for over ten years.

Rubbing his thumb along the pads of his pointer and middle finger, he casts a shy look around before bending down on one knee. Marking the cross along his body, he recites his prayer. Just as he marks the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the door to Sister Julienne's office opens.

"As I live and breath, Doctor Turner giving thanks through the Lord, our Savior."

Sister Evangelina's cocky voice fills the echoing hall of the abbey as he awkwardly stands. Looking between the cross and the people he has come to see, he feels trapped by tempting fate. He started his prayer and he had an urge to finish it so as not to upset the powers that be.

Rolling her eyes, Sister Evangelina curries her hand through the air and shortly calls out to him, "Be a good boy and finish your prayer, we haven't got all day."

Bending back down on his knee, he finishes the prayer he knows by heart as quickly as he can; foregoing the 'Our father' part. Sending up an apology to his mother, he marks his faith again and quickly stands.

Marching towards the office, just as he passes Sister Evangelina, she stops him with a hand on his forearm and murmurs so that only he can hear, "You forgot the 'Our father' part, but I'll let it slide just this once."

Numbly nodding his head, he steps further into the cramped office and settles in a chair opposite of Sister Julienne. Placing his hat on the curve of his knee, he waits for Sister Evangelina to sit next to him before starting. "I, uhh, wanted to thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I know with Nurse Noakes in the hospital, you feel as if your time should be spent elsewhere."

"While we continue to pray for Nurse Noakes' recovery, we are overjoyed at the newest addition to her family." Sister Julienne smiles, "Yet that is not the only thing that has brought joy back into Nonnatus House. Sister Bernadette, or rather Miss Mannion, as what she would like to be called now, has returned back from the Sanatorium completely healed."

Briefly biting down on his bottom lip, he stiffly nods his head, "Yes, Timothy and I were the ones who drove her back to Poplar."

Surprise and confusion volleys back and forth between the two nuns at the reason their sister decided to call him instead. And while somethings that she had noticed are starting to connect for Sister Julienne, Sister Evangelina calls out with the cross of her arms, "Oh really?"

Stroking the blessed inch of skin she had kissed on their road of discovery, Patrick silently encourages himself to be brave – as brave as Shelagh. "That is why I came here tonight and on such short notice." Avoiding Sister Evangelina altogether, he glances at Sister Julienne and quickly says, "I would like your permission for Shelagh's hand in marriage."

The silence that engulfs the trio in the small office is stifling to say the least.

"No!" Sister Evangelina's voice reverberates loudly off of the brick walls.

As hot anger at her quick answer fires through his chest, Patrick turns to the robust nun and counters her one word answer with his own, "Why?"

She narrows her brows at the insolence of the man sitting in front of her. "You asked for my permission and I gave you my answer. Are you a trifle deaf of hearing?"

Holding up her hand to stop the onslaught of bickering that was sure to take place, Sister Julienne turns to Sister Evangelina and reasons, "I too have my doubts, but we should allow the Doctor to speak."

Leaning back in her chair and folding her arms along her chest, she murmurs, "Very well, but," she sharply holds up one finger, "this is only because I trust you as a competent doctor, not as some heartthrob Romeo."

"Thank you Sister," he bows his head towards Sister Julienne. Swallowing past the rather large lump in his throat, he begins with the one thing he is sure of, "I love her very much."

"Oh for Pete's sakes, what did I tell you about heartthrob Romeo?" Sister Evangelina shouts out.

Sister Julienne was just about to instill the peace once more when Patrick interrupts her, "I speak the truth. I'm in love with her. I see myself with no one else but her as my wife."

"Pardon me for saying this Doctor," Sister Julienne softly calls to him, "but how would you know you are in love with Shelagh when she has been 'Shelagh' for a few days at most?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes it. He doesn't want them thinking that they had done something to be ashamed about. Just a few touches here and there, a few chaste kisses on her palm, and that kiss in the car, but they don't need to know about that.

"Oh my God! How long have you been coveting her?" Sister Evangelina's fury is now starting to boil over the top. "Did you do anything to her?" At his continued silence, she abruptly stands up, making her chair topple behind her, but she pays no mind to it whatsoever. "I swear, if you laid one unwelcoming finger on my sister, I'll make Adolf Hitler look like the bloody pansy lion from Oz."

Standing herself, Sister Julienne looks between the two warring sides and is unsure of where to place her loyalties.

Patrick shakes his head and somberly looks up to the one person that has seen his family evolve over the course of several years, "Sister Evangelina, you were at my wedding to Mariann. You helped her give birth to our son. And," his voice gets caught in his throat, "and you held my hand when she took her last ounce of breath. Never once did you question my love or my loyalty to her." When he sees her features soften, he sighs, "I'm in love with Shelagh with all my heart, body, and soul. Never once did I cross a line with her that would put her at risk of losing your trust."

Gritting her teeth to stave off the tears threatening to fall, Sister Evangelina croaks, "But she has barely seen the light of day from the other side of our walls. How do you know you are what she needs? How do you know you will make her happy?" Her voice gives out as a tear spills down her cheek. With a quick wipe of her finger, she clears her throat and explains, "She is but a child in a world where her faith cannot save her from being… used."

He takes a moment to ask those very same questions. A small voice – tiny compared to the voice that reasons that he's no good for her – reminds him that they make each other happy and that is all that matters. "You are extremely protective over her and, for that, I am thankful, more than you will know."

"I think what Sister Evangelina is trying to say," Sister Julienne interrupts, "is that why do you want to ask her so soon after her departure from Saint Anne's? She hasn't even had time to convalesce, let alone to get back on her feet after such a change."

"Because my love for her will never waver, not even in the slightest. She brings a lightness to a part of me I had thought would never see the sun again. Then she fell ill with TB and once again my world fell silent, dark. That brightness that filled my heart disappeared. When we – Timothy and I – went to go pick her up from the sanatorium, we found her wondering and lost on a country road. Just as I placed my coat around her shoulders, she told me that she was no longer lost now that I had found her." Bowing his head, he barely mumbles, "She doesn't understand that it was I who was lost on that winding road and it was her spirit, her love that lit the way for me."

He glances up between the two women Shelagh cares about more than anyone else. "Nevermore will I be condemned to the darkness by the loss of my first love, not with a brightness that she willingly shines down on our lives."

Straightening his back with a deep breath, he confidently says, "I will give my all to her to make her as happy as she has made me. If that means I am condemned to love her from afar if you do not wish to give me your consent, then so be it. But, I will tell you right here, right now, that I will never stop loving her and she knows that."

Silently the sisters briefly look at each other before Sister Evangelina softly says, "Then our consent you shall have," she hold up her hand to stop his early jubilation and roughly states, "with three conditions."

Feeling his heart beat out of his chest, he shakes his head, "Name them."

She holds up one finger, "One, you keep her safe," she holds up her second finger, "two, you go finish the 'Our father' part of your prayer," she holds up her third finger, "and third, you make sure the ring you buy her is as classy as the lady you are giving it to."

Quickly standing, he gives both the women a huge grin, "Thank you, Sisters. Thank you so much." With a small bow, he nearly tumbles into the door before making his way into the abbey.

While Sister Evangelina sternly shakes her head at his rather comical retreat, she looks back at her sister, "You knew about this, about them, didn't you?" Her tone is not accusatory – never with the one she respects the most – but more inquisitive.

Sister Julienne sits up straighter in her chair, "I had my suspensions, but Sister – Shelagh assured me even before I truly knew about the nature of their relationship that she had come to the conclusion on her own through prayers and her own conversations with God." She softly smiles and then sighs, "This engagement is rather sudden."

Sister Evangelina hums in agreement, "I'm still not convinced that it's the right thing to do, but I am sure that it will be done out of love and that is half the battle."

Sister Julienne looks back at gruff nun, "Sometimes I forget that through your tough exterior, you are an old romantic at heart."

Turning back towards her sister, Sister Evangelina quips, "It is a secret that I will gladly take with me to the grave, as will you. If you will excuse me," she gives a quick smile before stepping out of the office. Silently closing the door so as not to startle the Doctor mid-prayer, she pads over to where he has taken up residence on the cool, cobbled floor and bends down on her knees with him.

Gently grabbing his hand, she begins to pray out loud, "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory for ever and ever. Amen."

Marking the body of Christ along his body, he opens his eyes and looks to Sister Evangelina next to him. "I promise to love her and to make her happy."

Patting him on the back of his hand, she murmurs, "I know, or you'll have me to contend with."

He gives her a crooked smile, "Yes, ma'am." Stepping up, he reaches under her arm and helps her up. With one last smile to her, he bows before the cross and makes his way out of the abbey.

..::..::..

"So what did they say? Did they say yes?" Timothy all but clambers when his dad opens the door and slides into his seat.

Patrick stares up at the brick building that he has seen numerous times and sighs with a dazed smile still coloring his cheeks, "They gave their consent." Turning to his son, he hastily adds, "Including Sister Evangelina." He was more nervous about gaining her support than he was about Sister Julienne.

"Yahoo!" Timothy punches his fist through the air. It took him about three days after returning home from picking up Shelagh to ask his dad if he was going to ask her to marry him. His dad tried to push it away as an excuse for her health, but Timothy – precocious and extremely observant – asked him what he was waiting for and gave his own permission for him to ask her to marry him.

Taking a peek up towards the vibrant pink and orange crusted sky, Patrick murmurs under his breath, "The jewelers are closed by now. I'll have to go first thing tomorrow morning."

Timothy tips his head to the side, "Why do you need to go to the jewelers?"

"If I'm going to ask Shelagh to marry me, then I will need to make sure to have a nice ring to go with it." Patrick smiles, but with his nerves now starting to take over, it turns more into a grimace. Rubbing the pad of his thumb under his pointer and middle fingers, he craves both a cigarette and a shot of whiskey all in one breath.

"Are you okay, dad?" Timothy's brows knit together in concern. "Only, you look a little pale."

"It's nothing," he murmurs under his breath. Turning the key to start the engine, Patrick throws the shift into gear and pulls away from Nonnatus House.

"That's a lie," Timothy states the obvious. "You look as white as a sheet, like a few days ago when we had to find Sis – I mean Shelagh." Turning completely towards his dad, he begins to rattle off, "Do you think she'll say yes? Or are you nervous she will say no? If she says no, are we still going to hang out with her? Do you think she will say no or do you think she'll say yes?"

"Timothy!" Stopping off to the side of the road, he places the car in park and mumbles against the steering wheel, "You're not helping."

"I'm sorry, dad. I guess I'm just nervous for you." Timothy stares down at his fidgeting hands in his lap.

Patrick glances over at his son and places his hand over the young boy's. "There are certain times in a man's life that will help define if he has lived a good life or one fraught with 'what ifs' that were never truly answered. This is one of those times. I am in love with her and I want her to say yes, but there are many factors to it."

"Like what?"

Patrick tilts his head to the side as he remembers an article he read in a men's magazine right before he asked Mariann to marry him. "I have to make sure I look presentable; I'm sure she wouldn't want to marry a slob. I have to get her a nice ring; even though I don't think she would care about things like that, I want her to be proud to wear her ring. And the words…" Just the thought of what he should say to her and wants to say to her is daunting. "They have to be perfect, otherwise I'll blunder it up."

Timothy scrunches his forehead in confusion. I know that I'm just a young kid and most of the stuff dad is talking about doesn't make sense, but it seems rather important to him. "Well, I'll make sure to have your shoes properly cleaned while you iron out your best suit. So that's taken care of," he holds up one finger. "You are going to buy a ring tomorrow and I can go with you so that you don't botch it up. So that's two," he holds up his second finger. "As far as the words go, can't you just say, 'Shelagh,'" he gives his best impersonation of his dad's deeper voice, "'marry me.'?" After the tick of a second, he hastily adds, "I also wouldn't mention anything about her no longer being Sister Bernadette. That seems to make her sad."

Patrick gives his son a warm smile. Such a sweet and caring child. When did he grow up? "That takes care of most things, but the words…," God, I wish I had a cigarette right now, "it's just not that simple."

Timothy still doesn't understand why his father is so worried about the words, but this time he lets it go. "Come on, dad. We have to get you cleaned up. Plus, you promised to help me build the Spitfire that you gave me for Christmas."

Brightening his smile, Patrick nod, "Right," before putting the car back in first gear.

..::..::..

Alright, old chap, you can do this. You are looking sharp in in your well ironed suit. The new tie you bought this morning goes better with the suit than the other ugly ones that are thrown about on your bed.

Staring in the mirror, Patrick straightens his tie for the millionth time and adjusts his jacket when he notices that it seems crooked. Running his fingers through his hair, he makes sure to press it back so that it stays out of his eyes.

Turning away from the small mirror, he makes his way to the kitchen. The place I had first kissed her. The light streaming in from the window brightens the room while the children playing outside gives the same ambiance as that late spring day he leaned down and kissed her palm.

The ring! Patting down his breast pockets first, he sighs when he feels his palm strike the box that is laying in his pants pocket. Shoving his hand in and curling it around the paper wrapped box, he ticks, the ring is as perfect as perfect can be. Not too small to look like a toy ring, but not to big to be offensive to someone who had previously taken a vow of poverty. It's… it's pretty, beautiful even. Beautiful for her to wear… if she says yes.

Pulling it out, he places it on the counter. It looks like a ring box. Will it ruin the surprise? The paper, the string, I dug it out of the closet from the same box as our Christmas ornaments. It looks wrinkly, she will think–

Hearing the click of the door opening, he turns towards the sink thinking for a brief second that he was going to vomit his breakfast of tea and cigarettes up. Taking a few deep breaths as he hears the heels of her shoes click along the floor, he desperately grabs onto the tiny box while going over what he is going to say to her in his head.

Seeing her shadow out of his peripheral side, he takes another deep breath and turns towards her. His heart stops, his lungs cease to function as the sight of her in her new dress barely registers in his brain. My God, she is beautiful.

Alright, he mentally kicks his heart and lungs into gear, you can do this, Patrick, and she will say yes.

She pushes away the curtains and gives him a shy smile. Noticing a small parcel in his hand, she blushes as she murmurs, "Hello Patrick."

Her voice, like sweet nectar to his heart, nearly makes him faint right then and there. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he barely whispers back, "Hello, Shelagh." Glancing down at the ring weighing heavily in his palm, he knows for certain that she will say yes.

Please let me know what you think!