Chapter 7
Patrick was growing more and more frustrated, did these people not know just how serious polio can be. It could have only been a few moments since they arrived back at the rescue centre before Jack Smith threw up all over the floor. The nurses got him isolated and, since he was already there, Patrick offered to have a look at him. It didn't take long for the Doctor to realise that this wasn't just any other illness, the poor boy had polio.
It didn't seem too serious, and Patrick was hopeful that the London would be able to help him before it got worse. It had been about an hour since the ambulance had left and he had been stuck on the phone, trying to convince the medical board to bring all the vaccinations forward.
"Doctor Turner," Sister Julienne came running towards him. Her face was set in a grim line.
"What is it, Sister?" Was someone else infected?
"Doctor Turner, Shelagh has been trying to reach you."
"What's wrong, is she ok?"
"It's not her, its Timothy." Patrick dropped the phone in his hands, Timothy?
"What's happened?"
"He's at the London, Shelagh was waiting for you to get back when she heard him collapse. She thinks it might be polio." He didn't even let her finish the sentence, her ran out the door, grabbing his coat on his way.
When he arrived at the London, he ran through the corridors. Desperately trying to find the children's ward. He rounded a corner and saw Shelagh.
Her eyes were red, and tears were streaming down her face, he ran to her and took the hand she held out for him.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He looked to the doors and left her, rushing in. The sight of his son, lying in a breathing machine stopped him in his tracks.
"Are you the father?" A bossy looking nurse asked, Patrick only nodded. "He's not able to breath on his own, the machine is doing it for him."
"I understand, I'm also his GP," Patrick replied, never taking his eyes of Timothy's face. Patrick didn't need to say that he too was finding it hard to breath. He looked so small.
"Oh yes, you brought the other boy in."
"Jack Smith?"
"Polio, mild dose. He's out of bed and giving cheek." The nurse smiled at him, if she was trying to be reassuring, it wasn't working. Patrick bent over his sons' head, gently stroking his hair.
"Timothy," he called. "Timothy!".
"I suggest we take it one hour at a time. He may recover the ability to breathe. Respiration is not always permanently impaired."
"I know that," he interrupted. "I know all the facts, but just now they're no help to me at all." He placed his forehead on Timothy's, his entire body shaking with tears. How could this happen? First Catherine, then Shelagh, now Timothy. How much more can he take?
Shelagh watched him from the door. How did she not notice? She was a nurse, she should have seen that Timothy was ill. Now she might lose him, she couldn't lose him. He was her little boy, losing a child is a pain no mother should feel. She may not be Timothy's biological mother, but she loved like one non-the less.
Almost like a trance, she walked away. Tears staining her face and she did nothing to stop them. It wasn't until she was in the doorway, did she realise she was back at the rescue centre. The sisters were singing, she could hear their voice and the familiar feeling came back to her.
In Thee, O Lord, do I put my trust
Let me never be ashamed
Deliver me in Thy righteousness
Into Thy hands I commend my spirit
Thou hast redeemed me
O Lord God of truth.
The Sisters had always told her that she was welcome to join them in compline, but she never felt comfortable with that. Ever since she left the order, even though she was living in the same roof, she hadn't really spent much time with the Sisters. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had rejected them.
But, at that moment, when everything seemed to be crashing down around her, she wanted nothing more than to fly into the loving arms of her Lord and Sisters. She gently walked into the room, her voice melding with those of the sisters.
Bow down Thine ear to me
Deliver me speedily
Be Thou my strong rock
For an house of defence to save me
For Thou art my rock
and my fortress
They did nothing to suggest they heard her, except for a slight shift in their position, opening a space for her next to Sister Julienne. The older woman reached out for her, and they stood there; singing the words they knew so well, hearts bursting with love, hope and prayer.
O most loving God
Therefore, for Thy name's sake
Lead me and guide me
Pull me out of the net
that they have laid privily for me
For Thou art my strength
Make Thine face to shine upon me
In my hour of need
The tears that had stemmed on her way to the centre, started flowing again. When they had finished, Sister Monica Joan and Evangelina left quietly, leaving the young woman with Sister Julienne who pulled her into her arms, holding her like she did many months before.
Shelagh nestled her head into the crook of Sister Julienne's neck, her tears wetting the Sisters prayer veil. When she had composed herself a little, Sister Julienne lead her away to a small room. In there was a cot and some blankets.
"We made this up for you, stay and get some rest. You can go back to the hospital in the morning," Sister Julienne said.
"How did you…"
"We hoped you would come to us tonight, and I am so glad that you did."
"Are you?" Shelagh asked, never daring to hope.
"Did you believe for one moment that we wouldn't want you here tonight? That we wouldn't welcome you with open arms?"
"I turned my back on you, Sister.," Shelagh said through her tears, hanging her head with the shame she felt. "I walked away. I became someone else."
"No, you didn't, Shelagh," Sister Julienne said, placing her hand gently on the young woman's cheek.
"You found joy. And I've never questioned it."
"There is no joy now," Shelagh cried again, pushing her hand to her mouth in an ill-fated attempt at stopping it.
"But there is love, and it's Christmas," Sister Julienne said, pulling her in. She stroked her hair, calming her like she used too. "Have courage."
"I tried to keep my distance," Shelagh said, her voice muffled by Sister Julienne's prayer vail. "Tried to push my feelings down, at least until most of the gossip had died down."
"Is that what you really wanted," Sister Julienne asked. Shelagh pulled away and sat down on the cot.
"I don't know, all I knew is I couldn't quiet face the fact that this was happening, that this was my life now. And now it's not and I feel like my heart is breaking."
"Shelagh," Sister Julienne said, softly. Sitting next to her and taking her hands. "You love each other, no one can doubt that, and you have done nothing to be ashamed off. Don't stop yourself from being happy for the sake of a few small-minded people. Those who love you and know you, know that you have done nothing to be ashamed off, and that is what matters." Shelagh looked up at the woman who had been more mother than sister to her, seeing the approval in her eyes was enough to calm all her fears. The fact that Sister Julienne approves of her relationship with Patrick and Timothy, of the life she has chosen, cleared everything up for her.
Timothy was right, why is it complicated? They love each other, that is all that matters.
Patrick sat at his sons side all night, there was no change but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He had never felt so alone. When Catherine passed he had Timothy, his light in the darkness. Timothy kept him going, kept him smiling when all he wanted to do was crawl in a dark corner and stay there. Now he might lose him, how can he handle it?
Before he could fall further down, she walked in. She had the same effect Timothy had before, she brought light in when darkness was closing around him. She walked straight to him, eyes flicking between father and son. He held out his hand, wanting nothing more than to hold her, not expecting to get the chance. She took it and pulled it to her lips. Kissing him like he had kissed her before.
When her lips touched his hand, it was like everything fell into place, everything will be ok now with Shelagh by his side. He stood and pulled her into his arms, marvelling at how well she fit there.
"I love you," she said softly, he almost thought he had imagined it. Pulling away slightly, he looked into her eyes searching for anything that would confirm what he thought, hoped. It wasn't necessary, it was written all over her face. "I love you Patrick Turner and I'm sorry it took so long for me to say it. I was so afraid, but I'm not now. Timothy was right," she looked to the little boy next to them, her face radiating with love. "It not complicated."
She placed her hand on his forehead and bent to kiss him. Patrick watch her, no one had treated his son this way since Catherine died and he knew that when Shelagh said she loved him, it wasn't just him. She loved them both. Patrick got her a chair and they sat in silence, Shelagh stroking Timothy's hair and Patrick watching for anything that could suggest a change in condition.
All day the nurses move around them, patients came and went, as did visitors, still the pair didn't more. Shelagh's hair was coming out of the bun she had placed it in and Patricks tie was now undone around his neck, Timothy's eyes flicked open but neither adult noticed. It wasn't until his soft, dry voice squeezed out one word: "Brylcreem."
"Brylcreem?"
"Fetch the nurse," Patrick said, his face splitting into a smile as he placed his hand gently on his sons' hair. The nurse came over, followed by the doctor. Patrick move out of the way as they examined Timothy, Shelagh tucked under his arm, her own was wrapped around his waist.
"Doctor Turner," the nurse said, turning to the couple. "Doctor thinks we can take Timothy out of the machine, he's breathing is steady and does not need help. If you two would wait outside, we'll get him comfortable." Patrick was about to protest, but Shelagh pulled him out.
"Shelagh, I don't want to leave him."
"I know Patrick, but there's nothing you can do at the moment. You'll only be in the way. Go, freshen up. You look exhausted."
"What did I do to deserve you?" He pulled her against his chest, still not quiet believing that this young woman would choose him, would love him.
"Probably the same thing I did to deserve you, and Timothy." He looked at her curiously. "Nothing. We don't do anything to deserve love Patrick, it's given freely and demands nothing in return."
"I love you, Shelagh." He kissed her, not caring if anyone was watching, not caring that they weren't alone or in the middle of a hospital, he just wanted to hold her and show her just how much he meant it.
Timothy was lying in bed when they were allowed back in, the curtains drawn around him for privacy. Patrick lifted him up, lying him across his lap like he did when he was a child, Shelagh took his legs and sat beside him. They weren't a normal family, but Patrick wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
"Am I breathing, Dad?" Timothy asked.
"Yes, Son," Patrick replied, looking at Shelagh.
"Yes, you are," she said. Holding onto Timothy's hand. The small boy smiled at them.
