Sister Julienne descends the stairs, and heads into the kitchen for a cup of tea. Much to her surprise she finds a recent antenatal midwife sitting at the kitchen table. She stops next to Patsy's seat.
"What are you doing up so early? It isn't even five o'clock yet," Sister Julienne wonders.
"I just got done feeding Solomon. I thought I might as well come down for a spot of tea. I might as well start my day. He will be up in another hour, anyway."
"How are you feeling?"
She shrugs, "I am still adjusting to this new routine, but I am getting on okay. I definitely feel much improved now that my stitches are out."
"You seem a little restless."
"He was born nearly two weeks ago, and I have yet to venture out of Nonnatus."
"I am certain that there is a pram around here, if you would like to venture out."
"What do I say, when people ask?" She questions, as she stares into her cup of tea.
"The truth," Sister Julienne suggests.
"Right," Patsy nods as she purses her lips.
"You could start by telling yourself the truth," Sister Julienne responds.
Patsy falls silent. She purses her lips and furrows her brow. Sister Julienne takes a seat next to her. She quietly squeezes her hand.
"You always remain calm, and in control in the face of adversity. I have always known you to make deliberate, well thought-out decisions."
"What are you saying?"
"Some things remain unspoken. Some truths we keep to ourselves. I understand that."
Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of a crying baby. Patsy vacates her seat, and places her cup in the sink.
"Well, that's my cue," she exits the room. She races up the stairs, to find the light in her room on. She stops in the doorway, and finds that Solomon has fallen silent. She watches as Trixie pats him back to sleep. She steps into the room.
"Sorry," she apologizes.
"I am the one who is sorry. I started gathering my clothes, and I bumped into the bureau, and woke him up."
"I am up for the day. Continue getting ready," Patsy suggests as she reaches for the infant.
She grins, and plants a kiss on Solomon's forehead, "You be a proper gentleman for your mum today," she instructs him as she places him in Patsy's arms. She exits the room. Patsy settles on the bed, with him. She leans against the headboard, as he lies in her lap. She hears the floorboards creaking, and sees Delia passing by.
"Delia," she calls out.
Delia turns towards the room.
"Can I speak to you for a moment?"
"Yes, of course," she agrees.
"Would you close the door?"
Delia nods, and gently shuts the door behind her. She crosses the room, and takes a seat next to Patsy.
"Being afraid that I would hurt you was only part of the reason that I didn't tell you about him," Patsy begins.
Delia furrows her brow, "What do you mean?"
"I was ashamed, quite frankly."
Delia falls silent. Patsy places the infant in Delia's arms. Without a word she vacates her seat on the bed. She opens the drawer of her bedside stand, and pulls out a leather bound book. She opens the book, and flips to a page halfway through. She trades the journal for her son. She holds him closely, as she begins.
"Read this, and maybe you will understand. Maybe you will be able to forgive me."
Delia shifts her eyes to the page in front of her. She begins to read. She notes the date at the top of the page. Written in blue ink, an ink color that Patsy is known to hate, the passage begins. Patsy's hand writing is uncharacteristically sloppy.
Today as I was returning from the market with armful of bags. It was nearly dark, when I felt one of the pieces of fruit in the bag topple out. I bent down to pick it up. When I looked back up I found a few sailors from the Royal Navy coming my direction. They began talking to me, but I was in a rush, so I shrugged them off. A few paces later, I realized one of them was still following me. I kept walking. Before I knew it I felt a hand against my back. I was suddenly crashing forward. Then…
The entry abruptly ends. Delia's eyes shift, to meet Patsy's. Her eyes drift to Solomon's face. He sleeps peacefully. Delia exhales, and shifts her glance once again. She studies Patsy's facial expression. Beyond the dark circles she has attributed to life with a newborn, Delia sees something more. There is a darkness in her eyes that she hasn't noticed before. Without any notice her face grows red, and her stoic outer shell betrays her. Tears begin to spill from her eyes.
"What you told me before, was just a story," Delia asserts.
"Most of the details were true. My childhood friend did stop to check in on my father. We did have dinner. He did recently perish in a car accident."
"You can't push everyone away because you are afraid that they will feel your pain. Sometimes in life we need help shouldering our burdens Patsy."
She doesn't answer.
"What you told me before never made any sense to me. If he had been someone you cared about why would you have struggled with the idea of being pregnant so much? You are fearless, and I couldn't understand why being a single mother would be any different. I knew that motherhood was not something you had mentioned before, but I was surprised at your reaction. I just wish you had told me."
"I couldn't. I couldn't even admit the truth to myself. I was terrified that he would arrive, and be…"
"Something that he is not."
"I didn't want a daily reminder of something that I have tried desperately to forget."
"We will all still support you, if you feel that this is not the right choice."
"It is the right choice. All I see when I look at him is my son. He has my eyes, and he fills my heart with a joy beyond measure. None of that means that any of this is any less terrifying."