Back onto the right road

Later that day, Patrick made certain to be home in time for dinner. While in his car, noticing how different the streets seemed on his way home this time of the day, he realized how during the past months he had too often not cared about the time. He had frequently reproached Shelagh for being absent, but all of a sudden he came to understand that he, too, had begun to avoid his family at certain times of the day. He had too often missed dinner, and, also too often, had left the house in the morning before everyone else had finished their breakfast.

Why was that, he wondered. Did he just seek another reason for telling Shelagh she was never there when it was also part of his own responsibility? Tension had become difficult to bear between them. Perhaps he had also figured that if only one of them was with the children, they would not notice that their parents were not too happy with each other at the moment.

At home, Patrick found Shelagh, Teddy and Angela on the patio, where the children were playing and Shelagh was folding laundry. He sat down next to his wife and watched their children for a while, thinking that even though they were living through such a rough patch currently, he still could not be more proud of his family. Each of his children was simply perfect, even Angela having her fits of rage or Tim who much too quickly turned into a young adult and would soon leave to enter a new stage of his life, far away from his family.

Patrick watched Shelagh carefully folding their children's underwear while never losing track of Teddy's whereabouts. The little boy never sat still, and kept breaking or hiding anything that lay around the house.

Suddenly, a warm feeling of peace spread across Patrick's belly, one he used to know from the time before things had gotten so wrong. The bliss of being with his family, the bliss of having a happy home. Angela came to him to show him an empty snail's house she had found in one of the flower pots and he admired it and stroked the little girl's soft hair. How could he ever have risked all of this, or not realized it was where he was supposed to be, where he was needed most?

He thought of Stella, and a momentary sting of bitterness and of jealousy hit him in his stomach. She certainly would find another man who deserved her and whom she would make very happy. Life was full of choices and of crossroads. He had made a choice and taken his vows when he got married to Shelagh. He had a responsibility for his wife, and needed to help her to get though the hard time she was experiencing at the moment.

He probably was still in love with Stella, he thought, and he smiled a small smile when her face, lighting up so many of his days, appeared in front of his inner eye. He would always keep her in his heart. But for now, the major part of his heart belonged to his family.

"What is it?" Shelagh asked and it took Patrick a while to return from being entangled within his thoughts to reality and his wife.

"What? What do you mean?" he asked.

"You were smiling, while you were lost in your thoughts," Shelagh explained. "What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing, and everything really," he said. "I was thinking about how we need to be grateful for all we have," he looked at his wife and Shelagh nodded slowly.

She looked at him and cocked her head before she spoke in a quiet voice: "After the amount of whisky you had last night, I suppose you are not feeling too well today. I think we need to talk again. Last night was not how we should ever again talk to each other." She paused and let him take in her words for a while.

"I understand that perhaps today you need to lie down early," she continued, "but we should aim to talk tomorrow. I think we both have some things we need to tell each other."

"No," he sighed, "I think we need to talk tonight." He sat up straight and stretched his back, still store after last night on the settee. He groaned and continued: "You are right, I feel terrible, but I brought it on myself against my better judgement. I don't want us to spend another night like the last one. The sooner we talk, the better."

He paused and watched his wife for a while. He couldn't read her expression, she was too focused on her task, but he assumed she was deliberately doing so, so as not to risk crying in front of their children. He noticed the corners of her mouth twitch, a certain sign that she was fighting back tears. Just when he wanted to say something comforting, they heard a loud sound, followed by a sharp cry.

"Oh, no, Teddy, what is it this time?" Shelagh cried, placed the laundry into the basked next to her chair and ran to the little boy who had broken a large flower pot and cut his naked foot on one of the shards.

Patrick, too, hurried to his son. Shelagh held the crying boy while Patrick carefully examined the chubby foot, and noticed with relief that while it was quite a deep cut, it would not require stitches. A bandage, applied as tightly as possible, would do. "I'll fetch my bag real quick," he said, "go wash the wound and we'll meet in the kitchen."

He hurried into the house to do as he had said. Tending to Teddy was followed by dinner time, then bedtime. In between Timothy, for once happy to meet his father at an early hour, approached Patrick with a few questions on his biology homework. To Patrick's dismay, he needed almost an hour to look up information he was supposed to have in his head, but he realized that he had long since forgotten.

It was past nine o'clock when Patrick and Shelagh finally met in their kitchen. Patrick prepared himself a strong cup of Nescafé to help him focus during what would be another serious conversation.

"Can I treat you to a cup, too? " he asked gently, when Shelagh walked down the stairs.

She shook her head: "No, thank you, I think I am going to stick to tea tonight." She sighed. "Oof, Angela wouldn't stop to ask me questions about all sorts of things tonight. I don't know how she manages to keep herself awake. I think she is past the age where she needs an afternoon nap." Shelagh sat down at the table and watched her husband prepare tea for her. "But we are not supposed to talk about Angela now, aren't we?" she stated more than she asked.

She smiled affectionately at her husband who meanwhile had finished his task and walked over to the table, carrying both of their cups. "You look awfully tired, Patrick, "Shelagh said gently. "I should be angry with you because I have never seen you drink so much before, and never drink out of anger or despair, for that matter."

"But?" he asked

"But I can't. You feeling so poorly is enough a punishment. And being angry now won't help to solve our problems. We have never had an argument like the one last night. I was not able to sleep all night. I realized that it was not us talking last night. Whatever has happened between us, I feel we must work to set it up straight. This is not us, and this is not what neither we nor our children deserve."

Patrick extended his hand and covered Shelagh's with his. "I was thinking the same earlier today when we sat outside with the children. We both made mistakes and have moved us into this dire situation. But I feel that as long as we are able to talk, we can undo the trouble we have gotten caught into."

Shelagh nodded, biting her lips. For a while, both sat in silence, each occasionally sipping from their cups. Patrick still held his wife's hand and softly stroked its back with his thumb. He realized he had missed her touching him, but when had he last deliberately touched her out of affection?

"I have made mistakes, too," he eventually said. Shelagh looked up and gave him a questioning look.

"I kept telling you that you were running yourself in the ground, that you needed to change, that you were wrong. But I, too, was wrong. I was not there for your and the children as much as you needed me during this difficult time." He paused and breathed a few times. "I realized just now that I missed you so much, but, that you, probably, must have missed me, too, when I was not here, physically or mentally."

Shelagh smiled a weary smile. "Yes, we both have made mistakes," she said meekly. Then she got up and retrieved a small cardboard box from her handbag which sat on the worktop. She returned to the table and sat down, putting the box in front of her.

Patrick looked at his wife: "Valium?"

"Yes," she said in a quiet voice. "I want you to get rid of it and to not give me any more of it. You were right all along. It helped at first but I should have realized much earlier that if I can only manage my life with the help of medication, something is not right."

Patrick smiled a half-smile and took the box from the table. He slid it into his pocket and got up from his chair. He walked around the table and sat down on the chair next to Shelagh. He turned towards her and tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear. "There is another thing that is very right," he said.

Shelagh raised her eyebrows. "Is there?"

"Yes, there is," Patrick said and took her hands into both of his. "We promised on the day of our wedding we would always be there for one another and I think what we are going now is proof that we are living up to our vows. It took us quite some time to remember, but I feel that we are back on the right track, even though we will still need a bit of time until we have fully recovered."

Shelagh nodded and sighed. "What do you suggest then?"

"I would be very happy if you returned to the surgery, to working with me," he said hesitantly. "I know that working with Nonnatus House is where you can apply your skills best. But I have been missing you and I think we would be able to manage better, the two of us, if you returned to the surgery. We could find you another role than receptionist. With the Maternity Home closing, we need to think about what else to do with the premises. Which other clinics we could offer and I think a practice nurse would be a valuable addition."

Shelagh nodded again and leaned forward just a tiny bit. "A practice nurse? Well, this would certainly be an interesting role," she said, her voice getting more excited as she spoke. "We could hire a part-time receptionist? Think of it, we might expand the ulcer clinic and the chest clinic:"

Patrick chuckled. "That's my girl. I am so glad you are making plans again, love."

Shelagh smiled for a few seconds, until her expression turned earnest again. "I am so sorry. I stopped taking Valium about ten days ago. It was the weekend when I stayed at Nonnatus House from Saturday afternoon until Sunday evening. I had forgotten the box at home and I didn't dare coming home to pick it up because Angela and Teddy would certainly have not wanted me to leave again. So I decided that it might be about time to just stop taking them altogether. I felt very poorly for the first few days, which made me realize that I had been taking them for much too long."

She paused and Patrick smiled warmly at her, shuffling his chair closer to hers, so he could easily lean forward and kiss her cheek. "I think you did the right thing," he whispered in her ear "and I am proud of you."

Shelagh leaned in to him and all of a sudden, Patrick hugged her tightly. Shelagh gasped at first but quickly returned the hug, sighing into Patrick's ear. "I have missed you so much, Patrick, and only realized it once I stopped taking those pills. They did help me to do my work and all of my other tasks, but they completely erased anything I had been feeling. This cannot be right, and realizing this has left me in shock. How could I ever fail you or the children?"

"You did not fail me, love," Patrick soothed her, murmuring into her hair. "You were absent, yes, but I always knew I had you by my side and we would get back on track eventually."

The pair sat still for a long while. Only when Patrick could no longer stand the stinging pain that had begun to hit his back he withdrew and rubbed his back with both of his hands. "I am sorry, but I need to sit upright for a short moment."

Shelagh smiled compassionately. "I am sorry, dear, why don't we just move to the settee?"

Patrick groaned, for the split of a second remembering his last encounter with said piece of furniture. "What is it?" Shelagh asked, slightly alarmed.

"I would rather go to bed," Patrick confessed. "Last night took its toll, not only on my body, but if I sit down at the settee, I am going to fall asleep. And if I get to spend another night on the settee, I won't be able to move tomorrow morning."

Shelagh placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "You haven't been very careful with yourself lately, too," she stated. "And now with Mrs Gillespie gone, I think it is about time I return to the surgery. I relied on her to take care of you, now I need to do it myself again. And I want to, Patrick, believe me," she added.

Shealgh bit her lips again, and Patrick couldn't help but think she was about to say something.

"What is it, dear?" he eventually asked.

"Don't think me daft, but – " she paused. "I was thinking Mrs Gillespie fancied you more than would be appropriate for an employee," she said carefully.

Patrick felt all colour leave his face. She knew. Of course, she would know, how could she not.

"Oh Patrick, don't look at me like this," Shelagh chuckled. "You look like a little boy who got caught emptying the biscuit tin," she laughed. "I know I am being silly. I think she is just a genuinely caring woman. And I could not be more certain that you would never do as much as look at another woman in a way that would even remotely be considered inappropriate."

Patrick cleared his throat. His mouth felt dry and a bitter taste coated his tongue. He could never tell Shelagh anything about his feelings for Stella, it would crush her. And had they not made amends right now, with Stella gone?

He smiled wearily. "I am sad that she has left," he said. "But since it means that you are coming back, how could I truly regret it? I am certain she is going to find another position very soon, and it was very good having her there. But no one compares to you, Shelagh."

Shelagh laughed and got up from her chair. "Where do you want to sleep tonight," she asked playfully. "Your bed is still made up in the spare room."

Patrick got up, too, and looked at her earnestly. "You wouldn't mind me sleeping right there tonight?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh no, please," she replied. "I already expected you preferring a room on your own, not with one the children coming in at 5 am all the time."

"Oh, Shelagh," Patrick groaned and placed another kiss on her cheek. "You know me too well." He stretched his aching limbs, gave his wife a last affectionate look and walked upstairs where he quickly got ready for bed.

Once he was in bed, he had expected to fall asleep in an instant. But instead, he was kept awake by his heart racing. Next to his ridiculously high pulse, his last cup of very strong coffee also had caused him an unpleasant episode of heartburn. Also, his back pain was becoming worse and he was not able to find a position sparing him the pain.

And on top of it all, Stella's smile appeared again, and it made no difference whether his eyes were closed or open. She was there, waiting for him, and Patrick felt unease crawling up his stomach. Had he just used her to satisfy his needs while his marriage had hit a rough patch? This was not how he thought of himself. And it was certainly not what Stella deserved. She deserved a happy home just like he and Shelagh did. And he had let her on and made her unhappy, caused her to cry. It made him sad thinking of her being at her house now, all alone, without anyone to hold her and ease her pain.

He wondered if he ever would be able to apologize. She had made it very clear that she did not want to see him right now. But within a few months time, there must be an opportunity of setting things right with her, he thought. She deserved an apology and to be told what an extraordinarily wonderful person she was. Patrick groaned, when his back hurt again. He remembered last night's dream of Stella and felt relieved and sad at the same time that the events he had dreamt about never had taken place in real life. Relieved because he and Shelagh were talking again and had started the process of returning back onto the right road. But sad because he valued Stella for all she was and because he knew his feelings for her were much more than just a momentary infatuation. She would always inhabit a special place in his heart, right next to his wife. How could he ever forget about her?