Crazy little thing called love
"Shelagh?" Patrick almost whispered.
"I have been discharged," he heard her voice, thinly, almost shaking. "I am supposed to go to Chichester, but I won't," she continued.
"Why is that?" he asked, baffled.
"I thought, for a long time that I was in the wrong place. But I wasn't. I was just living the wrong life," she said carefully.
"I wrote to you," he remarked meekly. "I don't know if I have said too much or not enough."
"You said, what was necessary. And I am coming into London."
"When?" he asked.
"Today," she responded, her voice now firm.
"But you still have to convalesce," he protested. "And you certainly should not travel by public transport in your condition."
Before Shelagh could reply, Timothy barged in, shouting "Dad! I am waiting, we have to go."
Patrick furiously looked at his son and shouted: "Timothy, not now!" Then he spoke into his phone: "I am sorry, someone is very impatient right now."
"I understand," came the soft-spoken reply. "Please let me not keep you."
Before Patrick could say anything else, she had hung up. "Timothy, what is wrong with you," he shouted at his son, still agitated. "I was just talking to Shelagh and now she hung up."
"Then call her back," Timothy remarked dryly, "but don't shout at me."
For a moment, Patrick was undecided what to do next. Then he grabbed his car keys and ran out of the door. Timothy ran after his father and almost jumped into the car, next to his father. "We are not going shopping, Tim," Patrick barked at his son.
"I thought I'd come with you," Timothy said, apparently familiar with how his father's mind worked. "I assume you are going out to Shelagh, right?"
Patrick looked at his son with a curious expression while starting the engine and driving off. It was a good hour's drive to St. Anne's rehabilitation facility, the GPS leading him the way. During the drive he broke the speed limit several times, and he tried to call Shelagh repeatedly, but she did not answer her phone.
When they arrived at St. Anne's and asked for Shelagh, the friendly receptionist told them that Miss Mannion had left about an hour ago, after having asked for instructions how to get into London by public transport.
Patrick cursed. They had missed her and he was not certain where to look for her. He quickly walked towards his car, Timothy in tow, and lit a cigarette on the parking lot. Timothy did not dare to say anything out of fear of upsetting his father even more.
After he had deeply inhaled a few drags, Patrick indicated Timothy to get into the car. He slowly drove off. Gone had the agitation from earlier, causing him to speed. Now he felt he had to take his time to gather his thoughts.
While they were driving along the narrow road leading to the main road, Timothy suddenly shouted: "Dad! There is a woman in the wrong clothes! I think it's her!"
Patrick's breath stopped. Yes, it was her. She was wearing tight jeans and a light cardigan, garments absolutely unfit for a cold and misty December day.
She drew a trolley suitcase behind her and wrapped around her neck was her blue striped scarf. She walked with a slight limp and seemed incredibly frail and thin.
Patrick slowed down the car when they were just a few metres behind her. At the same moment, Shelagh turned around and Patrick stopped the car.
Both looked at each other for a moment, neither unable to move. Then Patrick slowly got out of the car and strode over to Shelagh. He stood in front of her, raising his hand and in an awkward movement put it on her forehead, as if to check for a fever.
Shelagh looked at him with an expression of gratefulness and love.
"What if it had started snowing? What if you had gotten lost?" Patrick asked affectionately.
"I was lost. I got the wrong bus," Shelagh replied ruefully. Later, she would explain her anger at herself at realizing she had taken the wrong bus and having to walk back to the bus stop near the main road since there would not be another bus for two hours.
Patrick shrugged off his warm coat and put it around Shelagh's shoulders. He held it by the lapel and the pair looked at each other intently. "Don't you have a warm coat?" he asked, worriedly. "We can't have you catching a cold."
Shelagh smiled. "It was unusually warm until last week. And I don't have any of my warm things here, they're in store at Nonnatus Mother House."
Suddenly, Patrick noticed Timothy from the corner of his eyes. The boy had come up between them, curious what was going on and clearly happy to see Shelagh again.
Shelagh hugged the boy tightly and Timothy began asking all sorts of questions. Shelagh happily answered them until Patrick suggested they get out of the cold and back into the car.
During their drive back to Granny Parker's, Timothy kept asking questions and told stories about what had happened in Moshi during Shelagh's absence.
In the meantime, Shelagh and Patrick kept glancing at each other. Patrick felt overwhelmed with affection and repeatedly rested his left hand on Shelagh's knee. At one occasion, he noticed her gaze linger on his hand and he realized that he was still wearing his wedding ring. He made a mental note to take it off as soon as they were home and he had gotten the chance to explain it to his son.
It was past noon when they arrived at Mrs. Parker's again. Patrick introduced Shelagh to his mother-in-law as a colleague from Moshi who had just been discharged from a rehabilitation facility. He explained that he had offered her to stay for the night as she did not have any family in the vicinity.
Mrs. Parker sensed that there was more to the story but knew that Patrick would tell her as soon as he felt ready - or perhaps when neither Timothy nor the frail looking young woman were present.
For the time being, she demonstrated her sense of practicality. She suggested she and Timothy go out to buy the poor boy his much needed winter coat and stay out for a dinner of fish and chips.
After Timothy and his grandmother had left, Shelagh said: "Mrs. Parker is a very nice lady. She has no reason to invite me, but she told me I might stay as long as I needed."
"Indeed she is, always has been," Patrick replied while carefully placing cups, saucers and a few biscuits onto a tray. Shelagh watched him prepare their tea while he continued: "In fact, we had a long conversation last summer, Beth and me. She explained that it was important for me to move on."
Shelagh hummed and Patrick looked at her. Both froze, their eyes locked. One minute later, the soft click of the kettle brought them back again. Shelagh smiled shyly and Patrick poured the hot water from the kettle into the tea pot.
"Shall we go upstairs then?" he suggested and nodded towards the kitchen door. Shelagh smiled at him and slowly walked towards the stairs in the hallway. Patrick was behind her and he noticed how carefully she climbed the stairs, taking one at a time, clearly still in pain.
"First door to the right," he directed her to the small room where his and Marianne's sitting room furniture had been put up.
They entered the makeshift living room and Shelagh sat down in one corner of the settee. Patrick poured their tea, handed her a cup and decided to sit down next to her but leave sufficient space between them, uncertain how she might feel about being so close to him.
Shelagh looked down at her cup and Patrick stated: "You are wearing your scarf. The colours suit you so well."
Shelagh smiled shyly and looked down into her lap at the ends of her scarf. "Sister Julienne brought it. She told me you found it in the ER." Then she looked up again, firmly into his eyes: "Sister Julienne said you were staying with me while I was in the ER. Thank you."
Patrick swallowed, reminded of the painful memory. "Nothing to thank me for," he replied gently. "I happened to come by and… and I saw you. I couldn't, -".
While he spoke, Shelagh put down her cup and stilled him by placing her left hand on his right arm. She looked at him intently and said: "I know you so little but I could not be more certain."
Patrick felt his heart rush. "I am completely certain."
Shelagh took in a deep breath and smiled shyly: "I am Shelagh."
"Patrick," he replied and a grin spread on his face.
"There, we've made a start," Shelagh whispered, beaming all over her face.
Patrick could no longer restrain himself and bent forward to cup her face with his hands. He gently leaned his forehead against hers and sighed, clearly moved. From the movement of her eyelids he could tell her eyes were teary, and he, too, felt something sting his eyes.
"I love you," he whispered. "I have loved you for so long and I was afraid I would never be able to tell you."
Shelagh raised her hands and gently placed them over his. "I love you, too," she whispered. "I was afraid of facing it, but I have loved you for a long time, too."
They stayed in their position for a long moment. Then Patrick shuffled yet closer to her and gently pulled her into a tight embrace. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent. Shelagh slid her arms around his waist and pressed her body close to his. Patrick leaned back against the backrest of the sofa and Shelagh rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, calming her, making her feel at home.
They might have remained like this for five minutes or one hour, neither could tell afterwards. All of a sudden, Patrick said: "When I say I am completely certain, I want you to know that this is true. I am completely certain and I would marry you in an instant – but I won't ask you today. You deserve a proper wedding proposal and a ring."
Shelagh laughed while the tears she had been fighting to hold back earlier finally ran over her cheeks. She leaned back and looked Patrick into his eyes. "I am so very happy you came today," she whispered.
Patrick slowly lowered his head and kissed her very gently on her lips. Shelagh sighed barely audible and responded to his kiss. They kissed until they both were short of breath and had to stop, both panting heavily while laughing at the same time.
"Have you always been this thin," Patrick suddenly asked. "Didn't they feed you properly at St. Anne's?"
Shelagh looked at him affectionately. "I lost some weight. All the time… I, I often did not feel like eating. I was… I was busy thinking about whether the accident was meant to tell me that my life needs to take a new direction."
Patrick looked at her earnestly, then kissed her carefully on the lips and cupped her cheeks with his hands. "Just so you know I am going to feed you. You need to put on some weight. I don't want the next breeze to blow you away from me again."
Shelagh chuckled and hugged him tightly.
After a short while, Patrick leaned back, watching Shelagh's face intently. His mien changed and his look became more earnest when he began speaking: "I have to go to Durham for three days tomorrow morning. Discussing the programme, annual planning meetings, that sort of stuff," he said.
"Oh, I also have to leave tomorrow," she said quietly. When he looked at her, eyebrows raised in a question, she explained: "I was supposed to go to the Mother House today. There are procedures to be gone through. I will resign from my post so they can hire somebody else for the position. And I do have a few belongings which are kept there and which I would like to retrieve."
After a short pause, she continued: "You know, I won't be able to go back to Moshi with you anytime soon. I have to carry on with daily physiotherapy and other treatments for up to another year. I'll have to see how and where to live from now on."
Patrick gently brushed the outside of the fingers of his left hand over her cheek. "I am sorry for all that has happened. And whatever will come, I want to be there for you. Anything you need, you tell me and we will figure it out together."
Shelagh nodded slowly and hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek against his, delighting in the faint stubble scratching her soft skin.
"I am afraid that Tim and I will need to go back, after the holidays," Patrick murmured into her hair. "Tim has to finish his school year. And I am on a contract until June. But I was going to discuss my future in the programme anyhow. And as things are now, I will see how quickly I can get out of my contract. I want to be near you, as soon as possible, you know. I do not want to wait any longer."
Shelagh tightened her hug and hummed. She revelled in his scent and could not believe that she could ever have been afraid of getting close to him. There were still so many unresolved issues, but for now, in just this moment, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
A few hours later, Granny Parker and Timothy had already retreated to bed, Shelagh and Patrick sat on the sofa again. While Timothy and his grandmother had still been out, Patrick had ordered some Indian takeout and had urged Shelagh to eat. She had done so, admitting that she suddenly felt quite an appetite.
Now they sat together, Patrick leaning against the corner of the sofa and Shelagh curled up at his side, her legs bent. They had their arms wrapped around each other and Patrick's head rested on Shelagh's. They occasionally whispered something to each other but mostly simply revelled in the closeness, taking immense comfort in being with each other.
At some point, Patrick noticed that Shelagh's breathing became deeper and her body slumped lightly. Then she flinched and he said: "I think it is time to go to bed, don't you think?"
Before she had retreated, Mrs, Parker had set up the guestroom for Shelagh. Patrick thought for a while about asking her to sleep in his bed but was afraid to suggest it out of fear of scaring her. So he walked with her to the guestroom and gently kissed her goodnight before retreating to his room. He wasn't certain he would be able to sleep, but this time it was no more out of misery.
