Eight Days Left

“Did you find a dress?” Patrick asked as they stepped into the sitting room. With just over a week until the wedding, Shelagh had left this last task to the end.

She blushed. “Yes, I did. It’s being altered, so I’ll pick it up in a few days.”

Patrick took her hand. “Good. What’s it like?”

“I can’t tell you that, Patrick. It’s bad luck.” She liked the way his hands held hers, his thumbs rubbing over her skin.

He laughed. “I was only teasing, love. I don’t want to know. I want to be surprised when I turn and look at you coming down the aisle.”

She hesitated. “Patrick, with the wedding so small, I doubt we’ll do the whole ‘marching down the aisle thing.’ I’ll go to the altar with you, I expect.”

Patrick shook his head. “I have never met a woman so uninterested in the preparation for a wedding, Shelagh. Should I read it as a bad sign? Second thoughts?” he teased.

She closed the small gap between them. “No second thoughts, dearest.” Her hand slipped from his and travelled to his jawline, stroking it. “I will be very happy to be your wife.” Her thumb moved to his cheek and caressed his temple. His skin was so smooth there, unlike the slight roughness of his cheek. She liked the scratch of his skin, too, she thought. Standing on tiptoe, Shelagh pressed her lips to his. Their kiss was soft, with just a hint of pressure. Gently, their mouths grazed, quietly coming closer together. She could feel tension in his body and knew he was restraining himself. He treated her so tenderly; respectful of the chaste life she had led for so long. Feeling a surge of love and something she couldn’t name for this man, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to her. Immediately the moment changed and the kiss intensified. She parted her lips under his and lightly touched the tip of her tongue to the seam of his. With a small groan, he responded, welcoming the gentle invasion. She felt his hands splayed across her back, holding her close to him, his chest hard against hers. Their tongues danced as the kiss grew deeper. Shelagh pushed her fingers into his hair and a small sound came from her throat as she welcomed his exploration.

Patrick could feel his restraint slipping, and knew he would have to end this delightful moment. Soon. But it was so difficult, especially when she was so eager and pliant in his arms. He had been so careful to slowly introduce intimacy between them and the knowledge that she was as eager for him as he was for her was making it very difficult to remain in control. The sofa was just steps away. He could so easily lift her up off the ground and swing her on to it, then cover her body with his.

Abruptly, they pulled away from each other, breathing hard. Reason had somehow regained access to their brains. Just in time, too. The front door slammed shut, and Timothy was home. As he hung up his coat and cap he called from the hallway, “How many days until the wedding?”

They both smiled in relief. “Eight!” they called back together.

 

Five Days Left

A mist was starting to settle on the river as Patrick and Shelagh walked back to her boarding house one evening before the wedding.

“Are you getting cold?” he asked. “I should have driven you home. Here, take my coat. I wouldn’t want you to get sick before the wedding.” He started to take his coat off to place it on her shoulders.

“I’m quite fine, Patrick. It’s not so very cold. Keep your coat, dearest,” she smiled at him. “I like our walks. A drive is over too quickly.”

Smiling back, he tucked her gloved hand in his pocket. “Soon I won’t have to walk you home. We’ll be cozy and warm sitting on our sofa, cup of tea in your hand and slippers on your feet.”

“More likely, you’ll be out on a call or doing paperwork or some such. As much as things will change, Patrick, they’ll stay the same.”

“Not for you,” he noted.

“No, not for me.” She pressed closer to him. “That’s a lovely thought.”

Words like that always brought relief to Patrick. The mystery of her choice still confounded him.

Sensing his disquiet, Shelagh said, “If I had wanted things to stay the same, Patrick, I never would have fallen in love with you.”
“But you were happy at Nonnatus, I know you were. I watched you deliver so many babies, help so many families, and I saw joy on your face. And now you’ve chosen a life away from all that. It won’t be easy for you, Shelagh. It’ll be so different for you, living with us. Timothy’s a slob-”

“Timothy is?” she teased.

“Shelagh, I’m serious. Your whole life will be different. Instead of being an independent woman with a calling, you’ll be a mother and wife. All of your time will be devoted to our family. I can’t help by wonder that you’ll be disappointed by the smallness of it all.”

 

Shelagh stopped and faced him, beaming. “You are a ridiculous man, Patrick. I love you because I can’t not love you. I want my life to be different. I want to be devoted to our family. It’s not a small life, Patrick. It fills every part of me. I don’t need to be independent anymore. I need to be with you, for the rest of my life. And that can’t happen soon enough.”

On the darkened street outside her boarding house she reached up and kissed him gently, then took his arm to continue their walk.

They soon reached her boarding house. Smiling, they delayed the good nights as long as they could. Presently, the landlady, Mrs. Trevell stepped out to put milk bottles on the step.

“Evening, Miss Mannion, Dr. Turner. Ooh, it’s colder than a well-digger’s ear out here! Don’t need to use the new icebox, I reckon.” She stopped and noticed their close pose. “How many days until the wedding, then?”

Patrick and Shelagh looked at each other, laughing. “Five!”

Three Days Left

 

Shelagh was becoming a fixture in the Turner kitchen already. Patrick’s housekeeper, Mrs. Frobisher, was to start a new position in the New Year, and had gone up to visit with her grandchildren for the holidays. That left Patrick and Timothy to fend for themselves in the last days before the wedding. Feigning pity, Shelagh took on the task of feeding her boys. Despite Timothy’s attempts to convince her of the importance of chips in the daily diet, Shelagh was quite proud of her developing skills, and felt her confidence grow with each meal.

Shelagh checked on the chicken roasting in the oven. Dinner should be ready at the usual time, she was pleased to see. Whether or not Patrick would be on time, however, was always another question. She looked over at Timothy, busy with his homework. He still wasn’t happy that his teacher had assigned a book report over the holidays, but grudgingly set about finishing it before the wedding.

“Timothy, which bowl do you use for the roasted potatoes?” she asked, searching in the cabinet.

“I don’t know. The round one?” he asked.

Shelagh made a face. “Very funny. I thought maybe you had noticed a serving bowl you’ve been using for your entire life.”

Timothy grinned. “Sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re very helpful.” Shelagh was enjoying herself.

Timothy’s grin faded. “Shelagh, before, when I told you about the sweet shop lady? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

She turned back from the sink. “I know that, dear. I really wasn’t upset with you.”

“But you were upset. I’m not sure I understand why.”

Shelagh took a deep breath. “I suppose it was because I don’t like being talked about.”

“That seems to happen quite a lot, lately.” He tapped his pencil on the table.

“Yes.”

“I should think people would be glad Dad’s getting married again. You’ll be brilliant at keeping him in order.”

Shelagh smiled and squeezed his hand. “I don’t know why she was talking about me. Maybe she doesn’t approve of my decision to leave the order. I’ve brought a  great deal of change to our little corner of the world, I’m afraid, and people don’t like change.”

“I like change. This change, anyway. Things are so much better now that you’re part of our family. It’ll be even better when you’re here all the time!”

Shelagh felt it hard to breathe. None of the rest mattered, not when Patrick and Timothy loved her.

“How many more days?” she smiled at him.

“Three!” he answered, smiling back.

One Day Left

 

Usually, mornings were hurried affairs for Patrick. These last two mornings however, he made sure to wake extra early. After he heard Shelagh leave the bathroom he would hurry his morning routine in order to spend a few moments with her before Timothy joined them.

Not surprisingly, tea was made when he came downstairs. Shelagh stood at the stove, stirring the porridge. “Good morning, Patrick,” she smiled.

“Good morning, my love.” He stood close behind her, his hands on her arms. Placing a kiss on her temple, he said, “It’s lovely to have you cook our breakfast, Shelagh, but I’m afraid Tim won’t touch that. He hates porridge.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m sure he’ll eat his lunch though, so cornflakes will do for him. This is for you, because I know you never stop to eat.”

“I do when you’re with me. You’ll just have to make sure to come by the surgery every day, then.” He liked the sound of that. Mid-day kisses would do more for his spirits than a ham sandwich.

She took the porridge off the heat, then Shelagh turned in his arms. “That does sound lovely. Not very practical, but lovely.” She stood on tiptoes to kiss him. “I’ll have to leave soon, so eat your breakfast. And not too much sugar.”

“Leaving? Have you heard something about the cordon?” He didn’t like the idea of her leaving now that he had her in his home.

“No, no news. I’m going back to the bridal shop. There’s something I have to take care of before the wedding.”
“As long as you come back. I like having you here with us. I’m busy this morning, and then off to the barber’s with Tim. I shall see you later?”

“Perhaps not, Patrick. I think I should look for another place to stay tonight.”

“Shelagh, that’s not necessary. Everyone understands about the bomb scare. There’s no need to worry about gossip.”

“I suppose so, but even still, I should stay elsewhere. There’ll be preparations in the morning. Besides, tonight should be for you and Timothy. I think he might enjoy having you all to himself for one last night.”

“I think he’d rather have you here with us. You’re quickly becoming his favorite, sweetheart.”

“No, Patrick. Timothy prefers to spend time with you above anyone. He’s glad to have me here, but he’s always happiest when he has your complete attention.” She ran her fingers over his jawline. “I know how he feels. Now go on, eat your porridge,” she finished, pointing him to the table.

Patrick kept his arms around her. “How many days until the wedding?” he whispered. Shelagh’s arms wrapped around his neck,pulling him down to meet her lips. “One,” she breathed. It was the last thing she said for some time.

 

The Wedding Day

Chummy’s house was fast becoming a circus. To escape the feminine invasion, Peter Noakes put little Freddie in his pram and set out for a walk before the service.
“Won’t be long, now, Peter. Fred’s coming with Dr. Turner’s car in an hour to retrieve the blushing bride,” his wife assured him as he set off.

Free of the last masculine constraint, the house became a beehive of activity. In less than an hour, Shelagh was dressed, coiffed and made up, waiting in the parlour for Fred’s arrival.

“I’ve never seen a lovelier bride, Shelagh,” Jenny told her.

“You do look very beautiful,” Cynthia agreed.

Trixie came into the room. “Now, one last thing. Judging by the look on your face right now, you’ll need one of these at some point during the day.” She held up a lace-trimmed hanky. “We’ll just stow it away up your sleeve, so it’s there if you think you need it.”

Shelagh nodded her thanks. There were so many words, but none could come out. She looked around the room at her friends, grateful for the direction she had chosen for her life. Their unconditional acceptance of her new life helped give her more confidence. She knew that the Sisters were waiting at the church, as well.

The low growl of Patrick’s car signalled Fred’s arrival. Sister Julienne stepped out of the car and smiled at the giggling women as they left for the short walk to the church.

“You clean up nicely, Fred!” called Trixie.

“Thank you, Nurse Franklin. There are standards to be met! Now don’t go tripping on those stilettos, young miss. This car’s only for the bride!”

“We shall be just a few moments, Fred,” said Sister Julienne, turning to go into the house.

Inside, she found Shelagh quietly praying. Her own heart swelled as she saw the joy on her friend’s face. Shelagh opened her eyes and beamed. “I’m ready.”

“Yes, you are, my dear. But I do have something for you. A letter from the groom.” She held out an envelope identical to those already lovingly packed in the bags that were to be delivered to Shelagh’s new home.

 

My dearest Shelagh,

I know I’m no good with words. There are so many words in my heart, but I can never seem to get them out. Words like love and wonder and rapture cluster together into one enormous emotion.

Without you, I would never know this feeling.

With you, I have all that a man could want.

I am more grateful than I can say that today, at last, there are no more days to wait.

Today, I am blessed.

Your Devoted

Patrick