Morning, Dad,” Timothy greeted his father as he trotted into the kitchen.

“Morning. You’re up early.” Patrick was a bit surprised to see his son out of bed this early on a Saturday.

Timothy sat down at the table. “Shelagh and I are going to the museum today. We did talk about that, remember?”

Patrick looked up at his son, his fingers fidgeting with his tea cup. “Yes, I remember.”

Timothy looked at his father over his bowl of cereal. Yesterday’s sudden adventure into the countryside to find Sister Bernadette, wait, Shelagh, had just been one of the many oddities of the day. Her name, for instance. Tim understood that some changes had occurred, but never before had his father allowed him to speak to another adult in such an informal manner. Of course, that had been Sister-wait-Shelagh’s doing. She insisted that as she and Timothy were such good friends it would help her get used to her old name if he used it as often as possible. So it had been “Sister-wait-Shelagh this” and “Sister-wait-Shelagh that” for most of dinner last night. He hoped that he would get better at the name thing. Calling her Sister-wait-Shelagh would probably not help her get used to her name.

“Quite a day yesterday, wasn’t it, Tim?” Patrick tried to meet his son’s eyes, but fell short.

“It sure was. This is the most fun I’ve had during half-term ever!”

“Uhm. Yes.” Patrick lit a cigarette.

“Dad? Are you all right? Am I in trouble or something?” Dad was acting very strangely.

“No, no of course not. What makes you ask that?”

“I dunno. You just seem funny. Like you want to tell me something, but don’t want to say it.”

Patrick took a deep drag on his cigarette. “I do have something I need to talk to you about.” He tapped the ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray.

Fidgeting Timothy said, “Dad, you’re making me nervous. You never smoke at the table.”

Patrick chuckled. “I know.Your mum wouldn’t let me.” He put the cigarette out. “That’s what I wanted to speak with you about, Tim.”

“Cigarettes?”

“No. Your mum.”

“Oh,” Timothy said. “But we never talk about her.”

Patrick frowned. “I know. I’m sorry for that, Tim. For so long it was just too painful, and then…”

“Then what?” Timothy asked.

Patrick started again. “I really am sorry about that, Timothy.” The conversation had not gone the way Patrick would have liked. It was apparent that Timothy was not ready to learn the reason for yesterday’s developments.

“It’s all right, Dad. I didn’t want to talk about her with you, either.”

Patrick’s eyes glistened. “I loved your mother very much, Tim. She was a good wife to me. And she loved you very much. Talking about it was just so very…hard.”

His son nodded. “I know. But Sister Bernadette would let me talk about her. It was easy to talk with her. I didn’t have to worry that I was making her feel bad, and she always knew what to say to make me feel better.”
“Sister Bernadette? You spoke with her about your mother? When?”

“I don’t know. Lots of times. Her mum died when she was young, too, so she knows what it’s like. She says it helps to remember Mummy on regular days, that way when bad days happen I can feel Mummy helping me. That time I fell and scraped my arm? She told me how brave I was, and how Mum would be so proud of me. And last Spring, we were doing something at school for Mothering Day, and I was sad, she said I could go to her any time if I wanted to talk about Mum.”

Patrick thought for a moment. “I didn’t know.” There was now yet another reason to love Shelagh. Her gift of healing stretched far beyond nursing and midwifery. The true gift was her ability to heal souls.

Timothy looked at his dad. “She’s been a good friend to me. Talking with her about Mum always makes me feel better.” His face became very wise for a ten year old boy. “I’m glad you’re friends, now, too. Sister-wait-Shelagh’s a good person to talk to, and you need a friend. She’s little, but she has a big heart.”

Patrick nodded, thoughtful. “Yes, she does.”

Timothy got up to wash his bowl. “Dad?” he asked, turning to face his father.

“Yes, son?”

“I think Shelagh’s awfully special. Don’t you?”

“Yes, son.”

“And you like her, right?”

Patrick let out a sharp breath. “Yes, son. I like her very much.”

“I’m glad.” He turned off the tap and turned to face his father. “Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Now that Sis-Shelagh’s not a nun anymore, does that mean she can get married? Be a mum?”

Patrick held his breath. “Yes, son.”

“Do you think she’d like to?”

Patrick hoped so. “Maybe. It’s a big change.”

“Yes, but she’s really brave. I think she’d be a great mum.” Timothy came back to the table and looked his father in the eye. “I think you should marry her, Dad.”

As usual, his son turned the tables on him. “Do you think she’d have me?” Patrick asked.

“Maybe. She called you yesterday, not anyone else, and then we rushed off to find her.” He considered something for a moment. “I think you like each other, Dad, even if you don’t know it. Last night, when we had dinner together, it felt, sort of–right. You know, like we’re supposed to be a family. I think Mummy would like it, too, Dad.”

“You’ve thought about this,” Patrick commented, his heart light. He wasn’t sure how this had happened, but he was grateful.

“Well, someone has to. Dad, she’s really pretty, too.” Timothy nodded his head in determination. “If we’re going to convince her to marry you, we better get started. It’s not like you’re such a great catch. This is going to require some careful planning.”

Ch 2

 

Closing the door behind the housekeeper later that night, Patrick decided he needed a glass of milk before bed. Perhaps Horlicks, he laughed to himself–the nuns swore by the stuff. He yawned as he walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Penney had left out a sandwich for him, and he sat down to his dinner. He poured the milk and noticed a folded piece of paper written in Timothy’ s scribble. Opening the page, he read:

 

How to Convince Shelagh to Marry Dad

 

Patrick stopped there, shaking his head. He should have known that Tim was serious this morning. He smiled and wondered what exactly the boy had done during the day to further his father’s cause.  It was a good thing Tim was on his side, Patrick thought. A better ambassador he couldn’t have wished for. He continued to read.

 

1. Get Dad to dress better
2. Remind her that Dad’s kind of important
3. He has a pretty good car
4. Can still play cricket, so he’s not too old
5. Really kind, even though he gets grumpy
6. Knows a lot about medicine, so there’s something to talk about
7. Doesn’t care if he’s the last to take a bath and there’s no hot water
8. Lets me choose the radio programme, even when the news is on
9. We really love each other, even if we bicker a lot.

 

The listed ended abruptly, with a tenth item inked out. Patrick wondered if his son had been interrupted before completing it.  The list was peculiar to Tim, he thought and he smiled slowly. Of course he knew his son loved him, but it warmed his heart to see the words written down, even if in Tim’s droll way. They were never a demonstrative pair but moments of affection rang true. Finished with his quick dinner, Patrick folded the list into his pocket and climbed the stairs to bed. As usual, he stopped outside his son’s room to check on him. Unusually, he found Timothy awake. “You should be asleep,” he scolded lightly.

Timothy shrugged. “Dad?”

“Yes, Tim?” Patrick asked.

“Did you see my list?”

“Yes, son. It’s pretty thorough. Do you think Shelagh’s looking for a good cricket player?” He teased.

“Stop, Dad. Don’t make fun, this is important. I think you have a pretty good chance, Dad.”

Patrick laughed lightly, happy. “You think so?”

“Yes. Every time I mentioned you, Shelagh blushed, or got really quiet.” He considered that for a moment. “I guess that could mean she doesn’t like you and she was just embarrassed.”  Tim’s face scrunched in thought before he continued. “But, Dad, there’s something I have to ask you. Its kind of important.”

“Yes, son?”

Timothy seemed to be struggling with something. He took a breath and asked, “Dad, do you want to marry Shelagh? I never asked, I just assumed that you would, because I want you to. But that can’t be the reason, can it? You have to want to marry her, for you. Not for me.”

Patrick let out a sigh and sat on the edge of the bed. He knew he wasn’t very good with words. He wasn’t even sure how he was going to ask Shelagh to marry him. But now, saying the words to his son seemed just as important. “Yes, son. I want to marry Shelagh. I love her, the way a man loves a wife. Being her husband would make me very, very happy. But I wouldn’t ask her if you didn’t like the idea. This would change our family. We both have to want it.”

“I do want it, Dad. Shelagh’s wonderful. She always makes me feel so important, like I’m the most important person. Even when she was a nun.” He looked up at his father.  “Remember how I used to cuddle up with mum and she would read to me? That’s how Shelagh makes me feel. Safe. And loved. And if you love her, we can try and make her love us, too.”

Patrick closed his eyes for a moment. “You are a remarkable boy, Timothy. Your mother would be very proud of you. I’m proud of you, too.” He reached out and tapped Tim’s nose. “You’re not afraid of trusting someone. After all we’ve been through, that’s an amazing thing.”

“It’s easy to trust Shelagh, Dad. I started on the list with her today.”

“Did you? Is she ready to marry me, yet?” he asked, lightening the mood.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Dad, this is going to take some effort. And patience. We’re asking her to make a big change. I’ve started on items two and four and I told her about eight. I reckon she already knows about your car, ‘though Shelagh doesn’t seem to care much about automobiles. And, I thought maybe we should wait a while before we start talking about taking baths. I mean, she was a nun.” He smirked at his father, a fresh look in his eye. “And it looks like you’re going to have to do some shopping. Nurse Franklin says your jumpers are horrible.”

“Good night, Tim.”

 

Patrick was about to turn off his bedside lamp when a thought occurred to him. He took the list from the table and looked closely at the last item on the list. Timothy had quite thoroughly crossed out the words, but with some effort, Patrick began to make them out.

 

1. We can be a family and I can have a mum.

 

Letting out a deep breath, Patrick felt a wave of sadness come over him. The years of pain had definitely made their mark on both of them. It was like they had been in a long, dark tunnel. Patrick knew he had been selfish in the early months of their pain, working long hours to forget, teaching Timothy the importance of self-reliance and independence when the young boy really needed someone to be there for him. He was grateful that Shelagh had been that person for his son, even before she welcomed the father into her life. Now, her love would show father and son the light at the end of that tunnel. Shelagh would teach them joy.

Chapter 3

 

A week went by, then two, and Timothy was growing impatient. He saw Shelagh nearly every day, much more than Dad did, although he suspected they were meeting privately while he was at school. Shelagh hadn’t been back to the house in days, and now was away for two more. She had gone to Chichester to the Mother House and didn’t expect to be home until Saturday.

At breakfast Friday morning, Patrick said, “Tim, I have an errand to do today, and I’d like you to come along. We’ll need to go right after dismissal, so make sure you’re there for me.”

“Where are we going?” Errands on a Friday were highly unusual.

“It’s a surprise. Just be at the gate.”

Climbing into the car, Timothy demanded, “So, where are we going? Why couldn’t you tell me this morning?”

“If I told you this morning, you might not have kept the secret. This way, we have some time ahead of the gossip.”

“I don’t tell our secrets, Dad. Besides, we don’t really ever have any secrets. we’re pretty boring.”

“Are we?” his father asked.

“Well, we were. Until Shelagh. Now everyone is talking about us. Shelagh hates it,” Tim added.

“I know. So let’s put an end to it. We’re going to buy a ring.”

“A ring? What sort of-” Timothy stopped. “You’re finally going to ask her!”

“Finally? It’s only been two weeks, Tim. Some would say I’m rushing things.” Patrick steered the car into the busy traffic.

“Are you rushing things?” Timothy asked, concerned. He thought things weren’t moving quickly enough. Could it be possible that he’d have to wait even longer?

“Maybe. No. Some people will say that it’s too much change, it’s too soon. But I don’t want to wait anymore, Tim. I want Shelagh to be my wife, for us to be a family. I know how I feel, and I’ll feel this way for the rest of my life. If Shelagh feels the same, there’s no reason to wait. Life can be hard and love is what makes it worthwhile. Grasp happiness while you can, Tim.” It had been a long time since he had said something like that to anyone.

“Good,” his son answered. “I don’t want to wait anymore, either. It’s already been ages.”

That night, after a satisfying fry-up at a City cafe, they sat at the kitchen table, the ring between them on the table.

“So how are we going to do this?” Tim asked, conspiratorially.

“We are not going to do anything. I know you want to be a part of this, Tim, but there are some things a man has to do by himself. Proposing marriage is one of them.” If Patrick wished just a little bit that he could have Tim do this for him, he wasn’t telling.

Timothy frowned. “I suppose so. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be there if she said no. Or what if she says yes, and then you kiss her?” He shuddered. “You’re right. I don’t want to be there.”

Patrick laughed nervously. “Which would be worse? A ‘No’ or a kiss?”

Taking a long time to consider, Timothy finally answered. “I suppose a ‘No’ would be worse. I’d be dreadfully disappointed. But the kissing part, is that entirely necessary? You won’t do that here at home, will you?”

“I’m not sure you understand what may be about to happen, Tim. If Shelagh says yes, then kissing is definitely on the table. I’ll try not to embarrass you too much, though.”

“You mean I’ll just have to get used to it.”

“Hopefully, yes. Are you sure this is what you want, too?”

Tim nodded. “Yes. How are you going to ask her?”

Patrick let out a long breath. “I have no idea. With your mother, it just popped out. We were walking back from dinner one night, and I just asked her. I didn’t even think about it. I’m not sure I even remember what I said exactly.”

“Very impressive, Dad. No wonder the ladies love you so much.”

“I don’t have a gift for language like you, Tim. Any suggestions?”

Timothy shook his head.

“Well, then, how about I make some cocoa, and we try to think of something.”

As he stirred the pot, he watched his son wrestle with the problem.

“Will you wrap it?” Tim asked.

“I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose I could,” Patrick answered.

“What if I wrote a note on the inside? That way Shelagh could see that I want it to?”

“What sort of note?” Patrick asked, suspicious.

Timothy looked at his father with a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, Dad. I know exactly how we’re going to pull this off.”