Shelagh’s talk with dear old Fred may have helped her understand more about the complexities of her marriage, but righting the ship will take a bit of time. She’s starting to understand her own emotions, but there are two in a marriage.

---

Chapter One   Chapter Two     Chapter Three

 

Any other time, the choir’s efforts to tackle such a difficult arrangement would have thrilled Shelagh. In such a short time the women had tackled the difficult task of reaching the high notes of Ave Verum Corpus whilst following her directions for sotto voce. The Bass section was coming along nicely, but the Tenors were still one short, and she could hear a weakness in that void.

The last notes bounced around the community center and Shelagh dropped her hands.

“Very well done, thank you. We’re well on our way to being ready for the competition. I think that will be all tonight, ladies and gentlemen. If you could all be here next week, seven o’clock, we’ll work on our timing.” She turned to Timothy. “Thank you, Timothy, dear. That was quite excellent this evening.”

The boy smiled back, but she could see the worry in his eyes. She glanced away. It wouldn’t do for Timothy to read too much into the situation. Patrick had clearly forgotten about their regular choir practice when he interrupted with Reverend Hereward Men’s Group earlier, despite having been one of the earliest members to join.

But that had been weeks ago, when Shelagh needed him to help rebuild the choir. Patrick’s chair was left empty soon afterward, a victim to his busy schedule. The choir was no longer a priority for him, and she understood.

With a deep breath, Shelagh faced the choir. “As usual, we’ll need to stack the chairs, neatly, if you  please, and I’m afraid last time someone left several tea cups in the kitchen sink. I don’t think Timothy will thank you if he has to stay behind to wash up.”

A laugh came up from the group and Shelagh began to gather her score. Mrs. Sills, a rather enthusiastic alto and notorious gossip, joined her at the stage.

“Bit of a surprise to see Doctor Turner show up tonight, Mrs. Turner. I’d’ve thought him, of all people, would know the choir practices here once a week, what with his wife and son here.” Her sly voice did not trick Shelagh.

“Doctor Turner is a very busy man, Mrs. Sills, with many demands on his time. You can understand, of course, that a thing like this might slip his mind.” She kept her eyes on the sheet music she was sorting. Mrs. Sills was not going to get a rise out of her.

“Funny, I reckon you looked surprised when he waltzed in. Sounded a bit put out, too, if I may say.”

Shelagh placed the sheaf of papers on the stage and took a deep breath. Years of handling the mercurial nature of Sister Monica Joan had taught her to keep cool and collected. “Is there anything else, Mrs. Sills? I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

The busybody frowned, unsatisfied. Over her shoulder, she took a parting shot. “It’s so generous of Dr. Turner to give so much of his time to the community. It’s just too bad he doesn’t have time for the choir anymore.”

On the walk home, Shelagh’s attempts at conversation were answered by curt responses, and soon she stopped speaking entirely. Timothy would need help understanding the change in their home, but she would have to wait and follow his lead. She knew he was confused–hurt, even, and she struggled to find a way of comforting him.

The atmosphere at home had not improved, despite her efforts at reconciliation. Patrick was just as distant as ever since the terrible interview, unwilling to bridge the growing chasm between them. Unavoidably, her own anger transmuted into a cold doubt.

Even in their marriage bed he would not lower his walls. For the first time since her surgery, there was no physical intimacy between them at all. She remembered how during the long painful nights after her diagnosis, Patrick had wrapped her in his arms, keeping her close in their own little world.  Her heart ached to think of the cold inches that separated them these last nights.

After long moments of unsettled silence, Timothy spoke. “He should have remembered.” His voice was hard and uncompromising.

Shelagh sighed. He was such an intuitive boy, she had known he would recognize tonight’s lapse. Timothy was very protective of her, a thought that made her smile bittersweet. The loss of his mother was always under the surface, and informed so many of his actions. She understood that, and knew it was likely the first link in the chain that bonded them together, but she mustn’t give in to it.

She wouldn’t, she couldn’t replace Marianne. The most she could do was to find her own place as his new mother, but that should not be done at the expense of his relationship with his father. Her own sense of emptiness should not be filled by her step-son. It would be selfish to allow it, and Timothy would suffer for the breach that had formed between his parents.

“Timothy, your father is a very busy man, you know that.” Even to her own ears, the excuse felt feeble.

Tim’s eyes stayed straight ahead. “He’s never too busy for his patients. I thought that…I thought when you got married he’d stay home more, that we’d be a family. Lately, he’s never home, and when he is, he’s practically invisible.” His young body was stiff in its hurt confusion.

Placing her arm on his sleeve, Shelagh paused in their walk. “Timothy, you know your father loves you.”

“I know he says he does,” Timothy countered angrily, “but what good is that if he’s so cold and distant all the time? You spent all that time making a pudding he likes, and he barely tasted it. He doesn’t talk to us, he doesn’t want to be around us at all anymore.”

Days of pretending and smoothing over difficult moments had begun to fatigue her. It was like oil of clove on a sore tooth. It might dull the pain for a bit, but the only way to conquer the pain was to get at its source. Hadn’t she learnt that already?

Taking a deep breath, Shelagh reached out. “Timothy, remember during the summer holidays, when you were so irritated with me?”

His eyes glanced away guiltily. “It wasn’t you. I was frustrated I had those stupid calipers.”

Shelagh smiled. “No, you were frustrated with me. It’s alright, dear, I understand. I was smothering you a bit, I’m afraid.”

“Well, maybe you were, a little,” Timothy’s slightly crooked smile pierced her heart. “But I was a bit of a beast to you. You were only trying to help.”

It would be easy to agree with him. She had been trying to help, after all, and Timothy had been unpleasant. She stopped in her tracks. No, Shelagh thought. It was time to stop playing the part of the helpless victim.

“Yes, I was. But I was trying too hard. I was holding you too tightly. It was perfectly appropriate for you to push back at me. You may still be a child, but you have the right to be considered as a full partner in your own life.

“Your father and I…we’ve hit a rough patch, just like you and I did last summer. And just like that time, it isn’t all one person’s fault. Your Dad and I need to learn…” She paused. Timothy was a child. The work of a marriage was beyond his understanding.  It would be better to reassure him, to help him understand that he was loved, and would be cared for.

Linking her arm in his, she turned home. “If I’ve learned anything this last year, it’s that you must earn the life you want. You can’t expect to sit back and let it come to you.”

Patrick’s own words of comfort last summer came back to her. The road ahead wasn’t clear, but they were on it together. Her resolve strengthened. She and Patrick wouldn’t find their way back to each other with puddings or favors. They would have to work together.

“We’ll get through this, dearest. We’ll find a way.”

 

Chapter 5