Letters to the Mother House

Summary: In which Patrick writes a new set of letters... Takes place during the 2018 Christmas special! Slightly AU because it was written pre-episode.

A/N: This was written for roguesnitch as part of the Nonnatun Christmas Exchange!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Neither Patrick nor Shelagh missed the glimpse of disappointment in the other's face when it was announced that Shelagh would be spending her Christmas season at the Mother House. There were no ill feelings about the situation - Shelagh needed to be with Sister Julienne and Patrick knew she needed to go - but between a new baby, fluctuating childcare, and both of their work schedules, romance of any kind had been hard to come by. They'd made plans for Christmas. They were finally supposed to have time with the children and time with each other. It seemed God had other ideas, though, and so a cold December morning saw Patrick and the three smaller Turners waving goodbye as Shelagh was driven away to the seaside.

By the end of their first day at the Mother House, Shelagh was homesick and utterly exhausted. The place brought back a lot of memories she wasn't anticipating and her present company made her feel extremely guilty for missing her husband, though she knew that was illogical. Therefore, it was the most welcome surprise when after supper, one of the postulants handed her a letter with a shy smile.

The nearly illegible writing on the envelope warmed her aching heart instantly and she hurried to her room under the guise of an early night. Sister Julienne saw her scurry away, but her knowing smile alleviated Shelagh of any remaining pull to the dining room.

She was sure she hadn't touched a piece of paper so delicately since her time in St. Anne's.

My Dearest Love,

As I write this, you are fast asleep beside me. The last time I wrote to you, I scarcely dared imagine you like this. Your hand is on my stomach and your breath glides across my chest with every passing moment. You'll think me foolish in the morning for being so tired, but knowing you will leave in two days has me unable to close my eyes. My fingers ache to run through your hair, but I don't want to wake you. You seem so peaceful and I know peace has not been easy this past year.

Hopefully, this will reach you on your first day. Know that it is the first of many, my darling. I can only imagine how difficult it is for you to be there. Know that I do not expect a reply - I am well-prepared to not receive one from experience! Simply know that I love you and I am thinking of you always.

All my love,

Your Patrick

Shelagh pressed the letter to her heart before reading it several more times. Her amazing, soppy husband. A part of her wanted to reply, but she knew the pay off would be even sweeter and far more passionate if she waited.

Sure enough, the letters continued to arrive daily and as the pile of letters grew, so did Patrick's boldness of affection. By the fourth evening, under a greeting of "To my lover:", she found a rather vivid description of the dream he had the first night she left and it had her blushing so badly she could hardly look a single nun in the eye the following day. Cheeky bastard. He was playing a very different game than he played five years ago.

Still, she refrained from replying.

The day before she was due to return to Poplar (thankfully along with Sister Julienne), she received a phone call. The small giggle from the postulant who retrieved her from the sitting room told her all she needed to know about the caller.

"You're breaking tradition, Dr. Turner. I believe I'm supposed to telephone you." she spoke softly into the phone, extremely mindful of any listening ears. His warm, suggestive laugh from the other side of the line told her he had no such reservations.

"Yes, well, I thought I might get ahead of things." he replied. "The last time I left you to your own devices, you took the wrong bus."

"To the right road though." she corrected sincerely.

"Yes, you did." His humor dropped as well. "I miss you terribly, Shelagh."

"I miss you too, Patrick." she replied. "And not just in the way you've missed me if that last letter was anything to go by…" she teased. He laughed.

"I'm sorry, my love, I might've gotten a bit carried away. There were just so many things I wasn't allowed to write to you the last time." Shelagh laughed louder than she should have, but the image of her past self reading Patrick's current letters was too overwhelmingly funny.

"Yes, I don't think Sister Bernadette would have appreciated those sentiments quite as much." she paused. "Patrick...are you alone?" She could've sworn she'd heard him gasp.

"Yes." he replied quietly.

"Will you be alone when I return tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes…" The deeper timbre of his voice never failed to thrill her. "Or I will be as soon as I arrange for Granny Parker to take the children for one more day. You never know. There could've been an emergency keeping you occupied…"

"Terribly occupied." she whispered. Approaching voices startled her and she blushed at the thought of her own implications whilst standing in the Mother House. "Duty calls."

"I understand." he replied knowingly. "Shelagh?"

"Yes?"

"No need to worry about wearing the wrong clothes tomorrow. You won't be wearing them for very-"

"Goodbye, Patrick!" she hastily hung up the phone as Sister Winifred, Sister Julienne, and several other nuns turned the corner.

"Everything alright back at home, Mrs. Turner?" Sister Winifred asked innocently. "You look a bit frazzled."

"Nothing to trouble yourself with." she assured. "Just a bit worried about being away from the children for Christmas, that's all, if you'll excuse me."

Shelagh hurried away, though she'd always been a horrible liar and knew hiding it was for naught. Sure enough, as she scurried away from the group, she could hear the tell-tale sounds of giggles floating through the halls.

"Should've stuck to letter writing, stubborn man…" she grumbled to herself. At least she could sleep soundly tonight in the knowledge that he would be punished the following evening.