Sister Julienne looks the younger nun steadily in the face, her eyes unwavering though her head is trembling slightly.

"Sister," she asks in a whisper, and for a moment it would be almost unbelievable that she is the older of the two, "What should I do?"

For the first time during this conversation, Sister Bernadette looks genuinely shocked.

"Sister, I can't even begin to tell you what to do!" she half-exclaims, "I've barely adjusted my mind to the situation. To make decisions for-..."

"No, you're right," Sister Julienne decides, "Forgive me. It was wrong of me to ask that. But I am so desperate for advice, for some guidance-..."

"Advice," Sister Bernadette judges slowly, her frown creased a little in concentration, "Is different."

There is a long pause, and Sister Julienne is both glad and touched to think that Sister Bernadette is considering this at such length. It takes her a little while before she is ready to speak again, but when she does there is quiet conviction in her tone.

"You have to make a choice, Sister," she judges finally, "You cannot go on like this forever. But equally, I don't think it would be wise to act at all until you are completely certain about what that choice is going to be. I'm sorry to say it, but I really don't think you can afford to make the wrong one."

Sister Julienne listens in silence, sensing that she has more to say.

"As far as I can see, you have two reasonable choices," she tells her levelly, "The first is that you leave Poplar, with Dr. Turner. Turn your back on this life altogether and start completely anew. I'm sorry Sister, but I don't think you could stay here if you married him. One of the younger nuns, perhaps, could but in your case I'm afraid there would be too much of a scandal. I'm not sure if you could stand it- I know I couldn't. The other choice is to remain here, as you are now, to break things off between the two of you and to move on. If you wanted to remain in the order and live somewhere else it would mean having to explain yourself, and I'm sure you-..."

"Quite," Sister Julienne agrees, "That would not be an attractive prospect."

They are quiet for a moment.

"I think any compromise between the two extremes would be counter-productive," Sister Bernadette states.

"Yes, Sister," Julienne replies, the grimness of the truth setting in as she concedes it, "I agree."

…...

It had to come to an end. She had decided. She was certain. She was going to tell him, she was on her way there now.

She felt numb, her legs were peddling of their own accord. She needed, though, to think about directions. She was not going to the Maternity Hospital as usual; Sister Bernadette had consulted the duty log for her and found that he was off call and would be at home. Very kindly, Sister Bernadette had also ascertained that Timothy would be away with Fred, Chummy and the other Cubs that night. They would not be disturbed.

She rests her bicycle carefully up against the wall and knocks a little timidly on the woodwork of the door.

He looks surprised to see her, to say the least.

"Hello."

"Hello. Can I come in?"

"Yes, of course," he steps out of the way hurriedly to let her past and shuts the door behind them both.

"Are you alright?" he asks, looking into her face with concern, "Why have you come here?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she replies- her hands are trembling if she holds them still for too long.

He follows her through into the sitting room.

"Please have a seat," he tells her.

She does so, on the settee, and he sits down beside her.

"Patrick," she turns inwards so she can look at him as she speaks, "We need to stop."

He is very quiet for a moment.

"Are you speaking on the spur of the moment or is this a thought-out decision?" he asks, quite reasonably.

"I've thought about it," she assures him, "I've been thinking about almost nothing else recently."

He nods calmly, accepting this. There is quiet for a moment. For a long moment. She wonders if he is going to speak at all.

"I knew it would happen one day," he says finally.

"I'm so sorry," she tells him quietly, willing him to believe just how sincerely she means it; she is so very sorry.

"Don't be," he tells her, "You are not to blame."

She could reasonably dispute that, she thinks; at the moment she feels all sorts of guilt. But she remains silent, and for more long moments so does he.

"Just tell me," he says quietly after a while, "Tell me honestly. Is this just because of your vows or have I made you unhappy?"

She looks at him, her eyes welling with tears. It is difficult not to reach out and take his hand.

"Oh, Patrick. You have made me so happy," she tells him, her voice quivering lightly, "You have made me happier than I ever could have dreamt."

He gives her the saddest smile she thinks she's ever seen.

"In another life we might have-..."

She nods hastily, cutting him off, unable to hear him say it. She is clenching her jaw, trying desperately to hold her tears back. Trying and failing. Her shoulders are visibly shaking.

"Darling," he murmurs, reaching out, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumb, "Don't cry, darling."

"I can't help it," she chokes out.

His hands fall to her shoulders, pulling her towards him, simply hugging her to him, trying to calm her. She hiccoughs a little with tears, her head resting on his shoulder.

"It's just," she murmurs after a while, "It's just that I couldn't bear to live here with you, with everyone talking about what we've done. And I don't think you could either. You might not be able to work as a doctor here any more and it would break your heart not to work."

"By God, I wish you weren't right," he tells her quietly.

"And I can't bear to leave here," she continues softly, "So the only thing left for me to do is to leave you. I'm so sorry, my darling."

"It's alright," he tells her again, and he sounds tired, so weary, his voice full of a dull aching, "It's alright. I understand," he soothes her back, "Please don't cry."

He kisses her cheek.

…...

Before she know what has happened she is in his bed, they are in his bed together, for the first and last time. It is getting dark outside, but neither of them notices. They only have eyes for each other, they undress each other, drinking in the sight of one another's bodies, because this is the very last time and this has to last a lifetime.

She has never been more in love with him than she is now. Knowing this is the final time, they give themselves to each other unreservedly, uninhibitedly, in complete abandon. He laps at her breast with his mouth, marks her collarbone with is kisses, nuzzles the hollow of her throat so intimately that it makes her cry out. She kisses him back so fervently, bites his shoulder, pushes his back into the mattress straddling his waist.

"Darling," he murmurs, looking up at her in awe as she grinds against him.

"Ruth," she tells him under her breath, "My name is Ruth."

What does it matter if he knows when she belongs to him? This is the bed where they might have lain together as husband and wife. He reaches up and touches her face, throw back in anguish as the thought washes over her. Gently, sensing her weakness, he rolls them over so that she is lying down and he is lying beside her.

"I'm glad I've made you happy," he whispers, "It was the very least I could do, because you're incredible. You're so beautiful. I've never seen anything as beautiful as you. You're so wonderful. I couldn't bear to cause you pain."

"Patrick," she murmurs, reaching out for his body, "Darling."

They embrace one another, and kiss. He kisses her lips, her neck, her breastbone, her stomach, in between her legs. He has never done this before. It makes her writhe. Nothing has ever been more intimate than what he is doing for her now, what he is giving her, what he is making her feel. She hardly knows what to do. Her hand grips the bedsheet, his dark, rumpled hair. It makes her cry out, her hips arch and jut off the bed.

He holds her limp form in his arms, kissing her face tenderly. His excitement presses against her thigh.

"In another life-..." he murmurs, deeply into her eyes.

"Don't," she tells him.

This is the life they have, the one they must live in. No other life exists, not now. And now she needs the Lord, she needs her old life, she needs to help the people of this community.

Oh, but a different life. She can read his thoughts through his eyes, from the way he is looking at her. She can see it all.

Her in midnight blue silk, two small diamonds in her ears, wearing red lipstick and crossing a room to get to him. Their eyes are locked all of the time and soft music is playing. The room is darkening around them, but they are staring at each other in a look that is itself an embrace, that is the act of love, as if across eternity, across years of time that they do not have. It is a different life: all she has to match this image, his dream of them, in the real world is the brightness of her eyes, her lips red from kissing and the blue of her habit. But the look they share, the way they feel is the same. A different life. He thinks her incredible and she has never been more in love with him. But once they make love this final time, it will all be over. Everything will be over.

They move to each other at the same time, their arms, their eyes, locking around each other. She gives him a brief nod. He enters her so slowly.

"Patrick," she murmurs gently in his ear, choking back tears.

"Ruth."

He moves gently at first, so infinitely slowly that she can hardly bear the torturous exquisite pleasure of it. He holds her so tenderly. She can hardly bear that this has to be over and yet when it comes to it, she is begging him to go faster, she needs to feel him more. They kiss so deeply. His hands touch her breast, slip between their bodies to brush her between the legs, making her moan.

In the end they cannot kiss any more, it is too much. He presses his face into her shoulder and she buries hers in his hair. His lips brush her collarbone, emitting low, erotic pants or breath against her skin as he thrusts into her.

On the cusp of every gasp, she can hear the words he is only just barely holding back, which he has said to her before and which she is so grateful he is restraining because she knows to hear them again now would mean she could never leave, she would return again and again to him, her lover.

But she hears them clearly, ringing, chanting over and over again in her own head as they both come within seconds of each other falling sated and broken into one another's arms:

"I wish I could have everything in the world with you."

End.

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