Chapter Text
….. Chapter 1 …..
Dear Sister Bernadette,
I know dad has been writing to you, but he’s been extra busy this week and I’m not sure he’s had the time, so I’ll write, so you don’t get bored.
I hope you’re beginning to feel better and can come home soon. It’s rotten without you here.
I don't know if dad told you but I'm at Nonnatus a lot these days and it’s rather dull without you (don’t tell the others I said so).
You’ve always been my favourite Nonnatun, Especially since the race at the fete.
We all miss you, me and dad especially. He might not want me to tell you, but I can tell he misses you a great deal. I do too.
I hope you get well soon.
I know you haven't replied to dad's letters, but please write back to me? So I know you're okay?
Feel better soon Sister! We miss you.
Love,
Timothy x
**
While Timothy’s letter sat tucked behind her lamp, worn at the edge from being read many times, three from the doctor sat unopened on Sister Bernadette’s bedside table, tucked underneath her Bible. She thought to leave them unread would bring her peace, but questions of what might lay inside consumed her regardless. Midnight had been and gone long ago, marking the start of her fifth week at the sanatorium.
She didn’t hate it, she thought she might, but the calm was a welcome reprieve from the business of the East End. She loved the chaotic rush of being needed and missed it dearly. Missed him dearly. Even though she knew she shouldn’t. Couldn’t.
The downside, of course, to all the quiet, was that she had no escape from the doubting, the longing, and the questioning of her whole life and purpose.
What could God mean by testing her so? He was testing her resolve, her strength, her reason for being at all.
She had made a promise to God, to the Order, and it was one she thought was forever; but these feelings had lingered for many months now with no sign of relenting.
Her thoughts of her dear doctor had begun out of nowhere. First, she would notice small things, only once in a while, like how his eyes lit up when he saw Timothy doing anything particularly joyful, or at the relief of a babe’s first wail. Then there was the crinkle at the side of his mouth when he smiled. These initial realisations only led to more, such as how she would catch him looking at her when she wasn’t looking at him. It was hard not to blush in these instances.
Of course, when she made these observations for the first time, she would begin to make the same ones again and again. Noticing a pattern. She had almost the feeling that he saw something in her that he didn’t see in the other sisters; and would attribute this to her youthfulness and (though she tried not to be vain) the fact she was objectively rather pretty, she had always been told as such.
But Doctor Turner wasn’t that kind of man, she knew that.
He was the kind of man to see a person’s soul, their heart, before seeing their body. He saw her soul, her heart, and almost saw her mind at times. He barely knew her, but they worked so well as a team, he seemed to know what she thought before she did.
He would move to give her space in a delivery room, before she knew she needed it, hand her tools or a towel before she asked, and she had noticed more and more frequently, that she found herself doing the same for him.
Knowing she would never succeed in sleep with these musings, she ended her tossing and turning, and chose instead to rise, switching on her lamp and letting out a great sigh.
She picked up her bible and accidentally knocked the three envelopes to the ground. They were recovered swiftly and clasped close to Sister Bernadette’s chest as she tried to not cry from the heartache of it.
With trembling fingers, she opened the one dated as being sent merely a week after her stay at the sanatorium began.
**
Dear Sister Bernadette,
I apologise for not writing sooner, I have struggled to put pen to paper this past week as I am unsure where to begin. I have many thoughts I wish to convey, yet I don’t want to write a letter long enough to be a burden to you.
My priority, of course, is to know you are well. We caught the TB early enough I hope, that you won’t get too poorly, and the current treatments are a cut above what they used to be so I remain optimistic.
What has been weighing heavily on my mind, and indeed on my pen, is my guilt over what transpired that day of the summer fete. I cannot and will not lie to you, it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision to kiss your hand. I wish it had been, then I could tell you that it was a thoughtless mistake. That would be a lie, however, as that moment and that decision was the culmination of months of noticing every detail about you, and craving more. When I am with you, you consume me; and when I am not, I wish I were.
That being said, you have made vows, and I have no intention of coming between you and God.
I meant exactly what I said afterwards, it was unforgivable of me, and I fully accept and respect your decision on the matter. Not only that, but I am envious of you for the strength you showed that day, you turned your back when in your place I would never have been able to, as I clearly showed when my judgement lapsed.
I dearly hope you accept my apologies for putting you in that position, I never should have and I cannot express in words how heavily this has weighed on my conscience.
You can be reassured I shall make no such mistake again. I dearly hope we can remain friends, and that my error has not cost us that. Your comfort and happiness are more important to me than anything (aside from Timothy, as I’m sure you will understand), and if there is anything I can do to ensure your comfort then please do not hesitate to tell me what I can do. I promise you, I would do anything. I would leave Poplar in a heartbeat if it is what you wished of me.
Timothy has asked that I tell you he is missing you awfully. Our housekeeper has had to leave us for the foreseeable future, her mother has fallen ill and requires her daughter a great deal more than Tim and I. This means he is spending a great deal of time at Nonnatus House, which he says is a lot less enjoyable without his favourite sister. I fear he misses you almost as much as I do.
You’ll be pleased to know that Mrs Foyle has had a healthy baby boy (and named him Joseph), and Mrs Anders has been blessed with the surprise of twins, both girls (Lucille and Amelia).
I enclose as well a get well soon card from Elsie, the young girl you encouraged to get x-rayed. Her mother is due to pop any day and has been asking after your health. When baby is born I wouldn’t be surprised if it is named after you. A little Bernadette or a Bernard!
On this happy note, I shall end the letter.
I will write again if this will not be a burden to you. You may also be receiving a letter from Timothy by the end of the week, he has missed sharing his many, many stories with you, and I think Sister Evangelina is beginning to be sick of them, not that she’d ever tell him so of course.
If you would prefer no correspondence from me, I understand, and I fully respect your choice.
Warmest regards and best wishes,
Dr Turner
AND TIMOTHY XX
**