Work Text:
When one thinks of Becky Barnes, usually there are three things that come to mind.
Becky Barnes is a nurse.
Becky Barnes is kind-hearted.
Becky Barnes is one of the few non-Hatchetfield natives who are accepted and respected members of the community.
Less often, she'd be leisurely described as that pale redhead, or perhaps even as Tom Houston's ex if that particular person enjoyed partaking in gossip, which most Hatchetfield residents did.
One word, though, that not even Becky would ever think to use for herself, is exhausted.
Becky is hardworking, sure, what she does is important and she knows it; but it's her job. It's what is expected of her, it's what she loves to do, it's what fulfills her.
And it's not like Becky even has any time at all to be exhausted!
So there she stands, confused, all alone in the break room, after being told by her dear friend and colleague that someone has left something for her.
The small, white paper bag is heavy and still warm in her hands; the card attached to it with carries a similar warmth, be it metaphorical.
Dear Becky,
I apologize for not bringing over anything yesterday and breaking our little tradition — Grace felt ill and I stayed home with her all day to make sure she felt better.
She does, fortunately, and even insisted on returning to school today. Obviously I felt relieved that she made such a quick recovery, but also that it meant I had the time to make something special for you.
You must feel exhausted after your shift, going so long without a sweet treat :-) I do hope this makes up for it.
If you're wondering why I chose this particular sweet to make; I remembered you telling me about wishing there was a place in Hatchetfield that sold tablet, Grace helped me find a recipe for them on the internet. It took a bit, as Google has apparently never heard of traditionally Scottish sweets and instead kept showing us electronic tablets, but in the end, we managed to find a lovely recipe for it.
I hope that my inexperience with tablet doesn't show in its taste. I don't think I'll be able to personally bring this to you tomorrow, as your shift ends rather late, but I'd love to meet up on your nearest day off! Kindly let me know when you are free, and I'll be over.
As always, the dinner invitation to our home stands; both Mark and Grace are looking forward to finally getting to know you better.
Lots of love,
Karen
P.S.: Do you have any wishes for particular baked goods? I worry you're growing tired of the same old cupcake and cookie recipes every day for weeks on end.
Becky lowers the letter. She's a bit surprised at herself that she's not crying.
The pieces of tablet are sweet and hard and perfect, and the whole way home Becky thinks about how she should call or text Karen. Thank her for this incredibly thoughtful gift, for the sweet letter, tell her she's free tomorrow (and any time Karen wants her to be) — but she refrains. It's late.
Karen is likely already fast asleep, Mark right next to her. Becky can picture it. She doesn't understand why it makes her stomach twist to, though.
The tablet goes in the kitchen cabinet at home, save for a second piece Becky has before getting ready for bed. And the letter, the letter goes on her nightstand. Becky thinks if she can't wake up next to Karen tomorrow, this is the second best thing.