Doctor Turner stood by the car as he watched Sister Bernadette's form retreat towards the sanitarium. He struggled to rein in his emotions – fear, terror even, warred with the logic that told him the same thing he had told her: the triple treatment could be miraculous. But she wasn't just another patient. He was honest enough with himself to admit that she was much more to him than just another patient. But could he ever hope to be more than just a doctor to her?
Sunday, August 17, 1958
Dear Sister Bernadette,
I hope this letter finds you well, or at least, as well as can be expected. I know how grueling the triple treatment can be. Things in Poplar are much the same since you left – Mrs. Smith delivered her twins safely, with a little help from Nurse Lee and me. I know Mrs. Smith missed your calm, caring competence though – and so did I.
Timothy asks after you often. I've encouraged him to write you himself, but you know how boys can be. He's growing again, I think. He's been eating me out of house and home, though he complains every time I attempt to cook something. He says to tell you that you must get better before the next three-legged race opportunity – apparently my services are no longer required in this area.
We both wish for you to get well as soon as possible, so that you may return to Nonnatus.
Yours,
P. Turner