This came to me and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I should have gone to bed hours ago but oh well. I must suffer for my art.

Every third Saturday in September many branches of the extended Turner family would meet annual family get together it was called and this year it was to be held at the house of Helen Turner. She smiled as she watched her eldest grandchild Timothy playing with her youngest Megan. There were several years between the pair and Tim was soon to be at the age where it was deemed uncool to be playing with toys, even if it was just to stop a 4 year old from destroying anything. The giraffe that was currently being walked along the low wall had been in their family for generations, Timothy himself had been fascinated by it as a tot as had Patrick. Speaking of whom... she looked over at her middle son leaning against the old willow tree he'd helped plant many years ago when he was not much older than young Timothy was now. She studied him. Ever since Marie's death nearly two years ago she'd made certain to keep an extra close eye on him yet in the past few months she'd taken a step back as he seemed to improve. Seeing the forlorn look on his face as he looked over the family land she wondered if that had been a mistake. Nevertheless she could help him now. She walks up behind him and gently rested her hand on his arm. He jumped.

'Sorry dear. Didn't mean to disturb such deep thought.' She lied. 'Let's take a walk. I brought cake. Almond sponge, your favourite.'

'What's wrong darling?'

'Nothing. I'm fine.'

'Please do not lie to me Patrick we raised you better than that.' He looked intently at her before sighing deeply, head dropping to his chest. He turned back to the view.

'She should be here.' He said quietly, so quietly she almost missed it over the gentle breeze.

'Marie? Oh Patrick I know it's hard but-'

'No. Not Marie...well yes she should be here. She should never have left us. But I didn't mean Marie.'

'I'm confused.'

'Oh Mum I've messed up. I've really messed up.' He sunk down onto the ground.

'Come now dear I'm sure it's not as bad as all that.' She lowered herself gently down beside him, dismissing the fleeting worry that she may not be able to stand up again.

'I've fallen in love with a woman I can't have. I can't stop thinking about a woman I have no right to think about. I want to marry a woman who will never be mine. And it hurts. It hurts so much mum.' He leant into her one armed embrace as he began to sob quietly , finally letting go of what had been silently plaguing him for months.

'She's married then?'

'In a way.' She quirked a questioning eyebrow at him. 'She's a nun.' He admitted through the tears.

'A real nun? As in lives in a convent, wears a habit, lots of praying nun?' He nodded. 'Oh dear. You have got yourself into a pickle haven't you?' He nodded again. 'My poor boy, what torment you must be in.' She wiped the years from his face with her thumb.

'I kissed her. I kissed her hand and she took it away but told me it was only because she had already dedicated her life to God, not because of me. And there were so many moments we shared. I think she feels the same as I do. At least I used to think that. She was diagnosed with tuberculosis two months ago, I diagnosed her, I had to examine her, she had to open her pinafore type thing and I had to touch her chest and her heart raced when I got nearer and when I touched her. She barely breathed the entire examination. But she's gone to a sanatorium. I've been writing to her. It started friendly but I had to let her know how I felt. I never said it directly but she knows. If she's even read them of course. She could be throwing them straight in the nun for all I know. But she's never responded to me if she's read them. I don't think she loves me.' His voice broke as he verbalized his greatest fear. Helen sighed sadly, her heart breaking for her little boy.

'Oh Patrick. I wish I had some magical words of wisdom to make it all okay. I wish I could tell you exactly what you should do but life doesn't work that way. You've got yourself into a very unusual, unique situation. All I can say is don't give up. Trust in yourself to make the right decision. And trust in Him-i know you don't believe in him but trust in my trust, and your young ladies trust-in Him to guide you the right way.'

'I know. It's just seeing everyone so happy here, so loved in their families, with scenery sister Bernadette would love...I just really wish she could be here too. As my wife. As Timothy's mum. With our children joining in with the chaos.'

'Sister Bernadette? Pretty name. Tell me about her.' He smiled as the achingly familiar face came materialized before his eyes.

'You know I don't actually know her real name. Or how old she actually is. Or what colour hair she has. I don't know where she grew up, whether she has siblings. I know her so little. But I do know some things. She's Scottish, I'd say she's around 30 years old...I know, she's young..., she has these incredible eyes that aren't quite blue or grey but are both and neither at the same time though they're usually hidden behind her glasses, she has the cutest little smile, I believe my dear brother would refer to it as dorky, her nose wrinkles up when she grins, there's nothing in the world I wouldn't do to see her smile at me again. She's the most beautiful singer you will ever hear. She's the soloist within the nuns when they sing. She's fiercely intelligent, she teaches the other nurses and nuns, she's even managed to drag sister Evangelina into the modern era at times. Though that's a testament to her stubbornness more than her intelligence. She's a very hard worker, passionate and dedicated to it. She sometimes finds religion lacking in the aftermath of tragedy but always finds a way to make it work. No matter how down she is she believes God and religion will guide the way. She lost her mother when she was very young and drew resilience and strength from it. She used to sneak cigarettes out of her father's desk as a young teenager. She's fantastic with children. She's intervened several times when I've almost lost my temper with Timothy after a hard shift. She dotes on him and he thinks she hung the moon. She's perfect.'

'Sounds like you know her better than you think.' Helen smiled as her boy lot up brighter than she's seen in years, long before Marie had fallen ill, at the thought of the paradigm of a woman he had fallen so desperately for.

'And yet not nearly as well as I want to.'

'Well she sounds wonderful. If she ever sees sense she's welcome to become a Turner.' She promised.

'If only.' He sighed heavily.

3 weeks later Helen Turner received a phone call from her son.

'Remember how you said sister Bernadette was welcome to become a Turner? Well I have some news...'

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