Kindred Spirits
Pity? No that wasn't the word.
Sorrow? A bit.
Compassion? Undoubtedly, but still not the word she was looking for to describe this feeling.
Kinship. That was it.
That was what she felt while she watched Timothy Turner's face fall as his father was taken away from the fete by a frantic-looking Nurse Lee. Sister Bernadette had lost her mother at a young age as well, and she knew how it felt to have a father who tried to fill the void as best he could. Even if those efforts weren't always successful.
She watched the torment on Doctor Turner's face as he had to make the decision between leaving his son and helping someone in need. Not an easy decision for anyone to make, but knowing the doctor's work ethic, it wasn't surprising to watch him go.
She had been trying to push her feelings aside for weeks. But now, standing in the courtyard of the parish hall, the feelings wouldn't budge. She watched the young boy onstage, willing him to look at her so he could see that he had someone in the crowd who was focusing on him and only him. Someone who cared.
The performance over, Sister Bernadette found herself being drawn to the side of the stage to wait as all the Cubs made their way over to their parents. Each of them met with enthusiasm and congratulations from their mothers and fathers. All except young Timothy Turner, who was taking off his hat and costume quietly in the corner of the stage. He folded it carefully, as if he knew what an inconvenience ironing it would be.
In truth, he did know, she thought to herself. She'd heard him telling Nurse Noakes a few nights earlier at Cubs, she'd been cleaning up from clinic in the kitchen, that he'd burnt himself with the iron that morning. Her immediate reaction was to rush over and make sure he was alright, that his burn wasn't serious. Then she realized, she had no right for these urges, this almost maternal longing to care for him.
Yet, here she was. Doing exactly what she'd told herself she shouldn't.
"Well done, Timothy. You were wonderful up there! I think you've got a career as an actor in your future."
"Thank you, Sister Bernadette. I didn't know you were watching."
"Of course. I wouldn't miss the opportunity to see such a wonderful performance of 'Robin Hood'." She bent down to his level, which due to her height wasn't very far, and whispered conspiratorially. "I shouldn't say this, but you were the best one." She added a wink for good measure, hoping to make him smile. Her efforts did not go unrewarded as a shy smile broke out on his lips.
"Thank you, Sister. I won't tell." came his whispered reply.
"The three legged race will be beginning in five minutes. Would all entrants please report to the starting line? Thank you."
The smile fell from the young boy's face as the voice of Mrs. Clark, the vicar's wife, trilled over the loudspeaker. His eyes darted around the crowd, eagerly searching for his partner. In that moment, Sister Bernadette made a decision.
She had seen the excitement on his face last week in the parish hall kitchen. 'We've been practicing, but I'm much better!' Teasing his father with a cheeky smile and his eyes full of pride.
There was a lightness about the Turner men as they ran together in practice, both without a care in the world in that moment. The chance to be a little boy spending time with his father, not the motherless child who was often left alone. She couldn't help it but cheer for them, even though she shouldn't show favoritism, she did in her head.
She tried to talk herself out of the notion that this was a selfish act, that she wasn't getting joy out of it herself. That she was helping. What was it that Mother Jesu always said? 'I am a nurse and a midwife. I will always seek to ease distress.'
That was what she was doing. Easing distress. Why should he be left out? He's only a boy. He deserves to have a childhood. He deserves to have fun.
"Timothy? I was thinking, and you can feel free to say no, but I was wondering if you'd mind letting me be your partner for the three legged race instead of your father? I was watching you all practicing this week and thought it looked like such fun!"
The boy stared at her wide-eyed and she feared she had overstepped.
"You don't have to say yes, Timothy. I know you were looking forward to this and I just thought-"
She was cut off by the feeling of his arms wrapping themselves around her waist in a crushing hug. Unconsciously stroking his hair tenderly, she hugged him back and smiled at the feeling of being held onto so tightly.
"Really, Sister, would you?!"
"Absolutely. I know we haven't practiced, but I think I can get the hang of it. Come along, let's get ready, don't want them to start without us."
They walked over to the starting line, arms on each other's shoulders, practicing their run.
'Outside leg, inside leg. Outside leg, inside leg.' They repeated in harmony, smiles evident on both their faces.
When they got to the starting line, the nurses looked at her curiously but she ignored them, bending down instead to tie their legs together and take their marks.
"Oi, Tim! Where's ya dad? I thought you's two were runnin' togetha!" Jack Smith bellowed across the line.
"Oh...well, he-"
Sister Bernadette cut him off, turning to the other young boy. "Timothy thought he might have a better chance to win if his partner wasn't so tall, so he asked me."
She felt Timothy's arm relax around her and saw him smile at her in gratitude.
"Good thinkin, Tim! Plus, with Sista Bernadette, you'll have God rootin' for ya, too!"
"Runners, please take your places! On your marks, get set, GO!"
Their first few steps were clumsy, but they soon got the hang of it. 'Outside, inside. Outside, inside.' Suddenly, to their right, came a familiar voice shouting encouragement.
He made it.
She felt Timothy pick up speed and immediately sought to match him, their feet moving faster and faster together as the voice followed them down the stretch of the sideline. It wasn't until the finish line was in sight that she wondered how they would stop...and then, suddenly, they were facedown on the pavement.
After turning to Timothy and seeing his elation, she realized he was crouching in front of them.
"We won!" She smiled excitedly as they both struggled to stand. She felt a twinge in her hand as she pushed off the ground, but since her glasses had been knocked off, she couldn't properly see.
"Timothy, hold still. You can't go anywhere, yet."
She watched him extend his arm to untie their legs, but then pull back as if suddenly remembering propriety. She reached down herself to untie them and saw her glasses in his hands.
"Thank you, Doctor." She said simply as she stood up and he followed her.
"You've hurt your hand."
She looked down at her palm. So that was the twinge she'd felt earlier. She should go and clean that, get the gravel out of the open wound.
"Oh, well. I'm sure there's no need to amputate. If you'll excuse me." She suddenly needed to get as far away from him as she could.
Making her way to the parish hall, she smiled to herself for a moment, reveling in the victory. She'd made that little boy happy. She'd brought a smile to his face. She'd eased distress. Perhaps that would be enough for these feelings to leave her.
She turned on the tap and began to run her hand under the water. She didn't hear his footsteps, nor did she hear the rustle of the curtain.
"Would you like me to have a look at that?"
She pulled her hand back stunned and within that moment had made her decision.
"Yes."