Thank you so much for your kind reviews. I'm really enjoying writing this story, and the next chapter is already beginning to form in my head. This chapter is a bit different to yesterday's but I hope you will like it.
For a moment, the world seemed to stand horribly still. And then it began to move again in time with Sister Julienne- recovering herself as best she could and straightening up a little. She even managed to smile a little.
"Good afternoon, Doctor," she addressed Doctor Turner, dismissing him concisely and a hint of pointedness in her voice, but somehow without reproach.
Sister Bernadette nearly quivered in pity at the look of absolute embarrassment she saw on the doctor's face when she turned to him. He looked genuinely ashamed of himself, and even a little crimson in contrast to his usual cool complexion.
He had to clear his throat a little in order to speak.
"Good afternoon, Sister," he addressed Sister Julienne, sounding grateful, perhaps for her apparent lack of anger, perhaps for the chance she had given to make his exit. Bernadette could not blame him for that, she would have considered it a great blessing if the floor had swallowed her up there and then. He turned back to her before he went, nodding gently, "Sister."
She made the mistake of meeting his eyes. She stared back into them, and found every evidence of great feeling, of love, perhaps, crushed disappointment, of tenderness, in them, almost as great as she could feel in every inch of her own body. Her lips parted a little, though she did not know what she could possibly say, but he had already taken his leave, running his hand a through the front of his hair a little in agitation as he went. She could not take her eyes off his retreating figure, until he reached the door at the end of the corridor, and she felt her own shoulders sag hopelessly, her eyes falling to look at the floor.
She did not realise that her breathing had become a little laboured until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning a little in surprise, she found Sister Julienne standing close behind her, watching her in great concern.
"Come on," the elder nun told her quietly, "Come with me."
She led her not back into her office as she had expected, but along the corridor to the chapel, shutting the door soundly behind them.
"I trust we won't be disturbed in here," she told her, "Please, let's sit down."
"I'm sorry, Sister," Bernadette told her, the words bursting out a little from her. She knew why Sister Julienne had brought her here as opposed to her office- here she felt a deeper compulsion to honesty, to openness, than she would have done anywhere else. She was less likely to hold back, and the effect was telling in the way her words spluttered a little from her mouth as she struggled to contain her emotion, tears forming in her eyes a little as she repeated, "I'm so sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry about," Sister Julienne assured her, "Not to me. Thankful, perhaps, that I found you rather than Sister Evangelina, but please don't apologise to me. Sit down," she told her again, "It will calm you."
Her knees feeling a little weak, Bernadette sank gratefully into the front row of chairs; Sister Julienne joining her a moment later with a little more grace. They were quiet for a moment; though she was not watching her, she got the sense that Sister Julienne was weighing up the best approach to take.
"I can't for a moment imagine that it might be the case," she began quietly, watching her own clasped hands, but with an air of certainty, of knowing where she was going, "But I feel I have to ask you: was Dr. Turner forcing his attentions on you?"
"No," Bernadette shook her head fervently, sure of that if nothing else, "He wasn't."
Sister Julienne nodded calmly.
"Then, I take it," she continued carefully, "That what I just witnessed was a demonstration of what you could not put into words when we spoke last week?"
Silently, Bernadette nodded; the tears forming in her eyes falling a little onto her cheeks. She wiped them away vigorously, though she knew she could not hide them from Sister Julienne.
"Hush, child," the older nun told her, arresting her hand, and holding it, trying to sooth her a little, "Truly, I am not angry with you. However, I am concerned. Sister, I know I would have not found you as I did if you did not feel very acutely for Dr. Turner."
"I don't know what I feel," Bernadette confided helplessly.
"Possibly not," Sister Julienne replied, "But in time I think you will come to realise what is quite clear to me now and what I should have seen before."
Bernadette looked up at her desperately, needing to silence the words she knew were about to come forth and which she knew she could not hear.
"I can't, Sister," she struggled a little to find the right words, "I don't-..."
"You can, because you do," Sister Julienne insisted calmly, "You love Dr. Turner. You are too devoted, Sister, to be affected like this by a passing infatuation. If it were that, you would be content to clamour to assist the doctor about the clinic, to make him tea when he visits us and generally make a fool of yourself in front of him, and quite enjoy yourself while you were about it. But you're not enjoying yourself, are you? Those things don't even cross your mind. I've seen you when you're with him, and this is why I'm shocked that I didn't realise this before. You're quiet and composed around him, you want to be of real use to him. You want to help him in the best, the deepest way. You love him. Child, don't cry," she took hold of her hand gently on her lap, as Bernadette's other hand pressed to her mouth to stem the vigorous flow of tears that threatened.
"What I feel for him isn't like what I feel for God," Bernadette tried to explain, "When I pray I think of him sometimes, but the feelings are quite separate."
"There are many ways in which we can love, Sister," Sister Julienne told her, "It is entirely natural that you should feel differently for a man than you do for God. It does not mean that you love either any the less."
Bernadette said nothing, taking out her handkerchief, mopping at her eyes.
"But, I know I need not tell you," Sister Julienne continued rather gravely, watching the younger nun closely, "As a member of our order, you cannot go on kissing the doctor, or letting him kiss you."
Bernadette sniffed a little, allowing Sister Julienne's gravity to wash over her little. She paused, so many thoughts and notions having been so quickly and deeply impressed upon her during this conversation that she could hardly pause to consider them, and had had to merely accept them for the moment. She trusted, had always trusted Sister Julienne's judgement, and knew she should not stop because now she was telling her things that were difficult to hear.
"Can I go on loving him?" she asked, "And remain one of you?"
Sister Julienne looked at her very carefully, her face a touch surprised.
"You could," she answered slowly, "But I would not wish the hardship of that on you."
Bernadette nodded, unable to look up at the other woman.
"I don't expect you know what you want at the moment," Sister Julienne told her, "And nor do I expect you to reach a decision at any time in the near future. But I am gravely certain that this coming time will be one of trial for you. I want you to know that I am here, to listen, whenever you need. You need not be alone in this, even if you cannot have the person you would like to listen. God will be with you, but I know that sometimes it helps to have some human ears to listen to you."
As strongly as she could manage, Bernadette smiled at her.
"You were very young when you came to us," Sister Julienne reminded her gently, "At the time I wondered if it was sensible that you should join so soon, but every day since then you have impressed me and assuaged my doubts. Both through your skill and competence and your devotion to your calling. But we are only human, Sister Bernadette. Do not be sorry. By all means confess, but let the guilt fall from you with your confession. To expect an immunity to feeling would be to fly in the face of God."
Bernadette nodded silently, rhythmically, still looking down at her hands.
"And now, what I think you could do with is some nice, strong, sweet tea. And we shall see if we can persuade Sister Monica Joan to share with us that excellent cakes she's been hoarding."
They both stood up. Sister Julienne clasped her hand one last time.
"I will pray for you, Sister," she told her kindly, "And I am here."
Please review if you have the time.