V.

He tried to convince himself that no. That this was a crazy experiment to observe and elucidate who she really was. But why did he do it? Why did he suddenly care to know who she was? He could not find reasons and those he found took him directly to the revelation he had while smoking the cigarette after the birth of the Carter twins.

At some point in his stupid task of looking at her, he had gone from just doing that, looking at her, to feeling something. Because the truth was that every time he looked at her, he felt something. The simple observation, suddenly was too little for him and he had to restrain the urge not only to look far away but to approach and touch. He felt like a child who is not content to see the candies, wants to have them in his hands and savor them.

The luck of being a doctor in Poplar was that he lived covered with work and that distracted him from the silly thoughts. Although working involved seeing her and interacting with her, the professional and patient cases were always in the middle, which allowed him not to hear the voice in his head that repeated how beautiful her eyes were or how soft her white skin looked.

That day, his behavior was atrocious. His son looked at him with sadness, pain, and discomfort at being in a place full of women and babies. Tim asked for help with the eyes but he just walked towards him and shook his arm, downplaying his wound and ranting against the school from which his son had been almost expelled like a dog, and now he treated him as if it were that, an animal and not his own son. Sister Bernadette told him that the children were resilient, but that didn't mean he could treat Tim that way. The excuses for overwork and widowhood were just that, excuses. What examples was he giving his son?

She approached. He didn't know if it was to help or why he was making a little scandal leaving his patients to shout at the boy. He was convinced that it was the last thing, after all, any of the nuns or nurses would have come to send him back to work and leave this scene fun and at the same time pitiful to the eyes of the patients.

Also, any of the women he worked with would have given him the severe look she gave him when he explained the situation and shook Timothy's arm again. God, how could he behave like this, what did she think when she saw him so upset, behaving like the worst father in the world? And why did he care what she thought of him?

She did what anyone would have done, but he doubted that any nun or nurse had achieved with a simple look to calm the storm. How had she done it, so simple, just by looking at him? She was a professional, surely in nursing school they studied how to calm people. But that look, so clear, so full of love and understanding, that look was impossible to learn, that look was born from the soul.

Even in her stern look he saw a little understanding. How did she do it? How did she seem to have an inexhaustible patience?

She gently took Tim's battered arm, talked to him like a mother could, and his son relaxed immediately. She did it because she knew what it was like to feel alone, without a mother and without help, and Patrick felt almost happy to be able to interpret one of her gestures based on what he knew about her.

Then he saw her, looking up, asking permission with her eyes, and assuring him that everything was fine. He immediately also relaxed, looked at his son and heard his own voice come out softer and calmer, until he felt that his face had a small smile, and all together it made him a little what Timothy was looking for, a father.

She looked at him again, he saw something like gratitude and also...Could he say he saw yearning? Could she give him that kind of look, in which he could read more than charity?

He rebuked himself immediately, was rambling and once again, forgetting his own son. However, she also couldn't smoke and did it days before with him. And she couldn't doubt her faith either, and she did. She did things that she supposedly couldn't, and that made her, once again, a huge enigma. Maybe she wasn't happy with her life, or…

Sister Bernadette's soft voice taking Tim to a chair distracted him. She was good with children. And she was a nun. He had to stop looking at her and take care of his chaotic life, without always resorting to the help of others.

That night for the first time in months he had an enthusiastic talk with his son while they ate their chips. He wanted to mend his attitudes in the afternoon, and Sister Bernadette helped him once again, indirectly, because the talk was about her virtues. Tim couldn't stop talking about her and he couldn't stop agreeing, which made Tim feel happier and therefore he too. The boy even took out his colors and quickly drew a picture for her, which he promised to deliver. Their conversation continued revolving around the fact that she was good, she was sweet, she was intelligent and above all, she was beautiful.

And Patrick couldn't stop smiling at all that.