'Everyday I fight these feelings.'

It was a few weeks later and Patrick was feeling miserable. He tried to distract himself by throwing himself into his work but it didn't seem to help, if anything it made him even more exhausted.

His son was starting to see something was wrong but he didn't know what. It was like when mummy died all over again. He tried to think about what has changed in the past few weeks but he couldn't think of anything. Apart from Sister Bernadette leaving because she was ill. Maybe his Dad missed her?

Of cause he missed her.

"Sister Bernadette must be getting bored out of her mind..." Trixie said to him as she was cleaning up after the clinic. "Cynthia went to visit her the other day and she said she looked glad to see her but it was almost as if she was putting on a brave face for her. Though, I guess having TB and constant treatment must be draining. Right Doctor?"

He'd hardly noticed she'd stopped until she asked him again.

"Yes it is." He nodded. "But the treatment will help."

"It doesn't seem quite right at Nonnatus without her. We all miss her terribly, the patients do too, Mrs Carter is simply refusing to have anyone other than Sister Bernadette be her midwife. It's a good job she's got quite a way to go so we can change her mind."

"Sister Bernadette delivered her other two children and she's a very accomplished midwife too. It's understandable."

"But inconvenient. It's very unlikely Sister Bernadette will be well enough to deliver the child." She sighed. "Cynthia did say she seemed very down...we've all written to her to cheer her up. Your son said he'd draw her a picture, maybe you could write a letter. She'd be grateful to hear from anyone I'm sure. There's only so much gossip one can say about Nonnatus."

Trixie then walked off leaving Patrick to himself. Should he write to her? If he did what would he say? Too much probably. No. He would just write to see how she was. If Tim was drawing her a picture then he'd send a letter with that.

XxX

"Good morning, Sister." The kind nun gave her a smile as she walked into her room. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Tired...a little breathless but I'm okay..." She replied placing her bible on her bedside table.

"You have mail." She handed the young nun a box wrapped in string. She noticed the bow to be one of Sister Julienne's.

She didn't wait for the nurse to leave to open it. Inside she found letters from the nurses and some drawings from the children she knew. She saw one picture was signed Timothy Turner and she smiled.

"That one must think highly of you." The nurse said seeing the picture was very detailed and lots of effort had clearly gone info it.

"He's a sweet boy." She nodded before seeing her name scrawled in a way she'd not see before. Seeing the back of the letter she saw who it was from. Dr Turner.

"Are you alright, Sister? You've gone pale."

"I'm fine."

"You always say that, I never know whether to believe you or not." She sighed. "Very well, you get some rest and I'll find you later."

Once she was out of the room Sister Bernadette found herself just staring at the back of the envelope. Why was she not opening it? Why was she not reading what he wanted to say? Why was the very thought of reading it causing her so much anxiety her stomach was churning?

She put the letter back in the box and read the others instead trying to think of other things. The stories of her friends in Poplar didn't really help her though, it only made her miss them deeply. Even the story of Sister Monica Joan once again stealing a cake that was meant for someone else made her want to go home, wherever that was.