Chapter Four: Nearly drowning. Thanks for the reviews. I reckon even if just a few of you like this, it's worth doing. And I love writing it anyway!

January and February were very cold months. Sister Bernadette's prayer life was an icy wilderness, no light seemed to penetrate the deep black despair she felt. The psalms were a help to her always and the sisters noticed her reading them at any opportunity, her delicate little face scanning the pages of her bible for some comfort. If anyone had cared to look, they might have seen a flame light up her eyes, anytime a certain person was mentioned. But no one did. In March, all the nuns were so worried about her, that they decided to send her away for a holiday at one of their convent retreat houses in the Lake District. They would all just have to manage without her for a while.

She had not seen much of Doctor Turner for the last seven weeks or so. He was almost always on call, and although their paths crossed frequently, their eyes seldom met. Each would have given all they possessed to know what the other was thinking. But it was pointless to think like that. The only time they were able to watch each other, was on call. He marvelled at her skill as a midwife, and trusted her completely with the most complicated cases of childbirth. She, in turn, was amazed at his selfless dedication to the job. Called out in all weathers, sometimes in the dead of night and often to the most squalid of dwellings, he always put his patients at ease.

After a few days at the retreat house, with its lovely garden and lake, Sister Bernadette began to feel more positive. The mornings were getting lighter, and birdsong woke her up for Matins. At meal times she was able to talk to the vicar and his wife, who had managed to arrange a week's break for themselves.

The vicar's wife loved to chat at breakfast, "I must say Sister, you were looking very tired when you arrived, but I think the fresh air is starting to work its magic. You should do what I do, and take a good long walk around Lake Windemere today. I heard on the wireless that it will be a beautiful day."

"Perhaps I will," said Bernadette hesitantly, hoping that she wouldn't bump into the two of them if she did. They were very kind, but she felt like being on her own. The vicar tended to leave most of the talking to his wife but his eyes were full of perceptive kindness,

"She may like some peace and quiet Louise. I for one am going the read the newspaper. How delightful to know that I can finish it for once!"

......

So it was that Sister Bernadette found herself negotiating one of the short walks by the lake. She wouldn't go far. The noon sun was delightful, and after a while she found a flat rock near the water's edge, where she could sit unnoticed and doze. The silence was only broken by the leaves rustling, the water splashing and a child calling in the distance. It was heavenly.

"I can feel you now Lord, but so often I haven't been able to. Please stay close to me, please don't leave me in the darkness anymore" she prayed.

The peace was immediately shattered by a splash and desperate cry . At first she could see nothing – but then over to the right by some rocks - saw a head bobbing in the water, an arm, then nothing except the disturbed surface of the lake.

Without thinking she threw herself into the water, and gasped in pain at the cold. She could only wade for the first two metres and the suddenly it became deep, too deep. Could she swim with the weight of her habit? Somehow she reached the person, it was a child, and pulled him up. But each time she did so, she went under. She could see the rocks. She cried out and managed to push him hard towards the shore. Arms, many arms appeared on land and pulled him up high to safety.

Down she went again, just too heavy, too tired to fight any more.

All was so, so quiet and peaceful. "Like a baby in its mother's womb," she thought. She felt herself falling asleep.

Far away, someone was calling her. It was the voice she loved to hear more than any other.

"Please come back, please don't leave me. I need you..." The doctor's voice was all she needed to make that last effort to swim up. She kicked off her shoes. The light above her came closer and she could hear the muffled cries of people above.

......

The vicar and his wife were looking less anxious now. Sister Bernadette was by the fire wrapped in several blankets. She looked no older than their own daughter. She was still looking unearthly, and they didn't like to leave her. She had said absolutely nothing since some walkers had carried her in to the house looking half dead and blue with cold.

The child was safe. She knew that. And she was safe too. She had not lost her faith. And now she was deep in thought. Maybe God was calling her somewhere. To someone who needed her.

"Can I ask you both something?" she said suddenly.

They nodded, looking relieved at some sign of life from her.

"Do you think one's vocation can change?"

"Certainly," responded the vicar, "God can show us a new path at any time, and any age, if we are prepared to listen."

"But how do you know if the message, the call, is from God or not?" asked the little nun looking intently at him.

The vicar smiled, "that's what discernment is all about. Ask for guidance and peace will come with the right decision." He leaned over to take his wife's hand.

Sister Bernadette smiled. Maybe her heart's desire was from God. She could hope now.

......

A week later Doctor Turner was driving up the West Ferry Road when he almost lost control of the car. The unexpected sight of Sister Bernadette, chatting to Peter the policeman was to blame. A red light allowed him a brief look at the two of them. She was laughing at something the policeman had said. She looked happy. He smiled, relieved. He might see her later at the antenatal clinic.

Perhaps it was going to be a good day after all.