Part 3
October 1949
NINE
Feeling a heavy weight settle deeper into his chest, Patrick Turner slowed his walk as he approached the school building. When he came to a full stop, he gave a reassuring squeeze to the tiny hand that was curled inside of his. Dropping off his son for his first day at a new school was not a task he ever expected to be doing alone; yet it was sadly one of the many, many parenting tasks now required to be done solo, and it was certainly far from the last.
He crouched down in front of the nervous looking boy and gave the cap on his head a playful adjustment. While the boy had dark hair and dark eyes like him, his nose and smile favored that of his mother's. Patrick's heart clenched at the memory of one of Marianne's final smiles, but he pushed the thoughts away quickly and forced a pleasant expression onto his face.
"Ready for your first day, Timothy?"
The boy shook his head adamantly. "I want to stay with you!"
"I know, but we discussed this. I need to start my new job, and you need to be in school where you're going to make so many new friends that you'll forget all about me."
The boys lip began to tremble, and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around his father's neck. Patrick held him tightly and rubbed his back as reassurance. Understandably, Timothy had taken the loss of his mother at such a young age quite harshly. What broke Patrick's heart the most was that in time, Tim's memories of his mother would fade away, possibly almost entirely. He'd promised himself to do his best to keep her memory alive for them both, but as doing so brought up challenging emotions, it was difficult.
"You're going to be just fine," Patrick told him. Holding the boy by the shoulders, he said, "Remember what we talked about? Be kind. Listen carefully. Respect your teachers."
Timothy sniffed back some tears as he nodded.
"There's a good lad. Come on, let's go find your classroom."
After greeting the teachers and giving his son one more goodbye hug, Patrick walked back to their new flat with his hands in his pockets. He still had two hours before he planned to visit his new surgery, and as he'd quickly learned, part of being a single parent meant not leaving one minute to go to waste.
They'd moved in to the flat on a Saturday, with Patrick thinking that they'd have two whole days before work and school began again; that was plenty of time to unpack and sort out what needed sorting out. Of course, he'd failed to understand just how upsetting it would be for Timothy to live in a new home without his mother or, as had been for the prior few months, his grandmother. He'd spent the first few hours crying, which meant Patrick had no choice but to abandon his plans to unpack. They'd spent most of the first day reading together, playing with his toy cars, and going for a walk around their new town of Poplar so that Timothy would become comfortable. He'd been able to unpack some after the boy went to bed and on Sunday after church, but only the essentials. He still had boxes and boxes of medical texts that needed organized so he could determine which he would leave at home and which he would bring with him to his new office, and that was his task for that morning.
As he stacked his medical books on the top shelf of the bookcase, Patrick's eyes fell upon the photograph atop the case; the only picture he had from their wedding day. Given that they had married a mere two days before he returned to the front, calling their union a "wedding" certainly was a generous term. He wore his uniform, and she wore a pink dress. They had no wedding party or guests other than their four parents and her younger sister. Still, it had been a happy day for them.
Patrick had finally reached the point in his grief where gazing at such an image merely filled him with sadness instead of dragging him back down into devastation. They hadn't even made it to their fourth anniversary when they found out about her illness and from there she had faded fast. Difficult as it was to say, he was at least thankful she didn't suffer long both because he did not want her to be in pain, and because his son struggled very much with the concept of his mother being so ill. Had she lingered and suffered further, he was sure their wounds would have grown almost irreparably deep.
When he felt satisfied with the books he'd chosen to take with him, Patrick carried the box out to his car and then returned to grab his briefcase and coat before embarking on the ten minute drive to the Poplar Community Center building where the local doctor's surgery was located. He had received the keys to his new space from one of the town council members the prior day when he and Timothy had joined the family for dinner, so he was able to let himself inside.
He spent the next several hours reviewing the files that had been left for him by the doctor that had retired. He had been warned by the council that the doctor had been far passed his prime by the time he'd finally decided to depart. Patrick hadn't wanted to judge the man too harshly, as he too felt a strong commitment to community medicine, but upon trying to decipher the positively illegible notes written in shaky hand in nearly every patient file, he began to understand the council's concern.
Shortly before one, Patrick stacked the files he was reviewing as neatly as he could before grabbing his coat and departing for his first and only appointment of the day: lunch with the other members of the community medical team, the nuns and midwives of Nonnatus House.
A few days after accepting his tenure in Poplar, Patrick had received a letter from a nun called Sister Julienne. She wrote to him to introduce herself as the leader of the group that provided both midwifery and community nursing services to the area. Her letter was very thoughtful and welcoming, which he appreciated greatly. He'd written back, thanking her, and expressing his desire to build a working relationship with them. In return, she'd invited him to have lunch with them on his first day on the job.
As Patrick had spent nearly his entire medical career working in hospitals, he had spent the prior few weeks trying to wrap his mind around the shift to community work. He looked forward to the slower pace of it and the ability to have more personal interactions with his patients. He knew both of those things would be good for him as he shifted to a new stage of his life. He also found himself intrigued by the process of working closely with nuns and midwives, which he had only done in a passive capacity previously.
In thinking about this, Patrick could not help but think about the only nun he'd ever known well: Sister Bernadette. It had been several years since he'd given her more than a passing thought (Which had generally been only when he passed by a nun on the street or in the hospital. Each time he would give their face a second glance—just in case.). He had never received official confirmation that she'd made it through the war alive, though he desperately hoped that she had. As the alternative seemed almost unbearable, he chose to assume she did survive and wondered where she had ended up. Had she remained abroad, doing God's work in Italy or perhaps in another war-torn area? Had she returned home to the solace of Scotland after the war had worn down even her cheerful soul? Or, had she ended up another place entirely? He was sad to know he would most likely never receive the answer to any of those questions, but he wished her well wherever she was.
Patrick followed the directions Sister Julienne had provided and found himself pulling up to a large stone building that had seen better days. Their residence was located barely ten minutes from the community center, which he noted was convenient for their work. He parked his car beside the large staircase leading up to the entrance of the building and gave himself a moment to take a few deep breaths before exiting his car. He wasn't nervous to work with the nuns, but he remained so unsettled in his life in general. He knew that once he'd formed a routine he would feel better, but he still felt lost somehow. Like he'd gone out into the wilderness, become turned around, and was unable to find his house despite passing many others that looked quite like it.
Not wanting to be late, Patrick forced himself out of the car, hurried up the steps, and rang the bell. He waited barely more than a minute before the door opened to reveal a nun dressed in a blue habit and white veil. "Hello, are you Dr. Turner?" she asked and, when he nodded, she continued. "I am Sister Julienne; it is so nice to meet you in person."
He shook her hand and said, "It is nice to meet you as well." Judging by what he could see of her face, he estimated her to be nearly two decades older than himself—not that it mattered. He would certainly be appreciative of the wisdom of her experience in the community.
"Please, come in. I'd like to introduce you to the others in our order."
He stepped inside the building and followed her through the entryway and down a hall where they entered a dining room. As soon as Patrick crossed the threshold, he felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. The room seemed to go out of focus, and he felt immediately alarmed, like he was having some sort of attack, but then his eyes focused on the two nuns standing just beside the table waiting to greet him. One was plump and appeared to be around the same age as Sister Julienne. The other was petite and, though she now wore glasses, his heart would have recognized her face from a kilometer away.
His jaw dropped and for two seconds he thought he may have been hallucinating, for surely—no! No! it was impossible! How could she be here in Poplar? How could that be happening? Yet, as the world came back into focus, he realized his eyes were not playing tricks on him.
"This is-"
"Sister Bernadette?" He took a shaky step into the room, his eyes never leaving her face as he still feared she may have been a mirage.
The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Hello, Patrick."
Hearing her say his name once more in her comforting tone sent a surge of emotions through his body. The familiarity he had been seeking was suddenly directly in front of him and it nearly brought him to his knees. Instead, he managed just enough strength to reach out and grab onto her hand to steady himself.
"Oh, but it is you! My dear friend!" It was all he could do to keep himself from pulling her into a crushing hug. Instead, he just gripped both her hands tightly, still hardly able to comprehend that he wasn't dreaming.
"You…you have already met?"
Patrick was only vaguely aware of Sister Julienne's question, and he could not have replied if his life required it. Thankfully, it seemed the sister had kept her head despite the surprise, for she answered, "Yes, Sister; during the war."
"During the war, was it?" The third nun in the room asked, her tone notably dubious.
By that point, Patrick's shock had dissipated enough that he was able to respond, "Ah, yes. We worked together at an Allied hospital outside Rome, but it's been…"
"Almost five years," she finished with a demure smile.
"Well, what a lovely thing God has done, bringing you back together to serve the community here."
Sister Julienne's business-like tone finally roused Patrick enough from his trance that he was able to let go of Sister Bernadette's hand and properly greet the third nun, who was introduced to him as Sister Evangelina. A moment later, they were joined by a fourth nun, an elderly woman called Sister Monica Joan, who no longer worked in midwifery and was living out her retirement along with them at Nonnatus.
"The final member of our team is a nurse named Beatrix Franklin, but she goes by Trixie. She is currently on a delivery, but hopefully you will meet her soon," Sister Julienne said before indicating that they should all sit at the table to begin the lunch of sandwiches and fruit that had been laid out for them.
Patrick tried his best to pay attention as Sister Julienne explained their purpose in the community as well as their typical procedures for assisting laboring women. He genuinely did try to listen to her, but he simply could not! How could he focus on anything but Sister Bernadette, who was sitting just across the table from him! Barely a meter away after five years apart! After she'd vanished from his life with barely more than the word, "Goodbye."
When he'd caught her eye one too many times and received a stern look in response, Patrick felt his cheeks heat and gazed down at his plate for several moments to get a handle on his embarrassment. Then he did make a purposeful effort to pay attention to Sister Julienne and engage in conversations about the work they all hoped to do with the community now that they had a doctor who was, in her words, energetic.
At the end of the meeting, they made plans to have an open community clinic the following week where women could travel the community center to receive maternity care. Apparently, this clinic was something the nuns and midwives had wanted to do previously, but that the other doctor had refused to do. As Patrick found it both practical and a good way to introduce himself to all the patients, he was all too happy to agree.
"We appreciate your time, doctor, and we look forward to a lasting working relationship with you," Sister Julienne said to him at the close of their meal. He expressed similar sentiments and then she added, "Perhaps Sister Bernadette would like to walk you out," in a tone that made it clear she had been entirely aware of the looks he was giving her across the table.
Trying his best to temper his embarrassment, Patrick said casually, "That would be nice."
The petite nun led the way back to the entryway but did not speak again until they had stepped just outside. She smiled at him pleasantly and said, "It is so nice to see you again."
His smile matched hers as he agreed, "Yes—I still feel quite shocked! How long have you been here?"
"Working in Poplar? Nearly three years." She hesitated a moment before saying, "When Sister Julienne first told us about you, she mentioned you were a widower. I'm so sorry to hear that."
His heart stuttered in his chest at her words. He'd heard that same statement dozens of times over the prior few months but had begun to feel rather numb to it when it came from the lips of someone who was merely an acquaintance or practically a stranger. Hearing such genuine words from someone who had once known him so well returned the ache to his chest. "Yes, ah, my wife died about five months ago. It's been di-difficult." His voice cracked on the word, but he didn't feel embarrassed—not in front of her.
She lifted her hand and placed it delicately on his arm as he took a moment to collect himself.
"It's been hardest on my son, Timothy. He just turned four."
"What a lovely age," she commented.
He nodded as his heart swelled with admiration. "Yes, he is…amazing. I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough. He's…I've put him in school here, but I worry that he'll struggle initially."
The kindness he had once been intimately familiar with radiated from her gaze. "I will pray for him. For both of you."
After sniffing back his remaining tears, he slipped his hands into his pockets and gazed down at her curiously. "You said Sister Julienne told you about me, but did you know that I was me—er, that I was the me from—from when we were… I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense." He half-laughed at his own ramblings.
She grinned and said, "I know what you're trying to ask, and yes, I suspected it was you. How many doctors called Patrick Turner are there in England?"
"You may be surprised," he said, and they shared another smile. He felt his heart clench and he couldn't help himself from confessing, "I've missed you," but as soon as he heard the words spill out, he felt alarmed and quickly corrected with, "Er, I've missed working with you. I look forward to doing it again."
"I feel the same. I do hope you are able to settle into the surgery easily. Please don't hesitate to ask any of us if you have questions."
As he could tell their conversation was growing to a close, he wasn't sure what to say or do. Walking away from her now seemed so strange. Logically, he knew they'd be seeing each other in a matter of days, but as she had disappeared from his life so suddenly twice before, he was almost scared to believe she wouldn't vanish a third time. "I… yes. Thank you. I will, see you soon, Sister."
"See you soon, Patrick," she echoed.
With one last smile, he walked slowly down the stairs to his car, still in a state of shock that she was one of the nuns he would be working with, but for the first time feeling confident that his decision to move his family to Poplar had been the right one.
Stepping back inside Nonnatus House, Sister Bernadette shut the heavy door behind her and then leaned back against it. She shut her eyes and said a quick prayer for God to watch over Patrick and his son during their transition to Poplar. Then, as butterflies still flitted around inside her belly, she placed her right hand atop her stomach and took in several breaths.
Patrick was back in her life—really and truly. Even though she had known the name of the new community doctor for nearly two weeks, she had not let herself fully believe it would be her Patrick Turner that arrived in Poplar until she'd seen his face. Oh, how she'd missed his face.
After she'd left him behind at the Allied hospital, Sister Bernadette had tried her best not to think of him because she knew that was what God wanted for her. She still prayed for him, though, as he was included in her prayers for all the doctors she'd worked with. She prayed nightly at first, then weekly, and then those prayers faded away as other priorities took over her conversations with God. When the war ended and she made her way back to London, she thought of him once more. She hoped that he was safe and happy and that the horrors of the war hadn't destroyed all that was good in him as she had seen such a terrible fate in others during her work.
Life in Poplar had kept her busy, kept her grounded, and kept her focused on God. She hadn't much time for frivolous thoughts, but on the rare occasion they did pop up, he was usually included in one of them. Her largest hope was that God's path for him had been a happy one for, after all he suffered during the war, he deserved happiness.
When he walked into the dining room and she first saw his face, she could see the pain etched behind his eyes. Then, his gaze fell upon her, and for one brief moment she saw pure happiness. She knew then why God had brought him back into her life. Just like when they had met at the Allied hospital, he needed help to heal the fractures in his heart and soul, and she was all too happy to provide it.
As Sister Bernadette left the entryway to continue with the tasks she needed to get done that afternoon, she was interrupted by Sister Julienne, who wore a curious expression on her face. "It's nice that you and Dr. Turner have met before. How long did you work together in Rome?"
"Oh, ah." She paused to think as she had actually forgotten the exact span of time. "About four months, I think. Things could be so chaotic there it's hard to recall exactly."
"I see."
She hesitated a moment and then felt it was important to reveal one more piece of information as she did not want her Sister or God to think she was purposefully hiding it. "You should know, he is also the man I rescued from the Italian officer's hospital."
Sister Julienne's brow rose. "He is the young doctor you escaped alongside?"
"Yes, sister."
"I see." Sister Julienne studied her for a moment before asking, "Will you be comfortable working with him?"
"Oh, yes. We worked quite well together before, and he is an excellent doctor. He will be an asset to us here in Poplar."
The sister folded her hands together and her tone turned more cautious. "I mean, will the memories of working with him be uncomfortable?"
Sister Bernadette was almost surprised by the question, as such a worry had never entered her mind. "Oh, no, Sister. I no longer have uncomfortable memories from the war; God has seen to that."
"I am glad to hear that."
She took two steps down the hall but then paused and turned back, thinking it was best to keep all her feelings out in the open so as not to go against God's wishes once more. "I wonder, Sister. May I have your permission to continue my friendship with Pat—er, Dr. Turner? He rather seems like he could use a friend right now."
After a moment's contemplation, the elder sister nodded. "I agree that he could use a friend during this transition, so you may have my permission so long as that friendship does not interfere with your duties or your devotions."
"It will not. Thank you, Sister." After nodding politely to her elder, she walked steadily towards her next task of the day, looking forward to her next conversation with God so that she could begin to get his insight on how to best aid to heal the aching heart of one of her dearest friends.