Sister Bernadette lived each day through fogged-up glasses. A heavy blanket of depression draped over her, weighing her down. She felt trapped, unable to shake off the sadness that clung to her like a shadow.
Sister Julienne had granted her three days of rest from her duties to rest from her emotional outburst in Sister Julienne's office. It was a kind gesture, but what did it matter? Locked away in her small room, she faced the emptiness around her. No possessions adorned the space—just a reflection of the poverty vow she had taken. The silence was all too deafening.
When not in her room, Sister Bernadette found herself in the chapel. There, on her knees, tears streamed down her face like rain on a window. She begged Him for answers and guidance. "Am I alone?" she cried out in desperation. Yet, there was only silence in return—a void that continued to deepen her despair.
In this silence, it allowed thoughts of Dr Turner to creep into her mind uninvited. He was unlike anyone she had ever known—a man who stirred feelings within her that were both exhilarating and terrifying.But what were these feelings?
She had never experienced romance before; how could she comprehend this emotional tornado dancing inside? When he entered the room, warmth blossomed low in her belly and surged upwards to the roots of her hair. A tingling sensation coursed through her bones as if electricity danced at their meeting point.
Her heart raced with butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach whenever their eyes met. Was this an attraction? Mere infatuation? Surely it couldn't be love—could it?
The silence from Him left Sister Bernadette with too much time to ponder these emotions. Confusion wrapped around her heart and mind, like a vice grip. Each thought spiralled her deeper into uncertainty.
"Oh, whatever am I going to do?" she moaned silently.
In the early hours of the morning on her third day of rest, clarity pushed through the fog, Sister Bernadette realised that these feelings were real and so very undeniable. Perhaps they were part of being human—a side of life she had kept at bay for so long.
As she knelt in prayer once more, tears streamed down her face, despite some understanding amidst the confusion, peace eluded her just as much as the silence from Him did. For now, she would take it one day at a time—maybe it might be time to confide in Sister Julienne about this inner turmoil?
xXx
Dr Turner sat at his desk, papers strewn about, but his mind was elsewhere. Sister Bernadette's absence weighed heavily on him. Each day without her felt like a void, an echo of what once was. He couldn't shake the worry that wrapped around his thoughts like a vine. Was she truly okay?
Sister Julienne had granted her time away to rest, yet all he could think about was the woman who had become so integral to his life.
"Her ailment isn't physical; she just needs some time away."Those words replayed in his mind like a broken record. Relief washed over him at the thought of it not being a physical issue, but concern quickly followed for her mental and emotional well-being.
Their connection had shifted recently. Gone were the moments when their eyes would meet across the bustling room during deliveries. No longer did she linger after their shifts to share a word or two. It felt as if an invisible barrier had formed between them, and he feared it might be because of him.
What haunted him most was that night in his flat when he foolishly uttered,"You'll always have a place here with me."How naïve he had been! A nun—an unattainable woman—and yet he whispered those words out, laying bare feelings that should never have crossed his lips.
Now, in this solitude, Dr Turner faced an undeniable truth: he had fallen in love with Sister Bernadette.
"Hell's bells!" he cursed himself inwardly. How could he allow himself to fall for someone so out of reach? Memories of his late wife flooded back—love born from companionship rather than passion. They shared life's burdens and joys but lacked that soul-connecting spark.
His late wife had been everything a good partner should be: supportive, nurturing, and devoted to their son Tim. Yet there remained an unbridgeable gap between them—a difference in understanding and interests.
And now here stood her—a beacon of light in his otherwise turbulent world—stirring emotions within him that were both exhilarating and terrifying. Three words echoed louder than any others: earth-shattering love.
He didn't even know her birth name yet felt an inexplicable certainty about what they could be together if only circumstances allowed it. The longing swelled within him; visions of waking up next to her every morning danced through his mind—the warmth of her presence beside him igniting dreams of family and home.
But alongside these tender thoughts lurked another reality: physical attraction. It was one thing to love a nun; it was another entirely to feel desire for one. He couldn't help but admire her beauty—the way her habit framed her face—but he struggled against those thoughts that threatened to consume him whole.
In moments of quiet reflection, Dr Turner realised how deeply intertwined love and longing could be—how easily they could lead one down path fraught with complications and heartache.
For now, all he could do was wait—wait for her return, wait for these feelings to hopefully fade over time, wait for his heart to realise he would never be able to share that earth shattering love with her – because she was a nun.
A headache starting to form, Dr Turner decided it might be best to pack it in for the night and return home - hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.
xXx
Sister Bernadette awoke early, just as she had for the past three mornings. The sun barely peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow in her room. She completed her duties in Lauds, feeling the familiar rhythm of prayer soothe her troubled mind. Yet today felt different. Today, she was expected in Sister Julienne's office to discuss her return to work.
Sitting gingerly on her perfectly made bed, Sister Bernadette wrestled with her thoughts. Am Itruly ready to go back?The absence of His guiding voice weighed heavily on her heart and confusion swirled within her like a storm, but deep down, she sensed that returning to work might offer a flicker of purpose amid the chaos that resided within.
Nursing and midwifery had always been more than just tasks; they were part of her identity. They connected her to a community that understood both joy and sorrow. Despite feeling lost without Him, these duties provided a lifeline—a way to push through life's challenges, it was always her calling, even before He had sent her the one to become a Nun.
Then there were thoughts of Dr Turner. A moment of clarity had struck her the previous day: the feelings she harboured for him were undeniable and persistent. Was it love? That question lingered unanswered in her mind. All she knew was that maintaining distance felt essential—yet so difficult.
Confiding in Sister Julienne about these feelings seemed impossible. Shame clung to her like a heavy cloak. How could she explain emotions that felt so foreign yet so real? Leaving the order was not an option—she could not even consider it—so what did it matter?
Time slipped away unnoticed until Sister Bernadette glanced at her watch; it was time for the meeting. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering anxiety within before standing up and walking down the corridor toward Sister Julienne's office, knocking lightly on the door.
"Come in," came Sister Julienne's voice from behind the door.
With one last shuddering breath, Sister Bernadette opened the heavy wooden door with care.
"Sister Bernadette! Perfectly on time," Sister Julienne greeted warmly, gesturing toward a chair with a steaming tea pot already prepared on the desk.
She sat down across from Sister Julienne, folding her hands tightly in her lap while avoiding eye contact. The warmth of tea filled the air but offered little comfort as doubt clouded her mind.
Sister Julienne poured tea into a cup and stirred in sugar before pushing it toward Sister Bernadette, who remained still and silent.
Moving closer, Sister Julienne gently covered Bernadette's hands with hers. "My dear child," she said softly, "please talk to me. I wish to help you."
Hesitantly, she began speaking through quivering lips: "Sister… I don't know. I just want to return to work—that's all I want." Her eyes met those of Sister Julienne for a fleeting moment before dropping again.
"I have reservations about sending you back when I know something is amiss and you are struggling" Sister Julienne replied gently but firmly. "Did your three days' rest provide any clarity?"
Shame weighed heavily on her as she struggled with words that felt trapped inside: "I almost wish my feelings were physical… then you could diagnose me. All I know is that He remains silent, like he has abandoned me – I can no longer hear His guidance, no matter how hard I pray." Tears streamed down like rain against glass as vulnerability washed over her.
Sister Julienne squeezed her hands reassuringly. "He has not abandoned you. Silence is not unheard of among Sisters during times of doubt. If we open up our mind and eyes, the silence can provide us with guidance."
The notion struck her like lightning—could silence be guidance? But guidance toward what? Her path seemed clear: service above all else.
"Guiding me towards what?" she asked shakily, panic rising within as doubts spiralled around them both.
"There is always more than one path," replied Sister Julienne thoughtfully yet cautiously "You have choices."
Panic surged through Sister Bernadette at this revelation—a different path? No! This was meant to be! Her calling was clear!
Breathing quickened as fear enveloped her; sweat trickled down from tension mounting inside. "Calm down," whispered Sister Julienne soothingly as if sensing the storm brewing within her heart.
But it was too much—too overwhelming—and abruptly standing up caused their hands to separate sharply as panic propelled Sister Bernadette out into the corridor and outside of Nonnatus House. She stumbled into the streets without even grabbing her coat—a mindless escape fuelled by desperation and fear. The world around her blurred into a haze as cold wind whipped against her skin; sounds faded into white noise.
Lost in thought and panic, time slipped away. She vaguely heard someone shouting out her name but was so lost in her thoughts that it did not register until warm hands gripped her upper arms. Looking up, she saw Dr Turner—the very man who haunted her every thought in recent weeks.
He was talking; she could see his mouth moving but couldn't register his voice until clarity flickered back into focus: "Hello Dr Turner," she stammered weakly.
"You're freezing!" he declared after checking her temperature with a worried hand against her forehead. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his coat and draped it around her shoulders—the warmth enveloped her like an embrace.
"Come on," he urged softly but firmly as he guided her toward his car parked nearby. Panic surged again at the thought of returning to Nonnatus House—but this time it wasn't just fear; it was something deeper—a need for space to breathe and think clearly.
"No! Not Nonnatus!" she cried out suddenly, desperation lacing every syllable as she pulled away slightly from him.
Dr Turner paused at that plea; concern deepened in his eyes as he searched hers for understanding—for answers that neither could find amidst their tangled emotions.
In that moment of uncertainty between them—amid expectations and desires—she felt both lost and found all at once.
"Okay Sister," he said gently after a moment's silence, "if you won't let me take you back to Nonnatus House—will you let me take you to my flat? I can make you tea and you can warm up in front of the fire?"
The offer hung in the air like a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters. Sister Bernadette knew she should refuse; she ought to stay away from him—but temptation tugged at her heartstrings relentlessly. "Okay Doctor," she conceded softly, "just briefly."
He opened the passenger door for her with an encouraging smile. As she settled into the seat, warmth enveloped her—a stark contrast to the cold winds outside that had chilled her bones. Dr Turner climbed into the driver's seat and turned on the engine, driving them toward his flat while she gazed out at the passing scenery.
As they arrived and parked outside his flat, he turned off the engine and faced her. She avoided his gaze; stubbornness rooted deep within her made it hard to meet those warm eyes filled with concern.
He exited first and came around to open her door, extending his hand for hers—a simple gesture laden with unspoken meaning—but she ignored it and stepped out on her own accord.
Dr Turner sighed but remained patient as he led them inside his flat. This was not her first visit; memories flooded back—the sense of belonging washed over her again like waves crashing on a shore.
"Sit down here Sister," Dr Turner instructed gently as he noticed how she shook from lingering coldness before moving toward the fireplace to light it up.
She sank onto the settee while watching him work—the way he moved was mesmerising. Strength evident in every action as he piled logs into place before striking a match with focused determination. She watched on as his muscles moved under his skin and his firm backside became more prominent due to his kneeling position.
Stop! These thoughts are wrong!A wave of shame washed over Sister Bernadette like icy water splashing against skin—she was a nun! This wasn't appropriate!
Her internal chastisement distracted her from noticing when Dr Turner stepped away to make a phone call until snippets of conversation caught her attention: "Please could you reschedule my morning patients? I've been caught up… I'll be in as soon as I can."
As he hung up, realisation hit hard; guilt twisted inside Sister Bernadette's stomach like a knot tightening further with each breath she took.
"I shouldn't have come," she said abruptly, standing up. Urgency mixed with regret flooded through her.
"You have patients waiting—I'm taking up your valuable time! I'm so sorry." Her voice trembled under the weight of emotion thickening between them.
"Absolutely not, Sister!" His tone shifted—firm yet kind. The tension in the air was palpable. He wasn't going to let this go easily.
"You're still freezing cold—you need warmth before leaving here," he insisted gently, meeting her resistance head-on without flinching.
Despite how difficult things seemed, the vulnerable feelings exposed through the cracks of their time apart were undeniable.
"You are my patient this morning, sit back down and I'll go make you a cup of tea" Dr Turner pleaded with her. The look on his face was what convinced her. He looked so worried and scared, so she conceded and sat back down on the settee quietly.
He walked into the kitchen and began to put the kettle on while she looked around the living room. She spotted photographs atop the mantle and stood up for a closer look.
One photo showed Dr Turner with his late wife and Timothy when he was just a toddler—all smiles celebrating someone's birthday. Another captured him holding an infant Timothy, looking adoringly at him while Timothy wrapped his tiny hand around his finger. The final photo revealed a young-looking Dr Turner in army uniform—handsome then and even more so now.
Suddenly, Dr Turner's voice rang out behind her: "I was only about 30 years old in that photo; it feels like a lifetime ago."
She felt his warm breath at the back of her neck through her wimple; little hairs stood up in attention as warmth radiated off him—oh how she would love to lean back against him!
"You don't look like you've aged much then," she replied quietly.
Dr Turner chuckled softly: "How very kind of you, Sister! But we both know that's not true—the mirror tells me a different story every morning!" They shared laughter as she placed the photo back down on the mantle.
"Come sit down and drink your tea, Sister; you need to warm up before you get pneumonia," he urged gently.
She felt an undeniable warmth from his proximity as she turned to face him. They stood so close—too close—and for a fleeting moment, temptation tugged at her thoughts -It wouldn't take much to lean in and….
STOP!Suddenly realising how close they truly were and where her thoughts were leading her, she quickly turned away and sank onto the yellow settee with nervous hands.
He remained still for just a moment before joining her on the couch. He reached for her tea from the coffee table and handed it to her before pouring himself some too. Silence enveloped them as they sipped their drinks; it was comforting yet charged with unspoken words.
She felt an unfamiliar uncertainty wash over her—what if she spoke? What would come out?Better to stay quiet.
He glanced at her thoughtfully between sips of tea until he finally broke the silence: "Sister Julienne said you had been ordered to rest. Are you—is everything okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied gently but firmly, not wanting to delve deeper into the matters that caused her such distress in the first place.
Placing her empty cup on the table, she stood abruptly. "Thank you for your assistance this morning Doctor, but I must leave now."
"Do you want to talk about what happened earlier?" he pressed gently as he stood up too. "You were very insistent on not returning to Nonnatus."
"I just needed some space; nothing for you to concern yourself with," she said tersely while heading toward the door.
"Let me drive you back," he called after her.
"No need Doctor; I'm perfectly capable of walking myself back," she insisted sharply, feeling flustered as she opened his front door without waiting for his reply.
As Sister Bernadette stepped outside into the crisp air, she could still feel Dr Turner's gaze on her retreating figure—a weighty presence that made it hard not to look back despite every urge telling her otherwise.
Arriving at Nonnatus House felt like an escape from an invisible tether pulling at her heartstrings. She realised only then that she still wore Dr Turner's coat—the scent of him clung strongly to its fabric. She took it off and did her best to fold it up to make it unrecognisable. She slipped through the front door as quietly as she could and made her way towards her room. As soon as Sister Bernadette had made her way safely into her room, she leaned against the door and breathed a sigh of relief – no one saw her.
Hastily folding it under her bed upon entering her room felt necessary;no one could know!Just as relief washed over her—footsteps echoed in the corridor outside followed by a knock at her door.
The knob started to turn, the door opened and Sister Julienne stood at the door way "Sister! There you are! I've been so worried! Wherever did you go?" Sister Julienne's voice held concern laced within authority.
"I apologise Sister; I shouldn't have left your office during our meeting," Sister Bernadette responded honestly yet carefully weighing each word against potential scrutiny.
"Why don't you come back to my office now? Can we try again?" Sister Julienne stated firmly—it wasn't really an invitation but rather an order cloaked in kindness.
"Certainly Sister," came her obedient reply as she followed Julienne down the corridor towards another round of conversation—one where secrets might remain hidden just a little longer.