Author's note: This takes place in the Lukeverse (from my story "Hero"). Lucien and Jean have been happily married for several years and have a six-year-old son, Lucien, Jr, known as Luke. Matthew Lawson is a consultant with the Ballarat Police Department, no longer eligible for active duty but working with them as needed. A few promotions in the department, but the rest of the town and its people are much the same.
Luke Blake skipped along beside his father as they walked down Lydiard Street. It was a lazy summer afternoon, and they were going to the Colonists' Club for lunch. The midday heat had driven most citizens of Ballarat inside, which meant Luke had plenty of room on the pavement to bounce his ball and run ahead to retrieve it when it went astray.
The ball got away from him, and he had to chase it down for several yards before capturing it once more. Finally tracking it down, he turned to look back, waiting for Lucien to catch up. Luke watched his father mop at his brow with a handkerchief. He felt sorry for his dad, wearing a dark, heavy suit while Luke was much more comfortable in his short trousers and a linen shirt.
"All right, Dad?" he called.
Lucien smiled at the boy. "Perfect," he replied. "What about you, son?"
"Perfect," Luke echoed, grinning back.
Since he was looking back at his father, Luke did not see Mr. Tyneman step out onto the pavement. The two collided, and Luke, being much the smaller, caromed off and fell heavily.
He bounced back up to his feet, rubbing his elbow, and looked up at the businessman. "Excuse me, sir."
Patrick Tyneman stared down at him with distaste. "Just like your father, little pest."
Seeing the incident, Lucien hurried forward, ready to call out to Patrick, but the sound of screeching tyres made him turn to look. A late model automobile was hurtling forward, going well above any reasonable speed. Lucien made to wave it down, when suddenly it swerved toward the pavement. In a split-second he realized it was headed directly toward the spot where Luke and Patrick stood, both frozen and staring at the oncoming vehicle in shock.
No time to think, only to react. Lucien flung his body forward, leaving his feet as he pushed both boy and man out of the way. The vehicle was going too fast for him to get clear himself, however. He stared at the driver momentarily before the vehicle struck him squarely. He felt the impact for only a moment before his head struck something solid and the world went black.
Luke watched it all. It was as if it was happening on a cinema screen. It didn't seem real. He had been speaking with Mr. Tyneman, then the car was coming at them. His father flew toward him and Luke fell on his bum. Mr. Tyneman also fell, but Luke was more concerned with his dad. The car had struck him solidly, and he tumbled up onto the bonnet and then the windscreen before the car sped away, shedding him in its wake.
In the silence that followed, Luke got shakily to his feet. Slowly he moved toward his father, seeing a puddle of blood forming beneath his head.
"Dad?" he said softly. "All right, Dad?"
When he reached the still form, he went down to his knees and reached out a hand. Before he could touch his father's shoulder, he was being scooped up from behind. He struggled briefly until he heard the voice of Sergeant Simmons.
"We'll take it from here, Luke. You go inside with Mr. Drury. The ambo will be here any minute."
He was hustled into the club, still looking back over his shoulder until he lost sight of his father.
Cec Drury escorted him into the office, away from prying eyes. The boy seemed to be in shock. Not surprising. Cec put him in the desk chair and closed the door behind them. The club members could fend for themselves until someone arrived to see to young Luke - Cec refused to leave him alone.
"Can I get you anything, Master Luke?" he asked gently. "A glass of water perhaps?"
"No, thank you. My mum…"
"She's on the way," Cec assured him.
Luke nodded, then looked up, fear in his eyes. "Is my dad dead?"
Cec would not lie to the boy. "I don't know, but I don't think so."
"There was blood from his head," Luke said. "Mr. Drury, I'm sorry but I think I'm going to be sick."
Cec helped him lean over a bin and rubbed his back. "That's all right, son," he soothed. He felt sick himself, and he'd only gotten a brief glimpse of the broken body.
A knock on the door preceded the entrance of Inspector Charlie Davis. "Can I have a word?" he asked, indicating Luke.
Cec nodded, prepared to step out, but Charlie signaled him to stay.
"Luke, are you all right?" Charlie asked him gently.
Luke nodded, pushing the bin away. "How's my dad?"
"He's on his way to hospital now. They'll look after him. Your mum is on her way there too. I thought I'd take you to her. Is that all right with you?"
"Yes, sir."
"If you feel up to it, I'd like to ask you a few questions, or we could wait until your mum is with you, if you'd rather."
"I can answer them," said Luke.
"Can you tell me what happened out there?"
"A car was coming too fast. It was going to hit me and Mr. Tyneman, but Dad pushed us out of the way." He was crying now, tears running down his face.
Cec was about to step in, but Charlie held up a restraining hand. "It's okay, Luke. Just one more question. Could you see who was driving the car?"
Luke shook his head. "I was watching Dad. He was up on the car, then he was on the ground. He's hurt bad."
Charlie reached out to give the boy a hug. "What do you say we go there now, see how he's doing?"
Luke took his hand and they left the club. "I'll let you know what's what, Mr. Drury," Charlie promised on their way out the door.
Reckoning correctly that Jean would be in no shape to drive herself, Matthew Lawson had gone to the Blake home to break the news as to what had happened and take her to Lucien.
"You're certain Luke wasn't hurt?" she asked for the third time. She was gripping her hands together tightly to keep them from shaking. Not Lucien. Dear God, please, not Lucien.
"Luke is fine. Pretty shaken up at what he saw, but he wasn't injured. He should be waiting when we get there. Charlie was bringing him."
"What about Patrick Tyneman?" Jean was forcing her mind to focus on details so she wouldn't have to think about what could be happening with her husband.
"Patrick had a few scrapes and bruises, but he'll be fine. The car missed him entirely."
"Of course it did," said Jean, unable to prevent a trace of bitterness from creeping into her tone.
Matthew reached over to rest a hand on top of Jean's. "Blake's a fighter," he said gently. "You know that."
Jean could only nod, praying that would be enough.
At the hospital, Alice was waiting for them. She hugged Jean briefly.
"How is he?" At least Jean knew that Alice would tell her the truth.
"He's alive, but it isn't good, I'm afraid. Fractured skull and severe internal injuries are the worst of it. They're prepping him for surgery now."
"Can I see him?"
"Let me check," said Alice. "Please wait here."
Matthew showed her to a seat, but she couldn't sit. Not until she saw her husband. She was so intent on staring in the direction Alice had gone that she didn't realize the doors behind her had opened until she heard the voice of her son.
"Mummy!" He hurtled toward her, throwing his arms around her waist.
"Oh, Luke, my sweet boy." She crouched down to gather him in her arms. "Are you all right?"
"Where's Dad?"
"I'm waiting to hear if the doctors will let me see him, sweetie."
"I saw him," Luke said softly. "Mum, his head was all bloody." Tears fell again.
She hugged him closer. "I know, baby. I'm so sorry you had to see that."
"He saved me, Mum. From the car. It was going to hit me."
"Yes, Uncle Matthew told me what happened. That must have been scary."
"I wasn't scared until it hit Dad."
Jean just held him, murmuring words of comfort and stroking his back.
She was still holding him when Alice returned. Jean nodded for her to speak in front of Luke.
"If you come right now, you can see him for just a few minutes. He isn't conscious, though."
"I just need to see him for myself," Jean insisted. She glanced down at her son.
"Luke can wait here with me," Matthew offered. "Right, Luke?"
The boy nodded. "Tell Dad I love him, Mum."
"I'll do that. I'll be back soon, sweetheart."
Jean hurried down the corridor to where a nurse waited for her. "Ready, Mrs. Blake?"
She took a deep breath. "Please."
The nurse pushed open the door, and Jean went in.
The sight broke her heart. Her strong fearless husband lay on a stretcher, his head swathed in bandages, his neck immobilized, all manner of tubes and wires snaking out of him. His beard had been shaved in preparation for surgery, and it distracted her for a moment.
She moved close enough to take his hand, being careful not to disturb any of the equipment. With her other hand she gently stroked his jaw. "What have you done to yourself this time?" she sighed. "I knew that hero complex of yours would cause something like this sooner or later."
She studied him, hoping for some reaction, but there was none. "All right now, you listen to me, Lucien Blake. I need you. Our son needs you. You stay with us now, you hear me? I love you. Luke loves you. We'll both be waiting for you."
The nurse returned to indicate they needed to take him into surgery now. Jean leaned awkwardly around the wires to kiss his cheek before stepping aside and watching him be wheeled away.
Luke looked to her anxiously when she returned.
She forced a smile for him. "Guess what?" she said softly. "They shaved off his beard. Your dad's not going to be happy about that, is he?" She poked the boy's ribs, hoping for a reaction, but Luke just shook his head.
"What did he say?"
"He was asleep. He couldn't say anything."
"Was he having bad dreams?"
Rarely now, but occasionally in times of high stress, Lucien still suffered from night terrors related to his time in the prison camp. "No, baby, no bad dreams."
"Okay.'
The boy was silent, but Jean could see he still had questions. "What is it, Luke?" she prodded.
"Do you think he's mad at me?" he asked in a tiny voice.
"Why would he be mad at you? He loves you very much."
"I know," said Luke.
"But what?" Again Jean prodded.
He sniffed, tears springing into his blue eyes, so like his father's. "If I didn't run ahead of him and hit Mr. Tyneman, Dad wouldn't be hurt," he sobbed.
"Oh, sweetheart." Jean pulled him into her arms. hugging him tightly. "None of this is your fault. Not at all."
"But I…"
"Shh, no," Jean said firmly. "You know your dad. He helps people. If Mr. Tyneman had been there alone and the car was going to hit him, your dad would have done the same thing. It's not your fault, it's not Dad's fault, it's not Mr. Tyneman's fault. The only one to blame is whoever was driving that car. Understand?"
The boy nodded, but still didn't seem entirely convinced. He was his father's son after all, ready to assume the cares of the whole world. It was one of the things about Lucien that made Jean crazy, but she knew it stemmed from his time in the prison camp, when he was powerless to save so many of his fellow prisoners. And now Lucien might be the only one that could assuage Luke's guilt.
Matthew had stepped away when Jean returned from seeing Lucien, but now he approached them again. "I spoke to the sister at the desk," he said. "There won't be any news for a while, maybe several hours. She suggested we get a bite to eat in the pub around the corner. If there's any news before then, she'll send someone over. What do you say?"
Jean wasn't hungry herself, her stomach in knots with worry over Lucien, but she knew Luke should be made to eat. "That's a good idea. You're sure they'll send for us if there's anything…"
"She promised," said Matthew. "What do you say, Luke?"
He looked to his mother, who nodded encouragingly and held out a hand. Luke took it and went with the two adults. He couldn't help looking back in the direction they'd taken his father, though.
Matthew found them a table in the corner, hoping they might find a little peace. But word had spread quickly through town about the accident. When they spotted Jean, everyone wanted to ask after Doctor Blake. She held her composure for a while, telling them what little she knew of his condition. But as more and more of them stopped by, she found it difficult to keep talking about her husband when he was likely struggling for his life. Luke was also affected, unable to eat anything.
Jean leaned over to Matthew. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay here. We need to go back."
"Yes, of course. Bad idea to come."
As they walked back around the corner, Luke asked, "What did those people want? Why were they all talking about Dad?"
"Your dad's a hero," Matthew told him.
Jean reached out to squeeze Luke's shoulder. "His father has always been a hero, right, Luke?"
The boy nodded, but he stared at the ground. He thought it must be a very bad thing to hurt a hero. Even worse when the hero was also your dad.
Jean put it down to the fact that he must be worn out after such a stressful day. When they returned to the hospital lounge, she checked that Lucien's surgery was progressing as hoped, then she settled in a chair with Luke in her lap. He rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her neck. She could feel his tears soak into her blouse as he silently wept. She let him get it out, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back to let him know she loved him. Gradually his breathing evened out, and she knew he was asleep.
"Poor little chap," said Matthew. "Terrible day for him. And you, too, Jean. Can I do anything for you?"
Jean shook her head. "I don't know. I just… Matthew, I just want him to be all right, you know?"
"That's all any of us want." He glanced up to see Charlie motioning to him. "If you'll excuse me?"
"Matthew, you must be busy. You don't have to stay. We'll be fine."
"I'm not going anywhere, except to see what Inspector Davis wants. I'll be right back."
Jean smiled gently, watching him walk away until she saw Alice approaching. The pathologist motioned her to stay where she was.
"I have some news. They've finished the surgery, and all went very well." Alice sat in the chair Matthew had just vacated. "The internal bleeding is under control, and they were able to repair his organs. They were concerned about the liver, but even that seems to be coming round."
"That sounds encouraging," Jean observed.
"Yes, very," agreed Alice. "They found a little intracranial bleeding, but not as much as they feared. They've drained it, and the bleeding seems to have stopped now, so they're very hopeful."
"Hopeful?" asked Jean. "What does that mean? What are they afraid of?"
"Well, any time there's bleeding inside the skull, they always fear brain damage."
Jean blanched at the thought, but Alice reached out to clasp her hand. "As I said, they're very hopeful."
"Can I see him?"
"In maybe an hour or so. They're getting him settled in a room and want to keep a close eye right now, make sure he comes out of the anesthesia without any complications." When Jean's eyes widened once again, Alice assured her, "Some people experience nausea or vertigo or confusion as a result of the medication used. They just want to make him comfortable, that's all."
"So, in general, it seems positive then?" asked Jean
"Yes, very. We'll have a better indication once he's conscious, of course."
"Do you have any idea of when that might be?"
"Always difficult to say when there's head trauma involved. I'm sorry, Jean. Is there anything else I can do for you? I can take Luke home and stay with him, if you'd like."
"No, thank you, Alice. You've done so much. I think I'd better keep him with me. He's still very scared."
And she settled in to wait until she could see Lucien. Despite the encouraging words from Alice, her nerves wouldn't begin to settle until he was awake and talking.
Luke was equally unsettled. In his dreams, he was the one inside the car, watching his father's body be struck and roll up the bonnet directly toward him. Blood spattered across the windscreen, and Luke cried out in horror at what he had done.
He jerked awake with his mum trying to soothe him.
"It's all right, sweetheart. It was a bad dream," she whispered, rubbing his back and kissing his forehead.
"Dad…?"
"I just spoke with Doctor Harvey. They say your dad's doing well. He should wake up soon and I'm hoping to see him in a little while."
"Really?" asked Luke. All that blood. He still wasn't sure they weren't just trying to make him feel better. "Can I see him too?"
"I don't know. They may not want a lot of people around him until he's stronger, but maybe we can let you get a peek at him. I'll ask them. Will that do?"
Luke nodded solemnly. He really needed to talk to his dad, but seeing for sure that he was alive was better than not knowing.
"I heard we have some good news," said Matthew, coming back down the corridor.
"Yes, it seems like it," said Jean. "He came through the surgery well."
"That's good to hear. I wish I had better news about who was responsible. It seems no one saw the driver, and we haven't been able to track down the car yet. Luke, you're sure you didn't see him?"
Luke couldn't help the tears that started again. It seemed he couldn't do anything right. "I'm sorry. I was watching my dad."
"It's all right," said Matthew. "Don't worry, son. We'll find him. Maybe your dad saw something."
"Surely this can wait for a little while, Matthew," said Jean, hugging Luke closer to her. The poor child had been through enough today.
She rocked him gently, hoping he might nap again, but she could feel his body still shuddering. He was too small to have to suffer so.
He was just beginning to relax against her again, when Susan Tyneman appeared, calling out to her. Luke jerked upright, wide awake once more. Jean bit back a curse word. Forcing a half-smile, she said, "Mrs. Tyneman."
"Terrible thing, isn't it?" She shook her head, her expertly coiffed hair barely moving. "They're patching up Patrick now. He sprained his wrist when Doctor Blake pushed him to the ground, but I suppose it could have been worse."
Jean was furious at the insinuation. "Yes, it could have been much worse. Like the fractured skull and severe internal injuries Lucien suffered because he pushed Patrick out of the way. I would gladly exchange those for a sprained wrist."
Susan inhaled sharply. "Oh, I didn't mean to suggest… Oh, Mrs. Blake, I am sorry. I'm sure he'll be back on his feet in no time."
Jean was about to retort that the Tynemans wanted him back on his feet only so they could forget all about what he had done for them, but Matthew stepped in to steer Susan away. "Mrs. Tyneman, maybe you should see if Patrick is ready for you to take him home now."
Susan tried to explain herself further, but Matthew effectively hustled her away while Jean ignored her and focussed again on trying to calm Luke (although she was still fuming, herself). She hugged her son, but he was wide awake now, looking up at her with sorrowful blue eyes.
At the sound of footsteps, both turned to see a sister coming toward them. "Mrs. Blake?"
"Yes," said Jean, easing Luke off her lap and standing up.
"Doctor Blake is beginning to wake up now, if you'd like to see him."
"Oh, yes, please." She rested her hands on Luke's shoulders. "This is our son. He saw the accident. Would it be all right if he stood in the doorway to see that his father is going to be all right?"
The sister hesitated, but Luke's hopeful gaze was just as compelling as his father's "It's against our rules, but maybe just this once. From the doorway, not into the room. Understood, young man?"
"Yes, sister. Thank you." Luke nodded solemnly.
"Come along then."
They followed her down the corridor, up the stairs, and along another corridor until she stopped and held open a door. She stared down at Luke, holding a finger to her lips, and he nodded and mimicked her.
Luke watched as his mum entered the room. For a long moment she just stared at his dad, and Luke's eyes followed hers. The man in the bed wasn't quite recognizable to Luke. All the bandages around his head, no beard, the eyes closed. Luke wasn't entirely convinced that they weren't trying to fool him.
Slowly, the patient's eyes opened and glanced lazily around the room until they lit on his mom. "Jean."
It was more of a croak than a word, and sounded nothing like his dad's voice, but now Luke was sure it was him. No one else said his mum's name quite like that.
Jean moved closer so she could take Lucien's hand in hers. "Hello, my darling," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"
He grimaced, but even that small movement seemed to cause him pain. "Bit of a headache," he admitted, his voice still husky and weak.
"I'm sure you do," said Jean. "More than a bit, I'll wager. Do you remember what happened?"
He closed his eyes, trying to recall, but then they popped back open, full of panic. "Luke!"
"Luke is fine, Lucien." She rubbed his arm. "He wasn't hurt. He's right there." And she pointed to the doorway.
Luke gave a little wave to his dad, who stared at him, studying him from head to toe, then motioned him to come closer. Luke was torn. He had promised the sister.
His mum saved him from the dilemma. "Not yet, Lucien. You need to rest first. As you see, he's all right. Just worried about you. You can speak with him after you get some sleep."
"Love you, son," he rasped as loudly as he could.
Luke felt something within him relax. His dad didn't hate him. "I love you, Dad," he called back softly.
Lucien rubbed his head, a little confused at the bandages there. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, but then remembered something else. "Tyneman. Edward," he croaked.
"Not Edward. Patrick," Jean corrected him gently. "He's fine, too. Just a sprained wrist, although Susan seems to think that's some kind of calamity."
"Edward," Lucien mumbled again.
"Lucien, everyone's fine but you. Just sleep, my dear. You'll feel better after you've rested."
She watched him lose the struggle to keep his eyes open, and then leaned forward to rest her palm on one cheek while she kissed the other. It felt strange with no beard.
She kept watching him as she backed slowly to the doorway, where she put an arm around Luke and then closed the door behind them.
"Better now?" she asked the boy.
He nodded wordlessly.
"Well then, I think a quick trip home is in order. We both need to freshen up, maybe get some tea and something to eat."
Matthew was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, and offered to take them home.
"How's he doing?" he asked, at the car pulled out into the street.
"Very weak, as you'd expect. A little confused," Jean admitted.
"Confused about what? He knew you, right?"
"Oh, yes, nothing like that. He knew me and Luke straight away. But he kept asking about Edward Tyneman, not Patrick."
Matthew frowned. "You're sure? What exactly did he say?"
"He wanted to know that Luke wasn't hurt, then he kept saying 'Edward'."
"Bloody hell!" Matthew glanced at Luke in the back seat, then apologized for his language.
"What is it?" asked Jean.
"I think he was trying to tell you…"
"Who was driving the car! Of course," said Jean. "Do you think the Tynemans know? I would have expected them to at least ask about Lucien's condition, after he saved Patrick's life, for heaven's sake."
"Maybe Susan was trying to find out if he had said anything. That would make sense. Jean, you don't mind if I drop you off at home then go to the station?"
"No, of course not. But what was Edward trying to do? He could have killed Luke!"
"I'm willing to bet he never even saw Luke. Probably had a spat with Patrick and wanted revenge yet again."
"Well then, a public pavement probably wasn't the best location to take his revenge, was it?" Jean said bitterly.
"I suspect he's going to have plenty of time to reflect on that. From a prison cell."
Jean prepared sandwiches for a quick supper. She wanted to get Luke settled so she could return to Lucien's side for a few hours. But Luke barely touched his meal. Seeing his father had reassured him that he was still alive, but it did nothing to relieve the guilt.
He had no idea how to make up for it. He thought only his dad could tell him how to do that. He really needed to talk to his dad.
He was so lost in his own misery that he barely noticed when Doctor Harvey arrived. Then his mother was crouching beside him. "Sweetheart, I'm going to see your dad. Doctor Harvey will stay here with you until I get back. Will you be all right, Luke?"
He nodded, refusing to meet her eyes.
"Oh baby, it's going to be okay. Dad will be home soon. He's going to be fine, Luke."
He chanced a look up at her. He wanted to believe her.
"You know your dad. He'll be home as soon as he can get out of bed. Do you want me to take him a message for you?"
"I miss him," Luke whispered.
His mother gave him a hug. "I'm sure he knows that, but I'll tell him anyway, just to be sure."
Outside the hospital room Jean patted her hair to make sure everything was in place, then smoothed down her skirt. She hoped Lucien would be awake and alert now, and she wanted to look her best before pushing open the door to his room.
The door was already ajar, and as she entered she gasped at the sight before her. Edward Tyneman held a pillow over Lucien's face as he struggled against it. Lucien's hands clawed at Edward's arms, but in his weakened condition he was no match for his larger attacker.
"Get away from him!" Jean shouted, rushing into the room, looking around for something to use as a weapon.
The distraction was enough to allow Lucien to push the pillow aside and draw a deep breath. Edward had turned toward Jean who was moving to Lucien. He dropped the pillow, and with a swing of his arm, he backhanded her across the jaw, sending her sprawling. Then he fled from the room.
"Jean!" Lucien tore out the tubes and wires connected to his limbs. For a moment the pain nearly overwhelmed him, but then he turned it off in his mind, as he had learned to do under torture at the prison camp. He struggled to his feet and went to his wife.
She reached out a hand, and he helped her to stand. "Are you all right, my love? Let me see."
"It's fine," she assured him. She worked her jaw that was already reddened and swelling.
"You need a cold compress," he told her.
"And you need to be back in bed."
Two nurses had heard the commotion and came in to help.
"Could you please call the police station and let them know what happened here?" Lucien requested.
"Yes, please tell them Edward Tyneman just tried to kill Doctor Blake. Again," Jean added.
With Bill Hobart standing guard outside Lucien's room to protect against any further attempts, Jean accompanied Charlie to the station to provide a statement of what she'd seen.
"Why would he try to kill Lucien," asked Jean, "jf he only meant to hurt his father?"
"Probably realized Lucien recognized him and hoped to silence him before he could tell anyone," Charlie told her.
Jean had a sudden, horrifying thought. "What if he thinks Luke might have seen him? Luke and Alice are at the house alone."
"I've already dispatched Sergeant Simmons to keep an eye on the house," Charlie assured her. "And I have a man at the Tyneman house, in case he tries to go after them."
"Shouldn't you be questioning Patrick? Find out what's going on?"
"Mister Tyneman will be coming in first thing tomorrow morning. I've been told he's on heavy painkillers tonight so he's in no condition to be questioned."
Jean nodded, sitting back in the chair for the first time. It seemed Charlie had everything covered. "I'm certainly no expert in psychiatry," she sighed, "but Edward probably should have gotten professional help long ago."
Charlie leaned forward to speak softly so only Jean would hear. "Between you and me, I suspect that's how he's going to stay out of prison. His lawyer will get him put in an asylum instead."
"As long as he's locked away, I don't much care where they put him," Jean sniffed. "He's done quite enough damage to my family."
"With your statement we have enough to arrest him, even before we hear from the doc. I have an alert out for him now. We'll find him."
"Before he does any more harm, please."
in the morning Lucien was in pain, but still bored out of his mind. The occasional visits from nurses, who would give him little information, were not helping. He needed something, anything, to keep his brain engaged so he could ignore the signals his body was giving him. He had already refused morphine several times, adamant that he would remain alert until his attacker had been caught and he knew his family was safe. His brain already felt sluggish enough, a result of concussion no doubt.
When Matthew Lawson walked through the door, Lucien could have hugged him, he was that happy for the distraction.
"Blake," Matthew greeted him. "You've looked better."
"Yes, well, Matthew, I'm ready to get out of here, but the staff says otherwise."
"I can't say I'm surprised. You had us all worried."
"How's Jean? And Luke?"
"They're… coping," said Matthew. "How about you?"
"Stir crazy," Lucien admitted. "I'm reduced to plotting ways to escape from this place."
"Jean would have your hide if you even tried," Matthew promised.
"Yes, she probably would. Has Edward been arrested?"
"Not yet. Most of the force is out searching for him. And don't worry, Sergeant Simmons is watching over the house, just in case he gets any ideas of going after Jean and Luke."
Lucien nodded. "Good. Any idea why he did it?"
"Not yet. We're hoping Patrick can tell us something. What about you? What exactly did you see?"
Lucien raised a hand to smooth down his hair, only to remember his head was swathed in bandages. "I heard it first, the car, coming very fast. I think I tried to wave it down, but then it angled toward the pavement where Luke and Patrick were. I couldn't see the driver yet, but when it struck me, I could see him behind the wheel. Edward."
"Did he look like he was in control of the car? Any chance it was an accident?"
"No accident. He was staring at his father, and he was angry. Not scared or upset, just angry."
Matthew jotted it all down in his notebook. "Anything else you want to add?"
"He needs to be locked away, for his own good and the good of the town. I'm willing to bet Patrick knows that. It might even be why Edward was so angry."
"Don't worry. He'll be found and put away for a good long while," Matthew promised. "You concentrate on getting better so you can get out of here. I reckon Luke needs to talk to you."
Lucien sat up straighter. "Yes, of course. Poor little chap."
Already his mind was working out how he could get to speak with his son.
Jean was considering the same problem. Luke was still withdrawn the day after the accident, not at all like himself. Her attempts to cheer him up failed spectacularly. He didn't seem to be interested in his toys or books. Even his favorite foods were politely declined. He seemed lost without his father.
She called the hospital, asking for permission to have Luke visit his dad, but they wouldn't even consider it. And Lucien could not be brought to a telephone - his current condition would not permit him to be moved. She had reached the point of wondering how to smuggle Luke in.
For his part, Luke had made the decision for himself - he would go to see his dad. And being his father's son, he wasn't going to let hospital rules stop him. He scribbled a note to his mother so she wouldn't worry, then started walking into town. He hadn't gone far when Miss Clasby stopped her car and offered him a ride. She was on her way to see his dad herself.
"Do they let children in to visit hospital patients now?" she asked him.
"No," Luke said quietly.
"But you won't let that stop you? Good for you, I say. Always like to see a man with determination," she told him. "I'll tell you what - I'll distract them while you go past."
Luke gave her a shy grin. "Thank you, Miss Clasby."
"Don't thank me. Just don't get caught. At least until you've seen him."
They reached the hospital and got out of the car. "Right," said Miss Clasby. "You go in first and plan your route. Then I'll go to the desk and make a fuss. When they aren't looking, you slip past them. Got it?"
"Got it," Luke confirmed.
He entered the hospital and made his way to the waiting area where they had sat while his dad was in surgery. He knew how to reach his father's room from there. Hands in his pockets, he wandered down the corridor toward the drinking fountain and pretended to drink until he saw Miss Clasby approach. She gave him only the slightest wink as she strode up to the desk.
"I need to see my doctor," she announced, rather loudly.
"Yes, madam, and who is your doctor?" asked the nurse on duty there.
"Doctor Blake, of course. Only doctor worth the bother in this town," Agnes sniffed.
I"m sorry, madam, but Doctor Blake isn't seeing patients," the nurse explained calmly. "He's a patient here himself."
"You think I don't know that? It's all over the newspaper. Front page. You think I'm too old to read the newspaper?" Her voice was steadily rising, drawing more attention to herself.
"Then you know he's in no condition to attend to patients."
"And what am I supposed to do about my medications?" she demanded, now practically shouting. Several other members of the staff had moved to the desk to see what the fuss was about.
Seeing his chance, Luke slipped down the corridor and into the stairwell. He hurried up the stairs, still hearing Miss Clasby's voice. When he peeked around the door at the top of the stairs, no one was in sight. He ran down the corridor until he reached the room he remembered. The door was closed, but he tugged it open and slipped inside, still undetected.
Lucien had been dozing lightly, but given what had happened the last time he had an uninvited visitor, the movement of the door brought him instantly alert. When he saw who had entered, his eyes widened, but then he broke into a wide smile. "Luke."
"Dad." The boy hesitated, not sure of his welcome until his dad motioned him closer, his arms held wide for a hug.
Lucien shifted slightly to one side so the boy could climb up onto the bed with him. He hugged his son tightly, kissing the top of his head. "I'm so happy to see you," he whispered.
"Me, too, Dad," said Luke, just as softly. "I was worried about you."
"I know, son. I'm sorry for that, but I'm going to be fine. As soon as they let me go home with you and your mom."
Luke sat back on his knees, studying his father's new look.
"What do you think?" Lucien asked him, stroking his smooth jaw where the beard had been.
Luke grinned. "I like it better when you have a beard. It makes you look like a pirate."
"Do I?" Lucien chuckled. "And that's a good thing?"
"Yes!" Luke insisted. "Like 'Treasure Island'." His father had been reading it to him and the book was one of Luke's favorites.
"Then I guess I'd better grow it back."
Luke's eyes twinkled, just like his father's. But then he remembered why the beard had been shaved. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said, no longer looking at his father.
"Sorry for what, son?" Lucien put a finger under the boy's chin, lifting it up, but still Luke wouldn't meet his eye.
"I made you get hurt," he mumbled.
"You did no such thing." Lucien kept his voice firm. He was angry that his son had been made to feel this way, but he couldn't have Luke thinking he was mad at him. "First of all, it's my duty to keep you safe. That's what fathers do. And second, the only one responsible is Edward Tyneman. Luke, even if I knew I was going to be hurt, I would do it again. Every single time. Without a second thought. That's my fault. I can't help it if I love you so much I would do anything to keep you safe. Can you understand that?"
"Yes," Luke said slowly. "But I feel bad that you got hurt, Dad. I thought you were going to die." His eyes filled with tears.
"That's the only thing about it that I regret. I'm sorry you had to see what happened," said Lucien, hugging the boy once more.
They stayed that way for several minutes, with Lucien letting the boy cry, when they heard a commotion outside the door. One of the voices was Bill Hobart, but the other one…
"Luke, I need you to do exactly what I say now," he said quietly. He eased the boy away and toward the side of the bed away from the door. "You get down there, son, and stay out of sight, no matter what happens. Promise me now."
Luke's eyes widened. "Yes, Dad," he whispered. He slid off the bed and ducked down just as the door opened.
"Edward," Lucien greeted the visitor. "I take it Bill Hobart is out of commission out there." He nodded toward the corridor.
Tyneman scowled. "He was in the way."
"Yes. Was Luke in your way too? You could have killed my son!"
"Didn't even know he was there." Edward waved a dismissive hand as he moved closer to the bed. "Wrong place, wrong time is all."
"Then your father was the target?"
"My 'father'." Edward snorted. "Turns out Patrick Tyneman isn't even my father. And now he wants to disown me. Cut me out of the will. That will never happen."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Lucien, wondering what the man was talking about. "I can understand why you're upset. But you aren't doing yourself any favors, attacking a police officer and whatever you're planning right now."
"I'm eliminating a witness. Too bad for you." He moved closer.
"You know that I've already given a statement to the police," Lucien pointed out.
Edward shrugged. "Not as good in court as an eyewitness account. Once you and my 'father' are out of the way, a good lawyer can get me off."
"You can't really believe that," said Lucien. He pulled himself up straighter, bracing for the assault to come.
Edward moved up beside the bed and reached out his hands, trying to strangle him. But as he leaned forward, suddenly he stumbled. He looked down at his feet, and the momentary distraction gave Lucien the opportunity to launch himself off the bed at his attacker. Despite his weakened state, Lucien's desperation to protect his son gave him unnatural strength, enough to grapple Edward to the floor and struggle with him until Bill Hobart and a hospital guard entered to restrain him.
Lucien struggled to his feet, and only then did a small voice whimper, "Dad?"
Luke was under the bed, his arm sticking out and bent at an unnatural angle. "Can someone help me here?" Lucien called. A nurse arrived to assist in getting Luke out from under the bed and bracing the arm so it wouldn't be jostled.
It was only then that Lucien realized what happened. "Luke, you reached out and tripped him, didn't you?"
"He was going to hurt you again, Dad." Luke was biting his bottom lip against the pain of his broken arm. "I think he was too big though."
"Too big indeed! That was very brave of you. Now, son, you're going to need a cast on that arm. Perhaps the nurse, Miss…" He looked at her name tag. "Miss Graham can see to that for you. Just go along with her, then you can come back here, right, Miss Graham?"
"Yes, just this once. Come along young man."
"And Luke, thank you." He hugged his son fiercely. "You probably saved my life. I think we're even now."
Even through his pain, Luke managed a big smile. "You're welcome, Dad."
An hour later, Jean was sitting by the bedside with Luke propped up on pillows beside Lucien. Matthew Lawson popped his head in the door. "At this rate the Blake family is going to need your own wing of the hospital soon," he observed. "Everyone's okay here?"
"We're fine," said Lucien. "Right, Luke?"
"Right, Dad."
Jean thought they both looked too pale for her liking. She couldn't wait to get them home so she could watch over them and keep them in line. But she had to admit that Luke looked a lot more content, despite his pain.
"How's Bill Hobart?" asked Lucien.
"Embarrassed," said Matthew, with a chuckle. "He's fine, but not happy that he was overpowered by a man who was then beaten by an invalid and a boy. He may never live it down. Not to mention letting Luke slip by him while he was off getting coffee."
"What about Edward?" asked Jean. "What did he mean about Patrick not being his father?"
"It seems he overheard a fight between Susan and Patrick over Patrick's dalliances. Susan claimed she'd been having affairs too, and she didn't even know for sure that Edward is his son."
"That's ridiculous. Edward looks just like Patrick did at that age," Jean pointed out.
"Yes, Susan finally admitted she'd just said it to get even with Patrick. She had no idea Edward overheard, or that he'd take things so far."
Jean was steaming. "She tried to throw it in my face about Patrick's sprained wrist when she started the whole affair!"
"So to speak," Lucien noted with a grin.
"In any case, Edward will remain in custody, and Susan and Patrick are in disgrace," said Matthew. "It's all over. Now, Jean, can I give you and Luke a lift home?"
"No, thank you, Matthew. I have our car."
"Well then, good day to all of you. Blake, try to stay in bed now, will you? We need our police surgeon in one piece."
Lucien only smiled. "Good day, Matthew."
When they were alone, Jean sighed. "What am I going to do with you two?"
Her two boys grinned at each other. "Didn't you realize what you were getting into when you insisted on naming him after me?" Lucien asked.
"He's certainly a chip off the old block," said Jean, with a mock frown at her son.
Luke could only smile up at his dad. He could think of no better compliment.