Dr. Lucien Blake sat in the kitchen on a chilly morning, sipping tea. It had been a blissfully quiet few weeks. No murder cases, no intrusions from the past, no crisis. Lucien could not recall a time in recent months when he had been happier. Jean was at the stove preparing breakfast and he watched her closely. Her back was turned and Jean chatted away, unaware of the attention. He studied the set of her hair on the back of her neck and her long, pale neck itself. He watched her steady hands, her straight back, her narrow waist. When he found his eyes falling lower he decided he had done enough studying. Lucien wondered how for all his sins he had gotten so lucky. Jean was wearing a thick tan cardigan against morning chill. She turned around in response to a joke Lucien made and smiled, pulling the cardigan tighter around her. Something about that gesture took his breath away and he wondered at that. It was nothing different, nothing exceptional, it was just another morning, and it was just Jean being Jean. But maybe that was what made it exceptional. Smiling at her, he picked up his newspaper and headed into the sitting room.
Lucien could not help but think of Mei Lin, only recently settled in Hong Kong. He had been thinking a lot about her, about their past. He supposed it was only inevitable after everything that happened. Beautiful and exotic yet somehow more British than he was, Lucien fell in love almost immediately. Both of them were well past the age most people married in those days and Lucien was always amazed that some young dashing captain hadn't swept her off her feet before that point. And then after the war, unable to find her, mourning the loss of his family, he sunk into himself with no intention of coming out. Now here he was, thousands of miles from where he called home and yet also back where he had started. It is a quiet morning and Jean is laughing at one his jokes.
Lucien smiled to himself and opened up the newspaper. A few minutes later, Jean came in to the room. Absorbed in an article, he was only vaguely aware that she had been standing there for some time. Eventually Jean sat down beside him. Lucien held his breath. She had been doing that a lot lately, sitting next to him to read or knit when she would normally have sat separately. He treasured every minute of it but he never knew quite how to act. He chastised himself; he had managed girls better than this when he was fourteen, he should not be getting flustered now. Jean leaned over, scanning the headlines and asked him a question about the contents of an article on the local city council elections. Lucien turned toward her and let the paper fall to his lap, happy for something intelligent to say. She nodded, seemingly fascinated by his answer. He turned to pick back up his paper, but much to his suprise before he could do so Jean had leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Lucien wrapped his arm around her and did his best to open the paper so both of them could see. Jean appeared to be reading the articles, cheerfully making the odd comment or asking his opinion on a particular item. Lucien answered her in a matter of fact manner, trying to not appear too delighted in the situation. As was often the case, her grasp on any particular local subject was usually better than his, but Lucien was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the headlines or engage her in coherent conversation. The feeling of Jean breathing against his chest, the warmth of her by his side, the smell of her hair, it was too intoxicating for an ordinary morning. Eventually he stopped even pretending to turn the pages and just sat there, eyes half focused, enjoying the pleasure of feeling her lying against him. For the second time that morning Lucien wondered how such a simple gesture on an ordinary day could be so wonderful. Lucien knew he loved Jean. He would have been content to have Jean as his partner and hopefully wife, but he never thought he would find himself falling in love again. Lucien kissed Jean gently on the top of her head and found himself lingering there with his lips pressed against her. He could feel Jean sigh, he hoped it was a happy one. There was a saying, "Lightning never strikes in the same place twice." He started to wonder if maybe it could.
Jean laughed in response to a joke Lucien had made. When she turned away from the stove to reply, he was staring at her with such longing that it made her blush. Jean watched after him as he took his newspaper into the sitting room. After many months of moving from one crisis to the next they had enjoyed a blessedly quiet few weeks. When she returned from Adeliade they had begun a brief and accelerated romance that was cut short by the arrival of Mei Lin. Now, it felt like they were getting to know each other all over again. It was a silly concept, really; they'd known each other for years. However without the boundaries of their past acquaintance something felt different. Even in commonplace interactions she felt a connection with him, and Jean was sure he felt it too.
Jean had been thinking a lot about Christopher lately; about their marriage, their relationship, how things had changed now, and how they were the same. She worried often if Christopher would approve of her current situation. Jean and Christopher had married young, too young really. Where Jean was reserved and sensible, Christopher was reckless and charismatic. Flirting with him was like flirting with some wild, dangerous thing that she never would have allowed inside herself. It was ironic that after they married he settled down into farm life so quickly. She thought they would travel the world and worry about things like property and family in the future. In that respect he had been much more practical than she, and Jean had come to resent him for it. But despite all that, she would not have given him up for the world. From the very beginning his love for her felt so passionate, so fiery, that Jean wanted to get lost in it and never come out. Later, drowning in farm chores and trying to mind two wild boys, he would still look at her with the same intensity. Jean had never ruled out getting remarried. She missed the companionship, the intimacy of having someone she could call her own, but she had not planned on falling in love again. That sort of thing was for teenagers who married too young.
Jean walked in to the sitting room to join Lucien and found herself hesitating at the door. She knew she had been behaving too bold the last few weeks and she knew it was wrong. Jean was not oblivious to the way he stared at her, to the intention behind his gaze when she left a room. She knew she shouldn't encourage him, but she had been giving in to selfish desires. In the last few months she had almost lost him, twice. Now she just wanted to enjoy having him to herself for a change. She almost went back into the kitchen but the sight of him reading, thoughtful and handsome, made her want to be nearer. She sat down next to him and could immediately see him tense up. She wondered how a man with so much bravado could act so shy around women, especially her. They had been close friends for a long time now, her presence was nothing out of the ordinary. Jean leaned over and scanned the headlines, asking him a question about the local city council elections. Jean had read the article earlier that morning but it seemed like a good conversational gambit. Lucien was happy to oblige her, but as he talked Jean's mind was far away, engaged in an battle between temptation and propriety, boundaries and...something else. She felt foolish having the debate at all. They would be married eventually, she was certain of it. But still, she was taking a risk. By the time he had finished his discussion of the candidates Jean had given in and leaned back against his shoulder. It was impossible to ignore how perfectly her head fit on his broad shoulder, how warm he felt on a chilly morning. Lucien obligingly put his arm around her and opened up the newspaper so they both could read it. Jean read a few of the articles as best as she could with her head at an angle. She chatted with him on the news of the day, mostly enjoying the sound of his voice so close to her. However within a few minutes he seemed to have trouble concentrating. Her comment on a proposed livestock fee scheme brought an answer that was nearly incoherent. Jean could not help but smile to herself. Lucien let go of one half of the paper and was holding Jean's hand instead. He was still propping up the paper with the other hand but neither of them seemed to be reading it anymore. A memory flashed through Jean's mind of sitting on the fence behind Christopher's family farm watching a storm roll in. She couldn't have been more than sixteen. Christopher had wrapped his arms around her and it felt like nothing could touch them, not even the storm, as long as he held her. Jean wondered if it were possible for lightning to strike in the same place twice. As the thought crossed her mind the sensation of Lucien kissing the top of her head sent an unexpected jolt through her spine. "Yes," Jean thought to herself. "Yes, it can."