Author's note: This is my repentance for the last story. :)
...
Lucien stood in the sun room looking out, watching as Jean cleared brush in the yard. She always did gardening and yard work when she was upset. She always gardened and did yard work when she wasn't upset as well, so it was hard to gauge how she was feeling just now. He knew she had a difficult few days. On the anniversary of her husband's death she found out the man she sold their farm to was murdered. She had insisted on returning to the farm to comfort Ben Dempster's wife. Lucien had been amazed at her willingness to face such bad memories just to help an acquaintance. Lucien did not think he would have done it himself. It was one of an ever-growing list of reasons why he admired and cared for her so much.
That was several days past. It was today's revelation that made him question how much he really knew her. Trapped in a room with Dempster's knife wielding wife, Jean had revealed all; her difficult marriage, the fight she had with Christopher that sent him off to war, and the guilt she had carried with her ever since. But the part that really bothered Lucien was hearing how unhappy she was. They'd been getting on so well, he'd never noticed anything was wrong. Even now Lucien knew that she only said what she did to talk down a murderer. She would have never confided in him. After the crisis had passed, looking at a stoic Jean utterly unphased by the danger she had just faced, Lucien felt an overwhelming desire to hold her and try to fix things. He wanted to make her happy. He needed to make her happy. And now she was working away industriously in the sunlight as if nothing had happened. For a long while Lucien considered leaving her there. He should respect her privacy, he thought to himself. He had to remind himself that neither her pain nor the dangers of the day had gone away simply because she had gone back to hiding them. He had something to say to her and there wasn't going to be a better time. Lucien took a deep breath and walked out into the yard.
The ensuing conversation was even more shocking than the day's earlier revelations. She considered herself responsible for her husband's death and had never forgiven herself. For seventeen years she had tortured herself, the pain always fresh. He knew there wasn't a lot he could say. He told her she could not blame herself for her husband's wartime death. He tried to encourage her to work towards a happier future. On some level, he knew he was arguing a case not for her future, but for theirs. A few weeks ago he had gotten caught up in the heat of a moment and almost kissed her. When Jean pulled away he took it as a rejection and a reproach. He had vowed to be a perfect gentleman from that day on, friendly but distant. This was proving easier said than done as Jean seemed to be drawing closer to him with each passing day. Lucien, for his part, could barely take his eyes off her when they were in the same room. Suddenly everything was clear. He saw that it wasn't her feelings for Lucien that we're getting in the way, it was her feelings for her own husband.
"I'm still not ready." Jean looked up at him and appeared desperate for him to have an answer. Lucien got the sense that somehow Jean wanted him to fix things too.
Lucien gently wiped a tear from her cheek. "Maybe this is the beginning of you being ready."
Hands grasped, looking into her tear-streaked eyes, it took all of his self control not to try and kiss her again. Open and vulnerable, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until all her pain became his. He knew, however, that it would not end well. Instead he tried to assure her that her future in any form would still honor Christopher's memory. Lucien hoped she would eventually see that future as theirs. When he released her hand and tried to walk back to the house he was surprised to find it was Jean who would not let go. She held tight as if she were afraid to be left alone outside. For the second time in as many minutes it took all of Lucien's strength to back away instead of pulling her close. He turned and walked back towards the sun room, determined not to look back.
Lucien walked right into his office and sat, lost in thought. He wondered if he should have left Jean out there in that state. He was afraid of what would have happened if he'd stayed. The ten minute drive to the Dempster farm earlier that day had been the longest of his life. Facing the prospect that she might be harmed or already dead, he was terrified. Then seeing her there, stoic with a knife just inches from her throat, he had almost charged Ruth Dempster. He would rather have died impaled on that knife than see Ruth harm a single hair on Jean's head. He had realized, frozen in the entrance to the kitchen, trying not to let terror overtake him, that he was in love with Jean. In his heart he knew he had crossed some threshold over which there was no going back. He understood what that meant, but he also knew it did not obligate Jean. Watching her from the sun room, admiring the woman that somehow impressed him more with each passing day, he resolved to tell her that he loved her, even if he risked driving her away. But now things had changed. Right now Jean needed time, and Lucien would give it to her. For a woman like Jean he would wait forever.