"What's wrong with Dad?" young Luke Blake asked his mum. He had become used to the fact that there were times his father wasn't his usual cheerful self, but it was usually related to a police case, and there didn't seem to be one at the moment.
Jean smiled down at her six-year-old, running her fingers through his sandy hair. She and Lucien had both been shocked when they learned of her pregnancy, but Lucien Jr. had indeed been a "bringer of light" into their lives. His sunny disposition, endless curiosity and loving nature brightened everything around him.
Lucien had resisted her when she wanted to name the baby after him, saying a boy (or man) should never be compared to his father, and having the same name would only compound the problem, but Jean was adamant. She wanted to name her new son after the best man she knew. Lucien finally conceded, never wanting to deny her anything within his power to give her, but he suggested they use his own schoolboy nickname for the child.
"Do you know what day this is?" she asked her son.
He nodded. "Anzac Day."
"That's right. And do you know what Anzac Day means?"
"We remember the soldiers who fought and died in wars."
"Yes, dear. You know your father fought in the war, don't you?"
Again Luke nodded, his bright blue eyes becoming sad. "He was a prisoner, wasn't he?"
"He was. And many of the men who were prisoners with him died. A lot of them were his friends. He had to watch them die and he couldn't help them."
Luke's eyes filled with tears. "Now I understand why he's sad. Poor Dad."
"I think we should stay close to him today, don't you? He might be a little less sad if the people he loves are near him."
"I think so, too," said Luke. He considered for a moment. "Will he go to the parade with us?" Luke had been looking forward to the parade all week.
"Probably not."
"Oh. Maybe we should stay home too."
Jean had to smile at her son's kindness. "Your dad thinks we should go. All of your friends will be there," she reminded him. "You'll enjoy it."
"It would be better if Dad was there with us."
"It would," she agreed. "But if he isn't comfortable with going, we wouldn't want that, would we?"
"No." He paused. "My friend Gordon said he's going to wear his dad's medals to the parade."
Jean knew Gordon's father had abandoned the family after his drinking had gotten out of control. The man had never recovered from his war experiences. "That will be nice. Gordon can feel closer to his father that way."
"Does Dad have medals?" asked Luke.
"Yes, he does," said Jean. "Your father was a very brave soldier."
"Have you seen them? His medals."
"No, I haven't," she admitted. "Why do you ask?"
"Maybe you could wear them, Mum. That way it would be like he was at the parade with us."
Jean bent down to hug him. "My sweet boy," she murmured. "That's a very nice idea, but I think asking your dad to bring out his medals for us would bring back painful memories for him."
"I guess so," Luke admitted. He extricated himself from her embrace and headed for his father's study.
"Where are you off to?" Jean asked.
"I think Dad needs a hug today."
Lucien sat at his desk, trying to resist the urge for a drink. Since his marriage to Jean, and especially after the birth of their son, he had tried to limit himself to a single whiskey after dinner, but sometimes the urge was overwhelming. This day had proved to be a particular challenge each year, and his resolve was slipping when he heard a soft knock on the door. He recognized that knock, and couldn't help but smile.
"Come in, son," he called.
Luke pushed open the door, marched over to his dad and threw his arms around him.
Lucien returned the hug, savoring everything about this small person who had brought so much joy into his life. Luke had given him a second chance at fatherhood, and Lucien was grateful every single moment.
"I'm not complaining, but what's that in aid of?" he asked the boy, lifting him up to sit on the edge of the desk.
Luke smiled. "Just… I love you, Dad."
Lucien couldn't help the tears that pricked at his eyes, even as his smile beamed brightly. "I love you too, son. Always."
"I know," the boy said, matter-of-factly.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready for the parade?" Lucien asked him.
Luke frowned. "I can stay here with you if you'll be lonely."
Lucien glanced up to see Jean standing in the doorway, tears in her own eyes. He looked a question at her, wondering what was going on, but she just nodded toward Luke, indicating that it was up to Lucien to decide what he wanted.
"That's very kind of you, but it won't be necessary." Lucien cleared his throat. "What do you say I go to the parade with you and Mum?"
He looked up to see Jean with her mouth hanging open, shocked that he would even consider it after all these years of brooding alone on this day. But he had decided that it was time to put the past into perspective and embrace all the good fortune that was now his lot in life.
"You don't have to," Jean said. "Lucien, if you don't want to…"
"I think it's time I stopped thinking only of myself," he said, ruffling Luke's hair. "We should all go to the parade and honor the heroes, right?"
Luke's grin matched that of his father. "Yes, sir." He thought for a moment. "You're a hero, too, Dad."
Lucien was about to protest, but Jean stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, he is, Luke. He's our very own hero." She bent down to kiss the top of her husband's head. "And I won't insist that you wear your medals, my dear, but I think your son should see them at least. When you're comfortable with that."
And that was how young Luke Blake came to be attending the Anzac Day parade, his entire jacket covered in military decorations.