Words No One Was Supposed to Hear
"Charlie, have you seen Lucien?" Jean asked, noticing that the house had been strangely quiet that evening.
"No, not since he was at the station this afternoon." Charlie got up and looked out the front window. "The car's not here, so I expect he's still out somewhere."
Jean frowned. Usually Lucien gave some kind of indication of where he would be or when he would be home. She hadn't heard from him since she sent him off after breakfast. But she knew he was often apt to get fixated and distracted by something, and he could usually take care of himself. She resolved to not worry until the morning, if he hadn't returned sometime in the night.
"I'm off to bed. Goodnight," Charlie said, going upstairs and leaving her alone.
She sat for a minute, thinking. She suddenly realized that there were now somehow more times when she felt like a wife than like a housekeeper. The transition had been rather sneaky. She hadn't noticed when the frequency of one had overcome the other.
Jean stood and quietly went to Lucien's bedroom door. She stared at it for a few moments. Then, tentatively, she placed her hand on it, as though to feel a heartbeat through the wood.
And ever so quietly, Jean spoke to the empty room behind that door. Words she wouldn't have had the courage to say to Lucien himself.
"I do love you very much. More than I ever expected I could. And I hope that wherever you are, you're safe." She swallowed hard before continuing, "I used to worry about you for selfish reasons, I think. Worry that you were off doing something to tarnish the good name of Dr. Blake, to make me look like a fool for working for you. But not anymore. I don't care about those things as much, and you've certainly proved your value and worth in Ballarat in your own way. And now I find myself constantly worried about you for your own sake. Are you alright? Are you safe? Will you come home to me?"
Jean couldn't help but smile cynically to herself and scoff, "I used to hate myself for thinking that. Wishing for your return just so I could see you and be with you. It's a habit I still haven't broken, feeling guilty about wanting to be with you."
She sighed, "Just…being with you. I never thought that would become such a beautiful part of my life. That I would ever just want a person around. Your father and I had an easy comfort between us, I think. But it was always very clear that I was doing a job. Anything he needed, I was there to fetch for him." She paused, remembering fondly. "It was different with him. He would ask for a cup of tea and invite me to join him. He wouldn't have done things for himself. Not like you, helping me wash dishes and pouring me a drink in the evenings and such. I never helped your father in his work the way you invite me to help you with yours. But I suppose that's the difference," she realized. "Your father needed a housekeeper, and you need a partner. It's almost funny that we've become partners in nearly all senses of the word."
Jean realized she was babbling. "I don't know what I'm doing," she thought aloud. "This is silly. I suppose I'm just losing my mind a little bit every day. Because I feel like your partner. I feel like your wife. And not having it be real or official or…" She blinked away tears threatening to form in her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat as she twisted the engagement ring on her finger. "I think it might kill me to be alone for much longer." Jean placed her hand on the door once more. "Come home soon, love."
Inside the bedroom, Lucien had been lying on his bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling for hours. The car had gotten a flat tire and he couldn't drive home on it. And, of course, the spare was in the garage and not in the boot where it should have been. He'd walked home with the intention of carrying the spare back to the station to change it, but he'd gotten distracted. Lucien had been overcome with a sudden and inexplicable feeling of sorrow and dread. It happened less frequently than it used to, but it still came at the most unexpected times. All he wanted to do was sleep it off and wake up refreshed. He had tried, avoiding everyone and everything by hiding away quietly in his bedroom, but he was unable to coax his mind into rest.
But then, Jean had come to his door, saying such wonderful things. All because she didn't know he was there. And he had heard every word. He'd gotten out of bed and stood at the door, placing his hand on it as though he could reach out and touch her on the other side.
When he heard her leaving, he opened the door to her.
"Lucien!" she exclaimed in surprise. "I didn't think you were home!"
He didn't say a word. He took her hand and led her into the dark room, closing the door behind them.
Jean's heart pounded from embarrassment that he'd heard everything she had said. And now, he'd pulled her into his bedroom, possibly based on her words that she felt like his wife. He had always been very respectful thus far…he wouldn't expect her to…would he?
But Lucien had no such designs in mind. In his state, all he felt was overwhelming love for the woman who was not yet his wife. But he agreed with her. Even if they weren't married, he felt like her husband. He desperately wanted to be her husband.
Lucien led her to the bed, sitting with her on the edge and still holding her hand. Gently, he pulled her into a supine position with him. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling into her hair and closing his eyes. At last, he felt calm rest overtake him.
Jean relaxed in his embrace, seeing that he had no lascivious intentions. True, lying in bed with him was awakening her own desire that she worked desperately hard to keep hidden, but that wasn't what this was about. Not this time. He wasn't himself, and he needed her.
She smiled at the thought. He needed her. And she needed him.
Jean snuggled up to him and closed her eyes. She didn't even care that she was fully dressed and lying on top of his bedsheets with her shoes on. She fell asleep quickly and happily.