Lucien unlocked the door and took a few steps into the hall, into deafening silence! No radio with Jean singing along, no chop chop chopping of a knife on the cutting board; absolute silence. No smell of dinner cooking. Nothing; the house was deserted, as far as he could tell, and his heart lurched. Where was she? He looked in the kitchen, no, the living room, no, the study, the surgery, the sunroom, his room; Jean was gone. Oh god, no! Had she had enough of waiting for the divorce to be finalised? Had she got fed up of waiting? He sat on a chair in the living room, staring at the space she sat, knitting or sewing, in the evening, trying not to think she would never be there again. He swallowed, there was one room he had not checked, her's. Her sanctuary, he retreat from the horrors of some cases, of sniping from the gossips, of the loss of Jack and of missing Mattie.

He stood outside the bedroom, studying the handle, noticing the wear from her hands, daring himself to turn it, to enter her room. He had entered before, to tell her he needed her to guide him, to turn a blind eye, to give him a darn good talking to, but never since then. A deep breath and suddenly he was over the threshold. It was tidy, the bed neatly made, the wardrobe doors closed, her cosmetics on the dresser, photographs of her family, not many but enough for reminders of times gone by. A photograph of her and Christopher and the boys on the farm. He didn't know she had these mementoes, but then why would he? He never entered the room. So she hadn't left, or if she had...

Back downstairs he stood in the hall and wondered what to do. Should he just wait for her to come back, or should he go and try to find her? She couldn't have got far on foot, only into town. But the bus station and the train station were within walking distance too.

He'd go out and look for her, she was his whole world, if she had been taken or walked out in despair, in anger...

He drove slowly down the road into town. Looking from side to side, hoping to see her on the road, coming out of a shop, talking to a friend. Did she have friends? He wasn't sure, she never mentioned any. She must have, Jean was the sweetest person in the world, even if the gossip mongers would have it another way? Had she had enough of their tittle-tattle? If so he would track her down, bring her back and show them she was better than any of them, they could not hold a candle to Jean Beazley, she was his light in the darkness, his hot chocolate in the cold, his everything.

He parked up in by the club, only because it was a space, not because he needed a drink. In fact he didn't need a drink, he just needed Jean. He started to walk round the town, nodding to those that spoke and greeted him.

'Dr Blake?' Evelyn Toohey spoke, 'are you alright?'

'Er, oh hello, Mrs Toohey.' He stopped, dare he ask her if she'd seen Jean? 'I was looking for Mrs Beazley. I thought she might need a lift home.' It was a weak excuse, but he could hardly say he had lost his housekeeper.

'I saw her heading over to the Church earlier. I've not seen her since.' In spite of Evelyn Toohey's outward severe demeanour she was aware of the relationship between the two and was happy for Jean. She couldn't describe them as friends but they did attend the same church and she had stood in for Jean when she had taken a break and gone to see her family in Adelaide.

'Oh, right, thank you.' Lucien did not want to linger and pass the time of day, he needed to get over to the church.

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Jean had stood in the house and decided there was nothing more to do. The cleaning was done, the book-keeping was up to date, dinner, well dinner could be something simple, she really hadn't decided.

She sighed. Lucien was out, Charlie was on duty, the garden did not need any work doing to it, the laundry was done. A wife in all but name, that was Jean. She knew it was going to be sometime before the divorce was finalised and she could wait to be married, safe in the knowledge they would be, eventually. Until then, they carried on as normal. She the housekeeper he the employer. Kisses and cuddles when there was no one about, but nothing else. She wanted more, there were signs Lucien did too, she'd been a widow for so long, no one had enticed her, though some had tried, Robert from the drama society, and she had felt bad about turning him down, but really he didn't cause her stomach to do flips when she saw him as it did when Lucien came in from the station, or from a case or a call, and she couldn't settle for less. It was Lucien or no one.

She took off her apron and folded it neatly on the back of a chair.

The stroll down into town helped her take stock of her life. She'd had a good, but short marriage to Christopher, nothing spectacular, he'd been loving but not exciting. The marriage would have lasted, 'until death did them part'. And death had parted them, suddenly and early in their lives. She'd battled on, tried to keep the farm going, tried to keep her boys on the straight and narrow, got it wrong, got it right, suffered the indignity of her youngest son being in trouble with the law, twice; to finally settle as the housekeeper to a local doctor, and when he died, to his son. Now that son had taken her heart, held it, and wouldn't let go; and she didn't want him to.

She walked past the shops, spoke to acquaintances as they stopped her, passed the time of day, nothing too taxing.

She needed to make peace with her conscience. The church was the only place she could be quiet, she hoped. She'd passed the priest, Father Emery, in town so she knew the place would be empty. The house was empty but that wasn't what she needed, she needed to know what she was doing was right.

She sat in a pew and closed her eyes.

'Lord, please help me. I know what I want is not what you think is right. This man has hold of my heart, my entire being, and I want, no, I need him. I want to give him the love he needs, to let him know how much he means to me, to feel him, to have his arms around me, for him to never let me go as I will never let him go. He has lost so much, much more than I have, and even if he thinks you have deserted him I know deep down you haven't. Please, understand, I love him more than life itself, and always will.'

There was a stillness in the church she had never known before. A beam of light shone through the stained glass window over the alter, falling over Jean's bent head. Was this the acceptance she needed? She hoped so, because that's what it meant to her. The day had been gloomy, clouds had hid the sun and now, now the clouds had parted and let the sun through to shine over her. She brushed away a tear and stood to leave.

There was a shadow in the doorway, tall, blocking out much of the sun.

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Lucien stood watching her finish her prayer. He would never quite understand her need to commune with the Almighty, but if it made her happy then he would indulge her when she needed to have that solace. He watched her cross herself and walk towards him. She lifted her head and smiled. If he'd found her, there, in the beam of sunlight, then maybe the good Lord was prepared to overlook her transgressions. She held out her hand to him and he took it, as soon as she reached him.

'Hello,' she smiled and then, in the doorway of the church, she lifted her head and kissed him, lightly on the lips.

He raised his eyebrows; such displays of affection were usually kept to the confines of the house, and when they were alone.

'Thought you might like a lift home.' He returned the kiss, a little more firmly.

'That would be lovely.'

They walked, hand in hand, to the car and he drove them home. He hadn't lost her, after all.

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Just a little ditty that came to me. Reviews and comment welcome.