"Alright boys, marching orders: clean your bedrooms and meet me back here in the kitchen. Dismissed!" He barked the orders at the two boys with a grin and watched them fondly as they scampered off, eager to complete their chores and return to him. They knew what kitchen time meant: baking.
Lucien shook his head, listening to Jack and Christopher, Jr. bicker the way all young boys do. For a moment, his heart clenched in his chest–his thoughts drifting to his own daughter, long lost to him now. With a deep breath, he pushed those thoughts back down into a box in the furthest corners of his mind.
Being around the Beazley boys had soothed a hurt in his soul. He had come to the Beazley home a few months ago, shortly after his return to Ballarat. The military had changed him; war had changed him. He could not look at medicine the same way, couldn't trust his shaky hands to treat and heal when they had done so much damage, had taken life.
Puling out the bowls and whisks and necessary bits and bobs, he decided they would make lemon bars in preparation for Jean's arrival home. The thought of her face pinching at the first hit of sour on her tongue and then melting away into delectable pleasure had Lucien grinning, eager to please.
He tried not to think too hard on the increased patter of his heart at the thought of his employer. Jean was–well, Jean was everything to him. Despite her hesitance at hiring a male caretaker for the boys, she had taken a chance on him. Perhaps she had seen his desperation to care for someone for once; to tend to a home and be a part of family.
In any case, she had looked at him with sparkling eyes and the sunlight was streaming in behind her, illuminating her in a halo, and had welcomed him into her home. And he loved her for it.
He'd never dare tell her–no. Jean deserved someone whole and undamaged; not someone like him.
The sound of racing feet alerted him to the return of Jack and Christopher and before he knew it, the boys were wrapping themselves around him, cheeks flushed with excitement. "All done, Lucien!"
He put on a stern look but the smile twitching at his lips gave him away. "If I go and check your rooms, I won't find a toy out of place? Or a shirt unfolded?"
The boys dissolved into giggles and mock-saluted him, "Sir, no, sir!"
He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, "Right then! Wash your hands and get your aprons on, boys. If we hurry, we can have these cooled in time for your mum when she gets home."
Jean walked into her home, shoulders stiff and hands sore. She had taken up cleaning homes for half of Ballarat–a much more profitable job to support her and her boys than the oft-struggling farm. It had been a long day today and she was simply grateful to be home. Toeing off her shoes and shrugging her coat off, she called out, "Boys? Lucien? I'm home!"
But there was no answer, only the sound of laughter and clanging bowls and childlike screeches. Curiously, she walked through the house, following the sounds until she reached the kitchen.
The sight that greeted her made her melt.
Lucien and her boys were running around the kitchen, absolutely covered head-to-toe in flour, screaming with delight as they threw handfuls of flour at each other. Jack and Christopher's behinds were covered in Lucien-shaped flour handprints and Lucien's own hair and face was streaked with flour and melted butter.
The kitchen was a disaster and, to her stomach's delight, there was a plate of lemon bars stacked next to the sink. She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her hands over her chest, simply enjoying the scene before her.
But her presence didn't go unnoticed for long. Lucien skidded to a halt and the boys crashed into him, still trying to smear batter and butter over the other.
"Jean! You're home early! We were just, uh–"
"Just making a mess in my kitchen."
Lucien and the boys looked at one another, shamefaced, already making apologies and promising to clean it up right away. She grinned, stepping further into the kitchen and inspecting the damage. She picked up a handful of flour and turned to face them, arm raised and ready, "Run."
With a shout her boys and Lucien took off again, dodging her own flour attacks. Lucien was giving them orders, "Don't break rank, boys! We outnumber her!"
The laughter filled the kitchen and Jean could forget for a moment that Lucien was just her employee; paid to take care of her family and be here. For a moment, she could pretend he was hers–well and truly–and he was a father to the boys and this was all real.
Maybe one day she'd tell him how much she loved him. But, she thought as she was chased out of the kitchen, Lucien and Jack and Christopher ganging up on her, today was not that day.
