A week had passed since Thomas Blake's funeral. In that time she and the young Blake continued to tip-toe around one another, barely speaking - much as they had when Lucien first arrived before his father's death. It wasn't that he was outright rude; Lucien was simply withdrawn, and hardly spoke to anyone.
Jean tried not to take it personally. Now, however, she knew it was time to think about what came next. For the second time in her adult life, she was losing her home. She'd already looked into a few open positions in town, but dreaded the thought of moving.
She knew it was well past midnight, but couldn't sleep. Instead she sat in her room knitting, hoping it would clear her mind enough to allow sleep to come. Frustrated at her lack of concentration she tossed the yarn aside, thinking she might finally turn in for the night.
As Jean began turning down the bed covers, she heard a muffled, violent thrashing coming from downstairs. She reached for a book on her nightstand - the nearest object she could use as a weapon - and quietly ran downstairs.
As she stood at the bottom of the stairs Jean heard a cry from the bedroom. She eased the door open a crack and peered inside, seeing Lucien thrashing about on his bed. He let out another shout - louder this time - before she could enter the room.
Jean tried to gently wake him but Lucien was deep into his nightmare. She couldn't make out any of what he said as she continued trying to wake him. With a final cry she managed to shake him awake, as Mattie appeared in the doorway.
"Is everything alright?" She watched Lucien struggle to catch his breath, saw his face covered with sweat.
"I'll handle this, Mattie. Go on back to bed." Jean tried to put on a comforting smile. Somehow she understood Lucien would not want to be the center of attention at this time.
Mattie watched for another few seconds before nodding slightly and turning away from the room. As she retreated up the stairs she heard Lucien's muffled voice
"I'm okay, Jean. Just a nightmare."
"Apparently. I thought someone had broken in." She took a handkerchief from his dressing table and tried to wipe away the sweat. Lucien took the cloth as she tentatively asked, "Do they happen often?"
He cleared his throat rather than answer the question, already retreating back into himself.
Jean managed to bury a sigh as she backed away from the bed. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, that will be all Jean. Thank you."
Jean nodded once more and left the room, closing the door behind her. Mattie met her in the hall before Jean could retreat upstairs. .
"Is he okay?"
"He said it was a nightmare. I've heard some soldiers have them when they return from war." At Mattie's look of concern she smiled tenderly. "He'll be fine. Go on, get some sleep." She made sure Mattie's door was closed before turning to head upstairs to her own space.
Jean lay in bed nearly an hour later thinking about what had happened. Lucien would likely never admit it, but maybe he needed someone to look after him. At least for a little while - until he was settled back into Ballarat. Maybe she would stick around for a little while longer.
