A short one-shot. Fluff, fluff, just fluff. I'll leave you to guess what made me think about this ;)
Jean glanced up as Lucien walked along the garden path towards her. He looked out of place here, in Christopher and Ruby's untidy back garden, in his usual suit and tie. He belonged in Ballarat, in that part of her life, her housekeeper's life, not here in Adelaide. He grinned at her and paused, keeping the image before him in his mind.
Jean sat on the wooden bench with her granddaughter leaning against her shoulder. A blanket covered most of the baby, but Lucien could make out a tuft of dark hair which Jean was trying to stroke down with her fingertips. Her summer frock was one she had made herself, he was sure, but he still thought she was lovely in it. She smiled back at him, and shimmied down the bench a little to make room for him.
"You found the house, then?" she said, unnecessarily.
"Yes, and Ruby let me in. Did you tell her why I am here?" The smile that had played on Ruby's lips as she opened the door wider to let him in had made him wonder what excuse Jean had given.
"How could I? I don't know why you're here." Her attempt to look coy was not wholly successful. "I told them you are here for a holiday. It sounded a bit thin."
Lucien sat down beside her, as close as seemed decent, maybe closer if he were honest. He wanted to hold her hand but they were both occupied with holding the baby. He put his arm around her shoulders instead, and leaned in towards her. This was still new enough to be exciting to him.
"This suits you, Jean." He nodded towards the child. "Would you have liked a daughter?" He stretched out his legs and removed his hat. He loosened his tie and became aware Jean was watching this, lips parted a little.
Jean slid the baby down in to the crook of her arm and looked down at her, considering. She was surprised at his question; just days ago he had forgotten she even had a granddaughter. Now he was asking her about a pain she had buried long ago.
"I'd have liked more children, Lucien, and there have been many times I've wondered what it would be like to have a daughter. But we only had the two boys, and I was grateful for them. After Christopher died I realised I couldn't have brought up a large family alone. Perhaps that's why it wasn't meant to be."
Lucien wanted to ask her if it was too late. Maybe they still had a chance for their own family. But he stopped himself. It was only likely to frighten her off if he said that now.
"What's it like, meeting your granddaughter, then?" He settled for a safer question.
She paused, thoughtful. As he had asked, she would give him a proper answer.
"It's strange. It's not like holding your own child exactly, but there's a connection there that I didn't expect. I keep looking for Christopher in her." She didn't explain which Christopher she meant, and he didn't ask. He didn't like to think too closely about Jean's husband. How ridiculous to be jealous of a dead man.
"She's beautiful, Jean." His reply was conventional, but he found that he believed it. Jean was beautiful to him, so her granddaughter must be too. Amelia briefly opened her eyes and gave him an unfocused look, then her eyes fell shut again, dismissing him. He laughed.
"That's what she thinks of me!" He pressed his lips to Jean's temple, breathing in the scent of her hair and holding her a little closer.
"Perhaps you should go and visit Li again, Lucien. You could meet your own granddaughter."
For a moment she wondered if they were too old for all this, whatever 'all this' turned out to be. They still hadn't talked about what would happen back in Ballarat. They were grandparents - and yet they were considering a future full of changes and upsets, and would it all be worth it?
He noticed a flash of nervousness in her eyes but couldn't place where it came from.
"Perhaps," he sighed. "Li doesn't think much of me as a father. Why would she trust me as a grandfather?" But he was intrigued. Maybe Li would have changed her view, now she was a mother herself.
"Perhaps we should both go and visit her." he continued. "I'd like you to meet her."
Jean looked shocked. "Me? Visit China? I've never been further than..." she thought for a moment, "...Adelaide." She laughed shortly at the idea that she was currently as far from home as she was ever likely to be. And what sort of man took his housekeeper on a trip to China?
"Why not?" he asked. "We can go wherever we want, Jean." In his mind he was already planning their honeymoon. He acknowledged to himself however that he was inclined to run away with an idea.
"Would you have liked a son, Lucien?" She changed the subject, unwilling to think too hard about what a life with Lucien might entail; travel, formal occasions, the life of a doctor's wife. And anyway, marriage hadn't been discussed, nothing had been discussed, beyond a hope that she would come home, and a few endearments whispered in her ear as the bus covered the dusty miles.
"Yes, I'd like a son." His use of the present tense did not escape her, although she wasn't even sure he'd meant that consciously. "I'd like another chance at fatherhood." The sadness in his voice ate away at her. "With you." He turned and looked at her, and there was no escaping his meaning now.
Jean coloured red and he was afraid he'd made her angry, or upset her. Maybe she knew that more children weren't possible. He opened his mouth to take back the words but didn't know how.
Suddenly she put the baby in his arms and wrapped her arms around him. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, her lips lingering on his beard afterwards. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Dr Blake," she reproved him, but with a smile. "Let's see if you've still got any skills with a baby first."
Lucien looked down at Amelia. He felt none of the connection Jean had described, but that was not surprising. As yet they had no link, no family tie. But he silently promised Amelia he would do whatever he needed to.
He loved Jean. He would grow to love her children, and her grandchildren, and he would take her to meet his family, and they would make one family of them all, and he would throw in Mattie and Danny and Charlie as well for good measure.
Now he was grinning wickedly at Jean. "Perhaps we'd better not waste too much time practising on the grandchildren." he said, and kissed her on the lips, for the first time: a kiss that held a promise of so much more to come.