When Lucien regained his footing, he immediately yelled for everyone. "Jean? Charlie? Mattie?"
"I'm fine, Doc," Charlie replied immediately. He'd been knocked to the floor but got right back up and rushed out to the entryway.
"Jean?!" Lucien shouted again, panicking.
She groaned slightly from the floor near the front window. "I'm alright. Go see to Mattie!" she insisted.
Lucien and Charlie found Mattie knocked unconscious. "Charlie, go out and see what's happened. Then call the police station."
Charlie did as he was told. Lucien picked Mattie up and carried her into his surgery, depositing her on the exam table. His mind was of one singular mission, ensuring her wellbeing.
Jean needed a moment before she could get up. The blast had knocked her back rather hard. The window shattered, spraying glass all over her. She could feel a few minor cuts, but nothing to worry about. She was more shaken than anything else. Eventually, her concern for Mattie outweighed any lingering shock she was experiencing. She hauled herself up and made her way into the surgery. "How is she?" Jean asked Lucien.
"Oh she'll be just fine. Just needs a bit of rest. She'll have a nasty headache for a few days, I think, but that explosion wasn't big enough to cause any lasting damage," he explained.
Charlie returned. "I didn't see anyone or anything. But the porch and front door are completely destroyed. I just rang the station, and the Chief Superintendent is going to come himself."
"Thank you, Charlie," Lucien answered, not looking away from Mattie. He was fairly certain she was just knocked unconscious, but he wanted to be absolutely sure she hadn't been injured anywhere else.
Charlie looked to Jean and exclaimed, "Oh my god!"
That caused Lucien to turn. He looked at his wife and his eyes went wide. "My god, Jean! Sit down here," he insisted, leading her to a nearby chair. "Charlie, I need a basin of water and some towels. I'll also need my medical bag."
Jean frowned. "What? I'm fine!" But then she looked down and saw that the sleeves of her blouse were covered in blood. She hadn't even felt the pain. That must have been the shock.
"After Charlie brings me what I need, I'll have him step out. We'll need to remove your clothes to clean the wounds and make sure there aren't serious injuries."
She just nodded numbly. "You're sure Mattie will be alright?"
"She'll wake up soon. She's fine for now. It's you I'm more concerned with. Honestly, I might want to call the ambulance for you," Lucien replied with worry.
"I'm really fine, Lucien. I don't feel anything. Wouldn't I feel something if I were bleeding to death?"
"Not necessarily. And I will not take that risk."
Charlie returned with the things Lucien had asked for. He then left to wait for Chief Inspector Carlyle and give the Blakes their privacy.
Lucien very carefully helped Jean out of her blouse. As soon as it was off her, the extent of the damage was very clearly limited. She'd covered her face as she'd fallen, so her arms had taken the brunt of all the glass. Lucien cleaned each cut, most of which were shallow and minor, but had bled extensively, and stitched up the three that were the worst. He bandaged her with great care. When he was finished, he asked her to remove the rest of her clothes so he could be sure she wasn't injured anywhere else. She stripped down to just her undergarments and allowed him to examine her. At that point, he was finally satisfied that she was alright. Lucien exhaled for what felt like the first time since before the explosion. Jean was watching him expectantly. He very gently took her in his arms and held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair to calm himself down.
As Jean stood there in her husband's arms, she began to feel the pain of her injuries. Her heart began to race and she felt like she was going to be sick. She began to breathe quicker, nearly hyperventilating.
Lucien could feel the change in her. He held her tighter and tried to soothe her. "The shock is wearing off, and you're coming down from the adrenaline. Try to take deep breaths. Shh, you're alright, love. Everyone is alright."
She tried to follow his instruction, but it was rather difficult. She focused on his voice and gradually gained control of her breathing. Lucien let go of her and had her sit back down. He left her for just a moment, to run up to the bedroom and get her dressing gown. It wouldn't do for her to be in her intimates when the house was soon to be full of investigating policemen. He wrapped her up in her soft, pink dressing gown and found some pills to give her. The sedative would help her rest and relieve the pain for a while. He took her upstairs to rest before dealing with the police.
"Dr. Blake, we've gotten Davis's statement. Anything you can add?" Frank asked, seeing Lucien reappear downstairs.
"I'm not entirely sure what Charlie told you, but I can probably add that it was a dynamite blast, likely just one stick of it."
Charlie frowned. "How do you know that?"
"Before I returned to Ballarat, I worked as an army doctor in a mining town. I've seen my fair share of dynamite. I know what that blast feels and sounds and smells like. And this was dynamite. Enough to knock out Mattie, who can't have been more than five feet from the blast, and to destroy my porch and front door and windows," Lucien explained.
"And how is Mrs. Blake?" Frank asked.
"Resting comfortably. She had a few cuts on her arms that needed stitches, but she'll be right as rain before the holiday next week."
"Blake, is there anyone who has it out for you? Anyone who would do this? Because let's be fair, this has to be directed at you. The list of people you've pissed off over the years isn't short," Frank stated.
"I hate to admit it, but you're probably right. Charlie is a policeman, but I doubt he's cultivated this kind of ire from anyone. And I can't imagine that there's anyone in the entire world who would wish to harm Mattie or Jean," Lucien replied with resignation. "I'll think about it and let you know if anyone comes to mind. Right now I can't think of a one."
Frank nodded. "Fine. Take care of Nurse O'Brien and Mrs. Blake. Sergeant Davis will interview each of them when they're able. And I'm going to send some people out to repair your house right now. You need a front door."
Lucien shook his hand. "Thank you, Frank. I appreciate it."
With that, the police left. The house was quiet, though much the worse for wear. Lucien went to the surgery to sit with Mattie. She woke up within the hour. As Lucien had predicted, she had a bad headache. He gave her some mild painkillers to help, but she didn't want to be too drugged. She described to Charlie what she'd seen on the porch—a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse. Lucien made her a cup of tea and set her up to bed for more rest.
A carpenter arrived, sent by Frank, to fit a new door, replace the window, and clean up the porch as best he could. Charlie made a very simple dinner for everyone. Lucien took plates up to Mattie and to Jean to make sure they got some nutrition. Once the house was in order, everyone went to bed very early. Everything would be better in the morning.
And it was. Jean, other than having cuts all over her arms, felt completely back to normal. Mattie woke with a slightly less excruciating headache, but otherwise fine. Charlie went to work as always, and Lucien spent his day trying to think of who could have possibly attacked their home this way.
"Lucien?"
He looked up from his notes. "Yes, Jean? Is everything alright?"
"Yes, dear, I'm fine. You need to stop asking. I'll let you know if I'm not alright."
"Sorry. I'm just not used to having you as a patient of sorts," he apologized.
She gave a half-smile. "I know. You're very sweet. I just wanted to see what you were doing. You've been awfully quiet all day."
"I'm looking through my old case notes to see if I can find anyone who might be out for revenge against me."
"And?"
"No one."
"Not one person matching his description?"
Lucien furrowed his brow. "Whose description?"
"I saw someone run away from the house after the doorbell rang. I only saw him for a moment and from the back, so I can't be too sure, but he did have medium brown hair, a little long, and he wore a black suit. I think he was rather tall, but I could be wrong."
"I'll call Frank right away and let him know. Thank you, Jean."
She nodded. "Anything else I can do, you let me know." She crossed to his side of the desk and kissed the top of his head, giving his shoulders a small squeeze before leaving him.
After calling the police station, Lucien found that they had no leads, and the description was only marginally helpful. They couldn't very well arrest every brown-haired man who owned a black suit.
In the middle of the night, the household was awakened by the phone ringing. Poor Mattie had her headache exacerbated by the sound. Charlie answered it; there had been a shooting in town and a young busboy on his break in the alley behind the Colonist's Club had been killed. Lucien needed to confirm cause of death. Charlie went with him at Jean's insistence.
"You think this could be related to our explosion?" Charlie asked as they drove into town.
"I have no idea. If it is related, God only knows how. But a random shooting isn't common in Ballarat, so I sincerely hope we don't have two nutters on the loose," Lucien replied bitterly.
The examination and determination was very straightforward. Lucien ruled it a homicide by gunshot. A .38 had gotten young Alvin Chelsey in the chest, eviscerating his lung. He'd died in a matter of moments.
Just as Lucien was explaining this to Frank, shots rang out in the alley. Everyone dove for cover. The gunman was nowhere to be seen. A bullet hit a trashcan about a foot away from Lucien's face. Another shot went into the wall only inches away from where Charlie was.
And as soon as it started, it stopped.
"Everyone alright?" Frank called out. Only Sergeant Bill Hobart had been out there with Charlie and Dr. Blake. All three of them were unscathed. "That's it. Blake, I'm giving you police protection. It is no coincidence that someone was shooting at you less than two days after dynamite was lit on your front porch."
"I don't think all that's necessary," Lucien protested.
"Well I do. End of discussion."
Lucien drove back home with Charlie. Jean was waiting up for them. She got one look at their slightly stunned faces and asked what was wrong.
"About five minutes after we arrived, someone started shooting at us," Charlie told her.
"Are you alright!?" she asked in a panic.
Lucien took her hands to calm her down. "Everyone is fine. Frank's insisting on giving us police protection until whoever is behind this is caught. It's a bit of an overreaction, but I wasn't given much of a choice."
"I'm glad you're getting police protection! Lucien, this is very serious! Clearly if this man is after you, he's not afraid of hurting anyone else in the process. The first time it was Mattie knocked out by the blast, this time it was nearly Charlie that got shot. This can't continue!"
"I know. We'll be careful. But we still don't have any leads on who it could be." Lucien wished he could give her more peace of mind, but he had nothing else to offer her.
For the next two days, Frank stationed an officer outside the Blake house. He checked off all patients that came to see Dr. Blake. Only Charlie was allowed to come and go freely. Mattie still wasn't up to working, and Lucien wouldn't allow Jean to do much of anything until he removed her stitches the next day. He stayed home and tended to his medical practice and pored over his old notes in any free moment.
On the third day, Lucien removed the stitches and most of the bandages from Jean's arms. She was nearly all healed. Privately, she was a tad concerned about what kind of scars she'd have after this ordeal, but she knew it was a vain and unnecessary thought; she kept it to herself. They all had enough to worry about, sequestered in the house, without Jean making a fuss about her appearance.
Realizing that Christmas was only three days away and there was practically nothing in the house, Jean snuck out to do a bit of shopping. Bill Hobart wanted to go with her, but she insisted he stay and guard the house. She wouldn't be gone long anyway.
While at the market, Jean ran into Margaret Michaels. "Margaret, how are you? Lucien and I meant to come by and check up on you, but we've had a bit of trouble at home."
Margaret barely made eye contact. She looked about to cry. She continued walking with Jean. "I'm alright. After Mum died, Ben moved back home. He was working in the mines when Dad got arrested, so it was just me and Mum for the last year. Ben takes good care of me."
Jean wasn't convinced. "If you need anything at all—hot meal, help around the house, anything—you be sure to give me a ring. This can't be an easy time. But I'm glad Ben can be with you for Christmas."
Margaret just nodded. Somehow, they'd ended up in the side street next to the market. A loud voice caused them both to jump. "You weren't supposed to talk to her!"
Jean turned to see Ben Michaels yelling at his sister.
He continued to shout. "I can't do this if you don't do what you're supposed to!"
Margaret had begun to cry in earnest. "This isn't her fault! She's nice, Ben! Don't do this!"
"No! He should lose everyone he loves just like we did!"
Jean sensed the danger here and tried to back away quietly.
But Ben noticed. "Don't you dare!" He grabbed her arm directly over one of the remaining bandages. Jean recoiled and shrieked in pain. She must have startled him, because he unhanded her roughly, practically throwing her against the side of the building as he ran away, dragging a still-crying Margaret with him.
