Rebecca stayed with the Blakes for two days after that. They received word from Gwendolyn Conroy, Rebecca's grandmother, that she'd be arriving from Sydney to take her. Jean was glad. She enjoyed caring for the little girl, but it was very important for Rebecca's wellbeing that she be with family, someone who could help her overcome her trauma.
Lucien, upon hearing the news of Rebecca's imminent departure, found himself disappointed. Having her in their home was certainly an inconvenience, but it was also a delight. He found himself keeping away from the police investigation just so he could be home with Jean and Rebecca. The little girl was never more than three feet away from Jean, unless he was in the room, when she would run over to take his hand. It was strangely wonderful to be the object of so much innocent attention.
On the second day of Rebecca's stay, Charlie came home after his shift in an awful mood. Lucien took him into the study for a drink away from the ladies.
"What's gone wrong, Charlie?" he asked, pouring a healthy portion of scotch for them both.
"This Conroy case. We haven't got one single lead. No fingerprints on the open window. None of the neighbors saw or heard anything. No one has any motive. Nothing was stolen. We haven't got the gun that shot them. We haven't got anything!" Charlie lamented.
Lucien frowned. "I imagine there was a witness, but I don't think that'll be a lead for you."
"You mean Rebecca? Do you really think she knows what happened?"
"I honestly don't know. I'd imagine she saw her parents get killed, because I don't think she'd be this traumatized otherwise. But the fact that she wasn't harmed at all, just left in the house to scream and cry…" Lucien trailed off, not wanting to even imagine what might have befallen little Rebecca.
Charlie downed the last of his scotch. "We should go in for dinner. Thanks for the drink, Doc."
Lucien finished his as well and followed Charlie to the kitchen. Dinner was odd, as they all forced themselves to be cheerful for Rebecca's sake. She still remained as quiet and aloof as ever, not paying anyone any mind.
Jean gave her a bath that night and attempted to put her to bed by herself, but to no avail. Lucien found her sitting up on her old bed, watching Rebecca sleep.
"Again?" He kept his voice quiet and smiled at the picture.
"Would you sit with her for a minute while I change?" Jean asked.
Lucien nodded. "We might as well sleep here again. It's only one more night, after all."
And so they settled into the small bed once again. This time Lucien didn't start the night off in the chair. Jean took Rebecca in her arms so Lucien could snuggle up next to her.
"Isn't this cozy?" he noted with slight sarcasm.
She sighed. "As you said, it's just one more night. Then we can be back in our bed with some actual space."
"Oh I don't mind being so close to you," he noted, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "But I would prefer it if there wasn't also a child in bed with us."
"Mmm," Jean agreed half-heartedly.
"By the way, I meant to ask you about the Conroys. You used to live next door to them, is that right?"
"Well, living on next farm over is a few miles away, but yes. I knew Paul when he was young. He was just a bit older than my boys. I knew his parents rather well. Edmund and Gwendolyn. When Edmund passed, Gwendolyn gave the farm to Paul and his new wife, Jane. Gwendolyn moved to Sydney to be near her sister, and she'll be coming tomorrow evening for Rebecca."
"I see. So you didn't know Paul and Jane?"
"Not much. They took over the farm right around the time I got word of Christopher's passing. I didn't spend much time with neighbors."
Lucien rubbed her arm comfortingly. "Of course."
"But I certainly heard talk. They both had terrible tempers. There were horrible rumors of Jane treating him very cruelly, people overheard Paul threatening her. But then they'd make up rather spectacularly, apparently. They always seemed very happy and very in love whenever I saw them," Jean said with a slight shrug.
"So a tumultuous relationship. That can't have been a good place for a child to live. Children deserve a happy home with parents who love them and want to keep them safe."
Jean took Lucien's hand where it was resting on her arm and gave it a squeeze. "That's very true. I have no doubt that Gwendolyn will give Rebecca a very good home."
"Good, I'm glad."
They went quiet. Jean looked at the sleeping girl curled up next to her. She was so small and delicate. And only five years old. So young for so much hardship. Jean realized that Lucien's daughter, Li, would have been just about this age when Lucien had been taken away. "Have you heard from Li recently?" Jean asked.
Lucien couldn't help but smile. Leave it to Jean to always know exactly what he was thinking. "She sent a letter last week, remember?"
"Oh that's right. She's doing well?"
"She's doing wonderfully. Her husband got a promotion in the Hong Kong police force. Their daughter, Mei, is nearly two."
"Almost the same age as Amelia. I hadn't realized that we both had granddaughters so close in age," Jean remarked.
Lucien nodded. "Indeed. It's strange. I don't much feel like a grandfather. Though I've never gotten to meet Mei. And Amelia isn't really mine."
"As far as Amelia knows, you are her grandfather and you always will be," Jean insisted. She paused, unsure of whether she should say what she wanted. She decided she would. "Have you thought about going back to see Li? You could meet her husband and child."
He sighed. "I have thought about it, but honestly, Li and I are more like very good pen pals now. I was so excited to see her when I first found her, but we were strangers to each other. We've grown rather close through our letters, but it isn't the same. I don't expect anything more than what we have now. She's living a wonderful life. She's safe and she's happy. And that's all a father can ever ask for. In my mind, she's still just as small as Rebecca. I missed out on so much. So many things I'll never get back because I wasn't there. But I suppose that's just the way of it."
Jean didn't respond. She didn't want to keep on this subject. It made her heart ache for her husband, for all that he'd lost from his other life, long before they'd ever met. But he'd given her an answer that comforted her.
The next morning, Lucien was called by the police for another case. A worker at the bus station had collapsed dead. It looked like natural causes, but he was detained in an autopsy for most of the day to confirm that, yes, it was a heart attack that had killed him.
With Lucien gone, Jean was alone with Rebecca almost all day. She found something for the child to do, as following Jean around the house while she worked couldn't have been much fun.
"Here, Rebecca, I found some pencils and paper. Would you like to draw? I bet you're a wonderful artist," Jean suggested kindly.
Rebecca seemed intrigued by this idea. She sat quietly at the kitchen table working on her drawing, which allowed Jean to actually get some housework. Content with the colored pencils, she allowed Jean to leave her sight for the first time in two days.
Jean returned to the kitchen to check on her. She was shocked at what she found. Rebecca had drawn a picture with the typical talent of a five-year-old, but anyone could tell what it was.
"Rebecca, can you tell me about your drawing, please?" Jean asked gently, pulling up a chair to sit next to her.
The child gazed at her with those big, brown eyes. She opened her mouth and closed it, about to speak but unable to. Jean just waited patiently. At last, some sound came from Rebecca's mouth. "Mummy and Daddy," she said, pointing to the picture. She'd drawn her mother on the ground in a red splotch, clearly the pool of blood that Jane Conroy had died in. Her father was standing, but had a red splotch on his head.
"Is this what you saw?"
Rebecca nodded.
"If I call Lucien and Charlie to come, will you tell them?"
Rebecca nodded again.
Jean dashed to the phone and called the police station for Charlie to come over right away. She then rang the morgue to get Lucien out of his autopsy. She didn't tell either of them what had transpired, only that Rebecca needed them.
Very quickly, the kitchen table was filled up. Jean could see that Rebecca was getting apprehensive about being stared at by Charlie and Lucien. She put the child on her lap next to Lucien, so she could take his hand. Jean handed Charlie Rebecca's drawing.
"Rebecca, can you please tell Lucien and Charlie what you saw? What you drew in your picture?"
Quietly and carefully, Rebecca spoke. "Mummy and Daddy were shouting. They like to shout. But then there were loud bangs. I got scared so I went to see Mummy. She was on the floor. Daddy saw me and told me to stay put, so I did. He had his bad gun. There was another bang and then Daddy was on the floor. But Daddy's bad gun isn't supposed to come out of the cupboard. Mummy would get mad when she woke up. I took the bad gun and put it in the cupboard in my room because I can't reach Daddy's cupboard. But then Mummy and Daddy didn't wake up and I got scared until Charlie came and got me."
Charlie, who had been taking very detailed notes of everything Rebecca said, felt ill. He prided himself on detaching himself from the cases he investigated, but this was beyond terrible.
Jean's eyes filled with tears. She buried her face in Rebecca's red hair, hugging her tight.
Only Lucien seemed able to respond. Holding her hand, he kneeled on the ground in front of her so he could give her a hug. In so doing, he could put his arms around Jean as well, giving her a little comfort. "Rebecca, I'm very glad you told us. That was very brave of you. Thank you." He stood up and regained a bit of composure. "Charlie, has anyone searched Rebecca's bedroom at the farm?"
"No, it didn't seem necessary. I'll go right over there now."
"Yes, I have a feeling you'll find the .45 we've been missing," Lucien said. "Jean, perhaps you should take Rebecca upstairs to pack her things for when her grandmother arrives."
Jean sniffed back her tears and wiped her eyes. "Yes, of course. Rebecca, you remember your grandmother, don't you?"
Rebecca shrugged. "Is she nice like you?"
"Oh yes, she's very kind. I knew her well when she used to live in Ballarat," Jean replied.
"Is she pretty like you?" Rebecca asked.
Both Jean and Lucien got a nice chuckle from that. "No one is as pretty as Jean, but I imagine your grandmother is lovely," Lucien commented as Jean took Rebecca upstairs.
Lucien sat back down at the kitchen table, letting his head drop into his hands. His initial instinct had been correct about the Conroys. Murder-suicide. In what was likely a very common occurrence, Jane and Paul Conroy were having a whopper of a row. Paul had his gun, which was usually kept out of reach of Rebecca, it seemed. In a fit of rage, he'd shot his wife. Four times. And upon seeing that his daughter had witnessed his worst act, he'd shot himself in the head, presumably out of shame. And little Rebecca, the helpful and responsible girl she was, had taken the gun and put it out of sight. No wonder they hadn't found it. Charlie was quite right, there had been no reason to search Rebecca's room before. But how could Paul Conroy have done that? Any of that? Worst of all, in Lucien's mind, he'd left his daughter all alone. Rebecca deserved better than that. But from what he'd heard, Gwendolyn would be able to give Rebecca the loving home she deserved.
Lucien knew he didn't really need to, but he returned to the autopsy with Alice. She had nearly finished, so he wrote up the report and delivered it to the police station himself. Charlie had arrived back by that time. He'd found the gun in Rebecca's room. The Conroy case was closed.
The phone rang. Frank Carlyle answered it. Upon hanging up a moment later, he announced, "Sergeant Davis, Dr. Blake, that was Mrs. Blake. Apparently Mrs. Conroy has arrived to take the child. Mrs. Blake thought you'd want to say goodbye."
Charlie clocked out early and accompanied Lucien to the house in his car. They found that Rebecca had refused to leave without seeing Charlie and Lucien. As soon as Lucien opened the front door, Rebecca ran toward him and leapt into his arms. He picked her up and hugged her tight.
"You are such a good girl, Rebecca. It's been a pleasure to have you here," he told her, kissing her cheek.
Rebecca laughed for the first time since they'd met her. "Your beard tickles!"
"Yes, isn't it lovely?" Jean quipped.
Lucien put Rebecca down so she could hug Charlie. "You're very nice," she said.
"Thanks. I think you're very nice too," he replied.
Lastly, it was Jean's turn to say goodbye. Rebecca ran to her and buried her face in the front of Jean's skirt. "I don't want to go," the muffled voice said.
"Oh come now, none of that," Jean insisted, holding back her own tears. "You have to stay brave like you've always been. It's time to go with your grandmother. You're going to have a wonderful adventure. But you're always welcome here, Rebecca."
Gwendolyn Conroy came to put her hand on Jean's shoulder. "Thank you for everything, Jean. I couldn't have chosen a better person to look after her when I couldn't."
"It really was our pleasure," Jean replied. "And my condolences for your loss, Gwendolyn."
The older woman nodded sadly. She didn't quite have words yet. Her only son had murdered his wife and shot himself. But thank goodness she still had Rebecca. "It's time to go, dear," she said, tapping the little girl on the top of her head.
Rebecca reluctantly let go of Jean and took her grandmother's hand. They left the Blake house and went out into the evening.
Charlie, Lucien, and Jean were left in the kitchen, nearly frozen where they stood. Jean was the first one to break the silence. "I suppose I'll start dinner, shall I?"
Her words seemed to restart reality. Charlie went to change out of his uniform so he could help her in the kitchen. Lucien went to pour a drink and read the evening paper. Mattie came home late, sorry to have missed Rebecca. She chatted with Lucien about her day, asking questions about some of her patients, as she often did. Jean listened as they spoke, smiling at the comforting normalcy of it all. She needed this.
Late that night, she and Lucien finally got to sleep in their own bed again. She was both relieved and sad about that fact. But caring for Rebecca had been exhausting, so she fell asleep very quickly.
The next morning, Jean's strange mood had returned. She was very quiet, and her face was set with worry. Lucien, to his misfortune, was busy with patients all day. He barely saw his wife for more than a few minutes at a time all day. She made breakfast and lunch with efficiency, and she kindly tended to patients throughout the day. But still, something was off.
In the afternoon, Lucien asked her to stay in the surgery after she'd escorted Mr. Claxon out. "Jean, are you alright?" he asked.
She shook her head, smiling. "Don't you know by now that if I'm ever not alright, I'll make sure you know?"
"Well, I just wanted to check. I've felt a little odd all day today. I know Rebecca was only with us for three days, but I liked having her here. It was wonderful to have a child in the house, someone to tuck into bed and read stories to and hold my hand everywhere I went. And you were so good with her. I know you've been a wonderful mother to your boys, but I'd never seen you with a child so young before. Just as with everything you do, Jean, I marvel at your abilities. But now she's gone, and it just feels a little empty, I suppose."
Jean nearly started laughing, but she knew he'd take that the wrong way. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Yes, I know what you mean," was all she could say. "But I think I should go see to your three o'clock appointment."
"I thought we were done?"
"Just one more patient today," Jean assured him.
"I didn't hear the door."
"I'll just check to see." Jean left the surgery, closing the door behind her. She reappeared a minute later. She'd taken off her apron. She walked up to Lucien with her hand extended. "Dr. Blake, hello."
He regarded her curiously and stood to shake her hand. "Hello, Jean," he said skeptically. "Is my three o'clock patient here?"
"Yes. I'm your three o'clock," she answered.
Lucien was suddenly very concerned. Her mood over the last few days now seemed less of a curiosity and now potentially a symptom. "You're coming to me as a doctor?"
"Yes, I am. You're the best doctor I know, and I wouldn't want anyone else."
He came from behind the desk and gestured for her to sit on the exam table. He held her hand as she climbed up. "What seems to be ailing you, Jean?"
"I think I've fallen pregnant, and I'd like you to make sure, Doctor."
Lucien felt like he'd blacked out for a moment. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"
"I'm rather certain that I'm pregnant. At my age, it seems extremely foolish to not be sure, so I made an appointment with a doctor." Until this moment, Jean had been having a little fun, but now she was getting worried again. She'd thought that his words about enjoying a child in the house had indicated he'd be pleased. But now she wasn't so sure. "Lucien? Is that…alright?"
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Jean, are you sure?"
"You're the doctor, you tell me!"
Lucien's face spread into the brightest smile she'd ever seen. "Forgive me for breaking physician protocol." He took her in his arms and kissed her soundly. "Jean, this is wonderful. Absolutely incredible."
"You're pleased, I take it? I know we never really talked about it…"
"I didn't think it would happen. I didn't want to get my hopes up. We are both grandparents after all," he pointed out.
"Yes, but you should know better than anyone that I'm not that old!"
He laughed, "No, of course not. Oh, Jean, I don't have words. This is the most wonderful news."
"I'm so happy you think so. I was worried," she admitted.
"So that's why you've been in a mood all week?'
"Yes. I didn't know how to tell you." She hugged him close again. "I'm so glad you're pleased. I never thought I'd be so lucky to have your child."
Lucien felt his chest fill with warmth at her words. "I love you very much. And having a baby with you is just…perfect."
Jean remained in his embrace for a while, reveling in the joy. But she soon remembered why they were there. "Lucien, I wasn't joking about wanting to be sure. I do actually want you to be my doctor."
"Oh, of course. I'll take some blood and test it. We'll know for sure in a little while," he told her with a grin.
Jean stayed with him in his surgery for the rest of the afternoon, watching as he took a blood sample from her and did some very complicated things with it. It didn't take long before they confirmed that yes, Jean was pregnant. Lucien had happy tears in his eyes as he told her. She couldn't stop smiling, and she couldn't stop kissing him. A strange combination, but pregnancy hormones tended to have strange effects. Regardless, neither Jean nor Lucien could recall ever being so happy in all their lives.