Jean was a little irritated when they got home. Trust Lucien to come back with two dogs instead of the one they'd agreed on. But it didn't take her long to fall in love with Duchess. The old dog seemed to take to Jean as well, following her around the house, but somehow always managing not to be in her path. Whenever Jean sat down, Duchess would be beside her feet, convenient for a pat or scratch behind the ears yet never in the way. She loved Lucien and Luke as well, but clearly Jean was her favorite. Lucien told Jean about her history with Ron's wife, and Jean surmised that she preferred the company of ladies.
Meanwhile, the puppy was a different story. Luke named him Nugget, saying he looked like a small piece of gold. There was no doubt as to whom Nugget preferred. He was forever at Luke's heels, and the two would romp around in the garden at top speed. Each day when Luke left for school, Nugget would sit at the door whining. It was a week before he realized the boy would return in the afternoon, and that he hadn't left for good.
As soon as he was big enough to jump up onto the bed, Nugget began sleeping with Luke, and despite her prohibition of it at first, Jean had to admit that the sight of the two golden heads asleep side by side tugged at her heart. The only times the two were parted were when Luke was at church or at school.
On a late autumn afternoon Jean walked her son back from school. As usual, he chatted away about his day - all he had learned and the games he had played with his friends.
"Mum, everyone wants to meet Nugget," he advised her. "Can I take him to school with me someday?"
"I'm afraid not, sweetheart. Nugget wouldn't really like school, would he? He isn't very good at sitting still and being quiet."
Luke sighed. "No, not really."
"How about this instead? What happens in two weeks?"
"My birthday!" Luke cried, clapping his hands in anticipation. "I'll be seven years old!"
"That's right. And that deserves a party, doesn't it? You could invite your friends over to the house and they can meet Nugget then."
"Oh, yes!" Luke hugged her waist. His shining eyes and happy grin were so like his father's that Jean had to bend down and kiss the top of his head.
As they neared the house, they could hear both dogs barking furiously. At first Jean thought they were just greeting their owners, but as they got closer, the barking became more frantic. Something had upset them.
Jean turned to her small son and spoke quietly. "Luke, I want you to wait here, please. Don't come in until I come back for you. If you hear anything strange, run to Mrs. Hardaway's house and ask her to call Uncle Charlie at the station. Understood?"
Luke nodded solemnly, his eyes wide with apprehension.
Jean noted that the car was in the driveway so Lucien must be around somewhere. She kissed her son's cheek, took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open.
The only sound she could hear was the dogs, now jumping around her, then running toward the kitchen. Cautiously, she followed where they led. Nothing seemed out of place except that the door leading to the back garden was slightly ajar.
Taking a butcher knife from its cupboard drawer, she pulled the door open. Both dogs rushed out, running to a form lying in the grass. Jean gasped. Lucien!
A quick look around told her the garden was otherwise deserted, and she figured the dogs would warn her if there was anyone else nearby. She hurried to her husband, who was lying face down, a trickle of blood showing near the base of his skull.
As she started to roll him over, Lucien groaned, reached a hand up to the wound, and warily opened his eyes. When he recognized Jean, he managed a rueful smile.
"What happened?" Jean asked, helping him sit up.
He started to shake his head, but hissed at the pain it caused.
"Right. Let's get you up and inside first. Into the surgery to clean up that cut."
With her help, he managed to stagger to his feet, still groggy. She was already debating whether to take him to hospital instead.
As they passed the front door, she remembered that Luke was still outside, probably scared to death. She called out to him. "Sweetheart, it's all right to come in now."
Luke pushed open the front door carefully, peering inside. When he saw his mum assisting Dad toward the surgery, he ran to help.
"Can you open the door to the surgery, please?" Jean instructed him.
Luke pulled the door aside, then lifted his father's medical bag out of the way so there was room for him to lie down. "What happened?" he asked, his voice hushed with the gravity of the situation.
Lucien recognized the boy's fear. "It's all right, son. I'll be fine in just a minute."
Not so easily convinced, Jean tried to remember the protocol for identifying concussion, but Lucien was already running through it himself. "No nausea or blurred vision. Memory seems fine."
Jean helped him up on the surgery table, then tested that his eyes could track movements correctly.
"I'm fine. Just a splitting headache," he insisted.
After swabbing the wound with antiseptic, Jean went to fetch the Bex and some water. When she had returned and Lucien had swallowed the pain reliever, she sat down and stared up at him. "What happened to you?"
"I have absolutely no idea," he admitted. "The dogs put up a fuss about something in the back garden. I thought it must be a rodent or a rabbit, so I went out to see. Then something hit me from behind."
"Someone, I'd say, judging from where the blow landed," Jean pointed out.
"Yes," said Lucien slowly. He admitted to himself that his brain seemed to be operating somewhat slower than usual.
"You aren't working on any open cases at the moment, are you?"
Lucien shook his head, immediately regretting the action and wincing at the sharper pain. "No, nothing."
"Then perhaps we should notify the police. Assault is still a crime."
"Perhaps we should, but I want to look around out there first." He made a move to stand, but Jean pushed him back down.
"That can wait. Right now you need to lie down and rest, Lucien."
"If whoever it was is still out there…"
"The dogs will tell us if there's anyone about who shouldn't be." She reached into his desk drawer to pull out a blanket and held it expectantly until he was actually reclining and she could drape it over him. "Call out if you need anything," she told him, kissing his cheek.
She ushered Luke out of the surgery, then turned out the light and closed the door behind her.
Luke looked up at her, his eyes still wide with worry. Jean squeezed his shoulder. "Your dad will be fine, sweetheart. Right now, I think we both need our tea, yes?"
She led him into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. Despite her assurances to Lucien, though, she took another look out into the garden, and seeing no one around, pulled the door closed and made sure the latch was fastened firmly.
"Mum?"
"I think it's time to call the police," she told him. She wouldn't take any chances. Lucien could do all the investigating he wanted, but she wasn't about to put Luke's life in danger if there was a prowler about. The dogs might provide a warning, but Charlie could make sure they were all safe.
The sun beat down mercilessly, and with the restraints holding him in place there was no way Lucien could escape it. He twisted, trying to get it out of his eyes, but in vain. His head pounded, his mouth so dry he couldn't even swallow. And then his ears started ringing.
The noise pulled him out of the nightmare. The telephone. Just the telephone ringing. He groaned as he sat up. His head was still pounding and the thirst was very real. His first instinct was to reach for a whiskey, but he thought better of it. Instead, he got to his feet and headed for the kitchen.
Jean was just hanging up the phone when she spotted him. "How are you feeling?" she asked, but the lack of color in his face told the story.
"Sit down," she ordered. "What do you need?"
"I'm…" He thought better of lying to her. "…very thirsty," he amended what he was going to say.
"And some more Bex, I'd say," she observed.
She waited until he had swallowed the pain reliever and downed the entire glass of water. "Better?"
"Much. Thank you, my dear. Who was that on the telephone? Am I needed somewhere?"
"You're needed right where you are," she said firmly. "And the caller was Monika Goodman, of all people. The second time she's called today. She wants to be added to your list."
"Really? Our last parting wasn't on the best of terms. I wonder what's changed."
"I heard she and Herbert Goodman have separated."
"Is that right? I'm sorry to hear that."
"Yes. Unfortunately, it's all too common after the loss of a child, even though it happened some years ago," she said sadly. "Anyway, I told her I'd let her know if you had room to take her on."
"Yes, of course, I can," said Lucien. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Because she's your old flame? Should I mind?" she teased, walking up behind him to put her arms around his neck and kiss the top of his head.
He reached up to place his hands over hers. "Not in the slightest," he assured her. "If the eighteen-year-old me had known you were in this world, my dear, I never would have even looked at Monika Parker."
He tilted his head back, and she leaned forward to kiss his lips. "The important thing is that we're together now," she whispered, smoothing down his hair around the wound. "And I'll let her know you can see her. Oh, Charlie will be around shortly. He wants to have a look around, and he'll want you to give a statement."
He leaned down to pat the two dogs that swirled around his feet.
Jean nodded toward them. "They've been concerned about you," she said. "They've barely stood still while you were asleep. Nugget isn't even helping Luke with his school work."
"They haven't been barking?"
"Not at all. Whoever it was, he's long gone," Jean insisted.
"Yesss," Lucien agreed, but the thought was of little comfort when he didn't know who it had been, or why.
"So you didn't see him at all, Doc?" asked Charlie.
"Not even a glimpse, I'm afraid," said Lucien, unconsciously running his fingers gently over the wound at the back of his head. "For all I know, it could even have been a woman. A very strong woman, judging by the force of the blow."
Charlie glanced over at Jean.
"No, it wasn't me," she said, her eyes twinkling. "He's behaved himself lately."
"Right," said Charlie. "I'll just take a look around the garden, shall I?"
"Of course," said Lucien, waving a hand in that general direction.
Jean unlatched the door for him and held it open. "I'll put the kettle on. Do you have time for a cuppa, Charlie? Fresh scones to go with it."
He smiled at her. "Thank you, Jean. I'll make time for your scones."
She was just pouring out the tea when he returned, latching the door behind him.
"Anything?" asked Lucien, who hadn't had the opportunity to look out there himself yet.
"Just a few bent branches. Looks like your intruder squeezed himself through the hedge right next to the tree to get into the garden. Short of putting up a fence, I'm not sure how you can prevent it happening again."
"Oh, dear," said Jean, looking to Lucien. "I just wonder what he, or she, was after."
"Any reports of home burglaries in the neighborhood?" Lucien asked.
"Not so far," said Charlie. "I can have someone put on foot patrol for the area, but if the perpetrator is going through back gardens it wouldn't do much good, would it? I didn't see anything out there that could have been used for a weapon either."
"Probably taken away with him. Didn't want to leave evidence," said Lucien.
"Which makes me think it was planned, not some kid acting on a whim."
"Agreed. If it had been a youngster, the dogs' barking would likely have scared him off."
Jean addressed Charlie. "Do you think we're safe here? It's just that with Luke in the house…"
"Well, it seems like the dogs did scare him off since he doesn't seem to have entered the house," Charlie pointed out. "If they start up again, call the station right away and I'll send someone out. And I'd recommend keeping that door latched at all times."
"Thank you, Charlie."
"Yes, thank you," Jean echoed. "You'll let us know if you learn anything more?"
"Of course." But they could both tell he didn't hold out much hope of solving the case.
With his headache little diminished, Jean insisted Lucien lie down again. She wasn't surprised to see that he fell asleep rather quickly, but she was still concerned about him. With that in mind, she called Alice and invited her to dinner. The excuse was that Alice wanted Lucien's input on a troubling autopsy, but in reality she would observe him for any signs of a more serious injury.
When Jean informed him upon awakening, Lucien smiled gently. "Jean, it's always lovely to see Alice, but really, I'm fine."
"So says the self-proclaimed 'dreadful patient'?"
He nodded. "As long as it will make you feel better," he said, kissing her cheek before he went to the kitchen for another glass of water. He noted that both dogs were lying in front of the door to the back garden. They looked up at him and wagged their tails as he passed them, giving both a pat on the head as he did.
"I'm so glad we have them," said Jean.
"Me too," chirped Luke, coming up behind her. He knelt on the floor to cuddle with them, both dogs licking his face.
Alice was not a dog person. They had never had pets at home when she was a child, and as a young adult she had moved often for job opportunities, so that a pet would have been a burden. But now that it looked like Ballarat would continue to be her home for the foreseeable future, she might consider it.
"Who knows how long you might have lain out there if the dogs hadn't alerted Jean," she observed, sitting in the parlor after dinner.
"Quite right," said Lucien.
Duchess had come over to investigate her, and Alice leaned down to run a hand over the dog's head. "Maybe I should think about getting one," she observed. Then, with a sly look at Lucien, "A dog, not a concussion."
"I don't have a concussion," he insisted. "Please don't make Jean worry about me any more than she already does."
Alice smiled at Jean. "No, he's right. I don't see any signs of a concussion. I suppose his head is too hard."
Jean laughed at Lucien's scowl, but she ran a hand over his shoulder as he sat beside her on the settee. "I happen to be very fond of that head," she murmured to him. "And I don't want anything to happen to it."
"And you have no idea who or why?" asked Alice.
"None whatsoever," said Lucien. "I suppose it could be related to an old case, someone with a grudge. Or it could just have been a home burglary attempt gone awry, as Charlie seems to think."
"You don't think so," Alice observed.
"No, I don't. He hit me, I was out like a light, and the house was empty, but he doesn't seem to have come in."
"Maybe the dogs scared him off?"
Lucien shook his head. "Then why didn't he run off as soon as the dogs started barking? He only left after he hit me."
Jean clutched his hand anxiously. Just what they needed - another person with a grudge against her husband.
She looked a warning at the others not to continue on the subject when Luke came into the room in his pyjamas and dressing gown, carrying a book. Smiling at her little man, she scooted over so he could squeeze in between the two of them.
Alice was familiar with the bedtime ritual, having seen it since Luke was so small that he could barely sit upright. It still warmed her heart that her colleague, who had once been such a reckless loner, was now the epitome of a family man. With all he had been through, she didn't know anyone who deserved this happiness more. "What are you reading?" she asked.
"Kidnapped," Luke told her. "It's exciting."
"Yes, I recall," said Alice. "David Balfour and his miserly uncle."
Luke nodded, grinning. Alice had seen the exact same grin on his father's face too many times to count. He really was an endearing little boy, as children went.
Lucien, however, was frowning at the book, squinting at the letters. Finally he sighed and handed it back to Luke. "Why don't you do the reading tonight?" he suggested.
"All right, Dad?" Luke asked, concerned at the change in their routine.
"I'm fine. Just this blasted headache. You go ahead. The story will take my mind off it."
Luke took the book, continuing to study his father's face for a moment longer, but after an encouraging nod, he opened it and began to read.
Alice noted that he read very well for his age, but then again he'd been reading since the age of three or so, she knew. He even did different voices for the various characters, seemingly mimicking the way his father read to him. She smiled to herself, hoping for Jean's sake that he hadn't inherited all of his father's behaviors.
When the words began to slow, Lucien gently took the book from his son's hands and held out his arms. The boy crawled into them, and Lucien stood, prepared to carry him up to bed.
"Good night, Doctor Harvey," Luke mumbled.
"Good night, Luke. Sleep well."
Normally Luke would have called for Nugget to follow them upstairs, but tonight he had other instructions for his dog. "Nugget, you stay down here. Guard the house. Good boy."
She noticed how the dog watched him until he disappeared from sight, then went to lay in the kitchen. Yes, she should definitely think about getting one for herself.
Jean noted that a good night's sleep seemed to have done Lucien a world of good. His energy level seemed to have risen, and the usual spark had returned to his eyes. It looked like she wouldn't need to cancel the day's surgery after all.
She wasn't quite sure how she felt about him taking on Monika Goodman. She trusted Lucien completely, but she'd heard rumours about the woman for years, although not really knowing her personally. On the other hand, there had been similar rumours about Jean herself for many years, and she knew exactly how little truth they'd contained, so she decided she would give the woman the benefit of the doubt.
When she arrived, Jean greeted her at the door and showed her through to the waiting area. She noted the way Monika seemed to be studying her, judging her even. She supposed it was only natural, if she had hoped for something more from Lucien all those years ago. Jean could afford to be tolerant - after all, Lucien had chosen her in the end.
"The doctor should be with you in just a moment, Mrs. Goodman," Jean said, keeping her voice bright.
"Thank you, Jean," the other woman said, a dismissive tone to her voice.
Giving a mental shrug, Jean stepped into the surgery where Lucien was writing up his notes on the previous patient. He looked up and smiled as she closed the door behind her. Even after all these years, her heart still did little flips when he looked at her that way.
"Mrs. Goodman is here," she told him.
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her assessment.
Jean sniffed. "Frankly, I'm not that impressed with her, and she's definitely not impressed with me."
"I see. Well, obviously she's not a very good judge of character."
"She seemed to approve of the eighteen-year-old you," Jean pointed out.
"That proves my point. I was such a rotter at that age," said Lucien. He stood up and came out from behind the desk to give her a peck on the cheek. "Now would you be so kind as to show her in?"
Jean did as he asked, then closed the door behind them and headed toward the kitchen. "I hope she doesn't pull a muscle in her efforts to flirt with him," she muttered to herself. She had noted with not a little satisfaction that Lucien seemed oblivious to most women's attempts to come onto him. Clearly they couldn't see that he just wasn't interested.
Humming to herself, she began to fix their afternoon tea. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Duchess suddenly sit up and then stand at attention. Nugget quickly joined her. She looked out the window into the back garden, but saw no movement. Suddenly both dogs charged for the front door, barking furiously.
Lucien came running, calling out her name until he saw that she was fine. Then he turned toward the door, pausing to take hold of Luke's cricket bat from its customary place in the umbrella stand. Jean was right behind him when he opened the door.
The dogs raced out, still barking, and ran toward the road. Lucien called them to heel as he also went out to the pavement just as they heard a car engine roar to life and pull away sharply in the opposite direction.
"Did you see it?" asked Jean, resting a protective hand on his shoulder.
"Just a glimpse. A black sedan. Not much help, I'm afraid."
"Well, I think that rules out youngsters playing a prank," Jean frowned.
They turned back to the house to see Monika standing in the doorway. "Lucien, what's going on?" she demanded.
"I do apologize, my dear. We seem to have an intruder bent on getting into the house," he told her.
"Yes, quite a violent intruder," said Jean. "He attacked Lucien yesterday."
"Goodness!" She came forward to put a hand on Lucien's forearm. "I hope you weren't hurt?"
Jean glared at the offending hand while Lucien said, "Nothing serious. Jean took good care of me, as she always does."
Hmm. Maybe not so oblivious after all, Jean decided.
Despite Lucien telling him there was really nothing to see, Charlie insisted on coming out to the house again for another look around.
"Only two motives I can see, then," he told them. "Either he wants something that's inside the house…"
"In which case, why wouldn't he wait until no one is home?" Jean pointed out, beating Lucien to the punch.
"Yes, it doesn't make much sense," her husband agreed.
Charlie nodded that he concurred. "Or he is after one of you. Doc, are you sure you can't think of someone that might have a grudge?"
"Not unless it's someone from my distant past," said Lucien. "I can't think of anything recent."
"Maybe someone just got out of prison?" Jean suggested.
"I'll check on that. In the meantime, you need to be extra careful about who you let in. Maybe you should think about sending Luke somewhere safe."
Lucien and Jean looked at each other, then shook their heads in unison.
"No, he's safer with us, where we can watch over him," Lucien insisted.
"Not to mention how scared he'd be if he realized why," said Jean. "And he's too smart to fool about something like this."
"All right, it's your call," said Charlie. "Just be careful. Please."
"We will. We have our early warning system," said Lucien, reaching down to pet the two dogs.
Jean knew she was in for an argument but there was no getting around it - they were nearly out of food and she had to go to the market before she could prepare dinner.
"Lucien, I'm off to the shops," she announced, trying to sound as she did every other time she went.
He hurried out of his study where he'd been working on patient files. "Jean…"
She quickly cut him off. "Lucien, prowler or no, we still have to eat. I refuse to let him dictate our lives."
"Very well, then we'll go with you."
"Don't you have work to do?"
He looked at the file he still held in his hand. "Yes, but it can wait."
"Really, Lucien, I'll be fine."
He took a deep breath and then sighed, knowing he couldn't win this argument. "Very well, but take the car. You shouldn't be walking."
"What if you're needed somewhere?"
"It will have to wait until you return. Jean, do this for me, please?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely." She smiled at him. How could she refuse, especially since having the car would make it so much easier?
"Thank you, my dear. And keep your eyes open along the way, in case you're followed."
She didn't like to see him worry, but after so many years of being on her own, it still warmed her that someone cared so much for her well-being. "I will. Luke is still on the settee, reading his books," she reminded him. They'd kept the boy home from school for the day since he had a slightly elevated temperature and stuffed nose.
"I'll look in on him," Lucien promised.
"And I'll be as quick as I can."
He insisted on kissing her before she left, and she wasn't about to protest.
She pulled the front door closed behind her, and waited until she heard the latch fastened before she walked to the car, looking around carefully as she did. When she reached the car, she peered inside to make sure it was empty before she opened the door, got in, then closed and locked the door.
Her vigilance continued as she pulled out into the roadway. It was nearly empty, which was the reason she noticed the black sedan following at a distance. For a moment she considered turning around and going back home, but there were dozens of black sedans in Ballarat, she knew. So far it had shown no reason to be feared, and besides, as long as she was in the car with the doors locked she was relatively safe. And if it was their prowler, she might get a chance to see his face.
She drove on, changing speeds a couple of times and noting that her follower did the same. Definitely suspicious behavior.
She decided she could not afford to take any chances. When she got into town, she drove directly to the police station. With some satisfaction, she saw the car behind her turn away as soon as it was clear where she was headed. She just wished he had been close enough to see his registration plate or to get a better look at the man himself.
Bill Hobart was outside the station smoking a cigarette and saw her pull up. He came over to the car while she was debating whether to report what had happened. She rolled down the window.
"Mrs. B, is there something I can help you with?" he asked.
"Hello, Bill. I don't think so. Charlie told you we've had problems with a prowler?"
"He mentioned it, yes."
"Someone was just following me. He disappeared when I turned in here."
Bill was immediately the professional. "You should come in and file a report," he insisted, reaching for the door handle to open it for her.
"I'm afraid I don't have much to report. It was a man in a black sedan, just as Lucien already told Charlie. He stayed far enough behind me that I couldn't make out his face or see his plate number. No help there."
"Oh." He thought for a moment. "Will you be in town long?"
"Just long enough to do the marketing," she told him. "Why do you ask?"
"If you'll wait while I go inside to tell them where I'll be I want to go with you. Keep on eye on things. See if I spot anyone suspicious around. If that's okay with you, ma'am."
Jean smiled at the gruff policeman. "It's not necessary, but honestly, it would make me feel a lot better. Thank you."
"Just doing my job," he insisted. Heaven forbid anyone should think Bill Hobart was doing something nice.