Watching Lucien play a song that featured suicide as a cure for depression, Jean knew she had to fight for him, to show how much he meant not only to her but to others.

When he finished playing and introduced her, she walked confidently onto the stage, gave a slight bow and stepped up to the microphone. "Thank you very much, and thank you, Lucien." She gave him a broad smile, then addressed the audience again. "I'm sure you all know what an incredible musician we have in Lucien Blake..."

She paused as the people showed their agreement. Lucien looked startled. She had never done anything less this on stage before.

"But unless you're a singer or a musician, you might not appreciate just how incredible. I can come to him with any song I've heard and suggest adding it to the set, and no matter how obscure it is, he'll play it immediately, and in the exact key and tempo for me. Just to show you, I'm going to abandon the playlist I'd planned to sing, and make up a new one on the fly, just because I can, and I know he'll not only keep up with me, but more than likely be one step ahead, even if we've never practiced it. For instance, let me start with one of my favorites, 'At Last'. I sang it here for the first time last evening, but Lucien was home at the time. Lucien?"

Sure enough, he played an introduction that was much more complementary for her voice than Terry had managed. As Jean began to sing, she made certain to lock her gaze on Lucien frequently. She wanted to leave no doubt in his mind that this song expressed exactly how she felt since he'd come into her life.

She continued to choose songs that let him know what he meant to her, and what it would be like for her if she lost him. Such songs as the standard "I Only Have Eyes for You", Willie Nelson's "Crazy", Doctor John's "Something You Got", and Paul McCartney's "No More Lonely Nights". As she knew he would, Lucien didn't miss a beat. He picked up each song immediately upon her announcing what she would sing next.

The audience loved the interaction between them. And Lucien seemed to be having fun as well, enjoying the challenge. She glanced down at the Lawsons to see Alice nodding approvingly at Jean's tactics while Matthew shook his head in amazement at Lucien's abilities.

Jean was trying to decide on a final song when Alice called out, "'On My Own'."

"All right," said Jean. "You'll have to join me on this one, please, Lucien."

He turned his voice microphone back on and said, "If you're ready?"

She removed her microphone from its stand so she could move around, then nodded to him.

As she sang the song about lost love, she poured all of her feelings into it, everything she already knew from losing a husband and everything she feared about losing Lucien. Tears rose in her eyes, and she continued to glance at him throughout the song, and she saw him wince once or twice, probably at her tears.

When they finished, the applause was immediate and sustained. Jean approached the piano and held a hand toward Lucien until he stood and walked over to clasp it in his own. They bowed together and walked offstage,

Lucien took her in his arms and whispered over the sustained applause, "Are you all right, my dear?"

She held onto him tightly. The thought of never having this again was just about inconceivable to Jean.

He leaned back so he could see her face just as a fresh tear spilled down her cheek. She swept it away with the back of her fingers before saying, "We need to do an encore."

He continued to gaze down at her until she took his hand and dragged him back onstage. At that point she murmured to him, "Ne Me Quittes Pas."

She didn't wait for him to play an introduction, launching directly into the English lyrics:

"If you go away on this summer day

Then you might as well take the sun away"

She meant every word of it as she sang. And she resolved to tell him at the first opportunity.


The topic was too emotional to address in the car on the way home, so the drive was a quiet one. Despite his own issues, Jean could tell that Lucien knew she was upset with something he'd done, and subsequently he allowed her the opportunity to raise it when she was ready.

As was their custom, they prepared a light meal together, just a salad and a bottle of wine. When they sat down across from each other, Lucien gave her a questioning look.

She sighed heavily. "I can't go through it again, Lucien," she told him.

"Go through what again?" he asked, the fear in his eyes very plain to her.

She realized he had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She cursed herself for forgetting that his wife had abandoned him due, in part, to his PTSD, and now he thought she was doing the same. She hurried to reassure him.

"I can't lose you, Lucien." She paused to take a deep breath. "When I lost Christopher, the pain was beyond anything I could have imagined. The only reason I had to keep getting out of bed in the morning was my boys. But now, you're it for me. If I lose you, even music will be ruined now."

"You think you're going to lose me? Jean, I love you," he insisted. "You're it for me, too."

She was irritated that he seemed to be ignoring her real concern. She shook her head. "I know how much courage it took for you to come this far in your therapy," she began, and she saw that he now knew exactly what she was talking about. "If it gets to be too much, if you really can't face any more of it, I won't think any less of you if you want to call it off."

"Jean, I...". He paused, unsure what he wanted to say.

She continued on. She wanted to be certain that she wasn't making it convenient for him to stop the therapy, but at the same time letting him know there was a way out if it really did become more than he could endure.

"If you do complete it, though, just imagine what it will mean in your life. In our life, because I'm not going anywhere. You won't have to let that part of your past dictate the future any longer. You'll finally be free of the people who did those things to you. If you want to go back to being a concert pianist, you can. If you want to start a new career with me and the blues, you can do that, too. It's your choice."

He reached for her hands, and she clasped his eagerly, but she was dismayed that his head was down, staring at the table.

She squeezed his hands until finally he looked up at her. "I love you, Lucien Blake. Nothing is going to change that. And if I need to remind you of that every day, every hour even, I will. I can stay right beside you while you listen to those recordings for as long as you need me to, is that understood?"

He managed a small smile, but it was genuine. "Understood. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve you, but whatever it was, I'm grateful."

She arched her eyebrow. "Are you fishing for compliments?"

"No, no," he said, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Are you sure? I can give you a list of reasons why I, and many other people for that matter, love you. But knowing you as I do, I think you'd be very embarrassed before I finish."

He laughed self-consciously. "I'm perfectly willing to take your word for it, my dear."

"Good," she said smugly. "I can think of something I'd rather do."

"Oh?" he said as his eyes began to gleam darkly.


After his reassurances, Jean managed to sleep without worrying what Lucien might get up to in the middle of the night. Nonetheless she was fully aware of him curled up behind her as she slept. In the morning, as she lay in his arms, she decided that she would continue the campaign to show him all he had to live for. She thought Amelia might just help with that. Her granddaughter adored Lucien, and how could anyone with his empathy not be affected by a child's unconditional love?

She was trying to come up with a plausible scenario for taking Amelia for the day when her musing was interrupted by her phone's ringtone. She groaned at being disturbed until she looked at the screen identification: it was Christopher.

"That's funny," she said. "I was just thinking it's been much too long since I've seen Amelia."

She touched the screen to accept the call. "Good morning, Christopher."

"Hi, Mum. Sorry for calling so early, since I know how late you get home. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I was awake. Is everything all right? Amelia and Ruby?"

"We're all fine. I was wondering if we could drop by this morning. Ruby and I haven't seen the new place yet anyway, and there's something we'd like to talk about with you."

"Of course. I'd love to see you. Don't you have to work today?"

"I'm going in later, at noon. So is ten o'clock all right for you?"

"Yes, I'll see you then," said Jean, ending the call. She glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty now. "They'll be over at ten. He said they need to talk with me about something," she explained to Lucien. "Would you mind terribly looking after Amelia while we talk?" If she wasn't going to be with him herself, she knew Amelia's presence would guarantee that he wouldn't do anything drastic.

"Not a bit," he said. "Why don't you jump in the shower while I listen to the session."

She shook her head. "The shower can wait. I promised I'd be there with you for that, and I will. Let's go."

They went down to the music room, and once again Jean sat on the arm of Lucien's chair, but this time he pulled her onto his lap immediately. "I think this might be more comfortable for you," he said, "and it will make me aware that you're here, no matter how much I'm immersed in listening."

"Good," she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

He put one of the earbuds in his ear, then placed the other on the small table in front of them. "Entirely your choice."

"What do you want?" she asked, not certain how long she could bear to listen, but willing to support him if he needed her to know everything he'd been through.

"I want you to do what you're comfortable with. I want you to know that I'm not hiding anything from you, but at the same time I don't want to subject you to this unnecessarily."

She nodded. "For now I'll just be here for you," she said.

"Understood. Thank you," he said gently. Then he squared his jaw and pressed the Play button on the remote.


She watched him the whole time, kissing or stroking his cheek whenever he seemed to be in particular distress. There were still tears in his eyes when he turned off the recording, but the look on his face was not quite as devastated as the day before. Perhaps the therapy strategy was beginning to work. In any case, she planned to continue to do the same thing each time until he felt he didn't need her assistance to get through it.

With Christopher due in thirty minutes, they hurried to shower and get dressed. (Jean would have shared the shower with him if Lucien had suggested it, but he seemed more concerned with making sure she wasn't late being ready.)

As it was, she had just made a pot of coffee when Christopher's car pulled into the drive. She opened the door and waved so that they would come over to Lucien's house, then went out to greet them. As soon as she was released from her car seat, Amelia ran toward Jean, arms outstretched to be picked up.

"Hello, my darling girl," Jean told her, hugging her tightly.

"Loo-sen?" Amelia asked her.

"Lucien is just inside. Would you like to go in and see him?" She turned to Christopher and Ruby. "Lucien will be happy to entertain Amelia while we talk," she explained.

"He will indeed," said Lucien himself, stepping outside. "Christopher, Ruby, how are you? All well, I hope."

"Yes, thank you," said Christopher. "Good to see you. This is some view you have here." His arm swept out toward the ocean.

"We like it. Now, why don't I take this young lady and we'll see if we can find the cat."

"Kitty, Amelia?" Jean asked her. "You go with Lucien, sweetheart, while Mum and Dad and I have a chat." She set the child down, and Amelia immediately went over to Lucien and took his hand.

Jean then led Christopher and Ruby over to her home. Proudly she showed them around.

"Quite a step up from your old place," said Christopher.

"It's beautiful," Ruby sighed. "I'm so happy for you, Mum."

"Thank you. Now tea or coffee while we talk?"

When they were all seated around her kitchen table with a cuppa, Christopher began. "I have some good news, first of all. I've been offered a big promotion at work. They want me to be a regional manager."

"That's wonderful," Jean exclaimed. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Mum. The thing is, the region they want me to manage is southern Nevada," said Christopher.

"Oh!" Jean was thrown by the idea. Clearly it would mean they had to move away.

"It's not so bad," Ruby hastened to assure her. "I mean it's only a few hours' drive. We'd still see you regularly."

"Yes, of course." But Jean had grown up several hours' drive away from her own grandparents, and she was lucky to see them more than once a year. She couldn't bear the thought of seeing Amelia so seldom. Her granddaughter would grow up barely knowing her.

Christopher reached out to touch her arm in comfort. "Now that you have room here, Amelia could come to stay with you from time to time," he assured her, as though he'd read her thoughts. "In fact, we wondered if she could stay with you for a week or so while we go there to check out the area and find a place to live. If that's a problem for you, we can take her with us."

"No, no problem at all," Jean said quickly. She intended to make it a memorable time for Amelia so there would be no danger of the child forgetting how much her grandmother loved her. "When would that be?"

"The end of the week, if that's okay," said Ruby.

Jean thought quickly. By then Lucien should be doing somewhat better, and having Amelia around might be just the tonic he needed. She glanced out the window in the direction of his house and saw him out on the porch with Amelia, who was carrying poor Scout in her arms. As Jean watched, she saw Lucien pull his phone out and glance down at it before lifting it to his ear. His other hand reached out to hold the straps of Amelia's overalls so she couldn't wander away. It was obvious to Jean that he took his responsibilities toward the child very seriously indeed.

"The end of the week would work out perfectly," said Jean, returning her attention to the conversation at hand. "I'm looking forward to it."