Jack had never visited Florence's place before, on account of him always hosting their gatherings at the Shack. As he thought about this, he was suddenly excited that he was going to get to see a piece of Florence that he had never seen before. Like she was telling him a secret. They drove through the back streets of Honoré into Florence's neighbourhood, then into the driveway of a nice-looking villa.

Florence applied the handbrake and turned off the jeep. "Come in," she told him, unbuckling her seatbelt.

Jack did as he was told, hopping out onto the driveway, leaving his bag in the footwell of the jeep.

Florence dug in her pocket for her keys and pulled them out, unlocking the front door and stepping inside. Jack followed her into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Her villa was simple, with no clutter or mess, the exact opposite of the Shack. He walked behind Florence as she went into the bedroom, then hovered by the doorway, not wanting to encroach on her space.

"Can I get anything from the kitchen?" he asked.

"Sure. See if there's anything worth taking in the cupboards," she instructed him, as she took a bag out of the wardrobe.

Jack walked down the hallway and into the kitchen, opening up the cupboards and taking out some tins, placing them on the countertop. He found some empty bottles under the sink and filled them with water, then carried his findings back to the bedroom and placed them on the bed beside the bag for her to pack.

"There are candles in the lounge," she said, as she balled up some clothes. "Maybe in the cabinet."

"Okay. Do you have matches?"

"I should do," she replied.

Jack went off to the lounge, directly opposite to the bedroom. Inside, the net curtains that hung at the window gave off a dim light that calmed him. He used this opportunity when standing alone in Florence's lounge, to take a breath. Then, he approached the wooden cabinet and opened it gently. Through the glass, he could see pictures of Florence's family, all her brothers, her parents, perhaps some grandparents and aunties. On the bottom shelf, was a packet of cylinder candles which he took and a box of matches.

Jack was just about to go and place them on her bed with the tins and the bottles when the mantlepiece caught his eye. On the shelf, there were pictures of Jesus and Mary Magdalene, with a crucifix affixed to the wall between them. Jack stepped forward to look closer and traced his fingers delicately over the wood. Images and memories of his first communion and his marriage to Kathleen flickered through his mind. It had been a long time since he'd thought about God.

"My family is Roman Catholic," Florence said quietly, from the doorway, the bulging bag over her shoulder and a pillow under her arm. She let it fall to the floor and stepped into the lounge, standing beside Jack, the both of them admiring the mantlepiece.

"So are mine," Jack replied. "We used to say the rosary and everything."

"But you don't go to church?" Florence questioned.

"No," Jack said simply. "Not anymore."

"Why?"

"It's a long story," Jack said, suppressing a smile. "And not a very interesting one."

"I think we're going to have all night," Florence replied. "Maybe you can tell me later."

"Yeah," Jack nodded, looking at her.

"I started going again after Patrice died," explained Florence, nodding to the crucifix. "I needed… something. I couldn't tell you what it was, but I needed another focus in my life. Something else to fill the gap. I worked out pretty quickly that nothing could ever fill the gap in my heart. Obviously," she laughed bitterly. "But it helped for a while. I lit candles in his memory every week. I sat in the pews and thought about him… cried about him… grieved for him."

"You should have said," Jack replied, feeling a lump form in his throat.

Florence just shrugged. "There are just some things you have to do alone. Although I'll never get over what happened, I feel like I've accepted it at least."

"Yeah," Jack croaked, his voice not even a whisper. "After Kathleen…" he began, but emotion overtook him. He looked down at the floor and composed himself, gulping away the lump that hardened in his throat.

Florence slid her hand into his. Their fingers interlocked together as if made for one another. They looked down at their hands gripped together, knowing that on some level they would always walk the earth together, if not physically, then in their hearts. Jack suppressed a wave of emotion again, as his head rose to look at her. He would do anything in this world for her, he thought.

"I worry about you too, you know," he whispered.

Florence inhaled gently. "I know," she breathed.

Jack felt as though he were looking deep into her soul, as their faces drew nearer to each other. He was hypnotised by her, and his eyes closed as if drifting into a dream.

"Jack," Florence said. It echoed in his ears like a siren's call.

"Yes?"

"Can I…"

Before she could finish her sentence, their lips locked together, gentle, soft, and tender. They lingered for a moment, enjoying the feel of each other's lips. Jack felt lightheaded as he pulled away from her slowly.

"I…" Jack began, as he opened his eyes, but before he could continue on his sentence, the silence was disturbed by his mobile ringing in his pocket. The spell was broken. Jack's heart dropped. He dug in his pocket, pulling out the phone and looking at the screen. He cleared his throat. "It's JP," he told her.

"Damn him," Florence cursed with a smile.

Jack smiled too. "Hi, JP," he said, accepting the call. "Everything alright?"

"Sir, the Commissioner just called. You should get back to the station as soon as possible. The storm is on its way."