They made the tram just in time before the skies opened but now the rain is steadily coming down. Their stop is ahead. Jean stares at their hands, fingers laced together. She needs to make a decision when she steps out onto the pavement. Does she turn right in the direction of Christopher's cottage to spend the remainder of the afternoon with her son's family? Or does she dare to turn left towards Lucien's hotel where she may continue to share his company in private?
The tram stops. Lucien steps down first, reaching up to take her hand as if by second nature now. The rain is heavy. Jean's foot barely hits the pavement before Lucien starts to pull her to the right to race towards the Beazley house. She pulls back, stopping him in his tracks.
"Lucien, I'm not ready for the day to be over."
Lucien looks at Jean uncertain of her meaning. "Alright but we are getting drenched." He takes off his suit jacket to drape over her. The pleading in her eyes dares him to take a chance. "Do you want to go to my hotel?"
She nods. "To talk." She adds quickly. "I'd like to talk some more while we are alone."
Lucien grins, rainwater dripping down his face. "Of course."
The moment they step through the threshold of his room, Jean questions her judgement. She tells herself that it is no different then when Lucien joined her in her room at the Soldier's Hill Hotel. She steps further into the small room giving a slight jump at the sound of Lucien closing the door behind her.
"Let me get you a towel." Jean removes his wet jacket from her shoulders. Her beautiful blue dress, wet despite Lucien's chivalry. "Or maybe you would rather something dry to put on?"
She kicks off her shoes, shakes out the skirt in an effort to assess the damage. "I think I'd better." She scans the room knowing Lucien has minimal belongings with him.
"Here. Use these." He hands her his folder pajamas, directing her to the en-suite.
Once Jean is alone she lets out the breath she has been holding. She looks into the mirror and gasps at her own reflection. She pulls out the hair pins that seem pointless now, her curls limp from the rain, to towel dry her hair. With trembling hands Jean takes on the task of removing her dress and slipping the shirt of Lucien's pajamas over her undergarments . She decides, against her better judgement, that her stockings need to hang dry also. With the pants on Jean feels like a small child playing dress up. "This is ridiculous!" She says out loud, pulling the pants off.
"Jean. When you come out could you bring my shirt that is hanging in there? I'm sure it is dryer than this one." Lucien having changed into his dry pants speaks to the closed door.
When Jean steps out of the bathroom, she can hear the intake of air from Lucien's lungs. "I look a fright!" She hands him the shirt, blushing at her own appearance.
"Quite contrary. You look beautiful." He takes the shirt from Jean and starts to put it on.
"Lucien? Don't put that on over your wet singlet! You'll end up having two wet shirts."
"Of course."
They both turn in opposite directions only when Jean looks up she sees his reflection in the mirror. As she is about to divert her eyes Lucien pulls his singlet up over his head revealing the scars that mar his back. Tears immediately fill Jean's eyes. All sense of modesty abandoned. She turns covering the short distance between them in a fraction of a moment.
Lucien freezes at her touch. He relaxes some when her hands wrap around his torso, her tear stained cheek pressing against him. "Oh Lucien," she whispers. Jean places a soft kiss on the scars then reaches for his shirt to help him cover the remains of the torture he was put through.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to see that. At least not yet."
Jean's hand raises his head so that will look at her. Her fingers run across his jawline. His eyes close, soaking in the feeling of her touch. "Hey, you never need to hide from me. You know that don't you."
"I do Jean. But there is just so much that had happened during the war. No one needs to be burdened with my horrors."
"Don't!" The word comes out harsher than she means. "If we are going to try and make a go of this, of us, to be more than just friends I want to know. I don't want you to carry all of this on your own Lucien. You don't have to ever again."
He nods uncertain if he is able to divulge the things that haunt him. "Jean...I…"
She rolls onto her toes to place a kiss where her fingers had been moments ago. "It doesn't need to be right now Lucien but in time when you're ready I'm here for you." Their foreheads rest together. "You know I have scars too, they may not be visible but they are there."
He raises his chin to place a kiss on her temple, whispering "when you are ready I'm here for you too."
Both say a silent vow knowing that they found in each other the one person that they can trust with their pain. They found their person to heal the wounds of the past and make them complete for the future. The kind of future neither ever thought they would have a chance at once again.
Jean pulls away from Lucien afraid that if she remains within his embrace that she wouldn't ever want to leave the intoxicating warmth of his body. And despite her affections there is a line she isn't ready to cross. She walks to the small table and picks up a deck of cards that is next to a bottle of whiskey. "Want to play?" Her brow raises playfully.
"You're on." He pulls out a chair for Jean to sit. He pours a tumbler of the amber liquid and sits himself down.
"I do like your hair like that." He says casually, eyes fixed on hers.
"Mmmm, really?" She rolls the long sleeves up to be out of her way.
"Really. Hey, no trying to distract me." He laughs as she gives him a playful kick under the table.
Jean takes a sip of whiskey, hands Lucien the glass and begins shuffling the cards. Both wearing matching smiles, both thinking this may be the best afternoon either have had in a very long time.
That night when Lucien changes into his pajamas he can smell her around him. He goes to sleep content with dreams of Jean in his head.
The rest of the week passes too quickly. The night before Lucien leaves he takes her to dinner at the Italian restaurant by the Botanical Gardens. They drink expensive wine and eat delectable food. Anything to spoil Jean a little while he can.
Walking up the sidewalk towards the cottage Jean's pace slows. "I don't want tomorrow to come."
"I'll stay longer if you want me to?"
She looks up at him longingly. "Of course I want you too but we both know that isn't possible."
"Yes...you're right." He brushes a piece of hair that has slid out of place away from her eyebrow. "Will you come to the bus station with me?" She nods. "I'll pick you up around nine?"
"No. I'll meet you at the hotel. We can leave from there."
He leans in close to kiss her goodnight. He senses there is more to her melancholy. "Jean, what's the matter?"
She shakes her head, "It's silly."
"Tell me…"
The darkness hides the scarlet hue that is in her cheeks. "Two weeks is going to feel like an eternity." She sighs. "And when I do get home we can't have this, like we do here. At least not yet." She smiles up at him. "I guess I'm missing you already. See, silly."
He captures her lips, kissing her with the reverence she deserves. "We will have something better, something lasting...forever and a day." Her hands cling to him. She breathes him in and she believes every word he says. She believes because in her heart it is what she wants more than anything; to love and be loved.