"Jean," he calls down the hallway upon entering the house in his familiar manner, half expecting to see his wife's head pop around the corner from the kitchen with her welcoming smile. "It was a bloody long day. The Miller boy…" Lucien halts in the archway, Jean looking up at him from her place at the table, before her an opened letter.
"I'm sorry Lucien, I didn't hear you come home. What were you saying?" The evidence of her tears linger on her face.
"Jeannie, what is it? Did something happen to one of the boys?"
"No, no they are fine. This came in the afternoon post." She holds up the letter as if it is made of iron. "It is from Fredrick Tompkins from Ohio."
Lucien takes the letter that his wife offers him. "I'm not following. I didn't know you knew anyone from the States?"
"I don't. Seems he was a field medic during the war. He was on the Solomon Islands with Christopher." The crack in her voice gives away her anguish.
"Oh Darling." Lucien sits down next to her taking her hand in his. "What does he say?"
"Go ahead, read it." Lucien looks down at the sharp angles of the words and begins silently. "Read it aloud. I need to hear it."
Dear Mrs. Blake November 4, 1961
I was given your information after much searching for you, Jean Beazley, widow of one Sergeant Christopher Beazley of the Australian 3rd Division. My apologies for taking so long to find you. Much happened during and after the war but your husband's face along with others have haunted me. While going through my old army things, my son and I came across a letter and photograph that your husband gave me on the battlefield at Bougainville.
I am ashamed to say it took me many years to feel strong enough to reach out to you. I felt it only right to make up for the years and deliver this in person to make sure you receive it as I promised your husband I would all those years ago. You can reach my son and I at the George Hotel. We will be in Ballarat until the 15th of November. If you wish not to meet me in person, I respect that and will make arrangements to forward what is rightly yours to you.
Sincerely, Staff Sergeant Fredrick Tompkins
"Bloody hell. What are you going to do?"
"There is only one thing to do! This man came all the way here to see me so I will meet with him. I'll call in the morning." Jean stands abruptly and starts to nervously clean up the already spotless kitchen.
Lucien comes up behind her at the sink, pulling her close. Squeezing his arms tightly around her waist. He feels her soften in his embrace. "Let me come with you when you meet this man."
Jean nods, "I'd like that." she turns in the circle of his arms to rest her head on his chest. "It never goes away. The war. It's always there, always a part of our lives isn't it?"
"Yes and it always will be but it also led us to this very moment. Come on let me help you with dinner."
"Jean, are you ok?" They have been sitting in the parking lot of the George Hotel a few minutes, Jean silently staring ahead lost in thought. "You don't have to do this. I can go in there for you and just tell him you are unwell or something."
She lets out a heavy sigh. "No. I'm fine. Just needed to gather my thoughts. Let's go."
They enter the dining hall of the hotel. As they scan the crowd Jean's eyes are drawn to a gray haired gentleman that is watching the entrance. The moment they lock eyes a smile of recognition comes to his face.
"Over here Lucien." Jean weaves through the table, head held high with Lucien trailing behind. "Mr. Tompkins? I'm Jean Blake." Jean offers her hand to shake.
Fredrick Tompkins stands with difficulty, thrusting a large hand forward to capture Jean's. He covers it with the other hand, gnarled with scars. "Yes. I think I would recognize you anywhere. You look the same."
"Pardon?" Jean asks, alarmed at this stranger's familiarity to her.
"I'm sorry. There is a picture."
"Why don't we all have a seat?" Lucien gestures to Mr. Tompkins while pulling out a chair for Jean.
"I apologize Mrs. Blake. I am not making a very good first impression."
Lucien sensing Jean's apprehension leads the conversation in his gentle charismatic manner. "How are you finding Ballarat, Mr. Tompkins?"
"Please call me Fred. It is a lovely place. Much different than where I am from." The men continue in a friendly manner as they wait for drinks to arrive.
"You mentioned your son was with you. Where is he now?" Jean chimes in feeling rude not partaking in the small talk that Lucien is masterfully doing himself.
"I'm afraid the time difference is catching up to him. He is in the room resting."
"You know you really didn't need to come all this way to give me the letter."
"I know but see my grandson put me on the spot. He's a bit of a rascal, my Bert. He got in some trouble at school. Nothing horrible. Just a frog in the teacher's desk." The three adults laugh at the boy's mischievous antics. "Well he had to write an apology. He wanted to mail it and I told him it will have more meaning if he hand delivered it. You know kids, they will use your words on you every chance they can so here I am."
Fred's story of his grandson and the twinkle in his eye as he tells it puts Jean at ease. All the worries of what may come, what this American stranger intentions are of no concern. He is here to fulfill a promise to Christopher and to show his grandson how to be a man of worth.
"I have one of those rascal boys myself. Only he used a lizard."
"Let me guess. Jack?"
"Yes. How?" Jean stammers as again she is taken back at this man's knowledge. She watches as Fred reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a worn photograph and an envelope yellow with age.
"I am embarrassed to say how often I have looked at this photo through the years." The scarred hand slides the items across the table to Jean.
Lucien watches as the tears sit in his wife's eyes. The photo is one he has never seen. He can see Jean's beautiful penmanship on the back identifying them and the date. The Beazley family is sitting on a rug at what appears to be a picnic. Christopher is lounging back on one arm, his head resting on Jean's shoulder. She is laughing as young Christopher lays contently across his mother's lap while Jack is clinging to his father's neck from behind. Lucien's heart fills with warmth for the love that Jean had and hurts simultaneously for the happy family that in a short time would forever be changed.
"I thought this photograph was lost. It was one of my favorites. I had no idea Christopher took this with him."
"He gave me it along with this letter. Made me promise to get them to you. I am truly sorry that it has taken nearly twenty years. Within hours after I tended to your husband I was hit with artillery fire when the Japanese planes flew over. That was the last thing I remembered before waking up in the hospital a week later. Your husband's letter and photograph were among my belongings at the hospital." The unsteadiness in his voice betraying his need to explain himself to Jean.
Jean senses the gravity of the words that Fred wants to convey to her. She lays a soft hand on his scarred hand. "It's alright. I do understand. There is no need to apologize or explain yourself to me. Thank you for taking care of this for all these years."
"I tended to numerous men, too many. The faces and names started to blur together through the years. I would look at this photograph. It allowed me to keep at least one face clear, something to hold onto. It took a long time to get better and I don't just mean physically." Fred's voice quivers.
Lucien chimes in acutely aware of what Fred would have witnessed on the battlefield and what the road to recovery entails, "I understand. It took me a long time also." he clutches Jean's hand, a silent reminder that she is the one that helped heal him.
"Where were you?" Fred asks.
"Singapore, Changi Prison." No more needs to be said, the horrors that occurred there are well known.
As the conversation lulls, the men in their somber thoughts, a handsome man in his thirties approaches, "Dad. You okay?"
"Yes, yes. Seth, this is Dr. and Mrs. Blake." He turns to the Blakes smiling proudly, "this is my son, Seth."
"It is very nice to meet you in person." Seth holds Jean's hand tightly full of gratitude.
Jean smiles warmly at the man. "Lucien, I think we have taken up enough the Fred's time. I'm sure these two would continue on with their day and you have to see a patient soon." Jean stands Lucien following her lead. "Thank you for these." She places the items that have traveled so far in her purse. "I hope you both enjoy your stay."
They ride home in silence. Lucien turns the car off in the driveway and turns to his wife. "I don't have any patients do I?"
"No."
"Are you alright darling?"
"Yes."
"Jean?"
"I'm fine, really. Just a little overwhelmed," to which she gets out of the car ending the conversation.
For two days the envelope addressed to Mrs. Jean Beazley lay unopened on her vanity next to the long forgotten photograph. The second night, as they get ready for bed Lucien approaches his wife, as if stepping on a lake with a thin layer of ice, regarding the letter. "Jeannie, aren't you in the least bit curious at what the letter says?" Her eyes flash at him, "I'm just wondering!" his hands flying up in defense.
"You're one to talk. How long did you ignore that letter from China?"
"Touché."
Jean sighs as she sits on the bed. "Oh Lucien. It isn't that I'm not curious. It's just I know what it WILL say. All Christopher's letters were the same. That it is so different from home, that he missed me and the boys, can't wait to have a home cooked meal. I'm sorry for leaving. I'll be home soon." Jean trails off. Lucien sits down beside her. "When he wrote that letter it wasn't as if he knew that was the last one he would ever write to me so I doubt it will be much different."
"It was his way of coping. Some men wrote every letter as if it were their last, some wrote every letter full of optimism that they would be home."
"What kind of man were you?"
"I was the kind that didn't write any." The unspoken being that there was no one for him to send those letters of hope to.
Jean stands in front of her husband raising his chin with her hand so that he will look deep into her eyes. She then kisses him deeply, longingly. Breaking apart for the air they both require, Lucien rests his head in the cleavage of her breasts. He can feel her heartbeat in time with his own pulse.
"I love you Lucien Blake." She places a tender kiss to the top of his head before turning to her vanity and the waiting envelope. She sits and stares for a moment before picking it up. Turning the envelope over in her hand she sees the unmistakable stain of a bloody fingerprint. She wonders if it is Christopher's or some other stranger's hand that her husband's word passed through. Carefully she opens it with such precision that the opening barely disturbs the integrity of the paper. Silently she reads the words written to her long ago.
Lucien watches her from his place on the bed. He watches as the tears spill from her eyes, watches as her lips tremble as she reads. Then when the words are done he watches as his wife folds the letter putting it back in the envelope that housed the words for so long.
When Jean goes to Lucien she doesn't pause as she climbs onto his lap wrapping her arms around his neck, allowing him to cradle her in his arms. He holds her till both of their muscles begin to quiver from the position. He lifts her, placing her in their bed, turning out the remainder of the lights, he joins her, pulling her close into his body. Neither speaking a word, for no words are necessary between them.
Jean smoothes down her skirt as she goes down the hall to answer the door. "Hello Fred, Seth. It is so good to see you. Please come in." She greets them with a warm smile.
"Thank you. We were very happy to get your invite. I wasn't so sure we would see you again after the other day." Fred walks past Jean with a significant limp and rigidity to his gate that she hadn't noticed at the restaurant.
"Let me just get the kettle going. Sit, please, make yourself at home."
"Your husband is not here?"
"No I'm afraid he got called out on a case. He is the police surgeon so he often gets called out unexpectedly."
"Really, Seth here is a police officer. Made Lieutenant last year." Fred says proudly.
"Dad, Mrs. Blake doesn't care about that."
"Oh nonsense, I have two boys so understand what it means to be proud of a child's accomplishments. Besides, we have had several young officers lodge with us. Our friend Matthew who is the Chief Superintendent of police currently lives with. I am well versed in law enforcement." She gives Seth a wink immediately setting the tone for the visit.
The time passes quickly as the conversation moves lightly between the three, telling stories of childhood and children, of triumphs and failures. It is Seth who brings the visit to an end by acknowledging the time. "Dad, we should get going? May I use the phone to call a cab?"
"Of course. Here, why don't you use the one in the surgery."
Jean makes her way back to the parlor to find Fred looking at the photographs on the mantle. He turns to her, "You have a lovely life here. I'm glad. I often wondered what became of you and the boys. I made up all sorts of scenarios. It is nice to know the truth."
She didn't have the heart to tell him of the years of grief, guilt, loneliness that preceded her life with Lucien because in reality that time no longer matters. She wants to look forward and cherish the wonderful life she has been given.
"I want you to have something." Jean gets the photograph of the Beazley family that she had placed on top of the piano and brings it to him. "I want you to keep this. I think it means more to you then it does me."
"Are you sure?" Jean nods as his hand takes the precious picture. She may not be able to heal the scarred hand just as she can never heal the marks upon Lucien's back but she does understand what it means to help heal a man's soul. Somehow this fraction of a second frozen in time of her family helps this kind man to be better, allowing this man to bring Christopher's letter to her, inviting him into her home as a friend helps heal him. This she knows how to do.
Lucien pulls in the driveway behind the taxi. "Aaah, I'm sorry I missed your visit."
"Yes us too but Jean is wonderful company. Thank you, both and if you are ever in Ohio come visit."
"Count on it. ". Lucien gives the men hearty hand shakes.
"Keep in touch." Jean says to Fred before giving him a hug.
Fred holds her tight for a moment longer than a stranger should but she isn't a stranger to him. He whispers to her, "thank you," before letting go.
Jean and Lucien watch as the taxi fades in the distance. Lucien has an arm over her shoulder holding her close. "Did you give it to him?"
"I did. It was the right thing to do."
"Darling, you are the most incredible person I know. I don't know how I ever got so lucky that you agreed to marry me."
"Mmm, sometimes I wonder about that myself. Come on. You're taking me to dinner tonight."
"For you Mrs. Blake, anything."