This chapter is set some months after chapter 2.
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Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn...
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Lucien woke in the darkness and knew she was not there even before he reached out. Jean's side of the bed was cool and empty. The house was as silent as it ever could be, with just the occasional creak of old timber and the sound of the wind moving the trees outside.
He had a moment of panic that she had left. In the last few weeks he knew she had been distant, even irritable with him. But surely she wouldn't just leave? After all they had been through, she wouldn't throw away all they still had. Would she?
As the feeling of nausea rose in his throat, he heard the gentle slap of bare feet on a hard floor. Relief flooded over him, leaving him breathless. She was still there. He was being ridiculous. But how had it all gone so wrong? Just a few months ago they had been so happy.
He resolved to talk to her, to find out what was wrong, and why he was making her so unhappy. He knew he wasn't easy to live with, and he didn't fool himself that that had changed now they were engaged, but if anyone could see past it, it was Jean.
He sat up and listened again. She was in the kitchen, he thought. Glancing at the clock, he could just make out the time. 3 o'clock. Not the ideal time for a discussion that he suspected would be difficult, but he couldn't leave it any longer. That moment of fear when he woke to find her missing, and the anxiety that followed, had decided him. He loved Jean, and he had to know why she no longer seemed content.
In his slippers and dressing gown he walked silently towards the kitchen. He stood at the hatch, frozen for a moment by the sight of her in the half light. The moonlight through the window cast her into silhouette, and he caught his breath at the familiar outline of her figure from behind as she stood at the sink.
Lucien let his eye run down her slim figure, admiring the curve of her waist and hip, accentuated by the nightdress she wore. His breath hitched again with love for her, and this time she must have heard him, because she turned rapidly round to face him, fixing a smile in place as best she could.
In that instant, as she turned, as his eye was taking in all of her, he knew.
Suddenly all the distance, all the regret he had seen in her eyes over the past few weeks, made sense.
He walked into the kitchen and over to the sink in a few strides. He opened his arms to hold her and saw her hesitate for a moment.
"When were you going to tell me?" he whispered against her hair as she stepped forward and leaned against him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed.
"I'm not ready yet." He felt as much as heard her sob against his chest.
"What did you think I'd say? Did you think I'd be angry? How could I be?" The love in his voice came through clearly, but this only made it harder for Jean.
"I knew you'd be happy. I wasn't ready to face that. We're not married, Lucien. A baby...what will people say?"
He hesitated. He couldn't deny this was going to be difficult. "I'm sure they'll say they always knew they were right about us. They will gossip, certainly. But that doesn't matter, Jean. This is about us, and our baby." A baby. He could hardly believe it.
"I'm not even sure I want another baby, Lucien. I'm too old, and there were other things I wanted to do. I'd thought we would travel a bit. That's not going to happen now."
He shook his head. "Very clearly you are not too old, Jean! And a baby will keep us young. It will work out fine in the end, you'll see. We can still see the world, if that's what you want."
She smiled at him wanly. Why did he always have to be so optimistic?
"Come back to bed," he said. "Come and talk to me. It's cold out here." His eyes pleaded with her.
Jean nodded and followed him slowly.
In bed, he curved himself around her back, resting his hand on her hip and kissing the back of her neck.
"What are you afraid of?" he whispered. He slid his hand across her belly, feeling the tiny curve he had not noticed until tonight.
"I wasn't a good mother the first time around, Lucien."
He sighed. "You did your best, Jean. You won't be on your own this time." This was a dance they would have to learn together.
She turned towards him and smiled the smallest smile. The fear that had clutched at his stomach since he first woke that night loosened its grip, just a little. In time, she would come round, wouldn't she?
