"Jean, I've got some business at the bank, then I'll be in the morgue all day," Lucien announced, kissing her cheek and dashing out of the house.

"Don't forget, you've got…" She trailed off and sighed, hearing the front door open and close quickly. "Agnes Clasby," she finished. Jean hoped he'd remember that he had a patient later in the day, but if he did forget, she would be able to call him in the morgue and get him to come home.

And sure enough, Agnes arrived, and Lucien was nowhere to be found.

"I'm so sorry, Agnes. He's working on a case, you see. He tends to get a bit distracted," Jean apologized.

"Yes, he's always been that way. Even as a boy, he liked to get fixated on things that interested him. Genevieve encouraged it, knowing it was good to cultivate his intellectual pursuits. Thomas had no idea what to do with him, of course. Sent him away most of the time. But it's hard for a parent to be alone in raising a child. You know, Jean. You had your children on your own."

Jean was always taken aback by Agnes Clasby. Agnes always had something fascinating but horribly blunt to say. Even living with Lucien, Jean wasn't quite used to that kind of candor. "Yes, well, my boys were a bit older when Christopher died. Lucien was only ten when he lost his mother."

Agnes nodded. "It'll be different this time around. You'll see soon enough."

"Pardon?" Jean's eyes went wide, unsure if Agnes was really saying what Jean was understanding.

"Yes, when you and Lucien have children."

"Oh…we don't…"

"I know, you're just focused on married life now. You've lived together for years, but this is different, I'm sure. It does seem to suit you though, Jean. And I dare say our Dr. Blake looks just as bright and lovely as you do. It certainly took you two long enough to work it out," Agnes grumbled. "I thought I was going to have to say something if you didn't do something about it soon."

Jean couldn't help a small smile.

Agnes continued, "Absolutely besotted, he was. Always has been and I dare say he always will be. And you, Jean, you take such good care of him. I do wish Thomas could have seen how happy you both have made each other."

"I think in a way, he knew," Jean replied softly, thinking back to those final few weeks of Thomas Blake's life, when she had merely tolerated Lucien's presence in the house. Dr. Blake had asked her to promise to care for his son, to see that he didn't destroy himself. Jean had made the promise to the dying man, not understanding then that it was a promise she'd keep until her own dying day.

"Jean, I think perhaps you should call that husband of yours away from whatever case he's engrossed in. I, unlike his murder victim, am not dead yet. But I soon will be if I can't see my doctor," Agnes insisted.

"Of course. He said he'd be at the morgue seeing to Randall Brix was murdered," Jean answered, standing to go to the phone.

But Agnes continued talking, causing Jean to pause. "Oh that poor Randall Brix. He had such a difficult life. His family lived across the lane from me when he was small, you see. He could barely go to school and never could hold down a job."

"Oh?" Jean was curious now.

"Yes, he had these terrible fits. If lights were too bright or anything was too loud. He'd fall to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. Nothing anyone could do for him. Such a tragedy."

Something clicked in Jean's mind. "Agnes, I think I'd better call Lucien right away." She stood up and hurried to the phone, dialing the number for the morgue. It rang twice before Dr. Harvey answered. "Hello, Alice, it's Jean. Could I speak to Lucien, please?"

"He isn't here, I'm afraid."

"When did he leave?"

"About an hour ago. He wanted to look for possible signs of suicide, and couldn't find what he wanted on the body, so he left."

Jean frowned. "He told me he was going to be there. He's late for a surgery appointment."

"Well, he did say he wanted to get a closer look at the train tracks where the deceased was killed. He might be there," Alice suggested.

With a frustrated sigh, Jean thanked Dr. Harvey and hung up the phone. She returned to the reception room. "I'm so sorry, Agnes, I can't seem to locate him. Do you think you could come back tomorrow? I'll make sure he doesn't leave the house. I'll tie him down if I have to!"

"What you do in your married life is of no concern to me," Agnes replied with a wry grin. "I'll be back tomorrow at two."

Jean couldn't even begin to think about the implications of that statement. She had other things on her mind. Since Lucien couldn't be located, she knew she needed to do a little investigating of her own. She went right to Lucien's study and searched the bookshelves for the volumes she thought she'd need. It would be easier to just explain things to him, because he'd know exactly what to look for. But Jean had spent many years working for and with doctors, so she did have some idea.

It took searching the indexes of three different books before she found it. The 'fits' that Agnes had described sounded like the symptoms of epilepsy. And, as she had been hoping, there were often signs of physical abnormalities in the brain that could cause the disorder.

Jean got right back on the phone and called the morgue. "Alice, it's Jean again. I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you've seen Randall Brix's medical records."

"No, he didn't have any at the hospital. It seems he never bothered with doctors."

That wasn't surprising. Many of the poorer people in the rural parts of Ballarat avoided doctors if they could. "I wonder if you've looked at his brain at all? Or was it too damaged from the impact of the train?"

Alice's curiosity was piqued. "Jean, what are you looking for?"

"I think Randall Brix had epilepsy. I was just told that he often had fits of uncontrollable shaking when he was a child brought on by loud noise or bright light. I looked in some of Lucien's medical books and found it. Is that at all possible? Is that something you can confirm from an examination?"

"Oh that is brilliant!" Alice exclaimed. "It would make complete sense! He had a seizure, which caused him to fall on the tracks. It wasn't murder and it wasn't suicide. It was just an accident!"

"That's what I was thinking, yes."

"Well your husband is still investigating a suicide angle, so I suggest someone go find him."

"Yes, I'll go to the railyard now."

"And I'll see if I can confirm epilepsy," Alice replied. "If I can, I'll revise my report with the police, so tell Dr. Blake not to bother."

Jean hung up again and raced out the door to go find Lucien.

At the railyard, almost exactly where Randall Brix had been killed, Lucien Blake was conducting an experiment. He was intrigued by the idea of suicide as the true cause of Randall's death. But he was having trouble believing it, given the facts. Randall's body had been hit at a low rate of speed. He was knocked off the track by the front of the train and subsequently died of his injuries. In order for that outcome, he would have had to know when the train was coming and then stand or lay on the tracks. And suicidal or not, it was basic human instinct to do the exact opposite of what Randall had purportedly done.

And so he was testing it out. How close could a train really get without anyone noticing or the potential suicide victim losing nerve?

That was exactly how Jean found him. One of the railroad employees was kind enough to tell her where he'd gone. She'd assumed he would be kneeling beside the tracks, looking at blood spatter or something of the sort. She had not expected him to be standing on the tracks, leaning forward, staring at an approaching train head on.

"Lucien!" she screamed. But he didn't move. All of a sudden, it didn't matter what he was doing or what he was thinking. The train whistle sounded. She realized that he probably couldn't hear her. Jean broke into a run and didn't stop until she grabbed him by the arms and yanked him away.

The train passed by not three seconds after they'd both fallen into the gravel. Jean had landed flat on her bum, while Lucien hadn't been as strategic about his fall. He'd scraped his head on the sharp rocks littering the ground.

He rolled over onto his back. Jean just stared at him as she tried to catch her back. "What on earth are you doing?!" she asked accusingly.

"I was testing to see how close the train would get before the instinct of self-preservation kicked in. I don't think Randall Brix committed suicide. Unless he were passed out on the track, there's no way he could have sustained the injuries he got," Lucien explained.

"He didn't commit suicide. He had epilepsy. At least I think he did. Alice is going to confirm," Jean replied bitterly. "Now get up. You're bleeding. I'm taking you home. You shouldn't be driving with a head injury."

Lucien didn't really like being scolded in such a tone, but Jean was probably right. His temple was stinging something awful.

They were silent in the car. Jean's expression was fixed in anger, her jaw clenched and her eyes narrow. Lucien just sat there, watching her and waiting for some sign of her softening. None came.

Jean marched him right into the surgery when they arrived home. She barely said a word as she cleaned his wound. He winced in pain as the antiseptic stung his cut. "Ah, here, I can do that in a mirror," he tried to insist.

But she jerked her hand away, continuing to dab the cotton on his injured face. "You've done enough today," she snapped. Jean was blinking rapidly and wrinkling her nose. "I cannot..." She paused when her voice cracked. "I cannot believe you would do something so utterly stupid."

Lucien took her hand and held it between his. "Jean," he began softly.

She interrupted, "I don't know why I thought you'd get some sense after we got married. I should have known better. But I cannot be a widow again, Lucien. And if we…" She couldn't bring herself to address Agnes Clasby's mention of children out loud. "I can't lose you, Lucien. I…I love you too much," she admitted, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He took her in his arms and held her close, stroking and nuzzling her hair as she cried. "Oh my darling love, you won't ever lose me. I know I take foolish risks sometimes, but I promise I know what I'm doing. Most of the time. But you are right, I have much more than myself to think of now. I do need to be more careful. Because even if I know what I'm doing, I don't want to worry you. I don't want you to ever worry, Jean." He pressed a reverent kiss to the top of her head. "Actually, hang on…"

Lucien released his embrace on her to go to where he'd tossed his jacket on the table. He took an envelope out of the inner pocket and took several pieces of paper from it.

"I'd like you to sign these, please," he requested.

Jean sniffed back her tears. "What is all this?"

"One is the deed to the house to add your name to it so you'll own half. The others are for all the bank accounts in my name. I've added you to each one. The bank will be printing a checkbook to include you after we return the forms. That way you'll have equal control over the household finances. You've always had your own money, and you're very good with money. Better than I am, I'd imagine. There's no reason you should have to consult me any time you buy something. That would just be tedious for the both of us, I should think. But I still mean what I said, if you want to get a job elsewhere, I hope you will. Any wages you earn are your own, of course."

If only to stop him from blabbering on, Jean immediately kissed him. "Thank you, Lucien," she whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jean. I've waited a lifetime to be married to you, and I intend to enjoy it for a very long time. But just in case anything should happen, you should know you'll be well provided for," he told her.

"I don't want to hear another word about it," she insisted, bending over the desk to sign all the forms he'd provided.

"Then we shan't say another word about it," he agreed. As he gathered all the pages to return them to the bank, he suddenly felt quite dizzy and stumbled a bit.

"Oh I knew you'd hit your head too hard! Straight to bed for you," she instructed.

"Is that right?" He winked suggestively, despite his dizzy spell.

Jean just rolled her eyes. "None of that until you recover. You need your rest."

Lucien nearly passed out as soon as Jean was able to get him into bed. He slept the rest of the day and all through the night. He was awoken the next morning with a gentle kiss. It took him a moment to realize what was going on, but he soon responded eagerly.

"Good morning," Jean whispered, leaving feather kisses on the tip of his nose.

"What a lovely morning it is," he replied, feeling very groggy and very happy.

"If you're feeling up to it, I think you should have a spot of breakfast," she suggested.

He noticed the tray on the dresser nearby. "Breakfast in bed? Am I really in such a dire condition?"

"I certainly hope not. But it is your birthday, so I wanted to do something to mark the occasion," she replied.

"Is it really my birthday?"

Jean laughed. "Yes, Lucien, it is your birthday."

"Does that mean we can do anything I want?" he asked with an excited grin.

"Within reason," she replied with a smirk. Jean knew exactly the kind of things he wanted to do and, assuming he was feeling well enough for it, she had some birthday surprises of her own planned for him.

He chuckled, "Married life is quite wonderful. I can't believe we didn't do this sooner!"

Jean gave him one more kiss. "I quite agree. Agnes Clasby was apparently about to intercede if we didn't do something about it soon."

"Oh no, Agnes!" Lucien exclaimed, realizing he'd completely forgotten about his appointment.

"I've rescheduled her for tomorrow. You're injured, and it's your birthday. You can't possibly see patients today," Jean assured him.

"Quite right." He sighed contentedly. "Did she really say she was going to do something about us?"

"Yes. 'Besotted' is the word she used to describe your behavior toward me."

He nodded. "An apt description indeed. And now, I'd like to be thoroughly besotted with my wife in bed beside me as we have breakfast. And then perhaps we'll stay in bed all day."

"Extending the honeymoon, are we?"

"Well, it is my birthday…"

Jean laughed and kissed him again, this time crawling over her husband to get back in bed beside him.