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The rain had been unceasing for days and flooding had started in some areas of Melbourne. Each day brought the same blue-gray clouds rolling like waves across the gun-metal gray skies as the sheets of rain pounded the rooftops. While it may have annoyed Phryne that it cut down on investigative jobs, it had also cancelled several dull society luncheons, so she considered that it broke even.
Dot and Mr. Butler had gone over to the church to help with those who had been affected by the flooding and Phryne had arranged with several hotels in the area to open up rooms for individuals who had been displaced. Now that things had quieted down, she had no problem curling up with one of her new books on the history of poisons while sipping on a whiskey.
She had just finished a chapter on Pliny the Elder when she heard a rap on the kitchen door. She had expected to see a drenched Dot or Mr. B, or even Bert or Cec after a morning of picking up wet fares. What she didn’t expect was the normally immaculate Jack Robinson covered head to toe in thick mud and holding his arm at the elbow.
“Jack!”
“Mudslide on Alexandra near Como Park… Bridge to Cremore’s out. Stopped to make sure there were no victims and the ground underneath me gave way… Climbed back up and made my way here.” His voice was flat, his breathing was shallow and it was obvious he was in pain.
Assessing the situation and the best plan of attack, she asked, “Do you think you can get to the gardener’s shower in the back?” He nodded and started around the corner to the back yard. Phryne went upstairs to gather towels and a first aid kit. Coming down the back stairs, she exited via the mud room to find Jack sitting on the shower bench leaning against the shower wall with his eyes closed.
She placed her hand on his arm and was relieved when he opened his eyes.
“I believe we have two options depending on how you feel. If you stand underneath the shower you can pass me each item of clothing and I can take them into the mud room. Or, you can sit on the bench and I can rinse you off and take the clothes into the mud room. Either way, when you are done, you wrap up in the towel, I check you for any immediate wounds that need to be dealt with, then take up you the back way where you can have a hot bath, a proper medical check which may mean calling in Mac, and finally, a warm meal and bed.”
She could see him start to frown and shake his head. “Miss Fisher, I simply can’t…”
Before he could finish, she looked him firmly in the eye and said, “Now, Jack, if you had taken yourself to the hospital, the nurse there would be giving you the exact same options, wouldn’t they? Well, consider this your own private hospital and I am simply Sister Fisher.”
While Jack couldn’t argue her logic as she had been a nurse in the war, eventually, the pain he was in and the exhaustion he felt won out. “Let me, let me try standing.”
He stood underneath the spray of the shower, closed his eyes, and allowed the water to release the clods of mud from his coat. He removed his coat with some difficulty then made short work of his muddied suit coat and vest as he ducked his head under the stream to work the mud out of his curly hair. The water seemed to dissolve his linen shirt, as it became translucent, outlining the firm muscles in his shoulders, chest, and arms. Phryne mentally catalogued just how perfect his chest and waist looked with his muscles taut, his brown nipples pebbled against the wet material as rivulets of water cascaded down his body. Under normal circumstances with any other man, she would have stripped down and joined him, but this was Jack and something in his countenance and affect told her that he needed gentle, loving, care much more than an erotic romp.
When thunder boomed and Jack flinched, Phryne knew her instincts had been right. “Jack, why don’t we move this upstairs and out of the weather?” He silently nodded and as they walked into the mud room, she noted that he was trembling. She placed the wet clothes in the clothes hamper and wrapped the towel around his shoulders. Jack followed her silently up the back stairs through her room to her bathroom. Phryne briefly left to gather extra towels and the blue pajamas Jack would once again need. As she held them, she rolled her eyes that only Jack Robinson could be in need of pajamas on two separate occasions in her home and yet still only kissed her once.
Through his shirt, Phryne could see the clean bruising on his shoulder. “How much mobility do you have in your shoulder? Do you need help getting your shirt off?” He used his hand on his uninjured arm to unbutton his shirt but when it became obvious that removing it would be more problematic, Phryne efficiently removed it for him.
Quietly and calmly she asked, “Jack, other than your shoulder, does anything else hurt? Your head? Ribs? Let me take a look at your eyes.” She was glad to note that there didn’t seem to be a sign of a concussion but was concerned by how pale his skin was, the glassy, faraway look his eyes held, a mixture of numbness, fear, and pain. She knew where his mind was and it wasn’t in the here and now.
“Everything’s sore, mostly the shoulder.”
“May I check your ribs and back? Let me know if there’s any sharp pain. When the ground gave way, about how far did you fall?”
Nodding in the affirmative, he answered, “Fall? About eight feet but it was more of a slide. The shoulder hit the edge of the embankment as I tried to turn around. I had to fight the mud that was still falling as I scrambled back up the trench.”
Carefully, methodically, she guided her fingers across first, his shoulder and arm making sure that she was correct in that the injury was a sprain and not a dislocation. As another roll of thunder sounded, she felt his muscles immediately but silently flinch and tighten. She waited a moment and then proceeded to softly palpate his waist checking for damage to the ribs while watching his face for any signal of additional discomfort. Finally, she examined his back for any additional bruising.
While she stood behind him, she allowed herself the brief luxury of a shudder of lust the sight of his very fit, very firm body elicited. She had long suspected that his body was beautiful, especially after Queenscliff, but actually seeing it was almost overwhelming. Seeing each layer of clothing removed for the first time, literally peeled off of his chiseled body, would have been excruciatingly erotic for her under normal circumstances but recognizing that his behavior was off, subdued, she found herself concentrating on restoring both his emotional and physical health first. Exploring the intimacies of a potential physical relationship could come later, being there for him as a loving friend and partner came first. That said, she was well aware she would play back the memory of each sight and each touch at a later, more private time.
“Steady on, Phryne, now is not the time,” she told herself before taking a deep breath and then saying in a voice which was much more composed than she felt, she said,
“It appears that other than the shoulder, you got away with just some bumps and bruises. A good hot soak should help with the soreness and while you are doing that, I’ll get you some food and something to rest in.”
She prepared the bath with eucalyptus and chamomile oils to relax him and help with the bruising. Before moving towards the door, she laid her hand gently on his uninjured arm, looked into his eyes, and said, “The mud and the grime and the rain and the noise are all temporary. You are home and safe and nothing can harm you. I’ll be right here if you need me, OK?”
Jack’s eyes, while still fogged by the memories of bombs and war, brightened a bit, and unshed tears formed as he watched her walk to the door to allow him some privacy and finish her tasks.
She called City South and alerted them to the mud slide, the blocking of the bridge, and Jack’s injury, then called Mac and found a linen cloth for his sling. As she finished fixing Jack’s favorite sandwich and a pot of tea, Mr. Butler walked through the back door. “Mr. B, the Inspector was injured in a mudslide over by the bridge to Richmond. Some of his clothes are in the mudroom and once I get him fed and tucked in, I’ll bring down his pants. We used the gardener’s shower to get the bulk of the mud off but, it’s still going to be a challenge cleaning his suit.”
“It might behoove us to obtain some new clothes just in case his suit is ruined or uncomfortable to wear afterwards.”
“While it’s an excellent idea, I don’t feel comfortable leaving the Inspector for the time being.”
Mr. B smiled saying, “I would be happy to take care of that for the Inspector. I believe the weather is breaking and I have no doubt the tailor would appreciate the business.”
Phryne returned the smile. “I can never tell you enough how much I appreciate you, Mr. B. I’m thinking two professional suits with shirts, two casual pants, two casual shirts, three or four ties, underwear, a warm robe, and some slippers. And some appropriate toiletries. I don’t know how long he’ll need to stay but this way he’ll have some clothes here if he needs them.”
“Very good, miss.”
Phryne carried Jack’s tray upstairs and set it on the table in her bedroom. She knocked on the bathroom door and announced, “Jack, I’m back with your food. Do you need any help? Did you find the pajamas…?”
And before she could finish, Jack opened the door, dressed in the royal blue pajamas with what Phryne described to herself as adorably wet curls of hair. As she put his arm in a cloth sling, she chuckled saying, “Full marks for getting in and out of the tub with a bum arm and getting dressed but I’m going to need to wrap that shoulder and towel dry that hair before you eat. How do you feel? Mac will be by later in the evening to make sure my nursing was up to snuff.”
Finishing her tasks, she quipped, “I must admit to wanting to muss up your perfectly coiffed hair for some time as I do enjoy your curls.”
“They don’t convey a professional air, Miss Fisher, thus, the pomade. I am feeling a bit better but the shoulder is still an issue. Is that ham, cheese, and mustard pickle?”
“Certainly, what else would I fix for you when you’ve had a day like today? Now, get in bed and I’ll set up the bed table.”
Jack’s forehead lined in confusion as he made his way to the bed. “You fixed this?”
As she placed the bed table over his lap, she rolled her eyes at him. “It’s a simple sandwich, Inspector Robinson! I’ll have you know that I can fix all manner of dishes without poisoning myself or anyone else. Dot and Mr. B were at the church helping with flood relief so I just whipped it up myself.” All Jack could do was shake his head, smile, and start eating.
She sat next to him on the side of the bed as he ate. “While I was downstairs, I called the station and reported the slide, and the effect of the bridge, told them that you had been injured but were safe, mobile, and conscious and that I would have the doctor call in her report after she’d seen you and had her first whiskey.” When Jack’s eyebrow went up and his head tilted, she admitted, “Ok, not completely accurate. Mac might wait to call after eating but definitely before you beat her at draughts the first time.”
That brought on the famous Robinson half-smile and another bite of the food.
“So, I have a question. Do you still feel like you are back in the trenches or do you think you might be back on the boat coming home at this point?”
She saw the wheels of Jack’s mind working – ‘How had she known?’
Answering the unspoken question, she replied, “I have had that glassy look in my eyes more times than I can count, myself. I would have been amazed if the mud and the pain and the thunder hadn’t caused a reaction and brought back some memories.”
“In the past…my reactions caused…difficulties. I learned to try to keep my reactions under wraps,” he said quietly. While he hadn’t spoken Rosie’s name, both understood.
“If someone has never seen the color blue, how do you describe it? It’s not the fault of the person who has never seen it, nor the person who has. Even if you had the words to describe how the trauma and violence of war affects you, why would you want to inflict that on someone who hadn’t been?”
Jack nodded in agreement. They both had walked through hell and understood that forever after, there would be return journeys. He wasn’t surprised that Phryne understood just grateful. Just as he had once helped her chase the shadows and the demons away brought on by Foyle, she was doing the same for him. He reached out taking her hand in his good hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I never tell you enough how lucky I am to have you… in my life, as a partner.”
She squeezed his hand and smirked, “Remember that when I do something you consider completely outrageous…speaking of which, just in case your suit can’t be salvaged, I’m having some new bought...and some ties, and a robe… underwear.”
“Miss Fisher!”
“Even if Mac has you staying in bed for a few days, eventually, unfortunately, you will demand to get dressed as you cannot drive around Melbourne in your pajamas. And the robe, well, you’ll need something when you get out of bed or out of the tub, won’t you? Although, far be it from me to complain if you wanted to stroll around au naturel.”
“That reminds me…”
Phryne smirked, “If me mentioning you walking around nude reminds you of something, I assure you, Jack, I am all ears.”
Rolling his eyes and continuing, he said, “When I was in the shower, when I was undressing, when you were doing a medical check on me, not once did you flirt. You were kind, thoughtful, patient, sweet, but there was none of your usual banter... I mean, normally, you flirt more often than you breath. So…”
She looked down for a second, cursing the fact that the man was so observant even in the midst of a flashback.
“When I realized that you were dealing with a level of shell-shock, I knew that you needed someone to support you in a caring but no-nonsense manner in order to ground you to the here and now. You needed someone to help you as you made your way out of the trenches.”
After having made the straightforward explanation, she decided he was definitely well enough for the flirting to recommence.
“Mentioning how it’s impossible to believe that a detective inspector could stay in such…magnificent shape or commenting on how I’ll be dreaming of mapping out all the wonders of your…perfectly sculpted… chest and abdomen for months, if not years, and suggesting that I should have stayed with you while you were in the bath so I could scrub your back and shampoo those adorable curls, well, that would have been the wrong tack to take. While my plan of care to get you bathed, fed, and in bed may sound somewhat familiar, this time, it was all in the name of bringing you back to full and complete health.”
Jack realized that he’d brought this on himself for asking and was thankful that the covers were where they were, otherwise Phryne would become aware of just how fully back to full and complete health he was.
“Now, why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll wake you either when Mac comes or dinner is ready?”
Jack nodded and scooted down into a prone position as Phryne moved the food tray. Seeing him like this, she could almost imagine what he must have been like as a little boy. In an almost maternal gesture, she pulled the blanket up, swept a curl from his brow, and gently kissed him on the forehead.
“Thank you,” she murmured quietly.
“Why thank me, I should be thanking you again for everything you’ve done.”
“You trusted me when you were at your most vulnerable. You were in pain and part of you was back in France and you felt safe enough to come to me. That means a lot.”
“Almost as much as knowing that I have someone to turn to, when the bombs start to drop.” She felt she could almost drown in his eyes and hoped that very soon that she would.
“We’re partners, Jack, we’re there for each other, good times and bad. We watch each other’s back.” She rolled her eyes and smirked. “And who am I to complain if the job comes with such attractive scenery.”
Jack shook his head and huffed. “Miss Fisher, you are incorrigible.”
As she walked out of the bedroom carrying the tray, she looked over her shoulder and quipped, “You wouldn’t have me any other way. Now, get some sleep.”
Snuggling into the perfume-laced pillow, he had to agree with her – he wouldn’t have her any other way and who was he to complain when the scenery was so attractive.