Page 34 of Wrong Train to Paris

“Julia, please,” Julia said. She directed her words to Élise and her mother, hoping to set the little girl at ease.

“And call me Sylvie,” the woman said. She patted her daughter on the head. “Élise? Come, mon amour, don’t be shy.”

Élise poked out from behind her mother’s skirts. “Cinq.” She held up five chubby fingers.

“Quite a young lady,” Julia said. Adrien squirmed, and she bounced him on her hip. “And this baby here.” Julia pointed to a doll in a tiny cradle by the sofa. “Is she yours?”

“Oui.” Élise took a few hesitant steps closer. “Elle s’appelle Belle.”

Julia squatted down to Élise’s height, and then, feeling as if the baby’s weight might cause her to lose her balance, she knelt and held Adrien in her lap.

Élise knelt beside her, holding Belle. She rocked the doll carefully and smoothed out its dress, then straightened the doll’s pillow in the cradle.

Julia could see right away that she was a deliberate little girl with a serious mind. She smiled, recognizing aspects of herself in Élise’s personality.

The smell of oranges and spices mixed with the hot wine filled the farmhouse, and a moment later, Sylvie brought her a mug. “This should warm you.” She lifted the baby, kissing his cheeks. “Come along, little one. Time to sleep.”

Julia stood, brushing off her skirts, and sat in a chair. It seemed as if the young mother was always moving from one task to the next. Julia wondered if she ever got the chance to sit in the middle of the afternoon and enjoy a mug of vin chaud. Probably not.

Sylvie took the baby into a bedroom, and while she was gone, Julia sipped the hot drink and watched Élise.

The young girl pretended to feed her doll from a toy bottle. She rocked Belle, humming quietly, and then set her in the little cradle, laying a blanket carefully over the stuffed body.

Julia smiled, feeling extremely content watching the girl. The home was tidy and pleasant. Her insides warmed with the hot drink. She only ever had vin chaud at Christmastime, and it was a delightful treat. She felt sleepy.

Sylvie came from the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. “At last.” She gave an exaggerated sigh and smiled. “Now, a moment for maman.” She poured herself a mug of the warm drink and joined Julia, resting back into the sofa.

Élise climbed up beside her, laying her head down on her mother’s lap.

Sylvie ran her fingers over the little girl’s hair. “Such blessings, these little ones. But they do leave a mother tired some days.” She took a sip and looked at Julia over the rim of her mug. “You and your husband hope to have children soon?”

“Oh.” Julia blinked, sitting straighter and clearing her throat. The question was so unexpected, and she had no idea how to answer.

Sylvie laughed. “By your blush, I can see you are still newly wed, non? I should have known based on the way monsieur looked at you.”

“How he looked at me?” Julia asked, her voice sounding creaky. She could tell the blush wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Eh, oui.” Sylvie winked. “Gentle eyes, adoring glances, the close way he watched you. He was so worried to leave you behind.” She sighed and laughed again. “The look of a man newly in love.”

Julia thought perhaps the woman had drunk too much wine. She tried to calm the shaking Sylvie’s words caused and, in the end, leaned forward to set down her mug, lest she spill. “And your husband does not... ?” She figured if Sylvie could make so personal an inquiry to someone she’d just met, Julia would do the same. Besides, a part of her really wished to hear more about how Luc had looked at her.

“Oh, of course. Pierre and I, we love one another very much. But in the beginning, it is different. So much desire, the longing. You do not want to leave one another’s sight. And when you are apart, you ache for each other.” She put a hand on her heart. “Très romantique.”

“Oh my.” Julia put a hand to her cheek. She didn’t think it was possible to blush any deeper, but she was entirely wrong.

Élise raised her head and looked between the women with her nose wrinkled as if disgusted by the entire conversation.

Sylvie laughed, kissing her daughter’s nose. “You will see one day, ma chérie, when you fall in love yourself.”

Élise’s lip curled, and she looked as if that was the last thing she intended to do.

Julia’s hands had stopped shaking, but her insides had not. Sylvie of course had a misconception about the relationship between herself and Luc. But still, could what she said be true? Could Luc Paquet love her? The thought set off a reaction inside her that was both confusing and terrifying. And, if she were honest, hopeful.

But of course Luc didn’t love her. He didn’t even like her. She had been nothing but trouble to him from the moment she arrived in Rivulet. He’d told her only a few hours earlier that she’d brought him nothing but bad luck. And...

But what if it were true?

Her heart felt as if it melted, and she smiled, looking toward the window.

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