Wrong Train to Paris Read online

  She breathed steadily to calm herself. And as they continued on toward wherever one goes to purchase a goat, Julia was for once grateful for the quiet as her mind turned over both their accidental embrace and the intensity of her reaction to it.

  Chapter Eleven

  The remainder of the morning passed in a silence that was a different type of uncomfortable. Julia found herself acutely aware of every movement Luc made. Each time he cleared his throat, shifted, even breathed, she was conscious of it. And at times, she hoped his movements would result in a brush against her arm or that his knee might bump hers. The entire side of her body tingled with anticipation of an accidental touch, to the point that when the wagon finally drew to a stop, Julia ached from the longing.

  “You can remain here if you’d like,” Luc said. “I’ll inquire at the farmhouse.”

  Julia’s face flushed at the sound of his voice, and the embarrassment of her reaction made her flush even more. She nodded.

  Luc climbed down and knocked on the door.

  A cloud moved in front of the sun, casting a shadow. A cool breeze blew, and Julia looked up, surprised to see clouds and grateful for a distraction. She needed to pull herself together and stop with these silly thoughts. How had her mind become so addled?

  She closed her eyes and leaned back, letting the cool breeze wash over her. The air smelled fresh, even with the scent of animals.

  A raindrop hit her cheek. Then another.

  Julia turned around on the seat. She leaned precariously over the back of the bench and pulled out the umbrella from beneath. And her coat.

  By the time Luc returned a moment later, the rain was falling steadily.

  “No goats for sale,” he said, climbing up to the bench. “But madame told me where we might find some.”

  Julia moved the umbrella so it covered Luc as well. She held it between them, angling her shoulder so she wasn’t leaning against him, although the small diameter of the umbrella made it nearly impossible for the two not to squeeze together. She had a fleeting thought that this was perhaps Gabi’s intention but pushed it away. Surely not.

  The dairy the woman from the farmhouse directed them to was nearly an hour farther along the road, and when the pair climbed out of the wagon and walked to the farmhouse door, they had to dodge muddy puddles the entire way.

  Luc knocked, and a moment later, a round man with a red nose opened the door. He squinted, making the pronounced wrinkles around his eyes even more pronounced, and eyed them suspiciously. “Bonser?”

  Julia wondered if the elderly man had a speech impediment. She adjusted the handbag on her arm, not wanting to stare and appear rude.

  “Cossí va?” Luc said.

  “Ben.”

  Luc spoke for a long moment, and the man answered. Julia realized they must be speaking a regional Provençal dialect. She listened carefully, picking out a few words, but could not follow the conversation.

  The old man visibly relaxed as they spoke. He glanced at Julia and asked Luc a question Julia didn’t understand.

  Luc’s answer made the man smirk.

  They spoke for a moment longer, until finally the old man nodded. “Monsen, madòna.” He pointed with his hand, palm up, and jerked his head to the side, indicating for the pair to follow him.

  Luc took the umbrella and offered Julia his arm.

  She put her hand into the bend of his elbow, feeling a tingle move through her fingers, and they started down the muddy path after the dairy owner.

  For an elderly man, he walked surprisingly fast.

  “What did he say?” Julia asked Luc in a low voice.

  Luc’s lips twitched. “He said it’s early in the season to buy a goat.”

  Julia suspected he wasn’t telling her the entire truth. “And . . . what else?” She was getting winded from walking so fast.

  “I told him you were determined to have a goat today, and—” He smirked again.

  “Yes?” Julia tugged on his arm.

  “He said he understands how it is. When his wife sets her mind to something, he knows he’ll have no peace until she gets it.”

  Julia huffed. “And naturally, you explained that I don’t simply want a goat on a whim. We need one.” She glanced up and saw that his smirk remained. “And you did tell him I’m not actually your wife.”

  Luc didn’t answer.

  “Luc . . .”

  “I figured I’d let him think what he likes. If it helps us get a goat, then so be it.”

  A tingling spread up the back of Julia’s neck and across her face. “But . . .”

  “He offered his congratulations,” Luc said.

  Julia stopped and folded her arms, but her defiant gesture was short-lived when Luc and the umbrella moved on without her and the rain showered over her scarf and dress. She hurried to catch back up with Luc, grabbing on to his arm. “I don’t think it is the right thing to do, misleading this man like that.”

  He adjusted the umbrella to cover her. “Rural people are . . . traditional,” he said. “Old-fashioned.” His smile remained, but he was no longer teasing. “He may have a different reaction to the pair of us traveling together unchaperoned if he knew the truth.”

  “Oh,” Julia said, the blush she’d fought against all day returning with a vengeance. She hadn’t even considered the impropriety of their journey.

  “So come along, mon plus cher amour.” The tease was back in his voice, but it was gentle, as if asking her to laugh along with him. “Shall we choose a goat?”

  Though it was spoken in jest, the endearment caught her off guard, and she could think of no reply. She kept her eyes on the ground as they walked down the rocky path.

  They reached a paddock filled with goats and joined the farmer beneath the overhanging roof of a small barn. Little goat kids ran about, kicking and jumping between the larger animals. They called out with bleats.

  Julia clapped her hands and laughed at their antics. She couldn’t help it. The baby goats were utterly delightful.

  The farmer spoke to Luc, pointing among the animals, and Julia didn’t even try to understand what they were saying. She was much too captivated by the little goats.

  They kicked hooves that appeared too large for their bodies into the air, sometimes falling over from the sheer effort as they bounded throughout the paddock. One little goat jumped onto the back of another, balancing on what appeared to be the tips of his toes before he was bucked off. He bounded away through the mud, and two others followed.

  The farmer entered the paddock and brought a few of the older goats over to Luc. He tied them to the fence, pointing out various features, then left the paddock to go into the barn for a tin cup. When he returned, he crouched down and reached through the slats of the fence to fill the cup with a bit of milk from one of the goats.

  Luc took a sip and offered the cup to Julia.

  She looked at it, wondering when it had last, if ever, been washed. But she remembered Alice and fought against the urge to wipe off the rim. She took a sip of the warm milk, and they repeated the process with the other goats’ milk.

  “What do you think?” she asked Luc after the fourth sample. She could honestly not tell a difference in the flavor.

  He pointed to a light-brown goat with white spots on her back. “That one has the sweetest milk.”

  Julia nodded and looked closer at the animal. “Is she to be Alice’s goat, then?”

  “The decision is yours,” Luc said.

  She smiled and took the umbrella from Luc, walking to the fence for a closer look at the animal. Julia had no idea what made a good nanny goat, but she wanted to make a responsible decision and look over the animal for any obvious defects. The goat’s hooves and legs were muddy, and she produced a pungent smell that was only strengthened by the rain. The nanny gave a bleat, and her long tongue hung from the side of
her mouth. As goats went, she was perfect.

  “We will take her,” Julia said.

  The men talked again, presumably discussing the price, and Julia returned to stand beneath the barn’s overhang.

  The farmer went back into the paddock and untied the goat, bringing her to the gate. Two of the little kids followed with their delightful little bounces, their back legs moving in different directions than their front.

  The farmer led the goat through the gate, but the animal drew back, fighting against him and bleating loudly. He gave a mighty pull, holding his leg out to stop the little ones from following. When he closed the gate, their bleats sounded like babies’ cries.

  “Wait.” Julia tugged on Luc’s arm as she realized what was happening. “Are they her babies?”

  “Looks like it,” he said.

  “I didn’t realize she is a mother. And they are so small. We can’t separate them.”

  The farmer called out a question.

  Luc stepped out into the rain to explain.

  Julia went to the gate and crouched down, holding the umbrella overhead and patting the crying goats. She wished she could comfort them. “Don’t worry, little ones. I won’t take away your mother.” She joined Luc and the farmer. “We will have to find another goat. One without babies.”

  Luc folded his arms and sighed. “Juliette, if a goat is producing milk, it means she’s given birth.”

  The farmer’s smirk returned as he looked between the two. “Don’t worry, madòna,” he said, speaking in a thick accent. “I take good care of the kids.”

  The mother goat bleated and strained to get to the gate.

  The baby goats cried out for her.

  Julia’s heart ached at the sight. There was only one thing to do. “We will take all of them.” She gave a nod, satisfied that she’d come up with the best solution.

  The farmer looked as if he were holding back a laugh. He looked at Luc as if waiting for him to explain to his confused wife how goat husbandry worked.

  Luc rubbed his forehead. “Juliette, the kids will be cared for. It is usual for her to leave them.”

  “There is nothing usual about growing up without a mother,” Julia said. She’d not meant for her voice to crack. She swallowed. “I can’t do it to them. I won’t.” She crouched back down and patted the wet baby goats.

  Luc was silent, and when Julia glanced up, she saw that he was watching her.

  He rubbed the back of his neck again, and after a long moment, he spoke again to the farmer.

  The elderly man listened, then let out a hearty laugh. He clasped Luc’s shoulder, shaking his head as if in sympathy for the poor newlywed’s plight.

  Julia didn’t imagine she would have been pleased to understand his words.

  Half an hour later, the rain still poured down as they started back along the muddy road toward Rivulet. Julia held the umbrella over herself and Luc, and three goats slid around in the bed of the wagon.

  With every bump or bleat, Julia twisted around on the bench, worried a goat had fallen or gotten free from the ropes and jumped over the side.

  “They’ll settle down in a bit, won’t they?” she asked.

  Luc shrugged. “I’ve never driven an entire goat family through the rain before.”

  “Well, I’m glad we brought them all. Look how happy they are to be together.” She watched over Luc’s shoulder as the babies tried to move around the crowded space, their hooves slipping on the boards. “I do wish they’d just sit down though.”

  She turned back around, settling against the back of the seat. “I didn’t realize both Fleur and Coquette were mothers. What happened to their babies?”

  “Mathieu’s brother, Benoit, is a breeder. Every winter, he brings his billy goat to town. Sometimes he buys, sometimes he sells. Mathieu used to keep a large herd, but now, just Fleur for milk and a few others to manage the weeds.”

  “Why did we not go to Benoit for a goat today?”

  “His farm is too far away. Near Pertuis.”

  Julia nodded, and the conversation died away. She wished the rain would stop. Luc had to maneuver the horse around deep mud puddles, and the ride seemed to go much slower. Her arm was getting tired, so she held the umbrella in the other hand for a time.

  The patter of rain on the canvas overhead had a lulling effect, and Julia’s eyes drifted closed. She jerked them open when the umbrella dropped and rain hit her face. She looked at both time pieces and saw they had been traveling only for two hours. Even with her coat and the umbrella, she was wet and cold. It seemed they were in for an uncomfortable afternoon.

  Hearing a rustling sound, she turned and saw one of the little goats had gotten free. He was probing his nose into their lunch basket.

  “No, that is not for you.” Julia turned around again, knelt on the bench, and leaned over the seat back, trying to push the goat away from the food. “Go back—”

  The wagon went over a bump, and Julia bounced, lost her grip, dropped the umbrella, and plunged forward.

  Luc caught her, saving her from crashing down into the wagon bed, but doing so meant he had to let go of the reins. He pulled her up onto the seat, made certain she was seated properly, and reached down for the reins.

  Before he could grab them, the horse veered on its own to avoid a mud puddle. The wagon followed suit, but the turn was too sharp. The wheels got too close to the side and slipped off the road. Luc pulled the horse back to the center of the track, but the damage had been done. The rear wheel slipped farther down into a muddy ditch, and the wagon jerked to a stop, pulling the horse backward and sending the goats sliding forward.

  Luc gritted his teeth. He flicked the reins, and the horse strained but could not pull the wagon back onto the road. The wheel slid down farther, making the entire vehicle—and all its inhabitants—lean back and to the side.

  Luc jumped down to the road, his boots crunching on the gravel, and walked around the back of the wagon.

  Julia climbed down to join him, holding her hands over her head in a useless attempt to keep the rain off her face. The three goats watched over the side of the wagon bed. “Perhaps we should push,” she suggested.

  Luc glanced at her. He stepped into the mud, frowning when he sank down. He braced his shoulder against the back of the wagon. “When I yell, pull on the horse’s harness. Make sure she walks straight forward, keeping the wheels in line.”

  Julia nodded and tried not to allow her worry to show. She didn’t know the first thing about leading a horse, but she figured it must be very similar to leading a goat. She climbed up out of the ditch and stood in front of the horse, finding it to be larger than she’d remembered now that the two were facing one another and standing so close. Water dripped from the animal’s mane and caught in droplets on her eyelashes. Julia took hold of the harness on either side of the horse’s neck. The leather smelled wet and slipped a bit in her fingers.

  “Allez,” Luc called.

  “Allez, cheval,” Julia said to the horse. She stepped back, pulling with all her strength.

  The horse lowered his head, pushing back on his hooves as he strained. The cart groaned and budged the slightest bit, but it didn’t roll forward.

  A splat sounded, and Luc cursed.

  Julia let go of the harness. She rushed back to the rear of the wagon, stepping gingerly along the edge of the ditch. Luc had slipped and was on his hands and knees in the mud.

  She bent to help him, but he jerked his arm away.

  He pushed himself up to kneel and wiped his dirty hands on his trousers. His face was red, and he looked furious.

  At that moment, the little goat that had gotten loose and invaded the picnic basket jumped down from the wagon and landed on Luc’s shoulder. It balanced for a moment, then bounced away.

  Luc lunged for the goat but missed, and his hands splashed back in
to the mud. He got to his feet, tearing his boots free and stomping out of the ditch. “Juliette, you have brought nothing but bad luck!” He sputtered the words, rainwater splashing off his hat.

  Julia drew back, feeling as if she’d been struck. A rock clogged her throat, and her eyes stung. She slapped her hand over her mouth as a sob pushed its way through. The truth of his statement washed over her, and she rushed away before Luc could see the effect it had.

  She sank down onto a wet rock and buried her face in her arms, sobs fighting free in spite of her efforts to hold them back. Luc was right. She had brought nothing but bad luck since she’d stepped off the train in Igney-Avricourt. She’d avoided the facts, blaming Nicholas or the absent Rivulet stationmaster or even Fleur, but the truth was good intentions were not enough. Her judgment wasn’t to be trusted. She was everything she tried so hard to convince her father that she wasn’t.

  She heard Luc come to stand before her but didn’t lift her head. She wished she could sink through the ground. She was done making excuses. Done thinking she knew what was best for everyone else. Luc didn’t deserve the trouble she’d caused. Nobody did.

  His boots creaked as he squatted down in front of her. “Pardonnez-moi, Juliette. I was frustrated. I shouldn’t have said such a thing.” His voice was low and gentle. “Please forgive me.”

  “But you are right,” she said, her voice coming in gasps. “I’ve made a mess of everything.” She heard a bleat and looked up.

  Luc held the baby goat. He set the animal down, holding on to its rope so it didn’t run away again.

  She tried to smile, but her lip quivered. She shook her head. “You’re right. And my father is right. I always think I know what’s best. I think I can do things myself, but I can’t. That is why he insisted on a chaperone.”

  Luc turned around to sit on the rock beside her. He tugged the goat along with him. “The poor Frau Maven you left asleep on the Orient Express while you got on the wrong train?” He bumped her arm softly with his as if sharing a joke and hoping she’d laugh.