Amour

It took a few seconds to realize I was utterly and completely lost. I stood there, drenched in rainwater while the wind howled at me. My frozen fingers shook as they gripped the map I’d brought with me, rendered useless by the rainwater that had made the ink bleed into something that resembled the way my mascara looked a week ago. I didn’t understand what was wrong with me or what I was doing here a thousand miles from home trying to make it through three weeks on a budget of my last paycheck and four years of high school French. At least I wasn’t stupid enough to start digging into my savings . . . yet.

Or maybe I did understand what was wrong with me, I thought as I tugged the sleeves of my soaked sweater over the drawing in sharpie on my wrist that still hadn’t come off for some reason. I couldn’t stomach thinking about the hands that put it there right now. Not while I had to figure out how to escape the French countryside without going through the menacing woods in front of me.

I folded the map into a square and tucked it away in my bag since I didn’t know if it was biodegradable and tried to recall everything I knew about navigation. Unfortunately, the thunderstorm made it difficult to use any of the usual tricks about the sun or retracing your steps now that the landscape was completely changed. I wasn’t even sure what direction I had come from without the map.

Well, I knew one direction I wasn’t going: forward. I took a few steps back from the dark woods in front of me. If I was lost now, I’d hate to think of what might happen to me in there. Keeping my feet faced in the same direction, I surveyed my surroundings. Rolling hills and grass as far as the eye could see. Rather picturesque if not for the danger of hypothermia I was experiencing. As the chills set in, I lifted a foot in a random direction. I wasn’t keen on the idea, but I figured this would be my best shot if I wanted to survive. I set out in the direction of what looked like a wooden fence in the distance. As I approached it, I paused, resting my hand on it with a sigh of relief. A sign of human life, finally. Still not quite sure what to do, I followed the fence hoping it might bring me around someone’s property where their house was and I might be able to warm up for a minute. As I walked, I suddenly came face to face with a cow. We stared at each other for a moment before she dropped her head down to continue grazing. Nearby, her chocolatey brown mate lingered, watching us with wary, hazelnut eyes. I kept going.

I didn’t come across any houses, but eventually I reached a dirt road and spotted a town in the distance. I sighed with relief and smacked my pockets to make sure I still had my wallet and phone with me, even if I wasn’t bound to get cell service out here. The town turned out to be small and picturesque, like it popped out of Belle’s provincial life. I stumbled into a quiet tavern and sat down near where they had a blazing fire going. One of the staff approached me.

“You okay?” She asked, which I translated in elementary level French. “Did you get caught in the storm?”

I pulled my dripping sweater closer around me. “Yeah” I said through chattering teeth. “Can I . . . rest here?” I asked, hoping the stereotype about the French hating tourists wasn't true.

“Of course,” she said and offered me a blanket which I accepted graciously. Once the feeling returned to my fingers, I rifled through my wallet, studying the remaining euros I had gotten from the airport, trying to determine if I had enough to buy something to eat. While I sat there in front of the fire, I got the feeling someone was watching me. I looked up and spotted a group of three large men eying me from across the room. When they saw me looking at them, one of them whistled.

I looked around for the female waitress from earlier, but she seemed to have disappeared. I snapped my wallet shut and hurried it back into my bag, suddenly feeling like I was warmed up enough. As I started making my way towards the door, one of the men was suddenly in front of me.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked in English as his two buddies appeared on either side of me.

“Yes, actually,” I said, trying to dodge him but he blocked me again.

“Don’t be like that chérie, we want to have some fun with you for a little bit.”

I tried backing up this time, but his friends blocked me and one of them put his hands on my shoulders. I jerked forward and spun around to face him.

“I was just leaving.” He seemed angry for a moment, but then grinned.

“Sure you were, but not until we’re done with you.” He reached toward me again while his friends closed in around me, keeping me from going anywhere.

“Hey!” Shouted a voice from somewhere in the room. The men whipped their heads toward it and I took my opportunity to duck out of the circle they’d formed around me. The speaker was walking toward me and my heart sank. He shot the other men a glare as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from them.

“What the heck are you doing here, Lucilla?” He asked.

“Mathieu? What are you doing here?” I asked back.

“I live here,” he said casually.

“You’re kidding,” I said, studying his face for a joke. “You actually live here?”

“You knew I was from France,” he said, sitting me down at the bar. “Why are you here?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not because of you.” I sighed. “To be honest, I don’t even know. I was lying there in bed two days after you left and I decided I needed to get out of there. So I booked the cheapest flight to France I could find. I didn’t think you’d be here. And look where I ended up.”

He was staring at me. Those hazelnut eyes. He started laughing. “That is the most un-you thing I have ever heard.”

“Yeah well, I guess I didn’t know who I was without you.”

His grin fell and his hands started twitching, tracing drawings on the table like he always used to do. “Lucilla . . .” I started shivering, I’d left the fire too prematurely. “How long were you out there in the storm”

I shrugged, teeth beginning to chatter. “I don’t know.”

He closed his eyes in frustration. “Don’t you know how easy it is to catch hypothermia in the rain?”

“Yes,” I insisted, but he didn’t seem to be listening.

“Come on, I’m taking you home.” He said, standing up and helping me out of my seat.

“I live in Connecticut” I reminded him as he walked me out of the building, shooting a menacing look at the three men still lurking in the corner.

“Not your home silly, my home.” He said, leading me down the street. “Good gravy,” he said as my legs seemed to stop working. “What were you doing out there?”

“I’m fine,” I insisted as my shaking legs conveniently stopped supporting me. I collapsed against Mathieu and he caught me. I felt a different kind of shiver, remembering how often I used to be against him like this.

“For goodness sake Lucilla, you’re not fine.” He tossed one of my arms over his shoulder and the back of my hand brushed against his chocolatey brown hair. Before I could say anything, he scooped up my legs like I was a little kid.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“I told you, taking you home.” He responded.

“This isn’t right,” I mumbled, sinking into his warmth. “We’re not . . .” I didn’t have the energy to finish my sentence.

“You just rest now princess,” He said as I felt myself drifting off to sleep. “We’ll be home soon.” I didn’t really think we needed to go far.