Brioche in the Oven

by Victoria Brownlee

  “And with Serge? Is everything OK?” she asked.

  I wanted to say yes and tell Mum that everything was great, but the truth came spilling out. “And I have no idea where we stand. He told me that we could talk properly when we got back to the farm,” I concluded.

  “Oh,” Mum said.

  “And what’s that meant to mean?”

  “Well, it’s just that now there’s a baby involved . . .” She looked down lovingly at Noah. “You need to fix things quickly. Babies pick up on a lot.”

  Mum was right. I did need to fix things with Serge. We’d been held together in this magical hospital bubble for the past few days, but soon we’d be heading back to the farm and back to our problems.

  Perhaps Noah would be the bridge we needed to help ease the transition. What had felt important to me before was slipping into insignificance as I cared for him. He was, after all, the catalyst for our move to the country, and I felt like Serge and I had both forgotten that to some degree. All things considered, there was a lot riding on his tiny, adorable shoulders.

  Chapter

  30

  DRIVING BACK TO THE LOIRE with Serge and baby Noah, life was looking quite different than it had when we’d moved here last year. Despite Mum and Ray having driven the Citroën back to Chinon so we could hire a sturdier car for baby’s first road trip, the drive was still a little uncomfortable, atmosphere-wise anyway.

  Both of us were quiet. I hesitated to start the discussion about what had happened before Noah’s arrival out of fear of the impending disagreement. It was the first time Serge and I had been alone together without the possibility of interruption from the passing parade of nurses or visitors, and all I wanted to do was sink into his arms and fall asleep.

  I looked back at Noah, so tiny in his car seat, and thought about what Mum had told me about making things right. I launched in.

  “Serge, we should talk properly about what happened before Paris,” I said. As the words escaped my mouth, I breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever was about to unfurl, at least I’d get it over with. Since moving to France, I’d considered myself a girl of action, and often of mis-action, but still, it was better to keep moving forward.

  “Ella, I was furious,” he said.

  I didn’t even know Serge could be furious, let alone that he could be furious with me. This wasn’t the conversation opening I was hoping for. But at least he’d said that he “was furious.” There was some hope that he’d gotten over it now.

  “Then why did you tell Clotilde to show me a good time in Paris?” I asked.

  “I asked her to look after you because I was worried. You’ve never wanted to listen to me when I tried to tell you this, but you cannot expect life to be the same when you are pregnant. There are things you need to be wary of. It is our baby. What if something had happened to you?” he said.

  I felt like I’d let him down.

  “But think of it from my perspective, Serge. It’s our baby, yes, but I’m the one who did all the heavy lifting, literally. Imagine having to be careful of what you eat, and what you drink—or don’t drink—and everything you do. I needed a break from the pressure of that and of being in the country. I guess it was just bad timing.”

  “Ella, I don’t want you to make these decisions without me. We are a duo. We go two by two, remember.”

  Of course, Serge wants to make decisions together, I thought. Wouldn’t I if our roles were reversed? I could acknowledge that I’d been selfish by running off to Paris, but our initial fight wasn’t just about us making decisions together; it was also about me spending time with Chuck, and him rushing to help his ex-wife whenever she called. I couldn’t just gloss over what had initially set us off.

  “And I’m totally on board with us making our decisions together,” I said. “Serge, I adore you.”

  He squeezed my hand.

  I hesitated. We could have easily wound up our discussion here and ended on this sweet moment. Don’t quit now, Ella, I told myself. “But, I need you to be honest with me about Françoise. Is there anything I need to worry about?” I asked.

  “Absolutely nothing, ma belle,” he said quickly.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t mind if she needs your help every now and again. I just want to make sure that she knows where you stand,” I said tentatively. “Serge, you’re a nice guy. I don’t want her taking advantage of that.”

  “She’s already gone back south,” he said, and I couldn’t help letting out another little sigh of relief.

  We were quiet for a moment, the forthcoming discussion about Chuck still hanging over us.

  I, once again, jumped in. “And, going forward, I really hope that I can spend time with Chuck without you rolling your eyes or getting frustrated with me.”

  “I was only frustrated because you seemed to prefer spending time with him,” he said.

  “It’s not that I prefer spending time with him; it’s just sometimes it’s easier to speak with someone without any language barrier,” I said, although as the words came out, I acknowledged that they sounded weak.

  We were both quiet then, and I got lost in thought, realizing that perhaps my friendship with Chuck hadn’t just been about bridging a communication gap. I’d gotten caught up in the excitement of spending time with somebody new. And I was flattered that he wanted to get to know me, despite the pregnancy. He complimented me and showed an interest in my plans. With Chuck, I’d felt like a more exciting version of myself. It was easier to imagine living in a country château and zipping between London and France than to imagine being permanently stuck in a run-down French farmhouse. But while I might have envied Chuck’s lifestyle, I’d never actually wanted the man behind it.

  “And I’m sorry about accepting a loan from him without telling you. That was wrong,” I admitted.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you what you wanted,” he said, which made me feel even worse.

  “So, you understand that Chuck is just a friend. He’s my Clotilde out here. My sounding board.”

  “Ella, I know all this. And I do want you to have friends out here. Maybe I was worried that outside of Paris, you would realize that I was just a simple goat farmer. You ran away from your life in Australia once before, and I was worried you would run away from me.”

  “I ran away from an idiot ex-boyfriend, not Australia. And besides, I can’t exactly up and leave now, Serge. I’ve built my life out here in the country with you. I chose you, and I still choose you. I can’t imagine life without my boys now.”

  A smile appeared on his face.

  “Je t’aime, Ella. Forever,” he said.

  “I love you, too,” I said, tears welling in my eyes.

  I wondered how I could have ever doubted my relationship with Serge. There would be more fights, I was sure of that, but for now, I knew we’d be OK.

  We spoke openly for the remainder of the car ride, except for the little half-hour when I nodded off, and for the other half-hour when we needed to stop to feed and cuddle Noah. We listed things we’d been fretting about separately—the cheese room, sales, renovations—and we worked through them together.

  Heading home to the farm as a family felt strangely normal. At no point during our discussion was the idea of leaving even brought up. We were both fully committed to making things work.

  Mum and Ray were at the farmhouse to welcome us home. They’d arrived a few hours before to tidy up and cook some food. The warming smell of a beef stew had spread around the house, and Mum had taken down the “Welcome, Baby Girl” wall print that she’d insisted on buying. When I saw the empty frame in the nursery, I laughed. In many ways it had been an even greater surprise assuming I was having a girl and finding out it was a boy only after the delivery.

  I settled onto the couch with a cup of tea and shut my eyes, feeling exhausted from the drive. Mum pulled a rug over my knees and took Noah.
r />   “You don’t mind?” I asked.

  She looked at me like I was crazy. “You rest, darling. He’ll let me know if he needs you.”

  It was a relief to just sit, to know that Serge and I were OK. To know that Mum was here and I could let her know if I needed her. I nodded off peacefully.

  Chapter

  31

  FOUR WEEKS LATER, AND OUT of that initial baby bubble, things were still manic. The time since we’d been in the hospital had passed in a blur; but, among the never-ending juggle of feeding, changing, and sleeping, what I remember most is my feeling of love toward Serge. And little Noah, of course.

  Doctor Gerard had chuckled when we’d arrived with our little boy.

  “Oh là là,” he’d said with a sheepish look on his face.

  I wanted to be angry with him for wrongly guessing the sex of our baby, but I was so loved up on hormones that, when he said that baby Noah had to be the most handsome baby boy he’d ever seen, I forgave him for his previous misstep.

  Since the birth, Mum and Ray had been so helpful and had somehow managed to always be around when we needed them, but also to move properly into their new holiday house. Their energy kept Serge and me going as we bumbled through learning how to parent. They, of course, were in their element. Ray in particular, who had never had his own children, took to being a grandfather like Comté took to being aged. He softened every time he held Noah, and I could tell they’d teach each other a lot in life. Mum, too, was smitten. I occasionally had to order her to go to her house just so I could get the baby to myself.

  Billie had arrived in France, as planned, a few days before Noah’s original due date. She’d wanted to make it over in time for the birth, but baby had foiled her plans. And it seemed as though there weren’t enough video chat apps in the world to satisfy her. She was desperate for a newborn snuggle.

  “Where is he?” she’d said when she arrived, looking around frantically, after giving me the briefest hug. Mum had picked her up at the train station and dropped her off at our house, along with a box of groceries and some soup she’d whipped up in her spare time.

  “Sleeping. You’ll have to settle for me until he wakes up,” I told her, pulling her in for a proper hug.

  I instructed Serge to bring Noah to the cheese room when he woke up, and I took Billie down for a flat white.

  We sat on the couches overlooking Ray’s increasingly beautiful hedge. It was a sunny day, and it felt nice to get out of the house.

  Marie had turned out to be quite the expert café manager, so much so that she made me wonder if I should even come back to work. With her watchful eye and ever-competent hand, she brought a very homely feel to the cheese room and had started moving a good amount of cheese thanks to her local connections.

  She also managed to get the French locals drinking lattes, and word of her sweet tarts—and her goat-cheese cheesecake—had spread. She got the café’s vision, and added her French flair. Serge was thrilled, I was thrilled, and, finally, the cheese room was evolving as I’d hoped.

  As we sipped our Melbourne-quality coffees, I relayed Noah’s birth story to Billie. Then I told her about Serge’s and my fight, and its resolution, and how things had been since we’d returned home.

  “So, life’s pretty good in country France, then?” she asked.

  “Actually, it is,” I said. “I was bored when we first got here, but now I couldn’t be less so. There’s so much to do, and so much I still want to do. I really think we can build up the cheese room to become a serious destination. And Serge’s goat cheese is actually really good now.”

  “It wasn’t good before?” Billie asked, sounding as confused as I had when I’d heard that Serge had made average cheese.

  “I don’t know what happened to the first few batches,” I said. “I guess Serge had trouble finding his feet.”

  We were interrupted by the man himself, bringing in Noah.

  Billie gooed and gaahed, as promised, and fell in love with him, as it seemed that everyone I loved did.

  Marie joined us briefly to let me know that she was finishing up for the day. She handed me the keys and after a quick hug with Noah, who was being passed around like a hot potato, headed off.

  Serge, Billie, and I fell into a baby stupor, only to be interrupted by Chuck. I hadn’t seen him since the train ride to Paris. I looked immediately to Serge to see how he’d react to his appearance here. Everybody remained still as seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. Chuck, perhaps sensing the weird vibes, hung by the door as though waiting to be invited in.

  Serge stood up and went over to greet him. The men spoke quietly, seemed to do some kind of mutual nod, and then shook hands. They both walked over to the couches where we were sitting, and Serge slapped Chuck on the back. “I’ll leave you to catch up,” he said, heading into the kitchen to pretend to be busy. I smiled at Serge. This interaction was a step in the right direction.

  “Bravo, Ella,” Chuck said, leaning over to look at Noah. “He’s charming.”

  We sat transfixed, gazing at the baby, until Billie nudged me in the ribs.

  “Oh, sorry, Chuck, this is Billie, my best friend from Australia.”

  Chuck finally took his eyes off the baby and extended his hand to Billie. And then something odd happened. Chuck did a double take. If I hadn’t known it was spontaneous, I would have thought it had been staged.

  “What a pleasure to meet such a good friend of Ella’s,” he said, smiling. It was the first time I’d ever seen him look at another woman with what could only be described as desire in his eyes.

  “The feeling’s mutual,” Billie replied.

  We sat and chatted until Serge came over and said he needed me in the kitchen. I left Noah sleeping in Billie’s arms and went to join him.

  “And what’s going on there?” Serge asked quickly.

  “There’s definitely some tension in the air, isn’t there? I’m glad I wasn’t imagining it,” I replied.

  “He hasn’t taken his eyes off her,” Serge agreed.

  “Have you been spying?” I asked him. He looked at me like he was worried we were about to start another fight, so I gave him a cheeky grin and said, “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off them either. Do you think it could be love at first sight?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “As long as he’s not looking at you like that I don’t mind whom he falls in love with. Do you think Billie can handle him?”

  “Do you think he can handle Billie?” I retorted.

  I grabbed Noah, and we left Chuck and Billie on the couch in the café getting to know each other. As we walked back to the house, I thought about how lives often ended up entwined when you least expected it. Perhaps now Chuck would reconsider his plan to avoid falling in love while he waited for Natalia. I wondered if I had, in some small way, helped him get over the idea of her.

  “Well, I’m smitten,” Billie said when she eventually made it back to the house. She’d only been in the French countryside for a few hours and had already found a love interest.

  “I thought you might be,” I said, laughing.

  “Well, you didn’t tell me he was so handsome,” Billie replied.

  “I don’t think he’s that handsome,” I said in return. “Especially not compared to Serge.”

  “Different strokes, I guess,” she said with a giggle.

  “Are you OK? Need a cold shower, perhaps?” I suggested. It was rare to see Billie get like this over a guy. Normally she was so matter-of-fact.

  “Don’t be dramatic, Ella. It’s just that he’s so different from the men I’ve been dating back in Australia. So interesting.”

  “Well, don’t go messing with my friendship. Although I should probably say thank you for helping to finally get Serge off my back about Chuck’s intentions.”

  “I’m here to help,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Now tell me more about his château.”

  I tried to encourage her not
to go getting any grandiose ideas when it came to Chuck’s castle, but she’d stopped listening, seemingly already lost in imagining her fairy-tale life in the French countryside. I pictured her moving to France but quickly pushed the image from my head before I, too, got carried away. Best not to get ahead of yourself, Ella, I told myself. Regardless of my own sage advice, the prospect was thrilling.

  “Would you consider living in France?” I asked her.

  “You know what? Until now, I’ve always thought I’d need to be in Melbourne for my work, but perhaps I could do more of it living elsewhere. I’ve got a good network set up and could easily keep things running from here,” she said, and then rushed to add, “If I ever needed to.”

  “So, you have already considered it.”

  She looked at me sheepishly. “Maybe. But only briefly while chatting to Chuck. But back to you—have we lost you forever to France?” she asked.

  “I have no idea. I didn’t think I would be here forever, but earlier in the year when I was talking to Serge, he said he had no intention of leaving France.”

  “And you’re OK with that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to wait and see how things go. There are a surprising number of elements in my life that could go horribly wrong.”

  “But can you imagine living here forever?”

  I’d thought about this a lot since Noah had arrived, trying to figure out what his life would look like if we stayed in France. Would he go to school here? Would French or English be his native language? Would he grow up scared of spiders and snakes?

  “Perhaps not forever,” I said.

  After a moment’s reflection, she said, “Well, France or Australia, you’re only a couple of flights away.”

  “You mean twenty-four hours of flying with a baby in tow?”

  “That’s another way of phrasing it, yes.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be going back for a while,” I admitted. “Maybe in a year or two. But with Mum and Ray here for six months, and you potentially moving in with Chuck,” I said with a wink, “I might not need to ever go back.”