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Chapter 2: Strangers in Time
The Provencal sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, casting a rosy glow over the sprawling lavender fields. As Abigail watched the man draw closer, she fought the rising tide of panic. She was a woman out of time, literally. She looked down at her modern attire and bit her lip.
The stranger came into view, and Abigail got her first clear look at him. He was a handsome man, dressed in clothing clearly belonging to the 19th century. His sun-tanned face was rugged yet had a touch of gentleness. His hair was dark, and his eyes were a mesmerizing shade of blue that mirrored the skies above. The artist's tools slung over his shoulder hinted at a life immersed in art and creativity. This man was the living embodiment of all the romantic stories that she had read about this era, but never dreamt of encountering.As he neared, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Abigail. He halted, a few steps away from her, looking puzzled. He removed his beret, revealing tousled locks of hair, and offered her a polite, "Bonjour, Mademoiselle."Abigail, despite her escalating worry, couldn't help but be charmed by his polite demeanor and the warm timbre of his voice. She returned his greeting and introduced herself. The man introduced himself as Vincent, an artist from a nearby village. The innocence in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice soothed her anxiety, and she decided to trust him.She followed Vincent to his modest farmhouse, nestled at the edge of the lavender fields. It was a humble abode with a charm that was starkly different from the skyscrapers of New York but equally captivating.Vincent, noticing her foreign attire and subtle disorientation, assumed she was a traveller who had lost her way. As a perfect gentleman, he offered her his hospitality. His home was simple, the walls adorned with beautiful paintings, and the atmosphere filled with the scent of dried lavender and paint. His world was so vastly different from hers, yet there was an inexplicable comfort that Abigail found in the tranquillity of his home and his kind demeanor.That night, as Abigail lay in the guest room, staring at the wooden beams of the rustic roof, her mind whirled with thoughts. She thought about her life in New York, her family, her art restoration project, everything that defined her existence. And then she thought about Vincent and his world - a world she had inadvertently stepped into.She didn't know what the future held, or if she could ever go back to her own time. She was a stranger in this world, just as Vincent was a stranger to her. Yet, they were now inexplicably linked by the threads of time, and this was only the beginning of their journey together.Related chapters
The Time of Lavender Chapter 3: The Morning After
The Provencal sun shone brightly through the curtains, stirring Abigail from her troubled sleep. She awoke, the events of the previous day flooding back into her consciousness. The realization that she was truly stranded in the 19th century left her feeling disoriented. Taking a deep breath, she decided to face the day, uncertain of what it held for her.Venturing out of the quaint guest room, she was drawn towards the smell of freshly baked bread and simmering stew. The scent was warm, welcoming and far different from her usual city breakfast of instant coffee and toast.In the kitchen, she found Vincent, the man from a time far removed from hers, cooking over a hearth. He had exchanged his artist's smock for a simple shirt and trousers. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, and his hair was disheveled, a few dark strands falling into his clear blue eyes."Bonjour, Mademoiselle Abigail," he greeted her, turning with a soft smile. The sight of his easy d
The Time of Lavender Chapter 4: A Day in Lavender
Abigail was gently stirred from her sleep by the peaceful cooing of mourning doves, a refreshing divergence from the shrill ring of her cellphone alarm. With sleep-softened eyes, she watched the soft light filter through the delicate lace of the curtains, painting a warm pattern on the wood floors. This stillness, a stark deviation from the pre-dawn rush of her city life, felt alien yet soothing.As she descended the worn-out wooden staircase, the aromatic perfume of brewing coffee enveloped her senses. In the kitchen, Vincent stood in a soft pool of morning sunlight pouring in from the window, his silhouette defined against the glow. The soft hum of an unfamiliar tune danced on his lips, its melody seeping into the room's morning calm."Good morning, Vincent," she greeted, and he responded with a radiant smile, presenting her with a fresh cup of coffee. The taste was rich, the warmth permeating through her senses. The coffee was homemade, far removed from the processed capsules she w
The Time of Lavender Chapter 5: A Symphony in Purple
The next morning, Abigail found herself awakening before the call of the roosters, a strange pattern she seemed to be embracing in this unfamiliar era. The cobalt pre-dawn sky held a stillness that the city never allowed, a tranquility that whispered the promise of a new day. Clad in her borrowed nightgown, Abigail quietly descended the staircase, tiptoeing through the quiet house. She made her way to the porch, to drink in the sight of the vast lavender field under the mystical morning hue. The sight was akin to a dream, a violet ocean set under the canvas of the slowly brightening sky. As Abigail sank into the porch swing, the wooden floorboards creaked gently, echoing the whispers of centuries past. The swing swayed rhythmically, its cadence a soothing melody against the background hum of awakening nature. A soft rustle signaled Vincent's arrival, his disheveled hair and sleepy eyes a testament to the early hour. "You're up early," he remarked, his voice a hushed tone, careful n
The Time of Lavender Chapter 6: Music of the Past
The days began to blend into each other, each one a new verse in the poetic simplicity that was Abigail's life now. The sun rose, painted the lavender fields in hues of gold, and then set, bathing the world in the cool kiss of twilight. Between these endless cycles of day and night, Abigail found herself growing more accustomed to the unfamiliar rhythm of this quaint life.It was a simple life, yet it was in this simplicity that Abigail found a certain profundity. The silence of the mornings spent on the porch swing, the tranquility of the afternoons in the lavender fields, the serenity of the evenings under the vibrant sunset skies - it was all a symphony of quiet moments that slowly pieced together to form the melody of her new life.One such afternoon, after a morning of work in the fields, Abigail returned to the house to find Vincent seated in the parlor. He was strumming a lute, a soft melody flowing from his fingers like a gentle stream, filling the room with a comforting tranq
The Time of Lavender Chapter 7: Sketches and Shared Silence
The pattern of the days began to establish itself, familiar yet filled with novelties. Mornings were reserved for labor, with Vincent and Abigail working side by side in the lavender fields. The afternoons were calmer, dedicated to leisure, discovery, and shared experiences. Abigail learned more about Vincent’s art, his love for music, his connection with the land, and Vincent learned about Abigail’s fascination with the new, her determination to understand this past world, her love for the unexplored.One afternoon, under the canopy of an old, wise oak tree, they found themselves sitting on a blanket with a picnic spread out before them. It was a typical Provencal lunch, with fresh baguettes, local cheese, a selection of charcuterie, and a bottle of wine Vincent had fetched from the cellar. The food was simple yet delicious, the flavors a symphony that danced on Abigail’s tongue, awakening her senses to new gastronomic experiences.As they savored their lunch, the sun playing peek-a-
The Time of Lavender Chapter 8: A Fête to Remember
The arrival of summer in Provence was a symphony of sensory delight, especially with the lavender in full bloom, dressing the fields in a royal hue. It was this season of beauty that brought the villagers together for an annual celebration—the 'Fête de la Lavande'—a grand festival dedicated to the lavender harvest. One morning, as the sun rose, casting its warm golden glow over the sleepy chateau, Vincent came to Abigail with the news of the festival. The announcement seemed to break the monotony of their days, infusing a new sense of anticipation and excitement into their peaceful existence. The 'Fête de la Lavande' wasn't just any celebration—it was a vibrant display of the rich culture and traditions of Provence, and Abigail was eager to experience it.The days leading up to the festival were busy, yet filled with a distinct joy. The entire village was in a flurry of preparations. The air was heavy with anticipation, the villagers working tirelessly, decorating the streets with fl
The Time of Lavender Chapter 9: Artistic Endeavours
After the vibrancy and excitement of the 'Fête de la Lavande', life at the chateau resumed its usual rhythm, albeit with a notable change. The festival had opened a new door for Abigail, not just into the culture and life of Provence, but also within her own heart. She realized the beauty and simplicity of this era was slowly weaving itself into her soul, its enchantment impossible to resist. The mundane routines no longer felt monotonous. Instead, every day was a new discovery, a chance to learn, to immerse, and to grow.One morning, Vincent proposed the idea of painting a portrait of Abigail. "It would be a shame," he said with a teasing smile, "to not capture your spirit on canvas while the lavender is still in bloom." He suggested setting up the easel outdoors, in the heart of the lavender fields that had won Abigail's heart.In the days that followed, they spent hours out in the lavender fields, basking in the soft warmth of the Provençal sun. Vincent would paint while Abigail sa
The Time of Lavender Chapter 10: The Unveiling
The day arrived to unveil Abigail's portrait to the rest of the household. Vincent had kept his work of art shrouded in secrecy, ensuring that the canvas was always covered whenever they weren't in the lavender field. There was an air of mystery and excitement surrounding the event, the staff eager to witness the masterpiece that had kept their master so engrossed.They gathered in the grand hall, a room that Vincent rarely used except for special occasions. The tall, arched windows let in a flood of natural light, the stone walls adorned with tapestries and paintings from Vincent's family lineage. In the center of the room, on a finely carved wooden easel, stood the covered portrait, its presence dominating the room.Vincent and Abigail entered the room together. His hand gently rested at the small of her back, a quiet support that filled her with confidence. He was dressed in his formal attire, looking every bit the nobleman he was. Abigail, dressed in the same lavender gown she wor
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