bubbly person A x stern person B ship
10k on 13/7/2019!! ♡♡♡
Sara Atkins just wants to start anew. No Noah anymore. No food technology. No worries about love. She just needs a breeze of fresh air.
An opportunity presents itself when Sara finds out a...
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Marthe led me to the house with the red paint and red fence, which had flowers surrounding it. She pointed to the left towards the vineyards. "Those are mine. Soon the harvest comes. A lot of work goes into this." To the right, she pointed out another field. "This is where I grow out my lavender. I never sell it just as lavender, I make oils out of them, soap and such."
The stone way crunched underneath our feet until we reached the door. A welcome mat was spread out before the door and the front portico had two rocking chairs as well as a table between it. Both were made out wood and had red pillows on them. An ashtray and a newspaper were on the small round wooden table.
Vines adorned the front fence of the house and even spread out slightly up the stairs which led to the entrance.
Marthe unlocked the door and let me, Marie and Gerard enter. Jacques came later with our suitcases and disappeared again.
I was instantly awe-struck. Everything was made out of wood, like an old farmer's home. Dark wooden floors, wooden walls and a wooden ceiling as well. The house was kept neutral with pops of colours as far as I could tell.
In front of me was a long corridor with a room on each side. Straight ahead was a staircase which led up and down. To my right the wall was adorned with many, many pictures and a dresser in the middle of the corridor. It also smelled of lemon pie and I took a deep breath to cherish the scent, feeling my shoulders relax slightly.
I imagined myself being Michael, returning home as a kid, putting down his backpack at the entrance and yelling 'I'm home!', into the farmer's house. I imagined Marthe poking her head out from one of the rooms to greet him back, as well as Victor's stern face appearing alongside her.
"He would always throw his bag by the coat hanger in the corner and march straight into the kitchen to greet me", Marthe recalled with fond eyes, as if she had read my thoughts, then she showed me the pictures on the wall.
A picture of his whole family. A picture of him as a child. A picture of him wearing a suit. A picture with him, Leon, Rebecca, their children, Marthe, Victor, Marie and Gerard, all smiling. I scanned the pictures intently.
As a child he was as stunning as he was now. Round squishy cheeks, innocent eyes, a beaming smile, one corner higher than the other, arms crossed. Just like now when he smiled, only that the wrinkles were missing. "Picture day in school", Marthe pointed out. "He was 10 by that age."
We moved to the next picture. Him in a suit, at around my age. "First big deal with a major company", Marthe elaborated. "Victor was so proud he couldn't stop smiling!" Younger and you could tell. Same hard expression, but it looked younger - I couldn't put it into words - was it the wrinkles? Was it the smile? Was it his eyes? His hair? The thinner beard?
