Chapter 15
The rejuvenating zing of lavender spiced the night breeze. Fingering the small bunch of lavenders she had been presented with when she first arrived, her whole body seemed to loosen—the tension in her muscle and the dull grinding pain that had resulted from the long hours of traveling all dissolved into the smooth darkness of the night.
Sébastien looked at her thoughtfully. The flowers were reminiscent of the mother he had known so long before, when he was still so small. "My mother loved lavender too," he murmured, without meaning to.
"Really? Then you should take her here, the air is practically perfumed with it!"
"Yes, she would like it very much, don't you think?"
"Of course she would. The weather tonight is truly heavenly. I shall miss it when I return home. Is she indoors? I'll go along with you, and we'll bring her out here!"
Chuckling softly, with a note of melancholy sorrow, he mused, "No, she's not indoors. She has left, for many years now—both my parents have—since I was five."
Looking up abruptly, she whispered softly the only word she knew to say, "Oh. I'm sorry." Then, truly wishing to comfort him, stretched out her hands and placed them on his forearm.
"Non, I should get over it. It been so many years, and-"
"No. Sébastien, you can and should let it out when you have to. You may not feel acquainted enough to tell it all to me, but you should know that if you do, I'm all ears. Though considering I shall be leaving in less than a fortnight, I should think it's a good chance for you to share it. If you have no desire to, however, I understand perfectly."
A brief pause lingered, where the lap-lap of the waves bristled in the singing of a lone nightingale. With a deep breath, he trembled, his voice thick, "I was five. The night was cold and wet. We were wealthy, then, they dressed me in a suit and the carriage brought us to an auction…