Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine (30 page)

“
I mean, look at these arms, Viv!
”
Nate said, reaching up and squeezing Johnny
’
s muscular arm.
“
Like tree trunks!
He
’
s fine now
. D
on
’
t go gettin
’
all upset like ya do.
You know Willy and me can
’
t stand to see ya upset.
”

“
I
’
m fine,
”
Vivianna said, brushing tears from her cheeks.
“
I-I just need some fresh air.
”
Standing, she fled
,
visions of lice the size of plump wheat kernels gnawing at her mind.

“
Fresh air?
”
she heard Willy ask.
“
We
’
re outside, ain
’
t we?
I swear…women!
”

“
Vivianna!
”
she heard Johnny call after her.
“
Vivianna!
Wait!
”

But she wouldn
’
t wait.
The tears were streaming over her cheeks now
,
and she was humiliated—humiliated at having burst into tears in front of a man
,
a man who had endured so much and probably never shed a single tear for himself.

“
Oh, come on now, Vivianna,
”
Johnny rather growled at her heels.
“
I
’
m sorry.
”

Still, she couldn
’
t let him see her weakness.
Justin, Caleb
,
and Johnny were soldiers—soldiers returned weathered and worn
. T
hey needed strength in women
,
not weakness.

She was nearly back to the house—just near the arbor.
Quickly, she slipped beneath the honeysuckle vine. Perhaps Johnny was far enough behind her not to see exactly which path she
’
d taken.

“
Vivi,
”
he said, entering a moment later, however.
“
I
’
m…I
’
m sorry.
I didn
’
t realize it would upset ya so to hear
—”

“
To hear how tortured y
’
all were, Johnny?
”
she asked
,
spinning around to face him.
“
Of course it upsets me!
How wouldn
’
t it?
What kind of woman would I be if I enjoyed tales of torture and death?
”
She grimaced
.
“
Lice races, Johnny?
Lice races?
”

“
Louse races…would be the correct way of sayin
’
it…I suppose.
”
He smiled at her
,
an attempt to lighten her heart.
But Vivianna wasn
’
t ready to smile
. S
he still had imaginary lice chewing at her own flesh.

“
It
’
s not funny, Johnny,
”
she said, angrily brushing the tears from her cheeks.

“
I know.
I
’
m sorry,
”
he said.

Vivianna reached out, running her hand over the scars along Johnny
’
s arm—marked in one way or the other by
Andersonville
’
s graybacks.
“
It
’
s a terrible story,
”
she whispered.

“
I know it,
”
he said.
“
But would ya rather the folks to come after us forget what this country endured for freedom?
If we don
’
t tell the stories, Vivianna…people will forget. Maybe not us…maybe not those of us who lived it
. B
ut those to come will.
Don
’
t you see that?
”

Vivianna nodded and caressed his scarred arm again.
“
Yes,
”
she whispered.
“
They
’
ll forget.
How will they even own somethin
’
to forget…if you don
’
t tell them?
”

“
And anyway
,
I
’
m fine now.
”
Johnny looked at the scars on his arm—fisted his hand
,
causing the muscles in his upper arm to harden.
“
I don
’
t know if I
’
d say it
’
s a tree trunk,
”
he chuckled,
“
but it
’
s a start.
”

Vivianna felt his muscle tense under her hand—noted that his arms were indeed profoundly muscular.
In fact, she unconsciously let her hand travel up over his shoulder—down over his chest.
Yes
,
his body was healthier—larger—indeed very muscular.
It was a world of difference from what it had been when he and Justin had first arrived home.

How could she remain angry with him
,
after all he
’
d been through?
Furthermore, he was right
. T
he war could not be forgotten
;
it should not be.
Certainly it could not be lingered upon
,
but history most assuredly needed to be remembered
,
even if it w
ere
only by way of a soldier telling stories to young boys.

“
It is important
. Y
ou
’
re right.
They
’
re young
,
and they well might forget…if they
’
re not told.
Thank ya for tellin
’
your stories to Nate and Willy,
”
Vivianna said
,
still caressing the breadth of his chest with one hand.
She gazed up into the dark brown of his eyes.
“
And thank you for everything else, Johnny…for stayin
’
on to help us…for bringin
’
Justin home to us.
”

Something very deep
,
very strong
,
inside Vivianna was stirring.
Not simply stirring—roaring!
This man had done so much to preserve her hope of happiness
,
whether or not he owned a full understanding of it.
How could she ever repay him?
There was nothing she could offer a battered soldier—a strong, capable man.

She remembered then the first day Johnny and Justin had returned—remembered putting Johnny to bed
,
thinking he might never wake up again.
She
’
d kissed him that day—kissed him in wanting to offer her thanks—in wanting to make certain the man who had saved her lover did not die without having felt one last act of tenderness.

Her attention was drawn to Johnny
’
s lips.
She wondered how long it had been since he
’
d felt the soft press of a kiss to them—a real kiss
,
not the kind she
’
d given him when she feared he would pass away during the night
but a kiss meant to bring him pleasure.
There could be no harm in offering him her thanks once more—no harm in kissing him so very lightly in showing her gratitude.
Could there?

Vivianna pressed her palms to the firm warmth of his broad chest.
Raising herself on the tips of her toes, she gently pressed her lips to Johnny Tabor
’
s.
Instantly, the sense of the soft, intimate touch ignited an unfamiliar and blissful delight in her.
For a moment, as her lips lingered in pressing his—as she sensed his pressing hers in return—Vivianna was breathless!
Such a wave of goose pimples broke over her arms and legs that she quivered with unexpected pleasure
.

Thoroughly unsettled by the unfamiliar and intense sensations threatening to overwhelm her, Vivianna ended the affectionate exchange she
’
d instigated.
She drew away from Johnny
,
feeling shy and knowing it was her cheeks that were now rosy with blushing.
Tentatively she looked up—gazed into the smoldering depths of his dark eyes.
He was so handsome
,
this soldier boy from
Texas
,
and she could not help but smile at him
.
His hair was rather tousled
,
his nose quite perfectly sculpted.
His jaw and chin were squared
,
and his lips—his perfect
lips—
held her attention
,
caused moisture to flood her mouth for the want of kissing him again!

Though she knew she should turn
,
that she should leave him and seek out some task to distract her from thinking on his handsome countenance
,
Vivianna did not move.
Rather she stood quite still before him
. E
ven when his strong hands reached out to cradle her face, she did not move.

It was then that Johnny Tabor kissed Vivianna.
It was then that Vivianna allowed him to kiss her—even returned his tender, careful kiss.
After all, didn
’
t the man who saved Justin
’
s life—the man who brought Justin home even for his own ill health and misery—didn
’
t such a man deserve at least this small allowance
,
one kiss from a grateful young woman?

Johnny
’
s hands were strong
,
rough
,
and callused from hard labor
yet careful and protective all the same.
The feel of them against her face heated her flesh
and
caused a sense of safety to rush through her—a sense she had not felt since long before the war.
His kiss was careful too—overwhelming to Vivianna
’
s mind and body, it was true—but careful.
He pressed their kiss
,
blending the light moisture of their lips.
Vivianna could scarcely remain standing
.
She felt weak
,
as if she burned
,
as if her entire body w
ere
aflame!
Wild, unfamiliar, yet magnificent thoughts bounded through her mind—thoughts of what rapture she would know bound in Johnny Tabor
’
s arms
,
of how wonderful the touch of his smooth skin felt beneath her palms
.
She wanted more
;
she wanted to kiss him more thoroughly somehow!
In the next moment, as if he
’
d heard her thoughts, Vivianna sighed as Johnny
’
s hands found her shoulders—slowly slid down her arms
,
caressing them—coming to rest at her waist.
She felt his powerful hands tighten at her middle—trembled as his mouth began to coax her lips to parting.

The fragrant scent of the honeysuckle vine sweetened the breeze suddenly, and Viv
i
anna gasped.
Stepping back from Johnny, she slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt and let her fingers caress the pages of Justin
’
s letter for a moment.

“
I
’
m sorry, Vivi,
”
Johnny apologized at once.
“
Forgive me.
”