The Fragrance of Her Name (17 page)

For near to an hour Brant sat listening or conversing with the two young ladies. It was the most entertainment he’d had for months. But, he was somewhat relieved when Sean arrived and found him being verbally accosted by the two young females.

“
For Pete’s sake, Lauryn!” Sean chuckled, upon entering the room. “What are you tryin’ to do? Send Brant to the asylum? Y’all will drive him crazy.”

“
Hush, Sean!” Penny scolded. “Mr. Masterson has adored bein’ here with us. Haven’t you, Mr. Masterson?”

“
Oh, of course,” Brant agreed with a smile.

“
These girls will turn you soft, boy,” Sean argued. “You come along with me. We’ll have us some manly conversation.” Brant chuckled as he stood and found Sean’s shoulder. Indeed, he realized now, that he should never have assumed that it had been Sean who had led him to Lauryn earlier. Sean was much taller, his voice not as deep.

“
Come along, Brant,” Sean insisted. “We’ll leave these to hens to their peckin’.”

“
Hush your mouth, Sean,” Lauryn said. But the girls went back to their giggling and happy conversation. Brant paused in wanting to leave them. He knew that once he was gone, Penny would be popping out questions about him to Lauryn at an even more amazing pace. But, what else could he do?

Sean led Brant to the kitchen and to the table. “You have a seat. I’ll dig us up somethin’ to eat,” he said.

“
Oh, I’ve yet to eat something here that tasted like it was dug up,” Brant replied.

“
I hear you there, Brant.” Sean looked in the icebox and found some smoked turkey. “Had my fill of eatin’ horse manure when I was over there, too.”

“
So, it was the flu that sent you home?” Brant asked.

“
Nearly died of it. Don’t know how I didn’t. So many boys did.” Sean placed the turkey on the table and began slicing bread. “Came home to watch Daddy pass away from it. I felt guilty over that. But then Junie was born and I realized…it was good that I made it.”

“
Are you past it?” Brant asked. “The war, I mean. Being there?”

Sean looked at the blind man sitting at his mama’s kitchen table. His sympathy was profound at that moment for he understood what Brant meant. Furthermore, he understood that being blind prevented Brant from seeing the beauty he’d fought for. Only another soldier could completely understand.

“
No. I don’t think you ever get past it. But, there’s ways that help,” he confessed. “The nightmares are the worst for me.”

Brant nodded. “Yeah.”

“
But, I’m a lucky cuss. I’ve got Mindy right there to hold in my arms when they wake me up. Sometimes I can smell it, you know?” Sean asked. Brant nodded. “The fire, the guns, the mud.”

“
The death,” Brant added.

“
Yep. But don’t worry, Brant. The arms of a woman you love…that’s your tonic for it.”

Brant smiled. It was quite a euphoric cure, he could well imagine.

“
Why don’t you try it out on Lauryn?” Sean suggested, impishly. “Swoop her up in your arms and kiss the devil out of her! You’d be surprised the healin’ power that would have. I’m sure it would go a long way for easin’ your mind.”

“
Easing my mind maybe…but not my integrity,” Brant chuckled.

Sean chuckled. “I’d love to see the look on her face! She’d probably die right there out of pure rapture!” Sean laughed again, obviously amused at the thought of his sister’s surprise.

“
I’ve no doubt she’d die, all right,” Brant agreed, smiling. “But I doubt it would be from rapture.”

“
Well, you don’t know Lauryn like I do. And anyhow…not to offend you, boy…but you haven’t seen the look on her face when you’re in the room.”

“
What look is that?” Brant asked, curious.

“
That look a woman gets on her face when you know she wouldn’t deny you anythin’!” Sean answered, lowering his voice.

“
She’s known me four days, Sean,” Brant reminded.

“
Four days would be plenty for Lauryn. She can read a man like a book, only faster. It’s pretty unsettlin’ at times.”

“
Really?” Brant was interested. He was learning a lot about his young friend from her brother.

“
Oh, yeah!” Sean assured him. “Lauryn’s had her dream lover in mind since she was in diapers, practically.
“He ain’t perfect!”
Sean said, attempting to imitate his sister’s voice.
“He’s perfectly imperfect!”
Sean chuckled. “Boy, if I didn’t get tired of hearin’ that while she was growin’ up.” Brant accepted the sandwich Sean placed in his hand and took a bite. He had been hungry. “But…and don’t you tell her I admitted this, you hear?” Brant smiled and nodded. “She’s right! She won’t be settlin’ for any ol’ mangy mutt. She’ll only be happy with her Mr. Perfectly Imperfect.” Sean had obviously taken a bite of his own sandwich. When he spoke next, it was rather muffled sound as he chewed. “She’s a good girl. And she’s taken to you, boy.”

Brant smiled knowing that what Sean didn’t understand was that Lauryn hoped Brant held the key to easing the pain of Mr. Perfect, the Captain. Of course, she was interested in him, kind to him. She was a compassionate person. And, at that moment, Brant hoped he could help her. That somehow something he said would help Lauryn to find Laura. He prayed for it.

Once Sean and Brant left the parlor Penny did, indeed, begin questioning Lauryn.

“
My stars, Lauryn!” she began. “Where? How? He’s fabulous! Magnificent! He’s too beautiful!”

Lauryn smiled. “On the train home from New Orleans—in the wounded soldiers’ car. And, I know.” Penny shook her head in astonishment as Lauryn continued. “He’s the Captain’s brother’s grandson.”

Penny gasped. “Liar!”

“
No. It’s true.” Lauryn had long ago confided in Penny about her relationship with the Captain. But she would keep Brant’s secret, his knowing Laura, in her own heart. It wasn’t hers to tell. “It is!” Lauryn confirmed.

The girls chattered away for over an hour, Penny asking questions and Lauryn answering them. The conversation did, eventually, turn to Lauryn’s trip to New Orleans and away from Brant. Lauryn was relieved when it did. She felt very possessive about the secrets she and Brant shared; the kiss when they’d first met, their ghostly friendships, their sleuthing.

Later in the day, after Penny left and Sean had gone home, Lauryn was coming down the stairs when her attention was drawn to the melody coming from the piano in the parlor. It was so familiar and yet…. Yes! The tune! The very same that the music box played! The one in the attic that she’d driven her mother nearly insane with while listening to as a child. The one that haunted her dreams so often. Quietly, she entered the parlor to see Brant sitting at the piano, rather slumped over the keys and playing the familiar melody.

Lauryn listened until Brant seemed to sense her and stopped playing, asking, “Who is it?”

“
It’s just me,” she confessed. “That melody, Brant.”

“
Yes. I’m sure you
know it well,” he chuckled.

“
Yes. But I’ve never heard it played. I only…there’s a music box in the attic that belonged to Laura. You’re playin’ its melody. What is it? No one here knows.”

Brant turned to her, a frown on his face. “You’re just teasing me.”

“
No. I’ve always wondered. I hear it in my mind. But…are there words?”

Brant shook his head in disbelief. “It’s called
Sweet Lauralynn
. Those poor Union soldiers use to sing themselves into fits of melancholy with it. I thought for certain you would know it.”

“
No,” Lauryn confirmed, going to sit next to him on the piano bench. “Will you sing it for me?”

He grinned and chuckled. “Of course not. I sound like a dying pigeon when I sing.”

“
Please, Brant. It’s haunted me. All these years I’ve wondered what it was….if there were words. Brand gave Lauralynn that music box on their weddin’ day. Please! It must’ve meant a great deal to her for him to have given it to her.”

Brant shook his head. He’d lost so much of his motivation, so much of his confidence. Lauryn could see more and more that he had been a confident, powerful man before his injury. Like so many young men who had actually been fortunate enough to return from the war, he had been left scared…wounded far beyond his sight being damaged.

“
Oh, please, Brant. I’ll owe you a favor if you’ll do this one for me,” she begged.

Sighing heavily, Brant breathed a defeated chuckled and began to awkwardly play the melody again.

The prelude was absolutely haunting to Lauryn—all the more so as she watched the blind man next to her play it. He’d played it many times before, she knew, enough that he didn’t need his sight to play it. His hands played the melody from his soul.

Then, as Brant began to sing the song, Lauryn thought she might melt into a puddle at this feet. His voice, low and rather raspy boasted pitch that was perfect. He was, in fact, a very gifted vocalist! Something fluttered in Lauryn’s bosom. The same something that fluttered when he’d touched her face so intimately earlier that same day.

The words to the song were hauntingly beautiful—all about a soldier pining for the love he left at home when he’d gone to war; about the loneliness of the campfire and longing for his lover’s kiss. Every so often the phrase,
“Sweet Lauralynn,”
was repeated causing Lauryn to think how perfectly the lyrics paralleled the story in her own family’s past.

Lauryn wiped the tears from her cheeks as Brant played the last few notes of the song. “I never knew there were words,” she whispered.

“
That’s probably because it was popular with the Union troops,” he chuckled and added, “You little Johnny Reb,” under his breath.

His playful teasing caused Lauryn to look at him quickly, realizing again that his brother would be there in just a few days to take him home, to strip him from her life. She felt an overwhelming sense of loss and reaching out she covered his hand with her own as it rested on his leg and softly thanked him.

“
Thank you, Brant. For that song. For comin’ here and…” she reached up placing her palm against his cheek. To her great astonishment and delight, he took her hand and lingeringly kissed her palm.

“
Thank you, Lauryn. For giving me hope,” he mumbled.

His kiss tingled in her palm, even after he’d released her hand. She felt the unwanted sting of tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t want him to leave! Not only because of his help with the mystery of Laura, but because…because she didn’t want
him
to leave.

“
You’ll write to me won’t you?” he asked unexpectedly. “And let me know if you find anything?” Lauryn was disappointed about his reason for wanting her to write.

“
Of course,” she promised, feeling let down. She knew she could not ask him to write to her in return, even if she told him she didn’t mind if his letters were illegible because he couldn’t see when writing them.

“
Nothing too personal, now,” he teased. “My father will be reading my letters to me.”

“
I’m glad you warned me,” she replied teasingly.

He chuckled and began playing something more lively on the piano. “All right then. Let’s lighten the atmosphere in here.” Lauryn recognized the type of music he played immediately.

“
Someone has obviously spent some time in New Orleans,” she commented, as she watched his hands move over the keys.

“
Wasn’t much else to do but listen to the music,” he admitted.

But, Lauryn didn’t hear much of the song he played. She was too depressed, too lonely suddenly knowing he would be gone soon. Why had he been placed before her? Entered her life and heart? Merely to help her find Laura? Or to teach her what heartache felt like?



Two days passed, days when Lauryn, again, shared Brant’s attention with her mother, grandmother and brothers. She tried not to feel jealous and resentful. After all, Brant was an interesting man and he needed reassurance, friendship and hope from as many sources as possible. Still, she couldn’t help her possessive feelings about him. She was certain that, somewhere in his memory or knowledge, he held the key to finding Laura. That was why she resented everyone taking his time away from her, because she needed that time if she was going to find Laura. At least, that’s what she told herself the reason was for her jealousy and possessiveness.

After supper on Brant’s final day alone at Connemara, Lauryn sat with him on the back veranda. The evening was cool and new and she felt the fresh air would do him good.

“
So,” Lauryn began. “We know she was wounded, had mud on the bottom of her skirt, that great grandfather hid her and that she was never found. We know that she must’ve had a teacup with her, at some point. She can’t speak to you, she can’t come back here, she…”

“
Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brant interrupted. “We’ve gone over this until my brain hurts, Lauryn.”

“
I know. But you’re leavin’ tomorrow,” she reminded him.

“
Exactly. I’ve told you everything I can think of. I don’t know anymore. So…let’s talk about something else.”

Lauryn shrugged. She was more than willing to discuss another subject. “All right. Like what?”