The Fragrance of Her Name (42 page)

“
I understand, Brant,” she told him, her voice breaking with emotion. “Truly. I do.”

“
No! You’re misunderstanding!” he growled.

“
I’m not,” she said, placing a gentle hand to his cheek. “I do understand.”

“
Do you?” he asked, searching her face. “You are a distraction, Lauryn. A beautiful distraction that keeps me from…from concentrating. I can’t think clearly when you’re in my arms. I don’t want to. I can’t even remember Laura’s name when I taste you. And if I can’t get this…if I can’t find her…it will destroy everything. If I can’t find her…I’ll be haunted…like no ghost could ever haunt me. Life will be…I can’t live my life until…”

Lauryn nodded. “I know.” Should she argue with him? No. For she knew he spoke the truth. She asked herself then how much time she’d spent talking with the Captain and trying to glean clues from him since Brant had entered her life. Probably not more than a few hours. She asked herself how much time she’d spent in actually searching. In thinking of every venue possible. Even when she and Brant were talking about it, looking, searching…her mind wasn’t truly focused.

“
You’re right,” she whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek and shivering as her teeth began to chatter. “You’re right. Let’s go in,” she suggested, walking past him and toward the house.

“
Lauryn,” Brant began. There was a tone of reconsidering his actions.

“
No, Brant. Don’t say anythin’ else. Let’s just get inside,” Lauryn interrupted him as she hurried toward the house.

Once in her room, as she changed her wet night clothes for dry day ones, she thought,
Lauralynn? Where did your father hide you
?



“
Did you sleep well, sweetie,” Aunt Felicity asked as Lauryn entered the kitchen later that morning.

“
Yes, Ma’am,” Lauryn answered, pasting on a cheery smile. “And how is Mr. John?”

“
He’s much better my darling. Much better.” Aunt Felicity’s smile softened. “I’m sorry John and I had to spoil Brant’s visit to Connemara, sweet thing.”

“
You didn’t spoil anything, Auntie,” Brant corrected, appearing and kissing his Aunt affectionately on the cheek. Lauryn was cautious when she looked at him, afraid she might rush to him, beg him to tell her what she so wanted him to…that he loved her and that they would be together once Laura was found. But she only smiled at him when he greeted, “Good morning.”

“
Good mornin’, Brant,” she did manage to say.

“
Parker and your Dad have already eaten like pigs and left for the orchards, Brant,” Aunt Felicity stated. Lauryn’s glance caught the stare of the older woman, who was looking at her quite suspiciously.

“
I’ll get out there, too,” Brant mumbled. “But…but I need to speak to Lauryn for a minute.” Lauryn felt instantly anxious. A small nagging doubt…an uncertainty rose within her bosom. Perhaps she had misread his actions that morning in the orchard.

Aunt Felicity’s eyes twinkled. “Then I suggest you do it, boy,” she told him. And, gracefully, she stood and left them to their privacy.

“
Lauryn,” Brant began. “This morning after we…after we talked…I thought of something.”

“
What do you mean?” It was her attempt at strength. She would hear whatever he had to say…good or bad.

Brant mischievously bit his lip and took her hand. “Come on. It’s the trunk…I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before,” he grumbled as he began pulling her toward the stairs that led to the attic. “I guess…I guess I was just too…”he stammered.

“
Distracted,” she finished for him as relief washed over her in realizing he had meant to talk to her about the trunk and not some sort of regret he may have had about their moments in the orchard.

“
Yeah,” he admitted.

“
So…what did you think of?” she asked.

“
The trunk,” he answered as he led her up the stairs. “The Captain’s trunk. It’s not right.”

“
Not right?”

“
Yeah. I’ll show you.” Brant opened the attic door. The attic window let in just enough sunlight to make the things within visible. “It’s not right,” Brant repeated as he hunkered down next to the Captain’s trunk. “Look.” He lifted the latch, propped open the lid and began removing the familiar contents. “Here. Help me unload it.”

Lauryn knew she and Brant hadn’t packed the Captain’s things back into the trunk. And she knew who had. Just as the Captain looked after Laura’s things, she too must’ve seen to his.

A trembling traveled through Lauryn as she reached into the trunk and began removing the Captain’s things. When it was completely empty, she looked at Brant and stated. “It’s all here. Everythin’ we looked at before.”

“
Yes, but look at this,” Brant said pointing to the trunk’s floor. Lauryn watched as he put one hand inside the trunk and pressed at the bottom of it. The other palm he placed on the attic floor next to the trunk. “It’s not right. It’s got to be deeper than it appears. There’s a false bottom here.”

Lauryn looked at the noticeable difference in the position of Brant’s hands. Indeed the one inside the trunk was higher than the one on the floor. By two inches at least! At once, her heart began to hammer excitedly, hopefully desperate.

“
How does it open?” she asked. The excitement in her was welling to fantastic proportions. A false bottom! What was beneath it? Were she and Brant about to solve the mystery that had haunted so many for so long? Was his heart’s freedom within the distance of a simple touch?

“
I don’t know,” he mumbled, as he felt around the edges inside the trunk. But it was tight and he could not budge it. Finally with a heavy sigh he simply smashed his fist through the bottom of the precious trunk.

“
Brant!” Lauryn exclaimed, horrified that he would attack it so. But in the next instant, she halted her scolding for he pulled up the bottom revealing the secrets beneath.

“
Look at that,” Brant whispered.

Lauryn swallowed hard as the tears rose to her eyes. There, in the true bottom of the trunk were several stacks of letters, all tied with twine and addressed to, “Captain Brandon Masterson.”

“
Laura’s letters to the Captain?” Lauryn whispered.

Brant reached in and withdrew one of the tiny bundles. As he did Lauryn’s mind whirled. “Brant,” she whispered. “Laura’s trunk…in my grandma’s attic…. You don’t suppose…”

“
Let’s not get too excited,” he said, seemingly more to himself than to her as he gazed down at the ancient treasures in his hand. “I mean….these are private. Should we…”

“
For pity’s sake, Brant! We rummaged through all of Laura’s from the Captain. Do you really think that…”

At that moment, Lauryn felt a breeze ruffle the sleeve of her dress. It breathed a familiar and beloved fragrance. The room was warm and airy and felt like early summer. Looking to Brant, Lauryn saw him smile, but not at her. At someone behind her.

Slowly, Lauryn turned to see Laura standing in the attic. And, being honest with herself at that moment, she was aware that she was, indeed, startled. The first time Laura had appeared to Lauryn, had been when she was sleeping. Laura had sat on her bed just the night before. And Lauryn realized she hadn’t seen her fully. For, as she stood before her now, her hair still beautiful and soft, her face still as lovely as Heaven, Lauryn was overcome with the realization that Laura had died violently.

The hem of her sky blue dress was stained a dark brown. A large crimson stain showed at her abdomen where she had been wounded. The sight of her brought tears afresh to Lauryn’s eyes. How selfish she had been! Thinking of her own heartache when this beautiful young woman, her own blood, had been wandering in agony for so, so long.

“
Laura,” Brant began, walking to the ghost and handing her the bundle of letters he held in his hands. “Are they important?” Laura nodded her assurance. Although Lauryn couldn’t hear Laura’s voice, she did sense the faintest scent of wisteria as the spirit appeared to break into giggles.

“
I know, I know…” Brant chuckled then. “Stupid question, right?”

Laura nodded. Then smiling, she gazed down at the bundle of letters Brant had handed to her. When she raised her eyes again, it was to look upon Lauryn. Her expression was full of pleading as she offered the bundle to Lauryn.

Lauryn, taking the letters, asked, “Do you want us to read them? Is it…is it all right?”

With a look of sad melancholy, her amused giggle having ceased, Laura nodded. Then reaching up she caressed Brant’s face with her small hand for a moment before simply vanishing. With her went the warm breeze and the sweet fragrance, and the attic felt cold and lonely.

“
Let’s read them,” Brant said. “Right now.” Taking Lauryn’s hand, he led her to the nearby corner where the quilts were still piled. He stretched out on the floor, resting his head on one of the quilts. Lauryn sat down next to him, tucking her legs under her as she handed him the bundle of letters.

Carefully, Brant untied the twine holding them and handed the top letter to Lauryn. “Here,” he said, stretching his arms for a moment before tucking his hands under his head.

“
You want
me
to read them?” Lauryn asked. “Out loud?”

“
Of course,” he answered, as if it were the most ridiculous question he’d ever had. “We read all of the ones at Connemara that way.” Lauryn looked around, wishing Laura would appear and read them. After all, she had written them. “Go on,” Brant prodded.

“
Exactly why
you
should be readin’,” Lauryn argued, handing him the first letter. “A man read them originally…a man should be readin’ now.” Smiling, at him, she added, “And besides, fair is fair. I read all the others.”

Brant accepted the letter humbly, his eyes locking with hers. For a moment, Lauryn saw a familiar pain in Brant’s expression. The same one he’d had the day at the millpond when he’d been thinking back on the horrors and loss of war. But he seemed to mask it suddenly and simply began reading the letter.

“
July 17
^th
1864-My Darling, Brand,”
he began. Immediately, a lump formed in Lauryn’s throat, and she wondered if she could, indeed, continue to listen. These were her letters, Laura’s…a woman’s letters to her beloved Captain. It seemed frightening, and overwhelming with melancholy.

Brant seemed to sense her feelings. “She wants us to read them,” he reassured her a moment before beginning again.

“When will this all end? When will you be home again…safe in my arms? But, no! I will not write so black. You need bright things. Happy news of home and loved ones.

The weather is warm and fragrant in my Tennessee, Brand, darling. The wisteria at Connemara house has bloomed and faded, and the lovely blossoms that I love so are gone now until next spring. But that is fine. For there is every other manner of blossom to make my days lovely!

Father is forever storming about the house complaining about being too old to fight…not being able to find enough able-bodied men to do anything here in Franklin. But I’m sure you can imagine him. Remember how red his face gets! Redder than his hair even! Chuckle at his antics, my sweet. It will brighten your day, I am certain.

My sweet Virginia drew a likeness of you for me yesterday. It was rather good for a nine-year-old. Although…I had forgotten that your nose was crooked and your eyebrows so bushy! She is a dear little sister and I am so glad to have her here to keep me company. I miss the other one, too. But, as you know, that is not to be spoken of.

This is a short letter, my darling. For mother is calling me to get supper on. Remember that I love you. I love you beyond your ability to even understand. Beyond time and Heaven and Forever! Kiss me in your dreams, my love. And soon…soon you can hold me in your arms and I will smooth the worry from your brow and keep you warm, safe, next to my heart. Your loving wife, Laura.”

Lauryn wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked at Brant who was staring at the letter in his hands, excess moisture apparent in his own eyes. “I can’t listen to these,” she sniffled.

Brant reached up and buried one strong hand in her hair just behind her ear. “They loved each other. That’s a happy thing, Lauryn. It’s what you always tell me.”

“
But they’re lost and …” she stammered.

“
And we’ll find them.”

The emotions, the frustration of being in love, being trapped by the mystery of death, were taking their toll on Lauryn. She felt despair, weak and in that moment, she needed Brant’s arms around her. Needed to be held warm and safe in his arms. Needed to feel him, the way Laura had not been able to feel her Captain when she’d penned the letter. So as he slowly pulled her down toward him, she did not resist. Rather she laid her body next to his returning his embrace as his arms held her tightly.

He held her for a long time, whispering reassurances in her ear, stroking her hair tenderly until at last, her tears slowing their rush, he took her face in his hands and raised her face above his saying, “We’ll find her. I promise. We will find her!”

Brant shivered as Lauryn’s hair brushed his face. As he held her tearstained face to his chest, he felt guilty for reveling in the sensation of euphoria he felt inhaling the fragrance of her being. Her dark soft hair cascading down around her face, tickled the flesh of his arms. She was so beautiful. So sweet. So unknowingly seductive. He had to taste her once. Just once. Then he would return them to their task. Return to his resolve to keep himself from her until…but no! He’d set the standard. Lauryn didn’t truly understand the desires of a man. His inability to concentrate when he had such an obsession with a woman. He’d been unable to confess his feelings for her…though he had tried to convey them in the orchard. Still, with the words unspoken…as they must remain until Laura was found…he could not expect her to come rushing back to his kiss now. It would be weak and completely unfair.