The Fragrance of Her Name (31 page)

Lauryn was warmed by his conviction and smiled at him. He smiled and hugged her once more.

“
You need to rest,” he whispered. “We’re both tired. Our brains are rung out.”

“
I know,” Lauryn admitted.

“
Tomorrow,” he began. “Tomorrow, we’re not searching. We’re not thinking about it. We’re not feeling guilty. Tomorrow we’re escaping. Do you hear me?”

“
What do you mean?” she asked.

“
Tomorrow…I’ll show you. Tomorrow.” Then to her great astonishment and intense delight, he kissed her quickly on the lips. “Tomorrow we’ll find peace…for a time, at least. Now, get to bed. Sleep well.” He left her rather abruptly considering he’d been holding her only a moment before—left her there in her room with every kind of emotion, good and bad, running through her veins—left her with the sweet tingle of his kiss still upon her lips. Left her wondering what the next day would bring.



The millpond was calm and abandoned that next day when Lauryn and Brant arrived. Actually, the millpond was really a small lake, but everyone in Franklin called it the ‘millpond.’ It was a lake that, in actuality, did have a mill on one side. And there was a small, secluded island in the middle of it, and plenty of room for canoeing. It was a popular retreat during the summer. The bees provided a comforting hum in the nearby dogwoods and the sun was brilliant. A refreshing breeze cooled the morning.

When Lauryn came down for breakfast that morning, it was to find Brant explaining to Georgia that he was taking Lauryn out for a picnic and they would be gone the entire day. Being that everyone there, including his aunt and uncle, knew about the mystery of Laura and how hard Brant and Lauryn were searching, he told them their minds were tired, his and Lauryn’s. They needed an escape and he had planned it in the form of a picnic.

No one argued. In fact, Aunt Felicity giggled, “How divinely romantic!”

Lauryn’s mother agreed, “You two will fare far better in your search if you take some time to clear your minds of it all.”

And so it was, that Lauryn found herself standing next to Brant on the millpond dock that morning. “I figure we’ll paddle over to the other side and have lunch. Completely free of any worry. Nothing over there will tax our minds,” he told her.

Mr. Jackson, the man who took care of the dock and canoes approached them. Lauryn had always, always loved Mr. Jackson. Even more so since he’d helped her and Penny escape the embarrassment of being caught half naked that night a few years back. He’d been a slave before freedom came to the black man and must’ve been, she guessed, near to ninety. His smile indicated he only had about seven teeth left in his entire head, and his hair was as white as the snow. His eyes twinkled with mirth whenever he talked to anyone, and he was the kindest fellow in Franklin, Tennessee. Lauryn was certain of it.

“
Well, good mornin’ to you, Miss Lauryn!” Mr. Jackson greeted as he neared them. “And to you, sir,” he said to Brant offering a hand.

“
Good morning,” Brant returned, shaking Mr. Jackson’s hand firmly.

“
What can I be doin’ for y’all this fine mornin’?” the old man asked.

“
Well,” Brant began. “We’re looking for an escape today, sir.”

Mr. Jackson chuckled and slapped his leg. “I bet you is, sir! I bet you is!” He winked at Lauryn. “A bit a privacy?”’

“
That would be exactly it,” Brant agreed, chuckling.

“
Well, I do believe I can help you with that, sir. As long as you promise me that you’ll do right by our Miss Lauryn here.”

“
Oh, I promise, sir,” Brant assured him.

“
You only be kissin’ her where nobody can see, now. Hear me?” Mr. Jackson chuckled.

Lauryn gasped. Brant simply smiled and said, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“
Well, this canoe over here is the best I got. Most likely not to dump you in the water.” The old man hobbled over to a canoe lying nearby on the shore. “I’ll help you shove off, too.”

Brant set the picnic basket in the canoe, and helped Lauryn in as he and Mr. Jackson sent it floating into the pond.

“
Thank you, sir,” Brant said.

“
You sure is welcome, Mister. And you take your time today. Ain’t no hurry on my side.” Mr. Jackson laughed and turned away, breaking into song to amuse himself.

“
Now that man, I like,” Brant stated as he began to paddle into the lake.

“
Me, too.” Lauryn was still pinching herself to make certain she was awake and not merely dreaming she was there with Brant and doing something other than searching for Laura. “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved him. I used to come down here and sit on the dock and talk to him about the old days. He’s a wise man. And he knows a lot.” She paused and added, “He knew Laura and…”

Brant interrupted her. “That’s nice and we’ll talk about it another day. Remember?”

Lauryn bit her lip in delight. Could it be that Brant truly wanted to spend the day with her? Alone and without any talk about Laura?

“
All right,” she agreed and looked up into the brilliant blue and clear skies. “I love days like this,” she mused. She’d pulled her hair into a loose bun at the back of her head that day, but secretly wished she could’ve worn it down. It was the kind of day she felt like being free. Wearing her hair up always restricted her confidence, her freedom of spirit. Still, as she watched Brant paddle the canoe out into the lake, she was glad she’d pinned it up. Otherwise, she might feel too free-willed and begin telling him her deepest secrets or some such thing that she might later regret.

“
Penny’s party is tomorrow, isn’t it?” he asked, making casual conversation.

“
Yes. I’m certain it will a be pleasant time. The McGovern’s are wonderful people. And you’ll get to meet Penny’s parents. They’re very sweet and hospitable. The ideal hosts for such an occasion.”

“
I bet,” he said. “Penny’s a sweet thing. And Jeffrey seems fairly nice.”

“
I adore Penny. I don’t know what I would’ve done in my life without her,” Lauryn sighed.

“
Is Penny the one who introduced you to Henry?” he teased. “Or was it the other way around?” His smile was completely teasing. Nothing malicious.

Lauryn giggled. “The other way around.”

“
Poor, Henry,” Brant sighed then, quite dramatically.

“
What do you mean?”

“
Well, someday you girls will leave him for other men and he’ll be abandoned. All alone.” Brant was smiling. But Lauryn’s brow puckered. Henry? Alone? It seemed a rather heartless end to allow. Brant obviously read her thoughts for he added, “He’s a statue, Lauryn. He’s not real.”

“
He was very real to me for a good many years,” Lauryn argued.

“
Well, then you’ll have to have another statue done…a woman…someone to keep him company,” he suggested.

“
That’s a fine idea!” Lauryn exclaimed. Then she pretended to be genuinely overly concerned and said, “Goodness knows I could never be happy knowin’ Henry was alone and forgotten.” Brant shook his head amused and paddled on.

After reaching the island in the middle of the lake and walking around it once, they spread the picnic blanket on the furthest bank and enjoyed their lunch of cold chicken, fruit and muffins, talking all the while.

Not once did Brant allow the conversation to turn to the Captain or Laura. He kept his word which delighted Lauryn.

“
It’s nice here. Peaceful, relaxing,” Brant commented while he watched unique, snowy-white peacocks wandering about and eating muffin crumbs that he tossed to them.

“
It is. I’ve always liked this place best in the spring…the peacocks and song birds, the way the blossoms rain down from the dogwoods,” Lauryn pointed out. It was a beautiful scene. Ten or twenty dogwoods, some with white blossoms some with bright pink ones, surrounded the bank on which they picnicked. Each time the breeze sighed, scores of pink and white petals showered Brant and Lauryn with soft, fragrant petals, which lay on the grass creating a carpet of pastel spring.

“
There’s so much that smells good here,” Brant mentioned. He looked at her and winked. “A lot of stuff tastes good here, too.”

Lauryn wasn’t certain what he was implying. But she said, “I’ll let Mama know you liked the chicken when we get back,” assuming he meant lunch had been delicious.

“
You do that,” he chuckled, apparently she’d missed his meaning completely. He stood and strode to the water’s edge, tossing a few muffin crumbs to the ducks and swans that frequented the millpond.

Lauryn looked away from him to two squirrels scampering among the trees. They were playful little creatures. They drove her mother nearly insane teasing the cat, but Lauryn always enjoyed watching their games.

“
It’s truly beautiful here, isn’t it?” Brant mumbled. Instantly, Lauryn sensed a change in him. His voice was low and somewhat…was it anger she sensed?

“
Yes,” she affirmed. He appeared to be somewhat preoccupied with the beauties of nature. Perhaps it was an attribute inherited from his Aunt Felicity.

Then suddenly without any warning, he stripped off his shirt and slamming it to the ground, growled, “It’s hotter than…it’s hot out here.” Dropping to his knees and leaning over toward the water’s edge, he splashed the cool water on his face. Lauryn found she was trembling.

“
Are…are you all right?” she asked. Something had changed suddenly. What had it been? Had she said something to upset him? He’d been commenting on the beauty of nature, on the delicious lunch they’d shared. Again, Brant doused his face with water. He seemed very disturbed!

The muscles in his back and arms were tense as he paused and looked up to the clear blue of the sky. "It looks different to me now. It looks bluer than it did before. And still…it’s the same sky, the same sun that lit the days over the trenches.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Same air I'm breathing in…taking into my body. Only…it's filled with the perfume of flowers and living things, instead of thick with the stink of disease, mud, and death.” Lauryn said nothing. There were no words. She had suspected, all along, that their reading the Captain’s letters had been bringing back vivid memories of the horrors of war for Brant. Death, loss, destruction. She’d worried that it would affect him adversely. And it seemed her fears had been well-founded.

Chapter Twelve

Since returning from Vermont, eyes healed and soul seemingly on the mend, Brant had not mentioned the war or his injuries very often. But a man could not keep such emotionally maiming experiences silently to himself forever, else they destroy him. She knew he needed to talk. It generated a deep and aching agony in her heart to know his mind was tortured the way a soldier's always was. Patrick had told Lauryn several things Brant had related to him during a conversation they had when Brant had been with them before. However, he’d never really said much of anything to Lauryn about it. She hadn’t asked, thinking, if he’d wanted to talk about it, he would have.

Lauryn had spent hours volunteering at the hospital listening to the wounded soldiers talking. It hadn't taken long before she realized that often the wounds a man suffers in such horrible circumstances were far more hurtful to their minds than their bodies. She sat silently, ready to listen to whatever Brant needed to say if, indeed, he said anything further at all.

He returned to her and sat down in defeat in the grass. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. A tear traveled slowly down his cheek. Tears were silently trickling down Lauryn's cheeks at the sight of this man and his pain.

"Some of the boys…" he whispered. "Would get trench foot. It was so…bad. I never imagined anything like that before. I…I had to see so many of them lose their feet from it…or their lives. And the noise! It never stopped! The loud, sharp noises. The shouting, the screams. But then…when it did stop…it was almost worse because you knew it would only start again and you'd have to drag some fine boy out with his blood all over you…sometimes there was so much of him missing that you'd only drag half of him out…a piece of him and…”

His eyes were closed, and she silently begged him to open them, to look at her so the visions he was reliving would fade a bit. But he kept his eyes tightly shut as another tear revealed his pain. "And it was hard, almost impossible sometimes, to see in your mind everything back home. Everything beautiful that you wanted to save…that you wanted to protect from the ugly things you were living. Some of the men… when they were dying…they'd call out for their mothers or scream apologies to their wives and children for failing…for abandoning them. They'd hand you a photograph of their girl…tell you how beautiful and sweet she was and ask you to keep fighting so that the war would never get past your trench and closer to her.” Another tear trickled down his face from his closed eyes. Lauryn thought her heart would break from the pain she felt for him. She wanted him to stop, to come back to the present and the beauty all around him…the soft green grasses, the dogwood blossoms that smelled so sweet, the sun glistening warmly on the pond’s smooth surface.

"I use to wish…when I first went over…that I was still special to someone. That there was still a girl back home to write and tell me that I was all she thought about. But then…” He shook his head in disagreement with his own thoughts. “Then I saw the men dying and I thought of the families…the girls they were leaving. I thought of the wives…widows at home. The girls who would have to wait to hear the news from the boy’s mother…I thought of my Aunt and my sisters how it would grieve them to lose me and… and I was glad the only woman other than my family that I was special to…was already dead."