The Fragrance of Her Name

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “He…he talked to me, Nana,” Lauryn whispered. “You…you believe me, don’t you?”

  Again her grandmother’s tears were profuse as she nodded. “Oh, I do believe you, Lauryn. And I know you’ll figure it all out one day. All this time none of us have been able to….but you will. I know it!”

  

  Lauryn opened her eyes and looked out the train window, wiping at her tears with her sleeve. The story her Nana had told her that day had been the stuff of nightmares. Lauryn, like everyone else, had always felt that Lauralynn’s father, in trying to protect his daughter, had hidden her away and had died himself before being able to tell anyone where. Lauralynn’s family had searched and searched for he; but she could not be found. Never could she be found. And Brand had died so tragically. Mere weeks later, Yankee soldiers arrived, forcing Great Grandmother O’Halleran and her children to leave Connemara House, claiming their safety was threatened since the area had been ravaged by the battle.

  And so, the remaining members of the O’Halleran family were loaded into a wagon and taken away, nevertheless, to find that their destination was the home of Brand's family in Knoxville. Lauryn’s great grandmother O’Halleran slipped into a deep melancholy and severe illness for many weeks. But Brand's mother cared for her, nursing her back to health. Still, Nana said that her mother had never been the same.

  Brand's parents made the trip back to Franklin with the O’Halleran family when they returned to Connemara that following spring. They were awe struck when they saw that, although Connemara House itself was in a horrible state of disrepair, the wisteria bloomed vibrant and renewed. Still, for the rest of her life Erynn O’Halleran was certain that her daughter, Lauralynn Masterson, had died somewhere hidden away and waiting for help that never came. And it haunted her until her own death a year or two after her great granddaughter Lauryn was born.

  It had been an incredible amount of information and emotion for an eight-year-old girl to take in. But somehow, that day on the porch with her grandmother, Lauryn did understand it. All of it. Most of all, she had an uncanny understanding of the pain and devastation that Captain Brand must be haunted with. For her young heart had a unique capacity to love with such intensity that she did, indeed, understand his pain! And with it came her own pain. From that day forward Lauryn Kensington had her own stabbing heartache. She felt a loss of her own, of sorts. For it was hard for her to live her life in constant merriment without her heart aching for her precious Captain and his lost lady.

  Lauryn thought then of the nearly ten years she’d spent searching for her beautiful, lost, great aunt. As a child she’d obsessed about the mystery so much initially that she’d nearly caused her own mother great illness with worry for her daughter. Everyday she’d search the springhouse, the smokehouse, the gardens, the root cellar and Connemara House. When she could find no clues there, she would search the ground for depressions or mounds that might be an unmarked grave. It was the very day she turned twelve and her mother had fainted upon finding Lauryn digging an enormous hole near the family cemetery in search of, as Lauryn had put it, “The bones of the Captain’s lost heart,” that Lauryn decided she must be more discrete in her search. Her mother had worried herself into a state of illness, and Lauryn knew that she must be considerate of her mother’s health and well-being.

  Often young Lauryn would go to her great grandfather’s grave in the family cemetery and talk to him, hoping that he could communicate with her from beyond the way the Captain did. But the Captain explained that Kiel O’Halleran lived completely in the arms of Heaven and that she must rely on her own wits and his help to find Laura.

  Still, for all the searching and wondering, the Captain had returned Lauryn’s gift of helping him with friendly companionship that was unlike any other. Always he was there to talk with her, to listen to her, to play games with her. All the children at school assumed Lauryn was an eccentric with an imaginary friend. For no one else could see the Captain as she and he played hide-and-go seek or talked for hours sitting under the wisteria-veiled gazebo.

  The Captain had been Lauryn’s best friend. Even more so, in some ways, than was Penny McGovern…and she had missed him the past months while living in New Orleans. Lauryn had wondered at first if, perhaps, the Captain could follow her to New Orleans. But he had told her that he could not. He was bound to Connemara House as long as Lauralynn was lost. And yet he encouraged her to leave, telling her that she needed to be away from him…to live life without the constant reminder that he was unable to be at rest. She had missed him sorely, longed for their talks and sleuthing adventures, missed his stories, his voice and the piercing blue of his eyes.

  Did she love him? Lauryn wondered at that moment. She had wondered that many times before. But today it was different. For the first time in most of her life she had been separated from the Captain. And she wondered, Do I love him? Of course she loved him! More than almost anyone! But loving him didn’t mean she was in love with him. Yes, she loved him. But his heart belonged to Lauralynn and hers belonged to…no one.

  In fact, as much as Lauryn loved the Captain, as much as she desired to help him find Laura and his peace…she was lonely. It hadn’t been so noticeable when she was a child. But as she grew, matured and began to realize that someday, if all went well as she wished, someday the Captain would be at rest and she…she would be alone.

  In her adolescence, Lauryn had begun to wonder what would become of her. Who would she love? Would anyone love her? And as ever, after her parents had consoled and encouraged, there was the Captain to soothe her worries. And always he promised her happiness. She did not know how or if he could guarantee it…but she believed him.

  She believed in her dreams as well. Her dreams of finding the perfect man…that is, the man perfect for her. A handsome, rugged, strong man who would adore her the way the Captain did Laura. A man of intelligence and wit. A man who would desire to protect and keep her to himself. Often she spoke to the Captain of her “perfect man” and he would always smile and encourage her dreaming. But there was one day, one afternoon in particular, that something happened. Something that threw Lauryn’s very soul into a whirl as far as her future and her dreams were concerned. Never had Lauryn been able to decide if that particular moment with the Captain, that revelation, had been a profoundly good thing, or a destructive thing to her dreams.

  

  "Now, tell me again," the Captain teased Lauryn as she demonstrated to him her progress in the cross over step while they waltzed in her bedroom one dreary, winter’s afternoon. "This perfect man you're always talking about, what's he like?"

  Lauryn closed her eyes and sighed dreamily. "Perfect!" she sighed. "Yet…at the same time, not so perfect."

  "How so?" the Captain asked as they continued to dance.

  "Well, he looks perfect, of course. Handsome and tall, just like you. Eyes that could burn a hole right through you when he's angry…or melt your very soul with enchantment when he’s passionate.”

  The Captain raised his eyebrows in a rather surprised expression.

  “Oh, go on with you,” Lauryn scolded. “Passion is a good thing. And you know what I mean.”

  “Are you meaning to tell me that you plan to kiss this man at some point?” he teased.

  “Of course! Are you insane? Kissin’ is the moment when two souls are most met,” Lauryn sighed.

  “Really?” the Captain chuckled.

  “I’ll continue with my description now,” Lauryn stated, ignoring his teasing manner. “Dark hair…strong jaw…I can almost see him if I close my eyes.” Lauryn closed her eyes for a moment and once again tried to picture her dream of the man she would love. But as always the vision was just beyond her mind’s eye. Forever elusive.

  "What else?" the Captain asked and Lauryn opened her eyes again, smiling at him.

  Inhaling deeply, she looked past him dreamily and continued. "He'll always, always kiss me when he wants to or when I want him to…no matter who's lookin'
…"

  "Is he a scoundrel then?"

  "Somewhat. All interestin' men are, you know, Captain," Lauryn giggled. "He'll cause me to feel safe, be witty and able to make me laugh, champion me when I need him to, comfort me when I'm in despair…he'll never, never let me run away when I'm upset or in tears when we have our tiffs…always he'll come after me"

  "You make him sound like a slobbering pup!" the Captain asserted.

  "Oh, no! Never. But he will love me. And if he cares for me and loves me…he'll care what I think and what I feel. He'll be interested in my opinions…rare quality in a man, from what I've seen of the world. He’ll be perfect! Perfectly imperfect, you understand.”

  "And what will you offer, my girl?" he justifiably inquired.

  "Me? I'll be a slave to my love for him…to his love for me. I'll care for his needs and his household…and our children! I'll love him as much when I'm 80 as I did the day I met him. More even than that! I'll make certain to converse with him…to listen to his concerns, to nurture his mind and interests when I can. I'll make him laugh when he needs to…and even when he doesn't. I'll love him with everythin’ that I am. So deeply that nothin’ on earth could possibly match it!"

  Lauryn smiled up at the Captain as he halted their waltz. He smiled back briefly and then his smile faded as he spoke. "I can tell you, Lauryn…that there will be such a man for you."

  "Now you sound like my Daddy, Captain. But I know that even you can’t promise me such a blessin’ as a man like the one I dream of," Lauryn told him reaching up and patting his cheek affectionately.

  "But I can, Lauryn.” The Captain’s face was serious and there traveled through Lauryn’s body a sudden disconcerting chill as he spoke. "There is such a man alive on the earth…already a man, though you're still a girl. And…and you were born for him…as he was for you. Just as Laura and I were born for each other. The bond between you and he was fastened long before time was counted. Your love, infinite in perfection, existed before."

  "Surely you do not profess reincarnation to me, my Captain," Lauryn mumbled, confused and rather frightened somehow.

  "No. Each soul has one worldly existence. One. And in waiting its turn, often relationships are formed before birth that stretch out from beyond and bind people. It's why you must, and will, recognize him when he enters your life. Maybe not in that first instant. It may be gradual. But…you’ll know him. For those souls, few though they may be, that have been bound before…never find complete happiness if they do not find each other here. Likewise…as it is with Laura and me…despair can imprison them if they are lost on the way back. For where is Paradise if not with those you love more than your own life?"

  "Where is he?" Lauryn asked. For she knew that the Captain always spoke the truth. "When will I…how will I know him?"

  The Captain cupped her cheek gently in his hand. "Never fear, my girl. You’ll find him. Or he’ll find you. Now, no more worrying about it. Let's have one last waltz. You really have improved on your cross over step."

  "But…" Lauryn started to argue as he began their dance.

  "I can tell you nothing more, Lauryn. I've said all that I can. Just know that you will not be lonely in life after you have reunited my love and me."

  Then the Captain began to waltz more determinedly and yet, more slowly. Lauryn had the feeling of weightlessness somehow as if she were suddenly lifted into a dream. And in that moment the Captain's face changed. Simultaneously her surroundings seemed to alter, appearing softened and fuzzy. But it was the Captain who held her attention. For she no longer danced in the Captain's arms. Or did she? Before her, dancing with her, and yet not, was another man. Definitely a full-grown man. A great deal taller than the Captain. But his face was clouded, as if a thick fog danced between them. And it seemed as if he said her name, though she could not hear him. As she tried to see him, tried to further discern his appearance through the veil of fog about her, she could sense her name being spoken from his lips. And strangely, her young lips desired suddenly to receive kisses from this hidden mouth that endeavored to speak her name. And it was her name that echoed in her mind as it fell silently from his lips. In the next moment the fog had cleared, the dream was gone. And so was the Captain.

  "Captain?" Lauryn called. But he had vanished, leaving her trembling and confused. Leaving her lonely and longing for…something…someone.

  Chapter Two

  "Ladies and Gentlemen" the porter announced. "We're carryin' a load of convalescin’ soldiers with us today and the good doctor who's tendin’ them has asked me to inquire…are any of you ladies willin’ to give him a hand in the wounded car?”

  Leaving her reminiscences, Lauryn's hand rose immediately in volunteering. She smiled as she looked to her Nana, now suddenly wide awake, to see her waiving a dainty hanky at the porter.

  "We'd be more than willin’ to help out, sir," Nana assured him. But as Lauryn helped her Nana to her feet she was very disappointed to see that only one other woman in their particular passenger car had volunteered. The eyes of the other contributing woman met Lauryn's and she smiled, raising her eyebrows in disapproval as she, too, looked about at the other passengers. No doubt the lingering memory of the danger of the influenza scared them. So many people had forfeited compassion for fear over the past year.

  "Good thing all the fine soldiers that fought and died for our freedom weren't as uppity as most of us southerners seem to be," the woman stated quite loudly as Lauryn and her Nana followed the porter out of their car.

  The train car with the convalescing men in it was stiflingly hot. So many men lying or sitting about in such cramped uncomfortable quarters. And it was hardly more than a glorified boxcar to boot. The door was open, allowing fresh air to enter the car and revealing the passing landscape. A makeshift fence of sorts had been rigged across the open door to allow for the men's safety. At a glance, Lauryn discerned that these men were not recently wounded as she had expected. These were men who had been convalescing somewhere else for a long, long time.

  "Ladies! Bless you!" a man in a white doctor’s coat greeted as he approached them. "Our poor boys need waterin' and just plain carin' for and I can't keep up with it any longer on my own. I'm Doctor Nelson," he announced, offering his hand to Nana, her being the obvious matron of the group and thereby deserving the first respect.

  "Virginia Kensington" Nana answered, smiling at him. "We're glad to serve these valiant men however we can."

  "Lauryn Kensington," Lauryn told him as he shook her hand.

  "Betty Anne Wilson," the third woman offered as he then took her hand.

  "Ladies, y’all are angels. Sent from Heaven and that's all there is about it!” The Doctor did, indeed, look tired and Lauryn felt a pang in her heart…sympathy for a good man. "If…if you could just talk to a few of them. Listen to their stories…give them a sip of water now and again. These boys have been laid up in New Orleans for near to a month and they're gettin' itchy to get on with whatever life livin' they can."

  "Where are they bound, Dr. Nelson, and why move them at all if they're not fully healed?" Nana asked in a hushed voice.

  "Well, to be honest,” the doctor explained dropping his voice to a whisper, “These boys…they need to be home. All our boys do, of course. But home will heal the wounds these boys are carryin’ far better than any medicine I ever could administer. We call them the ‘blue boys’ down in New Orleans. Home and family…best medicine there is for what’s keepin’ these boys down. And well…the flu is still lingerin’ down there, as you ladies well know. Much worse than further up. And…these young men are weak and I don't want them dyin’ from some insipid disease when they've struggled so hard to survive this long. New Orleans is still too infectious with the weather warmin’ soon. I'm takin’ them further up where it’s still a bit cooler and the regional conditions are maybe a bit less conducive to breedin’ influenza!" he answered.

  "Blue Boys," Lauryn mumbled looking around the car.

  “New Orleans
in winter would be bad on a soul in despair,” Nana agreed.

  The Doctor nodded. “New Orleans in any season would be bad on the souls of some of these boys…some bein’ from so far up north and all.” Then motioning about him he urged, "Jump right in ladies. These boys are starved for feminine attention."

  Lauryn watched as her Nana knelt next to a nearby soldier who was laid out on a cot. "Hey there, boy. What's your name?" she asked in her most grandmotherly voice. Tenderly, she caressed his worried looking brow with her tiny, soft hand.

  Immediately the young man's eyes brightened and he said, "Tommy Vaughn.”

  "Well now, Tommy…where y’all from?" Nana asked, smiling.

  "I guess we just need to follow her lead," Betty Anne said, hiking up her skirt just enough to help her walk better toward a soldier who sat in a nearby corner peering forlornly out the boxcar doors.

  Since the present end of the car seemed well in hand, Lauryn cast her gaze to the other end. Her attention fell on a soldier who stood leaning on one shoulder against the back wall of the boxcar. His face was hidden in the shadows. A strange feeling flowed through Lauryn, as if she’d just had a warm, sweet glaze drizzled over her whole being. An odd nervous sensation began to kindle within her bosom. Her hands trembled as she moved toward him, zigzagging through the other men lying or sitting here and there in the boxcar. She could not take her eyes from the man even though his standing position implied he was better healed than most of the men in the car.

  Lauryn stopped just behind him. He hadn't seemed to notice her approach. For long moments she could not bring herself to speak to him. He was facing the shadows, almost intentionally, and she could not see his features. So, she stood behind this ‘blue boy’, studying his unusual height, the broadness of his shoulders, the dark shade of his hair, hanging well below his collar, indicating he had not seen a barber in some time. For all her usual ability to rattle on endlessly in sometimes meaningless conversation, she could not decide how to speak or what to say to approach him. She simply stood at his back, trying to find the courage and words to speak to this recovering soldier. But even without having seen his face, even without having spoken to him, something in her soul was drawn to him. She remained still, waiting for the moment when courage would overtake her fear and she could speak. She startled rather violently when he unexpectedly spoke first.