The Fragrance of Her Name

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “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?

  
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  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?”

  Brant paused a moment, then a mischievous smile spread across his face.

  “Tell me about Mr. Perfectly Imperfect,” he chuckled.

  Instantly, Lauryn was irritated. “I hate Sean,” she mumbled.

  “Oh, you do not. He’s a good brother to you,” Brant reminded her.

  “He makes my life miserable!” Lauryn argued.

  “That’s what good brothers are for.” He smiled and then repeated, “Now, come on. Tell me about this dream lover of yours.”

  “Dream lover?” Lauryn fairly shrieked. “Sean is simply lucky that he ended up with someone as wonderful as Mindy, because he certainly didn’t have his ideal in mind beforehand. He can tease me all he wants! But I won’t settle for anythin’ less than the perfect man for me.” As Brant sat still grinning, Lauryn was temporarily mortified that she had confided so much in him.

  “So…what’s he like?” he asked.

  “Quit teasin’,” she pouted.

  “No. I mean it. Tell me about him.”

  Lauryn looked at Brant, staring at him for a moment and trying not to think that Brant Masterson was closer to being the epitome of her ideal lover than any man she’d ever known existed.

  “It’s quite a personal thing, Brant,” she told him softly.

  “For Pete’s sake, Lauryn!” Brant was irritated. She knew it by his tone. “You had to lead me to the bathtub the other day. Are you gonna try and tell me that isn’t personal?”

  For a moment Lauryn wasn’t sure whether Brant was sincere, or whether he’d simply learned to play the “I’m blind” card in his hand. But she knew him well enough, she hoped, to know that he wasn’t a weak fool who would use his blindness to manipulate.

  “Fine,” she sighed. “I’ll tell you about him.”

  Brant sat back in his chair and folded his large arms across his massive chest, waiting for her to speak.

  “He’s capable of lovin’ me,” she began. She paused, waiting for some sarcastic remark the like that Sean would spout off. None came, so she continued. “He’s strong, determined, compassionate, affectionate, witty, hard-workin’. He’ll be a good father, adore children…play with them and reprimand them with love.”

  “He sounds like a saint,” Brant commented, but not cruelly.

  “No. Because he’ll have just enough of the devil in him to make life interestin’,” Lauryn confessed. “And he’ll have faults, too. Like…”

  “Like leaving his socks on the floor in the parlor?” Brant chuckled.

  Lauryn smiled. “Maybe. But I mean…maybe he’ll be a little temperamental. Or too anti-social.”

  “Or completely bald already,” Brant offered.

  Lauryn giggled. “Maybe.”

  “Tall, dark and handsome?” he asked.

  “Definitely!” Lauryn confirmed.

  “So, that’s Mr. Perfect.”

  “No. That’s Mr. Perfectly Imperfect.”

  “I think you’re a wise young woman, Lauryn.” His compliment seemed very sincere. “People these days don’t put enough thought into who and what they want before they jump into an association. That’s how you end up unhappy.”

  “That’s my opinion.” Lauryn looked at him, suddenly overwhelmed with melancholy. How desperately she was going to miss him! Having known Brant but a week, she’d already formed a fast and furious attachment, a deep attraction to him. It was more than that. Lauryn admitted to herself that she could love him. That, in all honesty, she already did!

  

  “He’s leavin’ today, you know,” Lauryn whispered to the Captain as she sat up in her bed that morning.

  “He’ll be back.” The Captain made the statement all too confidently, which made Lauryn suspicious.

  “You’re just tryin’ to make me feel better, Captain.” She smiled at him, touched by his concern. “Why would he come back?”

  “For you,” the Captain said.

  She realized then that the Captain was playing his old game. The one he always played when she was blue. He was forever trying to create hope in dreams coming true for her. And even though Lauryn knew it was a game he played, she brightened, delighted at his compassion.

  “He’s told me so much about Laura,” she began. “I’m sure there’s somethin’ in what’s he’s said that’s vital! But I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Let him leave, Lauryn. Say good bye to the boy,” the Captain counseled. “You and I will have plenty of time to sift through what he’s told you. Don’t try to ease your disappointment about his leaving by jumping over it in your mind. Linger on him.”

  Lauryn dropped her gaze for a moment and nodded. It was true. She was trying to get him out of her mind already. Trying to force herself to think of Laura again. And the Captain was right. She’d abandoned him for almost a year while she’d been in New Orleans with Nana. What difference would one more day make?

  “I don’t want to say goodbye.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I think…I think I like him, Captain,” she confessed in a whisper. “A great deal!”

  The Captain chuckled. “Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he teased. He began to fade then, his smile gone and a serious expression on his face. “You tell that boy good-bye properly,” he ordered. Lauryn nodded, even though she really had no idea what he meant by “properly.” All she did know was that Brant Masterson was going home.

  Chapter Six

  Parker Masterson, Brant’s older brother, was not as tall as Brant. And, even though his features were similar—dark hair, strong jaw line, he wasn’t the uniquely attractive man Brant was. Still he was pleasant, good-natured and very polite.

  “Looking around,” Parker began as he sat in the parlor talking with Lauryn’s mother and Nana,“I’d say Brant must’ve been one happy boy being here with all of you lovely ladies to himself.”

  “I see that charm runs in the family,” Georgia giggled.

  “We’ve simply adored havin’ Brant here,” Nana sighed. “I can’t believe you’ve come to take him away. Life will seem so mundane now.”

  “Well,” Parker said, lowering his voice. “I hope we can keep his spirits up. I know the doctors in New Orleans were pretty concerned about his being so….”

  “Hopeless?” Lauryn offered.

  “Yep. That’s what worries me.” Parker smiled at Lauryn and seemed to study her quickly from head to toe. “I feel sorry for my little brother. Leaving you behind.” Lauryn blushed.

  “Charmers! The lot of you Mastersons,” she told him.

  Sean appeared in the doorway, holding Brant’
s traveling bag in one hand. Brant stood just behind him, his hand on Sean’s shoulder.

  “Well,” Sean announced. “If y’all are ready…. I’ll be drivin’ you on back to the station.”

  Instantly, Lauryn’s eyes filled with tears. Glancing to her mother, the tears almost escaped her eyes when she saw that her mother’s eyes were moist as well.

  Georgia rose and went to Brant, embracing him firmly. “Now, you don’t be a stranger, you hear me?” she told him. “You can’t just waltz into our lives and just leave us all behind, forgettin’ about us.”

  “How could I ever forget you, Mrs. Kensington? You’ve been an angel who came to my rescue,” Brant charmed.

  “I’m leavin’ before all the sap from this room full of female maples starts runnin’ me out,” Sean grumbled. But Lauryn smiled. She knew Sean was a big, old softy who was probably having his own anxieties about Brant’s leaving. After all, he’d found a friend in Brant, too.

  Nana was next, tears trickling down her aged cheeks. “My dear, dear boy,” she sniffled. “You take care. Keep those spirits high. And you let us hear from you now and then.”

  “I will,” Brant promised. “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Kensington.”

  “Thank you, my angel,” Nana sniffled, embracing him tightly.

  “Miss Kensington,” Parker addressed Lauryn.

  “Yes?” Lauryn’s voice cracked as she attempted to hang on to her own composure.

  “When you ladies are finished saying your goodbyes to my charming brother…he’s obviously much more charming than I remember,” he added with a wink, “Would you please bring him outside?”

  “Of course,” Lauryn said smiling. Parker left the house, with Georgia right behind reminding him to have a safe trip home. Lauryn was amazed at her ability to withhold her tears.

  As her Nana followed Georgia out the door, leaving Lauryn and Brant in the house, she feared her resolve to stay strong would be destroyed. Brant said, “Well, Lauryn…shall we say goodbye then?”

  He held his hand out to her and she moved toward him as though in a dream. He sensed when she was close and reached for her hand. Raising it to his lips, he lingeringly kissed the back of it. As it was every time he touched her, Lauryn’s flesh tingled with goose bumps.