The Fragrance of Her Name

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “Where do you always start?” he asked.

  Lauryn smiled, stood and went to the small table behind the sofa. “The family bible, of course!”

  “Of course!” Brant chuckled. Lauryn lovingly lifted the bible and returned to her seat on the sofa.

  “Scooch over,” Brant ordered as he rose and walked toward her. He sat down next to her and curiously looked at the bible. “Why do you start here?”

  Lauryn shrugged, tingling violently at his being so near to her. “It all started here, didn’t it?” He chuckled at her wisdom as she opened the bible to reveal the handwritten record of the O’Halleran family.

  “We begin with my great-grandfather O’Halleran,” Lauryn sighed. “He and my great-grandmother O’Halleran had eight children. Two died at birth, one died as a baby. The others…I’ll just read it to you, all right?” And lovingly tracing the ancient inked handwriting with her finger, she read aloud.

  “Kiel McCrea O’Halleran born November 22, 1816 in Connemara, Ireland…married August 16, 1835 to Shayla Erynn Keenan born August 16, 1819 in Connemara, Ireland.

  The children of Kiel and Shayla O’Halleran:

  Ethan Ian O’Halleran born October 11, 1836 died in battle April 5, 1863

  Erynn Eva O’Halleran born September 25, 1840 died September 30, 1840

  William McCrea O’Halleran born July 10, 1842 died March 9, 1910

  Sean Keenan O’Halleran born November 23, 1844 died November 24, 1912

  Lauralynn O’Halleran (Masterson) born August 16, 1846 lost November 30, 1864

  Carissa O’Halleran born June 20, 1847-died

  John Kiel O’Halleran born February 4, 1851-died June 3, 1851

  Virginia Anne O’Halleran born August 19, 1855.”

  “So,” Brant sighed. “Everyone has died…except your Nana.”

  “Yes. And she was so young…the age Patrick is now,” Lauryn reminded him.

  “Do you suppose when Patrick is an old man, he’ll remember being a boy and humiliating his sister one day when company came?” Brant smiled and winked. Lauryn felt warm, delighted and alive.

  “Probably not,” she giggled. “If he does, he’ll probably be like Sean and revel in the knowledge.”

  “Most likely,” Brant agreed. Then he frowned pensively. “So, the only person alive that was here when it all happened is Virginia.” He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Next, we ask your Nana about that blasted tea cup,” he stated. “It’s driving me crazy.”

  “But what if it upsets her?” Lauryn argued. “She doesn’t remember much about the whole thing, Brant…and she still carries so much guilt about being saved when poor Laura was lost.”

  “Do you want to figure this all out or not, Lauryn?” Brant asked, seeming rather puzzled suddenly. His patience appeared to be a bit thin. He massaged his temples and sighed in frustration. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you don’t want to figure it all out. Maybe you like having the Captain all to yourself…at your beck and call day and night.” He wasn’t cruel in his accusation. He seemed completely in earnest at considering the possibility of it being true.

  But hot tears stung Lauryn’s eyes. She had not foreseen that he could imagine such a thing. Yet, she had her own confusing thoughts and wonderings about Brant’s true feelings for Laura. Regardless, she did feel concern for her grandmother was well founded.

  “How dare you!” she scolded, standing up from her seat next to him and stomping her foot in irritation. “You know that’s not true. Maybe you’re so in love with Lauralynn that you don’t want her found!” And even when his eyes narrowed angrily she continued. “You’re the one that was so hopeless when you knew…when you thought you’d never be able to see her again. Remember?”

  Brant rose to his feet very slowly, his piercing eyes narrowed, searching her face. “There,” he mumbled. “It’s all been said, hasn’t it?” Lauryn simply stood frowning up at him, her heart racing wildly as he looked at her. “I want her found. You want her found. Accusations aside, we both want the same thing. Agreed?”

  “Yes,” Lauryn whispered, though her heart still ached from the harsh words that hung between them.

  “All right then. I’m sorry. I was just being…” he stammered.

  “An idiot,” Lauryn finished for him. He grinned at her.

  “Yep. That’s it exactly.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” she confessed. “It was wrong of me to…”

  “Friends?” he interrupted, offering his hand to her. Lauryn felt like crying again. ‘Friends’ was a disappointing term at that moment.

  “Yes,” she said placing her hand in his. The contention and anger that had hung so heavily in the room dissipated instantly. Lauryn was relieved. It had been a terrible feeling however short it may have lingered.

  He shook her hand firmly before releasing it and saying, “What next then? My time here may be short. So let’s make the most of it. Where do we go now that we know the family history?”

  Lauryn drew in a deep breath. “When everyone returns from the cemetery, we pull Nana aside and ask her about the teacup,” she said quietly.

  Brant smiled and pinched her cheek. “That’s my brave little sugar cube,” he chuckled. Lauryn couldn’t help but smile with delight at his silly endearment even if he had treated her more like a child than she would have preferred. Still, she liked his calling her endearing names. She would try to forgive him for loving Lauralynn and not her. After all, what a profoundly wonderful woman Laura must have been—must be—for men to dedicate their lives to her. In life and in death!

  “I’ll take you to the attic if you want,” Lauryn suggested. If they were going to find Laura during Brant’s visit, they needed every minute they could find to search.

  “Sounds spooky,” Brant whispered. “I’ll take you to the attic,” he repeated in a deep, eerie voice. He was quite different than he had been those months before when he’d stayed for a short week at Connemara. And yet somehow, the same. Apparently his injury had taken much more than his sight from him. Now it seemed far more than his eyes had healed. Lauryn found herself even more attracted to him because of it.

  She smiled, amused by his teasing. “Laura’s trunk is up there. Maybe if you look in it…if we go through it together….”

  Brant frowned slightly. He seemed uncertain as to whether or not they it should do it. After a moment, he nodded. “All right. Lead the way.”

  They climbed the stairs together, pausing before the attic door. Slowly, Lauryn lifted the latch and opened it. Enough evening light remained that she could see her way to turn on the light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

  “Over here,” Lauryn said pointing to Laura’s trunk. “I’ve been through it so many times…it helps me feel closer to her. Often the Captain comes up here, too. We’ve gone through these things together.” Lauryn knelt before the trunk. As she opened it, the slightest scent of wisteria blossoms danced through the room. Lauryn looked up at Brant, frowning down at her. “I’m certain it’s all right, Brant. I…I wouldn’t have brought you if I didn’t think I should…that I needed to.”

  “I know,” he mumbled.

  What Brant didn’t tell Lauryn was that, since returning to Connemara, his frustration with Laura’s inability to rest was intensifying. And not just for her sake. But for his own! Each time he looked at Lauryn, looked at this girl before him, this little nutmeg-haired pixie, he could feel resentment rising in his chest. He wanted his own life. And, yes…he knew it was selfish. But he wanted it! Wanted his own adventure, his own love, his own family. He’d had the sharpest pang of jealousy rack his body when it occurred to him that Lauryn might love the Captain as a bit more than a ghostly friend. It angered him. And, his quick temper concerning it was a worrying.

  She was distracting him. Every time he tried to concentrate on Laura, on clues that might be before him, all he could think about was how adorable Lauryn is—how sweet her lips were. How delicious a real kiss from her would taste. They had to fi
nd Laura, for Lauryn’s happiness as well as his own. His little fairy needed to get on with her life. And, he needed to get on with his.

  “It’s all right, sir,” came a voice. Instantly, Brant recognized the voice as the one he’d heard before—the one who led him to Lauryn the last time he was at Connemara and they’d had a disagreement.

  The smile on Lauryn’s face as she looked past him told the tale and Brant turned to see, for the first time, Captain Brandon Masterson.

  “It’s all right that you go through her things,” the Captain repeated. He was as real as Laura, as real as any other person in the house. Brant marveled at the ancient uniform he wore and at the family resemblance.

  “I can see you, sir,” Brant spoke tentatively.

  “Yes. For now.” The Captain walked forward and offered his hand. Brant took it and shook it firmly.

  Lauryn wasn’t exactly certain that she was awake. As she gazed upon the unbelievable sight of the Captain and Brant standing across from one another and shaking hands, she pinched herself to make certain she was, indeed, conscious. Brant was much taller than the Captain. He was much more handsome…which was astounding considering the good looks the Captain bore. And there they were, shaking hands. Smiling.

  “How fares my lady?” the Captain asked.

  Brant nodded and answered, “As well as can be expected, sir.”

  The Captain nodded. “Uncle Brand to you, sir.” Brant smiled and nodded. Then the Captain’s attention turned to Lauryn. “He will help you. The two of you together are so much stronger than you are alone.”

  “But I’ve tried for so long, Captain. I’ve failed so many times.” Lauryn reminded him.

  “You’ve never failed, my angel,” he told her. “Now…I’ll leave you two to your work. And Lauryn…” he walked to her. She stood, taking his hand. “Do not be upset if you don’t see me for awhile.”

  “What? But what if…” she began to argue.

  “I want you to concentrate on Laura now. Not on me. I’m found. She’s not.” The Captain kissed her cheek tenderly and turned to Brant once more. “I understand the feelings in your heart, Brant. I appreciate your great sacrifice. It will be worth it in the end, you know.”

  Brant nodded humbly. “I know. Thank you, sir.” Then the Captain was gone.

  Lauryn was silent for a long moment, confused, frightened at the Captain’s revelation that he would not be appearing to her for some time. What would she do? She looked to Brant and felt guilty, felt as if her heart was betraying her beloved Captain. For she felt nothing but security, hope in having Brant there before her.

  Suddenly she asked, “What are you thinkin’?” She couldn’t help it. The question foremost in her mind just slipped out of her mouth.

  “I’m thinking,” Brant mumbled. “That I’m completely crazy. I stand around talking to ghosts like it was the most natural thing in the world.”

  Lauryn turned from him and knelt before the trunk again. “Well, if you’re crazy then I’m absolutely insane.” Gently, she lifted the ancient paper covering Lauralynn’s wedding dress and set it aside. Brant sat down on the floor next to her and she handed the wedding gown to him.

  “See the wisteria on the bodice?” she asked.

  Brant nodded but was silent. Lauryn assumed it must be a moving experience for him to actually hold these belongings of Laura’s. She very gently handed him other items from the trunk, the sampler, the tintype, the doll. When she got to the bundles of letters, the letter she hadn’t found first day so long ago…the letters she’d found in the very bottom of the trunk sometime after…the letters that Brandon had written to Lauralynn during their courtship and his time away from her as a soldier in battle…it was then that Brant finally spoke.

  “Have you read them all?” he asked.

  “Well…no,” Lauryn confessed. “I…I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And anyway, Brand wasn’t here the day she disappeared. What could the letters possibly tell me?” Laura’ s letters from Brand were separated into ten sets, each tied with a pink ribbon. Lauryn touched the soft ribbons with her fingers, wondering, as she always did, what intimate expressions of love they might secret.

  “I don’t know, but…” Brant paused and rubbed his temples with one hand. Immediately Lauryn was disturbed. She’d seen him do this before, when he was without his sight.

  “Are you all right?” she asked desperately, placing her hand on his knee.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he grumbled. “You should read these, Lauryn,” he stated.

  Lauryn frowned. “Why me? You read them.”

  “They’re personal!”

  “I know that, Brant! Why do you think I haven’t read them before?”

  “Well, you need to read them now.”

  “Maybe you need to read them now.”

  “I don’t want to read them,” Brant confessed.

  “I don’t want to read them either,” Lauryn countered.

  Brant grinned and she was irritated. It was the kind of grin he had when he was amused.

  “Very well,” he conceded. “We won’t read them. You’re right. What good would it do? They’re personal and don’t pertain to the day in question.” He chuckled and asked, “Were you this headstrong when I was here before?”

  “Yes.” Lauryn’s response was quick and sure. “You just don’t remember.”

  “Oh, I remember everything, Lauryn,” he assured her with the familiar grin of mischief on his face.

  Lauryn felt uncomfortable under his amused gaze. “What is he implying,” she wondered. She could hear the others talking downstairs and knew they had returned from the cemetery. Gently she began putting Laura’s belongings back into the trunk. Brant hunkered down and helped her until everything was safe in its place once more. Then he offered her his hand. She accepted, and he helped her to her feet.

  “Let’s see if your Nana proves to be more help,” he suggested closing the attic door behind them.

  “You’ll be tender when you ask her, won’t you?” Lauryn ventured.

  “I’m sure that when you ask her, you’ll be sensitive to her feelings,” Brant countered. Lauryn couldn’t help smiling at his passing the responsibility back to her.

  “You are a carin’ man.” Lauryn giggled, delighted by their banter. “You’ll not upset her more than necessary.”

  “Nope,” he chuckled. “I’ll be right there to comfort her after you’ve asked her.”

  Lauryn giggled. Brant was quite a wit. And yet, in the back of her mind, were—the letters. Brand’s letters to Lauralynn haunted her. Never before had they preyed on her mind. She’d all but forgotten them, having told herself they could not possibly help her. But now, for some reason, they lingered in her thoughts.

  “Sir!” Sean greeted Brant as they entered the parlor. “You look as healthy as a bull. Completely healed, I see.”

  Brant smiled and struck hands with Sean. Aunt Felicity was cooing over Junie, a disgusted Patrick looking on, and Mindy was talking with Uncle Johnny and Nana.

  “Yep,” Brant assured Sean. “And it’s nice to see you.”

  Sean chuckled and looked to Lauryn. “So, have you managed to seduce my little sister into givin’ up her dreams of Mr. Right in trade for you?”

  “No. I’m afraid not,” Brant said, grinning and obviously amused.

  Immediately Lauryn’s face turned crimson and burned with a terrible blush. Sometimes she was certain she hated Sean. He always, always humiliated her when she least wanted him to.

  “Sean O’Halleran Kensington,” Georgia scolded, arriving in time to hear him taunting his sister.

  “Oh, go on, Mama,” Sean argued. “If Lauryn thinks she can spend all these years goin’ on to me about Mr. Perfectly Imperfect and not have to take some teasin’ for it, she’s wrong.”

  Lauryn’s mother looked to her with sympathetically and nodded to reassure her she shouldn’t let Sean bother her. But being humiliated in front of everyone was hard to swallow. And furthermore, sh
e loathed the way Sean always made fun of her romantic ideals.

  “That’s enough, Sean,” Georgia reminded him.

  “Who’s this Mr. Perfect?” Brant’s Aunt Felicity asked.

  “Why…Lauryn’s dream man, of course,” Sean offered.

  “Sean!” Georgia tried to halt her son’s assault on his sister, but he was determined.

  “Every girl should have her ideal in mind long before she’s old enough to be looking,” Aunt Felicity stated, going to Lauryn and taking her hand reassuringly. “Otherwise she’ll end up with some devil that can never make her happy.” Lauryn smiled, happy to have an advocate. But her relief was short lived. For Aunt Felicity continued. “And I say there’s no better man on earth than my dear nephew here. Don’t you think so, Lauryn sweetie?”

  Sean burst into a roar of laughter. And everyone in the room enjoyed their own giggles and snickers—everyone except Lauryn. Brant, though he didn’t laugh, couldn’t keep an amused grin from spreading across his handsome face. And even as Georgia scolded Sean again, she, herself, smiled with delight.

  It was Brant who finally came to Lauryn’s rescue just a moment before tears of humiliation escaped her eyes.

  “Poor Lauryn,” he sympathized with a smile. “Trapped in a room full of teasing fools.” He went to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Don’t you worry, sugar,” he began. “Brothers always get theirs. Always.” He squeezed her shoulders once more in his powerful arm and releasing her said with a chuckle, “I think Aunt Felicity is right, after all. If a girl isn’t selective…she might end up with quite the devil. Isn’t that right, Mindy?”

  Everyone laughed again, including Sean, who suddenly embraced Lauryn affectionately. “You’re a tough little dish, sweet sissy,” he told her. “I do love you, so.”

  Lauryn’s heart softened and she returned her brother’s embrace. “I love you, too. Even if you are a terrible tease,” she confessed.