The Fragrance of Her Name

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  It seemed he was taking their conversation down an odd route but Lauryn answered anyway. “The parlor. I think we should be just about…yep. Just under the parlor. Why?”

  “Well…look at the wood up here. See how it’s dark in some places and not in others. It’s strange.” Brant frowned and looked down at her.

  “I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say.

  He smiled. “For what.”

  “That Connemara’s wood floors are….strange.”

  “I think just about everything at Connemara is strange,” he chuckled.

  Lauryn, about to scold him for teasing, instead sucked in her breath, horrified at the large eight-legged beast that was crawling along Brant’s left shoulder.

  “What’s the matter, Lauryn? You’re as pale as a sheet,” Brant asked.

  Somehow, though it was completely adverse to her normal behavior, somehow Lauryn found the courage to reach up and brush the spider from Brant’s shoulder; she stomped on it furiously and smashed it into nothing more than a large brown spot on the dirt beneath their feet, all the while screeching intermittently.

  When she’d finished her frenzied mutilation of the beast, she stood before Brant, breathless with residual fear. Brant simply stood staring at her, eyebrows raised in astonishment.

  “Well, one thing is for sure,” he said. “That spider will never have the guts to do that again.”

  Lauryn laughed nervously at his humor. “I suppose he won’t.”

  Then, with a devilish grin, Brant put his hand dramatically to his chest and breathed, “You saved my life.”

  Lauryn rolled her eyes, still too undone by her frightening experience to find easy mirth in the situation. “That’ll be enough, Mr. Masterson,” she scolded.

  “But…but I’m sincerely grateful, Ma’am,” he chuckled. “I saw it all…my whole life…flashing before my eyes. And then, WHACK! I was back…safe in the arms of Connemara’s basement.”

  “I’ll have you know that it took every ounce of courage I had to kill that beast!” Lauryn snapped.

  “I know. I know it did. And I thank you.” Reaching out, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, which by now was completely free from its pins. He smiled. Lauryn, angry as she tried to be at him for mocking her, could only melt at the sight of him standing before her so handsome and strong, so amused and so approving. Brant Masterson was a living, breathing dream.

  “What a pistol she is,” Brant noted as he studied Lauryn’s flustered expression. Even in the low light of the lantern he could see the remnant of absolute terror in her eyes. How perfectly sweet that she would protect him.

  He relished the wild look of her just then; the way her hair escaped its proper pinning to stream down around her shoulders, naturally rebellious. The way her eyes flickered with residual determination in the face of fear. He half expected her to turn around and reveal a pair of gossamer fairy wings attached to her shoulders—half expected golden light to suddenly beam brilliantly from the tips of her fingers—half expected a radiant glow to appear like tiny threads of enchanted illumination woven in with every strand of her beautiful hair. She was too adorable to be safe. Too tempting. To much an irresistible lure to a man like himself who had always possessed a great deal of self-control.

  All his life the females of the species had seemed drawn to him for some reason for which he had no explanation. When he was a boy, the girls were so silly in his presence that, at times, he had wondered if there was an intelligent one among them anywhere. He admitted that in his adolescence he had been somewhat conceited for a time. It was embarrassingly obvious that he was considered the boy to strive to win. He’d enjoyed the female attention he received and basked in his popularity none too humbly…but only for a short time. Laura herself, had taught Bant to have a great respect for the tender, nurturing, romantic side of women. He’d never used his charms to beguile or mislead…never done any seriously damaging wooing or seducing. And, as a man, he had at last found maturity, thank the Heavens—not only physical, bodily maturity, but maturity of mind and attitude. He’d read the hearts of many a young woman and learned to spare them greater heartache by being honest from the beginning of an acquaintance.

  But this little pixie…Lauryn…this one was different! She intrigued him—her wit, the romantic daydreams he suspected she secreted, her way of thinking. All of it added up to nothing more than mortal danger to a man who boasted silently to himself about owning a profound self-control.

  Again, Brant reminded himself that he’d come to help solve the infernal mystery that had plagued his life. He’d come to find Laura. Laura was why he’d come back. But he feared that Lauryn would prove to be too tempting, to perfectly adorable to resist for much longer.

  “I hate the basement!” Lauryn exclaimed once they were in the kitchen again.

  “I figured that,” Brant chuckled, as he hung the lantern on the hook just inside the basement door.

  Lauryn brushed the dust from her shoulders. “I wonder where Patrick has dragged your uncle off to.”

  “Don’t know,” Brant mumbled. “But I’m sure Uncle Johnny will keep Patrick hopping.”

  “I’m certain one of them will keep the other hoppin’, at the very least. Would you like some lemonade?” Lauryn asked.

  “Sure,” Brant agreed, pulling a chair out from the small kitchen table, turning it around and straddling the seat as he sat down. “Well… you’re right. Nothing notable in the basement,” he remarked.

  “Just another disappointment in a long line of them,” Lauryn sighed, pouring each of them a glass of lemonade

  “So,” he began as she handed him his drink and sat down across from him at the table. “What are your ambitions, Miss Kensington?”

  “My ambitions?” she repeated. Lauryn had been fully prepared to converse further about the task at hand. The basement was unproductive, as were so many other places at Connemara. She was certain Brant would want to talk about where else they could look. His sudden change of subject caught her completely unprepared.

  “Beyond finding your lost auntie…what do you plan to do? Will you seek higher education? Teaching perhaps? Become an actress? I mean…. it’s obvious you can dance well. I’ve seen you myself. That one in the cellar last night beat the one today, though.”

  Lauryn sneered playfully at him. “I guess I don’t have any ambitions,” she answered.

  “None?” he asked.

  “Not unless you think…and most people don’t…that being a good wife and mother is considered ambition.”

  “I think that’s very ambitious. What harder job is there?” Lauryn wasn’t quite sure of his sincerity. Rather than continue the discussion about herself, she turned the tables.

  “And you?” she asked. “What grand ambitions lurk in your mind and heart, Brant Masterson?”

  He smiled, not at all bested. He answered anyway. “I like growing apples. Cattle, too. Like my Dad. Only…not in Vermont. I want to be west. Before I left for the war, I purchased an apple orchard and farm in north New Mexico.”

  “You bought land in New Mexico? That’s forever away!” Lauryn was very disturbed. Vermont was far. But New Mexico! It seemed so much further. “It’s so…so west!”

  Brant chuckled. “It’s marvelous out there. The way the land stretches out to the mountains. The mountains themselves are magnificent! At sunset they’re sort of….sort of watermelon colored and…and purple. You’ve never seen anything like it. And the sky…perfectly blue.”

  “So, you want to raise apples and grow cattle in New Mexico?” Lauryn asked.

  Smiling, Brant corrected, “Raise cattle and grow apples, actually.”

  Lauryn smiled, realizing her mistake. “It sounds so…so secluded,” she said.

  Brant nodded. “Maybe. But it sounds fresh, challenging and different to me.”

  “An escape,” Lauryn muttered. He was looking for an escape. His life had been forever tremulous. Not sweet and happy like Lauryn’s had been. It was
obvious that Brant wanted to find Laura and then leave it all behind him. She tried to understand it. She’d been happy at Connemara. She had always felt that nothing would be worth leaving it. Nothing except maybe….

  “Don’t you want it?” he asked. “You act so…so content to be here, lingering with ghosts. Don’t you want something completely different?” Lauryn shrugged as Brant finished his lemonade.

  “I…I’ve never really considered on it too much, I suppose.” Her answer, though she knew he might find it shallow, was honest. “To leave Connemara…my family. But…then again…I suppose people do do that. It seems to me it would take a great deal of bravery.”

  “Maybe,” he mused. “But it sounds great to me.” He paused for a moment lost in his own thoughts before he continued. “I almost had Dad sell the place for me…before I got home and they weren’t certain I’d see again. But…I’m glad I hung onto it.”

  “It’s good to hear that you have plans you’re lookin’ forward to…that make you happy, Brant.” Lauryn was beginning to feel somewhat depressed. Where was her ambition? Where were her dreams? She knew what and where they were…sitting across from her smiling handsomely as he thought on his own beautiful dreams of the west.

  She’d always assumed she’d grow up, find her Mr. Perfectly Imperfect, all would go well and they’d fall in love, smooth as syrup, and live happily ever after. It had never once occurred to her that maybe Mr. Perfectly Imperfect wouldn’t be that easy to catch hold of after she found him. It had never occurred to her that maybe he wouldn’t find her to be his own Mrs. Perfect.

  “Lauryn! There you are!” Penny exclaimed fairly bursting through the kitchen door, causing both Lauryn and Brant to jump. She was followed closely by her older brother Jeffrey. “We saw your Mama down in town. She said she thought you two would be here.”

  Lauryn was irritated that her time alone with Brant should be cut short by yet another set of intruders. But she smiled, for she did adore Penny.

  “Well, hello again Miss Penny,” Brant said standing and bowing slightly.

  “Oh, my stars! If you aren’t all the prettier now, Mr. Masterson!” Penny exclaimed.

  “And the angelic voice I heard so many weeks ago seems, indeed, to be owned by an angel.” Brant flattered her in return. Lauryn swallowed the hot taste of jealousy that burned in her mouth.

  “Hello,” Jeffrey greeted offering his hand to Brant. “I’m Jeffrey McGovern. Penny’s brother.”

  Brant accepted Jeffrey’s hand, shaking it firmly. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Hey there, Lauryn,” Jeffrey greeted.

  “Hello, Jeffrey,” Lauryn answered, smiling. Lauryn had always liked Jeffrey. He’d been her first crush other than the Captain. But somehow, Jeffrey was never anything close to Mr. Perfectly Imperfect. She received her very first real kiss from him when she was thirteen. It had been quite disappointing. They each confessed to a feeling of having kissed a sibling or a cousin and enjoyed a friendly laugh. They remained friends and often attended the same social events. Jeffrey was very similar in feature to Penny, only a masculine version. He was a handsome man in his own right, with dark green eyes and blonde hair a shade or two darker than his sister’s.

  “We’ve come to invite you to our house for a party next Saturday! Won’t you stay over and attend, Mr. Masterson?” Penny begged. “I’ve invited your auntie and uncle. I met them in town just this mornin’ and they said they’d love to.”

  “A party at the McGovern house is worth comin’ all the way from Vermont just to attend, Brant. You won’t want to miss it.” Lauryn knew she was simply desperate to keep Brant in Franklin longer. Penny’s parties were no more special than others, but maybe it would entice him into staying at least nearly two weeks.

  “Well, if Aunt Felicity said we were going…I guess we are,” Brant said.

  Penny squealed and clapped her hands. “Fabulous! Come on, Lauryn.” she ordered, taking Lauryn’s hand and leading her out of the kitchen. “I need to borrow your mama’s round, white linen tablecloths.” Looking back to Jeffrey and Brant she ordered, “You two gentlemen go on ahead and talk politics for a minute. All right?”

  “As if you’re givin’ us a choice, Bossy Betty,” Jeffrey scolded.

  “That sister of yours is quite the little bullet,” Brant noted as he offered Jeffrey a seat.

  Jeffrey shook his head and chuckled. “Oh, yeah. And you get them two together and…”

  “It’s like two magpies on a fence?” Brant finished.

  Jeffrey chuckled and nodded in agreement.

  “So, you’re related to the man who’s buried here at Connemara?”

  “Yeah,” Brant confirmed. “He was my Aunt Felicity’s brother. You met her today.”

  “I did.” Jeffrey studied Brant for a moment. Brant felt it was with disapproval. Unexpectedly, Jeffrey announced, “I was sweet on Lauryn for years and years and years.”

  “Really?” Brant stammered. He wondered if this southern gentleman’s next move would be to slap him across the face with a glove and challenge him to a duel.

  “Yep. She and I…well, I don’t think I ever quite measured up to her ideal,” Jeffrey admitted.

  “Yeah. I’ve heard about that.” Brant waited for Jeffrey’s response.

  “How about you?” he asked. “Do you think you might be him?”

  Brant was only slightly stunned with the man’s forthrightness. He didn’t really think his own relationship with Lauryn, or lack thereof, was any of Jeffrey’s business. Still, he must be friendly. No matter what the family history was, he was just a guest at Connemara.

  “I’m pretty sure that I’m as far from being what that girl wants as any man,” he muttered.

  “Don’t misunderstand me, sir,” Jeffrey said. “I’m not jealous…not anymore. I just know…I just don’t want her to be…”

  “Hurt,” Brant finished.

  “Yeah. She’s been a good friend for a long time. Penny and I both love her like a sister.”

  “Don’t you worry. I’m not the heart breaking type,” Brant chuckled, feeling relieved that Jeffrey’s concern was purely fraternal.

  “So,” Jeffrey sighed, seeming satisfied that Brant wasn’t a malicious, lustful rounder. “Where did you fight in Europe?”

  

  “He is a walkin’ dream, Lauryn!” Penny exclaimed in a whisper once the two girls reached the linen closet. “How are you keepin’ your hands off him?”

  “Penny!” Lauryn scolded. “He’s here to help me find…”

  “So, what? That doesn’t mean you can’t have him after.”

  Lauryn shook her head. “I can’t…I can’t even dream those things, Pen. I’ve told you that.”

  “But he came back! You didn’t think he would and he did. Darlin’ if you don’t want him…then for Pete’s sake, give him to me!”

  Lauryn smiled. “I’m keepin’ my head clear. I’ll find Laura for him and he’ll go home and…and…”

  “I thought you were findin’ Laura for the Captain?”

  Lauryn looked to Penny whose eyes twinkled with understanding. “I am. But for Brant, too. Now…which tablecloths did you say you wanted?”

  After retrieving the tablecloths and placing them safely on the gazebo bench, Penny and Lauryn linked arms and began to stroll about the grounds of Connemara. Jeffrey and Brant were still talking in the kitchen. Although Lauryn was still a bit irritated that their time together had been interrupted, she was more than happy for some light conversation with Penny.

  “He is Adonis! That’s all there is to it,” Penny sighed.

  “He is, isn’t he?” Lauryn giggled.

  “You’ve got to win him, Lauryn,” Penny demanded. “By whatever means possible. Seduce him at every turn!”

  “Penny McGovern! You’re shameless!” Lauryn scolded.

  “Of course! How else do you expect to get him? And he likes you, I can tell.”

  “He’s occupyin’ a great deal of my thinkin’, that’s for c
ertain.” Lauryn sighed in frustration. If only she had Penny’s confidence where men were concerned.

  “Well, I’m hopin’ that all that time we spent learnin’ on Henry will finally pay off,” Penny confessed as they stopped directly in front of Henry, their special statue friend.

  “How many real men have you kissed since Henry?” Lauryn asked with a mischievous smile.

  “Not many,” Penny giggled. “I’m havin’ a hard time findin’ any man who can give ol’ Henry any competition.” The girls giggled, delighted with their memories of practicing their kissing skills with Henry.

  It had worked out so well when they were girls. Henry was the perfect height for them both. His arms were positioned just right, enabling either girl to be held in his embrace if they squiggled into it just right.

  Lauryn, delighted by the memory, squeezed her way into Henry’s granite embrace. Penny laughed and clapped her hands. “A few more curves to work around since you last kissed our Henry, is it Lauryn?”

  Dramatically, Lauryn placed her hands on Henry’s shoulders and gazed up adoringly into his slate colored eyes.

  “Oh, Henry! The times we’ve shared,” she cooed. Slowly she let her hands travel the breadth of his shoulders locking her arms around his neck. “Kiss me you wicked, wicked man! It’s been far too long. Don’t you long for the petal softness of my lips?” Penny giggled as Lauryn continued. “What? You’ve missed me? I couldn’t have returned from New Orleans soon enough had it been the moment after I left? You fool! Kiss me! Kiss me!” Then, quite dramatically, Lauryn raised herself on tiptoe and kissed Henry lingeringly on the mouth—kissed him until Penny’s giggling ceased abruptly.

  Turning to look at her friend, Lauryn tried to will herself to expire on the spot. Standing next to Penny, an amused expression on his face, strong arms folded across his chest, stood none other than the very man of her dreams.

  Penny bit her lip trying to stifle her amusement. Lauryn, crimson with the hot blush of humiliation, slid from Henry’s embrace and smoothed her dress.