The Fragrance of Her Name

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “So,” Brant chuckled. “This is why Henry is so special to you.”

  There was nothing to be said. Caught in the act of kissing a statue was not to be dealt with by any other manner than humiliated silence.

  “Thank you for the tablecloths, Lauryn. Um…Bye,” Penny mumbled, turning and almost running from the scene of the crime.

  “When we were girls we used to…” Lauryn stammered.

  Brant, still smiling, walked forward, stopping directly in front of her. Dropping his voice and bending to her ear, he said, “When you think you’re ready for a real lover…you know where to find me, sugar.” Then, with a wink, he turned and walked away, leaving Lauryn’s mouth agape and her heart hammering.

  Chapter Ten

  Brant had gone with his aunt and uncle to the old confederate cemetery just outside of town. Lauryn found herself pacing her room, waiting for him to return.

  “You’ll wear a hole in the floor, girl,” the Captain chuckled.

  Lauryn looked up to see him sitting on her bed, leaning back on one elbow and smiling at her in amusement.

  “We’re not gettin’ anywhere!” she exclaimed. “He’s been here a whole day and, so far, all we’ve discovered is that Laura and Nana used to play tea party in the old, smelly root cellar!”

  “So…you’re just impatient, is that it?” the Captain asked. “Ten years of helping me out…looking for hours every day…and you’re just now getting impatient?”

  “Well, yes!” Lauryn whined.

  “Why are you so much more impatient now than you were…say, last year?” The Captain’s eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “Because…because…” Lauryn stammered. “Oh, I don’t know! And where is Brant? He should be back by now. Doesn’t he know we have work to do?” The Captain chuckled. “What’s so funny?” Lauryn snapped.

  “You could be looking on your own, you know.”

  “I’ve been lookin’ on my own for ten years! What good has it done anyone? Besides, he came here to help me. Didn’t he?”

  “Did he?”

  “What do you mean by that?” Lauryn was flustered and rather irritated with the Captain talking in riddles.

  “Do you think he came back just to help you find Laura?”

  “Of course! Why else would he have come back?” Lauryn tried to squelch the winged hope that rose in her bosom. She knew what the Captain was implying and she knew it was pointless. Brant had come back to find Laura. That was it. Lauryn couldn’t hope for anything else. It would only mean pain to her.

  “You don’t think you have anything to do with his being here?”

  Lauryn buried her face in her hands then, relenting. “Have you seen him?” she asked in a tearful whisper. “Have you talked to him? Noticed his wit? His…he’s perfect!”

  “No man is perfect, darling,” the Captain reminded her.

  “I know,” she admitted, sitting down beside him. “But he’s…he’s…”

  “Perfect for you?”

  “I can’t feel this way for him, Captain! I can’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…I think…I think if I feel any stronger…like him anymore than I already do…I think…I don’t think I can stand it! I think…”

  “Don’t think, sweetheart,” the Captain said softly. “That’s a mistake.”

  “He’s so much older. So handsome and perfect. So experienced! What could I possibly offer him? What about me would be interestin’ enough to keep his attention? Nope. It’s best just to find Laura as quickly as possible and let him get on with his life. That’s it. That’s what’s best. Where is he? There’re things to do.”

  “Lauryn…just let everything …”

  “I hardly know him!” Lauryn interrupted. “I’ve known him…a few months. Most of which…nearly all of which, except for a space of days…I’ve never even been with him!” Lauryn shook her head. “I’m insane. That’s it. It’s as simple as that…I’ve lost my mind.”

  The Captain chuckled again. “Well, I can see that anything I say when you’re like this…will mean absolutely nothing…so what do you say to a game of cards while you’re waiting?”

  Lauryn smiled and shook her head as she looked at her good friend. “You’re no help at all.”

  “I know,” he said smiling.

  Desperately, Lauryn tried to change the subject. “Did you see my roses this mornin’?” she asked. “I think they’ll be quite lovely this year.

  The Captain chuckled and didn’t even have a chance to respond before his young friend began to ramble on once more.

  “It’s getting dark out! Nobody can read tombstones in the dark! Where are they? For Pete’s sake you’d think…” She stopped talking when she heard a knock on her bedroom door and simultaneously watched the Captain vanish.

  “Who is it?” she asked. She knew it wasn’t Patrick because he didn’t even know what knocking was. He’d simply barge headlong into any room regardless of who might be changing clothes, bathing or trying to find a moment’s rest.

  “It’s me,” came Brant’s voice from the other side of the door. Lauryn’s heart lept in her chest at the knowledge that he had returned and was so close.

  “Come in,” she called before she could think to do otherwise.

  Brant opened the door to Lauryn’s bedroom and was immediately drenched with the sensation of walking into a dream. The evening light through the open windows, the gentle glow of the lamplight from one corner of the room, coupled with the flickering flames of numerous candles placed hither and thither, emphasized perfectly the impression of romantic femininity. Of sweet relaxation and haven.

  Brant smiled, amused as Lauryn frantically tried to bind her mass of nutmeg locks into a tidy braid at the back of her head. She stood there enchantingly barefoot in her white dress, flustered and blushing as he looked at her. He smiled as he more thoroughly surveyed her bedroom. It was completely, ‘Lauryn.’

  The bed was small, covered in cozy handmade quilts, ruffled throw pillows and a pair of stockings. It beckoned to him with an unusually inviting appearance. There was a simple wood chair next to it on which had been placed a doily and a large crystal bowl. The bowl was filled with water, numerous varieties of violets dreamily floated therein. Every imaginable shade of purple and lavender was represented in the tiny flowers. A few yellow blossoms splashed reflections of captured sunshine here and there. Brant noted that throughout the room were other small and large glass bowls all filled with water and a profusion of violets or small floating candles aflame. The room was small enough that the perfume of the tiny flowers was discernable if he breathed deeply.

  There were framed photographs on the chest of drawers, another set or two of stockings draped haphazardly over a trunk in one corner. Books were stacked in another corner of the room…next to a bookshelf, oddly enough.

  Brant smiled at Lauryn, again thinking, “This girl’s a master seductress and she’s not even aware of it,” for he had an incredibly strong desire to lunge forward and….

  “Are y’all back then?” Lauryn asked, as she finished braiding her hair.

  “Yeah,” he affirmed. “And…and your mother is ready to serve dinner. She sent me up to get you.” He said to her as he stepped into her bedroom and looked around curiously.

  Lauryn was uncomfortable having him in her room. He’d been there once before, of course, but he’d been unable to see then. She rolled her eyes, irritated with herself as she remembered she’d tossed her stockings onto her bed instead of tucking them away properly.

  “So this is your den of privacy,” Brant remarked as he walked to the chest of drawers and looked at the framed photographs placed on top of it.

  “Um…um…yes,” was all she could say.

  “I like it,” he chuckled as he went to the pile of books next to her bookshelf. He looked at her with an amused grin. She immediately went to where the books lay opening one to reveal the contents to him.

  “I’m not as sloppy as you’re thin
kin’,” she explained as she showed him the pressed violets, leaves and tiny daffodils between the pages. “I like pressin’ flowers.” She peeled one of the tiny, paper-thin blossoms from its page and handed it to him. He accepted, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger as he looked at it.

  “What do you do with them after you smash them?” he asked.

  Lauryn shrugged. “Keep them,” is all she could say. He smiled, obviously amused by her answer.

  He stood up, went to her bed, and brazenly plopped down on it, stretching his legs out as he tucked his hands beneath his head.

  “Ah,” he sighed. “I like this bed. Very comfortable. And all the candles and floating flowers.” He looked at her and winked. “I’d say you’re quite the romantic, Miss Lauryn.”

  “A person’s bedroom should be their haven. A place of relaxation and reflection…of retreat.” Why did she feel so compelled to explain the appearance of her room to him? She had a nice room! She knew it. What did it matter if he thought it silly—the candles and flowers? She adored it.

  “I guess I’m more like that about the barn,” he mumbled. “Well…until I saw this room, that is.” He turned his head to look at her and smiled. “I like it in here. It makes you want to…to stay.”

  Lauryn smiled back at him, pleased with the sincerity of his compliment. “Thank you.”

  “In fact, I think we should sit up at night talking in your room from now on instead of in my guest’s room.” His suggestion came as a complete surprise—a wonderful, dreamy, romantic and tantalizing surprise!

  “All right,” she agreed with a delighted giggle.

  “In fact,” he continued. “After dinner…or, at least, before we go to bed…I think we should sit down and write some things. You know…put it all on paper. Sometimes when you can sit and actually look at the information you need…things jump out at you that normally wouldn’t.”

  It was a good observation. A really good suggestion of something to do that might help their minds organize what they knew. “That’s a perfect idea. It will help. It will help me if for no other reason than I’ve forgotten all the reasons that certain places or things aren’t relevant.”

  “Exactly,” he agreed. “But for now,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand. He pulled her even closer to where he lay on the bed. “For now we better get downstairs to dinner. Aunt Felicity has had grand adventures in gardening today and she’ll want to tell us all about them.”

  Lauryn smiled. Her hand, held in his, was warm and tingling. His touch was like magic the way it caused her to burn with…yes…it was desire she was feeling. A desire to be even closer to him. To be in his arms.

  “And your brother and Mindy and the baby are here, too,” Brant added as he rose from the bed, still holding her hand. “Uncle Johnny has already confiscated Junie from her parents. They’ll be lucky to ever get her back.”

  Lauryn smiled, lighthearted and in awe that he still held her hand to speak. He reached up and wound his finger tightly in a strand of hair that she’d missed securing when she quickly braided it as he’d entered. He tugged on it teasingly. Turning and, still holding her hand, he led her from the room.

  “Come along, sugar,” he chuckled. “Your mother will think I’ve succumbed to your charms and have compromised your good name.”

  His flirting with her caused Lauryn to shiver. The hand he held tingled. This is dangerous, she thought. He was distracting her. No. He was owning her, body, mind and emotion! But she was enjoying it all too much to resist it. She let herself enjoy being led downstairs to dinner, his hand strong and capable as it clutched hers firmly.

  When they entered the dining room, everyone else was seated. Mother and Nana sat together. Sean was at the head of the table, Mindy at his side and next to Aunt Felicity. Uncle Johnny and Patrick sat across from them, Junie was happily propped on Uncle Johnny’s knee.

  “Well, for Pete’s sake, children,” Georgia scolded playfully. “We’ve all been waiting on you.”

  “Sorry, Mama,” Lauryn began. Brant had dropped her hand a moment before and now stood behind her chair, ready to seat her.

  “You know how Lauryn is, Mama,” Sean began. “She’s up there in that flower-shrine she calls a room, and it’s like pullin’ hen’s teeth to get her out. Isn’t that right, Brant?”

  Lauryn was vexed. She wasn’t in the mood for Sean’s teasing. She wanted to bask in the residual sensation of Brant’s touch. She didn’t feel like bantering with Sean.

  “Actually,” Brant said. “She had to kick me out of there. You’ll have to go up, Aunt Felicity. Lauryn’s a flower smasher just like you.”

  Gratefully Lauryn smiled at Brant as he sat down next to her. She’d been about to argue with Sean, angry that he would try to embarrass her in front of company. Brant rescued her from the need by complimenting her room when Sean could only make fun.

  “I like Lauryn’s room, too,” Patrick piped up. “You’ll just have to get her to read you a story up there Mr. Brant,” he urged. “Stories are always, always better when she reads ‘em in her room.”’

  “I’ve no doubt,” Brant chuckled.

  “What do you do with all the flowers you press, sweet thing?” Aunt Felicity asked.

  “I…I…” Lauryn stammered.

  “She keeps them,” Brant answered with an amused smile.

  “Me, too!” Aunt Felicity exclaimed. “Aren’t we just two peas, angel?”

  Lauryn smiled and nodded. She already adored Brant’s Aunt Felicity and Uncle Johnny. Aunt Felicity had an insight that she admired and appreciated. Uncle Johnny was the kind of old tease her grandfather had been. It was a treat having them at Connemara.

  Everyone at the table shared a pleasant dinner and retired to the parlor with very full stomachs, looking forward to traditional, evening conversation. Uncle Johnny had amused himself with Patrick and Junie nearly the entire dinner hour. Now the two children sat at his feet and he watched them play, a perpetual smile on his face.

  The subjects of conversation were the usual after-dinner kind…the war, the flu, the weather, the economy, the local gardens and babies, depending on which gender had the floor at any given moment. Lauryn sat listening and trying not to look at Brant every two seconds. Each time she did try to nonchalantly catch sight of him, he would be looking at her smiling knowingly. It was quite unnerving.

  Then, in the short space of one moment, Lauryn’s happy world screeched to a sudden and uncomfortable. Sean decided to be the aggravating big brother.

  “So, Brant,” he began. “Did Lauryn ever tell you about the time she and Penny got caught skinny dippin’ out at the old millpond?”

  “Sean Kensington!” Georgia scolded immediately. She was too late and Sean was bent on humiliating his little sister.

  “Well, not that I can remember,” Brant admitted smiling and winking at Lauryn.

  “Sean,” Lauryn warned. “Don’t you dare do it.”

  “Oh, go on, Sean,” Uncle Johnny urged. “Do it.” Lauryn reconsidered for a moment her opinion of Uncle Johnny.

  “Well,” Sean began. “How old were you two, Lauryn?” Lauryn glared at him and tried to halt the hot sting of tears rising in her throat. “About fifteen? Just a few years back right?”

  “Sean…” Georgia tried to warn again. But he was dauntless.

  “So, Lauryn and Penny decide they need to go swimmin’ one night. They’d been in town and didn’t have their bathin’ suits with them. But, they did have their birthday suits along. Wasn’t it old Mr. Jackson himself that warned the two of you that the entire population of the town was on its way to go canoein’?”

  Lauryn stood up, angry, hurt and completely humiliated. “We were entirely modest, Sean!” She shrieked at him.

  “Modest? You were bucknaked!” he laughed.

  “We were not! And you know it! The only thing we took off was our shoes, stockin’s and dresses!”

  “What else was there to take off, Lauryn?” he teased.

 
“Plenty!” Lauryn breathed The tears were brimming in her eyes, but she was determined not to let everyone see her cry. The incident at the mill pond had been very embarrassing. Mr. Jackson had, indeed, called to Penny and Lauryn as they swam, warning them that several couples were on their way from town to go canoeing. The girls, though dressed in their underthings, were still quite mortified to have to wade out of the pond and allow Mr. Jackson to hand them their dresses. Someday Lauryn knew she would laugh at the memory. But not yet. It was still too fresh.

  So, with a polite, “Excuse me,” she left the parlor and fled the house to the back gardens. Neither she nor Brant, who followed immediately, heard Sean’s mother scold him. They didn’t hear Sean laugh and tell his mother that someone in the family had to give those two some dramatics in order to let them have some privacy.

  The night was warm and fragrant. The cricket’s song and other bug noises created a soothing hum to accompany the sweet evening breezes. Still, Lauryn let her tears fall freely as she reached out and caressed the soft yellow petals of one of her early roses. She loved her roses, for they were hers. She’d planted them the year she was thirteen and she’d nurtured them lovingly ever since. Her mother had insisted she plant something after she’d torn up a place in the gardens one year during her mad, frantic search for Laura’s remains. Lauryn had chosen roses, yellow ones. She’d worked so hard that year and years since to make them flourish and they would be beautiful again this year. Already they were blooming and fragrant.

  “How can Sean be such a beast?” she mused aloud.

  “It’s the nature of brothers’ the world over,” Brant answered form behind her.

  Lauryn jumped and turned to face him, angrily wiping the tears form her cheeks—from insult to injury! Now, not only did he know about one of her deepest, darkest and most embarrassing escapades, he had caught her red-faced and crying like a child in the rose garden.

  “Don’t let him bother you so much, Lauryn,” he counseled. “He’s just teasing you.”