“I’m sorry, Lauryn.” Lauryn startled at the sound of his voice, but kept her posture, gazing out the window of her room. “Look, I can be a real stinker sometimes. I need to have these…these…” he stammered.
“Temper tantrums,” Lauryn finished for him.
“Yes,” he admitted. “And…and I need to keep my hands off you, Lauryn.”
Lauryn turned around. “By all means, Mr. Masterson,” she agreed. “I never asked you to put them on me in the first place. Now did I?” She quirked one eyebrow adding, “Never asked you to keep them off me either, for that matter.”
He smiled, his mood completely lightened. “You do understand, Lauryn,” he began. “Don’t you? I’m responsible for her. She’s completely dependant on me. That kind of dependency is destructive to other things in my life.”
“I do know,” Lauryn reminded him.
“I know you know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, Lauryn,” he said quietly gathering her into a strong embrace. “I’m sorry that you always have to deal with my tantrums when I get frustrated.” He smiled adoringly down at her. “We will do this together. It’ll never get solved otherwise. We’ll do a lot of things together,” he mumbled insinuatively.
Lauryn recognized the roguish spark in his eye, the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. It was in his mind to kiss her. But he was determined to focus on finding Laura before finding life. Still, she couldn’t resist teasing him…tempting him…just a bit.
“We’re friends. Remember? And you’re responsible for what you do. Remember? And what you don’t do. We don’t want you to be too distracted now, do we?”
He smiled at her. “I remember,” he admitted. “I’m responsible for letting myself be distracted. But…if you endeavor to distract me…I’m not responsible for what you do. Isn’t that right?” Lauryn shook her head and smiled. What a witty, flirtatious devil he was.
“I am responsible for what I do. You’re right,” she told him. His expression softened even more as he understood her.
“I guess…I guess I’m just a little too imperfect to be perfect, aren’t I?” he chuckled. Lauryn smiled, delighted at his implication that he was trying to live up to her dreamy ideal. Which, of course, he embodied. He continued, “I’m going out to the orchards to help Dad and Parker for awhile. How about you read through some of these letters and…and we’ll talk about it later.”
Lauryn nodded. She understood his need to work…to be distracted by something other than herself. “All right,” she agreed.
“And you better telephone home. Let your mother know…you’re safe…if not the warmest you’ve ever been,” he added as he turned to leave.
“I do understand you, Brant,” she called after him. He paused and looked back at her.
“I know you understand my loyalty to Laura…my need to finish it,” he told her. “But I think, sugar…that you don’t understand, even a little, what I’m thinking where you’re concerned.” With a wink, he closed the door behind him as he left.
Lauryn felt the familiar leap in her bosom. Brant was dangerously attractive. Powerful in that he could completely destroy her life, her ability to be happy or build her life and continue to be her happiness. Yet, she knew he was right…that she didn’t understand everything he was thinking. But was it all good or bad? She had no way of knowing. And who could she talk to? Who knew him well enough to explain it to her?
“Lauralynn?” she called quietly. “Are you nearby? I certainly could use your insight where a certain man is concerned.”
Like a refreshing spring breeze, fragrance filled the room as Lauryn called once more, “Laura?” And in the next moment, she was there, standing before Lauryn and smiling with compassion and understanding.
“Lauryn,” she whispered. And Lauryn gasped, for she’d heard Laura’s voice! She was nearly overwhelmed with the scent of wisteria. It was so strong that it was almost unpleasant. “Lauryn,” the ghost figure repeated and motioned to the window where Lauryn had stood only minutes before. Looking out that same window now, Lauryn saw Brant striding determinedly toward the orchards.
“Tell me, Lauralynn,” Lauryn whispered. “Tell me…what does he mean by all this? I can’t…I can’t bare to not have him any longer. And yet…when he’s here and I know that I can’t…I feel like I might die and…”
Lauryn was silent as Laura pressed the palm of her left had to Lauryn’s right hand and laced their fingers.
“Close your eyes.” It was the tiniest, almost indiscernible whisper that Lauryn heard. She wasn’t even certain she did hear it. For it was almost as if it was simply her own mind thinking it. Yet it was a woman’s voice and she knew it was Laura’s. “Close your eyes and I’ll show you somethin’.” And so she did. Lauryn closed her eyes and, suddenly, it was as if she were dreaming while she was still conscious.
It was a memory she was seeing. It was she and Brant on the millpond island. She could feel his arms around her, feel the power of his kiss, feel the passion between them. Then it was as if she watching a picture show, only with color. It was the Captain, and Lauralynn, enfolded in each other’s arms near the gazebo at Connemara. And, although she didn’t feel the passion in her own body as she had with the vision of her and Brant, she could see it. She knew it existed by the way they kissed, the way they held each other. Another moment came to her mind, she and Brant on the train to Vermont…the way his eyes burned as he gazed into her eyes, the way his mouth seized hers so wantonly. Again, the Captain then, lifting Laura’s veil at their own wedding and kissing her tenderly before all the world. It was the Captain, lifting his bride, still wearing her wedding gown and carrying her over the threshold of one of the bedrooms at Connemara. Gently, he let her feet fall to the floor. He removed her veil and kissed her sweetly at first. But as the moments wore on Brand kissed Laura more demandingly, passion exploding between them as they embraced.
“He is only bein’ careful with you,” came Laura’s voice as she spoke to Lauryn’s mind…Lauryn’s mind that now held visions of her moments with Brant in the orchard. Both moments of passion and of heartache. “Protectin’ you like a tiny treasure. He’s a strong man, full of ambition, guilt, hurt, love, desire. Trust him, Lauryn. For he only endeavors to bridle the love and desire until it is proper not to.”
Lauryn’s eyes popped open to find Laura still standing before her smiling. “Trust him,” she heard the whisper. “Trust him. Find me. And he won’t be such a gentleman anymore.” Laura smiled as Lauryn’s eyes widened. “That naughty streak runs deep in the Masterson family, Lauryn. He’s only tryin’ to be worthy of you.”
As Laura began to fade, one more phrase came into Lauryn’s mind. A startling revelation, accompanied by a vision. As Lauryn’s mind witnessed Brand and Lauralynn, standing in the parlor in Connemara, Brand’s head hung guiltily, Laura whispered to her mind, “We have our own wicked ways to serve us, Lauryn.” And Lauryn saw then, Laura…sweet, tiny, demure…as she took hold of Brand’s shirt at his chest and kissed him hard on the mouth. In a moment, Brand’s arms were around Laura’s small waist, returning the affection, which blazed as furiously as each time Lauryn had basked in the delirium of Brant’s kiss.
“Are you suggestin’ that I…?” Lauryn stammered
“Follow your heart, Lauryn,” came the whisper as the beautiful Lauralynn vanished. “Follow your heart.”
“We’re havin’ the furniture out just this very minute,” Georgia explained to Lauryn on the telephone sometime later.
“I can hardly hear you, Mama,” Lauryn said raising her voice and putting a finger in her other ear.
“Well, we decided to go ahead and get this done. The historical society is willin’ to pay for the whole mess. So all it is to us is a bit of an inconvenience,” Georgia explained.
“How long will it take them to strip the floors and all?” Lauryn asked.
“What, darlin’? I can hardly hear you,” Georgia asked.
“H
ow long will y’all be in with Sean?” Lauryn shouted.
“Oh, near to a week, I would think. More maybe. Why?” Georgia asked.
“We…we may need to come home right away. There’s somethin’ we’ve discovered and…”
“I’m losin’ you, angel! I can hardly hear you. But we’ll be at Sean’s if you need us. I love you! And give Brant my love, too. Bye now.” And she was gone.
Lauryn certainly hadn’t expected to find such goings on at Connemara when she’d taken Brant’s advice and telephoned home.
“They’re restorin’ Connemara,” she explained to Brant when he sat down for lunch.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“The historical society has offered to pay for the restoration if Mama will let it be toured a few days a week,” Lauryn explained.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Aunt Felicity exclaimed. “It’s such a beautiful example of architectural history.”
“What all will they do to it?” Brant’s father asked.
“Well,” Lauryn began. “From what I gather, they’re startin’ with the floors. Grandmother O’Halleran had them painted over and carpets put down after the war. The society wants them stripped and varnished the way they would’ve been during the time of the battle of Franklin. Then it’s paint and wallpaper, any repair work from there.”
“But it was redone just after the war, wasn’t it?” Felicity asked.
“Yes, Ma’am. It was. So there shouldn’t be too awful much more than that.” Lauryn glanced up to see Brant smiling approvingly at her. She blushed for some reason, suddenly being drowned with visions of the passionate exchanges that they’d shared. Suddenly thinking of his flirtatious words to her in her bedroom earlier. Had he, indeed, implied that were she to kiss him, being responsible for her own actions…would it then spur him on in the ways of affection toward her again?
Lauryn had thought about Brant’s inference throughout the remainder of the morning. She’d considered it as she’d considered Laura’s revelations to her. Had Laura been telling her that all Brant needed was a nudge in the right direction to let go of his feeling of being too distracted?
“Lauryn and I will have to go back to Tennessee within the week, Dad,” Brant announced unexpectedly.
“What? You just got here!” Darnell exclaimed with disappointment.
“Ah, he’s just selfish and don’t like sharing Lauryn any longer,” Parker chuckled.
“Well, that, too…” Brant chuckled. “But…this thing needs to get resolved. We found some things in the attic…and with what Aunt Felicity told us…well, we all know that Lauralynn Masterson isn’t really here anyway.”
Darnell Masterson put his fork down and studied Brant rather wistfully for a moment. “Getting on with your life, aren’t you Brant.”
“Yeah,” Brant admitted, returning his father’s gaze. Lauryn sensed that something was being exchanged between them. An unspoken understanding.
“Cattle and orchards in New Mexico calling you bad aren’t they, boy?” Darnell mumbled.
“Among other things,” Brant admitted with a wink. Darnell chuckled and slapped the table victoriously.
“Well, get on with it then, Brant. Life’s too short to waste.” He stood and winked at Lauryn. “You two get this thing worked out. It’s time things went forward instead of always looking back.”
Lauryn nodded, then looked to Brant who was staring at her with an odd, rather hungry expression.
“Feel up to reading some old letters, sugar?” he asked.
“I suppose so,” Lauryn sighed. But, she thought, I wish they were mine…letters from Brant to me.
Chapter Eighteen
There was work that needed doing. Fences and buildings to be repaired, trees to inspect and spray, cattle to check on, daily chores and more! Lauryn spent the time in Castledale trying to look busy. While Brant was out helping his father and Parker with the responsibilities of farm life in the spring, Lauryn listened to Aunt Felicity and a recovered Uncle John tell stories of life before the new century began.
April and Rose were kind, talkative women, with adorable children who proved to be weapons of beating boredom. Lauryn’s time in the company of Brant’s family was enjoyable, they included her in their work and activities.
Laura came to visit Lauryn often during those lonely days in unfamiliar surroundings. She showed Lauryn where the family photographs were kept and she was able to gaze into the eyes of the boy Brant.
Lauryn assured Laura, time and again, of the Captain’s well-being and infinite love for her. She told Laura of Connemara and its enduring beauty, of its inhabitants, of her sister Virginia, the lovely life she’d lived, and what a wonderful grandmother she was.
Something was missing however. Brant was definitely keeping himself busy with working. He was so busy he seemed to have succeeded in distracting himself from her. He talked with her, laughed with her, even flirted with her, but he had not so much as taken her hand in his, even for a moment. Though his manner was friendly, his attentions to her encouraging, she was mournful for the loss of his affections, which had given her confidence in his caring for her.
Still, she managed to hang onto her perpetual hope of making the Captain and Laura eternally at peace, thereby finding her own happiness. Each evening, after supper, Brant and Lauryn discussed what Lauryn had read in Laura’s letters during his absence. It was true the information they gleaned from them was nothing short of fantastic.
Moses Jackson, for example, had indeed been freed as the Captain’s letter to Laura at Connemara had implied. Freed, not by the plantation owners that claimed him, but by the assistance of an unknown person, and a secret chain of people and houses that were willing to help. Laura did not reveal in her letters, exactly who had helped him, only that he had been made a free man.
There were other letters concerning Carissa. Apparently, Lauralynn aided her many times, sneaking baskets of food to her, clothing, and money. Lauryn found several more entries in the Captain’s ledger pertaining to currency sent to Lauryn to give to “C.”
In her letters, Laura expressed heartache over her sister’s situation, and yet, heartache over her sister’s betrayal, as well. It was clear Laura eventually had been able to forgive Carissa for her lies and attempts to harm her. But she continued to struggle with understanding her sister’s actions.
There were letters talking of Virginia that interested Lauryn. It was fun to read of her Nana being a little girl, scraping her knees up and horrifying her great grandmother with her unladylike antics.
The more Brant and Lauryn read and the longer they talked, the more they were convinced that returning to Connemara and finding out what had happened to Carissa O’Halleran would prove a quintessential part of the mysterious enigma. Neither of them could explain to anyone their feelings of urgency where Carissa was concerned. Just that it existed.
Furthermore, as Lauryn thought on everything that was happening in Vermont, she began to see Brant’s decisions and actions as if they were a piece of a puzzle. And, with Laura’s help, she was starting to piece together that puzzle. She even had a plan, a plan to test the pieces of the puzzle and her ability to read them correctly. As each night brought nagging doubt, each new morning brought renewed optimism.
The train trip from Vermont back to Tennessee had been very different, indeed the reverse of the first trip. There was no warm embracing, no stolen kisses. Lauryn and Brant talked endlessly, perhaps rather nervously, about everything under the sun…except their personal feelings. So it happened, that on a warm southern day, Lauryn found herself walking at Brant’s side down Franklin’s main street on her way home.
“You haven’t forgiven me yet,” Brant said as they walked, slowly in the moist, southern heat.
“Forgiven you for what?” Lauryn asked, pretending ignorance. She knew what he was referring to, but she preferred not to think about it, still finding it too painful.
“For being a man. For being a man
that’s an idiot, like any other man,” he explained.
“There’s nothin’ to forgive,” Lauryn assured him.
Brant halted at once. Taking hold of her shoulders, he glared down into her face and growled, “You do forgive me, don’t you?” There was a look of panic about him and she wondered, as she had often over the past week, if truly he was hurting as much as he appeared to be.
“For what? For your tryin’ to do what’s right?” she asked compassionately.
He sighed in relief. “I’m just trying to…I’m just trying to…”
“To do the right thing. I know,” Lauryn finished. She had, though not often consciously, noticed Brant’s indecision growing since almost the very moment he made the decision to remain focused on finding Laura. She’d noticed, and now allowed herself to concede that she wasn’t just imagining each time the corner of his mouth twitched as she spoke to him. She had noticed the way his eyes traveled the length of her, his hands rolling into frustrated fists. At night she could hear him, at night, pacing in his room and talking quietly to Laura. Quietly, but with a tone of angry frustration. She had begun to understand that he was a man that realized when he was in danger of completely losing his focus and needed to bind himself. Still, it bothered her.
“But do you really know, Lauryn?” he pleaded. “I mean, do you truly understand why?”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “I’m a girl, after all. We think differently than boys.”
“You have no idea,” he mumbled. Then he frowned and asked, “You do want me to do the right thing, don’t you?”
Lauryn felt the swelling in her bosom that she did every time she spent too long gazing into his handsome face. She felt a mischievousness rise in her as well, as she said, “Not necessarily.”
“What?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting into arches with surprise. “What do you mean by that?”
“Look,” Lauryn breathed with relief. “Connemara House.” She was awed by it’s beauty, as always.
The Fragrance of Her Name Page 33