Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  Copyright © 2009, 2012

  Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine by Marcia Lynn McClure

  www.marcialynnmcclure.com

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, the contents of this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any part or by any means without the prior written consent of the author and/or publisher.

  Published by Distractions Ink

  P.O. Box 15971

  Rio Rancho, NM 87174

  Published by Distractions Ink

  ©Copyright 2009, 2012 by M. Meyers

  A.K.A. Marcia Lynn McClure

  Cover Photography by ©Daveallenphoto/Dreamstime.com,

  ©Rick Sargeant/Dreamstime.com and ©Roywylam/Dreamstime.com

  Cover Design and Interior Graphics by Sandy Ann Allred/Timeless Allure

  First Printed Edition: December 2009

  Second Printed Edition: October 2012

  All character names and personalities in this work of fiction are entirely fictional,

  created solely in the imagination of the author.

  Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.

  McClure, Marcia Lynn, 1965—

  Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine: a novel/by Marcia Lynn McClure.

  ISBN: 978-0-9884276-7-9

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012954131

  Printed in the United States of America

  To Debra,

  For true and everlasting friendship.

  You are the rarest sort of treasure found on earth!

  PROLOGUE—Leaving

  Vivianna stood next to Mrs. Turner—tried to ignore the bitter sting of hot tears brimming in her eyes. She must be brave—or at least appear braver than she had been months before when Samuel and Augustus left to enlist. She had been too weak then, wildly sobbing with heartache at watching her dear brothers ride off to war. She knew now her weakness and sobbing had made leaving all the more difficult for Sam and Augie—more difficult for her mother to remain poised and courageous in the face of sending her sons to battle—more difficult for her father to stay behind and watch them go. So she would compose herself now in this moment of further heartache—of near heartbreak. She would keep her tears from streaming over her cheeks for as long as she was able. Even when they did escape—and she knew they would—she would not sob. Rather, she would weep genteel, the way Savannah Turner now wept as her two elder sons embraced her.

  Yet as a balmy breeze brushed her face—as the scent of autumn in Alabama caressed her tender senses—Vivianna Bartholomew thought of all that was, sorely missing all that had been. Where were the hot, airless days of sun, when lingering under a tree to share its shade brought hours of stillness and tranquility of mind? Where were the warm nights fragrant with honeysuckle and gardenia, sweet with the calming melody of bug noises to gently sway a body to sleep on dreamy waves of contentment? Were they lost forever to the worries and heartache, the pain and suffering of war?

  What happy, carefree days Vivianna had known as a child! In the company of her elder brothers and their friends the Turner boys, Vivianna had played, laughed, and lived a life of sweet joy and innocent satisfaction. She closed her violet-blue eyes a moment and remembered the pollywogs in the pond not so many summers past—the summer before her brothers had gone. She remembered sitting on the pond’s bank, slipping bare feet into the cool mud, giggling as the pollywogs playing in the shallow water darted back and forth, tickling her ankles as they frolicked and her brothers and the Turner boys fished, lazily basking in the sun, careless of their poles.

  But the vision vanished as she opened her eyes, for there stood Caleb Turner—her beloved Caleb. There he stood, embracing his weeping mother. In a moment more, he would mount his horse and ride away—just as Sam had, just as Augie had. Vivianna was grateful Caleb did not yet don a uniform. She could not have borne it—the sight of him dressed for war. Tears were filling her eyes in profusion as she glanced then to Justin.

  As Caleb embraced their mother—whispered soothing words of assurance—Justin looked on, his brow puckered with worry, the corners of his usually smiling mouth downturned. Vivianna had hoped to look to Justin and stay her own tears. Yet the sight of him only spurred more to gathering, and she could not hold them back. As tears spilled over her cheeks, Caleb released his mother, dropping to one knee before his two younger brothers. Vivianna brushed the tears from her face as she watched Caleb embrace first Nathaniel and then William. Silently she offered a prayer of thanksgiving, grateful that Nate and Willy were only six and five, too young to go to war. She knew the younger Turner boys would offer great comfort to their mother while Caleb and Justin were away. Both small boys sniffled, angrily wiping at the tears on their cheeks with the backs of their small, grubby hands.

  “Now, you two take care of Mama,” Caleb told his sniffling siblings. “You hear?”

  Nate nodded and said, “Yes, sir,” and Willy sniffled.

  “And you take care of Viv for me too,” Caleb added. He smiled and tousled the boys’ hair. “You keep them Adder boys away from her. I wouldn’t want one of them to steal her heart while I was away.”

  “We’ll give them Adder boys a fit of fists and feet if’n they try, Caleb,” Nate promised.

  Caleb chuckled and tousled their hair again.

  “Bye, Mama,” Justin said.

  Vivianna brushed the tears from her cheeks as she watched Justin embrace his mother.

  “You be careful, my baby,” Savannah Turner said. Her voice broke with restrained emotion, and Vivianna winced at her grimace of heartache as she hugged her son. “You come back to me. Do you hear me, Justin? You and your brother come back to your mama.”

  “I will, Mama,” Justin said. “Try not to worry. Caleb and me…we’ll be fine.”

  Savannah released her son—dabbed at the moisture on her cheeks with a linen handkerchief. “And you two be careful travelin’ to Huntsville,” Savannah warned as Caleb stood and Justin hunkered down to say his own good-byes to his little brothers. “Do you hear me, Caleb Turner? Just because you say north Alabama is full of Southern Unionists…well, it still doesn’t mean it’s safe for two southern boys travelin’ on to enlist with the Yankees.”

  “We’ll be fine, Mama,” Caleb told her. “And besides…Justin and me can lick anybody who fists up a hand in our direction. Ain’t that right, Justin?”

  Justin nodded as he hugged Willy. “That’s right. There ain’t nothin’ to worry about, Mama.”

  “The Maggee boys made it fine,” Caleb explained. “Didn’t they, Mama? And you know me and Justin are better men than them.” Caleb shook his head. “I swear…I can’t even imagine Boy Maggee sittin’ a horse with the Alabama First Cavalry.”

  Justin shook his head as well. “I can better imagine Boy Maggee fightin’ with the First better than I can his brother, Floydie. Now that’s a sight I’m plain itchin’ to see!”

  “And you’ll write to me,” Savannah demanded, wagging a forefinger at her sons. “Every week! I need a letter from each of you every week. You hear me?”

  Caleb smiled and nodded. “Yes, Mama.”

  His attention turned to Vivianna then, and she thought she might die from the pain tearing her heart into pieces. How she loved him! Oh, how she loved Caleb Turner! Vivianna had loved Caleb nearly as far back as she could remember. And what girl wouldn’t? Tall, broad-shouldered, and more handsome than any boy or man she’d ever seen, Caleb owned Vivianna Bartholomew’s full heart. Furthermore—though she had thought for years it never could be—she owned his! At times, she still could not quite believe he loved her. Yet he’d told her so often, especially
in recent months. He’d even talked of marriage—just the very night before.

  Caleb had come over to call on Vivianna, and Vivianna’s daddy had allowed them to take a short walk together—alone! What a wonderful night it had been! A fragrant breeze cooled the air just enough to make it necessary for Caleb to place his arm around Vivianna’s slight shoulders in offering warmth, and she silently swore to herself she would never forget the feel of the tender kiss he’d placed on her lips before they had returned to the house.

  “You’re finally sixteen, Viv,” Caleb had said. “I’m plenty old enough now at twenty. And if I wasn’t about to be a soldier…I’d sure enough ask your daddy if we could get married.”

  Caleb’s words echoed through her mind as she watched him approach. The smile he’d forced for his mother’s sake had faded—his gaze intent upon her—his beautiful blue eyes misted with emotion.

  In the next moment, she was in his arms! She heard Mrs. Turner toss a slight scolding at him, but he didn’t mind it—just continued to hold her.

  Vivianna’s tears poured over her cheeks as Caleb held her—as she held him. She inhaled the scent of his shirt—of his skin—of his hair! She pressed her cheek to his and vowed never to forget the sense of his skin against hers—the feel of being in his arms.

  “I love you!” she whispered, her lips pressed softly to his ear.

  “I love you,” he whispered in return.

  He kissed her then—in front of his mother, his brothers, and all of Alabama! Vivianna felt goose pimples race over her arms—held her breath as their lips lingered in shared affection for long moments. She wondered if this would be the last kiss she ever shared with Caleb. So many local boys had been killed in the war—so many! She feared for Caleb yet reminded herself of his strength and determination. The Turner boys were tougher than old leather. It seemed nothing could lick them, and she held to the knowledge like some unseen talisman of hope.

  His lips left hers, and Vivianna fancied she felt suddenly cold and alone—even for the fact he still held her against him.

  “I’ll be back, Viv,” Caleb said. “I promise.”

  He wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of one hand. She reached up, smoothing the soft dark hair at his temple.

  “I know,” she breathed.

  He released her—stepped back as Justin approached.

  Vivianna’s gaze met Justin’s, sending fresh tears streaming over her cheeks.

  As always, Justin’s brow was puckered with a frown. He shook his head—clicked his tongue with disapproval.

  “Caleb Turner,” Justin began as he strode toward Vivianna, “you do know you’re leavin’ for war, don’t ya?” he asked. “You do realize ya might never come back?”

  “Justin!” his mother exclaimed.

  “Of course I do,” Caleb said, glaring at his brother. “Why?”

  Vivianna was confused—overwhelmed by heartache and utterly confused. Why would Justin say such a thing? Did he want to make certain everyone’s heart were as broken as hearts could possibly be?

  She stared at Justin, hurt and curious.

  As was ever the case when she looked at Justin, her bosom experienced an odd, rather nervous little flutter. She could never understand why Justin Turner had such an unsettling effect on her. Sometimes she fancied her mind and body reacted more ardently to Justin’s presence than it did to Caleb’s—even though Caleb was the one who owned her heart. Justin was handsome—not quite as handsome perhaps as Caleb but handsome enough to send the heart of every girl in the county to leaping at the sight of him. His dark hair and light blue eyes gave him a striking appearance certainly. But Justin didn’t own Caleb’s charm and easy manner. Still, he unsettled Vivianna somehow—especially of late.

  Justin shook his head and mumbled, “Well, Caleb, it’s just…it’s just that ya done a downright pitiful job of kissin’ your girl good-bye.”

  “I did not!” Caleb defended himself. “I done a fine job of it…and in front of Mama too!”

  “It was a pitiful kiss for a soldier to give his girl before leavin’ for battle, Caleb!” Justin scolded. “And you know it! Whether or not Mama’s standin’ here lookin’ on…or Nate and Willy.” Justin’s frown deepened, and he shook his head again. “We’re leavin’, Caleb, maybe for good, and that’s all you’re gonna give her…that choirboy peck?”

  Vivianna felt her face flush crimson. She was uncomfortable with their banter. Certainly the Turner boys were known for their teasing, their bickering, and even their brawling with each other. Still, the fact they were leaving to enlist made Vivianna wish that, just this once, they wouldn’t tease—not during their last moments with their family.

  “First off, she ain’t really my girl any more than she is yours,” Caleb said. Vivianna was astonished by Caleb’s utterance—surprised and hurt. Yet he added, “Not officially anyway.” Vivianna sighed, somehow understanding he meant she wasn’t his because he’d never spoken to her daddy about marrying her.

  “You didn’t talk to her daddy yet?” Justin growled.

  “I ain’t gonna leave Viv behind to worry over me any more than she already will, Justin!” Caleb growled. “Second off, I think the pink on her cheeks says I did a fine job of kissin’ her.”

  Justin continued to frown as he nodded and said, “She ain’t your girl, huh?”

  “Not formally…no,” Caleb admitted.

  “Then I guess that gives me leave to show you how you shoulda kissed her.”

  Vivianna gasped as Justin suddenly reached out, taking hold of her shoulders. She held her breath, her heart increasing in tempo as he looked at her. Justin’s expression softened a moment; his mouth offered a slight smile.

  The frown returned to his brow all too quickly, however. “You watch out for my mama and the little boys, Viv. All right? Promise me you’ll watch out for them.”

  Vivianna could only nod—barely managed to whisper, “Of course,” in response. She was still breathless, both from the endurance of the excruciating pain of the Turner boys’ leaving and from the nearness of Justin’s face to her own.

  “Then I’ll say goodbye, Vivianna Bartholomew,” he whispered, taking her face between his strong hands.

  Vivianna gasped as his lips softly pressed against her own—a slow, tender kiss causing her stomach to feel light with strange, unfamiliar excitement. The gentle kiss ended, but Justin’s lips lingered close to hers. He kissed her once more—more firmly—his lips slightly parted. Again he kissed her, coaxing her lips to a slight parting in meeting his. Again he kissed her—and somehow she could not keep from returning his kiss. The knowledge she might never see him again seemed to spur her to reckless abandon, and she accepted yet another kiss from him.

  Justin ended their exchange, leaving Vivianna breathless—trembling as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him.

  Suddenly all her withheld emotion, her fear, her heartache at watching the Turner boys leave to fight the war, all of it overwhelmed her. She was glad to have had Justin Turner’s kiss! She would savor the memory of it forever! No matter how inappropriate it was, she would bathe in the blissful knowledge their lips had met. War was everywhere, and she cared little for propriety in that moment.

  “It’s enough, Justin,” his mother said.

  Placing one hand at the back of Vivianna’s head, he pressed her cheek against the solid muscles of his chest. Vivianna held her breath, restrained her tears, intent on listening to the strong, rhythmic beat of his heart. Oh, how she prayed in that moment that Justin Turner’s heart would ever continue to beat! How she prayed no bullet or saber would strike it cold and lifeless. She clutched the fabric of his shirt in her fists, willing him not to go, sobbing as she wondered how she could care as much for Justin’s leaving as she did Caleb’s. She loathed herself in that moment—loathed her disloyalty, her apparent fickle-heartedness! She felt Justin press his face to the top of her head—heard him inhale deeply as he breathed in the scent of her sable hair.


  Taking her face in his hands, he gazed longingly down at her. As tears spilled from her eyes and over her cheeks, she forced a smile as he smiled at her. His brow was straight and strong—free of the frown it had worn before.

  “You see, Caleb,” Justin mumbled, his voice filled with regret, “if battle finds me thirsty…I’ll have the memory of lovely tears to quench my thirst. If I’m taken by nightmares—if the ghosts of men I’ve killed haunt me and fear threatens to overpower my mind—I’ll have the sense of home and holdin’ a beautiful girl in my arms to calm me. And if I die…I’ll die with the taste of a kiss as moist and sweet as honeysuckle nectar fresh on my lips.”

  Vivianna released him—pushed herself away from him. Stepping back from Justin, she straightened her posture. They had to go, both of them. There would be no stopping them, and her feelings were not sorted. Her mind was muddled and confused for the sake of heartache and fear. She loved the Turner boys—both of them. But she was only in love with one, and she would not let the agony of war cloud her mind any longer.

  “You’re a poet if nothin’ else, little brother,” Caleb growled, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at Vivianna. Stepping forward, he reached out and took one of her hands in his own. “I…I guess I did do a pitiful job at sayin’ good-bye. But you’ll write to me all the same, won’t you?”

  “Of course I will,” Vivianna managed. She placed a hand to his cheek as her tears began anew.

  Justin turned, strode to his horse, and mounted as Caleb dropped Vivianna’s hand and followed.

  “You boys take care of Mama and Vivianna for us, all right?” Justin called. Both young boys nodded, sniffling and wiping tears from their cheeks. “I love you, Mama,” Justin said. He looked to Vivianna one last time, nodding at her. The frown had returned to his brow.

  Vivianna watched Caleb mount—knew she would never forget the sight of the two Alabama boys leaving to fight for the Union.