“Mama, the sun ain’t even set yet,” Justin said. “Anyhow, I’ll wait for Johnny to get back with our packs. I’ll rest easier once I know the ride didn’t kill him.”
“Well then…we’ll all wait,” Savannah said, sitting down on the top step of the front porch. “We’ll wait for that headstrong friend of yours to return. Then I’ll see both y’all put to bed for some good long rest.”
“Bet I can lick ya ’fore he gets back with his treasure,” Nate said to Willy.
“What treasure?” Willy asked as he and Nate began to circle one another.
Vivianna smiled and shook her head. She well recognized the daring attitudes and gestures of the two youngest Turner boys; a mean wrestle was about to commence.
“Now don’t you boys go gettin’ too all wound up,” Savannah warned. “It’s nearly time for bed now. Do ya hear me?”
But it was too late. Justin and Caleb both broke into chuckles, for Nate and Willy were already pulling one another down into the grass, wrestling as if their very lives depended on it.
Vivianna smiled as she watched the boys. After all, what else was to be done but to let the match play out? What else was to be done but to wait for Johnny Tabor to return—if he returned?
“You’ve been awful quiet today, Viv,” Caleb said, coming to stand beside her. Guilt washed over her like a nauseating, bitter illness. She could not believe that mere hours before, she’d been considering marrying Caleb. How utterly unfair it would’ve been to him—how devastating to her own soul if she’d accepted Caleb before Justin had returned.
She glanced to where Justin sat on the porch with his mother. “I guess…I guess I just don’t have much to say is all,” she said. “I mean, it’s all been such a surprise…such a whirlwind today. I swear I don’t know which way to turn. I feel like my head might spin clean off my shoulders.”
“I bet you do,” Caleb mumbled.
She could sense Caleb was already angry—hurting—already aware that Vivianna’s heart did indeed belong to his brother. Yet she’d meant to ease Caleb into understanding and acceptance. Though she’d secretly hoped the sight of Justin returning would cause Caleb to simply forget any aspirations he’d previously held in regard to marrying her, she knew—even for her lack of experience—she knew that matters of the heart rarely worked themselves into place with such plainness.
“Caleb—” Vivianna began.
“Viv,” Caleb interrupted, forcing a smile, “let’s not set anything in stone yet. I know you loved my brother…but you loved me once too. And though you may not see it—may not want to see it—I can see he’s changed some. I know my brother like nobody does…and he has changed. So please don’t make any decisions ’til he’s been home a time. All right?”
Inwardly, Vivianna was infuriated! How dare he? How dare Caleb presume to know Justin better than she? It wasn’t Caleb who had written to Vivianna during the war—written letters of true revelations of the heart and soul. It wasn’t Caleb who had cared enough to give up sleep and comfort in order to write to her. It wasn’t Caleb who had confessed his love over and over and over again. No! It was Justin! Caleb didn’t know the things of his brother’s heart the way Vivianna did. How could he? He hadn’t even been with his brother for nearly a year. How could he claim Justin had changed? Vivianna saw no change in Justin. Certainly his head was shaven; certainly he was not full healthy; certainly there was a sadness about him. However, Vivianna did not know a man who had returned from the war without a lingering sadness about him—and that meant Caleb Turner as well.
She was angry with Caleb, yes, but she would not argue with him or injure his heart further in that moment. She must be patient. She must be patient, and Caleb must begin to understand. Her heart swelled within her with the sure knowledge that Caleb would see Justin had not changed so much. Eventually he would see it, and then he would have to accept the fact that Vivianna loved Justin—irrevocably.
“He’s weak…weak and battered. I know that,” she answered at last. “Like so many others,” she added poignantly—but not harshly.
Caleb nodded. “I’m just askin’ ya to be careful, Viv. I won’t see your heart broken by me or my brother.”
Vivianna frowned slightly. How could Justin ever break her heart? Furthermore, Caleb certainly never could! Other than the lingering memory of the love she’d held for him before the war and the love she held for him now as a friend, Caleb Turner had no power to break her heart. She felt sorry for him in that moment—sorry for him for thinking he held the power to do so.
Yet she felt her temper soften—and her heart. Caleb was a very fine man. Furthermore, the truth was, no matter what she’d told Justin, she’d considered marrying Caleb. She did love him in a manner, though she was not in love with him. She did own a love for him, and she did not wish to be the cause of his unhappiness. Therefore, she cooled her annoyance and nodded. After all, she knew it was purely out of concern for her that he issued such a warning.
“Nate! Nate Turner!” Savannah hollered. “You’re gonna break your brother’s neck! Be careful! You boys are playin’ too rough! I’ll have Caleb separate you two if you’re not more careful!”
“Get him, Willy! You can do it! Don’t give up just ’cause he’s bigger than you!” Justin called from his seat next to his mother.
Vivianna smiled at Justin, her insides thrilling when he winked at her.
She heard Caleb chuckle and glanced back to him.
“I remember when Daddy used to tell Justin the very same thing,” he mumbled.
Vivianna’s smile faded just a bit. “Me too,” she whispered.
Johnny Tabor pulled the horse to a rough halt and dismounted. He couldn’t believe the sense of near panic pounding in his chest. He had to retrieve the packs he and Justin had hidden up in the tree before moving on so close to Florence; he had to retrieve the tin box inside his pack. If anybody had found it, if it had been taken—but nobody had. He could see it up high in the tree branches where he’d placed it earlier in the day.
He was tired and weak and in truth felt nearer to death than he had in a long while. Still, he had to retrieve that box! For one thing, he didn’t want to die without having it near to him. He shook his head, disgusted with himself for lying in a soft bed and sleeping when his pack with the tin box full of treasure was still up in the tree. What if he’d died and left Justin to come back for the packs? What if he’d died and Justin had opened that box only to find out what a true villain Johnny Tabor was? He couldn’t have it on his conscience. Justin could never know the true, wicked nature of his friend. Johnny loved Justin near like a brother—at least he had. But it didn’t change the fact of what Johnny kept cached in the tin box. It didn’t change who he was and the things he’d done.
With every measure of strength left in his weary, weathered body, Johnny climbed into the branches of the tree and retrieved his pack. He pulled Justin’s down too, of course, letting them drop to the grass below as gently as he could.
He jumped down from the limbs of the tree and groaned, certain his weathered body would never be what it once was. A familiar hatred of the guards and circumstances at Andersonville welled up within him, but he choked it down, determined to make it back to the Turner place and hide his box of secrets and treasure where no one would ever find it if he died.
His bones ached as he awkwardly mounted Caleb’s horse. It was a fine horse, befitting such a fine man as Caleb Turner. Part of Johnny Tabor—the good part—almost hoped he and Justin had returned to find Caleb wed to Vivianna Bartholomew. Caleb was true and honest; he’d make any woman a fine husband. Yet it was Justin that the girl loved, and that counted for more. It would’ve marked a strange thing between the Turner brothers if Justin had returned to find his girl married to his brother—whether or not she’d understandably given him up for dead.
Johnny shook his head. Too much thinking was bad for a man in his condition. He knew his thoughts were not rational. Wasn’t his
riding out after his pack proof enough of that? Still, he wouldn’t die with the worry that Justin might find his pack, pry open the tin box, and discover the whole truth. He’d never be able to find eternal rest in knowing such a thing.
“Get,” he growled to the horse.
Caleb’s mount galloped down the road to return to the Turner place.
Johnny was thirsty; his head felt heavy; there seemed to be a fog drifting over his tired eyes. He had to make it back—had to hide the box—just in case he didn’t survive the night. He was nearly sure he would—but only nearly.
As he rode, the scent of night flowers filled his lungs, the sound of bug noises echoing in his ears. What in tarnation was he doing in Alabama? He should’ve seen Justin home and kept walking—walked all the way to Texas or until he dropped dead. That’s what he should’ve done.
Gripping his and Justin’s packs in one hand, he rode on. The sun was setting fast now, but he could see the Turners gathered out in front of the house. He’d made it! He’d fetched his box, and he’d hide it somewhere quick until morning. His secrets were safe. Johnny Tabor knew he could die now—and his terrible secrets could die with him.
“Here he comes!” Willy panted, jabbing one final elbow to Nate’s ribs. “Here comes that Johnny Tabor!”
Vivianna gasped and covered her mouth with one hand as Johnny Tabor reined in and slid from Captain’s back. He looked so wild! His eyes were aflame with some sort of feral determination she’d never seen before. It rather frightened her, and she wondered for a moment if Justin’s friend were truly just weak and weary. Or was he indeed somewhat mad?
“I got ’em, Justin,” Johnny Tabor panted. “I got ’em.”
Vivianna watched as the weathered man panted with the strain of too much exertion. He held out one ragged bundle, and Justin accepted it.
“I thank ya, Johnny,” Justin said. “But I wish ya woulda waited ’til mornin’. Ya look like the devil.”
“I might be just that,” Johnny mumbled.
Vivianna trembled slightly as Johnny Tabor’s wild, narrowed gaze lingered on her for a moment. His brown eyes pierced her sense of ease; the strong features of his face purely intimidated her! Somehow, he frightened her, and for a moment, she pitied any enemy who had at any time endeavored to stand against him.
“Oh, nonsense, boy!” Savannah scolded. “Now you get on into that house and get to bed.” She nodded to the bundle Johnny held in one arm. “You’ve got your things now, so I will see both you and Justin put to bed. I want to hear some snorin’ in under fifteen minutes…do ya hear me?”
Vivianna was momentarily mesmerized by the manner in which Johnny Tabor’s expression softened. An amused, grateful smile curved his mouth, transforming his countenance!
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Though…though I don’t want ya to think for a moment that I’m gonna linger in your way, Mrs. Turner.”
“Linger in my way?” Savannah exclaimed. “Nonsense, boy! I’ve already got a day of chores planned out for you and Justin tomorrow. So ya best see yourself to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the man chuckled. He looked to Caleb, nodding as he handed him the bridle reins. “Thank ya for the loan of your horse, Caleb. I wouldn’t have rested easy at all if I hadn’t fetched this.” He patted the bundle under his arm—squeezed it closer to his body.
“You’re welcome, Johnny,” Caleb said. “Now, if ya know what’s good for ya, you’ll do what Mama says and get on into bed.”
Vivianna watched as Johnny weakly climbed the steps up to the front porch. Pausing, he lowered his head almost ashamedly and said, “I do thank you for your kindness to me, Mrs. Turner. I promise you that I most certainly do not deserve it.”
Mrs. Turner smiled and took Johnny’s face in her hands, raising it to meet hers. “Your kindness to me in bringin’ my boy home far outweighs anything I could ever do for you, Mr. Tabor.” She stood on the tips of her toes and placed a kiss on Johnny’s face. “Now you run along to bed, Johnny.” She looked to Vivianna. “Viv, you best get your things out of the room before Mr. Tabor retires.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Vivianna said.
As she passed Justin on the porch, he smiled and winked at her. Her heart fluttered, her stomach twisting with delight. She thought of their moments beneath the honeysuckle vine—the moments before Nate had interrupted them. What heavenly moments they had been! What bliss-filled breaths of spring and dreamy kisses! She wanted nothing more than to take Justin by the hand and lead him to the arbor once more. She wanted to hear him speak love to her—feel his arms around her again. Yet she knew all things must have their time, and this included rest and healing. Justin was yet weak—needed time to regain his strength.
Therefore, Vivianna entered the house, stepping in front of Johnny Tabor as he stepped aside, gesturing with one hand and a nod that she should precede him.
“Thank you,” she said to him as she started down the short hallway to her room.
“I don’t feel right about puttin’ you out, Miss Vivianna,” Johnny said, stepping into the bedroom behind her.
“Then you’re a gentleman,” Vivianna said as she went to the chest of drawers to retrieve her nightclothes.
“No, ma’am,” Johnny mumbled.
She felt his gaze on her—for the back of her body fairly burned with the knowledge it lingered there. “Do…do you have everything ya need, Mr. Tabor?” she asked, retrieving a few other items she would need.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
She turned to face him and was astonished by the somehow defeated expression on his face—the overall weakness about him. He opened his mouth slightly, as if he’d meant to speak but changed his mind.
“What is it, Mr. Tabor?” Vivianna asked. “Is there somethin’ I can fetch for ya?”
He dropped his gaze to the floor a moment, as if he were somehow ashamed—or even frightened. “You seem an honest woman, Miss Vivianna,” he said in a lowered voice.
“I…I hope so, Mr. Tabor,” she said.
“If…if a person was to ask a favor of you…ask for your help and complete secrecy of confidence…would you be willin’ to do somethin’ for them, ma’am?” he asked.
Strangely, Vivianna was not afraid—though she thought that perhaps she should be. Still, she was not afraid—only curious, with a sudden, unexpected desire to assist the poor man. “Of course, Mr. Tabor,” she told him. “What is this favor you wish to ask of me?”
He brushed a hand over his forehead, as if he estimated beads of perspiration would be lingering there.
“My…my pack here,” he said, patting the bundle he still held. “I want to ask you to give me your word that if I finally fly to heaven to meet my maker durin’ the night…I want ya to promise me you’ll take this pack and without ever openin’ it…promise me you’ll sink it in the river. Promise me you’ll never open it…no matter how curious your mind may be. Promise me that…and promise me you’ll never tell a soul it ever existed or where ya sank it.”
Vivianna smiled. She didn’t know why she smiled, for it was an ominous request. Still, she realized it was the thought of Nate that made her smile, and she said, “Nate thinks you’re hidin’ gold and jewels in that pack of yours.”
Mr. Tabor’s eyes narrowed. “If I am…would ya still be able to keep a promise to never open it…to sink it in the river?”
“Of course, Mr. Tabor,” Vivianna told him, rather insulted that he should doubt her character. “Of course! You could have Mr. Booth’s written confession of assassination in there, and I wouldn’t care.” He frowned and looked down to the bundle he held under his arm. She thought she’d somehow offended him with the suggestion of what might be in the box but said nothing more.
“Then you’ll sink it if I die?” he asked. “Unopened…in secret…and never tell a soul?”
“You’re not gonna die, Mr. Tabor,” she told him. “Things won’t seem quite so harsh and wearin’ in the mornin’. I promise.”
/> “But if I do…if ya come in here and find me dead—I’ll put it under the bed—and if I’m dead, you’ll take it, without hesitation…and sink it in the river?” he repeated his request again.
He was so weary! She could see he hardly had the strength to stand.
“Of course,” she said. “I promise. And I always keep my promises.”
“Do you?” he asked. He doubted her, yet she was not angry with him, for even as he doubted her, she knew he must have reason for trusting her as well, else he would not have asked for her help.
“I do,” she assured him.
“Then I’ll take my rest in peace,” he mumbled.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Mr. Tabor!” she scolded with a disbelieving giggle. “Don’t say it that way! I swear, you’ll give me a fit of nightmares.”
He grinned, obviously amused by her outburst. “Forgive me,” he said.
“I’ll consider on it,” she teased, reaching out and retrieving her hairbrush from her vanity. “But only if you quit talkin’ so dark and deathly like,” she added, wagging the brush at him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. His eyes seemed to lighten, and he grinned at her.
“Very well,” she told him. “Good night, Mr. Tabor.”
“Good night, ma’am,” he mumbled.
Vivianna left Johnny Tabor to his rest and walked across the hall to Mrs. Turner’s room.
“What a strange man,” she whispered to herself as she set her things on the trunk at the foot of Mrs. Turner’s bed.
Suddenly, she gasped, “Oh no!”
Quickly, she crossed the hallway to her bedroom—rather, to the room that had once been hers alone. The door was still open, and she sighed, relieved.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Tabor,” she said. Her heart began to hammer with mad anxiety, however, as she saw he knelt on the floor next to the bed—no doubt placing his menacing pack beneath it.
“Ma’am?” he asked, turning to look at her.
“I…I only just forgot one little thing,” she said, dropping to her knees beside him.
Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine Page 8