Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  She ducked down, looking under the bed. She felt her eyes widen as she did indeed see Johnny Tabor’s mysterious pack there—exactly next to the small wooden box containing Justin’s letters. She reached under the bed but could not comfortably reach the box.

  “Let me get that for ya, ma’am,” Johnny said, obviously having noticed what she was reaching for.

  Vivianna held her breath, somehow afraid the angry, weathered man might not hand the precious box to her but rather keep it from her instead.

  He did not, however. As Johnny handed the box to her, Vivianna exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “Thank you, Mr. Tabor,” she told him. “I hope you enjoy a pleasant rest.”

  “And you,” he said. She watched as he started to stand—noted that it was an arduous task for him. She placed a hand at his elbow to steady him.

  He nodded and forced a grin, though she sensed he was disgusted with his own weakness.

  “Good night, again,” she nervously giggled.

  “Good night,” he echoed as she hurried across the hall.

  Once inside Mrs. Turner’s room, Vivianna sighed with relief. Justin’s letters! She’d nearly forgotten to bring Justin’s letters with her!

  Quickly she opened the box and let her fingers trace the envelope resting on top. She smiled, promising herself she would read this letter before she retired for the night. Yes! Tonight she would drift to sleep with Justin’s words of love in her mind and his tender kiss fresh upon her lips.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Vivianna’s eyes opened slowly. The sun was already shining through the window, yet she did not feel rested. Certainly she’d stayed up far past any decent hour reading over Justin’s letters. She wanted to be sure she had not forgotten one word he’d written to her—wanted to think of him sleeping comfortably in another room close by instead of miserably on the hard ground.

  As always, Justin’s letters had so absorbed her, she’d quite lost track of the time. Thus, by the hour she finally did retire, it was to find Savannah sound asleep and snoring. The worries, fears, and losses the war had brought had caused Vivianna to become a very light sleeper. Any strange or unexpected noise woke her and kept her awake with worry and anxiety. Thus, Savannah’s snore, soft as it was, had made the night seem long and void of good rest.

  Yet now Vivianna sat up, stretching her arms, arching her back. She was sure the others were already up and about. This fact was made certain as she heard voices. Curious, she left the large bed she would now share with Savannah and went to the open window. The air was fresh and already heavy with moisture and fragrance.

  Leaning out the window, she saw Willy inside the hen pen. Johnny Tabor was with him, and the chickens were frantically pecking at the ground around their feet.

  “Here, Johnny. Do it like this,” Willy said. Vivianna watched Willy plunge his hand into the small bag of chicken feed he was holding. Withdrawing a fistful of feed, he scattered it over the ground. “Ya see that?” he asked Johnny. “And if ya want, you can talk to ’em a bit. Mama says they like that. Just say somethin’ like, ‘Here, chickie chickie’ or some such thing. See how they like that?”

  Vivianna smiled as she heard Johnny Tabor chuckle. “They sure seem to, don’t they?” he answered.

  “Here,” Willy said, handing the bag of feed to Johnny. “You try it.”

  “All righty,” Johnny said. He filled a hand with feed and scattered it over the ground.

  “Don’t forget to talk to ’em,” Willy urged.

  Johnny nodded. “Here ya go, hennies. Y’all eat that feed there. That’s the way.”

  Willy looked up to Johnny Tabor with a proud smile. “Ya see, Johnny! I told Mama you’d be more’n happy to feed these chickens from now on.”

  Johnny chuckled, tousled Willy’s hair, and said, “Oh, I bet ya did.”

  Vivianna giggled a little, delighted to see Johnny Tabor walking around the hen pen with Willy. She’d been afraid she’d wake up to find he really had passed on during the night—that Justin might well have lost his friend. Furthermore, if Johnny had the strength to be doing chores with Willy, then Justin must certainly be feeling better.

  Quickly she washed and dressed. She was sure Savannah had already started breakfast, and she hurried into the kitchen.

  Caleb and Nate were sitting at the table as Savannah pulled a pan of fresh biscuits out of the oven. For a moment, Vivianna was unsettled, for Justin was not with them.

  “Justin’s still asleep, Viv,” Nate said, however—and her mind was eased. “Mama says we oughta let him sleep as long as he will. But that Johnny Tabor…he didn’t die like we feared he might. He’s out feedin’ the chickens with Willy.”

  “Well, that’s nice, isn’t it?” Vivianna said. She returned Caleb’s greeting smile and said, “Good mornin’, Caleb.”

  “Mornin’, Viv,” he said.

  “I’ve got the biscuits ready, Viv,” Savannah said. “Would ya call Willy and Mr. Tabor in, please? Oh, I hope his stomach can tolerate biscuits this mornin’.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Vivianna said.

  Suddenly, she owned such a feeling of joy that she could hardly contain her delight. It was a beautiful day! Caleb wore a smile, Nate and Willy were happy, Mr. Tabor hadn’t died, and Justin was, at that very moment, regaining his strength. The war was over, and life was moving on—moving on down a brighter road.

  Vivianna’s heart felt so light, in fact, that she nearly considered skipping as she left the house and hurried toward the chicken coop. Everything seemed more wonderful! The sun seemed to shine more brightly; the sky was bluer. The grasses were fragrant and green; the flowers flaunted their blossoms in every color. Vivianna Bartholomew was happy—truly happy!

  “Your mama has breakfast on, Willy,” she called as she approached the hen pen. “Do ya think your stomach will manage biscuits this mornin’, Mr. Tabor?”

  Willy clicked his tongue and shook his head with disgust. “His name is Johnny, Viv,” Willy reminded her. “Mr. Tabor’s his daddy’s name.”

  “Oh, that’s right!” Vivianna giggled. “I’d quite forgotten.”

  Johnny grinned and tousled Willy’s hair.

  “And he didn’t die in the night neither,” Willy added.

  “Johnny…or his daddy?” Vivianna teased, though she thought perhaps it was a little irreverent.

  Willy’s eyes narrowed, and he stuck his tongue out at her. “You know I mean Johnny! You’ve got a real smart mouth on you sometimes, Vivianna Bartholomew. A real smart mouth,” he grumbled.

  Vivianna giggled and affectionately tweaked Willy’s nose as he stepped out of the hen pen. “Well, you just wash those grubby hands of yours, Willy…quick as ya can, while the biscuits are still hot,” Vivianna told him. Quick as a mouse, he was off to the rain barrel.

  “I suppose I better light out after him,” Johnny said, setting the feed back outside the fence as he looked at his own hands.

  Vivianna studied him. He did appear somewhat recovered—stronger—and there was even a hint of color in his thin cheeks. Truly, he looked quite a lot healthier than he had when she’d left him the night before. Vivianna was glad he hadn’t died—and for more than just Justin’s sake. She’d seen far too much death; they all had. She was glad someone near death’s door had managed to drive the Reaper away. She thought for a moment that, considering it was Johnny Tabor the Reaper had come looking for, he’d probably run for the hills out of pure intimidation.

  “You look near as fresh as a daisy this mornin’, Mr. Tabor,” she said, smiling at him.

  Johnny Tabor smiled, and Vivianna was again struck by how entirely his smile changed his countenance. He was a handsome man; she could well imagine he’d set many a female heart to fluttering in the past.

  “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever been compared to a daisy, Miss Vivianna,” he said. “The devil maybe…but never a daisy.”

  As if some mischievous imp had been eavesdropping—as if a pixie had been near and decided to mix up a bit
of naughtiness—a large pigeon flew over at that very moment. Vivianna gasped, covering her mouth in dismay as the mean-hearted bird sent a stream of white bird mess to running over Johnny’s right shoulder.

  “Oh, Mr. Tabor!” she gasped as he frowned and looked to his shoulder. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

  She couldn’t help herself, however. Oh, she tried—desperately she tried not to laugh—yet the trill of giggles would not stay trapped in her throat. “I’m…I’m so sorry, Johnny!” she giggled, her eyes filling with mirthful moisture. “Truly…I don’t mean to laugh. I’m so sorry!”

  Johnny looked to her, his frown giving way to a smile. His chuckles began slow, vibrating low in his throat. Yet in another moment, he laughed—wholeheartedly laughed!

  This only caused Vivianna’s giggles to multiply, and she covered her face with her hands a moment to try and calm herself. Yet nothing seemed to stay her laughter! As she looked at him again—shaking his head as he laughed unreservedly, a stream of bird manure as fat and as long as a grass snake dripping from his shoulder—her giggles transformed, and she was overwhelmed by a ripple of delighted giggles.

  Johnny’s eyes fairly danced with amusement, and he continued to laugh so hard Vivianna feared it might not be at all good for him. Yet her mother had always told her laughter was the greatest healer God had given man. Thus, as she doubled over, her stomach aching with merriment, she did not worry for the man—only laughed harder as he dropped to his knees, overcome with hilarity.

  He was crouching now, on his hands and knees as he continued to laugh, and Vivianna could endure it no longer. Sitting down hard on her seat in the grass, she continued to laugh—laugh so hard she could not draw breath, so hard that her back ached. Yet she could not seem to stop laughing, and neither could Johnny Tabor.

  “Oh, ho ho ho!” he laughed, tears of mirth gathering at the outer corners of his eyes.

  “Oh, stop!” Vivianna breathlessly begged. “Please, stop! I’ll be sick!”

  Johnny drew a deep breath and seemed to hold it as he lifted his head to look at her. However, as he glanced to his shoulder and then back to her, the uncontrollable revelry overtook them again, and Vivianna was undone. Each time she or Johnny would try to settle their laughter, one or the other of them would glance to his shoulder, and the merriment would begin anew.

  “For cryin’ out loud, Viv!” Willy said, coming to stand next to her. “What is so funny?”

  Vivianna could only shake her head and gasp. “Nothin’! Nothin’ really!” Yet new peals of laughter overtook her. In her soul, she knew it wasn’t just the incident of the bird mess. The laughter owning her in those moments was also a release of sorts—something she’d missed for years, since her brothers and the Turner boys left for the war. Vivianna realized that the reason the hard laughter was so entirely wracking her body with discomfort was for the unfamiliarity of it. Truly, she hadn’t laughed so thoroughly in forever, it seemed. She thought the same was probably true for Johnny Tabor. As he wiped the mirthful moisture from his eyes—as he inhaled a deep breath, exhaling a contented sigh—she was certain he hadn’t known such laughter in years either.

  “What are y’all laughin’ at?” Willy demanded. Vivianna knew he felt left out, but she couldn’t breathe well enough yet to explain.

  Johnny held up a hand, however, and gasped, “Just a pigeon,” he began. “A pigeon flew over and targeted me with his hind end.” As Johnny sat back on his heels and pointed to his shoulder, Vivianna snickered, and she and Johnny were undone once more.

  Willy frowned—looked to Vivianna as she sat in the grass attempting to gain control of her spontaneous laughter once more. “Well, that ain’t funny at all!” the boy exclaimed. “If a bird messed all over me, I sure wouldn’t be sittin’ in the grass laughin’ about it!”

  Johnny sighed and rubbed his moist eyes. One final chuckle escaped his throat as he struggled to his feet. Still smiling, he offered Vivianna his hand. She was certain he didn’t have the strength to pull her to her feet, yet she did not want to offend him by refusing. Therefore, she took his hand and was surprised when his strength proved to be more than she had imagined.

  “Willy,” Vivianna began, “would ya please run on in the house and fetch one of your daddy’s old shirts for Mr. Tabor? He can’t possibly wear this one all day.” She giggled and placed her hand over her mouth to stop. Her sides were aching—and her back! She was sure she couldn’t endure another round of such overwhelming laughter.

  Willy nodded—grimaced as he watched Johnny remove the soiled shirt. “Yeah, I’ll get one for him, Viv,” the boy said. “I couldn’t hold my breakfast down at all with bird mess lookin’ me straight in the face.”

  “Thank you, Willy,” Vivianna said as one final giggle escaped her throat.

  Willy hurried off toward the house, calling, “Mama! One of them naughty pigeons messed all over Johnny!”

  Johnny still smiled as he wadded up the soiled shirt.

  “We’ll get that washed out for ya later on, Johnny,” Vivianna said. She held her hand out, indicating he should hand her the shirt.

  But Johnny shook his head, frowning slightly. “Oh, no, ma’am,” he told her. “I couldn’t let ya wash out this mess. I’ll do it after breakfast.”

  Vivianna smiled as he tossed the shirt onto a nearby tree stump.

  “Well, the rain barrel is just over by the house. You can wash up there,” Vivianna explained. “There’s a towel hangin’ on a nail right above it.”

  “Thank you,” he said and sauntered past her.

  Vivianna turned and watched him head for the rain barrel. She felt her brows arch at the sight of the long, dark scar marring the flesh on his lower back. Indeed, it was obviously the harsh remnant of the brutal saber wound Caleb had told them about.

  Her thoughts lingered on Caleb a moment then. He was a compassionate man, a kind man, and loyal. For an instant, the tender feelings her heart had owned for Caleb before the war returned. Vivianna remembered then why it was she had loved Caleb first—why it had been Caleb who owned her heart before the war. Caleb was calm. He was not easily provoked to anger. There was a sense of stability, of steadfastness, about him that his own brother did not possess. Vivianna realized that, as a girl, these were the qualities in Caleb Turner she loved most. But that was in the past; she loved Justin now. Oh, it was true she would always be fond of Caleb—always love him in a manner. Yet, she was in love with Justin, and nothing would change that now.

  Sighing—for she was quite worn out with laughing so hard—she started for the house.

  “I’ll send Willy out with that shirt, Johnny,” she called. “We’ll have breakfast on the table when you’re finished.”

  “Thank you,” Johnny said, smiling and nodding to her.

  As she stepped up onto the porch, she heard him chuckle. No doubt this chuckle was a residual response from the previously unruly laughter. Vivianna smiled, glad that Justin’s friend seemed to be mending.

  Justin was sitting at the table when Vivianna entered the kitchen. At once, her heart was full and delighted! He smiled at her, and the sight of it bathed her with joy.

  “Mornin’, Viv,” he greeted.

  “Good mornin’, Justin,” she said. “You look quite well rested!”

  Justin nodded. “And I feel it.” He smiled at his mother and added, “And I can’t wait for some of Mama’s biscuits. I swear, Mama…how I’ve missed your cookin’!”

  “Thank you, darlin’,” Savannah said as she set a jar of honey on the table next to the pan of biscuits. “The eggs are about ready too, Viv. Is Mr. Tabor nearly finished out there? Willy said a pigeon got him. I guess that’s what all the laughin’ was about. I couldn’t imagine what was so funny!”

  Vivianna giggled just a little. “I don’t know why it seemed so funny…but it just tickled me so.”

  “I got one of Daddy’s shirts, Mama,” Willy said, racing into the kitchen.

  “Well, take it out to Johnny then, Willy. I’m starvi
n’!” Nate growled.

  “I’m goin’. I’m goin’,” Willy mumbled as he hurried out of the house.

  Vivianna smiled. Nate Turner was a bear when he was hungry. In fact, all the Turner boys were irritable when they went too long without food.

  “Maybe we can finish our walk after breakfast, Viv,” Justin said.

  “Yes,” she told him. “Of course.”

  Vivianna could not keep the sigh of pure delight from escaping her throat. Justin! His eyes were bright—as blue and as bright as the summer sky. Oh, how thankful she was that he seemed in fair health. She would not have had a moment’s peace had Justin arrived looking as near to death as his friend did.

  “I’ll be workin’ on that east bridge if ya need me today, Mama,” Caleb said. “Just send Nate or Willy along if ya need anythin’.”

  “I will, darlin’,” Savannah said, smiling at her oldest son.

  “He’s all rinsed off and ready for breakfast, Mama,” Willy announced, bounding into the kitchen. Johnny entered behind him and took a seat in the chair Savannah indicated.

  “Do ya think you can stomach some eggs this mornin’, Johnny?” Savannah asked.

  “If I can’t, I’ll keep ’em down all the same, Mrs. Turner. Thank you,” Johnny answered.

  “Then let’s get to eatin’,” Caleb said. “I need to get out to the bridge.”

  After gratitude was offered to the Lord, Vivianna watched as Justin enjoyed his mama’s biscuits and eggs. He was voracious in his eating—and Vivianna delighted in it! Justin would regain his full strength—she was certain that he would—and all would be well. Furthermore, she knew her dreams would come true! For over two years she’d dreamt of the day Justin Turner would return and claim her for his own as he’d promised in his letters. It was true that for the past almost six months, Vivianna had tried to tell her heart and mind she would never know Justin—never see him again. But that was the past, just as the war was the past. Vivianna was determined to look only to the future now—to Justin.

  

  “Tell me, Viv,” Justin began. “Tell me about what went on here while I was away.”