Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “The wash is hangin’ out, Miss Savannah,” Vivianna told Savannah, though she still gazed at Justin, her smile broadening as he winked at her again. “Though I think it might take most of the day for it to dry.”

  “Well, thank you for risin’ up so early and gettin’ all that done, Viv,” Savannah said. “I do not know what I’d do without you.”

  Savannah paused in clearing Justin’s plate from the table. With a mother’s loving expression full on her pretty face, she smiled at Vivianna, caressed her cheek, bent, and placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “I do swear, Viv…I couldn’t do without you at all! I just couldn’t,” she said.

  “Thank you, Miss Savannah,” Vivianna said. She realized—as she often did—that she loved Savannah Turner as closely as was possible to the manner in which she’d loved her own mother.

  “Do ya feel up to takin’ me out for a walk this mornin’, Viv?” Justin asked.

  Vivianna looked back to him, and he winked. Flirtatiously, he reached across the table, took her hand in his, and leaned over, placing a lingering kiss on the back of it.

  “Why, of course,” Vivianna answered. “And where would ya like to amble today, Mr. Turner?”

  Justin chuckled. “Oh, I’m thinkin’ that ol’ honeysuckle vine might need some tendin’,” he said. “What do ya say?”

  Vivianna blushed. She well recognized the expression on Justin’s face—mischief. Vivianna slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt. Justin’s letter was there. She thought of his promise to kiss her beneath the honeysuckle—the promise he’d made so long ago, before the misery of Andersonville had weathered him. Oh, it was true he’d kissed her since his return—on numerous occasions. Yet she sensed he was restrained, as if he were afraid to kiss her as he truly wanted to—as she wanted him to.

  Yet the twinkling mischief in his eyes as Justin sat across the table from her spoke of his being finally mended. She sensed his body was mended, his mind, and his heart. There was a light, a brightness in his eyes she hadn’t seen since before the war, and the pure existence of it caused her arms to ripple with goose pimples borne of blissful anticipation.

  “I say that suits me just fine,” Vivianna answered at last.

  Justin nodded, his smile broadening. “Well, Miss Vivianna Bartholomew…let’s get to it then!”

  He rose and offered a hand to her as she stood as well. His grasp was strong and warm, and simply the knowledge that he was touching her caused her to feel slightly breathless.

  “We’ll be back soon enough, Mama,” Justin said.

  “Oh, take your time, darlin’!” Savannah said, her eyes glistening with understanding delight. “You two just take your time. I’ll holler for Johnny if I need anythin’.”

  “All right then, Mama,” Justin said, leading Vivianna from the house by way of the front door. “We will!”

  The sun seemed brighter, the sky more blue. Vivianna could’ve sworn the air itself was as delighted as she was, exhaling the fragrance of a thousand flower blossoms in sharing its joy.

  “Remember when we were little?” Justin began as they meandered toward the arbor. He still held her hand, and Vivianna was enchanted. “Remember how we used to play pirates…and me and Caleb would be pirate captains and kidnap you back and forth?”

  Vivianna giggled and nodded. She did remember. After all, it had been one of her favorite games to play. “You’d have big battles. I was the princess, and each of you wanted to hold me for ransom…to force my father, the king—most likely Sam or Augie, dependin’ on the day—to pay you in imaginary gold for my release,” she said. “What fun we had then!”

  Justin nodded, smiling. “We sure did.” He paused, seeming thoughtful for a moment. “The day Caleb and me left for the war…I thought for a moment it seemed like we were still playing pirates over you. Didn’t it?”

  “It did,” she said. “At first.”

  Vivianna gazed at him—studied him. She remembered that day, over two years ago, when Caleb had owned her young heart—when Justin had begun to steal it. She’d known that day, the moment Justin had kissed her; she’d known that Caleb hadn’t truly loved her—not the way she wanted to be loved. Vivianna wanted to be loved possessively, wanted her lover to be passionate in his love for her. Caleb had seemed only mildly vexed when Justin had kissed her. In truth, Vivianna had wondered if Justin had merely kissed her to prove a point to his brother—or to crow over him somehow. Yet as Justin’s letters began to arrive, as he eventually began to confess his love for her—his professed obsessive love for her—she realized Justin had kissed her that day to prove it was he who loved her most, not simply to best his brother in wooing a young woman.

  She smiled at Justin and continued, “But then you began to write…and slowly your letters spoke to my heart…and I knew you weren’t simply playin’ at pirates with Caleb.”

  Justin smiled, shook his head, and chuckled. “It’s those letters,” he began, “isn’t it? If I hadn’t written them letters, I mighta come home to find ya married to Caleb. Isn’t that right?”

  Vivianna shrugged. Vivianna didn’t want to talk about Caleb or what might have been. The fact was Justin had written those letters, and she hadn’t married Caleb. Again she thought of Caleb—of his kind manner, his calm character. He was a great man, but he knew no passion. It seemed nothing pierced his heart to the core; nothing moved him to great emotion. Vivianna herself owned great emotion. True, she’d hidden it for long years. True, it was not often she displayed it. More often it was that she guarded her emotions quite desperately. Yet she did own deep, passionate emotion—emotions she would have had to guard her entire life had she married Caleb. In that moment, she feared she may have smothered—may have died from having had to keep herself always so calm in appearance had she’d chosen dear Caleb.

  Vivianna was suddenly distracted, as was Justin. Laughter was the distraction—the mirthful laughter of Nate and Willy.

  “What are they up to now?” Justin asked. “That kind of laughin’ can only mean they’re up to no good.”

  “Oh, I’m sure of it,” Vivianna sighed.

  It was true. If Nate and Willy were laughing so freely, it was certain that mischief was at the heart of their merriment. Nate and Willy were always up to no good, it seemed. Especially of late—especially since their summer days were now spent hunting for any kind of dead animal that might provide a bone or two for their growing bone collection. If Vivianna had learned one thing during her stay with Savannah and the young Turner boys, it was that laughter and other sounds of amusement more often than not meant naughtiness. Thus, she knew she and Justin best look in on Nate and Willy, whether or not it was still early morning.

  Justin looked to her, his eyes bright with mirth. “Well, we certainly can’t let that go without lookin’ into…now can we?”

  Vivianna shook her head, disappointed that their walk had been interrupted. Still, she knew it would be unwise not to see what was so thoroughly amusing to the young boys. A quick vision of weeks ago, of a pigeon dousing Johnny Tabor with his droppings, traveled through her mind, and she giggled. Perhaps it was nothing so naughty causing the boys to laugh after all. Perhaps it was simply something as silly as the antics of another mean-spirited pigeon.

  “They’re over there…near the puddle where they keep their frogs,” Justin said.

  Still holding Vivianna’s hand, he led her through the flowering vines and bushes east of the house and toward the large puddle where Nate and Willy had been delighted to find a load of pollywogs and several new clutches of frog eggs weeks before. Many of the pollywogs had begun to transform to frogs, and the boys delighted in watching them play in the puddle each morning and evening. Vivianna enjoyed the pollywogs as well. It was often she had accompanied the boys to their pollywog hole over the past few weeks to watch Mother Nature work her wonder. Soon the tiny pollywogs would lose their tails, develop stronger legs, and leave Nate and Willy’s beloved puddle. But for now, the quick-swimming pollyw
ogs provided hours and hours of amusement for the young Turner boys.

  “What’s goin’ on here?” Justin asked as they approached the pollywog hole to find Nate and Willy were indeed lingering beside it.

  Johnny Tabor was with them. He looked up and offered a friendly smile to Vivianna. She smiled and nodded to him in return. As always, she was unsettled by the strange nervousness that rose within her whenever she was near to him.

  “We’re racin’ pollywogs!” Willy exclaimed. “Johnny showed us how. Mine won last time!” Willy jumped up and ran to Vivianna, his hands cupped and holding a slippery pollywog and a minimal amount of water that immediately began dripping through his small, muddy fingers. “See, Viv?” he laughed. “This here’s Hubert! And he beat Nate’s pollywog twice runnin’!”

  Vivianna smiled as she looked at the large, squirming pollywog in Willy’s hands. “Ooo! He does look fast,” she said, tousling his hair. “But ya better get him a drink. Ya wouldn’t want him to dry out and lose his place as the winner.”

  Willy nodded, dashed back to the puddle, and released the pollywog.

  Releasing Justin’s hand, Vivianna moved closer to the puddle, leaned down, and peered into the water. Oh, how she delighted in pollywogs! She always had, ever since she’d been a little girl. To look into a puddle and see them wildly swimming about—to feel them tickle her ankles and toes when she took off her shoes and sunk them in the muddy water—it was a true gladness.

  “You boys better add a couple of buckets of water from the pond to your puddle today,” she said. “It’s lookin’ a little low.”

  “That’s what Johnny told us,” Nate said. “He said he’d help us haul it over from the pond in a while.”

  Vivianna glanced up to Johnny. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him drop his own pollywog back into the puddle.

  “Johnny says when they’re done turnin’ into frogs, we can really have some fun racin’!” Willy exclaimed. “He says he’s got a real special bone he’s been savin’, and if one of us gets a frog that’ll beat his, we can have it for our collection!”

  Vivianna giggled. “Ooo! A new bone! Isn’t that excitin’?”

  “You bet it is, Viv!” Nate said.

  “Well, seems to me that Johnny oughta be worryin’ a bit less about frogs and a bit more about seein’ to fixin’ that broken board in the loft of the barn,” Justin said.

  Vivianna dropped her gaze from Johnny Tabor—felt her cheeks go red with humiliation. She wasn’t quite sure she’d heard Justin correctly. Surely Justin wasn’t scolding Johnny for playing with the younger boys. Surely she hadn’t just heard him imply that his friend should be working instead of enjoying a moment of carefree delight—not when Justin had yet to lift a hand to help with anything. Still, she reminded herself that Justin had been weak; he had needed time to recover. He’d been unable to help Savannah around the place or Caleb in running things or earning a wage. Yet even this knowledge did not ease the discomfort she felt over Justin’s blatant lack of gratitude.

  “I’ll get to the loft when I’m ready, Justin,” Johnny nearly growled. “That broken board will still be there come a week or two…but pollywogs aren’t so lingerin’. Ya gotta enjoy ’em while ya can.”

  “Pollywogs are for children, Johnny,” Justin said. “Men got responsibilities.”

  Vivianna watched as Johnny stood. His dark eyes were narrowed as he glared at Justin. He was much taller than Justin, his shoulders much broader. Furthermore, he was much, much stronger. This was all too apparent. Johnny had removed his shirt—no doubt to keep from soiling it while playing in the puddle with the boys and the pollywogs—revealing a strong torso built of hard work. His chest, arms, shoulders, and stomach boasted chiseled muscles the like Vivianna had never seen before. She worried that if Justin provoked Johnny Tabor much further—well, then, Justin’s recovery might be set back some.

  “Don’t you be tellin’ Johnny what to do, Justin!” Nate growled. “He’s done more around here and more for Mama than you’ve done in your life!”

  “Now, Nate,” Johnny began, tousling the boy’s hair, “that ain’t true. And you know it ain’t. Justin’s right. I gotta earn my keep.”

  “Justin don’t earn his keep,” Willy mumbled.

  “Willy!” Vivianna scolded in a whisper.

  “No…no, he’s right,” Justin said. “I’m sorry, Johnny. I…I don’t know what come over me.”

  Vivianna looked to Johnny. It was obvious he was furious. Yet he merely nodded in acceptance of Justin’s apology.

  “I guess I best get washed up and back to work,” Johnny said.

  “Oh no, Johnny! Not yet! I wanted one more race,” Nate whined.

  “Maybe this evenin’,” Johnny said. “I’ll haul that water from the pond for you boys first though.” He forced a smile and tousled Nate’s hair. “We wouldn’t want your pollywog hole to dry up before we have our chance to beat Willy, now do we?”

  Nate shook his head and smiled. Willy, however, did not.

  Glaring at Justin, Willy said, “You’ve changed, Justin. Caleb didn’t change as much as you have.” Willy took hold of Nate’s arm and, still glaring at Justin, said, “Come on, Nate. Let’s go boil the skin off that possum head Johnny found for us.”

  “I guess I’ll be about my business too,” Johnny said. His gaze lingered on Vivianna as he nodded to her—causing a strange, fearful trembling to rise in her. “You have a nice mornin’, Miss Vivianna.”

  “Thank you,” Vivianna said.

  “You too, Justin,” Johnny grumbled—though his eyebrows puckered in a slight frown as he looked to his friend.

  “I’m sorry, Johnny,” Justin said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Again Johnny’s unsettling gaze lingered on Vivianna a moment. “I do,” he mumbled as he strode away.

  “I’m sure you plum vexed him, Justin,” Vivianna said as Justin took her hand and started toward the arbor once more.

  Justin shook his head. “I’m sure I did,” Justin admitted. “And I don’t know what I was thinkin’. If there’s one thing I know…it’s nobody oughta be ignorant enough to tangle with Johnny Tabor. Not if ya want to keep your head hooked onto your shoulders.”

  Vivianna frowned. “Why is he still here anyway?” Vivianna asked. “He unsettles me so. It seems he’s well enough to move on to Texas. He has family there. Why is he lingerin’ here with us?”

  “You and Mama nursed him back to a man,” Justin said. “I suspect he knows he wouldn’t have lived another day if Mama hadn’t taken him in. If I know Johnny—and I do—he’ll stay until he feels he’s repaid Mama a debt.” Justin shrugged and added, “I think he still feels beholden to me too…for savin’ him that time I did.”

  Vivianna frowned as they walked into the arbor. “How did ya save him, Justin?” she asked. “Ya still haven’t told me.”

  Justin sighed, smiled, and took Vivianna into his arms. “Oh, I don’t want to talk about all that, pretty Viv,” he said, smiling at her. “Not when you’re standin’ here with me. I’d much rather steal a kiss or two from you than talk about the war or ol’ Johnny Tabor.”

  Vivianna smiled. “I’ve been waitin’ a long time to give my kisses to you, Justin Turner. You don’t have to steal them from me,” she whispered.

  Justin chuckled. “But ain’t it a lot more fun that way?”

  Vivianna bit her lip—shyly glanced away a moment. Still, as Justin took her chin in hand and turned her face toward his, as his lips pressed hers softly, Vivianna was astonished when the visions in her mind were not those of Justin’s kiss—of his handsome face and her love for him. Rather, she frowned as she thought of Justin’s haughty remarks to his friend. He’d been unkind to Johnny—to the man who had seen him safely all the way home.

  Yet she buried the thoughts. Justin was still healing, and war left scars on a man—scars that the eye could not see. Justin was home, and that was what mattered.

  He kissed her softly, tenderly caressin
g her cheek with the back of his hand as he did so. Vivianna tried to ignore the sense of dissatisfaction that began to rise in her each time Justin kissed her. She worried it was because, like the younger Turner boys, she’d once seen Benjamin Sidney kissing Tilly Winder behind the old Libby place. She worried that Justin would never take her breath away—never lead her down a path of passion the like she’d witnessed Tilly Winder wandering. Oh, certainly Tilly and Benjamin were scandalous in their behavior. Still, Vivianna often mused that Justin’s letters still caused more emotion and delight to rise in her than his actual presence did.

  No! Justin was wonderful! He was only being careful of her, not wanting to show her any disrespect or lead her astray in any way. His kisses would increase in passion; she was sure they would! One day he would thrill her the way his letters had—the way he’d promised to! One day he would be wholly healed, and then all her doubts would vanish.

  Her mind wandered to Johnny Tabor. Somehow she could not force the vision of his hurt expression from her mind. Oh, certainly he’d been angry—even furious at Justin’s condescending manner. Yet it was the expression of betrayal in his dark, smoldering eyes—of hurt at the hand of a friend—that rather haunted her.