It was too much, the joy mingled with pain. In an instant, the walls of the prison surrounding Vivianna’s emotions crumbled. She began to gasp for breath, for her heart beat madly—hammered with an abrupt understanding that her family was gone, thrashed with a rushed awareness that she was in love with Johnny Tabor!
“Johnny!” she gasped. She felt his arms tighten—felt him catch her—lift and cradle her in his arms as she was lost to sudden darkness.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Everything was dark—no light. Yet there was a voice—in the distance there was a voice. Gradually the voice drew nearer. It was Johnny’s voice. Vivianna could hear Johnny Tabor calling her name.
“Vivi,” Johnny said. “Come on now. Breathe deeply. Open your eyes. Come on.”
Consciousness slowly returned, and Vivianna opened her eyes to see Johnny’s handsome face near to her own.
“Johnny?” she breathed.
He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, darlin’. Now come on back to me.”
“What happened?” she asked, feeling rather breathless—still dizzy and disoriented.
Johnny smiled. He caressed her cheek with the back of one strong hand. “I guess I smothered you with too much manly desire.”
Vivianna smiled. She did remember his kiss—the ecstasy that had erupted within her because of it. She breathed a giggle and said, “You were tryin’ to lead me astray, Johnny Tabor. And I guess…I guess I’m not too good at resistin’ ya.”
He smiled—smoothed the hair from her forehead.
Vivianna frowned as she noticed the heaviness of the air. The scent of dust caused her to want to cough a bit. She turned her head and glanced beyond Johnny to see that she was no longer outside but rather in a room—a parlor—her mother’s parlor.
Instantly, pain began to wash over her. She felt her eyes fill with tears. She was home, lying on the chaise lounge in her mother’s parlor. As her heart began to break once more, she looked back to Johnny.
“Johnny!” she whispered, panic rising in her. She did not want to know the pain again! She did not! She shook her head—took Johnny’s face between her hands. As tears filled her eyes, she began to gasp for breath. “Help me, Johnny!” she begged in a whisper. She could feel unconsciousness threatening to overtake her once more.
“Vivi,” Johnny said, taking one of her hands from his face and kissing the palm. “Listen to me.” He kissed her lightly on the lips—tenderly. He brushed his lips to her cheek and whispered, “Breathe, Vivi. I’m here…and you’ll be fine. Just breathe.”
Vivianna endeavored to do as Johnny instructed. She didn’t try to move—just lay there on her mother’s chaise as Johnny placed warm, moist kisses to her cheeks and the corners of her mouth. He pressed his mouth to hers—soothingly—lingeringly. Softly the moisture of their kisses blended, and as he held her face between his hands, he gently wiped the tears from her temples with his thumbs.
She was somewhat soothed. At least she no longer felt a faint coming over her.
When he paused in his careful kisses, his eyes gazed into hers. She fancied there was moisture in them—saw her own sadness reflected in their deep brown.
“Tell me about Sam and Augie,” he said. His voice was low and calming.
Vivianna felt her lower lip begin to quiver and felt the desire to sob rising in her throat. She shook her head a little, afraid to speak.
But Johnny nodded and prodded, “Tell me…was Augie older? Or Sam?”
“Samuel,” Vivianna whispered. Johnny nodded, and she continued, “Sam was the oldest…one year older than Augie. I…I was three and four years younger than they were.”
Johnny smiled. “How about your daddy?” he asked. “Was he a kind man?”
Vivianna swallowed the lump of pain in her throat. She nodded and answered, “Yes. He was…he was a doctor.”
“And your mama?”
“She was…she was always smilin’…always laughin’,” Vivianna breathed. She sniffled, and more tears escaped her eyes. The frightening sense of panic began to rise in her again. She began to tremble. “Johnny! Johnny, I—”
His mouth was warm and moist against hers. His powerful arms embraced her, lifting her to a sitting position as he continued to kneel beside the lounge. Butterflies of bliss mingled with the aching pain in her stomach. He deepened their kiss, offering delicious affection until the panic began to subside.
He broke the seal of their lips yet continued to hold her against him. Vivianna buried her face against his neck and shoulder, careless that her tears were soaking his shirt.
“Did you always live here?” he asked. “Were ya born in this house, Vivi?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she breathed. His neck was warm, and he smelled like woodsmoke and fresh air.
“Were ya happy as a child?” he whispered.
Again she nodded—breathed, “Yes!”
“Share a memory with me, Vivianna…a happy memory. Tell me of a time when y’all were together…laughin’ maybe,” he said. His voice was deep and resonated with tranquil reassurance.
Vivianna shook her head. “I…I can’t think of one just now, Johnny. I can’t think.”
“Yes, ya can,” he told her. His breath was warm and tickled her ear. “Tell me a story of your family.”
Vivianna shook her head. Yet in the next moment a memory did enter her mind. She wept a moment more before beginning. “A wasp got into the kitchen once,” she began. “Mama hated bees and wasps…anything with a stinger on it.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Johnny urged.
Vivianna tightened her embrace of Johnny, holding him closer—more desperately.
“Go on,” he prodded.
“We were…Mama and I were bakin’ peach pies, and a wasp got in through the window. It landed on Mama’s hand, and she started screamin’ and dancin’ around like it had flown up her skirt instead of landing on her hand.” Vivianna closed her eyes. A slight smile curved her mouth as she envisioned her mother dancing around the kitchen, shrieking for her daddy to come and save her from the wasp.
“What next?” Johnny prodded.
“Augustus came runnin’ into the kitchen…but I’d dropped a peach skin, and he slipped on it,” she continued. “His feet went out from under him, and he landed smack on his backside, just as Sam came runnin’ in. Samuel tripped over Augie and landed on his backside too. Mama was still screamin’ like a madwoman when Daddy came in and tripped over the boys. Daddy didn’t fall…but he stumbled forward and caught hold of the edge of the table.” Vivianna smiled at the visions frolicking in her mind. “But the table couldn’t hold him up, and he tipped it, sending peaches and pies flyin’ every which way up into the air. Mama was still screamin’ and swattin’ at the wasp with a towel. The pies and peaches went all over the floor when they come down…and I slipped when I was rushin’ to help Mama. I don’t think I’ve ever fallen down so hard in all my life! So there we were…Sam and Augie…me and Daddy…sittin’ on the kitchen floor covered in peaches and sugar…watchin’ Mama get out after that wasp.”
Vivianna couldn’t help but smile, even for the emotions causing her lips to quiver. She drew away from Johnny—brushed the tears from her eyes. He cupped her chin, running one callused thumb over her lips. She looked at him—smiled as he grinned with understanding and encouragement.
“Did she finally get that ol’ wasp?” he asked.
Vivianna nodded and smiled. “It was silly enough to land on the floor…and to this day, I can see her grinding that wasp into the floor with the heel of her shoe. We all started laughin’, and Daddy pulled Mama down onto the floor with us.” Vivianna giggled a little. “One pie had somehow survived fallin’ and was still in the plate…and Daddy took hold of it and dumped it right over Mama’s head. We laughed until we were sick. I swear we did. It took us near to two hours to clean up the mess.”
“It’s a good memory,” Johnny said.
“Yes,” Vivianna whispered—though her lip began to quiver once more.
J
ohnny reached out, gathering her into his arms again. His kiss was more demanding when he kissed her this time. Vivianna sighed as she melted against him—savored the moist heat of his kiss. Tears still streamed over her cheeks. Yet with beautiful wings of desire, the butterflies in her stomach began to beat away the pain. Vivianna wrapped her arms around Johnny’s neck—let her fingers weave through his soft brown hair as she kissed him. She felt his hands at her back—felt them move to her waist as he gently guided her body to lean back in the chaise once more.
He broke from her, his breathing labored and unsteady. “Vivianna…I…I…” he stammered. His eyes were filled with emotion, brimming with moisture. Vivianna could see her reflection in them, and she knew he too somehow bore her pain.
She reached out, taking his face in her hands and pulling his mouth to hers. She could not quench her thirst for his kiss! She wanted to bathe forever in the heated passion he stirred in her. He kissed her hard—near to violently—as if he could not quench his own thirst.
Suddenly he broke the seal of their lips, however. Taking her face in his hands, he gazed at her. “Love never dies, Vivi,” he told her. “As long as you continue to let your heart feel joy and pain…to miss them and remember…they’ll never be lost to you.”
Vivianna nodded. She brushed the tears from her cheeks, even though more followed.
“I’ll run on out and get that box of letters,” Johnny said. “Then we’ll take it up to the attic for ya, and you can show me around your family’s home. How would that be?”
Vivianna sniffled and breathed a giggle as Johnny pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“Don’t worry,” he said, grinning. “It’s clean.”
“Thank you, Johnny,” she said, dabbing at her tears and then her nose. She shook her head and added, “I’m sure I’m completely melted for the rest of the day.”
“And that’s all right,” he assured her. “Now you just sit here. I’ll be right back.” He stood and reached into the front pocket of his trousers, withdrawing a key. Offering the key toward her, he said, “I found this in your skirt pocket. I let us in. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course,” she said, taking the key from him and dropping it back into her skirt pocket. She thought for a moment that, after over a year of carrying Justin’s letter in her pocket, it was strange not to feel it there when she slipped the key in.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
Vivianna watched him leave the house by way of the back parlor door. She stood from the chaise and watched him through the window. Johnny hurried to the place where they’d been standing when first Vivianna’s emotions had begun to boil over. Oddly, she remembered his kiss more than her pain. Johnny Tabor had been right. A body could know joy, even for overwhelming heartache. As she watched him hunker down in the grass and retrieve the box containing Justin’s letters—as she watched him saunter toward her in returning—she thought of his strength, of his exceptional understanding of her need to mourn. How could he be so wise? Surely the fighting, Andersonville, and all the horror of war had given him experience to draw from. She shivered with wondering what terrible things he’d endured—what loss he’d known. She thought of the day Johnny had told Nate and Willy of burning the lice from his body. Yet unimaginably miserable as it was, it did not explain his understanding of Vivianna’s having struggled against her emotions. Was he simply a man who owned a sense of reading a soul?
She watched him move closer—thought he was the most attractive man she had ever seen. Even now she wanted to kiss him—wanted to linger in his powerful arms. She was in love with Johnny. The revelation had come to her even as the acceptance of her family’s loss had come to her. Yet it seemed impossible! How could she be in love with a stranger? She’d known him mere months! She’d known Justin for years—all her life—yet Justin no longer owned her heart. Certainly he would always linger in it, for one did not love so deeply and entirely and forget such a love. Yet in that moment—as she watched Johnny Tabor enter the house and offer the box containing Justin’s letters to her—she knew that somehow she had fallen in love with him.
Vivianna paused in accepting the letters, distracted by wondering what Johnny would think if he knew she loved him. Surely he would think her as fickle a girl as she thought Tilly Winder was. Hadn’t he brought Justin home to claim Vivianna’s heart? Yet she sensed even Johnny had changed his mind about Justin. He would not kiss her so passionately otherwise. He would not kiss her at all otherwise. Johnny was nothing if not loyal; this she had observed for herself. Why then did he play at kissing the woman he meant his best friend to marry unless he’d changed his opinion of the man?
“Here,” Johnny said, still offering the box to her. “Do ya still want to leave them behind?”
Vivianna fancied Johnny looked worried in that moment—as if he feared she might say she’d chosen to keep them instead of hiding them away.
“Yes,” she said, accepting the box from him. And she did want to leave them—now more than ever. “Come with me, Johnny,” she said. “Come with me, and I’ll show you the attic. I’ll show the entire house to you if ya like.”
He nodded. “Are you…are ya all right, Vivianna?” he asked.
Instantly, tears flooded her cheeks. Still, she answered, “I will be.”
He sighed and seemed relieved. “All right then,” he said. “Let’s see to them letters.”
Vivianna did put away Justin’s letters. She tucked them safely in the bottom of one of her mother’s trunks. Furthermore, she escorted Johnny throughout the Bartholomew family home—throughout her home. She led him through every room, even the one that had been hers as a child. As she wandered through the house, she felt as if she were indeed beginning to heal. Oh, certainly she wept near constantly. Yet she did not feel afraid to touch her mother’s things, to look on the photographs of Sam and Augie. Her father’s doctor’s bag seemed a sentimental piece, not something to dread peering into any longer. Her pain was profound—excruciating at times. Yet Johnny had shown Vivianna that she could still know joy, and knowing such a thing was true helped Vivianna to know joy even in reminiscing—even for the heartache in her.
She even lingered alone awhile in her home. Johnny wanted to look in at the railroad office—wanted to inquire about earning wages. Thus, he’d suggested Vivianna take the time to sit or wander through the house—to be alone with her memories and her mourning. This she did—weeping one moment, smiling the next—and it was such a healing thing that she could not fathom it at first. Yet she did know it. The longer she wandered, trading tears for smiles, she did know that joy could still be had in life. Her emotions—held so tightly and deep inside her for so long—had broken free. Johnny had freed them, and Vivianna knew her true and full self again at last.
Johnny returned from the railroad office to announce he’d secured work. The next Monday morning, he would accompany Caleb and Justin to town and begin earning a good wage. He explained to Vivianna that he was told the labor would be hard, but he was not averse to hard labor.
As the sun hung high in the center of the sky, Vivianna locked the great bolt securing one of the back doors to her family home. She and Johnny had decided to leave the way they had come, without a living soul having seen them. They would walk the smaller path all the way home—avoid the road and any unwanted conversation. Vivianna’s emotions were still ripe; she still found tears easily upon her cheeks, and she did not wish to endure Tilly Winder or anyone else’s company—only Johnny’s.
As they walked the long path leading from the Bartholomew home to the Turner one, they didn’t speak of Vivianna’s family, nor did they speak of the passion that had flamed between them. Simply they spoke of the weather, of Nate and Willy and their antics, of Caleb and his goodness. They spoke of nothing of any deep consequence.
Until, at last, Vivianna’s curiosity grew too swollen to contain.
As she and Johnny wandered through a sma
ll grove of dogwoods, she began, “Justin says you saved his life…on more than one occasion. Yet you always maintain that he saved yours, Johnny. How did Justin save your life?” She shrugged and added, “I assume it was at Andersonville that you saved his…but how did he save yours?”
She glanced to Johnny then and fancied he’d paled slightly. Still, he responded.
“I was…I was wounded,” he began. “You’ve seen the scar low on my back?”
Vivianna nodded. Oh, she’d seen the dark, deep scar many times. Though her attention was more often drawn to Johnny’s impressive musculature when he was working without a shirt, she had studied the scar as well.
“I was matchin’ sabers with a Reb…when another Reb come up behind me and near sliced me in two,” he explained. “It was Caleb who cleaned the wound and stitched me up. So I guess I owe Caleb near as much as I do Justin.” He paused, an expression of hurt or worry puckering his handsome brow. She regretted asking him abut his debt to Justin. She could see it caused him pain.
“You don’t have to tell me, Johnny,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked ya. It’s in the past. I understand that.”
He shook his head and simply said, “I was in so much pain…both body and mind. I’d been wounded so many times before…didn’t think I could stand such a wound as that saber left on me. I was driftin’ in and out of wakefulness…kept thinkin’ I saw Death comin’ for me. I’ve never known despair the likes I knew at that time. Even in Andersonville.” He looked to her and forced a smile. Shrugging broad shoulders, he said, “Then Justin…well, Justin…he…he, uh…”
“There you are!” Willy exclaimed.
Vivianna startled—glanced ahead up the path to see Willy running toward them.
“Where have you two been?” he asked. “We’ve been waitin’ forever! That boy’s been beside himself with askin’ when you’d be home, Johnny.”
“What?” Johnny asked.
Willy shook his head with exasperation. “That boy! That Lowell boy. He turned up on the front porch a couple of hours ago. Mama’s fed him about everything she can…and I swear, he talks more’n any girl I ever know’d.”
Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine Page 22