Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “That Mr. Maggee…he could talk the tail feathers off a magpie,” he said.

  Vivianna giggled and nodded. “Oh yes, he can!” she agreed. “I once sat and listened to him for near to two hours without sayin’ so much as ‘yes, sir’ to him.”

  “Between diggin’ through owl pellets and Mr. Maggee’s goin’ on and on…I’m worn out,” he chuckled.

  “I think Nate and Willy put Mr. Maggee in mind of his own boys,” Vivianna explained. “He wanders over every once in a while to visit with them…or Miss Savannah.”

  Johnny looked to her, one handsome brow arched. “Do you think he’s sweet on their mama?”

  Vivianna shrugged. “Well, his wife died over two years back…and Savannah’s awful pretty. Goodness knows she could use a hand with her boys, especially now with Lowell. I don’t think it would be too awful if she liked him and he liked her…do you?”

  “I suppose not,” he admitted. “Only he might talk her to death.”

  Vivianna giggled. “He might. But the funny thing is…when she’s the one talkin’ to him, he listens like she was heaven’s angel.”

  “They’d make a pair, wouldn’t they?”

  “They would at that.”

  Vivianna felt his hand tighten as it held hers—as he led her toward the meadow a ways before leaving the path and heading into a grove of dogwoods.

  “Where we goin’?” she asked, delighted that he was leading her to a more secluded space.

  “I found somethin’ the other day. I think you’ll like it,” he said.

  Vivianna followed Johnny, blissful in his company—delighted by the fact he still held her hand.

  “Look here,” he said once they’d gone a ways among the dogwoods.

  Vivianna gasped and smiled. “Wild honeysuckle!” she exclaimed.

  Sure enough, a massive honeysuckle vine had overgrown the remains of two dead oak trees. Lovely green leaves and bright pink blossoms climbed up one old tree trunk and all around and over its limbs to create a beautiful canopy overhead as it clung to the second old tree.

  Vivianna looked through the dogwoods and bushes separating the Turner place from the dead trees and wild honeysuckle. She could see the vine-covered arbor a ways beyond.

  “All these years, I just thought it was the old arbor honeysuckle smellin’ so sweet,” she said. “But I’m sure this one was helpin’ it along.”

  “Do you wanna taste it?” he asked. He was smiling, and Vivianna’s heart melted. He was so handsome—so kind and brave! He’d unlocked her heart—her feelings—her very life!

  “Of course!” she told him. She watched as he reached up and rather roughly plucked a blossom.

  “I get about one outta every five right,” he said, frowning as he struggled to gently remove the styles from the flower.

  Vivianna giggled as she watched his sad attempt. “Here,” she said, plucking another flower. “Toss that poor thing to its grave, Johnny, and let me help ya.”

  Johnny sighed, shook his head, and tossed the crushed honeysuckle blossom to the ground.

  Carefully, Vivianna separated the parts of the tender flower until the honeysuckle nectar clung in one large, glistening droplet to a style.

  “Hurry quick!” she told him, giggling as he bent down and caught the style in his mouth.

  “Mmm!” he mumbled. “You try it. I think it’s sweeter than what’s growin’ over by the arbor.”

  Smiling, Vivianna plucked another blossom and tasted the nectar for herself. “Oh my, yes!” she giggled. “It makes a body feel sort of sorry for the old arbor honeysuckle…makes its sugar seem almost plain.”

  She watched him pick another blossom—bit her lip to keep from laughing as he struggled to reveal the nectar within. Still, after a time—and a fair amount of concentration—he did manage it.

  “It’s an awful lot of work for such a small pleasure,” he said as he let the droplet of honeysuckle sugar drip from the style to his tongue.

  “I suppose,” she said. Vivianna stripped the flower from another blossom and savored the tiny flavor.

  Johnny licked the nectar off two more styles, and Vivianna laughed.

  “Oh, you’re gettin’ quite good at harvestin’ honeysuckle sugar, Mr. Tabor,” she teased.

  He nodded. “Here,” he said, plucking three flowers and moving close to her. “Let me try somethin’.” Carefully he held all three blossoms between his thumb and forefinger, simultaneously stripping them of their nectar-laden styles with his other hand. “Now hold still,” he told her. He frowned, concentrating as he directed the three droplets of nectar to set softly on Vivianna’s lower lip.

  Yet honeysuckle nectar was not to be resisted, and Vivianna could not keep from letting her tongue moisten her lip in tasting nature’s sweet pleasure.

  “No, no, no!” Johnny chuckled. “You have to leave it there.”

  “I can’t!” Vivianna said. “It’s too temptin’.” And it was true! She’d never tasted three droplets of nectar at once before! The concentration was delicious.

  “Let me try that again,” he said. “Four this time. A real treat for ya.”

  Vivianna watched him pluck four blossoms, rather awed that he would be so intrigued with a thing as simple as harvesting honeysuckle nectar.

  “Now…hold still this time,” he instructed as he stripped the flowers of their styles. “Just…just hold very still,” he mumbled. Frowning, he placed the droplets of sugar on her lower lip again. He arched one daring eyebrow and said, “Let it stay there a minute. Don’t you go lickin’ that off, Vivi…’cause there’s enough for two. Don’t ya think?”

  Vivianna gasped—instantly melted as Johnny’s soft kiss pressed her lower lip—as the light touch of his tongue tasted the honeysuckle nectar waiting there! He pressed his mouth to hers, sharing the sweet flavor with her a moment before it disappeared.

  He kissed her cheek—her neck—the heat of his mouth pressing the warmth of her flesh just below her ear.

  “I swear, Johnny,” she breathed, pulling away from him slightly.

  “You swear what, Vivi?” he asked. His eyes were purely alluring as he gazed at her—as his arms went around her body, drawing her to him.

  “I swear you could lead me astray if I had the mind to let ya,” she confessed.

  He grinned. “Why don’t you just let me, Vivi?” he said. “Let me lead ya just a little astray.” His voice was low and tempting—rich and dark like molasses. “I promise I won’t lead ya off too far.” He bent, placing his mouth against the hollow of her throat.

  “Promise?” she breathed.

  “I do,” he whispered.

  Vivianna opened her eyes—tried to keep at bay the blissful dizziness overtaking her. Overhead she saw the wild honeysuckle vine, the canopy of green leaves and sweet pink flowers.

  She took his face between her hands—gazed into his smoldering brown eyes. “Then lead me astray, Johnny Tabor,” she whispered. He moved to kiss her, but she placed an index finger to his lips and said, “Just a ways, mind you.”

  Johnny grinned. “All right…just a ways.” He took her chin in one hand, slowly caressing her lower lip with his thumb. Gazing into her eyes, he mumbled, “Ain’t nothin’ in this whole world as sweet as your kiss, Vivi.”

  Vivianna smiled, enchanted by his words, mesmerized as they passed from his lips. “Not even honeysuckle sugar?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Not a whole barrelful of honeysuckle sugar,” he told her a moment before his mouth crushed to hers.

  There was no soft first kiss meant to build to a passionate exchange. Rather the passion was ripe and instant between them! Vivianna sighed as Johnny’s arms tightened around her—as the moist heat of his mouth bathed her in delicious bliss! She felt his hand weave into her hair at the back of her head as he endeavored to press his mouth more firmly to hers. The rough whiskers of his face prickled the tender flesh of hers, but she only reveled in the sense—further proof she was alive and knowing pleasure. For a moment, hi
s kisses grew to such a ravenous state she was nearly unable to draw breath—but she didn’t care. Her arms were around him, her hands woven through his soft hair, as she met his thirsting demands.

  Breathless himself, Johnny’s mouth left hers for an instant as he whispered, “Vivi…I…”

  Vivianna frowned, for there seemed a deep guilt and pain in him suddenly. She fancied his eyes were moist with enduring it.

  “I’m…I’m not a good man,” he breathed.

  Vivianna gazed at him—wondered at the pain in his eyes. She placed her fingertips to his lips to quiet him, and he kissed them. “You’re right,” she whispered. “You’re not a good man. You’re a wonderful man.”

  “No. I’ve…I’ve done some things…” he stammered.

  Yet Vivianna knew she could not love a man who had done anything unforgivable—and she loved Johnny Tabor. “Yes, I know,” she whispered, kissing him softly on the mouth. “You’re a thief, aren’t ya?”

  Johnny frowned and appeared utterly astonished. “A thief?” he breathed.

  “You’re stealin’ my heart,” she said. “You’ve unlocked it…shown me that true joy can only be recognized when a person has known real pain. You’ve unlocked my heart, and you’re stealing it for your own.”

  Still he frowned. She fancied the moisture in his eyes was increasing.

  “You don’t know me, Vivi,” he whispered. “Not really. You can’t give me your heart when you don’t know what I’ve done.”

  “I’ve already given it to you, Johnny…and nothin’ you could tell me now would change that.”

  “Promise?” he asked. “Do you promise that you’ll never turn from me…no matter what?”

  “I do,” Vivianna said. She was bathing in wonderment at hearing such a promise pass from her lips. Johnny was haunted—just as Savannah had said he was—just as Vivianna had known all along. Still, something whispered to her soul that whatever was haunting Johnny was not so unforgivable as he thought. “But if you’re tired of me,” she teased, squirming out of his arms and plucking a honeysuckle blossom, “I suppose we could go back to sippin’ honeysuckle nectar.”

  She giggled when he took her arms tightly in his powerful hands. “I’ll never be tired of you,” he said—and Vivianna melted to him as he kissed her once more.

  She sensed there was more to be said between them. Certainly, as they lingered beneath the honeysuckle vine, she knew she wanted only Johnny. Yet she knew her mind and heart were still spinning from his unlocking her soul. She knew the pain of the loss of her family would return—that her doubt in whether Johnny Tabor truly loved her would return. Still, there—as they bathed in the fragrance of honeysuckle and the delicious kisses borne of passion and desire—she knew only that she loved Johnny. Furthermore, in those moments, she knew that Savannah had been right. A woman could tell by a man’s kiss whether he loved her or was simply overcome with momentary want. In that moment, Vivianna knew: Johnny Tabor loved her.

  Justin’s eyes narrowed as he watched Johnny kissing Vivianna—as he watched Vivianna willingly kissing Johnny in return. Who did Johnny Tabor think he was? After all, hadn’t it been Johnny who had talked Justin into returning to fulfill his promises to Vivianna in the first place? He’d near to threatened Justin with his life if he didn’t return home to keep all the promises he’d written in those damn letters! And now—now Johnny Tabor stood there owning Vivianna’s affections. Furthermore, Vivianna had never kissed him the way she was kissing Johnny Tabor. He fancied even Tilly couldn’t kiss a man the way Vivianna was kissing Johnny. Justin shook his head. If she only knew what a liar he really was—if Vivianna knew the things Johnny Tabor had done—he reckoned she wouldn’t be so willingly caught in his arms.

  Justin turned, disgusted and angry. Sure, he’d lingered in town after working all day. He’d missed supper too. But an hour or so spent with Tilly Winder was worth it. At least, he thought it had been worth it at the time—until he’d come home to peek into the kitchen window to see little Lowell Wheeler enjoying the company of his family—until he’d seen Vivianna kissing Johnny like she’d never kissed him. It had been then that Justin had begun to wonder if he truly wanted to linger on the path he’d chosen. Tilly was a fine woman! She owned a gift for causing a man to think on her all the day long—and the night too. Still, he knew she wasn’t the woman Vivianna was. Tilly wasn’t sweet, innocent, and tenderhearted. Tilly wasn’t as pretty or as soft. Furthermore, Justin knew Vivianna had saved her passion for the man who most deserved it. That wasn’t true with Tilly either.

  Thus, Justin had known a moment of regret when he’d seen Vivianna in Johnny’s arms. But the moment of regret quickly turned to anger—as most moments of any emotion did in Justin. He cussed the war as he lumbered back to the house—cussed the fighting, the hardship. And he cussed Johnny Tabor for managing to keep his character about him through it all. Well, most of his character. Still, Justin knew Johnny’s secret—knew that if Vivianna ever found out the truth, she’d sure enough drop Johnny like a boiling hot yam.

  He had a mind to tell her himself. For a moment, Justin considered revealing the truth of Johnny’s black soul to her. But he thought better of it. Telling Vivianna the truth about Johnny might well lead to Justin’s own sins being revealed. He wouldn’t have his mother any more disappointed in him than she already was. No. There were other ways to take Johnny Tabor down to hell. He’d wait. Justin knew that if he were patient, an opportunity would present itself. And in that very moment, understanding washed over him, and Justin realized that he wouldn’t have to wait. He’d been in town, lingering with Tilly long after Caleb had left for home. Thus, he knew what had been found. He knew what questions were already being asked. Furthermore, he knew where suspicions would eventually gather.

  Justin chuckled as he stepped up onto the porch. Yep, he’d wait—bide his time a little longer. He’d see Johnny get what he deserved—one way or the other. Then Vivianna could forget him—maybe finally marry Caleb. And even Justin knew that if anybody on earth deserved to be happy, it was Caleb Turner.

  “Mr. Justin!” Lowell exclaimed as Justin stepped into the kitchen. “I found it! I found your place! I come all the way from an orphanage in Georgia!”

  Justin smiled, laughed, and caught the boy in his arms.

  “Lowell! My boy! So ya really made it, did ya?” Justin asked.

  Lowell nodded. “All the way from Georgia.”

  Justin chuckled. Lowell was a good boy. The part of Justin’s heart that still remembered the man he once was was glad to see the boy safe. He had hardly thought of him again—not since he and Johnny were taken to Andersonville. Still, he was glad the boy was safe. He smiled. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to tell Vivianna the truth about the enemy she was so willingly kissing out in the woods. Perhaps Lowell would do it for him.

  Still, Justin had not forgotten what he’d heard in town before coming home. He’d wait. One way or the other, Johnny Tabor was about to pay for his sins.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Justin and me…we got along from the very first,” Johnny said.

  Vivianna tucked her feet under her skirt and leaned back against Mr. Turner’s tombstone. As she listened to Johnny, she studied him—thoroughly studied him. She loved his manner of casually lounging—the way he rested on one elbow, his long legs stretched out in the grass. She adored his soft chestnut hair and deep brown eyes, the way his lips moved when he talked, and the square angles of his jaw and chin.

  “I hate to see him so changed,” he mumbled, scowling. “But he’s been through a heap of misery.”

  “And you haven’t?” Vivianna asked. “You endured the war and Andersonville too. Have you changed?”

  Johnny shrugged. “A bit maybe. I ain’t as quick-tempered as I once was. And I didn’t laugh a whole lot…not for a while.” He looked to her and smiled. “Not ’til that pigeon mess hit me when I was feedin’ the chickens.”

  Vivianna giggled, delighted by the memory. “But it se
ems to me that those are good changes. I don’t see the changes in Justin as bein’ good ones,” she said.

  Johnny shrugged again. “War is hard on a man. Truth is I still feel a load of guilt for makin’ up my mind to try for you myself.” He shook his head and added, “But then I think of Justin…how he’s altered.” He paused and hung his head shamefully. “I might not be able to keep hold of ya—ya may find out the truth about me one day and change your mind about me—but I couldn’t let Justin have ya. I just couldn’t.”

  “You could tell me the truth, Johnny,” Vivianna ventured. “Then you wouldn’t have to worry about somebody else tellin’ me whatever it is you think makes you the devil. Why don’t you give me the chance to see if what’s hauntin’ you is really so terrible?”

  “But I know it is,” he said. He looked at her again. “And I can’t find the strength to confess it and risk losin’ your heart…not yet anyway.”

  “Hey, Mr. Johnny,” Lowell began.

  Vivianna glanced up to where Lowell stood studying the backside of Floydie Maggee’s tombstone.

  “What, boy?” Johnny asked, craning his neck around to look at the boy.

  “Have you seen this here?” Lowell said, pointing to the top of the tombstone.

  “I have,” Johnny said, returning his attention to the rock he’d been tossing in one hand.

  “It looks like blood to me,” Lowell said.

  “Blood?” Vivianna asked, rising to her feet.

  “Yep. It sure does,” Johnny said. “Probably some big buzzard dropped his prey or somethin’. Maybe a rabbit or a small fox. That would do it, I suspect.”

  Vivianna went to where Lowell stood. She looked at the tombstone and frowned. “It’s an awful stain,” she said. “Poor Floydie. I’m afraid that will tarnish his stone forever.”

  Lowell’s eyebrows arched. “Poor Floydie? Why…he don’t know the difference, Miss Vivianna,” the boy said. “He just left his bones and teeth down there. His soul is singin’ up in heaven with the angels. I don’t think he cares much about somethin’ like this.”