Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  Vivianna pressed her palm to his whiskery cheek. She was not afraid. She knew Johnny; she knew his soul. There was nothing he could’ve done to make him unworthy of her love—to cause her to abandon him.

  “Two hours,” she said.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Kiss me for two hours here…beneath our honeysuckle vine,” she explained. “Kiss me for two hours. Then I’ll give you until after supper on Monday to tell me of this terrible darkness that haunts you.”

  Johnny grinned. He glanced up to the sun in the sky. “Two hours should run us right up to suppertime,” he said.

  “Then two hours it is…two hours and Monday,” she whispered.

  Vivianna placed her hands against the smooth, warm contours of Johnny’s muscular chest. As ever, Johnny had discarded his shirt in an effort to tolerate the unfamiliar mugginess of the Alabama summer. She wondered how he ever survived years of war while having to don a uniform.

  “All right,” he agreed. “Two hours and Monday.”

  Vivianna’s entire body delighted with goose pimples as Johnny took her in his arms—as his mouth began to entwine them in a bewitching spell of mutual and barely restrained desire. There, beneath the honeysuckle vine, as Johnny’s demanding, heated kisses carried her to rapture on delicious wings of bliss, Vivianna knew that these were the kisses only he could give—that Johnny Tabor was the only man she could ever belong to.

  He broke the seal of their lips a moment, allowing Vivianna to catch her breath. She smiled—giggled breathlessly.

  “What’s so amusin’?” he asked, kissing the corner of her mouth.

  “Nothin’,” she whispered. “I was just thinkin’ of how adorable Lowell is.”

  Johnny’s brows arched with bewilderment. “While I’m kissin’ you…you’re thinkin’ about Lowell?” he asked.

  Vivianna ran her fingers through Johnny’s soft hair and smiled at him. “I’m just thinkin’ how sweet he is…to think you need instruction on how to kiss me.”

  Johnny’s expression relaxed. “Then…I guess I do all right at it after all.”

  Vivianna nodded. “Now kiss me, Johnny Tabor. Kiss me as I’ve never been kissed before.”

  As Johnny’s mouth descended to hers once more, however, Vivianna was unsettled a moment as the words from Justin’s once beloved letter echoed in her mind.

  When I return we will meet beneath the honeysuckle vine, and I will kiss you such a kiss as you have never known before.

  She thought it somehow ironic that it was Johnny with whom she lingered beneath the honeysuckle vine, not Justin. That it was Johnny who had first kissed her such a kiss as she had never known.

  As the honeysuckle blossoms quivered in the breeze, sending the sweet fragrance of nectar into the air, Vivianna was thankful—thankful to be in Johnny’s arms—thankful that heaven itself had brought him to Alabama to love her and to kiss her beneath the honeysuckle vine.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Johnny was already gone when Vivianna rose Monday morning. The night before, he’d told her he’d be leaving before sunup. Without a horse, he’d have to walk the three miles to the railroad site, and work started at sunrise. Caleb and Justin had also left for town. Thus, as Vivianna set the pan of hot biscuits in the center of the table, it was she and Savannah who would enjoy a friendly breakfast with Nate, Willy, and Lowell.

  “Can we have extra butter this mornin’, Mama?” Willy asked.

  “Oh yes!” Lowell chimed. “Please, Miss Savannah! I went near two years without a lick of butter ’til I got here.”

  Savannah smiled, tousling Lowell’s pumpkin hair.

  “Well, how can I refuse when ya tell me that, Lowell?” she said. “All right then, boys. Since the men didn’t have time for biscuits and butter…y’all can have their share.”

  “Thanks, Mama!” Nate exclaimed, plunging a fork into the butter dish in the center of the table.

  “Mind your manners, Nate,” Savannah reminded.

  “Sorry, Mama,” Nate said, slathering a hot biscuit with butter.

  “Oh, Viv!” Savannah exclaimed then. “I plum forgot. Johnny said he left something for ya…left it on his bed.”

  Vivianna smiled, even for the sudden nervous sensation swelling in her stomach. Johnny had promised to tell her what ghosts were haunting his soul. He’d promised to tell her that very day. Still, she’d expected him to wait until after supper—until they could perhaps walk a ways and be alone.

  “And I’m thinkin’,” Savannah continued, “that maybe we oughta have Johnny move on into town…before you’re what he’s leavin’ in his bed one mornin’.”

  “Savannah!” Vivianna gasped.

  But Savannah only giggled and teasingly winked at Vivianna. “Well, at last! I didn’t know what it would take to get you to start callin’ me by my given name. But…now I know.”

  “What do you mean, Mama?” Willy asked. “About movin’ Johnny into town before Vivianna’s what he leaves—”

  “Never you mind, Willy,” Savannah interrupted. “Never you mind.”

  “Your face is as red as my big toe was when I stepped on that hornet last week, Viv,” Nate said.

  “Maybe Johnny’s pulled his treasure out of that ol’ tin box he hides,” Willy suggested, his eyes wide as saucers. “Maybe that’s what he’s left for ya, Viv.”

  “More’n likely it’s a letter,” Lowell mumbled, shoving half a biscuit in his mouth all at once. “Mr. Johnny was the letter-writin’est fool I ever did see. When we was in camp, I swear that’s all he did. Any time he’d get a letter, he’d pine away over it like he was sick or somethin’…then sit down and spend an hour in respondin’.”

  Vivianna frowned a bit. Johnny writing letters? To whom? Yet suddenly a great suspicion rose in her, followed by a wave of nausea. She felt hot, breathless, and weak.

  “Well, who was he writin’ to?” Nate asked. “He writes to his sister, ever since he’s been here. But I ain’t never seen him—”

  “Excuse me,” Vivianna said, pushing her chair away from the table.

  “Viv?” Savannah asked.

  But Vivianna didn’t stop. She was afraid if she did, she might faint. An idea—a strange understanding—was washing over her like a spring flood.

  She nearly ran to Johnny’s room—burst in and went directly to the bed. His bed was neatly spread, and there was indeed something lying upon it: a honeysuckle blossom, expertly carved from a small piece of wood, and an envelope.

  Vivianna picked up the carving first and held it in her trembling hand as she gazed at its perfect beauty. The carving was small, resting perfectly in the palm of her hand. The intricate detail of the carving was unlike anything Vivianna had ever seen before. She remembered all the times she’d seen Johnny whittling on the front porch or out near the garden. She remembered the story he told her of what he loved most about Christmas—of carving animals from wood for his brothers.

  Overwhelmed with emotion, love, and gratitude, she pressed the delicate wooden blossom to her lips. She closed her eyes, envisioned Johnny sitting whittling, and wondered how long he had worked to create such a perfect thing of beauty.

  She opened her eyes, and her gaze fell to the letter. Her name was written on the envelope, yet still she could not accept what her mind was whispering to her.

  Carefully, she laid the carving on the basin table nearby. She sat down on the bed and, with trembling hands, picked up the letter.

  She opened the envelope—unfolded the page therein.

  Tears filled her eyes as, before reading the short inscription, she looked to the signature there.

  “I love you,” she whispered, reading the last line of the letter aloud. “Johnny.”

  The tears in her eyes spilled over her cheeks as her fingers traced Johnny’s name—traced the letter J at the beginning of it. It was perfectly she knew his writing; it was perfectly she recognized the J at the beginning of Johnny’s signature.

  “Johnny!” she breathed.
<
br />   Johnny had written the letters she’d loved so! Johnny had penned the beautiful promises, the pledges of true love! Johnny—not Justin! She could not fathom why. She could not fathom why Johnny would have written such things to her—why he would have allowed her to believe Justin had written them. Still, in that moment, she didn’t care! In that moment, she was only euphoric with the knowledge that Johnny had loved her so long. She did not pause to think that perhaps what he’d written in the letters was false, for she knew he loved her now. Thus he must have somehow loved her before—before he brought Justin home to Alabama—before he’d kissed her so blissfully beneath the honeysuckle vine!

  “Are you all right, Viv honey?” Savannah asked from the doorway.

  Vivianna nodded and managed to whisper, “Yes.”

  She read Johnny’s note then, breathing the words written upon it.

  “My darling Vivianna,” she whispered. “When I return this evening, I will keep my promise. I will tell you why you may not want me…reveal the darkness in my soul. Still, even though I know you may despise me, I hope you will yet love me, for I have loved you longer than you know. And when I return tonight—when I have shown you the sinfulness that taints me—I pray that you can find forgiveness in your heart, that you might still love me. Then we will meet beneath the honeysuckle vine, and I will kiss you such a kiss as you have never known before. I love you. Johnny.”

  Savannah was at her side, one comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “Viv,” she breathed. “What is it?”

  “Johnny,” Vivianna whispered. She turned to Savannah, tears streaming down her face. “It was Johnny who wrote the letters…not Justin. It’s always been Johnny I loved, Savannah.”

  “Johnny?” Savannah breathed, taking the note from Vivianna’s hand.

  “He…he thinks I won’t love him,” Vivianna stammered. “He thinks I’ll hate him for lyin’ to me.”

  “Will you?” Savannah asked. Vivianna saw the tears in Savannah’s eyes as well.

  “Never!” she breathed. “He loves me!” she cried. Suddenly a delicious sort of laughter overtook her. “Savannah! He’s loved me all along! Oh, how hard it must’ve been for him…to watch me with Justin!”

  “But…but why didn’t he tell you sooner?”

  “He thought you loved Justin,” Lowell said.

  Savannah and Vivianna whirled around to see Lowell standing in the doorway.

  “Lowell?” Savannah asked.

  “He thought…Mr. Johnny knew that since you thought Justin wrote the letters…he thought you could only love Justin,” Lowell said. “I heard ’em talkin’…arguin’ the day they disappeared from camp.” Lowell paused and inhaled a deep breath. “I didn’t understand it ’til now. I was too upset to see Mr. Johnny and Mr. Justin arguin’ that day. And then…and then they never came back to camp, and I was taken to the orphanage.” The small boy looked to Vivianna. “But I heard ’em. I heard Mr. Justin tellin’ Mr. Johnny he was a fool. I heard him say no man could love a woman he’d never seen…never touched. But Mr. Johnny said a man could. Then he told Mr. Justin that Mr. Justin best do what was right. ‘She loves you,’ Mr. Johnny told him. ‘And I won’t see her heart broken.’ That’s what Mr. Johnny said. It was you they was arguin’ over, wasn’t it, Miss Vivianna?”

  Vivianna was trembling so violently that the sound of Johnny’s letter rattling in her hand echoed through the room. “I have to go to him,” she breathed. “I have to go town and find him. He has to know I don’t hate him for this.” She turned to Savannah, desperation gripping her. “This is what’s been eatin’ him up all this time!”

  Savannah nodded, brushing tears from her cheeks.

  “I…I have to get the letters from the attic at Daddy and Mama’s house, Savannah! I have to read them again now that I know the truth!” Vivianna laughed with joy and overwhelming emotion. “I’ve got to get to town and find Johnny!”

  “I’m goin’ too!” Lowell exclaimed.

  “Me too!” Nate hollered from the hallway.

  “And me!” Willy said, pushing Lowell aside as he entered the room.

  “We’ll all go!’’ Savannah exclaimed. She took Vivianna by the shoulders. “We’ll go with ya and start takin’ the covers off all your mama’s fine furniture. There’s no way I’m lettin’ you and Johnny linger together in the same house one more night…not with the passion this revelation will bring!”

  “Let’s go now, Vivianna!” Lowell exclaimed. “Mr. Johnny needs to know you ain’t gonna hate him for bein’ a liar.”

  Vivianna laughed through her tears. Picking up the carved honeysuckle blossom—Johnny’s precious gift to her—she folded the note and pressed it into her pocket. She’d put the carving in a safer place, for it was far too delicate to leave unattended, and then she’d hurry to town. She didn’t care if Johnny was working; she didn’t care who would be looking on when she told him. But she had to tell him. She had to tell him that, though a moment before she would’ve thought it impossible to love him any more desperately, she did!

  

  “Why didn’t he say somethin’ when he first arrived? Why didn’t he just tell ya then?” Savannah asked as she and Vivianna rushed toward town. Vivianna wished Caleb hadn’t ridden Captain to town that morning. She could’ve reached Johnny so much quicker if she’d been able to ride.

  Vivianna shook her head and stammered, “I…I guess…I guess it was that he knew I thought Justin wrote the letters. He knew I wouldn’t accept any other truth right off. I hadn’t faced my own pain. I couldn’t see that Justin was nothin’ like the letters…not at first. I loved Justin because I thought he loved me. Johnny couldn’t tell me the truth…not until now.”

  “We’re almost there!” Nate called. The boys had run ahead of Savannah and Vivianna, unable to keep themselves to simply a steady walk. “Someone in town will know where the railroad is workin’, Viv! Come on!”

  “I hear somethin’,” Lowell said. Vivianna paused as Lowell stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Come on, Lowell!” Willy said, stopping as well. “Don’t quit now! We’re almost to town.”

  “But I hear somethin’…and it’s makin’ my stomach churn awful bad,” Lowell said.

  Vivianna and Savannah stopped; Nate stopped.

  “Here comes Mr. Winder,” Nate said. “He’s Tilly Winder’s daddy.”

  “Tilly Winder? The loose woman that’s been keepin’ Justin in town so late?” Lowell asked.

  “What?” Savannah gasped, frowning at Lowell.

  “Yep…and he looks a might upset,” Willy said.

  “Maybe he caught Justin sparkin’ his daughter out in back of the ol’ Libby place,” Nate offered.

  Mr. Winder did look angry. As he approached, Savannah called, “Mr. Winder! Do you know where the railroad is workin’?”

  Mr. Winder stopped and snorted as he glared at Savannah. “I know where the railroad is workin’, Savannah Turner…you Yankee lover!” he growled.

  “Mr. Winder!” Savannah gasped.

  “They’re workin’ about a mile east…right out where they found that dead boy this mornin’!”

  “A dead boy?” Nate asked.

  Mr. Winder nodded. “Yep. One of ours…rather, one belongin’ to those of us who didn’t betray the Confederacy! Looks to have been there awhile too.”

  Vivianna’s heart was hammering, for her heart knew—she knew who the dead Confederate was that had been found at the railroad site.

  She hugged Lowell and Willy tight to her as they nestled in, frightened by Mr. Winder.

  “How…how did he…” Savannah began. Vivianna saw the color drain from Savannah’s face. She knew Savannah was awash with the same fear as she.

  “When the railroad men got out there this mornin’ to start work, the buzzards were circlin’. They found him stickin’ out of a shallow grave. He was half chewed up, but his uniform showed he was one of our boys,” Mr. Winder growled.

  “Well, where you goin’, Mr. Winde
r?” Nate asked.

  “I’m goin’ to get my gun, boy!” the man growled. “We’re lynchin’ the man who killed that poor soldier. And if the rope don’t hang him proper…I’m gonna shoot him right between the eyes myself!”

  “Lynchin’?” Savannah gasped. “Who? How do you know anybody even killed the boy? It could be he was just some poor soul on his way home when—”

  “Oh, we know who killed him, Savannah Turner,” Mr. Winder growled. “It was that damn Yankee you been havin’ at your house ever since your Justin brought him here.”

  Vivianna gasped, and Mr. Winder’s eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down.

  “That’s right, Miss Bartholomew. You’re sweet on that Yankee, ain’t ya?” he growled. “Yep…Justin told my Tilly that you’re sweet as sugar on that Yankee.”

  “Johnny Tabor didn’t kill that soldier!” Savannah exclaimed. “Why are y’all plannin’ on lynchin’ Johnny? He hasn’t done anything! You can’t—”

  “Your own boy said that Yankee knew the dead man,” Mr. Winder interrupted. “Justin told Sheriff Pidwell just this mornin’…that him and Johnny Tabor knew the dead boy at Andersonville. Justin said he was probably huntin’ down your Yankee for crimes he committed at that prison camp.”

  “Justin? My Justin did that?” Savannah breathed. Savannah swayed and crumpled to the ground in a heap.

  Mr. Winder reached out and took hold of Vivianna’s chin.

  “You best hurry, Miss Bartholomew,” he growled. “You don’t wanna miss the hangin’ of your murderin’ Yankee, now do ya?”

  “Don’t you touch her, you dirty Reb!” Lowell shouted, kicking Mr. Winder hard in one shin and causing him to release Vivianna.

  “Get your hands off her, Mr. Winder!” Nate growled. “Else you’ll have to answer to Johnny Tabor!”