Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “Johnny!” Justin barked. “Get up, boy!” He reached out, taking hold of Mr. Tabor’s arm, and began pulling him to his feet. “Don’t you lie down and die here, Johnny Tabor! We’re home, boy. We’re home! Don’t you give up now!”

  “I just…I just need some rest, Justin,” Mr. Tabor mumbled. His body was limp and too heavy for Justin to support in his own weakened state. As Mr. Tabor began to slip to the ground again, Vivianna took his arm, placing it around her shoulders to help support him.

  “Oh, dear!” Savannah exclaimed. “Willy! Run after Nate and make sure Caleb is on his way home. Hurry!”

  “Yes, Mama,” Willy said. The boy frowned. As he looked to his brother and then to Mr. Tabor, his eyes misted with fearful tears.

  Vivianna wasn’t certain whether Savannah were sending Willy off in search of Nate and Caleb because she truly wanted to make certain Caleb was on his way or whether she simply didn’t want her youngest son witnessing the death of Justin’s friend.

  “Run along after Nate, Willy,” Vivianna said, smiling at the frightened boy. “We’ll feed Justin and Mr. Tabor so we can all sit down together when you boys return.”

  “All…all right, Viv,” Willy stammered. “All right.” He ran off in the direction of town, his little feet kicking up the dirt in the road as they carried him as fast as they could.

  In that moment, Justin stumbled—nearly collapsed.

  “Justin!” Savannah gasped. “Here…let me,” she said, taking Mr. Tabor’s arm from Justin’s shoulders and placing it about her own. “You boys are so thin!”

  “We’ll be fine, Mama,” Justin said, though he coughed into his fist and cleared his throat.

  Vivianna’s worried gaze met Savannah’s near panicked one. It was obvious Justin’s homecoming—though wonderful to the point of near euphoria—had not ensured his well-being.

  “Let’s just get you both inside and put somethin’ in those empty bellies,” Savannah said as she and Vivianna helped Mr. Tabor climb the stairs of the front porch.

  Once inside, Justin groaned as he settled himself in a chair at the table. “Oh, Mama!” he sighed, “I never thought sittin’ in a chair would seem such a pure luxury.”

  Vivianna helped Mrs. Turner deposit Mr. Tabor into a chair on the other side of the table.

  She was frustrated—angry! She didn’t want to know in her heart that Justin had returned home simply to yet linger in danger. She didn’t want to nurse two more men, only to watch them die the way the Maggee boys had. She wanted laughter, love, kisses in the sunshine and beneath the honeysuckle vine!

  For a moment, she feared she might burst into more tears—tears of returning hopelessness and the sore fatigue borne of enduring the seeming endless ramifications of war.

  “Will you ladle some of that broth for these boys, Vivi?” Mrs. Turner asked. She was sitting at the table now, holding Justin’s hand, nervously stroking it for her concern.

  “I might could stomach a little bread if you’ve got any, Mama,” Justin said. He looked to his friend, frowning. “Though I’m not sure Johnny’s up for it today.”

  Mr. Tabor shook his head in affirmation he did not have the strength or stomach to eat bread.

  “Oh, I baked two fresh loaves just this mornin’!” Savannah said, brushing tears from her eyes. She sniffled, desperately trying to remain calm—to appear strong. Vivianna empathized with her; her own strength was waning in the wake of so much conflicting emotion.

  As Vivianna ladled broth into two bowls, Justin sighed and looked around the room.

  “I can hardly believe I’m here,” he mumbled. “It seems a hundred years since me and Caleb left.”

  “Two hundred,” Vivianna said.

  Justin smiled at her as she set a bowl of broth in front of him. She set the other bowl of broth on the table in front of Mr. Tabor and retrieved two spoons from the cupboard. Working quickly, she cut a slice of bread from one of Savannah’s still-warm loaves and then returned to the table.

  “You’re only prettier, Viv,” Justin said, smiling as she handed him a spoon and the slice of bread. “Prettier even than I remember.”

  Vivianna couldn’t help but smile—and blush. He was weathered, it was true. But he was still Justin—the same eyes, the same smile. Her heart leapt at the renewed realization that he was alive, that he’d come back to her. She wondered how long it would be before they could linger alone together.

  Still, Vivianna was wise and tenderhearted. She had not forgotten Caleb. She would not be insensitive to his feelings. He would be glad to see his brother returned—more than glad. Furthermore, he knew Vivianna loved Justin. Still, she would press neither Caleb into letting her go nor Justin into affirming that he loved her as much as his letters had professed. He was weak—tired and worn. There was healing to be endured. Likewise, Savannah, Caleb, Nate, and Willy would want all the time they could steal with Justin. Vivianna knew she would need to find patience. She would need to allow everything to settle—to begin healing. Still, her heart beat so madly within her breast, she thought she might scream for not being able to beg Justin to hold her in his arms—to kiss her!

  “Ma’am,” Mr. Tabor began, “I ain’t fit to be sittin’ at the table. I haven’t had a bath in a good long time.”

  Savannah looked to the worn soldier. She smiled, shaking her head. “Don’t you be worryin’ about that, Mr. Tabor. We’ll get some broth in ya…see to your stomach first. Then we can see to your flesh.”

  “Thank ya, ma’am,” Mr. Tabor said. “But I am…I am sorry to be sittin’ in your home in such a state.”

  “You just eat that broth, Mr. Tabor,” Savannah said, nodding toward the bowl of broth Vivianna had placed before him. “You brought my son back to me. You could sit at my table in nothin’ but your skin, and I wouldn’t mind it one bit.”

  “Thank ya, ma’am,” Mr. Tabor mumbled.

  “You see he eats that broth, Viv,” Mrs. Turner instructed.

  “I will,” Vivianna promised, offering Mr. Tabor the other spoon she was holding.

  Savannah’s attention immediately returned to Justin, and Vivianna smiled. It was a dream! Justin—Justin was alive! She gazed at him for a moment, butterflies swarming in her stomach as he glanced at her and smiled. He dipped his spoon into the bowl of warm broth, sighing with obvious pleasure as he slurped the soothing liquid.

  The clatter of a spoon hitting a bowl and then the table drew Vivianna’s attention to Mr. Tabor, however. Her smile faded, and she felt a frown pucker her brow as she watched the wasted soldier struggling to pick the spoon up from the table. He dropped it again and sighed as his weak fingers tried once more to manage it.

  Vivianna frowned, awed by his weakened state. Too weak to even manage to feed himself, Justin’s friend would be dead in a few days if he didn’t gain strength.

  Picking up the spoon herself, Vivianna dipped it into the broth and held it close to Mr. Tabor’s mouth. She couldn’t help but grin a little, slightly amused by Mr. Tabor’s obvious pride, for he would not look at her, nor would he eat from the spoon. Rather, a firm expression of defiance set itself hard on his face as his brow furrowed with a deep frown borne of self-disgust.

  “You can let me feed you, Mr. Tabor,” Vivianna began, “or I’ll wrestle ya to the floor and pour this broth down your throat. And I think you and I both know that I well could do it.”

  The annoyed, humiliated man glanced at her but only briefly. He growled low in his throat but opened his mouth. Vivianna nearly giggled, thinking he looked like a pouting child as he surrendered and let her spoon the broth into his mouth. As she placed a second spoonful of broth in his mouth, Vivianna could have sworn a little color returned to his face.

  “Thank ya, ma’am,” Mr. Tabor mumbled, his trembling hand taking the spoon from hers. “I can do this. I can.”

  “Are ya certain?” Vivianna asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the man grumbled.

  She watched as his weak and trembling hand struggled to l
adle the warm broth into his mouth. Still, it did seem he could manage feeding himself, and she returned her attention to Justin.

  “Where have you been, my darlin’?” Savannah begged, her voice breaking with emotion. “We haven’t had a letter in over five months! We were certain you were…we were reconciled to your having…oh, I can’t even speak it, Justin! Oh, darlin’! Why haven’t we heard from ya?”

  Justin’s face paled; what little color he did own in his cheeks fled like rain washing new paint from a canvas. “I’m sorry, Mama,” he began. “I…I…couldn’t write to ya about it…even if they had let us write.”

  “Who, darlin’?”

  “The guards…at Andersonville.”

  The living breath was instantly sucked from Vivianna’s lungs! A cold, clammy dread crept over her flesh, and every inward organ began to quiver.

  “Andersonville?” she breathed. She glanced from Justin to Mr. Tabor, struggling to feed himself. “Andersonville?” she breathed once more. As tears filled her eyes, Vivianna offered another silent prayer of thanks. If Justin and his friend had been incarcerated at Andersonville prison—if the stories of torture, starvation, and disease rampant at Andersonville owned even a little truth—then it was a pure miracle the men were alive, let alone that they’d made it home.

  “Not Andersonville!” Savannah wept. “Oh no, Justin! Not that horrible place! Not that death camp!”

  But Justin nodded, agony plain on his face. “Last November we were with General Sherman, after Atlanta and on our way to Savannah. And me and Johnny…we were out scoutin’,” Justin began. He paused, shaking his head and running trembling fingers over the stubble of new hair on his head. “I-I don’t even remember exactly what happened. I just know that one minute I was sittin’ my horse…and then next, I was laid out on the ground, bleedin’ from my shoulder.” Justin nodded toward Mr. Tabor and continued, “Johnny dismounted to help me, and in a blink, he was laid out too…shot in the leg. The Rebs came down on us hard then…drug us off to a wagon…and the wagon hauled us eight days to Andersonville.” Justin chuckled and shook his head again. “For two years we were the best scouts in the Alabama First. Two years…ain’t that right, Johnny? We fought hard and long and never came close to capture—not me and certainly not Johnny Tabor. No sirree! Then, as quick as that, we were captured…found ourselves in Andersonville.”

  “Andersonville,” Vivianna whispered. The pain of overpowering sympathy shook her as she watched Justin’s friend struggling to feed himself. The stories of the horror of Andersonville were infamous! Little or no shelter, torture at the hands of the guards, no food, filthy water, disease—how had they survived?

  “Darlin’!” Savannah breathed, dabbing at her tears with her apron. “Andersonville! Nobody lived through Andersonville. They say nobody lived through it!”

  Justin shrugged. “Well, not everybody had a friend like Johnny Tabor,” he said. “Johnny saved my life more times than I can count…and that was before the prison. But let me tell you, if it weren’t for John, I wouldn’t be here with you, Mama. I took awful sick last month. Winter was so cold there…and we didn’t have much food or shelter. But ol’ Johnny, he wasn’t about to see me give up. I owe him my life.”

  “Nobody owes me anything,” Mr. Tabor mumbled. “I don’t want to hear that from you, Justin. I told you that.”

  Justin’s gaze fell to Vivianna. He smiled and winked at her, and her heart fluttered as if it were a flower with petals only just caught by a sweet summer breeze.

  “John don’t take much to acceptin’ thanks or praise,” Justin said. “He’s a cantankerous ol’ boy sometimes, but don’t let that fool ya. He’s a good man.”

  “Justin,” Vivianna began, “Andersonville! I can’t hardly think on it!”

  “Don’t,” Justin told her. “The war is over. Andersonville is no more. I’m home…home with you and Mama,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed his mother’s cheek. “The past is the past. Let’s just leave it there.”

  “But, Justin,” Savannah began, “my poor baby—”

  “I’m home, Mama,” Justin interrupted. “That’s what matters now. I’m home.”

  Savannah nodded. Vivianna too understood. No doubt Justin’s time at Andersonville had seemed a sentence served in hell. He didn’t want to remember it—didn’t want talking of it to cause the pain to return. Maybe someday he would want to or need to tell them more about it. But for now—for now, he wanted only to leave it behind.

  “Well, then,” Savannah began, reaching out and running a tender hand over Justin’s head, “I will say I do miss those raven locks of yours. But it will grow back…now won’t it, Justin?”

  Justin chuckled and nodded. “Yes, it will. We shaved up when we were let go.”

  “As a symbol? A ritual of ridding yourself of the horror you boys endured?” Savannah asked, looking to Mr. Tabor.

  Mr. Tabor shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he answered. “We shaved up so we wouldn’t carry the lice home to you folks.”

  “Oh my!” Mrs. Turner gasped.

  Vivianna brushed a tear from her cheek as Mr. Tabor glanced to her.

  “Thank you, miss,” he said, nodding toward the now empty bowl. “I do feel better.”

  “Let me ladle you some more,” Vivianna said, taking his bowl and standing.

  “Just a bit…if ya wouldn’t mind, miss,” Mr. Tabor said.

  “But you’ve eaten hardly enough to fill a kitten,” Vivianna noted.

  “Johnny can’t handle much more than that yet, Viv,” Justin explained. “I’m ashamed to say it…but he gave me most of his food these past two months. It’s probably why the sickness didn’t get me. He’ll have to go slow on eatin’ for a while yet.”

  “Oh,” Vivianna said, returning the now only half-full bowl of broth on the table before Mr. Tabor.

  “But I think I could use another whole bowlful, Viv,” Justin said. He smiled and lifted his bowl. Vivianna returned his smile, accepting his bowl.

  “And…um…and where are you from, Mr. Tabor?” Vivianna heard Savannah ask.

  “Texas, ma’am,” Mr. Tabor said. “And if ya don’t mind, Mrs. Turner…my father’s Mr. Tabor. I’m just Johnny.”

  “Of course, Johnny,” Savannah said, smiling.

  Vivianna placed the second bowl of broth on the table before Justin. She sighed as she sat down across from him. He was there! He was really there—there at the table! Her beloved Justin had returned from the war! She silently thanked God for the blessed miracle.

  “Andersonville!” Savannah breathed, shaking her head and wiping more tears from her cheeks.

  “It’s over, Mama,” Justin said. “Let’s talk about somethin’ happy.” Justin smiled—chuckled. “Nate and Willy sure have grown,” he said, slurping his broth.

  “Oh my, yes!” Savannah exclaimed, still choking back tears. “Like weeds those two…growin’ and growin’ and always into mischief where they ought not to be.”

  “And Caleb?” he asked.

  Savannah quickly glanced to Vivianna and then back to Justin. Vivianna willed the blush to cool from her cheeks. Suddenly she didn’t want Justin to know she’d accepted he had been lost; she didn’t want him to know that only an hour before, she’d been trying to convince herself she could marry his brother—learn to love him.

  “Caleb’s well,” Savannah said. “And he’ll be much better now that he has his brother back.”

  “He’s a good man…Caleb Turner,” Johnny Tabor mumbled.

  Vivianna looked to the stranger and was startled to find he was staring at her.

  “You knew Caleb?” she asked, though she was rather unsettled at the way he was looking at her—as if he somehow knew what Vivianna’s recent thoughts of Caleb had been.

  “Sure,” Johnny Tabor said. “He scouted with me once in a while…until he was wounded.” He looked back to his bowl of broth and mumbled, “He’s a good man.”

  “I can’t hardly believe I’m here, Mama,” Justin sai
d.

  Vivianna looked to Justin, sighing with a blissful feel of hope renewed.

  “Oh, Justin!” Savannah sighed. “My darlin’!”

  Vivianna brushed fresh tears from her cheeks. It was wonderful—nearly too wonderful to be true! But as Justin looked to her, smiled, and winked, she knew it was true—that she was full awake, not merely dreaming.

  “Would ya mind if I rested a bit out in your barn, Mrs. Turner?” Johnny Tabor inquired.

  “In the barn?” Savannah exclaimed. “Nonsense, boy! Vivianna can stay with me in my room now, and you can have her room. She won’t mind a breath…will ya, Viv?”

  “Of course not,” Vivianna answered. And she didn’t mind a breath. The fact was she’d always felt rather too pampered having her own room. After her parents had been killed and Savannah had taken her in, she’d been nearly overwhelmed with guilt at being treated so very like a member of the family. Still, Savannah had explained how important it was for a young woman to have her own space and insisted Vivianna move into the spare bedroom. Thus, she was more than ready and willing to give up her privacy in order that a weary soldier might find respite and a space to heal.

  But Johnny Tabor was shaking his head. “I just won’t do that, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t need anythin’ so fancy as a room. I just need a loft or—”

  “You will stay in the house, Mr. Tabor,” Savannah interrupted. “I’ll have Caleb drag you in there if ya won’t go just ’cause I say ya will.”

  “Mrs. Turner, I—” Johnny Tabor began.

  “One thing you will learn, Johnny,” Justin chuckled, “and that is ya won’t win if ya choose to argue with my mama. If she tells you to go get your rest in Viv’s room…then you best get to it, boy!”