Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  Already pallid, Johnny Tabor’s face grew suddenly even paler, his dark eyebrows puckering into a deep frown.

  “Powell?” he breathed. He released her then and ordered, “Stay here. Go into the house, and stay here until we get back.”

  “Justin sent Nate for Caleb,” she added.

  Johnny nodded.

  “I’ll take ya to Justin,” Vivianna said. She wanted to make sure he reached Justin—wanted to make certain Justin could return to the house as quickly as possible.

  “No…no, you stay here,” he told her. “Go to the house and stay there. I’m sure it’s an easy enough place to find.”

  “But it’s in the woods…beyond the meadow and the cemetery,” she explained. “There is a path, but…”

  His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “I’ll find it.” He looked beyond her to the path leading to the cemetery. “Just stay in the house until we return.”

  “But, Johnny…Justin’s waiting. Ya have to hurry. I’ll just take ya there and come back,” she argued with him. She would not have him lost—would not have him leave Justin with the dead man alone. What if someone happened upon him—found Justin there with the dead Confederate? Her panic heightened. She began to panic, for the true and full realization of what such a situation could mean for Justin and Johnny—even for Caleb—was clear in her mind. “I have to make certain ya reach him, quickly! I—”

  She was rendered breathless as Johnny Tabor took her chin in one hand, glaring down at her. His dark eyes burned with anger—dominance—a strength she did not think him capable of owning in his weakened condition.

  “I’ll find Justin,” he said. “You don’t need to see a dead man…and the others will need you. Just go to the house and—”

  “But gettin’ there might not be so simple as ya might think,” she argued. “And Justin’s waitin’! I can take ya there quick as a—”

  She was silenced as Johnny’s hand moved up from her chin to cover her mouth.

  “I know the way, Vivianna,” he growled. “Please…just go on into the house and wait for us to return.”

  Vivianna’s eyes widened. She was astonished at the strength in his hand as he held it over her mouth. He did not hurt her—not in the least. Yet she could feel the power in him, even for his weakened state.

  She nodded, and he moved his hand from her face.

  “Do you understand how important it is that ya don’t say a word to anyone about the man in the woods?” he asked in a lowered voice.

  Vivianna nodded. “I do,” she whispered.

  “Good,” he mumbled. “Then run on in. I’ll be back shortly…with Justin. I promise.”

  Vivianna brushed the tears from her cheeks and nodded. Somehow, she trusted his word—trusted that he would bring Justin back. After all, hadn’t he brought him all the way from Georgia?

  She turned and watched him hurry down the path toward the meadow. Though she still worried that he would lose his way—worried that someone else might happen upon Justin and the dead man before Johnny reached him—she tried to be brave and resolute.

  As she hurried toward the house, her stomach churned with anxiety. It had hardly been one full day since Justin had returned—since he and Johnny had come walking up the road toward the house. Hardly one full day, and already their peace had vanished; already the residual horror of war was haunting them by heaping some sort of peril upon them.

  Willy was in the kitchen with his mother. Savannah was weeping, cradling a frightened Willy.

  “Oh, Viv!” the woman choked. “Are we never to have any reprieve from this war?”

  Vivianna shook her head, overcome with her own bewilderment. She was frightened and felt helpless to offer any comfort to those she loved.

  “A Southern boy?” Savannah asked. “What if he’s an Alabama son? What if he’s from Florence, on his way home and…and…and what could possibly have befallen him?”

  “We have to wait, Miss Savannah,” Vivianna said. Oh, she was worried—frightened and sickened. Yet she could not tell Justin’s mother what else she knew about the dead man—not in front of an already distressed Willy. “We just have to wait for Justin to return. Caleb will be home soon…and Justin and Mr. Tabor. We just…we just have to wait.”

  And wait is what they did. They did not speak much—only waited. Vivianna began to count the tick-tocks of the clock on the mantel, but there were so many that she feared it might drive her mad. She forced a smile at Willy—embraced him when he left his mother for a moment to come to her. She felt so sorry for the boy, knowing he was frightened—knowing he was trying to offer her comfort even for his own fear.

  At long last, Caleb and Nate arrived. Though she was still near a state of panic, she did draw an easier breath when Caleb stepped into the house.

  “Oh, Caleb!” Willy exclaimed, racing to his brother. Caleb knelt on the floor, catching Willy in his arms and soothingly shushing him. “It was awful! There’s a man out there,” Willy said in a whisper. “He ain’t been dead long I don’t think. But somethin’ must’ve gnawed on him in the night…on his arm…and…”

  “It’s all right now, Willy,” Caleb said. “Let’s have you and Nate just run on in the other room and rest for a while.”

  “I don’t wanna rest!” Nate exclaimed. Vivianna felt more tears in her eyes as she saw the worried expression on Nate’s face. No doubt he’d figured out why Justin had ordered him not to speak to a soul about the dead man.

  “You go on in the bedroom with Willy, and you boys read a book or lay down a while on your beds.” Caleb said. “I promise you…we’ll come get ya both when we get this all worked out. But ya need to let us older boys take care of what to do first. All right?”

  Nate scowled but nodded. He put his arm around Willy’s shoulders and began leading him toward the back room. He paused, however, turning back to Caleb and asking, “Is it all right if I tell Willy why it is we can’t tell nobody about this?”

  “Yeah,” Caleb said, nodding. “You go on and tell him. Make sure you explain it thorough though.”

  “I will, Caleb,” Nate said.

  The moment the boys’ bedroom door closed behind them, Savannah burst into tears.

  “There’s somethin’ else about this, Caleb!” she whispered, wiping tears from her cheeks. “I can sense it. Somethin’ I haven’t been told yet. You’re worried about the sheriff finding a dead Southern boy on our property when you and Justin fought with the Alabama First, aren’t you?”

  Caleb nodded. “Lee surrendered, Mama, but the war ain’t over yet…not everywhere,” he said. “Folks in Florence will want to put a noose around someone’s neck if there’s a dead Reb found out near our place. And if he’s a local boy…”

  “He’s not a local boy,” Vivianna said then. She kept her voice low and tried not to break into fresh weeping as Caleb looked to her, frowning.

  “How do ya know, Viv? Just because ya didn’t recognize him…” he began.

  Vivianna shook her head and explained, “I…I didn’t even see the man, but…but Justin told me…”

  She paused—afraid to continue—afraid to tell Mrs. Turner and Caleb how far more serious the situation was than it already seemed.

  “Justin told ya what, Viv?” Caleb urged, however. He rose to his feet and strode to her. Reaching out, he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. He was so kind; there was such a calming nature about him. Caleb Turner made a body feel as if any secret could be revealed to him and kept safe—as if any worry or problem could be overcome.

  “He told me…the man out there in the woods was a guard at Andersonville prison,” she confessed. “Justin said his name is Powell…that he and Johnny both knew him, that this Powell man hated them both for some reason…especially Johnny.”

  Even as Savannah gasped and began sobbing—even as Vivianna felt the icy fingers of dread and doom encircling her throat—still Caleb’s deep blue eyes comforted her. Caleb did not shout or yell or growl. He only nodded, as if the informa
tion she’d just offered was of little consequence.

  “Caleb! Caleb!” Savannah cried. “They’ll hang your brother for certain if it’s known! You know they will! They’ll lynch him if nothin’ else!”

  “Calm down, Mama,” Caleb said, going to his mother and gathering her in his arms. “Just settle yourself. We’ll work this out.”

  “Work it out?” Savannah cried. “There won’t be any workin’ this out! People are too angry about the war. We’re fortunate you weren’t beaten to death when you returned! Oh, Caleb…we can’t tell anybody. We can’t!”

  Vivianna turned when she heard the door open. Justin and Johnny stepped into the house looking grave, weary, somehow defeated.

  “Oh, Justin!” Savannah gasped, collapsing into Justin’s embrace as he approached. “What is all this, Justin? How can this be?”

  “Let’s sit down, Mama,” Justin said. “Let’s all just sit down and do some thinkin’.”

  But Savannah was overcome. “We can’t tell anybody, Justin! We can’t! You know we can’t.”

  “Please, Mama,” Caleb said. “Let’s just sit down a spell and do some talkin’ on it. Everythin’ will be fine. We just need to decide what to do.”

  As Caleb led his mother to the kitchen table, Vivianna watched as Justin turned to Johnny.

  “You can run, Johnny,” Justin said. “There ain’t no need for you to linger and find yourself hanged just because—”

  “I ain’t a coward, Justin,” Johnny growled. “I ain’t runnin’ from this. Chances are it was me Powell was lookin’ for anyway…and you know it.”

  Justin nodded. “Come on then, boy,” he said, following his mother and brother to the table. “We better work this out as best we can.”

  Vivianna looked to Johnny. He’d been standing near the front door, supporting himself by leaning on the back of a chair to one side of it. As he took a step forward, however, he lost his balance and stumbled to one side. Instinctively, Vivianna reached out, taking hold of his arm in an effort to steady him—but she wasn’t strong enough to keep the weight of his body from toppling over. In the next moment, she found herself in a heap on the floor—Johnny Tabor on his hands and knees as he hovered over her.

  “You need some rest, John!” Caleb scolded as he and Justin helped Johnny to stand.

  “I need some backbone!” Johnny growled as Justin helped him to the table.

  Caleb offered Vivianna his hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “You all right?” he asked. Vivianna smiled at him and nodded. Taking her hand, he led her to the table as well.

  Once they were all seated, it was Johnny Tabor who spoke first.

  “Zachary Powell was a devil, Mrs. Turner. One of the worst men I have ever in my life come across. And he’s lyin’ dead out there in your woods,” he began. “It looks to me and Justin as if he just simply fell down and cracked his head on a rock. But the fact is he’s a Johnny Reb. And me, Justin, and Caleb…” He paused, shaking his head with something akin to disbelief. “Me and your boys will be the first ones the folks in Florence look to blame.”

  “No bullet? No stabbin’?” Caleb asked. “He’s just lyin’ out there dead?”

  Johnny nodded, and Justin said, “The back of his head looks to be bashed in…and there’s a big rock right there under him.”

  “Blood on the rock?” Caleb asked.

  Justin and Johnny both nodded.

  “Mm-hmm,” Johnny said. “It would seem he just fell down and cracked his head open. Somethin’ chewed him up pretty bad since though.”

  “Well then, that’s what we tell the sheriff!” Savannah suggested. “We just tell the sheriff the truth…that Nate and Willy found him out there and…and we just leave out the part about you boys knowin’ him.”

  Vivianna felt her heart lighten—lighten as much as Savannah’s hopeful expression lightened. Surely if they simply told the truth, surely then there would be no danger to Justin and his friend or to Caleb.

  “Yes!” Vivianna said. “Certainly no one would find suspicion with you boys if we just tell them the truth and they see the rock and—”

  “Johnny said it looks like he hit his head on the rock,” Justin interrupted. “It could just as easy be someone bashed his head in with the rock and then put it out there in the woods under him.” He shook his head. “No…no. Folks would still be pointin’ their fingers at us.”

  “Then we don’t tell anyone,” Savannah suggested. “We just bury him proper in our own little cemetery, and no one ever has to know we found him.”

  “Pardon me, Mrs. Turner,” Johnny began, “but I’m sure the boy has family. It wouldn’t be right not to let them know what happened to him, to let a family go for eternity without knowing if he was alive or dead…where he was planted.” Johnny paused, glanced to Vivianna, and continued, “It seems to me that too many folks are already livin’ with those kinds of ghosts.”

  Vivianna wondered how much Justin had told Johnny about Sam and Augie. She wondered if he knew they hadn’t been heard from in over two years—that she would never know where they were buried or how they had died.

  “You’d want to know about your boys, ma’am,” he added. “I don’t think we can simply bury the boy and not tell a soul.”

  “And what if someone did kill him?” Caleb asked. “If we bury him and don’t tell anybody—and someone around these parts is the one who killed him—we’d be askin’ for danger to come knockin’ on our own door.”

  Justin nodded. “I say we tell the sheriff,” he suggested. “Mama, Sheriff Pidwell…he’s known me and Caleb since we were born. Surely, if we just went to him and explained—”

  “Maybe he’d pretend he found the body,” Caleb suggested. “Maybe we could just tell the sheriff we found the body but explain why we don’t feel safe about comin’ forward. And maybe he’ll just find the Reb, and we’ll be done with it.”

  Vivianna felt hope rising in her for a moment. Yet Savannah shook her head.

  “No. No,” she said. “I don’t trust Sheriff Pidwell. He lost three boys in the war…three boys who fought for the Confederacy. I don’t trust that his heart is as soft as it once was.”

  “How long do ya think that boy has been dead?” Caleb asked.

  Justin shook his head. “Johnny thinks not more’n a day,” he answered. “Powell probably tracked us here. Maybe he was waitin’ for a chance to—”

  “Why did he hate you so, Mr. Tabor?” Vivianna asked. She was suddenly very angry. Though she didn’t know exactly how, somehow she knew it was all Johnny Tabor’s fault! Justin was in danger because of his friend. She knew it!

  “It don’t matter,” Johnny mumbled. “Fact is he just hated me.”

  “Why?” Vivianna asked, tears welling in her eyes. “Justin and Caleb, they’re both in danger because of you…because this man hated you. Why did he hate ya enough to follow ya all the way to Alabama?”

  Johnny’s eyes narrowed, and he glared at her. “Because every time he tried to beat me to death…I wouldn’t die,” he growled. “Every time he’d whip me, I wouldn’t holler. It’s that simple. I got the best of him…simply by not dyin’ when he wanted me to.”

  Justin nodded and said, “He told us…he told me and Johnny when we were released from Andersonville…he told us he’d see Johnny dead and wormy one way or the other. We just thought he was talkin’ though. Just thought he was talkin’.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” Vivianna said. She glanced away from Johnny when he looked to her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tabor. I’m just so…I’m just so tired of this war…so tired of death and fear.”

  “Please don’t apologize to me, Miss Vivianna,” Johnny mumbled. “I’ve done enough things…things that make me not worth apologizin’ to.”

  Vivianna wanted to run—wanted to cry, scream, and shriek! She wanted the war to be over—really over! She wanted to linger in Justin’s arms under the willow tree, wanted to share kisses with him beneath the honeysuckle vine! She wanted to run and laugh—real
ly laugh—wholeheartedly the way she’d laughed that morning when that rotten pigeon had doused Johnny Tabor. She didn’t want to talk about death or dead men or prison or anything else ugly and frightening. She didn’t want to think about the fact her parents were gone, that she’d never see her brothers again.

  Carefully, she placed her trembling hands in her lap and squeezed them tightly together in an effort to keep from screaming with frustration and heartache. She could not stand by and see Justin hanged—or Caleb, for that matter. Yet she also knew Johnny was right. She knew what it was to never know the fate of loved ones. She knew the haunting, the bitter sadness, the sickening nightmares. Yet what was to be done? It seemed there were only two choices before them: to sin—to lie and leave a man’s family in lifelong misery—or to tell the truth and risk the death of those she loved. The dead man in the woods was the enemy, yes. He’d tortured Justin and Johnny, yes. Still, his family did not deserve to pay such a haunting and painful price. Still, she could not see Justin hanged—nor Caleb—nor even Johnny Tabor.

  Vivianna swallowed. She inhaled a deep breath, attempting to calm herself.

  “We could just tell the sheriff everything,” Caleb suggested. “Just tell him the truth and…and hope folks know us Turners are good people.”

  “No,” Justin said. “No. They’ll lynch us sure. We can’t tell the sheriff. Maybe Mama’s right. Maybe we should just bury Powell and—”

  “We can’t do that, Justin,” Caleb interrupted. “You know we can’t.”

  “I do know it,” Justin admitted. “Least I think I know it.”

  “I stand with Caleb. We just tell the sheriff,” Johnny said. “If it comes to folks wantin’ a hangin’…well, I’m the reason he’s lyin’ out there dead. One way or the other I’m the reason. So I oughta be the one to—”

  “No!” Savannah exclaimed. “I won’t see anyone hang for somethin’ they didn’t do…not if I can help it. There’s got to be a way. We know everybody in Florence. Every soul! I can’t believe they’d hang my boys—or even you, Johnny—without proof of wrongdoin’. I just can’t believe it.”

  Justin sighed. Vivianna watched as he leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his bristly haired head. She looked to Caleb, pale and worried at facing such a terrible and seemingly impossible situation. She looked to Johnny, worn, weathered, and still so weak. Savannah seemed to have aged a decade in the past five minutes. Her eyes were void of any light, the corners of her mouth downturned in a dismal frown.