Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  Vivianna’s self-loathing was deep, yet her good sense reminded her that Justin had not proposed to her. Even he had not confessed the true, passionate, everlasting love he’d spoken of in his letters to her. In fact, Vivianna could not convince herself that he yet loved her as he once had. It seemed to her she should feel it more deeply if he did. It seemed to her he would kiss her as Johnny Tabor had kissed her if he still loved her as he once had. She thought Justin’s behavior toward her since his return was not so unlike what Caleb’s had been the day they left—the day Caleb owned her heart yet did not seem unduly concerned when his brother kissed her. Thus, Vivianna’s doubt of Justin’s love for her deepened.

  Yet it was her delight in thinking of Johnny—of his kiss—that most disturbed her. Throughout the day, Vivianna had consciously admitted to herself, silently accepted, that from the moment Justin and Johnny had arrived, Johnny Tabor had captured her attention. Oh, she’d been overwhelmed with joy—sheer bliss—at seeing Justin, at seeing her lover alive and returned. Yet even as she’d basked in his presence—her heart soaring with elation and love—even then, Vivianna had been aware of Johnny. It was as if he’d been a spirit presence, lingering at her shoulder or whispering in her ear. She’d thought of the fact she had kissed him that first night as she’d put him to bed—kissed a man she’d never met before—kissed him soundly on the lips. Again, she thought of Tilly Winder. No one in all of Florence would be surprised at knowing Tilly Winder had kissed a strange man. Yet Vivianna Bartholomew? It was not in Vivianna’s nature to offer kisses so easily.

  In pondering Johnny throughout the day, Vivianna realized she’d been keeping from him—intentionally staying a distance. Previously she’d told herself this was because she did not trust him—that she suspected he knew more about the dead Confederate found in the woods than he was telling. Still, it seemed as if something in Vivianna had begun to thrive in those moments spent with Johnny beneath the honeysuckle—something that had been absent in her for months, perhaps years. The moment Johnny had kissed her, Vivianna had begun to feel her soul being freed, as if it had been trapped within a dark prison cell and Johnny Tabor was twisting the key in the lock keeping it there. Emotions she hadn’t known for long, long months began to arise in her. Equally there arose in her a flaming sense of desire—of want the like she had never known before.

  Even now as she sat at the table enjoying supper with the Turner family, even in those moments her flesh tingled each time she glanced to Johnny—her mouth warming at the memory of his kiss. All this was strange, confusing, frightening, and delightful to Vivianna. Yet Justin sat next to Johnny, and Caleb next to him. Vivianna glanced to Nate and Willy—to Savannah—and she was reminded of the great debt she owed to their family.

  Caleb and Justin had been her friends. She’d played with them as a child, grew up with them, loved both of them. She’d once fancied herself in love with Caleb—thought of the letters in the small box in her wardrobe and reminded herself she was yet in love with Justin. She adored Nate and Willy and their mischievous ways—looked on and loved Savannah as any daughter loved a mother. They had become her family, and she could not hurt them. She could not allow herself to emulate the likes of Tilly Winder and give herself so easily to a strange man simply because he’d caused goose pimples to ripple over her body when he’d kissed her. No. She owed a great debt to the entire Turner family—to each and every member of it. And she would not let passionate emotions and thirsting desire allow her to cause them pain. She loved Justin. She did.

  Vivianna looked to Justin then. She did love him. She was certain of it. She thought of the letter in her pocket—of all the letters he’d written to her while the war had kept them from one another. He loved her, and he would find himself and love her the way he’d promised. One day he would.

  Still, as she glanced to Johnny—saw him sitting so grave in demeanor—her heart fluttered, her mouth watering at the memory of his kiss. She knew she must distract her thoughts from lingering on him. Thus, she looked to Nate and asked, “Did you boys find any good bones today?”

  “Not today, I’m afraid, Viv,” Nate sighed with great disappointment. “There didn’t seem to be even a part of somethin’ we coulda boiled up for bones today.” He sighed again, and Vivianna smiled.

  “We did find somethin’ else in the cemetery today though,” Willy began. Vivianna frowned when she saw Johnny glare at Willy, however, and heard Willy continue, “But it weren’t really nothin’ much to tell.”

  Johnny’s gaze met Vivianna’s. He shook his head so slightly, she wasn’t certain he’d even moved at first. Yet as his eyes lingered on hers, she understood. Johnny didn’t want Willy to tell what he’d found in the cemetery. She should’ve been unsettled—frightened or suspicious—but she wasn’t.

  “Well, what else did ya do today, darlin’?” Savannah asked Willy.

  “Oh, nothin’ much, Mama,” Willy sighed. “We skipped rocks out at the pond, worked on our fort a bit…counted up Johnny’s scars.” The boy paused and wrinkled his brow pensively. “Mama,” he began, “how much hair do ya think I’ll have to have on my chest when I’m Caleb and Justin’s age?”

  Vivianna covered her mouth, barely able to keep the bite of cornbread she’d just taken from spewing out all over her plate. She muffled her giggles, only allowing one small one to escape when she saw Johnny’s face redden up like a ripe summer cherry.

  “Oh, I don’t know, darlin’,” Savannah answered. “Why?”

  Vivianna still smiled, delighted by Savannah’s easy manner with her boys. Savannah Turner simply continued to eat her meal, as if Willy’s question had been the most natural curiosity in the world.

  Willy shrugged. “Well, I’m just hopin’ I don’t have too much. I want folks to be able to count my scars easy if I’m lucky enough to get a fair amount on me.”

  Caleb and Justin chuckled. Vivianna still stifled the giggles induced in her bosom by the further reddening of Johnny’s handsome face.

  “Well, I hope you don’t plan on gettin’ too many scars, honey,” Savannah said. “It’s usually painful…anything that happens to a body that leaves a scar.”

  “Oh, I know, Mama,” Willy said. “But a man has to have a few. Ain’t that right, Johnny?”

  “I suppose,” Johnny said, his face as bright as a radish.

  “Sure enough,” Justin added. “Look at this one here, Willy.” Vivianna watched as Justin unbuttoned his shirt and pulled his collar down over his left shoulder. “This one here, it’s from the bullet that grazed me in Georgia…before me and Johnny was captured.”

  Nate and Willy both leaned across the table and frowned with intensity as they studied Justin’s shoulder.

  “That’s a nice one,” Nate said.

  “Well, that’s nothin’,” Caleb began, lifting his shirt to reveal a large scar running vertically over his stomach. “I got this when I was about your age, Nate. I fell out of the big tree out back and landed on a stump.”

  “Ooo!” Willy breathed.

  “All right, boys,” Savannah scolded softly. “We are tryin’ to have us a nice supper. I don’t care if y’all strip down naked and paint your scars red afterward. But I want to eat my supper with some semblance of propriety. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Mama,” Nate said.

  Vivianna bit her lip to keep from laughing as Willy mused aloud, “Still, I suppose if I do end up hairy, I could always just shave everythin’ the way Justin and Johnny done before they come home.” A puzzled frown puckered the young boy’s brow. He looked to Johnny inquisitively and asked, “Ya never did tells us what you meant when ya said ya and Justin shaved everythin’ before ya come home, Johnny.”

  Vivianna giggled as Savannah choked on her own cornbread, cleared her throat, and giggled.

  “Now, that’s enough, Willy,” Savannah scolded. “You all just finish up your supper.”

  Caleb and Justin both chuckled, and Vivianna glanced to Johnny. He rolled his eyes and shook his head—
entirely humiliated—but she adored his blushing. Simply adored it!

  “Ya gotta be careful what ya say to Nate and Willy, Johnny,” Justin said, teasingly nudging his friend with one elbow. “They can take anything and just run all the way to New Orleans with it.”

  “So I gather,” Johnny mumbled.

  He was so handsome! There was an attractive brutality about him—a strength in his features that neither Caleb nor Justin owned. Silently, Vivianna scolded herself for thinking such fond thoughts where Johnny was concerned. She loved Justin—Justin and the entire Turner family—and that is where her heart must remain.

  “Oh!” Caleb suddenly exclaimed. “I plum forgot, Johnny.” Vivianna watched as Caleb leaned forward, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers. “This letter come for you. Mr. Douglas walked it over from the post station today. I’m sorry I forgot to give it to you earlier.”

  Instantly, Vivianna was disturbed—rather vexed. She recognized the emotions in her as those akin to jealousy. Who had written Johnny Tabor a letter? She instantly thought of the letters she and Justin had exchanged during the war. Did Johnny have a lover? Had he so deliciously kissed her beneath the honeysuckle when a lover waited for him in Texas? Immediately she scolded herself, her self-loathing returning as she thought of her own hypocrisy. After all, she’d kissed Johnny Tabor, hadn’t she? And hadn’t she kissed him when her own lover was only a short distance away in Florence?

  Still, even though she had no right to feel the jealous and worried sensations she was experiencing, Vivianna held her breath as she watched Caleb offer the letter to Johnny—watched Johnny accept it and smile when he read the writing on the envelope.

  “It’s from Jeannie,” he mumbled. He looked to Vivianna and said, “My sister.”

  Vivianna was angry with herself—angry for breathing a sigh of gladness at knowing it was Johnny’s sister who had written, not a lover.

  “I wrote my family weeks ago,” he began, “tellin’ ’em I was well and stayin’ on here awhile.” He looked at the letter and then to Savannah. “Do ya mind, ma’am?” he asked. “Do ya mind if I excuse myself so that I can—”

  “Of course, Johnny!” Savannah assured him. “You go on and read your letter. I’m so glad you’re hearin’ from your family.”

  “Thank ya, ma’am,” he said, nodding with appreciation.

  Vivianna watched as Johnny stood and walked across the room and out through the back door. She blushed when she returned her attention to those at the table, only to find Caleb’s gaze intent upon her. He wore a rather knowing expression—a suspicious grin—but Vivianna simply smiled at him.

  “Isn’t that nice?” she said. “I’m sure he’s so happy to hear from his family.”

  “I’m sure he is,” Caleb said.

  “Would ya like to go for a little walk later, Viv?” Justin asked then.

  Vivianna’s heart leapt with an odd sort of trepidation. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to take a walk—not with Justin at least. In that moment, she fully understood how confused she was.

  “I swear, Justin,” Nate grumbled, “you and your walkin’. I woulda thought that walkin’ all the way from Georgia woulda walked ya out.”

  “Well,” Justin began, winking at Vivianna, “this kind of walkin’ is a whole lot different, Nate.”

  Vivianna blushed—smiled when Justin winked at her.

  “If you say so, Justin,” Nate mumbled. “Walkin’ is walkin’ if ya ask me.”

  Justin chuckled, and Savannah smiled at Nate’s sweet naïveté.

  “So we’ll walk, Viv?” Justin asked.

  “Of course,” Vivianna said.

  Savannah reached over then—lovingly placed a hand over Vivianna’s—and she was reminded of exactly where her loyalties, and her heart, should remain.

  

  Vivianna was distracted. It was obvious to Justin that her thoughts were not on him—at least, not fully.

  “You got somethin’ weighin’ on your mind, Viv?” he asked.

  She smiled at him and answered, “I suppose.” She sighed. “I suppose we all do…don’t we?”

  “I guess we do,” Justin admitted. It was a warm, balmy night. The stars were bright overhead—not one cloud in the sky. He glanced to Vivianna again. “Is it somethin’ ya wanna share? Or just nothin’ much of anything?”

  She shrugged—paused—bit her lip nervously. Finally, she answered, “The letters we wrote to one another while you were gone, Justin…do you remember them at all?”

  Justin inhaled a calming breath. Those damn letters! He ought to bust into her room and burn the dang things!

  “Of course I do, Viv,” he told her. “Why?” But he already knew why. The letters—they were how he’d won her heart away from Caleb. The letters were the very reason she’d fallen in love with him. Still, Justin had changed since those letters. Andersonville had done it—Andersonville and the war. He didn’t want to talk about those ridiculous letters. He wanted Vivianna to love the man he had become—the man he was now—not the lovesick fool who’d written letters full of promises Justin knew he could never keep.

  “Did you mean everything you said to me in your letters?” she asked. “Truly. If your feelin’s have changed, Justin…if…if ya didn’t mean the things ya said to me…”

  Justin turned and took Vivianna’s shoulders in his hands. “Viv,” he began, “I love you. I do. But I wish you’d quit worryin’ over the man I was in them letters…and try to see the man I’ve become. I’m stronger now. I know more what I want. I see what’s important and what’s not. The war grew me up, Viv. It was a lovesick boy that wrote those letters. Can’t ya see that? Can’t ya see I’m a man now? And you’re a woman…and we love each other. It doesn’t matter how we come to growin’ up and bein’ here. All that matters is that here we are…together…finally together.”

  Vivianna nodded, yet Justin could see she was lingering in doubt. He knew he was taking too long—that he hadn’t proven the depth of his love for her. He swallowed then as guilt traveled through him, for Justin knew. He knew he hadn’t proven the depth of his love to Vivianna because, in truth, he wasn’t certain how deep it was.

  It seemed he’d lived a lifetime since he’d left Alabama—seemed he’d lived a lifetime and suffered the length of two. Andersonville had hardened him; he knew it had. Yet even though Justin felt himself softening—could almost catch hold of the feelings and sensations he’d once enjoyed—he had no idea how long it would take him or if he ever would be the man Vivianna wanted him to be.

  He thought of that morning—of Tilly Winder walking past him and Caleb as they worked on the bridge. She’s smiled at him—an inviting smile—and he’d been tempted. Oh, Vivianna was beautiful, and she tempted him painfully. Yet Justin knew Vivianna wanted his heart—his full heart. Tilly Winder only wanted him to spark with her a bit, and the thought quite intrigued him. He remembered sparking with Tilly before the war, and it had been far more pleasurable than anything he’d ever experienced to that time. Still, Vivianna was so pretty—so sweet. She’d make him a good wife. He couldn’t hope for a better woman to love him—knew how fortunate he was in owning her love. Yet he paused in taking her to him in any serious manner, and he did not know why. At least, he told himself he did not know why.

  “You’re right, of course,” Vivianna said. “But…but, Justin…I do sense the change in you…and I know you’re not certain of me.”

  “Viv, I—” he began to argue.

  But Vivianna shook her head and said, “It’s all right, Justin. Truly. I-I do understand that you need more time. I-I think I might need a little time too.”

  Justin frowned. He did not like her easy patience with him—did not like that she seemed calm in her understanding. His eyes narrowed as he thought of what Willy had told him—that Johnny had caused Vivianna to cry earlier in the day, that he’d followed after her when she’d run off, that he’d returned to the cemetery and explained to Nate and Willy that he’d managed to soothe
her.

  Johnny Tabor was a liar! A liar with more evil secrets cached in his black soul than Justin cared to think on. Surely Vivianna hadn’t found something to admire in Johnny. Surely Johnny Tabor hadn’t managed to work his beguiling nature over Vivianna Bartholomew. Still, Justin did feel suspicion rising in him. He hid his anger, however—tried to ignore the knowledge that it was Johnny who made him swear to keep the promises he’d made to Vivianna in the letters he’d written to her. Johnny Tabor owned too much old-fashioned chivalry. Why, Justin knew he could be out behind the old Libby place sparking with Tilly Winder that very minute if it weren’t for that devil Johnny Tabor and the debt Justin owed him.

  Still, he forced his thoughts back to Vivianna. She’d been his friend; his whole life he’d loved her. She was the best of women—a jewel—a treasure. Justin knew he needed to straighten out his mind, put his own soul back on the path it should be on. Yet the war had scarred him—scarred him just as it had Johnny Tabor and Caleb—but scarred his mind instead of his body.

  Justin nodded as he gazed into Vivianna’s violet eyes. “I think we both need some time, Viv. I think you might be right. We’ll be lovers again, Viv…just as in our letters. We just need more time than we thought to get past all the ghosts hauntin’ us. You lost your family; I lost myself. We both need time to heal…to mend ourselves before we can mend our love.”

  As she thought of Justin—of the letters he’d written that had given her hope and strength during the war and carried her through the loss of her family—her heart ached. Still, an unexpected sense of lightness of soul and mind breathed over her. She understood then—understood that Justin was right. He had been battered by war, and she had been cast into darkness. Until his soul was healed—until hers could find the light—they could not hope to serve each other with perfect love.