The Fragrance of Her Name (34 page)

“
Me?” Lauryn shrieked. “What are you worried about me for?” As she rose to her feet, he stood straight. “Look at this!” She whispered, reaching out and touching his blood stained shirt. “How bad is it?” She reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt in order to better investigate the wound. Then, realizing the shirt was torn and soaked in blood, she simply tore it open and was horrified when she saw his damaged flesh. The wound was fairly deep and seven or eight inches in length.

“
First my pants, now my shirt?” Brant teased. “I think I’m beginning to like the way you start stripping my clothes off every now and then.”

Lauryn was too concerned to be embarrassed or amused. “Come on,” she said, taking his hand. “We’re gonna take you to the doctor and get that attended to.” She looked past him to where Mr. Jackson struggled to stand. “Both of you!”

“
We can’t leave them here!” Brant argued. “What if they get away?”

Lauryn looked at the two unconscious men, bleeding and broken on the ground.

“
I’m sure they’ll be here when the police arrive, Brant,” she said. “They look…they’ll be here when we get back.” She took hold of his hand and pulled him along as she went to Mr. Jackson.

“
Mr. Jackson? Are you alright, sir?” she asked. He certainly didn’t look all right…but she thought she might inquire just in case.

The elderly man shook his head and smiled. “I’m fine, Miss Lauryn. Just fine.” He chuckled as Brant helped him to his feet. “And I thank you, sir…I was waitin’ to meet St. Peter hisseff .”

“
You’re sure you’re all right?” Brant asked. “Maybe we better do what Lauryn says and get in to the doctor.” Lauryn was touched, knowing full well that she would’ve had a hard time getting Brant to seek medical attention had it not been for his own concern for Mr. Jackson.

Mr. Jackson chuckled. “Maybe, sir. Maybe.”

Chapter Thirteen

Lauryn wiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks as the doctor inspected Brant’s laceration. Of course, Brant insisted that Doctor Valance attend to Mr. Jackson first. And, even though Lauryn knew that the old man was more feeble than Brant and probably needed treatment sooner, it seemed a long time that she sat there and stared at Brant holding his shirt wadded up against his wound which continued to bleed.

“
It’s a nasty scratch, my boy,” Doctor Valance mumbled as he cleaned the wound.

“
Scratch?” Lauryn fairly shouted.

“
Why don’t you go on out and sit with Ol’ Jackson awhile, Miss Kensington,” Doctor Valance suggested kindly.

“
Yeah,” Brant nodded. “Go on out and check on him. I’ll be right there.” Lauryn did as she was told, knowing her hysterics would not help either man to attend Brant’s wound.

Mr. Jackson sat on the sofa in the waiting room, looking incredibly old and tired. The light that normally glistened from his eyes was dulled.

Lauryn sat next to him and took one of his tired, weathered hands in her own. “You really should move in with Mariah, Mr. Jackson,” she scolded. Mariah was Mr. Jackson’s granddaughter, and for years she’d been trying to convince her aged grandfather to move in with her and let her care for him.

“
I ain’t gonna be a burden to my childr’n or my granchildr’n, Miss Lauryn. I won’t do it,” the old man growled.

“
Well, then you’re more selfish than I even thought you were,” Lauryn scolded.

“
Selfish?” Mr. Jackson squeaked. “How you come by that, Miss Lauryn?”

But Lauryn was a wise girl. A clever girl. “Children and grandchildren take and take and take from their parents…as they deserve to. You love them, raise them, care for them, teach them…and watchin’ them become great people is your reward, right?”

Mr. Jackson nodded. “Hallelujah!” he agreed.

“
Then…if your whole life is livin’ for your children’s happiness… why are you denyin’ them the chance for more of it by givin’ somethin’ back to you, sir?” Lauryn patted Mr. Jackson’s hand lovingly. “I can think of nothin’ I’d rather do for my Mama than to tuck her in at night, give her a good conversation and make sure she’s eatin’ nicely when she’s a little older and a little more tired. All the things she still does for me.”

“
I ain’t no chil’, Miss Lauryn,” Mr. Jackson reminded her proudly.

“
Of course not. That’s why they still need you. Mariah worships the ground you walk on, Mr. Jackson and well you know it.” Lauryn smiled at him, understanding his pride. “Mariah still needs you more than you need her, too. Still needs your wisdom, your life experience to teach her. Her children need you, too. A grandparent is a valuable thing, Mr. Jackson. And how can all your grandbabies and great grandbabies learn from you, absorb strength from you, if you’re just too selfish to share it?”

Mr. Jackson’s eyes narrowed, and a smile quirked one side of his mouth. “You’re a sweet talker if ever I did see one,” he chuckled. “Ain’t that right Mr. Brant?”

Lauryn looked around to see Brant standing there, bandaged like some sort of warrior, and smiling at her approvingly.

“
Yes, she’s a sweet little morsel,” Brant agreed, winking at her. Lauryn felt warm at his approval…warm and proud at the knowledge of what he’d done to protect the helpless old man.

“
Do you want me to drive you home, Mr. Jackson? Mr. Masterson; Miss Kensington?” Doctor Valance inquired.

“
Not me!” Mr. Jackson said, struggling to his feet. “I’m just gonna stop me off at Mariah’s house. Maybe I can talk her into feedin’ me a good meal for a change.”

He offered his hand to Lauryn and she took it, smiling approvingly.

“
Mr. Masterson?” Doctor Valance again inquired.

“
No thank you, sir,” Brant said, shaking the man’s hand. “But I do thank you for patching me up. I’ve sewn enough of my own cuts shut to know when my stitching won’t do.”

“
I’ve sent my assistant, Luella, down to the police…I’m sure they’ll get right out there and take care of that scum you left, sir,” Doctor Valance said. “So, you get on back to Connemara and rest up.

“
I’ll do that,” Brant agreed, though Lauryn doubted he would rest at all.

Brant and Lauryn walked with Mr. Jackson to where his granddaughter lived just outside of town. Lauryn loved the old gentleman and could see Brant had taken an intense liking to him.

As they neared Mariah’s house Mr. Jackson suddenly asked, “Did you childr’n have fun on your picnic?” He chuckled quietly and winked at Brant.

“
Oooohhhh, yeah!” Brant assured him.

“
Well, I’m glad to hear it,” the old man said. “Miss Lauryn’s great granddaddy he’ped me out back durin’ the war. He was a good man. A good man.”

Lauryn smiled. She’d known for years and years that her great grandfather Kiel O’Halleran and Mr. Jackson had a respect for one another. She’d always felt very proud of the fact that Kiel O’Halleran had recognized a good man when he saw one.

“
Mmm hmmmm,” Mr. Jackson confirmed. “A good man, he was. A good fambly. All famblies got their secrets…but nothin’ could ever make your fambly bad in my eyes, Miss Lauryn.”

“
Thank you, Mr. Jackson.” Lauryn’s brow puckered for a moment, however. Had Mr. Jackson implied her family had secrets? Or had he just meant something else?

“
Here’s where I step off,” Mr. Jackson said, shaking Brant’s hand. “Thank you for what you done for me, Mr. Brant.”

Brant smiled and winked at Lauryn as he said, “No, sir. I think I better be thanking you. That was the best canoe ride of my life.”

Lauryn felt herself blush through and through and Mr. Jackson chuckled understandingly

“
Glad to he’p you out, sir.” He smiled at Lauryn. “Better braid up that hair ‘gain, Miss Lauryn. Else your grandmammy will have this boy’s skin hung out to dry I ‘spect! Criminals a fightin’ or no!”

Lauryn blushed an even deeper shade of vermilion and immediately reached back to braid her hair. What a sight she must be! How embarrassingly obvious it was that she and Brant had been…that they had been…exchanging affections. All this time she’d been distracted by the wounded body of Brant…by Mr. Jackson’s needs and ailing. She’d completely forgotten her own appearance.

Mariah met her granddaddy at the porch and waved to Lauryn, raising her eyebrows a bit as she studied Brant. Lauryn immediately decided that she and Brant would take the path less traveled back to Connemara. Brant’s shirt had been left in a bloody heap at Dr. Valance’s office. He wore only the bandages wrapped around his stomach from the waist up. And she must look a fright! Having braided her hair back and twisting a strand of hair around the end of the braid to hold it, she could only hope that her mother didn’t remember she’d left the house that morning with a completely different hair dressing.

“
What an adventure you’ve had today, Miss Kensington,” Brant sighed as they followed the creek bed toward Connemara. “Canoeing, being molested and, well…nearly being abducted by criminals.”

“
No wonder I’m so tuckered out,” she mumbled. She could see the springhouse just ahead. Her adventure was almost over. Now it was back to reality—the reality of Brant’s leaving, of the Captain and Laura’s suffering. She sighed heavily as the burden of it all began to tax her mind once again. The knowledge of the intense wound Brant had received while defending Mr. Jackson was no help. It must be terribly painful and it hurt her even more deeply to notice the way he didn’t let on.

“
Hey!” Brant exclaimed, startling her out of her rather depressing thoughts. “I can see Henry from here.”

Lauryn looked up to see that, indeed, the old cemetery and Henry, the statue were visible. Connemara rose out of the horizon like a great, beacon of safety and strength. Brant stopped for a moment. “Do you think…” He paused. He seemed so serious.

“
What?” Lauryn urged. “What’s the matter?”

Brant bit his lip and frowning asked, “Do you think I should tell him? Or would it be better coming from you?”

Lauryn frowned and shook her head. “What on earth are you talkin’ about?” Tell who? Of course, everyone would be asking questions when Brant and Lauryn returned home in such states of dishevel, but who did he mean specifically?

“
Henry,” Brant stated. “How can we lessen the blow for him? I mean…when he finds out you’ve taken another lover….it’s best if you tell him first, Lauryn. A man’s heart isn’t granite, you know.” Lauryn smiled, delighted by his teasing.

“
Very amusing, Mr. Masterson. You shouldn’t make fun of Henry. He’s been very loyal and taught me much over the years,” she said. As she turned to continue toward Connemara, Brant took hold of her elbow and spun her around to face him.

“
We’re almost home, sugar,” he mumbled. His expression was tinged with something like regret. “What’s say we have one more…moment of our own.”

Brant reached out gathering her against his body, stealing her breath with a heated kiss.

Lauryn sensed the finality of this kiss. They were home, facing reality, people and frustration again. It was as if Brant was telling her things were back to normal. No more lying under the dogwood trees exchanging passionate affections as pink blossoms floated down around them. And so, she let her arms go around him, let her hands caress his chest and shoulders, powerful arms and strong back.

With a sigh of regret he pulled away from her, smiling. “I feel bad for Henry,” he mumbled.

“
Why is that?” she asked, letting her arms drop to her sides.

“
He was never able to taste you.” And with that, Brant bent forward, tasting her kiss one last time.



“
You could’ve been killed!” Georgia exclaimed, as everyone sat in the front parlor at Connemara listening to Brant relay the story of how he’d received his injury. “For Pete’s sake! What’s this town comin’ to when men like that can just walk up in broad daylight and terrorize a sweet, old man?”

“
It’s very unsettlin’,” Sean mumbled, frowning. “I don’t like it one bit! And I wish ol’ Jackson would move in with Mariah.”

“
Maybe we ought to offer to have him live here again,” Georgia mentioned.

“
He won’t do it, Mama,” Sean reminded her. “He’s a proud man and he’s gettin’ too old to earn his keep the way he thinks he should.”

“
I think he’ll consider livin’ with Mariah, Mama,” Lauryn assured her worried mother. “I had a long talk with him.”

“
Probably that, in itself, will do it. Once you’ve been on the receivin’ end of one of Lauryn’s lectures…a man’s miserable enough to do anythin’.” Sean chuckled, and reached over to tweak Lauryn’s nose affectionately.

“
Can I see where the knife went in, Brant?” Patrick blurted out, unable to contain himself any longer.

“
Patrick!” Georgia scolded. “We don’t ask to see people’s wounds.”

“
Why not?” the boy argued.

“
Because it isn’t proper,” Georgia explained.

“
I’d like to see it, too” Uncle Johnny piped in.

“
Same here,” Sean agreed.

“
Well, for Pete’s sake if this room isn’t full of a bunch of morbid heathens,” Georgia sighed. Lauryn smiled, knowing full well her mother’s own curiosity issues. “Well, Brant…if you simply
must
…” she conceded.

Brant chuckled and began to unwind the bandages around his torso. “I’m supposed to have it changed before I turn in anyway. Now is as good a time as any.”