The Fragrance of Her Name by Marcia Lynn McClure Page B

hopeful that your sight may be saved. And you must follow his instruction. You must not lose hope or damage your sight further because of frustration."
    "Sweet thing," he mumbled, the slightest of wistful grins capturing his mouth again. "I have been blind for near to four months. They have operated on me now…given my father false hope. False hope helps no one."
    "But…but you saw me ," Lauryn reminded him trying to ignore the thrill that traveled through her at the thought of his sudden kiss in the boxcar.
    "I saw you as if you were standing in a thick fog, Miss Kensington. Enough to know where to reach to molest you…not enough to know whether or not you resemble your great aunt."
    Lauryn was disappointed. Deeply. She had thought he had seen her more clearly and that her familiarity of spirit had prompted him to kiss her. And yet, she had hoped the opposite. She knew that she did not want this man's attention simply because she resembled his fragrant lady ghost. But for the first time since she was eight years old, Lauryn silently wished she did bare some resemblance to the lost lady, Lauralynn.
    "Well, do not be too disappointed, Mr. Masterson. I don't look like her, " she mumbled. “And you far from molested me, sir.”
    “ My Aunt Felicity would disagree,” he told her flatly. “I…I awkwardly beg your forgiveness for that as well.” His apology sounded less than sincere.
    “ Because your Aunt would expect it of you?” Lauryn asked him.
    “ Exactly.”
    “ Then I refuse it,” she stated. “Now…back to our previous subject…I wonder, does Lauralynn…”
    “ You refuse it?” he exclaimed leaning toward her suddenly. “You can’t refuse that apology.”
    “ I can too. And I do.”
    “ But it’s…it’s rude. And after the way you scolded me for being rude. Anyway, I thought southern girls were always the epitome of propriety.” The expression about his mouth was that of being completely taken back.
    “ It’s not rude. What’s rude is to apologize when you don’t mean it. Now…do you want me to talk to you about our special…. acquaintances or not?”
    Brant sighed with relief and shook his head, actually grinning again. “Yes… if you can keep from being so rude. And besides,” he added, lowering his voice, “You’re right. I withdraw my apology for molesting you. It was the first time I’ve felt like a real man in over four months. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman faint from one of my kisses. I guess there’s hope for me yet.”
    Lauryn blushed and looked about to see if any of the passengers may be eavesdropping. He was oddly incorrigible, this handsome, haunted, wounded soldier.
    “ Very well,” Lauryn began feeling completely unsettled, and yet somewhat triumphant in helping him avoid another outburst like the one in the boxcar. “What do you know?”
    Lauryn found it hard to concentrate on the subject of the Captain and Lauralynn, however. Brant’s presence seemed to dominate every sense she owned.
    “ I told you,” he reminded her. “She died, he died. It was tragic and an unsolvable mystery.”
    “ Oh, you have to know more than that. I could learn that much from the family bible.”
    He sighed in irritation, before speaking. “Laura loves her husband. She is lost and wandering without him.”
    “ How does she appear?” Lauryn asked. “What’s she wearin’?”
    Brant shrugged his shoulders as if his answer were inconsequential. “A dress, true to the times…blue…soaked with bright red blood at her stomach.”
    “ What?” Lauryn gasped in horrified astonishment.
    “ It was a wound to her abdomen. Wasn’t it?
    “ Well, yes. But….” Lauryn was distracted, imagining the horror of a young child having to be haunted by a ghost soaked in blood.
    “ And she wears a gold locket and two rings,” he added as if it were no strange thing to be haunted by such an apparition. He spoke as if he wasn’t in the least disturbed about