Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine Read Online Free Page A

of long summer walks and pollywogs in puddles… ”
    Though I cannot tell you why, Vivi — for perhaps I do not know why myself — I ever think of you beneath the honeysuckle vine. I imagine you are waiting for me there , that you will be waiting there when I return. I make a promi se to you now, Vivianna Bartholo mew . I promise this : W hen I return , we will meet beneath the honeysuckle vine, and I will kiss you such a kiss as you have never known before. It is what I dream of . A midst the nightmares of battle and death , often there comes to me a dream of you , of you and I together beneath the honeysuckle vine , and I awake improved and hopeful , for there is something for me to fight for now…you, my darling.
    On the battlefield, or at the campfire, there are moments when your sweet face will appear before me. Those brief visions of you rescue me…for I will not die and never meet you beneath the honeysuckle. That is what I think — when the stench of death and fighting is all around me , when the noise of the cannons seems to echo forever in my ears , as we bury our fellow soldiers and want for food and comfort , I think of you and me there beneath that arbor , bathed in the fragrance of honeysuckle…sharing kisses as sweet as their nectar. You, Vivianna…you are why I continue to live.
    I confess it…I confess that I love you. I have written it here in hoping you will not refuse the offer of my heart. It belongs to you, Vivianna. You alone will own my love…forever.
    I fight for you, Vivianna. I fight to come to you…to live… so that we may linger together beneath the honeysuckle vine.
    May God protect and keep you, my love .
     
    Vivianna brushed the tears from her cheeks—let her fingers tenderly trace the lone character Justin had signed the letter with. She drew the letter to her face once more , kissed the familiar and beloved initialed signature.
    “ Oh, Justin! ” she breathed. “ I feel as if I can ’ t go on! Sometimes I just think…I just think… ”
    Vivianna swallowed and inhaled a deep breath. Folding the letter , she returned it to the pocket of her skirt. She could not let her passionate emotions rise. She could not linger on thoughts of all she had lost. She would not think of her parents, of Sam or Augie. To think of them would mean collapse ; she was certain of it. It was everything she could manage to will her heart to continue to beat when the loss of Justin was so painful. She could not think of the others. Vivianna had grown to know that war was far more destructive to the human soul and heart than it was even to the landscape, towns , or cities. Each morning she awoke with thoughts of her family yet pushed them to the far corners of her mind. She could not linger on the whole of it—not yet.
    She had spent enough time in misery for one day. Thus, Vivianna stood , inhaled one last breath of the sweet honeysuckle beneath which she would never meet Justin Turner , and walked. She knew where her feet would lead her , though she further knew it would only bring her more pain. Still, though she would not linger on the deaths of so many loved ones, she did not want them to look down from heaven and think she did not miss and mourn them. Thus, she wandered to the small cemetery nestled in the meadow in the center of a grove of dogwood trees. It was not more than half a mile from the house—a small cemetery belonging to the Turner family. Mr. Turner ’ s parents and his eldest brother were among those resting beneath the cool, fragrant grass. Sadly, Mr. Turner did not rest with them , having fought and died far from home. Savannah had begged Vivianna to let her parents be interred there instead of in the cemetery in Florence . Though there were many northern Alabamians who had silently or otherwise supported the Union during the war, the Union raids on Florence had hardened many of those hearts , as well as causing further hatred of the Union and its Yankees to grow among local