mimicked Lauryn’s accent and now she felt ashamed of it.
“ Her wedd ing dress, I meant to say,” she corrected herself humbly.
“ No, no, Miss Kensington. Don’t you change the way you speak,” he told her. “It’s cute and sweet. It’s you.” Lauryn didn’t know what to say. It was hard to respond to such a compliment. If it was a compliment. Brant patted his bed at his side. “Sit down. Let’s sort it out.”
Lauryn’s excitement over the prospect of gleaning information from Brant overcame her shyness at sitting at the foot of his bed, both of them scarcely dressed for visiting. She plopped down ready to fire questions at him.
“ Did she scare you at first?” she asked.
“ A bit. She looked very lost and frightened and there were the stains at her abdomen. But, she was so beautiful and sweet, and smelled so good that I wasn’t afraid for long.” Brant grinned a bit and asked, “And you? Did he scare you?”
“ No. Not really,” Lauryn answered. “He was kind, and he bent down to look me in the eye. And, I knew who he was already because I’d seen his likeness in the tintype.” It seemed natural that it should be her turn to ask something. “How did you communicate with her if she couldn’t talk to you?”
Brant shrugged. “I watched her lips or she made gestures.” He paused for a moment before going on. “She was always, always there when I needed her. She’d sit with me during the night if I were anxious. She’d stroke my hair and teach me songs to play on the piano.”
Lauryn looked away from Brant to the dying embers of the fire. “The Captain has been my best friend, too. He taught me so much…helped me feel confident. Like I could accomplish things. But…” Lauryn stammered.
“ But you’ve failed him,” Brant finished for her. It wasn’t a cruel remark. It was how she felt. And it was, no doubt, how he felt.
“ But I can’t fail him. I can’t,” Lauryn whispered.
“ You won’t.” Brant turned his face toward the hearth as well. “I’ll…I’ll help you as much as I can while I’m here. I don’t know what I have to offer…maybe the more we talk…maybe there’s something I know that you don’t. Something that will help you.” He shook his head, discouraged and added, “Maybe.”
Reflexively Lauryn reached out and placed her hand comfortingly over his. “I’m positive you do know somethin’. Why else would we have met today?”
“ Why else, indeed,” Brant mumbled, forcing an agreeing nod and simultaneously pulling his hand away from Lauryn’s.
How sweet she is, this little girl from the southern town of Franklin, Tennessee, Brant thought. How eternally, and somewhat naively, hopeful. If he’d met her as a sighted man, before the war…but there was no use in thinking of ‘what ifs.’ He would help her all he could. He would help her because he realized it was up to Lauryn to help Laura now. He’d faced the reality for sometime that, when he returned home, he would no longer be able to converse with Laura. Along with his sight, he’d lost his only means of communicating with Lauralynn. He could do nothing more to comfort her or help her to be found. That knowledge had eaten at his soul more fiercely than the actual loss of his sight most times. He couldn’t bear the thought of Laura wandering lost and alone forever.
But maybe Heaven still cared for Brant Masterson. It had sent this sweet girl, Lauryn, to mend the past...sent her to fix what Brant wasn’t capable of fixing anymore, thereby giving him some sort of peace. Still, her touch was too friendly, too enjoyable and Brant knew he must look like an escapee from an asylum. He hadn’t been to a barber in months…hadn’t been able to labor very hard physically or participate in much of any other activity to keep his body strong and healthy. And, it was far to disconcerting to have people touching him when he couldn’t see the expression on their faces. He imagined Lauryn
“ Her wedd ing dress, I meant to say,” she corrected herself humbly.
“ No, no, Miss Kensington. Don’t you change the way you speak,” he told her. “It’s cute and sweet. It’s you.” Lauryn didn’t know what to say. It was hard to respond to such a compliment. If it was a compliment. Brant patted his bed at his side. “Sit down. Let’s sort it out.”
Lauryn’s excitement over the prospect of gleaning information from Brant overcame her shyness at sitting at the foot of his bed, both of them scarcely dressed for visiting. She plopped down ready to fire questions at him.
“ Did she scare you at first?” she asked.
“ A bit. She looked very lost and frightened and there were the stains at her abdomen. But, she was so beautiful and sweet, and smelled so good that I wasn’t afraid for long.” Brant grinned a bit and asked, “And you? Did he scare you?”
“ No. Not really,” Lauryn answered. “He was kind, and he bent down to look me in the eye. And, I knew who he was already because I’d seen his likeness in the tintype.” It seemed natural that it should be her turn to ask something. “How did you communicate with her if she couldn’t talk to you?”
Brant shrugged. “I watched her lips or she made gestures.” He paused for a moment before going on. “She was always, always there when I needed her. She’d sit with me during the night if I were anxious. She’d stroke my hair and teach me songs to play on the piano.”
Lauryn looked away from Brant to the dying embers of the fire. “The Captain has been my best friend, too. He taught me so much…helped me feel confident. Like I could accomplish things. But…” Lauryn stammered.
“ But you’ve failed him,” Brant finished for her. It wasn’t a cruel remark. It was how she felt. And it was, no doubt, how he felt.
“ But I can’t fail him. I can’t,” Lauryn whispered.
“ You won’t.” Brant turned his face toward the hearth as well. “I’ll…I’ll help you as much as I can while I’m here. I don’t know what I have to offer…maybe the more we talk…maybe there’s something I know that you don’t. Something that will help you.” He shook his head, discouraged and added, “Maybe.”
Reflexively Lauryn reached out and placed her hand comfortingly over his. “I’m positive you do know somethin’. Why else would we have met today?”
“ Why else, indeed,” Brant mumbled, forcing an agreeing nod and simultaneously pulling his hand away from Lauryn’s.
How sweet she is, this little girl from the southern town of Franklin, Tennessee, Brant thought. How eternally, and somewhat naively, hopeful. If he’d met her as a sighted man, before the war…but there was no use in thinking of ‘what ifs.’ He would help her all he could. He would help her because he realized it was up to Lauryn to help Laura now. He’d faced the reality for sometime that, when he returned home, he would no longer be able to converse with Laura. Along with his sight, he’d lost his only means of communicating with Lauralynn. He could do nothing more to comfort her or help her to be found. That knowledge had eaten at his soul more fiercely than the actual loss of his sight most times. He couldn’t bear the thought of Laura wandering lost and alone forever.
But maybe Heaven still cared for Brant Masterson. It had sent this sweet girl, Lauryn, to mend the past...sent her to fix what Brant wasn’t capable of fixing anymore, thereby giving him some sort of peace. Still, her touch was too friendly, too enjoyable and Brant knew he must look like an escapee from an asylum. He hadn’t been to a barber in months…hadn’t been able to labor very hard physically or participate in much of any other activity to keep his body strong and healthy. And, it was far to disconcerting to have people touching him when he couldn’t see the expression on their faces. He imagined Lauryn
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