slr_europa@yahoo.com http://www.geocities.com/slr_europa/ AIM :: ropachan ************************************* Love Through Time ~ A Serena and Darien Saga Volume III, Chapter ii His arms then roughly around my waist, the moment wrapped in a strange intoxication my body couldn't react to or even comprehend. My mind was numb, but I was oddly aware of his warm, hard lips now burning my own, a sensation I'd never known before; a tingling, weird and scary at the same time. Pleasing but dulling of the senses. I was, for once, at a loss. And then it was gone. In one swift breath, the moment was lost. As quickly as the time had seemed when he pulled me close, he roughly shoved my waste away in partial disgust, his eyes hinting at a deeper meaning. He didn't look at me, and I couldn't bear to bring my eyes up far enough to catch a glimpse of him. The silence bore down on us, the immense heat from the sun now becoming painfully apparent, almost loud. It seemed too hot to be this quiet, this desolate. Something had to be going on, somewhere. But the whole lot seemed dead, as if in slumber. We couldn't speak. There was nothing to say, nothing that could be said. I felt my competency slipping away, replaced once more by anger and frustration, my vacancy of just moments before infuriating me. Without another word uttered, I swiveled on my worn heel and floundered aimlessly back in the direction of the house. I was too afraid to turn around. Too scared to watch him standing there still, not knowing what too think, what to do. Too scared of what I would feel, what I would begin to understand if I had to look at him again. I trudged numbly up the hill, the house becoming more and more visible with each step. And with each foot I ventured, my anger boiled, the feelings and perplexity melting away evenly, revealing a hard, maddened shell underneath. I put the odd thoughts and emotions that were overcoming me in a corner of my brain, determined not to let them get the better of me. I'd be damned if I let a Yankee work such a frenzy inside me. I secretly hoped he was watching me from behind, my stiff, still back enough display of self confidence to convince him that I wasn't the least bit shaken. He _would_ not see me fall. ***** The next day kept me busy enough to keep my mind off the previous incident on our property. As I hurriedly prepared stew, filled glasses and kept fresh water ready for the workers who had arrived to fix the shed, I rarely had time to contemplate the meaning or the complexity of the situation. I was appalled and flabbergasted each time my mind wandered into those realms, afraid of the meaning of the event, afraid of what I thought. Even worse, I was afraid of what he thought. Something very out of the ordinary occurred and I was speechless, from horror, from disgust, from confusion. The next day was much worse however for me. The shed completed in record time, my day was filled with gigantic voids, this time with nothing to do but think. I tried desperately to sew, wrap bandages, even read, but each moment slipped unwillingly into the same pattern, an unwelcome memory of what had happened. It was mind boggling to think that one minute a heated battle was raging, flesh hitting flesh, words stinging harder and harder each second. And without any warning, no words to signal such a change in atmosphere, I was closer to Darien than I ever had been before, both literally and figuratively. His lips were warm and firm against mine within moments, and then... they weren't. We were again enemies after what must have been an eternity as far as I was concerned. It hit me hard to think that a man my polar opposite, whom I'd despised from the day we first met had kissed me. However upon thinking so hard about it 48 hours after the fact, more memories flooded me and fears piled up on top of each other. But the most troubling fact was that, for the life of me, I couldn't remember putting up any resistance. ***** "No, of course I don't understand it either myself....." I entered the dining room just moments into my father's conversation with Mr. Pierson, a neighboring plantation owner whose daughter I had grown up alongside. My father shared a masculine bond with the man who now sat just yards from my fathers boot clad feet. Neither I nor the rest of my family particularly liked him very much, but we never bothered telling Papa that. It wouldn't have done any good. The two had been almost inseparable since Mr. Pierson had come close to shooting my fathers arm off while hunting about a hundred feet from the North bank of the river that ran east of our property. Papa had laughed it off, saying that the sound of the bullet ricocheting off the tree next to him was enough to scare the rest of his already thinning hair away. Since he had come home, shaking like a leaf and chuckling like a hyena, we couldn't have chased his new friend away. So as I seated myself next to Papa, a cup of tea steaming on the table in front of me, the idea of listening to pro-war lectures and blood thirsty speeches was an unusually welcome thought. The alternative of pondering my predicament any further had begun to wear me down, and any situation in which I was prevented from more self analytical thought seemed all together pleasing. No matter how mundane or boring. "The law's just aren't effective enough. If even one escapes, then the reigns of power must be tightened. It's as simple as that." Mr. Pierson has batted back in reply to my father's previous comment. "I agree. I fully agree with you Freddie. But with the war going on all around us, we were lucky enough to get this much. I don't see anything else occurring in our favor." Stated my father calmly. Mr. Pierson nodded his head silently in reply, an affirmative nod to my father's opinion. He heaved a sad, dejected sigh as he placed his hands firmly and squarely on his knees, helping himself to a standing position. My father gave a grim, taught smile as he rose beside the similar man. I remained seated, feeling as if I was invisible and the men hadn't even seen my entrance just moments ago as they carried out secret rituals of handshakes and private jokes as if I wasn't in the room. I thought about the conversation I walked into, not really knowing what had gone on. I didn't often take a part in family politics, many times the events going straight over my head before I even had a chance to consider them. But now I was strangely intrigued. I noticed the tight, unrelenting muscles on the other mans back, unforgiving, as if he couldn't release them even if he wanted to. His eyes were red and it was obvious the situation was causing him to lose excessive amounts of sleep. The sight gave a welcome smile to my heart as I saw an unkind man in such evident pain. "Papa, what was he talking about?" I asked, careful not to let my satisfaction show. He just smiled, warm and false as he patted my immature head in reply. "Nothing you need to worry your head about. A little trouble the Pierson's seem to be having a few miles over. I wouldn't give it another thought if I were you." He answered, a bit too elated. I could tell he was gauging his reaction to me, hoping I wouldn't notice the hidden distress that barely filtered from his words. I knew my father well enough to know when he was lying, but I also knew when to hold my tongue. If anything of grave consequence were to happen, he wouldn't be able to hide it from the family. I wouldn't let him. ***** "Selena! Selena!" I turned around at the foot of the stairs, preparing to ascend when my youngest sister, Lila, called my name. I glanced backwards to find her flailing about wildly and not the least bit feminine as her petticoats rustled around her. I paused, one foot resting on the first step anxiously, ready to begin at any second. She had ran to my side within moments, breathy and excited. "Selena, Jonnie's coming home! He's coming home!" Her face was pink and flushed, proof enough that she must have been telling the truth. Sucking in an excited breath and blinking incredulously I turned around to fully face her. "What?" I asked, evening out my breathless, shocked excitement. "Jonathan got a whole week's release! He'll be home in a few days!" Her voice squealed out the words, not bothering to calm and cool their reaction as mine did. The grin spread from ear to ear within seconds, and I grasped the younger girls shoulders roughly, my fingers too tight from the news too release her. She didn't notice the nails digging through her dress and just kept smiling herself. For the first time in almost a year, Jonathan was coming back home. He had been fighting restlessly in the North for what seemed like forever to me. And now, he would finally come back to us, if even for a short while. "His commanding officer wrote us, and it was dated almost 10 days ago. He could be arriving any moment!" She continued relentlessly, but I wasn't paying her any attention. My mind filtered aimlessly to what felt like decades ago. The whole family in one place. For 7 whole days none would worry whether one was lost for good. "I can't believe it..." A whispered breath wandered from my lips unwillingly. Finally giving up on getting any kind of excitement from me, Lila moved onto the next member, rushing off in the same flailing manner as done with me. Oblivious to the departing girl, I leaned a shoulder against the cool wood pillar just below the stairs, my eyes growing wide and unseeing. And for the first time in days I had natural distraction to occupy my thoughts. ***** We had all secretly hoped in our hearts that it wouldn't be long before Jonathan returned. But we knew better than to voice it, too afraid the chance would retreat upon a spoken word. So we kept a calm vigil within the house, trying to hide the mounting anticipation festering within each of us. But once a knock on the door would call out, or a footstep would rattle the loose floor boards on the porch we couldn't hide our lying eyes. And the disappointment was all to evident when it would only appear to be Mr. Pierson, or the landlord, or some other neighbor, each one more unwelcome than the next. We had heard next to nothing about Jonnie's condition through the meager correspondence we kept with his officers. All letters were vague and hard to gauge. So between the waiting and excitement was a tinge of fear, for the reason of his tardiness might be war wounds, bearing down on his trek down south from Yankee territory. The mixture of emotions had begun to weigh us down and after almost a week of keeping a steady watch we were all worn down a bit more than normal. The women were irritable and Father was often found staring into nothing, his foot tapping anxiously on the hardwood floors beneath it. So when one night, an unfamiliar rustle came slowly from the grass out front, followed by slow, unsteady footsteps on the porch stairs, we all held our breath, not certain on what action to take. Breathless silence enveloped the sitting room, the crackling of the fire not marring the hearing of the ten ears that had perked up instantly. It was late, and in our heart we knew it was him, we didn't need any warning. But too many let downs had given us cause enough not to let hope enter our minds. So we waited patiently until the door had been opened fully, no one moving. And despite the fact that our worst fears had come true, the horror and fear was gone upon his limping form hobbling into the room with the help of another man whom no one recognized. We hugged and cried and then hugged some more, each careful not to jostle him too much or cause his discomfort. Mother kissed incessantly, while Lila and I asked question upon question and Papa gave an awkward but kind bear hug, Jonathan laughing happily the whole time. His voice squeaked and his face was rough and unshaven, hardly the clean cut boy I had grown up alongside. But we really didn't care about his appearance, and I highly doubt any of the family even noticed the change. He was back, and if only for a little while, that was all that mattered. ***** The night went on forever and it seemed like hours before we trudged off to bed. Jonnie had found an empty room for his friend, Robert, with a promise from them both that he would be no trouble. Papa swore that it was indeed no trouble, and promised that he would have our best help take care of him tonight and tomorrow, or until he left. Jonnie thanked us on his behalf and with identical grins all around, we fell into the best nights sleep in we'd had in weeks. ***** The next day was the most troubling of his whole break from the war. I was anxious to catch up with him, wanted to hear all about his injury and any others he might have had, where he had been, where he was going. I wanted to know it all, and from his mouth. I was tired of the too short letters, scary and unassuming of anything. So after prying him away from my sisters and my father's manly gatherings, I insisted we take a walk like we used to, all but forgetting that with his wound, the walk would be nothing like it had before. "I really needed to get out...." He mumbled blissfully with his eyes closed once we had been walking for a few minutes in a comfortable silence. I studied his newly shaven profile, satisfied with how relatively unchanged it seemed to me then. Washed and neat, just like I was used to it. "It's nice to just walk like this, without having to rush anywhere." He said, but I chose to ignore the roundabout reference to the war. "It's so wonderful to have you back to do this. It's awful not knowing where you are all the time." I cocked my head to the side and gave him a stern look. "You never mention anything in your letters about how you're doing or what's going on or where you are." "I'm just trying to protect you all." He continued to stare straight ahead, his eyes hard. "There's no need for you to know all that happens. Not all of it." "But we just worry more when we're unaware. If you don't tell us, how will we ever know?" I asked, my voice slightly rising in desperation. I had never in my life won a fight with my brother, and I knew he wasn't about to let me start then. "Selena, if I were to give you the gory details, the death, the destruction, the horror of every aspect, I would only cause you needless worry. It's never as bad as you will make it out to be, so I try to lessen the load you all have to carry." He turned and gave me the first genuine smile since his return. "I'm only thinking of your feelings." I nodded, not totally sure what he meant. But I believed him nonetheless. "So...." I trailed off, hoping it might help build up to all I wanted to know. "How exactly did that happen?" I inadvertently questioned, motioning to his bandaged leg. His shoulders sagged and he gave me both an annoyed and amused look. "Did you hear anything I just said?" He asked, chuckling. I grinned, knowing that no matter my answer, I would still get the full story. "I fell behind to help Robert," He whipped his head in the direction of the house, "And ended up getting trampled. That's the primary reason for me leave, and Robert's. I had a break coming and so did Robert. I had yet to take it, so when I was injured, I figured that this would be a good way to recuperate." He smiled down at me and I nodded, happy with his choice of words and his sparing of the "gory details". "Why doesn't Robert return to his own home?" The question came out a bit more irritated than I had meant for it to, and I immediately blushed when his hard eyes criticized my tone. "He isn't sure where they are. They didn't want him to enter the war, so he fears they have left him." His face had returned to staring straight ahead. His jaw clenched and I watched his eyes narrow in contemplation. "In fact, he doesn't even want to return to the front again." "What?" I asked, shocked. "I'm going to ask Papa if he can stay with you for a few days, maybe a week or two, once I'm gone." His voice was tight, and even through his words, his angered eyes betrayed them. "But why?" Was all I could manage. "He doesn't belong there. He wasn't brought up to be a fighter.... And he isn't helping the Cause." I caught the uneven tone his voice brought up at the last word, unsure at the very least. "What do you mean he isn't helping?" "He has never fully supported it. And I don't think he ever will. He slacks off because his heart isn't in it. I'm afraid one of these days he'll be unnecessarily hurt." His voice shook uncontrollably, but it was hard for me to distinguish what emotion caused it. Fear, anger, pain? I couldn't tell. "Do you... do you agree with him?" I was so afraid at my own inquiry that I could barely speak it. He shook his head slowly, without even thinking, almost mechanically. "No. No, I fully believe in our Southern Rights. But Robert has been a good friend.... I don't want to see him get hurt." He said evenly. I gulped nervously and nodded. I was positive there were underlying issues I didn't know, ones I feared I would never be able to understand. ***** I hadn't expected things to erupt the way they did in the last few days of Jonathan's homecoming. He did indeed ask Papa if Robert could stay. He had counted on Papa not asking any questions, he had assumed that his friend would become a family friend. But Papa wanted to know, and Jonathan had never lied to Papa before, and we all watched as he kept that record. Robert stood in the other room while he ranted and raved about the audacity of not only Robert, but Jonnie also, for being an accomplice to this madness. To not support Our Cause was unthinkable in our house, and Papa was not going to have any of it. Jonnie did his best to support his friend, and once we all shuffled wordlessly from the room as the fight raged on, we had a good look at Robert's face when he realized that his last chance was an impossibility. Although I was as much a Southerner as the next member of my family, my heart sunk. I had become somewhat fond of the strange young man. He had done nothing to prove a bad person was inside him, and his kind eyes had become a pleasant constant around our house. He helped out with whatever he could and was polite to not only the members of the home but the help as well. It was until that point that he was completely welcome. But now Papa wasn't about to let him stay another moment among his kin, simply because of his beliefs. Robert's face was stricken with each harsh word that filtered through the wall, and as the voices rose, his spirits fell. I watched him carefully, saddened by the severity of his emotions. Despite our contrasting faiths, I couldn't bear to think of him getting hurt in a war he was in against his will. It was too hard. It had been with some heavy persuading that Jonnie had talked Papa into letting Robert stay the last duration of their leave, although I couldn't imagine anyone wanting to remain here after hearing first hand how unwelcome they were. On their last night home, as Jonnie packed, I sat in his room quietly, the silence almost deafening around us. I knew he wasn't mad at me, but the battle with our father shook him hard. I couldn't understand why it had even occurred in the first place, why Jonnie took the stand he did. The personality change was minuscule and almost undetectable, but I was almost positive that had this situation taken place before the war, Jonnie would have been on the opposite side. "Will he return to the front?" I asked cautiously and for the first time that night, he eased up his needless tension around me. He abandoned his packing for a moment and sat down on his bed next to me. "I told him that knowing Papa... It would just be best if he did return to the fight. Whether he will or not, I can't be sure. I guess I won't find out until we get to the station." He sighed, and put an affectionate hand on my shoulder, giving me a brave smile. "You haven't said much on the matter, and you're usually such a strong supporter of your South." I sighed, confused by my own feelings at that point. "I...I really don't know. I do support the south, and I always assumed that anyone who didn't was a complete traitor. But... I like Robert. I can't decide whether he's the traitor I would pin him as originally, or whether he's the nice man I've grown fond of the past few days." I said calmly, stating my true perplexity for the first time. Jonathan just stared behind me, almost as if he wasn't talking to me at all when he spoke. "Sometimes it isn't that easy. Things aren't always going to be so cut and dry." He sighed, and with a deep resignation returned to pack, and I was left more unfulfilled and unsatisfied than ever before. ***** We received a letter two weeks after Jonnie and Robert left our front porch with brave, false smiles and a small wave good-bye. It was small and filled with the usual indifferent news, but a heavy foreshadowing wore it down. Two days upon returning, in a place he didn't belong, in a battle he didn't believe in, Robert died, just as Jonnie alluded. Unheroic, unwilling and unhappy. ************************************ slr_europa@yahoo.com http://www.geocities.com/slr_europa/ AIM :: ropachan