The Fragrance of Her Name

Description

The stranger gasped, released her hand, and demanded angrily, “Who are you? What kind of trick is this?”

“Sir, I assure you . . . I’m only here to help. My name is Lauryn Kensington. I’m bound for my home in Franklin, and I only—” she stammered.

“Kensington? Franklin?” he mumbled, seeming confused. Then much to her dismay, he began tugging at the lighter patch that protected one eye.

“Sir, please! I meant you no harm! I only wanted . . .” Lauryn began, tears unexpectedly filling her eyes and threatening to spill.

He took her chin firmly in one hand, his thumb traveling caressively and rather intimately over her soft lips as he whispered, “Who am I?” She felt the moist tenderness of the soldier’s lips caress her own in the softest, rather saddest of kisses . . . The sensation of his lips meeting with hers, however brief, was almost unendurably perfect.

Then he pressed his unshaven cheek to her own soft one and whispered quietly into her ear, “The only person alive who understands exactly what you’re looking for.”