Seabreeze and Sweet Dreams

By Mary Ann Barnard

SEABREEZE AND SWEET DREAMS introduces the reader to Carrie, a young widow who has finished her education and is about to begin a new career as a professor. She accepts an invitation to spend the summer on Seabrook Island, South Carolina from her college roommate.While on the Island she meets a young man from South of Broad in Charleston.Carrie must navigate this very new world and her very new feelings for a new man in her life.the story takes the reader on a wonderful journey through the conflicting worlds of South of Broad and "Off".

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hillcrest Media Group
• Release date: Aug 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781634137614

Book preview

EPILOGUE

Prologue

Carrie Brocton remembered every detail. How could she ever forget? At 6:25 on June 6th, she rushed to clear a spot on her coffee table for her Lean Cuisine and Diet Pepsi. She shifted piles of notes and papers from one corner of the table and perched them atop the stacks of books at the other corner. Just in time! Perhaps if she watched Peter Jennings for a half hour, and snuck in Jeopardy, her mind might get a rest from the labyrinth of notes for her dissertation. Dissertation Ha! She’d been working on it for a whole year, and she still had to wade through those mounds of background books before she tackled most of the primary source stuff. She wondered if she’d ever finish. Weston University had been great in giving her a teaching assistant’s job – it sure helped the bank balance to stay afloat – but the job took much more time than Carrie had bargained for.

Although most days she was excited about delving into colonial literature of the Quakers, on other days she wondered how long she could endure the picky, picky attention to one tiny corner of the academic world.

Of course, Carrie would rather have gone to California with Jim. The conference was a big deal for him, and she had wanted to share in his happiness and pride. Presenting his paper at the Pacific region’s Association of Economics Professors would be a great boost for his career. After all, he’d only been teaching at Weston for three years.

But since Carrie was still a starving student and Jim was paying off his enormous loans, they had decided to forego the expense of proud spouse-in-tow. They had already spent more than they should have going to Charleston last Christmas for Elaina’s wedding. Being Matron-of Honor was not cheap. Their budget still hadn’t recovered and that was almost six months ago.

Whew! It was hot this early June evening. The fan was making such a racket Carrie jumped up to turn up the volume on the TV Jim’s parents had given them. Not only was it without a remote, it was black and white. Jim took pride in being the last person, he knew of who had shunned color TV.

Peter Jennings’ face appeared, graver than usual.

Late this afternoon, at 4:34 Central Daylight Time, a 747 Trans-American plane, flight 7254, bound for San Francisco from Philadelphia, with 178 passengers and a crew of 7 aboard, crashed in Simpson, Missouri, a suburb of St. Louis, after takeoff. Officials fear that there will be few, if any, survivors of the fiery accident. The pilot apparently was able to avoid most of the more populated areas and the plane crashed in the ball fields of the Paul A. Simpson Memorial Park. Joggers and walkers on the nearby track said that they heard the violent noise and saw a fireball after the hit. If the crash had been an hour later, the park’s fields would have been filled with Little Leaguers and their parents. We take you now, live to the scene of the crash…

Carrie watched Peter Jennings face fade into a scene so horrible, so overwhelming, her chest tightened and she could barely breathe. She almost passed out. No, it couldn’t be Jim’s plane. There must be some mistake. Peter did say the plane was from Philadelphia. Oh, no, dear God…Jim had complained about the stopover at St. Louis, but it was the cheapest way to the coast, and he had to stop instead of going straight through. Could it be? No. Of course not. Things like this happened to other people.

Carrie ran frantically to the refrigerator, where Jim had put a note with his flight number and arrival time in San Francisco, along with the hotel name and phone number where the conference was being held.

The phone rang. It was Jim’s mother, crying hysterically. No. No, Carrie wasn’t sure it was the same plane. Had she heard the flight number? No? Neither had Carrie. After all, a lot of planes fly from Philadelphia to San Francisco. That’s right. Of course. But Jim was on a Trans-American plane. And he did have that stopover in St. Louis. Oh no, dear God, the timing would have been about right. Yes, but we haven’t heard from the airline. It must be another plane. Yes, why not have Dad Brockton call the airline. Carrie gave Mom Brockton the flight number Jim had left. She hung up the phone and went back to the TV. But, Peter was talking about the latest problems in Lebanon. So much for the crash. It must have been another plane. It couldn’t have been Jim’s.

God, had it only been this morning that they had driven Jim’s Dodge Colt to the airport, kissed goodbye once more, outside the terminal, wishing then that they had been foolish enough to be leaving together.

Carrie had cried a little as she drove through the maze of airport roads, finding at last the route to the Schuylkill expressway. By the time she had reached their tiny apartment over a Lancaster Pike store in Berwyn, she had forced herself out of her lonely, blue mood and into a "put this time into good use mode. She had accomplished a terrific afternoon of work. Now, the notes on the table seemed remote.

As the phone rang, Carrie forced herself to admit the truth. She had known all along. Life, for her, was over.

CHAPTER ONE

Carrie ran down the stairs, opened the storage shed door, and wheeled the bike off the concrete pad into the driveway. She glanced back and caught a view of the dunes of the corner of Arthur Canfields’s big beach house. Sea grass bent in the almost constant island breeze. A trio of pelicans glided by, their graceful forms silhouetted against the blue Carolina sky.

She laughed. Since college it had always been her native Tarheel friend ,Elaina Canfield , who proudly boasted that Carolina Blue was truly the sky’s color. Here on Seabrook Island it did seem as clear and intense as it had on Franklin Street.

Carrie knew that she had come to love that blue. Goodness! How long had it been since she’d noticed the sky anywhere? Maybe it was a good idea – coming here for the summer.

Carrie maneuvered her skirt, tucking it around her so that it wouldn’t get caught in the spokes or chain. By the time she rode to the Bohicket Marina, the skirt would be quite crimped and rumpled. No one would notice, however, crushed and crumpled was in.

Carrie had been intending to ride a bike to work since she arrived a week ago, mostly for the exercise. At Weston, she had ridden her bike everywhere on campus. But since coming to Seabrook, she’d been running late every day. She had to drive Jim’s Colt – no her Colt now.

She could barely think of it as hers, even after two years. Today, the car was at a service station up on Maybank Highway, hopefully having some pep and vigor pumped into it. Jim’s insurance would have covered a new car, but Carrie hadn’t yet been able to part with the memories. Maybe in the fall, once she established the new Carrie. It might be a new setting.

As she headed the bike out to Seabrook Island Road, Carrie tried to decide which way to go: right, up across Cap’n Sam’s Creek or left, around by the Beach Club. She’d never clocked it, but the house seemed about halfway around the island either way.

She opted to go right. The sun washed bright green color on the tall grass blades, clumped knee-deep in the dark mud of the marshes. As she rode up the incline and away from the beach road, she spotted several snowy egrets dotting the marsh landscape.

Carrie loved this island, with its dune and marsh vistas, its twisted live oaks hung with silver swags of Spanish moss, and its yaupons and palmettos adding lushness to the scene. She had fallen in love with all of it when she had visited her roommate, Elaina three of her four college summers.

Once she had returned to Pennsylvania, she had forgotten Seabrook. She met and married Jim Brockton, studied for her doctorate and worked at Weston University. In fact, the only time Carrie had returned to South Carolina was as Matron of Honor in Elaina’s wedding, two years ago. During that brief visit, she and Jim had stayed in Charleston, not having time to drive out to the island.

Jim’s family had been Pocono people, so she and Jim, on their academic vacations had travelled economically to the family cabin in the mountains.

When Elaina had suggested that Carrie spend the summer here, helping her at SEA SPIRIT GALLERY, Carrie hesitated. She knew Elaina was trying to get her away from the routine with which she had cloaked herself since Jim had been taken from her.

Elaina’s soft Southern voice and iron will sounded in Carrie’s head as she rode over the little bridge across the creek. Carrie Brockton, don’t you dare say no. I’m tired of you saying no. And I really DO need your help this year.

When Elaina had said that she and her husband, Bill Denton, needed to spend more time together, Carrie had the notion that Elaina really meant what she said.

What about your privacy, Elaina? You said you need time together and here you are inviting a third party. It doesn’t sound private to me.

Nonsense! That apartment is perfect. You know I thought that the guest apartment was a ridiculous idea when Papa first built here. After all, we had so many guest rooms in the house – and why would anyone want to be away from all the fun of the house? But such an arrangement will work out just fine, Carrie. You’ll have your privacy too, and you can join us whenever you need to. It would be such fun to have you around. Just like old times.

I’ll have to leave in the middle of August, Elaina."

You know that I only keep the store open part of the year. In late August business slows down and I close up completely come the end of October. It’s the summer weeks, when we’re open until 10:30 that I really need you. Besides, it’ll be so good for you to have a change of scene.

Still, Carrie hadn’t agreed. During these past four years, Elaina had been up to Pennsylvania several times. But Carrie had never felt free enough to make the trip to South Carolina: Besides, that was a different part of her life, pre Jim, and pre graduate school. These past years at Weston – finishing her doctorate and working part time, had been comforting somehow, even though a painful continuation of her life with Jim.

Carrie was excited when she was hired by American University and would begin in Washington in September. She had, of course, felt a little guilt about leaving. The administration at Weston had been great to her. The past May, when she had finally received her doctorate, they had offered her a tenure-track position.

As the pressures of finishing her academic work eased, Carrie had come to realize that Jim’s memory seemed even more immediate and painful. She knew that memories were not enough comfort. Weston was Jim’s place. She must move on.

So here she was, on her way to Bohicket Marina to be afternoon and evening manager at Elaina’s SEA SPIRIT GALLERY which also sold books and Charleston products for tourists and the residents that live on the island.

.Carrie knew she should be riding to the right of the road, but there weren’t any cars in sight or hearing, so she had headed the bike to the center. Suddenly, a roar from behind her and she felt the approach of what sounded like a jeep with a harsh horn blaring. Carrie muttered her favorite admonition and edged the bike to the right. Her front wheel hit a small stone and suddenly, Carrie and the bike went flying off the road and onto the edge where the grassy shoulder drops off into the marsh. Carrie and the bike tangled, leaving her right leg bleeding. Terrified at the thought of what wildlife lay lurking in the water she tried to untangle herself.

That jerk was probably long gone. He must have been really travelling!.

Are you all right? Here, let me help you out of that mess.

Carrie looked up and saw a golden figure posed against the late afternoon sky.

I’d appreciate your help. Some idiot just ran me off the road. Carrie tried to twist herself from the bike.

"Well, I guess you think I’m an idiot, but you were in the middle