Sarah: Happily Ever After

By Kay Salter

Meet Sarah.

The protagonist of the Sarah Bowers series was fashioned after my granddaughter, Sarah Rude. Sarah grew up in Beaufort, where her life revolved around family, church, and friends, with emphasis on faith in God and traditional family values.

Sarah graduated from Berklee College of Music in Boston, where she met her husband, Chris, also a graduate of Berklee. The couple, with Orville, their pet duck, live in Northridge, California.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496939838

Kay Salter

Kay Salter, a journalist and playwright, has written for the New York Times and Food & Wine, among other publications. She and her husband James, an author, live in Colorado and on Long Island. She is the co-writer of Life Is Meals: A Food Lover's Book of Days.

Book preview

42390.png

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2014 Kay Salter. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 9/29/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-3984-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-3985-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-3983-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014916640

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1 – Looking Back and Looking Forward

Chapter 2 – Catching Up Over Coffee

Chapter 3 – Sarah Signs a Contract

Chapter 4 – Sarah and Nancy Meet the New Preacher

Chapter 5 – Nancy Tells All

Chapter 6 – Mackie’s Decision

Chapter 7 – Sarah and Granny Jewel Disagree

Chapter 8 – Dinner at Aunt Miriam’s

Chapter 9 – Joshua Listens to Papa Tom

Chapter 10 – Daddy’s Surprise

Chapter 11 – Enter Michael

Chapter 12 – A Friend Returns

Chapter 13 – Fearless Judy Jones

Chapter 14 – Leland’s Chance Encounter

Chapter 15 – Cousin Marnie Drops In

Chapter 16 – Mackie’s Sacrifice

Chapter 17 – A Stranger at the Door

Chapter 18 – The Courtship

Chapter 19 – Sarah Visits Her House

Chapter 20 – Porter Asks Permission

Chapter 21 – Papa Tom Goes Shopping

Chapter 22 – The Rings

Chapter 23 – Wedding Finery

Chapter 24 – Serious Shopping

Chapter 25 – Plans and Preparations

Chapter 26 – The Bridal Gown

Chapter 27 – Off to School

Chapter 28 – From This Day Forward

Chapter 29 – Happily Ever After

Dedication

I lovingly dedicate this final book to all who have followed Sarah’s journey from braids to bridal veil.

Kay Salter

Gratitudes

A my Noe and Dot Piner may now breathe a sigh of relief. Their years of policing grammar and punctuation are over.

With the last book reaching its final stage and in full-blown muddle, Leslie Overby, cheered on by Jan Ramsey, spent hours rescuing scrambled chapters from the heartless gremlin that lives in my laptop.

Abigail Piner, with her computer expertise, enhanced the cover of Sarah: Happily Ever After.

Susan Schmidt, my bike-riding, kayak-paddling, flower- growing, bird-feeding and dog-loving pal I would never have known if it had not been for Sarah Bowers. Undaunted, Susan trimmed and polished Sarah: Happily Ever After. Bless her heart.

Isn’t it wonderful how God puts people in your path?

Foreword

M y whole life I have enjoyed hearing my grandmother’s stories. I’ve never known another person to have such a gift for narrative, captivating the attention of little school children and adults alike.

Years ago, when the Summer books came to life, they served as a collection of memories from a life long ago. What a creative way to preserve a story of Beaufort and its people, set in a distinct and nostalgic scene in history! I’ve always been delighted to have the protagonist as my namesake, reading the progression of her thoughts and life lessons not as my own, but as they could be for any young woman.

In this final book our heroine and beloved other characters realize their dreams and see the series to a soul-satisfying conclusion. Is it not bittersweet to arrive at the end of a journey such as this one? It brings the longing for an infinite continuation, but I suppose every good story needs its ending.

I will always cherish these books, as they will allow the memories of the past and the inspiration of my grandmother, Kay Salter to be with me and future generations always.

Now turn the pages and see Sarah Bowers off on her journey into life and true love.

Sarah

Sarah Noe Rude

July 22, 2014

Prologue

E leven years ago, armed with a cheap pen and used composition book, I settled myself in the front porch swing. I felt a need to record the many stories and remembrances I had been privy to during my life. My only regret is I didn’t pay closer attention when the ‘old folks’ were talking.

I grew up sitting at the feet of master storytellers of days gone by. There were the Whitehurst sisters on Moore Street who lovingly and respectfully shared heart-warming tales of town characters. Armed with a Coca-Cola in a green glass bottle wrapped tightly in a paper napkin, Mama and the ladies journeyed back to another time.

Sitting at Mrs. Mary Brooks’s kitchen table was an experience I treasured. If she wanted to share some tidbit my eager ears didn’t need to hear, she would narrow her eyes and between puffs from a Lucky Strike cigarette, say to my mother, Listen closely, Maggie. I’m going to have to talk between the lines.

My mother and grandmother were sources of endless tales that happened during generations past. Stories of courtship and marriage were particularly heartwarming. Tales of valor during the Yankee occupation were inspirational, proving troops conquered the town but not the people.

Growing up on Pivers Island would have been a solitary experience had it not been for developing an active imagination. Occasionally children from town would come to play and get caught up in make-believe castles, heroes, and horses, lots of horses. It didn’t matter that the magnificent four-legged beasts and their stable were actually broom handles propped against the cellar door. Not at any time did I fancy myself a beautiful fairy princess. My powers of imagery did have its limits.

I will always believe this series was inspired by God. He put the yearning to write in my heart. I held the pen and He moved it across the page.

Something Borrowed…

On a lovely day in 1961 Jewel Mitchell slipped a white wedding gown over her head. Every stitch had lovingly been fashioned by her mother and close friends. When the bride and groom left on their honeymoon, the gown was placed gently in a trunk for safe keeping. Fifty-three years later the gown was taken from storage.

In the summer of 2014, Christa Laxton waited as ladies carefully slipped the same delicate gown over her head. When ready, the photographer, Caroline Corwin took the photograph which would become the cover for Sarah: Happily Ever After.

My heartfelt thanks to Jewel Myers for years of being a good sport and a great pal.

Kay Salter

Chapter 1

Looking Back and Looking Forward

Y ou hurry right back now, you hear! said Sarah, her voice raised.

I will, Sarah, I will, assured Joshua, her sixteen-year-old brother. Don’t I always?

"Yes, you always manage to come back a little later each time," Sarah said, scrambling through the contents of her purse.

Joshua Bowers, same height as his older sister by six years, walked over and held out his hand for the keys to his sister’s car.

If I had gotten wheels for my sixteenth birthday, I wouldn’t need your old, outdated car, he mumbled.

Sarah paused and turned her head. Maybe if you graduate from high school with top honors, Mama and Daddy will see that you get a car too.

If that’s the case, I may have to borrow your fine automobile for years to come, replied Joshua with a sly grin.

Sarah reluctantly handed her brother the keys to her car that had been a present from her parents when she graduated high school. The sporty Ford Fairlane had given her four years of trouble-free service, as she traveled from home in Raleigh, North Carolina, to Greenville, to earn her degree in Early Childhod Education at East Carolina College.

Sarah stood, hands on her hips, and watched as Joshua backed her sunshine yellow Ford onto Glenwood Avenue, fearlessly dodging traffic and pedestrians. As he gunned the engine and roared out of sight, Sarah shook her head and turned toward the kitchen.

Mama, she called, much as she had done since early childhood.

I’m in the kitchen, making a list of things to pack for Beaufort, said Peggy Bowers, smiling at her daughter. The mother was sitting at the kitchen table, a bandana tied around her head. She had been attempting to keep dust out of her blonde curls as she gave the house a final cleaning. I don’t want to spend the summer in Beaufort with the nagging thought that I left a dirty house.

Sarah grinned and slid into a chair beside her mother, planting both elbows firmly on the sturdy oak table. Mama, how long do you think the house is going to stay clean with Daddy here alone? There will be three-months of dirty socks scattered around the house, plus newspapers and magazines.

Sarah, your father doesn’t have a three-month supply of socks.

If he is preoccupied with a problem at Bower’s Chemical Co., or working on some scientific formula, he will shower and put the same socks back on, and never know he did it. The only reason he doesn’t do it now is because you rush in and stuff his dirty clothes in the hamper. Sarah winked at her mother. Why, Daddy could probably get by all summer on three pairs of socks. Sarah patted her mother on the shoulder. I shudder to think what might be growing on dirty dishes he leaves in the sink for who knows how long.

Peggy Bowers slowly shook her head. It’s scary. Maybe we should hire a housekeeper for the summer.

Think of the cultures he could grow with a few petrie dishes. He might accidently stumble on a cure for polio. There could be the same green spores used in the drug, penicillin.

The mother looked doubtful. Maybe we should stay in Raleigh this summer and not go to Beaufort.

Not go to Beaufort? wailed Amy, Sarah’s nine-year-old sister, as she came into the room. Not see Granny Jewel and Papa Tom? I’ve been writing to my friend Laney all winter. We got lots of stuff planned.

Peggy put her arm around her younger daughter. Now don’t be upset, Amy. Nothing short of an earthquake could keep us from rolling up in your grandparent’s yard on Saturday.

Amy slid into the seat beside her mother. Once again, Sarah was amazed at the similarity between mother and younger daughter. Both had blue eyes and blonde curly hair. Only their chins were different. Amy definitely had their daddy’s chin. I guess I’m some kind of ‘throwback’ she decided. All the older people in Beaufort say I look like Granny Jewel’s mother, Frances.

Amy glanced sideways at her mother, giving her a sly smile. I could go today with Sarah. That would leave more room in the car for you and Joshua. Besides, she continued, pleading her case, "I don’t want to die young, especially this young."

Peggy, alarmed, looked at her younger daughter. Die? What are you talking about?

Amy’s lower lip protruded. Joshua is going to nag and beg to do the driving, and I know you’ll let him. I don’t trust his driving.

Their mother began to laugh, Amy’s face shifting from a pout to a full-blown scowl.

What’s so funny about not wanting to die, Mama?

A few short years ago, Joshua used the same argument when Sarah got her driver’s license. He was sure she would find a telephone pole that wouldn’t get out of her way. Peggy looked lovingly at her oldest child, now a grown woman, ready to face the world on her own. My, how time flies!

Amy looked around. Where is Joshua? Is he packing?

No, honey, replied Sarah. He borrowed my car to go to the drug store. He’ll be right back. Sarah paused. He better be right back. I need to get on the road.

Have you packed the car?

Yes, Mama. It won’t hold another thing. The trunk is filled with my summer and winter clothes. I put my record player and all my records on the back seat. My favorite books and a few from college I put on the floor of the back seat. Sarah closed her hand over her mother’s. Mama, if Amy wants my room, toss my high school stuff in a cardboard box and put it in the attic. Someday I’ll go through it and throw most of it away.

Amy’s room is perfectly adequate. Your room will stay the way you left it. Peggy squeezed her daughter’s hand. I hope you’ll change your mind and decide to teach in Raleigh. There are plenty of fine elementary schools right here, all needing teachers.

Sarah gave a deep sigh. Mama, we’ve been over this before. I want to live on the coast. I grew up in the city, and it holds no magic for me— too many people and too much concrete. I need to breathe salty sea air and bury my toes in creamy-white beach sand. Besides, I promised my grandparents when I finished school, I’d be back to live in Beaufort always. I promised them I’d be back in four years.

Sarah glanced at her watch. Where is that brother of mine? He said he had to make only one stop.

Sarah, he’s the right age for going to the other side of Raleigh to get an item you can find at the corner drug store. The mother lowered her pen and pushed her list to the middle of the table.

Sarah, I don’t mean to change the subject, but are you sure Michael agrees with you being in Beaufort?

Sarah looked at her mother and said slowly, Mama, you know Michael worked for two years and saved his money for graduate school. We have agreed to put wedding plans on hold until he completes his Master’s Degree.

Won’t you miss him terribly? If he’s starting classes next week at NC State, you won’t be able to see each other all summer. Have you thought about staying in Raleigh this summer?

Sarah’s eyes widened. I haven’t spent a summer in Beaufort in four years. Now that I have my degree, I’m not letting anything stand in the way of seeing my grandparents and eating Clara’s cooking. Besides, I’ll see him during the Fourth of July weekend.

He’ll have to stay at the Inlet Inn, because your grandparents’ house will be full.

If there are no rooms at the Inlet Inn, he can come some other time.

Peggy turned her head to one side and looked at her daughter. It doesn’t seem to bother you that he may not be able to join you on that long weekend.

Sarah smiled. Mama, last night Michael hinted he would be bringing something that would make our relationship ‘official.’

The mother clasped her hands together. "Oh, Sarah, it sounds like an engagement ring!"

Sarah returned her mother’s smile. I hope so, Mama. All my friends are wearing diamonds, and I feel a little bit left out. We’ve been dating two years, and it’s time I had a ring, too.

They heard the front door slam. That would be my wayward brother. It’s time I pointed my car east so I can get to Beaufort in time for one of Clara’s famous seafood suppers.

I’ll think about you when we sit down to a slice of meat loaf, laughed her mother, blinking back tears.

Sarah hurriedly hugged her little sister and brother, noting his pained expression toward her outward show of affection.

How about Daddy? You need to hug him goodbye, reminded Amy.

We had lunch together in his office, Amy. Over Chinese take-out, he spent at least thirty minutes giving me advice.

Amy looked surprised. You’re twenty-two years old. You shouldn’t have to mind adults. You are one, said Amy wistfully.

Sarah patted her little sister’s shoulder. Amy, when you become an adult, you should be wise enough to listen to good advice from others, especially your parents.

Oh, brother, said the young girl, repeating her older sister’s favorite expression. I guess I’ll be minding somebody the rest of my life.

Sarah, don’t forget to stop by Granny and Papa Bowers’ house and tell them goodbye.

Yes, Mama. She winked at Amy. See what I mean?

Sarah backed out of the driveway, filled with sadness. I have to get on the road, or I’m going to cry. Goodbyes are so awful! As she pulled away from the curb, she waved once more. I’m not going to look back. No sir! Ican picture all three, standing in the yard, wearing sorrowful expressions.

After telling her ‘Raleigh’ grandparents goodbye, Sarah soon left far behind the noise and heat of the city. Ahead was the asphalt ribbon of highway that would take her to Beaufort and her beloved grandparents. The breeze, pouring in the open windows, did little to alleviate the heat inside the car.

Bee Bop a Loo Lah, You’re my baby, sang a voice on the radio. The year was 1954, and be-bop music was on every radio station. Sarah propped one elbow on the open window, the other on the steering wheel, and mashed down on the accelerator. Ninety minutes later she was driving through downtown Kinston. Moving slowly through the traffic caused the interior of the car to become unbearably hot. She pulled over to the curb, parked in front of a drug store, and put a nickel in the parking meter. A rush of cool air was a welcome relief.

Yes, ma’am. What will it be? asked a teenager behind the soda fountain. He gave her a reckless grin and a broad wink. You’re new in town, aren’t you, Sweetie? I’d remember if I’d seen a ‘looker’ like you.

Sarah eased onto a shiny chrome stool with a red leather top.

I’d like a Coca-Cola, please, with plenty of ice.

In a flash, the soda was ready. I get off at eight o’clock. Why don’t you and me get together? The energetic young man placed both elbows on the narrow counter, inches from his pretty customer. Sarah inhaled the over-sweet odor of pomade which kept the young man’s hair firmly in place. We could get better acquainted. Again the young man bestowed a practiced wink on the lovely girl opposite him.

Sarah let the ice cold drink trickle down her dry throat. She paused, then turned her attention on the eager young man. Are you asking me for a date?

Sure, Sugar. Again the broad wink and practiced smile.

Squaring her shoulders, and trying to look stern, she replied, Don’t you know it’s unlawful for students to date school teachers?

"Teachers? Are you a teacher?"

Before she could answer, the clerk backed away, his rakish grin replaced with a look of disbelief.

I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean no disrespect.

Any disrespect, corrected Sarah.

The shocked young clerk moved quickly to the other end of the counter and busied himself wiping an imaginary spot.

Wow, thought Sarah, finishing her soda. Being a teacher is pretty powerful stuff. Students fear you, and adults respect you. Sarah grinned at her reflection in the huge mirror behind the milkshake mixer. Once more she shook her short curls. My hair looks just like Doris Day’s, especially the fluffy bangs. Sarah grinned at her reflection. When she stood to leave, the clerk, from a distance, nodded respectfully. Thank you, ma’am. Please come back again.

The two-door, yellow Ford sedan hummed along the narrow highway between Kinston and New Bern. On the radio, soft melodies had replaced the rhythmic be-bop music There had been little time for the young woman to plan the weeks of summer. Before graduation, she received an application for employment from Carteret County schools. She had painstakingly typed all answers on her college Underwood typewriter, making the application look more professional. Thank goodness I didn’t go to business school, she decided, remembering how tough it had been to keep letters on the lines and type words in tiny boxes. I remember the very moment I knew I wanted to be a teacher. It was my seventeenth summer, and I had taken Amy to the shore to play. I was standing in a shallow flounder hole at low tide and realized what I wanted to do with my life, and I’ve never changed my mind, not even once.

The wind from a bus passing on the other side of the highway jolted her back to the present. Someday, this road will have four lanes, and it won’t be a minute too soon, she said aloud. The familiar strains of ‘Blue Moon’ were playing on the radio. It reminded her of the time she and Nancy Russert had been sitting in the soda shop on campus. Sarah turned up the volume, filling the car with the haunting melody. It had been after Christmas of her junior year. She had completed her basic college courses and finished her electives. Starting spring quarter, her classes would all be methods courses. She would be taught how to teach.

Sarah remembered how meaningful the classes had been. After years of sitting in class, she was at last able to teach students under the careful eye of a classroom teacher.

As she neared the coast, Sarah thought of Nancy, her friend from Beaufort. They had been close friends since they were twelve. Nancy’s lifelong dream to be a concert pianist was not to be realized. Dedication, determination, and years of hard work were no match for talent. If I can’t be the very best concert pianist, then I’ll be the very best public school music teacher. I will teach in a big city, and attend at least one concert every week, plus all the free ones.

Nancy had been the best music major at East Carolina College their four years. Her top grades and ambition had won her awards and honors. She packed after graduation with several job offers from school systems across the state.

A brisk breeze off the Neuse River offered a promise of cooler air. As Sarah crossed the bridge leaving New Bern, she realized there were only thirty-six miles to go. Her foot grew heavy on the gas petal in her eagerness to see loved ones.

Once more, the scenery became boring as she passed field after field of newly planted corn and tobacco. Her thoughts turned to Michael, and a slow smile played around the corner of her lips. She had been studying for a midterm in Joyner library. Sitting across from her was a handsome young man she had seen on campus several times. He had dark hair and dark brown eyes. It was hard to concentrate on her studies. Every time she looked up, he was staring at her and not trying to disguise it. Finally, he said, Hi. My name is Michael Noel.

Hi, yourself, said Sarah, in the great room where talking was forbidden.

They had started seeing each other occasionally on weekends, then every weekend. By spring break they were going steady, and by her senior year, Sarah and Michael talked of a future together after both finished school. Although two years older, Michael was still in school studying for a Master’s degree in business. My parents were willing to send me, but there are younger brothers and sisters still at home. I told my parents to save their money and help them go to college.

Sarah smiled. That was so like Michael, always thinking of others. It had been his gentleness that had won her heart. Several times he had mentioned going to seminary after college. I’ll gladly go, if I feel the Lord is calling me.

Sarah remembered her reply. Michael, I’m not sure I’m good enough to be the wife of a preacher, she told him one evening sitting in the well-lit parlor of Cotton Hall.

That’s perfect, Sarah, he had replied. With that attitude, God can mold you like clay. If you think you’re perfect, God may decide you’re overqualified, he said with a grin. At that moment, Cousin Marnie popped into Sarah’s mind. Would God use someone like her? Marnie had always worshipped at the shrine of ‘Marnie,’ her every thought centered on herself.

Why are you grinning, Sarah?

"Oh, Michael, You’re going to be so surprised when you meet my cousin Marnie."

From the Morehead City bridge Sarah could see the wide expanse of water leading to Beaufort Inlet and the open ocean. A freighter, flying a flag from a foreign country was berthed at the port terminal. The breeze, now cool and damp, flowed through the car. In the distance, the Outer Banks crouched in the cool blue-green water of the Atlantic Ocean, sentinels protecting the mainland.

Sarah crossed the causeway in record time. When her tires hummed across the smaller bridge leading into Beaufort, Sarah waved. Hello, beautiful Beaufort! I’m back, and I’m here to stay!

Moments later, she drove into her grandparents’ driveway on Ann Street. A white-haired gentleman was sitting on the front porch of the graceful, Victorian home. He leapt from the chair and rushed to the front door. Jewel, Clara, she’s here! Sarah’s here! He spun around and hurried down the steps as Sarah stepped from the car. Tom Mitchell enveloped his oldest grandchild in his arms. I’ve been sitting in that chair three days waiting for you.

There you go, telling tall tales, said a tall, thin woman in her seventies. Are you going to let me hug our girl, or not?

"I’m so glad to see you, Granny Jewel, said Sarah, inhaling the delicate odor of lilac and lavender she remembered from her childhood. She stood back and announced, I’m here to stay. There will be no more goodbyes. I am making Beaufort my home."

Papa Tom once more enveloped his granddaughter in a fierce embrace, while the grandmother wiped tears of happiness with the corner of her apron.

They turned and walked slowly toward the house. The screen door opened and a woman wearing an apron with splashes of white flour on the front called, Is that my baby child, come to see her old Clara?

Sarah broke from her grandparents and hurried up the steps. "Clara, I can never count the ways I have missed you! For four years, every time I bit into a light fluffy biscuit, I