The Anniversary (Christian Romance)

by Samantha Jillian Bayarr

  THE ANNIVERSARY

  Revised Edition

  WRITTEN BY

  SAMANTHA JILLIAN BAYARR

  Copyright © 2012 by Samantha Jillian Bayarr

  Cover/internal design by Livingston Hall Publishers

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form either written or electronically without the express permission of the author or publisher.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and are therefore used fictitiously. Any similarity or resemblance to actual persons; living or dead, places or events is purely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.

  All brand names or product names mentioned in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names, and are the sole ownership of their respective holders. Livingston Hall Publishers is not associated with any products or brands named in this book.

  Samantha Jillian Bayarr

  The Anniversary

  Contains two chapters of

  Historical Romance,

  A Sheriff’s Legacy: Book One

  CHAPTER 1

  “Sadie, girl,” a familiar voice called out.

  Fear rippled through Sadie like ice water slowing the blood flow in her veins.

  Her mother had been the only one to ever call her that, and she’d been dead for seven years.

  In the dark, she could hear people shuffling around while teenage girls screamed. Sadie hadn’t remembered seeing any young girls at the party when she and Sam walked into the country club.

  “Sadie, girl. Where are you?”

  Sadie’s pulse raced. That was indeed her mother’s voice, but how could that be? Her heart beat fast at the thought of it.

  She struggled to see as lightning flashed, illuminating the room for a few seconds. Thunder rumbled, and more screams interrupted the silent, slow-motion of her thoughts.

  Just minutes ago, she’d been on the dance floor arguing with her husband, Sam, about whose fault it was that their marriage had fallen apart. She’d told him she wished they could go back fifty years ago to the night they met to prove which of them had asked the other to dance in the first place. And then lightning flashed brighter than she’d even seen, thunder rattled the building like an earthquake. The power had gone out, and she couldn’t see anything in the country club.

  What was happening?

  “Sadie, girl. Where are you?” her mother’s voice called out to her again.

  Sadie’s heart beat so loudly, she could hear it beating among the chaos, but her feet wouldn’t move.

  Someone bumped into her and grasped her arm.

  “Sadie Marie, your momma’s calling you. You better answer her before she grounds you.”

  “Who’s there?” Sadie’s weak voice trembled as she spoke.

  “It’s me, Eleanor. Your best friend, silly.”

  Eleanor had passed away almost a year ago from complications after she broke her hip. What was going on? Was this some sort of cruel anniversary joke Sam was playing on her? And where was Sam? Why wasn’t he beside her? Hadn’t they just been dancing before the lightning knocked the power out?

  Maybe I was struck by the lightning and I’m passed out dead on the floor, or this is one very realistic dream. God, please be with me. I’m scared.

  “Sadie Marie Hall, answer me this minute.”

  Eleanor nudged her arm. “Sadie, you better answer your momma. She used your full name.”

  “But my mother couldn’t possibly be calling me because she’s dead. And my last name isn’t Hall anymore. It’s Livingston.” The words came out slowly, as Sadie struggled to make some sense of what was happening.

  Lightning flashed again, and Sadie nearly passed out when she saw young Eleanor standing next to her.

  Eleanor steadied her friend. “That’s not funny to say your mother’s dead. And your name is Sadie Marie Hall. Has been your entire life. You’re not supposed to change your name until you get married, silly.”

  “But I am married. I’ve been married to Sam for fifty years. We have two children.”

  “That’s impossible. You’re only going to be eighteen next week. You’re too young to be married, and most certainly too young to be a momma.”

  Sadie was growing impatient with this practical joke. “I’m going to be sixty-eight next week not eighteen!”

  “Very funny, Sadie. My grandmother is that old, and she tells me all the time how much she hates it, so why would you want to be so quick to go from being a teenager to being over the hill?”

  Sadie put her hand to her stomach thinking she was going to be sick. “I’m so thin! What happened to me? And why is my skirt so short?”

  Before they’d left the house for their anniversary party, Sadie and Sam had each surprised each other by wearing a remake of the outfits they’d worn on their first date, hoping it would rekindle a spark in their otherwise estranged relationship. They’d even had the idea to recreate the scene at the country club for their fiftieth wedding anniversary party. She’d felt old and frumpy as she’d stared at her reflection in the vintage clothes, but now that seemed to have changed.

  Eleanor pulled on Sadie’s arm. “I think you need to sit down for a minute. You must have bumped your head when the lights went out.”

  In the background, she could still hear her mother somewhere in the dark room, asking repeatedly if anyone had seen her. No one seemed to be answering her.

  Sadie plopped down hard in a wooden folding chair. She placed a hand on the chair, realizing she was no longer in the country club. They didn’t have wooden folding chairs in the ballroom; they had red, velvet cushioned chairs, and the round tables had table cloths. The table she leaned her arm on now was wooden.

  “Am I dead? Is that why I’m able to see you, and hear my mother? Where are we?”

  She felt the goose bumps on her arms, noticing how thin her arms felt.

  “We’re at the Fruitport Pavilion. We came straight over from graduation. Don’t you remember?”

  That was where she’d met Sam—the night she’d graduated from Marywood Academy. She had planned to go to college at the end of the summer, but she’d met Sam and married him instead.

  “That was fifty years ago. The Fruitport Pavilion burned down Christmas Eve of ’62.”

  “That’s a year and a half from now, Sadie. You aren’t making any sense. You must have bumped your head harder than I thought. I’ll get your dad. He’ll know what to do.”

  Sadie grabbed Eleanor’s arm. “My father shouldn’t be here—wherever here is. He’s still alive?”

  Eleanor sat down beside her. “Do you think I’m dead, too?”

  “I sat by your hospital bed after your surgery and…”

  As the lightning flashed, she could see the panic in her young friend’s eyes, and she just couldn’t bring herself to say another word.

  “Maybe we should just sit here quietly until the lights come back on. Are you dizzy or anything?”

  Sadie put a hand to her head to feel if there were any bumps. “I think I’m fine. But maybe you’re right and we should just sit here for a minute and think.”

  Off in the distance, a siren could be heard—but it sounded funny. Almost the same as it would have when she was a young girl. It wasn’t a modern sounding siren; it was way too old-fashioned. Through the windows, she could see flashes of the white, station wagon ambulance pull up to the building while the lightning flickered in the dark. The large, round light on the roof hypnotized Sadie as it flashed its red light through the windows

  Eleanor gave her arm a squeeze. “Are you sure you’re fine,
because you’re being way too quiet.”

  I’m probably dead, but other than that I’m fine.

  Sadie turned to her friend. “What year is it?”

  Eleanor nudged her. “It’s 1961. The same as it was when you woke up this morning, silly.”

  Sadie Marie could feel the blood draining from her face. “Eleanor, I know you’re not going to believe me, but when I woke up this morning, it was the year 2011!”

  Eleanor laughed. “That’s impossible. We will be living on the moon by then. The astronauts are planning a trip to the moon, and LIFE Magazine says we could be living on the moon in the future.”

  Sadie had to interrupt her. “Trust me when I tell you that we will not be living on the moon in the future, but I can’t talk about this now; I have to find Sam.”

  “Oh yeah; your husband.” Eleanor rolled her eyes.

  Sadie couldn’t worry about the disbelief in Eleanor’s tone. She had to find Sam quickly so she could put an end to this nightmare.

  Eleanor followed closely on her heels as she waded carefully through the crowd calling out for Sam.

  “Sadie, girl, is that you?” her mother was calling her each time she called out for Sam, her voice growing near.

  “Not now, Mother,” Sadie surprised herself by spouting off in such a tone. “I have to find Sam, and I will deal with you later since I’m only imagining you.”

  “Sadie Marie Hall, you come here this minute or…”

  Sadie continued to push through the crowd, her mother on her heels. “Or what, Mother? You’ll ground me until I’m eighteen? Well you’re too late for that!”

  She is not real. Do not turn around. Just keep walking so you can find Sam and get out of this nightmare.

  Sadie moved further into the crowd, continuing to call out to Sam.

  “He’s over here,” a young boy’s voice rang out from the crowd.

  Sadie moved quickly toward the sound of the voice, until the lights suddenly came on. Sadie froze when she saw young Sam being lifted onto the stretcher, blood staining the side of his face. In the background, she could hear muffled sounds of the crowd around her cheering as they patted a maintenance man on the shoulder for restoring the lights. She scanned the room, realizing she was in the Fruitport Pavilion instead of the country club. Nearly losing her footing, she stumbled backward into a chair.

  One of the paramedics looked up at her. “Are you hurt, Miss?”

  Miss? I’m old enough to be your mother.

  She pointed to Sam, who was lying lifelessly on the stretcher, his thick hair devoid of any gray. Short sideburns graced the side of his youthful face, his chin resting on the narrow lapel of his suit. His thin, black tie lay crumpled on the floor, and Sadie bent down to pick it up.

  “Is Sam dead?”

  “No, Miss. He’s unconscious, so we need to get him to the hospital. He probably has a concussion. You say his name is Sam? Do you know his last name and birth date?”

  Sadie lifted herself from the chair; her legs still feeling wobbly. “His last name is Livingston and he’d be eighteen now. His birthday was March fifteen. I have to go with him.”

  One of the paramedics held a hand up to stop her.

  “I’m sorry Miss, but only family can go with him.”

  “I’m his wife!”

  Both paramedics looked her over and snickered.

  “You two aren’t old enough to be married. Move aside so we can get this boy to the hospital.”

  Tears filled Sadie’s eyes as she watched the paramedics cart Sam away, leaving her there like she was unimportant.

  Eleanor grabbed her arm. “How do you know so much about that boy? He doesn’t go to our school, so how do you know him when I know nothing about it?”

  Sadie felt numb. She couldn’t answer her friend any more than she could run after the paramedics and insist she go to the hospital with Sam. She could sense her mother was right behind her.

  “Sadie girl, there you are. Why didn’t you stop when I was calling you?” Her mother’s voice was so close she could feel her breath on the back of neck.

  Sadie hesitated before turning to face her mother. Feeling truly afraid she might faint at the sight of her dead mother, she took a deep breath, and then another before facing her.

  Panic rose up in Sadie’s throat as she looked at her mother’s feet; they were so dainty in her pointed-toe stilettos. Her thin legs were wrapped in thick stockings—not sheer like modern pantyhose. The conservative, brown-tweed dress rested just below her knees; the buttoned front adorned with a cream-colored collar. Her deep auburn hair touched her shoulders, flipping upward at the ends, and her roots had been teased to give it height. Slight creases framed her smile, and her youthful face showed a hint of freckles most likely the result of time spent in her flower garden.

  Sadie’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of her mother. She looked so young it nearly took her breath away.

  “Sadie girl, are you okay?”

  Sadie allowed tears to fall from her eyes, not daring to blink, for fear her mother would disappear. Her mother pulled her toward her, and she threw herself into her mother’s arms, crying uncontrollably.

  “It’s so good to see you again, mom.”

  Memories of her mother in her younger years flooded Sadie’s mind as she breathed in the gentle scent of Jean Nate on her mother’s collar. It was a comforting smell that had always stayed with her.

  “I’ve been here the whole night,” her mother said as she smoothed back Sadie’s hair. “This was obviously not the kind of celebration we had in mind for your graduation, so let’s get you home and into bed.”

  Graduation? I’m just happy to see you again—even if you’re not real. But home sounds really good right now because I’m not ready to let you go just yet.

  CHAPTER 2

  Sadie stirred just a little, trying to hold onto the vivid memory of her mother before she woke fully. Her head ached at the thought of the nightmare she’d had, even though some parts of her dream were very pleasant. She could still smell the faint aroma of her mother’s perfume as she rolled over in her bed. She kept her eyes closed, allowing the scent to linger in her memory for as long as she could keep it there. The sting of reality was more than she could handle. She wasn’t ready to lose her mother all over again, and she knew it was eminent the moment she opened her eyes to the present.

  The scent of fresh coffee drifted through her nostrils, and she could almost hear the faint sound of her mother’s percolator brewing. She pushed her head under the pillow, trying to drown out the sound she knew was only in her head. She was fully awake, and still hadn’t opened her eyes for fear that her reality was not what she wanted it to be at the moment. In her head she knew Sam was brewing the coffee, but her heart wanted so much for it to be her mother.

  Oh mom, I didn’t realize I was still missing you so much. God, please don’t take her away from me a second time.

  Taking a chance, she opened her eyes slowly, filtering the sunlight through her long eyelashes. As her childhood room came into focus, her heart slammed against her chest wall. Sadie tried to blink away the realization of where she was, but she couldn’t make it go away. Her heartbeat pounded so loudly, she could hear nothing else. She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath.

  Just breathe. Let me think about this for a minute. I must still be dreaming. Or I could be dead. Of course I could be having a bad reaction to medication. Or I could be dead. There has to be a logical explanation for why I’m in my room at my parent’s house. I must be dead.

  Sadie sat up in the bed and opened her eyes again, willing herself to accept whatever the situation was. Her hand fell to the chenille bedspread as she looked at her collection of records next to her record player on the metal cart beside her vanity dressing table. She craned her neck to get a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the dressing table, and nearly fell off the bed. She sprang from the bed, her focus on her face. She moved in closer to the image staring back at her in the
mirror, her reflection startling. Instinctively, her hand went to her face as she surveyed her smooth skin. Not one wrinkle invaded her face, and her hair, though messy, did not contain even one gray strand.

  She giggled madly, wondering if she blinked would her reflection turn old again. Testing her theory, she closed her eyes, the memory of her younger self taunting her. Sadie took a deep breath and counted to three, hoping that would be enough. When she opened her eyes, she was delighted to see the eighteen-year-old version of herself staring back at her.

  Less than thirty-six hours ago she’d stared at her older self in the mirror wearing a tailor-made replica of this same outfit. Remembering how foolish she’d felt wearing the pencil skirt that clung to her ample figure, she could only admire how much thinner she looked in it now. Sure the linen skirt was badly wrinkled from sleeping in it, but she’d been too tired to worry past collapsing on the bed when her parents had brought her home last night.

  Her mind drifted to events that led up to the point when she’d changed and become young again. While waiting for Sam to come home on the night of their fiftieth wedding anniversary, she’d looked at her watch seven times in the span of five minutes, wondering why he couldn’t manage to make it home early just one night. It had angered her that he disregarded her the way he had in recent years, always putting her needs last. She’d made a mental list of things she would do over again if given the chance. She’d actually wished—prayed for a do-over.

  When they’d arrived at the country club, she was delighted to see that he’d taken the time to have the ballroom decorated to match the Fruitport Pavilion on the pier at Spring Lake. The place where they’d first met, and shared their first dance. But it wasn’t enough to make up for her feelings of estrangement toward him for so many years. They’d argued over which one of them had asked the other to dance. And just before the lights went out, they’d both said that they wished they could go back to that night and undo their first meeting.