Skirting Tradition Read online

  SKIRTING TRADITION BY KAY MOSER

  Published by Heritage Beacon Fiction

  an imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas

  2333 Barton Oaks Dr., Raleigh, NC, 27614

  ISBN: 978-1-9460-16-03-4

  Copyright © 2017 by Kay Moser

  Cover design by Elaina Lee

  Interior design by AtriTex Technologies P Ltd

  Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at: ShopLPC.com

  For more information on this book and the author visit: www.kaymoser.com

  All rights reserved. Noncommercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, provided the text does not exceed 500 words. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “Skirting Tradition by Kay Moser published by Heritage Beacon Fiction. Used by permission.”

  Commercial interests: No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.

  Scripture quotations from The Authorized (King James) Version. Rights in the Authorized Version in the United Kingdom are vested in the Crown. Reproduced by permission of the Crown’s patentee, Cambridge University Press.

  Brought to you by the creative team at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas:

  Eddie Jones, Ann Tatlock, Katie Vorreiter, Brian Cross, Shonda Savage, Paige Boggs

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Moser, Kay.

  Skirting Tradition / Kay Moser 1st ed.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Books by Kay Moser

  Aspiring Hearts Series

  Skirting Tradition

  Ruffling Society

  Fashioning the Future (releasing in 2019)

  Celebration! Series

  Celebration!

  Glimpse of Splendor

  Charleston Series

  Counterfeit Legacy

  David’s Gift

  Dedication

  To the women who came before us,

  fought for us, exhorted us, encouraged us,

  and cheered when we soared.

  CONTENTS

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  Acknowledgments

  My gratitude to the Hearties (the fans of When Calls the Heart) is immeasurable. When you stepped up to support faith-friendly, family-friendly entertainment, I discovered that I was not alone in that fight. I gained 35,000+ sisters who would stand with me to demand decency in entertainment. You have encouraged me to keep writing, to keep honoring the calling which God has given me. Thank you!

  Brian Bird, thank you for refusing to give up, for believing and working until When Calls the Heart was televised. You are my hero.

  Thank you, dear KATies (Kay’s Advance Team) for your faithful, enthusiastic support of my previous novels and for sharing in the creation of Skirting Tradition. It is a joy to have you in my life.

  Diana Flegal, my agent extraordinaire, has believed in Sarah’s story from the beginning. More than that, she has believed in me. Thank you for second chances, Diana, and for your amazing heart for Jesus.

  Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas graced me with my dream team of editors. Ann Tatlock, my imprint editor, is a talented novelist herself and the perfect director for me. Katie Vorreiter has worked tirelessly and on many occasions extended special grace to me. Thank you both!

  I am eternally grateful to Chan Strong, Jan Childs, and Lou Beasley for ongoing friendship. You have loved me just as I am, supported me in my creativity, given me many hours of great companionship, and even dragged me away from the computer when I needed a break. Thank you!

  Last, but most important—I am nothing without God. He made me; He gifted me; He has supplied my every need, including my eternal salvation through Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. To God be the glory for the things He has done!

  A Gift for You

  Thank you for investing in this book. As a thank you, LPC Books would love to offer you advance review Kindle copies of our forthcoming books. These Kindle ebooks will be delivered to your Kindle reader. We release around 40 books a year. You pick which ones you wish to receive. Visit the link below to sign up for our FREE Kindle ebook subscriber list:

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  CHAPTER 1

  Fall 1895

  “It don’t make no sense to educate a girl, Sally.” Pa slammed his empty coffee cup on the farmhouse kitchen table. “No sense at all.”

  “But, Pa, if the boys get to go to school—”

  “Boys need some book learning. They might make something of themselves. You ain’t gonna do nothing but get married and have babies.”

  “I’m going to do a lot more! I’m not like Mama and the other girls. I want—”

  “Blaznivy! Crazy talk. Marriage and children—that’s why women were made, and you gotta accept that. You’re gonna be seventeen soon, and you’ll be ready to marry. And ain’t no man gonna want a girl that’s smarter than he is.”

  “But I don’t want to marry, Pa! I want to be called by my Christian name, Sarah. I want to be Miss Sarah Novak, schoolteacher.”

  “It’s settled, girl! You’re gonna be just plain Sally. We gotta keep up the mortgage payments on this farm, and we need cash money to do that. So starting today, you’re gonna work for Mrs. Bellows until you marry one of the Sykora boys. Now get breakfast on the table. It’s almost dawn, and I gotta go rouse the boys.”

  Sarah shoved the biscuits into the oven, but the minute Pa disappeared, she raced to the front door and flung it open. Desperate for fresh air, she ran to the edge of the porch and searched the heavens for the comfort of an encouraging star. Nothing but dank air greeted her. The humidity of East Texas had settled on the farm, thickening the air and hiding the heavens.

  She heard a rustle behind her, followed by her mother’s voice. “Go get yourself dressed, honey. Won’t do to be late your first morning.”

  “But Pa means for me to do all I usually do here before I leave, and you have the new baby to—”

  Her mother’s firm hug silenced her. “No. This is your time, Sally, your chance. I know your pa won’t let you go to school, but you’re gonna be in town, and that’s something. The Lord can do a lot with just a little if you work with Him. You go out there into the world and do your best to make your dreams come true! Do it for me, honey. My life stops on this farm, but yours doesn’t have to. You understand?”

  “Yes, yes, Mama, I un
derstand.” Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes. “And I’ll never forget that you ... that you …”

  “My daughter”—Mama slammed her fist down on the porch railing—“my daughter is gonna have more!”

  Unable to speak, Sarah nodded as tears splashed down her cheeks.

  “Now go! Get dressed. You got to be at Mrs. Bellows’ house good and early.” Her mother pushed her gently toward the door. “I’ll fix you some breakfast.”

  “Oh, don’t bother about me, Mama. I’m too nervous to eat.”

  “Sally!” Pa called from the house. “Ain’t nothing ready but the coffee. You gonna have three hungry brothers down here any minute, looking for hot biscuits.”

  “Sally’s got the biscuits in the oven,” Mama announced as she preceded Sarah through the door.

  Pa’s chin jerked up at the sight of her. “Now, see here, Jana. You oughta be resting or nursing little Kazi. I don’t want you taking on the chore of fixing breakfast.”

  “We don’t always get what we want, do we?” Mama glared at him. “As for a newborn babe, I believe I can be the judge of what he needs. I’ve had plenty of experience.” She jerked out the pan of biscuits, plopped two on a plate, and poured a cup of coffee. Handing both to Sarah, she said, “Take this upstairs with you, honey, and eat every crumb. And put your hair up. You’re going to be working in town from now on, not on this farm, and you need to look like a town girl.”

  Pa’s face darkened as Sarah took the food and hurried away.

  When she returned ten minutes later, three sleepy boys were gathered around the table, complaining about going to school.

  “Doesn’t Sally look pretty with her hair up?” Mama asked as she kissed her daughter good-bye. “Just perfect for her first day working in town.”

  “Dost je dost dela. Pretty is as pretty does,” Pa growled as he waved Sarah out the door. “Let’s get on with it; we both got work to do.” He walked a ways with her in silence, then stopped and stared off at the horizon while Sarah waited.

  “I’m countin’ on you, Sally, to make us some cash money. We got that payment we owe the Boyds on the land coming due next week. And I ain’t forgotten your mama’s birthday is coming up.” He pushed a knapsack into Sarah’s arms. “This here’s some honey Mrs. Bellows wants to buy. See if you can get her to pay you for it today.” He held out his hand with a few coins in it. “Take this money, add what you get for the honey, and buy your mama enough material to make a church dress.”

  “I’ll do my best, Pa.” Sarah looked at the woefully small amount. “Maybe I can find a sale.”

  “Just stretch it far as you can, girl.” He stared sadly at the ground as he carved the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Now get on with you, and don’t you be forgetting who you are. You’re a farm girl. That’s all.”

  In spite of the quick pace Sarah kept up and the morning’s mugginess, she was invigorated by the three-mile walk into town. The mere thought of a day away from the farm was cause for joy. Free! After weeks confined to the scorching farm with its endlessly repetitive, mind-numbing tasks, her spirits soared. She gave in to her urge to twirl in a circle. Flinging her arms wide, she chanted, “Free, free! Free to be me!”

  Sarah mounted the last rise, and the lazy, drifting river came into sight as it flowed through Riverford, Texas. A bustling place where cotton exchanges created wealth, town was Sarah’s only experience of life outside the farm. All her dreams centered on it; there she could gain the experience necessary to lift her out of farm drudgery and rigid definitions of what her life must be. In short, Riverford, Texas, represented hope to Sarah Novak.

  She hurried down the hill and progressed into town. Pausing in front of the school building, she longingly studied the open windows of the classrooms, trying to guess what subjects were taught in each room.

  “Literature, history, certainly science and mathematics,” she murmured. “And music. Maybe even art! If only I could—”

  Her dream halted as Pa’s last words blazed through her memory. Don’t you be forgetting who you are. You’re a farm girl. Sarah took one last look at the school. “Not for me,” she whispered as she turned away, tears burning her eyes. “Cash money for the mortgage and Mama’s dress—that’s what I’ve got to focus on. Got to find Mrs. Bellows’ house.” Whipping herself into action, she marched down Main Street, resolved to put away her dreams and deal with the reality of her life.

  Passing Hodges Department Store, she allowed herself a quick glimpse at the fashions displayed in the windows. “Too expensive,” she cautioned herself as she hastily turned the corner toward Austin Avenue, “but I’ve got to find something special, something—”

  Sarah’s breath flew out of her, knocked out by something so dense it jarred her whole body. Gasping for air, knees buckling, she fell to the boardwalk. Seconds later, a male’s anxious voice spoke words she couldn’t quite comprehend. Someone clumsily brushed her hair off her face. “I’m so sorry!” The deep voice became intelligible to her. “Miss, are you hurt? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” she murmured as she struggled to focus on the face that floated above her. “Yes, I hear you.” She attempted to sit up, but dizziness overcame her, and she sank back to the boardwalk.

  “Wait! Let me help.” A strong hand cradled her head while an arm wrapped around her shoulder blades. She felt herself being lifted into a sitting position. Hand trembling, she rubbed her forehead and willed her dizziness to pass.

  “Do you feel faint?” The man crouched down beside her, cupping her face in his hands as he anxiously peered into her eyes. “Shall I send for the doctor?”

  “No—no-o,” Sarah stammered. Her vision cleared, and she realized she was staring at close range into soft-brown eyes set in a concerned but distinctly handsome face.

  “Is the girl all right?” someone nearby asked.

  “Are you?” He leaned even closer, and a mysterious warmth rushed through Sarah and heated her cheeks.

  “Yes!” She pulled back and struggled to stand.

  The man sprang to his feet.

  Strong hands lifted her, and to hide her strange feelings, she busied herself by straightening her dress.

  “I’m so sorry,” the young man said. “This is all my fault. I was reading the headlines—”

  “Good job, Lee!” another young man laughingly called out as he sauntered forward. “Your first morning back, and you flatten one of the local farm girls.”

  “This is no joking matter, brother!” the penitent man retorted. “Make yourself useful; pick up the newspaper while I help the lady to a bench.”

  “No!” Sarah protested. “I must go. Thank you very much, Mr. ... Mr. ...”

  “Logan. Lee Logan. Miss ...”

  “Novak,” Sarah offered as she suddenly remembered Mrs. Bellows. “I must go. I’ll be late—oh, no! What’s happened to the honey I was carrying?”

  “Is this it?” The laughing man held up Sarah’s knapsack.

  “Yes. Oh, it’s not broken, is it?”

  “Don’t feel anything sticky.” He grinned at her. “Guess that’s a good sign.”

  Lee Logan snatched the knapsack from his brother, inspected it carefully, and handed it to Sarah. “I think your honey is quite safe, Miss Novak, but I’m deeply concerned about you. I hope you will allow me to deliver you to your destination.”

  “We haven’t got time for that kind of gallantry, big brother. I gotta get back to campus.”

  “Quiet, Walter!” Lee commanded, then softened his tone. “I assure you, Miss Novak, I am totally at your service, and I insist on seeing you safely home.”

  “All the way out to the country?” His brother laughed. “Granted, she is a goodlooker, but—”

  “That’s enough, Walter!” Lee cut his brother’s comment off. “Please ignore my ill-mannered younger brother. The family is hopeful that a few years in college may mature him.”

  “Not if I can help it!” Walter stepped closer to Sarah and rudely examined her face. “Yep! A
real knockout,” he proclaimed. “Say, Lee’s just here for the week, but I’m available any time. Just come on over to the men’s dormitory—”

  Sarah’s confusion changed to fury. “I must go! Thank you, Mr. Lee Logan, for your kind offer, but I assure you I can take care of myself.” She glared contemptuously at Walter Logan before adding, “And given my present company, I’d rather do just that.”

  Snatching the knapsack from Lee’s hands, Sarah turned on her heel and did her best to march away with her head held high.

  “Walter!” She heard Lee Logan’s furious voice. “How could you say such a thing to a lady?”

  “She’s just a farm girl. Great figure, though, and that mass of hair ...”

  Mortified, Sarah picked up her pace, and three blocks later she turned onto Austin Avenue, the most fashionable street in town. It was only then that she allowed herself to stop to catch her breath and dab at the angry tears dotting her face. Austin Avenue was a grand boulevard with a strip of manicured park running down the center, and here Sarah found a bench and sank down. She had a violent headache, but most of her suffering resulted from her confusion of feelings. Walter Logan’s words had stung her to the core. Just a farm girl. On the other hand, she was at a loss to explain the excitement and comfort she had felt in Lee Logan’s arms. Just the thought of him sent a delicious shiver down her spine.

  In time, Sarah’s good sense took over, and she tidied her hair and left behind the quiet of the park. Grand house after grand house presented themselves to Sarah’s impressionable eyes as she struggled to imagine the lives of those who resided in such wealth. “It’s another world,” she breathed. “So ordered, so elegant and serene.”

  Several blocks later, Sarah saw the grandest house she had ever seen. Even though it was surrounded by a garden that covered most of that block of Austin Avenue, its tall, white pillars shone in the morning sun and beckoned her to enter the gate. She glanced up at the wrought-iron arch above the entrance. Hodges House. The letters were worked into the curve in an elegant script. Sarah sighed and continued down the block until she reached the more modest home next door. On the wooden gate, she found a simple sign with the word Bellows painted on it. She paused for a long moment, gulped down her sudden anxiety, then forced herself to enter the yard and walk toward the elaborate facade of the Victorian house. The closer she came, the more amazed she was by the seemingly endless gingerbread ornamentation. The house looked like a huge wedding cake covered in frosting curlicues.