by Sydney Logan
“And Lucas,” she said with a laugh. “How a Yankee ended up in a place like Sycamore Falls is a story I really want to hear someday, but your evaluations are flawless and you come highly recommended from your previous placements. I’d be honored to have you, as well.”
We offered her our resumes, which she examined closely. She asked each of us questions, listening intently and making notes in our files. Throwing caution to the wind, Lucas explained why he left New York, and I told her all about Matt and the circumstances surrounding our decision to leave Sycamore High School.
It was the only time throughout the entire interview when Phoebe Hamilton was speechless.
“You see it on television all the time,” she said quietly. “Kids being bullied to the point they see no possible way out. We are a profession ruled by test scores, and sometimes, we forget there are bigger lessons that need to be learned. Sometimes, teaching tolerance and love is far more important than teaching them about chemical equations and Robert Frost.”
Lucas and I shared a smile—a smile that plainly said we would gladly beg this woman for a job.
Luckily, the stars aligned, and we didn’t have to.
Chapter 28
“Graduation is a bittersweet time, when we take the time to remember our past while looking forward to our future.”
Howie had practiced his Valedictorian speech for nearly a month. He’d written it, revised it, and written it again. I’d helped him with the grammatical errors, but the words were all his.
It was probably a hundred degrees inside the gym, which was filled to capacity. Once the bleachers were full, people had begun to line the walls. High school graduation was as important a tradition as Friday night football games, and the town had practically shut down in anticipation of the ceremony.
“We have the opportunity to make new friends, and we have the chance to remain close to the friends we love. It’s strange, thinking there are faces in this crowd I may never see again. We’ll go to different schools. Some of us won’t go to school at all. Some of us will move far away, and many of us will stay right here in Sycamore Falls. I will be attending Winslow Community College before transferring to finish my Bachelor’s degree. I don’t plan to return to Sycamore Falls to live, but a very wise teacher taught me you never know when life might bring you home, even if it just brings you home for a little while.”
Lucas brushed his lips against my temple, and I smiled.
The students, dressed proudly in green gowns, made their way to the stage, and I couldn’t help but think about Matt. He wouldn’t be walking across any graduation stage; his high school diploma would be mailed to his home.
I couldn’t be disappointed, though. Matt wasn’t. He was healthy and strong and sharing an apartment with Howie in the fall. Howie had proven himself to be a true friend, and I couldn’t have been prouder of him.
A sea of emerald caps were tossed into the air, and with a deafening cheer, the senior class of Sycamore High School went out to face the world.
And so did two of their teachers.
The June skies were beautiful and blue, and the flowers we’d planted last year were finally blooming.
“It’s a beautiful day for a wedding,” Olivia whispered in my ear.
I giggled and closed the curtain.
“It certainly is.”
“Nervous?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more content.”
She smiled wistfully and adjusted the veil on my head. I’d threatened to forego the veil entirely, but Lucas’s mom had found this one in a vintage shop in Manhattan. It was simple and pretty, and complemented my dress perfectly.
“Are you disappointed we aren’t having a bigger wedding?”
Our guest list contained a grand total of twenty people. The wedding cake had two tiers, and we’d only agreed on two because the baker insisted we freeze the top tier for our first anniversary.
“I could never be disappointed,” Olivia said softly. “My son is marrying the girl of his dreams. The girl of his mother’s dreams. You make him happier than he’s ever been. If this is the wedding you want, then this is the wedding you should have. And to have it in your grandmother’s front yard, where it all began—”
“Technically, it all began in Mr. Johnson’s hardware store.”
She laughed. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
Turning back toward the mirror, I was adjusting my veil when someone gently rapped on my bedroom door. Lucas’s dad peeked inside, smiling brightly when his eyes settled on me.
“I have a very impatient son who wants to see his beautiful bride.”
Olivia and I laughed.
“Are you ready?” she asked gently.
I took one last look at myself in my grandmother’s full-length mirror.
I’d never been more ready for anything in my entire life.
“Dearly beloved . . .”
Pastor Martin was speaking. I was sure of it. He was offering words of hope and wisdom and gratitude, but I was oblivious to all of it.
All I could see was him, and his crystal-blue eyes, standing in front of my grandmother’s house. All I could feel was his hand as he slipped my wedding band against my finger, and all I could hear was his soft voice as he promised to love me until the day we died.
We’d barely finished kissing before our family and friends surrounded us. Aubrey held a sleeping Daniel in her arms while Tommy kissed my cheek and shook Lucas’s hand. Mr. Johnson and his friends from the hardware store congratulated us and gave us a toolset for the new house. Howie arrived with his girlfriend, a pretty girl named Mia, who he’d met in Winslow. Catherine Thomas brought a fruit basket from the grocery store and made me cry when she told me how proud my grandmother would be of me. Even Monica had accepted our invitation, and we had the chance to meet her professor boyfriend.
And of course, looking happier and healthier than ever, was Matt Stuart, with his mother by his side.
It was the perfect day, full of smiling faces and happy tears.
“You look so sad, baby,” Lucas said has he placed the box of books next to the door.
It has been an emotional morning. Over breakfast, we’d said our goodbyes to Aubrey and her family. Nearly everything we owned was packed into boxes and loaded into the moving van. I had saved the kitchen for last, knowing it would affect me the most.
“I’m not sad, really.” Dropping onto the floor, I grabbed a couple of cookbooks. They were all making the trip with us to Riverdale. “I’m just emotional, I guess.”
Lucas nodded before bending down and kissing my forehead.
“Are you okay? I’ve got two more boxes to bring downstairs.”
“I’m okay,” I said, smiling up at him. He kissed me softly before making his way back upstairs.
“I’m going to need a bigger box,” I muttered. I really didn’t need all of the cookbooks, but I just couldn’t bear to leave them behind.
We were still undecided on what to do with Grandma’s house. Mr. Johnson had offered to oversee it for now, but I knew someday, I’d have to make a decision. For now, it would sit here, collecting dust, just as it had before I’d returned to Sycamore Falls.
I’d just reached for the last cookbook when I noticed an envelope sticking out of the back page. Opening it up, I gasped when I noticed my name on the front. The penmanship was shaky, but I instantly recognized my grandma’s handwriting.
Carefully, I placed the book into the cardboard box before lifting the seal on the faded white envelope. With trembling fingers, I unfolded the letter.
The first thing I noticed was the date.
My grandmother had written this letter one week before her death.
Tears swam in my eyes as I began to read.
Dear Sarah,
If you’re finding this letter, that means you’ve come home, just as I knew you always would.
My time in this world is coming to an end. I know this.
I feel this. And I have to say it’s the most peaceful thing—knowing the end is near. You wouldn’t think so, would you? You might expect someone to be scared of the unknown, but I’m not afraid.
I’m tired. I’m sick. I’ve been sick for a while. You knew a little about that, but not enough. I didn’t tell you everything because I knew you’d give up on your dreams just to come home and be with me. And for what? To watch me wither away? Why put you through that when there was nothing you could possibly do to save me? I apologize for keeping you in the dark, but we both know it’s for the best. These days, my happiness comes from knowing you’re happy.
I’ve realized I’ve neglected to tell you some important things about life. Lessons I’ve learned that, I hope, will help you during your journey through your own life. You were always such a good student, but these aren’t lessons you’ll learn from your textbooks. These are life lessons, and I want to share some of them with you.
People—and not just those who live in small towns—can be narrow-minded and set in their ways. You will meet these people, and you will have to deal with them on a daily basis. There are two subjects that will always cause a fight, so avoid them. Never discuss politics. Never discuss religion.
It’s nobody’s business who you vote for, and it’s nobody’s business how you pray.
As you know by now, I’ve left the house to you. It’s filled with memories, but do not feel you have to make your own memories within these walls. It’s okay to build your own walls. Build your own life, even if it isn’t in Sycamore Falls. You can make memories anywhere. You can be happy anywhere.
Friends come and go. It’s a sad fact of life. Sometimes, it’s not so sad. Some friendships aren’t meant to last forever. Catherine Thomas still visits me every day. There are neighbors I’ve known for fifty years who haven’t darkened my door. You learn who your true friends are when you need them the most. Those are the friendships to treasure.
And finally, when it comes to love, do not settle for anything less than a man who absolutely adores you. This doesn’t mean you agree with everything he says, or with everything he does. It means he treats you with respect, and he shows you every day you are loved.
And that works both ways. Men don’t admit it, but they need to be adored, too.
Show him every day.
I hope you’ve found him by now. But if not, you will.
I know you will.
You are a strong woman in a long line of strong women. I don’t know where you are in your life right now, but I know you are making me proud. And maybe, someday, you’ll make a list of your lessons learned, and you’ll share them with your own granddaughter.
I love you, baby girl.
Love,
Grandma
Tears flowed down my cheeks as I carefully folded the letter and gently placed it back into its envelope.
“That’s the last of it,” Lucas announced. He stopped abruptly on the landing when he noticed my tears. Dropping the boxes onto the floor, he was at my side in an instant, lifting me off the ground and pulling me into his arms.
“What’s wrong?” Lucas whispered, placing me on the counter. He brushed the hair away from my eyes and tenderly kissed my wet cheeks.
“I found this letter.”
He looked confused as he opened it, but his face flickered with understanding when his eyes roamed the page.
“She’d be so proud of you, baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“Do I show you every day how much I love you?”
“Every single day,” he murmured sweetly. “Do I show you how much I absolutely adore you?”
“Since the very first day we met.”
Lucas kissed me softly before lowering me down onto the floor. He grabbed the last of the boxes while I took one last look around my grandmother’s kitchen.
“I really do hope you’re proud,” I whispered into the air, before flipping off the lights and locking the door behind me.
Lucas was waiting for me on the porch swing.
“That’s coming with us, right?”
He grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Fifteen minutes later, the porch swing was packed away in the moving van, and I was standing in front of the house I’d loved for so long. In many ways, this would always be my home—my little sanctuary nestled in the mountains of Sycamore Falls.
Strong arms encircled my waist, reminding me that my real sanctuary was right here, and it had nothing to do with geography.
Lucas was my sanctuary.
Lucas was my home.
And I was his.
“Any regrets?” Lucas asked.
I had asked myself that question for weeks now. Would I regret leaving Sycamore Falls? Was I the same old Sarah—packing my bags and avoiding my problems?
“Lucas, do you think we’re running away?”
He sighed softly and kissed my hair. “No, sweetheart. I think we’re moving on to a new life. Just like Matt. He’s happier now. Most importantly, he’s alive, and that’s because of you. Maybe that’s what brought you back to Sycamore Falls.”
Smiling, I twisted around in his arms. “What about you? What do you think brought you to Sycamore Falls?”
His beautiful blue eyes gazed into mine.
“You.”
It was the perfect answer.
Rising on my toes, I kissed him softly.
“Are you ready to go, Mrs. Miller?”
I was still getting used to the name, but I couldn’t deny how happy it made me.
Sarah Miller.
A new name for my new life.
“I’m ready.”
And I knew it was true.
Epilogue
There was just something about “Pomp and Circumstance” that made me sentimental. The song signified an ending . . . and a beginning, and I always found it bittersweet.
This graduation was far different from the one we’d attended in Sycamore Falls over four years ago. Instead of a sea of green, today’s graduates were wearing black robes, and the gymnasium was on the campus of the University of Tennessee.
Today, Matt Stuart was graduating summa cum laude, and in the fall, he would be teaching English literature in a high school just outside of Knoxville. During his time at UT, he’d volunteered with local youth groups, giving presentations on coping with bullies and embracing diversity. He’d kept in touch with us through emails and Skype, and he and Howie were still the best of friends.
“How are you feeling?” Lucas asked.
Sighing, I placed my hand along my stomach. Morning sickness had never been this brutal with our first baby. Gracie had arrived just after our one-year anniversary. She was beautiful, with her father’s sweet eyes and calm demeanor. I was just four months along, but I could already see this second child was going to be the death of me.
“Apparently, your son wasn’t happy with his breakfast.”
He grinned. “He’s a boy?”
“Must be. My daughter never made me this queasy.”
Lucas knew better than to laugh. Instead, he kissed my temple and pulled a small packet of crackers out of his blazer pocket. He kept a supply of them on hand at all times, which only solidified his status as the perfect man.
Thousands of graduates filled the seats. There was really no way to spot Matt in the crowd, so we sat in the bleachers, hot and uncomfortable, as the president of the university called name after name. Finally, the graduates from the College of Education were asked to rise, and that’s when I saw him—standing tall in his cap and gown—walking toward the stage.
“Matthew Stuart,” the president announced.
His smile was just as I remembered—big, bright, and full of life. Matt shook the man’s hand and accepted his degree, pausing at the end of the stage to wave toward the crowd. I gasped, realizing his parents had been sitting just five rows below us. Debbie was crying uncontrollably with her husband by her side, both looking unbelievably proud of their son.
&nb
sp; “Matt!” Lucas yelled over the roar of the crowd, and his head jerked up, scanning the crowd, and our eyes locked.
With a smile as bright as the sun, he mouthed my name and offered me a wave.
I was so proud of myself. I managed to wait until he returned to his seat before I dissolved into tears.
Knowing the crowd would be crazy and we’d have zero chance of finding each other, the five of us had made plans to meet at a nearby restaurant for lunch. The place was busy, so Lucas had gone inside to reserve a table while I waited outside on the bench. I’d just finished calling the babysitter to check on Gracie when I heard my name being called from the parking lot. Glancing up, I saw Matt running toward me, and I started to rise.
“No, don’t get up!”
“Matt, I’m just pregnant. I’m not dead.”
“Still,” he muttered as he sat down on the bench next to me. “You need to rest, Miss Bray . . . sorry, Mrs. Miller.”
I smirked. “I keep telling you it’s time you called me Sarah.”
“Nah, too weird.”
I shook my head. We’d had this discussion so many times over the past four years.
“You look good in that hat,” I said, grinning at his graduation cap perched on his head.
“You think?”
I nodded. “Very smart.”
Smiling, he lifted the hat off his head and placed it on top of mine.
“I want you to have it, Miss Bray.” He grinned at the use of my maiden name. “You’re still the smartest and strongest person I’ve ever met.”
Tears flooded my eyes.
“Matt, I can’t accept—”
“Yes you can,” he said softly. “You taught me how to be a good teacher, Miss Bray. You deserve it, and I want you to take it home with you. I want you to show it your little girl, and when she asks what it is, tell her it’s not just some stupid graduation cap. Tell her it’s a symbol of love, and that love saved the life of your favorite English student.”