Home at Last

By Alysia Austin

David Sailor is a good old Southern Baptist, by way of Iowa, who is attending grad
school at the University of Tennessee when he meets the beautiful Jennifer James on
campus. While on their rst date, he reveals that he plans to preach one day, God
willing. When their date ends disastrously, David has no idea if he will see her again.
But when they run into each other a few days later, Jennifer and David’s chemistry is
undeniable and they begin dating regularly.
With a new bride and appointment as pastor to a rural church in eastern North Carolina,
David Sailor nds himself in a true “Southern” town. e town harbors its own unique
persons and David begins to blend in adapting to this way of life. An unexpected event
disrupts his seemingly “normal” life and he has to nd his way back to a new “normal”.
Home at Last is the inspirational story of a pastor’s journey as he nds love, endures
tragedy and nds forgiveness in the redemptive love of God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: May 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798385021086

Alysia Austin

Alysia Austin is a devoted Christian whose path of faith has led her through a myriad of occupations, careers, and travels. She currently resides in North Carolina. Home at Last is her rst book.

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Copyright © 2024 Alysia Austin.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.

ISBN: 979-8-3850-2107-9 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-2106-2 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-3850-2108-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024905224

WestBow Press rev. date: 05/28/2024

CONTENTS

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 1

H astily forming rain clouds turned the sky into a myriad of blues and purples, a common occurrence this time of year in Chatsworth, Georgia. The heat from the sun caused a shimmering glaze to cover the dusty field. An afternoon shower would be welcome. The dry soil exploded into small bursts of dust each time the weeding hoe struck its mark between the foot-high hills of newly sprouted green beans. The vegetable garden was positioned to the back of the barn, out of sight from the colonial-style farmhouse. Perhaps that was the reason David Sailor was not alone on that scorching after noon.

Sarah, you know, your mother probably would not like you on your hands and knees playing in the dirt.

The object of his remark was an eight-year-old, precocious, little girl pulling weeds with small, dusty hands, almost as efficiently as he was while using a weeding implement. Slowing the pace of the little girl was a much-fascinated collie interrupting with wet nudges, pressing his nose to her arm while she busied herself weeding. It seemed that the golden-haired Jolly, like the golden-haired Sarah, had to be included in every activity.

David reached down, lovingly placing another smudge onto the dirt-creased cheek of Sarah. Jolly, mistaking the gesture, put his wet muzzle onto her cheek as well, making the smudge darken and spread. Sarah giggled from the wetness, looking up into David’s face with sheer delight and no acknowledgment of his recent reprimand.

Warmth and contentment were shared in the locked gaze, both enjoying working side by side. David appreciated the moment, realizing the need to preserve it in the deep reservoirs of his mind. Through experience, he had learned events in life could destroy and maim those precious memories of love and happiness.

Before he dwelled too much on saving the moment, a rather healthy drop of rain plummeted to his bare forearm. The coolness of its touch to the sun-warmed skin made him look skyward. Simultaneously, a bucket of pelting drops hit his dusty face, washing away perspiration, the evidence of a morning filled with physical labor.

In one smooth movement, David dropped the hoe and planted a firm grip on a surprised Sarah, bundling her under his right arm. Without hesitation, taking long strides, he ran in the direction of shelter. No one had to alarm the natural senses of Jolly, who was already ahead of them. Although the encumbrance of Sarah did not slow his gait, they were both drenched by the time the two were in the shelter of the barn.

Jolly took up surveillance of the storm in the barn doorway, shaking her coat, trying to remove as much of the wet droplets as possible, succeeding in depositing those very droplets onto David and Sarah, both too near the unmindful dog. Instead of a downward deluge, now it was sideways.

Jolly, girl, move on.

The sharp tone caught her attention. Halting her frantic shaking, she considered the drying accomplished.

Sarah’s small hands dried themselves using the front of her print shirt and cutoff jeans. Then her hands squeezed hard at the length of the braid down her back. A line of kittens was fast approaching, and down she went, wondering which one deserved the first petting. David’s tall frame leaned against the barn door, staring into the streaks of rain, a smile softening his features, brightening his eyes. There had been another time, long ago, that a similar deluge left its mark. Carefully, David brought the memory to the surface with clarity. He was visiting a place where he had not been in a while; it was too painful. Yet there he was.

Early in the day, on a balmy afternoon at the University of Tennessee, in his second semester of his last year of grad school, David Sailor was making his way to an extremely boring yet necessary class. The Fundamentals of the Jewish Torah in the King James Version’s Five Books of Law was burrowing into his consciousness. Interrupted by a vision of loveliness in front of him, the scholarly thoughts were completely obliterated. Replacing them were thoughts that made his pulse race and his eyes strain for a better view.

Seated on the university’s manicured lawn with books strewn round her was Jennifer James. Intent in her search for a note revealing test results of her French impressionists art class, she was unaware of David, standing near the stately oak tree three feet away, watching her every move. Her beauty had interrupted his walk to class, and now he was enjoying every graceful, calculated movement. Each gesture, with its measured purpose, was as a ballerina in a well-choreographed performance. Suddenly, a whoop of satisfaction came from the lovely creature, obvious her search was successful. With that, her attention was redirected to her surroundings, including the tall, brown-haired man staring back at her with amusement.

Hello. May I help you? she asked in what she hoped was a condescending tone.

I’m just enjoying the scenery.

A blush warmed Jennifer’s cheek. Anger defined her next remark. Well, I’m glad it’s to your liking. Sharpness was in every syllable. Too bad, she thought. He is rather good-looking. See you around.

Quickly gathering her books, she stood up, making what she presumed to be a quick exit.

David followed. Hey, wait a minute. Did I offend you?

Jennifer, taken aback, thought, He really cares! Ha! No, just in a hurry.

You didn’t look as if you were in a hurry, David said as he matched his stride with hers.

Looks can be deceiving, Jennifer said. Great! He’s not going to give up, she thought, quickening her pace.

Then abruptly, with determination, she came to a dead stop, thinking, Face the challenge. Although proud of her decision, she had not taken into consideration the consequences. Her dead stop brought David staggeringly close to Jennifer, within inches.

With a slight grin, she countered, If you have something to say, then say it!

How about dinner tonight at six thirty?

Straight to the point; pretty good!

As she wrestled with the invitation, her hesitation prompted David to ask, Where should I pick you up? Do you live on campus or off?

This guy presumes a lot!

Neither.

Oops. I’ve already answered one too many questions, thought Jennifer.

Quickly David jumped in. "What do you mean ‘neither’? You have to live somewhere, either on or off campus. I know you are playing hard to get, but I don’t have the time to play twenty questions. I have a class in ten minutes I have to make."

While checking his watch for the time, he continued. "Listen, no strings attached, just dinner. A little conversation and then you can go home."

Don’t you ever shut up? Do you take everything so seriously?

Most everything. Just say yes. Hurry. I really have to go.

OK. It slipped out before she even thought about it. Perhaps that was his way of succeeding, confusing the issue. Well, what harm could there be? Jennifer heard herself say, Do you know Castleton Street?

No, but I’ll find it. What’s the number? David asked as he had already begun walking in a different direction.

1825.

What’s your name? The last question was slung over his shoulder at the bewildered brunette.

Jennifer James.

David got his answer and was off running.

Jennifer, studying his disappearing form, looked at her watch and surmised five hours would not be too long to wait to know her date’s name.

David had no trouble locating 1825 Castleton Street. Jennifer lived with her parents in a two-story antebellum home. Having grown up in the house on Castleton Street with one sister who was now married with two daughters, Jennifer’s childhood memories were the best. She cherished her happy, adoring family most people only dreamed about. Her father, a skilled mechanic with an auto repair business, supported the family not lavishly but adequately, affording her mother the pleasure of being a stay-at-home mom while volunteering for political causes on the town council’s agenda.

Jennifer’s childhood was a busy one, from traveling with her mother in neighborhoods and passing out tracts of political persuasion to visiting her dad in his shop and passing a wrench to reassemble a disassembled engine. Jennifer became more adept at fixing automobiles than winning causes. But in the meantime, following in her mother’s footsteps, she became very opinionated.

However, she abandoned auto mechanics and political causes for a degree in art. No one in the family knew the origin of her art interests, but she loved it and excelled at it. Her specialty was acrylic oils.

On that balmy evening, David circled the neighborhood twice while rehearsing his opening remarks. As he maneuvered his twenty-year-old convertible two-seater Karmann Ghia alongside the curb in front of the Castleton address, he realized his circling for words had not helped at all. The two-story antebellum home was impressive with two large oaks providing shade for orange, burgundy, and gold chrysanthemum-filled flowerbeds. A white picket fence surrounded the entire house. The houses on Castleton intimidated visitors with their stateliness. The yards, although small in comparison, complemented the estate-like homes with gardens to be admired.

Wicker rockers and tables, in interesting conversational groupings, made the ten-foot-wide porch stretching across the front of the home very inviting. In comparison, the adjacent homes seemed ostentatious, while this home seemed comfortable.

David rang the doorbell chimes while peering through the etched glass of the antique mahogany door. Waiting, nerves began to punctuate his stance, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Uneasiness in the pit of his stomach increased as the front door swung inward on its hinges and then was relieved somewhat by what he saw. Greeting him was a gray-haired man of medium build in coveralls striped with grease and grime. Intent on the towel in his hands, searching for any grease left behind on those large-knuckled working hands, the towel darkened with each wipe. David thought he needed to wipe his face in the process, slightly wrinkled and streaked with camouflage precision. When he finally did look up, the brightest blue eyes sparkled in the grease-streaked, sun-darkened face, making David gasp from their startling contrast.

Yes? May I help you?

His Southern drawl made the words linger in the air after having been said. Kindness and curiosity enhanced those vivid blue eyes.

I’m here to see Jennifer. David Sailor.

David automatically offered his hand in greeting but quickly pulled it back realizing his mistake.

Jennifer’s father shook it off. "I think the grease should stay on only one of us."

Smiling, he continued. So, Jennifer has a date! How about that! Come in and make yourself at home. I’ll see if I can get her down here. Can’t keep company waiting!

He turned his head to the staircase behind, ushered David in, and closed the door all in one gesture. Jennifer.

The actions of this man assured David of an easygoing household even though the priceless antiques and oriental carpets gave an appearance of quite the opposite.

There was no response to his first call so he more loudly hailed, Jennifer! Then he turned to David and said, with his blue eyes sparkling, Sometimes that girl is hard of hearing. His whole attitude seemed to be enjoying a joke not yet shared with David.

Then upstairs off to the right came a response. "Coming, Dad. Is he here?" Mr. No Name, she thought wryly. If my parents only knew!

Her dad bellowed, He’s here!

Come on in, young man. This may take a while.

He escorted him into the living room. Taking in the surroundings, David decided parlor would be more appropriate. The antebellum look of the exterior flowed into the interior. David took a seat, only to stand again at the entrance of an older version of Jennifer. An elegant woman, whose age had only enhanced her beauty, walked straight toward him.

Hello. Warmth and friendliness exuded.

David immediately offered a hand. Hello. I’m David Sailor. Here to see Jennifer. You must be her mother. If I had known beforehand, it would have been a pleasure to have included yet another lovely woman in our dinner plans.

She smiled with pleasure. Well, even though it looks as if I am free for the evening, she said as she glanced at her grease-covered husband, John and I already have a dinner engagement. You know he does clean up quite nicely. Again, she looked in David’s direction with warm tenderness.

Mr. Sailor, where did you meet Jennifer?

On campus.

He answered as he waited for Mrs. James to be seated, before returning to his.

Mr. James excused himself, not before placing a loving peck on his wife’s cheek. For a moment, David was reminded of his own parents, missing them greatly.

Jennifer is usually late; I hope you don’t have a specific time to be somewhere.

No, ma’am. Just a quiet Mexican restaurant that I frequent. It’s quite hospitable and charming. A grin came to Mrs. James unlined face as she thought of how many times her opinionated daughter had expressed a major dislike for Mexican food. This young man is in for an evening to remember.

At that moment, Jennifer came down the stairs. As on campus, she was graceful yet calculated. Her beauty was eye-catching, entering the room with her hand outstretched, walking straight toward David, saying, I don’t believe I have had the pleasure.

Her mother looked on with amusement, sparks flying from her daughter’s eyes.

Just maybe this is the one, umm, a definite attraction. Mrs. James was always hoping her daughter would find a husband.

Standing perfectly at ease, which irritated Jennifer, David introduced himself formally. I’m David Sailor, Miss James, he said with a slight emphasis on Miss.

I’m ready when you are for this wonderful dinner you promised. A tone of derision filtered into her words.

Of course. It was so nice to meet you, Mrs. James. I hope to see you again soon.

David, mindful of his manners, although nice to see, for a reason unknown to Jennifer, it was making her seethe with irritability. She could not wipe the snarl from her otherwise perfect features.

Mrs. James returned the gracious goodbye. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon. Come back anytime. You two, go have a wonderful evening. Have fun.

She leaned over, kissed her daughter’s cheek, disapproving of the snarled look, and left the room. Mrs. James, knowing her daughter oh so well, perfectly understood the derisive tone and look. She had an unrealized attraction to this young man standing before her and did not know how to handle it, something new to her daughter.

Jennifer was thinking, My word, Mother. You’re all over him, and you don’t even know him. And giving him an open invitation to come again anytime! How could you? Then kissing me on the cheek, you haven’t done that in years when I’ve had a date. What has gotten into you anyway?

David stood, patiently waiting for Jennifer to take the lead, after her mother left the room, but she seemed to be pondering something.

At the touch of his hand to her elbow, he felt her slightly flinch.

Ready?

Yes. Of course. Why had his touch made her jump? Not really jump but feel a sense of excitement. She looked at David to see if he noticed her reaction, but his facial expression gave no clues to his thoughts.

They were out on the porch and walking down the sidewalk when she exclaimed, Wow! Is that your car?

If you’re referring to the Karmann Ghia, yes.

I haven’t seen one of these in years.

How do you know them?

David was taken aback by her obvious admiration of what he viewed as a secondhand used automobile good for transporting a person from one place to another and not much else. Things were tight in the money department so the car had foregone all aesthetics, receiving only needed mechanical repairs, although sometimes even those were few and far between.

My dad had one in the shop when I was about twelve that he totally took apart and restored. I helped him all summer. When we finally had it put back together, it was like my best friend, and I had to give it up. We even nicknamed her Jenny.

She giggled a little as David had to give an extra jerk to the passenger door for it to open.

Jenny had a problem with sticking doors too, due to a wreck which tore one of them off.

David had to laugh at that.

"Well, this ‘Jenny’ has not had a wreck! Although, many times, I think it would be the simplest way of putting her out of her misery and off the streets. Sometimes, she can be such a pain!"

David was patting himself on the back for having taken Jenny through the carwash earlier.

Jenny was an appropriate name for his jalopy, yet there were no similarities whatsoever to the Jenny now seated in the passenger seat. Closing her door, he walked to his side, got in, and prayed, Dear God, let her start. With the start of the engine, David said a quiet thank-you.

What? Did you say something? Jennifer looked at him questioningly.

No. Are you hungry? He changed the subject, hoping to steer away from dangerous topics involving his Jenny and praying Jenny would make it through the evening.

Yes. Your invitation for dinner kept me from snacking today, so I am hungry.

What a switch, thought David. Most women don’t want to own up to having an appetite. But here’s one who is actually hungry.

That’s great. I have been going to this little restaurant for over a year now. The food is great, and the owners are friends. I hope you like it.

Sounds good. Jennifer settled into a comfortable evening with this handsome stranger, she had known for just a few hours. She enjoyed sneaking glances at his profile, while he concentrated on the road. He was a cautious driver, unlike herself. She didn’t take chances, but she had to admit she wasn’t as attentive as she should be.

It was a comforting silence to David. He did not favor women who rattled on from the moment you picked them up until you deposited them on their doorstep.

The drive to the restaurant took nearly twenty minutes through town. It was on the east side, on the outskirts, and Jennifer’s home was on the south side, close to the city limits.

Did you grow up here? he asked, breaking the silence.

Yes. Born here, a rarity. My dad grew up in our house. Mom, though, came from Atlanta, Georgia. Both of my grandparents, on Dad’s side, died when I was little. They were much older when my father was born. So having to take care of them we all lived as one big happy family in our house. The house has been in the family for over two hundred years.

Wow. I just shared my family history, thought a surprised Jennifer. Um, easy to talk to.

How about you? Where do you come from?

Iowa.

Really? With all the prairies and open farmlands?

That’s close enough.

I’ve never been outside of Tennessee much, only nearby Blue Ridge Mountains and the beaches of South Carolina. Did you grow up on a farm?

Afraid so.

Were you out in the boonies?

David laughed at her illustration. I guess you could call it that.

So? Gee, why did he not go on and tell me more without me having to ask?

David grinned at her inquisitiveness. What do you want to know?

Everything.

That might take a while. His answer was postponed by pulling into the parking lot of a small, but distinctively Mexican restaurant, Mi Casa, Su Casa.

We’ll continue this on the inside, he said, looking at Jennifer’s lovely face deflecting a slight scowl. Due to enjoying her company, David dismissed the scowl as a frown from the setting sun in the western sky.

As he helped her out of the car, he said, You’re going to love their food.

It was hard for Jennifer to muster a smile, knowing her dislike of Mexican food. Once inside and seated, she felt even less confident about dinner, trying to ignore the gnawing pains in her stomach.

David looked across the table admiringly, recognizing an underlying beauty. The surface isn’t that bad either. Jennifer’s suntanned complexion was enhanced by the light blue and rosy pinks she had chosen to wear. Her blouse matched the blue silk skirt cut just above the knee showing shapely legs. The pastels of her outfit made a bold contrast with the vivid colors in the Mexican decor, possibly explaining why every male had turned in their direction. A big difference with Jennifer and other dates in David’s past, she had taken no notice of the attention directed her way. Statuesque height and model proportions, clearly attributes cherished by others, were accepted with nonchalance by Jennifer. Brunette hair fell to shoulder length with a slight wave, making it appear thicker than actual. As her head moved, every tress reflected an inherit light. Porcelain skin made her hazel eyes a focal point of her even features. She was truly beautiful, by any sense of the word. David was thanking his lucky stars for his good fortune.

When the waiter approached them, a handshake with David and a grin stretching from ear to ear acknowledged him as a regular customer.

Jennifer’s beauty did not escape him. Ooh la la. What a beauty.

Grabbing Jennifer’s hand, he brought it quickly to his lips, giving it a slight brush of moistness. When he lingered, not relinquishing her hand, David scolded. Enough is enough, Carlos. Your Latin charm is a bit overboard.

Carlos laughed, replacing her hand gently to its original position. Just enjoying the scenery, my friend, he sparred.

It sounds as if you are an American instead of a transplanted Mexican.

Jennifer joined in the pleasant banter.

No, senorita. I am straight from Mexico City. How I wind up here is amusing. But ah, another time. Now for drinks, what would you like? Maybe some tequila? Maybe a margarita?

How about some good ‘ole iced tea’?

Bueno. The same, Senor David?

Yes, thank you, Carlos.

Pronto.

As Carlos went on his way, Jennifer said, You must come here often.

Often enough, I guess. They are nice people. Carlos is the owners’ nephew.

As he surveyed the surroundings, he said, Charming, isn’t it?

Now it was Jennifer’s turn to observe. It was charming, in the Latin sense.

Carlos was back with two iced teas and two menus. She opened hers with trepidation.

Your usual, Senor David?

That will be fine, Carlos. But for you, do you know what you would like?

Hardly! she muttered under her breath, which sounded like a stifled cough. Why don’t you surprise me and order for me, she said sweetly to David.

Bring the lady what I’m having.

Si. Carlos gathered the menus and was off to the kitchen.

So what are you studying at the university? David asked his date.

Art. It’s my senior year, and so far, so good.

What are your plans after graduation?

Just to graduate. But you?

Religion. My plans are to preach, God willing.

My. That’s some heady stuff.

Sometimes. But then God has a way of bringing you back down to earth.

He’s quick.

I bet you’re great at dinner parties. Never a loss for words.

David smiled at one of the most common misconceptions of his craft. He responded, Only in church. Generally, when people learned of your interest in religion, a full-scale debate began to challenge your beliefs, or they changed the subject and avoided you like the plague. People tended to be afraid that in your holy state, you could recognize and remark upon their fallacies. Yet a few people genuinely did see the need for more preachers.

When do you graduate? asked Jennifer pursuing the topic.

I’m in my second semester of my last year of graduate school. So hopefully, this coming summer.

How did you choose religion? she asked, showing genuine interest.

God spoke to me.

David watched closely to see a reaction.

When no questioning signs of disbelief shone in those thoughtful eyes, he laughed out loud and said, I wish it had been that divine. But the truth is church was instilled in me all my life by my mom. There never was another desire deeper than this one.

Immediately, Jennifer let out a sigh, but added quickly, What religion are you? Am I having dinner with a future priest?

Good old Southern Baptist, by way of Iowa.

Now it was Jennifer’s turn to laugh at the idea of a staunch Southern Baptist in Iowa. And even more humorous would be when her parents of Episcopalian background heard of the out there Baptist. Wait till Mother hears I have succumbed to the charms of a Southern Baptist.

Not knowing what brought the laughter, David enjoyed the results.

The food came, steam spiraling upward. Looking closer at the identical servings, Jennifer had no conception of what the portions professed to be.

Unsure, she did not know whether to eat or wait on a blessing. Then David bowed his head