WHO BURIED SARAH by Eden Monroe

  

WHO BURIED SARAH

by Eden Monroe

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GENRE:  Historical fiction 

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BLURB: 

Sarah, the only child of Rev. and Mrs. Cranston Estey, was betrothed to Connor McLagen of the affluent McLagen family. The McLagens were socially revered, although there were rumours of nefarious underpinnings to their substantial wealth, and the God-fearing Esteys were not in favour of the marriage.

 Three days before the June 1927 wedding, Sarah disappeared. Her note said she’d changed her mind and decided to leave town.

 A week later she was found, buried in a rose garden, the gruesome and sensational discovery knocking New Brunswick prohibition wars out of the headlines.

 There were many secrets to keep… 

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EXCERPT 

“Then stop playing with fire. Look, I like it that you want to … go further … but not now, darling. We have to wait for the right time and I promise to live up to your expectations. There will be nothing holding us back then, but I promise I will be gentle.”

 Shifting away from him slightly, she gazed out across the river. “I understand that. I’m not exactly inexperienced about such things, Connor.”

 Had she really just said that aloud? She was aghast that the secret she knew she had to share with him at some point had spontaneously bubbled to the surface. This was probably the worst time for such a revelation, but there was no turning back now.

There was silence as she waited for the fallout from the bomb she’d just dropped, not daring to look at him.

 “Excuse me?” he asked after a moment, his voice gone hard. “What did you mean by that, Sarah?”

 Apparently, this had unexpectedly become the time for truth-telling. She was as surprised as he was it was happening, but she loved him too much not to be completely honest. She’d just thought it would somehow be easier to do. “What I mean is … I’ve … ahhh … been with a man before.” 

He was deadly calm. “In what way?”

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When Roses Make Headlines

 Prohibition was in its dying days in 1927 in New Brunswick – the government desperately needed the tax money it was missing from the lack of liquor sales. The citizens were restless - they wanted more. Among other things, they wanted better roads and other necessary infrastructure, schools, hospitals and most of all, save for a very small portion of the population, they were tired of alcohol restriction.

 They got what they wanted during the spring sitting of the New Brunswick Legislature when a Bill was introduced to end Prohibition in the province, and it would eventually become law. There was a buzz about it all right and it would take something pretty dramatic to knock Prohibition out of the headlines. 

 And that’s just want happened when the body of a beautiful young bride-to-be was found buried in a Saint John rose garden. Suddenly roses and one particular rose garden in particular, were the talk of the town. 

It all began when Stenora Wakefield went for an early morning stroll and found more than a garden filled with beautiful roses:

 “Everything had seemed perfect when she’d climbed the driveway last night even in a torrential downpour, although it hadn’t lasted long. The grounds were of particular interest to her, designed with her specific taste for roses in mind. Stenora loved roses, lots of them. She’d requested a large rose garden, one laid out with paths and a place to repose with a good book, or perhaps take a meal. She fancied old-world rose varieties, nothing finicky or fancy, just plants that would fill the days and nights with their summer fragrance.

 She was anxious to be in her rose garden, not just see the glistening bushes through the window of her automobile, but unfortunately, the inclement weather meant she’d have to wait until morning for a closer look. She’d smiled last night when she’d noticed a rainbow, a portent of the happiness awaiting her here.

 And now it was a gorgeous June morning and she breathed in lungfuls of fresh air as she made her way along the cobblestone pathways. The garden was entrancing, and she went to each rosebush in turn: purple, yellow, white, pink, their mingled fragrances intoxicating. She headed for a spacious bench meant for sitting and enjoying the surrounding beauty, a butterfly and honeybee paradise as they sipped the delicious nectar. However, when she got to the bench she could see it was still puddled with last night’s rain. She should have brought a towel.

 No worry, she’d just continue visiting each individual bush, dipping her head eagerly to inhale their exquisite perfume. She couldn’t wait to clip some of these beauties to take indoors for her breakfast table.

 She made a note to herself to find the gardener or gardeners and thank them personally for their superb work. That thought had no sooner passed through her mind than she noticed the far corner of the last rose bed. Perhaps they’d finished in a hurry because the bushes were not properly set at all. Oh my! They were large bushes, most already in bloom, but they hadn’t been sunk deep enough into the ground it seemed at first glance. They rode much higher than the others and had already begun to wilt despite the wet soil around them. What on earth! 

More curious than annoyed she made her way there, appreciating the large stone sundial had been placed exactly where she’d requested at the end of the walkway. But the rose bushes beyond! Standing with her hands on her hips to assess this unacceptable shoddiness, her heart did a somersault. There, thrust upward among the roses in a shallow grave was a woman’s delicate hand.” 

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Eden Monroe writes about real life, real issues and struggles, and triumphing against all odds. A proud East Coast Canadian, she enjoys a variety of outdoor activities and a good book.

 https://edenmonroeauthor.com/

 https://www.facebook.com/AuthorEdenMonroe/ 

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