The Complete Novels of the Lear Sister Trilogy

by Julia London

  “But . . . But I don’t want to live in America!” Iris protested.

  “Then I suggest you not do so,” he said pleasantly. “Iris, I was quite honest with you when I told you it was over. The thing is,” he said, trying his damnedest to be kind, “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last woman on earth, and quite frankly, I really have no desire to ever lay eyes on you again. I’m terribly sorry if you think that’s harsh, but at the very least, it is honest. You should try it sometime—honesty, that is.

  Iris gasped. She stared at him, clearly shocked.

  “And Mum,” he said, turning to look at his equally shocked mother, “I really don’t give a rat’s arse about the Duke of Alnwick, and I’m actually quite brassed off that you thought to come here and try to manipulate me in such a manner. Please don’t cry—I do love you, Mum, but I really must finish my work, and my life, without your interference.”

  “I can’t believe what I am hearing!” his mother exclaimed.

  “I rather thought you wouldn’t,” he said pleasantly. “So I gave Dad a ring this afternoon, told him to expect you home in the morning. I also told him what I’m thinking of doing, and he thought it was a jolly good plan. He asked me to tell you to keep your knickers on, that it’s really not the end of the world as you know it.”

  “So you intend to toss us out?” Iris cried, looking truly affronted.

  “Not toss you out, but escort you to the nearest plane. You’ll find your bags are packed for the drive to Boston, where I’ve got you booked on the eleven P.M. flight to London.” And with that, he stood up and began to clear the table.

  Needless to say, the drive to Boston was not particularly pleasant, what with Mum crying in the backseat and Iris reviewing all the disparaging names for the wretched cretin that he was, and insisting she’d ruin him socially in London. In spite of it all, Flynn kissed his mother goodbye, promised her he’d be home early in the new year, and hugged Iris, who then broke down in tears. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, Iris,” he said sincerely.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped. “I’m not hurt! I’m upset that I wasted so much time with you!” she cried, and wrenched free of him, running to Mum for comfort.

  Flynn stayed to watch their plane take off—one could never be entirely certain those two were completely gone—and satisfied they were on their way to London, he checked into a hotel. Tomorrow, he was flying to Chicago to retrieve the last of the items that Dagne had sold on eBay. When he got back, he was to call his boss and see what progress had been made on his request to participate in a six-month exchange.

  And then he would turn his full attention to Rachel.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Providence was glittering with Christmas lights, which meant all retail outlets had expanded their hours to accommodate holiday shoppers. That was good news for Rachel, who stayed gainfully employed for several days in a row, and then paid her utility bill.

  Even the Valicielos had gotten into the spirit of things; their plastic deer had been turned into reindeer, and Santa and his sleigh were atop their house. The best news of all, of course, was that the tree was gone. Rachel had managed to scrape together the five hundred dollars she needed to have the tree cut and removed, and another seventy-five dollars to have the chain-link fence repaired. As a result, Mr. Valicielo had stopped stalking her and had dropped his small claims case.

  In fact, everyone seemed to be caught up in the spirit of peace. Life, as they knew it on Slater Avenue, had returned to normal. All the houses on her street were decorated— except hers, of course. Rachel didn’t feel much like celebrating. She had promised Dad she’d come to New York for Christmas. His surgery had been scheduled for mid-January, and she wanted to spend some time with him. Apparently, everyone did—Robin and Jake and the kids were coming, too, as were Rebecca and her family. Even Grandma and Grandpa were thinking of making the trip.

  A couple of weeks before Christmas, Rachel parked in the drive, fished her bag and a sack of groceries out of the car, and paused to admire the lights on her street. With a hint of a smile, she trudged up the steps to the kitchen door . . . but she stopped midway up, because lying in front of the door was a single red rose.

  How weird. Probably one of Dagne’s latest spells to bring her out of the doldrums. She’d have to call Dagne on her newly reconnected phone and tell her to stop; she was coming out of the doldrums alone. She shook her head, continued up the steps, stepped over the rose and went inside, put her things down, then came back to retrieve it. She glanced around as she picked it up, and noticed there was a card with the rose.

  She opened it. My favorite flower: Rose. The color of Rachel’s lips.

  Her heart skipped a beat or two. “What?” she asked out loud, and suddenly clutched the rose to her chest, peered down the drive. There was no one—no cars, no sounds, nothing. So Rachel slowly backed into her house, looked at the flower again, brought it to her nose and inhaled the scent of it, then read the note once more.

  A smile crossed her lips.

  She carried the rose around with her the rest of the evening, half expecting him to knock on the door. At midnight, having worked on her dissertation for several hours, she crawled into bed, the rose with her, and slept soundly.

  That night, she dreamed she was walking in snow. Each step was harder than the last, and she kept sinking, until she was sinking with each step up to her thigh. But ahead of her was a single red rose, and in her dream, she was struggling to reach the rose before it blew away.

  The next day, Rachel put the rose in a vase and went to the gym.

  “Hey,” Lori said as she walked in. “I didn’t think we were going to see you again!”

  “Did you think I’d died or something?” Rachel asked wryly.

  Lori laughed. “You know how it is. People gain weight, they come to the gym, then they feel pretty good and stop coming, then they gain weight again and here they come.” She smiled, popped a bubble.

  Rachel rolled her eyes, went on back to the machines. She could only make it five miles that day before her legs gave out and she began to see her life flash before her eyes. As she wobbled out the door, she was furious with herself for having wallowed in pity so long. She warned Lori she’d be back the next day.

  The rest of the day she was at the university library, working diligently. When she left there, she picked up some Chinese and drove home, and once again, the cheerful Christmas lights greeted her as she drove down the street and turned into the one dark house on the entire block.

  She walked to the steps leading to her kitchen door and caught her breath. There was a package there, wrapped in silver paper, tied with a red ribbon. With a grin, Rachel scooped it up and quickly went inside.

  At her breakfast bar, she untied the red bow, took the paper from the box, and opened the lid. “Oh God,” she murmured as she withdrew a crystal pendant made of blue topaz hanging on a long silver chain. “Ohmigod,” she said again, lifting the pendant from the box and holding it up to the light. It was gorgeous; exquisite. She fastened it around her neck, eagerly took the card from the box.

  My favorite gem: Blue topaz. The exact color of Rachel’s eyes.

  “Oh Jesus, Flynn,” she whispered, and still grinning, held the pendant in her palm, admiring it, then let it drop against her body and ran to the front windows. She peered out into the night, wondering if he was out there somewhere, watching her. But she couldn’t see very well, and bounced to the front door, and walked out onto the porch with her arms folded tightly against her as she looked up the street one way, then the other.

  Nothing.

  The cold forced her back inside.

  Rachel decided it was such a lovely cold night that she’d have a fire. And then maybe she’d look around for the Christmas decorations. She remembered seeing them during her furious cleaning, and she was going to be in town another ten days or so. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little Christmas spirit, would it?

  She could hardly wait t
o get home from wrapping gifts at the local mall the next day to see if he’d left her anything, and she was, therefore, stunningly disappointed when there was nothing lying at her back door. In fact, she was so disappointed that she stood there shivering, staring at the steps to make sure she hadn’t missed something, a little something. Anything! But there was nothing. Nothing.

  Rachel dragged herself up the steps, opened the door, and went inside.

  There, on the breakfast bar, was a large silver box wrapped in red ribbon. Next to it, a note from Dagne. Found this outside. Call me!

  Rachel pushed the note aside, quickly undid the package. In the box was a beautiful cashmere shawl, the color of a rich mahogany, thick and absolutely gorgeous. With a squeal of delight, she threw the shawl around her shoulders and reached for the card.

  My favorite fabric: Cashmere. The texture of Rachel’s hair.

  She laughed, brought the shawl to her face, feeling it, smelling it, and walked to the dining room, where her Christmas decorations were strewn about the table. Wrapping the shawl more tightly around her, she walked to the door and opened it . . . and stumbled backward in surprise.

  There was a Christmas tree on her porch! A bare Christmas tree, seven feet tall, just standing there. “What the hell?” she murmured, and gasped with delight as a small white card emerged through the boughs of the tree.

  Rachel snatched the card and quickly opened it. My favorite pastime: Being with Rachel, for when I am with her I feel quite like a tree—a thousand feet tall and ageless.

  “Oh Flynn,” she said aloud.

  “Oh Tannenbaum,” a disembodied but distinctly British voice said from behind the tree.

  Rachel laughed. “A talking tree, how weird!”

  “We trees make excellent emissaries of peace.”

  Rachel leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms across her chest, the note against her heart. “Oh. You’re an emissary.”

  “I’ve come on behalf of a bloke who is not altogether very bright, and he has, on occasion, done things that would lead some to believe he has shit for brains, but really, his heart is in the right place, and he wants nothing more than to apologize for his abominable behavior, and perhaps explain how, exactly, things got so far off course.”

  “I see,” she said, nodding. “Well, maybe you should go back and tell this stupid bloke that I’m not so angry anymore, and that he really doesn’t have to send a tree. I’m actually ready to talk about what happened,” she said, pushing away from the doorjamb. She reached into the tree and pushed it aside, revealing a very wary-looking Flynn behind it. “Because I still love him.”

  Flynn grinned broadly at that. “There’s an excellent start.”

  “And I’d like to ask him in,” she said, reaching for his tie, “to thank him properly for the gifts he’s left me, but I have to ask . . . is everything okay?”

  Flynn smiled as he reached out and touched her chin, his fingers skimming her jaw. “Everything is okay,” he said softly. “There is no one but you in my thoughts and my heart, Rachel, and there hasn’t been since almost the moment I laid eyes on you. Honestly, if I had it to do all over again, there are so many things I might have done quite differently. Unfortunately, we never choose who we will fall in love with or when we fall, and it’s not very tidy.”

  “It’s devastating,” she said, and tugged at his tie.

  “Devastating and with lots of pieces and parts that come together, but don’t really fit with one another, eh? Yet at the core of it, there is that abiding sort of love that two people have for each other, and that is what holds those pieces and parts together, to be used or discarded as time goes on. So I am here to say that I love you, Rachel Lear, in pieces and parts. I love you long and short, round and flat, big and small. I love you left and right and north and south and in any other untidy way you might imagine.”

  “Oh Flynn,” she said, and grabbed his hand and kissed his palm. “How did you get to be so poetic?”

  “How did you get to be so beautiful?”

  “You want to come in?”

  “Only if my friend can come, too,” he said.

  “Sure! We might need him later, who knows? Because I want to know it all, no matter how painful it might be. I want to put it out there so we can smash it to pieces and go on.”

  “Thank God,” Flynn said, and shoved a hand through his hair. “Thank God.”

  Rachel stepped back, held the door open for him so he could carry the tree inside. Once he was inside, she let the door close and walked to the edge of the porch and looked up at the sky.

  It was a full moon and love had hopped back into her life.

  “I owe you, Dagne,” she whispered, and turned around, walked inside, to Flynn’s open arms.

  Subject: Merry Christmas!

  From:

  To: Dad

  Hi Dad. The train gets in around noon tomorrow. Do you think we could go to that Italian restaurant I love? I don’t know how you’re feeling, but Robbie said that with everyone coming up for Christmas, she didn’t want you and Mom to have to worry about cooking. What time is everyone getting in? I’m really excited and I have a big surprise for everyone. Don’t try and get it out of me, but it’s bigger than a breadbox, it has nothing to do with my dissertation, and I think you are going to be very very very pleased. At least I hope you will be and I have my fingers crossed. Merry Christmas, Dad, and I love you! Rachel

  Subject: Re: The Lear Family—Brace Yourself

  From: Flynn

  To:

  Rmanning70@houston.rr.com wrote:

  Dude, are you certain you want to unveil yourself at Christmas? Do you know the murder and suicide rate is the highest at that time of year and our father is famous for going off at family gatherings? I’m not saying he will kill you or anything, at least I don’t think so, and you never know what Grandpa might do, but they could make it really, really . . . hard. Okay, all right, if that’s what you want to do, just consider yourself forewarned. Robin, Rachel’s extremely protective big sister, but whose other sister Rebecca said I needed to lay off because she talked to you on the phone and you seem like a really great guy. You better be, that’s all I have to say!

  Dear Robin, please let me put your mind at ease. I am a pleasant sort and I have excellent table manners, thanks to my mum, who had dreams of marrying me off to Diana Spencer’s cousin. Unfortunately, that dream ended tragically when it turned out that the Diana Spencer to whom the young girl was cousined was not, in fact, that Diana Spencer. And lest you think I am the lamb being driven to slaughter, Rachel has told me all about her father, warts and all, as they say, and, well, to be a bit blunt . . . about you, as well, which has inspired me to practice a bit of kung fu should the need arise. I look forward to making your esteemed acquaintance and that of the entire family, whom I hope to call my own one day. Yours, Flynn Oliver

  Epilogue

  An unusually cold north wind was whipping across the Texas landscape with such force that Rachel, Rebecca, and Robin were the first to be driven inside the ranch house at Blue Cross.

  “Perfect. Just perfect,” Robin groused as she tried to straighten the short, knee-length black skirt she wore. “Is this an omen, or what?”

  “Stop it, Robbie. Don’t start getting all weird on us,” Rebecca said, trying to comb her shoulder-length hair with her fingers.

  “You have me confused with Rachel. She’s the one with all the weird stuff,” Robin reminded her, and pointed at Rachel, who was peering out the front windows at the long drive leading down to the ranch house from the main road.

  “Yeah, but I don’t believe in omens,” Rachel said. “And besides, we’re supposed to be thinking positively. Chi, remember? Positive energy flow.”

  “I got some energy flow for you,” Robin muttered.

  “Here comes Flynn,” Rebecca said.

  The front door banged open and Flynn
jumped inside, then struggled against the wind to push the door shut behind him. “Rather nasty out, isn’t it?” he said, dragging his hands through his hair as he looked around. “Do you think we might kip a pint of lager before we begin?”

  “Flynn!” they all cried at once.

  “Sorry!” he said, holding up a hand. “But it has been a rather trying day all in all, what with the weather.” He sighed, and was suddenly bumped in the back as the door flew open and Jake, Matt, and Grandpa crowded into the front entry.

  “I never seen a blue norther this blue,” Grandpa said, shaking his head. “Don’t know why we all had to troop down to that silly pond in the first place. Anyone with a lick of sense would have known to do it all right here, right by the fire.”

  “It was my idea. This is a disaster!” Rebecca insisted.

  “It’s all right, Rebecca,” Matt said. “You did the best you could under the circumstance. I don’t think anyone can fault your event planning when the weather is this bad.”

  “That’s right,” Robin adamantly agreed, shaking her fingers through her hair as Jake tried to fix the collar of her coat. “It’s freezing out there.”

  “So Flynn, this is your first time to Blue Cross, eh?” Grandpa asked. “What do you think of the place?”

  “Brilliant,” Flynn said, looking around admiringly at the richly appointed ranch house.

  “When you finish up that school you’re in, you ought to have your green card. You could come down here and hire on, huh?”

  “Perhaps,” Flynn said with a grin. “But we haven’t quite decided where we might end up.”

  The door burst open again; Bonnie appeared, one hand clutched at the throat of her coat, the other holding her hat firmly to her head. “I can’t stand it another moment. I can’t!” she said, marching into their midst. “After all we’ve been through, we’re supposed to endure this shit?” she exclaimed.