Oh no, your father didnt come, she said with a laugh.
I came darling, who else?
The voice sliced through him; Flynn groaned, turned toward the tiny living room and a smiling, bone-thin, Iris Willow-Throckmorton.
What is it, darling? she laughingly cried as she pranced toward him, her arms outstretched. You dont seem very happy to see me at all! She rose up, air-kissed his cheek. Weve come all this way to see you, and you. arent the least bit happy. You havent gone and found yourself a new fianceacute;e, have you? she asked sweetly.
For the first time in his life, Flynn felt the urge to deck a woman. Hallo, Iris, he said, and loosening his tie, stepped around her, walked into his bedroom, and shut the door.
Subject RE: RE: RE: Re: [FWD: Im Okay, Really] From: lt; [email protected] gt; To: lt; [email protected] gt;
[email protected] wrote:
thanks, but theres not that much to say and I really just want to be left alone .
Ah kid, youve been through a lot, but isolating yourself is not healthy. Mom is right, you should come home to the ranch and decompress. Get out of Rhode Island away from those lunatics and come back to Texas where well treat you rightRebecca knows a great spa in Austin, its like a two-day thing, and they feed you and pamper you and when you come out, I swear youre ten pounds lighter just from all the wraps. Write me back. Why is your phone disconnected, anyway? We luv u. Rachel. Robbie
Subject RE: RE: RE: RE: Doing Fine
From: Rebecca Parrish lt; [email protected] gt;
To: Rachel Lear lt; [email protected] gt;
-
[email protected] wrote:
appreciate the advice, but this isnt really the same as when you and Bud split up. I really dont want to talk, about it anymore, Bec.. Im sick of talking about it. But thanks for trying. Rachel .
But see? It is the same because I felt the same way after Bud left me. I just wanted everyone to leave me alone and let me wallow in my misery for a while. But Rach, dont do what I did and wallow too long because it really screwed me up. I started to believe I was worthless and deserved everything he did to me. It wasnt until you and Robbie sent me on the transformation retreat that I began to snap out of it and realize that what happened didnt happen TO me, it happened AROUND me (transformation seminar, track 3). There is a subtle distinction, you knowif something is done to you, its malevolent. If something is done around you, its a case of your being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the trick is to recognize youre in the wrong place at the wrong time and get out before anyone notices. Do you know what I mean? Gee, I really wish I could talk to you, Rachel. Do you need some money to get your phone reconnected? Please write me back. I am worried about you. Moms thinking of coming to Providence, but she said she wouldnt do that without talking to you first. Love you, Rebecca
Subject Your Boyfriends Crime
From: Lillian Stanton lt; [email protected] gt;
To: Rachel Ellen Lear lt;[email protected];
Rachel honey Bonnie told me all what happened and I just want you to know that your grandpa and I think its just awful what he done he deserves to go to jail and hell. Yes I said hell. Bonnie says your real depressed and I dont blame you honey because that is an awful thing to have to go through just ask your sister Robin because she was arrested once. I think you ought to come home. If you dont want to go to the ranch you just come on to Houston and I will make you some brownies you know the ones with fudge and nuts you like so well. Just let us know when your plane gets in and Grandpa will come pick you up at the airport only be sure to come to Bush Intercontinental and not Hobby because that is too far for him to drive on account of that blood clot he had last year I swan if its not one thing its another with that old man.
Hey Rachel Old Man here Got me a new hunting rifle. Want me to come up there and plug that sorry sonofabee? Lil says thats not funny but I didnt mean it to be funny, Im serious as a heart attack. I love you pretty face and if you want me to kill him I will. Hell, Im eighty years old. They arent going to put me in jail. Let me know. Love, Grandma and Grandpa
Subject: Hello Baby Girl
From: Aaron Lear lt; [email protected] gt;
To: Rachel lt; [email protected] gt;
From everything Ive read and heard I guess its safe to assume that you went to Hilton Head and did what you had to do. And I dont suppose you need any more advice than youve been getting from the rest of the crewyour mom says youve turned off your phone, and I can sure understand whybut I want you to know that I am proud of you, Rachel, damn proud. I know it hasnt been easyno one ever likes to find out theyve been the ass of someones sick joke, especially when its splashed across the news for all the world to see. But I have every confidence you will come through this stronger and better than before. Call me when youre ready, baby girl. Dad
There was, to Rachels way of thinking, nothing to be proud of. She had waltzed herself right into the middle of a freakin nightmare and had not been able to muddle her way out. When she wasnt reliving every single thing Flynn had said or done, she was reviewing, with her perfect hindsight, all the clues that should have told her she was being followed, surveilled, and generally spied upon.
For example, the blue car she had seen on more than one occasion driving past her house was Detective Joe Keatingsshe had seen it in enough newscasts now to recognize it.
How about the many times she just happened to run into Flynn? Please! At the coffee shop, the gym, the market, her class , a supermarket clear across town, hello! And his living arrangement, and his knowing the Feizels, and the fact that he couldnt help her with a computer problem even though he was a computer guy. Why hadnt something registered?
She had known right off that a guy like him would not, out of the clear blue, want to hook up with her, so why hadnt it clicked that something was going on?
Dagnes stupid witchcraft, that was why! She had bought into that ridiculous notion, had believed she had cast spells that would bring love and romance to her. Which, if one laid out all the clues and facts in a nice neat little row, made her even more outrageously pathetic than she originally thought. She was a stupid girl, a real Miss Fortune.
So, all right. It certainly wasnt the first time shed been a complete idiot, and in the greater scheme of things, she probably could have handled the whole Myron thing, particularly after the Providence Journal ran a Sunday feature entitled, A Professor, a Student, and a Tangled Web of Deceit . In that article, she came off (no surprise here) as a tubby (Rachel Lear, a tall, big-boned young woman) , pretty air-headed (did not, according to authorities, think anything unusual with the number or type of gifts she was receiving from Professor Tidwell on a fairly routine basis) , pathetic loser (A search of university records reveals that Miss Lear has been enrolled in a doctorate program for four years) . Par for the course.
Her friends tried to come to her rescue. The reporter spoke at length with Dagne, who, Rachel was discovering, really liked the media attention. Dagne Delaney, a close friend of Lears, had sold a few of the items on eBay and collected around three hundred dollars for priceless artifacts . Dagne vigorously defended Rachel. I know it might seem really stupid, but you just have to know Rachel, she told them. Shes the nicest person you would ever meet, and very well mannered, and she just really thought Professor Tidwell was her friend. No, really, she did .
Chantal said, I dont know nothing about that slimy professor, but he aint the one she had the hots for. Now Rachel Lear, she be the salt of the earth, you know what Im saying? Shed take the shirt off her back and give it right to you if you needed it.
Mr. Gregory was, as one would suspect, less sympathetic: Yes, I would agree that Miss Lear is very kind, yet I cant help but wonder at her atrocious lack of judgment.
Jason was defiant: I cant stand what everyone is saying about Rachel. Shes the best ! You dont know her! Youre saying things that arent [expletive deletive] true!
And not to be left out, Sandy: Shes real good with people. She always carried aspirin for me, because I am prone to flare-ups of phlebitis when I sit too long in class. She didnt have to do that. It was real thoughtful.
And what would a Sunday expose be without a little something from Mr. Valicielo? Lots of strange people come and go over there, all times of the day and night, he said. And she cut that tree down, that one there, to let it ruin my fence. I seen her with an axe. The reporter did note, thankfully, that there was no evidence the tree had been purposely cut down, but appeared to have fallen due to root rot.
Most of the feature was devoted to Myron, how a professor who once had a promising future could mastermind such a scheme, pocketing almost fifty thousand dollars for his troubles. That part infuriated her the most. He had stolen upwards of fifty thousand dollars, had two jobs, and still he couldnt pay her back?
The article went on to explain Myrons fall from grace at the university, which she read with great interest as she devoured a sheet of chocolate chip cookies. In the end, she decided that (a) you never knew about some people, and (b) she didnt feel quite as stupid in the end. Myron was, by that account, a master manipulator. She could at least say she had been betrayed by the best.
Which left the one thing that she could not get over: Flynn.
Flynn, Flynn, Flynn.
Jesus, how many sleepless nights did she lie there, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much hed manufactured to get Myron? Had there been any truth between them at all? He said he loved her on the lawn. Why would he say that now? Unless it was still part of his stupid undercover operation? Or was he just doing the British thing and being very polite? Yes, of course I loved you, but you do understand that it was all in the course of my work, theres a love .
It was a question that ate at her, and several times she thought to pick up the phone and call him. But she didnther phone had been disconnected. And she didnt feel quite the confident, sexy young thing she had when she was casting ridiculous, meaningless spells left and right. Nope, she felt like a poor wallflower who was desperately cling-ing to a fantasy and a lot of stupid knight-in-shining-armor dreams. How lame! He was just another cop with a job to do, and she had been the convenient way to do the job. That was it!
Maybe the worst thing about all of it was that Rachel had to admit Dad was right about her all along. She had been living in a dream world. For thirty-one years, shed been living in a stupid little dream world with fucking blinders on that kept her from seeing the truth about everything and everyone.
The whole thing had left her mightily depressed and completely rudderless. She holed up in her home, going out only when absolutely necessary. Even Mike, who might have been a port in the storm, lost patience and quit calling. His last message was very cold: Look, Ive tried to get in touch. You wanna see me again? You call me.
She put Dagne off with the excuse that she was cleaning her house. At least that part was truthful, for she had begun to view her house as a symbol of her lifea lot of junk with no place or purpose, just scattered around to obscure the truth about who she was.
As the days trudged by, Rachel had no choice but to face the truth about who she was and what she had become. She had languished too long, hiding away in Providence, and it was time she got on with her life. For the first time, she wanted to. She really wanted to. She just couldnt seem to find the motivation to get off her couch, which was beginning to show permanent impressions of her butt. A noticeably flabbier butt, as she had stopped going to the gym, too.
Dagne grew more and more impatient with her, but Rachel didnt care. She didnt need friends; she had Ben and Jerry to keep her company. She didnt even need a phone. It was great not to have to actually talk to anyone about what had happened. It was fabulous not to have to hear or say Myrons name. And it was wonderful that she didnt have to wonder each time the phone rang if it might be Flynn on the other end, then the ensuing panic over what to do.
Yep, the life of a hermit was perfect for her. And in fact, she managed to finish her prospectus for her dissertation, which her professors loved: The Use of Art in Political History: How Medieval Craft Guilds Shaped Future Unions and Pseudo-Governing Bodies in a Commercial World .
She tried to resume her weaving class, but really didnt have the heart for it. She sort of wandered from loom to loom, with a lot of Thats great, or Really nice, and the ever popular Looks good.
Chantal and Tiffinnae tried their best to cheer her up by complimenting her. Girl, you looking good , Chantal said, even though Rachel had worn her fat jeans.
Thanks, she said, hardly caring.
Mmm-hmm, I think thats a new hairdo, aint it? Tiffinnae added, peering curiously at the pile of hair on the top of her head.
No. Same old, same old, Rachel had sighed, and wandered over to where Mr. Gregory was working with Jason. Thats great, she said, and jumped a little when she realized Chantal was behind her.
Something stuck to the bottom of your shoe, honey. Rachel looked down; saw a neon-green Post-it was protruding from the back heel of her Doc Martens. She stooped over, peeled it off, and looked at it. It was an old reminder to send the Tantra book to Robin that had fallen out of her bag. She felt close to collapse, and canceled the weaving class until mid-January with an excuse of the Christmas holidays.
As the class filed out, Chantal tried once more, putting her arm around Rachels shoulders and squeezing tightly. You better than this, Rachel, she said. You way better than this. Now you need me or Tif, you call us, you hear? she asked, and scribbled down her number. I mean it, girl. We be there for you.
Rachel smiled weakly. Thanks, she said. But Im all right.
Well, if youre feeling a little down, let me know, Sandy said. Ive got some real good antidepressants. You look like you could use a bunch.