by Lynn Landes
Elliot sits down with Dillon tucked into his side, and they watch in awe as London plays Matthew. The game lasts for forty minutes until the maid announces dinner is ready.
“I’m starving, London, finish this,” Declan demands.
Matthew looks incredulous as London puts him in checkmate. Elliot and Dillon follow Declan to the dining room as Matthew offers an arm to London. “That was amazing. I’ll get you next time.”
“I’d be honored to play you any time, Matthew.”
“When are you coming home, London?” Dillon asks after everyone is seated.
“We are leaving in three days unless we get more snow,” Declan says.
London glances at Declan in surprise. “I thought we’d have longer.”
“I promise a return trip soon, but I'd like to spend our first Christmas at home.” He glances at her to gauge her feelings.
“Of course,” she glances at Dillon.
“I'm glad you're coming home. I miss my best friend,” she squeezes Elliot's hand, and he smiles.
“I miss you too,” she smiles and falls quiet as they talk around her.
Matthew watches and isn’t surprised by her feelings. “I imagine it’s frightening for you to go back,” he says, and the table falls quiet.
“A bit,” London glances at him with a small smile. “You’re very perceptive.”
“With the Hubbard's in jail, what is there to fear?” Elliot asks.
“Of course, your right. I'm sure it's just jitters,” London says, hoping to change the subject. “Do you cut your own Christmas tree, or do you have it brought in?” she asks.
Declan watches and feels like an idiot. They will discuss this when they are alone. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I cut it down,” he teases. “What kind of woodworker would hire out a job like that?”
Everyone laughs, and they discuss the best place to get their tree. Excitement begins to build as Dillon and her talk about decorating for Christmas. “What are your family traditions for Christmas, Declan?” London asks.
“Grandfather? Would you like to share the traditions?” Declan says.
“You’re in for a treat, London. We love to decorate the house, fill it with the sights and sounds of the holiday. My favorite is by far the nativity.”
“No, it’s the food,” Declan teases.
“The food is second,” Matthew tries to say.
“No, cook starts baking after Thanksgiving, and the house smells amazing,” Declan teases.
They listen as Matthew recounts a few childhood stories of growing up in England. “What about you, London, any childhood traditions?” Matthew asks.
Her eyes glaze over, “Mother used to hide packets amongst the tree branches, filled with fruit and nuts. Daddy and I would pretend to fight over them, but he’d always let me win,” she smiles wistfully.
Declan takes her hand and presses a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “My favorite was the Koledna Pitka,” she murmurs. “The honey bread, I'd forgotten,” her eyes widen. Joy fills her gaze, “Mother would hide a coin inside and braid the bread to look like a wreath.”
“What was the coin for?” Dillon asks.
“Whoever finds the silver coin should expect good luck in the coming year.”
“You will have to make it for us,” Declan declares.
Memories filter in of happy Christmas mornings, and she grips his hand tightly. “I'd like that.”
“Would anyone like some hot chocolate,” London asks and jumps up. “Anyone else, or tea?” London takes orders and hurries out of the room, desperate to find some solitude. The kitchen is quiet as she fills the tea kettle and sets work heating up the stove.
“Need some help.”
“Declan,” she sighs and turns to look at him. He moves to the stove, and they work quietly together.
“Are you okay?” he asks while they wait for the stove to heat.
“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “Here, I’ve found peace for the first time. We’ve made some beautiful memories here, Declan, I don’t want to lose that.”
She avoids looking at him as she grabs some cream and starts to heat it on the stove. Declan watches her work and smiles.
“London, we’re going to make many more beautiful memories, as long as we’re together. How could we not?” she lifts eyes full of emotion to his.
He kisses her softly, and she sighs.
“Thank you.”
Chapter 37
New York
London steps out of the bank and grips her bag tightly. Her mind is full of company names, numbers, price, and volume of stocks from reading the ticker tapes. Most of her days are spent managing Sheridan Furniture, she is finally fully engaged in her life. In her free time, she still trades and advises friends. Christmas is two weeks away, and Declan was right, she smiles. They have made many new memories, including a surprise shopping trip where she was ambushed by Declan and Dillon, who outfitted her with a full trousseau!
The driver, Stanton, is waiting for her as promised outside of the bank.
“London,” an unfamiliar male voice calls to her when she steps out, the moment she turns she gasps.
“Lady Sheridan, do you know this man?” Stanton asks, moving beside her.
“Daddy?” her eyes fill with tears. Everything in her wants to run into his arms, but she holds back. “Give me a minute, Stanton,” she whispers.
“Yes, my lady,” he moves away from them a few steps, close enough to help if needed. She glances away, trying to calm her heart.
“I understand, London. I see it in your eyes the question, is he sober?” her father says. Her eyes drink him in taking note of the clean clothes and clear eyes. Time has not been kind to him but drinking has a way of aging a person. She stares at him and sees the shame weighing him down. It's in the way he stands, as if ready to take flight.
“I don't understand, Tessa said you were…” she steps toward him, and he flinches. Her heart breaks again, this is the man who taught her chess, who read her bedtime stories, who chased away her nightmares before her Mother died. The love is still there, even if she'd forgotten for a little while.
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he asks.
“I’d like that,” she says, “give me a moment.” London hurries to Stanton who agrees to move the carriage and meet them outside the cafe.
She glances back half, expecting him to be gone, but he's staring at her, and she feels hope for the first time.
They walk beside each other, not touching but simply being and sit with a fresh cup of coffee, inside the café. She stares at him.
“You look so much like your mother,” his head drops, and he closes his eyes against the image.
“Is that a bad thing?” she asks.
“You’re beautiful, London. I’m so happy that you found someone to love you the way you should be loved.”
“You’ve yet to meet my husband, how do you know he loves me?” she snaps.
“It's in the way you hold yourself. You are glowing with the light of that love. I've seen it before,” he looks away from her and sips his coffee.
“What happened when Tessa picked you up? I didn’t know that she was…”
Christopher lifts his hand, “I know that. I don't blame you, London. I deserved my fate. You needed to take care of yourself now.” He falls quiet for a moment, “You should know that I thought about it.”
“Thought about what, Daddy?” she asks.
“Letting the drink take me to your mother, but I didn't. I don't know why or if I won't in the future, but I do know that I won't ever put you through this again. I'm leaving for England. My brother has agreed to let me stay with him in Sheffield.”
“You’re leaving me again,” she sets her cup down and looks up at him, expecting to feel anger, but all she feels is sad mixed with a little relief. Shame has her closing her eyes.
“I'm sorry I shouldn't have come. I wanted you to know that I was sober, and instead of using her ca
sh to drink myself to death. I managed a few trades and made some money. A lot of money.” He grins when she glances up in surprise.
“That’s great,” she whispers.
“It's too hard to stay, you look so much like her,” his voice breaks, and she grips his hand, surprising them both.
“I understand.” He grips her hand and takes a deep breath. “Thank you.” Releasing her hand, he stands and drops cash on the table. London is shaking when they step outside.
“I'll send word when I reach England, so you don't worry.” He steps away from her turning to leave and panic strikes her.
“Dad!” she sobs and flies into his arms. He hugs her tightly and closes his eyes, allowing his own tears to flow freely.
“I love you, and I'm so proud of you, London.”
She gathers her strength and pushes back to look at him.
“Through all of the chaos of the past few years, I didn't know the Lord was leading me to this life. Never again will I question the path because even in the madness, he never left me. I know you think you're alone, Dad, but the Lord is waiting on you to turn to him,” London says and wipes her tears with a handkerchief.
He smiles at her, and she catches a glimpse of the man he used to be. “Maybe I'll look him up once I'm home.”
“I will pray that you do.” She squeezes him once more, and he turns walking away. This time his head is held high, and she feels free of the guilt, shame, and worry that has plagued her for so long.
“Are you ready to go home, Lady Sheridan?” Stanton asks.
“Yes, I am.”
Epilogue
1884
New York
“Not that one, Poppy,” four-year-old Anna whispers in his ear while twirling a finger in a dark curl.
“Why not?” Matthew demands of his great-grandchild.
London laughs and covers her mouth with her hand.
“If you go there, Mama’s, gonna win again,” she states.
“Perhaps you’d like to play for me,” London suggests to her daughter.
“Yes, please,” Anna claps her hands and takes London’s place.
“Fine. Now let a man think,” Matthew moves his bishop, and Anna stares at him.
“Are you watching, Poppy? If I move my horsey, here,” she picks up her piece and moves it, “I’m going to win in three moves.”
Declan roars with laughter at the look of outrage on his Grandfather’s face. London holds her pregnant belly and stares at her husband in shock.
“She gets that from you!” Declan declares.
“You should be humble, Anna,” Matthew snorts even as he beams with pride.
“You said, always tell the truth.” she shrugs her shoulders, “I'm just better than you.”
“Anna!” London gasps, but Matthew joins in the laughter.
“That you are, my girl.”
The End.
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You might want to check out
Another book by Lynn:
Mercy's Promise
A Promise for Christmas
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About the Author
Lynn Landes is the author and independent publisher of multiple books in all age brackets. Her stories span the spectrum of Fiction, from historical romance, paranormal, romantic suspense to Christian fantasy including the best-selling Promise Series.
Educated as a teacher Lynn never lost her love for literature and began writing at an early age. Poetry, short stories and fiction. She regularly can be found in the car rider line at her children’s school writing on receipts, napkins or whatever scraps are at the bottom of her purse. A Virginia girl at heart, she lives with her husband and three children in South Carolina.
