Until the Gull Returns

Contents

Foreword

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 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Foreword

UNTIL THE GULL RETURNS IS a fictional novel set against the background of the Boston Brahmin societal culture, where names like Cabot, Lowell and Peabody, in lore if not always in fact, link later generations to the seventeenth century settlers of the Massachusetts Bay Colony (which settlers included Thomas Minor, who arrived on board the ship, Lyon’s Whelp, in the summer of 1629, and later co-founded Stonington, Connecticut).

Boston Brahmins is an elitist term that, circa 1860, Oliver Wendell Holmes seems to have borrowed, then bastardized, from the name of the scholar caste of India. Doctor Holmes used this term to describe the aristocratic upper class of nineteenth century Boston – in education, art, wealth, and (unelected) political influence.

Efforts to continue this Boston Brahmin heritage, whether by blood or by marriage, and also to extend its vintage back to the Massachusetts Bay Colonists, have persisted throughout the years, often to this day.

Some observers think humorous the attributes that Doctor Holmes claimed for these elite Boston Brahmins. For example, in a toast delivered by the American poet, John Bossidy, at a Holy Cross College alumni banquet in 1910, he articulated the wry opinion of some of these unbelievers, who find this claim of unearned privilege rather amusing, with the following doggerel quatrain —

"And this is good old Boston,

The home of the bean and the cod,

Where the Lowells talk only to Cabots,

And the Cabots talk only to God."

– 

JOHN BOSSIDY

, 1910

With special thanks to:

Denise Gavaletz

Michelle Jean

Abigail Tresh

Until The Gull Returns

Chapter 1

BECKY, YOU SIMPLY CANNOT GO through with this marriage!

Hearing this from her doctor – who, far more importantly, was also her dear friend, trusted advisor, and quite often her mother in loco parentis – Rebecca Peabody Cunningham just sat there with mouth agape, as the good doctor stated unwaveringly this nonmedical conclusion. What had been scheduled as just a physical examination had obviously become something far more significant, important enough to rain on her sunny summer day.

Becky had spent the last few years waiting for her knight in shining armor to come forward and sweep her off of her feet, but finally she was forced to acknowledge that her fantasy was not going to materialize. Thus she had, however reluctantly, accepted the fact that being the daughter of a prominent Boston Brahmin family came with its responsibilities, and so she was finally, but sadly, preparing to assume the social role she had been born into.

Not inconsistent with this, she had accepted a proposal of marriage from a handsome man with both social and professional standing, and her upcoming marriage was to be the social event of the season, if not the whole decade. Most of her friends, with one notable exception, thought that the marriage would be perfect. And, truth be told, she did love the young man, even if he was not her dream come true.

But now she was hearing her beloved mentor express the opinion that she shouldn’t allow social propriety to control her whole life, causing her to – again – question what she had accepted for the past twenty-some years.

BECKY HAD ARRIVED EARLIER, AND was sitting in the waiting room reading antique magazines when Doctor Morgan arrived.

Sarah McKinley Morgan had been the doctor in town from the time that Becky could only manage Docca Sawa. She had started out as assistant to her father, a first generation Scotsman, practicing in a wing of their large house outside of Boston. After her father died, Sarah had expanded the medical practice, hired several medical associates, and converted the house into a professional building.

After Becky’s parents had divorced and moved away, and shipped her off to boarding school, Becky had become part of Sarah’s world. Indeed, for almost twenty years, Doctor Morgan had become a substitute mother for Becky’s usually absent one.

When Sarah came out to the waiting room to greet Rebecca with a warm hug and kisses on both cheeks, Becky was about to share the news of her impending marriage with the good doctor; but the doctor spoke first.

Rebecca, my darling, I’m so happy to see you; come on in and take off all of your clothes so I can look at you. When I noticed that you were scheduled I had the receptionist clear the rest of my morning; it’s been way too long since our last chat.

As Becky clutched her clothes and gave her best oh no I’m far too modest to undress look, Sarah chuckled and continued, Just funning you, lass, but here, let me take your jacket; we’ll get the rest of your clothes later. Let’s just chat for a while, shall we? There isn’t anything wrong, is there? I mean, you know I’m always glad to see you, but I understand that this is a professional visit.

No, nothing’s wrong, Becky said, stifling a smile, I just thought it was time for a check-up. I’m finally gonna get married this fall, and the honeymoon is in Tahiti, so I thought you might update my shots and whatever.

Married! Oh my God! To whom? Oh my God, when? Where? Why haven’t you told me? Why hasn’t your mother told me? Why haven’t I been invited? I thought I knew everything about you! What have you been doing behind my back, you young wench? You either tell me everything right now, lassie, or I swear I’ll use rusty instruments on you!

Aha! I thought that would get your attention, Docca Sawa, Becky laughed. Yes, married. Let’s see if I can get this in the right order now – to Derek Cabot Sanderson – on Saturday, October twenty-sixth – at ten o’clock in the morning – in the church on the Common – because I just dropped off the save-the-date notes at the post office. I think that responds fully to today’s Scottish inquisition, she said with a satisfied smile, "so there’s no need to use your garrote today.

Actually, the main purpose of my visit today, other than your checking out the body, is to deliver your save-the-date note personally, so here – and yes, I know I’m a little late with these, but Mother was a real stickler with the wording of the prenuptial agreement! she said, thrusting the note out.

That sounds like Victoria, Sarah said, smiling. How is your mother? I haven’t seen or even spoken with her in eons.

Oh, she’s fine, I guess – still unmarried, still maintaining her youthful look and girlish figure, still wandering around the world with toy boys, still searching – I’m not sure for what, Becky said with a small grimace. I love her dearly, Sarah, but she sure does frustrate me at times.

Well, I hope she finds what she’s looking for, and I hope that you have too, Sarah said, with a penetrating look. As Becky started to smile again, she continued.

Oh Becky, I’m so happy for you! as she took the note and put it on her desk without opening it, then hugged Becky again. I don’t believe that I know this Dirk fellow, do I? The only Sandersons I’m aware of are the Sanderson Electronics ones, although I don’t know any of them personally.

One and the same, and it’s Derek, not Dirk. Derek’s father runs the company; Derek works there, too – as some sort of crown prince or heir-apparent. I’ve mentioned him to you before, and you’ve seen us together a couple of times, but obviously it didn’t imprint on your memory bank.

Wrinkling her brow Sarah said, "Oh, sorry, I suppose I do sort of remember him, now that you mention it, although not in the context of a potential husband; I guess I thought he was just a friend and good-looking escort. Well, I surely hope he knows that he’s getting himself a fine bonnie lass – and, as my Ben would have put it, the pick of the litter.

Let’s see now, October twenty-sixth, let me jot that down on my calendar. Oh no, I’m out of town at – oh, never mind, I’ll get rid of that. What time did you say? Where did you say? Come on, lass, give me those details again!

When she had finished writing, she looked up and smiled. Oh, Becky, I’m so thrilled and excited for you! We should do something to celebrate, although this probably means I’ll lose my favorite traveling companion; let’s talk this evening and check our calendars. All right, let’s chat some more while we do the exam thing, shall we. Now, young lady, I will take the rest of those clothes; come on back to the exam room and strip down.

The half hour exam, coupled with their catching-up chat, took the better part of the morning, after which Sarah said, You get dressed now, and come on back to my room. Sarah’s reference to my room reflected the fact that it was her bedroom when she was living at home with her parents. Even though the house had long since been converted into a professional building, her own office still had the ambiance of a proper Scottish lady’s comfortable sitting room.

Becky was back in just a few minutes, still buttoning the last buttons on her blouse.

Well, Docca Sawa, how’d I check out? she asked, grinning at Sarah and receiving a warm smile in return.

Everything looks just fine to me, lass. Of course the blood work will take a couple of days, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I should tell you though, as your faithful doctor lady, to put on a few pounds, but I know you never do anything I say anyway.

Well, as Mother says, you can never be too rich or too skinny, replied Becky, admiring how Sarah had retained her youthful face and figure, despite being in her middle fifties.

Personally, Sarah retorted, I think you look fantastic, despite what those actuarial charts show. By the way, I do believe that you could be my only female patient who seems to have paid some attention to my old-fashioned views on premarital sex – not that it surprises me, though; you’ve always been a stickler for what’s right and proper. I guess all those long talks you and I have had paid off.

Oh, I suppose I should say yes, thank you, I do remember. And of course I always do everything you say, Doctor Morgan, which is why you just might have before you one of the last pristine twenty-seven-year-old virgins in captivity; I think most have been lured into virtual extinction. Or is that virginal extinction? But, as you well know, Sarah, Becky said, wrinkling her brow, my relationships over the years haven’t been exactly libido-challenging.

Yes, you’ve always done what you thought was right, Becky, no matter how much I tried to ease you out of that ‘perfect child’ mode, said Sarah.

Smiling, Becky said, Anyway, so far it’s been easy to keep Derek at bay – well, at least for the most part.

Uh oh, said Sarah, wrinkling her brow and looking over her glasses at Becky. "What am I hearing, or should I say, what am I not hearing? You should be chafing at the bit to get to your marital bed, Becca, even if just due to hereditary hormones. Contrary to what you’d probably like to believe, biology dictated that you do have at least some of your mother’s genes."

Seeing Becky wrinkle her nose once again at the mention of her mother, she continued, "I know, I know, you’ve had your whole life planned out ever since you were ten, when your parents divorced – what a fiasco that was. I seem to recall your tearful face when you swore to me that you’d never do that to your children. But no matter what Victoria’s family said, your parents were madly in love, and, I suspect, they still are. So, exactly why has it been easy to keep Derek at bay? Not that I’m suggesting you should not have, mind you!"

Sarah, I told Derek I’d marry him, and, logically, it’s the right and proper thing to do. Most of our mutual friends think I should marry him, and his father and mother are already treating me like a daughter – although probably just because it’ll be linking the Cabot and Peabody names. Derek’s mother is a Cabot, and his father tries to act like he thinks a Brahmin should act just because he married a Cabot. Hell, they’ve already decided where we’ll live and where our kids will go to college; it seems like the perfect match-up. So now I’m going to get married, and since there’s no knight in shining armor coming after me, I need to get on with my life. I can be content with Derek, Sarah, and I’ll make him a good wife.

My dear girl, Sarah said, going to her and putting her arm around her, you’ve spent your life doing what’s right and proper; don’t let that control how you pick a life partner. I thought you said you wanted a relationship like Ben and I had. I know that deep down you’ve always wanted a knight like Ben to sweep you off your feet. Would I be right in thinking that Derek is not that knight?

When Becky’s expression changed, Sarah smiled a smug and self-satisfied smile; Just as I suspected, there’s another man in the picture – some lucky man who’s stolen my Becky’s heart!

No, Doctor, my heart has been stolen, as you put it, but not by a real person, only by a fantasy, sighed Becky, smiling a sad smile as she settled back in the chair.

"Sarah, there is another man, sort of, but only in my dreams; and I’ve finally conceded that it’s just a ridiculously long-lasting infatuation, because we’ve never been together in any sort of romantic way. I mean, like, well, he knows me, and he even seems to like and admire me, but he doesn’t know how I feel about him.

We’ve run into each other over the past few years at various charitable and social events, and he’s seen me with Derek. But if he’d been at all interested, he would have stepped in and snatched me away by now, or at least made some sort of overture. I have, therefore, given up on him ever thinking of me as a wife, or even a mistress – which, by the way, I’d agree to in a second if he were to ask

She smiled at the doctor’s frowning disapproval of her last remark and continued. While I don’t actually see him all that often, this man shows up regularly in these wonderfully erotic fantasies of mine; I fall asleep dreaming of him more often than I care to admit, so I guess it’s true my mother’s genes are lurking somewhere in my DNA. But that’s all behind me now; I’ve set the date with Derek, and that’s that.

Oh, my poor dear, Sarah said, "let me see if I understand this. You’ve met that one man of your dreams – who doesn’t know he’s the man of your dreams – and you’re going to marry whatshisname, without telling the man of your dreams that he’s the man of your dreams – all the while letting whatshisname think that he’s the man of your dreams. Now you tell me, Rebecca Peabody Cunningham, what’s wrong with this picture!"

Sarah paused, then spoke the words that had so shocked Becky. You simply cannot go through with this marriage!

As Becky just sat there, still stunned, the doctor continued, What’s stopping you from telling this fantasy man how you feel, or at least delivering a wee hint to the gentleman?

"Oh, Sarah, I’ve thought about that so often – a couple of times I almost convinced myself to do exactly that. The last time I saw Chandler, he hugged me politely and I was tempted to just hold on and tell him how I feel about him – but I didn’t. Let’s see, what stopped me? How about – he’s never given me the slightest opening to talk personally with him. He’d be horrified if I told him he has the leading role in every single one of my erotic fantasies, and I don’t want to chance losing whatever relationship we do seem to have, as pitifully unsatisfying as it is. And, Sarah, for all I know he probably has some sort of committed female relationship already.

"Imagine me grabbing onto him and saying something like, Oh, by the way, Chandler, I’m madly in love with you. He’d think I was crazy, or drunk, or on drugs, and it could destroy the casual friendship we do have – or at least make it unbearably awkward. So since my foolish dreams can never be fulfilled, I need to get on with what can work, which I’ve now logically concluded is marriage to Derek Cabot Sanderson!"

Poppycock, said the doctor, "I’ve never heard of such gibberish! You’re talking about men and relationships, so that makes old Widow Morgan the authority! Believe me, women do talk to men about things like that; why, just the other night, I…,

and as Becky smiled and raised her eyebrows she said, oh, never mind, stop being so damned nosy; now you’re really getting to be like your mother! As Becky wrinkled her nose again, Sarah just sighed and continued.

"I say, lassie, if you won’t tell him, why don’t you just tell me who he is, and then I’ll go tell him? On the other hand, if he’s as fantastic as you say he is, maybe I’ll just speak for myself. Men do like older women, you know, they say that we’re much more giving – whoever the hell they are."

Sarah smiled, got up, and came around the desk to sit on the arm of Becky’s chair, putting her arm around her and giving her a squeeze. I’m just kidding, of course – well, maybe I’m just kidding. Who did you say the gentleman is? Oh, you didn’t, did you. And is Chandler his first name or his last? At Becky’s shrug, Sarah continued, Not going to tell me, eh. Never mind, I’ll just call Jane Potter and get it out of her.

Won’t do you any good, Becky smirked, I haven’t told Jane who he is either; it drives her batty not knowing; it’s probably the only thing about me she doesn’t know. She has known about my having a fantasy man for some time now, and sorta thinks I should just throw myself at him; but that’s Jane, not me. I could never do anything like that; I am certainly not going to embarrass the family like my mother continues to do.

Ever since the divorce, Becky’s mother had openly scorned both her family and Brahmin society, seemingly doing everything possible to embarrass everyone with her pattern of global wanderings with young gigolos.

"But, Becky, how can you be fair to whatshisname – Derek, you say? – or to this dream man, or to yourself for that matter, if you don’t at least find out if your fantasies have any basis at all in reality? What’s the worst that could happen – you confess your feelings to your dream man, and he says thank you very much, but he just wants to remain friends? That’s really not so bad, is it? You give your dream man the most flattering of compliments, and you either improve on what seems to be at least some level of friendship, or, just maybe, you turn your dreams into flesh-and-blood reality.

But, my darling, one thing is for sure – you simply cannot marry this Sanderson fellow until you find out one way or the other about the dream man! Based on what you’ve just said – or maybe what you haven’t said – maybe you shouldn’t be marrying this Sanderson fellow at all! Marriage is a lot more than just friendship, as I surely hope you know. And Ben would be so disappointed in you!

Sarah was again referring to her late husband, Ben, whom Becky had worshipped. Sarah and her Ben had married early, and bought a townhouse in Boston, where his business and their social life were centered, and where she decided to remain after his untimely death. Becky was a frequent visitor, even as a young child, and, as Sarah and Ben had no children of their own, those visits had become more and more frequent after Becky’s parents divorced and made her a de facto orphan.

Yeah, Sarah, said Becky, yours was the romance of all romances, and look how that turned out, with you all alone, just like my father. You say my parents love each other, but they divorced, and now they’re alone. I would rather be in a marriage with someone I respect and care about somewhat, rather than with someone in an ephemeral, head-over-heels relationship, if all it leads to is heartache.

Becky sighed, "I’ve thought a lot about this, Sarah, and I think I’ve made the right decision – at least I had until today, darn you. And while you think I’m being so, well, dishonest with Derek, I’ve concluded that it’s better that he never know. Sarah, I do love Derek, despite what I’ve said – he’s intelligent, handsome and charming, and I enjoy being with him – except maybe when he acts like his pompous father. I believe we could have a reasonably happy marriage.

"But, Sarah, seriously now, when I do get married, to Derek or anyone else, is there anything a gal of my age and my condition needs to know, that maybe she hasn’t picked up in boarding school, or in one of Jane Potter’s detailed dissertations on recreational sex?"

I guess you mean about your wedding night, huh? Yeah, well, you are just about over the brae. Okay, let me go back to my official doctor chair, she said resignedly, moving back behind her large desk. Then, speaking slowly, in a pedantic, Scottish dialect reminiscent of her late father, she said, "No, I suspect not, said the learned doctor, looking across her spectacles in a highly professional manner, just be sure he knows that he’s your first."

Waiting for Becky to stop laughing, she smiled slightly and said, "But seriously, lass, if a man and a woman really love each other, and if they’re understanding and compassionate, sexual intercourse – which I presume is what we’re talking about here – will in all likelihood become everything they want it to be, even if the woman is practically ancient, like you. Just don’t rush it, be considerate of each other, let him know it’s your first time, and ask him to be patient. If it happens, it happens, if it doesn’t, so what. Contrary to popular opinion, the entire sexual experience doesn’t have to be consummated on the wedding night – although these days, as I’m sure you’re aware, it often takes place long before then. Take your time, you’ll have years to practice and improve.

Okay, that’s enough talk from the learned doctor, she said, getting up from her chair and coming over to Becky. "Now let’s get back to the real issue!

"I reiterate – you cannot marry this man! You must cancel this wedding and clear up the dream man thing! See, I am drawing a line through the October twenty-six entry on my calendar, and that’s how it will remain until and unless you tell me that your assignment has been completed! Now you promise me, Becky, or I swear, when the preacher asks if anybody knows why these two cannot be joined together, I’ll just stand up and tell Dirk and everyone else about the dream man!"

"Oh all right, Sarah; my God, but you’re pushy! I promise I’ll think some more about it, and do something or other; I don’t know exactly what, but I promise I’ll do something – if only so you won’t embarrass me at the church!

"And his name is Derek – a dirk is a Scottish dagger, as I’m sure you know, Madame Scotslady – since you’ve been trying to shove one into me!"

That’s my Becca, she said with a smile, as they embraced warmly, "I know you’ll do what’s right. Call me tonight when you have your calendar, so we can write in our girls’ night out. We’ll think of something else to celebrate, or maybe you’ll go back to the original plans and marry Derek – but only if and after you complete your assignment!

Now get along with you, my staff is waiting to close the office for lunch, she said, guiding Becky to the side door.

She squeezed her arm and kissed her cheek, then patted her behind as Becky went out the door.

After Becky left, Sarah leaned with her back against the closed door and slid down to the floor, thinking, with tears in her eyes, Oh Ben, I miss you so terribly, how I wish you were still here to help me help our Becky, and to make her see there is more to life than social propriety.

Chapter 2

STILL NOT CONVINCED THAT SHE should cancel her wedding, and reasonably sure that Doctor Sarah would never make a scene at the church, Becky headed off to meet with Madame Selange, her dressmaker, while still plagued by the conversation with Sarah.

Although not convinced that she should cancel the wedding, she was beginning to accept the fact that she should delay it until she stopped fantasizing about Chandler. On the other hand, she decided that Jane might be right about its being pre-wedding jitters, that would pass as the date of the wedding got nearer. Although neither fortified nor particularly resolute, she went ahead with checking on how the dress design was coming along, especially the elaborate bead work.

Then, running a little late, she arrived for her lunch with Jane Potter, who would be her maid of honor if there was to be a wedding. She and Jane had been friends for, like, forever, even though Becky was from the Boston area and Jane was from the Los Angeles area. For some reason these two women, opposites in so many ways, had struck up a perennial friendship dating back to their pre-teen days, when they had both been shipped off to boarding school following parental divorces. Both leggy while in their early teens, each had matured into a beautiful woman – Becky a blonde and Jane a brunette – but otherwise strikingly similar in their refined beauty.

Although they’d pursued different outlooks in life, they’d also roomed together in college, but then went their separate ways when Becky went off to graduate school in Chicago and Jane went to law school in Boston. Still, not a week had gone by in all of those years without some sort of communication, often at the Peabody Farm, where Becky lived in the guest house that Grandmother Peabody left to her.

By the time Becky arrived at the restaurant, Jane had already ordered a bottle of the white burgundy that they both liked, which the sommelier was just uncorking. After smiles and hugs, Becky asked, So, counselor, how goes the campaign? referring to Jane’s attempt to unseat one of the long-entrenched state Senators in the upcoming elections. Jane grunted and nodded while checking the wine, eventually giving it thumbs up.

After the sommelier poured the wine and left, Becky raised her glass and said, Here’s to the long-overdue retirement of Senator whatshisname, and the election of the new political star, Senator Jane! Hold your applause, folks, she’s extremely shy!

"Thank you, madam constituent, and if elected, I promise to do something or other in order to get perennially re-elected, and eventually become the old fuddy-duddy Senator that some young upstart wants to unseat!

Oh crap, I hope no voters are listening – except you, of course, and if you don’t vote for me, I’ll spill all of your dark secrets to everyone!

They smiled at each other again and Jane asked, So, how are they coming with the gown? Are they having any problems translating your sketchy design into real life?

"Oh, fine, I guess; this visit should do it until the first fitting. It’s finally looking like I envisioned it, but they told me the first fitting won’t be until early September, so we’ll see. I got the feeling that they thought I was pestering them too early, but I like going by and admiring, just to see how they’re coming along.

"Say, while I was there I got some more ideas for the dress designs and the colors for the bridal party – I decided I want to be the only chic and sexy fräulein there. You’ll all love the newest fashion – black and orange gowns with turtle-necks, accented with flak jackets and army boots – you can wear the stuff when you go trick-or-treatin’ the week after the wedding.

But oh, on a serious note, and lest I forget, I agreed to a date for a showing of the various options of gowns I like for you and the ladies, but I have no idea if the date will fit into your schedules. Hey, would you mind calling Madame Selange’s receptionist and firming up a date, and get me out of the middle? Here, take the appointment card, and thanks, cherie. I loved them all, so you girls decide which ones you want; Madame knows the color scheme.

Now to the important stuff, what’re you having for lunch? I’m famished, and Doctor Sarah says I need to put on some weight.

"Oh, that’s right, this was check-up