The Patterson Girls
Read The Patterson Girls Online
Authors: Rachael Johns
The Patterson Girls
RACHAEL
JOHNS
Rachael is an English teacher by trade, a mum 24/7, a supermarket owner, a chronic arachnophobe and a writer the rest of the time. She rarely sleeps and never irons. Rachael writes rural romance and women's fiction and lives in rural Western Australia with her hyperactive husband, three mostly gorgeous heroes-in-training, two fat cats, one naughty dog and a very cantankerous budgie.
At 17 Rachael began writing, enlightened by the thought that she could create whatever ending she liked and so she embarked on a Bachelor of Arts in Writing. Almost fifteen years later, after joining the Romance Writers of Australia, she finally achieved her goal of publication. Since then Rachael has finaled in a number of competitions, including the Australian Romance Readers Awards.
Jilted
(her first rural romance) won Favourite Australian Contemporary Romance in 2012 and she was voted in the Top Ten of Booktopia's Favourite Australian Author poll in 2013.
Rachael loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her websiteâ
www.rachaeljohns.com
. She is also on
Facebook
and
Twitter
.
This story began a few years ago when the paddocks around the town where I live were covered in what looked to me like a beautiful purple flower.
As a converted country girl, I didn't know anything about Paterson's Curse or Salvation Jane as it is sometimes called but my farming friends told me it was actually an invasive weed. At the same time another friend of mine suggested that
Paterson's Curse
would make a great title for a book. With this pretty weed and my friend's suggestion in my head, I started dreaming of a story about a curse. It soon became a family curse and the Patterson clan was born.
Initially
The Patterson Girls
was going to be another rural romance and although it still has many of the trademarks of the much-loved rural genre, there were four sisters fighting to be heard and the story grew into a family drama with a big secret at its core instead.
I'll be honest, there were times I wanted to give up and write a straight romance, but I mostly loved writing about the relationships between the sistersâtheir sibling rivalry and also their special bonds. All of them are remarkable women, struggling with everyday issues and I hope that every reader will be able to identify with at least one of the girls.
And for those of you who love your romance as much as I do ⦠never fear. As there are four sisters, there are also a number of gorgeous suitors hoping to win their hearts.
So thank you from the bottom of
my
heart for picking up
The Patterson Girls
âI'm so excited to share this story with you and can't wait to hear what you think.
Happy Reading
To my cousinsâTom, Becky and Mikey, who were the closest I had to siblings growing up and are still some of my favourite people on the planet. Love you all!
Contents
âDad.' The word slipped from Lucinda Mannolini's lips on a whisper as she emerged from gate 21 at Adelaide Airport and spotted her father. Her heart squeezed. His standard uniform of black work trousers and checked shirt seemed to hang from his lanky body. In the last six months, he appeared to have gone a little whiter on top. He still stood tall though, his glasses perched on his nose and his arms folded across his chest as he waited amidst a sea of people desperate to claim their loved ones so the holiday season could kick off. Overhead, announcements were being made about delayed flights and missing passengers, but Brian Patterson looked lost in his own little world.
Thrusting her shoulders back and pushing her chin high to give an air of confidence she didn't feel, Lucinda slipped into the stream of passengers, approaching a couple so lost in their passionate reunion that they either didn't care or hadn't noticed they were holding up the traffic. Once upon a time she and Joe had been like that whenever he returned from his two weeks on the goldfields, but lately, not so much. Pushing that thought away, she stepped around them as Dad rushed forward, his arms wide open for her. Her leather handbag slapped against her back as she flung herself into them and dropped her head against his strong, broad shoulders.
âDad,' she said again as tears welled in her eyes.
âLucinda,' he whispered back. âMy Lucinda.' His voice held raw emotion, making her feel safe and loved and needed all at once. Still holding her, he shuffled them out of the throng of people rushing past. There wasn't room for her and him
and
the tongue-locked lovers.
âHow are you, sweetheart?'
His heartfelt question almost unravelled her. He was the one who had been six months without his soulmate. Although she'd been as long without her mother, living away in Perth she'd sometimes forgotten that her mum wasn't still in their South Australian home town, making beds, cooking meals and greeting guests at the Meadow Brook Motel. Living away she could still pretend that Mum was alive, but being back home for Christmas would put an end to that illusion pretty damn quick.
âI'm good,' she lied, forcing a smile. She didn't know whether to mention Mum. âHow are you?' she asked instead.
âFine, fine,' he waved away the question as he led her towards the baggage carousel. She guessed he wasn't speaking the whole truth either but neither pressed the other for this wasn't the place for a conversation that would quite likely end in messy, messy tearsâhers not entirely related to the loss of her mother.
She wasn't sure her problem was the kind one discussed with one's father. Her sisters maybe, although she doubted any of them would understand.
Madeleine might appreciate her desire to have a child but would no doubt tell her to stop being so emotional about it. She'd say science could fix almost anything these days and suggest she book herself an appointment with a fertility clinic. All very well to say, but you had to have been trying to conceive for a year before a specialist would give you the time of day and she'd only gone off the pill eight months ago. Charlie would ask if she'd tried alternative therapy and suggest she and Joe go on a yoga holiday to get in touch with their inner fertility, or worse, visit some kind of sex therapistâas if that was the problem. And Abigailâthe youngestâwould get her drunk to try and take her mind off it all.
The Patterson girls were as different as the four seasons. Once upon a time, before careers and in her case a husband had scattered them, they'd been closeâthe way Lucinda thought sisters were supposed to beâbut time and distance had drawn them apart and she missed the companionship they used to share.
âLucinda?' Dad's voice echoed around her head and she blinked. The crowds had thinned around them.
âSorry, Dad. What did you say?'
He frowned and then shook his head. âAbigail's plane lands in half an hour but she'll no doubt be a while getting through customs. Charlie's next, then Madeleine. We'll probably have an hour or so to wait then before Madeleine's flight, but I thought we could grab some lunch.'
âSounds great.' Lucinda injected chirpiness into her voice and linked her arm through her father's as she looked for her suitcase.
âDammit.' Abigail Patterson cursed and tapped her Manolo Blahnik heel against the grubby floor of the airport as she eyed the hundreds of suitcases that were doing the rounds of the carousel while weary travellers waited ready to pounce. None of them held her violin, which she'd rashly decided to leave in London.
What a stupid mistake.
For one, she never travelled without her instrument, and doing so would likely raise suspicion amongst her dad and older sisters. And for two, how the hell would she get through the week ahead without being able to sneak off to her room and play some Pachelbel or Vivaldi? It would be hard enough trying not to let slip her recent failure, but the first Christmas at home without Mum was going to be plain and simple hell.
However, still raw from being kicked out of the orchestra, she had barely been able to look at her beloved violin while packing for this trip two days ago. She'd shoved it under the bed and decided that a little time apart would do them good. It would give her the chance to work out what to do with herself when she returned to London. What
did
one do with oneself when the dream you'd been working towards your whole life went up like a puff of smoke?
â'Scuse me, coming through.'
A short, stocky woman with a face as red as her carrot-coloured hair barged past and launched herself at a massive purple polka-dotted suitcase. Abigail glared as the woman tried to wrestle her suitcase off the carousel and then felt a spark of jealous irritation when a tall, well-built blond God of a man slipped past her to assist, lifting the case as if it were no heavier than a box of movie popcorn. He smiled at the redhead as he deposited the case on a trolley and the woman started blathering her thanks. Maybe Abigail should feign difficulty with her case and he could help
her
? She glanced around the carousel again but saw no sign of it. Anyway, it wasn't much bigger than an overnighter. If there was one thing Abigail was good atâbesides playing the violinâit was packing lightly but still managing to look a million dollars.
