Juliette and the Monday ManDates

by Becky Doughty

  The man was so alive, so exuberant, and expressive. He was like a tamed wild man, and Juliette was trying not to be overwhelmed by him.

  "You look amazing, by the way. Great boots." He tapped her toe with his own booted foot. "Do you have a jacket? Maybe some gloves?"

  Juliette made up her mind. "Okay," she said decisively. "I'm game. I do have a jacket. And gloves. Hold on." She yanked open her tiny coat closet and grabbed an old leather bomber jacket that had been her dad's. She rarely wore it, but she took it out periodically, and put it on like a hug, or just buried her face in it and breathed deeply. Even after all these years, it still smelled like him, and she smiled as she imagined what he would say about her climbing on the back of a big, black motorcycle with a complete stranger.

  Trevor stepped forward and took it from her, then held it as she slid her arms into it. "Nice jacket. Looks really old."

  "Thanks." She nodded, smiling. "It was my father's."

  "Nice," he said again. "Speaking of fathers, let's start this night out right. Can I pray for us?" He took her hand in both of his, and bowed his head without waiting for her answer.

  "Father, You already have a plan for us tonight, and even though we don't know exactly why You brought us together, we do know that You're in charge. You've already gone ahead of us, preparing the table for us, and now we invite You to join us. Let everything we say and do tonight be honorable to You. I want to make You proud, Father. Amen." He let go of her hand and grinned at her. "Ready?"

  Juliette's head was spinning and she stared blankly at him, at a complete loss. He was so different from Thera-Paul or Frisky-Frank. Or Mike. He was so different from anything she'd seen on television or in the movies. How could God not be proud of a man like this?

  "Is there something wrong?"

  She shook her head, feeling a blush color her cheeks. "No. Sorry. I'm just..." she faltered. "I'm just trying to figure out a purse for tonight."

  He laughed. "I don't carry a purse, so I'm cool if you don't. Just tuck your license and keys into a pocket in your jacket. Your hair, though; you should tie it back. Otherwise the wind will tangle it so badly you'll hate me."

  She grabbed an elastic band from a little ceramic knick-knack dish on one of the book shelves and quickly braided her long hair.

  "Perfect," he approved.

  She followed him down the walk to his bike, but the closer she got, the larger it looked, and the more trepidation she felt. "I...I've never been this close to a motorcycle before. This one is really big. Are you sure it's safe?"

  Trevor laughed. "Safe?" he asked, spinning around so he was walking backwards in front of her. "Nah. But then again, nothing is safe in this world, is it? That's why it's so great to know this world isn't all there is. I don't want safe. Then I wouldn't long for Heaven." He chuckled at the look on her face. "Relax. I am a pretty safe driver, for what it's worth." He unclipped a helmet from the back seat and handed it to her. "It's my cousin's—that was the stop I made on my way over. It fits Gia. Hopefully it fits you, too."

  After she had it on, he reached out and gripped it with both hands, moving it around on her head. "Does it feel like there's extra room in there, or is it snug? You don't want it too tight or you'll have a headache in minutes, but it can't be loose, or it's almost more dangerous than going without." He gave her chin strap a little tug.

  "It's fine," she said, not even sure what it was supposed to feel like. She tried to keep her voice from trembling. "I guess Gia and I have the same size head. Has she ridden with you?" She tried to imagine her shy little sister throwing a leg over the back of this monstrous machine. How did Gia even know this guy?

  "First time a few weeks ago. It took some convincing, but I could tell she really wanted to." He winked at her. "She said you'd like it, too, if you'd just give it a chance."

  At first Juliette tried not to think about Trevor and Gia discussing her, but then she got curious. He seemed like a face-value kind of guy.

  "Can I ask you something?" Her voice was a little muffled and Trevor reached over and pushed up her face guard.

  "Absolutely. Ask me anything." He waited attentively for her question.

  "What exactly did my sister say to you about tonight?"

  Trevor slid his own helmet over his head and buckled the chin strap snugly before answering her. "It was the strangest conversation, really. I think that's why I agreed to it. Your sister is good friends with my cousin Ricky. Do you know him?"

  "Ricky Nolan? Yes. Huh. Small world." So this was Ricky's helmet. He was in on this, too.

  "Yep. Well, they come by sometimes just to hang out. She's a good girl, your sister. And she's a good friend to Ricky, too. I keep thinking the two of them might get serious one of these days, but he assures me they're just friends. Anyway, one day we were talking about plans for the future, and your sister mentioned you. She said you were really good at planning things, but something had happened recently that had changed everything for you." When he noticed her frown, he reached over and tugged on her chin strap again. "She totally respected your privacy, don't worry. But what she did say touched a chord with me. She said that it seemed like you were just learning to swim even though you'd already been in the water for so long everyone assumed you knew how already. I asked her if I could use the concept in a song, and she agreed, but only if I would meet you. I was totally up for that."

  "Meeting me is one thing. Taking me out on a date is another thing altogether."

  "Yeah, well, I don't know what happened to you, but I do know what it feels like to have the earth ripped out from under my feet. That whole swimming metaphor summed up some stuff I went through a few years back, too. It took a while for me to learn to swim on my own, and I guess I just felt the Lord nudging me to bear witness to you."

  "What does that mean? Bear witness?" She tried not to sound belligerent but this Jesus jargon, as Sharon called it, bugged her.

  "Yeah, that's one of those Christianese phrases," he replied, as though he'd read her mind. "Sorry. To me, it means to be living proof of what God can do and does do in our lives." He looked down the road in anticipation. "It wasn't about a date, Juliette, no matter what we call it. Dating to me is purposely choosing to pursue a relationship with someone. This may be even bigger than that. Call it a divine appointment if you need a label, but if I turned down the opportunity to speak a little hope into your life, then I'd be walking in disobedience. I've tried that before and it doesn't work, not for very long anyway." He stopped talking a moment, letting her mull that over.

  "I see," she said, more to fill the silence than because things were suddenly clearer.

  "So, Juliette Gustafson." he grinned, settling onto the bike. "Here we are. Are you game to spend an evening with me? I'm the guy you saw last night. That's the real me, on stage, off stage; I live it every day."

  This was the most confusing night of her life. Here was a man who believed the way her best friend did, who spoke like a religious zealot, who dressed like a rebel, and sang like an angel. And he wanted to take her to the edge of town to see what kind of sunset God had up His sleeve. She was way out of her league. And scared. And intrigued.

  "I'm game," she said again, her voice as shaky as her confidence.

  He flipped down the foot pegs for her and showed her where to put her feet. With one hand on his shoulder, she awkwardly got her leg up over the back, and sat behind him. He turned so he could see her. "You'll have to trust me, okay? Lean with me when we take the corners, not against me, and hands around my waist, but not too tightly. I'm ticklish." He grabbed at his belt and wiggled it. "You can hold on to my belt. It's not going anywhere."

  Juliette could feel her cheeks warm inside the helmet, glad he couldn't see her blush. He was refreshingly candid about everything. She nodded and tentatively rested her hands at his waist, her fingers curling slightly around the wide black leather belt threaded through the loops on his jeans. He glanced down at them, grinned at her like he knew something she didn't, t
hen continued.

  "When you're a little more comfortable, you can lean back against your backrest, but you still need to keep your hands on my waist at all times. Don't let your feet drag; keep them on the pegs. When we stop, I'll support the bike. You keep your feet off the ground, okay? The bike heats up and certain parts will sizzle your skin right through your clothing, so be very careful, especially of the mufflers. Can you remember all that?" She nodded, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. "Think of it this way. Riding on the back of a motorcycle is a bit like being in a relationship with God. It could be the ride of your life, if you'll just trust Him."

  She nodded again, not quite sure how to respond to that, bumping her helmet against the back of his. "Sorry!"

  He just grinned. "Feet up, windscreen down, Juliette. Let's go!"

  The rumble of the bike as it came to life beneath her both terrified and exhilarated her. She let out a little squeal as he revved the engine a few times, and threw her arms around him, abandoning all traces of dignity.

  "Not too tightly, remember," he called out. She tried to relax her grip, but she closed her eyes as they pulled away from the curb.

  At first the intimacy of being wrapped around a stranger, and the adrenaline rush of flying down the road with no protective metal framework around her, made her so tense she forgot to move with him, and he had to remind her several times. Once she even put her foot down at a stop light. He reached back and patted her knee. She returned the errant appendage to the peg with another shouted apology.

  Ten minutes later, she was one with the bike, one with Trevor, one with the world. She leaned back into the padding behind her and felt her toes uncurl in her boots. It was one of the most freeing experiences she'd ever had.

  It was even better than shredding wedding invitations.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JUST AS THE SUN WAS preparing for its grand exit, they pulled into a well-maintained rest stop. "Come on. We have to hurry or we'll miss it." Trevor grabbed her hand, pulling her along in his enthusiasm.

  They followed a trail meandering up the hillside until they reached a small clearing. One bench sat alone on the edge of the slope, over-looking the valley where the town nestled.

  "I didn't realize we'd come up so high," said Juliette, her voice hushed. "This is amazing." She slid onto the bench beside Trevor, and they sat in silence as the sky unfurled its dazzling twilight colors for them.

  "Wow," Juliette whispered.

  The sky subtly swayed and shifted before beginning to fade. Finally Trevor spoke too, his tone reverent. "And they say there is no God."

  Then he began to sing, his eyes closed, a love song, a prayer.

  "In a sunset's glory, in the awakening of dawn, when I see Your handiwork displayed across the sky. I am amazed, I am in awe. I am in wonder of who You are, that You would love one such as I."

  He sang softly, the words seeping from every pore, and Juliette sat beside him, barely breathing, letting his voice wash over her. How she longed to see God the way he did.

  Suddenly he stood and stretched out his arms. His voice rose, and that perfect rasp at the edges of it went to work on the walls around her heart all over again.

  "How can I do anything else but praise You, thank You? Hallelujah. Hallelujah."

  The echo of his song rolled out over the valley and back to them, and Juliette bowed her head under the power of her emotions. She felt his hand rest companionably on her shoulder.

  She was glad for the shadows; she didn't want him to see her face. She'd shed a few tears but not enough to be embarrassed. It wasn't that. It was because she knew that everything she was feeling—the doubts, the wonder, the pain, the confusion, the longing—it would all be there, exposed for him to see, and she simply didn't want to put on any masks right now. She wanted to stay vulnerable to whatever was going on inside her for a little while longer.

  They waited until the last of the light faded from the sky.

  "We should go, Juliette." He spoke quietly, gently, squeezing her shoulder. "It's dark, and I promised to feed you."

  Even though there were a few lampposts along the trail, Trevor pulled a flashlight from his pocket and turned it on. "Take my hand. I'll get you there safely." Once again she was pulled along by him, by the things he stirred up in her heart.

  They agreed on a popular burger place, and Juliette was surprised to find she was ravenous. He teased her mercilessly about ordering so much, but she didn't feel guilty when she saw the mammoth burger he got for himself. Their conversation was relaxed and aimless; they talked about Ricky, about her sisters, and about Trevor growing up an only child.

  "I hated it when I was younger, but by the time I was a teenager and totally into my music, I was glad not to have the distraction of other siblings. That sounds pretty narcissistic, doesn't it? But it's true. My folks one hundred percent supported me and encouraged my dreams. My dad, man, he totally empowers me to be the best man I can be. I think the only down side of it all is that I left home feeling pretty entitled. I learned the hard way, repeatedly, that it wasn't always about me. But then, I always had Mom and Pop to pick me up, dust me off, and kick me in the butt, until I got back in the saddle again." He took a long swig of his soda and leaned back in his chair. "Dessert?"

  "How can you even think of dessert right now?" Juliette groaned, very unladylike. "I'm so stuffed I can hardly breathe! And these stupid jeans don't help either. Why didn't I wear stretch pants?" She was still working on the last of her seasoned French fries. Trevor had convinced her to mix ketchup and mustard and the house dressing together as a dip, then made a huge scene when she admitted she liked it. Everything about Trevor Zander seemed bigger and bolder than normal.

  "Well? What next? Do you want to go home? For another ride?" He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out under the table, and nudged her calf with one of his feet.

  "Can we ride for a while?" She felt the flutter of anticipation in her belly.

  He grinned and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. "Let's go. Hit the bathroom and I'll pay the bill. If you're not out in two minutes, I'm coming in after you. If I don't get to touch up my make up, you don't either."

  They rode for another hour. Trevor knew all the back roads, and scenic routes, and he periodically pointed out things he thought might be of interest to her. Most of the time, however, they didn't try to talk. She was glad because it gave her time to think about the last twenty-four hours, and all she'd experienced with him.

  She was drawn to him, but it wasn't necessarily because of his looks, or his charisma, both of which he had in boatloads. She couldn't put her finger on what it was exactly, but she thought perhaps it had less to do with him, and more to do with what was going on inside her heart. She was on the verge of something, and she wondered if this was what Sharon meant about the skylight opening.

  When he finally pulled up in front of her little home, she was prepared to invite him in. She didn't want him to leave until she'd gotten some of her thoughts sorted out. There was no shame, no fear, no rigidity in his faith like she saw in Renata's. There was freedom and joy, even when he talked about pain in his life, and she wanted to understand.

  She looked up at him while she dug in her jacket for her keys. "Will you come in?"

  He shook his head. "But if you want to talk, we could sit out here on your front steps."

  At her curious look, he explained. "I try to avoid anything that could be misconstrued, or that might lead somewhere that it shouldn't; like being alone with you, a beautiful woman, in your house late at night. Riding a bike together is pretty intimate already."

  Juliette shook her head again at his lack of pretension, appreciating him even more. "Then allow me to welcome you to my front porch. I'm going to get a couple of cushions because I know for a fact this concrete gets hard. Would you like some coffee?"

  "Coffee sounds good." He dropped down to sit on the top step and turned to lean his back against one of the concrete planter boxe
s on either side of the stoop. "I'll be right here when you get back. I promise."

  Juliette returned shortly with a stack of cushions and a box of treats from Mona's. She'd stocked up just in case the night turned out badly.

  "Nope." She flicked his hand away when he reached for a cinnamon roll. "That one's mine. I already licked it."

  "Did you lick this one?" he asked, pointing at another icing-covered pastry.

  "Probably." She picked up the cinnamon roll he first tried to take and broke it in half. "Here. You can have the unlicked side." She handed him the bigger chunk. "Actually, I bought these with the intention of eating every one of them all by myself," she admitted, feeling a lack of guile, herself. "So as far as I'm concerned, I'm being really grown up and generous with you." She took a bite and sighed with pleasure. "I do love Mona, Trevor." She tapped the box where Mona's logo was stamped. "You need to know that up front."

  He spoke around the bite in his mouth. "Mm. I can see why."

  Juliette brought the coffee tray out shortly and poured them each a cup. She sat facing him with her back to the opposite planter, and they chatted for a while, until finally, Trevor asked, "So what's really on your mind?"

  Now that the question was voiced, she had no idea where to begin. Trevor didn't push her, just sipped his coffee in silence while she stumbled over her words. She saw his lips move silently at one point and wondered if he was bored by her babble. The thought made her feel even more uncertain, and she pulled the edges of her dad's jacket tighter around her.

  "Sorry," she muttered. "I'm not being very clear, am I?"

  "That's okay. Take your time. I'm in no hurry." His reassurance made her feel a little better, and she sat quietly for a few moments, gathering her thoughts. From the corner of her eye she noticed a patrol car coming down the street. Her heart rate sped up again.