Juliette and the Monday ManDates

by Becky Doughty

  Juliette stayed seated as people made their way out of the sanctuary and off into the night. She sat, head down, focusing intently on the tips of her shoes. "Oh Lord. Help me. I can't do this alone. I feel so alone," she whispered.

  "Excuse me." For a moment Juliette thought she was going to be asked to leave, or to make way, but then she recognized that voice. "Juliette?"

  She couldn't look at him. She didn't want him to see her like this, all tear-stained and weak again. She slumped even lower in her seat, wishing she could vanish into thin air.

  VICTOR NOTICED HER the moment she slipped in the back door of the church. He had just turned to say something to his friends who were sitting in the row behind him, and stopped abruptly when he recognized her tiptoeing in. He couldn't stop staring; what was she doing here?

  When he broke off mid-sentence, Michelle turned to see what had distracted him. "Who is that?" she whispered, elbowing her husband, Tom, to make him look, too.

  Victor was a part of Tom Peterson's discipleship group, and the three of them had become good friends over the years. Between the Petersons, Taz, and a handful of other friends he'd made since moving to Midtown, Victor had found a new family.

  Michelle Peterson certainly treated him like a kid brother. She teased him mercilessly about women, or the lack thereof, in his life, and no one was more thrilled for him than she, when he and Amanda started seeing each other. She and Tom took them under their wings, spending time with them, getting to know the woman he'd finally chosen to date.

  So when he showed the older couple the ring he'd purchased for Amanda, Michelle surprised him with her questions. She didn't ask him if he was sure it was what he wanted, but if he was sure it was what Amanda wanted.

  When he informed them the next day that Amanda had turned him down, Michelle shook her head sadly, but she obviously wasn't surprised. Victor took it all in stride, chuckling humorlessly. "Funny thing is, I would have been just fine with her boredom. Beats drama any day."

  "Ahem!" Michelle cleared her throat from behind him. "Vic?"

  He blinked hard and turned back to her, a schooled blank look in place. She eyed him sharply; he hoped he wasn't blushing. "What?"

  "You were saying?" she prompted.

  "Um...." He looked right at her, but his thoughts were already back on Juliette.

  "Oh, never mind, you big lug. But you've got some 'splainin' to do after the service."

  Victor's thoughts were all over the place. Did she attend church here? Why didn't Trevor tell him? Was this one of those divine appointments his friend had talked about? Was he supposed to ask Juliette out tonight?

  The idea settled on him like a warm blanket. Yes, tonight. Tonight he would speak with her. Tonight he would take the step his heart had urged him to take since the first night he'd stood on her doorstep, Juliette dressed in that ridiculous pink bathrobe, threatening to kill her sister.

  She'd paraded right past him, a divine appointment if he'd ever seen one. Tonight was definitely the night.

  He stole glances at her during the rest of the music, grinning when he realized she was singing her heart out and hardly knew the music. He almost thought he heard her at one point, when the worship leader changed keys and moved right into the next song.

  Every time he looked at her, he felt confirmation about pursuing her. She seemed so genuine, so sincere in her offering. Watching her worship reminded him of a conversation between him and Michelle about women doing everything in groups. She laughed and told him he'd never really understand the psychology of it because he was a man, but to pay attention when a woman did something on her own. "If she's not waiting for an entourage of friends, then it's something really important to her, and you'd better take note of it."

  But halfway through the message, he saw her tears. At first it was only a few slipping down her cheeks; then she was crying for real, crumpled tissues in her clenched fists. He felt helpless sitting there, watching her weep. He couldn't just get up and cross the aisle to her; that would be presumptuous of him. Besides, she might not want his attention.

  "Just give me the facts, Friday." Michelle poked him in the shoulder when the service was over.

  "I...I don't know much about her, to be honest. She's a fairly new believer, I think." He stumbled over his words, quickly categorizing what little he did know about her. University job, interfering sisters, best friend named Sharon, PT Cruiser. It was all the facts, but none of those things really said anything about Juliette. "Taz likes her," he finally said, rather lamely.

  "Trevor? As in, he likes her, likes her?" Victor couldn't help grinning at the juvenile phrase coming out of his friend's mouth.

  "I don't think so," he said. "He told me to ask her out."

  "What?" Michelle's tone was incredulous. "He told you to ask her out? Who is she?"

  "Her name is Juliette. She went out with him a few weeks ago, and I guess he thinks pretty highly of her."

  "But what does any of this have to do with you? How do you know her? I can see that you're...interested."

  "Michelle thinks you like her, like her." Tom, always quick with the one-liners, interjected with a chuckle.

  "Let's just say that I...uh...met her on the job. Which means mine may not be her first choice of shoulders to cry on, and I think she might need that right now." He turned back to watch her again, suddenly worried that someone else might sweep in and offer her comfort.

  "Victor Jarrett, what are you not telling me?" Michelle eyed him, head tilted. "I'm getting the feeling yours are exactly the shoulders she needs right now, and you're the resistant one, not her." She turned to her husband beside her. "Help me here, Tom."

  The older man rubbed his chin and eyed Juliette. "Do you think your friend would like to join us for pie?"

  "Tom! What kind of help is that?" Michelle elbowed him. "She's not a man. Food isn't always the answer."

  "I was actually thinking about asking her to join us when I saw her come in. But not now." Victor shook his head. "She's crying."

  "So? Everybody cries in church sometimes." Tom winked at his wife.

  "Absolutely," chimed in Michelle. "And there's nothing to be ashamed of when you do."

  "You might want to reassure her of that," Tom prodded, thrusting a chin in Juliette's direction.

  "Me?" Victor shook his head again. Dealing with crying women while on the clock was a piece of cake. There were no strings attached, no ulterior motives, only that of restoring order. Off the clock was a whole different story. "I'm not so good with tears. Or women." After a brief pause, he admitted, "Especially that woman."

  "Maybe you should learn to be," Michelle said around a curious grin.

  Tom wasn't going to let this one go either. "A woman needs to know her man isn't going to be embarrassed of her tears." He slid a protective arm around his wife's shoulders. Michelle smiled and nodded, her eyes warm and tender.

  "Her man?" Aghast now, Victor stared at them both. "Uh, I'm not her man."

  "A man, then," Tom corrected. "A woman needs to know—"

  "I got it the first time. But I don't think I'm that man right now. And I doubt she wants to go out for pie, either. At least not tonight."

  "Nothing wrong with tonight. I'd like to meet her." Tom spoke nonchalantly, but Victor heard the challenge in his voice.

  "Tonight isn't the night," he reiterated firmly, ignoring the little voice in his head that was trying to remind him of his earlier decision; tonight is the night! "Don't push it, Tom."

  It was the tears. He hated it when his mom and sisters used their tears to get what they wanted from people, and he could feel a building resistance toward Juliette as long as she kept crying. Unlike Darlene's or Sasha's, he thought hers were genuine, but it still elicited the same response in him; to push her away.

  "She needs a shoulder before she needs pie," Michelle stated, her brow furrowed.

  "I agree." Victor crossed his arms. "That's why I'm recruiting you."

  "A man's shoulder. A man's
strength." Now Michelle was getting pushy.

  "How do you know she hasn't got a man already?"

  "Because she's sitting in church alone and crying, Victor!" Michelle wasn't joking any longer. "If she had a man—a good one—he'd be sitting there with her, and she'd be crying on his shoulders."

  He glared at his friends; they stared back with their own stony challenge.

  "Oh, good grief! I'll go talk to her!" He thrust himself up out of his seat.

  Tom stood up, too. "Come on, Michelle. We'll wait for Vic and—what's your friend's name?"

  "Juliette," Victor growled.

  "Juliette. We'll wait for you two out front." He tipped his head toward the woman across the aisle. "Take your time. We're in no hurry."

  And now, here he stood, awkwardly hovering over Juliette, not sure what else to say to her. His formal 'excuse me' had been pitiful at best, and he was pretty sure her silence meant that she wasn't very excited to see him.

  "I'm not trying to be nosy," Victor began. He slid into the seat beside her and stared straight ahead, trying to figure out how to not embarrass either one of them any more than he already had. "I just want to make sure you're all right."

  "I'm fine," Juliette sniffed, holding her soggy tissue to her nose. "I'm just a little emotional. But I guess you figured that out already."

  "That's all right. Everyone cries in church sometimes. It's nothing to be ashamed of." He cringed as he heard Tom's words come out of his own mouth. Grasping at straws.

  "I'm not really ashamed of crying," she muttered. "Only of being seen crying."

  "Oh." What does one say to that?

  "I'll let you sit there if you don't look at me, okay?"

  Victor chuckled, relief flooding through him. Humor. This he might be able to handle. "I promise not to look at you." After a pregnant pause, he continued. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  "No. Yes. I mean, probably not." She sighed. "I don't know."

  "I see." Although he didn't. At all. "Well, why don't we start with the 'yes' part."

  "Okay. I could use some dry tissues, but I don't want to go out there where everyone will stare at me."

  "That, I can do for you." Easy enough. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He stood up and stepped out into the nearly empty aisle, then paused. "Would you...would you rather talk to a woman? I can send one of my friends—"

  "That's all right," she interrupted him. "I'm already embarrassed enough. At least this is nothing new for you." She still held the tissue to her nose but did finally look up at him. "But could you hurry? It's like someone turned on a faucet in here."

  He found Tom and Michelle waiting for him in the foyer as promised, chatting with a few other couples. He pulled Michelle aside. "Hey. It may be a while. You don't have to wait. I, uh, have to get back." He felt like a schoolboy, trying to come up with excuses to justify staying behind with her. "She needs some tissue."

  "Don't be silly. We'll wait." Michelle's eyes were sparkling with humor. She poked him in the chest. "Because I want to know what's going on, and why you haven't said anything about her before tonight."

  Victor grinned self-consciously. "There's nothing to tell." He turned to go, but threw a quick glance back over his shoulder at her. "Yet."

  He grabbed a box of tissue off the information counter and hurried back inside. He slowed as he approached Juliette, his chest tightening at the sight of her hunched figure sitting so forlornly in her seat. There were very few people left in the sanctuary; they might not have a lot of time, but at least they had some privacy.

  "Here you go," he said, dropping into the seat beside her again. She took several tissues from the box he offered her and held them up to her face.

  "Will you please go...somewhere else?" Her voice was muffled behind her hands, but he understood her words perfectly, slightly taken aback.

  "Oh. Sure." He began to rise, but she reached out to stop him.

  "I'm sorry. That sounded awful. I didn't mean for you to leave, leave. I just need a moment of privacy, if you don't mind. At least let me blow my nose without you in ear shot. And don't watch. In case 4-ply isn't thick enough and I have a blow-out or something."

  By the time she was done explaining herself, Victor was smiling. "Of course. I forgot about the not looking thing." He glanced around, momentarily at a loss. "Okay. I'll go wait for you in the foyer. There's no hurry, just come out when you're ready." He tucked the tissue box into the seat he'd vacated and headed back up the aisle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  AS SOON AS HIS BACK was turned, Juliette scrounged around in her purse for a mirror. The guy was staying to talk to her—to her!—and she could not face him with swollen eyes, streaked mascara, and a drippy nose.

  "Oh no!" she wailed when she saw her tiny reflection. She fanned her face with the bulletin, willing her swollen lids to deflate. "Please, oh, please unpuff!" she pleaded, alternating between patting and fanning and staring mournfully at her distorted features.

  Five minutes passed, then ten, and the longer she stared at herself in the mirror, the more convinced she became that she could not go out there and face him again. Maybe if she hid in here long enough, he'd get the hint and go home.

  "Excuse me." This time it was a woman's voice breaking into her thoughts. She looked up and smiled at the stranger, trying to act natural. "Juliette?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm Michelle. I'm a friend of Victor Jarrett's. I just want to make sure you're okay."

  "Oh. Well." So much for taking a hint. Juliette just shrugged.

  "I see." Michelle slipped into the row of seats in front of Juliette and turned around to face her.

  Finally, Juliette sighed and said, "Would you mind doing me a huge favor? Do you mind letting Officer...Victor know that I'm okay, but that I'm just going to hide out in here until he's gone?" She snorted. "I'm not really good company right now!"

  Michelle smiled broadly, apparently enjoying Juliette's transparency. She paused only incrementally, then reached over the seat back and placed a hand on Juliette's knee. "Listen, Juliette. I'm going to be a meddling busybody, but I think you should know that Vic couldn't keep his eyes off you the whole service. I don't think he's going to agree to that."

  Juliette's belly flip-flopped, half in happiness, half in despair. He'd been watching her throughout the whole service? But that meant he'd witnessed her embarrassing breakdown, too.

  And he came to her rescue anyway.

  He didn't run.

  "You know, most men would have ducked out the back door once the tears started," Michelle said, as though reading her thoughts.

  Juliette sighed. "I know. But, look at me. How can I face him looking like this?"

  "He's already seen you, though." Michelle looked a little bemused.

  "I know!" Juliette wailed, putting her face in her hands. "This is how he always sees me! I think I've cried every time he's been around! Just once—once!—I'd like to look all put together around him, not soggy and..." She looked up forlornly, her gray eyes tearing up again. "Psycho."

  "Psycho? Goodness, it can't be that bad."

  "You have no idea," she retorted, but didn't expound.

  Michelle reached over and patted Juliette's knee again. "Listen. Why don't you take a few more minutes, and I'll take Vic out to the parking lot to wait for you. Moonlight softens everything, even tear-stained cheeks."

  "What if I sneak out the back door?"

  Michelle grinned as she stood to go. "I'll just send the cops looking for you. I've got connections, you know."

  Now Juliette smiled too.

  THEY WERE WAITING, just as Michelle promised, out in the parking lot, strategically positioned between lamp posts where the light was lowest. Juliette had a brief moment of panic and actually considered making a run for it and never coming back to this church again. But then she'd have to explain to Sharon and Chris, and they'd make her come back anyway. Might as well get the humiliation over with. She approached them quietly, her
fingers locked around her Bible in an attempt to quell their shaking.

  "Hi." Her voice cracked with nervousness, and Victor, who'd been listening intently to something Tom was saying, jerked his head up, and turned his gaze on her. He took a quick step toward her, then stopped.

  Michelle had no such reservations and hurried to her side, slipping an arm through Juliette's, drawing her into the circle. "Perfect timing. The boys were just getting into an argument about cars."

  "Juliette, is it? I'm Tom, Michelle's husband." The older man stuck out a hand and shook hers warmly.

  "Nice to meet you. I'm Juliette. Hi...uh, Victor."

  "Juliette." It was just her name, but there were a hundred unspoken words crammed into that single sound. It made her want to sigh, and smile, and cry again, all at the same time.

  "Okay, you two." Michelle spoke into the electric silence, her voice offering a firm footing under Juliette's shaky legs. "Would you like to join us for pie and coffee?"

  "I...I don't know if I'm up for going out in public tonight." She'd thought through this before coming out. "Can I take a rain check though? I do like pie."

  "Of course. I'll hold you to that. Victor?"

  "Actually, I..." He glanced over at Juliette.

  "I'm fine, Off—Victor. You go have pie." Juliette could tell he was waffling because of her.

  "No." He shook his head. "I mean, I—"

  "Spit it out, man." Tom thumped him on the back, grinning broadly, and Juliette bit down on her bottom lip when she saw Victor's blanched face.

  "I'd really like you to come, Juliette." He hadn't come any closer, standing three feet from her with his thumbs hooked into his pockets, but his words seemed to cross the space between them, wrapping themselves around her.

  Michelle jumped in. "Here's an idea. We can get pie to go and take it back to our place."

  "I suppose that would be okay." On the spot, Juliette couldn't figure out how to back out gracefully at that point. "Do you live close by? I'd like to stop by my place first. Freshen up a little, if that would be okay."