Victor turned to go, too, but Mike called out after him. "Officer? Thank you for what you did, too. I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you. She deserves someone like you. I'm glad—"
"Don't," Victor cut him off. "For one second, presume to tell me what Juliette does and doesn't deserve, Mr. Wilson." He stood in the doorway, fingers flexing at his sides. "You've been forgiven, and you've been offered grace. What you do with it is up to you. But you no longer have access to the woman who gave them to you, do you understand?"
When Mike didn't answer, Victor took an aggressive step towards the bed. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Mr. Wilson?"
"I understand."
"Good." Victor turned and left the room.
He climbed behind the wheel of his car, pulled out of the hospital parking lot, and didn't stop until he was standing at Juliette's front door, listening to Bob's exuberant greeting on the other side of it, and desperately hoping she'd answer his knock in her fluffy pink robe.
THE END
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from
RENATA & THE FALL FROM GRACE
The Gustafson Girls Book 2
A Note from Becky Doughty
DEAR READER,
Did you enjoy getting to know Juliette in this first book in The Gustafson Girls series? I have a special place in my heart for sisters. I grew up with a sister only eight months younger than I am. Yep, there are only eight months between us. But before you send those side-eyes at my poor parents, one of us is adopted. It was a case of...
“You can’t get pregnant.”
“Let’s adopt.”
“Yay! Your baby is ready to pick up at the adoption store!”
“Oh, and double yay! You’re also pregnant! Surprise!”
“Wow! Let’s keep them both.”
“Sure. Why not?”
Or something like that.
In many ways, my sister and I are as close as twins, seeking security and support from each other in ways no one else can possibly provide. And in many ways, we are like oil and water...a beautiful mess. We now live in two different countries, and there is always far too much time that passes between phone calls and visits. But she is in my heart every single day, and I can’t imagine my life without her in it.
I have another sister who arrived on the scene many years later, and with a beautiful adoption story of her own. She is the age of my children, so our sister relationship has a precious nature all its own. And again, I can’t imagine my life without her in it.
You’ll find sisters in every one of my books: some by birth, some by adoption, and some in name only—friends who have become sisters.
You’ll also find HOPE in every one of my books.
I like to say I write HOPE-fully ever afters. Hopefully ever after because real life isn’t always wrapped up in a pretty pink bow, is it? I write fiction about real-life people and real-life situations. Because we love to escape into our fiction, but we want that escape to resonate with us, right?
If you’re looking for fiction with relatable characters, relevant situations, and redemptive storylines, I invite you to check out some of my other books and series. You may meet your next BFF (Best Fiction Friend)! Or visit me online: BeckyDoughty.com.
I write heartfelt and wholesome Contemporary Romance, Romantic Suspense, and Women’s Fiction. I write fiction, mainly because nonfiction is hard! Yes, I’ve tried. Let’s just say I like to color outside the lines when it comes to facts. But emotions and feelings and the roller coaster ride that comes with all relationships? Oh yeah. That’s where you’ll find me.
Where hope lives and love wins. Every single time.
~ Becky Doughty
Love stories about quirky neighbors? Tales of Misfits and Oddballs?
Then you’ll feel right at home in Pemberton Manor.
Sign up for Becky’s newsletter today and read every Pemberton Manor Short Story for FREE when they release!
AN EXCERPT...
RENATA & THE FALL FROM GRACE
CHAPTER ONE
"SO, JULIETTE DARLING, what diabolical deed could you have possibly committed?" Phoebe wound a black tendril of hair around her forefinger as she glanced pointedly at the clock on the wall. "Whatever it is, make it quick. I've got a date tonight." The dark-haired artist was resplendent in a scarlet kimono dress paired with thigh-high stiletto boots. A pointed toe dipped up and down in time to the music playing in the background, one of Juliette's beloved 80s' movie soundtracks.
"What on earth is there to do on a Tuesday night in this town?" Renata asked from across the room. The question was out before she could stop it. Phoebe liked nothing better than to flaunt her wild lifestyle, and Renata had just given her leave to do so.
Phoebe's smile became sultry. "I don't think you want to know, Rennie. Let's just say it probably isn't your cup of tea." Then she raised both her bangled wrists above her head and did a slow and sensual gyrating motion.
"You're going to hell, Phoebe Gustafson."
"Oh, I'm well aware of that, thank you very much. You, on the other hand, may be headed for the pearly gates, but at least I'm having fun along the way."
"Hey, you two. Cool it." Juliette's soothing voice cut through the mounting tension, and Renata took a deep breath, hating the tightness in her chest when Phoebe mocked her faith. But Juliette didn't look very happy, either. "What time do you have to leave, Phebes?"
"You've got me for thirty minutes. Brandon is picking me up at my place at six and I still have to fix my face."
"What's wrong with your face?" Gia asked, her back to the entertainment center, her fingers buried in Bob's scruffy fur. Bob, once Tootles, was the beloved dog Juliette had rescued from the park with Renata's help last fall. Although she brushed him regularly, Juliette had given up on taming her dog's coat.
"I can tell you what's wrong with her face," Renata quipped unkindly.
"Please." Juliette held up a hand, an uncharacteristic scowl on her face. "If I had known we only had half an hour, I would have waited to call a G-FOURce. I have something pretty serious to talk to you about."
"That's not for like two hours, Phebes. You look fantabulous already. Do you really need that much time?" Gia asked, her curls spilling down her back in a riotous waterfall of autumn hues. The youngest of the four sisters, she was the only Gustafson girl who still lived at home with Grandpa and Granny G, but she'd obviously forgotten the epic Battle of the Bathroom that took place every morning when they'd all shared the same room.
Renata rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly, Georgia. It only takes her ten minutes to actually get ready. The rest of the time she's just admiring her own reflection." She was feeling especially snarky today, and Phoebe had been on her nerves since Christmas. Besides, for various reasons, January was always a difficult month for her. Putting away holiday decorations and giving the house a thorough cleaning gave her a satisfying sense of accomplishment, but it never lasted. No matter how hard she tried, within weeks, she'd broken all her New Year's resolutions, particularly the resolutions involving coffee, gummy bears, and the cookie dough in a tub she kept stocked in her freezer year round. Once the boys were off to school in the morning, she could hear the little chocolate chips calling her name.
Not that she would have thought of that herself, but right before the big family Christmas meal last month, Phoebe had been sent out to the garage freezer for a bag of ice. She'd taken four-year-old Judah with her, the two of them chattering away about how much lizards and aliens look alike. They returned shortly, a bag of ice in Phoebe's arms, and one of the chocolate chip cookie dough tubs in Judah's.
"I didn't ask for cookies," Renata sighed. "Just ice. We're almost ready to sit down."
"I know. But the poor little chocolate chips were calling us, weren't they, Jude-Dude? Their tiny sad voices cried out, 'Phoebe! Judah! We're so cold in here, so c-c-cold.'" Phoebe peeled off the lid and began chipping away at the frozen lump with a fork from one of t
he beautifully-set places around the table. "We knew just where they'd get nice and warm very quickly."
She winked at the little boy and they both shouted gleefully, "Belly-town!"
Phoebe's fork slipped and a huge chunk of dough plopped onto the clean, white tablecloth and rolled a few inches, leaving a discolored smudge in its wake. "Oops!" Before she got to it, Judah reached under her arm, snatched it up, and popped it into his mouth, then dove under the table so Renata couldn't get to him. Phoebe laughed out loud.
"Great. Thanks for spoiling his appetite." Renata grumbled. She didn't want to fight with Phoebe, not today of all days, but it seemed inevitable no matter how hard she tried not to.
"Did I just make you lose your appetite, Jude-Dude?" Phoebe lifted the edge of the tablecloth and peeked underneath at the boy. Judah chortled gleefully, but shook his head, then crawled out to prove that everything, including his hunger, was still intact. Tell-tale brown streaks ran down the front of his white shirt as he stood in front of Renata.
"I'm starving, Mommy! I'm starving for salad, and smashed tater toes, and ... and turkey bird, and corn." He continued to list the items he could see as he craned his neck to get a better view of the dishes on the table. "My appetite didn't get lost. It's right here." He patted his tummy, leaving even more smudges.
"Oh, dear. Let's go wash up and change your shirt, shall we, little man?" Phoebe shoved the tub of dough in Renata's already packed refrigerator and grabbed the boy's hand. The two of them disappeared down the hall, and Renata frowned after them.
Now here she was, sitting across from Phoebe, picking fights with her again, and it occurred to her that she was breaking yet another resolution: I will not fight with Phoebe. "Sorry," she muttered. "That wasn't nice."
"Maybe not, but it's true." Phoebe wasn't going to allow her to be gracious. "I practice my pucker, my blink, my surprised look." She put both hands on her cheeks and shaped her mouth into a perfect, scarlet 'O.' Gia grinned at her antics from her spot on the floor and Renata wished the girl wasn't so easily impressed with Phoebe. "I even practice my 'come hither' look because there's always a chance I might meet Hither while I'm out and about."
"Cute, Phoebe. But enough. I really do need to tell you about something," Juliette cut in. "I just don't want to feel rushed." She shifted in her favorite corner of the beige-toned sofa. She'd added some new throw pillows, Renata noticed, in plum shantung silk and a gorgeous apple green. She saw traces of the same colors around the rest of the room, too. Even the black and white Ansel Adams prints on the walls were now accented with pieces that looked like some of Phoebe's artwork; bold, swirling colors against serene blue backgrounds. Renata had to admit she approved.
Juliette continued. "Nor do I want anyone to leave until we've talked things through."
"Fine," said Phoebe from the other end of the sofa. "If it runs too long, I'll just call Brandon and make him wait. It'll be good for him. He's getting a little too comfortable." Phoebe took a long sip of her iced tea and turned to Gia.
"Get on with it, little sister!" As the youngest member, it was Gia's job to begin the pledge. "Welcome Empress Juliette, Empress Renata, and Empress Phoebe." She pressed her hands together in a prayer-like manner and nodded her head to each sister accordingly.
"Welcome, Empress Georgia." The other three spoke just as somberly, nodding back at her.
They clasped hands, formed a circle, and began the G-FOURce pledge, a time-honored tradition that had somehow survived adolescence into adulthood.
Let the words of our mouths
Be necessary, kind, and true.
Let the secrets we share
Be kept safe amongst us few.
Let the decisions that we make
Be brave, noble, and wise
Oogie-boogie-doggy-loogie
Wiggly-jiggly-fries!
G-FOURce unite!
They didn't collapse into giggles the way they used to, but none of them was quite grown up enough to give it up. The pledge was like an unbroken cord weaving through their lives, binding them together. They released hands and settled back into place, and Phoebe turned laughing eyes on Juliette.
"So? Does this have anything to do with our favorite police officer? Has he put you on house arrest?" She wiggled her ring finger in the air. "Did he ask you to marry him, yet?"
Juliette didn't smile, and a sense of foreboding settled around Renata's shoulders at the look in her older sister's eyes. She laced her fingers together in her lap and waited for Juliette to speak.
"No," Juliette shook her head in emphasis. "He doesn't have anything to do with this. Not exactly, anyway."
Renata took a sip of her tea, relieved. Juliette had fallen madly in love with a local police officer, Victor Jarrett, last year, and although Renata could see how happy he made her, she still wasn't so sure about the man.
Sometimes, when Officer Jarrett looked at her with those foggy-morning gray eyes, it felt like he could see right through her, making her self-conscious and uncomfortable. Her boys adored him, her husband thought he was the best thing that had ever happened to Juliette, but Renata had butted heads with him from the very beginning, and he'd made her feel silly and foolish and incompetent, all things she didn't like feeling. She couldn't find anything wrong with him except for how he made her feel, and she wasn't against Juliette loving him. She just didn't want to be around him, herself, any more than she had to be.
"What is it, Jules?" Gia brought her knees up, resting her chin on them. She wrapped her arms around her legs, and Renata thought maybe her little sister felt the same wariness Renata felt. When Juliette raised her eyes again, they were glistening with unshed tears.
"It's about Angela. Angela Clinton. I wrote to her a few weeks ago. And she wrote back."
CHAPTER TWO
“You what?" Phoebe's hushed voice cut through the silence like a dull knife, ripping and tearing, rather than slicing cleanly, the way it usually did. Her tone, in spite of its brevity, held accusation, anger, betrayal, and something else Renata couldn't quite place. Fear? "You did what?" she repeated. Then she turned on Renata. "And you? Were you in on this, too?"
"No!" Renata held up her hands. "I knew nothing about it." But she did know something about it, and Phoebe must have read it on her face. That day in the park, when Juliette had rescued the starving Bob from under the hedge, she'd seen Juliette's notebook open to the page with Angela's name scrawled at the top. She'd asked her about it, and they'd talked briefly about how difficult it was to just write the girl's name.
She did not, however, know that Juliette had succeeded in moving past the salutation to the actual letter itself. And she'd had no reason to believe her sister would actually send it.
In fact, had she known of Juliette's intentions, she would have done everything in her power to prevent that letter from going out. Short of committing criminal acts, that is, lest she be forced to deal with Juliette's policeman.
"She didn't know, Phebes," Juliette swiped at a lone tear that tracked down her cheek. "I didn't talk to anyone about it except Victor—"
"Victor? Officer Jarrett? You talked to him about writing to Angela before you talked to us?" Now it was Renata's turn to raise her voice. "What business is it of his? And just how long have you two known each other now?" Little currents of electricity sparked behind her eyes, making it difficult to connect her thoughts together.
"Ren, please. Don't make this about Victor."
Phoebe was on her feet. "Uh, you made it about Victor, Jules. Not Ren." She began pacing the floor between the back of the sofa and the arched opening into the kitchen. "What were you thinking? And why didn't you talk to us before you did this?"
"I—I couldn't. I couldn't talk to anyone about it."
"Really? Because I don't remember you having any trouble talking to me about it last year," Renata retorted. "And you obviously felt you could talk to Victor." His name curled her lips into a sneer.
"So you did know?" Phoebe stopped pacing and g
lared at Renata.
"No. I mean, we talked about thinking about writing to her a long time ago. But I had no clue she'd actually go and do it." Renata glanced over at Gia and sighed. The girl had her forehead resting on her knees, her folded legs hugged tightly to her. She turned back to Juliette. "Why didn't you just talk to us first?"
Juliette took a deep breath and pushed her long, dark hair away from her face with both hands. "I'm sorry I didn't. I should have. But it was such a strange process. I tried so many times to write to her. I'd start with her name and then...nothing. I did that countless times." She looked pointedly at her and Renata looked away. She, too, had experienced the same struggle and had admitted as much to Juliette. "But then when the whole thing with Mike happened, his meltdown—"
"His assault, you mean," Phoebe interjected.
"Phebes, please. He wasn't himself."
"Right. He has that wolf disorder." She rolled her eyes. "Apropos name, I'd say."
"Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome," Juliette corrected quietly.
"Stop making excuses for him," Renata said. She could tell Juliette was trying to remain calm, but how could she defend the guy? How could she after he'd broken into her house and hurt her? Renata was still appalled at his behavior. She'd always liked Mike, at least until he'd broken Juliette's heart, but Renata wasn't in any hurry to let him off the hook because of some obscure diagnosis.
Juliette clamped her lips shut for a few moments, her fingers toying with the strings of a tassel on the cushion she held in her lap. Then she straightened her shoulders. "I'm not trying to excuse him, but it doesn't matter anyway. The point I was trying to make was this. Something happened when I chose to forgive him. It was like a light got turned on inside of me, shining into the corners of all these locked rooms in my heart. Rooms that harbored all this ugly stuff, you know?"
Juliette and the Monday ManDates Page 29
