Renata made a real attempt not to roll her eyes. Ever since Juliette had climbed on the back of Trevor Zander's motorcycle, she'd turned into a Christian cliché queen.
Light shining in the darkness. All things made new. Forgive and forget. Washed clean. God's will.
Whatever. Renata had heard them all. She'd used them all—in fact, she still did among certain circles, and sometimes just to goad Phoebe—but she knew each word and phrase for what it was. A nice way to say, "Life is hard, but now that you're a Christian, suck it up." She tuned back into what Juliette was saying.
"In a way, forgiving Mike freed me to forgive others I never thought I could." Juliette took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hugging the cushion to her chest. She spoke firmly, but she didn't make eye contact with any of them. "It was like this dam broke loose, and suddenly the words just came out of me in a rush." Her eyes were bright, still fixed on something just above Gia's head.
"That's all fine and well, Jules," Phoebe stated. "But why didn't you talk to us then? Why couldn't you wait and talk to us before you sent her anything?"
Juliette blinked twice, slowly, then shrugged, looking more like the noncommittal Juliette they all knew. "I—I guess I was a little afraid to tell you because I had no idea how this would all turn out. And," she chewed her lip, then continued, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. "We've never really discussed Angela before, you guys. And...and I didn't want anyone trying to talk me out of writing to her."
"Well that's exactly what we would have done," Renata exclaimed. She stood up and crossed over to where her youngest sister sat on the floor, her head down on her knees, long red hair spilling around her like a veil. Renata dropped down to sit beside her. "You okay, Georgia?" Renata had a difficult time using the nickname she preferred, Gia. There was a part of her that wondered what was so wrong with the names they'd been given. Why change them? Juliette was Juliette, not Jules, not Juju like her best friend, Sharon, called her. Just Juliette. Phoebe was Phoebe. Not Phebes, but Phoebe. And Georgia was Georgia. 'Gia' sounded like the name of a Victoria Secret model, or something racier, and it bothered her calling her sweet baby sister by a name like that.
Gia lifted her head and nodded. "I'm fine."
An awkward silence settled over the group, and although she was no longer pacing, Phoebe didn't sit down. She stood with one shoulder against the wall, almost as though she were separating herself from the rest of them.
Finally, it was Gia who spoke. "Do you have her letter with you?"
"Of course. Would you like to read it? Or I can read it out loud."
"I want to know what you said to her first." Phoebe pushed away from the wall, and to everyone's surprise, crossed over to the two sisters on the floor and sat down on Gia's other side. Four against one, Renata thought; even the dog stayed curled up around Gia's feet.
Juliette must be dying inside, but Renata wouldn't look at her, not directly. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her sitting all alone in her spot on the couch, not moving, not speaking, just studying them, sizing up the situation. Renata knew that if she were in Juliette's shoes, she would be on the verge of kicking everyone out. Juliette wasn't like that, though. Although she was stubborn and a little stand-offish when she was hurting, she would do everything in her power to make sure the rest of them were all right. Which is what made this whole situation so surreal.
"Well," Juliette began slowly, testing the weight of each word. "I told her I forgive her for what she did to me. I didn't speak for anyone else. And I asked her for forgiveness, too."
Another long silence, then Phoebe's husky voice asked the question the others longed to. "For what, Jules? What did you ever do to her?"
Juliette snorted softly, a sound so derisive that Renata did look at her now. "I think a better question would be 'What have I not done to her?'" She set aside the pillow and leaned forward. It was just a coffee table and a few feet of floor space between them, but it felt like a chasm to Renata, with Juliette on one side, the look on her face raw and ferocious, the three of them on the other, disbelieving, betrayed. "I have run her down, run her over, shoved her off the Golden Gate Bridge, thrown her into an abandoned well. I have left her stranded in the middle of the Mohave Desert. Naked." She clamped her mouth shut as though to put a halt to the litany of atrocities spilling out of her. Her nostrils pinched as she breathed in, then said, "I have spent the last fifteen years hating her, wishing she was dead, and coming up with a million ways to off her. That, my sisters, is what I've done to her."
Renata was shocked. She shouldn't be, because she'd struggled with her own feelings about Angela, but this was Juliette. Sweet Juliette, who wouldn't hurt a fly. Literally. The girl would rather shoo one out the back door than break out the flyswatter. Yet here she was admitting to contemplating all forms of murder for Angela Clinton.
"I have wasted so much of my life wishing her dead, you guys," Juliette's soft voice was loud in the stunned silence. "And it has kept us both trapped by that horrible night. Not just Angela, both of us! I've had her locked inside the jail in my heart, and every time I thought of her or heard the name Angela or Clinton, I'm back in that dark place, standing on the other side of those bars, hating her. Wanting to kill her was killing me."
Juliette's eyes were overflowing now, the tears falling freely as she reached for a tissue from the box on the coffee table. "It's as though my life stopped that night. I've just been walking around like the living dead, waiting for satisfaction so that I could go lie down and die for real."
Renata could feel her throat tightening as Juliette bared her soul to them, but she would not let herself cry. The others needed her strength; even Phoebe, although she'd never admit it. Renata cleaned up the messes and held the pieces together. It was her role in their little circle, and she did it well. They didn't always love her methods, but she was the go-to-girl when it came to getting things done. She was the backbone of this little family of orphans.
She looked around at her sisters. Juliette was the level-headed glue, the oldest, Gia, the peacemaker, the youngest. Phoebe, not quite two years younger than Renata, shared the middle sibling slot with her, so she resisted being categorized. If nothing else, she brought the entertainment, the fuel, the fire. Phoebe gave them a reason to kiss and make up.
It had been this way since they were children, even before Gia showed up, a bonus baby late into Maman's and Papa's parental careers. When it was just the three of them, it was always Phoebe who pushed first and hardest. Renata would rage and tattle and pout until Juliette stepped in the middle to sort it all out.
When Gia was born, Renata seemed to find her place in the family at last. She loved being a little mother and she doted heavily on the baby who responded with sweet coos and slobbery nuzzles. Gia was the kind of infant who smiled and chortled far more than she cried, who raised her arms to anyone who looked twice at her, and wanted desperately to be right in the middle of things. While Juliette was planning her future, and Phoebe was planning her evenings out, Renata was planning out a home and family of her own.
When she and John had their first baby, Reuben, she didn't care that he didn't have tiny red curls and no eyebrows like John's baby pictures, like Gia's. He still cooed and nuzzled and wanted to be nowhere more than tucked into the crook of her arm.
Simon arrived two years and two months later, solemn and scowling, mostly silent, his brow often furrowed even in slumber. Renata loved to stand over his bed while he slept and watch his constantly moving features. One day, she just knew, when he finally figured out all the things he really wanted to say, a torrent of amazing words would flow from his lips and he would change the world.
Then Levi was born, and Renata thought if there was ever such a thing as a perfect baby, Levi was it. He smiled for the sheer joy of it. His internal clock coincided perfectly with hers, and if she didn't put him to bed by 7:30, he'd fall asleep in his highchair, his swing, or curled up in a corner of the play area, usually underneat
h or behind something, throwing her and John into a momentary panic.
Judah made his entrance into the world roaring like a little lion cub, and he hadn't stopped since. He was the last to fall asleep, the first to wake up in the morning. His cries were the loudest of all the boys' and his belly laughs shook him so hard he often fell over. When he was angry, he did not want to be comforted with hugs and snuggles. He preferred to crawl into a corner and complain, sometimes in irritating whimpers, other times in endless yowls, until he either got tired of tormenting everyone around him, or fell into an exhausted sleep.
It was with the birth of Judah that Renata started to wonder if God was no longer listening to her. Every time she became pregnant, she begged for a baby girl, for their own John and Renata Dixon version of Gia, and every time another son was born, she fell in love with him and agreed to wait until the next time. But four years after Judah, it was still Renata and her family of boys.
Now, as she looked around Juliette's living room, she again felt that spiraling ache, that emptiness in the deepest part of her belly, that longing for a baby girl to love, to cherish, to dress in pretty polka-dots and lacy socks.
And suddenly, an overwhelming sense of being rudderless and adrift washed over her, even as she sat with her hip and arm pressed against Gia, her feet tucked under the warm body of Juliette's dog. She felt alone on the outside, surrounded by her beloved sisters.
She wondered if Angela Clinton felt the same way in prison; lost, untethered, and alone.
Keep reading Renata’s story today...
RENATA & THE FALL FROM GRACE
The Gustafson Girls Book 2
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Juliette and the Monday ManDates Page 30
