Juliette and the Monday ManDates

by Becky Doughty

  "Ren! He could be twenty! Gia's just out of high school! Anyone over eighteen seems old to her. What are we going to do together? Hang out in his padded garage, and watch him and his band rock out, dude?" She drew her words out like a surfer. "Maybe I'll call Frisky Frank after all."

  "Frisky Frank?" Renata's leg stopped pumping. "What are you not telling me? I warned Phoebe not to put any of her trashy boyfriends on the list."

  "Leave Phebes alone, Ren. Frank wasn't trashy. And he wasn't really that frisky, either. He just wasn't very anything, as far as I was concerned. Kinda like a Ken doll. Nice to look at, but missing some important bits."

  "Juliette!" Renata rose to the bait every time and all three sisters knew it.

  "Hey. He lasted longer than Thera-Paul." She snickered, fairly certain Renata hadn't heard that nickname, either.

  "Thera-Paul?" To Juliette's surprise, Renata smiled. "That's very clever. And I have to admit, it sort of fits him. Well, I'm hoping you survive Mick Jagger so you can go out with Tim. I think you'll like him."

  "What if I do fall for Mick Jagger? What if he's my type?" Juliette wiggled her not-so-perfect eyebrows at her sister.

  "You won't fall in love in only one date, Juliette." Renata stood and carried her mug to the sink. "I need to get home. Thanks for the coffee."

  Juliette followed her into the living room, then stopped abruptly when Renata did.

  "Where are your binders?"

  "I'm destroying them. One page at a time. It's my grieving process."

  "Well, good for you. I think that's healthy." Renata put an arm around Juliette's shoulder and gave her a quick, sideways squeeze. "I'm proud of you." Then she grinned. "One more thing. Your Monday man's name is Taz. As in Tazmanian Devil, I presume." She leaned closer and whispered dramatically. "You might want to see if you have any leather in your closet." Then she traipsed off down the walkway to her minivan.

  Juliette closed her front door and leaned back against it. Taz? Seriously? What kind of full-grown man chooses to be called Taz? This whole blind date thing was beginning to get on her nerves.

  Besides, Sharon and Ren were right. How could she possibly get to know someone in one date; in three or four hours?

  Granted, there most definitely was such a thing as chemistry, and that you experienced immediately. She'd felt it with Mike the afternoon the young college student wandered into Bountiful Books and smiled at her with his perfectly white teeth. When their fingers brushed reaching for the same pen, it was like electricity, and Juliette had jerked her hand away in surprise. Mike came back at closing that day, and for the first time in the five years she'd worked there, she didn't go straight home.

  He won everyone but Phoebe over from the very beginning. Even shy little Gia warmed up to him, and Phoebe eventually came around because he made Juliette smile.

  But Mike had been different back then. He was young and athletic, a cyclist who competed whenever he could. He was excited about school and worked hard to get the best grades in his class, to stand out in every way. He looked forward to his future with great plans for a successful career, and he was completely taken by Juliette.

  Over the years, however, he became distant and busy, consumed with his education and the financial strain he was under. By the time he graduated, they saw each other maybe once a week, and more often than not, it was only briefly, because of the pressure he was under to stay on top. He was no longer excited and hopeful; he'd become driven and detached.

  After graduation, Juliette had expected things to change, for the old Mike to resurface. However, he went from being obsessed with perfect scores to being obsessed with landing the perfect position in the perfect location with the perfect salary and pension plan. Nine months after graduation, Mike still had no job, and he often took out his frustration in arguments with Juliette, especially when she suggested he start smaller and work his way up.

  "You have no idea how much money I owe in school loans! I can't just take any old dentist job. I worked hard to get where I am, and I deserve the best. Don't you want the best for me? For us?"

  "We could get married. Joining forces might help out financially. One home, one—"

  "You don't get it, do you?" He cut her off, his hand slicing the air like a guillotine. "I'm not marrying you or anyone else until I have the job I want. I won't settle for less, do you hear?" His words drove spikes into her heart. Did he think he was settling for less with her?

  It was one week after another lackluster Valentine's Day, one he'd been too preoccupied to remember. It had taken her that long to work up the courage to face him, to ask him what his intentions were, but she did, palms sweating, voice shaking, knees wobbling. He stared at her for a long time with emotionless eyes.

  Finally, he said, "Honestly, I don't know what I want with us anymore, and I suppose it's not fair to ask you to wait around until I figure it out, is it?" He shrugged, as if to shirk off any responsibility for all the years she'd already waited for him. "I just want to be sure, Julie, and right now, I'm not."

  She stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at the floor as his words churned her insides to liquid. Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet his, feeling as cold as he looked. "I have given up nearly ten years of my life waiting for you to make me your wife, and all you have to say is that you're not sure I'm what you want? You have taken, and taken, and taken every single one of those years, Mike. Shame on you for being so selfish, and shame on me for being so blind." He just sat there, sprawled on his sofa, his eyes flitting back and forth between her and the movie he'd muted when she came in. It took every ounce of her willpower to walk out the door, her legs threatening to give out every step of the way. She climbed in her car, turned on the engine and pulled away, her heart pounding like a kettle drum in her chest.

  "THERE'S A CONCERT TONIGHT at our church. A Christian musician. He's fantastic and he's a local boy. Would you be interested in coming?"

  "Um... sure." Sharon rarely invited her to church anymore, mainly because Juliette almost always declined the invitation. She used to go with them when Chris and Sharon were first getting to know each other before seriously dating. Then Juliette began to feel the pressure from them to consider their faith as her own. She finally sat down with her friend and explained to Sharon that although she was happy for her and Chris, and hoped they wouldn't be disappointed by God, she was not interested in serving an unpredictable deity. Besides, she saw how hard Renata worked to be a good church lady, and still seemed miserable all the time. Although she couldn't imagine Sharon ever becoming like that, if it took misery to make God happy, she wasn't interested.

  It had been awkward for a while, but the friendship had seen much greater difficulty in the past, and they quickly got through it. The Scovilles remained open and genuine with their faith, but they no longer tried to win her over.

  So when she readily accepted Sharon's invitation, her friend was understandably surprised. And delighted. "I thought maybe I'd scared you off all church with my sermon last Tuesday."

  "You can be pretty scary when you get on one of your God-kicks." Juliette spoke gently, taking the sting out of her words.

  The weekend had been lonely for Juliette so far. Saturday morning, she'd stopped by her sister's yard sale for a while, and took the boys out for breakfast and an hour at the park so Renata could deal with the mid-morning rush without them underfoot. They were so different one from the other, and she loved each of them to distraction, maybe because they reminded her so much of her and her sisters. But she was always glad to take them home. They were Renata's boys, not hers, and they somehow made her feel the empty places in her heart. That evening, she grieved her way through the last of the wedding and into the honeymoon, even going so far as to cut up a lingerie store gift card she'd bought to be used when the time came. She didn't care that she was throwing away money. The amount was insignificant compared to everything she'd wasted on Mike over the years.

  To Juliette, Sunday night church attendees were
always surprisingly informal, but the congregation seemed even more amped up than usual. Looking around, she realized a large percentage of the crowd was her age and younger. Then the musician came out on stage wearing torn jeans and a leather jacket, a beat-up acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder. People were on their feet, clapping and cheering, as he broke into the first song.

  He was incredible. His singing was melodic and full, with a rasp around the edges that he used to his advantage when his lyrics got gritty. His guitar never over-shadowed his voice, but she could tell he was very comfortable with both instruments. About halfway through the evening, Trevor played a love song so poignant and sweet, it brought tears to her eyes. She thought his eyes glistened, too, as the song ended with whispered words of hope.

  Then he shared a story from the Bible about betrayal, about a man who loved a faithless woman who kept going back to her old ways. Over and over the husband welcomed her back home, and loved her unconditionally. Over and over she wandered, until finally, she ended up on the slave block. He found her, and bought her, paying full price for her, and he covered her with his own cloak and took her home.

  "That is what God does for us, my friends. He welcomes us back home over and over again, forgiving us, loving us, giving us hope. All we have to do is respond. You are His bride. I am His bride. And just like Hosea did for Gomer, Jesus paid the full price to free us from our slavery to the things that would keep us bound up in sin." He continued to finger intricate chords on the guitar, the music ebbing and flowing with the passion in Trevor's voice. "Fear. Bitterness. Anger. Pride. Unforgiveness. He wants us free! But He doesn't beat us over the head with a big stick, or force Himself on us. No!" He shook his head emphatically. "He doesn't tell us to go get cleaned up first, and only then can we come to Him. No! He rescues us, He cleans us up and dresses us in the finest threads. He just loves on us, and gives us hope. Receive Him. Receive His love. He loves you so much." He kept repeating the words as he strummed, the music a throbbing heartbeat, and Juliette couldn't stop her tears from falling. His music tore holes in walls around her heart, walls she didn't even know existed, and the tightness in her chest made it difficult to breathe.

  Juliette didn't understand why Trevor's words and music touched her in such a raw place. The way he talked made her want to believe in a love so deep, even though it didn't line up with what she knew of God. Was it possible that she was wrong? Was He really this loving, forgiving, pursuing God who wanted to cover her and offer her hope? It didn't make sense, but it didn't stop her heart from longing for it to be true.

  At the end of the service, the pastor joined Trevor on stage and led the whole congregation in a prayer of repentance. Juliette was instantly on guard, feeling manipulated, set up by an expert salesman. She wasn't ready to take a step like that, and she didn't like feeling pressured into it. She bowed her head out of respect, but didn't repeat the words the pastor spoke. When he finished the prayer, he handed the microphone back, and Trevor sang one last song.

  "Wasn't he wonderful? I could listen to him forever!" Sharon gushed after the service. They were in the car, making their way out of the parking lot. Chris reached over and squeezed her hand, then brought it up to his lips to drop a kiss in her palm. Behind them, Juliette watched the exchange with longing.

  "Was that story about Hosea for real?" It didn't sound like a typical Bible story.

  Sharon smiled and turned in her seat so she could see her. "Yes, it's for real. That's one of the most bittersweet love stories you'll ever read. He was an Old Testament prophet. God told him to marry Gomer, a very worldly woman who went astray many times, giving birth to children that were not his, sharing gifts from him with her lovers. But God told Hosea to take her back again and again as a model of how God takes His people back again and again."

  "Sounds like a raw deal for poor Hosea." Juliette wasn't so sure she liked the story after all, feeling a deep sympathy for the man who gave, and gave, and received only pain and betrayal in return.

  "I know," Sharon agreed, hugging her well-used Bible to her. "But it ends so beautifully. Filthy, naked, and utterly hopeless; can you imagine how Gomer felt when she heard her husband's voice offering to pay full price to buy his own wife off the auction block? Then he loads her up in his wagon, and takes her out to the wilderness where he loves on her, like Trevor said, and she finds restoration. 'No longer will you call me Master, but Husband,' Hosea tells her. It's such a beautiful picture of how Christ loves us. He doesn't want us to come to Him in fear or obligation, but in love. He wants us to call Him 'Husband.'"

  God wanted her to call Him Husband? The words were like a balm to her soul.

  The two in the front seat were silent, allowing the message, and the music from the night, to sink into Juliette's heart, seeping into all the parched places where fear, and bitterness, and unforgiveness had left her gasping for breath.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ONCE AGAIN, FOR THE third Monday in a row, Juliette stood in front of her mirror sizing herself up. Tonight, she didn't look like a duck. That she could say in all confidence. Tonight she looked like a thirty-three-year-old trying to look twenty. She wore a new pair of jeans, one she'd bought months ago to motivate herself to lose ten pounds. They weren't very comfortable, but only because they were a style she wasn't accustomed to wearing. They sat low on her hips making her feel like she constantly needed to pull them up, but when she did, she ended up with a wedgie. She wisely put them on the instant she came home from work; it took an hour to make up her mind whether or not she could tolerate them the rest of the night. They did look good, she admitted, turning around to look at her backside, pleasantly surprised.

  She wore a sheer, black and turquoise blouse over a black tank top, and with her hair down, she looked a little wild, a little mysterious, like she could handle a night of loud music and greasy pizza, and come out in one piece when it was all over, eardrums intact.

  The boots made the outfit. Gia brought them by work at lunchtime. "You're going to need these," she grinned mischievously. "I can't tell you why, but wear jeans, not your work pants." She wouldn't divulge anything else.

  Juliette had seen Gia with them on before, usually paired with leggings and some kind of funky skirt, and she liked them on her little sister. But they didn't belong in her wardrobe. Black, loaded with buckles running up the outside of each calf, the soles were thick and deeply treaded. She pulled her jeans down over the top of them, but the buckles bulged oddly under the denim, making her legs look deformed. She tucked her pant-legs inside the boots instead, re-buckled everything, and decided that was the way to wear them. If you've got buckles, flaunt 'em. She grinned at the sound of a loud motorcycle driving by.

  "I'm wearing biker boots," she mused. Those were words she never thought she'd utter in her entire life. "With buckles!"

  Juliette didn't think ducks wore biker boots. With or without buckles.

  There was a knock at the door. Either he was way early, or one of her sisters was here to stress her out.

  She peered through the peephole. He was early. He had his back to the door as he peeled off a pair of fingerless gloves. He wore a leather jacket over a pair of tight blue jeans, and beyond him, parked on the street in front of her house, was a Harley.

  "Oh, Gia!" she cried, in a sheer panic now. "You didn't!" She glared down at the boots that should have been a red flag.

  Maybe she could duck out the back. Or she could say she was in the shower, and didn't hear him knocking. That would teach him to come early.

  No, she was ready, he was here, and besides, if she bailed, she'd never be able to face Gia. Well, at least there were no flowers this time. They seemed to be a harbinger of doom when they accompanied men on her front stoop. She pulled open the door.

  "Hi." Her voice shook a little as he turned around, then splintered off into silence when she recognized him.

  "I'm Trevor. You must be Juliette." Tucking his gloves into a back pocket, he thrust his other hand toward her
. When she didn't immediately reciprocate, he chuckled. "If you're feeling half as awkward as I am about tonight, then we might just survive this."

  She finally put her hand in his, and he shook it confidently. "I know I'm a little early. Sorry about that. I had to make a stop by my cousin's on my way over, and it didn't take as long as I thought it would. I figured if you were ready, maybe you'd like to start out the night with a little spin on the bike. It's perfect weather for it." He turned and glanced proudly at the Harley on the street, then back at her again. "What do you say? You ever been on one before?"

  His voice sounded just the same when he spoke, throaty and rhythmic, and she tried to gather her discombobulated thoughts enough to answer him intelligibly.

  "Um." So far, not so good.

  "Okay. I think I'm doing this all wrong. Let me start over. Hi. I'm Trevor Zander." He held out his hand again. Juliette smiled back. If the man who wooed a whole crowd last night was feeling flustered, too, then she was in good company. She thought she could do better than 'um' this time. She shook his hand a second time.

  "And I'm Juliette Gustafson. Nice to meet you. I, um, I saw you sing last night." Ugh. An 'um' and a bit of gushing groupie. Stop talking, Jules.

  "You were there? Wasn't it a great night? Did you feel it, too?" His eyes lit up as he spoke, his nervousness evaporated in the fire of his passionate response. Juliette nodded. She'd certainly felt something moving through that room. She hadn't been the only one in tears.

  "I'm so glad you're a believer, Juliette. I was having a hard time with this whole blind date thing, but wow. God works out the details, doesn't He?" Trevor turned and pointed at the bike. "What do you say? It really is a beautiful time of day for it. We can watch the sun setting over the hills if we go now."

  She eyed the bike dubiously, but before she could say anything, he continued. "I have to admit, I'm still a little high from last night, and I don't know exactly what we're going to do tonight, but I just figured I'd let God direct things for us. So what do you say? Shall we ride off a little of this nervous tension? I brought an extra helmet."