Juliette and the Monday ManDates

by Becky Doughty

  Take my yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart.

  "Jesus?" Juliette opened one eye and looked down at the dog. "Are you Jesus?" Then she giggled and covered her face with her hands. "I think I might have just peered over the edge, there, Tootles!" She rubbed the dog's velvet ears again. "But maybe I'm not so far off. Maybe you're a gift from Him. Maybe you're here, not because you need me, but because I need you. Did you ever think about that?"

  Tootles rolled onto his back so she could scratch his belly.

  "Maybe you're my love gift from Jesus, Tootles. Is that what you are, puppy? Are you a love gift, funny dog?" She caught herself talking in a high, squeaky voice and rolled her eyes. "Oh, Tootles. You've turned me into an old maid!"

  By the time the stars were out, Juliette and Tootles were soul mates. They'd read the Bible together, they'd had dinner together, they sat outside on the front stoop together watching the sunset while she told the dog all about Victor Jarrett's kiss. She even admitted she was hoping a certain cruiser might be making its rounds right about then, and she tried in vain to teach her furry friend to wave.

  But no police car drove by that night. Or the next. Or the next. There was no phone call from a certain, gray-eyed officer, either. And as the days went by with no word, Juliette began to wonder if the kiss had been nothing more than her imagination after all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “YOU DON'T LOOK SO GOOD, buddy." Tom studied him from across the room. "I got the time if you need to unload." It was Tuesday morning and the other men in the group had already taken off, leaving only the two of them behind. Victor closed his eyes and leaned back into the sofa. He reached up and scrubbed his face with both hands, then ran his fingers through his hair. "Rough night at work last night?"

  "Nope." Victor shook his head, not sure he wanted to talk about what was bothering him.

  "Is this about that Gustafson girl?" So much for that.

  "Yes," Victor growled, not opening his eyes.

  "I like her. So does Michelle. And you know she's not an easy sell."

  "I like her, too."

  "So what's the problem?" Tom settled more comfortably in his favorite armchair and Victor made him wait while he stewed over the words all jumbled up in his head, trying to figure out how to get them out in a semblance of order.

  The last two days had been a roller-coaster of emotions for Victor and he couldn't stand it. One minute he was aching for Juliette; the next he was berating himself for acting like a crazed Don Juan, charging into her house to devour her. What had come over him? When he closed his eyes he could see himself standing on the sidewalk outside her home, torn between the urge to run, and the desire to run back to her.

  What a fool he'd made of himself after all! When she opened the door, and stood there looking up at him, those silky eyes large and trusting, her mouth—oh man, her mouth! He'd only slept fitfully the last few nights, waking up time and again to the memory of her pressed against him. He could hear her whisper, "You made me feel beautiful," and he wanted to assure her again and again that she was.

  He hated the way his mind wouldn't stop spinning, racing around the moments he'd spent with her, robbing him of sane thought. He couldn't concentrate at work, and his boss actually raised his voice at him over paperwork that wasn't completed properly. He hadn't been yelled at in a long time, and Victor blamed Juliette for distracting him. Even worse, he felt ravenously hungry all the time but nothing sounded good to him and the coffee he was drinking was making his stomach roil in protest.

  "She makes me crazy."

  "Okay."

  "She is so ridiculously emotional. Every time I see her she's either crying uncontrollably, laughing like a lunatic, or hissing like an alley cat! I never know what to expect with her."

  "Isn't this a little premature? I thought Saturday night was the first time you'd been out with her."

  "Of course it's premature! That's why it's so ridiculous! I hardly know her and she's already got me tied up in knots! Can you imagine what it would be like to actually date her?" He reached over and grabbed his mug off the coffee table, sloshing a little of the hot liquid on his hand. The pain actually felt good, and he grunted with satisfaction.

  "May I join you two?" Michelle poked her head into the living room.

  "Come on in," Victor gestured at all the empty seats around them.

  "So what happened? This isn't what I was expecting. You both acted like star-crossed lovers when you were here on Saturday," Michelle stated, choosing a chair beside her husband.

  "You want to know what happened? I'll tell you what happened. I took her home, told her I wanted to see her again, and she agreed that she wanted to see me again, too. Then I hugged her and I left."

  "That all sounds good to me." Michelle smiled encouragingly.

  "Yes! It does, doesn't it? But then I had to go and flip out." Victor set his cup down again and laced his fingers together on the top of his head. It felt like his brain was about to erupt like a volcano, and he could just imagine the mess that would make in Michelle's bright, yellow living room. "I charged up to her front door like I was doing a drug bust, and when she opened it, I assaulted her! I tackled her like she was a line-backer!" Then he released an expletive that had all three of them wide-eyed with shock.

  "Gah! See what I mean? Now she's got me cursing!" He jumped to his feet. "I'm exhausted, I'm acting like a raving lunatic myself, and my chest hurts. All because of her." He clenched his fists at his sides, pacing the floor. "I need to sleep but every time I close my eyes, I see her looking up at me with those...hungry eyes. I can't take it!"

  Michelle and Tom exchanged glances. Tom finally spoke. "I'm having a hard time understanding your...hesitation about dating her, Vic. Seems to me your response is pretty appropriate."

  "Appropriate? In what way, exactly, is my behavior appropriate? I scared us both! I even made her cry!"

  "Were they good tears or bad tears?" Michelle asked.

  "How should I know? They were tears!" But he did know. You made me feel beautiful. "Good, I suppose," he grunted, dropping back onto the sofa.

  "Like I said, I don't understand why this is all such a bad thing. Trevor stands by her. We think she's the real deal. So do you. You said so yourself." Tom was ticking things off his fingers as he spoke. "You're single. She's single. She's apparently got a close, albeit perhaps a little misguided family—"

  "Aha!" Victor interrupted, his voice louder than he'd intended. "Her sisters sound like mine! Meddling and manipulating, ridiculous schemes coming out their ears. I'd be crazy to go for that."

  "Have you met her sisters?" Michelle prodded. "Maybe they're not so bad."

  "No, but from what little she's said about them, I don't really want to."

  "You sound like a little boy, Victor. You don't want to?" Michelle frowned at the younger man. "Shall I tell you what I think?"

  Victor held up a hand and shook his head. "Uh, no, I don't think so. I'm afraid to hear what you think. In fact, I'm not really sure why I'm sitting here discussing this with you. When did my private life go public?"

  "I thought so," Michelle said, as though he'd responded with a compliant nod instead of petulance. "I think you're drawn to her because she's so transparent, and you're not accustomed to women being transparent. I think you're confused and befuddled and fumbling and bumbling—"

  "Hey," he scowled. Tom just chuckled behind his coffee cup.

  "And making an idiot of yourself because you're feeling something that doesn't make sense to you, something you can't control. You're resisting so you can stay in control."

  "And what's wrong with wanting to maintain some control? It's worked for me so far."

  "Really? Your control bored Amanda right into the arms of another man, Victor Jarrett."

  His eyes widened in surprise at Michelle's uncharacteristically sharp words.

  "You know what, honey?" She only called him that when he got really stubborn, and Victor fe
lt a strong impulse to cover his ears. "I don't recall you ever feeling this way when you were with Amanda. I don't recall you feeling much of anything with her, in fact. I think this Juliette is waking you up, and you're just being a big grump about it. With bed-head to boot."

  Victor scowled and pointed a finger at her. "You know what, honey?" he mocked her. "I thought she was waking me up, too, but then I dove headfirst off the deep end, and I don't like the water here. It feels like I'm drowning."

  Tom chuckled and reached over to take his wife's hand. "I hear the only way to stay afloat is to stop flailing, and kicking, and resisting. Maybe you should just relax and go with this, Vic. You might actually learn to swim with us big boys. You know, those of us with a good woman swimming alongside us."

  Victor shook his head, trying not to look longingly at their entwined fingers, his own hand tingling from the memory of Juliette's tucked into his. "I don't think you get it, Tom. It wasn't about relaxing, that's for sure. It was terrifying. I was actually afraid of what I might do next. I'll tell you what, if that woman had invited me into her home at the end of the night, you'd be dragging me off to confession right now. At this point, I'm not sure I shouldn't be going anyway! She...she gets inside my head, and I can't think of anything else, I want her so bad. It's not healthy." He paused, alarmed that he'd admitted so much out loud. "Besides, she has those sisters. I can't handle any more meddling sisters. I can't do it. I won't do it."

  "Then you're an even bigger fool than I thought you were," Tom shrugged.

  "Why does everyone call me that?" Victor brought his palm down on the top of the coffee table, the smack surprising them all. "Sorry," he grimaced, ashamed of his outburst. "Sorry." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Look at me! I'm in uncharted territory here, guys. Amanda was so...so easy to deal with. Predictable and sensible, calm. Nothing she did ever surprised me, or caught me off guard. I always knew what to expect from her. I wasn't even surprised when she turned down my proposal."

  Neither of his friends spoke. They just let his words hang in the air between them. But Michelle's eyes were asking a question.

  "What?" he demanded.

  She smiled patiently at his impatience. "Well, first, my friend, a word of warning. Don't ever compare a new woman—even a potential one—with a woman from your past. It's tantamount to relationship suicide. Secondly, I'm wondering if you honestly consider all those things you just said about Amanda to be good things."

  Victor glanced at Tom for support, but he shook his head sympathetically. "You're on your own, man."

  "Thirdly," Michelle continued. "I was wondering if you really believed that the success of a relationship is gauged by how easy a person is to 'deal with,' as you so intriguingly put it."

  Victor opened his mouth to speak but Michelle held up her hand.

  "And fourthly, are you seriously going to let a couple of sisters scare you off? After everything those women you grew up with have subjected you to, you'll just sit back and let Juliette's sisters keep you from her? It seems to me, Vic, that you, of all people, might be just the right man for the job."

  "Your logic escapes me," Victor ground out, but only because he wasn't ready to admit that everything she said made perfect sense to him. Why was he comparing Juliette to Amanda? It wasn't as though Amanda had set a standard he hoped his next woman would meet.

  But she had been safe, he reasoned, and that was good, wasn't it? He needed predictable and if nothing else, Amanda had been predictable.

  Juliette, on the other hand, had yet to not surprise him during any of their encounters, so why would she be happy with predictable? He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Why would any woman, for that matter, if Amanda, herself, hadn't been happy with it?

  But the sisters? That was another story altogether.

  "Have you prayed about this, Victor?" Michelle's voice was quiet, serious.

  "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! I even asked God to keep me from being a fool on Saturday night!" He shuddered again, remembering how driven he'd felt, how untethered and wild. How foolish. "A lot of good that did me." He rose to his feet again, slowly this time, suddenly weary beyond belief. "I'm tired," he sighed. "I have to be at work in 5 hours. I need to go home and get some sleep."

  Tom walked him to the door and put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll be praying for you, Victor. The Lord has already offered His wisdom. All you have to do is ask for it. Go home and rest. We'll talk soon."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  TOOTLES DID NOT LIKE the leash.

  Tootles did not like being taken for walks.

  Tootles wanted to take Juliette for runs.

  Tootles had recovered quickly from both his hard life on the streets, and from the subsequent surgery that left him just a little bit less of a man.

  Juliette was exhausted. All the time. "He doesn't listen, he doesn't learn," she admitted to Sharon a few weeks after she'd adopted him. "He doesn't even know his own name! I thought he did, the little trickster, because he'd come running when I called him to eat, but he just knows the sound of the cup in the dog food bag. Then last night, he broke down the kiddie gate."

  "Did he get out?"

  "Yes." Juliette sighed heavily, and let her head fall into her hands, elbows propped on her desk. "He got out of the kitchen and into my bed."

  "Oh dear."

  "Yeah. Oh dear. Put it this way. No one slept last night."

  "You let him sleep with you?" Sharon laughed.

  "No! I let him sleep in the garage."

  "Why can't you just put him out in your little back yard? It's got a good sturdy fence, doesn't it? Wouldn't it keep him in?"

  "During the day, he seems okay with that. I assume he is, anyway. At least he isn't whining when I leave and it seems to me like he only starts barking when he realizes I'm home. But at night, if I leave him outside, he whines, and howls, and scratches at the back door. You can hear him up and down the block. I know because I took a walk one night without him. I needed a break from having my arm ripped out of its socket."

  "So the garage, it is." Sharon nodded understandingly. "How did that go?"

  "Oh Sharon!" she wailed. "It was awful! I felt like a child-abuser. He cried for hours!"

  "Dude, you look like sh—"

  "Gavin!" Sharon interrupted the Philosophy major who had just walked into the middle of their conversation. She had a fairly accurate idea of what word he was going to use to describe Juliette's condition.

  Gavin grinned and dropped a folder of papers on Juliette's desk.

  "What is this?" She picked up the folder and began to thumb through it. "Is this your work?" She straightened in her chair, as she took in the neatly formatted and typed pages of his first quarter portfolio.

  "Yep. Paid good money for it, too." His smile turned smug and he dropped into a chair, arms crossed over his broad chest.

  "What do you mean, good money? Did you pay someone to do this for you?"

  "No, I hired someone to help me."

  "Gavin," Juliette studied him, questions buzzing through her mind. "Are you blushing?"

  "No. It's hot out there." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the window where the November sun shone in from a crisp, cloudless Autumn sky. But blushing, he most certainly was, and for some reason, it made Juliette feel a little more confident that the papers she had were not illegally come by.

  "So this is your work?"

  "Yep. I did all the philosophizing, and Kelly helped me make it look good. Thanks for hooking me up with her." His neck went from red to purple.

  "I see," Juliette tried not to smile, but she saw Sharon duck down behind her monitor across the way. "I've heard she's an excellent tutor."

  "Dude." His satisfied tone spoke volumes. "She's awesome." Then he shoved himself up out of the chair and started pacing the floor.

  "Are you okay, Gavin?" Juliette had never seen him flustered before.

  "Um, yeah." He paused in front of her desk, "I just...so...um, she has a boy
friend, right? Do you know if it's serious?"

  "Yes. And yes." Juliette nodded. "She has a boyfriend. It's serious. But, it's not fatal. Nothing's forever, especially when it comes to true love."

  "Juliette!" Sharon admonished her from her desk. "Don't be so cynical."

  "Sorry, Gavin. I'm just tired and cranky."

  "Yeah, I could tell. You look like...."

  "Gavin!" Sharon cut him off again.

  "Like an angel of mercy, okay, Sharon? Angels of mercy are always tired because they're always helping everyone else."

  "Nice save, college boy," Sharon chuckled.

  "Look, Gavin," Juliette drummed her fingers on the desk a few times. "As far as Kelly's concerned, she thinks she's serious about the guy. As far as I'm concerned, I think the guy needs to respect her more. That's all I'm going to say about them. But you? Here's what I have to say to you. Respect her, you might win her heart. Disrespect her, you'll have me to deal with."

  "And me," Sharon quipped.

  "I can do respect." Gavin straightened his shoulders and grinned. "I come from good stock. My dad taught me that a man always treats his woman like his queen."

  "His woman?" Juliette rolled her eyes. "The last time someone called me 'his' I was deeply offended, Gavin."

  "Really? Then maybe when he called you that he wasn't being respectful. It sounds totally different when your woman is being treated right." Gavin frowned down at her.

  Juliette smiled ruefully and nodded. "You're right, Gavin. He wasn't treating me with respect."

  "You're also right about the 'his' thing, Gavin. I love it when Chris calls me 'his' because I know he takes responsibility for me. He's got me covered," Sharon added.

  "Exactly," Gavin nodded, then turned back to face Juliette. "So. Who's disrespecting you?"

  "I broke up with him months ago."

  "You sure? Because I could go teach him a thing or two about respect." He began flexing his remarkable chest muscles as evidence that he was up for the task. Juliette had to cover her eyes because he was standing right in front of her desk.