Juliet’s eyes flew open, her hands fisted in her hair, her heart pounded inside her chest.
It took a moment for her to release the terror, to gather her wits, and to see through the darkness.
Juliet knew from experience that these nightmares not only took her mind places she did not want to go, but they took her body there, too. Juliet literally walked through her nightmares. She was wide awake now, but it would take several long seconds before her brain successfully transmitted that message to the rest of her body. It would take several long seconds before Juliet could move. So, she lay still behind a chair in the darkest corner of the bedroom. Knees to chest, shivering cold, and soaked in her own urine.
Using the arm of the chair for support, Juliet pulled herself up and then waited for the floor to stop spinning. She rubbed the sore spot on her scalp. Then with a small apology to Rafael, Juliet dumped the clump of hair that she held in her fist into the trash can. She stripped off her new, pee soaked pajamas. She mournfully wrapped the garments into a loose ball. She put them in the sink and filled the basin with hot soapy water.
Then Juliet put her hands to her face and cried.
After a full few minutes of torrential tears, Juliet tried to pull herself together. She tried to think of something positive that would counteract the disappointed way in which her perfect day had ended.
Think. Think. Think.
Think of something positive…the refrain danced elusively through her brain.
Juliet thought and thought and thought.
Well, she hadn’t puked this time.
Definitely a positive
Not vomiting was big.
Because that chunky bile was so much harder to clean up than pee.
And it would have been difficult to get all those bits of vomit out of the spaces between the wide, pine, floor planks.
There was that.
Layla Dumont took a sip from the cold bottle of hard apple cider, and eyed Juliet critically from across the table. They had just finished picking apples, and now they sat at a picnic table with a peck of Gala, Macintosh and Honeycrisp sitting resplendent in a wooden basket between them.
Juliet still marveled at how naturally a relationship between herself and Layla had formed. The budding friendship had been organic. It had swept in like the autumn wind when neither of them was looking.
“P.J. called Reggie last week and asked about you.” Layla told Juliet. “And then Reggie asked me.”
“Yeah, I know. P.J. said as much when I was in the market the other day. He asked about my NFL hat. Figured I was a Patriots fan because I lived in Boston. Do you know if Reggie told him anything else?”
“Reggie doesn’t know anything else.”
“So, that whole do-over conversation…?” Juliet asked somewhat hesitantly. The apple orchard suddenly droned with the hum of a thousand insects, while a bumblebee hovered over the basket of apples, its stinger ready to strike.
“What do-over conversation?” Layla swatted at the bee. Then added meaningfully. “I don’t remember any do-over conversation. And if I did it would be privileged information. Telling would be a violation of Girl…”
“…Code.” Juliet nodded with relief.
“Exactly.” Layla raised her hand for a high five. “I told Reggie if P.J. wanted to know anything more about the new girl in town, he should ask her himself.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Wonder why he was asking.” Juliet bit down on her lip. When her hand rose towards her hair, she stopped herself mid-gesture, and took another long gulp of the cold drink.
“Pretty fish, small pond.” Layla shrugged. Then added after a small hesitation. “You are, you know.”
“A fish?” Juliet teased
“Pretty.” Layla replied.
“Yeah, if you don’t count the skinny, flat-chested, male-patterned baldness thing I got going on.” Juliet protested but really, the compliment had warmed her.
“Well, yeah, if you discount all those things.” Layla grinned “Seriously, girl, you are looking good.”
“Thanks. I do feel good. It’s a mixture of fresh country air, rocky road ice cream, and peroxide.” Juliet said breezily, glad to have the focus off P.J.’s nosy nature and on to more benign things.
“Rafael does work wonders, doesn’t he?” Layla reached out and touched a lock of Juliet’s hair. Then she eyed her friend’s breasts with appreciation. “And do I detect that we have moved on from the training bra?”
“B cup.” Juliet giggled and proclaimed proudly.
“So, I hear you’ve become sort of a regular at the diner.” Layla bit into a shiny Macintosh.
“I do like their hot turkey sandwiches. And those pumpkin donuts?” Juliet sighed.
“To die for, I know.”
“But a regular? I don’t know if I would call myself that.”
“Well, Jerri Lee would be real upset if you didn’t show up for your usual half dozen on Saturday morning. She puts them aside for you every week, you know.”
Not too long ago this conversation would have stopped Juliet cold. The thought that someone had made themselves familiar with her food preferences and her comings and goings? That would have evoked heart stopping, gut wrenching fear. But now Juliet had begun to understand that there was no malicious intent or ulterior motive in the people of
