“That natural pomade has done wonders for my hair.” Rosalind Carr ran her polished nails through her long, silky hair.
Jules smiled and nodded at Rosalind’s words. Her blonde tresses did look much healthier than the first time Jules had met her a few months back at the weekly farmer’s market. Back then, the rodeo queen’s ends had been split and ragged from all the time spent under hairdryers and the exposure to harsh chemicals and dyes to keep her looking like a natural blonde.
“It’s never been this healthy and fine,” Rosalind beamed down at her hair, as though she were talking to the strands. “I swear it’s grown at least three inches in the last two months.”
“That would be the aloe vera plant giving you the moisture,” said Jules. “The nettles and rosemary promote growth.”
They grew each of the herbs in the southern part of the commune. The soil there was more gritty, which suited the Mediterranean plants best. Harmony Sunshine, Verona’s resident herbalist, took pride in getting the most exotic specimens to thrive in the midwest.
“That River Sunshine is a genius,” said Rosalind. “Is he here today? I’d love to get my hands on some more.”
“River is no longer a he, remember? She transitioned earlier this year and changed her name to Harmony.”
It had been a beautiful rebirthing ceremony out at the stream that ran through the northern part of their property. Harmony’s mother, a poet laureate, performed a heartfelt spoken-word piece about letting the waters in her son’s heart reverse course, and now her daughter lived in harmony. Jules choked up just thinking about it.
“Oh, I don’t care if he’s gay,” Rosalind insisted. She pressed her hand to her heart and spread her fingers wide over her chest as though she was showing that the organ was open. “It’s very progressive of him. I mean her? Of them?”
Jules knew that the way she’d grown up was a strong pill for many in this community to follow. In a land of cattle and hog ranches, those who lived on Verona abhorred the thought of slaughter for food or clothes. In a town where the churches were packed every Sunday, the open fields on the commune held shrines to every god, goddess, and pagan saint known to mankind -because they didn’t want to leave any deity out.
Many of the townsfolk frowned at their ways. No one had ever raised a fist or a foul word. Well, except the Vances and the Montgomerys. Outside of that ongoing feud, the people of the town had tried often to welcome the residents of the commune, albeit in their awkward, see-look-I’m-openminded-just-don’t-go-too-far, kinda way.
“Harmony isn’t here today, but we do have some of her products out at our booth.”
Rosalind’s eyes lit up. She looked up, turning her head in the direction of the Verona booth where they’d laid out a store of fresh produce. If she walked over there, Rosalind would find the homemade hair products she coveted, along with hand-fashioned jewelry, scarves, hats, and other articles of clothing crocheted or knitted from natural fibers, and organic fruits and vegetables.
Jules just hoped Rosalind didn’t ask her to accompany her back there. She’d driven with Paris to the fair. For the first time in their lives, there had been an awkward silence between the two of them. They’d both tried to fill that silence with familiar topics like the progress of her soybeans, the upcoming commune community meeting which was always lively with debate, the impending visit from the USDA inspector over the organic seal of approval for their produce.
They’d exchanged only a few sentences. The weight of the words unsaid was heavy in the cab of his fuel-efficient hybrid truck. The tension prickled across her skin, causing her to shiver in discomfort. The tense silence had given Jules a moment to study her longtime friend, who wanted to be her lifelong mate.
Paris Montgomery was handsome. He had a strong chin and high cheekbones that could belong to a model. Though he was never one to go in front of a camera. His body was lean from his plant-based diet, and muscular from his work in the fields each day.
He was a quiet man, had been so ever since they were children. A gentler soul than his fiery father who had been a professional protestor in his youth, Paris preferred plants to people. Jules was much the same. It wouldn't be all bad if she chose to marry him.
Something squeezed in her heart, like the valves of the organ were wringing its hands with worry and anxiety. Perhaps that was why she’d shot out of the passenger seat as soon as he’d parked. Maybe that was why she’d walked away from the booth and made herself scarce for the last hour.
“Oh, no. Not him.”
The words hadn’t come from Jules's distressed heart. They’d come from Rosalind. The light of excitement over hair care had faded from Rosalind’s gaze. Her perfectly plucked brow was now pinched in annoyance.
Had Paris come up to them? Had he come in search of Jules, ready to break his silence? Was he now standing behind Jules? What if he was down on one knee?
There were prickles all over her skin. But these weren’t the prickles from before. They weren’t uncomfortable pinches. They felt like sparklers dancing up her forearms, sliding across her shoulder blades, and racing down her back.
Jules’s heart gave a mighty kick to the front of her chest, as though calling all her organs to attention. Every part of her was on high alert. Her ears rang clear. Her ten fingers felt a tingle. The soles of her feet were grounded where she stood.
Another mighty kick of her heart. This time she knew that something urged her to turn around. It wasn't a fight or flight sense of urgency. Jules couldn't quite put her finger on what the sensation was. She just knew that she had to turn if she wanted to live.
And so, she did.
First, her head. Her gaze pushed her peripheral vision to its max, trying to get a closer look at what was to come. It was only a glimpse, but she saw the next chapter of her life unfolding as her head, then her shoulders, then her entire body came around.
The man standing over her blocked out the sun, but Jules had never felt so hot in her life. His gaze bored into her, as though it saw directly into her soul. She felt bare and confused at the same time as she felt completely cloaked and understood.
There were no sparks when the man smiled. No, there was an explosion in that devilish grin. A raging fire ignited as everything in Jules shouted two words; this one.