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BY THE TIME SHE WAS ready for church, Juliette was late, but she had no one to make excuses to, so she went anyway. Tiptoeing in, she sat in the first empty seat she came to. She tucked her purse under the chair in front of her and glanced down at the Bible on her lap. It was becoming her most faithful companion. She carried it everywhere, even to places where she knew she wouldn't be reading it, but she found comfort in just knowing it was at hand.
The music was loud tonight, and she liked it that way. She was still learning the songs that everyone else seemed to know, but she followed along the best she could. With the volume up, she could sing out loud, and not worry about disturbing anyone else's worship.
As soon as Pastor Eric began to speak, Juliette knew he was speaking directly to her. "You've heard it before; forgive and forget someone who has done us wrong. But no! That's not what the Scriptures tell us. In Luke 6:27, Jesus tells us we are to love, and forgive, and to pray for those who do us wrong, who hate us. How can you pray for someone you've forgotten? No matter how much we think a person may deserve it, we are not to condemn anyone to a life of misery. Jesus knew what He was saying when He put all three action steps in the same statement. Love, forgive, pray. In order to love your enemy, you must forgive your enemy. In order to forgive your enemy, your heart must be changed toward him or her. In order to have a changed heart, you must ask God to do a work in you. And guess what? That means prayer."
Juliette felt utterly convicted and she was struggling to understand why. Tears slipped unchecked down her cheeks as she sat in stillness, her head bowed during the closing prayer. Why did Pastor Eric's message make her heart ache so badly? Was she still harboring unforgiveness toward Mike? She shook her head at the thought, certain she was truly free of the anger she'd felt just a few short weeks ago. Granted, before tonight's message, she'd hoped to be able to forgive and forget Mike, but she was okay with forgiving and forgetting what he had done to her instead, and praying for his heart.
"What am I not getting?" she whispered. In her mind she heard Trevor adamantly urging her to give God her hidden and chained up places. "Please show me, Lord. Walk through these air-tight rooms with me."
Juliette stayed seated as people made their way out of the sanctuary and off into the night. She sat, head down, focusing intently on the tips of her shoes. "Oh Lord. Help me. I can't do this alone. I feel so alone," she whispered.
"Excuse me." For a moment Juliette thought she was going to be asked to leave, or to make way, but then she recognized that voice. "Juliette?"
She couldn't look at him. She didn't want him to see her like this, all tear-stained and weak again. She slumped even lower in her seat, wishing she could vanish into thin air.
~ ~ ~
VICTOR NOTICED HER the moment she slipped in the back door of the church. He had just turned to say something to his friends who were sitting in the row behind him, and stopped abruptly when he recognized her tiptoeing in. He couldn't stop staring; what was she doing here?
When he broke off mid-sentence, Michelle turned to see what had distracted him. "Who is that?" she whispered, elbowing her husband, Tom, to make him look, too.
Victor was a part of Tom Peterson's discipleship group, and the three of them had become good friends over the years. Between the Petersons, Taz, and a handful of other friends he'd made since moving to Midtown, Victor had found a new family.
Michelle Peterson certainly treated him like a kid brother. She teased him mercilessly about women, or the lack thereof, in his life, and no one was more thrilled for him than she, when he and Amanda started seeing each other. She and Tom took them under their wings, spending time with them, getting to know the woman he'd finally chosen to date.
So when he showed the older couple the ring he'd purchased for Amanda, Michelle surprised him with her questions. She didn't ask him if he was sure it was what he wanted, but if he was sure it was what Amanda wanted.
When he informed them the next day that Amanda had turned him down, Michelle shook her head sadly, but she obviously wasn't surprised. Victor took it all in stride, chuckling humorlessly. "Funny thing is, I would have been just fine with her boredom. Beats drama any day."
"Ahem!" Michelle cleared her throat from behind him. "Vic?"
He blinked hard and turned back to her, a schooled blank look in place. She eyed him sharply; he hoped he wasn't blushing. "What?"
"You were saying?" she prompted.
"Um...." He looked right at her, but his thoughts were already back on Juliette.
"Oh, never mind, you big lug. But you've got some 'splainin' to do after the service."
Victor's thoughts were all over the place. Did she attend church here? Why didn't Trevor tell him? Was this one of those divine appointments his friend had talked about? Was he supposed to ask Juliette out tonight?
The idea settled on him like a warm blanket. Yes, tonight. Tonight he would speak with her. Tonight he would take the step his heart had urged him to take since the first night he'd stood on her doorstep, Juliette dressed in that ridiculous pink bathrobe, threatening to kill her sister.
She'd paraded right past him, a divine appointment if he'd ever seen one. Tonight was definitely the night.
He stole glances at her during the rest of the music, grinning when he realized she was singing her heart out and hardly knew the music. He almost thought he heard her at one point, when the worship leader changed keys and moved right into the next song.
Every time he looked at her, he felt confirmation about pursuing her. She seemed so genuine, so sincere in her offering. Watching her worship reminded him of a conversation between him and Michelle about women doing everything in groups. She laughed and told him he'd never really understand the psychology of it because he was a man, but to pay attention when a woman did something on her own. "If she's not waiting for an entourage of friends, then it's something really important to her, and you'd better take note of it."
But halfway through the message, he saw her tears. At first it was only a few slipping down her cheeks; then she was crying for real, crumpled tissues in her clenched fists. He felt helpless sitting there, watching her weep. He couldn't just get up and cross the aisle to her; that would be presumptuous of him. Besides, she might not want his attention.
"Just give me the facts, Friday." Michelle poked him in the shoulder when the service was over.
"I...I don't know much about her, to be honest. She's a fairly new believer, I think." He stumbled over his words, quickly categorizing what little he did know about her. University job, interfering sisters, best friend named Sharon, PT Cruiser. It was all the facts, but none of those things really said anything about Juliette. "Taz likes her," he finally said, rather lamely.
"Trevor? As in, he likes her, likes her?" Victor couldn't help grinning at the juvenile phrase coming out of his friend's mouth.
"I don't think so," he said. "He told me to ask her out."
"What?" Michelle's tone was incredulous. "He told you to ask her out? Who is she?"
"Her name is Juliette. She went out with him a few weeks ago, and I guess he thinks pretty highly of her."
"But what does any of this have to do with you? How do you know her? I can see that you're...interested."
"Michelle thinks you like her, like her." Tom, always quick with the one-liners, interjected with a chuckle.
"Let's just say that I...uh...met her on the job. Which means mine may not be her first choice of shoulders to cry on, and I think she might need that right now." He turned back to watch her again, suddenly worried that someone else might sweep in and offer her comfort.
"Victor Jarrett, what are you not telling me?" Michelle eyed him, head tilted. "I'm getting the feeling yours are exactly the shoulders she needs right now, and you're the resistant one, not her." She turned to her husband beside her. "Help me here, Tom."
The older man rubbed his chin and eyed Juliette. "Do you think your friend would like to join us for pie?"
"Tom! What kind of help is that?" Michelle elbowed him. "She's not a man. Food isn't always the answer."
"I was actually thinking about asking her to join us when I saw her come in. But not now." Victor shook his head. "She's crying."
"So? Everybody cries in church sometimes." Tom winked at his wife.
"Absolutely," chimed in Michelle. "And there's nothing to be ashamed of when you do."
"You might want to reassure her of that," Tom prodded, thrusting a chin in Juliette's direction.
"Me?" Victor shook his head again. Dealing with crying women while on the clock was a piece of cake. There were no strings attached, no ulterior motives, only that of restoring order. Off the clock was a whole different story. "I'm not so good with tears. Or women." After a brief pause, he admitted, "Especially that woman."
"Maybe you should learn to be," Michelle said around a curious grin.
Tom wasn't going to let this one go either. "A woman needs to know her man isn't going to be embarrassed of her tears." He slid a protective arm around his wife's shoulders. Michelle smiled and nodded, her eyes warm and tender.
"Her man?" Aghast now, Victor stared at them both. "Uh, I'm not her man."
"A man, then," Tom corrected. "A woman needs to know—"
"I got it the first time. But I don't think I'm that man right now. And I doubt she wants to go out for pie, either. At least not tonight."
"Nothing wrong with tonight. I'd like to meet her." Tom spoke nonchalantly, but Victor heard the challenge in his voice.
"Tonight isn't the night," he reiterated firmly, ignoring the little voice in his head that was trying to remind him of his earlier decision; tonight is the night! "Don't push it, Tom."
It was the tears. He hated it when his mom and sisters used their tears to get what they wanted from people, and he could feel a building resistance toward Juliette as long as she kept crying. Unlike Darlene's or Sasha's, he thought hers were genuine, but it still elicited the same response in him; to push her away.
"She needs a shoulder before she needs pie," Michelle stated, her brow furrowed.
"I agree." Victor crossed his arms. "That's why I'm recruiting you."
"A man's shoulder. A man's strength." Now Michelle was getting pushy.
"How do you know she hasn't got a man already?"
"Because she's sitting in church alone and crying, Victor!" Michelle wasn't joking any longer. "If she had a man—a good one—he'd be sitting there with her, and she'd be crying on his shoulders."
He glared at his friends; they stared back with their own stony challenge.
"Oh, good grief! I'll go talk to her!" He thrust himself up out of his seat.
Tom stood up, too. "Come on, Michelle. We'll wait for Vic and—what's your friend's name?"
"Juliette," Victor growled.
"Juliette. We'll wait for you two out front." He tipped his head toward the woman across the aisle. "Take your time. We're in no hurry."
And now, here he stood, awkwardly hovering over Juliette, not sure what else to say to her. His formal 'excuse me' had been pitiful at best, and he was pretty sure her silence meant that she wasn't very excited to see him.
"I'm not trying to be nosy," Victor began. He slid into the seat beside her and stared straight ahead, trying to figure out how to not embarrass either one of them any more than he already had. "I just want to make sure you're all right."
"I'm fine," Juliette sniffed, holding her soggy tissue to her nose. "I'm just a little emotional. But I guess you figured that out already."
"That's all right. Everyone cries in church sometimes. It's nothing to be ashamed of." He cringed as he heard Tom's words come out of his own mouth. Grasping at straws.
"I'm not really ashamed of crying," she muttered. "Only of being seen crying."
"Oh." What does one say to that?
"I'll let you sit there if you don't look at me, okay?"
Victor chuckled, relief flooding through him. Humor. This he might be able to handle. "I promise not to look at you." After a pregnant pause, he continued. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"No. Yes. I mean, probably not." She sighed. "I don't know."
"I see." Although he didn't. At all. "Well, why don't we start with the 'yes' part."
"Okay. I could use some dry tissues, but I don't want to go out there where everyone will stare at me."
"That, I can do for you." Easy enough. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He stood up and stepped out into the nearly empty aisle, then paused. "Would you...would you rather talk to a woman? I can send one of my friends—"
"That's all right," she interrupted him. "I'm already embarrassed enough. At least this is nothing new for you." She still held the tissue to her nose but did finally look up at him. "But could you hurry? It's like someone turned on a faucet in here."
He found Tom and Michelle waiting for him in the foyer as promised, chatting with a few other couples. He pulled Michelle aside. "Hey. It may be a while. You don't have to wait. I, uh, have to get back." He felt like a schoolboy, trying to come up with excuses to justify staying behind with her. "She needs some tissue."
"Don't be silly. We'll wait." Michelle's eyes were sparkling with humor. She poked him in the chest. "Because I want to know what's going on, and why you haven't said anything about her before tonight."
Victor grinned self-consciously. "There's nothing to tell." He turned to go, but threw a quick glance back over his shoulder at her. "Yet."
He grabbed a box of tissue off the information counter and hurried back inside. He slowed as he approached Juliette, his chest tightening at the sight of her hunched figure sitting so forlornly in her seat. There were very few people left in the sanctuary; they might not have a lot of time, but at least they had some privacy.
"Here you go," he said, dropping into the seat beside her again. She took several tissues from the box he offered her and held them up to her face.
"Will you please go...somewhere else?" Her voice was muffled behind her hands, but he understood her words perfectly, slightly taken aback.
"Oh. Sure." He began to rise, but she reached out to stop him.
"I'm sorry. That sounded awful. I didn't mean for you to leave, leave. I just need a moment of privacy, if you don't mind. At least let me blow my nose without you in ear shot. And don't watch. In case 4-ply isn't thick enough and I have a blow-out or something."
By the time she was done explaining herself, Victor was smiling. "Of course. I forgot about the not looking thing." He glanced around, momentarily at a loss. "Okay. I'll go wait for you in the foyer. There's no hurry, just come out when you're ready." He tucked the tissue box into the seat he'd vacated and headed back up the aisle.
