And then it was another plane ride back to Guelph--classes began again--Juliet threw herself into her work. She managed to outpass even her stellar performance of the last semester. Honors were heaped upon her for the paper she wrote on the history of colonial Canada. Mrs. Watson, who had hired Juliet the semester before to do a genealogy of her family, recommended her to other matrons in the area, and before she knew what had hit her Juliet was up to her ears in birth and death announcements from staid old families around the province. The job paid very well and she enjoyed it--it was interesting to think that she was poking around the past's of people who had been dead for a hundred years or more. It made her think that perhaps those who were gone were not forgotten, not entirely.
It helped to keep her mind off of Uncle Dean--and, more trivially, off of the Sweetheart Dance the student group was arranging for the second week in February. Juliet wrote a flippant little letter to Allan about it. But of course he could not leave his job and his classes in the middle of the term to be with her.
"I hate to think of you being here all by yourself," Trudy moaned. "When we'll all be out having fun! Juliet, why don't you come with me and Blair? We'll go as a group--it'll be fun."
"You and Blair!" Juliet hummed. "Isn't Hannah going to come out for the big dance?"
Trudy shook her head. "Her grades haven't been so good this semester. Mother and Father are afraid she's spending too much time writing to Blair, talking to Blair, thinking of Blair. So they've put a moratorium on her visits and calls until her algebra improves. Blair's taking me, I suppose, because I'm safe. How could he be tempted by plain, boring old Trudy Ford when he has the gorgeous Hannah to think of?"
Her mouth twisted in a wry grin, but the expression in her gray-green eyes was mocking and sad. Juliet's heart twisted. It was true that Hannah Ford, with her ropes of corn-colored hair and bright smile, was the beauty of the Ford family. But how could you prefer her for Trudy? Trudy wasn't pretty but she had something--a spark--it was as if she glowed with light from within. Juliet threw her arms around Trudy and said,
"Blair King would be lucky to end up with you. You're too good for the likes of him!"
"Oh, come on, Juliet!" Trudy laughed. "I know you hate him, but honestly, you don't think Blair's that bad, do you?"
"No, I suppose not," Juliet mused. "I'll never be able to think him the dashing he-man I thought him when I fancied we were in love. I'll never be able to forget how quickly he turned on me when the chips were down! But for Hannah he isn't so bad. For you, though, friend of my heart--I want you with one of the princes of Europe. And even he won't be half good enough for you."
"Say you'll come to the dance," Trudy begged.
"If I get this family history done for Mrs. Bainbridge, I will," Juliet promised. "Do you know that unfortunate woman has not one but two men in her family named Nebuchadnezzar? What a name!"
"It's what I plan on naming my firstborn child," Trudy giggled--then left Juliet alone so she could finish up her work.
* * *
Juliet worked all day so that she could go to the dance with no obligations hanging over her. She didn't want to go, per se--but Mother and Father had given her the most beguiling Christmas dress--a wispy thing made of sea-foam lace that wasn't quite white but green in some lights and silvery-blue in others. It must have been terribly expensive, and Juliet wanted to get their money's worth out of it.
She settled down in her desk chair--Alice was off somewhere with her latest beau and Greta and Trudy had gone into town to shop. It was for the best, probably, thought Juliet ruefully, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was wearing her oldest, most faded print dress--her other outfits had gone to the cleaners--and her hair was dirty and lank. She'd set it later, after her shower.
Juliet worked diligently for an hour or so. It was so hard to concentrate! She kept thinking of Allan--she thought she heard his whistle in the courtyard below--his tread on the stairs as he took them two at a time
Oh, but it was Allan! The door to the tower room opened and in he burst in, a smile on his face and a bunch of wild rice lilies in his hands. Juliet sprang up and he caught her around the waist and pulled her close.
"I hate you," Juliet laughed, with quite the opposite meaning in her eyes. "How dare you sneak up on me like that! Allan--what are you doing here?"
"You wrote me about the dance," Allan smiled, dipping her low so that her hair brushed the floor. "And you didn't ask me to come so I thought you must have made a date with someone else." His eyes sparkled impishly.
"I didn't ask you to come because I thought you couldn't, and I didn't want you to feel guilty!" Juliet tore frantically at her hair with her hands and looked dismally at her old dress. "You wretched thing! Why didn't you at least call so I'd be wearing something decent."
"You're beautiful," Allan declared. "Even in a housedress and a kerchief. How do you pull it off? Most other girls would look like a hausfrau but you look like a queen."
* * *
It was amazing how her attitude about the dance changed in just a few minutes. Suddenly Juliet wanted to go to the dance more than ever--more than she'd wanted to do anything. How lovely it would be to put on that new dress and look alluring for him!
The night before the dance Allan borrowed an old jalopy from one of the coeds and he and Juliet went on a ride down one of the country rodes surrounding the college and the town. They were deeper into the woods than Juliet had ever been--there were no lights from the city nearby and the sky overhead glowed like jewels. They must be thirty miles from campus! How beautiful it was! The thick blanket of snow had not melted and here it was still pristine and untouched. A sudden flash to the north caught her attention, and as the sky shone with the northern lights, Juliet wanted to cry. It was so beautiful!
Allan drove along smoothly--and then gradually slowed--and then stopped completely.
"Why did we stop?" Juliet laughed.
"I didn't stop," Allan said, his brow furrowing. "The car did."
"What do you mean?" Juliet's eyes were wide.
"I mean--we're stranded," Allan said--and then laughed. "Let me go poke around under the hood. I'll see if there's anything I can do."
A minute later he was back.
"It's the funniest thing," Allan said, looking sheepish.
"What? What! Can the car be fixed?"
"Oh, most certainly," Allan said. "For about thirty cents. We're out of gas. Come on, honey, it's cold outside. Let's bundle ourselves in these blankets in the back and cuddle for warmth. Someone's bound to come along and rescue us soon."
'We could walk to town," Juliet said dubiously.
"It's over thirty miles!"
"Well, then, let's cuddle, like you said. It was a good idea. Oh, Allan, someone's bound to come down this road before long. Aren't they?"
But no one did come along. Juliet and Allan snuggled into the blankets that had conveniently been left under the seat in the back and watched the brilliant display of color overhead. Her face tingled and soon it hurt to breathe--the air was so cold it stung her lungs as she took it in.
"Allan, we can't stay here all night," she whispered. "No one's come by--we'll freeze to death. I saw the thermometer as I went out--it's ten below tonight. It gets colder here than on the Island. Nothing I was alarmed about before--but I didn't expect to be spending the night in a car. There's nobody around for miles, is there?"
"I think we passed a cabin by the road a ways back," Allan said. "About a mile--Juliet, can you walk it?"
Juliet looked at him scornfully. "Of course I can! But Allan--are you sure you saw one?"
He said he was sure, and the two set off through the snow. It was so dark! And cold. Was Allan sure it was only a mile? They must have walked at least three by now! Just when Juliet thought she could not go on, she heard Allan say, "There it is!"
The two weary young people climbed the steps with feet that seemed like frozen blocks. Juliet knocked forthrightly once. And then twice. And when there was no response, a third time, desperately.
"I don't think anyone lives here, Allan," she said. "I think this cabin must be for hunters, in the spring, or is abandoned. What are we going to do?"
But Allan had already picked up a stone from the yard and neatly rapped it into the window set in the door. Then he reached his hand in through the small hole he'd made and unlocked it.
"I'll leave my name and address for anyone who comes here in spring," Allan said. "They can write me and I'll pay to have the window replaced. Come in, Juliet--I want to get you something hot to drink to make sure you're not frozen solid."
It was shabby, this cabin, but to the cold and tired Allan and Juliet it seemed like a palace. It was only one room, with a cot and a sofa. There was no telephone, and no electric lights. But there were a couple of kerosene lanterns, and heaps of blankets, and a wood stove with piles of cordwood stacked by it. Allan started a fire and made Juliet a cup of rather dubious tea. Then the two settled down companionably on the sofa.
"This is the first time we've ever been together--all night--by ourselves," Allan said wonderingly.
"Oh, Allan, you're right!" Juliet gasped. "What will everyone say? What will they think of us?"
"We'll figure something out." Allan yawned. "Only Greta and Trudy know we're gone, and you can explain to them."
"And Alice," Juliet reminded him.
"But who will believe anything Alice has to say?" he pointed out. "Especially after that stunt she pulled. Besides--I don't think people would think that we did--anything. Juliet, sweetheart, I'm beat. Can you bring me an extra blanket--I'll take the couch, you get the cot. I--don't--think it matters, though. They're equally lumpy and uncomfortable. Darling, give me a goodnight kiss, and then off to bed with you."
He was asleep before she'd even had a chance to pull the covers up to his chest. Juliet made herself comfortable and drifted off herself.
"This is like that old story about Mother and Father--and Aunt Ilse and Uncle Perry," she thought drowsily before her eyes closed. "In the Shrewsbury days--and Aunt Ilse got drunk! What a good story! What good times Mother and the rest of them had! Someone--should--really--write about them!"
* * *
It was impossible to tell how much later it was when Juliet awoke. She had no clock--the sky was still as black as velvet. She did not know what it was, but some sound had woken her--some unearthly sort of long, low moan. Maybe she had dreamed it? But no--there it was again.
"Allan," she whispered, not daring to move. There was no response. "Allan!"
"All around back, troops!" Out of the thick blackness surrounding her came a voice. Allan's voice! Juliet sat up in bed. Why was he shouting--what was he shouting? "Stay back men--stay back!"
She leapt from bed and lit one of the lamps. Allan was still shouting orders in his sleep--at one point he must have dreamed about an explosion because he cried out and covered his head with his arms. Juliet was frightened. She knelt by him and shook him, to wake him up.
"Allan! You're dreaming! Stop! Wake up, darling, please--you're scaring me!"
Allan grabbed the hand she had laid on his shoulder and gripped it warningly. Juliet cried and dropped her lamp--then Allan saw who it was. "Juliet," he breathed. "I forgot--I didn't remember--are you all right? I didn't hurt you? I thought you were--someone else. You just startled me."
"You were dreaming about the war, weren't you?" she whispered, tears running down her face.
"No, I wasn't. I wasn't--"
"Allan, you were! I heard you calling out to your troops--you were shouting orders in that military-speak, that sort of code"
"I was dreaming of nothing of the sort." Allan brushed her away. "I dreamt I was in Lofty John's bush, that's all, and I was wearing my pants on my head. It was a silly dream, nothing to get worked up over."
"I heard you," Juliet said tearfully. "I know I wasn't dreaming, Allan!"
"I wasn't!" Allan roared. "Get away, go back to bed. Let me alone! I wasn't dreaming about the war. I never dream of it--I never think of it. Leave me alone, don't talk about it! Please, please leave me alone!"
He sprang from the bed and paced the small room frantically. At one point he covered his face with his hands and his shoulders heaved. Juliet, more frightened than she had been before, crept back to her cot and pulled the blankets up to hide her face. Soon she heard Allan lay back on the sofa. He turned the lamp down, and darkness enveloped them again.
"I thought it was over," she murmured into the blackness, wishing she could reach out and touch Allan's hand for comfort. "The war."
"It will never be over," he said in return.
They lay there like that all night, with miles of distance between them, too hurt and afraid to sleep.