Juliet raced to the post office as fast as her still-weak legs could carry her.
"Please, Mrs. Drew," she said to the fat woman behind the desk. "I--I posted a letter this morning that I didn't mean to send, and I want it back! Can you give it to me?"
Mrs. Bertie Shakespeare Drew, nee Olive Kirk, pushed down her glasses and looked pityingly over their rims at Juliet.
"I'm sorry, dearie," she said, and a tone which implied that she was most definitely not sorry. "But I can't tamper with the mail. It's effedrall offense."
"It's what?" Juliet said desperately.
"EFFEDRALL offense."
"A federal offense!" Juliet wailed. "Mrs. Drew--you don't understand. I must have that letter back. I--I"
For a moment Juliet hesitated. She did not want to tell the whole story to Mrs. Drew, who would spread it around the Island before you could say, "Malicious old gossip!" But she really did not see how she could get around it.
"I wrote to someone," she confessed. "And told them--him--that I--would be willing to marry him! But I'm not anymore! Mrs. Drew, can't you see, if you don't give me that letter back, you'll have helped in the ruin of my reputation--and my life." Juliet swallowed the last remnants of her pride. "Oh, dear Mrs. Drew, such a young, vivacious person as you must remember what it's like to be in a situation like this! Even if you are married."
"I understand you perfectly well, dearie," said Mrs. Drew.
Juliet allowed herself to hope--just a little.
"Although I never allowed myself to get put in such a situation. You young girls are so flippant and flighty these days."
"You're a young girl yourself, Mrs. Drew," said Juliet weakly, trying the flattery approach again.
"No, I ain't, I'm a mother with four boys under the age of ten and the beginnings of a dowager's cushion," Mrs. Drew retorted. "And I'll give your letter back to you--for a price."
"But I don't have any money!" Juliet felt tears pricking her eyes.
"I'm not asking your for money. Did you hear me ask you for money, you silly girl? No. Mr. Drew and I would like to go away for our anniversary next week-end. Sixteen years we've been married. And we're having such a tough time getting someone to look after the boys. We certainly can't keep them home alone--not after last time. You did such a good job with Marigold Guest's ragamuffins. Everyone's talking about it. Well, I wanted to ask you to watch the boys but I was afraid you would say no. If I give you your letter, you can't say no. You'll come and stay the weekend with John, Joe, Jim and Ernie. You hear? Have we got a deal?"
Juliet swallowed. The Drew boys were not charming "ragamuffins" like the Guest children, but tough, mean, big boys. But--she needed that letter.
"We have a deal," Juliet said.
"Who'd you write the letter to?" said Mrs. Drew
"Allan Miller," said Juliet, cheeks burning.
"Oh my," said Mrs. Drew. "I thought you were writing to that King fellow. His family grew up over in Carmody, didn't they? Yes, girls today are fickle--very fickle. Don't look so surprised, dear, I work at the post office--I know everything that's going on around her."
Oh--this was terrible! And Mrs. Drew was terrible, too! But Juliet had gotten her letter. It was tucked into her stocking top, next to her bare skin. She walked home with a little extra bounce in her step--but she was not exactly happy. Andalucia--what kind of name was that? Even for an Italian! And how could Allan be in love with her when he couldn't even understand what she was saying?
Still, she wouldn't burn the letter. It was too sweet for that. She would just put it away and forget about it.
* * *
Juliet found Doug in the kitchen and told him all about her encounter with horrible, fat Mrs. Drew at the post office. She left out the parts about the letter being to Allan--and what it was about, of course. She thought Doug might ask her, but he didn't. In fact--Doug didn't even seem to be paying attention!
"You haven't heard a word I've said!" Juliet chided after a few minutes of Doug staring off into space. "You're not even listening to me."
Douglas looked at her for a moment and then said, "So I suppose you know how it feels, now."
"Douglas!" Juliet frowned. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"I'm getting married," Doug said casually, getting up, and putting his supper dishes away. "Did you know that?"
Juliet's jaw had dropped. "Married! Towhom?"
"To Bella Priest," Douglas said. "We're moving to Guelph at the end of the summer. I'm going to teach Agriculture at the University there. Did you know that, either?"
"No!" Juliet whispered. "Doug--do Mother and Father know about this?"
Douglas banged the table with his fist, making everything on it--and Juliet--jump. "Of course they know!" he shouted. "Everyone knows. Everyone but you. I've tried to tell you. Bella's tried to tell you a hundred times--she wants you to be her bridesmaid. I don't know why. You're so wrapped up in your own sordid love affairs"--oh, Doug's sarcasm was venomous!--"Trying to decide between Blair and Allan, Allan and Blair, that you don't have time for anyone else. Did you know that Bea is going out with David Walsh, a Halifax man who's thirty-six years old? He's sixteen years older than her. No, you didn't know. Did you know Mother got another book deal? No. You didn't. But she did. The only thing that matters to you lately is Juliet, Juliet, Juliet!"
Juliet opened her mouth--and closed it--and opened it again--and closed it. What could she say? Doug was--right. She was selfish--and self-centered--and a horrible sister and daughter. And friend.
"I--I'm sorry," she said meekly, avoiding Doug's eye. "I didn't--realize. Do you think Bella will forgive me? I'm so--happy--for you Doug. I didn't even know you two even liked each other that way. Oh, God. You're right, you're totally and completely right about me."
Doug looked at her pale little face and sat down again, turning her chair so that they were sitting knee to knee.
"Look," he said. "I just lost my temper. You're not Hitler or anything, so calm down. Just--pay a little more attention to the rest of us sometimes. No one hates you, Juliet. It's pre-wedding jitters--I should have lashed out at you like that. And I apologize."
"When--is--the wedding?" Juliet asked. The word tasted foreign in her mouth. Doug! Having a wedding? Getting married? It was--so unreal. But--the more she thought about it--Doug and Bella really were well-suited for each other. Why hadn't she realized it before? Not well-suitedperfect for each other. They were both quiet, and loving, and somber at times. Both were dreamers. Both were friends.
"First week of June," Doug said. "In the garden at Evensong. Uncle Dean is giving us Evensong as a present--he and Aunt Elizabeth will stay over at Priest Pond. So we'll be back here, for summers and vacations."
"That's only next month!" Juliet cried. "When were you going to tell me? When they started playing the Wedding March?"
"We meant to tell you in time to dress," Doug laughed, and the twins embraced.
"I'm sorry to lose you," Juliet said. "But I am happy for you! Oh, and Bella will be my sister!"
Juliet flew over to Priest Pond in the early spring twilight, with a present--a delicate lace handkerchief she'd made the previous winter. It was point lace--fine enough for any bride--and in one corner, Juliet had embroidered Bella's initials in blue silk. IPKfor Isabella Priest Kent.That way it was the something new and something blue.
"I'm sorry, Bella," said Juliet shyly. "I hope you aren't mad at me."
"I'm not," Bella laughed, with a shake of her pale, almost white, curls. She really was a dear. Juliet had never seen her so contented. "I have my true love--you are still looking for yours. Besides--a bride can't be mad at her bridesmaid, can she? I've asked you and Bea and Joyce. Think, Juliet, we'll be sisters!"
Later, Juliet went over to Bea's and made the same apology, and Juliet listened while Bea chattered on and on about David Walsh, who was a banker in Halifax. People were saying that she was only after him for his money--she wasn't. She was after him because he was deliciously handsome. And what else? Oh--nice? Well, yes, he was very nice, too.
Bea had obviously forgiven her.
The hardest to go to was Mother. Juliet cut a bouquet of purple irises--Mother's favorite flower--and brought them to her, while she was writing in the garret that night.
"I'm sorry, Mother," said Juliet. "Douglas--has brought a few things to my attention, and I feel wretched that I've disregarded your feelings this way. May I have the privilege of reading your newest best-seller?"
"Certainly, you dear," Mother said. "And don't feel poorly--we're all allowed to have times where we think only of ourselves. Every once in a while--but don't let them become too frequent. And don't stop loving anyone less because of it, Juliet. And," Mother's eyes twinkled, "If you want advice--love advice--you can come to meI promise I won't use it as material for my next book."
Juliet, leaped up and gave Mother a nice, strong hug. What a wonderful Mother.