Allan came home for lunch one summer afternoon and found his wife in a ridiculous get-up, standing on the front lawn. He paused for a moment by the driveway to watch her.
Juliet was in her oldest, most faded housedress, and had an old kerchief tied around her head. Another was tied over her mouth, obscuring the lower half of her face. Across her eyes was still another piece of cloth, with two slits for eyeholes cut into them. Juliet seemed to have hung the rugs from the upstairs hallway over the clothesline and was beating them with Allan's old tennis racket. Clouds of dust rose up in the air and settled around her like the fog out over the bay. She had obviously been at this endeavor for some time--her hair and clothes were flour-white.
"Say, w hat have those rugs ever done to you?" Allan called and Juliet put down her racket and blushed.
"You look like Jesse James," Allan said, takin g her in his arms with a grin.
"Oh, Allan, don't!" Juliet cried, squirming away. "You'll get dust all over your nice suit! They brought our new Oriental today and it's so lovely--go in the parlor and see it. And compared to it, all of the other rugs in the house looked so dirty and used. I've been cleaning all morning--I asked Miss Eppie for a vacuum cleaner but she didn't have one. Doesn't believe in them, she says."
Allan shook his head in laughter and started for the house.
"There's a plate of sandwiches in the pantry," Juliet called, and resumed her dirty business. Allan watched her from the kitchen. The sky had turned cloudy and dark and the fierce summer heat had abated--at least her wouldn't worry about her keeling over from heatstroke. There was a wind picking up, too. A particularly strong gust tore Juliet's kerchief from her hair and the rug she had been cleaning suddenly rose up and took flight. It blew for a bit and then settled in the top branches of one of the fir trees. Allan laughed out loud and looked across the way and saw Miss Eppie, at her own window, doing the same.
Across the street at the War-Widows' house, one of the curtains moved. Were they laughing, too? He gave a little wave and the curtain settled slowly and almost imperceptibly back into place and didn't move again.
* * *
The wind really was picking up, Juliet thought as she crossed the yard with a basket of clean clothes. She had finished the rugs and had moved on to doing the laundry. A line of freshly washed sheets and towels fluttered and flapped in the wind.
A few fat raindrops splatted on the top of her head and Juliet looked up at the sky, which had grown more dark and threatening since lunchtime. A distant roll of thunder sounded and Juliet wished suddenly that Allan were at home.
It's silly to be afraid of a simple summer storm, she sighed and went back to take her sheets off of the line.
Juliet made it inside just as the sky opened. It rained so heavily that all she could hear was the roar of water hitting the roof. Thunder cracked all around her and occasionally a bolt of lightning would streak across the sky.
Juliet turned the radio on and tried to listen to a soap opera as she did her mending. But the dialogue was drowned out by the booming thunder and pouring rain. She wanted to call Allan at the bank--but oh, how his colleagues would laugh at his little wife who was afraid of--well, of nothing! Except thunder, and what was thunder, really, but sound?
"I won't be a frightened little rabbit," Juliet vowed, stamping her foot with anger at herself.
In truth, Juliet might have done well to be afraid. This was no ordinary summer storm--it was especially bad and had come up the coast to strike with sudden and unexpected force. After it passed the residents of San Francisco would find t hat it had dumped six inches of rain on the city, and that countless homes and offices had been struck by lightning. One of the Grandfather Oaks in the city park that had stood for almost five hundred years would be felled by the high winds. It was the worst storm to hit the area in a decade. All across town the lights were flickering and going out and the phone lines were dead, a fact that Juliet discovered when she tried to call Miss Eppie for some comfort. Although she didn't expect much!
And then her own lights flickered and died. The radio went off in the middle of a sentence with a low, sad hum.
It was as dark as night inside--and out. Juliet's hand trembled as she searched blindly through the drawers for a candle and matches. She had a whole box of tapers from New Moon--what had they done with them?
Lightning streaked the sky and the air hummed with electricity. How ghostly everything looked in the sudden flashes that came and went. There were so many cubbyholes and nooks in this house--suppose someone had crept in while she was outside--and was hiding under the stairs! Someone--something--with wild hair--and red eyes--who was waiting for the flashes of darkness between the lightning bolts so that he could reach out--and grab her--!
Juliet shrieked and grabbed her wrap--and flew out of the door.
Later she would think about how foolish a thing to do that was. Later she would be ashamed of herself--but only a little, after hearing of the ravages of the storm. But right now Juliet knew--knew--that she would go crazy if she was left alone. She couldn't be in that house by herself any longer--she would die from fright!
"Miss Eppie!" she screame d as she banged on the heavy front door of the old house. "Miss Eppie!"
There was no answer. Juliet slumped as she remembered that this was one of the days that Miss Eppie's step-daughters collected her for a lunch--they mightn't have brought her back yet. Her heart sank and she cowered as the thunder reverberated in the sky above.
She couldn't go back home. Scarcely pausing to contemplate her options, Juliet flew across the street to the only other house nearby. She knocked on the door of Haight Cottage as if a flock of demons were chasing her down the street.
"Help! Help!" she shrieked to the War-Widows inside. "Oh please, please, answer the door!"
After a slight pause the door flew open and a woman with a furrowed brow stood there, looking at the dripped Juliet. She had coppery pale red hair and weird, pale green eyes that flickered and snapped. Everything about her was pale--her skin, her lips--except for her dark brows that were drawn together in a glower. "What is it?" the young woman asked irritably.
Juliet would be ashamed of this, too, later--but she was in such a frenzy that she pushed past the woman and into the house--not waiting to be asked--and slammed the door against the storm. Then she buried her face in her hands in the hallway and cried.
"What is it that you want?" the woman asked again, her brow still furrowed, but this time in incredulity, not exasperation.
"I'm--sorry," Juliet sobbed. "I--was--so--afraid! I've never seen a storm like this--never in my life!"
"Then why did you run out in it?" The woman asked, her scowl returning. "You could have been struck by lightning. Stupid!"
Juliet hid her face in shame. "Are the War-Widows home?" she asked through her fingers. "Mrs.--Cash, and Mrs. O'Keefe?"
"What do you want with them?" the woman busied herself with wiping up the water that was dripping from Juliet's coat.
"Nothing!" Juliet cried back. "Only--they might be nicer to me than you are! They couldn't possibly be any worse!"
The woman scowled again and just when Juliet thought it was physically impossible for her to scowl further--her face would turn inside out--she smiled. And laughed.
"You're right--I am mean," the woman said. "Who in the world are you and where did you come from?"
"Across the street," Juliet mumbled through her tears. "I'm Mrs. Allan Miller."
"You're Mrs. Miller!" the woman cried. "I heard Mrs. Miller was a pretty thing. You look like a drowned rat!"
Juliet just cried harder.
"Oh, snap out of it," the woman said. "It was a joke. I'll take you to see Mrs. O'Keefe--she's in the parlor."
Juliet stepped timidly in--and was surprised to see another young woman lying listlessly on the sofa. "Where--where--are the War-Widows?" she asked.
The figure on the couch smiled--a sweet, slow smile. She was very small and thin and had straight brown hair that was cropped short and close to her head. Her eyes were very kind and she patted the chair next to her, motioning for Juliet to sit down.
"We're the War-Widows, dear," she said. "I'm Maggie O'Keefe. And that," she pointed to the red-haired woman in the doorway, "Is Mona Cash. And you're Juliet Miller! You made us those chocolate chip cookies that time--I'm glad--so glad--to make your acquaintance. I would never have gotten the nerve up to come to you--and Mona wouldn't have gone. She doesn't trust people and I'm too shy to tell the people I trust that I do. Are you Juliet always--or are you sometimes Julie?"
"I'm always Juliet," said the owner of that name. "But--oh--you can call me Julie if you wish. I won't mind." And really, she wouldn't.
"You look surprised, darling," Maggie said, with another kind smile. "Have you been shocked by the storm? Are you cold? You're wet through."
"I am surprised," Juliet said, and before she could help it the words were out. "I thought the War-Widows would be--old! You're as young as I am!"
Maggie laughed quietly--but Mona scowled even further.
"I'm twenty-five," she said. "And Mona is two years younger. Mona," she said, with just the hint of an edge to her voice. "How rude of us to make Mrs. Miller sit in her wet clothes. Please forgive us, Mrs. Miller. I'm not well at all today and Mona sometimes forgets her manners. Please go upstairs and get her something to change into, Mona darling. I have an extra robe in Melanie's room."
Mona hesitated--Juliet wondered if she would let the gentle Maggie order her around. But then she went and returned with a soft blue cotton robe and a pair of slippers for Juliet to change into.
"Thank you, Mona," said Maggie softly. "Now, Mrs. Miller--but let's drop this, I can call you Juliet, can't I? I already think of you as Juliet."
"And I already think of you as Maggie," Juliet admitted.
"Let's sit together and watch the storm." Maggie put her hand in Juliet's. "I was afraid of storms--it seems a long time ago, now--but now I like them. They're so pretty--and magnificent. And it's easier to feel safe when you are warm and inside. When you're with a friend. Isn't it?"
"Yes," said Juliet, looking out over the lightning show that flashed and burned in the sky. It was pretty, now that she thought of it. Maggie had been right. "Yes, I do feel safe," Juliet said. "When you're with a friend--it's hard to feel anything but."
The two women squeezed hands and their friendship was sealed forever.
* * *
A/N: Thanks for the reviews!
Windowseat Wonderer: Thank you for the compliments! And yes, I have read The Blue Castle, but that's one I've never tried to write a fanfic about because I feel like LMM tied all the ends up there so nicely. But it's one of my favorites, too.
Flailersrule: I will definitely try to incorporate Allan into the picture more. I'm kind of going for an Anne's House of Dreams vibe, though--where Gilbert was around and he was a central character, but he wasn't always in the picture.
Miri: Glad you enjoyed the descriptions. But don't worry--I'll make sure Juliet finishes her B.A. and yes, there will be more about the Emily books later on.
Heg24: Thanks for the geography lesson! I don't know what I was thinking.
