Juliet's Law (2 page)

Despite the rustic aspect, the cabin was quite charming, with thick, western-themed blankets on the bed and futon, and a potbellied stove burning wood to warm the room. The windows framed views that were breathtaking on a clear day, and even now, the snow falling on long-needled ponderosa pines looked serene
and inviting. As if to complete the picture, a huge dog with a thick, silvery coat wandered in through a dog door in the back, and came over to sniff Juliet's knee.

“Hey, Tecumseh,” Juliet said, and bent down to rub his thick fur. “Long time no see.”

He lifted his chin to let his chest be scrubbed, then wandered over to slump down by the fire. Desi was in the bathroom, and when she didn't come out fairly soon, Juliet went to the door and knocked gently. “Hey, sis, are you all right?”

“No,” she said, the word muffled by tears or a towel or maybe both. “But I'll be out in a minute, okay?”

“I'm just going to go get my suitcase.”

“Fine.”

Juliet didn't move. She stood there, forehead against the door, and wondered what to do. Desi didn't make a habit of emotional scenes; in fact, of the three Rousseau sisters, Desi had always been the sensible, practical one. Juliet was the good girl. Miranda was the artist, the drama queen. Desi had always been the levelheaded person in any group, the scientist and practical one; picking up the pieces for other people, helping them put their problems into perspective. Desi got done what needed to be done.

One of the reasons, come to think of it, that it was a good thing someone had taken the gun away from her. If Desi was so despairing that she had loaded a shotgun and aimed it at her ex, if she was so overwhelmed that she was weeping in the bathroom, things were really dire.

Just this once, Juliet could be the rescuer in the family. “Josh will be back in a minute, too,” she said
through the door. “Wash your face and come out when you're ready.”

Outside, Juliet was surprised by the density of snow. It already clustered on the steps like down feathers, so light the flakes scattered in front of her feet as she walked toward her car. Josh approached, carrying a car seat with a very, very conked-out little girl in it. Juliet smiled and went for her bag, and carried it back inside right behind him.

Just as Josh was settling the car seat down, the kettle started to whistle—loudly—and Juliet dashed into the kitchen area to pull it off the stove. She poured hot water into a fat yellow ceramic teapot she'd already primed. “Nothing like tea to cure what ails you,” she said half to the man, half to herself.

“So my granny says,” Josh said.

“Mine, too.” She held out her hand. “I'm Juliet, by the way. Desi's younger sister.”

Josh reached for her hand. His was a giant paw, the palm as big as her whole hand, and he raised his left, too, making a sandwich that covering hers completely. “Good to meet you.”

“Not
that
much younger,” Desi said, coming out of the bathroom. Her nose was red and her eyes were swollen, but she looked more like herself. “She's the middle child.”

Josh looked over his shoulder, but didn't let go. As gingerly as possible, Juliet tugged her hand out of his grip.

He didn't seem to mind. “Sisters always fight about that,” he said in a jovial tone. Juliet liked him for trying to create a sense of normality after the intense scene outside.

“Are you okay?” Juliet asked her sister.

Desi swiped hair off her face. “I'll live.” She hugged Josh, and leaned into his chest. “Thank you.”

He hugged her back, and in his bearish embrace, tall, square Desi looked tiny. Their mother had always called Desi an Amazon, and not in a nice way. It came out in sentences like, “You are such an Amazon you could never wear those shoes,” or, “Will you try to stop clumping around like an Amazon, Desdemona?”

So mean, Juliet thought now, feeling a surge of fierce love for her sister. Their mother had been highly critical of all of them, but Juliet privately thought Desi had got the worst of it.

Lifting the lid on the teapot, she said, “I think it's ready now. Who wants tea?”

“Me, me, me.” Desi sat down heavily at the round wooden table. “There are some oatmeal cookies in that jar over there, too, if you want to put a pile of them out for us.”

Josh sat down next to her, rubbing his hands. “Oatmeal. All right!”

For all his size, Juliet thought he moved with a surprising grace, as light on his feet as a deer. She put the cookies down in front of him.

“Thanks,” he said, and raised his eyes to look at her straight on. For a moment, Juliet didn't think to look away; and it was the
oddest
sensation: she felt as if she plunged into a vat of warm chocolate, seeing there in the long-lashed eyes a spirit of gentleness, beauty, something still and kind.

With a man like this at your back, nothing too
terrible could happen. She wondered where his wife was. There was no ring on his finger, but that didn't always mean anything.

Realizing that she stared, Juliet looked away, poured tea for Desi, and passed her a crystal bowl, stacked neatly with sugar cubes and a little pair of tongs. It had belonged to their grandmother, an east-coast blue blood; Daughters of the American Revolution, roots back to the Pilgrims. As she passed it, Juliet thought of long, quiet afternoons in the Maine “cottage,” spent curled up in window seats, with the wind whipping the sea into a frenzy beyond, tea served late in the afternoon with tiny spoons and pots of cream and little cookies. It was a surprisingly rich memory. “So glad you have this bowl,” Juliet said.

Desi nodded.

“Are you the artist sister or the lawyer?” Josh asked.

“Lawyer. Sort of.” She flipped her shoulder against the thudding wound she sometimes felt over losing that, too, her job as a civil rights lawyer. Not fair. Not
fair!
“I'm taking some time off.”

He picked up his tea. Blew on it. For one blistering moment, Juliet wondered if he knew her story, if Desi had told him. Her ears felt hot with embarrassment.

But of course Desi wouldn't tell Juliet's secrets.

Josh said, “It was nice of you to take time off to take care of your sister. She needs you.”

“I do,” Desi said, touching Juliet's hand.

“I'm glad to be here.”

In the corner, the little girl in the car seat suddenly stirred. She kicked her feet, lifted her head, and peered
at the adults in confusion. “Hi, Auntie Dez,” she said. “Am I staying here?”

“Not this time, sweetheart. But I do have a cookie if you want to come get one.”

“You got cookies?” The girl pushed out of her coat, discarded it in the middle of the floor. “What kind?”

“Glory,” her father said, “What do we do with our coats?”

The child sighed, dropped her shoulders in exaggerated put-upon-ness, and clomped back to the coat. With rolling eyes, she picked it up and put it on the couch. She had a black braid that reached her hips, big dark eyes, and very rosy brown cheeks. She looked exactly like the kewpie Indian dolls they used to sell in tourist shops around here. Juliet wondered, suddenly, if such things were still sold.

Glory clomped back toward the table. Only when she rounded the corner of the counter did she catch sight of Juliet. The girl stopped dead, staring, her little mouth open in surprise.

“Hi,” Juliet said.

The little girl still said nothing. She just gaped. After a few seconds, she frowned and her hand flew to her cheeks in what would be a mocking expression in an adult but was simply the most natural expression of surprise and shock a four-year-old could muster.

“Oh!” she said, as if she'd just figured it out. Her voice was breathy with awe. “You're the
princess,
aren't you?”

J
uliet wasn't sure how to respond.

“The princess?” she echoed, trying to figure out what Glory meant. “Am I?” She glanced at Josh, raised her eyebrows in question.

He gave her a bewildered shrug. He didn't know, either.

Glory came forward, her eyes fixed on Juliet. She leaned on her father's knee, coquettishly flirting with both Juliet and her father. “Can I sit by her? The princess?”

“If she doesn't mind, that's fine.”

“Of course I don't mind.” Juliet moved over a little to make room, glancing up at her sister.

Despite her weariness, Desi gave a wan grin. “As a rule, she's not crazy about strangers.”

“At all,” Josh added.

Glory, oddly self-possessed, came around the table. With her hands folded in front of her, she said formally, with enunciation quite clear on each “t,” “Is it all right if I sit here, Princess?”

“Yes,” Juliet said, and patted the chair. “Please do.”

The little girl sat down and spread a napkin over her lap. To the other adults, she announced, “The princess and I are having cookies.”

“I see that.” Desi blinked, and Juliet saw that she was very near tears again. Of all the things in the world she'd wanted a child most of all. She and Claude had been planning to adopt….

Juliet felt pierced, too, for reasons she couldn't pinpoint. There was something so innocent, almost magical, about the little girl's belief.

“They're very good cookies, aren't they?” Juliet said.

“My grandma makes better ones.”

“This is your grandma's recipe, silly girl.” Desi said, and gave her one. “I even put in the ginger.”

“Listen,” Josh said. “I don't want to interrupt, but we need to get some things ironed out here. Let me ask some questions of a purely practical nature.”

Desi sipped her tea. Blinked hard. Nodded.

“Do you have a restraining order?”

“No. Not yet. I guess I was hoping I wouldn't have to do that. We've been together for fifteen years—I thought I knew him better than this.”

“Princess,” Glory said. “You aren't eating.”

“You're right.” Juliet picked up a cookie. It held absolutely no appeal, but she nibbled an edge anyway. She would have to get out her supply of M&M's. A girl had
to eat, after all. Something about the small, bite-sized-ness of the candies appealed to her these days. M&M's, pistachio nuts in their shells, croutons, baby carrots—she lived on them. They also required no attention when one ate them while reading—a big plus. Food for the belly, food for the mind. Presto! Two jobs at once.

When in Rome, however, one did what the Romans did. She bit into the cookie and chewed as well as she could. “Desi, you need to get the paperwork done. You
have
filed for divorce, right?”

Desi examined her cookie, plucked out a raisin. “Not exactly. I guess I just kept thinking this was all going to be a bad dream.”

“Time to wake up.” Juliet had seen too many cases like this go awry, for all kinds of reasons. “I really don't want to see you lose the land.”

“I know.”

“I'll go with you,” Juliet said. “I'll help you. We'll go to town tomorrow and take care of it, all right?”

Desi nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

“Princess,” Glory said, touching her hand. “If you came to town, I could show you my shoes!”

“Shoes?” Juliet grinned. “Do you have a lot of shoes?”

“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “But I have some red ones.” She leaned in close and covered her mouth, whispering, “They have diamonds on them!”

“Wow. I can't wait.” Caught in the moment, she bent and whispered, “I
love
red shoes.”

“You do? Do you have some?”

“Not with me,” Juliet said.

“Where are they?”

“I left them at home. At my home in California.”

Glory's eyes widened. “Do you live by Disneyland? You can see Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella at Disneyland, you know.”

As it happened—“I do live by Disneyland, actually. You will have to come see me and we'll go together.”

“
That
would be good!” Glory looked at her father. “Daddy, do you think we could do that sometime, maybe?”

“We'll see, kiddo.” Josh chuckled. To Juliet he said, “You've been anointed.”

“Daddy,” Glory said, “don't talk to her right now. She needs to eat.” With great tenderness, she patted Juliet's hand. “Eat, Princess, I'll watch out for you.”

The simple faith in the little girl's face was almost more than Juliet could bear. Sucking in a steadying breath, she bent down and patted the child's hand. “Thank you, sweetie.”

 

Joshua Mad Calf was not a romantic kind of guy. He liked vigorous things,
manly
things like football and race cars and big trucks splashing through the mud. He tended toward the practical, and his job as a cop, as well as his history, had taught him that life was not sweet or nice or fair. In terms of women, he tended to go for a peasant type—strong and curvy, a woman who could work the land, take care of children, cook for twenty at the drop of a hat.

And yet, just like his daughter, he was enchanted by Juliet. He tried to avoid staring, but rarely had seen a
woman so pretty. Not
beautiful,
which was too much, too intimidating, too much trouble. Not
attractive,
which was too sedate. Not even cute, which didn't bring enough weight to it.

Juliet was
pretty,
like a pink and white winter morning. Smooth, delicate skin, the softness of pale blond hair tumbling in waves over her slim shoulders, china-blue eyes. She looked exactly like the drawing of a princess in a storybook, right down to the red bow of mouth.

And like a princess under threat of a dragon, there was a vulnerable and fragile air about her. He hadn't missed the exchange of glances between the sisters, the unspoken communication that flowed between them. There was something going on here.

They were finishing their tea and Josh was thinking, reluctantly, that they'd have to take their leave when Glory said, “Auntie, can we feed the wolves?”

“They were already fed today, sweetheart, but we can go see them if your dad doesn't mind.”

“Can we, Daddy?”

“You betcha.”

It pierced him when Glory reached out and put her small brown hand over Juliet's pale white one, and lifted her guileless face. “Do you want to come, Princess?”

And what, he wondered, was that about, anyway? To say Glory didn't like strangers was like saying the
Titanic
was a big boat. It took months for her to thaw around a new adult, though she was fine with other children. What was it about Juliet that made Glory think she was a princess?

“Yes, very much.” Her voice held much more weight
than you'd expect. It was strong and dulcet, well-modulated. He supposed that was at least partly from being in the courtroom, but it lent an oddly royal air.

Get a grip,
he told himself. “C'mon, kiddo. Let's put your coat back on if we're going outside.”

“I want Princess to do it,” she said, throwing her arm around her body so he couldn't slip the coat on.

“If you're rude, we'll go home,” he said. Quietly.

She flicked a glance toward him, perhaps gauging how serious he was. Something she saw convinced her he meant it. Lowering her arm, she said, “Princess, will you help me put on my coat? Please?”

Juliet looked up at him for permission. Something about the angle or the light made her pupils nearly disappear, which made her eyes look as if they were made of glass, like a doll.

Fragile, girlish. Not his type at all.

And yet, he kept noticing other things, too. There was nothing girlish about her breasts, full and bouncy beneath her sweater, or her mouth, which, despite the princess bow, was full and red, as sensual a mouth as he'd ever seen, or the roundness of her bottom in her jeans. The Rousseau sisters would never make the fashion runway, but he was glad there were still women in the world with some curves to them.

Down boy, he thought with some amusement, but still found himself taking one last look from the corner of his eye. Discreetly. Plump flesh beneath a thin purple sweater. Nice. Definitely nice.

Enough. Handing Glory's coat to her, he said, “Go ahead.”

He turned away. There was no room in his life for a woman, and he had to be wary because of Glory, anyway. To make up for the nightmare eight months she'd spent with her mother, the little girl needed absolute stability, and no possibility of loss.

“Ready?” Desi said, tugging her long hair from beneath her coat. The dog got up and wagged his tail. She opened the door to let him go out.

They all traipsed outside in a line, Tecumseh the white wolf-Akita mix, then Desi leading with her strong walk, then Juliet and Glory, holding hands, and Josh in the rear. Snow still fell in heavy drifts, and he thought it was time they should get home.

First the wolves, then home for supper with his little girl.

Away from the sweet temptation of the princess.

 

Juliet had not been out to see her sister in nearly three years. They'd met several times in other settings. Once at their parents' house in Maine, once in New York City with their sister Miranda and once Desi had come to L.A. for a conference and stayed with Juliet.

Desi's beloved wolves, housed in the sanctuary that was the most important thing in the world to her, had been there the last time Juliet visited, as had the cabin. The path still wound through a thick forest of ponderosa pines and across a grassy meadow where once Juliet had seen seven elk grazing on a summer morning. A string of mineral springs tumbled down the hill, their clear green waters steaming in the cold day.

“Hey, Juliet, did you see?” Desi said, pointing. “We built a grotto, just for you.”

“Oh!” Juliet halted in delight. In small clearing, surrounded by red-trunked pines that gave off the scents of butterscotch and vanilla, was a pool steaming boldly in the cold afternoon. Boulders clustered at one end, and Juliet could see the care they'd taken to make the rest of the rocks appear as if Mother Nature had tossed them there for the convenience of the bathers. There was even a small waterfall at one end. “It's amazing, Desi!”

“You'll love getting in it even more, I promise,” Desi said. “Very healing. It'll be good for both of us.”

Juliet ducked her head. She knew Desi meant well, but she didn't see how sitting in
any
kind of water could possibly heal a mental wound unless it could erase a memory.

“I can't wait.”

“Put a little enthusiasm in you voice, there, sis,” Desi drawled.

Wryly, Juliet smiled. “I'm sure it will be wonderful.”

As if he scented the newcomers, a wolf suddenly howled, a mournful sound cutting through the snowy afternoon. Next to Juliet, Glory stopped and lifted her chin to the sky, letting go of an eerily beautiful howl finished with a series of little yips.

Juliet smiled. “What did you say to him?”

Glory dipped her head coyly, danced, holding on to Juliet's hand, and yipped some more. In the distance, the wolves answered.

Desi paused and turned around. “They're talking back to you, Glory. Do you hear them?”

“I know! That's why I said it!”

“Said what?” Josh asked.

The little girl looked upset and embarrassed and Juliet wanted to protect her from whatever was intruding on the pretty little story she was telling herself. “If it's a secret,” Juliet said, “you certainly do not have to tell us.”

“I was telling them,” Glory said quietly, “that we were bringing the princess to see them!”

“Glory likes to be a wolf,” Josh said, coming up beside them. “Sometimes she only speaks in wolf for a whole day.”

Juliet chuckled. “I bet that's interesting for you.”

“Oh, yeah.” He glanced down at her, his dark eyes twinkling. “Since I don't speak wolf at all.”

“And I would imagine that translators are somewhat hard to come by.” She grinned, feeling her guard slip just a little as she met his gentle gaze. For a moment, she didn't look away, only allowed the slight, easy connection, liking the size of him, his broad shoulders, his legs like tree trunks, a surety of movement as he placed one foot squarely, solidly, then the other.

When the small group entered the clearing where wolves lived, the creatures set up a wild greeting, rushing to the front of their roomy, sturdy kennels, wolves and wolf-mixes bred with a dozen kinds of dogs.

“Wow!” Juliet paused, amazed at how much work Desi had done here, too. There were a lot more kennels—really wide-open, fenced spaces, and a lot more wolves, and Juliet could see that Desi had sunk some serious money into the center. Her love for the animals showed. It almost seemed to Juliet that the wolves got preferen
tial treatment. There were sheds and shelters, trees and water troughs in each kennel—and most important, a lot of room to roam and run. Toward the north, on the flat side of the mountain, was a low, rambling adobe building. It, too, was new. The lights were on.

A youth of about nineteen, with a Prince Valiant haircut and the long limbs of a grasshopper, carried a bucket down the dirt alleyway between kennels. “Glad to see you, boss,” he said as he approached. “The new bitch is not eating at all.”

Desi nodded. “I'll go check her out in a minute. Alex, I'd like you to meet my sister Juliet. Alex is a wolf-charmer.”

“Oh, no,” the young man said, his cheekbones going red. “She keeps saying that.”

“She doesn't give compliments lightly,” Juliet said, extending her hand. “You must be very good.”

“Desi's been dying for you to get here.” He leaned over as he shook her hand, his knobby wrist sticking out of his coat. “Nice to meet you.”