Not Without Juliet - By L.L. Muir Page 0,41

the texture of throw up.

She couldn't do it.

As grateful as she was, she just couldn't sit there and pretend it was edible. Not for her anyway. Her gag reflex wasn't something she could control. If she forced herself to swallow it, it would come right back up. But how did she explain?

The woman poured her a tankard of milk, then another for herself. Then she sat down opposite Jules as if she hadn't noticed her dilemma.

"Um," Jules said. She looked down into her bowl for courage. “Um,” she tried again.

The woman laughed. Then she laughed harder. Then, when she could speak again, she said something incoherent and laughed again.

In Gaelic, as clearly as she could, Jules said, “I've never been able to eat this...stuff. And believe me, I do want to eat it. I just can't."

The woman shook her head. "Life is hardly fair, is it?” She’d changed her dialect to match the one Jules used. “Me sisters all could eat it fine, but it took pride to get me through. God forgive me, I'm a proud woman. Try this."

She sucked some milk into her mouth, then leaned her head back and dropped a spoonful of mush into the back of her throat. She swallowed it down without chewing.

"Sticks to yer ribs half the day. Ye'll see."

And so went their meal. Mush washed down with a swallow of milk and a lot of giggling. Jules had needed a second mug to get through it all. As their laughter died, the woman jumped to her feet in horror.

"Och, I'll be boilin' the colors clean out of their kilts. Their enemies willna recognize them." She hurried to the door, then looked back with a smile that reminded Jules of the Muirs.

A couple hours and some pulled muscles later, the laundry was hung. Jules' hands looked just like the hands of Debra, her mush instructor. They were red and raw and needed much more than just Corn Huskers Whatever-It-Is Lotion.

The woman might stir the clothes with large wooden paddles, but it seemed the only thing to wring the hot water from them, in those days, was a couple pair of hands. With one of them twisting each end of a length of plaid, Deb claimed her work went much quicker that day and together, they were able to sit on the edge of the stream and dangle their red arms in the cool water. Deb said it was a rare treat, that she was able to do it at night sometimes, but when she had to choose between dangling and sleep, sleep usually won.

Since the conversation had turned to Jules' next concern, she asked— and was given—a safe place to sleep and a promise she would be awakened for supper.

How simple it would be, Jules thought as she nestled down in Debra’s soft clean bed, to just stay there. Live a simple life. Pretend she was a nature freak and leave civilization behind. But then she needed to pee and that put an end to that idea. It was no use, really. She was a city girl. She would always be a city girl. She just needed to get back to the city.

Returning to the bed after a trip to the necessary, she blocked out all thought of what had brought her to this place and what would take her away. Instead, she concentrated on the sound of her own breathing, on the scent of heather coming from the purple bundles hanging and drying next to the wall. She didn’t remember falling asleep.

And maybe she hadn’t.

He was there again—the big Highlander, the spirit that had finally tipped the scales and made her do anything necessary to come to Scotland. She’d used the excuse of finally confronting her sister and getting her hands on her share of their grandmother’s fortune, but it was him she’d come to find. How sad, really, that he’d turned out to be her sister’s husband. Jules had stayed in the hills above their home for days after that little shocker. But now she realized it wasn’t because she was afraid to face her sister, but afraid to face reality. As long as she didn’t verify who he was, she could still fantasize about him, without being a sicko, right?

And now he was back.

And if this was truly a dream, she didn’t want to wake up.

It was dark. It was always dark. The air around them seemed thick with more than just her anticipation. They were already standing close—toes to