bright birch logs that were just waiting to crackle and spark. The whole kitchen looked like it had been used as a set for a 1960’s television show with its aqua and cream chrome table set, matching appliances and patterned linoleum tile. Hung on the knotty pine paneling was one of those crazy cat clocks with the swinging tail and roving eyes.
The upstairs area was large and filled with lots of natural light. There were two oval skylights embedded in the ceiling and a pair of large double pane windows. The queen sized bed was covered in white eyelet; its head and foot boards were made from a whimsical wrought iron bed frame. In the center of the room sat a huge colorful rug, while a white wicker settee and matching chairs were grouped together in a corner. Juliet walked over and perused the titles in the bookshelf. To her delight, she found a whole shelf dedicated to the delicious works of Mary Stewart’s Crystal Cave series. She could hardly wait to curl up with the tales of King Arthur and his knights while the rest of the world washed away like the rocks in the stream below.
On closer inspection everything was a little bedraggled and showed wear…the edges of the rug were frayed; the comforter had thinned in places, and the curtains were faded. The white wicker needed to be repainted and had splintered in places.
Juliet loved it.
Best of all there was a slider that led out to a small deck that sat in the treetops. It overlooked a large, wooded area and a quickly running stream. Beyond the ribbon of water, Juliet could see the windows of a cabin sitting on top of the next hill. She frowned slightly.
“Does anybody live there? Up in that cabin beyond the tree line?”
“Yes, that’s P.J.’s place. I know what you’re thinking, the views are so much better up on that hill. But if you’re looking for a quiet place…a soft place to land. This is it.”
“A soft place to land?”
“Yeah, you know a place to gather your wits, calm your spirit, free your soul. Your do-over place.”
“Do-over?” Juliet’s response was at once hopeful, yet dubious. “Thought those things were like… uh…urban legends.”
“Oh no.” Layla shook her head. “They are real, for sure. Never underestimate the power of the all mighty do-over. In fact, you’re looking at one.”
“One what?”
“A do-over. I’m a classic case.”
“How so?” Juliet leaned in, curious now.
Layla sat down on the settee and pointed to the chair opposite her. Once Juliet had sat down, Layla began her story.
“I was born and raised right here in this town. But, by the time I graduated high school I couldn’t wait to get away. I know it sounds all corny and cliched, but I wanted to see the world, have adventures, fall in love with some dark mysterious stranger who I met on a train. I had a spark lit inside of me that grew and grew until it raged like an inferno. So, I left. I made some bad decisions feeding that fire, then I made a few more. Finally, I had had enough. It was about a year later that I hitched a ride home on a Greyhound bus and arrived in town around midnight. I walked from the station to my parents’ house and slept on the front porch waiting for them to wake up. I was so excited to see them, but my father took one look at me, grabbed the morning newspaper, and shut the door.”
“That’s a little harsh.” Juliet mumbled.
“Harsh? Oh, I didn’t blame him one bit. The heartache I caused those two! They had been loving, generous, patient parents and I was their oldest daughter. Me running away to find myself had broken their hearts.” Then Layla added with a wink, “And we won’t even talk about the small matter of the court fees that I owed.”
“What did you do?”
“Oh, there was this little incident that may or may not have involved nudity on the beach… but it was midnight and we had been drinking.” Layla said brightly.
“No, I mean what did you do when your dad shut the door?”
“Oh, that! Well, nothing for a while. I didn’t know if I should get my stuff and go or swallow my pride and wait on that porch. But then I heard my mom and dad argue, my mom had started to cry. My dad could be a pain in the ass. He had been a cop,