During his little performance with Rudy, he’d spotted her sitting in the very back row. After the service he had been swarmed by people full of questions about ventriloquism and asking for all kinds of information about the dummies he created and repaired.
Tabby had obviously slipped out the door while he’d been occupied. He would probably never see her again. For reasons beyond his comprehension, that thought made him sad.
He reflected on something Grandpa had recently told him: “Everyone needs to feel as if they count for something, Seth. If you recognize that need in dealing with people, you might be able to help someone learn to like themselves a bit more.”
Seth knew his grandfather’s advice was good, and as much as he’d like to help Tabby, he also knew all he could really do was pray for the introverted young woman. He promised himself he would remember to do so.
Tabby had been practicing ventriloquism for several weeks. She’d often sit in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, completely alone except for Roscoe Puppet. Not even Donna had been allowed to see her struggle through those first few difficult attempts at talking for two. If Tabby were ever going to perform for the day care kids, it wouldn’t be until she had complete control of her lip movement and had perfected those horrible sound substitutions. There was th for v and f, d for b, and n for m. It was anything but easy, and it was enough to make her crazy!
Tabby took a seat in front of the mirror, slipped Roscoe onto her hand, and held him next to her face. “What do you think, little buddy? Can we ever learn to do ventriloquism well enough to put on a short skit for the kids?”
Manipulating the puppet’s mouth, she made him say, “I think we can…. I think we can…. I think I have a bang-up plan. You throw your voice, and let me say all the funny stuff.”
Tabby smiled triumphantly. “I did it! I said the sound substitutions without any lip movement!” She jumped to her feet, jerked open the door, and bolted into the living room. Donna was there, working on a chalk drawing taped to her easel. Tabby held Roscoe in front of her face. “I think I’m finally getting the hang of it!”
Donna kept on drawing. “The hang of what?”
Tabby dropped to the couch with a groan. “I’m trying to tell you that I can talk without moving my lips.”
Donna finally set her work aside and turned to face Tabby. “That’s great. How about a little demonstration?”
Tabby swallowed hard, and a few tears rolled unexpectedly down her cheeks.
Donna was at her side immediately. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be thrilled about your new talent.”
“I am, but I wonder if I’ll ever have the nerve to actually use it.” She swiped at the tears and sniffed. “I really do want to serve God using ventriloquism, but it seems so hard.”
“God never promised that serving Him in any way would be easy,” Donna said. “And may I remind you of the acts you already do to serve the Lord?”
Tabby sucked in her bottom lip. “Like what?”
“You teach the day care kids about Jesus. You bake cookies for the residents of Rose Park Convalescent Center. You also read your Bible, pray, and—”
Tabby held up one hand. “Okay, okay … I get the picture. What I want to know is, are you saying I should be content to serve God in those ways and forget all about ventriloquism?”
Donna shook her head. “No, of course not. You just need to keep on trying and never give up. I believe God wants all Christians to use their talents and serve Him through whatever means they can.”
Running a hand through her hair, Tabby nodded. “All right. I’ll try.”
With fear and trembling, Tabby forced herself to do a short ventriloquist routine the following day for the day care kids. Fifteen little ones sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor, looking up at her expectantly.
Tabby put Roscoe on one hand, and in the other hand she held a small bag of dog food. Drawing in a deep breath, she began. “R–R–Roscoe wants to tell you a little st–st–story today.”
Tabby couldn’t believe she was stuttering. She never stuttered in front of the kids. It’s only my nerves. They’ll settle down in a few minutes.
Several children clapped, and one little freckle-faced, redheaded boy called out, “Go, Roscoe! Go!”
Tabby gulped. It was now or never.
“Hey, kids—what’s up?” the puppet said in a gravelly voice.
So far so good. No lip movement, and Roscoe’s lip sync was right on.
“We just had lunch,” a young girl shouted.
Tabby chuckled, feeling herself beginning to relax. “That’s right,” she said to the puppet. “The kids had macaroni and cheese today.”
Pointing Roscoe’s nose in the air, Tabby made him say, “I think I smell somethin’ else.”
“They had hot dogs, too. That’s probably what you smell.”
“Hot dogs? They had hot dogs?”
Tabby nodded. “That’s right, now it’s time for your lunch.”
“Oh, boy! I get a nice, big, juicy hot dog!”
“No, I have your favorite kind of dog food.” Tabby held the bag high in the air.
Roscoe’s furry head shook from side to side. “No way! I hate dog food! It’s for dogs!”
The children laughed, and Donna, standing at the back of the room, gave Tabby an approving nod.
Tabby’s enthusiasm began to soar as she plunged ahead. “But, Roscoe, you are a dog. Dogs are supposed to eat dog food, not people food.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Roscoe croaked. “Have you ever chomped down on a stale piece of dry old dog food?”
“I can’t say as I have.”
“Dog food makes me sick,” Roscoe whined.
“I never knew that.”
Roscoe’s head bobbed up and down. “It’s the truth. In fact, I was so sick the other day, I had to go to the vet.”
“Really?”
“Yep! The vet took my temperature and everything.”
“What’d he say?” Tabby prompted.
“He said, ‘Hot dog!’ ” The puppet’s head tipped back, and he let out a high-pitched howl.
By the time Tabby was done with her routine, Donna was laughing so hard she had tears rolling down her cheeks. As soon as the children went down for their afternoon naps, she took Tabby aside. “That was great. You’re really good at talking for two.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, I do. Not only have you mastered lip control and sound substitutions, but your routine was hilarious. Where did you come up with all those cute lines?”
Tabby shrugged. “Beats me. I just kind of ad-libbed as I went along.”
Donna gave Tabby a quick hug. “Now all you need is a good ventriloquist dummy.”
With an exasperated groan, Tabby dropped into one of the kiddie chairs. “Let’s not get into that again. I can’t afford one of those professional figures, and since I’ll only be performing here at the day care, Roscoe will work just fine!”
Seth was nearly finished with the ugly dummy he was making for Alan Capshaw. While it had turned out well enough, it wasn’t to his personal liking. A good ventriloquist didn’t need an ugly dummy in order to captivate an audience. A professional ventriloquist needed talent, humor, and a purpose. For Seth, that purpose was sharing the gospel and helping others find a meaningful relationship with Christ.
In deep concentration at his workbench, Seth didn’t even hear the overhead bell ring when a customer entered his shop. Not until he smelled the faint lilac scent of a woman’s perfume and heard a polite, “Ahem,” did he finally look up from his work.
A young, attractive woman with short, dark curls stood on the other side of the long wooden counter.
Seth placed the ugly dummy aside and skirted quickly around his workbench. “May I help you?”
“Yes. I was wondering if you have gift certificates for the dummies you sell.”
Seth smiled. “Sure. For what value did you want it?”
“Wou
ld three hundred dollars buy a fairly nice dummy?”
He nodded. “Prices for ventriloquist figures range anywhere from one hundred dollars for a small, inexpensive model to seven hundred dollars for one with all the extras.”
“I’d like a gift certificate for three hundred dollars, then.”
Seth went to his desk, retrieved the gift certificate book, accepted the young woman’s check, and in short order, the business was concluded.
“Are you a ventriloquist?” he asked when she put the certificate in her purse and started to turn away.
She hesitated then pivoted to face him. “No, but a friend of mine is, and she’s got a birthday coming up soon.”
“You’re giving her a professional figure?”
“Sort of. She’ll actually be the one forced to come in here and pick it up.”
“Forced?” Seth’s eyebrows arched upward. “Why would anyone have to be forced to cash in a gift certificate for a ventriloquist dummy?”
“My friend is extremely shy,” the woman explained. “It’s hard for her to talk to people.”
“Your friend’s name wouldn’t happen to be Tabby Johnson, would it?”
“How did you know that?”
“I thought I recognized you when you first came in. Now I know from where.” Seth extended his right hand. “I’m Seth Beyers. I saw Tabby sitting with you during the Christian workers’ program at your church a few weeks ago.”
“I’m Donna Hartley, and Tabby and I have been friends since we were kids. She said she spoke with you. Well, actually, I guess it was more to your dummy.”
Seth nodded. “I could hardly get her to make eye contact.”
“That’s not surprising.”
“Whenever she talked to me, she stuttered.” His forehead wrinkled. “She could talk a blue streak to my little pal, Rudy, and never miss a syllable.”
Donna shrugged. “To be perfectly honest, besides me, the day care kids are the only ones she can talk to without stuttering.”
“Day care kids?”
“Our church has a day care center, and Tabby and I manage it. It’s about the only kind of work Tabby can do. Her self-esteem is really low, and I seriously doubt she’d ever make it around adults all day.”
Seth couldn’t begin to imagine how Tabby must feel. He usually didn’t suffer from low self-esteem—unless you could count the fact that he hadn’t found the right woman yet. Occasionally he found himself wondering if he had some kind of personality defect.
“Do you think ventriloquism might help Tabby?” Donna asked, breaking into his thoughts.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Tabby did a short routine at the day care the other day. It went really well, and I think it gave her a bit more confidence.”
Seth scratched the back of his head. He felt like taking on a new challenge. “Hmm … Maybe we could work on this problem together.”
Donna’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You keep encouraging her to perform more, and when she comes in to pick out her new dummy, I’ll try to work on her from this end.”
Donna’s expression revealed her obvious surprise. “You’d do that for a complete stranger?”
“ ‘Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me,’ ” Seth quoted from the book of Matthew.
“I like your Christian attitude,” Donna said as she turned to leave. “Thanks for everything.” After the door closed behind her, Seth let out a piercing whoop. He would soon be seeing Tabby again. Maybe he could actually help her. Maybe this was the answer to his prayers.
Chapter 5
I wish you weren’t making such a big deal over my birthday,” Tabby grumbled as she and Donna drove home from the grocery store one evening after work. This time they were in Tabby’s blue hatchback, and she was in the driver’s seat.
“It’s just gonna be a barbecue in my parents’ backyard,” Donna argued. “How can that be labeled a big deal?”
Tabby grimaced. “You ordered a fancy cake, bought three flavors of ice cream, and invited half the city of Tacoma!”
“Oh, please! Your folks, Lois, her boyfriend, your grandma, me, and my folks—that’s half of Tacoma?” Donna poked Tabby on the arm. “Besides, your folks live in Olympia now.”
“I know, but being with my family more than twenty minutes makes me feel like it’s half of Tacoma,” Tabby argued.
“It isn’t every day that my best friend turns twenty-five,” Donna persisted. “If I want to throw her a big party, then it’s my right to do so.”
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but you know how things are between me and my family,” Tabby reminded.
Donna nodded. “Yes, I do, and I know your parents often hurt you by the unkind things they say and do, but you can’t pull away from them and stay in your cocoon of shyness. You don’t have to like what they say and do, but you’ve got to love your family anyway.” She sighed. “What I’m trying to say is, you’ve gotta love ’em, but you can’t let them run your life or destroy your confidence, the way you’ve been doing for so long. It’s high time for you to stand up and be counted.”
“Yeah, right. Like that could ever happen.”
“It could if you gained some self-confidence and quit letting Lois overshadow you.”
“Fat chance! Just wait till you see the size of her engagement ring. It looks like Mount Rainier!”
Donna laughed. “How you do exaggerate.”
“She’s only marrying this guy for his money. Did I tell you that?”
“Only about a hundred times.”
“I think it’s disgusting.” Tabby frowned. “I’d never marry anyone unless I loved him. Of course, he’d have to be a Christian,” she quickly added.
“I’m beginning to think neither of us will ever find a husband,” Donna said. “You’re too shy, and I’m too picky.”
“I can’t argue with that. Unless I find a man who’s either just a big kid or a real dummy, I’d never be able to talk to him.”
“Maybe you can find a ventriloquist to marry, then let your dummies do all the talking.”
Tabby groaned. “Now there’s a brilliant idea. I can see it now—me, walking down the aisle, carrying a dummy instead of a bouquet. My groom would be waiting at the altar, holding his own dummy, of course.”
Donna chuckled. “You are so funny today. Too bad the rest of the world can’t see the real Tabitha Johnson.”
The birthday party was set to begin at six o’clock on Saturday night, in the backyard of Donna’s parents, Carl and Irene.
“I still say this is a bad idea,” Tabby grumbled, as she stepped into the living room, where Donna waited on the couch.
“Should we do something special with your hair?” Donna asked. “We could pull it away from your face with some pretty pearl combs.”
Tabby wrinkled her nose. “I like it plain. Besides, I’m not trying to make an impression on anyone.” She flopped down next to Donna. “Even if I were, it would never work. Dad and Mom won’t even know I’m alive once Lois shows up with her fiancé.”
“I’ve got a great idea,” Donna exclaimed. “Why don’t you bring Roscoe to the barbecue? After we eat, you can entertain us with a cute little routine.”
Tabby frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. I think it would be a lot of fun. Besides, what better way to show your family that you really do have some talent?”
“Talent? What talent?”
“There you go again.” Donna shook a finger in Tabby’s face. “Self-doubting will never get you over being shy.”
Tabby stood up. She knew Donna was probably right, but it was time to change the subject. “Do you think this outfit looks okay?” She brushed a hand across her beige-colored slacks.
“Well, now that you asked … I was thinking you might look better in that soft peach sundress of mine.”
“No thanks. I’m going like I am, and that’s final.”
&nbs
p; The warm spring evening was a bit unusual for May in rainy Tacoma, but Tabby wasn’t about to complain. The glorious weather was probably the only part of her birthday that would be pleasant.
The smoky aroma of hot dogs and juicy burgers sizzling on the grill greeted Tabby as she and Donna entered the Hartleys’ backyard. Donna’s father, wearing a long white apron with a matching chef’s hat, was busy flipping burgers then covering them with tangy barbecue sauce. He stopped long enough to give both girls a quick peck on the cheek but quickly returned to the job at hand.
His petite wife, who looked like an older version of Donna, was setting the picnic table with floral paper plates and matching cups.
“Is th–there anything I can d–do to help?” Tabby questioned.
Irene waved her hand toward the porch swing. “Nope. I’ve got it all covered. Go relax, birthday girl.”
“That’s a good idea,” Donna greed. “You swing, and I’ll help Mom.”
Tabby didn’t have to be asked twice. The Hartleys’ old porch swing had been her favorite ever since she was a child. Soon she was rocking back and forth, eyes closed, and thoughts drifting to the past.
She and Donna had spent many hours in the quaint but peaceful swing, playing with their dolls, making up silly songs, and whispering shared secrets. If only life could have stayed this simple. If only I could always feel as contented as when I’m in this old swing.
“Hey, big sister … Wake up and come to the party!”
Lois’s shrill voice jolted Tabby out of her reverie, and she jerked her eyes open with a start. “Oh, I—I d–didn’t kn–know you w–w–were here.”
“Just got here.” Lois gave Tabby an appraising look. “I thought you’d be a little more dressed for tonight’s occasion.”
Tabby glanced down at her drab slacks and pale yellow blouse then she lifted her face to study Lois’s long, pastel blue skirt, accented by a soft white silk blouse. By comparison, Tabby knew she looked like Little Orphan Annie.
Lois grabbed her hand and catapulted her off the swing. “Mom and Dad aren’t here yet, but I want you to meet my fiancé, the successful lawyer, whose parents have big bucks.”
Time to Laugh Romance Collection Page 4