Time to Laugh Romance Collection

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Lois chuckled and gave her sister’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Now that I’d like to see.”

  “Seriously, though, I wish you could have been there to see people asking Jesus into their hearts.” Tabby’s eyes misted.

  “I wish that, too,” Lois murmured.

  Tabby grinned. “What’s new in your life? Are you still seeing Joe Richey?”

  Lois nodded. “Up until last Saturday I was. I’m not sure about the future, though.”

  Tabby’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?”

  “I’m worried that Joe and I might not be suited for one another. He probably needs someone more carefree and fun loving than I am. Maybe I should bow out, before one of us gets hurt.”

  “Bow out? You have to be kidding! I can see how much you care about Joe. It’s written all over your face.”

  Lois hated to admit it, but Tabby was right. In spite of Joe’s refusal to see the serious side of things, she was falling headlong into the tunnel of love.

  “Did something happen between you and Joe to make you question your relationship?” Tabby asked.

  “Sort of.”

  “Want to talk about it?’

  “I—I guess so.” Lois nodded toward her computer screen. “I really should get back to work right now. And you’re probably expected in the day care center. Why don’t we meet at our favorite spot for lunch, and I’ll tell you about it then?”

  Tabby stood up. “Sounds good to me.” She smiled. “I’ll meet you at Garrison’s at noon.”

  Lois watched as Tabby left the room. Her sister walked with a bounce to her step and an assurance she’d never had before she started using her talents to serve the Lord. Talents. There was that word again. Lois couldn’t help but envy others like Tabby and Seth who were both ventriloquists, Donna and her beautiful chalk art drawings, and Joe with his gospel clown routines. What could Lois do that would have an impact on people’s lives? Were being the church secretary and teaching a Sunday school class enough for her?

  You could take the clowning class Joe is scheduled to teach next month, a little voice reminded her. You won’t know if you’d enjoy clowning until you give it a try.

  Lois grabbed her desk calendar and studied the month of October. She didn’t have anything penciled in, except a dental appointment, and the church harvest party. “I have the time,” she murmured. “The question is, do I have the talent?”

  Garrison’s Deli was crowded, but Lois and Tabby found a small table in the corner. They both ordered veggie sandwiches and ate as they chatted.

  “Tell me what the problem is with you and Joe,” Tabby prompted her. “I thought you’d decided it didn’t matter whether you and he were equally matched.”

  Lois shrugged. “I did think that for a while, but the other night Joe cut his hand, and—”

  “What happened? Was he hurt bad?”

  “He was dropping me off at my apartment, and a bottle was lying in the front yard. When he picked it up, he cut his hand.”

  Tabby grimaced. “That’s terrible. Did he need stitches?”

  “Yes, and all during the process he kept cracking jokes.” Lois wrinkled her forehead. “I could see by the look on his face that he was pretty stressed out; yet he kept making small talk and telling one joke after another.” She sighed. “I guess he was trying to cover up his real feelings, but it made me wonder if he even knows how to be serious.”

  “Have you ever thought maybe Joe is so used to clowning he doesn’t know when to quit? It could be that once you know him better, you’ll see another side of the man.”

  “You think I should keep seeing him?”

  “Of course. In the months since you and Michael Yehley broke up, I haven’t seen you look so content.” Tabby patted Lois’s hand. “Instead of hoping Joe will become more serious, why not try to be more lighthearted yourself?”

  Lois contemplated her sister’s last statement. “You could be right. Maybe I’ll take one of Joe’s clowning classes and find out how much humor I have inside of me.”

  It had been a little over a week since Joe had cut his hand. The pain had subsided, and he was finally able to use it again. He’d had only one program in the last week, so that gave him time to allow the injury to heal—and the opportunity to think about his friendship with Lois.

  Joe stared at his morning cup of coffee. Was their relationship going anywhere? He thought they’d had a great time at the Seattle Center last Saturday, but after he’d cut his hand and she’d taken him to the hospital, Lois seemed kind of distant. He hoped she wasn’t prone to mood swings after all.

  An uninvited image flashed onto the screen of Joe’s mind, and a hard knot formed in his stomach. He could see himself and his little brother, Brian, sitting on the steps of their front porch. They were blowing bubbles and having a great time. Mom was seated in a wicker chair nearby, doing some kind of needlework. One minute she was laughing and sharing in the joy Joe felt as each bubble formed. But the next minute she was shouting at him. “Do you plan to sit there all day blowing bubbles, Joe, or are you going to weed those flower beds?”

  Joe’s throat constricted as the vision of his mother became clearer. She was wearing a pair of men’s faded blue overalls, and her long, dark hair hung in a braid down her back. Her brown eyes flashed with anger as she jumped up from her seat, marched across the porch and grabbed hold of Joe’s ear. “Do you hear me, boy? Why are you wasting the day with those stupid bubbles?”

  Tears stung the back of young Joe’s eyes as he rose to his feet. “I—I didn’t even know you wanted the flower beds weeded.”

  “Speak up! I can’t understand when you mumble!”

  “I didn’t know you wanted me to do any weeding today,” Joe said, much louder this time.

  “Of course you knew. I told you that yesterday.”

  Joe handed his bottle of bubbles to Brian. “You might as well have some fun, even if I have to work all afternoon.”

  Brian’s expression was one of pity, but he took the bubbles and looked away. Joe sauntered down the steps, as though nothing unusual had happened. In fact, by the time he reached the shed where the gardening tools were kept, Joe was whistling a tune.

  The sharp ringing of the telephone jolted him back to the present. He was glad for the interruption. It always hurt when he thought about the past. It was difficult to deal with his pain over the way Mom used to be, but at least she’d committed her life to the Lord the night before she died. That was comforting, even though it hadn’t erased the agony of the past.

  The phone kept on ringing, and Joe finally grabbed the receiver. “Joe Richey here.”

  “Hi, Joe. It’s Lois.”

  Joe’s lips twitched, as he tried to gather his whirling thoughts into some kind of order. “What’s up, Lois?”

  “I called to see how your hand is doing.”

  “Much better, thanks,” he said, flexing the fingers of the hand that had been cut.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” There was a long pause. “I also wanted to tell you, Joe, that I’ve made a decision.”

  A feeling of apprehension crept up Joe’s spine. Was she going to say she didn’t want to see him anymore? “What decision is that?”

  “It’s about that clowning class you’ll be teaching in Bremerton next month.”

  Joe expelled the breath he’d been holding. “What about it?”

  “I’ve decided to take you up on your offer. I want to learn how to be a clown.”

  Chapter 15

  Lois sat in the front row of a classroom with about fifty other people. She held a pen and notebook in her hands and was ready for Slow-Joe the Clown to begin his presentation.

  Joe swaggered into the room, dressed in a green-and-white-checkered clown costume and wearing white face paint with a red nose. “Good mornin’, folks! Glad you could be here today.” He spotted Lois, waved, and gave her a quick wink.

  She smiled at him but wished he hadn’t singled her out.

  “The first thing you shou
ld know about clowning is that clowns aren’t just silly comedians who dress up in goofy costumes to entertain kids.” Joe shook his head. “No, clowns are performing artists, and to be a successful clown you need to possess certain skills.”

  Lois stared down at her hands, now folded in her lap across the notebook. What skills did she have, other than being able to type eighty words a minute, answer the phone with a pleasant voice, and keep the church office running as smoothly as possible? She couldn’t juggle balls, twist balloons into cute little animals, or think of anything funny to say. Did she have any business taking this class?

  “The first recorded reference to clowning dates back to about 2270 BC,” Joe stated. “A nine-year-old reportedly said, ‘A jester came to rejoice and delight the heart!’ Until the mid-1800s, most clowns wore very little makeup. Many clowns today do wear makeup, and each type of face paint can have some kind of meaning.” Joe pointed to his cheek. “Take the white-faced look I’m wearing. Clowns who wear this type of makeup are usually the reserved, refined kind of clown.” He offered the audience a lopsided grin. “Of course, there are exceptions to every rule.”

  Lois’s hope began to soar. Maybe I’m an exception. Maybe I can pretend to be sappy and happy.

  Joe moved over to the board and picked up a piece of chalk. He wrote in bold letters, “What Is a Clown Character?”

  Lois smiled to herself. You. You’re a clown character, Joe Richey.

  “Each clown must somehow be different from all the other clowns,” Joe said with a note of conviction. “Your unique personality is what will make you stand out from the rest. The makeup and clothes you choose to wear will enhance this creation. Your clown’s appearance, way of moving, actions, and reactions are all influenced by your character’s personality.”

  Joe seemed so confident and in his element talking about clowning. Lois picked up her notebook and pen again to take some serious notes.

  “Next,” Joe said, writing on the board, “ask yourself this question: What do I need to be a great clown? You could add some balloon animals to your routine. Or how about a bright orange vest? A few tricks? Juggling? A pet bird?” He shook his head. “While those are all good props and fun additions to your routines, the things you’ll probably need more than anything else are improvisational skills, character development and, most important, a knowledge of the elements of humor.”

  Lois sighed and placed her notebook back in her lap. Elements of humor. Sure hope I learn some of those today.

  “Have you ever noticed how we often make assumptions about people based on what they are wearing?” Joe asked. “For instance, picture a man dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans with holes in the knees and a sweatshirt with a college logo on the front. He’s wearing paint-stained tennis shoes and a wedding ring on his left hand, and he’s holding a cup of coffee in one hand. What do we know about this person?”

  “The guy’s married and has a college degree, but he’s too poor to buy new clothes,” a young man in the audience called out.

  “Could be,” Joe said with a nod. “Anybody else have an idea?”

  “The gentleman could be an educated, hard worker who likes to putter around the house,” the older woman sitting beside Lois suggested.

  Joe smiled. “You may be right. The point is, we can’t always judge someone by the clothes he wears. His actions play a major role in defining who he is.” Joe turned to the board and wrote, “Your character’s appearance and personality must be consistent to seem real.” He pivoted back to the audience. “If you dress in black, the audience will expect you to be an elegant or somber character, because clothing conveys a meaning. If you wear a baggy, torn costume, people will get the idea you’re a hobo clown.” He winked at the audience. “Since most clowns don’t make a lot of money, this particular costume would be kind of appropriate.”

  Lois laughed along with everyone else. The concept of clowning was more complicated than she’d imagined it to be. If she was going to become a gospel clown, she’d have to come up with the kind of character she wanted to be. Next, she would need to find or make a suitable costume—one that would affirm the personality of her clown character. And that was only the beginning. She would still need to find a gimmick like balloon twisting or juggling—and be humorous.

  Lois turned and glanced at the clock on the back wall. In fifteen minutes the class would be dismissed for a break. She wondered if she should head back to Tacoma or force herself to sit through the rest of Joe’s class, hoping she might find some sense of direction.

  “The more outrageous your personality, the more outlandish your costume should be,” Joe said. “Contrary to popular belief, a good clown outfit is not a mixture of mismatched, odd-sized clothes. A costume you design, using your own choice of colors and prints, becomes your trademark.”

  Joe moved to the front of the room. “Here’s an example of what I mean.” He withdrew several balloons from his pocket, quickly blew up each one, and twisted them until he’d made something that resembled a hat. He then proceeded to add several curled balloons, sticking them straight up. He placed the hat on his head. The audience laughed, and Joe looked at the end of his nose so his eyes were crossed. “I’m so thankful I’m not bald anymore. Now I can change my name from Joe to Harry.”

  Joe Richey was not only a clown by profession, but he was also the funniest man Lois had ever known. Not that she knew him all that well, she reminded herself. In the short time they’d been dating, he’d told her very little about himself. She wondered why.

  When the class was dismissed at the break, several people surrounded Joe, pelting him with questions. Lois knew this was her chance to escape. Joe wouldn’t know she was gone until the next session began. She left the room, headed for the front door of the church then stopped. Did she want to leave? How would she know if she had the ability to become a clown if she didn’t stay and learn more?

  She turned and headed for the snack bar. She would grab a cup of tea and a cookie and march back into that classroom and soak up all the information she could.

  The class was over at five o’clock, and Lois was tempted to linger. She wanted to spend a few minutes alone with Joe, but he was busy answering more questions and demonstrating some of his balloon techniques. She decided to head for home, knowing it would take almost an hour to get back to Tacoma. Tomorrow was Sunday, and she still had a little preparing to do for her Sunday school class craft. She would have to talk to Joe some other time.

  Joe thought Lois would wait after class, but when he finished talking to the last student he discovered she was gone. Had she been in such a hurry to get back to Tacoma that she couldn’t even say good-bye?

  He shrugged and grabbed up his notes. Maybe it’s my fault. I should have told her earlier that I wanted to take her to dinner.

  Joe was fairly certain Lois had enjoyed his class; he’d caught her laughing whenever he looked her way. He’d also seen her taking notes. Was she interested in pursuing a career in gospel clowning, or had she taken the class only out of curiosity?

  Maybe she did it for a lark. Could be Lois has no more interest in clowning than she does me. Joe slapped the side of his hand with his palm. “Oh, man! You shouldn’t have made any reference to clowns being poor. That’s probably what turned her off.”

  Joe pulled himself to his full height and plastered a smile on his face. Get a grip. It’s not like Lois said she doesn’t want to see you anymore. Besides, I’m supposed to be happy, not sad. Isn’t that what clowns do best?

  Chapter 16

  For the next two weeks, Lois studied her notes from Joe’s clowning class, in hopes of doing a short skit for her Sunday school class. Joe had called her a few times, but he hadn’t asked her out; he said he was swamped with gospel programs and kids’ birthday parties.

  Lois missed not seeing him, but she kept busy practicing her clowning routine and had even made a simple costume to wear. The outfit consisted of a pair of baggy overalls, a straw hat with a torn edge, a
bright red blouse, and a pair of black rubber boots, all of which gave her a hillbilly look.

  Finally, Sunday morning arrived, and Lois stood in the first-grade classroom, dressed in her costume, waiting for the children and her helper to arrive. She’d worn her hair in two ponytails with red ribbons tied at the ends, and had pencilled in a cluster of dark freckles on her cheeks and nose. In an attempt to make her mouth appear larger, she had taken bright red lipstick and filled in her lips then gone an inch outside with color. She also wore a red rubber clown nose.

  Lois’s main concern was the skit she’d prepared. Had she memorized it well enough? Could she ad-lib if necessary? Would the kids think it was funny, yet still grasp the gospel message?

  Feeling a trickle of sweat roll down her forehead, she reached into her back pocket and withdrew a man-sized handkerchief. She wiped the perspiration away and was stuffing the cloth into her pocket when the children started pouring into the room. “Look! Miss Lois is dressed like a clown!” one girl squealed.

  “Yeah! A clown is here!” another child called out.

  “Are you gonna make us a balloon animal?”

  “Can you juggle any balls?”

  “How about some tricks?”

  The questions came faster than Lois could answer. She held up her hand to silence the group, looking around frantically for Carla Sweeney, the teenager who had promised to help. “If you’ll all take a seat, I’ll answer each of your questions one at a time.”

  The children clambered to the tables, and as soon as they were seated, their little hands shot up. Lois answered each child, letting them know she couldn’t juggle, didn’t know how to make balloon animals, and had no tricks up her sleeve. She did, however, have a skit to present. Relief flooded her when Carla slipped into the room, and before the children could fire more questions at her, Lois launched into her routine.