Elusive Mr. Perfect

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  For a split second, her face was inches away from his. Her teal green eyes were filled with astonishment, her pink lips parted. He had a sudden impulse to kiss her. He wondered what everyone else would think should he make such a bold move. He imagined they would first stand and gawk. Then, Zach would start the applause. Fiona, Nicole, and Jennifer would follow. Zach would whistle lewdly enough to embarrass Joelle, but all in good fun. As Dean fantasized about their reaction, a voice interrupted.

  “You lose, Dean!” Nicole stood over him. Her eyes, rimmed heavily by black eyeliner, sparkled victoriously. Her mouth, glazed in a bold red, was contorted into a smirk.

  The applause in Dean’s imagination ceased.

  “You lose, too, Joelle,” Nicole added.

  “Oh, all right,” Joelle conceded, slipping away from Dean’s grasp.

  He hopped up in one fluid motion, hoping his nonchalant motion would belie his fantasies. “You okay, Joelle?”

  As she nodded, he led her to a sofa that had been a castoff from a church member. “So are we still on for our coffee?” she asked as she sat beside him on the green-and-brown-plaid couch.

  Suddenly he remembered once again that he was supposed to be mad. He decided to play it coy. “I had no idea you were still interested.”

  Her blond eyebrows shot up. “Who says I’m not interested?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe I’d be old news after your hot date.” Dean shot her a look from the corner of his eye. “You did go out on another date, didn’t you?”

  “Unfortunately, I did.”

  He brightened at the word “unfortunately,” even though he was disappointed by the confirmation that she had disregarded his advice. “At least you didn’t let it interfere with tonight. Everyone would have missed you,” he hastened to add, lest she realize he was the one who would have missed her the most.

  “I suppose.” A series of hoots indicated that Fiona had fallen victim to an inability to wrench herself into an odd shape. After the momentary distraction, Joelle’s hand rested on his knee. “So are we still on for coffee or not?”

  “Sure, but only if you promise to tell me all about this awful date of yours.”

  “Promise.”

  The rest of the meeting flew by, with Dean even managing to emerge the winner of one of the games. After the closing prayer, everyone headed to the parking lot. Dean was sorry he hadn’t arranged to pick Joelle up and take her to the meeting. He would miss her presence in his car. Dean let out a sigh as they made their way to separate vehicles. Without warning, someone touched him on his shoulder. He turned his head and spotted Nicole.

  “Going home alone, Dean?”

  “After coffee, yes.”

  Nicole tilted her head as though she were waiting for him to offer her an invitation to join him. When she saw none was forthcoming, she uttered, “Too bad.” Flashing him a smile, she waved and headed toward her red Mustang Cobra.

  Dean felt a moment of guilt. In an effort to be sure he and Joelle were alone for coffee, he had let his manners fly out the window. Well, maybe Nicole could tag along next time.

  As agreed, Joelle followed Dean’s car to a favorite drive-in restaurant on Route 81. When Dean had suggested they take advantage of the comfortable spring night, she readily acquiesced. Lingering in the brisk night air at a picnic table sounded good, especially when dessert promised to be a large hot fudge brownie sundae with zebra ice cream, walnuts, whipped cream, and a cherry. The prospect was enough to justify a drive several miles over crooked rural roads past the county line.

  Yet as she watched Dean’s taillights, hot fudge sundaes were the last thing on Joelle’s mind. She had seen Nicole talking to him as they left the church. Joelle hadn’t liked the flirtatious look the other woman had cast Dean’s way as she waved good-bye. In fact, Joelle hadn’t liked anything Nicole had done all night. She had stayed by Dean constantly, talking to him every chance she got. Joelle didn’t know Nicole well, but she was aware of Nicole’s reputation as a vixen. After the evening’s performance, she could see why. Even from across the room, Nicole’s seductive body language was all too easy to read. So masterfully did Nicole play the role that Joelle was surprised Nicole bothered to associate herself with any church. Even so, someone as sweet as Dean had no business anywhere near Nicole. Surely he had no experience with such a calculating temptress. She had to alert Dean. Doing so was only her duty.

  She pulled in to the drive-in restaurant right behind Dean, gravel crackling in protest under tires. Jumping out of the car without bothering to lock the door, Joelle hurried across the sidewalk to Dean’s side. She didn’t bother with subtleties. “So what did Nicole have to say?”

  The grin faded from his face as he continued to walk toward the substantial line of customers under the bright fluorescent lights. “Have to say about what?”

  “Don’t pull that innocent act with me. I saw her flirting with you all night, and then she was talking to you while we were leaving.” Her voice took on an edge that astonished even her. Looking for a distraction, she swatted a few bugs that were flying near her face, attracted to the sweet smells of her perfume and hair spray.

  “Maybe I’m acting innocent because I have nothing to hide,” Dean protested. Lifting his head slightly, he arched one auburn eyebrow. “If I didn’t know you better, Joelle, I’d think you were jealous.”

  “Jealous?” Joelle stopped in her tracks, right in front of the entrance. Her mouth dropped open in objection. “What a typical male you are, Dean Nichols! Conceited as all get-out.” Balling her hand into a fist, she tapped him on his forearm just hard enough to emphasize her point.

  “I’m surprised at you. I didn’t think you were a female chauvinist, Joelle Jamison.”

  Joelle stepped to one side, allowing a couple of the other customers to leave the line without scraping cones of chocolate-dipped ice cream against her sleeve. However, she didn’t let them stop her from making her point. She narrowed her eyes and set her lips in a straight line. “I don’t have to be a female chauvinist to see a shark on the attack.”

  He flashed a wide, wolflike smile. “All the more reason for you to stay away from the male sharks you meet through the personals, my dear.”

  “Male sharks!” she hissed. Bowing her head, Joelle dug the toe of her ballet flat into dust-covered gravel.

  This was not the moment to let Dean know she had already looked through the personals and chosen another date.

  Six

  Do you enjoy elegant evenings? Days at the ballpark? Afternoons at the theater? Walks in the rain? So do I! Are you 25–30 and believe variety is the spice of life? Do you want to share your spicy life with a devoted Christian man? Then give me a call today!

  Intrigued, Joelle had done just that. A man named Wilbert Webster answered the phone. After ascertaining Wilbert had placed the ad himself and that he really wanted to meet Christian women, Joelle breathed an inward sigh of relief.

  Wilbert wasn’t shy about presenting his potential date with questions of his own. Not surprisingly, he asked about her Christian walk first. Nervous, Joelle had to admit she was still a new Christian. She was relieved when he answered that every Christian was new at the start, and he didn’t mind. He seemed impressed by the physical description she offered upon his request, even though Joelle was careful not to exaggerate her best features. When they discovered a mutual fascination with old movies and travel, Joelle could feel his interest growing.

  “I hope you don’t mind spending an evening with a computer geek.” Wilbert’s smooth, mellow voice would have been at home on radio airwaves. Computer geek or not, Joelle thought she’d enjoy listening to him talk about anything ad infinitum, even if the term did force an image in her mind of a scrawny fellow with thick glasses and a pocket protector. “At least,” Wilbert continued, “that’s what my friends like to call me, since I repair them for a living.”

  “Oh, they’re just jealous,” she answered.

  “I’ll h
ave to tell them you said that.” The tone of his voice told her he spoke in jest.

  “Just don’t give them my real name or address,” she quipped.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. None of them can bench-press as much weight as I can.”

  The image of a scrawny guy faded, replaced in Joelle’s mind by a heavyset man with bulging biceps and chest muscles. “I admit, I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. I can’t lift all that much. And just so you won’t be disappointed when you meet me in person, I don’t look anything like those guys on pro wrestling.”

  “Thank goodness!” She laughed.

  “I don’t have that much time to spend at the gym,” he said without apology. “But I do spend a lot of time at church, especially since we sponsor a Christian school. I maintain the church and school computers. I teach advanced computer courses.”

  “So you’re a teacher, too?”

  “Not professional. The course is an elective for juniors and seniors, and I teach on my lunch hour. If you’re wondering how I manage that, I have to thank my company. They’re pretty progressive. My boss lets me take a little extra time each day so I can be free to give back to the community.” He let out a little chuckle. “I work more than enough hours to make up for the time, though.”

  Joelle couldn’t help but be impressed. Not even Dean could argue against someone with such dedication to church and community. When the conversation wound down to a close, Joelle felt at ease planning a date for the following Friday night.

  “Just one thing,” she asked as they bid farewell.

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you promise not to bring your mother along?”

  “My mother?” His voice inflected with surprise. “What would she be doing on our date?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know the details.”

  He chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve been through this before.”

  “Just twice.”

  “Me, too. Maybe the third time’s a charm.”

  The appliance store was devoid of customers, a fact that surprised Dean since Friday afternoons were usually boons for retail businesses. Scanning the small showroom of thirty or so appliances displayed in tight formation, Dean didn’t see the owner. He ventured to the back of the store, finding the cubby-hole that Earl used as a business office. Dean knocked on the door. “Earl? Are you there?”

  A man in his midfifties emerged. “Dean! Good to see you. . . except I bet this means the old washer finally died?” Behind Earl’s jovial demeanor was a note of sympathy.

  Dean answered with a weak nod. Whenever events in his personal life and business tried his patience, Dean drew strength from the verses in Scripture on pride. His favorite was 1 John 2:16: For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world.

  Even with this verse in mind, Dean cringed as he followed Earl to the counter. The retailer didn’t bother with a sales pitch or show Dean any new washer models. Earl already knew just the machine Dean would be purchasing. Dean always did business with Earl, and the appliance salesman was cognizant that Wash ’n Wear was barely turning a profit. He would have to ask Earl to extend more credit if the new machine was to be delivered anytime soon. Even then, “soon” was a relative concept when the time to order a commercial machine arrived. Since Earl didn’t keep heavy-duty machines fitted with coin slots in stock, he would have to special order the washer. At least a month was sure to pass before the new machine would be delivered.

  Dean tried not to let his discouragement show. With money a scarce commodity, he had delayed the purchase of a new washer as long as he could. Three times he had repaired the old machine as it sputtered to the end of its useful life. After three strikes, Dean figured the point had come where sinking more cash into repairs would be folly.

  Dean sighed. One day, after he had expanded his business to take in alterations and dry cleaning, he’d be able to pay cash on the barrel for any washer or dryer—even the top-of-the-line models. For now, he would have to swallow his worldly pride and beg Earl’s indulgence.

  He cleared his throat. “Earl, I hate to ask, but—”

  The older man held up his hand, palm facing his customer. “Then don’t.” Earl put down his hand and began typing. Without looking away from the computer screen, he said, “Your credit’s good with me.”

  Burden lifted, Dean felt so light he almost thought he could fly. “Thanks, Earl.”

  “No problem.” He kept typing. “Besides, your account is paid up. I’d give you all the credit you need since you’re a friend, not to mention you’re on the finance committee at church. You’re a good customer, too. I know you’re as good as your word.” He paused as a small machine beside the computer printed out a receipt.

  Dean recalled the passage of Scripture old Miss Williams had made her Sunday school class memorize when they were barely in high school. Her insistence on the verses in the fifth chapter of Matthew had been motivated partly by her belief in Bible memorization. It didn’t help that she’d overheard Bobby Johnson taking the Lord’s name in vain when he struck out at the church baseball game the previous Saturday.

  Dean felt a smile tingle upon his lips. Miss Williams was certainly feasting with Jesus in heaven on this day. In the meantime, Bobby had long since relocated to New York City and become successful on Wall Street, the last he heard.

  No matter. The scriptural admonition had remained with him all these years:

  But I say unto you, Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it is God’s throne: nor by the earth; for it is his footstool: neither by Jerusalem; for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black. But let your communication be, Yea, yea; Nay, nay: for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil.

  Earl’s easy voice, accented by his Southern upbringing, brought Dean back to the present. “Yep, you’re one person whose word I’d trust any day. Can’t say that about everybody these days, I’m afraid.” He handed Dean the receipt. “Got anything to do tonight?”

  “Not really. . .unless you think going home just to microwave a hot dog and spend the night in front of the television is exciting.”

  “You’ve got something special to do now.” Earl pulled a couple of tickets out of the pocket of his faded blue denim shirt and handed them to Dean. “My wife bought these a couple of months ago. Since then, her sister came down sick, and she had to go to Oklahoma to nurse her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks, but she’ll be okay. So now I’m stuck with these tickets for a play I didn’t want to see, nohow. I don’t much hearken to theater stuff. Especially musicals.” He wrinkled his nose. “To tell you the honest truth, I’m glad to get out of it.”

  Dean looked at the tickets. They granted entrance to the Bard Dinner Theater for a buffet and performance of The Sound of Music.

  “Oh, and they feed you, too,” Earl added.

  “Are you sure you can’t use these? You can always eat and run.” Dean cracked a smile.

  “Naw. I’d rather go bowling. Besides, who would I go with, an old married man like me? Now you go on and ask some pretty girl you know.” Earl winked. “Women love them sappy stories, don’t you think?”

  “So I’ve heard.” Dean grinned. “Thanks, Earl. I know just whom to ask.”

  On the night of the date, Joelle thought about how she was grateful Wilbert had suggested they take in a show at a dinner theater miles away. She had no desire to run into Dean while she was out with Wilbert. Even being seen by mutual friends would be risky. In their close-knit community, gossip traveled quickly. Not that she cared what Dean thought. Of course, he meant well to caution her against dating strange men. What else were friends for? But she just wasn’t in the mood for any of his lectures or withering looks. Both were sure to be the result, should Dean discover she was out with Wilbert.

  As Joell
e searched her jewelry box for the pearl drop earrings she always wore with her little black dress, she recalled Dean’s reaction to her story of her date with Dexter. Or rather, her date with Bertha. When Dean chuckled and pointed out how wise Joelle had been to win over Dexter’s mother, she knew all was forgiven. Still, she wasn’t sure he’d be so charitable should he discover she had made yet another date with a stranger.

  “Why can’t I seem to stop worrying about Dean?” she asked her reflection as she struggled to slide the earring back on the right place on the post. An angry-looking young woman stared back, hair deliberately mussed and sticking out in a questionable fashion, eyebrows curved disagreeably, eyes narrowed into slits, and her mouth a pink slash. “Dean Nichols has no hold over me. He has no right to tell me who to see and who not to see.”

  So why am I hiding?

  Frustrated, she dropped the earring back and heard it bounce and roll across the hardwood floor until it landed somewhere underneath her dresser. With an exclamation of distress, she knelt in front of the furniture, peering underneath until she eyed the little piece of gold lying in the far corner, amidst dust unreachable by even her best efforts with a vacuum. Wrinkling her nose, she lay on her stomach and stretched her arm and fingers to their fullest extent. The piece of metal was just within reach of her middle finger. With a little grunt, she slid it toward her. Successful in its retrieval, she blew off the dust it had accumulated on its journey and rose to her feet.

  The abrupt motion made her realize she had developed a dull headache. Fighting pain was the last thing she needed to worry about tonight. After glancing one last time in the mirror to determine she was satisfied enough with her appearance, Joelle headed for the kitchen and the aspirin her mom kept on a spinning rack in the cabinet.

  “You look absolutely lovely, Joelle,” her mom noticed.

  “Thanks.” Joelle reached into the refrigerator for the milk. She poured herself a small glass and retrieved a little plastic bottle with a yellow label from the cabinet.