Meeting Mr. Right

by Deb Kastner

  Jo sounded like an old-time carnival barker, adding to the already festive ambiance. Ben suspected that in Jo’s mind, at least, the good cause in question might have been more to do with the kiddos having fun than having anything to do with the state of the choir’s worn-out robes.

  “Did you see my nephews pass by?” he asked.

  Jo waved a hand over her shoulder. “They just went by here, somewhere about the speed of light. Good luck finding them in that throng of people.”

  It was crowded. And noisy. But Ben wasn’t worried for his nephews. Townspeople looked after their own, and a couple of extra boys running around was no cause for concern.

  Ben had helped set up the booths for the carnival the evening before so he knew what to expect. The fellowship hall had been divided into a series of separate booths draped with colorful cloths and signs and flashing lights—mostly red and green, donations from town folks’ Christmas collections.

  A rubbery bounce house and a hay maze had been set up in the field behind the church, with an oil-drum train circling the whole thing. Chief Jenkins engineered the train, and he whistled and tooted at frequent intervals just to keep things lively, as if there wasn’t already enough clamor in the neighborhood.

  “What do you guys want to do first?” he asked as he caught up to his nephews, who were leaning over a booth to watch Riley Bowden, Zach’s eldest son, toss beanbags at a cardboard rendering of Noah’s Ark. There were several animals painted on the Ark, their mouths cut open for the kids to toss beanbags through. Eleven-year-old Riley was a good shot and two of his three beanbags sailed through the holes into the lion’s and hippo’s mouths.

  Phoebe Hawkins, who was manning the beanbag toss, cheered for Riley as he picked out his prize—a straw cowboy hat, which he planted on his head with pride. Ben congratulated the boy on his good aim.

  Ben fished a wad of dollar bills from the front pocket of his jeans, intending to spend every one of them. Each year the carnival had a different charitable goal in mind. After they’d collected enough money to buy the choir some decent robes, whatever was left over would go to the church’s food bank. Ben couldn’t think of a better way to contribute to the ministry of the church than to fork over a little cash to watch his nephews have a good time.

  “Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben,” Nigel exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the booth across the way from the Noah’s Ark Beanbag Toss. “Look! Goldfish!”

  Sure enough, there were the goldfish, swimming around in gallon-sized plastic bags full of water that were stacked enticingly along the back counter.

  “Anyone want to win a goldfish?” Vee’s wry chuckle snapped Ben from his reverie. He looked up to find her grinning craftily at him.

  He narrowed his gaze on her. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

  Vee shook her head and scoffed, but her smile remained. “Right. I ran out and bought three dozen goldfish because I knew it would entice your nephews and annoy you.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you,” he objected, but he smiled back at her nonetheless. “How do you win one of these fellows, anyway?”

  Vee pointed to a plastic pool half-filled with water in which a couple dozen identical yellow rubber ducks floated. “Pick a winner. Small, medium or large prizes, depending on what’s written on the bottom of the ducky you select. You boys want to try?” she asked, addressing Felix and Nigel.

  In hindsight, Ben realized he should have been more cognizant of what was going on in each of the booths so he could avoid instant goldfish ownership, but it was too late now, with both of his nephews clamoring to have a go at the duckies. It wasn’t like he could say no to them. It would ruin their day. Besides, Ben remembered being thrilled to win a goldfish when he was a kid. He wouldn’t deny his nephews the same happy memory.

  “That will be two bucks,” Vee reminded him, holding out her hand palm up.

  Ben peeled two fresh dollar bills from his wad of cash and passed them off to Vee. “I want you to know I am doing this under duress.”

  “No you’re not,” she replied without hesitating. “You’re doing this because you are a good uncle and you want to give your nephews a day they’ll remember.”

  “If they win goldfish, this is going to be a day I’ll remember,” he groused. “Thanks to you.”

  “Oh, hush, you, and let the poor boys have their fun.” She turned to Felix and Nigel. “Okay, you guys, it’s time to play. You each get to pick up only one duck, so choose carefully, all right? Ready? Set? Go!”

  Felix plucked his duck out of the water within seconds. Nigel was not quite so hasty with his choice, taking his time to select the perfect duck. Several times he started for one and then changed his mind and pulled his hand back.”

  “You’ve got to pick one, Nigel,” Ben urged.

  Nigel finally made his choice. The boys turned their ducks over at the same time.

  “Large,” announced Vee in a voice Ben was certain was lined with laughter. “And large. Congratulations, boys, you’ve each won yourselves a goldfish.”

  Felix and Nigel high-fived each other.

  Vee laughed, and Ben wondered if she was laughing with him or at him.

  He groaned, but it was more of an exasperated, dramatic gesture than a meaningful one.

  “You’ve got this rigged, don’t you? I’ll bet every one of these ducks has an L on it.”

  “Well, that would be very kind of me if that were true, don’t you think?” She plucked a random duck from the pool and turned it over, waving it under his nose so he’d be sure to see the S clearly marked on the bottom. “But in this case, it’s not true. I think you were meant to own goldfish, Ben Atwood.”

  If it were anyone but Vee, he would have thought she was flirting with him. But it was Vee—and Vee didn’t flirt. With anyone.

  Especially not with him.

  So why did his gut tighten in response to her repartee, and why was his breath raspy in his throat? He needed to tread softly here.

  “Maybe I’ll just feed the fish to Tinker,” he remarked mildly.

  He’d clearly caught her off-guard with the statement. He hadn’t meant it, of course, but it was fun teasing her. “You wouldn’t,” she said, her voice hitched with hesitation and distress in her gaze.

  He flashed her a toothy grin, stepping back and slapping a hand over his heart. “No, of course not. I’m wounded here. Seriously, Vee, do you think I’m capable of fish-ocide?”

  “I think you’re capable of a lot of things,” she said under her breath, shaking her head.

  What was that supposed to mean? The woman spoke in riddles. And unfortunately for him, he didn’t speak woman.

  He would have demanded an explanation in plain, understandable English except that several other children were congregating around her booth and she’d turned her attention to them.

  That, and the fact that Jo Spencer was yanking at his sleeve.

  “It’s nearly your turn, dear,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd. “Don’t you worry a bit about Felix and Nigel. I’ll watch them for you. And the goldfish. We can leave them with Vee for later.”

  “My turn for what?” asked Ben, confused. He’d willingly offered to help set up and take down the booths for the carnival, but other than that he didn’t remember signing up for any other duties.

  Jo chuckled in delight. “Didn’t anyone tell you? No, of course not. Why would they? It was supposed to be a secret.”

  It sounded to Ben like she was having a running conversation with herself, but he kept an ear out for any vital information she might pass on. “More than one handsome man has been surprised today. Felix, Nigel, come along with your uncle and me. Vee, can you put the boys’ names on their goldfish so they can pick them up later?”

  “Of course,” Vee agreed readily.


  “This does not sound good,” he remarked as he let Jo lead him down to the end of one row of booths and up another.

  “Don’t be a spoilsport,” Jo scolded. “Now, it’s just right outside here.”

  Ben tensed automatically. Presumably he wasn’t going to like whatever it was that they were heading toward. Why else would the ladies’ church committee, the ones who’d spent so many months planning the carnival, be so hush-hush about it?

  “We all wanted this to be a surprise,” Jo explained, answering his question as if she’d read his thoughts. “It’s going to be the highlight of the day for everyone.”

  Jo pointed to a spot just beyond the bounce house where—oh, no, it couldn’t be.

  Oh, yes, it was.

  An old-fashioned dunk tank.

  Currently, Zach was dangling his legs over the edge of a board hanging well over the tank. He was catcalling everyone within hearing distance, provoking them to take a swing at him. Or a throw, rather. The board was rigged to a twelve-inch-round bull’s-eye.

  Charlie, one of the younger firefighters, was taking a turn trying to dunk Zach. Three balls later and Zach was still as dry as a bone as he crawled off the board with a triumphant grin on his face.

  “See, now?” Jo told Ben. “You probably won’t even get wet. And remember, it’s—”

  “For a good cause,” Ben finished for her. “Yeah, I know. I guess it looks okay. The target is obviously hard to hit.”

  “Believe you me, the mechanism doesn’t spring very easily. My three balls didn’t make a dent in it. I had to go and press it with my own two hands to dunk Chance into the tank, cowboy hat and all. You should have heard him bellow.”

  Ben raised a brow.

  Jo shrugged nonchalantly. “We had to try it out to make sure it worked, right?”

  “So it’s hard to spring the latch?” Ben asked again, not at all sure that Jo was being straight with him.

  “It’s very difficult, yes. In any case, a little water can’t hurt a big, strong, hunky guy like you, can it?”

  Probably not, but Ben didn’t like the idea of getting soaked just the same. He wasn’t even wearing swimming trunks. He wondered who’d put his name on the list and conveniently forgot to tell him about it.

  “Your turn, buddy,” Zach announced, giving him a friendly punch in the shoulder. “We boys have got to do our civic duty, now, don’t we?”

  “As long as I don’t get wet,” Ben replied as he tugged off one of his worn black cowboy boots and then the other. He found a tree a little bit out of the way and put his boots and hat aside. If he ended up getting dunked, he wouldn’t be as caught off-guard as Chance had evidently been.

  Feeling petulant, he climbed up on the board. He was going to do this for the sake of the church, but he didn’t have to be cheerful about his service the way his partner was.

  He didn’t announce himself or hoot and holler the way Zach had done. Rather, he sat silently, staring at the crowd. It wasn’t long before there was quite a long line, mostly composed of young women, who wanted to take their turns trying to dunk him. Fortunately, no one was a very good shot, and Ben was beginning to think he was going to come away from the experience dry and unscathed.

  “Oh, I’m so doing this.” Ben recognized Vee’s voice at once.

  Terrific. He had a sinking feeling she wouldn’t miss.

  Apparently those around her felt the same way, for a cheer rose up from the crowd as she picked up the first of the three baseballs she’d purchased. She took aim and pitched.

  The first one went high and wide. The second was off to the left, barely missing the target and causing a collective groan from the audience.

  Ben released the breath he’d been holding. Vee wasn’t any better a throw than any of the other women before her. He was as good as safe.

  But then her determined gaze met his, and Ben knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was going to be unceremoniously dropped into the tank full of water.

  “Wait a minute,” he called. He was probably only delaying the inevitable, but he wasn’t going into that water without getting some kind of satisfaction out of it.

  “What does she win if she dunks me?” he asked.

  A goldfish, maybe?

  Ha! That would be justice in the extreme.

  “How about a date?” Jo suggested with a chuckle that suggested that this was a calculated proposal.

  The folks crowded around the dunking booth put up a crazed cheer.

  Whoa.

  Ben hadn’t seen that one coming.

  In a panicked haze, he surveyed the gathering, desperately trying to think his way out of the hole he’d dug himself into, but his brain wasn’t keeping up with the pounding of his pulse in his head. There was nothing he could think of, no one who could help him, who could save him from his own foolish big mouth. Everyone so clearly approved of Jo’s idea that it would have been beyond disrespectful to act as if he were anything but pleased by the idea. Actually, he thought the suggestion had merit, but he doubted Vee would feel the same way about it.

  She hadn’t seen that fly ball coming, either, for she had the same distressed expression as when he’d suggested that he was going to feed his goldfish to the cat. Her almond-brown eyes were as huge as a doe’s in a hunter’s light. Her cheeks were scorching red, which was unusual given her dark complexion.

  “No, that’s all right. No dates, please.” Vee held her hands up as if she were being robbed and backed away from the counter. “I don’t need a prize, and I really don’t think a date would be a good idea.”

  Wow. Now that stung.

  It was the equivalent of his asking her out and her turning him down right in front of the entire community; and although it hadn’t been Ben’s idea in the first place—exactly—he didn’t care to be humiliated in front of his friends and neighbors. Pride burned in his chest.

  How could she?

  He didn’t realize Vee still held the third and final baseball until, a good ten feet or so from the booth, she suddenly spun around on her heels and fired the ball at the target.

  Ben heard a metallic thwump, and the next moment he was underwater.

  Freezing cold water.

  By the time he splashed around and finally got his bearings to surface again, Vee was gone.

  * * *

  Vee stayed around long enough to see the satisfaction of her baseball hitting the mark and Ben disappearing underwater, but then she quickly hurried off before someone in the crowd could suggest she collect her prize.

  What was Jo thinking? She knew the history between Ben and Olivia. Surely she had to know that Vee—

  Her feet suddenly refused to move of their own accord. She felt like someone had slapped her in the face.

  She knew exactly how that statement ended, and it wasn’t good.

  Surely Jo had to know that Vee hadn’t forgiven Ben.

  Heat burned her face and she forged ahead, picking up her pace and leaving the church grounds far behind her. She headed down Main Street, making a right toward the park.

  She ought to be ashamed of herself. She was ashamed. Just the other day Olivia had made it clear that she was willing to let go of her past with Ben, even though she was the one who had been directly hurt.

  Who was Vee to hold a grudge when she wasn’t even the wronged party? And what about the wrongs she’d done, herself?

  Ben had certainly reached out to her on more than one occasion, extending the hand of friendship, which she had brushed aside time and time again. And now she’d humiliated him in front of the whole town.

  Not good.

  She owed him an apology. A big one.

  “Vee, wait!”

  Vee froze, her whole body tensing when she heard Ben’s voice.

  Why had he fo
llowed her? To chew her out as she knew she deserved? Yes, she needed to apologize to him, but at this very moment she so wasn’t ready for this. She hadn’t even had time to pray about it, much less consider her words.

  “Wait up just a second,” Ben called again. He jogged to her side. He’d clearly been running. His breath was coming in low, ragged gasps. He was soaking wet, from his slicked-back black hair to the bottom of his blue jeans.

  And he was barefoot.

  “You don’t have any shoes on,” she pointed out, realizing only afterward that she was stating the obvious. Not only that, but it sounded like she was scolding.

  He scowled down at her.

  “What is your problem?” he demanded. “What did I ever do to you?”

  She cocked her head. It had never been about what Ben had done to her. But clearly he didn’t realize that. Olivia was right—he truly was clueless about women. For some reason that made it a lot easier to let go of her anger. He wasn’t the callous playboy she’d taken him for. He was just a sweet, naive guy who sometimes did the wrong thing, even if it wasn’t on purpose. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  He shook his head fiercely, confusion gleaming from his eyes. “Obviously not.”

  “Well, then, I’ve wasted an awful lot of effort and energy giving you the cold shoulder, and it appears it was all for nothing.”

  “What?” He moved back a step as if she’d pushed him. He ran his fingers through his wet curls.

  “Oh, nothing. I just realized I’ve been carrying a heavy burden God never meant for me to carry.”

  His brow lowered. He actually looked concerned for her, though why he should care after the way she’d treated him was beyond her. She’d not only dunked him into a tank of cold water, she’d been the one to put his name in the hat in the first place—a fact that he was probably unaware of. She was the reason he’d been picked for the dunk tank at all.

  What had she been thinking?

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” His voice was so rich with sincerity and disquiet that it yanked at her heartstrings. If he was any sweeter, he’d have to change his name to Chocolate.