Picket Fence Pursuit

by Jennifer Johnson

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Copyright

  ISBN 978-1-59789-429-6

  Copyright © 2007 by Jennifer Johnson. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

  One

  “This is what I want out of life.” Kylie Andrews lifted the handle of the ice-cream machine and twirled the cone beneath the flow of the creamy, chocolate treat.

  “What’s that?” Robin handed Kylie a napkin.

  Wrapping the napkin around the bottom of the cone, Kylie turned and handed it to the small, black-haired boy in front of the counter. He licked his lips in animated anticipation.

  Kylie smiled at the urchin, then winked at her friend. “A little guy like this.” Turning back to the boy, she said, “That’ll be two dollars.”

  He pushed the money across the countertop, then shoved the tip of the ice cream between his lips. Kylie covered her mouth to avoid a giggle as the boy’s eyes grew big as saucers and he shook his head. Brain freeze, no doubt. He closed his eyes and mouthed a slobbery thank-you, then turned and ran toward a man and a woman who held a baby girl.

  “Kylie.” Robin playfully shoved her. “You’re not married. You don’t even have a boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, but look at them. They’re the perfect little family. Beautiful parents. Adorable kids. Little vacation.”

  Robin propped her elbows onto the counter and rested her chin in her hands. “He is a cute little guy, huh?”

  Kylie looked at her longtime friend and burst into laughter. “I thought for sure he was going to pass out after taking that huge bite. I bet his head still hurts.”

  Robin chuckled. “Bet you’re right.”

  Kylie swiped a wet towel out of the compact, aluminum sink and wiped her hands. “This job is a lot of fun. I’m glad you thought of it.”

  “Holiday World was always my favorite vacation spot as a kid. I figured if we’re going to live near Santa Claus, Indiana, we might as well spend the summer working somewhere fun.”

  “It was really nice of your uncle to let us live in one of his apartments free of charge.”

  “Not exactly free. We still have to mow and keep the flowers alive.”

  Kylie laughed. “I’ll gladly do the yard work. I’ve lived in a University of Evansville dorm room long enough. Mowing will be bliss.”

  “What about the drive?”

  “The one-hour commute will be cake. We can share gas and enjoy each other’s company. Even with gas prices as high as they are, a free apartment and lengthy drive is cheaper than a dorm room.”

  Robin nodded. “True.”

  “And this job is perfect—simple and stress free. One more semester of college for me, a few more for you, and we’re done. Fini. Then it’s sayonara, baby!”

  “Yep.” Robin looked at her watch. “We get off in half an hour. What do ya want to do?”

  Kylie shrugged. Her happy-go-lucky mood plummeted, and she sighed. “Check my e-mail for sure.”

  “You gotta let that drop. You know Professor Nickels is going to give you an A. You earned it. He’ll review your grades. Everything’ll be fine.”

  “What if he doesn’t?” Kylie cringed. Besides her desire to graduate with highest honors, she had to have a 3.5 grade point average to keep her academic scholarship. She’d gotten a B in Biology and couldn’t afford a B in Accounting. Accounting, for crying out loud. Accounting was her major. Kylie never dreamed that Professor Nickels would be so difficult. Anyone else would have given her an A. But not Nickels the knucklehead.

  “Robin, if I lose my scholarship—”

  “Then you’ll get a loan. Besides, you’re not going to lose your scholarship.”

  Kylie turned away from her friend. She didn’t want any more loans. She needed to be as debt free as possible when she started a job so she could help her parents.

  Robin nudged her shoulder. “Let’s just have fun, okay?”

  “You’re right.” Kylie turned toward her friend just as a spoonful of ice cream launched from a pink plastic stick. She gasped when the cold, sticky goop smacked her mouth, cheek, and strands of loose hair.

  “Oh, yeah.” Robin danced back and forth. “I gotcha good.”

  “You think so, Ms. Reed?” Kylie grasped the ice-cream machine’s handle, lifted, and poured a golf-ball-sized glob into her hand. She glanced at Robin, who was filling a cup from the second machine. Before Robin could finish, Kylie smacked the frozen treat onto the back of Robin’s head and swooshed it around.

  “You’re such a good friend.” Kylie rubbed her hands together and grabbed Robin in a bear hug, wiping the goop all over her friend’s back. “I love you so much, Robin.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Robin dumped the cup over Kylie’s head. “Mmm. What’s that new perfume you’re wearing? Chocolate drops?”

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  Kylie jumped at the masculine voice. Her heart beat faster and heat rushed up her neck and to her cheeks when she turned toward the man wearing a pale blue uniform that looked very much like the one she wore. A stream of cold, melting ice cream streaked down her cheek and pooled above her collarbone. She glanced at Robin, who looked as petrified as she. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  Wishing to crawl under the counter, Kylie grabbed several napkins from the container and wiped her cheek, neck, and hair. Yuck. Disgusting. She imagined the brown shade sticking to her blond hair in straight, sticky spikes around her head. She glanced at Robin, whose coal black curls were sticking straight up on the left side.

  “You’re not bothering me.”

  Kylie looked back at the man. A slow smile spread across his face, and he lifted his hands in surrender. “I just didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. My shift is about to start.”

  “You sure?” Robin giggled as she lifted the handle and poured a new stream into her cup. “This shade of brown would complement your red hair quite nicely.”

  Kylie gaped at her friend. “Robin, hush.” Through gritted teeth she added, “This could get us into a lot of trouble. Ix-nay the lay-pay.”

  “Yeah, nix the play.” He pointed at Robin, then interlocked arms with Kylie. Leaning toward her, he whispered, “I think I’ll stick close to you. You must be the levelheaded one.” He looked at her and cocked his head. “Actually, your hair is anything but level.”

  Kylie pulled her arm from his
and grabbed her purse from the cabinet beside the ice-cream machines. No doubt she was a fright. Robin looked atrocious with sticky hair and chocolate handprints all over her back. “Let’s go, Robin. We need to get cleaned up.”

  Without another glance at their relief, Kylie grabbed Robin’s hand and guided her out of the cramped ice-cream concession.

  “Bye. Hey, what’s your. . .”

  Kylie held tight to Robin’s arm as she picked up the pace away from the entirely-too-cute guy and headed toward the parking lot. They had to get out of there before anyone else saw them.

  “Weren’t you in a hurry?” Robin huffed as she slid into the passenger seat, then fastened her seat belt.

  Kylie stuck her key in the ignition, turned, and willed her aged Ford to start. It growled in protest, but finally it complied, and Kylie pulled out of the parking lot.

  Robin popped a piece of gum into her mouth. “That guy was kind of cute. You know, in a curly-haired, hippie-looking, Richie Cunningham kind of way.”

  “You would think that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Robin, you have to pay attention.”

  “Attention to what?”

  “You and I both come from poor backgrounds. We want more for our children, right?”

  Robin scrunched up her nose. “What’s that got to do with ice-cream man?”

  “Didn’t you notice that he’s not some young college boy? He looked like a man—older than eighteen, like closer to thirty. And, he’s working at Holiday World?” Kylie looked at Robin, lifted her eyebrows, and shook her head for effect. “In my book that spells L–O–S–E–R. We can’t marry losers.”

  “Did I ask you to marry him? I don’t even remember mentioning dating him.” Robin touched Kylie’s shoulder. “Look, girl, you’ve got to get over this I-gotta-have-everything-my-way-or-no-way-and-my-way-is-perfect complex.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “So I’m a snob? Look, Robin, if I remember right, you’ve got to have money to be a snob.”

  “No you don’t.”

  Kylie huffed. Stopping at a red light, she tapped the steering wheel and stared at a brand-new Explorer that pulled up beside her. Two girls sat in the backseat. One was trying to hit the other. A woman turned in the driver’s seat and leaned around the DVD player suspended from the ceiling to scold them. Kylie took a deep breath and exhaled. “You think I’m a snob?”

  “At the moment, yes.”

  “Marriage is a big step. Living on love is rough.” She should know. With seven siblings and a father whose income came from the coal mines, she knew all about living rough. Even if we did have a lot of love in our home.

  Robin tapped Kylie’s head. “Earth to Kylie. I didn’t hear any proposals back there in ice-cream land. In fact, we don’t even know his name.”

  “You’re right. I do get crazy sometimes.” Kylie sighed. Judging. I always prejudge people. Forgive me, Lord.

  “He was cute, though.”

  Kylie pushed the accelerator as the light turned green. “Yeah.”

  “Gorgeous blue eyes. Looked like the ocean.”

  “Those light reddish curls were awfully cute, too.”

  “I totally agree.”

  Kylie smiled as she turned into their apartment parking space. “He wasn’t too tall, but definitely not short. Not too thin, not too heavy.”

  “I’d say, Goldilocks, he was just right.” Robin hopped out of the car then poked her head back in. “Race you to the door.”

  Kylie shook her head. “You’re nuts.”

  “Fine, but I get the shower first.”

  “Wait!” But it was too late. Robin had already made it to the door and run inside.

  “Great, now I get to wait, sticky and sweaty, while Robin takes her notorious forty-five-minute shower. I won’t have any hot water.” Kylie got out of the car and shut the door. She pried a strand of hair away from her cheek and chuckled. “Robin hit the nail on the head. He was just right.”

  ❧

  Ryan Watkins walked through the bank doors and pushed the raincoat’s hood from his head. Drops of water splattered the wall and floor. Slipping out of the coat, Ryan hung it on the rack beside half a dozen other wet garments. He walked toward the teller. “Good afternoon, Mr. Richards.”

  His friend Michael Richards smiled. “Hey, Ryan. Gramps didn’t come with you?”

  “Not in this weather.” Ryan opened the candy jar on the counter and scooped up three peppermints. “But I promised him a few of your goodies.”

  “Take as many as you’d like.” Michael turned to his computer and punched several numbers. “You want your interest transferred to your checking account?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want another CD like the one before?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I have it ready.”

  Ryan grinned. “Well, Michael, aren’t you on top of things?”

  “I try. So, how did your grandfather’s appointment go?”

  “His blood pressure is still up. They had to switch his medication.” Ryan grabbed the papers and pen. He was praying the new medicine worked. Gramps had already lived through one heart attack. Ryan didn’t want to see him go through another. God, You’re in control. He signed the documents, then pushed them back toward Michael. “Are you coming to the game Thursday?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. Church softball is my only recreation right now.”

  Ryan laughed. “Are you hinting that your sweet little baby girl is keeping you up at night?”

  Michael furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “That kid has more air in her lungs than Candy after a day of being cooped up in the house.”

  “Ouch. You better not let your wife hear you say that.”

  “Don’t worry. I still love her. Both hers.” Michael grinned and took the papers from Ryan. Separating the pages, Michael handed Ryan’s copies to him. “I’d say our missions trip meetings will start up pretty soon.”

  “Yep. I’m heading to Hope to pick up some stuff today.”

  “I’m not sure if Candy and I will both be able to go this time. We may have to take turns until Suzanna’s a little older.”

  Ryan nodded. “It would be hard to make a trip with a baby, especially a missions trip.”

  “True, but we want to take Suzanna to her birth country every chance we get. We want to be up front about her adoption.”

  “I’m sure you and Candy will have that girl back in Belize several times in her growing-up years.”

  The phone rang. Michael reached for it. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

  “See ya then.”

  Ryan grabbed his raincoat and put it on. He glanced at the receipt Michael had paper-clipped to the top of the papers. His next stop was Hope Community Church to pick up several boxes of clothes, toys, shoes, eyeglasses, and other items. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be on his third missions trip to Belize.

  His heart sped up at the thought of wearing the clown suit and making balloon animals for the children he’d visit who had almost nothing. Remembering young Alberta’s prayer of salvation on his last trip brought a smile to his face. He couldn’t wait to go back.

  The afternoon sped by as Ryan collected almost more than his truck could hold. He deposited the donated items at the missions team leader’s house, then stopped off at a fast-food restaurant to swallow some food before work.

  Having changed quickly in the staff locker room, little beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as he strode toward the small ice-cream concession. Not much larger than a child’s playhouse, the place was just big enough to hold two ice-cream machines and a worker or two.

  “It’s like this. I’m not interested in any yahoos.”

  Ryan stopped at the woman’s words. That sounded just like the lady from yesterday who’d been covered in chocolate ice cream. He sneaked a peek around the corner. It was her; and the same dark-haired girl was with her.

  “I
don’t want a yahoo, either, but you’re too picky,” the black-haired woman answered.

  “Robin, you have to have priorities.”

  “And I don’t?”

  The blond smirked, then smiled. “Did I say that?”

  “All right, Ms. Hoity-Toity, what are your priorities?”

  “First,” she said and lifted her finger, “he must be a Christian.”

  Ryan smiled. He agreed with her first.

  “Duh,” responded the one the blond called Robin.

  “Second, he must love me and want a family, but not too big and not too small.”

  “Here we go again, Goldilocks.”

  The blond stomped her foot. “Do you want to hear my priorities or not?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “He has to be strong but gentle, kind but firm, athletic but homey—”

  “Homey?”

  “You know, not be afraid to do the dishes, clean the toilets, and all that stuff.”

  “I totally agree with you there.”

  Ryan held a chuckle inside. This conversation was classic. What does a woman want? Ryan Watkins was getting the privilege of learning firsthand.

  “Of course he has to have a good, stable job. Secure. I will not even consider a yahoo. Looks mean nothing.”

  Robin frowned. “Nothing?”

  “Well, maybe a little bit. I don’t want ugly kids, but gorgeous, blue eyes are at the bottom of the list.”

  “Let me get this straight. You want a successful, Christian husband, your own great job, and 2.5 kids. Do you also want the dog and white picket fence?”

  The blond leaned against the counter. “The dog is open for discussion, but the picket fence is crucial, and yes, it must be white.”

  Robin flung back her head and laughed. “Why is that?”

  “What perfect, established, successful family do you know that doesn’t have a white picket fence?”

  “You need serious help.”

  Red scoured up the blond’s neck and flushed her cheeks. Ryan decided he’d better announce himself or the black-haired gal may end up covered in ice cream. . .again. Opening the concession door, Ryan stepped in and bowed. “One certified yahoo reporting for duty.”