“I’ll say it again. You do have an impressive church and school facility.” She gave Wilbert what she knew to be a hesitant look. “But there’s only one thing. Do we have to finish working all this tonight?”
Wilbert chuckled. “Oh, no. I just promised to get the church grounds into shape. The high school is sending someone else over tomorrow to take care of the sports fields and the rest of their campus.”
Placing her hand over her heart and exhaling, Joelle didn’t bother to conceal her relief. For Wilbert to change their plans at the last minute was one thing. After all, he did make a promise, and anyone could be forgiven for being a little disorganized occasionally, but there was no way the two of them would be able to manicure the land surrounding both the church and the school and still be able to make the play. Now maybe they had a chance. “Why don’t I do the mowing?”
“Sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. For one thing, all we have is a standard mower, not a riding one like we really need. To make things worse, it doesn’t work well. It tends to cut off without notice. I can barely handle it myself.”
“What do you want me to do, then? I enjoy planting flowers, although I don’t suppose you have anything like that in mind.”
“Not today. Sorry.” He surveyed the area, then inclined his head toward a far corner of the churchyard. “How about whacking a few weeds? That area over there needs tending. The tool’s in the shed. I’ll be right back.”
Joelle looked at the area. She felt her mouth open in astonishment. Weeds at least three feet tall awaited. She turned back in his direction to protest, only to discover Wilbert had disappeared.
“Well, if that doesn’t beat everything I’ve ever seen.” Joelle placed her hands on her hips, not caring what strangers in passing cars might think. If she had brought her own car, Joelle would have been tempted to make a run for the vehicle, put the pedal to the metal, and make a fast getaway over winding roads to the calm of her house. But she was stuck.
Not seeing anything useful to do while she waited, Joelle sat in one of the swings. Slowly she rocked the swing back and forth, her feet barely leaving the ground. After a few minutes, Wilbert emerged from the tool shed. He was carrying a long wooden stick with a curved blade attached.
“Here you go.” He held the instrument as if it were a prized possession.
She made a show of trying to locate an electrical cord. “Um, where do you plug this in?”
“You don’t, Silly. It runs on pure muscle.” Wilbert observed what little portion of her biceps peered from under her short-sleeved shirt. “If you do this type of work often enough, your muscles will be hard as rocks.” He handed her the outmoded instrument.
Joelle wanted to beg one more time to run the mower. Surely any gas-powered machine would be preferable to a blade and stick that looked like a nineteenth-century relic.
Before she could open her mouth, Wilbert wished her luck and headed for the waiting mower. At that point, Joelle knew argument would only delay the beginning of their real date. She refused to consider the work portion as part of the entertaining evening he had promised. Instead she hoped to get the task done quickly and then make every effort to forget it. Whistling a series of tuneless notes, she headed for the corner. After assessing the best place to start, she whacked the far edge of the patch of prolific plants. On the third stroke, the blade flew off, sailing through the air as if it were a paper airplane instead of a piece of metal.
Grumbling, Joelle ventured into the overgrowth. Weeds scratched against her pants, making her glad she’d opted for jeans instead of shorts. After searching a few feet, she found the missing blade. Picking it up, she carefully pressed the sharp edged metal back on the worn handle.
“There you go,” she said to herself, pounding the metal an extra time for good measure. “Must not have been on very well to start with. Now I can get moving.”
The next two strokes were successful, but to her frustration, the blade flew off again during the third swipe. Joelle could see this was a flaw that couldn’t be corrected without attaching the blade to the handle with glue. Refusing to admit defeat, she established a pattern. Her best burst of energy went into the first whack, since the blade was properly in place at that point. On the second stroke, the edge would wiggle, allowing her to make less headway than with the first swipe. Before the third attempt, Joelle would reposition the blade before it had a chance to fall off. Though successful, this process considerably inhibited her advancement.
Nevertheless, she kept at it until Wilbert finally appeared behind her to say he was through mowing the churchyard. They were free to shower and go to the play.
“Nice job,” Wilbert complimented her as he studied the corner. “I can’t believe how much you’ve improved this area.”
“Especially with a whacker that’s falling apart.” She studied the remaining weeds. “It still needs a lot of work.”
He took the instrument from her willing hands. Motioning for her to follow, he began to walk to the shed. “That’s all right. No one else wants to bother with that corner. Too many rats, you know.”
“Rats?” Joelle shuddered. “I wish you had said something earlier.”
He shrugged. “I see you made out okay.” After vanishing into the shed, he emerged again to lock the door. Wilbert took as much care in securing the outbuilding as Joelle imagined he would have in locking up a valuable treasure. Considering the state of the tools inside, Joelle wondered why he bothered. She decided not to make her observation known to her date.
Joelle relished the light breeze that cooled her as they made their way across the campus to the high school. The gym was locked, so Wilbert summoned the janitor to let them in.
“Nice weather today, huh, Wilbert?” the older man asked as he jangled several keys, searching for the right one.
“Sure is.” Wilbert sent him an apologetic smile. “Sorry I had to bother you, Al.”
“That’s okay. Had to unlock it for the wife, anyhow. She’ll be here in a minute to mop the gym floor.”
After bidding Al a good day, Joelle slipped past the gray door marked “Girls.” “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
He checked his watch. “Don’t worry. We’ve got time.”
All the same, Joelle did her best not to delay. She quickly showered and shampooed her hair. As warm water covered her body, its soothing rivulets running down her head and neck, she suddenly realized her headache had disappeared. The exercise must have helped ease her tension. “At least one good thing came out of this adventure,” she muttered as she dried herself.
After a few weeks of dealing with her new hairstyle, which had grown enough that she could curl it more, Joelle had mastered the best techniques for blow-drying and styling her hair in a hurry. After it was curled, she slipped on the faithful black dress that managed to be both elegant and comfortable. Once her accessories were in place and she had spritzed perfume on her wrists, she was ready. Pleased with her reflection, she noticed she looked as good as she had when Wilbert first knocked on her front door hours ago.
As expected, Wilbert was already waiting for her when she had completed her toilette, just like Dean would have been. Wilbert’s dark, brooding looks had their appeal, yet Joelle couldn’t help but form an image of boyish-looking, auburn-haired Dean. She imagined his crooked smile. “Joelle, you take forever to get ready to go anywhere, but why? You always look gorgeous,” Dean would say.
And she would reply, “Men are so lucky. You always look fantastic with no effort at all.”
“Why, thank you.”
Joelle jumped when Wilbert’s deep voice responded. She hadn’t realized she’d voiced her last thought aloud.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Wilbert flashed a smile.
“Oh!” Joelle felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “Thanks,” she managed to say before navigating the conversation to calmer verbal waters. “We’d better get going if we want to see the play.”
“You’re right.
” He began walking.
“By the way, you never mentioned the name of the show. Although whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it,” she hastened to add.
He chuckled. “I’m sure you will. It’s The Sound of Music.”
“I’ve never seen that play performed live. I’ve only seen the Julie Andrews movie.” On impulse, she belted out a few lines of the title tune. Swirling and skipping, she moved her hands as if controlling a full skirt.
“Brava, brava!” Laughing, Wilbert clapped as they reached the car. Wilbert once again remembered to open her door. “I don’t promise the lead in this cast will be as talented as Julie Andrews. They’re just local players. Most of them like to act and sing as a hobby, but the play should be good enough.”
As Wilbert walked around his car, Joelle leaned over to unlock his door. She happened into an angle that gave her a good view of the backseat. There was a paper bag on the seat she hadn’t noticed before. Two or three inches of a thin, pink tail poured out of the top. She hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was.
“What’s that?” she asked Wilbert as he slid into his seat.
“It’s a possum,” he said as he started the car.
Joelle cringed as she buckled her seat belt. Wilbert had confirmed her worst fears. “A possum? What are you doing with that nasty thing in the car?”
“I found him while I was mowing. He was already dead. Don’t worry.” Wilbert pointed his index finger forward as he steered. “There’s a dumpster along the side of the road just a couple of miles up. I’m going to leave him there.”
Joelle wrinkled her nose. She wished Wilbert had let his friend rest in peace.
True to his word, Wilbert stopped and threw the bag in the dumpster.
Joelle felt better. “I must say, this evening has involved the oddest detours I’ve ever been on.”
“Didn’t my personals’ ad promise excitement?”
“Hmm.” Joelle thought back to the ad. “I do seem to remember something about variety, but nothing about excitement.”
“If you have variety, doesn’t excitement naturally come with the territory? Maybe I’m just getting the ad you read mixed up with the one I put in Swinging Christian Singles, then.” Wilbert shot his eyes to her. “Just kidding, of course.”
“As if I’d think there really was any such magazine.” Joelle chuckled. At least Wilbert possessed a sense of humor. Maybe he could turn out to be someone she could like.
She peered out the windshield, enjoying the summer greenery and smooth passage over curved roads. They hadn’t been driving long when Joelle felt a tickling sensation on her leg. She looked down and spotted a small brown insect hurrying toward the hem of her knit dress. Picking it off of her hose, she was appalled to see it was a small tick. “Those weeds you had me chopping must be infested with more than rats.” She held the bug in between the nails of her forefinger and thumb.
“A sure sign of summer, though not my favorite,” Wilbert agreed.
After rolling down the window, she evicted the offender. “No wonder you stuck me over in that corner.” Her lips twisted before she spotted a bug on his sleeve. “Wait a minute. Looks like you managed to get a tick, too.” She reached for the bug, retrieving it from his sleeve. Quickly, she tossed the second stowaway out of the window.
“Thanks. Looks like nobody’s immune today.”
No sooner had Joelle rolled up the window than she spotted two more ticks on her legs and another on her arm. Thankfully, none of them had laid claim to a place to bite, but Joelle was unsettled all the same. “I checked for ticks when I showered. I thought for sure I didn’t have one on me anywhere.”
Wilbert flicked one from his pants leg. “Same here. What could be going on?”
Joelle had a disturbing thought. “The possum. Wonder if that’s where they’re coming from?”
“But I didn’t have him in the car anytime at all, and he’s long gone now.”
“He must have been in here long enough to leave us with a few souvenirs.”
Wilbert rolled down his window as he spotted yet another offending insect. “Maybe you’re right. It’s not easy for me to concentrate on driving with all these ticks everywhere.”
“And on my best dress, too.” She tried not to sound too disagreeable.
Even though he kept his hands on the steering wheel, Wilbert’s shoulders sank. “I hate to say this, Joelle, but I wonder if—”
“We should call it a night?”
He nodded slowly, demonstrating his reluctance.
“Maybe we’d better. I hate to agree since you’ve spent money on the tickets.”
“The money will be wasted in any event, if we can’t enjoy the show.”
Joelle sighed. “You’re right.”
Without saying another word, Wilbert took advantage of the next driveway and used it to make a three-point turn. They were soon headed back in the direction of Joelle’s house.
“I feel terrible about this, Joelle. I really wanted us to have a good time,” Wilbert apologized.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“If only I hadn’t picked up that possum.”
“There’s no point beating yourself up. You can’t turn the clock back now.”
“Oh, the comfort of clichés.” He chuckled.
Joelle giggled. “I guess that’s why they’re clichés.”
He shot her a glance and returned his gaze to the road. “I’ll make this up to you, Joelle. We’ll do something special one night. I don’t know yet what that will be, but I’ll think of something.”
“Don’t worry. You don’t owe me anything.”
The rest of the drive was silent as Joelle watched for ticks and tried to keep Wilbert from being bitten, too. Of all the dates she’d had, this evening had to be the biggest bust of all.
Folding her arms, Joelle stared at the road. Though a native of the mountains, she still tended to get carsick if she didn’t look up when taking a long drive over the deep curves. Not many cars met them on the remote road, so when she spotted a silver sedan, Joelle took notice.
That can’t possibly be Dean. What would he be doing out here, especially this late in the evening? She gave herself a mental tap on the head. Stop being so silly. Dean doesn’t own the only silver sedan in the world. Or even in Virginia.
Still, she looked closely at the couple as they approached. The driver looked too much like Dean for her to dismiss her suspicions. Though both cars were moving fast, she tried to get a good look at the passenger. The woman certainly wasn’t Dean’s carrot-topped sister, Mandy. Dark hair, overdone in a sexy feather cut looked like—no, it couldn’t be. She gasped.
Nicole?
As the car passed, Joelle turned her head and watched until its taillights were out of view.
“Someone you know?” Wilbert asked.
“I’m afraid so.” Turning back in her seat, Joelle pouted. She had a bone to pick with Mr. Dean Nichols.
Eight
As soon as she hopped out of Wilbert’s car, Joelle walked over the flagstone path to the porch, dropped her bag loaded with her dirty T-shirt and jeans, and rushed into the house. She hadn’t cleared the living room before she heard her dad calling from the den, over the blare of a television news broadcast. “Is that you, Joelle?”
“It’s me,” she called back.
“Home already?”
By this time she was halfway down the back hall. “Yes, Sir.”
“Everything okay?” he shouted.
She stuck her head in the door of the den on her way to her bedroom. “Fine. I’ll tell you about it later.”
After rushing through her room and into the bathroom, she hurried to shed her dress. Soon she had showered for a second time within the span of an hour. Joelle figured she was the cleanest woman in town. She grabbed a clean maroon T-shirt and an old pair of loose gray athletic shorts from the dresser drawer and put them on. After retrieving the formal outfit she had shed from the bathroom floor, Joelle dashed out of th
e front door and gathered her bag. Several more steps around the side of the dwelling took her to the backyard.
Now that the infested clothes were safely out of the house, Joelle moved a bit more slowly. After reaching the outdoor shed, she snatched a can of tick spray from one of the shelves. Then she hung her canvas tennis shoes, jeans, T-shirt, good black dress, hose, and underthings on the clothesline. Using the can of spray, Joelle saturated each garment to be sure no bug would survive.
Her mother came up behind her. “What in the world are you doing?”
“I’m getting rid of ticks. I got them all in my clothes.”
“Of course you can expect a few bugs to be out this time of year, but aren’t you overdoing it a bit? And on your good dress, too. That reminds me.” She checked her watch. “Why are you home already? You couldn’t possibly have had time to clean a churchyard and see a play, to boot.”
Joelle rolled her eyes. “Wilbert put a dead possum in the car. He dumped it out, but not before the ticks that were on it got all over the car and us.”
“A possum? Ewww!”
“Needless to say, we had to call the evening off.”
“Too bad. He seemed nice enough.”
“Who seemed nice enough? Wilbert, or the possum?” Joelle joked.
With an appreciative chuckle, her mother put her hands on still slim hips and watched the clothes sway in the mild summer breeze. “So will you and Wilbert be seeing each other again?”
Making plans for another date, especially with Wilbert, was the last thing Joelle wanted to consider at the moment. “I have no idea, Mom.” She turned her attention to her clothes. Detecting a dry spot on her shorts, she misted it with the poison.
“After all that spray, I’m sure no insect in this world would dare come within a foot of the clothesline.”
Elusive Mr. Perfect Page 7
