Meeting Mr. Right

by Deb Kastner

  “Candles. I make candles,” she said, shattering whatever preconceived notions Ben had had of her. “You know the ones on the end cap in the craft section of Emerson’s? Those would be mine.” She snorted. “Pathetic, I know.”

  Now it was Ben’s turn to whistle his surprise.

  Landscaping. Candle making. Firefighting. What else did he not know about her?

  Vee was a complete enigma. She surprised him at every turn. Whatever else he thought of her, he didn’t consider her pathetic in any way, shape or form.

  “Not at all,” he said aloud. “I bought some of those candles for my mama last Christmas. She loves them. She lights them whenever she takes a bubble bath, and she won’t even consider using any others.”

  Vee murmured something Ben didn’t quite pick up, but before he could figure it out, his attention was drawn to his two antsy nephews. They’d been cooped up in the truck too long and they were raring to do something physical.

  “Uncle Ben!” Felix shouted from the far corner of the shop. “Can you put us up on the lift?”

  “Please?” little Nigel pleaded.

  Ben laughed. “Okay, guys, but just this once. We need to get Miss Bishop back to her house. I’m sure she doesn’t want to hang around this greasy old garage all day.”

  “Oh, no, I—” Vee started to protest but then dropped silent, watching as Ben situated the boys on the hydraulic lift, which was generally used to raise cars off the ground so he could work underneath them.

  After making sure the boys’ feet were safely away from the edges, he moved to the electrical box and flipped a switch. The lift ground to life and the boys squealed in glee.

  “Ben!” Vee exclaimed in dismay. She rushed to his side and reached for his elbow before she’d even finished saying his name. “Surely you’re not going to—”

  “Let the boys take a little ride up the lift? Why not? My uncle used to allow me to take a jaunt up there all the time, and no harm ever came to me. Don’t worry. It’s fun. Nothing to be concerned about. Besides, my nephews have done this before. Plenty of times.”

  “That doesn’t make it safe.” Now she was starting to sound like the woman he knew—the one who had an opinion on everything—an opinion that usually said that whatever he did was wrong. Vee Bishop pushed her weight around, tiny as she was, and always thought she needed to micromanage every tiny detail of what was going on around her.

  “Maybe you’re not aware of this fact, but boys like to have a little danger in their lives,” he said. He was still smiling, but it was starting to feel forced now. “Not, of course, that I’m suggesting that riding the lift is really dangerous. It’s not. Believe me, I’ve got it completely under control. I promise I won’t go an inch higher than five feet. Felix and Nigel climb trees taller than that.”

  “With cement underneath them?” Vee stepped back, but she didn’t look happy about it. She folded her arms in front of her and scowled at him. “If they get hurt it’s on you.”

  Of course it was on him. He was in charge of his nephews for the day. He wouldn’t let them do anything truly dangerous. They wouldn’t get hurt on his watch.

  “We’ll take you home as soon as we’re done here,” he said, grinning when his nephews shrieked with delight at being carried up by the rising lift.

  “If we don’t have to go to the hospital first,” she grumbled under her breath.

  He spared her an exasperated glance. Really? Did she not trust him at all?

  “Fine,” she conceded as she met his gaze. “Could you drop me by my father’s house instead? He didn’t sound at his best when I talked to him earlier, and I just want to make sure he’s all right. I can get Eli to take me home after he finishes his shift at the police station.”

  “Sure thing,” Ben assured her.

  “If it’s an inconvenience I can—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “It’s not an inconvenience. Okay, boys. Get your balance and watch where you’re standing. I’m going to take you down now.”

  The boys groaned in unison, but they followed Ben’s directions and situated themselves safely on the lift before Ben brought it down.

  Slowly. Carefully.

  The whole thing had been perfectly harmless, just as he’d said.

  “See?” He flashed Vee a satisfied, and possibly a bit triumphant, smile. “All safe and sound.”

  Vee shrugged, still appearing unconvinced. Ben pushed back the wave of irritation he felt at the way she wouldn’t back down, even now that he’d been proved right. Why couldn’t she believe in him, even a little? Why did she always assume the worst when he was involved?

  Resolutely, he turned away from her, focusing on the boys. He wasn’t going to let Vee spoil the pleasure he felt from spending time with them.

  If Vee Bishop wanted to disapprove of him, fine. He wasn’t going to let it bother him one single bit.

  Chapter Six

  Dear BJ,

  Today didn’t go as planned, but days seldom do, do they? In my experience, God doesn’t always have the same agenda I do. It’s more than rolling with the punches. It’s adapting—trying to see what God wants me to learn.

  Sometimes I feel that I hinder myself. My own personal perception of events skews my actions, and often I wonder whether or not I’m walking the right road. I question if I’m doing the correct things at all—taking this Spanish class, moving forward with my life, into mission work.

  That’s when I have to trust God the most, I guess—and lean on friends like you. Thank you for letting me vent.

  In Christ,

  Veronica Jayne

  Vee couldn’t believe Ben had allowed his nephews to ride on the hydraulic lift, even if he had only raised them a few feet in the air. She could not imagine what he was thinking, but she’d been around her own brothers long enough to know that guys often took irrational risks for no apparent reason. It appeared to be in their DNA, passed on from generation to generation.

  Like uncle to nephews, for example.

  “Would you like to come in for a moment?” she asked as Ben pulled his truck into her father’s long, washboard dirt driveway. “I’m sure he’d be glad to have the company, especially the boys. Children always make him smile.”

  She could only hope that was true. It used to be, but now it was hard to say what, if anything, would make her father smile. Her dad didn’t find joy in much since his wife’s death. He rarely left the house, preferring to sit by the fire with one of his books. He didn’t even attend regular Sunday services at the church anymore.

  It was a matter of constant prayer for Vee. She didn’t know what to do for him or how to reach him, and neither did her brothers.

  No matter what they tried, from family dinners to community gatherings, nothing seemed to help. In fact, he seemed to be withdrawing more and more into his shell with each passing day. Vee worried about his health, which appeared to be declining. Where once there was a strong, robust man heading the Bishop clan, there was now a weary, world-worn soul. It broke Vee’s heart every time she thought of him.

  “You sure he won’t mind having the boys around?” Ben reiterated. “They’re pretty wound up right now, and I know your father hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

  Vee chuckled. “Believe me, he’s used to rowdy boys,” she said. “Don’t forget, he raised Cole and Eli.”

  Boys didn’t get any rowdier than Cole and Eli. Even as adults her brothers tended to be loud and raucous.

  What she didn’t say was that she wasn’t positive how he’d handle it now. The boys might brighten his day. Hopefully. Otherwise, they’d simply tire him out and send him further into seclusion.

  It was a chance she had to take. She would do anything to break her father out of his shell and put him back on the road to healing. She knew as well as her father that
grief was inevitable. It was what a person did with it that counted in the long run.

  “Just for a moment, then,” Ben agreed. “I’ve noticed that your father hasn’t been to Sunday services at church for a few weeks, and I’d like the opportunity to say hello and see how he’s faring.”

  “Dad?” she called, knocking twice before entering the house where she’d grown up. “I have a surprise for you!”

  “You know I don’t like surprises,” her dad growled, his voice as scratchy as the scruff on his chin. Although it was well into the afternoon, her father shuffled into the living room still dressed in his ragged blue bathrobe and worn-out slippers. Vee was embarrassed for him but not about him. Anyone with eyes could see he was still grieving.

  He walked hunched over like a man twenty years past his age. His short gray hair was ruffled and his brown eyes cloudy—at least until he saw Felix and Nigel.

  “Hey, boys,” he exclaimed, smoothing his hair back with his fingers as if that would somehow make him more presentable. “Tell me, who do we have here?”

  Ben made the introductions. “These are my sister’s kids, Felix and Nigel.”

  “Kayla’s boys. Well, I’ll be a rooster’s uncle. Just let me put on another pot of coffee,” her father said as they all moved into the kitchen.

  “I’ll get it.” Vee was relieved to have something to do with her hands, though making coffee didn’t keep her mind as occupied as she would have liked. Her heart shattered every time she saw her father this way. She felt so helpless. All she could do was pray, and as she scooped grounds into the filter, she silently did just that. At least seeing Felix and Nigel had seemed to have a positive effect on the man.

  “I’ll bet you boys don’t want to sit around the table while the adults chitter-chatter, now, do you?”

  The boys’ combined protest was enough to convince every adult in the room that they did not want to be holed up in a house with a bunch of boring adults. Vee chuckled at their enthusiasm.

  “I’ve got a big backyard just right for children,” her father continued. “My own three kids used to play out back all the time. It was all their mother and I could do to keep those three out of trouble. They were always fighting with each other, falling out of trees, scraping their knees on the pavement...”

  Her father’s expression took on a distant quality, and for a moment Vee wondered if he even knew where he was, much less that his own daughter was in the room and that she, along with her brothers, were all grown up now. His mental status seemed to be declining with every passing day.

  Then, just as quickly as he’d faded out, her father’s face brightened and he returned to the present. It was almost frightening how easily she could see the transformation in his gaze.

  “Now, somewhere around this old house,” he said, tapping his index finger on his chin, “I’ve got a ball for you boys to play with. Hmm. I wonder where I put it?”

  His bushy gray eyebrows lowered over his nose as he paused, concentrating. After a moment he grunted and nodded to himself, then rose from his chair with a groan and scuttled out to the front hall closet. Scuttled was precisely the right word for the way he moved. He reminded Vee of a crab she’d once seen on a beach when she’d visited the Oregon coast.

  The top half of her father’s body disappeared into the closet as he fished through the coats, and she heard his muffled shout of triumph and delight when he finally found his prize.

  “Here we are, boys,” he called out, lofting a black-and-white checkered soccer ball at Felix, who caught it easily and without hesitation. The ball must have been the one that belonged to Vee and her brothers way back when. She couldn’t imagine why her parents would have kept it all these years, but it certainly came in handy now.

  “C’mon, Nigel. Race you to the back!” Felix took off at a sprint.

  “No fair,” Nigel squealed, darting off after his brother. “You got a head start.”

  Her father laughed. Actually laughed.

  Vee didn’t think she’d heard that happy sound since before her mother’s funeral. A little glow of hope, like the flicker of a candle, warmed her heart, and she offered a quick, silent prayer of gratitude to God for allowing her to witness the moment. Just now, thanks to Felix and Nigel, she’d been given just the tiniest glimpse of hope that her father might finally begin to settle his grief and move on with his life.

  Maybe not right away, but Vee prayed it would be soon. Seeing her father with the boys was a good first step. It’s what her mother would have wanted.

  Vee poured coffee into three mugs and settled at the kitchen table with Ben and her father. Ben immediately swept her father into conversation, telling him about her truck repairs, bringing him up to date with all the goings-on around town and filling him in on the topic of Pastor Shawn’s new series of sermons.

  Ben was so laid-back and friendly that it didn’t take long for him to put her father at ease. It was a good thing, too, because even with today’s monumental progress, Vee was never quite sure what to say to her father these days. She was thankful she didn’t have to carry the conversation by herself. She was always afraid she’d say something that would upset him or, worse yet, accidentally mention her mother and send him even deeper into his shell.

  Ben might look like a tough guy on the outside, but Vee had to admit he had a sensitive side. He was kind and gentle to her father without being condescending. It was eye-opening for her to see this side of a man who would reach out to an older neighbor in his time of need.

  He was sweet. And perceptive. Almost like BJ.

  Vee’s throat closed and she almost choked on her sip of coffee. Ben was definitely nothing like BJ.

  Or at least, as much as she knew about BJ. The realization struck her that BJ was nothing more than words on a computer screen. She had a sense of his personality, and he’d told her about his goals and dreams, but she knew so little about the day-to-day aspects of his life. Did he have nephews, like Ben, who he enjoyed spending time with? Was he a good neighbor, a good friend, to the people he saw every day?

  Ben, however—Ben was very much a real man. She could see him, hear him, even touch those enormous biceps of his if she was so inclined.

  She coughed, trying to force air back into her lungs, but it didn’t seem to help. Ben couldn’t possibly be half the man BJ was, nor would he ever be. She jammed that frequency of thinking before it could be broadcast any further.

  Of course she was thankful for Ben’s help. He’d been there to rescue her earlier, with his big old tow truck and amiable half grin. And now he was being nice to her father, which was a big plus in her book.

  But the feelings she was experiencing—those couldn’t be more than mismatched forms of gratitude, could they? She didn’t even like Ben, but at this exact moment, she had to actively remind herself why she disliked him.

  He might be acting nice today, but not all that long ago he’d broken her best friend’s heart. How could Vee possibly put that aside, even for a moment?

  BJ wasn’t like that. That was good enough for her.

  Or was it?

  Her heart stuck in her throat and she almost choked again. What if she was using her quasi-relationship with a cyber-guy to avoid dealing with the real thing?

  In some ways, wasn’t that exactly what her father was doing? Avoiding reality to shield him from his own grief? She thought back to when she’d first been paired with BJ in her Spanish class, and a shiver passed through her when she realized that their friendship had started up just after her mother’s passing.

  Yes, BJ was a real person, and she’d connected with him in a very real way...but it probably wasn’t a coincidence that she’d thrown herself into getting to know him right at that time rather than reaching out to the people in town.

  Her chest felt suddenly heavy with sorrow, another sniper-strike of grief
aimed straight at her heart when she wasn’t looking.

  Was it like that for her father, too? Her mother had been the love of his life. No wonder he couldn’t cope.

  Vee got up from the table and stared out the kitchen window, watching the boys laughing and talking as they kicked the soccer ball back and forth to each other. She’d had so many good times in that backyard that she could hardly remember them all. Swinging bats and kicking balls with Cole and Eli. Playing cops and robbers and tag and hide-and-seek from the moment the sun rose in the sky until their mother forced them inside at dusk.

  What had happened to that innocent feeling she’d had as a child? When had she become so jaded about life?

  She recalled how once she’d followed her brothers up the big, spreading oak in the middle of the yard. They’d been trying to get away from her, their pesky little sister, and Eli had climbed too high, trying to balance on a branch that couldn’t support his weight.

  He’d fallen fifteen feet and had broken an arm and twisted an ankle. She remembered how frightened she’d been to watch paramedics taking him away on a stretcher, thinking it was her fault and that her brother might not come home from the hospital.

  She always had been a little melodramatic about that sort of thing. No wonder she’d panicked when Ben had allowed his nephews to ride up the hydraulic lift. Could anyone blame her for being a little overcautious? But it was one thing to be wary of physical dangers—and it was another thing entirely to be cautious about opening her heart to the people around her.

  When had she closed herself down to the outside world, like her father was doing now? She hadn’t always approached personal relationships with an abundance of prudence and few expectations.