Elusive Mr. Perfect Read online

  Copyright

  ISBN 1-58660-470-8

  © 2001 by Tamela Hancock Murray. 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 the publisher, Truly Yours, PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Noted passages are 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.

  One

  “Another exhilarating night with the swinging singles—all six of us.” Joelle Jamison’s feet, clad in athletic shoes, dragged through the graveled area that served as the church parking lot. The time was 9:30, and the group had already broken up for the night.

  Reaching to toss her hair over her shoulder in her favorite expression of disdain, Joelle was reminded she had recently traded her long mane for chin-length locks. Her straight blond hair had been mussed for an uncombed look. Contrary to its freewheeling appearance, the style was cemented with hair wax and a coat of ultimate-hold spray. After a week with the new do, she already entertained fantasies of growing it out into a controlled bob.

  “Six people isn’t so bad. At least we had an even number.” Dean grinned, flashing straight, even teeth. Joelle couldn’t help remembering four years of braces for him, and two for her. Both could thank Dr. Stein for their brilliant smiles.

  Joelle smiled without exposing the orthodontist’s handiwork. “Oh, I’m sure you and Zach were happy to be outnumbered by us women.”

  Dean arched an auburn eyebrow. “Sure gave us an advantage in the Sports category of that trivia game.”

  “As if that were the only advantage,” Joelle quipped.

  He chuckled as he held open the passenger door of the 1986 Ford for Joelle. Dean called the silver hand-me-down, family sedan a “mercy gift” from his father. “The balance at our meeting reminds me of that old Beach Boys song—‘Two Girls for Every Boy.’ Sounds ideal to me.” He chuckled.

  “You had the advantage this week, but we might have more women next week, and you’ll be overwhelmed.”

  “I doubt it,” Dean answered. “We’re lucky even six people showed up.”

  “Really? You’ve got to be kidding!” Joelle wriggled into the blue seat. She felt pampered by Dean’s gesture of opening the door, even though she didn’t expect him to act the gentleman around her. Joelle had been best friends with Dean Nichols since they shared a bag of chocolate chip cookies the first day of preschool. Instead of acting as though he’d known her all his life, he remained gallant, as though he were still trying to impress her.

  “I’m not kidding. There are usually only five of us, and I get the feeling Zach didn’t mind you as an addition to our happy little group.” With a muscular arm, Dean slammed the door shut. The old hinge objected with a creak. Joelle imagined herself a sardine, shut in a tin can for good. . .only instead of basking in mustard sauce or olive oil, she was enveloped in a musty odor emitted by moisture trapped in the cloth seats, typical of aged cars that had never been garaged.

  Joelle waited until he jumped behind the wheel before she responded. “Zach and me? You’ve got to be kidding.” She grimaced. “He’s nice, but all he talks is sports. Just not my type. Anyway, didn’t you see how Ashlynn was flirting with him?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “She brushed up on football all winter, and now she’s trying to learn the ins and outs of baseball. Pun intended.” Dean’s lips curled into a smile of satisfaction as he pulled out of the lot.

  “Oh, you’re so brilliant.” Joelle’s tone indicated she didn’t wish to be interpreted literally. “As much fun as I had, even you have to admit the group could use a few more people.”

  “You didn’t really expect fifty singles when our church only has a hundred members, did you? It’s not like we live in New York City.”

  She picked up on his disparaging tone. “You mean Gotham?”

  “Some people call it that. And for good reason, I’m sure.” Dean let down his window. “I’ll take our little community anytime over hordes of people trying to beat each other in the rat race.”

  Following Dean’s lead, Joelle pressed the button to lower her window. The spring day had turned into a chilly night. Neither saw the need for air-conditioning when the outdoors smelled of new blossoms and freshly cut grass.

  “You won’t get that kind of atmosphere in any city.”

  Joelle inhaled deeply. “True. Living in the mountains does have its merits, even if a large gene pool isn’t one of them.” She studied his profile, noting his familiar pointed nose. “Don’t you get tired of the same people, week after week after week?”

  “I never seem to get tired of you.”

  “But it’s different with friends,” she protested.

  “Is it?” Dean wondered. Joelle was contemplating his point when he continued. “Who needs a lot of crazy people, when you can only marry one person?”

  “One at any given time, anyway.” Joelle kept her expression serious, just to see how Dean would react.

  “If I didn’t know you better. . .” Taking one hand off the wheel for a moment, Dean wagged his index finger at her in mock derision.

  She couldn’t hold back a rollicking laugh. Joelle could make light of such notions now. Before she responded to Pastor Brown’s invitation to accept Jesus Christ as her personal Savior six months ago, she might have been a wee bit serious.

  Jokes about Gotham aside, Joelle knew firsthand that one didn’t have to live in a big city to find trouble.

  “Speaking of crazy people, has that jerk ever stopped calling you?” Dean wanted to know.

  “By ‘that jerk,’ do you mean Dustin?”

  “Unless you have more than one jerk in your life.”

  “Thankfully not.” She chuckled. “But I haven’t seen Dustin lately.”

  “Good. You let me know if he bothers you again.”

  “You’re so cute in your knight’s shining armor, Sir Dean.”

  “How true. And don’t you forget it.”

  Dean pulled into Mary’s, an eatery the locals affectionately dubbed “The Greasy Spoon.” Mary’s provided rickety cane chairs, kitchen noises that could be heard by every customer, and paneled walls covered with watercolor pictures bearing price tags, courtesy of a local artist. Out of habit more than interest, Joelle picked up two free copies of Today’s Southwest Virginian Christian Singles from a rack at the entrance. Since the dinner rush was past, they quickly found seats. She handed Dean his paper as soon as they ordered a round of banana cream pie and coffee.

  Dean glanced at the front-page headline. “Looks like the walk-a-thon was a success.”

  Joelle nodded. “It says here they raised almost two thousand dollars for the hospice.” Her interest satisfied, she flipped through the circular, passing advertisements for religious book stores and businesses owned and operated by Christians. Announcements of church-sponsored concerts and seminars were plentiful. She pointed to an ad. “Here’s a seminar on Managing Finances According to Godly Principles.” She looked up at her companion. “Maybe they can tell you how to save for that new car you’ve been wanting.”

  “New car? They’d probably tell me to keep old Vicky.” Dean contradicted his words by leaning over to take a closer look at the page Joelle held open.

  “I
don’t know. Looks like they have a lot of experts scheduled. May be worthwhile.” She glanced into his hazel eyes. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’ll start practicing godly principles by staying home instead of wasting fuel driving to Raleigh.”

  “Suit yourself.” She shrugged before flipping to the back of the paper. The word Personals jumped out at her. “When did they start carrying personal ads?”

  Dean took a swig of coffee. “Who knows? I never saw them before. Then again, I wasn’t looking.” He picked up his copy and located the ads. “Listen to this: ‘Wanted, Single Female, for days of hiking in the mountains, walks in the rain, and nights of gourmet meals accompanied by the strains of Mozart and Bach.’ ”

  “What’s so bad about that?”

  “I’m just wondering who’ll be cooking the gourmet meals.”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  Dean scanned the page and teased, “I found the ad you placed, Joelle. ‘Beautiful single female with excellent build, variety of hobbies, interested in exploring her walk of faith. Looking for a godly man ready for a true commitment.’ ”

  “Thanks for the compliment, but with such high demands, that ad seems to be courting disappointment.” She scanned the page. “This one must be yours: ‘Handsome single male with outstanding physique, ready for any challenge. Godly, unafraid of commitment, light on baggage.’ ”

  “You caught me.” Picking up a white paper napkin, Dean waved it in surrender.

  Joelle chuckled.

  Dean balled up his napkin and tossed it on his dessert plate. “Just for the sake of argument, let’s say that was my ad. Question is, if I’m so wonderful, then why do I need to advertise?”

  “Because you only see five other unmarried people every week, and one of them is a guy? Like, duh!” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, some of these singles don’t seem so pitiful. A few might even be fun. Maybe answering one or two of these ads wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

  Dean placed his coffee cup on the table with a firm motion and leaned toward her. “Please say you’re joking. You’ve got to know these people are losers. They’re making up half of what they say, and the other half isn’t true. It’s a dangerous world out there.”

  “I know. But everyone in here is a Christian, right?”

  “Or so they say,” he answered.

  “They’re screened, right?”

  Returning his attention to the paper, Dean studied the headings. “I don’t see anything about that. All I see is a disclaimer saying the paper takes no responsibility for any contacts made.”

  “They’ve got to say that to keep out of court. There’s always somebody ready to file a lawsuit in hopes of making a fast buck.”

  “Then don’t take a chance by responding to these ads. Take my word for it, Joelle. You’ll regret it.”

  Unwilling to argue further, Joelle shrugged. Dean might be her best friend, but he wasn’t going to tell her what to do. Rolling up the paper, she slipped it into her denim shoulder bag. As soon as she got home, Joelle planned to comb the entries and select her next date.

  Two

  Two Saturdays later, Joelle waited for Prince Charming to arrive.

  “What time is Lloyd supposed to get here?” her mother asked.

  “Seven.”

  Eleanor Jamison looked toward the surrealistic clock on the kitchen wall. The words “Does It Matter?” and scrambled numbers decorated its face. “It’s only six-thirty and you’re set to go already? This guy must be something special. Is he from your singles’ group at church?”

  Joelle shook her head. “He lives two counties away.”

  “Oh.” Eleanor’s voice rose with inflection, but she continued wiping the breakfast nook table clean.

  Joelle was relieved her mother’s curiosity was satisfied. Since her job as a doctor’s bookkeeper and billing clerk allowed Joelle to meet people from around the region, the explanation seemed logical. Joelle knew if a relationship developed, she could always give her mother more details about how she and Lloyd Newby really met. Later. Much later.

  Joelle rose from the couch. “Can I help you with anything?”

  Eleanor’s gaze swept over her daughter. “I wouldn’t think of asking you to do housework when you’ve got on such a nice outfit. Besides, I’m caught up. All I need to do is study.”

  Eleanor’s schoolwork had been woven into the Jamisons’ family life for the past couple of months. Joelle was proud that her mother was being tutored for her GED test. “Do you need me to call out questions or anything while I wait?”

  “Nope. It’s math. I’m just going to review some problems to make sure I understand them.”

  “I don’t see how you do it, Mom. Working full time, then studying for your GED.”

  “It’s not easy, but it’s something I have to do. Just for myself. Besides, I’ll earn my diploma soon enough.” She let out a sigh. “I had no business dropping out of school to marry your father. Your grandparents tried to talk us out of it, but we were too much in love. Besides, I hated school and wanted to work.”

  “And then Benjamin came along and ruined your career.” Joelle chuckled as she thought about her boisterous brother.

  “Believe me, I was glad to exchange assembly line work for mounds of diapers. I was too naïve to realize how easy school would seem in comparison to working every day of the week. Two years of sorting buttons at the factory was about all I could take.”

  “Harder than sorting out all the fights among the five of us, huh?”

  Smiling, Eleanor shook her head. “I won’t go that far, but I’m just glad none of you kids followed my poor example, at least as far as your education goes. You were smart to graduate from high school, and now you’re smart to wait for marriage, Joelle.” Eleanor took a seat at the table and flipped open her book. “Although, since you’ve seen your twenty-ninth birthday, I just hope you’re not being too smart for your own good.”

  “I doubt I’ll ever be that smart.” Joelle tried not to flinch. Her mother’s words hit too close to home.

  Eleanor didn’t seem to notice Joelle’s discomfort. “Not that anything in life is easy, mind you. Back then, if not for the Lord’s mercy, I wouldn’t have made it. He sure must have been looking after me.”

  “I think He was. And He still is.”

  Joelle picked up the day’s newspaper. Her eyes refused to focus on the print. Instead, she imagined what Lloyd Newby must be like in person. He had seemed nice enough on the telephone when he called to set up the date. He said he attended church almost every Sunday and had always been a Christian. Even so, if a relationship developed, she dreaded the day she’d have to admit she met Lloyd through a personal ad. The fact it appeared in a Christian paper would have comforted her parents about as much as it had Dean—which wasn’t much at all.

  Joelle’s thoughts wandered to her best friend. When she had turned down his invitation to tonight’s singles’ meeting at church, Dean guessed the reason. Though he didn’t express outright opposition, the crestfallen expression on his face revealed his disappointment so much, she almost relented. But she didn’t. She fought pangs of guilt.

  Dean knows I can see him anytime. He should understand.

  Confident in that knowledge, Joelle put Dean out of her mind. Stealing a glance at her mother, Joelle could see the older woman was absorbed in her work. She sneaked the clipped ad out of her purse and studied it:

  A rare combination in one package: charming, cosmopolitan, and Christian! Open-minded, handsome bachelor, 25, seeks fun-loving Christian bachelorette, 22–32. My favorite things are candlelight dinners, moonlit walks, and travel to exotic locales. Want to see London? Rome? Paris? Then I’m the man for you. Ooo—la la!

  He’s perfect! Joelle felt a triumphant smile touch her lips. Handsome, Christian, and with promises of travel, he must be rich, too. How could Dean possibly object? If anything, he should be happy for me.

  As if on cue, the unobjectionable Lloyd Newby rang the
bell. Joelle heard her father’s voice. He must have just returned from feeding the small herd of beef cattle that supplemented his income as a teacher. Joseph Jamison was speaking to Lloyd in a kind yet no-nonsense manner. Taking the opportunity to rush to the bathroom, Joelle indulged in one last check of her appearance.

  Joelle always chose to avoid cosmetics. Her clear complexion and blushing pink lips required no enhancement. The only vanity she allowed herself was a pair of aqua-colored contact lenses to conceal light brown eyes she judged to be blah. Once the contacts were in place, the bolt of blue-green on her irises was so astounding that the artifice was evident even to the casual observer. Nevertheless, the lenses made Joelle feel beautiful enough to conquer any situation.

  Lloyd hadn’t told Joelle about his plans for the evening but to trust him that she would enjoy herself. Joelle knew her crisp white blouse, shaped by princess seams, and a slim pair of black pants with matching flats would take her in style to the restaurant and to most other places he might suggest. Classic pearl stud earrings and one strand of small pearls hanging an inch below the hollow of her throat added warm luster.

  When she was convinced her father had had enough time to visit with Lloyd, Joelle set her shoulders back and strode into the living room for her entrance.

  “Joelle?” A look of relief crossed Lloyd’s face.

  A quick glance at her father’s furrowed brow revealed he wondered why Lloyd didn’t recognize her. Joelle made a point of focusing on her date. She flashed him a smile. “That’s me.” Lloyd looked much as he promised during their one brief phone conversation—a tall blond his friends described as good-looking. “Dad and you are getting acquainted, I see.”

  “Sure are,” Joseph chuckled, extending his hand to his daughter’s date. “It was nice to meet you, Lloyd.”

  “You too, Sir.”

  Cutting her glance to the den’s entrance, Joelle noticed her mother peering into the room. Eleanor’s reassuring smile comforted Joelle.

  The door had barely shut behind the couple when Lloyd inquired, “Does your father always give everybody the Spanish Inquisition, or does he have something against me because of the way we met?”