Time to Laugh Romance Collection Read online

  © 2014 by Barbour Publishing, Inc.

  Talking for Two © 2001 by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Clowning Around © 2003 by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Secret Admirer © 2004 by Gail Sattler

  What’s Cooking? © 2005 by Gail Sattler

  Sweet Harmony © 2009 by Janice Thompson

  Print ISBN 978-1-62416-740-9

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-62836-355-5

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-62836-356-2

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations for Clowing Around are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All scripture quotations for Talking for Two, Secret Admirer, What’s Cooking?, and Sweet Harmony are taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright© 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com

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

  Printed in Canada.

  Contents

  Talking for Two

  Clowning Around

  Secret Admirer

  What’s Cooking?

  Sweet Harmony

  About the Authors

  Table of Contents

  Talking for Two

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Clowning Around

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Secret Admirer

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  What’s Cooking?

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Sweet Harmony

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Talking for Two

  by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Dedication

  To my son, Richard Jr., who first suggested I learn ventriloquism.

  To my daughter, Lorina, the best ventriloquist student I ever had.

  To Clinton Detweiler, a talented ventriloquist:

  Much thanks for all your helpful insights

  Chapter 1

  Miss Johnson, will you make Roscoe talk to us again?” Four-year-old Ricky Evans squinted his pale blue eyes and offered up a toothy grin so appealing that Tabitha knew it would be impossible for her to say no.

  She pulled the floppy-eared dog puppet from its home in the bottom drawer of her desk and quickly inserted her hand. Thankful she was wearing blue jeans and not a dress today, she dropped to her knees and hid behind the desk, bringing only the puppet into view. Roscoe let out a couple of loud barks, which brought several more children running to see the program. Then Tabitha launched into her routine.

  “Did you know I used to belong to a flea circus?” the scruffy-looking puppet asked. The children now sat on the floor, completely mesmerized, waiting for what was to come next.

  “Really and truly?” a young girl called out.

  Roscoe’s dark head bobbed up and down. “That’s right, and before long, I ran away and stole that whole itchy show!”

  The children giggled, and Roscoe howled in response.

  Tabitha smiled to herself. She was always glad for the chance to entertain the day care kids, even if she was doing it behind a desk, with a puppet that looked like he’d seen better days.

  Five minutes and several jokes later, she ended her routine and sent all the children to their tables for a snack of chocolate-chip cookies and milk.

  “You’re really good with that goofy puppet,” came a woman’s soft voice behind her.

  Tabitha turned to face her coworker and best friend, Donna Hartley. “I enjoy making the kids laugh,” she said, pushing an irritating strand of hair away from her face. “It makes me feel like I’m doing something meaningful.”

  Always confident, always consoling, Donna offered her a bright smile. “Just helping me run Caring Christian Day Care is meaningful.”

  Tabitha blinked. “You really think so?”

  Donna pulled out a chair and motioned Tabitha to do the same. “You know what you need, Tabby?”

  Tabitha took a seat and offered up a faint smile, relishing the warm, familiar way her friend said her nickname. Donna began calling her that when she and her parents moved next door to the Johnsons, nearly twenty-three years ago. That was when Tabitha had been a happy, outgoing child. That was when she’d been an only child.

  Shortly after she turned six, her whole life suddenly changed. The birth of blond-haired, blue-eyed sister Lois, had turned talkative, confident Tabby into a timid, stuttering, introverted child. Her father, who’d once doted on her, now had eyes only for the little girl who looked so much like him. Tabby’s mother was a meek, subservient woman; rather than stand up to her controlling husband and his blatant acts of favoritism, she had merely chosen to keep silent while Tabby turned into a near recluse.

  “Are you listening to me?” Donna asked, jerking Tabby’s thoughts back to the present.

  “Huh? What were you saying
?”

  “Do you know what you need?”

  Tabby drew in a deep breath and blew it out quickly. “No, but I’m sure you can’t wait to tell me.”

  Donna snickered. “Okay, so I’m not able to keep my big mouth shut where you’re concerned. Old habits die hard, you know.”

  Tabby tapped her foot impatiently. “So, what do I need?”

  “You need to attend that Christian workers’ conference we heard about a few weeks ago.”

  “You know I don’t do well in crowds,” Tabby grumbled. “Especially with a bunch of strangers. I stutter whenever I talk to anyone but you or the day care kids, and—”

  “But you won’t be in a crowd,” Donna reminded. “You’ll be in a workshop, learning puppetry. You can hide behind a puppet box.”

  Tabby shrugged, letting her gaze travel to the group of happy children sitting at the table across the room. “No promises, but I’ll think about it.”

  Seth Beyers had never figured out why anyone would want to buy an ugly dummy, but the customer he was waiting on right now wanted exactly that.

  “The uglier the better,” the young man said with a deep chuckle. “The audiences at the clubs where I often perform seem to like ugly and crude.”

  Seth had been a Christian for more than half of his twenty-six years, and he’d been interested in ventriloquism nearly that long as well. It just didn’t set right with him when someone used a God-given talent to fill people’s heads with all kinds of garbage. While most of Seth’s customers were Christians, a few secular people, like Alan Capshaw, came to his shop to either purchase a ventriloquist dummy or have one repaired.

  “Okay, I’ll do my best for ugly,” Seth said with a slight nod. “How does Dumbo ears, a long nose, and lots of freckles sound?”

  “The big ears and extended nose is fine, but skip the freckles and stick a big ugly wart on the end of the dummy’s snout.” Alan grinned, revealing a set of pearly white teeth.

  The dummy may turn out ugly, but this guy must really attract women, Seth mentally noted. Alan Capshaw not only had perfect teeth, but his slightly curly blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, and muscular body made Seth feel like he was the ugly dummy. He never could figure out why he’d been cursed with red hair and a slender build.

  Seth waited until the self-assured customer placed a sizable down payment on his dummy order and sauntered out the door—and then he allowed himself the privilege of self-analysis. Sure, he’d had a few girlfriends over the past several years, and if he were really honest with himself, he guessed maybe he wasn’t too bad looking, either. At least not compared to the ugly dummy I’ll soon be constructing.

  Whenever Seth went anywhere with his little buddy, Rudy Right, folks of all ages seemed to flock around him. Of course, he was pretty sure it was the winking dummy to whom they were actually drawn and not the hopeful ventriloquist.

  Seth scratched the back of his head and moved over to the workbench. This was the place where he felt most comfortable. This was where he could become so engrossed in work that his troubles were left behind. He’d started fooling around with a homemade sock puppet and a library book on ventriloquism soon after he was old enough to read. When he turned twelve, his parents enrolled him in a home-study course on ventriloquism. In no time at all, Seth Beyers, normal, active teenager, had turned into a humorous, much sought-after ventriloquist. It wasn’t long after that when he began performing at local fairs, school functions, and numerous church programs. About that time, he also decided he would like to learn how to make and repair dummies for a living. He’d always been good with his hands, and with a little help from a couple of books, it didn’t take long before he completed his first ventriloquist figure.

  Seth now owned and operated his own place of business, and people from all over the United States either brought or sent their ventriloquist figures to him for repairs. When he wasn’t performing or teaching a class on ventriloquism, Seth filled special orders for various kinds of dummies. All but one of Seth’s goals had been reached.

  He wanted a wife and family. He’d been raised as an only child and had always longed for brothers and sisters. Instead of playing with a sibling, Seth’s best friend was his sock puppet. Then Mom and Dad had been killed in a plane crash when he was fourteen, and he’d been forced to move from Seattle to Tacoma to live with Grandpa and Grandma Beyers. He loved them both a lot, but it wasn’t the same as having his own family. Besides, his grandparents were getting on in years and wouldn’t be around forever.

  Seth groaned and reached for a piece of sandpaper to begin working on a wooden leg. “What I really need is to find someone who shares my love for Christ and wants to serve Him the way I do.” He shook his head. “I wonder if such a woman even exists.”

  The telephone rang, pulling him out of his reflections. He reached for it quickly, before the answering machine had a chance to click on. “Beyers’ Ventriloquist Studio.” Seth frowned as he listened. “Glen Harrington’s had a family emergency and you want me to fill in?” There was a long pause. “Yeah, I suppose I could work it into my schedule.”

  Seth wrote down a few particulars then hung up the phone. The last thing he needed was another seminar to teach, but he didn’t have the heart to say no. He’d check his notes from the workshop he’d done in Portland a few months ago, and if everything seemed up to date, maybe there wouldn’t be too much preliminary work. Since the seminar was only for one day, he was sure he could make the time.

  He closed his eyes briefly as his lips curled into a smile. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to help some young, talented kid hone his skills and use ventriloquism as a tool to serve the Lord.

  Tabby stared dismally out the living room window in the converted garage apartment she shared with Donna. It was raining again, but then this was late spring, and she did live in the suburbs of Tacoma, Washington. Liquid sunshine was a common occurrence here in the beautiful Evergreen State.

  Normally the rain didn’t bother her much, but on this particular Saturday, it seemed as though every drop of water falling outside was landing on her instead of on the emerald grass and budding trees. She felt as if it were filling up her soul with agonizing depression and loneliness.

  Tabby wrapped her arms tightly around her chest, as a deep moan escaped her lips. “Maybe I should have gone to Seattle with Donna and her parents after all.” She shivered involuntarily. Tabby disliked crowds, and there was always a huge flock of people at the Seattle Center. No, she was better off here at home, even if she was lonely and miserable.

  A sharp rap on the front door brought Tabby’s musings to a halt. She moved away from the window and shuffled toward the sound. Standing on tiptoes, she peered through the small peephole, positioned much too high for her short stature.

  Tabby’s heart took a dive, and her stomach churned like whipping cream about to become butter. She didn’t receive many surprise visits from her sister. Maybe this one would go better than the last. At least she hoped it would. Tabby drew in a deep breath, grasped the door handle, then yanked it open.

  A blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty, holding a black, rain-soaked umbrella and ensconced in a silver-gray raincoat, greeted her with a wide smile. “Hi, Timid Tabitha. How’s everything going?”

  Tabby stepped aside as Lois rushed in, giving her umbrella a good shake and scattering droplets of cold water all over Tabby’s faded blue jeans. Lois snapped the umbrella closed and dropped it into the wrought-iron stand by the front door. With no invitation, she slipped off her raincoat, hung it on the nearby clothes tree, then headed for the living room. Sitting carefully on the well-worn couch, she hand-pressed a wrinkle out of her pale blue slacks.

  Tabby studied her sister. It must be nice to have her good looks, great taste in clothes, and a bubbling personality besides. Compared to Lois’s long, carefully curled, silky tresses, Tabby knew her own drab brown, shoulder-length hair must look a mess.

  “So, where’s your roommate?” Lois asked. “On a rainy day like thi
s, I figured the two of you would probably be curled up on the couch watching one of your favorite boring videos.”

  “Donna w–went to S–Seattle with her f–folks, and L–Little W–Women is not b–boring.” Tabby glanced at the video, lying on top of the TV, then she flopped into the rocking chair directly across from her sister. “The b–book is a c–c–classic, and s–s–so is the m–movie.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know—little perfect women find their perfect happiness, even though they’re poor as scrawny little church mice.” Lois sniffed, as though some foul odor had suddenly permeated the room. “The only part of that corny movie I can even relate to is where Jo finally finds her perfect man.”

  “You’ve f–found the p–p–perfect man?” Tabby echoed.

  Lois nodded. “Definitely. Only mine’s not poor. Mike is loaded to the gills, and I’m about to hit pay dirt.” She leaned forward, stuck out her left hand, and wiggled her ring finger in front of Tabby’s face.

  “Wow, w–what a r–r–rock! Does th–this m–m–mean what I th–th–think?”

  “It sure as tootin’ does, big sister! Mike popped the all-important question last night, right in the middle of a romantic candlelight dinner at Roberto’s Restaurant.” Lois leaned her head against the back of the couch and sighed deeply. “Six months from now, I’ll be Mrs. Michael G. Yehley, lady of leisure. No more humdrum life as a small potato’s secretary. I plan to spend the rest of my days shopping till I drop.”

  “You’re g–getting m–married that s–soon?”

  “Don’t look so surprised, Shabby Tabby.” Lois squinted her eyes. “And for crying out loud, stop that stupid stuttering!”

  “I—I—c–can’t h–h–help it.” Tabby hung her head. “I d–don’t d–do it on p–purpose, you—you know.”

  “Give me a break! You could control it and get over your backward bashfulness if you really wanted to. I think you just do it for attention.” Lois pursed her lips. “Your little ploy has never worked on me, though. I would think you’d know that by now.”

  “I d–do not d–do it for a–attention.” Tabby stood up and moved slowly toward the window, a wisp of her sister’s expensive perfume filling her nostrils. She grimaced and clasped her trembling hands tightly together. Now I know I should have gone to Seattle. Even a thousand people closing in around me would have been easier to take than five minutes alone with Lois the Lioness.