Picket Fence Pursuit (11 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Johnson

Tags: #Romance, #Religious, #General, #Christian, #Fiction

BOOK: Picket Fence Pursuit
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“Kylie, will you come, too?” Dana peered up at her with doe-like eyes.

“Uh. . .” She gazed at the urchin. She couldn’t say no. “If Ryan is okay with it.”

“You know I am.” He smiled and grabbed her elbow. “Kylie and I better go. We’re heading to dinner. How ’bout two weeks from Saturday?”

“Sounds good to me.” Melissa wrapped Ryan up in a hug, then embraced Kylie as well.

They said good-bye and walked back to his car. Unable to speak, Kylie stared out the windshield as Ryan drove to the restaurant. Once there, he grabbed a small, white bag from the backseat. Another surprise, I’m sure. Kylie opened her door before Ryan could do it for her.

Once settled into the booth, Ryan asked, “What did you think about the Nelsons?”

“They’re a lovely family.”

“Melissa and I lived on the same street when I moved in with Gramps. She’s a good five years older than me. Growing up, I always had a crush on her.” He chuckled. “I’d follow her around, and she’d fuss and push me away.”

“And you’re still pining for her,” Kylie teased.

Ryan threw back his head and laughed. “Not exactly. Oh, don’t get me wrong, when they married on my sixteenth birthday, I felt as if she’d done it on purpose just to spite me.”

“They seem to be very much in love.”

“They are. I’m the children’s godfather.”

“That’s really neat.”

Kylie bit her lip when the waitress brought their pops. She felt comfortable with Ryan, yet weird at the same time. Physical, emotional, and spiritual attraction for him churned within her. Logic sent her mind into a tailspin.

“Ki, I have something for you.”

“Ryan, it’s your birthday and all you’ve done is buy for everyone else.”

“I don’t need anything, and this is more fun.” He fumbled with the bag. “I hope you like it.”

“You shouldn’t have bought me anything. I was so mean the last time I saw you.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “You’re too nice.”

“Probably why I’ve never married. You know what they say—girls don’t like the nice guys.” He shoved the bag closer to her. “Please take it.”

“Smart girls do like nice guys, and they marry them, too.” Embarrassment filled her when the statement slipped from her lips then smacked Kylie in the face. Was integrity worth more than stability? What was wrong with wanting both? Kylie dismissed the questions and lifted the tissue-wrapped object from the bag. Gingerly, she pulled off the paper and gazed at a yellow glass rose. “It’s beautiful.”

“The clerk said it meant peace and friendship, but she wasn’t sure.”

Kylie noted the nervousness etched in his voice.

“Friends?” She gazed into his eyes, searching them for
honesty.

“I was thinking more along the lines of peace.”

He wanted more than friendship. The truth of it was written all over his face. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Ryan, are you a drug dealer?”

His eyes bulged and he frowned. “No.”

“Did you win the lottery?”

“Never played in my life.”

“Is your grandfather some wealthy landowner or businessman or something?”

He scrunched up his nose. “He’s a retired military man. What are you getting at?”

“Where do you get your money? You buy presents for entire families. You take me out to eat and never let me pay. I don’t understand.”

She trailed the rose with her fingertips. “I worked all summer to pay for my gas and utilities and whatnot. I’m living off scholarships and loans, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what you’re living off of.”

Ryan took her hand. “Okay, the truth is—”

“Kylie, well, imagine seeing you here.” Brad Dickson rubbed the top of her arm in a possessive, overly familiar manner. Kylie recoiled as Brad turned his attention to Ryan. “I forgot your name.”

“Ryan Watkins.” Ryan extended his hand to Brad, who acted as if he didn’t notice and looked back at Kylie.

She swallowed, willing ugly, spiteful words away from her lips. She wanted to be a witness to the baboon. Oh, God, help me see him as You do. Someone who needs You. “Hello, Brad. Are you here with a date?”

“No. Business dinner.” He touched her shoulder again, and Kylie shifted in her seat to make his hand fall. He looked at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. “Something I’m sure we’ll have to do. . .often.”

Ryan leaned across the table. “Well, Brad.” His voice, laced with protection, sounded thick and strong. “We’ll let you get back to your business.”

Kylie gazed at Ryan. He’d always shown her nothing but respect. Even now he would allow nothing less from someone else. She looked back up at Brad. “Yes. I’ll see you later.”

Brad huffed and walked away without another word. Kylie smiled at Ryan. She couldn’t deny it. She was falling for him, even without a job. “You were telling me that you weren’t a drug dealer or a lottery winner or a—”

A shadow fell across Ryan’s eyes. He shook his head. “I was just going to say God always provides.”

“Yes, He does, but that still doesn’t tell me how you bought all these things. Did someone give you money for your birthday?”

“Please, just believe me when I tell you I’m not a criminal. My life is surrendered to God and His work.”

Kylie peered into Ryan’s eyes. She knew he spoke the truth, but it still didn’t make sense. And in her thinking, things had to make sense.


“I was going to tell her, God. It was right on the tip of my tongue when Brad Dickson interrupted us.” Ryan walked in his front door and slammed it shut. “The way he looked at Kylie. God, how can she even speak to him? He’s a snake.”

“What?” Gramps walked into the room. “You saw a snake?”

“Sure did,” Ryan growled under his breath then looked up at his grandfather. “No. There’re no snakes out there.”

“Good.” Gramps shuddered. “I hate them slithering
creatures.”

Ryan laughed when Brad’s face came to mind. “I’m not too fond of them, either.”

Thirteen

Kylie twirled her pencil as Professor Nickels passed out their graded exams. Though she’d studied for a solid day before, the test had been more difficult than she expected. Too much of her time over the last few weeks had been spent planning the Belize trip.

I know I did well on the essays. They were simple enough, but the multiple-choice section was killer, and it was worth half. Nickels passed by her the fourth time but still didn’t give her the test. She laid her pencil down and bit her lip. There can’t be that many left. He ambled toward her and finally laid her test facedown.

“I can handle a C,” she whispered to herself. “My grades are high enough that I could still pull off the B.” Closing her eyes, she turned the paper over. She peeked open one eye and shut it tight again. “No.”

Flipping her test facedown again, she gazed at the board where Professor Nickels wrote the results of the test: 3 As. 4 Bs. 12 Cs. 8 Ds. 3 Fs. “It’s not possible.”

She turned it back over and stared at the oversize, red F. “There has to be some mistake.” Skimming the first page, she hadn’t missed any of the multiple-choice questions. She turned the page, noting two questions she’d missed. The third page revealed one wrong answer. She flipped to the essay questions. In bright red, the words “Answer irrelevant to question” screamed at her. “Lacks supporting details” blared from the next essay.

“He’s failed me on my essays.” She scoured the questions and her answers to both. Digging through her folder, she found the notes she’d taken applying to both questions. “These are good answers. Solid.”

Through her peripheral vision, she saw fellow students leave their seats. Nickels must have dismissed class, but Kylie couldn’t move. She yanked her calculator from her purse and tallied her grades. An F on this test gave her a high C in the class. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t fair. Her answers were well thought out, well written. Nickels had some sort of vendetta against her that she didn’t understand.

A briefcase shut, drawing her attention. Nickels walked toward the door. I have to talk to him about this. She swallowed, dreading any kind of confrontation.

“Professor Nickels.” She stood and met him by the door. “Can I ask you about my test?”

“I wouldn’t be able to say if you can.”

Kylie sighed, feeling as if her second-grade teacher had just reprimanded her. “May I speak with you about my test?”

He nodded. “Yes, you may.”

“I don’t understand why my essay grades are so low.” She pulled out her notes. “My answers look very much like the notes I took from your presentation.”

“You didn’t explain yourself well. Look.” He pointed to his personal scribbling. “I told you, you lacked details.”

Kylie cleared her throat. She had no intention of being disrespectful, but something wasn’t right. He’d taken too many points away. “Professor Nickels, you gave me almost no points, and I identified each area with a minimum of a paragraph of explanation.”

“I can’t help it that you have poor writing skills. I could not make heads or tails of your support. Besides, essays are subjective.”

Kylie gawked at him. It was personal. There was nothing she could say to him, probably nothing she could do to get the grade she needed from this class, except go to administration. She wasn’t sure she had the desire to do that. “I’m sorry I took up your time.” Kylie headed out the door.

“I hear you have an offer from Miller Enterprises.”

Kylie turned on her heel. “Yes, I do.”

“That’s quite an accomplishment for a soon-to-be grad. Most new accountants start out working for a small business, doing some income tax work and whatnot. Miller handles several upstanding business accounts.”

“I agree. It’s my dream job.”

He lowered his head, peering at her from above his bifocals. “You’re not ready for that.”

Kylie straightened her shoulders. “I will work hard for them. Give my best.”

“Hard work is a good thing, but you don’t have what it takes, Kylie Andrews.”

Kylie stared at him. His disdain evident, she had no idea what caused it. “I hope your personal beliefs have nothing to do with my grade.”

He lifted his head and pushed his glasses up on his nose.

Kylie pivoted toward the door. “I’ll see you Monday, Professor Nickels.”


“I’ve never seen you two before. Are you new to the community?” Gramps asked the older woman and young, pregnant lady as Ryan placed canned beans in the cart.

“We’re not really from around here—a county over. My husband worked in the coal mines. He’s gotten sick with black lung. His disability will start in a month or so, but we need to take what the Good Lord provides until it starts.”

Ryan took in the woman’s salt-and-pepper hair. Her skin was wrinkled from age and what he suspected to be a hard life, but her eyes shone with laughter and happiness.

“I’m just here to help Mama.” The obviously pregnant younger woman smiled. Her light-colored, straight hair reminded Ryan of Kylie’s. Her eyes kind of did, as well.

“Well, we’re glad to help,” said Gramps. “How is your husband?”

“He’s doing well. Rests quite a bit but picks up his energy whenever the grandbabies come around.”

“How many grandbabies do you have?”

“We have four grandsons and three babies on the way. Amanda, here, is giving us twins.” She laughed and her face lit up. “I’m hoping for at least one granddaughter. I’m anxious to buy a dress or two.”

“Sounds like you have a wonderful family.” Gramps pushed the cart toward the refrigerated items.

“Oh yes, Jesus blessed us with eight children, and every one of them is serving Him.”

Ryan perked up. Eight children? And this pregnant lady looks a lot like Kylie.

The woman continued, “My third daughter is getting ready to graduate from the University of Evansville, then she’s heading on a missions trip in January.”

Gramps smiled. “My grandson is going to Belize in January.”

The woman peered up at Ryan. “Belize is where my girl is going.”

Ryan cleared his throat. “What did you say your name was, ma’am?”

“I’m Lorma Andrews. This is my daughter, Amanda.”

“Andrews?” Gramps smacked the counter and grinned. “Is your daughter Kylie?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s a small world after all. Ryan and I know Kylie. She’s been going to our church since she and her friend moved near Santa Claus. We’ve had dinner with her a few times. Ryan worked with her at Holiday World.” He looked at Ryan and winked. “Special girl, wouldn’t you say?”

“Are you Ryan Watkins?” asked Amanda.

A shot of excitement zipped through his veins. Kylie had talked to her family about him. “Yes.”

“You’re the Ryan my Kylie talked about?” Lorma Andrews poked Amanda’s arm. “What time is it, dear?”

“Eleven thirty.”

“Amanda and I brought some lunch for the trip over here. I’d love it if you two would join us.”

“We’ve got turkey and ham sandwiches, potato chips, and sliced veggies. Pickles and homemade chocolate cake, too,” Amanda added.

Gramps rubbed his stomach. “Sounds wonderful. We’ll be happy to join you, but our lunch doesn’t start until twelve.”

“That’ll be fine. Amanda and I will get it all set up on that picnic table I saw around back.”

Ryan carried the cooler to the table for Mrs. Andrews and Amanda to set up their lunch, then he busied himself with stocking the shelves and breaking down boxes. Half an hour seemed to never pass. He could hardly wait to learn more about Kylie’s family.

At twelve exactly, Ryan and Gramps headed out to the picnic table. Ryan filled his plate then bit into his sandwich. “This is wonderful.”

Gramps wiped his mouth. “Best lunch we’ve had in a while.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Andrews smiled then took a bite of her pickle.

Gramps elbowed Ryan then cleared his throat. “Ryan and I adore Kylie. Tell us about your family.”

“Well, my oldest is Sabrina. She’s married to our high-school principal. They have three sons. Next is Natalie. Husband’s a coal truck driver. They have a son and another on the way. Then there’s Kylie. Then Amanda here, whose husband works in the coal mines, too. I told you she’s having twins. Next is our first boy.”

She laughed. “Took us five times to get us a son; now I can’t seem to get any granddaughters. Anyway, Dalton’s next. He and Kylie love to argue. When they were little they’d wrestle around on the floor until something was broke or spilled.”

Her eyes glazed at the memories. “Then we have Gideon. He’s getting ready to go to Indiana University; wants to work in agriculture. Last, we have the twins, Cameron and Chloe. Chloe might as well have been a boy. She loves to run and tumble and fight with them. I guess that’s what happens when your sisters are all several years older and your brothers are about the same age. She was just selected to a special soccer team.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun.” Ryan raked his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t have any brothers or sisters.”

“God blessed us with a full home.” She patted Ryan’s hand. “Maybe He’ll give you a passel of kids of your own to raise someday.”

Ryan envisioned several stair-stepped, blond-haired girls and boys scampering around his front porch. Kylie sat in a rocking chair, cuddling another over her shoulder. His heart warmed. “Maybe.”

They continued to share until it was time for Gramps and Ryan to reopen God’s Pantry. Mrs. Andrews walked around the picnic table and wrapped Ryan in an embrace. “It was nice to meet you. I need you to do me a favor.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t tell Kylie we were here. She worries herself sick over her daddy and me. I try to tell her God always provides, but Kylie’s a fixer. She loves Jesus with all her heart, but she wants to take care of things.”

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