Tumbleweed Weddings

by Donna Robinson

  “Okay.” Cheyenne opened a drawer. “We have flag stamps, forever stamps—”

  “Flags are good.” Murray pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

  Tonya didn’t wait for their transaction. Opening the box, she gazed at the jewelry case covered in black velvet and raised the hinged lid. A pendant necklace reposed on creamy silk. The chain disappeared underneath, but silver scrollwork held a blue stone.

  “Oh …” She breathed out a wondrous sigh as she lifted the necklace from the box. “This is beautiful.”

  Cheyenne handed Murray some change. “Let’s see it, girlfriend.”

  Tonya held it out for her inspection.

  “Tonya! This must be a real sapphire.” Cheyenne held it close to her face. “At least it looks real to me.”

  “Let me see it.” Murray took the necklace and studied it a moment. “Yep. Definitely real. Of course, you wouldn’t expect your boyfriend to give you some fake rhinestone.” He grinned as he handed it back.

  Normally Murray’s comment would aggravate her, but Tonya was too happy to be bothered by him today. “I want to wear this.” She took off her coat and laid it on the counter. Brushing her hair out of the way, she pulled the pendant up to her neck and tried to fasten the clasp in the back but couldn’t feel the hook. She turned her back to Murray. “Fasten this for me.”

  “Oh, uh, sure.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lay his stamps and a set of keys on the counter. Then she felt his fingers behind her neck. It took a little longer than she thought it should, but she stood still while he worked on it.

  “Okay, there you go.” Murray picked up his keys and stamps.

  “Thanks.” Tonya turned toward Cheyenne. “What do you think?”

  “Looks great.” Cheyenne leaned her chin in the palm of her hand and gave a wistful sigh. “I wish a certain someone would become my secret admirer.” Tonya shook her head. “I’m afraid my brother doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. He would never think of sending you cards and jewelry.” She sighed. “I sure wish I knew who sent me this. I can’t believe the money he’s spent. This sapphire must have cost him a bundle.”

  “Don’t forget postage. He’s going through stamps like crazy.”

  Murray pivoted and walked out the door. “Have a good day, ladies.”

  “Happy New Year, Murray.” Cheyenne stood up straight. “I’m glad tomorrow is New Year’s Day. I can sleep in.”

  “But the post office will be closed, and I won’t get any mail from my secret admirer.” Tonya fingered the necklace.

  Cheyenne reached under the counter and pulled out a small stack of envelopes. “You have mail today. Five letters.”

  “Wow.” Tonya smiled as she took them. “Would you believe he wrote a poem for me? He’s so sweet. I’m saving all the cards, and it’s quite a collection. I wish I could thank him.”

  Cheyenne grinned. “I have a feeling you’ll find out who he is—eventually.”

  Murray glanced at the clock above his desk. Nine o’clock on New Year’s Eve. Just enough time to write a few cards to Tonya before he had to go to work tonight. He sighed, not relishing all the arrests he’d probably have to make in the early morning hours or the drunken parties he might have to crash.

  He creased down the page of the library book and carefully copied the poem on a piece of notebook paper. He had selected “How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. It certainly had a better cadence than his poor attempts at poetry, and the subject matter seemed appropriate, even though he didn’t love Tonya.

  But … what if that happened? What if they fell in love?

  His lips curved into a smile as he thought back to her little squeal at the post office. He had waited for her daily visit, hanging out at Gilman’s Pharmacy across the street and then entering the post office after she did. Her reaction was more than he had hoped for. He couldn’t believe she asked him to hook the necklace clasp. Fastening a necklace was something husbands did for their wives, and it gave him a strange feeling.

  Her skin was so soft.

  Sitting back, he recalled the girls’ conversation about the amount of money he had spent. I guess I am spending a lot on her. But what else did he have to spend his salary on? Medicare paid for Mom’s nursing home bill, and the house had been paid off years ago. Actually, buying expensive gifts for Tonya was fun.

  Picking up the library book, he went back to “How Do I Love Thee.” When he finished, he folded the paper and placed it inside the card. Too bad the post office would be closed tomorrow. He read through the preprinted poem that started, “I thought of you today.” His eyes traveled to the words he had penned at the bottom of the card, and he smiled to himself.

  Tonya would be surprised.

  Chapter 8

  On Friday afternoon, January second, Tonya stared at Cheyenne as she stood in the post office. “Only one card?” Since the post office was closed yesterday, Tonya thought a dozen envelopes would be waiting for her today.

  Her friend shrugged. “Sorry. That’s it.”

  Tonya had decided to pick up her mail after work, and now several people queued behind her. She turned and left the building. Walking out into the chilly parking lot, she glanced across the street. Murray Twichell strode toward the Cattlemen’s Diner. He gave her a little salute before entering the restaurant.

  Tonya waved back. Murray was going to the diner for supper. When he wasn’t traveling through the state for the Wyoming highway patrol, he always ate there.

  She stopped beside her car. Hmmm … he travels a lot. Her eyes widened, but almost in the same second, she dismissed the thought. Her secret admirer couldn’t be Murray—of all people. He had never even liked her. Besides, he wrote in blocky printing. At least, that’s how he wrote her speeding ticket.

  She sighed. Precious memories, how they linger.

  Opening the car door, she laid the card on the passenger seat. She would savor it when she got home. But what if her secret admirer was tired of sending letters to her? Or perhaps he had lost interest, and this would be his last one.

  Or maybe he’s running out of money.

  Well, it was fun while it lasted. Starting the engine, she looked down at the lone envelope on the passenger’s seat.

  It couldn’t be the last one!

  Grabbing the envelope, she tore it open and pulled out the card. A piece of paper fell into her lap, and she unfolded it. Her eyes traveled across the poem in his perfect handwriting.

  How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

  I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

  My soul can reach….

  Tonya gave a wistful sigh as she read on. Her secret admirer loved her! He wasn’t ending their relationship.

  She looked at the front of the card—a Norman Rockwell reprint of a cozy couple. He’s so romantic. She read the poem on the inside and then read what he wrote at the bottom. Jerking upright, she gasped. “I can’t believe it!”

  Throwing the gears into DRIVE, she peeled out of the parking lot and roared down Main Street.

  “Mom, I’m home!” Tonya raced up the stairs and entered her bedroom. Her computer waited on the desk by the window. She paced the room while it booted up.

  Mom appeared at the doorway. “Tonya, what’s going on? I’ve never seen you in such a hurry.”

  “Read this.” Picking up the card, she pointed to his handwriting at the bottom.

  Mom’s dark blue eyes shifted from left to right over the words. “Oh, he gave you his e-mail address.”

  Tonya grinned. “Now I can write to him. And he calls himself Poetry Lover Guy. Isn’t that funny? His e-mail address is poetryloverguy@sweetmail.com.”

  She picked up the poem. “And look at this. He copied a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”

  Mom glanced at it. “ ‘How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways.’ That’s very famous.”

  “What’s really cool is that Elizabeth Barrett and Robe
rt Browning corresponded with each other, and when they finally met, Robert asked her to marry him.” Tonya plopped down on her desk chair. “I hope that happens with this guy and me.”

  “Now, Tonya …” Mom took a seat on the bed. “You need to be careful. It’s one thing to have a secret admirer, but quite another thing to correspond over the Internet with a stranger. A lot of young women have gotten into dangerous situations doing that very thing.”

  “I know.” Tonya eyed her mother. “I won’t do anything foolish. Do you think I’m going to run away and meet him somewhere by myself?”

  “I certainly hope not.”

  “Here’s the plan.” Tonya giggled, feeling a bubble of excitement. “I’m going to invite him over for dinner with the family. After all, he can’t keep his identity a secret forever. Then you can meet him at the same time and judge him for yourself.”

  Mom stood. “Please wait a couple weeks before you ask him for dinner. Let’s see what he says on the e-mail first.”

  Tonya gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, all right. I’ll wait.”

  “Good.” Mom started toward the door. “Supper will be ready in twenty minutes.”

  Tonya opened her e-mail program. “I’m going to write and thank him for all the cards he sent me.” She clicked on the NEW tab.

  “Don’t forget the roses, candy, and sapphire necklace.” Mom’s voice faded down the stairway.

  “How could I?” Tonya fingered the necklace she’d worn for the past two days. She paused to think before she began typing.

  Dear Poetry Lover Guy …

  The front door to Murray’s house squeaked open as he turned the key in the lock. Walking into the living room, he glanced at the computer sitting on the desk in the corner. It wouldn’t surprise him if Tonya had already written him.

  But he would wait.

  He trudged up the creaky wooden stairs to his bedroom. He had been on patrol for two straight days, since New Year’s Eve, and he wanted to get out of his uniform, take a shower, and don a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Amazingly, he had both Saturday and Sunday off. That seldom happened, and the thought of who might invite him over for Sunday dinner drifted through his mind.

  But right now he was tired. The New Year festivities had taken their toll while he helped keep law and order on the streets of Cheyenne. Tonight he would relax, microwave a bag of popcorn, and dig out one of Mom’s old romantic movies to watch.

  His thoughts jumped to Tonya. Sitting by a window at the Cattlemen’s Diner, he watched her tear out of the post office parking lot. It almost made him angry. But her irresponsible driving was most likely his fault. She had read his card and wanted to e-mail him. He shook his head. That girl was so impulsive, so unlike him in every way.

  Opposites attract.

  That’s what his mom always told him. Mom had been a quiet, demure Irish woman in her thirties when she met Anson Twichell—a loud, outgoing lawyer and the life of every party. Murray grinned, remembering how jolly Dad could be. He lived life to the full—until the day it was cut short by a heart attack. Murray had been fourteen.

  He wished for the millionth time his father was still living.

  Walking downstairs, Murray booted up the computer and clicked on his e-mail. Sure enough, an e-mail from Tonya Brandt waited for him. A spark of curiosity flew through him, and he leaned forward.

  Dear Poetry Lover Guy,

  Thank you so much for all the cards you’ve sent me, as well as the roses, candy, and the sapphire necklace. I wear the necklace every day—it’s beautiful, and I love it! The cards have been wonderful. I love receiving mail from you, and I’m so glad you gave me your e-mail address so I could write back and thank you.

  Who are you? Tell me all about yourself. Do I know you? Do you go to our church? Are you a resident of Fort Lob, or do you live in Lusk or Cheyenne? What do you do for a living? How old are you? Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and I really want to meet you.

  Please reply, and thanks again.

  Love ya, Tonya.

  Murray read the letter once more. She certainly asked a lot of questions—most of which he wouldn’t answer. As for meeting him, she would be waiting into eternity if he had his way.

  “I hope he wrote back.” On Saturday morning, Tonya tapped her fingernails on the desk, waiting for her e-mail to load. She didn’t have to work today. Saturday was usually the busiest day at the Beauty Spot, but Aggie had hired a new beautician, Connie, who would help handle the customers this weekend.

  Tonya had checked her e-mail several times last night, but there was nothing. Now as her inbox opened, a post from Poetry Lover Guy appeared.

  Her heart gave a leap, and she clicked it open.

  Hi Tonya,

  I’m glad you enjoyed all the letters and gifts I sent. It was fun to send them to someone so beautiful. But admiring you from a distance is one thing. I thought it would be better if we could correspond with each other. I want to get to know you.

  An arrow of fear pierced her heart. Could Mom be right? Was this a stranger with evil motives? Some Internet fiend?

  Tonya took a deep breath. Calm down, girl. After all, he couldn’t reach out of the monitor and grab her by the throat. She continued reading.

  I’ll answer some of your questions. Who am I? Well, let’s just say I’m a guy who likes poetry and old movies. Where do I live? Somewhere in Wyoming. How old am I? Hmm … between the ages of eighteen and eighty-eight.

  Tonya huffed out a breath. He wasn’t answering her questions at all! She read the next line.

  I watched Singing in the Rain last night. Great movie!

  Tonya’s irritation melted. That movie was one of her favorites, too.

  The rest of the letter talked about five other old movies he loved. Tonya grinned. She had seen them all and couldn’t wait to discuss them with him. At the bottom, he signed off.

  Your secret admirer,

  Poetry Lover Guy

  P.S. My friends call me “Poe” for short.

  Tonya laughed out loud. Poe? What kind of name was that? But she had to admit it was better than calling him Poetry Lover Guy or Mr. Guy.

  If only she knew his real name.

  The days flew by for Murray. Every evening an e-mail waited for him from Tonya, and every evening he replied—unless he had to work. Some nights he couldn’t get on a computer, especially when he was out in the boondocks in the middle of Wyoming.

  Tonya wrote lengthy letters, but it was all surface talk about her job, her family, her friends. He was not getting to know the real Tonya at all, which had been his objective.

  One Thursday evening, Murray grabbed a can of cola and settled in front of his computer. Since he was off work that day, he’d had plenty of time to think about their relationship. If he took a risk and revealed his heart, perhaps she would do the same.

  Dear Tonya,

  After three paragraphs of the usual chatter, he delved into exposing his heart.

  I live by myself in a big old house, and tonight I stood by the window for a half hour watching the snowflakes drift down. I’m an introspective person and ponder a lot about my life. Sometimes loneliness overwhelms me. I’m corresponding with you—I must admit—for my own sake as well as for yours. I look forward to reading your e-mails every evening. Reading about your life and sharing things about mine causes the loneliness to disappear.

  He read over the lines. Was he revealing his heart too much or not enough? He thought of his birthday coming up next Monday on January twenty-sixth. Would anyone remember it? Did anyone even know?

  Sure, his mom would remember, and he would visit her in the nursing home that day. But even though he loved his mom, a quiet visit with her wasn’t the way he wanted to celebrate his birthday. What he really wanted to do was to ask Tonya out—not as “Poe,” but as Murray. If only he could take her to a nice restaurant to celebrate, then he wouldn’t have to eat alone.

  Stifling a sigh, he continued typing.

  Thanks, Tony
a, for writing to me. You make my day with every letter. Ever yours, Poe.

  He hit the SEND button before he lost his nerve and deleted the whole thing.

  Sitting at the desk, he took a few moments to pray, which made him feel better. He wasn’t really alone. The Lord knew what was going on in his life, and He had a plan. Murray would just have to wait for it.

  He stood and stretched. Time for another old movie.

  Tears formed in Tonya’s eyes. Poe sounded so sad. In the back of her mind the thought niggled that perhaps this guy was a predator, trying to pluck at her heartstrings with his talk of loneliness. The next step would be for him to invite her to meet him in some dark alley.

  She grimaced.

  On the other hand, two could play this game. With a determined mindset, she began typing.

  A few minutes later, Mom entered the room. “Are you still at the computer, Tonya?”

  “I’m writing a letter to Poe.”

  “I figured that.” Mom stood behind Tonya as she continued typing. “What does LOL mean?”

  Tonya grinned. “You’re so computer illiterate, Mom. It’s an abbreviation that means ‘laughing out loud’ or, as some people say, ‘lots of laughs.’ You write it at the end of a sentence when you’re joking. Or you could write JK instead. That means ‘just kidding.’ ”

  “Oh.” Mom nodded. “Kind of like the old ‘ha!’ that Grandma writes in her letters.”

  “Exactly.” The keyboard buttons clicked as Tonya continued her sentence.

  Mom leaned over her. “What does BTW mean?”

  “By the way.” Tonya stopped typing. She had written her opening comments to Poe and wanted to say something more personal, but she didn’t want her mother to read it. “Do you mind, Mom? I can’t concentrate when you’re reading over my shoulder.”

  “I was on my way to bed.” Mom bent to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “It’s almost eleven, and you have to get up early for work tomorrow morning.”