Tumbleweed Weddings (29 page)

Pushing open the door, Tonya walked out into the chilly December weather. An inch of snow covered the ground. But even if the weather were warm, she wouldn’t walk the three blocks to the post office. She climbed into her red Hyundai and started the engine.

Maybe, after she read these eight letters, she could figure out this guy’s identity.

On Monday Murray sat in his SUV at police headquarters in Cheyenne, Wyoming. He’d been off duty for fifteen minutes, but he wanted to stay in the city to mail a few cards to Tonya. The clipboard rested on his steering wheel, and he tapped a pen thoughtfully against his lips.

He read over the words he had written on a piece of notebook paper.

In the winter of my discontent
,

Your beautiful face rivals the brilliance of the sun
,

The beauty of roses at their peak…
.

“Nah.” He crossed out some of the words and rewrote the poem.

In the winter of my discontent
,

Your face brightens my day like a multihued rainbow
,

Rivaling the brilliance of the sun
,

And the beauty of a rose garden at summer’s peak
.

He sat back and read over the revision. “That stinks.”

Crumpling the paper, he threw it with the other wadded papers on the passenger’s seat. “Okay, I’ll take one more stab at it.” He thought a few minutes before writing. Maybe he would send this one to Tonya.

He wrote carefully, making sure his penmanship was perfect. In seventh grade he had won an award for best handwriting in the entire school, and he had been proud of his ability—until a couple of ninth-grade boys laughed at him and called him a sissy. He never wrote in cursive again.

In the winter of my discontent
,

One look at your beautiful face
,

Like a beam of brilliant sunshine in a dark place
,

Lifts my countenance, warming my entire being
.

“Hmmm …” Was this any good? Well, no matter. He would send it anyway. After all, Tonya liked poetry. Tomorrow he would visit the library and check out some of the classics—some of the poets he loved himself. Maybe he’d copy something by Henry Longfellow or Lord Tennyson. He snapped his fingers as a name hit him.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning!
Perfect.

Now it was on to the jewelry store.

That week Tonya made a run to the post office every day during her lunch hour. And every day at least four letters from her secret admirer waited for her. But as she entered the post office on Wednesday, she frowned, chewing on her bottom lip. She wasn’t any closer to guessing who this man was than she had been on Christmas Day.

Tonya waited in line while Mrs. Hochstetler bought a book of stamps at the counter.

“I just don’t know which ones to buy.” Mrs. Hochstetler’s white hair quivered slightly as she looked over the selection of stamps that Cheyenne held in front of her. “I liked the Christmas stamps this year. I can’t believe it’s already New Year’s Eve. Another year begins tomorrow.”

“Time flies.” Cheyenne smiled. “Are you going to stay up until midnight to bring in the New Year?”

“Oh, I can’t stay awake that late.” Mrs. Hochstetler gave a little laugh. “I’ll be in bed at nine o’clock.”

While Cheyenne was busy helping the elderly woman decide which stamps to purchase, Murray Twichell walked through the door. A gun holster rested at the right hip of his uniform.

“Hi.” He nodded at Tonya, stopped at the row of post office boxes, and thrust a key in one of them.

Mrs. Hochstetler finally settled on the stamps. She toddled outside, wishing Cheyenne and Tonya a happy New Year. The door closed behind her.

“Tonya, guess what?” Cheyenne pulled a box from beneath the counter. “You have a package today.”

“A package!” Tonya almost squealed. Even though everyone in town knew about her secret admirer, she was glad no one else waited in line at the post office. Murray was the only other person in the building. “Is it from
him
?”

“I don’t know—there’s no return address.” Cheyenne laughed as she pushed a small priority mail box toward her. “But that’s his handwriting.” She pointed to Tonya’s name in perfect cursive on the label.

Tonya bit her lip as she opened it and pulled out a small black cardboard box. The words R
ED
M
ESA
J
EWELRY
Co. were embossed in gold letters on the top. She sucked in a breath. “He bought me jewelry.”

“Wow.” Cheyenne leaned forward, her arms folded on the counter. “I never heard of the Red Mesa Jewelry Company before.” She picked up the mailing box and looked at the postmark. “Fort Collins, Colorado. Your secret admirer sure likes to travel.”

“This is so exciting.” Tonya was about to lift the lid from the box when she felt someone beside her. She glanced to her right.

Murray peered at the jewelry box before meeting her eyes. “Sorry to interrupt, but it looks like you might be here awhile.” He spoke to Cheyenne. “I need to buy a book of stamps.”

“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.

O
n 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
.