Tumbleweed Weddings (39 page)

The back door opened. “I’ll get that information for you.” Dad strode through the kitchen and into the dining room. “Be right back.”

Tonya poured the eggs into the pan.

“Good morning, Tonya.”

At the baritone voice, she almost dropped the bowl. “Murray?” What was he doing here? She glanced around, and then, realizing she had on no makeup and her hair was a mess, she turned her back on him.

He walked up beside her, and she could feel his eyes on her profile. “Tonya? Are you all right?”

She turned her face away. “Don’t look at me! I look awful.”

“Awful? Why?”

Tonya tilted the pan. “I don’t have any makeup on.”

Murray reached out his hand and gently tugged her chin so she had to look at him. He met her eyes—those eyes that were devoid of any mascara or eyeliner. Then his gaze roamed her face a second before he let go. “You don’t look awful. Remember when I said you’re probably just as beautiful without any makeup?” He grinned. “I was right.”

Heat rose in her face, and it wasn’t from the stove. “Thanks, Murray.” Why did she feel so nervous around him this morning? Callie’s words came back to her.
“I’ve seen the way Murray looks at you. He’s interested romantically.”

That couldn’t be true, could it?

The back door opened, and Derek entered the kitchen. “Hey, Twitch! Want to eat breakfast with us?”

Tonya held her breath. She’d never survive if she had to sit across the table from Murray with her makeup-less face.
“Beauty is vain.”
The Bible verse entered her thoughts and pierced her soul. She bowed her head.
I’m sorry, Lord. Help me not to be vain
.

She turned her head slightly to peek at him. “There’s plenty of food here, Murray. You’re welcome to stay.”

He looked at his watch—the one she had given him at the Valentine’s party. “Thanks for the invite, but I have to drive down to Cheyenne this morning.”

Dad walked in from the dining room. “Here’s that information, Murray.” He handed him several sheets of paper. “Let me know what you think.”

“I’ll do that, Jake.” Murray took the papers and moved toward the door. “See you guys later. Bye, Tonya.”

“Uh, Twitch.” Derek followed Murray into the mudroom. “I’ll walk you to your car. I have a question for you.”

“Sure.”

The men’s voices faded as the back door closed. Tonya heaved out a sigh. Why did she care what he thought? Murray—of all people! It shouldn’t make one bit of difference. After all, Poe was the one for her.

Through the snow, Murray clomped beside Derek toward his SUV by the side of the house. Tonya’s face stayed in his mind, and what he said was true. She was just as beautiful sans makeup, although he had to admit—with makeup, she was a knockout.

He glanced at Derek. “So what’s your question, Brandt?”

“I’m just curious.” Derek stuck his hands in his pockets. “Are you interested in Tonya?”

Murray stopped in his tracks. “That’s your question?”

“Yeah.” Derek grinned as he stopped beside him. “Callie and I were talking the other day, and she thinks you’re interested in our little sister romantically. I just wondered if it was true.”

Murray looked up at the tall, dark-haired guy. He and Derek had been good friends since childhood, so why not spill his feelings? “Yeah, it’s true. But who wouldn’t be interested?
Tonya Brandt
is the definition of the word
beautiful.”
Murray’s breath formed a cloud in the cold air. “But she never pays any attention to me—not romantically. I’m not handsome enough.” He grimaced. “She’s Beauty, and I’m the Beast.”

Derek folded his arms. “Sometimes Tonya’s the beast. You should try living in the same house with her.”

Murray laughed. “I’d love to, but I doubt if she’d marry me.”

“Although, come to think of it …” Derek knit his brows together. “She seems to be changing for the better. Writing to that Poe guy has really affected her. Kind of strange, if you ask me.”

“That is strange.” Murray hid a smile as he turned toward his car. “Well, I guess time will tell, as the old saying goes.” He opened the driver’s door.

Derek took a step back. “I’ll keep this in prayer—about you and Tonya. Wouldn’t it be cool if we ended up as brothers-in-law?”

Wow
. Murray had forgotten they would be related if he married Derek’s sister. “That would be awesome, Brandt.”

“We’ll pray that way. Tonya could use a steady guy like you.” He lifted his hand in a wave before jogging back to the house. “See you later.”

Murray got in the car and started the engine. Now both Derek and Callie knew he wanted to marry Tonya. He had always wanted to belong to the Brandt family, but that didn’t matter so much anymore. What mattered now was whether Tonya—the woman he loved—would marry him.

At least no one had guessed that he was Poe.

Leaning over, he pushed the buttons on the CD player, hitting the S
ELECT
button until he came to number seventeen. He drove out to the end of the Brandts’ driveway before he pushed P
LAY
. The music of the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra filled the car, and he sang along.

“When I fall in love, it will be forever—or I’ll never fall in love… .”

O
n Thursday evening, Murray left George Whitmore’s house on Bighorn Avenue and trudged to his SUV, which was parked on the street. He had spent the past hour talking to George’s daughter, Sandra, about domestic violence and the type of things she could legally do to protect herself.

He ran a hand over his face.
Lord, I feel wrung out!

Gaining the sidewalk, he glanced down the street. The tall, thin spire of his church pointed toward the sky.
That’s what I need
.

Leaving his car, he strode toward the white clapboard building. The side door was unlocked, as usual. Pastor Reilly kept it open for the very reason Murray wanted to enter the sanctuary tonight—to have a quiet place to pray.

Walking through the back hallway, he entered the darkened auditorium from the pulpit area and ambled down the middle aisle. He knelt at the last pew on the piano side.

Father, I come before You tonight, lifting up Sandra and her family in prayer
.

After he prayed for the Whitmore situation, his prayers turned toward Tonya and himself. Why had he told Tonya he was falling in love with her? That was stupid, even though it was true. But her relationship with “Poe” would never go anywhere. What Murray really wanted with Tonya was a regular man/woman dating relationship. He wanted to marry her.

But would she accept him?

A noise at the front of the auditorium put his senses on alert. Before he could get off his knees, a light came on. Turning, he peeked over the pew in front of him.

Tonya stood at the piano, shuffling some music. The light illuminated her, causing her dark hair to shine as she took a seat on the bench. A few seconds later, the sound of the piano filled the auditorium.

Murray eased onto the pew and let the music flow over him.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way
,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say
,

It is well, it is well, with my soul
.

Closing his eyes, he felt God’s peace fill him. And suddenly he knew God’s will—he should pursue Tonya. He should ask her out, let her know he loved her. God was directing his path, just as Proverbs 3:6 stated.

Now if only he could convince Tonya.

Lord, I need some confirmation from her
. Even though he had peace about this decision, how did she feel about him?

The hymn ended, and she played another. As Murray watched her, he frowned. Tonya was weaving around on the bench just like she did on Sunday morning. Maybe it wasn’t all for show. Maybe it wasn’t from pride—unless she was practicing her weaving just as she practiced her playing. He grinned. Yep, that had to be it. Tonya was practicing her pride.

When she finished the song, he stood. It was time to make himself known.

Tonya lifted the damper pedal as the last chord faded away, and someone began clapping at the back of the auditorium. Startled, her hand flew to her throat, and she jumped to her feet. Walking toward her, a man emerged like a phantom from the shadows.

“Who’s there?” Her voice sounded squeaky.

“It’s just me, Tonya.” Murray came into the circle of light.

She breathed out her relief. “Oh Murray, you scared me.” She slid back to the bench as a prick of annoyance hit her. “What are you doing here?”

“Do you know how many times you’ve asked me that question?” He took a seat on the front row and looked up at her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Actually, I had a heavy burden on my heart, and I came in to pray.”

“Oh.” With a twinge of conscience, Tonya averted her eyes. Murray had just as much right to be here as she did, but here she was, judging him. Again.
Lord, forgive me
.

Suddenly she didn’t want him to leave. “Let me play a song for you.” She turned the pages of the hymn arrangement book. “I’m playing through this book you gave me, Murray. I love these arrangements.”

“Good.” Sitting back, he stretched his arms out on either side of the pew. “Uh, Tonya, I have a question.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “What is it?”

“Just wondering … why do you weave around on the bench when you play a piano solo? You never do that when you play for the congregation.”

She thought a moment. “Do you remember Janet Oliver, my piano teacher?”

“Sure. She and her husband moved to Kansas a few years ago, didn’t they?”

“Nebraska. Mrs. Oliver told me my piano playing should be visual as well as auditory. She was very outgoing, and she
really
moved around when she played the piano.” Tonya laughed. “She played according to her personality. So when I play a piano solo, I try to get into my music and be expressive. I don’t want to look like a stick with two hands.”

He smiled. “You would never look like that, Tonya.”

Her face warmed, and she creased the pages of her book. She’d better start playing before he said something romantic, although she was beginning to like his attention. “This hymn is called ‘To God Be the Glory.’ ”

She played the marchlike opening, trying not to think about Murray sitting on the pew. But after a few measures, all she could do was concentrate on the music—the running eighth notes in the bass, the chords an octave higher in the treble, the juxtaposition of soft and loud measures that climaxed in a crashing fortissimo chord.

Keeping her fingers on the keys on that last chord, she let the music die away. She lifted her hands and turned to Murray.

He leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees and his hands clasped. She gazed at his auburn hair, and her heart stirred. Murray was really a great guy.

He looked up. “That was beautiful, Tonya. You have a wonderful gift.”

“Thank you.”

He walked to the piano. “Reminds me of something Edna Beazer told me when I was seventeen years old.” His eyes met hers. “I sang a solo one Sunday morning, and afterward everyone said what a great job I did and what a good voice I had.” He gave a little laugh. “I believed them. I was so proud—and not in a good way. Then Mrs. Beazer said, ‘That’s a wonderful talent the Lord has given you.’ ” He paused, tapping his fingers on the piano case. “That really made me think. God had given me my talent, and He could easily take it away. It was a humbling lesson. Since then I’ve tried to use my talent for God’s glory, as the hymn says.”

His eyes held hers for a moment before Tonya looked down. She was often proud of her piano ability—and not in a good way. She was proud of her beauty, too. What if God took those gifts away from her?

Murray glanced at his watch. “Guess I’d better get going. It’s eight forty-five already.”

“Oh!” Tonya hopped up. Poe would be IMing at nine, and she didn’t want to miss him. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

Murray grinned. “Is it your bedtime?”

“Well, no.” She felt her face flush again. What was wrong with her? “I have something to do at nine.” She threw on her coat.