Tumbleweed Weddings (30 page)

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 D
RIVE
, 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
[email protected]
.”

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 Robert 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 N
EW
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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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