Tumbleweed Weddings (32 page)

M
urray sat at the kitchen table on Monday morning and finished his breakfast—a bowl of toasted oats with a few raspberries thrown in. As he ate, he perused
The Scout
, Fort Lob’s newspaper.

It didn’t seem like his birthday, although on Friday he had received a card from his secret pal along with a devotional book. He wasn’t sure who his secret pal was, but the writing was definitely feminine.

He wished his mom were here to pamper him and bake him a cake, but after lunch he planned to visit her at the Pine River Nursing Home in Douglas. Maybe the nurses would sing “Happy Birthday.” At least they did last year.

The wall phone above the counter rang.

He lifted his eyes from the paper. Who could that be? The landline rang so seldom. After the second ring, he stood and grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey, Twitch!” Derek Brandt’s voice sounded in his ear. “We missed you at church yesterday.”

“I had to work all weekend, which really bummed me out. I hate missing church.”

“I figured that must be the culprit. Just wanted to tell you about the Single Servings Valentine’s party. Originally we planned it for February fourteenth, but as you know, my sister’s getting married on that day.”

Murray took a seat at the table. “Yeah, I have to go to Douglas and get fitted for my tux.”

“Me, too—unfortunately.” Derek laughed. “Anyway, the class decided to move the party up to February seventh, and we’re going to reveal the secret pals then. I hope you can come.”

Murray nodded. “I’ll see if I can get a couple hours off that day.”

“Are you off today?”

“Yeah.” Murray held in a sigh, thinking of the slow day ahead of him.

“Mom wanted me to invite you over for supper tonight—for your birthday.” Derek chuckled. “Happy birthday, Twitch!”

“Oh thanks! I’m surprised someone remembered.” His mood ratcheted up a notch.

“Mom’s a walking calendar—she remembers every birthday and anniversary of everyone we know.” Derek paused. “After supper Dad and I are planning to watch the playoff game from last night. Since we were in church, Dad recorded it. You’re welcome to stay and watch it with us if you want.”

“Sure, that would be great!” Murray glanced at the newspaper. “I already know who won, but I’ll watch it anyway.”

“Hey, don’t give it away!” Derek laughed. “Dad and I refuse to look at a paper or turn on the radio until we see the game on the DVR tonight.”

Murray chuckled. “Okay.” This would be a good birthday after all.

Tonya entered the den holding a plate of brownies. She stopped in the doorway to survey the three men watching the football game. Dad sat in the recliner, his feet up. Derek and Murray sat on either end of the couch, each holding a can of soda. All three had their eyes glued to the action on the big-screen TV. Memories of Reed Dickens—sitting in the exact spot Murray now occupied—filled her mind, and she was glad she wasn’t trying to impress anyone tonight.

“Here are the brownies.” She set the plate on the coffee table.

“Brownies?” Dad pulled a fake frown. “We just celebrated Murray’s birthday with cake and ice cream. How do you expect us to eat brownies?”

Tonya shrugged. “It’s a tradition. I always make brownies when you guys watch football.”

“I’ll eat one.” Derek snatched it off the plate. “I love these.”

Murray leaned forward and picked up a brownie. “Are these the same kind you made for the Christmas party?”

“Yep, my secret recipe with chocolate chunks and cream cheese.”

“These are fantastic! I wanted to take the last one at the party, but Aggie beat me to it.” Murray took a bite and chewed a moment. “You should call them Tonya’s Terrific Brownies.”

A warm feeling filled Tonya at his praise. “Well, you don’t have to worry about Aggie eating them up tonight.” She turned to the door. “Enjoy.”

“Hey!” Dad called after her. “Aren’t you going to watch the game with us?”

Tonya turned back. “I’m not really into football, Dad.”
And I don’t want to sit beside Murray
.

“Come on.” Murray moved over and patted the sofa cushion between him and Derek.

“Yeah, sis.” Derek motioned to her. “Come watch the game with us. The more the merrier.”

Tonya raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. She had nothing else to do and was soon settled between her brother and Murray.

This promised to be a boring evening.

“Did you see that, Twitch?” Derek pointed to the screen. “We did that exact same play one time against Northern.”

Murray laughed. “I was thinking the same thing. And remember that game we played against Pinedale? Fourteen to twenty with only a half minute left, and you threw me that Hail Mary right down the middle of the field.”

“Oh, that was a great game.” Derek’s shoulder brushed Tonya’s as he leaned forward. “You made the touchdown with fifteen seconds to spare, and then we got the extra point and beat ’em by one point.”

Tonya looked back and forth between the two men. “How do you guys remember all that? You played those games eight or nine years ago.”

“You were there, Tonya.” Murray’s close-set blue eyes met hers. “Don’t you remember? That was one of our biggest wins.”

She smirked. “I was a cheerleader, not a statistician.”

“I still remember the scores of all our games, especially during my senior year.” Murray raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you remember stuff from high school?”

“Well, I remember what I wore to the prom my senior year.” She thought back to the dark-blue sequined dress she had made herself. “And I loved my shoes.” Whatever happened to those strappy blue shoes?

Murray pointed to the screen. “Hey, watch that guy go. He’s fast!”

Tonya studied Murray’s hand until he dropped it back to his leg. She had never noticed his hands before—strong, masculine hands with just a hint of dark-red hair across the back, thick fingers, and clean, square nails.

The men discussed the game on TV before the talk turned once again to high school football.

“You were good, Murray.” Dad reached over and grabbed a brownie. “In fact, you were probably the best wide receiver the school ever had.”

“Well, I don’t know… .”

“MVP your senior year.” Derek glanced at him. “Don’t be so humble, Twitch.”

Humble?
Tonya rolled her eyes. The words
humble
and
Murray
did not belong in the same sentence.

“What about you?” Murray motioned toward Derek. “You were voted MVP the next year. That school never had such a good quarterback.”

Tonya looked straight ahead. “Let’s just pat each other on the back.”

“We are, Tonya.” Murray leaned into her shoulder and lowered his voice. “And we can’t forget the cheerleaders. Some of them were really pretty—especially that Brandt girl.”

She tried not to smile, but didn’t quite succeed. “Thanks.”

He grinned at her, flashing those straight white teeth. Then, leaning forward, he looked at the screen.

She took a moment to study his profile. His eyelashes seemed darker than they used to be—the same dark auburn as his hair—and she had never noticed how long they were. His nose didn’t look so big in profile, and his hair, which she had cut, was growing out nicely. A hint of beard showed beneath his cheeks, ending in a strong chin. Maybe he wasn’t as homely as she had always thought.

He turned and looked at her. “Something wrong?”

Caught staring!
Warmth crept up her neck, and she focused on the TV. “Nothing.”

Murray picked up another brownie. “Why are you keeping this recipe a secret? These are the best brownies I’ve ever tasted.”

She shrugged. He didn’t need to know her dream about publishing her own cookbook someday.

As a football player ran in for a touchdown, both Murray and Derek shot to their feet.

“Great play!” Derek high-fived Murray. “Now the Cardinals are in the lead.”

Murray resumed his seat. “According to the paper, that play was a turning point.”

“Don’t tell us!” Derek laughed.

As the men settled back on the sofa, Tonya stood. “I think I’ll see what Mom is doing.”

Derek swallowed a sip of soda. “Tell her to come in here and watch the game with us.”

“Huh!” Dad reached for another brownie. “Fat chance of that. Your mother thinks football is a waste of time.”

Like mother, like daughter
. Leaving the room, Tonya’s thoughts lingered on Murray. At least he hadn’t ignored her all evening as Reed Dickens had. Murray liked her brownies, and, she admitted, she enjoyed his company.

Passing the mirror hanging in the hallway, she stopped to study her reflection. Her dark hair still looked good, but her lipstick had faded and some of her eyelashes were sticking together. How did that happen?

But it didn’t matter. Tonya planned to talk to Mom and then go to bed—after she checked her e-mail. Inexplicably, she hadn’t heard from Poe all weekend. What if he had lost interest in her? That thought stopped her in her tracks, and she determined to write him every day until he replied.

As she made her way to the kitchen, she mused about Poe. Who was he? What did he look like? Murray’s profile came to her mind. From the side, his face was almost handsome. If only his eyes weren’t so close-set.

Murray booted up his computer. It was after midnight, but he didn’t have to report to police headquarters in Cheyenne until three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Tonya hadn’t returned after she left the den, but maybe she wrote him an e-mail.

Folding his hands behind his head, he sat back in his chair. He hadn’t enjoyed an evening like tonight in a long time. And on his birthday, too! He’d have to write a thank-you note to the Brandts, making sure to print, of course.

His mail popped up with three new letters, all from Tonya Brandt. He forgot that he hadn’t written her since Friday evening. And it never entered his mind to write this morning.

Clicking open the first letter, Murray skimmed through the first two pages—Tonya’s usual surface talk. On page three, she finally commented on his letter from Friday night.

Murray frowned. He couldn’t begin to fathom her predicament—good looks had never been his problem. But here was the real Tonya, revealing her heart, and he had no idea what to say.

His mind wandered back to the evening, sitting next to her on the sofa. He could understand why men would want to kiss her. When he had leaned toward her and gazed into her beautiful dark-blue eyes, kissing her was the first thought that popped into his mind.

But he wasn’t going to toy with her emotions. If he ever kissed Tonya, it would be because he loved her for who she was on the inside, and he would know that she loved him and wanted to kiss him back.

When I fall in love, it will be forever
.

The words of the old song ran through his mind, and he hummed a few lines before he expelled a long sigh. It would never be with Tonya.

S
itting at the kitchen table on Tuesday morning, Tonya carefully applied a coat of fuchsia rose to her fingernails. “If only I could grow them longer, but it’s hard to play the piano with long nails. They have a tendency to click on the keys.”

Mom looked up from the letter she penned to Grandma. “You have such pretty hands, honey.”

“Yeah, as long as I don’t have any warts.” Splaying her fingers, Tonya inspected them but didn’t see any telltale bumps.

The back door opened, and Derek walked in. “Here’s the mail.”

Mom stopped writing. “It came this early?” She glanced at the clock above the stove. “It’s only eight fifteen.”

“No, this is yesterday’s mail. I forgot to pick it up before supper last night since Twitch was here.” He set several envelopes and a magazine beside Mom, then threw an envelope toward Tonya. It landed near her nail polish bottle. “A letter for you, sis.”