Tumbleweed Weddings

by Donna Robinson

  “Ice cream cones?”

  A blush spread over her face. “Much better than that, but please don’t throw a spoonful of tiramisu at my left lens.”

  He grinned. “If you recall, I don’t use that ploy anymore.” He reached across the table and snatched off her glasses.

  “Lane!” She covered her face with both hands and peeked at him through her fingers.

  He dropped her glasses in his shirt pocket. “Much better.” He gazed into her eyes, startled again by how pretty she was. I have to get her that laser eye surgery.

  She sighed as she dropped her hands back to the table, and he could tell she was trying not to smile. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Kiss me? “Uh, I don’t know … I’ll think of something.”

  Callie felt completely lost without her glasses. Everything was a blur, even her food.

  She swallowed a bite of her eggplant. “Could I ask you a personal question?” She glanced up and blinked a couple times, unsuccessfully trying to bring his face into focus.

  He gazed a moment at her eyes. “Anything.”

  Callie hesitated. The power of a woman’s eyelashes—one of her sister’s pet phrases. No wonder Tonya batted her eyes at every new guy she met. “Um, first of all, could I have my glasses back? I really can’t see anything.”

  “Oh.” He dipped into his pocket and pulled them out. “Sorry to tease you. Guess I’m just an insensitive cad.”

  She smiled as she took her glasses. “No, you’re not.” Noticing a smudge, she wiped the lenses with the hem of her dress.

  Lane leaned forward. “So, what’s the personal question?”

  “I was wondering about your job. What do you do for a living?” There, she asked him. His job status had bothered her since she’d met him. “When you first came to the library, Miss Penwell asked what you did, and you told her you were an insurance salesman.”

  He frowned. “I did?”

  “That’s what she told me.” Callie put her glasses back on, thankful Lane was in focus once again.

  He pushed a bite of lasagna around on his plate. “Oh, I remember now. I told her I was an agent.” He laid his fork down. “But an agent can be anything—a manager, an investment broker, a real estate person, an insurance man, a book agent, a spy… .” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll let you guess which one I am.”

  “You’re definitely a spy.”

  He threw back his head and laughed so loud that other diners turned to look at him. “Right you are, Callie.”

  “Oh sure.” She couldn’t help but smile. “But really, Lane, tell me about yourself. You know so much about me. I’ve told you about my family, my church, my job, and even my dreams, but I hardly know anything about you.” She touched his hand, which was resting on the table across from her own. “Tell me all about Lane Hutchins.”

  He shrugged, and his smile faded to a frown. “I have no family, no friends. I’m just a drifter, Callie.” He looked down, picked up her hand, and cradled it in both of his own. “When my parents died, my aunt and uncle raised me.” He looked up. “I’ve already told you that.”

  She nodded. “How did the accident happen?”

  “My dad owned a Cessna, a small airplane. He had a pilot’s license, and he was always jetting my mom around the country. They took a lot of vacations—without me.”

  Callie pictured the young couple, too busy with their own lives to take care of the little boy who needed them. She squeezed his hand. “That’s sad.”

  “It would have been, except for Aunt Betty and Uncle Herb. I stayed with them so often, they might as well have been my parents. When the plane crashed, I was actually excited I could live with them permanently.” He paused. “I’ve often wondered what would have happened to me if my parents had lived.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Uncle Herb, my mother’s brother, married Aunt Betty late in his life, so they were too old to have kids. But Aunt Betty was so motherly. She loved children, and whenever I was with her, I was her son.”

  Callie smiled, nodding for him to continue.

  “The most important thing was that she was a Christian, and she led Uncle Herb to the Lord before they married. Then, when I was nine years old, Uncle Herb led me to the Lord.”

  Relief flooded through her. “That’s wonderful!”

  Lane squeezed her hand. “I still remember him sitting on my bed that night. I was scared for some reason, scared to die. He told me about Jesus, who died in my place so I could go to heaven. And I believed.”

  “I’m so glad, Lane.” Callie bit her bottom lip, willing the tears not to come.

  “Me, too.” He gazed at her. “But if I had grown up with my parents, I doubt if I would be saved today.” He sighed. “Not that it’s made much of a difference lately.”

  Callie widened her eyes. “How can you say that? Being saved makes all the difference in the world. It’s going from death to life.”

  “I know.” He looked down at their hands. “I used to be on fire for God. Back in high school, I was the student leader of our youth group, and I led a prayer meeting after school. But when Aunt Betty got cancer, I started cooling off toward spiritual things.”

  It looked like he would say more, but he stopped.

  Callie spoke softly. “How old were you when she passed away?”

  “Nineteen. For thirteen years, she’d been my mom, and it really hurt when she died. Uncle Herb told me not to blame God, but God could have healed her, and He didn’t.” Lane paused. “I started drifting away from the Lord. At least that’s what Uncle Herb told me. And then, three years later, he died. Very suddenly.”

  “How did he—”

  “Heart attack.” Lane blew out a breath. “Like I told you, I’m all alone in the world, Callie.” A resentful tone crept into his voice. “You have your parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters—I have no one. And I’ve always asked, Why? Why did God take every single relative I had, leaving me to navigate through life alone?”

  Callie laid her other hand on top of his. “I wish I knew, Lane.”

  “At my uncle’s funeral, someone told me that God was trying to get my attention.” For a moment, he pressed his lips into a firm line. When he spoke, his voice was bitter. “Well, if that’s the way God is—if He has to kill all my loved ones to get my attention, I don’t want anything to do with a God like that.”

  She caught her breath. How can he believe that? At the same time, she prayed for God’s guidance in saying the right thing to help him. “Lane, the Lord doesn’t work that way. He has a plan and a purpose for each life. Evidently your aunt’s and uncle’s work on earth were finished, so He took them home. God didn’t cut their lives short just to punish you or to get your attention.”

  “Well, maybe not.” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.

  She clamped her hands on his to stop the motion. “The Lord has a reason for everything He does, Lane. The Bible says, ‘It is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure.’ He loves you, and He wants to guide your life.” She shook her head. “Whatever you do, don’t become bitter against God.”

  “Bitter.” Lane almost spat out the word. “I never thought about that before, but yeah, I guess I’m bitter at God.”

  The more Callie found out about Lane, the more she realized she didn’t know him at all. She withdrew her hands from his and slipped them in her lap. “I’ll pray for you, Lane. Only the Lord can heal your heart.”

  He gazed at her a moment. “You’re a good woman, Callie.” Sighing, he pushed his plate away. “I know I have a bad attitude. Sometimes I have such a longing to get over it and get right with God.”

  “Then get it right.” She leaned forward. “The Lord is waiting for you to come back to Him. He’ll welcome you with open arms.”

  “Like the prodigal son?”

  She nodded. “Yes, just like that.”

  He stared at his plate a moment before he loo
ked up at her. Finally he smiled. “How about if we order some of that tiramisu?”

  As Lane drove Callie home, he couldn’t get rid of the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. She had managed to churn up the bitter feelings he had buried in the deepest part of his heart. He ground his teeth together. This is not the time to think about my problems.

  He glanced at Callie. She sat on the passenger side, looking out at the rolling hills of Wyoming as they drove north on Highway 270. She’d been quiet on the way home, and he wanted to draw her out again. He loved to hear her talk. Somehow her smooth voice made him forget about the emptiness in his heart. And tonight, when he dropped her off at her front door …

  In the west, the sun lit the expansive sky in a spectacular array of reds and oranges, and the subject of the next article he wanted to write popped into his mind. “Give me your opinion, Callie.”

  She turned toward him. “My opinion on what?”

  He frowned, trying to strike a thoughtful pose. “What do you think about overpopulation in the world?”

  “Overpopulation?” She squinted at him like she thought he was crazy. “Where did that thought come from?”

  “I was looking out at all this barren land, these hills covered with nothing but sagebrush and scraggly grass. It got me thinking how some folks are screaming about overpopulation. They say the world is too crowded.”

  She laughed. “You don’t have to worry about that here. You could fit an entire third-world country in the state of Wyoming and still have room to spare.”

  “Hey, that’s good.” He grinned at her. “I’ll remember that. You know, I like these western states. They’re huge compared to the ones out East.”

  “Wyoming is the ninth-largest state in the Union, and it has the fewest people per square mile, except for Alaska.”

  “Why, thank you for that tidbit of information, Miss Librarian. Maybe I should pick your brain instead of doing research.”

  She blushed. “I’m really not a walking encyclopedia.”

  “Close enough.” He drove past the sign that read WELCOME TO FORT LOB; POPULATION 576. “Are there really more than five hundred people in Fort Lob?”

  Callie shook her head. “Not anymore. That sign is at least twenty years old.”

  “Why don’t they put up a new sign?”

  She shrugged. “The town council never saw the need. Most of the people on the council are old, retired men who grew up here, although every once in a while a woman will get elected.” She looked at him. “Miss Penwell served on the council for eight years.”

  “Really?” He smirked. “I can just imagine the arguments she sparked in their meetings.”

  “I don’t know about that, but the library thrived while she was sitting on the council. The mansion was in great shape, and we had plenty of new books. In fact, Miss Penwell bought a lot of the books in the Wyoming room. She even talked the council into getting that state-of-the-art computerized circulation system.”

  “You worked at the library then?”

  “I was in high school and worked during the summers with Cheyenne.” She grinned. “We had a lot of fun.”

  “Cheyenne seems to be a fun person.”

  Callie nodded. “She’s a rascal. And she’s not afraid of anything.”

  “Not even Miss Penwell?”

  “Nope. Cheyenne got us in trouble a few times while we were working at the library, and to be honest, Miss Penwell doesn’t like her. Of course, Miss Penwell has very few friends, but that’s the way she wants it, evidently.”

  “Is she dating anyone?”

  Callie looked at him. “Miss Penwell? She probably hasn’t had a date in fifty years.”

  “No, I meant Cheyenne.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you interested?”

  He laughed. “Would it make any difference to you?” He winked, letting her know he was teasing.

  A faint blush stole across her cheeks. “Actually, Cheyenne has been absolutely in love with my brother Derek since she was a senior in high school.”

  “Absolutely?”

  “Oh yes.” She sighed. “I wish Derek would marry her, but he’s never been interested in girls. He’s only dated five times in his life, with five different girls, and every time it’s been because one of his four sisters pushed a girl his way.”

  Lane threw back his head and laughed. “You’ll probably have to push him to the altar.”

  “We’ve been trying! But personally, I think he has a commitment phobia. He says he’s not getting married until he’s forty.”

  Lane couldn’t imagine waiting that long himself. Then again, the age of forty was only eleven years away. He might as well wait since he wanted to live in every state in the Union. On the other hand … he glanced at Callie. “When you meet the right girl, you’ll know.” Another piece of advice from Uncle Herb. And Callie seemed more right than any other girl he had ever met. But would she be willing to marry him and move every three months?

  Continuing their pleasant small talk, Lane drove through town and turned right on Antelope Road, driving the seven miles out to the Brandt sheep ranch. At THE ROCKING B archway, he drove down the long drive toward the house and pulled to a stop beside his motorcycle. They ascended the three porch steps together.

  Callie turned to him. “Thanks so much, Lane. I had a wonderful evening.”

  “So did I.” He faced her, standing close. When the moment was right, he planned to take her into his arms and kiss her.

  She placed her hand on his arm. “I hope you think about getting back into fellowship with God. Having the right relationship with the Lord is so important.”

  He raised his eyebrows. At the moment, thoughts about God were the furthest thing from his mind. “Uh, sure. I appreciate all your advice. Um, you know, Callie …” He moved closer, reached up, and touched her face—just as the front door burst open.

  “Callie!” Tonya stood framed in the doorway. “You’re finally home!”

  Startled, Lane took a step back. Callie folded her arms, looking perturbed.

  Tonya continued, a worried frown on her beautiful face. “Oh, Callie, you need to comfort Mom. Aunt Sara called, and Grandma took a fall.”

  Immediately Callie looked concerned. “What happened?”

  “They think she broke her hip. She’s in the hospital.” Tonya’s porcelain skin was pale. “Mom’s packing to leave right now.”

  “Tonight? But Casper’s a hundred miles away.” Callie glanced at Lane before looking back at Tonya. “Well, she can’t go by herself. I’ll go with her.”

  “No, Mom doesn’t want either of us to go since we both have to work tomorrow. Derek is going to drive her.” Tonya glanced at Lane for the first time. “Sorry to bother you two, but they’re leaving in the next few minutes.” She went back in the house, closing the door behind her.

  An awkward moment followed.

  Lane was struck again with Callie’s huge family and how they took care of each other. A seed of jealousy sprouted in his heart. “Sorry to hear about your grandmother. I hope she’s okay.”

  Callie nodded. “I need to talk to Mom.” She turned the door handle. “Would you like to come in?”

  This was certainly not the way he had envisioned the end of the evening. “Uh, I think I’d better be going.” He walked down the steps.

  “Lane, are you sure?” Her eyes widened behind her glasses. “I just want to see Mom off, and then we can talk out here on the porch.”

  He shook his head. “You need to be with your family. See you later, Callie. Thanks for a great evening.” He jogged to his motorcycle.

  His soul was in turmoil as he started the engine. He wished he were part of a big family like this one. Of course if he married Callie … He shook his head. She’d never marry him unless he got rid of his bitterness and got right with God. And he wasn’t ready to do that. At least, not yet.

  Making a U-turn, he glanced back at the house. Callie stood in the doorway. She waved. He waved back then fed
the cycle with gas and gunned down the driveway—away from Callie and back to his empty, lonely life.

  Chapter 10

  When Callie drove past the front of the library on Monday morning, she noticed Bruce MacKinnon and Vern Snyder talking outside with another man. The man wore a uniform with his name embroidered on his shirt pocket, but she couldn’t read it from her car. He pointed to a clipboard as he talked.

  He must not be from around here.

  Driving to the parking lot in the back, she spotted a white utility truck parked under the oak tree. On the side panel were painted the words WILSON AND JEFFRIES, BUILDING INSPECTIONS, DOUGLAS, WYOMING.

  A building inspector!

  Callie parked her car and entered the library through the back door. As she approached the checkout desk, the front door opened. Evidently, Bruce had unlocked the door for the building inspector early this morning. Now Bruce and Vern walked in, deep in conversation.

  Callie placed her purse under the counter. “What’s up?”

  Bruce glanced at her. “Good morning, Callie.”

  Vern nodded. “Howdy, Callie.”

  They moved into the conservatory, still talking in low tones.

  She followed them. “What’s going on? Why was a building inspector here?”

  The two men turned toward her, and Vern folded his arms. “He has just condemned the Henry Dorsey-Smythe mansion.”

  “Condemned!” She raised her eyebrows. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Vern, I’ll handle this.” Bruce cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it’s true, Callie. This old place needs to be torn down. It’s dangerous to the town’s citizens.”

  She sighed. “I knew this day was coming, but I was hoping for a few more years. So you’re going to demolish the mansion and build a new building in its place?”

  “Nope, no new building.” Vern smirked. “Fort Lob won’t have a library anymore. This place is going flat in two months, and that will be the end of Dorsey-Smythe.”

  Callie’s mouth dropped open.

  “Vern!” Bruce gave him a stern look before he turned to Callie. “The town council has already voted not to rebuild.”