Authors: Wanda E. Brunstetter
Sheila had decided a few days ago that she probably wasn’t going to hear from Dwaine again. It had been over a week since she’d received an e-mail from him.
“Maybe he’s given up on me because all I ever ask about is Grandma’s doll and I’ve never said how much I miss him.” She shut the computer down and pushed away from her desk. “It’s probably for the best. He needs to find someone who lives there in Casper, and I need to …” What did she need? Sheila headed for the kitchen. “I need to fix supper and get my mind off Dwaine and the doll he’s never going to find.”
She chuckled in spite of her melancholy mood. She was calling dinner “supper” now. She’d been converted to Casper, Wyoming’s way of saying things. Or was it Dwaine’s ways she’d been converted to? Had he gotten under her skin more than she realized—carved a place in her heart she could never forget?
Sheila spotted the black Bible with worn edges—the one Dwaine had found on Grandma’s old piano. Grandma had told Sheila it belonged to Grandpa and said she’d like for Sheila to have it. At the time, Sheila had thought Grandma was trying to make up for the missing doll, but now, as she stared at the cover, she was filled with a strong desire to read God’s Word. She’d forgotten to do devotions that morning and knew her day would have gone better if she had done them.
She sagged into a chair and breathed a prayer. “Lord, please speak to me through Your Word, and give me a sense of peace about the things that have been troubling me since I returned home.”
She opened the Bible to the book of 1 Timothy. Her gaze came to rest on chapter 6, verses 7 and 8.
“For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. “
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Father, forgive me for putting so much emphasis on worldly things. You’ve obviously decided I don’t need Grandma’s doll, and I’m realizing how wrong I’ve been for concentrating on a worldly possession. I should be more concerned about my relationship with You, as well as friends and family. Help me to care more, love more, and do more to further Your kingdom. Amen.”
The doorbell rang, and she jumped. “It’s probably the paperboy, wanting to be paid for this month’s subscription.”
She padded down the hall to the front door and peered through the peephole. No one was there. At least, she couldn’t see anyone.
Cautiously, Sheila opened the door. Nobody was on the porch, but a small cardboard box sat on the doormat. A yellow rose lay across the top of it.
She bent down and picked them both up.
“Sure hope you like roses.”
Sheila bolted upright at the sound of a deep male voice. A voice she recognized and had longed to hear. “Dwaine?”
He peeked around the corner of the house and grinned at her.
“Wh–what are you doing here?” she rasped. “Came to see you.”
“What about the rose and package? What are they for?”
He stepped onto the porch. “The rose is to say, ‘I’ve missed you,’ and what’s in the box is a gift from my heart.”
She looked at the package, at Dwaine, and back at the package again. “What’s in there?”
“Open it and find out.”
Sheila handed him the rose and lifted the lid. She gasped, and her eyes clouded with tears as a Bye-Lo baby came into view. The skin on her arms turned to gooseflesh. Could it possibly be Grandma’s old doll?
With trembling fingers and a galloping heart, Sheila raised the cotton nightgown. It was there—her name scrawled in black ink on the cloth stomach.
She clutched the Bye-Lo baby to her chest. “Oh Dwaine, where did you find her?”
“In Seattle. It’s an interesting story. Can I step inside out of this heat?” Dwaine wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
“Yes, of course. Come in and I’ll pour you some iced tea.”
When they were both seated at the kitchen table with glasses of cold tea, Sheila said, “Don’t keep me in suspense. Please tell me how all this came about.”
Dwaine set down his glass and grinned. “It was an answer to prayer.”
“Going to Seattle, finding the doll, or coming here?”
“All three.” He leaned closer and she shivered, even though she wasn’t cold.
His lips were inches from hers, and she could feel his warm breath against her face. Mustering all her willpower, Sheila leaned away. “H–how much do I owe you for the doll?”
“What?” Dwaine looked dazed.
“Bye-Lo. How much did she cost?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
He shook his head. “Let me explain.” “Please do.”
“Last week I was cleaning out an old desk I had found in the shed behind my shop, and I came across a notebook. One of the pages had the words ‘Doll Hospital—Seattle,’ written on it.”
“That’s all?”
“Yep. I had no idea what it meant, but it reminded me that I had a box of old dolls I wanted to take there.” Dwaine paused to take another sip of tea. “After spending Easter with my sister and her family in Seattle, I went to the doll hospital the following day.”
“That’s where you found my grandmother’s doll?”
He nodded. “As soon as I told the lady where I was from and that I was the new owner of The Older the Better Antique Shop, she lit right up. Said a Bye-Lo doll had been sent from the previous owner several months ago and that she’d never heard back from him.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t call the store.”
“She said she’d tried but was told the number had been disconnected. Turns out she’d been given a wrong number.” Dwaine set his glass back on the table. “Since she knew the number she’d called wasn’t in service, she assumed the business had closed.”
“So she kept the doll?”
“Right. She put in new eyes, since that’s what it had been sent there for, and placed the doll in her display cabinet. Said she didn’t want to sell the Bye-Lo in case the man who sent it ever tried to contact her.”
Sheila stared at the doll lying on the table. Its pale pink bisque face looked as sweet as it had when she was a child. “You didn’t have to buy it, then?”
“Nope. Just paid the woman the bill to fix the eyes.”
“But what about the amount my grandmother was paid by the previous owner of your shop?”
Dwaine shrugged. “Don’t know how much that was since I can’t find a receipt.”
“I’m sure Grandma knows what she sold it for.”
He shook his head. “I called and asked, but she said she forgot.”
“At least let me pay for the cost of the doll’s repairs and your plane ticket to bring it to me.” Sheila smiled. “You could have saved yourself the trouble and mailed it, you know.”
He squinted and shook his head. “And miss the chance to see you?”
She squirmed in her chair as his expression grew more intense.
“I’ve missed you, Sheila. Missed your laughing eyes, beautiful smile, and even your organizational skills.” He leaned closer. “I believe I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Her mouth went dry. “You—you have?”
He nodded and lifted her chin with his thumb. “I know we haven’t known each other very long, but when God brings a good thing into my life, I’d be a fool to ignore it.”
“I agree.”
His eyes twinkled. “You think I’m a good thing?”
“Oh yes,” she murmured. “God’s been showing me some important verses from His Word, and as happy as I am to have the precious Bye-Lo baby, I’m even more excited to see you.”
As Dwaine’s lips sought hers, Sheila felt like she was floating on a cloud. When the kiss ended, they both spoke at once.
“Does Fresno need another antique shop?”
“Does Casper need another chiropractor’s receptionist?”
They laughed.
“I could use a secretary. As you already know, my shop was a mess before you came along.” Dwaine took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “And I’ve been a mess since you left town.”
“Me, too.” Sheila smiled through her tears. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I’ve decided there’s really nothing keeping me here in Fresno. I know, too, that building a relationship with someone as wonderful as you is far more important than my job or the old doll I used to play with as a child.”
“You mean it?” He sounded hopeful, and his eyes searched her face. “What about your parents’ house? Would you sell this place if you moved to Casper?”
She shook her head. “Just a minor detail. The house can be put up for rent.”
His lips touched her forehead in a kiss as gentle as the flicker of butterfly wings. “I know it’s probably too soon for a marriage proposal, but if you move to Casper, we can work on that.”
She fingered the cloth body on the Bye-Lo baby. “And to think none of this would have happened if I hadn’t come to Wyoming in search of Grandma’s doll.”
MATCHMAKER
911
To my daughter-in-law, Jean,
whose first career was barbering.
Y
a know what?” croaked an aged, gravelly-sounding voice. “I was six months old before I even saw the light of day!”
In the past four years of cutting customers’ hair, Wendy Campbell had listened to more ridiculous jokes and boring stories than she cared to admit. Clyde Baxter sat in her antique barber’s chair, and she was quite certain she was about to hear another joke or two from him. Barbering was her chosen profession, and as long as it wasn’t an off-color joke, she would play along.
“Why’s that, Clyde?” Wendy prompted, knowing if she didn’t make some kind of response, the elderly man would probably tell her anyway.
“Well, darlin’, my mother, God rest her soul, was a bit nearsighted. So the poor woman kept on diaperin’ the wrong end!”
Wendy’s muffled groan did nothing to deter the amicable man, and with no further encouragement, he continued. “Now, I don’t want to say I was an ugly baby or anything, but I hear tell that the doctor who brought me into this ol’ world took one look at my homely mug and promptly made a citizen’s arrest on my daddy!” At this remark, Clyde roared with laughter.
Wendy grimaced. The joke was respectable enough, but thanks to Clyde’s interruptions by moving around each time he laughed, this haircut was taking much longer than it should. It was only ten o’clock, and she still had several more clients scheduled in the next two hours—including four-year-old Benny Jensen, the kid who hated haircuts and liked to kick and scream. That didn’t take into account any walk-ins who might happen by either.
Wendy could hardly wait for lunchtime when she could run home, grab a quick bite to eat, and check up on her father. At least
Dad
had sense enough not to tell a bunch of lame wisecracks and off-color stories. Wendy didn’t mind cutting hair, and now that Dad couldn’t work, she certainly needed the money. There were days like today though, when she wondered if a woman working in a predominately man’s world was really such a good idea.
“Why, I’ll never forget the day I graduated from grammar school,” Clyde continued, with a silly grin plastered on his seventy-year-old, weathered face. “I tell you, I was so nervous I could hardly shave!” The old man laughed so hard this time that his whole body shook, and he had tears running down his wrinkled cheeks.
Wendy rolled her eyes toward the plastered ceiling and feigned a smile. “You’d better quit laughing and hold still, Clyde. If you don’t, it might be your ear that comes off and not those sideburns you’ve finally decided to part with.”
Clyde slapped his knee and let out another loud guffaw, ending it on a definite pig snort. “Tell ya what, honey, you could probably take my ear clean off, and it wouldn’t make much never mind to me. I can only hear outa one ear anyways, and I ain’t rightly sure which one that is!”
Without making any reply, Wendy took a few more snips and followed them with a quick once-over on the back of Clyde’s stubbly neck with her clippers. She dusted him off with a soft-bristled brush and announced, “There you go, Clyde. That ought to hold you for at least another month.”
Wendy was already moving toward her antiquated cash register, which had to be manually opened by the use of a handle on one side. Due to the hour, she sincerely hoped her joke-telling client would take the hint and move on.
Clyde finally stood up and ambled slowly over to where she stood, smiling through clenched teeth and waiting impatiently for him to pay. “You sure ain’t much for fun today, are you, little lady?”
Before Wendy could think of an intelligent reply, Clyde added, “Nothin’ like your old man, that’s for sure. Why, good old Wayne used to tease like crazy all of the time. He could tell some jokes that just kept ya in stitches, too!”
Clyde appeared thoughtful, with a faraway look clouding his aging eyes. “I sure do miss that guy. It’s been two years now since he took a razor to my chin or shortened my ears a few inches with them clippers of his. Such a downright shame that your daddy can’t cut hair no more.”
Wendy nodded, causing her short, blond curls to bounce. “Dad’s been battling arthritis a long time. After two knee replacements and even having the joints in his fingers surgically repaired, I’m afraid the disease has finally gotten the best of him. He hardly gets out of the house anymore, unless it’s to go to the hospital for his regular physical therapy appointments. Once in a while, he still stops by here, if the weather is good enough and he’s not in too much pain. He likes to sit right there and reminisce.” She pointed with the tip of her scissors to her dad’s old barbering chair in the corner of her early American shop and swallowed the impulse to shed a few tears.
Clyde clicked his tongue noisily. “Wayne sure could cut hair.”
Wendy brushed some of Clyde’s prickly gray hair off the front of her blue cotton smock. “Yes, he was a great partner. Even when all Dad could do was sit and give me instructions, he taught me a whole lot that I never learned in barber’s school.”
The old man gave Wendy a quick wink. “Don’t get me wrong, little lady. I wasn’t tryin’ to say you can’t cut hair. For a little whip of a gal, you’re a real whiz at scissor snippin’.”
“Thanks—I think,” Wendy said with a grin as Clyde handed her eight dollars for his haircut. She pulled sharply on the handle of the cash register, dropped the bills inside, then snapped the drawer shut. Wendy moved toward the front door, assuming Clyde would follow.