Page 73 of Possibly Texas

I gave Auggie a nudge with my elbow and he turned to look where I was focused. We exchanged a glance, shrugged, and began to stroll down the street towards the post office. When we approached the post office, crossing the street to get a better look, it became clear that Sofia was taping a piece of paper to the front door. When she caught sight of us, she turned her head to give us a wide grin.

“There’s no way I’m opening on a holiday, but I just couldn’t wait until Monday to share it!” she exclaimed.

Auggie and I gave each other another look, and the same realization hit us. We both grinned and dashed to the front door to stand on either side of the postmaster. She took a step back to stand between us, admiring her handiwork.

On the front door of the post office, she’d taped up the latest letter to Shirlene.

“Got it day before yesterday, I reckon,” she said. “Been out for two days due to the holiday. But there it is. Another romantic proclamation. Makes the heart sing, doesn’t it?”

Auggie grinned mischievously at me behind Shirlene’s back and I had to stifle a chuckle.

As Sofia looked on proudly, her eyes swimming with stars, Auggie and I turned our heads to the front door. Together, we read the latest anonymous letter to the mysterious Shirlene.

I cry into the darkness: “Shirlene. Shirlene. Shirlene. Shirlene! I love you, Shirlene!” My heart will not know peace until I have you, Shirlene.

Reading the letter over and over, I had to smile, though I was becoming increasingly frustrated by the letters. I’d only been in Possibly for just under a month and I was already captivated by the mysterious notes that arrived at random, slipped into the slot at the post office. Who was sending them? Who was Shirlene? What was so special about Shirlene to garner such admiration and desire? Why were the letters so…PG? Did the sender not know how to spice things up from time to time?

Auggie sighed next to me.

“This person definitely loves Shirlene,” he said. “Maybe they’ll find her soon?”

I had nothing to add. The love was obvious. If a bit too chaste for my taste.

“A new letter arrived for Shirlene today,” I said to Jack. “It was pretty saucy, but, like, in a Christian Romance book kind of way.”

Jack glanced up from the table in the backyard to grin at me, then he was right back to work. I couldn’t understand why the man was in the backyard working on the table when he could be downtown getting free food and drinks.

“Sofia taped it up on the front door of the post office,” I continued. “If you want to go check it out, I mean.”

Jack shook his head without looking up, but I could see his smile under the shadow of his bent head. There wasn’t anyone in town who wasn’t at least mildly amused or interested in the letters to Shirlene. When I’d first seen them, on my second day in town, I wanted to be annoyed by such an open display of yearning. The letters had grown on me due to everyone’s enthusiasm. I was certain that when I met up with Auggie again downtown, I’d see a crowd outside the post office.

We’d both gone home to use the bathroom.

I’d offered to let Auggie use my bathroom at Jack’s house, but he declined. He murmured something about wanting to change shirts.

I didn’t say anything, but I saw the pit stains. I had a pair of my own.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, “it’s kind of silly. But…honestly…who sends those letters, you know?”

Since my first few days in Possibly, I’d developed theory after theory about the letters that were slipped into the post office slot at night and tacked up on the wall. It was possible Sofia was writing the letters. Maybe she wanted to add a little excitement to her job and give the town something to enjoy? Wyatt was always running around, shooting his gun. People had gotten used to him and mostly ignored him, even when he was firing off a round. He could easily slip by the post office and slide a letter into the slot. No one would pay him any mind.

Grandy—there was a guy no one talked about much. He sat off on his own down at the gas station and philosophized to himself all day. Maybe at night he was sneaking letters into the post office slot? The writing certainly fit that of a guy who waxed poetic about love.

Starbuck’s was just next door. He could have easily slid the notes through the slot on his way home at night after the post office was closed. Mystic Molly was sneaky and mysterious. It could have been her. The guy always jumping off the bridge and screaming to forget Emily could have been the culprit. Changing the name on the letters so that people didn’t know it was him was feasible.

Malia lurked around the graveyard. Maybe she used her hooded black-cloak to sneak by the post office at night. Samuel didn’t seem the type, nor did Earl Dean, Jasper, or Officer Hanning, but they seemed to have the time and opportunity as well. Auggie very well could have been the mysterious letter sender…but I had a feeling he would have chosen a different name for his intended.

The only person I hadn’t considered a suspect was Agnes Boudreaux. The sound of her rowing her wheelchair around downtown drew attention to her immediately. Sneaking by the post office at night would have been difficult for her. Unless she didn’t really break her leg and it was all a ruse.

Levi Lee even came to mind a time or two. Maybe he yanked on his green-screen suit—that filled out obscenely in places—and declared himself invisible so he could sneak by the post office. It was entirely possible it was him testing out new performance art.

Then again, it seemed to be that the letters had been arriving longer than Levi Lee had been trying to figure out his art.

Unless I wanted to spend a night hiding near Lovelorn Pass Bridge to watch for the letter sender, the mystery was hopeless. Then again, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the identity of the letter writer. Wasn’t life more fun with a little mystery?

“Are you going to come have barbecue?” I asked Jack. “They’re going to be serving anytime now. Free drinks are all over the place.”

Jack paused, which surprised me, and looked up at me. He seemed to be considering something. Then, almost so quickly I didn’t catch it, he brought his hand up and made a pinching motion with his index finger and middle finger against his thumb.