A ‘berry’ valentine mystery

I remember distinctly a classmate of mine in third or fourth grade calling me “nosy Rosy.”

I have no idea what I asked or did, but it doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always wanted to hear what people were talking about, read what I wasn’t supposed to and find out secrets. Nancy Drew books were my favorite.

As a reporter, I’m paid to be nosy.

My husband was a reporter for many years, too, and he’s also curious, although not as nosy as I am, probably.

He came in our house the day before Valentine’s Day with a few torn pieces of a Valentine’s Day card he’d found on the street.

We pieced it together on our kitchen table, excited to see what it said. (For some reason, I’m imagining the kid in A Christmas Story who locked himself in the bathroom to figure out the secret code that turned out to be “Be Sure to Drink Your Ovaltine.”)

The American Greetings card had a frog on the front of it, a little sparkle around the hearts.

We were missing a couple of pieces of the card, though. We could read on the front “My heart LE …,” which was already printed on the card. It was a frog, so it wasn’t a leap to figure out what that word was. On the inside, we could read the right half of the handwritten message:

about the

ies. I was looking

you consuming

calories so

them off.

We started trying to imagine different scenarios. Did someone want to hide the card, so she tore it up? Did she get mad? It must be a guy who wrote it, we figured. The handwriting, printed, looked a little more like a man’s, and as my husband said, a woman probably wouldn’t mention calories on a Valentine’s Day card.

As we drove down our street the next day, my husband spied a piece of trash that he thought looked like another piece of the card. He did a U-turn and went back. I got the piece out of the street. It was part of the card, but alas, only a piece of the back with the bar code. No words.

Later that beautiful, warm Valentine’s Day, we took our dog for a walk around the neighborhood. I saw my husband looking around. I said, “You’re looking for another piece of that card, aren’t you?” He was.

As we got close to home, he said, “Aha!” He picked up the final piece, and it had writing on it. “Don’t look at it, yet,” I told him.

He put it in his pocket, and when we got home, we hunched over the kitchen table and put together the pieces of the puzzle.

When we got it reassembled, someone had written: “Sorry about the strawberries. I was looking forward to you consuming all them calories so we can burn them off together.”

Well, well, well. Interesting. After that, I was sure a guy had written the message. It was signed with initials, which I won’t reveal to protect the innocent or embarrassed.

So then we tried to decipher the meaning. “Sorry about the strawberries.” Did someone forget to buy his girlfriend strawberries? Were they chocolate-covered? Did he eat them before he could give them to her? Did he drop them? Were they bad, so she couldn’t eat them? Is she allergic?”

It is a mystery. If anybody out there wants to claim being the giver or the receiver of this card, please email me. I’d love to know more.

Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.

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