Page 122 of The Lucky Heart (Jamison Valley 3)
It wasn’t unusual to make eye contact and say “hello” as you passed people on the sidewalk in Prescott, but this was beyond strange. It wasn’t just the passersby that looked. Everyone seemed to have eyes on me. Across the street, a man whispered something to his companion and then both men actually pointed. Inside one of the stores, two women had their heads poked out of the door’s window to stare.
What the hell?
Why were people talking about me? I looked down at my clothes and made sure I didn’t have a rip or stain on my shirt. There wasn’t anything on my butt or stuck to my shoe. No boogers were hanging from my nose.
That meant something was stirring up the gossip mill. Fucking fantastic. Just what I didn’t need. More gossip. What had I done now? Who had I pissed off?
My first guess was Elliot. He was part of Prescott’s Coffee Club, a group of old men that met every morning for coffee and gossip. Maybe since he was having trouble running me off the ranch, he’d decided to try and run me out of town instead.
“Here she comes.” Another whisper.
“Mom?” Maybe she’d heard the rumors and could give me a clue. When she didn’t stop, I called again and stepped closer to her side. “Mom, have you heard any rumors about me lately? People are looking at me funny.”
“Uh, no.” She avoided eye contact and walked even faster.
Not a good sign.
I followed behind her and felt my resting bitch face snap into place. If these people wanted to judge me based on a rumor, then at least I’d have some armor in place.
“Hold on one second,” Mom said when we reached a crosswalk.
“There’s no one coming.” I started to cross but she grabbed my arm and tugged me back onto the sidewalk. “Okay. What’s going on? You’re acting strange.”
I stood shocked when her arms wrapped around me for a hug.
“What—”
“He’s a good man and I’m so happy for you.”
“Huh?” Was this an early sign of dementia?
She pointed to the top of a building across the street. “Turn around and look up.”
I humored her. “Why am I staring at the top of the newspaper building?”
The sound of a plane’s engine buzzed in the distance. As it approached, its roaring engine echoed louder and louder off the buildings. At first, all I could see was its faint white outline, but as it neared, I recognized it as one of the smaller planes that farmers in the area used for crop dusting. It was flying low and slow, coming straight toward us, close enough I could see its propeller whirl and its red-tipped wings.
A block away from Main Street, it banked away, trailing a huge white banner hooked to its tail. In big, block, red letters were the words Marry me, Felicity.
I gasped and stared wide-eyed as the plane cruised by. People on the street started laughing and cheering, “Say yes!”
“Oh my god.” My hand flew to my mouth as I started laughing and crying at the same time.
He remembered.
The winter of my senior year in high school, Silas had taken me to Bozeman to tour the university. He had needed to go for specialty ranch supplies and volunteered to take me along so I wouldn’t have to brave the winter roads. We had just pulled into town and were navigating through traffic when he’d leaned over to point out my side window. Above us had been a small plane streaming along a marriage proposal.
“That’s the kind of proposal I want,” I’d told him. “Any man that asks you to marry him via sky banner has to love you more than life.”
He’d remembered.
With a full, full heart, I stood on the sidewalk, amazed. When the plane disappeared over Main Street, my eyes started scanning faces, searching the crowd for Silas.
Mom’s hand touched my shoulder. “He’s over there.”
I turned and followed her pointing finger. Silas was standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the direction from which we had just come. He must have been following us down the sidewalk.
His arms were crossed over his broad chest, showcasing his summer-tanned arms. His feet were planted wide, making his strong thighs bulge under his faded jeans. His mouth was set in a smug grin.
