by Erin Wright
“Thank you, everyone, for coming today,” the mayor said into the mic, the sound echoing through the large building via the sound system they’d paid stupidly good money to install. They had plans of playing music every Saturday during the open hours of the farmer’s market, and if they could swing it, even bring in some bands and hold a concert or two.
One major event at a time, Penny.
She focused on the mayor, only to realize that he was rambling on and on about how wonderful this new venue was…making it seem like he’d been an integral part every step of the way. She tried not to roll her eyes too hard. He was a typical politician – he didn’t want to be out in front in case an idea fell through, but once it was a clearly viable plan, he hurried to the front of the parade to make sure he received his due in helping bring it to fruition.
She glanced over at Troy, who had the same bemused smile on his face as he attempted to politely listen to the mayor claim most of the credit for this idea coming together.
Everyone here knows the truth.
She didn’t know if her telepathic powers were up to snuff or not, but just in case, she’d repeat that truthitude to him that night as they got into bed. Because everyone in Long Valley did know the truth – this was the brainchild of Troy Horvath, and the product of many hundreds of hours of volunteer labor from the community.
Finally, the mayor wound down his speech and received a light smattering of applause for his overblown bluster.
“And now, I present to you, Troy Horvath!” the mayor said, gesturing for Troy to take centerstage. Troy kept his hand wrapped around Penny’s as they walked over together, the applause and whistles of encouragement almost a wall of sound coming straight at them. Troy’s mental telepathy skills seemed to be working just fine, and he was currently screaming, “DON’T LEAVE ME UP HERE!” nice and loud, straight at her.
She squeezed his hand that had been burned by love. She wasn’t going anywhere.
The mayor handed the mic over to Troy and reluctantly stepped off the dais. Troy did his best to smile at the crowd even as he was handed a mic that he handled much like he would a live snake. She squeezed his hand again.
You’re gonna do great, babe. Just talk slow, think about what you’re gonna say, and you’ll make it through.
Just in case her mental telepathy powers weren’t up to conveying such complex ideas, she changed it to mentally chanting I love you, I love you, I love you over and over again. Even her pathetic powers would be able to transmit that much, right?
“Welcome to opening day of the Long Valley Business Co-op,” Troy rumbled into the microphone, and the crowd burst out into cheers again. Penny scanned the crowd, searching for her mom, finding her just a few feet back from the stage. She had burns all the way down the right side of her body and was now walking with a cane – a beautiful creation hand-carved by Iris Miller, of course – but as always, her spirit was unbreakable. When they caught gazes, her mom threw her a kiss and a wink.
“It’s been a long time coming,” Troy continued, once the cheers died down. “Every one of the founding members of the co-op helped make this happen. When I say your name, please wave so everyone can see you. Carmelita Juarez. Iris Miller. Ivy Bishop. Kylie Whitaker. Tennessee Garrett.” Each woman waved, their husbands cheering the loudest for their spouses. “And of course, my Penny Roth. I couldn’t have done this without her. Which is why—” he took a deep breath and stared into her eyes, “I would like to ask her to be my wife.”
The room as a whole gasped, sucking all of the air out, leaving none for Penny.
At least, that’s how it felt to her.
She stared at him as he dropped to one knee right there on the dais and pulled a ring box out, holding it up for her to see but she couldn’t see a damn thing from the tears filling her eyes.
“Yes!” she shouted, and threw herself at him. Sparky, clearly delighted with this new game, came bounding over and was licking their faces, barking happily in agreement.
The crowd was laughing and cheering but still, she knew Troy heard her when she whispered, “Always.”
Author’s Note, Part 2
This was an especially poignant book for me to write. As long-time readers of mine might recall based on other Author’s Notes, I tend to pick topics based on experiences that family members have gone through, and Burned by Love is no exception.
I have a nephew who is in his early 20s, who has been stuttering since he was a toddler. For the longest time, everyone just assumed that he’d grow out of it, since that’s a fairly common thing to happen. Unfortunately for my nephew, that wasn’t the way the cookie crumbled. In fact, by time he got into high school and went to a special speech therapy company that specializes in stutterers, the doctor who ran the clinic told my sister that my nephew’s case was the worst he’d ever seen in over twenty years of working with people who stutter. His stutter is much, much, much worse than Troy’s.
But if you look past the fact that there are only a couple dozen words that my nephew can say without stuttering (and sadly, no, his own name is not on that list) and focus on what he can do…well, that list is long.
He has an artistic ability that just shines when he’s on the computer (much like Penny); he has a wicked sense of humor; he is incredibly intelligent; and he is a terrific listener. (I bet you didn’t see that coming!
