Page 111 of That Conflicted Feeling
“So,Polly,Ihave a question for you.Animportant question.Soimportant,Ihave some friends here to help me ask it.”
Righton cue,Carlyleads a line ofPolly’smost ardent supporters from behind the tractor.
Thecoffee twins, donut baker, andGeraldhave abandoned their stalls to join in.Also, there’sRitaWiggins, several ofPolly’sbeloved farmers, and, bringing up the rear,Mrs.Bentley.Someof them are carrying placards.Mrs.Bneeds both hands for her walker, but she has no trouble starting up the chant they came up with for me.
“One, two, three, four.MaxlovesPollymore and more.Five, six, seven, eight.Heknows you are his perfect mate.”
Theyget through it three times before lining up beside the hay cart.Mystomach crawls up my body, past my banging heart, and sits in my throat asCarlycounts to three and they flip their placards around to face the crowd.
Peopleat the front point and laugh.
Thatwasn’t whatIwas expecting.
Ilean forward to look around at the signs.
POLLYWILLMARRYYOUME?
Shit.
Isignal toGeraldandRitato switch places.Thelaughter changes to cheering and jumping up and down.
Butthe only thing that matters isPolly’sreaction.
Shestands like a statue with one hand over her mouth.Mystomach lurches.Thiscould go either way.
AbeamingGloriagrabs her other hand.
Mom,Dad, andConnorall throw their arms around her at the same time.Elliotreaches around and pats her on the back.
Thehuddle eventually parts to revealPolly—a huge, if shocked, smile on her beautiful face.ThankGodfor that.
Firstthings first, she hugs her mom, then helps her to sit down on the edge of a raised vegetable bed.
Thenthe applause builds again as she heads my way.Sheweaves and dodges through the crowd and jumps up onto the cart beside me.
Iput down the megaphone and drop to one knee in front of her and a whole town that loves her almost as much asIdo.
“Iknow the signs have already asked you, butIwant to ask you myself too.”Itake her hand as she looks down at me, a tear rolling down one cheek. “Polly, you unique, overall-wearing, goat-loving, old bus-driving, ridiculous woman.Ilove the way you fight for what you believe in.Ilove the way you stack produce in perfect pyramids.AndIlove the way you laugh so hard you can’t breathe.Youhave opened my eyes and my mind and my heart to a love and a lifeInever knewIhad in me.Andnow,Iwouldn’t know whoIam without you.Wouldyou promise you’ll spend the rest of your life with me?Willyou marry me?”
Shenods her head like crazy, andIthinkIjust about hear a tiny “yes” squeak out.That’sgood enough for me.
Ireach into my pocket and pull out a ring of braided grape vines thatRitamade for me and slide it ontoPolly’sfinger.
“Youcan have whatever real one you’d like.Butfor now,Iwanted you to have a perfect, tiny, fertility wreath.”
Thecrowd erupts into even more applause and cheers and whistles asIget up off my knee and scoop my wife-to-be in the air.
Shethrows her arms around my neck and whispers, “Imight be about to start humming.Butalso,Ilove you.”
* * *
Werejoin the crowd that’s now even happier than it was before.Morepeople have joined in, dancing to the brass band that is belting outWalkin’OnSunshine.
Thephotographer and news cameraman circle us as my dad raises his plastic cup ofGerald’snew blueberry and rose petal wine into the center of the ring formed by me,Polly, my parents, her mom,Elliot, andConnor, who definitely shouldn’t be having any more wine.
JustasDad’sabout to speak,Carlyappears out of nowhere, grabsPollyfrom behind, and bounces her up and down amid much squealing and hugging.
Elliotpushes his glasses up his nose as he turns to survey the crowd for the four-hundredth time since we arrived.
