When Cicadas Cry Read online

  I start to turn but then stop. “And buddy...” My emotions are gettin’ the best of me; I try to swallow them down, so I can get this out.

  “Thanks for leading her to me.”

  A silent moment passes between us, and in the meantime, a renegade tear slides down my cheek. But this time, I don’t bother to wipe it away.

  “And don’t worry, big brother, I’ll make sure Jack takes care of your Kristen.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Ashley

  “May I have this dance, Miss Westcott?”

  He holds out his hand.

  I don’t say anything. I just lay my hand in his.

  “I could be mistaken,” he says, taking my hand and resting his other on the small of my back, “but I believe it was three years ago today that I shared this same dance with you.” I watch a wide smile slowly crawl across his beautiful face. “And this same song, too.”

  “You would not be mistaken,” I say, giving him a small nod.

  He draws me close to his body, and I gently rest my head on his chest, as we slowly sway back and forth to the music. I can feel his warmth. I can smell his crisp cologne; it reminds me that I’m home.

  “And if I remember right,” he goes on, “I believe we made our first rumor together here, too.”

  A smile forms without me telling it to. “I believe you’re right about that as well.”

  Then I feel him press a soft kiss into my hair, and I lift my head from his chest.

  “Would you like to confirm the rumors tonight, Miss Westcott?” He lowers his face to mine and whispers the words, his lips grazing my ear.

  Before I even have a chance to process his question, he pulls away from me and takes both of my hands in his. And in one, fluid motion, he bends down and touches one knee to the hardwood floor.

  I’m trying to wrap my head around this moment, but all I can see is his eyes. All I can see is him and the way he’s looking at me. It makes me feel as if we’re tethered together somehow, connected by some kind of imaginary line that runs between our hearts.

  “First off, I think you left this with me a little while ago,” he says.

  He holds out a rock in the shape of a heart—the same rock I found when we went mushroom hunting together so long ago. I start to reach for it, but he pulls it back.

  “It’s yours, yes,” he confirms. “But I’m hopin’ you meant to give it to me.” He shakes his head. “And I don’t intend on ever givin’ it back.”

  I just smile, while he stuffs the heart rock back into his pocket and pulls out a little black box. And I can feel my eyes grow wide as his next words come, honest and confident.

  “Secondly, Miss Westcott, I fell in love with you here. I knew it. Miss Betty over there knew it.” He eyes an older woman with gray hair in the corner, and I notice, for the first time, that the dancing has stopped and that every eye on or around this little hardwood floor is on us now. “Everybody saw it,” he goes on. “I never recovered from that day. I’ve never loved another soul like I love you. I’m yours, Ashley Westcott, and everyone knows it. And if you’ll have me, I’d love to continue makin’ rumors with you for the rest of my life.”

  I just stare into his eyes. And my mind goes back. It flashes back to a warm summer night and a boy I’d never met. In the memory, my eye catches his. I don’t look away. He asks me to dance. It’s only a dance. And he’s only a boy. But I’m lost. He holds out his hand. He doesn’t know he’s my rescue. I take it. And just like that, I rescue him back.

  The memory fades, and when I come to, I’m nodding. I nod even before there’s a question asked.

  He laughs and still asks the question anyway.

  “Will you marry me, Ashley Westcott?”

  I can’t stop smiling.

  “Yes,” I say. “Yes! Of course, yes.”

  He slides the ring onto my finger, and cheers erupt around us. Then he pulls me close and whispers in my ear the words I’ll never forget for as long as I have breath: “I’m happy I have the greater dance with you, Miss Westcott. And yes...you’re more than worth the scars those angels will someday see.”

  Epilogue

  Ashley

  One moment.

  One moment can shape our entire life.

  One moment; that’s all it takes.

  But the thing is, that’s not the whole story.

  The whole story is a little more complicated than that. For what really shapes our lives is more like a series of moments—one on top of the other. Like, it’s not just one sunrise that shapes us, but all the nights before it. Just like it’s not one cut to the heart that tears us apart, but all the memories that preceded it. It’s a look on top of a thought, on top of a word, on top of a smile. It’s a heart-pounding question, after a silent prayer. It’s a slow dance, in the midst of a storm. It’s a chance taken, even before you’re given it.

  It’s a strange weave of tears and sweat and laughter.

  It’s called life.

  It’s about love.

  And sometimes, it’s painful.

  But every time, it’s worth it.

  And the moments matter—the blissful and the painful.

  Every. Last. One.

  They are what make it worth it.

  The End

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There are so many people to thank, and so many more beyond who are mentioned specifically on these pages.

  First, I would like to thank God, my greatest inspiration, for giving me the opportunity to write for you.

  And thank you to my amazing editors and sources for all your time and contributions. Thank you especially to Donna, Calvin, Kathy, April, Sharon, Jon and Jesse. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Rem and Ashley’s story wouldn’t be what it is today without you.

  I would also like to thank YOU, for reading. I know there are so many books out there. Thank you for taking a chance on my small-town characters. Thank you for taking the ride with them—for pulling for them, for cheering them on. And thank you for cheering me on! I, alone, cannot give these characters a life like you can give them. I might give them breath, but you give them a voice. You make them heard. Their story lives on through you. And for that, I am forever grateful. Thank you!

  And a special thank you also goes to the amazing bloggers all over the world for their enthusiasm and loyal support and love of fairy tales. I know you don’t have to do what you do everyday. I know, often times, your reviews are squeezed into a full day. But know that we, as writers, are so grateful for your commitment to literature.

  I would also like to thank my family, including Jack, Aurora and Levi, who continues to be my biggest fans and greatest supporters. And thank you also to my friends and mentors, who are ever inspiring me.

  And lastly but definitely not least, I would like to thank my husband, Neville. Thank you for your constant encouragement from the very beginning of this whole, grand adventure. Honey, I love you! And I’m so happy I have the greater dance with you.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo by NM

  LAURA MILLER is the national bestselling author of the novels, Butterfly Weeds, My Butterfly, For All You Have Left, By Way of Accident and When Cicadas Cry. She grew up in eastern Missouri, graduated from the University of Missouri-Columbia and worked as a newspaper reporter prior to writing fiction. Laura currently lives in the Midwest with her husband. Visit her and learn more about her books at LauraMillerBooks.com.

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  OTHER BOOKS BY LAURA MILLER

  Butterfly Weeds

  My Butterfly

  For All You Have Left

  By Way of Accident

  “An incredible love story.”

  ~Justin’s Book Blog on Butterfly Weeds

  "THIS IS PURE ROMANCE AT ITS BEST."

  ~Kathy Reads Fiction on My Butterfly

  “UNPUTDOWNABLE!”

  ~Southern Belle Book Blog on For All You Have Left

  “Newcomers will have their faith in good lite
rature restored.”

  ~Books to Breathe on By Way of Accident

  “A MUST-READ!”

  ~Nancy’s Romance Reads on By Way of Accident

  “Completely and Utterly Beautiful.”

  ~Back Porch Romance Book Reviews on Butterfly Weeds

  “ONE OF MY FAVORITE LOVE STORIES EVER.”

  ~A Novel Review on For All You Have Left