Under the Wishing Tree (Oakwood Hollow #1)

3. Past

3

Past

Graham

“So that Mabel is quite the character,” I said as I followed Eden out of the cafe, my duffel bag still in tow. “I didn’t know you could say that many words in thirty minutes.”

“That woman knows everyone’s business,” Eden said, walking at a fast clip. She was shorter than me by about a foot, her head barely reaching my shoulder, but I had to lengthen my strides to keep up. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already told everyone in the cafe about you.”

“What’s with her boots?” I asked.

“Nobody knows.”

We passed—or rather, marched— through the square, but as brusque as she was, her greetings to people were unexpectedly warm.

The town square was still teeming with activity, more now than before. People were now decorating the gazebo with string lights and fall leaves, laying pumpkins and wooden buckets full of apples on its steps. Across the way, people were setting up alleys made of hay bales for pumpkin bowling. Another group was taping off lines on the grass for what I assumed was a sack race, while near them, wooden barrels were being filled with water for apple bobbing contests.

“You guys go all out for this festival.”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” Eden muttered.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“The end of this nightmare.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The woman really was a study in contrasts—her appearance said sweet , but her attitude was anything but. “So tell me something about yourself, Eden of Oakwood Hollow.”

She turned and crooked an eyebrow at me. “What do you want to know?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“How long have you worked at Someday ?”

“I started working there at sixteen, when it was still a diner. But last year, I bought it and turned it into a cafe.”

“What does the name mean?”

“I always dreamed of someday owning a business,” she said with a rueful smile. “And then, finally, someday happened.”

“Well, it’s a great cafe-slash-sweater store.”

She let out a short laugh, the sound unexpectedly light and airy. “I only put those on sale during the festival. I started making them the year my dad… anyway, people started buying them. Now some people travel from out of town just to buy my newest designs,” she said with no trace of pretense or boasting in her voice.

My eyes widened as I took a longer look at the knitted garment she wore. “You made them yourself?”

“Every single one.” She stopped and tugged at the hem of her sweater, giving me a better look. Then she held out her arm, showing me the knitting pattern on the sleeve. “I come up with all the designs myself.”

I took a step closer and inspected the sleeve, finding its design intricate and beautiful, just like its maker. “It’s like wearable art.”

“Thank you,” she said and I swear, I saw a little flush of color on her cheeks. There was a moment where our gazes locked, when she looked as if she might reveal something more of herself, but then she pulled her arm back and cleared her throat. “So, it’s this way.”

We made our way out of the town square, down a narrow leaf-littered lane that eventually turned into a wild tangle of overgrown grass and white and orange wildflowers. In the middle, a well worn dirt path led the way to the clearing, and, as I suspected, to the massive oak tree by the lake.

As we neared, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, its rays filtering through the leaves, bathing the tree in rich, golden light.

I stopped short, the breath rushing out of me. I’d come close to death a time or two and, in those moments, I’d often imagined what heaven might look like. And this, a majestic, gleaming tree in the heart of a meadow, felt as close as I’d ever come.

The woman beside me was not nearly as awestruck. Misunderstanding my silence for disappointment, she said, “Yeah, it’s just a tree. Later, they’ll line the path with little black lanterns and hang string lights on the lowest branches to make it seem more otherworldly. You know, give the tourists the magic they came for.”

The leaves crunched under my boots as we neared. As soon as we ducked under the canopy, it was as if we entered a different world, shafts of light piercing through the leaves, illuminating patches on the ground.

I stared up at its thick trunk and couldn’t help but wonder how many generations this tree had seen come and go, how many storms it had weathered, how many lives it had touched.

I let my bag slip off my shoulders and onto the ground and ventured closer, pressing my palm flat against the rough bark. It was surprisingly warm to the touch. “So, this is it…”

“Told you not to get your hopes up,” she said, standing a few feet away, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked almost uncomfortable, a stark contrast to the syrupy calm that had drifted over me and soaked into my bones.

“You’re really not a fan of this place?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Like I said, I think it’s a bunch of crap.”

“You’ve made wishes here before?”

She kicked at the leaves on the ground for a moment, weighing her words. “When I was ten, my father and I left Baltimore. He packed up the car and we drove through the night,” she began in a whisper. “I had no idea where we were going. All I remember was sitting in that dark car, Filipino songs playing on the radio, lights flashing on my legs as we passed streetlight after streetlight. It wasn’t until the sun finally started creeping up over the horizon that Dad pulled off the highway and drove into a road flanked by trees. And then we were here.”

I waited, hoping for more.

“I made my first wish the same day. Dad and I came to this tree, and we both asked for the same thing.” Her eyes flicked up to mine. “We wished for my mom to return.”

I swallowed, my throat tight. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up old pain.”

“It’s fine,” she said, her face reverting to its usual impassive expression. “It’s not like a tree can make a dead person come back to life.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her and wrapping her up in my arms. “I was supposed to be on the way to the airport today,” I said to change the subject. “But I jumped on a different train and somehow found myself here.”

Her eyebrows drew up in curiosity. “Where were you supposed to go?”

“I was supposed to fly to California, to report to Fort Irwin for training.”

“Training for what?”

“War.”

“Oh.” The word escaped her lips on a soft gasp.

Our gazes locked then, understanding passing between us. Dust motes floated in the air, shining golden as they passed through shafts of light. A gentle breeze caught her hair and sent strands of it drifting over her face.

“So… you decided not to go?” she asked.

“I’m still going. I made a commitment and I’m going to honor it. I just wanted to—” I stopped, not sure how to continue. I wasn’t sure I even had the words to express this feeling inside me, of this strange notion of inevitability. “I wanted to do a little more living before I go.”

Her forehead creased as she took in my words.

“I’ve been on two deployments and I’ve found myself in really dangerous situations, but not once did I feel like I would actually die. But this time it feels as if… as if maybe I’m not coming home.”

She said nothing; only continued to stare at me, her brown eyes glimmering with concern.

I blew out a breath. “I’ve never said that out loud before,” I said with a hollow laugh.

A wry smile played at the corners of her mouth before she turned and began walking away. “Come on,” she said, beckoning to me as she rounded the tree. I followed her, stepping over exposed roots covered in moss, past a small village of red-capped mushrooms, until we reached the other side of the tree, where the bottom of the trunk was split in two. A small, irregularly shaped arch formed an opening in the middle, revealing a cozy nook that seemed just big enough for a child. “You sit in there,” she said.

“I highly doubt I’d fit in that.”

“Everyone thinks that but, somehow, they all fit. Even Lil’ Denny.”

“I’m guessing Lil’ Denny is not so lil’?”

She chuckled. “Pretty sure he’s got some giant in his family tree.”

I studied the hollow again and figured I had nothing to lose. “All right. I’ll give it a shot.” Feeling less than dignified, I dropped to my knees and crawled closer. Then I turned around and scooted back into the hollow, surprised to find that I actually fit. The top of the arch ended right above my head, the edges snug around my sides as if the tree itself was embracing me.

“Told you you’d fit,” she said with a grin.

“Except…” I shifted and reached under me for whatever was poking me. A few seconds later, I held up an acorn between my fingers.

She chuckled and crouched down in front of me, moving closer until she was at my bent legs. “Now you close your eyes,” she said, setting her hands on my knees. “And, I guess, talk to the tree.”

“Think it’ll actually listen?” I asked with one eyebrow raised.

“I hope, for you, it does.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back, keenly aware of the warmth of her hands on my knees, of the smoothness of the inner wood at my back. The only sound I could hear was the soft rustling of leaves as they danced in the breeze. I took a deep breath, the crisp scent of damp earth and ripe apples filling my lungs.

My thoughts drifted to the path ahead, to the long, harrowing road I had no choice but to travel, not knowing where it would lead or where it would end.

And as I sat there, the acorn clutched in my hand, I made a wish.

I was alone when I finally opened my eyes. “Eden?” I said, getting to my feet. I found her a few moments later at the water’s edge, arms wrapped around herself as she watched the ducks playing on the lake.

I joined her, standing so close, our shoulders almost touched.

“Did you make your wish?” she asked after some time.

“Yeah.”

She leaned over and nudged me with her shoulder. “I hope it comes true.”

“Me too,” I said, my heart feeling more full than it ever had before, here in this unfamiliar place, with this woman I hadn’t known existed until a few hours ago. “Do you mind if, once in a while, I write to you?”

She turned to face me, her eyes bright. “I don’t mind.”

Just then, a duck landed nearby, startling Eden and making her stumble. I reached out to grab her and, in the commotion, we both lost our balance and toppled into the biting cold water.

I came sputtering to the surface, my boots slipping on the lake floor as I tried to find my footing.

Eden surfaced beside me, sweeping handfuls of wet hair away from her face, gasping and laughing at the same time. “Oh my God, it’s so cold!”

I reached over and plucked a blade of grass from her chin. My gaze caught on her mouth and, without realizing it, I pressed the pad of my thumb to her bottom lip.

I felt her gentle intake of breath. She swallowed, her throat moving with the motion, chest rising and falling. “Graham,” she whispered, her eyes searching mine.

I raised my eyebrows in silent question and she gave the smallest nod. Slowly, with breath held, I leaned in.

But just as our lips were about to touch, a shiver racked her body, making her lip quiver involuntarily.

I pulled back, exhaling slowly. “You’re freezing.”

She blinked, her breath shaky as she nodded. “Yeah.”

I took hold of her hand and helped her out of the water. “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up.”