Under the Wishing Tree (Oakwood Hollow #1)

6. Present

6

Present

Eden

I was alone for all of thirty minutes before the silence became unbearable. I tried to take a nap, but each time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Graham and me in my bed, making love and then, after, sleeping with his body wrapped around me.

I could still see clearly the moment we’d stood naked before each other, the absolute wonder of his body looming over me, broad-shouldered and muscular. He carried himself like a man who knew his strength but never felt the need to flaunt it, with a quiet confidence radiating from within.

He’d been so gentle when he’d undressed me, his fingers deliberate and slow as if he’d been relishing every moment. And when I stood before him completely naked, I’d felt no self-consciousness. In the past, I’d second-guessed my every move, but there was no doubt with Graham. For the first time in a long time, the noise had quieted in my head, leaving only the certainty that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Goosebumps broke out over my skin at the memory of his body covering mine, of the way he’d looked at me as he filled me, so possessive and full of reverence. It didn’t seem possible to have that kind of connection with someone I’d just met that day, but there was no mistaking the shift in my world, altering the gravity of everything I thought I knew.

I’d been alone for so long and then, all at once, I was not.

Tears stung my eyes as I took a deep breath in, hoping to catch any lingering scent of his cologne on my pillow, but I’d washed these sheets many times since that day and any trace of him was long gone.

Outside, I heard Joe’s dog start yapping, and then the little door of my mailbox squeaking. I used to run out every day to greet the mailman, but these days, the sound of his arrival was just another reminder that there was nothing for me from Graham.

“Stop it, Eden,” I muttered to myself, swiping my sleeve over my wet cheeks. Hadn’t I just promised myself that I would stop wallowing?

With renewed determination, I trudged down the hall to the knitting room, packed up the remaining finished sweaters into a box, and set off for town.

The festival wasn’t scheduled to start for another hour and a half, but the streets were already filled with cars and trucks, the stores around town already bustling with the influx of customers. Despite my resolve to move on, I still found myself glancing around, looking for a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes. Deep down, I wasn’t sure I would ever stop searching for Graham.

“Eden, you have a moment?” someone called out as I walked through square.

With the box of sweaters in my arms, I made my way over to Tom’s donut stand for the festival. His nickname around this time of year was Tom the Tinkerer because not only did he make amazing apple cider donuts, he also made it a point to tinker with his recipe, trying out different combinations every year. The new flavors were often a hit, save for that one year he incorporated spinach into the batter. It tasted fine but the green color had put off many a festival-goer.

“Hey, Tom, what do you need?” I asked, searching around for a place to set my box down, but every available surface of the booth was occupied by donut displays and large glass dispensers full of apple cider and mulled wine.

“Try this and tell me what you think,” he said and held out a donut so fresh, steam was still rising off it. When he saw my hands were in use, he held the donut closer, allowing me to take a bite.

“Wow, that’s really good,” I said after swallowing. “Let me guess, is it… peaches?”

He beamed. “Good palate! I added minced peaches.”

“I think it’ll be a hit.”

“You want the rest?”

I held up the bundle in my arms. “I do but…”

Tom set a napkin on the box and the donut on top of it. As soon I started off towards the cafe, I noticed Nellie making a beeline for me. She was the town librarian but also fancied herself a matchmaker, saying that the books she read predicted who to set up and when.

I lengthened my strides, trying to avoid the inevitable, but she caught up to me in three seconds flat.

“Eden, do you have a moment?”

I sagged my shoulders, pretending the box was heavier than it was. “I’m actually on my way to?—”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re coming to the festival tonight,” she interrupted.

To not roll my eyes until I could see the back of my head was a feat of monumental proportions. “I’m not sure yet,” I said, continuing to walk.

“I have a young man I wanted to introduce to you.”

“How young, Nellie?” I asked her with a pointed look.

Her eyebrows wrinkled. “He’s about your age. I think.”

I glanced around and, seeing no young men my age in the vicinity, decided to take a chance. “Well, I can meet him now.”

“Oh, he’s not here yet,” she said with a cheerful smile. “But he’ll be here tonight at the festival.”

I stopped at the sidewalk and looked left and right before crossing the street. You can’t be too careful now that the tourists had arrived. “Okay, sure,” I said and hurried off, jumping onto the steps of Someday and going inside.

Lucinda didn’t seem surprised to see me, but before she could say a word, I started for the back corner where the rolling rack of sweaters stood. “Just restocking,” I called over my shoulder.

I took my time, carefully unfolding each sweater and hanging them one by one, making sure I’d attached my little handmade label and a price tag to each one.

“Excuse me,” came a deep voice from behind me.

My breath hitched in my throat. I turned slowly, afraid to hope, but hoping anyway. But it wasn’t Graham.

Instead, I faced a man who looked to be in his forties, with warm, dark skin, and closely cropped black hair. He wore light grey slacks and a khaki trench coat, looking as if he belonged in the city rather than this small-town cafe.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

He studied me for a moment, his gaze steady. “Are you Eden?”

I flashed him a tight smile and nodded. “Yes.”

His eyes lit up then. “ The Eden?”

I let out a nervous laugh, glancing around us. “Do you know me?”

He let out a laugh as he loosened the belt of his coat. I averted my gaze just as he pulled his coat open. To my relief, he wasn’t naked underneath, but was wearing one of my designs from last year. “I’m a big fan,” he said with a wide grin.

“Oh, wow,” was all I could say. People had returned over the years to get my newest designs, but never before had anyone declared themselves a fan.

He gesticulated toward me animatedly. “I made a wish last year to meet you, and now here we are!”

Around us, customers were looking on in interest. It took everything in me not to run off to the back room.

He glanced over my shoulder toward the rack. “May I?”

“Sure.” I stepped aside in relief.

“I can’t believe I’m first to see your newest stock,” he said as he flipped through the hangers and, for his part, he seemed genuine in his appreciation of my work. Then he pulled out a sky blue sweater with a squeal. “Oh, this would be perfect for Paul. This color will make his eyes pop.”

“It does go well with blue eyes,” I said, realizing too late the touch of melancholy in my voice. I had made only one other sweater in that color, but I’d given it away to someone years ago.

“Do you have any others in pastel colors? Your last ones have been darker lately. Don’t get me wrong, they’re still gorgeous, but the lighter colors go best with my skin tone.”

“No, I’m sorry. I guess I’m in my dark yarn era.”

“We all have our dark eras,” he said, his smile kind and knowing. “But I hope one day you go back to light.”