Under the Wishing Tree (Oakwood Hollow #1)

7. Past

7

Past

Graham

I watched Eden sleep, finding it hard to believe that she could be real. Not for the first time, I wondered if I was snoozing somewhere—on the train perhaps—and this entire day was nothing but a dream. Because everything here in Oakwood Hollow, especially this woman in my arms, felt more like a figment of my imagination than reality, something I dreamed up to deal with my impending deployment.

I had always been a self-proclaimed bachelor but, deep down, I’d envied my buddies when I saw them with their families. On the day I was sworn in to the Army, I’d made a vow to defend the country with my life, but I had never had a personal reason for it. It was duty, plain and simple.

But today, laying here beside Eden, I knew something had shifted. After all those years of being on my own, maybe I’d finally found something—or someone—worth fighting for.

Eden stirred, her eyes blinking open. “Were you being creepy and watching me sleep?” she asked with a sleep-roughened voice.

“Maybe,” I said, unable to hold back a smile.

She rolled up onto my chest, pausing to thread her fingers through the hair there. I watched her, captivated and completely obsessed. My palms had a mind of their own, running along her body, admiring her curves.

“You’re wrong, you know,” she said with bright eyes.

“What about?”

The corner of her lips tugged up. “I think the nickname Over Easy fits you.”

I laughed and, in a burst of energy, flipped her over onto her back. “Ha. So does this make you the Easy in this scenario?” I asked above her.

“Still you,” she said with a giggle as she reached up and tickled me, her fingers dancing along my ribs. I squirmed, laughing along, until the sound of her stomach rumbling interrupted the moment, loud enough to make both of us pause.

“I guess I’m hungry,” she said with a sheepish smile, holding a hand to her belly.

“Well, come on.” I dropped a kiss on her nose. “Let me make you some of my famous grilled cheese sandwiches.”

We slipped back into our clothes and Eden led the way downstairs to her little kitchen, with its white cabinets and butcher block counters. Above the sink was a little window framed by flower-kissed curtains, little pots of flowers and herbs basking in the waning sunlight on the windowsill.

“You wait here,” I said, pulling out a chair at the little round table in the corner. Then I motioned to the white refrigerator. “May I?” When she nodded, I bent down and peered at the contents of her fridge, finding the ingredients I needed. I brought everything over to the counter and then looked in the pantry, having no trouble finding ingredients.

Eden watched me from the edge of the chair, like she was two seconds away from getting up and joining the fray. “You want some help? I can heat up some tomato soup?”

“Not used to people serving you, are you?”

Her eyes flickered in surprise. “I guess not,” she said with a soft laugh. She leaned back in the chair and watched as I slathered butter on several pieces of bread. “I haven’t had anyone take care of me for so long, I’d forgotten how it feels.”

Before too long, I had canned soup warming in a pot and sandwiches sizzling in a pan, the kitchen filling with the rich aroma of melting cheese.

“That smells amazing,” Eden said, watching me make a big show of flipping the sandwiches.

“Like I said, they’re famous.” I poured soup into two bowls, then slid the sandwiches onto plates, slicing each one diagonally to reveal the gooey center.

Eden went to the fridge and poured out apple cider into two pink beaded drinking glasses. We sat down at the little table and I watched as Eden picked up a triangle and took a bite with a loud crunch.

I leaned forward. “Well?”

She nodded as she swallowed, a small smile forming on her lips. “Okay, I admit—this is amazing.” Without missing a beat, she dipped the sandwich into the tomato soup then took another bite.

Pride warmed my insides, and I watched her take a few more bites before I took my first.

Between bites, we asked questions and shared stories, our words flowing effortlessly as we discovered a little more about each other. I learned she preferred her sandwiches slightly burned on the edges for extra crunch, and she learned that I had once made a can of ravioli explode from leaving it in the fire too long.

I found myself hanging on her every word, fascinated by the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the townspeople. And she listened intently, asking questions about my time in the service and the places I’d seen in the world.

“This cider is really good,” I said after taking another swig of the drink.

“It’s from my friend Maggie’s orchard.”

“The orchard right outside of town?”

“Yes. It’s called Whispering Grove.”

“This needs to be in every grocery store.”

“Maybe. But, then again, maybe not,” she said with a wry smile. “Then we’ll get more tourists coming to town.”

I cocked my head and studied her. “Were you always this crotchety?”

She paused a moment. “I don’t think so. I think it started the year a tourist parked their car in front of my driveway and I couldn’t get out. I had to chase them down all the way to the square to get them to move.”

I raised an eyebrow in amusement. “So that’s your villain origin story?”

Eden laughed. “It just might be.”

By the time we finished eating, the sun had started to set, casting long shadows in the room. I stretched, content, but then something tugged at the back of my mind. With a start, I glanced down at my watch. “You wouldn’t happen to know what time the last train leaves, would you?”

The relaxed smile slid off Eden’s face, like all the magic of the afternoon had just evaporated. “Hang on,” she said and went to the phone hanging on the wall, where she punched in a number. She waited, listening to a prerecorded message, before hanging up. “Six-thirty,” she said with a shuttered expression. She didn’t rejoin me at the table; instead she picked up the dirty dishes and brought them over to the sink, turning her back to me.

“Eden…”

“I guess I should check if your clothes are dry,” she said and rushed out of the room.

I cleaned up, washing the dishes and wiping down the table. When she still hadn’t returned, I stepped outside the back door and wandered over to the old tool shed. The wooden door creaked as I pushed it open, surprised to find it unlocked. Inside, the familiar scent of oil and wood shavings lingered in the air. After spotting the tools I needed, hanging neatly on a pegboard, I made my way back to the house and went in search of the hot water heater.

“There you are,” Eden said a few minutes later, finding me crouched down in the closet. “What are you doing?”

I finished tightening the last connection before standing up and wiping my hands on my pants. “Trying to see if I can fix your hot water heater,” I replied, glancing at the bundle of folded clothes in her arms. “Hopefully, I’ve fixed the screech.”

“You didn’t have to—” she started, but I was already heading into the half-bathroom across the hall. I reached into the shower stall and turned the faucet full blast, cranking it all the way to Hot. The pipes groaned for a second, and then… blissful silence.

Eden stood at the doorway, blinking in surprise. “You fixed it.”

“I just adjusted the valves,” I said with a shrug.

I turned off the faucet and gathered up her tools, slipping them back into the leather holster belt.

As I did, Eden’s voice cut through the silence. “That was my dad’s tool belt,” she said, her smile tinged with sadness.

I froze, glancing at the belt in my hands. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first.”

“No, it’s fine,” she blurted. “Dad would be happy knowing his tools are actually being used.” Her eyes softened as she gave the belt one last look before turning and heading into the bathroom. She set the bundle of clothes on the bathroom counter, then stepped back out, reaching for the tools. “Here. I can put that away while you get changed.”

My clothes were still warm from the dryer as I put them on. Even my boots, which had been sopping with lake water a few hours ago, were now completely dry. Among my clothes, I found a sky blue cable-knit sweater, like the kind Eden makes. I put it on, finding the fit so impeccable it seemed almost like it was made specifically for me.

I emerged from the bathroom and wandered through the house until I found Eden on the front porch, sitting on the swing with a faraway look on her face.

I took a seat beside her, reaching for her hand. “Thank you for the sweater.”

“It suits you. The color makes your eyes look even bluer,” she said, her gaze sweeping over me.

“Let me pay you for it,” I said. “I like to support local businesses.”

She shook her head. “It’s a gift.”

“In that case, thank you,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze.

We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, watching as tourists strolled down the street toward the town square, bundled up in their cozy sweaters and scarves. By now, both sides of the street were lined with vehicles and, it seemed, more were arriving.

I lifted my arm over her shoulders and gathered her into my side. “I kind of wish I could stay and go to that festival,” I said, unable to hide the regret from my voice.

“Me too,” she said, leaning her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry if I disrupted your day.”

“I’m not. You were the best part of it.”

“I was just looking for a hot cup of coffee…” I tilted her head up so she could look at me. “Instead, I found a hell of a lot more.”

She rose up and kissed me, her lips gentle and tinged with sadness. I could feel it too, the ache that came as we neared our goodbye. But as much as I wanted to stay, my brief escape from reality had reached its inevitable end. Duty called, as it always did.

“We should get you to the train station,” she whispered and got to her feet.

I grabbed her wrist and tugged her closer, gathering her between my legs. “Do you regret it? Meeting me?” I asked, looking up at her.

“Not one bit.” She lifted her hands to my face, fingers playing with the scruff on my jaw. Dark eyes flickered over my face, lingering on each detail. “It’s like you wandered into Oakwood Hollow for a reason.”

My heart knocked around in my chest as I nodded along. “I think it was to meet you.”

The sun had already dipped behind the mountains by the time we started toward the train station, the sky awash in soft twilight hues. Behind us, in the distance, the town square sparkled with colorful festival lights, and the faint hum of music and laughter floated on the breeze, a stark contrast to the quiet that had settled between Eden and me.

Eden walked beside me, her steps slower now. My duffel bag hung heavy on my shoulder, its weight a reminder of the long road ahead.

“You’re awfully quiet,” I said to break the silence.

Eden stopped to face me, her eyes shimmering in the fading light. “I’m just trying to hold it together,” she admitted, the words thick in her throat. She looked away for a moment to collect herself, before meeting my gaze again.

I swallowed hard, fighting back the pressure behind my eyes that was threatening to break through. “Come here,” I said, wrapping my arms around her and gathering her close, wishing like hell I never had to let go.

We stood there for a long moment, the soft rustle of the leaves in the breeze the only sound between us. When we finally pulled apart, her eyes were misty, but she quickly swiped at them. “We should go.”

We didn’t speak again until we reached the small train station, stopping a few feet from the edge of the platform. The train’s whistle blew, sharp and loud, as the train pulled into the station.

Without thinking, I grabbed her face and kissed her, the urgency of it catching us both by surprise. Her breath hitched against my lips, and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders as she kissed me back, like she was holding onto something she knew she couldn’t keep.

For one moment, time stopped—the train, the station, the passengers disembarking—and the world around us blurred. It was just us, tangled in our brief, desperate last seconds.

But the whistle blew again, a final warning.

I pulled back, resting my forehead against hers, trying to steady my breathing. “I’ll come back to you,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure which of us I was trying to convince.

Her eyes fluttered open, the tears she’d been holding back finally tipping over the edge of her lashes and dropping onto her cheeks. “I don’t know how to say goodbye,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I swiped my thumbs across her wet cheeks, flashing her a sad smile. “Then don’t. Just have faith that I’ll come back.”

“You better,” she said, giving my jacket one last tug.

“See you later, Eden.” I gave her one last kiss before I turned away, forcing my feet onto the nearest carriage. And as the train pulled away, I wondered if maybe I’d just said my final goodbye.