Cedar Creek Seasons (23 page)

“That’s correct,” Eli whispered. “You’re not Claire.” He tossed down the pliers and slid the bracelet into the envelope then headed out the back door. A bicycle ride to the covered bridge wouldn’t take long.

Sunshine dappled the sidewalk as he rode through town, dodging tourists crossing the way. Flower-scented breezes cooled his cheeks. He nodded at people and laughed at a mother and son rapidly licking strawberry ice cream cones.

Tomorrow he’d busy himself, check out the exhibits, chat with friends and vendors. Today none of those activities interested him.

He rode past the bulk of the residential district and the fire department. The distractions of traffic and tourists slowed. He maneuvered across Highway 60 at Five Corners and kept to the narrow shoulder of the county road, climbing the steeper stretches with more effort than it had taken all those years ago.

More new construction. Big houses.
Wonder how much those cost. And who is going to mow that much lawn?

The old weathered bridge waited for him at the bottom of the hill. Silent now. Unused for its intended purpose, it no longer sheltered the county road as it had for more than a century but stood beside the new road. Eli nodded to it, a gesture of respect for its faithful service to the community then rolled down the gravel drive into the park.

A breeze lifted his hair. It was several degrees cooler in the shade. He propped his bike against one of the large boulders lining the small parking lot and strolled toward the water. Bypassing picnicking families and couples sneaking kisses, Eli walked along the creek edge, watching the slow pace of the water carry summer’s fluff and regret downstream.

He leaned against a weathered post and gazed into the crystal clear water as it eddied about rocks. He’d tossed a good number of those rocks in his youth. He launched a stick in the air and watched it sail downstream. A smile crossed his face. Sadie. The yellow Lab he’d given Claire loved to dash into the water after sticks.

Wonder if she kept Sadie when they left Cedarburg?
His thoughts lingered on the past for a moment, and he shook his head. He thrust his hands in his pockets and stirred the ground with the toe of his boot.

“Lord, I’ve got some making up to do, and I don’t know what to say.” He shifted his weight and stared at a passing cloud. “Give me the opportunity to talk to Claire.” He shoved upright and watched the water a few moments longer. Straightening his shoulders, he turned on his heel and headed back to town.

C
laire aimed the blow-dryer at the steam-covered mirror until a patch cleared. “Can’t believe Melissa talked me into this.” The Friday night Summer Sounds Concert in the Park did promise to be a fun evening of music. But Eli—

She closed her eyes and waved the dryer across the back of her head then impulsively wrapped her hair over her fingers into a flirty flip. She graduated from high school wearing a flip. Eli had loved the new hairdo and poked her senior picture sporting the new look onto the visor of his car.

But that had been oh, so many years ago. She folded the silver strands under to her usual bob and stared into the mirror. She pressed her lips into a thin line, her pulse throbbing in her throat. “Wonder where that picture went?” she whispered. Her eyes filled with tears. She swiped at them with a tissue and finished with her hair.

“Aunt Claire?” Melissa tapped on the bathroom door. “Are you done?”

Claire swung the door open. “Your turn.” The ceiling fan offered a welcome chill of air. “I’ll put on makeup at the table. Get a shower before your Brad shows up.” She smiled at her brother-in-law’s child, the closest thing to a daughter she had. Pulling her makeup case from the bed, she sat down at the table and propped up a gold mirror. The overhead light didn’t prove satisfactory, so she slid the curtain away from the window. The jewelry store banner flapped in the breeze. Tears pooled again. “This is his town, and you’ll see him whether you like it or not.” She glanced at the perky daisies.

She sighed then batted her eyes and applied foundation to her flushed cheeks.

Rising, she riffled through her suitcase. She pulled out a denim skirt and tossed it onto the bed. A bright blue blouse lay folded at the bottom. She snapped the blouse open—not too wrinkled. She stepped in front of the mirror and held it up. “Eli always liked blue.”

Eli?
She huffed and nearly choked on her breath. Why was she concerned about him? She pulled on the blouse and buttoned it, without looking at her reflection.

Melissa finished dressing quickly, obviously in a hurry to meet Brad. As soon as they stepped outside, the wind tossed Claire’s carefully coiffed hair. She gazed at the salmon-pink evening sky. Tourists strolled down the street, most looking spent from their day of shopping and exploring. Brad waited on the sidewalk and tucked Melissa’s hand into the crook of his arm. They crossed at the stoplight and meandered down Columbia. In front of them stood the huge Cedarburg Grist Mill and the unusual red-roofed pagoda store—a former service station—which sat near the entrance to lovely Cedar Creek Park.

People lounged on quilts, gathered with their lawn chairs in groups, and perched on picnic tables, chatting. Children climbed on the monkey bars and clambered over a red fire truck slide. Others ran in circles in a game of chase. A quartet played jazz on the stage, strains of a saxophone drifting across the park.

Claire neared the edge of the creek. White water bubbled over driftwood and around rocks. A family of ducks waddled across the streambed, Mama leading her ducklings. Tomorrow they’d be displaced with rubber duckies as children raced theirs downstream in the Cedarquacker 500 Duck Race.

When the music slowed, the gurgle of the water soothed Claire’s jitters. She found herself relaxing. After all, she wasn’t the only person who’d done dumb things as a teen. Her last dance in this park had been a catastrophe. Whoever brought a greased pig had spoiled all the romance of the evening. She laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Melissa tugged on her sleeve.

Claire shook her head. “Memories. Fun times.” She pointed at the ducks. “Look at those babies.” Anything to distract her niece from probing questions.

Brad flapped the small quilt from his shoulder. “Think I’ve found a place for us to sit.” He pointed to the lawn in front of the stage. “There, away from the playground.”

Trekking around people, the three made their way to a comfortable seating area. Brad dropped the quilt, and they settled on its edges. Claire purposefully turned away from the couple. They’d been kind to include her in their evening, but she remembered stolen moments in this very park. She sighed.

If only she hadn’t been so adamant—so unbending—hanging on to her father’s ideas rather than her own, how different life could’ve been.

“Good evening.”

Eli’s voice jolted her from her reverie. Claire’s eyes widened, and she gave a jerky nod.

He tapped his forehead in a mock salute. “Enjoy the music.” He pressed on through the crowd.

Disappointment enveloped Claire. Eli hadn’t stopped. She brushed grass from her skirt. Why should he?

Eli introduced the second band for the evening. One of his local favorites. His smile felt stiff as cardboard and the words stilted as he spoke. The sentiments were heartfelt, but at the moment his heart
felt … sad
. He’d seen her again, looking lovely in blue, and walked on by.

He sat beside the lead guitar’s wife at the edge of the crowd, arms clasped across his chest, wondering if Claire was watching him or the band.
Mueller, cut the ego trip. She moved on. Got married. They’d probably had a great life together
. She hadn’t even thanked him for the flowers.
Hmph
.

He propped one ankle over the other leg and jerked at a thread on the hem of his jeans. It cut into his finger. A distraction. He hadn’t gotten much accomplished today after he’d seen Claire. He sighed, the mellow music dredging up stashed memories.

Her face when he told her he might enlist. Her father’s indignation.

Eli blew out an exasperated breath. Mr. Wagner, a conscientious objector, led his daughter away from the high school graduation before he and Claire could talk. Before he could—

“Explain.” He shifted on the chair. Gus’s pregnant wife lifted a brow. “Oh, sorry, Roxie. Talking to myself.”

“Thought you might want to explain where your mind is, Eli.” She cocked her head, a gentle smile crossing her face. “Or should I say your heart?”

“Excuse me?”

“Aunt Marie told Mom you had a visitor in the shop today.”

Eli’s mouth turned down, and he shrugged. “Can’t keep anything a secret around here.”

Roxie giggled. “Nope. Not for long.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Is she here? I’d like to see the mystery woman who captured you so long ago.” She clutched her hands over her heart. “Sounds so romantic.”

Heat crept up Eli’s neck and ears. “You read too many novels, Rox. Real life’s nothing like that.” He planted both feet on the ground and propped his elbows on his knees. “Real life is working and helping others. Following where God leads.” He shoved to his feet. “And He didn’t lead me to Claire Wagner.”

Roxie’s eyes lit up, obviously tickled at his discomfort. “Claire.” She rubbed her swollen belly. “Maybe not yet, Eli.” She shook a finger at him. “Remember your words of encouragement when Gus and I separated?” She narrowed one eye and mimicked his baritone. “God’s not finished with you.”

Eli squirmed. The very words he’d used now came back to grab his core. “Want something to drink, Momma-to-be?”

“Thanks. A soda.” She fished for her purse. “Then we might continue this line of conversation.”

Eli waved her money away and approached a vendor selling sodas. He purchased two and asked a friend to deliver Roxie’s. That was a talk he’d just as soon skip.

The cold drink stung his throat, and his eyes watered. He gathered a napkin from the counter and swiped away tears. When his vision cleared, Melissa stood in front of him.

“Hello, Mr. Mueller.”

Eli’s chest constricted. Would he never escape reminders of Claire?

“Good evening.” Muscles worked in his jaw.

Melissa reached for her friend’s hand. “Brad and Aunt Claire and I are seated right over—” She pointed toward the stage.

“I saw your aunt earlier.” He sipped on his drink.

“Feel free to join us.” Melissa winked at him.

“Thank you.” His mouth quirked. “Maybe later. Hope you enjoy the concert.” He turned on one heel and walked toward the playground. Children hooted and scooted all over the place.

Children I’ll never have
. The morose thought caught him off guard. “Shake it off, Mueller.”

He watched a boy and girl swing, one after the other, across the monkey bars. His jaw tightened. He’d swung across monkey bars in pursuit of Claire one summer evening, a teenager acting silly. How she had laughed. Until—

A shrill scream split the air. The boy now lay on the ground, blood dripping from his hand. Eli pulled the napkin from his drink, tossed the cup into a trash bin, and sprinted toward him.

“It bit me,” the child cried. “Them monkey bars bit me.”

Eli scooped him into his arms, knelt, and compressed the cut with the damp napkin.

“Ty! What have you done?” A distraught mom gathered her child and cooed words of comfort. She flashed a smile at Eli. “Thank you.”

Eli nodded, adrenaline draining from his body. Claire’s finger had been sliced that summer night. He’d blotted the blood from her hand with his shirttail, and his mom had complained about the spot.

He pushed to his feet and mumbled good night. This Friday needed to end.

Now.

T
ug the covering tighter on the edge.” Claire fought the Saturday morning breeze to keep the white popup canopy upright. She secured the latch on the aluminum pole and brushed flyaway hair from her face. “Think that’ll hold it.” She grinned at her niece. Melissa’s freckled face glowed from exertion. “Craft shows provide more exercise than I thought.”

“You aren’t kidding.” Melissa knotted a scrunchie around her copper ponytail then looped a nylon rope through a grommet to attach her booth’s banner across the front of the canopy.

A sudden gust of wind blasted the lane and wrenched the banner from her hand.

“Ouch!” A skinny gentleman in plaid Bermuda shorts wrestled the sign from his head, arms waving in every direction.

Melissa tucked fabric under her arm, pulling it from his shoulders. Her eager efforts slid the rope from the grommet with enough force to jerk the canopy sideways.

Claire grabbed a corner pole. “Watch it!” The canopy wobbled and tipped over, enveloping the man.

Melissa dropped her banner and scrambled to free him. “Oh my. I’m so sorry.”

Red faced and batting at the wind, he emerged. She patted his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

The balding man grunted affirmatively and snorted his disgust. His Birkenstocks flapped against the asphalt as he stomped away.

Claire stifled a snort, but the look on the man’s face as he glared their direction brought it to the surface. She turned on her heel and burst out laughing.