Epilogue New Year’s Day
Epilogue
New Year’s Day
‘Promise me,’ I say as I look out over the lake.
‘I promise.’
‘You won’t take any crap.’
‘I won’t.’
‘And you’ll tell him you expect him to support your dreams from now on, if he wants to have a relationship with you.’
‘I think Mom’s already made that clear.’
Flynn’s parents are arriving tomorrow, for his grand opening on Saturday, of Oakwood Garden Dreams. Elaine booked their flights and told Flynn’s father that if he doesn’t show up for her and their son, she won’t be returning to Cricket Falls.
I peer into those cornflower blue eyes and tug the tuft of sandy blond hair peeking out from under his wool beanie. ‘But you’ll make it clear too? Promise.’
He cups the nape of my neck with his freezing cold hand, and I squeal, then he drops a kiss to my equally cold lips, and I already feel warmer.
‘Gracie, I told my father in no uncertain terms, last October, that I’m staying here in Oakwood to be with the woman I love.
And to open my own business in the place I love too.
’ He smiles softly. ‘You gave me that, Gracie. Watching you throw yourself into your festival, how passionate you are about this village, and your library. You made me remember how much I love being here, being part of this, with you.’ He leans in and presses his forehead to mine.
‘So yes, I promise, I’ll make sure my father understands how much this means to me. How much you mean to me.’
I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tight. ‘I can’t wait until your parents see the whole village come out to support you. Scott told Sarah the entire football team are coming.’
I also can’t wait for Flynn to see the garlands of acorns and oak leaves I’ve made with the knit and crochet group. We’re going to yarn-bomb his garden centre, and all along the main street, bright and early on Saturday morning, so it will be an Oakwood Forest wonderland when Flynn goes to open up.
He smiles as he watches a family of ducks climb out of the gently rippling water.
It’s too damp to sit on the ground, so we’re on our bench, with the grassy bank behind us, sloping down from our favourite giant oak tree.
And ahead, the water is clear silver-blue, dappled by sunlight streaming through bare winter branches.
And even on this frosty cold morning, the grass is bright green, and the promise of spring is everywhere.
‘I’m so proud of you. You know that, don’t you?’
‘I do. And I’m even prouder of you.’ He stands and takes my hand. ‘Are you ready?’
‘I am.’
I pick up my hand-tied dried flowers, green spray with white daisies, that we’re going to take to Dad’s grave.
I go with Mam once a week, and we’ve started to tell him our news, about Mam’s trip, my new, upgraded library, and about Flynn and Cal.
It feels good to share things out loud. And today, on the first day of this brand-new year, I want to bring Flynn.
I know Dad always liked him, and I think he’d be happy with the way things are turning out.
We head home to Hazel Cottage once we’ve said goodbye to Dad. I moved back in the morning after Halloween. Flynn and I had waited long enough to be together, and neither of us wanted to wait another day.
‘Do you think we should make costumes for the spring festival launch?’ I ask later as we tuck into warm pancakes topped with cinnamon and melted chocolate.
As soon as we took down our autumn garlands, I got a flash of how amazing the library would look festooned with snowdrops and daffodils and bright purple crocuses.
I waited a week before I mentioned it to the knit and crochet group.
They’d already started on Christmas wreaths, and I didn’t want to overwhelm them completely.
‘Sure, yeah, we have time. Are you thinking mid-March? Saint Patrick’s Day?’
I almost choke on my pancake. ‘Oh baby, you’ve been away far too long.
Spring in Ireland, especially in Oakwood, starts on Brigid’s Day.
It’s all about celebrating hope, and renewal, and the first stirrings of spring.
I’ll leave Saint Patrick’s Day to Finbarr, I’m way more excited about celebrating our Celtic goddess this year. ’
Flynn drops a kiss to the top of my head as he pours out my coffee. ‘I can get on board with that. Now that I have a Celtic goddess of my own to celebrate.’
The look he gives me is delicious and I lose my train of thought as I stare at his lips. He grins across at me because he knows exactly where my mind is heading. Then I remember . . .
‘Oh, and Ella and her aunt, Mia, have offered to organise a Valentine’s festival to follow Brigid. They’re opening a pop-up romance bookshop in February.’
‘Yeah, I heard. Over that new café Audrey’s planning.’
‘Yes.’ I clap my hands in delight. ‘It’s another sign that Oakwood is really taking off. We’re all about hope and renewal too, and we need new festivals to celebrate. Now, any ideas for a fabulous spring costume for me?’
Flynn chuckles as he reaches to wipe a smattering of cinnamon from my chin. ‘I don’t know about a spring costume, but we’ll definitely have to get you a messy pumpkin costume for Halloween next year.’
I scoop my teaspoon into the ramekin of chocolate sauce, and I’m about to take aim when Flynn’s phone pings with a message, and he holds it out for me to see. It’s a photo of his mam at Natalie’s wedding. That’s why she wanted to talk to Flynn, to ask if he’d mind if she invited Elaine.
‘Elaine looks lovely. And so does Natalie.’ I smile. ‘But I’m glad it wasn’t her you were pining for, after all.’
His eyes crinkle. ‘Nope. It was always the messy librarian.’ He grins. ‘The very messy librarian with the very filthy mouth.’
He licks a sliver of chocolate sauce from his lips and grabs the ramekin. ‘Come on, Goddess. We’re taking this upstairs.’ His eyes sweep down the line of my neck to my bare shoulder, in his oversized T-shirt that keeps falling to one side. ‘I have plans for this sauce.’
I don’t need to be asked twice. I make a dash for the stairs.
And later, when Flynn has licked all of that chocolate sauce from places I won’t begin to mention, I turn on my pillow, and run my fingers through his fringe, then down along the line of his jaw, and back to trace the smattering of freckles that I know now by heart.
‘I love you, Flynn Anderson,’ I tell him.
To me, he’s still that boy with the cornflower blue eyes that I fell in love with, lying on the warm grassy bank overlooking the lake.
And to Flynn, I’m still the girl he fell in love with the first day I smiled and said hello, or so he tells me, though I’m sure it must have taken a little longer than that.
But we’ve changed too. And grown, in good ways, I hope.
Flynn still leaves sweet, funny notes for me everywhere, on my pillow, pinned to the fridge, and in between the pages of the new planner he bought for me, because I do have a lot of plans, and so does he.
But we’re trying to say the important things out loud so nothing gets misplaced again.
He holds my face in his hands and presses his lips to mine, gently, softly, then he draws back and holds my gaze.
‘I love you too, Gracie Sullivan. And I will love you forever. Always.’