The Kiss Keeper

by Krista Sandor

  “Not so fast!” Leslie called, jerking off her sensible shoes, and running up behind her.

  Natalie grabbed the first branch and pulled herself up. “I don’t know why you’ve always hated me, Leslie.”

  “Oh, that’s simple,” Les bit back, working her way alongside. “Your everyone’s favorite and you’ve had it easy your entire life.”

  Natalie sprang to the next leafy limb. “Had it easy? Where would you get that?”

  “For starters,” Leslie replied, grasping the next branch over. “You’re grandma and grandpa’s favorite.”

  Natalie batted at a cluster of gnats. “That’s not true.”

  “And, you’re an artist like Grandma. Growing up, they always doted on you,” Leslie threw back, battling her own gnat battalion.

  Natalie turned to tell off her cousin and was met with a mouthful of leaves. She spit and pushed the rogue limb out of the way. “I was the youngest! Didn’t you know I wanted to be with you and the big kids?”

  Leslie broke a nail and cursed, then edged her way closer. “Well, I never got to think of just myself. I always had to make sure Lara was okay. Do you know how hard it was getting her ass through podiatry school? For Christ’s sake, when we were teenagers and our high school did a fundraiser to help raise funds for endangered whales, Lara asked me what I thought the whales would like to spend the money on?”

  Breathing hard, their faces inches apart with bark in their hair and smudges of dirt on their cheeks, the women stilled and stared at one another. Another standoff, but Natalie cracked first, unable to hold back a full-belly laugh.

  “You’re kidding,” she said, gasping for breath.

  Leslie shook her head. Then something extraordinary happened. Her cousin’s resting bitch face—well, always bitch face—disappeared. A genuine smile replaced her usual scowl as tears of laughter streamed down her cheeks.

  “Oh, that’s not even the half of it. Lara won’t drink Mountain Dew because she truly believes it’s made from dew harvested from a mountain top. And she thinks it’s yellow because animals have peed on it.” Les shook her head, still laughing. “She’s truly the dumbest smart person I’ve ever met.”

  Natalie raised her finger. “Wait, get this! When we were kids and went into town to get licorice, she told me not to eat the black pieces because she was totally convinced that they’d fallen on the candy factory floor,” Natalie said as she and her cousin broke into another fit of laughter.

  “I always wondered what the hell she was doing when I’d catch her washing licorice in the sink!” Leslie replied through a bout of giggles.

  After a moment, they quieted, and Leslie scooched over to share the branch with her.

  “I never hated you, Nat. Truthfully, I’ve always been jealous of you. You’re the pretty one. The artistic one. You were free to explore your passion and become an artist. You walk into a room, and everyone lights up.”

  Natalie’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “How can you be jealous of me? Leslie, you’re a doctor. You’ve always been the one in charge who had it together. If anything, I wished I could be more like you.” She stared down at their dangling bare feet and remembered the time growing up before Leslie started teasing her. A time when they’d climb trees together and stare down from their leafy perch. She tapped Leslie’s foot with hers just like they used to do when they were younger. “Is everything okay with Leo? You guys seem a little tense.”

  Leslie released a slow breath. “Wondering how we couldn’t account four hundred thousand dollars can do that to a marriage.”

  “Are you guys going to be all right?” Nat asked.

  Leslie chuckled. “Believe it or not, Leo found a solution.”

  Nat cocked her head to the side. “Somebody wants all those cinnamon roll-scented shoe inserts?”

  “Yeah, Sweden has an actual Cinnamon Roll Day in October. The organizers of a cinnamon roll festival said they’d buy them all to give away as prizes. Can you imagine?” Leslie gazed down at her wedding ring. “You know, Leo really is a good guy when he’s not all foot obsessed. And you’ve got to give Leo a little slack. You do have nice feet, Nat. Your arches are to die for. That’s my professional opinion,” she added with a wink.

  “Well, if you ever need a foot model to peddle pizza or lobster-scented inserts, I’m happy to help,” she answered, extending her leg and wiggling her toes.

  Her cousin shifted on the branch. “Nat, are you going to be okay after what happened with Jake? I still can’t believe he’s your kiss keeper.”

  Natalie swallowed past the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the twinge in her heart. “I guess now we know the Kiss Keeper Curse is real.”

  Leslie frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Jake didn’t kiss me at the well. Night patrol came, and we ran back to the cabin. He kissed me there by the screen door.”

  “Wow! I guess Otis Wiscasset can hold a grudge,” Les answered, wide-eyed.

  “So, I’m going to put all my energy into the camp,” she answered because that was all she could do now.

  Leslie tapped her foot. “Nat, I don’t want to upset you, but Leo saw Jake this morning.”

  Natalie nearly lost her balance. “Where?”

  “In town. Leo went in to talk with Grandma and Grandpa’s lawyer to get a document ready for the cinnamon roll people. They really want these inserts.”

  “Did Leo say how Jake looked?” she asked, her pulse kicking up at the mention of the man.

  “He said that Jake asked about you.”

  Natalie blinked back tears. “Oh yeah?”

  “Then he told Leo to stay the hell away from your feet,” Leslie said with a sympathetic smile.

  Natalie toyed with a leaf. “I thought he was going to be my last Jake. The right Jake.”

  “And Lara and Marcus thought cinnamon roll shoe inserts would be the next big thing. Shit happens,” Leslie teased, but the warmth in her eyes said she was only trying to ease the pain.

  Natalie reached out and squeezed her cousin’s hand. “Thanks, Les,” she said softly, grateful to have her cousin back.

  “Shit does happen, and that’s why we need someone to clean the latrine,” came her grandfather’s booming voice that gave them such a startle they nearly fell off their branch.

  “Have you been listening the whole time?” Nat called down.

  “We’re your grandparents. We’re entitled to eavesdrop! And we all need you to shake a leg. You need to be ready for the vow renewal on the island in less than two hours.”

  “And the latrine?” Leslie called as the women cringed.

  “Two are better than one at getting a job done,” her grandmother replied.

  Natalie shrugged. “I’ll get the sinks. You take the floor, and we can split the urinals?”

  “Deal. And you can tell me all your ideas for when you take over Camp Woolwich,” Les replied with her genuine smile in place.

  Nat nodded as her cousin started down the tree. But before she began her descent, she stared out at the ocean, and her grandfather’s words echoed in her mind.

  The tide comes in, and the tide goes out. All you can do is accept what it brings and go from there.

  “What will you bring me?” she whispered to the water, then shook her head at the silly question and followed her cousin down to the ground.

  12

  Jake

  “I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

  Jake nodded to the bartender, then sat down on a worn barstool and cradled his head in his hands.

  Why the hell was he still here in the middle of freaking nowhere Maine? He huffed a pathetic little laugh. What a stupid question! He was there because he had nothing to go back to in Denver. It wasn’t like that city was ever his home. No place had felt like home for the last fifteen years until…

  He let out a weary sigh as the bartender set a glass of amber ale in front of him. He slid a twenty to the man. “Keep the change,” he said, staring into his beer as if waiting f
or a message, telling him what the hell he was supposed to do now.

  The last two days had been pure hell. After his heart had disintegrated inside his chest, watching Natalie sail away, he’d run into Charlie, who’d been waiting for him by the lodge.

  The man tore into him—every which way.

  You’re through.

  Your reputation is shit.

  You can forget making the big money, you, pathetic orphan.

  But like the summer rain, the man’s words trailed down his cheeks and disappeared into the dirt. He didn’t give a shit about Linton Holdings or, as Charlie put it, the chance of a lifetime he’d just pissed away. No, the only thought in his mind at that point was why.

  Why hadn’t he come clean to Natalie?

  Why didn’t he tell Hal and Bev that a developer was scheming to get their land?

  What did he think was going to happen? Could he believe that Charlie would slink away or forget about Woolwich Cove? His phone blowing up with texts from the man should have clued him in on the fact that this was no ordinary property acquisition. But he’d been too busy pretending to be the Jake Natalie deserved. The agonizing catch was that the kind of man Natalie deserved wouldn’t have used her in the first place. But that didn’t change his broken heart, and it didn’t suppress the ache in his limbs, sleeping without her in his arms the last two nights.

  Christ! What he wouldn’t give to hold her, kiss her, lose himself in the slide of their bodies, and the endless pools of green in her ocean eyes.

  The door to the tavern opened, and the bartender, hunched over his phone, shot up as if he’d been summoned for active duty.

  “Look at this, Dominic. It’s the Garden of Eden cowboy I was telling you about.”

  Now it was Jake’s turn to come to attention. “Sister Evangeline?”

  “Well, it ain’t the Pope,” the nun answered with a sly expression, hoisting herself onto the barstool next to him as a young man set two helmets and a keyring on the counter.

  “Hello, Sister,” the bartender stuttered. “Is Sister Anne with you?”

  “No, I’m here with Dominic today, and I’d like my gin martini,” the woman answered, smoothing out her habit.

  The bartender winced. “But Sister Anne said—”

  The nun raised a wrinkled hand. “If Jesus can turn water into wine, an old nun can sneak off to enjoy a nip of gin, don’t you agree?” She narrowed her gaze. “And it’s been quite a while since we’ve seen you at mass, Trevor.”

  The bartender shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Yeah, sorry, Sister. I—”

  “Am too busy fixing Sister Evangeline’s martini,” the nun supplied with the twist of a grin.

  The bartender nodded and went to work, mixing the drink, and the nun swiveled in her seat.

  “Jake, this handsome gentleman is Dominic. He’s our gardener over at the convent,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder.

  The young man nodded to him, then turned to the nun. “All right, Sister, one drink while I run a few errands for Sister Anne, and no funny business, like the last time.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. “What did she do last time?”

  “She signed the convent up for Netflix,” the gardener answered.

  Sister Evangeline threw up her hands. “You can only pray for so many hours a day.”

  “Be good,” the man warned, but his easy smile said he was fond of the feisty gal.

  “So, Jake, why are you moping in your beer?” she asked as the gardener left the bar.

  He sighed. He couldn’t lie to a nun. “I’m cursed, and I lost Natalie.”

  “Cursed?” the nun repeated.

  He traced a bead of condensation down the side of his glass. “Yes, have you heard of the Kiss Keeper Curse?”

  “That first kiss business with the well near Camp Woolwich?” she asked as Trevor carefully set a martini with three olives in front of her.

  Jake took a sip of his beer. “Yep, that’s the one. Fifteen years ago, Natalie and I were supposed to kiss at that well. But we didn’t, and now, I’m here, and she’s done with me.”

  Sister Evangeline popped an olive into her mouth. “You’re not cursed.”

  He reared back. “How would you know?”

  “Because of Otis and Muriel,” she answered, plucking another olive off the martini pick.

  “What about them?” he pressed.

  The nun leaned in and waved him to come closer as a sly grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Muriel Boothe never got on that boat headed back to England.”

  Nose to nose with a nun, Jake gasped. “How do you know that?”

  “Muriel and Otis ran away together, all the way to California. To keep up appearances, the Boothe family let everyone believe that she was back in England,” she said, sitting back and popping an olive into her mouth.

  He wasn’t sure if she was messing with him or not. He crossed his arms. “What proof do you have? It was ages ago.”

  “My great-great-grandmother was Muriel’s cousin. They wrote to each other for many years. Muriel and Otis lived well into their eighties and had three daughters. The letters have been passed down in my family.”

  “Who has them now?” he asked.

  “I do,” she said with a demure sip of her drink.

  Flabbergasted, his jaw dropped. “You do? Does anyone else know this?”

  The nun shook her head. “I don’t think so. It was just by luck that I was sent to Maine to teach in the parochial school in Portland,” she answered casually as if she hadn’t changed the course of Camp Woolwich history.

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

  Sister Evangeline lifted the martini to her lips, took another sip, then met his gaze over the rim of the glass. “People like legends, Jake. Stories bind people together. They weave their way into our communities, our minds, and our hearts.”

  “But it’s not real?” he shot back incredulously.

  The nun narrowed her gaze. “Does knowing that the legend isn’t real lessen your connection to Natalie?”

  A lump formed in his throat. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “And even if this curse were real, everyone knows that true love can undo any otherworldly enchantment. Watch any old Disney movie,” she added with a wink.

  “You’re right,” he replied.

  Sister Evangeline shrugged. “There you go.”

  But it wasn’t just a curse that he had to defeat.

  He slumped forward. “But she hates me. I deceived her. Even if the curse is bogus, how can I account for my behavior? How can I ever be worthy of her?”

  The nun nodded solemnly. “Let me ask you this. What would you do if, magically, all your guilt, shame, and self-doubt disappeared?”

  He sat back as the image of Natalie, gazing up at him in line at the airport, flashed through his mind. Even then, she’d had his heart.

  “I’d do whatever it takes to get to her. I’d tell her that the only thing I want in this world is to spend the rest of my life proving myself to her, showing her how much she means to me, and how much Camp Woolwich means to me,” he replied, surprised at how easy it was to spill his guts to the feisty nun.

  Sister Evangeline’s expression grew serious. She closed her eyes, then raised her hand and snapped her fingers, startling him and almost knocking him off the damn stool.

  “Okay, it’s done,” she said and took another sip of her martini.

  “What’s done?” he asked, his gaze bouncing from the nun to the bartender who shrugged his confusion.

  “I checked in with the big guy upstairs. You’re forgiven,” she said, gesturing for Trevor to bring her a bowl of olives.

  “I am? You can do that?” Jake stammered, glancing around, looking for a ray of light or possibly a thunderbolt. Something that spoke of divine intervention.

  “I’m a nun,” she answered with a wave of her hand.

  “Can she do that?” he asked Trevor.

  “She sure g
ets her way a lot. I’ll give her that,” the guy replied.

  The woman chuckled then stilled.

  “What is it? Are you getting another message?” Jake asked, checking for a cherub or a burning bush.

  Shit! He’d wished he’d paid attention in Sunday school.

  “It doesn’t work like that,” she said, then handed him a helmet and swiped the keys from the counter.

  He frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “God’s work,” she said, placing the large helmet on her little nun head.

  “Which is?” he questioned.

  “Love,” she offered.

  “Love,” he repeated.

  The nun watched him closely. “You love Natalie, right?”

  “Yes,” he replied as the weight of his predicament sank in.

  He loved her. This girl who’d lived in his heart since he was a boy. This blindfolded beauty who’d been a beacon of light in his darkest days. She was that kernel of hope that remained even after the heartbreak of losing his parents and the misery of growing up on his uncle’s dairy farm. He may have lost his way in this world and constructed a life that was nothing more than a house of cards built on deals and dollars, but that wasn’t who he was. During this time with Natalie, the hope in his heart had reignited, the lessons he’d learned from his parents had been reborn, and he’d experienced the pure, real joy of loving another.

  The nun snapped again, jolting him from his thoughts.

  “Hey, loverboy! Pay for my drink, then meet me outside,” she said, hopping off the stool.

  Still reeling, he shifted the helmet under his arm and pulled out his wallet and placed a fifty on the bar.

  The bartender shook his head and slid back the bill. “No worries, man. It’s always on the house for the sisters.”

  “But I feel like you’ve earned this,” he said with the hint of a grin.

  The bartender dropped the bill into the tip jar. “Thanks, and good luck with your girl.”

  He nodded to the man. Curse or no curse, he needed all the luck and divine intervention he could get. He stepped out onto the sidewalk, ready to find Natalie when he found Sister Evangeline sitting atop a motorcycle with an attached sidecar.