Page 45 of The Kiss Keeper
She nudged him with her shoulder. “It means that we aren’t doing dishes or cleaning the latrine. Everyone gets assigned a job at camp.”
“Good call on the kids’ stuff,” he replied with a grimace as her grandpa began addressing the group.
“Bev and I would like to thank everyone for joining us for our fiftieth anniversary. We’ve got a schedule full of activities planned with everything culminating on Woolwich Island for our vow renewals,” her grandpa said, then turned to her grandmother. “You’ve put up with me for forty-nine more years than I deserved.”
“Try forty-nine and a half,” her grandmother replied with a sly grin.
Her grandparents shared a look—the same look she’d loved since she was a little girl. With just a glance, she’d never seen two people more in tune with one another. She’d made a game of it as a girl, observing them closely and counting each gentle nod and every sweet twist of her grandfather’s lips when he caught her grandmother’s eye. She’d collected these tender moments over the years, tucking them safely away, all the time hoping that, one day, she’d find a special person who looked at her the way her grandfather looked at her grandmother. But with that damn curse and a string of terrible Jakes, what were the chances?
“Here, you can use this,” Jake said, breaking into her thoughts and handing her a napkin.
“Why do you think I need that?” she asked.
His gaze softened. “Because you’re crying.”
She brushed her fingertips across her cheeks, then took the offered napkin and blotted beneath her eyes. “Sorry, my grandparents are so…”
He cupped her face in his hand and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “Yeah, I can tell,” he whispered with a faraway look in his eyes. The moment hung there, sweet and tender, but as quickly as it began, it ended when Jake pulled his hand away as if he’d touched a hot stove.
What was going on between them?
That was a stupid question because she knew the answer. Nothing. This was all a big con. Too bad her heart, her silly heart, begged to differ. But with this Jake, she’d have to rely on her head if she wanted to protect her heart. With her resolve intact, she steadied herself and focused on her grandpa’s speech.
“We’re here to celebrate family and friendship. Everyone in this room has a connection to Camp Woolwich. But even without the cabins or the lodge or the boats and the waterfront, our connection to each other will always live on. Our memories and the stories we tell are as constant as the ocean and just as everlasting.”
The breath caught in her throat. Again, another strange veiled reference to change. She stared at her grandparents as they continued to welcome guests and muse about their fifty years together, raising a family and running Camp Woolwich—something that Jake must find horribly dull. But when she’d glanced over at him, he seemed riveted, soaking in every word.
Was he that good at pretending?
She balled up the napkin and sighed. She’d try to find a quiet moment to speak with her grandparents, away from her cousins, to get some answers. But until then, she could pretend she had it all together—at least, partially together—with Jake. Her last Jake. No, he wasn’t hers, but boy, did she feel like she was his last night and this morning with his—
“Aunt Nat! Are you ready?” the twins Toby and Tucker asked in unison.
She startled. The dining hall was near empty. “Am I what?”
“You were doing that thing again,” Jake said, biting back a grin.
“What thing?”
His cheeks grew pink. “Zoning out. At least this time, you didn’t scream—”
“Okay,” she said with a clap of her hands, cutting off her fake boyfriend. “Who’s ready for a little outdoor art?”
“Outdoor art? You can’t do art outside. At school, we do art at a table,” Finn remarked.
She waved the children in. “I’ve got a secret to tell you. You can do art anywhere.”
“Anywhere?” Annabelle asked, wide-eyed.
Nat tapped the little girl’s nose. “Anywhere.”
“On the moon?” Finn pressed with a sour expression, but she wasn’t surprised to find the boy acting cross. The oldest children at the kids’ table always felt like they were stuck with a bunch of babies.
She scratched her head, pretending to be stumped, then gasped. “I’ve got it! You could sprinkle moon dust on drawing paper or make rubbings of astronaut footprints.”
The boy pursed his lips. “Yeah, I guess that would work.”
“Aunt Nat, can we take the canoes or even sail over to the island?” Josie asked.
