Chapter 50
The rest of the rescue is a blur. I manage to help Keston out of the cave and up to the rock. Tabitha meanwhile had climbed across the rocks to get Kelley.
Thinking ahead, I swam to the boat and returned with two life jackets to put around the men. After that, it was easy to tow them to the boat.
Well, not easy, but after fighting a sea monster, it seemed so.
Tabitha knows how to drive boats, so she took the wheel and got us started back down the coast and tied up at Keston’s jetty.
Trixie met us at the jetty. She happily carried Keston to Tabitha’s car and came back for Kelley. Trixie was a lifesaver even while the tall brothers’ feet hung down almost to the ground on top of her.
The hospital was a whole scene with the emergency room doctors rushing to stitch up Keston and perform minor surgery on Kelley.
They shared a room for three days and nights. By the end of their hospital stay, they were almost best friends. I say almost because Keston still insists I am his best friend.
Which I agree with.
Tabitha and I are not best friends, but we are now okay in the same room. Especially after she planned a huge book launch for Keston’s Rum Cocktail book which is turning out to be a runaway success in the resort gift shop.
But that comes later, after I leave for New York, and return for good to St. Nicholas with a million suitcases and two espresso machines.
On my first night back, Keston invites Kelley over and we barbeque on the beach in front our house. It’s wonderful to see them interact like siblings. Kelley has lost his wounded look because of the love and friendship of his brother.
As we eat the delicious veggie and fish kebabs Kelley grilled, I can’t help but ask Keston, “Once you inherited all of this land do you think the reason you never wanted to sell any of it is because you believed deep down that he deserved some of it?”
“Maybe. Yeah. Probably.”
“I don’t want any of your land.” Kelley spreads his arms outward. “Grandma Viola left it to you. It was in her Will.”
Keston frowns. “Her Will said she left everything for her grandchildren. That’s me, Vanessa in England, who says she doesn’t want to come back here, and you.”
Kelley ducks his head. “It won’t stand up in court. I was the illegitimate son.”
“You’re my brother. Who said anything about court?”
Kelley’s eyes take on the glassy look of the sea on a calm day. “You don’t have to do that.” He takes a big swig from his flask and wipes his lips.
“I should have done it a long time ago. I’m sorry I ignored you,” Keston says.
“Wasn’t your fault your dad kept me a secret.”
“Our dad.”
“Yeah, right,” Kelley sighs. “Our father.”
“He messed up. I’d have liked to have a brother growing up.”
Kelley flicks a flat beach stone across the water. It hopscotches five times. “Me too.”
Keston throws his own rock. It skips seven times. Kelley looks at him with admiration. “Good one, bro.”
As I watch emotions race across Keston’s face — sadness, anger, frustration, even despair — I realize that this is what I was waiting to discover. Keston’s constant cheerfulness hid a well of emotional darkness. Now that it’s all rising to the surface, he’s expressing more than joy and cheer. He’s becoming complete.
With the good, the bad, and the ugly.
And I love all of him.
Later, as the brothers stir up the beach bonfire, I sense the closing of one book and hopefully the start of a new one.
“I made dessert,” I shout, clambering up from the sand.
Kelley says, “I don’t eat sugar.”
“Please dude, you’re eating this.”
I walk down the front steps of the house carefully holding the coconut custard pie made from the recipe I found in Charlotte Campbell’s diary. The same pie she made to woo her pirate king hundreds of years ago.
“It’s not made with sugar,” I tell the brothers, as I dole out two huge pieces. “I used real sugar cane juice. It’s what Charlotte Campbell used.”
Kelley sniffs his plate of pie. “Interesting. You could do a comparison test. One with sugar and this one.”
Keston is diving in, not interested in discussing the difference between refined white sugar and raw sugar cane juices. “Yum,” he nods appreciatively. “The best pie . . . ever.”
I beam. “Thank you.”
Kelley takes a big bite and chews thoughtfully. He puts down his fork. “Bro, if you don’t ask her to marry you, I will.”
Keston stops chewing. “You ever heard the story of Cain and Abel, bro? It didn’t end well for one of those brothers.”
We all laugh. It is a companionable moment. A sign of many to come, I hope.
“I’m not saying you should get married,” Kelley sips his dandelion wine, this time passing the flask to Keston. “But if I were you . . . .”
“Don’t put words in his mouth, Kelley. He’ll get there. In his own time.” I’m blushing furiously. How awkward is this?
Keston shakes his head at me. “I’ve been there, woman. I wanted to give you space and time to decide what you wanted.”
Kelley turns toward me. “Ball is in your court, CJ. Meanwhile, can I have another slice please?”
I take my time slicing another piece of pie for Kelley.
“Um . . . well . . . he’s never really asked me or anything, but . . . .”
“How do I tell the woman I love that I can’t possibly love her any more than I already do? But that I’m willing to give it a hundred years and a couple more generations to find out.” Keston stares at me point-blank.
A moment of silence passes.
“Same!” I shout, throwing myself into Keston’s arms. He wraps them around me so tightly I know he’ll never let me go.
“We’re in this thing together, dude,” I kiss him on his coconut custard-smeared lips. “You can’t get rid of me.”
“Or me,” Kelley laughs.
“Hee-haw!” brays a noisy donkey.
“Or Trixie,” we all say at the same time.
I say a mental thank you to Charlotte Campbell, whose determination to follow her heart despite all the odds got us to this moment on the same beach where she fell in love at first sight with an African pirate king on gorgeous St. Nicholas Island.
It’s our turn to carry on their legacy. I hope we can love each other as fiercely and completely as they did.