Chapter 7
7
CARTER
W elcome to Kiss County.
Where people fall in love!
I didn’t understand that a day ago.
I still don’t today. But I’m starting to.
A strange feeling came over me last night, and it’s lingered in me since then. I don’t know if it was the charm of the town square or the pleasant silence after years of traveling from city-to-city or the beauty of the moon on the lake. All good things that make one think twice about dismissing a simple life in Small Town.
I suspect, however, that it was the company that brought me back again.
Mika Michaelson. She was here this whole time, tucked away in a bright and colorful corner of Kiss County, USA.
And, by some strange twist of fate, I found her.
Maybe your car was always meant to break down here.
That car is bulletproof. Not literally so, but I’ve driven that thing from coast-to-coast for years and it’s never broken down on me. I take it in for check-ups regularly and every mechanic always says how well the car is taken care of.
But I drove one mile into Kiss County, and it instantly stalled.
Coincidence. It had to be.
But what if it wasn’t?
That question floats in my head as I look out across Deep Lake from the end of the dock. I stand in the same spot as last night, needing to know if the feeling in my chest is just temporary.
“Hello, there!”
I spin around, startled by the sudden shout behind me on the dock. Then I bow my head at the old man and give him a smile. “Hello, Mr. Michaelson,” I say. “Good morning.”
He shuffles down the dock toward me, a folding chair beneath one arm and a book in the other. “Nice day, huh?” he asks.
“It is,” I say, stepping back as he sets his chair down. “Let me get out of your way.”
“No, no, no.” He waves dismissively as he sits down. “Don’t let me chase you off. There’s plenty of lake for both of us.”
I stop, happy to linger a little longer.
“How are you enjoying your stay?” he asks me.
“It’s great,” I answer. “You have a beautiful home here.”
“Thank you.” He takes a deep breath and smiles at the lake. “Been here a long time.”
“How long?”
“Almost twenty-five years now,” he says. “Give or take.”
“That is a long time.”
“Went by awfully fast, though,” he muses. “When my Myra and I first settled here, Mika was still in the womb.”
I smile at that.
“None of this was here,” he says, pointing around. “The lake was, obviously, but the house. The inn. We built all of it, she and I. The inn was her dream come true.”
I notice the way his eyes lowered when he said was . “I’m sorry for your loss, sir,” I say.
He waves it off. “I’ve got years and years of memories to keep me. And little Mickey. More like her mother every day, that one.”
My smile returns.
“Smart. Strong. Stubborn.” He chuckles as he shakes his head. “My only wish is for her to follow her heart once in a while. Get out of her head.”
“Easier said than done sometimes,” I say, relating to his words.
“It shouldn’t be,” he says. “Not in Kiss County, anyway.”
I nod, going quiet as he smiles at the lake again.