Denise Swank: The Curse Keepers

When we reached the bottom of the wooden steps to my apartment, Dwight leaned over and gave me a peck on the lips. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Ellie.”

My eyes flew open. “Wait. Don’t you want to come up?”

Dwight glanced at his watch. “Well… I have work in the morning.”

It was barely nine o’clock. He sounded like an old geezer. I cocked my head and gave him a tiny smile. “Just for a little bit? Please?”

An inner battle waged on Dwight’s face, and I wondered how he found the fortitude to deal with really difficult decisions. I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Just for a little while?” I kissed him long and slow, and I felt his arms encircle my waist before he pulled away.

“Ellie, not out in public. Anyone can see us here.”

We were surrounded by buildings, and it was getting dark. Sighing, I let my arms drop and took a step back. “We were only kissing.”

Dwight licked his lower lip. “I have a professional image to maintain.”

He was an insurance adjuster from Michigan. A northerner. He was pretty much at the bottom of the Manteo professional image ladder, but my desire to get him in my apartment kept that fact from leaving the tip of my tongue.

I took his hand and tugged. “Then come upstairs.”

He sighed before a shy smile lifted his mouth. “Okay, but just for a few minutes.”

I stuffed down my excitement as I practically dragged him up the two flights of stairs. Unlocking the door, I caught movement on the porch out of the corner of my eye, in the shadows cast by the street lights.

Standing upright, I whirled around. “Did you see that?”

“What?”

“Something moved over there!” I pointed to the dark shadows behind my flowerpot.

Dwight danced in place, his feet skipping like he was jumping rope. “What was it? A rat?”

Irritation bubbled in my chest, and I put a hand on my hip. “No, it wasn’t a rat. We don’t have any rats here.”

“Are you sure?”

I counted to three, reconsidering inviting him in. He wasn’t very bright, and more than a little boring, and apparently not very courageous. But he had a steady, good-paying job and was a mostly attractive man. Sure, he wasn’t anything like that man in the New Moon, but Dwight had his own quiet version of attractive. So his light brown hair was thinning and he had a slight paunch. There was more to a man than muscles, and dark, brooding eyes, and rough-looking three-day-old stubble. I hoped that buried deep inside all that mundaneness was a man who was capable of great love. Love like my parents shared. My daddy hadn’t been an exciting man, and he’d loved my mother almost more than life itself.

In the end, there was no question. Right or wrong, I was desperate for some physical attention.

Once I closed the door, I kicked off my shoes, tossed my purse on the kitchen counter, and went to the refrigerator. “Would you like a glass of wine?” I sure needed one.

“Um… yeah.” Dwight wandered around the living room, investigating my family photos.

I would have preferred a little more enthusiasm since I was going for a full-blown seduction here. Apparently, it was going to take more effort than I was used to. Far be it from me to back down from a challenge. I pulled a bottle out and set it on the counter, then found a corkscrew in the drawer.

Dwight picked up a picture frame. A nervous twitch made his hand shake. “Is this you when you were little?”

I craned my neck to see which photo he was looking at. “Yeah, that was taken when I was seven.”

“Who’s the woman?”

“My mother.”

“She looks a lot like you.”

I smiled, but it was forced. “So I’ve heard.” We both shared dark red hair, fair skin that burned instead of tanned, and bluish-green eyes. And an aversion to believing in the curse.

I’d spent the last fifteen years standing by my assertion that four hundred years of tradition and folklore was a lie. For the first time since I was a kid, I was reconsidering.

Dwight set the frame down and moved to the other side of the counter, watching me open the wine. “So you’ve lived here your entire life.”

“Yep.” I jerked the cork out of the bottle, then poured wine into the glasses. “My family’s always lived here. I’ve never left.”

“What about when you went to college?”

I handed him a glass. “I didn’t go.”

His hand froze in midair. “You didn’t go to college?”

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I could never figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up; no sense wasting money on all those expensive college hours.” Not to mention I couldn’t afford it, even if I could live with my phobia of being too far from Manteo.

“So have you figured out what you want to do with your life now?”

I walked around the counter, carrying my glass along with the bottle. “I’m only twenty-three. I’ve got time to figure it out.” I sat down on the sofa and took a sip of wine. This really wasn’t going well.

Dwight followed me, frowning as he sank into the cushions next to me. “In theory, by this time you should have some kind of inkling. Do you?”

I fought to keep from scowling. “If you’re asking if I’ve found my purpose in life, the answer is no. But Myra says I’ll figure it out when I’m ready.” The truth was that my situation bothered me more than I liked to let on. It wasn’t so much that I hadn’t found my purpose, it was more that everything I tried felt so wrong . As though I were forcing my feet into shoes that were too small and tight.

“Myra? Your stepmother?”

“Yes.”

“Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but isn’t she enabling you?”

I leaned back as my eyebrows rose. Leave it to Dwight to show some backbone when it came to insulting me. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just that—”

“I live in my own apartment. I own my own car. I’m completely self-sufficient. How is she enabling me?”

Dwight set his glass on the coffee table. “But you work as a waitress. And that’s only part of the year. Your parents must subsidize a portion of your income.”

I wanted to laugh, but I was too irritated and insulted. He couldn’t be further from the truth. “I support myself.” I paused and took another sip of my wine. “The restaurant is open all year round. Tips may not be as good in the winter, but I still have a job.”

He held up a hand and gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve obviously jumped to conclusions. I guess I just don’t understand how you can be happy working as a waitress without any discernible life goals.”

I took a gulp of my wine, trying to remember why I invited him up.

Dwight placed his hand on my arm and slid it up and down in an attempt to offer comfort, but the gesture felt stiff. “That didn’t come out right.”

I lowered my glass in surprise. That was the most physical affection he’d voluntarily shown me in the time I’d known him.

“I’m sorry. Really. I have this tendency to be judgmental sometimes.”

You think ? “Did you want to be an insurance adjuster since you were a kid?” My snarky question fell out before I could stop it, but Dwight seemed to miss the sarcasm.

“Yeah. My dad and his dad are in insurance. It’s in my blood. Maybe inn keeping is in yours.”

Hardly. It was more likely the curse was in my blood. I scrunched my eyes closed, muttering an obscenity under my breath. Damn that curse for sneaking back into my life. I’d shut the door on all of that nonsense years ago. There was a curse on Roanoke Island all right, but it turned out that the curse was my bad luck with men. “Tell me more about Michigan.”