“She seems very well trained for being so young.”
“She should be. I’ve been training her since she was a puppy.”
“To throw garbage away?”
“And other things. Like not running off.” He turned his attention to the dog, speaking in a more excited tone. “But she’s still got a ways to go, don’t you, good girl?”
Daisy whined, her tail thumping.
“If you’re not from Ocracoke, how long have you lived there?”
“It’ll be four years in April.”
“What could have possibly brought your family to Ocracoke?”
“My dad was in the military and after he retired, my mom wanted to be closer to her parents. And because we’d had to move a lot for his job, my dad figured it was only fair to let my mom decide where to settle down for a while. He told us it would be an adventure.”
“Has it been an adventure?”
“At times,” he said. “In the summers it’s a lot of fun. It can get pretty crowded on the island, especially around the Fourth of July. And the beach is really beautiful. Daisy loves to run out there.”
“Can I ask what the camera is for?”
“Anything interesting, I guess. There wasn’t much today, even before it got dark.”
“Is there ever?”
“Last year, a fishing boat caught on fire. The ferry diverted to help rescue the crew since the Coast Guard hadn’t arrived yet. It was very sad, but the crew was unharmed and I got some amazing photos. There are dolphins, too, and if they’re breaching, I can sometimes get a nice shot. But today I really brought it for my project.”
“What’s your project?”
“To become an Eagle Scout. I’m training Daisy, and I wanted to get some good shots of her.”
I frowned. “I don’t get it. You can become an Eagle Scout for training a dog?”
“I’m getting her ready for more advanced training later,” he said. “She’s learning to be a mobility assistance dog.” As if anticipating my next question, he explained, “For people in wheelchairs.”
“You mean like a seeing-eye dog?”
“Sort of. She needs different skills, but it’s the same principle.”
“Like throwing out the garbage?”
“Exactly. Or retrieving the remote control or the telephone handset. Or opening drawers or cabinets or doors.”
“How can she open doors?”
“You need a handle on the door, not a knob, of course. But she stands on her hind legs and uses her paws, then nudges the door the rest of the way open with her nose. She’s pretty good at it. She can open drawers, too, as long as there’s a cord on the handle. The main thing I have to work on is her concentration, but I think part of that is probably her age. I hope she’s accepted into the official program, but I’m pretty sure she will be. She isn’t required to have any advanced skills—that’s what the formal trainers are for—but I wanted to give her a head start. And when she’s ready, she’ll go to her new home.”
“You have to give her away?”
“In April.”
“If it were me, I’d keep the dog and forget the Eagle Scout project.”
“It’s more about helping someone who needs it. But you’re right. It’s not going to be easy. We’ve been inseparable since I got her.”
“Except when you’re at school, you mean.”
“Even then,” he said. “I’ve already graduated, but I was homeschooled by my mom. My brothers are homeschooled, too.”
Back in Seattle, I only knew one family who homeschooled their children, and they were religious fundamentalists. I didn’t know them very well; all I knew was that the daughters had to wear long dresses all the time and the family put up a huge nativity scene in their front yard every Christmas.
“Did you like it? Being homeschooled, I mean?”
“Loved it,” he said.
I thought about the social aspect of school, which was far and away my favorite part of it. I couldn’t imagine not seeing my friends.
“Why?”
“Because I could learn at my own pace. My mom’s a teacher and since we moved around so much, my parents thought we’d get a better education that way.”
“Do you have desks in one of the spare rooms? With a chalkboard and a projector?”
“No,” he said. “We work at the kitchen table when we need a lesson. But we do a lot of studying on our own, too.”
“And that works?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism out of my voice.
“I think so,” he said. “With my brothers, I know so. They’re very smart. Scary smart, in fact. They’re twins, by the way. Robert’s into aeronautics and Richard’s into computer programming. They’ll probably start college when they’re fifteen or sixteen, but academically, they’re already prepared.”
“How old are they?”
“They’re only twelve. Before you get too impressed, they’re also immature and do stupid things and they drive me crazy. And if you meet them, they’ll drive you crazy, too. I feel I have to warn you about that in advance so you won’t think poorly of me. Or them, so you know how smart they really are, even when they don’t act like it.”
For the first time since I’d spoken to him, I couldn’t help smiling. Over his shoulder, Ocracoke was looming ever nearer. All around us, people had begun to wander back toward their cars.
“I’ll keep that in mind. And you? Are you scary smart?”
“Not like they are. But that’s one of the great things about being homeschooled. Usually you can get your work done in two or three hours, so you have time to learn about other things. They’re into the sciences, but I like photography, so I had a lot of time to practice.”
“And college?”
“I’ve already been accepted,” he said. “I start next fall.”
“You’re eighteen?”
“Seventeen,” he said. “I’ll be eighteen in July.”
I couldn’t help thinking he seemed a lot older than I was and more mature than anyone at my high school. More confident, somehow, more comfortable with the world and his role in it. How that could happen in a place like Ocracoke was beyond me.
“Where are you going to college?”
“West Point,” he said. “My dad went there, so it’s kind of a family thing. But how about you? What’s Washington like? I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”
“It is. The mountains are amazing and there’s a lot of great hiking, and Seattle is definitely fun. My friends and I see movies and hang out at the mall, things like that. My neighborhood is kind of quiet, though. A lot of older people live there.”
“There are whales in the Puget Sound, right? Humpback whales?”
“Of course.”
“Have you ever seen one?”
“Lots of times.” I shrugged. “In sixth grade, my class took a field trip on a boat and we were able to get pretty close. It was cool.”
“I’ve been hoping to see one before I leave for school. Supposedly they can be spotted off the coast here sometimes, but I’ve never been that lucky.”
Two people walked past on either side of us; I heard a car door slam behind me. The boat engine groaned and I felt the ferry begin to slow.
“I guess we’re almost there,” I observed, thinking the trip seemed shorter than usual.
“That we are,” he said. “I should probably get Daisy in the truck. And I think your aunt is looking for you.”
When he waved behind me, I turned and saw my aunt approaching. I prayed that she wouldn’t wave or make a scene, letting everyone on the ferry know that I’d met the guy she’d wanted to be my tutor.
She waved. “There you are!” she called out. I felt myself sink lower in my chair as she drew near. “I looked for you in the car but couldn’t find you,” she went on. “I see you’ve met Bryce.”
“Hi, Ms. Dawes,” Bryce said. He rose from his chair and folded it up. “Yeah, we had the chance to get to know each other a little.”
“That’s good to hear.”
In the pause, I had the sense that both of them were waiting for me to say something. “Hi, Aunt Linda.” I watched Bryce put his chair in the bed of his pickup, and I took it as my cue to stand. After folding mine, I handed it over, watching as Bryce placed it in the truck before lowering the tailgate.
“Hop up, Daisy,” he said. Daisy rose and leaped into the back of the truck.
I could feel my aunt watching him, then me, then both of us at the same time, unsure what to do, before she must have remembered her pre-nun years, when she was probably closer to normal, with regular feelings. “I’ll just wait in the car for you,” she said. “Nice visiting with you, Bryce. I’m glad we had a chance to catch up.”
“Take care,” Bryce responded. “I’m sure I’ll be in for more biscuits this week, by the way, so I’ll see you then.”
Aunt Linda eyed both of us before finally turning to leave. When she was out of hearing range, Bryce faced me again.
“I really like Linda and Gwen. Their biscuits are the best I’ve ever had, but I’m sure you already know that. I’ve been trying to get them to share their secret recipe, but no dice. My dad and grandfather grab a few every time they head to the boat.”
“The boat?”
“My grandfather’s a fisherman. When my dad isn’t consulting with the DOD, he helps out my grandfather. Repairing the boat and equipment, or actually going out on the water with him.”
“What’s DOD?”
“Department of Defense.”
“Oh,” I said, unsure what else to add. It was hard to reconcile the idea that a consultant with the DOD actually chose to live in Ocracoke. By then, however, the ferry had stopped and I heard car doors slamming and engines rumbling to life. “I guess I should be going.”
“Probably. But hey, it was great talking to you, Maggie. Usually there’s no one even close to my age on the ferry, so you made the trip that much more enjoyable.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying not to stare at his dimples. I turned away and, surprising myself, I suddenly felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment that our time together had come to an end.
* * *
I waited until the last minute before getting into the car because I didn’t want to be confronted by questions, which was something I was used to from my mom and dad. What did you talk about? Did you like him? Can you imagine him teaching you geometry and editing your papers if needed? Did I make the right choice?
My parents would have been all over me. On almost every school day right up until barf-day—or pee-on-a-stick day, whatever—they always asked me how school went, like attending classes was some sort of magical, mysterious production that everyone would find fascinating. No matter how many times I simply said that it was fine—which really meant Stop asking me such a dumb question—they continued to ask. And honestly, aside from fine, what was I supposed to say? They’d been to school. They knew what it was like. A teacher stood up front and taught stuff that I was supposed to learn in order to do well on tests, none of which were ever any fun.
Now lunch, that could sometimes be interesting. Or when I was younger, recess might have been something to talk about. But school? School was just…school.
Thankfully, my aunt and Gwen were chatting about the sermon we’d heard in church, which I barely remembered, and obviously, the ride took only a few minutes. We drove to the shop first, where I helped them unload their supplies, but instead of dropping Gwen off, we brought her with us to my aunt’s house so she could help us haul the Christmas tree inside.
Despite my pregnancy, and despite them being older ladies, we were somehow able to muscle it up the steps and prop it in a stand that Aunt Linda retrieved from the back of the hall closet. By then, I was kind of tired and I think they were, too. Instead of decorating right away, my aunt and Gwen got busy in the kitchen. Aunt Linda made fresh biscuits while Gwen heated up yet more Thanksgiving leftovers.
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was, and I cleared my plate for the first time in a while. And, maybe because Bryce had said something about them, I realized the biscuits were tastier than usual. As I reached for a second one, I saw Aunt Linda smile.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m just glad you’re eating,” my aunt said.
“What’s in these biscuits?”
“The basics—flour, buttermilk, shortening.”
“Anything secret in the recipe?”
If she wondered why I cared, she didn’t let on. She cast a conspiratorial glance at Gwen before facing me again. “Of course.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a secret,” she said with a wink.
We didn’t talk more after that, and once I finished doing the dishes, I retreated to my room. Outside my window, the sky was filled with stars and I could see the moon hovering over the water, making the ocean glow almost silver. I slipped into my pajamas and was about to crawl in bed when I suddenly remembered that I still had to do the paper on Thurgood Marshall. Grabbing my notes—I’d at least gotten that far—I started the actual writing. I’d always been okay at writing—not great, but definitely better than I was at math—and had gotten through a page and a half when I heard a knock at the door. Glancing up, I saw Aunt Linda poke her head in. When she noticed I was doing homework, she lifted an eyebrow, but I’m sure she immediately thought it was better not to say anything lest my progress come to a screeching halt.
“The kitchen looks great,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for dinner.”
“It was just leftovers.” She shrugged. “Except for the biscuits. You should call your parents tonight. It’s still early there.”
I eyed the clock. “They’re probably eating dinner. I’ll call them in a little bit.”
She quietly cleared her throat. “I wanted to let you know that when I spoke with Bryce, I didn’t tell him about…well, your situation. I just said that my niece had come to stay with me for a few months and left it at that.”
I hadn’t known I’d been concerned about that but felt myself expel a breath of relief.
“Didn’t he ask why?”
“He might have, but I stuck to the subject of whether he’d be willing to tutor you.”
“But you told him about me.”
“Only because he said he needed to know something about you.”
“If I want him to be my tutor, you mean.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “And not that it matters, but he’s the same young man who fixed your bicycle.”
I already knew that, but I was still pondering the prospect of seeing him day after day. “What if I promised to catch up on my own? Without his help?”
“Can you? Because you know I can’t help you. It’s been a long time since I was in school.”
I hesitated. “What should I say if he asks me why I’m here?”
She considered it. “It’s important to remember that none of us is perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. All we can do is try to be the best version of ourselves as we move forward. In this case, if he asks, you can tell the truth, or you can lie. I suppose it comes down to the kind of person you want to see when you look in the mirror.”
I winced, knowing I never should have asked a former nun a question that dealt with morality. With no possible comeback to that, I returned to the obvious. “I don’t want anyone to know. Including him.”
She offered a sad smile. “I know you don’t. But bear in mind that pregnancy is a hard secret to keep, especially in a village like Ocracoke. And once you start showing…”
She didn’t have to finish. I knew what she meant.
“What if I don’t leave the house?”
Even as I said it, I knew how unrealistic that idea was. I rode the ferry with others from Ocracoke to go to church on Sundays; I would have to see a doctor in Morehead City, which meant yet more ferry rides. I’d been in my aunt’s shop. People already knew I was on the island, and no doubt some of the
m were wondering about the reason. For all I knew, Bryce was doing the same thing. They might not be thinking pregnancy, but they would suspect that I was in some sort of trouble. With my family, with drugs, with the law, with…something. Why else would I have shown up out of the blue in the middle of winter?
“You think I should tell him, don’t you?”
“I think,” she said, drawing out the words, “that he’s going to learn the truth, whether you want him to or not. It’s just a matter of when, and who tells him. I think it would be best if it came from you.”
I stared out the window, unseeing. “He’s going to think I’m a terrible person.”
“I doubt that.”
I swallowed, hating this, hating all of it. My aunt remained silent, allowing me to think. In that way, I had to admit, she was way better than my parents.
“I guess Bryce can be my tutor.”
“I’ll let him know,” she said, her voice quiet. Then, clearing her throat, she asked, “What are you working on?”
“I’m hoping to be done with the first draft of my paper tonight.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great. You’re an intelligent young lady.”
Tell my parents that, I thought. “Thanks.”
“Is there anything you need before I turn in? A glass of milk, maybe? I have an early day tomorrow.”
“I’m okay, thanks.”
“Don’t forget to call your parents.”
“I won’t.”
She turned to leave before coming to a stop again. “Oh, another thing—I was thinking we could decorate the tree tomorrow night after dinner.”
“Okay.”
“Sleep well, Maggie. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I said. The phrase came automatically, like it did with my friends, and later, when I was talking to my parents and they asked how I was getting along with Linda, I realized it was the first time we’d ever said the words to each other.
The Nutcracker
Manhattan
December 2019
Mark was sitting with his fingertips pressed together when Maggie finally trailed off, his expression unreadable. He said nothing right away but finally shook his head, as though suddenly realizing it was his turn to speak.
The Wish Page 8
