I’d never heard of Douglas MacArthur, but by the way Bryce said the name, I figured he’d been someone pretty important.
“And then, of course, there’s my mom and MIT at sixteen…”
The more I thought about it, the more his insecurity began to seem justified, even if the standards in his family belonged in outer space.
“I’m sure you’ll be a general by the time you graduate.”
“Impossible.” He laughed. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Outside, I heard my aunt’s car pull onto the rutted drive and a loud squeak as the engine wound down.
Bryce must have heard it, too. “The drive belt makes that noise. It probably needs to be tightened. I can fix that for her.”
I heard Aunt Linda coming up the steps before she pushed open the door. Her eyes went to the two of us and though she didn’t say it, I was pretty sure she was happy about the fact that we were on opposite sides of the couch. “Hey there,” she said.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
She took off her jacket. “No leaks and the generator is working fine.”
“Oh, good. Bryce says he can fix your car.”
“What’s wrong with my car?”
“The drive belt needs to be tightened.”
She seemed confused by the fact that I’d said it, not Bryce. When I glanced at him, I could tell he was still pondering his recent admissions. “Can Bryce stay for dinner?”
“Of course he can,” she said. “But it’s not going to be anything fancy.”
“Grilled cheese sandwiches?”
“Is that what you’d like? Maybe with soup?”
“Perfect.”
“Easy for me, too. How about in an hour?”
I felt my craving burst forth like popcorn cooking in the microwave. “I can’t wait.”
* * *
After dinner, I walked Bryce to the door. On the porch, he turned around.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked.
“I’ll be here at nine. Thanks for dinner.”
“Thank my aunt, not me. I just do the dishes.”
“I already thanked her.” He tucked a hand into his pocket before going on. “I had a nice time today,” he said. “Getting to know you better, I mean.”
“I did, too. Even if you lied to me.”
“When did I lie?”
“When you said I didn’t look pregnant.”
“You don’t,” he said. “Not at all.”
“Yeah, well”—I gave a wry smile—“just wait a month.”
* * *
The next week and a half was a blur of test prep for finals, getting a head start on next semester’s assignments, and photography. I had a quick examination with Gwen, who said that both the baby and I were doing well. I also started paying for the film and photography paper I was using; Bryce’s mom ordered in bulk so it was less expensive. Bryce was hesitant to take the money, but I was using so much film, it only seemed right. Best of all, with every roll I seemed to be getting a little bit better.
Bryce, for his part, almost always developed my film at night, when I did my extra schoolwork. We would review the contact sheets the next morning and decide together which images to print. He also helped me make flashcards when I thought I needed them, quizzed me on the chapters I needed to know in every subject, and pretty much had me ready for anything by the time my finals came around. I’m not going to say I aced them, but considering where my grades had been, I almost pulled a shoulder muscle patting myself on the back. Aside from that—and watching Bryce tighten the drive belt in my aunt’s car—the only big thing left to do was have my aunt teach us how to make biscuits at the shop.
We went in on a Saturday, a few days before my parents were to arrive. My aunt had us wear aprons and went through each step with us.
As for the secrets, they really came down to this: It was important to use White Lily self-rising flour, not any other brand, and to sift the flour before measuring because it made the biscuits fluffier. Add Crisco, buttermilk, and a bit of (super-secret) confectioners’ sugar, which some people in the South might consider blasphemous. After that, it was all about being careful not to overwork the dough when you mixed it together. Oh, and never twist the biscuit cutter; press it straight down after the dough has been rolled out. Then, when the biscuits are fresh and hot from the oven, coat both sides of them with melted butter.
Naturally, Bryce asked a zillion questions and took the lesson way more seriously than I did. When he took a bite, he practically moaned like a little kid. When my aunt said that he could share the recipe with his mother, he looked almost outraged.
“Not a chance. This was my gift.”
* * *
Later that afternoon, Bryce finally showed me the photo he’d taken of me and Daisy when we’d been checking out the village after the storm.
“I printed one for you, too,” he said, handing it to me. We were in his truck, parked near the lighthouse. I’d just taken a few sunset photos, and the sky was already beginning to darken. “In truth, my mom helped me print it, but you get the point.”
I could see why he’d wanted one for himself. It really was an endearing photo, even if I happened to be in it. He’d cropped the image to capture only our faces in profile and he’d caught the instant when my lips touched Daisy’s nose; my eyes were closed, but Daisy’s were brimming with adoration. And best of all, my body wasn’t shown, which made it easy to imagine the whole oops! thing had never happened at all.
“Thank you,” I said, continuing to stare at the image. “I wish I could shoot as well as you do. Or your mom.”
“You’re a lot better than I was when I first started. And some of your shots are fantastic.”
Maybe, I thought. But maybe not. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you think it’s okay that I’m in the darkroom. Being that I’m pregnant, I mean.”
“I asked my mom about that,” he said. “Don’t worry—I didn’t mention you—but she said she worked in the darkroom when she was pregnant. She said that as long as you use rubber gloves and aren’t in there every day, it isn’t dangerous.”
“That’s good,” I said. “I love watching the images start to materialize on the paper. One second, there’s nothing there…and then little by little, the picture comes to life.”
“I totally get it. For me, it’s an essential part of the experience,” he added. “I wonder, though, what’s going to happen when digital photography catches on. My guess is no one will develop pictures at all anymore.”
“What’s digital photography?”
“Instead of film, images are stored on a disk in the camera that you can then plug into a computer without having to use a scanner. They might even have cameras where you can see the pictures right away on a little screen in the back.”
“That’s a real thing?”
“It will be, I’m sure,” he said. “The cameras are super expensive now, but just like computers, I’m sure the cost will keep dropping. In time, I think most people will want to use those kinds of cameras instead. Including me.”
“That’s kind of sad,” I said. “It takes some of the magic away.”
“It’s the future,” he said. “And nothing lasts forever.”
I couldn’t help wondering whether he might also be referring to the two of us.
* * *
As my parents’ visit drew near, I began to feel antsy, a low-level nervousness that hummed beneath the surface. They were flying to New Bern on Wednesday and would take the early ferry to Ocracoke on Thursday morning. They weren’t staying long—only through Sunday afternoon—and the plan was for all of us to go to church and say our goodbyes in the parking lot right after the service.
On Thursday morning, I woke earlier than usual to shower and get ready, but even when Bryce showed up, I still had trouble concentrating on my studies. Not that there was much of anything to do—with finals behind me, I was plowing through second-semester work at a pace that would
have made even Morgan proud. Bryce could tell I was anxious and I’m pretty sure Daisy picked up on it, too. At least twice an hour she’d come to my side and nuzzle at my hand before whining, the sound coming from deep within her throat. Despite her efforts to put me at ease, when Aunt Linda showed up to drive me over to the ferry so I could meet my parents, my legs were wobbly as I stood from the chair.
“It’s going to be all right,” Bryce said. He was stacking my work into neat little piles on the kitchen table.
“I hope so,” I said. As distracted as I’d been, I hardly noticed how cute he was or how much I’d come to depend on him lately.
“Are you sure you still want me to come over tomorrow?”
“My parents said they wanted to meet you.”
I didn’t mention that the thought of being alone in the house with my parents while Aunt Linda was at the shop kind of terrified me.
By then, my aunt had poked her head inside the front door.
“You ready? The ferry should be here in ten minutes.”
“Almost,” I told her. “We were just cleaning up.”
I dropped off my schoolwork in my bedroom, and after grabbing my jacket, Bryce followed me down the stairs. He offered a quick wink as he hopped into his truck, which gave me the encouragement I needed to crawl into my aunt’s car, despite my nerves.
It was cold and gray as we drove to the docks. My parents’ rental car was the second vehicle to roll off the ferry. When they saw us, my dad pulled the car to a stop and we walked over to join them.
Hugs and kisses, a couple of good to see yous, no comments about my size, probably because they wanted to pretend I wasn’t pregnant at all, and then I was back in the car with my aunt. My eyes occasionally flashed to the side mirror while my parents followed us home, and after parking beside us, they got out of the car and stared at the house. In the gloom, it struck me as shabbier than usual.
“So this is it, huh?” my mom asked, pulling her coat tighter against the chill. “I understand why we had to book a room at the hotel. It seems kind of small.”
“It’s comfortable and has a great view of the water,” I offered.
“The ferry seemed to take forever. Is it always that slow?”
“I guess so,” I said. “But after a while, you get used to it.”
“Hmm,” she said. My dad, meanwhile, remained quiet, and my mom added nothing more.
“How about some lunch?” my aunt chimed in with forced cheer. “I made chicken salad earlier and thought we could do sandwiches.”
“I’m allergic to mayonnaise,” my mom said.
Aunt Linda recovered quickly. “I think I still have meatloaf leftovers, and I could make you a sandwich with that.”
My mom nodded; my dad remained silent. The four of us started up toward the front door, the pit in my stomach growing larger with every step.
* * *
Somehow, we made it through lunch, but the conversation was just as stilted. Whenever an uncomfortable silence settled over the table, Aunt Linda reverted to talking about the shop, chattering away as though their visit was nothing out of the ordinary. Afterward, we all piled into my aunt’s car for a quick tour of the village. She pretty much repeated the same things she’d told me when she’d first shown me around, and I’m pretty sure my parents were as unimpressed as I had been. In the back seat, my mom appeared almost shell-shocked.
They seemed to like the shop, though. Gwen was there and even though they’d eaten, she insisted on giving them dessert biscuits, which were essentially biscuits made with blueberries and topped with a sugary glaze. Gwen immediately picked up on the awkward vibe with my family and kept the conversation light. In the book area, she pointed out some of her favorites, in case either of my parents was interested. They weren’t—my parents weren’t readers—but they nodded anyway, making me feel like we were participating in a play where all of the characters wanted to be somewhere else.
Back at the house, Aunt Linda and my dad began chatting about family—their other sisters and my cousins—so after a while, my mom cleared her throat.
“How about we take a walk on the beach?” she suggested to me.
She made it sound like I didn’t have much of a choice, and the two of us drove to the beach, parking the rental car near the dune.
“I thought the beach would be closer,” she said.
“The village is on the sound side.”
“How do you get here?” she asked.
“I ride my bike.”
“You have a bike?”
“Aunt Linda picked it up at a garage sale before I arrived.”
“Oh,” she said. Back at home, she knew, my bike was in the garage, with tires cracking and low on air from disuse, the seat covered in dust. “At least you’re getting outside now and then. You’re too pale.”
I shrugged without answering. We got out of the car and I zipped my jacket up all the way before stuffing my hands in my pockets. Starting for the water’s edge, we skirted the dune, our feet sinking and sliding with every step. It wasn’t until we’d started up the beach that my mom spoke again.
“Morgan said to tell you that she wished she could come. But she’s the lead in the school play and there were rehearsals. She’s also trying for a scholarship with the Rotary, even though she’s already earned enough in scholarships to cover most of her tuition.”
“I’m sure she’ll get it,” I mumbled. Which was true, and though I felt the familiar pang of insecurity, I realized it didn’t make me feel as bad about myself as it had in the past.
We walked a few more steps before I heard my mom’s voice again. “She says that the two of you haven’t spoken in the last couple of weeks.”
I wondered if Aunt Linda had mentioned that she took the phone cord with her to work. “I’ve been really busy with school. I’ll call her next week.”
“Why did you fall so far behind in the first place? Your aunt was really worried about you, and so were your teachers.”
I felt my shoulders sag a little. “I guess it just took me a while to adjust to being here.”
“You’re not missing anything back home.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Have you heard from Madison or Jodie?”
“They haven’t called the house, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Do you know what they’ve been up to?”
“I have no idea. I suppose I could ask Morgan when I get home.”
“That’s okay,” I said, knowing my mom wouldn’t. To her mind, the less people were talking or wondering about me, the better.
“If you want to write them letters,” she went on, “I suppose I can have them delivered for you. Of course, you can’t be too specific or hint at what’s really going on.”
“Maybe,” I said. I didn’t want to lie to them, and since I couldn’t tell the truth, either, I wouldn’t have anything to say.
She adjusted her jacket collar to cover her neck. “What did you think about the doctor Linda found? I know Gwen could probably deliver the baby, but I told Linda that I’d be more comfortable if you were in a hospital.”
As soon as she asked, I immediately visualized Dr. Chinowith’s giant hands. “He’s older, but he seems nice and Gwen has worked with him a lot. I’m having a girl, by the way.”
“The doctor’s a man?”
“Is that a problem?”
She didn’t seem to want to answer and simply shook her head. “Anyway, you’ll be home and back to normal in just a few more months.”
At a loss, I asked, “How’s Dad doing?”
“He’s had to work overtime because there’s a big order for the new planes. But other than that, he’s the same.”
I thought about Bryce’s parents and the tender way they treated each other, which was so different from mine. “Are you still going out to dinner twice a month?”
“Not lately,” she said. “There was a plumbing leak and between getting that repaired, Christmas, and coming out here to see
you, we’ve been on a tight budget.”
Even though she probably hadn’t meant to, that made me feel bad. In fact, the whole walk was making me feel more depressed than I’d been before they arrived. But it got me to wondering…
“I guess the tutoring is expensive, too.”
“That’s being taken care of.”
“By Aunt Linda?”
“No,” she said. She seemed to debate before explaining and finally sighed. “Some of your expenses are being taken care of by the prospective parents, through the agency. Your school, the part of your doctor’s bills that our insurance won’t cover, your flights out here and back. Even a little spending money for you.”
Which explained the envelope of cash she’d given me in the airport. “Have you met the parents? I mean, are they nice people?”
“I haven’t met them. But I’m sure they’ll be loving parents.”
“How do you know for sure if you haven’t met them?”
“Your aunt and her friend Gwen have worked with this particular agency before and they know the woman in charge, so she screened the candidates personally. She’s very experienced, and I’m sure she’s evaluated the prospective parents thoroughly. That’s really all I know, and you shouldn’t want to know more than that, either. The less you worry, the easier it will be in the end.”
I suspected she was right. Even though the baby was moving regularly now, my pregnancy still didn’t always seem real. My mom knew better than to harp on the subject, so she let it pass. “It’s been quiet in the house since you’ve been gone.”
“It’s quiet here, too.”
“Seems like it. I guess I thought the town would be bigger. It’s so remote. I mean…what do people do here?”
“They fish and cater to tourists. In the off season, they fix their boats and equipment and hunker down for the winter,” I answered. “Or they own or work for small businesses that keep the town up and running, like Aunt Linda does. It’s not an easy life. People have to work hard to get by.”
“I don’t think I could live here.”
But it was okay for me, right? And yet…“It’s not all bad.”
The Wish Page 20
