The Wish(22)

“Like what?”

“Ocracoke,” he said. “You’ve been here a few weeks now, right?”

“It’s kind of small.”

“For sure.” He laughed. “It took me a while to get used to it, too.”

“You weren’t raised here?”

“No,” he said. “Like you, I’m a dingbatter.”

“What’s a dingbatter?”

“Anyone who isn’t originally from here.”

“That’s not a real thing.”

“It is around here,” he said. “My father and my brothers are dingbatters, too. Not my mom, though. She was born and raised here. We’ve only been back for a few years.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward an older-model truck with fading red paint and large wide tires. “I’ve got an extra chair in the car if you want to sit. It’s a lot more comfortable than the benches.”

“I should probably get going. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. Until you showed up, the ride was fairly boring.”

I couldn’t exactly tell if he was flirting, but uncertain, I said nothing at all. Bryce seemed to take my lack of an answer as a yes and went on.

“Great,” he said. “I’ll get the chair.”

Before I knew what was happening, the chair was angled toward the ocean beside his, and I watched as he took his seat. Suddenly feeling a bit trapped, I made my way toward the other chair and seated myself gingerly alongside him.

He stretched his legs out in front of him. “Better than the bench, right?”

I was still trying to digest how good-looking he was and that my aunt—the former nun—had set all this up. Or maybe not. The last thing my parents probably wanted was for me to meet anyone of the opposite sex ever again, and they’d probably told her that, too.

“I guess. It’s still kind of cold.”

As I spoke, Daisy moseyed over and lay down between us. I reached toward her, giving her a quick pat.

“Be careful,” he said. “Once you start petting her, she can get kind of insistent that you never stop.”

“It’s okay. She reminds me of my dog. Back home, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“Sandy’s older and a little bigger, though. I miss her. How old is Daisy?”

“She turned one in October. So I guess she’s almost fourteen months now.”

“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.”