The Wish(73)

“Charcoal briquettes and lighter fluid.”

“And what’s that thing?” I asked, pointing toward the tripod.

“A telescope,” he said. “My dad let me borrow it. It’s his, but the whole family uses it.”

“Am I going to see Halley’s Comet or something like that?”

“No,” he said. “That came in 1986. The next time it’s visible will be 2061.”

“And you just happen to know that?”

“I think everyone with a telescope knows it.”

Of course he thinks that. “What will we see, then?”

“Venus and Mars. Sirius, which is also called the Dog Star. Lepus. Cassiopeia. Orion. A few other constellations. And the moon and Jupiter are almost in conjunction.”

“And the cooler?”

“S’mores,” he said. “They’re fun to cook over campfires.”

He swept an arm toward the chairs and I sauntered over, choosing the one farthest away. I leaned forward, freeing the blanket, but as I spread it across my lap, I realized that the wind was now practically nonexistent because of the pit and the sand wall behind me. Daisy wandered up and lay beside Bryce. With the campfire, it felt downright toasty.

“When did you do all this?”

“I dug the hole and set up the wood and charcoal after I dropped you off.”

While I was napping. Which explained the difference between him and me—he did, while I slept. “It’s…incredible. Thank you for doing all this.”

“I also got you something for Valentine’s Day.”

“You already brought me flowers.”

“I wanted to give you something that will remind you of Ocracoke.”

I already had a feeling I’d remember this place—and this night—forever, but I watched in fascination as he reached into the pocket of his jacket, removed a small box wrapped in red-and-green paper, and handed it to me. It weighed next to nothing.

“Sorry. There was only Christmas wrapping paper in the house.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Should I open it now?”

“Please.”

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“You let me take you to dinner, which is more than enough.”

At his words, my heart did that funny racing thing again, which had been happening all too often lately. I lowered my gaze and began picking at the wrapping before finally pulling it free. Inside was a box for a staple remover.

“There were no gift boxes, either,” he apologized.

When I opened it and tilted the box, a thin gold chain fell into my palm. I gently shook the chain, freeing up a small gold pendant in the shape of a scallop shell. I held it up to the flickering light of the fire, too heart-struck to say anything. It was the first time a boy had ever bought me jewelry of any kind.

“Read the back,” he said.

I turned it over and leaned closer to the firelight. It was hard to read, but not impossible.

Ocracoke



Memories





I continued to stare at the pendant, unable to turn my gaze away. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered past the lump in my throat.

“I’ve never seen you wear a necklace, so I wasn’t sure you’d like it.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, finally turning to him. “But now I feel bad about not getting you anything.”

“But you did,” he said, the firelight flickering in his dark eyes. “You gave me the memories.”

I could almost believe the two of us were alone in the world, and I longed to tell him how much he meant to me. I searched for the right words, but they wouldn’t seem to come. In the end, I let my gaze slip away.

Beyond the firelight, it was impossible to see the waves, but I could hear them rolling onto the shore, muffling the sound of the crackling fire. I smelled smoke and salt and noticed that even more stars had emerged overhead. Daisy had curled into a ball at my feet. Feeling Bryce’s eyes on me, I suddenly knew that he had fallen in love with me. He didn’t care that I was carrying someone else’s child or that I would be leaving soon. It didn’t matter to him that I wasn’t as smart as he was, or as talented, or that even on my best day, I would never be pretty enough for a boy like him.

“Will you help me put it on?” I was finally able to ask, my voice sounding alien to me.

“Of course,” he murmured.

I turned and lifted my hair, feeling his fingers brush the nape of my neck. When it was hooked, I touched the pendant, thinking it felt as warm as I did, and slipped it inside my sweater.

I sat back again, dizzy at the realization that he loved me, and wondering how and when it had happened. My mind flashed through a library of memories—meeting Bryce on the ferry, and the morning he’d shown up at my door; his simple response when I’d told him that I was pregnant. I thought about standing beside him at the Christmas flotilla and the sight of Bryce striding among the decorations at the farm in Vanceboro. I remembered his expression when I’d gifted him the biscuit recipe and the anticipation in his eyes when he’d first handed me his camera. Lastly, I pictured him standing on the ladder as he boarded up windows, the image I knew I would own forever.

When he asked if I wanted to gaze through the telescope, I rose from my chair in a dreamlike state and put my eye to the eyepiece, listening as Bryce described what I was seeing. He rotated and adjusted the lens several times before launching into an introduction to planets and constellations and distant stars. He referenced legends and mythology, but distracted by his closeness and my newfound realizations, I barely registered anything he said.