I felt my mouth fall open. “You knew I was pregnant? Did my aunt tell you?”
“Linda didn’t say anything. I just sort of put the pieces together.”
“What pieces?”
“The fact that you’re here but still enrolled in a school in Seattle? Because you’re leaving in May? Because your aunt was vague about the reason for your sudden visit? Because she asked for an extra cushy seat on your bike? Because you used the bathroom a lot today? Pregnancy was the only explanation that made sense.”
I wasn’t sure whether I was more surprised by the idea that he’d figured it out so easily or the fact that there was no judgment in his tone or his expression as he said it.
“It was a mistake,” I said in a rush. “I did something stupid last August with a guy I barely knew, and now I’m here until I have the baby because my parents didn’t want anyone to find out what happened to me. And I’d rather you not tell anyone, either.”
He started wrapping the tree again. “I’m not going to say anything. But won’t people learn what happened when they see you walking around with a baby?”
“I’m giving her up for adoption. My parents have it all figured out.”
“It’s a her?”
“I have no idea. My mom thinks it’ll be a girl because she says my family only makes girls. I mean…my mom has four sisters, my dad has three sisters. I have twelve female cousins and no males. My parents had girls.”
“That’s cool,” he offered. “Aside from my mom, it’s all boys in our family. Can you hand me another strand?”
The change in subject threw me. “Wait…don’t you have more questions?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. How it happened or whatever?”
“I understand the mechanics,” he said, his tone neutral. “You already mentioned that it was a guy you barely knew and a mistake, and you’re giving her up for adoption, so what else is there to say?”
My parents certainly had a lot more to say, but to his point, what did the details matter? In my confusion, I reached for another strand and handed it to him. “I’m not a bad person—”
“I never thought you were.”
He started going around the tree again; by then, the lights were halfway to the top.
“Why doesn’t any of this bother you?”
“Because,” he answered, still placing the lights, “the same thing happened to my mom. She was a teenager when she became pregnant. I guess the only difference was that my dad married her, and I eventually came along.”
“Your parents told you that?”
“They didn’t have to. I know their anniversary, and I know my birthday. The math isn’t hard.”
Wow, I thought. I wondered if my aunt knew all this.
“How old was your mom?”
“Nineteen.”
It didn’t seem like a significant age difference but it was, even if he didn’t say so. After all, at nineteen you’re a legal adult and not in high school anymore. Instead, once he finished with the next strand, he said, “Let’s step back and see how we’re doing.”
From a distance, it was easier to see the gaps and other places where the lights were too close together. At the tree, we both adjusted the strands, stepped back, then adjusted some more, the scent of pine filling the room as the branches moved. Strains of Bing Crosby played in the background as flickering light fell across Bryce’s features. In the silence, I wondered what he was really thinking and whether he was as accepting as he seemed.
Once we finished, we strung the lights on the top half of the tree. Because he was taller, he did pretty much everything while I stood and watched. When he was done, we both stepped farther away again and studied our accomplishment.
“What do you think?”
“It’s pretty,” I answered, even though my mind was still a million miles away.
“Do you know if your aunt has a star or an angel for the top?”
“I have no idea. And…thanks.”
“For what?”
“For not asking questions. For being so nice about the reason I’m in Ocracoke. For agreeing to tutor me.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. “Believe it or not, I’m glad you’re here. Ocracoke can get kind of boring in the winter.”
“You don’t say.”
He laughed. “I guess you’ve noticed that, huh?”
For the first time since he’d arrived, I smiled. “It’s not all bad.”
* * *
Aunt Linda and Gwen showed up about a minute later and oohed and aahed over the lights before pouring glasses of eggnog. The four of us sipped while adding tinsel to the tree along with the ornaments and the angel for the top, which had been stored in the hall closet. It didn’t take long until the tree was finished. Bryce slid it back into place before adding more water to the base. Afterward, Aunt Linda plied us with cinnamon rolls she’d bought at the store, and though they weren’t as fresh as her biscuits, we ate them with gusto at the table.
Even if it wasn’t terribly late, it was probably time for Bryce to go, since Aunt Linda and Gwen had to wake up so early. Thankfully, he seemed to realize it and brought his plate to the sink, then said goodbye before we started toward the door.
“Thanks again for having me over,” he said, reaching for the knob. “That was a lot of fun.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant decorating the tree or spending time with me was fun, but I felt a surge of relief that I’d told him the truth about myself. And that he’d been more than kind about all of it.
“I’m glad you came.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his voice quiet, the words strangely sounding like both a promise and an opportunity.
* * *
“I told him,” I said to Aunt Linda later, after Gwen had left. We were in the living room, moving the empty boxes to the hall closet.
“And?”
“He already knew. He’d figured it out.”
“He’s…very bright. The whole family is.”
When I set the box on the floor, my jeans pinched my waist and I already knew my other pants were even tighter. “I think I’m going to need some bigger clothes.”
“I was going to suggest that we do some shopping after church on Sunday for just that reason.”
“You could tell?”
“No. But it’s about that time. I brought a lot of young pregnant girls shopping when I was a nun.”
“Is it possible to buy pants that don’t make my situation so obvious? I mean, I know everyone’s going to know, but…”
“It’s fairly easy to hide in winter because sweaters and jackets can cover a lot. I doubt anyone will see your baby bump until March. Maybe even April, and once it does show, you can always keep a lower profile then, if that’s what you want.”
“Do you think other people have figured it out? Like Bryce did? And that they’re talking about me?”
My aunt seemed to choose her words carefully. “I think there’s some curiosity about why you’re here, but no one has asked me directly. If they do, I’ll just tell them that it’s personal. They’ll know not to press.”