“Bryce has always believed that both of his brothers are…better than he is. And while they’re both brilliant, they’re not Bryce. You’ve met them. As smart as they are, they’re still kids. When Bryce was their age, he was already an adult. By the time he was six, he’d announced his intent to attend West Point. Even though we’re a military family, even though it’s Porter’s alma mater, we had nothing to do with that decision. If it were up to Porter and me, we’d send him to Harvard. He was accepted there, too. Did he ever tell you that?”
Still trying to process what she’d told me about Bryce, I shook my head.
“He said he didn’t want us to have to pay anything. It was a point of pride for him to be able to go to college without our assistance.”
“That sounds like him,” I admitted.
“Let me ask you something,” she said, finally turning toward me again. “Do you know why Bryce has been fishing with his grandfather these past couple of weekends?”
“Because his grandfather needed his help, I guess. Because his dad isn’t back yet.”
Mrs. Trickett’s mouth formed a sad smile. “My dad doesn’t need Bryce’s help. Usually he doesn’t need Porter’s help, either. Porter mainly helps with equipment and engine repairs, but on the water, my dad doesn’t need anyone aside from the deckhand who’s worked for him for decades. My dad’s been a fisherman for over sixty years. Porter goes out with them because he likes to keep busy and enjoys being outside, and because he and my dad get along very well. The point is, I don’t know why Bryce went out with him, but my dad mentioned that Bryce had brought up some things that concerned him.”
“Like what?”
Her eyes were steady on mine. “Among other things, that he’s rethinking his decision to go to West Point.”
At her words, I blinked. “But…that…doesn’t make any sense,” I finally stammered.
“It didn’t make any sense to my dad, either. Or to me. I haven’t mentioned it to Porter yet, but I doubt he’ll know what to make of it.”
“Of course he’s going to West Point,” I babbled. “We’ve talked about it plenty of times. And look at the way he’s been exercising, trying to get ready.”
“That’s another thing,” she said. “He stopped working out.”
I hadn’t expected that, either. “Is it because of Harvard? Because he wants to go there instead?”
“I don’t know. If he does, he probably has to get the paperwork in soon. For all I know, the deadline might have passed.” She lifted her eyes to the sky before bringing them back to me. “But my dad said he also asked a lot of questions about the fishing business, the cost of the boat, repair bills, things like that. He’s been pestering my dad relentlessly for details.”
All I could do was shake my head. “I’m sure it’s nothing. He hasn’t said anything to me about it. And you know how curious he is about everything.”
“How has he been lately? How has he been acting?”
“He’s been a little off ever since he gave away Daisy. I thought it was because he missed her.” I didn’t mention the moments when he’d seemed clingy; it felt too personal, somehow.
She scanned the water again, so blue today it almost hurt the eyes. “I don’t think this has to do with Daisy,” she concluded. Before I could dwell on what she’d just said, she put her hands on the wheels of her chair, clearly about to depart. “I just wanted to see if he’d mentioned anything to you, so thanks for talking to me. I’d better get home. Richard and Robert were doing some sort of science experiment and Lord only knows what might happen.”
“Of course,” I said.
She turned the wheelchair around, then stopped to face me again. “When is the baby due?”
“May ninth.”
“Will you come to the house to say goodbye?”
“Maybe. I’m kind of trying to keep a low profile. But I want to thank all of you for being so kind and welcoming to me.”
She nodded as though she’d expected the answer, but her expression remained troubled.
“Do you want me to try to talk to him?” I called out as she wheeled toward the van.
She merely waved and answered over her shoulder, “I have the sense that he’s going to be talking to you.”
* * *
I was still sitting on the steps when Aunt Linda returned from the shop an hour later. I watched her pull up, saw her studying me before finally getting out of the car.
“Are you okay?” she asked, coming to a stop before me.
When I shook my head, she helped me stand up. Back inside, she led me to the kitchen table and sat across from me. In time, she reached for my hand.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Taking a deep breath, I went through it all, and when I finished, her expression was soft.
“I could tell she was concerned about Bryce when I saw her earlier.”
“What should I say to him? Should I talk to him? Should I tell him that he has to go to West Point? Or at least tell him to speak to his parents about what he’s thinking?”
“Are you supposed to know any of it?”
I shook my head. Then, “I don’t know what’s going on with him.”
“I think you probably do.”
You, she meant. “But he knows I’m leaving,” I protested. “He’s known all along. We’ve talked about it lots of times.”
She seemed to consider her response. “Maybe,” she said, her voice soft, “he didn’t like what you said.”
* * *
I didn’t sleep well that night and on Sunday, I found myself wishing I could have done the twelve-hour church-marathon thing as a distraction from the churn of my thoughts. When Gwen came over to check on me, I could barely concentrate, and after she left, I felt even worse. No matter where I went in the house, my concerns followed, raising one question after another. Even the occasional Braxton Hicks contraction didn’t divert me for long, as inured as I was becoming to the spasms. I was exhausted with worry.
It was April 21. The baby was due in eighteen days.
* * *
When Bryce came to the house on Monday morning, he said little about his weekend. I asked him about it in a conversational way and he mentioned that they’d had to go farther offshore than they’d originally planned, but the season for yellowfin tuna had heated up, and on both days, they’d had a decent haul. He said nothing about his reasons for vanishing the previous two weekends, nor about his college plans, and unsure whether to go on, I let the topic pass.
Instead, it was business as usual, almost like nothing was amiss. More studying, even more photography. By then, I understood the camera like the back of my hand and could make adjustments blindfolded; I’d practically memorized the technical aspects of every photo in the file box and understood the mistakes I’d made when taking my own photos. When my aunt got home, she asked if Bryce had a few minutes to help her install more shelves for the book section of the shop. He willingly agreed, though I stayed behind.
“How did it go?” I asked when she returned alone.