The Wish

by Nicholas Sparks

  Two nights later, however, he made up for it. It was Friday evening—we’d been together twelve hours by then—and my aunt was in the living room while we were on the porch. It was a warmer-than-usual night compared to what it had been, so we left the slider open slightly. I figured my aunt could hear us, and even though she had a book open in her lap, I suspected she was sneaking the occasional peek at us as well. Meanwhile, Bryce squirmed in his chair and shuffled his feet like the nervous teenager he was.

  “I know you have to be up early on Sunday morning, but I was hoping you might be free tomorrow night.”

  “What’s happening tomorrow night?”

  “I’ve been building something with Robert and my dad,” he said. “I want to show it to you.”

  “What is it?”

  “A surprise,” he answered. Then, as though he was in danger of promising too much, he went on, the words coming quickly. “It’s not a big deal. And it has nothing to do with photography, but I was checking the weather and I think the conditions will be perfect. I guess I could show you during the day, but it will be a lot better at night.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about; the only thing I knew for sure was that he was acting the same way he had before inviting me to the New Bern Christmas flotilla with his family. The sort-of date. He really was unbearably cute when he was nervous.

  “I’ll have to check with my aunt.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  I waited and when he added nothing else, I asked the obvious. “Can you give me a little more information?”

  “Oh yeah. Right. I was hoping to take you to dinner at Howard’s Pub, and then after that, the surprise. I can probably have you home by ten.”

  Inwardly, I smiled, thinking that if a boy asked my parents whether I could stay out until ten, even they would have agreed. Well…in the past they would have, but maybe not now. But still, this sounded like a date date, not a sort-of date, and even though my heart suddenly boomed in my chest, I rotated in my rocker, trying to look calm and hoping to catch my aunt’s eye.

  “Ten o’clock is fine,” she said, still gazing toward her book. “But no later.”

  I faced Bryce again. “All good.”

  He nodded. Shuffled his feet. Nodded again.

  “So…what time?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what time do I have to be ready tomorrow?”

  “How about nine?”

  Though I knew exactly what he meant, I pretended not to, just to be funny. “You’ll pick me up at nine, we’ll have dinner at Howard’s Pub, see the surprise, and you’ll have me home by ten?”

  His eyes widened. “Nine in the morning,” he said. “For photos, I mean, and maybe a little Photoshop practice. There’s also this place on the island I want to show you. Only the locals know about it.”

  “What place?”

  “You’ll see,” he said. “I know I’m not making much sense, but…” He trailed off and I suppressed a thrill at the thought that he’d actually asked me out on a date date. Which sort of scared me but kind of excited me, too. “See you tomorrow?” he finally added.

  “I can’t wait.”

  And truth be told, I couldn’t.

  * * *

  My aunt was quiet after I closed the door. Oh, she hid it well—what with the open book and all—and she didn’t offer any remarks brewing with hidden meanings, but I sensed her concern, even though I felt like I was floating.

  I slept well, better than I had in weeks, and woke feeling refreshed. I had breakfast with my aunt, and in the morning, Bryce and I shot some pictures near his house. Afterward, we worked with his mom at the computer. Bryce sat close to me, radiating heat, making it harder than usual to concentrate.

  We had lunch at his house, then climbed in his truck. I thought he was taking me back to my aunt’s, but he turned onto a street I’d ridden down dozens of times but never really noticed.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “We’re taking a quick detour to Great Britain.”

  I blinked. “You mean England? Like the country?”

  “Exactly,” he answered with a wink. “You’ll see.”

  We passed a small cemetery on the left, then another on the right before he finally pulled the truck over. When we got out, he brought me to a granite memorial located near four neat rectangular graves surrounded by pine bark and bouquets of flowers, all encircled by a picket fence.

  “Welcome to Great Britain,” he said.

  “You’ve lost me completely.”

  “In 1942, HMT Bedfordshire was torpedoed by a German submarine just off the coast and four bodies washed ashore in Ocracoke. They were able to identify two of the men, but the other two were unknown. They’re buried here, and this spot has been leased to the British Commonwealth in perpetuity.”

  There was more information on the memorial, including the names of everyone who’d been on the trawler. It seemed impossible that German submarines had patrolled here, in the waters of these desolate islands. Wasn’t there someplace else they should have been? Though World War II was a topic in my history books, my views of the war had been shaped by Hollywood movies more than books, and I found myself visualizing how horrible it must have been to be on board as an explosion ripped through the hull. That only four bodies were recovered out of the thirty-seven on board struck me as terrible and I wondered what had happened to the rest of the crew. Had they gone down with the ship, entombed in the hull? Or washed ashore elsewhere, or perhaps floated farther out to sea?

  The whole thing gave me shivers, but then I’d never been really comfortable in cemeteries. When my grandparents had died—all four of them before I was ten—my parents would bring Morgan and me to their graves, where we’d leave flowers. All I could ever think about was the fact that I was surrounded by dead people. I know death is pretty much unavoidable, but it still wasn’t something I liked to think about.

  “Who put the flowers here? The families?”

  “Probably the coast guard. They’re the ones who take care of the plots, even though it’s British territory.”

  “Why were there German submarines here in the first place?”

  “Our merchant fleet would pick up supplies in South America or the Caribbean or wherever, and then follow the Gulf Stream north, then over to Europe. But early on, the merchant ships were slow and unprotected, so they were easy targets for the submarines. Scores of merchant ships were sunk just offshore. That’s why the Bedfordshire was here. To help protect them.”

  As I studied the neatly manicured graves, I realized many of the sailors on board the ship probably hadn’t been much older than I was and that the four people buried here were an ocean away from the relatives they’d left behind. I wondered if their parents had ever made the trip to Ocracoke to see how they’d been laid to rest, and how heartbreaking it was, no matter what the answer might be.

  “It makes me sad,” I finally said, knowing why Bryce hadn’t suggested that we bring the camera. It was a place better remembered in person.

  “Me too,” he offered.

  “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  He brought his lips together and after a while, we walked back to the truck, moving more slowly than usual.

  * * *

  After he dropped me off, I took a long nap and then called Morgan. I’d done that a couple of times since my mom and dad had visited, and we chatted for fifteen minutes. Or more accurately, Morgan did pretty much all the talking and all I had to do was listen. After hanging up, I started getting ready for my date. Clothing-wise, I was limited to the stretchy jeans and the new sweater I’d received for Christmas. Thankfully, my acne had receded, so I didn’t need a lot of foundation or powder. Nor did I go overboard with blush or eye shadow, but I did put on lip gloss.

  For the first time, I could really tell I was pregnant. My face was rounder and I was just…bigger, especially my bust. I definitely needed larger bras. I’d have to get them a
fter church, which didn’t quite seem appropriate somehow, but it wasn’t like I had another option.

  Aunt Linda was at the stove; she was planning on making beef Stroganoff and I knew Gwen would be joining her. The aroma of her cooking made my stomach rumble and she must have heard it. “Do you want some fruit? To tide you over until dinner?”

  “I’ll be okay,” I said. I took a seat at the table.

  Despite my answer, she dried her hands and grabbed an apple. “How was today?”

  I told her about Photoshopping and the trip to the cemetery. She nodded. “Every year on May eleventh, the anniversary of the sinking, Gwen and I go there to leave flowers and pray for their souls.”

  Figures. “I’m glad you do. Have you ever been to Howard’s Pub?”

  “Many times. It’s the only restaurant here that’s open year-round.”

  “Except for yours.”

  “We’re not a real restaurant. You look pretty.”

  She quickly sliced the apple into wedges and brought them to the table.

  “I look pregnant.”

  “No one will be able to tell.”

  She went back to cleaning mushrooms while I nibbled on one of the apple slices, which was exactly what my stomach needed. But it made me think…

  “How bad is labor?” I asked. “I mean, I’ve heard so many horror stories.”

  “That’s hard for me to answer. I’ve never given birth so I can’t speak from experience. And with the girls who stayed with us, I was only in the hospital room with a few of them. Gwen could probably give you a better answer since she’s a midwife, but from what I know, contractions aren’t pleasant. And yet, it’s not so terrible that women refuse to go through it again.”

  That made sense, even if it didn’t really answer my question.

  “Do you think I should hold the baby after I give birth?”

  She took a few seconds to answer. “I can’t answer that, either.”

  “What would you do?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  I picked up another wedge, nibbling on it, thinking, but was interrupted when I saw headlights flash through the windows and across the ceiling. Bryce’s truck, I thought with an unexpected burst of nervousness. Which was silly. I’d already spent half the day with him.

  “Do you know where Bryce is taking me after dinner?”

  “He told me today before you went to his house.”

  “And?”

  “Make sure you bring a jacket.”

  I waited, but she added nothing else. “Are you mad at me for going out with him?”

  “No.”

  “But you don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “The real question is whether you think it’s a good idea.”

  “We’re just friends,” I responded.

  She said nothing, but then again, she didn’t have to. Because like me, I realized, she was nervous.

  * * *

  Confession time: This was my first real dinner date. Oh, I’d met a boy and some friends at a pizza parlor once, and the same boy had taken me to get ice cream, but other than that, I was pretty much a novice when it came to how to act or what I was supposed to say.

  Fortunately, it took me all of two seconds to realize that Bryce hadn’t ever been on a dinner date, either, since he was acting even more nervous than I was, at least until we got to the restaurant. He’d splashed on an earthy-smelling cologne and he wore a button-up shirt, rolling the sleeves to his elbows, and—maybe because he knew my clothing options were limited—he was wearing jeans just like I was. The difference was that he could have strolled out of a magazine photo shoot, while I resembled a puffier version of the girl I wanted to be.

  As for Howard’s Pub, it was pretty much as I expected, with wooden plank floors and walls decorated with pennants and license plates, and fronted by a crowded, boisterous bar. At the table, we picked up the menus, and less than a minute later, a waitress came by to take our drink orders. We both ordered sweet tea, probably making us the only two who hadn’t come for the pub part in the restaurant’s name.

  “My mom says the crab cakes are good here,” Bryce remarked.

  “Is that what you’re getting?”

  “I’ll probably go with the ribs,” he said. “It’s what I always get.”

  “Does your family come here often?”

  “Once or twice a year. My parents come more often, whenever they need a break from us kids. Supposedly there are times when we can be a bit overwhelming.”

  I smiled. “I’ve been thinking about that cemetery,” I commented. “I’m glad we didn’t take pictures.”

  “I never do, mostly because of my grandfather. He was one of those merchant marines that the Bedfordshire was trying to protect.”

  “Has he ever talked about the war?”

  “Not much, other than to say it was the scariest time of his life. Not only because of the submarines, but also because of the storms in the North Atlantic. He’s been through hurricanes, but the waves in the North Atlantic were beyond terrifying. Of course, before the war, he’d never even set foot on the mainland, so pretty much everything was new to him.”

  I tried and failed to imagine a life like that. In the silence, I felt the baby move—that watery pressure again—and my hand automatically went to my stomach.

  “The baby?” he asked.

  “She’s getting very active,” I said.

  He set his menu aside. “I know it’s not my decision or even my business, but I’m glad you decided to put the baby up for adoption and not have an abortion.”

  “My parents wouldn’t have let me. I suppose I could have gone to Planned Parenthood or whatever on my own, but the thought never crossed my mind. It’s a Catholic thing.”

  “I meant that if you had, you never would have come to Ocracoke and I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you.”

  “You wouldn’t have missed much.”

  “I’m pretty sure that I would have missed everything.”

  I felt a sudden heat at the back of my neck, but thankfully the waitress arrived with our drinks, rescuing me. We placed our orders—crab cakes for me, ribs for him—and while we sipped our tea, the conversation drifted toward easier, less blush-inducing topics. He described the many places around the United States and Europe he had lived; I related the conversation I’d had with Morgan—which mostly revolved around the stress she was under—and shared stories about Madison and Jodie and some of our girlhood adventures, which really centered around slumber parties and occasional makeup fiascoes. Strangely, I hadn’t thought about Madison or Jodie since the conversation with my mom when we’d walked on the beach. Had anyone suggested before I’d arrived here that they would slip my mind for even a day or two, I wouldn’t have believed them. Who, I wondered, was I becoming?

  Our salads arrived, then our meals, as Bryce discussed the grueling application process to West Point. He’d received recommendations from both of North Carolina’s U.S. senators, which sort of amazed me—but he said that even if he hadn’t gotten in, he would have gone to another university, then entered the army as an officer after graduation.

  “And then the Green Beret thing?”

  “Or Delta, which is another step up. If I qualify, I mean.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of getting killed?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “How can you not be afraid?”

  “I don’t think about it.”

  I knew I’d think about it all the time. “What about after the military? Have you ever thought about what you want to do then? Would you want to be a consultant like your dad?”

  “Not a chance. If it was possible, I’d follow in my mom’s footsteps and try to do some travel photography. I think it would be cool to go to remote places and tell stories with my pictures.”

  “How do you even get a job doing that?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You could always go into dog training. Daisy’s doing much better lately at not wa
ndering off.”

  “It would be too hard to give the dogs away over and over. I get too attached.”

  I realized that I’d be sad, too. “I’m glad you’re bringing her to the house, then. So you can see her as much as possible before she leaves.”

  He rotated his glass of tea. “Would you mind if I stopped to pick her up tonight?”

  “What? For the surprise?”

  “I think she’d have fun.”

  “What are we doing? Can you at least give me a hint?”

  He thought about it. “Don’t order dessert.”

  “That doesn’t help.”

  I saw the slightest of twinkles in his eyes. “Good.”

  * * *

  After dinner, we drove to Bryce’s house, where we found his parents and the twins watching a documentary on the Manhattan Project, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest. After loading an excited Daisy into the bed, we were back on the road and it didn’t take long before I knew where we were going. The road led to only one place.

  “The beach?”

  When he nodded, I peered at him. “We’re not going in the water, right? Like that opening scene in Jaws, where the lady goes out swimming and gets eaten by a shark? Because if that’s your plan, you can turn around now.”

  “The water’s too cold to go swimming.”

  Instead of stopping in the parking area, he made for a gap in the dunes, then turned onto the sand and began driving down the beach.

  “Is this legal?”

  “Of course,” he said. “But it’s not legal to run over anyone.”

  “Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

  He laughed as we bounced through the sand, my hand gripping the handle above the door. It was dark—really, really dark—because the moon was just a tiny sliver, and even through the windshield, I could see stars spreading across the sky.

  Bryce remained quiet while I strained to make out a shadowy outline ahead. Even with the headlights, I couldn’t tell what it was, but Bryce turned the wheel as we drew near and eventually brought the truck to a halt.