The more I thought about it, the more his insecurity began to seem justified, even if the standards in his family belonged in outer space.
“I’m sure you’ll be a general by the time you graduate.”
“Impossible.” He laughed. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Outside, I heard my aunt’s car pull onto the rutted drive and a loud squeak as the engine wound down.
Bryce must have heard it, too. “The drive belt makes that noise. It probably needs to be tightened. I can fix that for her.”
I heard Aunt Linda coming up the steps before she pushed open the door. Her eyes went to the two of us and though she didn’t say it, I was pretty sure she was happy about the fact that we were on opposite sides of the couch. “Hey there,” she said.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
She took off her jacket. “No leaks and the generator is working fine.”
“Oh, good. Bryce says he can fix your car.”
“What’s wrong with my car?”
“The drive belt needs to be tightened.”
She seemed confused by the fact that I’d said it, not Bryce. When I glanced at him, I could tell he was still pondering his recent admissions. “Can Bryce stay for dinner?”
“Of course he can,” she said. “But it’s not going to be anything fancy.”
“Grilled cheese sandwiches?”
“Is that what you’d like? Maybe with soup?”
“Perfect.”
“Easy for me, too. How about in an hour?”
I felt my craving burst forth like popcorn cooking in the microwave. “I can’t wait.”
*
After dinner, I walked Bryce to the door. On the porch, he turned around.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked.
“I’ll be here at nine. Thanks for dinner.”
“Thank my aunt, not me. I just do the dishes.”
“I already thanked her.” He tucked a hand into his pocket before going on. “I had a nice time today,” he said. “Getting to know you better, I mean.”
“I did, too. Even if you lied to me.”
“When did I lie?”
“When you said I didn’t look pregnant.”
“You don’t,” he said. “Not at all.”
“Yeah, well”—I gave a wry smile—“just wait a month.”
*
The next week and a half was a blur of test prep for finals, getting a head start on next semester’s assignments, and photography. I had a quick examination with Gwen, who said that both the baby and I were doing well. I also started paying for the film and photography paper I was using; Bryce’s mom ordered in bulk so it was less expensive. Bryce was hesitant to take the money, but I was using so much film, it only seemed right. Best of all, with every roll I seemed to be getting a little bit better.
Bryce, for his part, almost always developed my film at night, when I did my extra schoolwork. We would review the contact sheets the next morning and decide together which images to print. He also helped me make flashcards when I thought I needed them, quizzed me on the chapters I needed to know in every subject, and pretty much had me ready for anything by the time my finals came around. I’m not going to say I aced them, but considering where my grades had been, I almost pulled a shoulder muscle patting myself on the back. Aside from that—and watching Bryce tighten the drive belt in my aunt’s car—the only big thing left to do was have my aunt teach us how to make biscuits at the shop.
We went in on a Saturday, a few days before my parents were to arrive. My aunt had us wear aprons and went through each step with us.
As for the secrets, they really came down to this: It was important to use White Lily self-rising flour, not any other brand, and to sift the flour before measuring because it made the biscuits fluffier. Add Crisco, buttermilk, and a bit of （super-secret） confectioners’ sugar, which some people in the South might consider blasphemous. After that, it was all about being careful not to overwork the dough when you mixed it together. Oh, and never twist the biscuit cutter; press it straight down after the dough has been rolled out. Then, when the biscuits are fresh and hot from the oven, coat both sides of them with melted butter.
Naturally, Bryce asked a zillion questions and took the lesson way more seriously than I did. When he took a bite, he practically moaned like a little kid. When my aunt said that he could share the recipe with his mother, he looked almost outraged.
“Not a chance. This was my gift.”