The Rescue

Chapter 20

When she woke the following morning, Denise was alone. The bedcovers on Taylor’s side had been pulled up, his clothes nowhere to be seen. Checking the clock, she saw that it was a little before seven. Puzzled, she got out of bed, put on a short silk bathrobe, and checked the house quickly before glancing out the window.

Taylor’s truck was gone.

Frowning, Denise returned to the bedroom to check the bedstand: no note. Not in the kitchen, either.

Kyle, who’d heard her puttering around the house, staggered sleepily out of his bedroom as she was pondering the situation, plopping down on the living room couch.

“Hewwo, Money,” he mumbled, his eyes half-closed. Just as she answered, she heard Taylor’s truck coming up the drive. A minute later Taylor was slowly opening the front door, a grocery bag in his arms, as if wary of waking a sleeping household.

“Oh, hey,” he said, whispering as soon as he saw them, “I didn’t think you two would be up yet.”

“Hewwo, Tayer,” Kyle cried, suddenly alert.

Denise pulled her robe a little tighter. “Where did you go?”

“I ran to the store.”

“At this hour?”

Taylor closed the door behind him and walked across the living room. “It opens at six.”

“Why’re you whispering?”

“I don’t know.” He laughed, and his tone returned to normal. “Sorry about leaving this morning, but my stomach was growling.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“So anyway, since I was already up, I decided that I would make you two a real breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, the works.”

Denise smiled. “You don’t like my Cheerios?”

“I love your Cheerios. But today is special.”

“Why is today so special?”

He glanced toward Kyle, who was now focused on the toys piled in the corner. Judy had organized them neatly the night before, and he was doing his best to rectify that. Certain his attention was occupied, Taylor simply raised his eyebrows.

“Do you have anything on under that robe, Miss Holton?” he murmured, obvious desire in his tone.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teased.

Taylor set the bag of groceries on the end table and put his arms around her, his hands running down her back, then inching lower. She looked momentarily embarrassed, her eyes flashing toward Kyle.

“I think I just found out,” he said conspiratorially.

“Stop,” she said, meaning it, but not really wanting him to. “Kyle’s in the room.”

Taylor nodded and pulled away with a wink. Kyle hadn’t turned his attention from his toys.

“Well, today is special for the obvious reason,” he said conversationally as he picked up the bag again. “But even more, after I make your gourmet breakfast, I’d like to take you and Kyle to the beach today.”

“But I have to work with Kyle and then head into the diner tonight.”

As he walked past her toward the kitchen, he stopped, leaning toward her ear as if sharing a secret.

“I know. I’m supposed to go over to Mitch’s this morning to help fix his roof. But I’m willing to play hooky once if you are.”

“But I took the morning off at the store,” Mitch protested gamely. “You can’t back out on me now. I’ve already pulled everything out of the garage.”

Dressed in jeans and an old shirt, he had been waiting for Taylor to pull up when he heard the phone ring.

“Well, put it all back in,” Taylor said good-naturedly. “Like I said, I’m not going to be able to make it.”

As Taylor talked, he moved the bacon around with a fork in the sizzling pan. The aroma filled the house. Denise was standing close by, still in her short robe, scooping coffee grounds into the filter. The sight of her made Taylor wish that Kyle would disappear for the next hour or so. His mind was barely on the conversation.

“But what if it rains?”

“You already told me it’s not leaking yet. That’s why you let me put it off this long.”

“Four cups or six?” Denise asked.

Lifting his chin away from the receiver, Taylor answered. “Make it eight. I love coffee.”

“Who’s that?” Mitch asked, everything suddenly coming clear now “Hey . . . are you with Denise?”

Taylor looked toward her admiringly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

“So you were with her all night?”

“What kind of question is that?”

Denise smiled, knowing exactly what Mitch was saying on the other end.

“You sly dog . . .”

“So about your roof,” Taylor said loudly, trying to get the subject back on track.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Mitch said, suddenly affable. “You just have yourself a nice time with her. It’s about time you finally found someone-”

“Good-bye, Mitch,” Taylor said, cutting him off. Shaking his head, he hung up the phone while Mitch was still talking.

Denise pulled the eggs from the grocery bag. “Scrambled?” she asked.

He grinned. “With you looking so good, how could I not feel scrambled?”

She rolled her eyes. “You really are a goob.”

Two hours later they were sitting on a blanket at the beach near Nags Head, Taylor applying sunscreen to Denise’s back. Kyle was using a plastic shovel nearby, scooping sand from one spot on the beach and moving it to another. Neither Taylor nor Denise had any idea what he was thinking as he did it, but he seemed to be enjoying it.

For Denise, the memories of the previous evening were revived as she felt the lotion being caressed into her skin.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said.

“Sure.”

“Last night . . . after we’d . . . well . . .” She paused.

“After we’d done the horizontal tango?” Taylor offered.

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t make it sound so romantic,” she protested, and Taylor laughed. She shook her head but was unable to repress a grin.

“Anyway,” she went on, regaining her composure. “Afterward, you got sort of quiet, like you were . . . sad or something.”

Taylor nodded, looking out to the horizon. Denise waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.

Watching the waves as they rolled up the shore, Denise gathered her courage.

“Was it because you regretted what happened?”

“No,” he said quietly, his hands on her skin again. “It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what was it?”

Without answering directly, Taylor followed her eyes, tracking the waves. “Do you remember back when you were a kid? Around Christmas? And how the anticipation was sometimes even more exciting than opening the presents?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what it reminds me of. I’d been dreaming about what it would finally be like . . .”

He stopped, considering how best to communicate what he meant.

“So the anticipation was actually more exciting than last night?” she asked.

“No,” he said quickly. “You’ve got it all wrong. It was just the opposite. Last night was wonderful-you were wonderful. The whole thing was so perfect . . . I guess it makes me sad to think that there’s never going be a first time with you again.”

At that, he grew quiet once more. Denise, musing on his words and the sudden stillness in his gaze, decided to let the subject go. Instead she leaned back against him, comforted by the reassuring warmth of his encircling arms. They sat that way for a long time, each lost in thought.

Later, as the sun began its midafternoon march across the sky, they packed up their things, ready to head home. Taylor carried the blanket, towels, and picnic basket they’d brought with them. Kyle was walking ahead of them, his body covered in sand, carrying his pail and shovel as he weaved through the last of the sand dunes. All along the footpath, a sea of orange and yellow blossoms bloomed, their colors spectacular. Denise bent and plucked a blossom, bringing it to her nose.

“Around here, we call it the Jobellflower,” Taylor said, watching her. She handed it to him, and Taylor wagged a finger at her in mock reproach.

“You know it’s against the law to pick flowers on the dunes. They help protect us from the hurricanes.”

“Are you going to turn me in?”

Taylor shook his head. “No, but I’m going to make you listen to the legend of how they got their name.”

She pushed away the hair that had blown into her eyes. “Is this another story like the dram tree?”

“Sort of. It’s a little more romantic, though.”

Denise took a step closer to him. “So tell me about the flower.”

He twirled it between his fingers, and the petals seemed to blend together.

“The Jobellflower was named for Joe Bell, who lived on this island a long time ago. Supposedly, Joe had been in love with a woman, but she ended up marrying someone else. Heartbroken, he moved to the Outer Banks, where he intended to live the life of a recluse. On his first morning in his new home, however, he saw a woman walking along the beach in front of his house, looking terribly sad and alone. Every day, at the same time, he would see her, and eventually he went out to meet her, but when she saw him, she turned and ran away. He thought he’d frightened her off for good, but the next morning she was walking along the beach again. This time, when he went to see her, she didn’t run, and Joe was immediately struck by how beautiful she was. They talked all day, then the next, and soon they were in love. Surprisingly, at the same time he was falling in love, a small batch of flowers began to grow right behind his house, flowers never seen before in this area. As his love grew, the flowers continued to spread, and by the end of the summer, they’d become a beautiful ocean of color. It was there that Joe knelt and asked her to marry him. When she agreed, Joe picked a dozen blossoms and handed them to her, but strangely, she recoiled, refusing to take them. Later, on their wedding day, she explained her reason. ‘This flower is the living symbol of our love,’ she said. ‘If the flowers die, then our love will die as well.’ This terrified Joe-for some reason, he knew in his heart that truer words had never been spoken. So he began to plant or seed Jobellflowers all along the stretch of beach where they’d first met, then eventually throughout the Outer Banks, as a testimony to how much he loved his wife. And every year, as the flowers were spread, they fell deeper and deeper in love.”

When he was finished, Taylor bent and picked a few more of the blossoms, then handed the bunch to Denise.

“I like that story,” she said.

“I do, too.”

“But didn’t you just break the law, too?”

“Of course. But I figure that this way, we’ll each have something to keep the other in line.”

“Like trust?”

“That too,” he said as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

Taylor drove her into work that night, though Kyle didn’t stay with her. Instead Taylor offered to watch him at Denise’s house.

“We’ll have fun. We’ll play a little ball, watch a movie, eat some popcorn.”

After hemming and hawing, Denise finally agreed, and Taylor dropped her off right before seven. As their truck pulled away, Taylor winked at Kyle.

“Okay, little man. First stop is my house. If we’re going to watch a movie, we’re going to need a VCR.”

“He’s driving,” Kyle responded vigorously, and Taylor laughed, well used to Kyle’s form of communication by now.

“We’ve also got one more stop to make, okay?”

Kyle simply nodded again, seemingly relieved that he didn’t have to go into the diner. Taylor picked up his cellular phone and made a call, hoping the guy on the other end wouldn’t mind doing him a favor.

At midnight Taylor loaded Kyle into the car, then went to pick up Denise. Kyle woke only briefly when Denise got in, then curled up onto her lap as he usually did. Fifteen minutes later everyone was in bed; Kyle in his room, Denise and Taylor in hers.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” Denise said, slipping off the marigold work dress.

Taylor found it difficult to concentrate as it fell to the floor. “What did I say?”

“About you being sad that there will never be a first time again.”

“And?”

In her bra and panties, she moved closer, nuzzling up to him. “Well, I was just thinking that if we make this time even better than last night, your anticipation might come back.”

Taylor felt her body sidle up against his. “How so?”

“If every time is better than the last, you’ll always be looking forward to the next time.”

Taylor put his arms around her back, becoming aroused. “Do you think that’ll work?”

“I have no idea,” she said, beginning to unbutton his shirt, “but I’d sure like to find out.”

Taylor slipped out of her room just before dawn, as he’d done the day before, though this time he stopped at the couch. Not wanting Kyle to see them sleeping together, he dozed on and off for another couple of hours until Denise and Kyle came wandering out of their bedrooms. It was nearly eight o’clock-Kyle hadn’t slept that late in a long time.

Denise scanned the room and immediately understood the reason. From the looks of things, it was obvious that he’d been up late. The TV was at an odd angle, the VCR was on the floor beside it, cables snaking out everywhere. Two half-empty cups sat on the end table with three cans of Sprite alongside them. Pieces of popcorn were scattered on the floor and on the couch; a Skittles wrapper had wedged itself between the pillows on the chair. On top of the television were two movies, The Rescuers and The Lion King, the cases open, videos on top.

Denise put her hands on her hips, taking in the mess.

“I didn’t notice the mess you two made last night when I came in. It looks like you two had yourselves a good old time.”

Taylor sat up from the couch and wiped his eyes. “We had fun.”

“I’ll bet,” she groaned.

“But did you see what else we did?”

“You mean aside from spraying popcorn all over my furniture?”

He laughed. “C’mon. Let me show you. I’ll get this stuff cleaned up in a minute.”

He got up from the couch and stretched his arms over his head. “You too, Kyle. Let’s show your mom what we did last night.”

To Denise’s surprise, Kyle seemed to understand what Taylor had said and obediently followed Taylor to the back door. Taylor led them across the porch to the rear steps, motioning to the garden on either side of the door.

When Denise saw what awaited her, she was speechless.

All along the back of the house were freshly planted Jobellflowers.

“You did this?” she asked.

“Kyle did, too,” he said, a touch of pride in his voice, seeing that she was pleased.

“That feels wonderful,” Denise said softly.

It was past midnight, long after Denise had once again finished with her shift at Eights. During the past week, Denise and Taylor had seen each other virtually every day. On the Fourth of July Taylor had taken them out on his rebuilt ancient motorboat; later they had set off their own fireworks, to Kyle’s delight. They picnicked on the banks of the Chowan River and dug clams at the beach. For Denise, it was the kind of interlude she could never have allowed herself to imagine, sweeter than any dreams.

Tonight, like so many recent nights, she lay on the bed, naked, Taylor beside her. His hands were slick with oil, and the sensation of his hands sliding over her slippery body was unbearably tantalizing.

“You feel like heaven,” Taylor whispered.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she groaned.

He kneaded the muscles in her lower back, applying gentle pressure, then relaxing his hands. “Doing what?”

“Staying up this late every night. It’s killing me.”

“For a dying woman, you still look good.”

“I haven’t had more than four hours of sleep since last weekend.”

“That’s because you can’t keep your hands off me.”

With her eyes almost closed, she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Taylor bent over and kissed her on the spine between her shoulder blades.

“Would you like me to leave so you can get your rest?” he asked, his hands moving up to her shoulders again.

“Not just yet,” she purred. “I’ll let you finish first.”

“Just using me now?”

“If that’s okay.”

“It is.”

“So what’s happening with Denise?” Mitch asked. “Melissa ordered me not to let you leave until you filled me in on all the details.”

They were at Mitch’s house on Monday, finally repairing the roof that Taylor had so successfully put off last week. The sun was blisteringly hot, and both had their shirts off as they worked their crowbars, prying off the torn shingles one by one. Taylor reached for his bandanna and wiped the sweat from his face.

“Not much.”

Mitch waited for more, but Taylor said nothing else.

“That’s it?” he snorted. “ ‘Not much’?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The works. Just start rambling and I’ll stop you if I need something explained.”

Taylor glanced from side to side as if making sure no one else was around. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course.”

Taylor leaned a little closer. “So can I,” he said with a wink, and Mitch burst out laughing.

“So you’re going to keep all of this to yourself?”

“I didn’t know I had to fill you in on everything,” he retorted with mock indignation. “I guess I just assumed it was my own business.”

Mitch shook his head. “You know, you can use that line on other people. The way I figure it-you’re going to tell me sooner or later, so it may as well be sooner.”

Taylor looked over at his friend, a smirk on his face. “You think so, huh?”

Mitch began prying a nail from the roof. “I don’t think so. I know so. And besides, like I said, Melissa won’t let you out of here until you do. Trust me, that gal can throw a frying pan with deadly accuracy.”

Taylor laughed. “Well, you can tell Melissa that we’re doing fine.”

Mitch grabbed a damaged shingle with his gloved hands and began to tug at it, feeling as it ripped in half. He tossed it to the ground and started working the other half.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Does she make you happy?”

It took a moment for Taylor to answer. “Yeah,” he said finally, “she really does.” He searched for the right words as he continued to work the crowbar. “I’ve never met anyone like her before.”

Mitch reached for his jug of ice water and took a sip, waiting for Taylor to continue.

“I mean, she’s got everything. She’s pretty, she’s intelligent, she’s charming, she makes me laugh . . . And you should see the way she is with her son. He’s a great kid, but he’s got some problems with talking, and the way she works with him-she’s so patient, so dedicated, so loving . . . It’s really something, that’s for sure.”

Taylor pried another nail loose, then tossed it over the side.

“She sounds great,” Mitch said, impressed.

“She is.”

Suddenly Mitch reached over, grabbing Taylor on the shoulder and giving him a good shake.

“Then what’s she doing with a slacker like you?” he joked. Instead of laughing, however, Taylor simply shrugged.

“I have no idea.”

Mitch set the jug of water aside. “Can I give you some advice?”

“Could I stop you?”

“No, not really. I’m like Ann Landers when it comes to things like this.”

Taylor adjusted his position on the roof, making his way toward another shingle. “Then go ahead.”

Mitch tensed slightly, anticipating Taylor’s reaction. “Well, if she’s everything you say she is and she makes you happy, don’t screw it up this time.”

Taylor stopped in midmotion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know how you are in things like this. Remember Valerie? Remember Lori? If you don’t, I do. You go out with ’em, you pour on the charm, you spend all your time with them, you get them to fall in love with you . . . and then wham-you end it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mitch watched as Taylor’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “No? Then go ahead and tell me where I’m mistaken.”

Reluctantly Taylor considered what Mitch had said.

“They were different from Denise,” he said slowly. “I was different. I’ve changed since then.”

Mitch held up his hands to stop him from continuing. “It’s not me you have to convince, Taylor. Like they say, don’t shoot the messenger-I’m only telling you because I don’t want to see you kicking yourself later.”

Taylor shook his head. For a few minutes they worked in silence. Finally: “You’re a pain in the ass, do you know that?”

Mitch brushed at a couple of nails. “Yeah, I know. Melissa tells me that, too, so don’t take it personally. It’s just the way I am.”

“So did you two finish the roof?”

Taylor nodded. He was holding a beer in his lap, nursing it slowly, a couple of hours before Denise began her shift. They were sitting on the front steps as Kyle played with his trucks in the yard. Despite his best efforts to the contrary, his thoughts kept returning to the things Mitch had said. There was some truth in his friend’s words, he knew, but he couldn’t help wishing he hadn’t brought the matter up. It nagged at him like a bad memory.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s done.”

“Was it harder than you thought it would be?” Denise asked.

“No, not really. Why?”

“You just seem distracted.”

“I’m sorry. Just a little tired, I guess.”

Denise scrutinized him. “Are you sure that’s all?”

Taylor brought the beer to his lips and took a drink. “I guess so.”

“You guess?”

He set the can on the steps. “Well, Mitch said some things to me today . . .”

“Like what?”

“Just stuff,” Taylor said, not wanting to elaborate. Denise read the concern in his eyes.

“Like what?”

Taylor drew a deep breath, wondering whether or not to answer but deciding to anyway. “He told me that if I’m serious about you, I shouldn’t mess things up this time.”

Denise felt her breath catch in her throat at the bluntness of his comment. Why would Mitch need to warn him this way?

“What did you say?”

Taylor shook his head. “I told him he didn’t know what he was talking about.”

“Well . . .” She hesitated. “Does he?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why is it bothering you?”

“Because,” he said, “it just pisses me off that he’d think I might. He doesn’t know anything about you, or us. And he doesn’t know how I feel, that’s for damn sure.”

She squinted up at him, caught in the dying rays of the sun. “How do you feel?”

He reached for her hand.

“Don’t you know?” he said. “Haven’t I made it obvious yet?”