The Rescue

Chapter 22

Early the next morning, while Denise was drinking a cup of coffee, the phone rang. Kyle was sprawled on the living room floor, coloring as best he could but finding it impossible to stay in the lines. When she answered it, she recognized Taylor’s voice instantly.

“Oh, hey, I’m glad you’re up,” he said.

“I’m always up this early,” she said, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over her at the sound of his voice. “I missed you last night.”

“I missed you, too,” Taylor said. “I probably should have stayed. I didn’t sleep too well.”

“Neither did I,” she admitted. “I kept waking up because I had all the covers for once.”

“I don’t hog the sheets. You must be thinking of someone else.”

“Like who?”

“Maybe one of those men at the diner.”

“I don’t think so.” She chuckled. “Hey, are you calling because you’ve changed your mind about lunch?”

“No, I can’t. Not today. I’ll be by after I finish up to bring you into work, though.”

“How about an early supper?”

“No, I don’t think I’ll be able to make that, either, but thanks for the offer. I’ve got a load of drywall coming in late, and I don’t think I’d be able to make it over in time.”

She turned in place, the phone cord going taut against her.

They make deliveries after five?

She didn’t say that, however. Instead she said brightly:

“Oh, all right. I’ll see you this evening.”

There was a longer pause than she thought there would be.

“Will do,” he finally answered.

“Kyle kept asking about you this afternoon,” Denise said casually.

Good to his word, Taylor was waiting in the kitchen as she collected the last of her things, though he hadn’t come by with much time to spare before she had to head off. They’d kissed only briefly, and he seemed a little more distant than usual, though he’d apologized for it, attributing it to the hassles at the work site.

“Oh, yeah? Where is the little guy?”

“Out back. I don’t think he heard you come up. Let me go get him.”

After Denise opened the back door and called for him, Kyle came running for the house. A moment later he burst inside.

“Hewwo, Tayer,” he said, a big grin on his face. Ignoring Denise, he surged toward Taylor and jumped. Taylor caught him easily.

“Hey, little man. How was your day?”

Denise couldn’t help but notice the difference in Taylor’s demeanor as he lifted Kyle up to eye level.

“He’s here!” Kyle shouted gleefully.

“Sorry I was so busy today,” Taylor said, clearly meaning it. “Did you miss me, little man?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I missed you.”

It was the first time he’d answered a new question properly, without being told how to do it, shocking both of them into silence.

And for just a second, Denise’s worries from the night before were forgotten.

If Denise expected that Kyle’s simple statement would alleviate her concerns about Taylor, however, she was mistaken.

Not that it went bad right away. In fact, in many ways things didn’t seem much different at all, at least for the next week or so. Though Taylor-still citing work as the reason-had stopped coming by in the afternoons, he nonetheless continued to drive Denise to and from the diner. They’d also made love the night Kyle had spoken.

Yet things were changing, that much seemed obvious. Nothing dramatic; it was more like the unwinding of twine, a gradual unfurling of everything that had been established during the summer. Less time together meant less time to simply hold each other or talk, and because of that, it was difficult for her to ignore the warning bells that had sounded the night they’d had dinner with Mitch and Melissa.

Even now, a week and a half later, the things that had been said that night still troubled her, but at the same time, she honestly wondered if she was making too much of the whole thing. Taylor hadn’t really done anything wrong, so to speak, and that’s what made his recent behavior difficult to figure out. He denied that anything was bothering him, he hadn’t raised his voice; they still hadn’t even had an argument. On Sunday they spent the afternoon on the river, as they’d done numerous times before. He was still great with Kyle, and more than once he’d reached for her hand as he drove her into work. On the surface, everything seemed the same. All that had really changed was a suddenly intense devotion to work, which he’d already explained. Yet . . .

Yet, what?

Sitting on the porch while Kyle played with his trucks in the yard, Denise tried to put her finger on it. She’d been around long enough to know something about the pattern of relationships. She knew that the initial feelings associated with love were almost like an ocean wave in their intensity, acting as the magnetic force that drew two people together. It was possible to be washed away in the emotion, but the wave wouldn’t last forever. It couldn’t-nor was it meant to be-but if two people were right for each other, a truer kind of love could last forever in its wake. At least, that’s what she believed.

With Taylor, however, it almost seemed as if he’d been caught in the wave, unaware of what might be left behind, and now that he realized it, he was trying to fight his way back against the current. Not all the time . . . but some of the time, and that’s what she seemed to be noticing lately. It was almost as if he were using work as an excuse to avoid the new realities of their situation.

Of course, if people start looking for something in particular, they’re more likely to find it, and she hoped that was the case now. It might simply be that Taylor was preoccupied by work, and his reasons seemed genuine enough. At night, after picking her up, he looked tired enough for Denise to know that he wasn’t lying to her about working all day.

So she kept as busy as she could, doing her best not to dwell on what might be happening between them. While Taylor seemed to be losing himself in his work, Denise threw herself into her work with Kyle with renewed energy. Now that he was speaking more, she began working on more complex phrases and ideas, while also teaching him other skills associated with school. One by one she began to teach him simple directions, and she worked with him to improve his coloring. She also introduced the concept of numbers, which seemed to make no sense to him whatever. She cleaned the house, she worked her shifts, she paid her bills-in short, she lived her life much the same as she had before she’d met Taylor McAden. But even though it was a life she was used to, she nonetheless spent most of the afternoons looking out the kitchen window, hoping to see him coming up the drive.

Usually, however, he didn’t.

Despite herself, she heard Melissa’s words once more.

All I know is that one day they seemed to be doing fine and the next thing you knew, it was over.

Denise shook her head, forcing the thought away. Though she didn’t want to believe that about him-or them-it was getting more and more difficult not to do so. Incidents like yesterday’s only reinforced her doubts.

She’d taken a bike ride with Kyle to the house Taylor was working on and had seen his truck parked out front. The owners were remodeling everything inside-the kitchen, the bathrooms, the living room-and the huge pile of scrap wood that had been torn from the interior of the house served as evidence that the project was a large one. Yet when she’d popped her head in to say hello, she’d been told by his employees that Taylor was out back, under the tree, eating his lunch. When she finally found him, he looked almost guilty, as if she’d caught him doing something wrong. Kyle, oblivious of his expression, ran over to him and Taylor stood to greet them.

“Denise?”

“Hey, Taylor. How are you?”

“Fine.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “I was just having a quick bite to eat,” he said.

His lunch had come from Hardee’s, which meant he’d had to drive past her house to the far side of town in order to buy it.

“I can see that,” she said, trying not to let her concern show.

“So what are you doing here?”

Not exactly what I wanted to hear.

Putting on a brave face, she smiled. “I just wanted to stop by and say hello.”

After a couple of minutes Taylor led them inside, describing the remodeling project almost as if he were talking to a stranger. Deep down, she suspected it was simply his way of avoiding the obvious question as to why he’d chosen to eat here instead of with her, as he’d done all summer long, or why he hadn’t stopped in on his way past her house.

But later that night, when he’d picked her up to take her to work, he didn’t say much at all.

The fact that it wasn’t unusual anymore kept Denise on edge throughout her entire shift.

“It’s just for a few days,” Taylor said, shrugging.

They were sitting on the couch in the living room while Kyle watched a cartoon on television.

Another week had gone by and nothing had changed. Or rather, everything had changed. It all depended on her perspective, and right now Denise was leaning heavily toward the latter. It was Tuesday and he’d just come by to take her into work. Her pleasure at his earlier arrival had evaporated almost immediately when he’d informed her that he was leaving for a few days.

“When did you decide this?” Denise asked.

“Just this morning. A couple of the guys are going down and asked if I wanted to go along. South Carolina opens the hunting season two weeks earlier than we do around here, so I figured I’d head down with them. I feel like I need a break.”

Are you talking about me or work?

“So you’re leaving tomorrow?”

Taylor shifted slightly. “Actually, it’s more like the middle of the night. We’ll be leaving around three.”

“You’ll be exhausted.”

“Nothing that a thermos of coffee can’t fix.”

“You probably shouldn’t pick me up tonight,” Denise offered. “You need a little sleep.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be there.”

Denise shook her head. “No, I’ll talk to Rhonda. She’ll bring me home.”

“Are you sure she won’t mind?”

“She doesn’t live that far from here. And it’s not like she’s been doing it very much lately.”

Taylor slipped his arm around Denise, surprising her. He pulled her close. “I’ll miss you.”

“You will?” she said, hating the plaintive note in her voice.

“Of course. Especially around midnight. I’ll probably wander out to my truck through force of habit.”

Denise smiled, thinking he’d kiss her. Instead he turned away, motioning with his chin toward Kyle.

“And I’ll miss you, too, little man.”

“Yes,” Kyle said, eyes glued to the television.

“Hey, Kyle,” Denise said, “Taylor’s leaving for a few days.”

“Yes,” Kyle said again, obviously not listening.

Taylor crawled down from the couch, creeping on all fours toward Kyle.

“Are you ignoring me, Kyle?” he growled.

Once Taylor was close, Kyle realized his intent and squealed as he tried to get away. Taylor grabbed him easily, and they began to wrestle on the floor.

“Are you listening to me?” Taylor asked.

“He’s wrestling!” Kyle shrieked, his arms and legs flailing. (Ees wesswing!)

“I’m gonna get you!” Taylor bellowed, and for the next few minutes there was pandemonium on the living room floor. When Kyle finally tired, Taylor let him pull away.

“Hey, when I get back, I’m going to take you to a baseball game. If that’s okay with your mom, of course.”

“Bessbaw game,” Kyle repeated wonderingly.

“It’s fine with me.”

Taylor winked, first at Denise, then at Kyle.

“Did you hear that? Your mom said we can go.”

“Bessbaw game!” Kyle cried, louder this time.

At least with Kyle he hasn’t changed.

Denise glanced at the clock.

“It’s about that time,” she said, sighing.

“Already?”

Denise nodded, then rose from the couch to collect her things. A couple of minutes later they were on their way to the diner. When they arrived Taylor walked with Denise to the front door.

“Call me?” she said.

“I’ll try,” Taylor promised.

They stood gazing at each other for a moment before Taylor kissed her good-bye. Denise went in, hoping that the trip would help clear his mind of whatever had been bothering him.

Perhaps it did, but Denise had no way of knowing.

For the next four days she didn’t hear from him at all.

She hated waiting for the phone to ring.

It wasn’t like her to be this way; the experience a new one. In college her roommate sometimes refused to go out in the evenings because she thought her boyfriend might call. Denise always did her best to convince her roommate to come with her, usually to no avail, and then would head out to meet with different friends. When she explained why her roommate wasn’t with them, each of them swore up and down that they’d never do something like that.

But here she was, and suddenly it didn’t seem so easy to follow her own advice.

Not that she stopped living her life, as her roommate had done. She had too many responsibilities for that. But it didn’t stop her from racing to the phone every time it rang and feeling disappointed when it wasn’t Taylor.

The whole thing made her feel helpless, a sensation she detested. She wasn’t, nor had she ever been, the helpless type, and she refused to become that now. So he hadn’t called . . . so what? Because she was working, he couldn’t reach her at home in the evenings, and he was probably spending all day in the woods. When was he supposed to call her? The middle of the night? At the crack of dawn? Sure, he could call and leave a message when she wasn’t there, but why did she expect that?

And why did it seem so important?

I’m not going to be like this, she told herself. After running through the explanations again and convincing herself that they made sense, Denise forged on. On Friday she took Kyle to the park; on Saturday they went for a long walk in the woods. On Sunday she took Kyle to church, then spent the early part of the afternoon running other errands.

With enough money now to begin looking for a car (old and used, cheap, but hopefully reliable), she picked up two newspapers for their classified ads. Next stop was the grocery store, and she scanned the aisles, choosing carefully, not wanting to overload herself for the trip back home. Kyle was staring at the cartoon figure of a crocodile printed on a box of cereal when Denise heard her name being called. Turning, she saw Judy pushing her cart toward her.

“I thought that was you,” Judy said cheerfully. “How are you?”

“Hi, Judy. I’m fine.”

“Hey, Kyle,” Judy said.

“Hewwo, Miss Jewey,” he whispered, still enamored with the box.

Judy moved her cart a little off to the side. “So what have you been doing lately? You and Taylor haven’t come by for dinner in a while.”

Denise shrugged, feeling a pang of unease. “Just the usual. Kyle’s been keeping me pretty busy these days.”

“They always do. How’s he coming along?”

“He’s had a good summer, that’s for sure. Haven’t you, Kyle?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Judy turned her attention to him, beaming. “You sure are getting handsome. And I hear you’re getting pretty good at baseball, too.”

“Bessbaw,” Kyle said, perking up, finally looking away from the box.

“Taylor’s been helping him,” Denise added. “Kyle really likes it.”

“I’m glad. It’s a lot easier for a mother to watch her children play baseball than football. I used to cover my eyes whenever Taylor played. He used to get crunched all the time-I could hear it in the stands, and it gave me nightmares.”

Denise offered a strained laugh as Kyle stared, uncomprehending. Judy went on.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. I figured you would be with Taylor right now. He told me he was going to spend the day with you.”

Denise ran her hand through her hair. “He did?”

Judy nodded. “Yesterday. He came by after he got home.”

“So . . . hes back?”

Judy eyed her curiously. The next words came out carefully. “Didn’t he call you?”

“No.”

As she answered, Denise crossed her arms and turned away, trying not to show her discomfiture.

“Well, maybe you were already at work,” Judy offered softly.

But even as she spoke the words, both of them knew it wasn’t true.

Two hours after she got home, she spotted Taylor coming up the drive. Kyle was playing out front and immediately started for the truck, racing across the lawn. As soon as Taylor opened the door, Kyle jumped up into his arms.

Denise stepped out onto the porch with conflicting emotions, wondering if he’d come because Judy had called him after running into her at the store. Wondering if he would have come otherwise. Wondering why he hadn’t called while he was gone, and wondering why, despite all that, her heart still leapt at the sight of him.

After Taylor put Kyle down, Kyle grabbed his hand and the two of them began making their way to the porch.

“Hey, Denise,” Taylor said warily, almost as if he knew what she was thinking.

“Hi, Taylor.”

When she made no move off the porch toward him, Taylor hesitated before closing the gap. He hopped up the steps as Denise took a small step backward, not meeting his eyes. When he tried to kiss her, she pulled back slightly.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

She looked around the yard before focusing on him. “I don’t know, Taylor. Should I be?”

“Tayer!” Kyle said again. “Tayer’s here!”

Denise reached for his hand. “Could you go inside for a minute, sweetie?”

“Tayer’s here.”

“I know. But do me a favor and leave us alone, okay?”

Reaching behind her, she opened the screen door and then led Kyle inside. After making sure he was occupied with his toys, she returned to the porch.

“So what’s up?” Taylor asked.

“Why didn’t you call while you were gone?”

Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know . . . I guess I just didn’t have the time. We were out all day and I was pretty worn by the time I got back to the motel. Is that why you’re mad?”

Without answering, Denise went on.

“Why did you tell your mother you were going to spend the day here if you didn’t plan on doing so?”

“What’s with the questions? I did come by-what do you think I’m doing now?”

Denise exhaled sharply. “Taylor, what’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Look, I got back into town yesterday, I was beat, and I had a bunch of things to take care of this morning. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“I’m not making a big deal out of this-”

“Yes, you are. If you don’t want me around, just tell me and I’ll get in my truck and leave.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you around, Taylor. I just don’t know why you’re acting the way you are.”

“And how am I acting?”

Denise sighed, trying to put it into words.

“I don’t know, Taylor . . . it’s hard to explain. It’s like you’re not sure what you want anymore. With us, I mean.”

Taylor’s expression didn’t change. “Where is all this coming from? What-did you talk to Melissa again?”

“No. Melissa has nothing to do with this,” she said, becoming frustrated and a little angry. “It’s just that you’ve changed, and sometimes I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Just because I didn’t call? I’ve already explained that.” He took a step closer to her, his expression softening. “There just wasn’t any time, that’s all.”

Not knowing whether to believe him, she hesitated. Meanwhile, as if sensing something wrong, Kyle pushed open the screen door.

“C’mon, guys,” he said. “Let’s go inside.” (C’mon, guys. Wess go issite)

For a moment, however, they simply stood without moving.

“C’mon,” Kyle prodded, reaching for Denise’s shirt.

Denise looked down, forcing a smile, before glancing up again. Taylor was grinning, doing his best to break the ice.

“If you let me in, I’ll give you a surprise.”

As she thought about it, Denise crossed her arms. Behind Taylor, in the yard, a bluejay called from the fencepost. Kyle looked up expectantly.

“What is it?” she finally asked, giving in.

“It’s in the truck. Let me go get it.” Taylor stepped backward, watching her carefully, realizing that her comment meant she was going to let him stay. Before she changed her mind, he motioned toward Kyle. “C’mon, you can help.”

As they walked back to the truck, Denise watched him, her emotions warring within her. Again, his explanations seemed reasonable, as they had for the past two weeks. Again, he was great with Kyle.

So why didn’t she believe him?

After Kyle was asleep that night, Denise and Taylor sat together on the couch in the living room.

“So how did you like your surprise?”

“It was delicious. But you didn’t have to fill my freezer.”

“Well, mine was already full.”

“Your mom might want some.”

Taylor shrugged. “Hers is full, too.”

“How often do you hunt?”

“As much as I can.”

Before dinner, Taylor and Kyle had played catch in the yard; for dinner, Taylor had done the cooking, or rather part of it. Along with the venison, he’d brought some potato salad and baked beans from the supermarket. Now, relaxing for the first time, Denise felt better than she had for the past couple of weeks. The only light came from a small lamp in the corner, and a radio was playing softly in the background.

“So when are you taking Kyle to his baseball game?”

“I was thinking about Saturday, if that’s okay. There’s a game in Norfolk.”

“Oh, that’s his birthday,” she said, disappointed. “I was planning to throw a little party for him.”

“What time’s the party?”

“Probably around noon or so. I still have to work that night.”

“The game starts at seven. How about if I take Kyle with me while you’re at work?”

“But I kind of wanted to go, too.”

“Ah, let us have another boys night out. He’d enjoy it.”

“I know he would. You’ve already got him hooked on that game.”

“So is it all right if I bring him? I’d have him home in time to pick you up.”

She brought her hands to her lap. “All right, you win. But don’t keep him too long if he gets tired.”

Taylor raised his hand. “Scouts’ honor. I’ll pick him up at five, and by the end of the night, he’ll be eating hot dogs and peanuts and singing ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game.’ ”

She nudged him in the ribs. “Yeah, sure.”

“Well, maybe you’re right. But it won’t be for lack of trying.”

Denise rested her head against his shoulder. He smelled like salt and wind.

“You’re a good guy, Taylor.”

“I try.”

“No, I’m serious. You’ve really made me feel special these last couple of months.”

“So have you.”

For a long moment, silence filled the living room like a living presence. She could feel Taylor’s chest rising and falling with every breath. As wonderful as he’d been tonight, she couldn’t escape the concerns that had been troubling her for the past two weeks.

“Do you ever think about the future, Taylor?”

He cleared his throat before answering.

“Sure, sometimes. Usually it doesn’t go much beyond the next meal, though.”

She took his hand in hers, weaving their fingers together.

“Do you ever think about us? About where we’re going with all this, I mean?”

Taylor didn’t respond, and Denise went on.

“I’ve just been thinking that we’ve been seeing each other for a few months now, but sometimes I don’t know where you stand on all this. I mean, these last couple of weeks . . . I don’t know . . . sometimes it feels like you’re pulling away. You’ve been working such long hours that we haven’t had much time to spend together, and then when you didn’t call . . .”

She trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, knowing she’d already said these things before. She felt his body stiffen just a little as she heard his answer coming out in a hoarse whisper.

“I care about you, Denise, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She blinked, keeping her eyes closed for a long moment before opening them again.

“No, that’s not it . . . or not all of it. I guess I just want to know if you’re serious about us.”

He pulled her closer, running his hand through her hair.

“Of course I’m serious. But like I said, my vision of the future doesn’t extend all that far. I’m not the brightest guy you’ve ever met.”

He smiled at his own joke. Hinting wasn’t going to suffice. Denise took a deep breath.

“Well, when you think about the future, are Kyle and I in it?” she asked point-blank.

It was quiet in the living room as she waited for his answer. Licking her lips, she realized her mouth had gone dry. Eventually she heard him sigh.

“I can’t predict the future, Denise. No one can. But like I said, I care about you and I care about Kyle. Isn’t that enough for now?”

Needless to say, it wasn’t the answer she had hoped for, but she lifted her head from his shoulder and met his eyes.

“Yeah,” she lied. “That’s enough for now.”

Later that night, after making love and falling asleep together, Denise woke and saw Taylor standing by the window, looking toward the trees but obviously thinking of something else. She watched him for a long time, before he finally crawled back into bed. As he tugged at the sheet, Denise turned toward him.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

Taylor seemed surprised at the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No. I’ve been awake for a while now. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Are you worried about something?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you sleep?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it something I did?”

He drew a long breath. “No. There’s nothing wrong with you at all.”

With that, he cuddled against her, pulling her close.

The following morning, Denise woke alone.

This time Taylor wasn’t sleeping on the couch. This time he didn’t surprise her with breakfast. He’d slipped out unnoticed, and calls to his house went unanswered. For a while Denise debated stopping by his work site later in the day, but the memory of her last visit kept her from doing so.

Instead she reviewed their evening, trying to get a better read on it. For every positive thing, there seemed to be something negative as well. Yes, he’d come by . . . but that may have been because his mother had said something to him. Yes, he’d been great with Kyle . . . but then he might be focusing on Kyle to avoid what was really bothering him. Yes, he’d told her he cared about her . . . but not enough to even think about the future? They’d made love . . . but he was gone first thing in the morning, without so much as a good-bye.

Analysis, debate, dissection . . . she hated reducing their relationship to that. It seemed so eighties, so grounded in psychobabble, a bunch of words and actions that might or might not mean anything. No, scratch that. They did mean something, and that’s exactly what the problem was.

Yet, deep down, she realized that Taylor wasn’t lying when he said he cared about her. If there was one thing that kept her going, that was it. But . . .

So many buts these days.

She shook her head, doing her best to put it all out of her mind, at least until she saw him again. He’d be by later to take her into work, and though she didn’t think there’d be time to talk to him about her feelings again, she felt sure that she would know more as soon as she saw him. Hopefully he’d come by a little early.

The rest of the morning and the afternoon passed slowly. Kyle was in one of his moods-not talking, grumpy, stubborn-and that didn’t help her own mood, but it did keep her from focusing all day on Taylor.

A little after five she thought she heard his truck on the road out front, but as soon as she stepped outside, she realized it wasn’t Taylor. Disappointed, she changed into her workclothes, made Kyle a grilled cheese sandwich, watched the news.

Time continued to pass. Six o’clock now. Where was he?

She turned off the television and tried unsuccessfully to get Kyle interested in a book. Then she got down on the floor and started playing with his Legos, but Kyle ignored her, focusing on his coloring book. When she tried to join him in that, he told her to go away. She sighed and decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

Instead she straightened up the kitchen, killing time. Not much to do there, so she folded a basket of laundry and put it away.

Six-thirty and still no sign of him. Concern was giving way to a sinking sensation in her gut.

He’s coming, she told herself. Isn’t he?

Against her better judgment she dialed his number, but there was no answer. She went back into the kitchen, got a glass of water, then returned to the living room window. Looking out, she waited.

And waited.

Fifteen minutes to get there or she’d be late.

Then ten.

At five until seven she was holding her glass so hard that her knuckles had turned white. Loosening her grip, she felt the blood rush back into her fingers. Her lips were pressed together when seven o’clock rolled around and she called Ray, apologizing and telling him she’d be a little late.

“We’ve got to go, Kyle,” she said after hanging up the phone. “We’re going to ride our bikes.”

“No,” he said.

“I’m not asking, Kyle, I’m telling you. Now move!”

Hearing the tone of her voice, Kyle put down his colors and started toward her.

Cursing, she went to the back porch to get her bike. Rolling it off the porch, she noticed it wasn’t gliding smoothly, and she jerked it before finally learning what the problem was.

A flat tire.

“Oh, c’mon . . . not tonight,” she said almost in disbelief. As if not trusting her eyes, she checked the tire with her finger, feeling it give as she applied only a little pressure.

“Damnit,” she said, kicking at the wheel. She let the bike fall onto a couple of cardboard boxes, then went into the kitchen again just as Kyle was coming out the door.

“We’re not taking our bikes,” she said through gritted teeth. “Come inside.”

Kyle knew enough not to press her now and did as he was told. Denise went to the phone and tried Taylor again. Not in. She slammed the phone down, then thought of who else to call. Not Rhonda-she was already at the diner. But . . . Judy? She dialed her number and let it ring a dozen times before hanging up. Who else to call? Who else did she know? Really, only one other person. She opened the cupboard and found the phone book, then thumbed to the appropriate page. After punching in the right numbers, she breathed a sigh of relief as it was answered.

“Melissa? Hi, it’s Denise.”

“Oh, hey, how are you?”

“Actually, I’m not too good right now. I hate to do this, but I’m really calling for a favor.”

“What can I do?”

“I know it’s really inconvenient, but is it possible for you to drive me into work tonight?”

“Sure, when?”

“Now? I know it’s last minute and I’m sorry, but the tires on my bike are flat-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Melissa interrupted. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll owe you one.”

“No, you won’t. It’s not that big a deal. I just have to grab my purse and the keys.”

Denise hung up, then called Ray again, explaining with more apologies that she’d be there by seven-thirty. This time Ray laughed.

“Don’t worry about it, honey. You’ll get here when you do. No rush-it’s kind of quiet right now anyway.”

Again she breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly she noticed Kyle, watching her without saying a word.

“Mommy’s not mad at you, sweetheart. I’m sorry for yelling.”

She was, however, still angry at Taylor. Any relief she was feeling was counteracted by that. How could he?

Gathering her things, she waited for Melissa to show up, then led Kyle out the door when Melissa’s car rolled up the drive. Melissa rolled down the window as the car slowed to a stop.

“Hey there. C’mon in, but excuse the mess. Kids are knee-deep in soccer these days.”

Denise buckled Kyle into the backseat and was shaking her head as she got in the front seat. Soon the car had made its way down the drive and had turned onto the main road.

“So what happened?” Melissa asked. “You said your tire was flat?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect that I’d have to ride my bike in the first place. Taylor didn’t show up.”

“And he said he would?”

Her question made Denise hesitate before answering. Did she ask him? Did she still have to?

“We didn’t talk about it specifically,” Denise admitted, “but he’s been driving me all summer, so I just assumed he’d keep doing it.”

“Did he call?”

“No.”

Melissa’s eyes darted in Denise’s direction. “I take it things have changed between you two,” she said.

Denise simply nodded. Melissa faced the road again and was quiet, leaving Denise alone with her thoughts.

“You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”

“I’ve known Taylor a long time,” Melissa answered carefully.

“So what’s going on with him?”

Melissa sighed. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I never have. But Taylor always seems to turn gun-shy whenever he starts getting serious with someone.”

“But . . . why? I mean, we get along so well, he’s great with Kyle . . .”

“I can’t speak for Taylor, I really can’t. Like I said, I don’t really understand it.”

“If you had to guess, though?”

Melissa hesitated. “It’s not you, trust me. When we were at dinner, I wasn’t kidding when I said that Taylor really cares about you. He does-more than I’ve seen him care about anyone. And Mitch says the same thing. But sometimes I think that Taylor doesn’t feel that he deserves to be happy, so he sabotages every opportunity. I don’t think he does it on purpose-I think it’s more that he can’t help himself.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe not. But it’s the way he is.”

Denise pondered that. Up ahead she saw the diner. As Ray had said, from the looks of the parking lot there weren’t too many people inside. Closing her eyes, she balled her fists in frustration.

“Again, the question is why?”

Melissa didn’t respond right away. She turned on the blinker and began to slow the van.

“If you ask me . . . it’s because of something that happened a long time ago.”

Melissa’s tone made her meaning obvious.

“His father?”

Melissa nodded, then let the words out slowly. “He blames himself for his father’s death.”

Denise felt her stomach dip, then roll. “What happened back then?”

The van came to a stop. “You should probably talk to him about that.”

“I’ve tried. . . .”

Melissa shook her head. “I know, Denise. We all have.”

Denise worked her shift, barely concentrating, but because it was slow, it didn’t really matter. Rhonda, who would normally have driven her home, left early, leaving Ray as the only option to bring her and Kyle home. Though she was thankful Ray was willing to drive her, he usually spent an hour after closing cleaning up, so it meant a later night than usual. Resigning herself to that, Denise was doing her own closing work when the front door opened just before it was time to lock up.

Taylor.

He stepped inside, waved to Ray, but didn’t make a move toward Denise.

“Melissa called,” he said, “and told me you might need a ride home.”

She was at a loss for words. Angry, hurt, confused . . . yet undeniably still in love. Though the last part seemed to be fading with each passing day.

“Where were you earlier?”

Taylor shifted from one foot to the other. “I was working,” he finally answered. “I didn’t know you needed a ride today.”

“You’ve been driving me for the last three months,” she said, trying to keep her composure.

“But I was gone last week. You didn’t ask me to drive you in last night, so I just figured Rhonda would bring you in. I didn’t realize that I was supposed to be your personal chauffeur.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair, Taylor, and you know it.”

Taylor crossed his arms. “Hey, I didn’t come here to get yelled at. I’m here in case you need a ride home. Do you want one or not?”

Denise pursed her lips together. “No,” she said simply.

If Taylor was surprised, he didn’t show it.

“All right, then,” he said. He turned to look at the walls, then the floor, then back to her. “I’m sorry about earlier, if that means anything.”

It does and it doesn’t, Denise thought. But she didn’t say anything. When Taylor realized she wasn’t going to speak, he turned away, pulling the door open again.

“Do you need a ride tomorrow?” he asked over his shoulder.

Again she thought about it. “Will you be there?”

He winced. “Yes,” he answered softly. “I will.”

“Then, okay,” she said.

He nodded, then made his way out the door. Turning around, Denise saw Ray scrubbing the counter as if his life depended on it.

“Ray?”

“Yes, honey?” he answered, pretending that he hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on.

“Can I take tomorrow evening off?”

He glanced up from the counter, looking at her as he probably would have looked at his own child.

“I think you’d better,” he answered honestly.

Taylor came by thirty minutes before her shift was supposed to start and was surprised when she opened the door dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved blouse. It had been raining most of the day, and the temperature was in the sixties, too cool for shorts. Taylor, meanwhile, was clean and dry-it was obvious he’d changed before coming over.

“C’mon in,” she said.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dressed for work?”

“I’m not working tonight,” she said evenly.

“You’re not?”

“No,” she replied. Taylor followed her inside, curious.

“Where’s Kyle?”

Denise sat. “Melissa said she’d watch him for a while.”

Taylor stopped, looking around uncertainly, and Denise patted the couch.

“Sit down.”

Taylor did as she suggested. “So what’s up?”

“We’ve got to talk,” she began.

“About what?”

She couldn’t help but shake her head at that. “What’s going on with you?”

“Why? Is there something I don’t know about?” he said, grinning nervously.

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Taylor. I took tonight off in the hopes that you’d help me understand what the problem is.”

“Are you talking about what happened yesterday? I said I was sorry, and I mean it.”

“It’s not that. I’m talking about you and me.”

“Didn’t we just talk about this the other night?”

Denise sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, we talked. Or rather, I talked. But you didn’t say much at all.”

“Sure I did.”

“No, you didn’t. But then, you never have. You just talk about surface things, never the things that are really bothering you.”

“That’s not true-”

“Then why are you treating me-us-differently than you used to?”

“I’m not . . .”

Denise stopped him by raising her hands.

“You don’t come over much anymore, you didn’t call while you were away, you snuck out of here yesterday morning, then didn’t show up later . . .”

“I’ve already explained that.”

“Yes, you did-you explained each and every situation. But don’t you see the pattern?”

He turned toward the clock on the wall, staring at it, stubbornly avoiding her question.

Denise ran her hand through her hair. “But more than that, you don’t talk to me anymore. And I’m beginning to wonder whether you ever really did.”

Taylor glanced back at her, and Denise caught his gaze. She’d been down this road before with him-the denial of any problem-and didn’t want to go there again. Hearing Melissa’s voice, she decided to go to the heart of the matter. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“What happened to your father?”

Immediately she saw him tense.

“Why does that matter?” he asked, suddenly wary.

“Because I think that it might have something to do with the way you’ve been acting lately.”

Instead of responding, Taylor shook his head, his mood changing to something just short of anger.

“What gives you that idea?”

She tried again. “It doesn’t really matter. I just want to know what happened.”

“We’ve already talked about this,” he said curtly.

“No, we haven’t. I’ve asked you about him, and you’ve told me some things. But you haven’t told me the whole story.”

Taylor gritted his teeth. He was opening and closing one of his hands, without seeming to realize it. “He died, okay? I’ve already told you that.”

“And?”

“And what?” he burst out. “What do you want me to say?”

She reached toward his hand and took it in hers. “Melissa said that you blame yourself.”

Taylor pulled his hand away. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Denise kept her voice calm. “There was a fire, right?”

Taylor closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, she saw a kind of fury there that she had never seen before.

“He died, that’s all. That’s all there is.”

“Why won’t you answer me?” she asked. “Why can’t you talk to me?”

“Christ!” he spat out, his voice booming off the walls. “Can’t you just drop it?”

His outburst surprised her, and her eyes widened a little.

“No, I can’t,” she persisted, her heart suddenly racing. “Not if it’s something that concerns us.”

He stood from the couch.

“It doesn’t concern us! What the hell is all this about, anyway? I’m getting sick and tired of you grilling me all the time!”

She leaned forward, hands extended. “I’m not grilling you, Taylor, I-I’m just trying to talk,” she stammered.

“What do you want from me?” he said, not listening, his face flushed.

“I just want to know what’s going on so we can work on it.”

“Work on what? We’re not married, Denise,” he said. “Where the hell do you get off trying to pry?”

The words stung. “I’m not prying,” she said defensively.

“Sure you are. You’re trying to get into my head so you can try to fix what’s wrong. But nothing’s wrong, Denise, at least not with me. I am who I am, and if you can’t handle it, maybe you shouldn’t try.”

He glared at her from where he was standing, and Denise took a deep breath. Before she could say anything else, Taylor shook his head and took a step backward.

“Look, you don’t need a ride and I don’t want to be here right now. So think about what I said, okay? I’m getting out of here.”

With that, Taylor spun and made his way to the door, leaving the house as Denise sat on the couch, stunned.

Think about what I said?

“I would,” she whispered, “if you’d made any sense at all.”

The next few days passed uneventfully, except, of course, for the flowers that arrived the day after their argument.

The note was simple:

I’m sorry for the way I acted. I just need a couple days to think things through. Can you give me that?

Part of her wanted to throw the flowers away, another part wanted to keep them. Part of her wanted to end the relationship right now, another part wanted to plead for another chance. So what else is new? she thought to herself.

Outside her window, the storm had returned. The sky was gray and cold, rain sheeting itself against the windows, strong winds bending the trees almost double.

She lifted the receiver and called Rhonda, then turned her attention to the classified ads. This weekend she’d buy herself a car.

Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so trapped.

On Saturday Kyle celebrated his birthday. Melissa, Mitch and their four boys, and Judy were the only ones in attendance. When asked about Taylor, Denise explained that Taylor was coming by later to take Kyle to a baseball game, which was why he wasn’t here now.

“Kyle’s been looking forward to it all week,” she said, downplaying any problem.

It was only because of Kyle that she didn’t worry. Despite everything, Taylor hadn’t changed at all when it concerned her son. He would come, she knew. There was no way on earth that he wouldn’t.

He’d be here around five, he’d take Kyle to the game.

The hours ticked by, more slowly than usual.

At twenty past five, Denise was playing catch with Kyle in the yard, a pit in her stomach and on the verge of crying.

Kyle looked adorable dressed in jeans and a baseball hat. With his mitt-a new one, courtesy of Melissa-he caught Denise’s latest toss. Gripping the ball, he held it out in front of him, looking at Denise.

“Taylor’s coming,” he said. (Tayer’s cummeen)

Denise glanced at her watch for the hundredth time, then swallowed hard, feeling nauseated. She’d called three times; he wasn’t home. Nor, it seemed, was he on his way.

“I don’t think so, honey.”

“Taylor’s coming,” he repeated.

That one brought tears to her eyes. Denise approached him and squatted to be at eye level.

“Taylor is busy. I don’t think he’s going to take you to the game. You can come with Mommy to work, okay?”

Saying the words hurt more than it seemed possible.

Kyle looked up at her, the words slowly sinking in.

“Tayer’s gone,” he finally said.

Denise reached out for him. “Yes, he is,” she said sadly.

Kyle dropped the ball and walked past her, toward the house, looking as dejected as she’d ever seen him.

Denise lowered her face into her hands.

Taylor came by the following morning, a wrapped gift under his arm. Before Denise could get to the door, Kyle was outside, reaching for the package, the fact that he hadn’t shown up yesterday already forgotten. If children had one advantage over their elders, Denise reflected, it was their ability to forgive quickly.

But she wasn’t a child. She stepped outside, her arms crossed, obviously upset. Kyle had taken the gift and was already unwrapping it, ripping off the paper in an excited frenzy. Deciding not to say anything until he was done, Denise watched as Kyle’s eyes grew wider.

“Legos!” he cried joyfully, holding up the box for Denise to see. (Weggoes)

“It sure is,” she said, agreeing with him. Without looking at Taylor, she brushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes. “Kyle, say, ‘Thank you.’ ”

“Kenk you,” he said, staring at the box.

“Here,” Taylor said, removing a small pocketknife from his pants and squatting, “let me open that for you.”

He cut the tape on the box and removed the cover. Kyle reached in and pulled out a set of wheels for one of the model cars.

Denise cleared her throat. “Kyle? Why don’t you take that inside. Mommy’s got to talk to Taylor.”

She held open the screen door, and Kyle dutifully did as she’d asked. Setting the box on the coffee table, he was immediately engrossed in the pieces.

Taylor stood, not making a move toward her.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “There’s really no excuse. I just forgot about the game. Was he upset?”

“You could say that.”

Taylor’s expression was pained. “Maybe I could make it up to him. There’s another game next weekend.”

“I don’t think so,” she said quietly. She motioned to the chairs on the porch. Taylor hesitated before moving to take a seat. Denise sat as well but didn’t face him. Instead she watched a pair of squirrels hopping across the yard, collecting acorns.

“I screwed up, didn’t I?” Taylor said honestly.

Denise smiled wryly. “Yeah.”

“You have every right to be angry with me.”

Denise finally turned to face him. “I was. Last night, if you had come into the diner, I would have thrown a frying pan at you.”

The corners of Taylor’s mouth upturned slightly, then straightened again. He knew she wasn’t finished.

“But I’m over that. Now I’m less angry than I am resigned.”

Taylor looked at her curiously as Denise exhaled slowly. When she spoke again, her voice was low and soft.

“For the last four years, I had my life with Kyle,” she began. “It’s not always easy, but it’s predictable, and there’s something to be said for that. I know how I’m going to spend today and tomorrow and the day after that, and it helps me keep some semblance of control. Kyle needs me to do that, and I need to do it for him because he’s all I’ve got in the world. But then, you showed up.”

She smiled, but it couldn’t mask the sadness in her eyes. Still, Taylor was silent.

“You were so good to him, right from the beginning. You treated Kyle differently than anyone else ever has, and that meant the world to me. But even more than that, you were good to me.”

Denise paused, picking at a knot in the armrest of her old wooden rocker, her eyes focused inward. “When we first met, I didn’t want to get involved with anyone. I didn’t have the time or the energy, and even after the carnival, I wasn’t sure that I was ready for it. But you were so good with Kyle. You did things with him that no one else had taken the time to do, and I got swept up in that. And little by little, I found myself falling in love with you.”

Taylor put both hands in his lap as he stared at the floor. Denise shook her head wistfully.

“I don’t know . . . I grew up reading fairy tales, and maybe that had something to do with it.”

Denise leaned back in her rocker, gazing at him from below lowered lashes.

“Do you remember that night we met? When you rescued my son? After that, you delivered my groceries and then taught Kyle how to play catch. It was like you were the handsome prince of my girlhood fantasies, and the more I got to know you, the more I came to believe it. And part of me still does. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. But as much as I care for you, I don’t think you’re ready for me or my son.”

Taylor rubbed his face wearily before staring up at her with pain-darkened eyes.

“I’m not blind to what’s been happening with us these last few weeks. You’re pulling away from me-from both of us-no matter how much you try to deny it. It’s obvious, Taylor. What I don’t understand is why you’re doing it.”

“I’ve been busy at work,” Taylor began halfheartedly.

“That may be true, but it’s not the whole truth.”

Denise took a deep breath, willing her voice not to break. “I know you’re holding something back, and if you can’t, or don’t, want to talk about it, there’s not much I can do. But whatever it is, it’s driving you away.”

She stopped, her eyes welling with tears. “Yesterday, you hurt me. But worse than that, you hurt Kyle. He waited for you, Taylor. For two hours. He jumped up every time a car went by, thinking it was you. But it wasn’t, and finally even he knew that everything had changed. He didn’t say a single thing the rest of the night. Not one word.”

Taylor, pale and shaken, seemed incapable of speech. Denise looked toward the horizon, a single tear drifting down her cheek.

“I can put up with a lot of things. Lord knows, I already have. The way you’ve been drawing me in, pushing me away, drawing me in again. But I’m a grown-up, and I’m old enough to choose whether I want to keep letting that happen. But if the same thing should start happening with Kyle . . .” She trailed off, swiping at her cheek.

“You’re a wonderful person, Taylor. You’ve got so much to offer someone, and I hope that one day you’ll finally meet the person who can make sense of all that pain you’re carrying around. You deserve that. In my heart, I know you didn’t mean to hurt Kyle. But I can’t take the chance of that happening again, especially when you’re not serious about our future together.”

“I’m sorry,” he said thickly.

“I am, too.”

He reached for her hand. “I don’t want to lose you.” His voice was almost a whisper.

Seeing his haggard expression, she took his hand and squeezed it, then reluctantly let it go. She could feel the tears again, and she fought them back.

“But you don’t want to keep me, either, do you?”

To that, he had no response.

Once he was gone, Denise drifted like a zombie through the house, holding on to her self-control by a thread. She’d cried most of the night already, knowing what was to come. She’d been strong, she reminded herself as she sat on the living room couch; she’d done the right thing. She couldn’t allow him to hurt Kyle again. She wasn’t going to cry.

Damnit, not anymore.

But watching Kyle play with his Legos and knowing that Taylor would no longer be coming by the house made a sickening knot rise in her throat.

“I’m not going to cry,” she said aloud, the words coming out like a mantra. “I’m not going to cry.”

With that, she broke down and wept for the next two hours.

“So you went ahead and ended it, huh?” Mitch said, clearly disgusted.

They were in a bar, a dingy place that opened its doors for breakfast, usually to a waiting crowd of three or four regulars. Now, however, it was late in the evening. Taylor hadn’t called until after eight; Mitch had shown up an hour later. Taylor had started drinking without him.

“It wasn’t me, Mitch,” he said defensively. “She’s the one who called it off. You can’t pin this one on me.”

“And I suppose it just came out of the blue, right? You had nothing to do with it.”

“It’s over, Mitch. What do you want me to say?”

Mitch shook his head. “You know, Taylor, you’re a piece of work. You sit here thinking you’ve got it all figured out, but you don’t understand anything.”

“Thanks for your support, Mitch.”

Mitch glared at him. “Don’t give me that crap. You don’t need my support. What you need is someone to tell you to get your ass back over there and fix whatever it was you did wrong.”

“You don’t understand-”

“Like hell I don’t!” Mitch said, slamming his beer glass onto the table. “Who do you think you are? You think I don’t know? Hell, Taylor, I probably know you better than you know yourself. You think you’re the only one with a shitty past? You think you’re the only one who’s always trying to change it? I have news for you. Everyone has crap in their background, everyone has things they wish they could undo. But most people don’t go around doing their best to screw up their present lives because of it.”

“I didn’t screw up,” Taylor said angrily. “Didn’t you hear what I said? She’s the one who ended it. Not me. Not this time.”

“I tell you what, Taylor. You can go to the goddamn grave thinking that, but both you and I know, it ain’t the whole truth. So get back over there and try to salvage it. She’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“I didn’t ask you to come here so you can give me some of your advice-”

“Well, you’re getting the best advice I’ve ever given you. Do me a favor and listen to it, okay? Don’t ignore it this time. Your father would have wanted you to.”

Taylor squinted at Mitch, everything suddenly tensing. “Don’t bring him into this. You don’t want to go there.”

“Why, Taylor? Are you afraid of something? Afraid that his ghost is gonna start hovering around us or knocking our beers off the table?”

“That’s enough,” Taylor growled.

“Don’t forget, I knew your father, too. I knew what a great guy he was. He was a guy who loved his family, loved his wife, loved his son. He would have been disappointed by what you’re doing now, I can guarantee it.”

The blood drained from Taylor’s face and he gripped his glass hard.

“Screw you, Mitch.”

“No, Taylor. You’ve already done that to yourself. If I did it, too, it would just be piling on.”

“I don’t need this crap,” Taylor snapped, rising from the table. He started for the door. “You don’t even know who I am.”

Mitch pushed the table away from his body, knocking over the beers and causing a few heads to turn. The bartender looked up from his conversation as Mitch stood and came up behind Taylor, grabbing him roughly by his shirt and spinning him around.

“I don’t know you? Hell, I know you! You’re a goddamn coward, is what you are! You’re afraid of living because you think it means giving up this cross you’ve been carrying around your whole life. But this time, you’ve gone too far. You think you’re the only one in the world with feelings? You think you’ll just walk away from Denise and everything’s going to go back to normal now? You think you’ll be happier? You won’t, Taylor. You won’t let yourself do that. And this time, you aren’t just hurting one person, did you ever think of that? It isn’t just Denise-you’re hurting a little boy! God almighty, doesn’t that mean anything to you? What the hell would your father say to that, huh? ‘Good job, son’? ‘I’m proud of you, son’? Not a chance. Your father would be sickened, just like I am now.”

Taylor, his face white, grabbed Mitch and lifted him, driving him backward into the jukebox. Two men scattered off their stools, away from the melee, as the bartender rushed to the far end of the bar. After pulling out a baseball bat, he started back toward them. Taylor raised his fist.

“What are you gonna do? Hit me?” Mitch taunted.

“Knock it off!” the bartender shouted. “Take that shit outside, now!”

“Go ahead,” Mitch said. “I don’t really give a damn.”

Biting his lip so hard that it began to bleed, Taylor pulled his arm back, ready to strike, his hand shaking.

“I’ll always forgive you, Taylor,” Mitch said almost calmly. “But you gotta forgive yourself, too.”

Taylor, hesitating, struggling, finally released Mitch and turned away, toward the faces staring at him. The bartender was at his side, bat in hand, waiting to see what Taylor was going to do.

Stifling the curses in his throat, he strode out the door.