The Rescue

Chapter 28

Denise held Taylor until he finally fell silent, spent and exhausted. Then she released him and went to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a can of beer, something she’d splurged on when she’d bought her car.

She didn’t know what else to do, nor did she have any idea what to say. She’d heard terrible things in her life, but nothing like this. Taylor looked up from the couch as she handed him the beer; with an almost deadened expression, he opened the beer and took a drink, then lowered it to his lap, both hands wrapped around the can.

She reached over, resting her hand on his leg, and he took hold of it.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“No,” he answered earnestly, “but then maybe I never was.”

She squeezed his hand.

“Probably not,” she agreed. He smiled wanly. They sat in silence for a few moments before she spoke again.

“Why tonight, Taylor?” Though she could have tried to talk him out of the guilt he still felt, she knew intuitively that now wasn’t the time. Neither of them was ready to face those demons.

He absently rotated the can in his hands. “I’ve been thinking about Mitch ever since he died, and with Melissa moving away . . . I don’t know . . . I felt like it was starting to eat me alive.”

It always was, Taylor.

“Why me, then? Why not someone else?”

He didn’t answer right away, but when he glanced up at her, his blue eyes registered nothing but regret.

“Because,” he said with unmistakable sincerity, “I care about you more than I ever cared about anyone.”

At his words, her breath caught in her throat. When she didn’t speak, Taylor reluctantly withdrew his hand the same way he once had at the carnival.

“You have every right not to believe me,” he admitted. “I probably wouldn’t, given the way I acted. I’m sorry for that-for everything. I was wrong.” He paused. With his thumbnail, he flicked the tab on the can in his hands. “I wish I could explain why I did the things I did, but I honestly don’t know. I’ve been lying to myself for so long that I’m not even sure I’d know the truth if I saw it. All I know for sure is that I screwed up the best thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Yeah, you did,” she agreed, prompting a nervous laugh from Taylor.

“I guess a second chance is out of the question, huh?”

Denise was silent, suddenly aware that at some point this evening, her anger toward Taylor had dissipated. The pain was still there, though, and so was the fear of what might come. In some ways she felt the same anxiety she’d felt when she was getting to know him for the first time. And in a way, she knew she was.

“You used that one a month ago,” she said calmly. “You’re probably somewhere in the twenties by now.”

He heard an unexpected glimmer of encouragement in her tone and looked up at her, his hope barely disguised.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” she said, smiling. “If I were the queen, I probably would have had you beheaded.”

“No hope, huh?”

Was there? That was what it all came down to, wasn’t it?

Denise hesitated. She could feel her stubborn resolve crumbling as his eyes held her gaze, speaking more eloquently than any words he might say. All at once she was flooded with memories of all the kind things he’d done for her and Kyle, reviving the feelings she had worked so hard to repress these past few weeks.

“I didn’t exactly say that,” she finally answered. “But we can’t just pick up where we left off. There’s a lot we have to figure out first, and it isn’t going to be easy.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when he realized that the possibility was still there-faint though it was-Taylor felt a wave of sudden relief wash over him. He smiled briefly before setting the can on the table.

“I’m sorry, Denise,” he repeated earnestly. “I’m sorry for what I did to Kyle, too.”

She simply nodded and took his hand.

For the next few hours they talked with a new openness. Taylor filled her in on the last few weeks: his conversations with Melissa and what his mother had said; the argument he’d had with Mitch the night he’d died. He spoke about how Mitch’s death had resurrected the memories of his father’s death and-despite everything-his lingering guilt about both deaths.

He talked steadily as Denise listened, offering support as he needed it, occasionally asking questions. It was nearly four in the morning when he rose to leave; Denise walked him to the door and watched him drive away.

While putting on her pajamas, she reflected that she still didn’t know where their relationship would go from here-talking about things didn’t always translate into actions, she cautioned herself. It might mean nothing, it might mean everything. But she knew it wasn’t simply up to her to give him another chance. As it had been from the beginning, it was-she thought as her eyelids drooped shut-still up to Taylor.

The following afternoon he called to ask if it would be all right for him to stop by.

“I’d like to apologize to Kyle, too,” he said. “And besides, I have something to show him.”

Still exhausted from the night before, she wanted time to mull things over. She needed that. So did he. But in the end she reluctantly consented, more for Kyle’s sake than her own. She knew that Kyle would be overjoyed to see him.

As she hung up the phone, however, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. Outside, the day was blustery; cool autumn weather had arrived in full force. The leaves were dazzling in their color: reds, oranges, and yellows exploding on the branches, preparing for their final descent to the dew-covered grass. Soon the yard would be covered with faded remnants of the summer.

An hour later Taylor arrived. Though Kyle was in the yard out front, she could hear his excited screams over the sound of the faucet.

“Money! Tayer’s here!”

Setting her dishrag aside-she’d just finished washing the morning dishes-she went to the front door, still feeling a little uneasy. Opening it, she saw Kyle charging Taylor’s truck; as soon as Taylor stepped out, Kyle jumped into his arms as if Taylor had never stayed away, his face beaming. Taylor hugged him for a long time, putting him down just as Denise walked up.

“Hey there,” he said quietly.

She crossed her arms. “Hi, Taylor.”

“Tayer’s here!” Kyle said jubilantly, latching on to Taylor’s leg. “Tayer’s here!”

Denise smiled thinly. “He sure is, sweetie.”

Taylor cleared his throat, sensing her unease, and motioned over his shoulder.

“I grabbed a few things from the store on my way over here. If it’s okay to stay awhile.”

Kyle laughed aloud, completely enamored by Taylor’s presence. “Tayer’s here,” he said again.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” she answered honestly.

Taylor grabbed a grocery bag from the cab of the truck and carried it inside. The bag contained the makings for stew: beef, potatoes, carrots, celery, and onions. They spoke for a couple of minutes, but he seemed to sense her ambivalence about his presence and finally went outside with Kyle, who refused to leave his side. Denise started preparing the meal, thankful to be left alone. She browned the meat and peeled the potatoes, cut the carrots, celery, and onions, throwing everything into a big pot with water and spices. The monotony of the work was soothing, calming her roiling emotions.

As she stood over the sink, however, she glanced outside occasionally, watching Taylor and Kyle play in the dirt pile, where they each pushed Tonka trucks back and forth, building imaginary roads. Yet despite how well they seemed to be getting along, she was struck once more with a paralyzing sense of uncertainty about Taylor; the memories of the pain he had caused her and Kyle surfaced with new clarity. Could she trust him? Would he change? Could he change?

As she watched, Kyle climbed on to Taylor’s squatting figure, covering him with dirt. She could hear Kyle laughing; she could hear Taylor laughing as well.

It’s good to hear that sound again. . . .

But . . .

Denise shook her head. Even if Kyle has forgiven him, I won’t forget. He hurt us once, he could hurt us again. She wouldn’t allow herself to fall for him so deeply this time. She wouldn’t let herself go.

But they look so cute together….

Don’t let yourself go, she warned herself.

She sighed, refusing to allow the internal conversation to dominate her thoughts. With the stew cooking over low heat, she set the table, then straightened up the living room before running out of things to do.

Deciding to sit outside, she walked out into the crisp, fresh air and sat on the porch steps. She could see Taylor and Kyle, still immersed in their playing.

Despite her thick turtleneck sweater, the nip in the air made her cross her arms. Overhead, a flock of geese in triangular formation flew overhead, heading south for the winter. They were followed by a second group that seemed to be struggling to catch up. As she watched them, she realized her breaths were coming out in little puffs. The temperature had dropped since the morning; a cold front blowing in from the midwest had descended through the low country of North Carolina.

After a while, Taylor glanced toward the house and saw her, letting her know with a smile. With a quick flick of her hand, she waved before burying her hand back in the warmth of her sleeves. Taylor leaned close to Kyle and motioned with his chin, prompting Kyle to turn in her direction. Kyle waved happily, and both of them stood. Taylor brushed off his jeans as they started toward the house.

“You two look like you were having fun,” she said.

Taylor grinned, stopping a few feet from her. “I think I’ll give up contracting and just build dirt cities. It’s a lot more fun, and the people are easier to deal with.”

She leaned toward Kyle. “Did you have fun, sweetie?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “It was fun.” (Ess fun)

Denise looked up at Taylor again. “The stew won’t be ready for a while. I just got it all going, so you’ve got plenty of time if you want to stay outside.”

“I figured as much, but I need a glass of water to wash down some of the dirt.”

Denise smiled. “Do you want something to drink, too, Kyle?”

Instead of answering, however, Kyle moved closer, his arms outstretched. Almost molding into her, he wrapped his arms around Denise’s neck.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Denise asked, suddenly concerned. With his eyes closed, Kyle squeezed more tightly, and she instinctively put her arms around him.

“Thank you, Mommy. Thank you. . . .” (Kenk you, Money. Kenk you)

For what?

“Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked again.

“Kenk you,” Kyle said again, not listening. “Kenk you, Money.”

He repeated it a third and fourth time, his eyes closed. Taylor’s grin left his face.

“Honey . . . ,” Denise tried again, a little more desperately this time, suddenly feeling a flash of fear at what was happening.

Kyle, lost in his own world, continued to hold her tight. Denise shot a “See what you’ve done now” look at Taylor when all of a sudden Kyle spoke again, the same grateful tone in his voice.

“I wuff you, Money.”

It took a moment to understand what he was trying to say, and she felt the hairs on her neck stand up.

I love you, Mommy.

Denise closed her eyes in shock. As if knowing she still didn’t believe it, Kyle tightened his grip around her, squeezing with ferocious intensity, and said it a second time.

“I wuff you, Money.”

Oh, my God . . .

Unexpected tears suddenly began to spill from her eyes.

For five years she’d waited to hear the words. For five long years she’d been deprived of something other parents take for granted, a simple declaration of love.

“I love you, too, sweetie . . . I love you so much.”

Lost in the moment, she hugged Kyle as tightly as he was holding her.

I’ll never forget this, she thought, memorizing the feel of Kyle’s body, his little-boy smell, his halting miraculous words. Never.

Watching them together, Taylor stood off to the side, as mesmerized by the moment as she was. Kyle, too, seemed to know he’d done something right, and as she finally released him, he turned to Taylor, a grin on his face. Denise laughed at his expression, her cheeks flushed. She turned to gaze at Taylor, her expression full of wonder.

“Did you teach him to say that?”

Taylor shook his head. “Not me. We were just playing.”

Kyle turned from Taylor back to his mother again, the same joyous expression on his face.

“Kenk you, Money,” he said simply. “Tayer’s home.”

Taylor’s home. . . .

As soon as he said it, Denise wiped the tears from her cheeks, her hand shaking slightly, and it was quiet for a moment. Neither Denise nor Taylor knew what to say. Though Denise’s shock was evident, to Taylor she looked absolutely wondrous, as beautiful as anyone he’d ever seen. Taylor dropped his eyes and reached for a twig on the ground, then twirled it absently in his fingers. He looked up at her, back to the twig, then over to Kyle before meeting and holding her gaze with steady determination.

“I hope he’s right,” Taylor said, his voice cracking slightly. “Because I love you, too.”

It was the first time he’d ever said the words to her, or to anyone. Though he’d imagined they would be hard to say, they weren’t. He’d never been so sure about anything.

Denise could almost feel Taylor’s emotion as he reached for her hand. In a daze, she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet, drawing her close. He tilted his head, slowly moving it closer, and before she knew it, she felt his lips against hers, mingling with the warmth of his body. The tenderness of the kiss seemed to last forever until he finally buried his face in her neck.

“I love you, Denise,” he whispered again. “I love you so much. I’ll do anything for another chance, and if you give it to me, I promise I’ll never leave you again.”

Denise closed her eyes, letting him hold her, before finally, reluctantly, pulling back. With a little space between them, she turned away, and for a moment Taylor didn’t know what to think. He squeezed her hand, listening as she took a breath. Still, she didn’t speak.

Above them, the autumn sun was bearing down. Cumulus clouds, rolling white and gray, were drifting steadily, moving with the wind. On the horizon, dark clouds loomed black and thick. In an hour the rain would come, full and heavy. But by then they would be in the kitchen, listening as raindrops pelted the tin roof, watching as the steam from their plates curled toward the ceiling.

Denise sighed and faced Taylor again. He loved her. It was as simple as that. And she loved him. She moved into his arms, knowing that the coming storm had nothing to do with them.

Epilogue

Earlier that morning Taylor had taken Kyle fishing. Denise opted to stay behind; she had a few things to do around the house before Judy came over for lunch, and besides, she needed a bit of a break. Kyle was in kindergarten now, and though he’d come a long way in the past year, he was still having a little trouble adjusting to school for the first time. She continued to work with him on his speech every day, but she was also doing her best to help him with other skills so that he’d be able to keep up with his peers. Fortunately the recent move to their new house hadn’t seemed to bother him at all. He loved his new room, which was much bigger than it had been in their first house in Edenton, and delighted in the fact that it overlooked the water. She had to admit, she loved it, too. From where she was sitting on the porch, she could see Taylor and Kyle perched on the seawall, fishing poles in hand. She smiled wistfully, thinking how natural they looked together. Like father and son, which of course they were.

After the wedding Taylor had legally adopted Kyle. Kyle had served as the ring bearer in a small, private service held at the Episcopal church. A few friends had come in from Atlanta, and Taylor had invited a dozen others from around town. Melissa served as maid of honor, and Judy dabbed at her tears from her seat in the front row as the rings were exchanged. After the ceremony Taylor and Denise drove to Ocracoke and honeymooned in a small bed-and-breakfast that overlooked the ocean. On her first wedded morning, they rose before the sun came up and took a walk on the beach. As porpoises rode the waves just offshore, they watched the sunrise. With Taylor standing behind her, his arms around her waist, Denise simply leaned her head back, feeling warm and safe, as a new day unfolded.

When they returned from the honeymoon, Taylor surprised Denise with a set of blueprints he’d had drawn up. The plans were for a graceful, low-country home on the water with wide porches, complete with window seats, a modern kitchen, and hardwood floors. They purchased a lot on the outskirts of town and began building within a month; they’d moved in just before the school year started.

Denise had stopped working at Eights as well; she and Taylor went in for dinner now and then, simply to visit with Ray. He was the same as always; he never seemed to age, and as they left he always joked that she could have her job back anytime she wanted. She didn’t miss it, despite Ray’s good humor.

Though Taylor still suffered from the occasional nightmare, he’d surprised her with his devotion over the past year. Despite the responsibilities of building the house, he came home for lunch every day and refused to work any later than six. He coached Kyle’s T-ball team last spring-Kyle wasn’t the best player, but he wasn’t the worst, either-and they spent every weekend as a family. During the summer they’d taken a trip to Disney World; for Christmas they’d purchased a used Jeep Cherokee.

The only thing left was the white picket fence, and that was going up next week.

She heard the timer go off in the kitchen and rose from her chair. An apple pie was in the oven, and she took it out, setting it on the counter to cool. On the stove, stewed chicken was boiling, and the salty smell of broth wafted through the house.

Their house. The McAdens. Even though she’d been married a little over a year, she still relished the sound of that. Denise and Taylor McAden. It had a nice ring to it, if she did say so herself.

She stirred the stew-it had been cooking for an hour now, and meat was beginning to fall off the bones. Though Kyle still avoided eating meat for the most part, a few months earlier she’d made him try chicken. He’d fussed for an hour but had finally taken a bite; over the next few weeks he’d gradually started eating a little more. Now, on days like these, they ate as a family, everyone sharing the same food. Just as a family should.

A family. She liked the sound of that, too.

Glancing out the window, she saw Taylor and Kyle walking up the lawn, toward the shed where they kept their fishing poles. She watched as Taylor hung his pole, then took Kyle’s as well. Kyle put the tackle box on the floor inside, and Taylor scooted it out of the way with a tip of his boot. A moment later they were mounting the steps to the porch.

“Hey, Mom,” Kyle chirped.

“Did you catch anything?” she asked.

“No. No fish.”

Like everything else in her life, Kyle’s speech had improved dramatically. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but he was gradually closing the gap between himself and his peers at school. More important, she’d stopped worrying about it so much.

Taylor kissed Denise as Kyle made his way inside.

“So, where is the little fella?” Taylor asked.

She nodded toward the corner of the porch. “Still asleep.”

“Shouldn’t he be awake by now?”

“In a few minutes. He’ll be getting hungry soon.”

Together they approached the basket in the corner, and Taylor bent over, peering closely, something he still did often, as if he couldn’t believe he’d been responsible for helping to create a new life. He reached out and gently ran his hand over his son’s hair. At seven weeks there was barely anything at all.

“He seems so peaceful,” he whispered, almost in awe. Denise put her hand on Taylor’s shoulder, hoping that one day he’d look just like his father.

“He’s beautiful,” she said.

Taylor looked over his shoulder at the woman he loved, then turned back to his son. He leaned in close, kissing his son on his forehead.

“Did you hear that, Mitch? Your mom thinks you’re beautiful.”