The Rescue(32)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

“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?”