The Rescue

by Nicholas Sparks

  "That's terrible."

  "It's sad, but like I said, it went both ways. They were stubborn, your mom was stubborn. And little by little, they sort of drifted apart."

  "I knew Mom wasn't close to her parents, but she never told me any of this."

  "No, I wouldn't expect that she did. But please don't think poorly of your mother. I certainly don't. She was always so full of life, so passionate--she was exciting to be around. And she had the heart of an angel, she really did. She was as sweet a person as I ever knew."

  Judy turned to face her. "I see a lot of her in you."

  Denise tried to digest this new information about her mother as Judy took another sip of her tea. Then, as if knowing she'd said too much, Judy added, "But listen to me, droning on like some senile old woman. You must think I'm two steps from an old folks' home. Let's talk about you for a while."

  "Me? There's not much to tell."

  "Then why not start with the obvious? Why did you move to Edenton?"

  Denise watched Kyle playing with his trucks, wondering what he was thinking.

  "There's a couple of reasons."

  Judy leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "Man trouble? Some psycho stalker like you see on America's Most Wanted?"

  Denise giggled. "No, nothing that dramatic." She stopped, her brow furrowing slightly.

  "If it's too personal, you don't have to tell me. It's none of my business anyway."

  Denise shook her head. "I don't mind talking about it--it's just tough to know where to start." Judy stayed silent, and Denise sighed, collecting her thoughts. "I guess mainly it has to do with Kyle. I think I told you he has trouble speaking, right?"

  Judy nodded.

  "Did I tell you why?"

  "No."

  Denise looked in Kyle's direction. "Well, right now they say he has an auditory processing problem, specifically expressive and receptive language delay. Basically, it means that for some reason--no one knows why--understanding language and learning to speak is hard for him. I guess the best analogy is that it's like dyslexia, only instead of processing visual signals, it has to do with processing sounds. For some reason, the sounds seem to get all mixed up--it's like he's hearing Chinese one second, German the next, nonsense chatter after that. Whether the problem's in the connection between the ear and the brain or within the brain itself no one knows. But in the beginning, they weren't sure how to diagnose him, and, well . . ."

  Denise ran her hand through her hair and faced Judy again. "Are you sure you want to hear all of this? It's kind of a long story."

  Judy reached over and patted Denise on the knee. "Only if you feel like telling me."

  Judy's earnest expression suddenly reminded Denise of her mother. Strangely, it felt good to tell her about it, and she hesitated only briefly before going on.

  "Well, at first the doctors thought he was deaf. I spent weeks taking Kyle to appointments with audiologists and ENTs--you know, ear, nose, and throat specialists--before they found out that he could hear. Then, they thought he was autistic. That diagnosis lasted for about a year--probably the most stressful year of my life. After that came PDD, or pervasive development disorder, which is sort of like autism, only less severe. That too lasted a few months until they'd run more tests on him. Then, they said he was retarded, with ADD--attention deficit disorder--thrown in for good measure. It wasn't until maybe nine months ago that they finally settled on this diagnosis."

  "It must have been so hard on you. . . ."

  "You can't imagine how hard it was. They tell you something awful about your child, and you go through all these stages--disbelief, anger, grief, and finally acceptance. You learn everything you can about it--you research and read and talk to whoever you can--and just when you're ready to confront it head-on, they change their minds and the whole thing starts all over again."

  "Where was the father during all of this?"

  Denise shrugged, an almost guilty expression on her face. "The father wasn't around. Suffice it to say, I hadn't expected to get pregnant. Kyle was an 'oops,' if you know what I mean."

  She paused again, and the two of them watched Kyle in silence. Judy seemed neither surprised nor shocked by the revelation, nor did her expression register any judgment. Denise cleared her throat.

  "After Kyle was born, I took a leave of absence from the school where I was teaching. My mom had died, and I wanted to spend the first year or so with the baby. But after all this started happening, I couldn't go back to work. I was shuttling him all day long to doctors and evaluation centers and therapists until I finally came up with a therapy program that we could do at home. None of that left me with enough time for a full-time job. Working with Kyle is full-time. I'd inherited this house, but I couldn't sell it, and eventually the money just ran out."

  She glanced at Judy, a rueful expression on her face.

  "So I guess the short answer to your question is that I had to move here out of necessity, so that I could keep working with Kyle."

  When she finished, Judy stared at her before finally patting her on the knee again. "Pardon the expression, but you're a helluva mother. Not many people would make those kinds of sacrifices."

  Denise watched her son play in the dirt. "I just want him to get better."

  "From what you've told me, he sounds like he already has." She let that sink in before leaning back in her chair and continuing. "You know, I remember watching Kyle when you were using the computer in the library, but never once did the thought occur to me that he was having any problems at all. He seemed like every other little boy there, except that he was probably better behaved."

  "But he still has trouble speaking."

  "So did Einstein and Teller, but they turned out to be the greatest physicists in history."

  "How would you know about their speech problems?" Though Denise knew (she'd read nearly everything on the subject), she was surprised--and impressed--that Judy knew it as well.

  "Oh, you'd be amazed at the amount of trivia I've picked up over the years. I'm like a vacuum cleaner with that stuff, don't ask me why."

  "You should go on Jeopardy!"

  "I would, but that Alex Trebek is so cute, I'd probably forget everything I know as soon as he said hello. I'd just stare at him the whole time, trying to figure out a way to get him to kiss me, like that Richard Dawson did on Family Feud."

  "What would your husband think if he knew you'd said that?"

  "I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Her voice sobered slightly. "He passed away a long time ago."

  "I'm sorry," Denise began, "I didn't know."

  "It's okay."

  In the sudden quiet, Denise fidgeted with her hands. "So . . . you never remarried?"

  Judy shook her head. "No. I just didn't seem to have time to meet someone. Taylor was a handful--it was all I could do to keep up with him."

  "Boy, does that sound familiar. It seems like all I do is work with Kyle and work at the diner."

  "You work at Eights? With Ray Toler?"

  "Uh-huh. I got the job when I moved here."

  "Has he told you about his kids?"

  "Only a dozen times or so," Denise answered.

  From there, the conversation drifted easily to Denise's job and the endless projects that seemed to occupy Judy's time. The rhythm of conversation was something Denise hadn't experienced in a while, and she found it unexpectedly soothing. A half hour later Kyle tired of playing with his trucks, and he put them under the porch (without being asked, Judy couldn't help but notice) before wandering up to his mother. His face was red from the heat, his bangs plastered against his forehead. "Can I have some macaroni and cheese?" (Ca-ah haf son concor cheese?)

  "Macaroni and cheese?"

  "Yes."

  "Sure, sweetie. Let me go make some."

  Denise and Judy stood and went into the kitchen, Kyle leaving dusty footprints on the floor. He went to the table and sat while Denise opened up the cupboard.

  "Would you like to stay for lunch? I c
an throw together a couple of sandwiches."

  Judy checked her watch. "I'd love to, but I can't. I have a meeting downtown about the festival this weekend. We still have some last-minute details we've got to iron out."

  Denise was filling the saucepan with hot water and looked over her shoulder. "Festival?"

  "Yeah, this weekend. It's an annual event and sort of gets everyone in the mood for summer. I hope you're going."

  Denise set the pan on the burner, and the gas range clicked to life. "I hadn't planned on it."

  "Why not?"

  "Well, for one thing, I hadn't even heard about it."

  "You really are out of the loop."

  "Don't remind me."

  "You should go, then--Kyle would love it. They have food and crafts, contests, a carnival is in town--there's something for everyone."

  Denise's mind immediately leapt to the costs involved.

  "I don't know if we can," she finally said, thinking of an excuse. "I have to work Saturday night."

  "Oh, you don't have to stay long--just come by during the day if you'd like. But it is a lot of fun, and if you want, I could introduce you to some people your own age."

  Denise didn't respond right away, and Judy sensed her hesitation.

  "Just think about it, okay?"

  Judy picked up her purse from the counter, and Denise checked the water--not boiling yet--before they walked toward the front door and stepped out on the porch again.

  Denise ran her hand through her hair, adjusting a few loose strands that had fallen in her face.

  "Thanks for coming by. It was nice to have an adult conversation for a change."

  "I enjoyed it," Judy said, leaning in to give her an impulsive hug. "Thanks for inviting me."

  As Judy turned to leave, Denise realized what she'd forgotten to mention.

  "Oh, by the way, I didn't tell you that I ran into Taylor yesterday at the store."

  "I know. I talked to him last night."

  After a beat of awkward silence, Judy adjusted her purse strap. "Let's do this again sometime, okay?"

  "I'd like that."

  Denise watched as Judy made her way down the steps and onto the gravel walkway. When Judy reached her car she turned to face Denise again.

  "You know, Taylor's gonna be at the festival this weekend with the rest of the fire department," Judy called out conversationally. "Their softball team plays at three."

  "Oh?" was all Denise could think to say.

  "Well, just in case you do come by, that's where I'll be."

  A moment later Judy opened her car door. Denise stood in the doorway and waved as Judy slipped behind the seat and cranked the engine to life, the faint outlines of a smile playing softly on her lips.

  Chapter 13

  "Hey there! I wasn't sure you two were going to make it," Judy called out happily.

  It was Saturday afternoon, a little after three, when Denise and Kyle made their way up the bleachers toward Judy, stepping around the other spectators.

  The softball game hadn't been hard to find--it was the only area of the park with bleachers, the field itself surrounded by a low chain-link fence. As they'd parked their bikes, Denise had easily spotted Judy sitting in the stands. Seeing them as well, Judy had waved as Denise held on to Kyle, doing her best to keep her balance as she made her way toward the upper seats.

  "Hey, Judy . . . we made it all right. I didn't know that Edenton had so many people. It took us a while to make it through the crowds."

  The streets downtown had been closed to traffic and were teeming with people. Banners stretched across the road, booths lining both sidewalks, as people examined the handmade crafts and drifted in and out of shops, carrying their recent purchases. Near Cook's Drugstore, an area had been set up for children. There they could assemble their own crafts using Elmer's glue, pinecones, felt, Styrofoam, balloons, and anything else people had donated. In the center square the carnival was in full swing. The lines, Denise had noticed, were already long.

  Denise and Kyle had taken their time walking their bikes through town, both of them enjoying the energy of the festival. On the far side of town, the park was alive with more food and games. A barbecue contest was under way in the shaded area near the road, and the Shriners were operating a fish fry in the near corner. Everywhere else, people had brought their own food and were preparing hot dogs and hamburgers on small grills for family and friends.

  Judy scooted over to make room for the two of them, and Kyle wedged himself between them. As he did so, he leaned into Judy almost flirtatiously and laughed as if he thought the whole thing were funny. Then, settling himself, he pulled out one of the toy airplanes he'd brought with him. Denise had insisted he put them in his pockets before he left the house. She didn't even pretend that she could explain the game to him enough to keep him interested and wanted him to have something to play with.

  "Oh, people come from all over for the festival," Judy said in explanation. "It pretty much draws from the whole county. It's one of the few times where people can count on seeing friends they haven't seen in a while, and it's a nice way for everyone to catch up."

  "It sure looks that way."

  Judy nudged Kyle in the ribs. "Hi, Kyle. How are you?"

  With a serious expression, he pressed his chin to his chest before holding up his toy for her to see. "Owpwane," he said enthusiastically, making sure Judy could see it. Though Denise knew it was his way of trying to communicate on a level he understood--something he often did--she nonetheless prodded him to answer correctly. She tapped his shoulder.

  "

  "Kyle, say, 'I'm fine, thanks.'

  "I'm fine, thanks." (I'n fie, kenks) He bobbed his head back and forth in rhythm with the syllables, then turned his attention back to his toy. Denise slipped her arm around him and nodded toward the action on the field.

  "So who exactly are we rooting for?"

  "Either team, really. Taylor's in the field now at third base for the red team--that's the Chowan Volunteers. They're with the fire department. The blue team--that's the Chowan Enforcers. That's the police, the sheriffs, and local troopers. They play for charity every year. The losing team has to pony up five hundred dollars for the library."

  "Whose idea was that?" Denise inquired knowingly.

  "Mine, of course."

  "So the library wins either way?"

  "That's the whole point," Judy said. "Actually, though, the guys take it very seriously. There are a lot of egos on the line out there. You know how men are."

  "What's the score?"

  "Four to two, the fire department is leading."

  On the field, Denise saw Taylor, crouched in his baseball stance, absently tapping his throwing hand into his glove, ready. The pitcher lobbed a painfully high pitch, and the batter connected with the ball cleanly, driving it to center field. It landed safely--a runner from third reached home plate, bringing the score to within one.

  "Was that Carl Huddle who just hit that?"

  "Yes. Carl's actually one of the better players. He and Taylor played together in high school."

  For the next hour Denise and Judy watched the game, chatting about Edenton and cheering for both teams. The game was only seven innings and was actually more exciting than Denise thought it would be--lots of scoring and not nearly as many dropped balls as she'd expected. Taylor made a couple of plays to throw the runners out at first, but for the most part it was a hitter's game, and the lead went back and forth every inning. Nearly every player succeeded in smashing the ball into the outfield, giving the outfielders some serious exercise. Denise couldn't help but notice that the men in the outfield tended to be a good deal younger--and sweating far more profusely--than those in the infield.

  Kyle, however, had grown bored with the game after only an inning and had taken to playing under and on top of the bleachers, climbing and jumping, running here and there. With so many people around, it made Denise nervous to lose sight of him, and she stood up to look for him on more
than a few occasions.

  Whenever she did, Taylor found his eyes darting that way. Earlier he'd seen her arrive with Kyle, holding his hand and walking slowly as she scanned the bleachers, oblivious of the fact that men were turning their heads as she strode past them. But Taylor had seen the stares, had seen them admiring the way she looked: her white shirt tucked into black shorts, long legs stretching down to matching sandals, dark windblown hair flowing past her shoulders. And for a reason he didn't quite understand, he found himself envious of the fact that his mother--not he--would be sitting with her.

  Her presence was distracting, and not only because he kept thinking about the things Melissa had said. The bleachers where she was sitting were between home and first base; his position at third base made it impossible not to see her sitting in the stands. Still, he couldn't seem to stop glancing her way, as if to make sure she hadn't left. He chided himself whenever he did it--wondering why it mattered--but would catch himself at it a moment later. Once, his stare had lasted a little too long, and she waved.

  He waved back with an embarrassed grin and turned away, wondering why on earth he suddenly felt like a damn teenager again.

  "So that's her, huh?" Mitch asked as they were sitting in the dugout between innings.

  "Who?"

  "Denise, the one sitting with your mother."

  "I didn't really notice," Taylor said as he absently twirled his bat, doing his best to appear uninterested.

  "You were right," Mitch said.

  "About what?"

  "She is pretty."

  "I didn't say that. Melissa said it."

  "Oh," Mitch said, "right."

  Taylor turned his attention to the game, and Mitch followed his eyes.

  "Then why were you staring at her?" he finally asked.

  "I wasn't staring at her."

  "Oh," Mitch said again, nodding. He didn't even try to hide his smirk.