The Rescue

by Nicholas Sparks

  He motioned to the couch, and they sat close to each other, her knee pulled up and resting against his thigh. Outside the window, the moon had risen and its light spilled through the clouds, turning them silver white. Taylor took another sip of Champagne, watching Denise.

  "What are you thinking?" she asked. Taylor glanced away briefly before facing her again.

  "I was thinking about what would have happened had you never been in the accident that night."

  "I would have had my car," she declared, and Taylor laughed before growing serious again.

  "But do you think I'd be here now, if it hadn't happened?"

  Denise considered it. "I don't know," she said at last. "I'd like to think so, though. My mom used to believe that people were destined for one another. That's a romantic idea that young girls have, and I guess part of me still believes it."

  Taylor nodded. "My mom used to say that, too. I think that's one of the reasons why she never remarried. She knew there could never be anyone to replace my father. I don't think my mom's even considered dating anyone since the day he died."

  "Really?"

  "That's how it always seemed to me, anyway."

  "I'm sure you're wrong about that, Taylor. Your mom's only human, and we all need companionship."

  As soon as she'd said it, she realized she was talking about herself as much as she was about Judy. Taylor, however, didn't seem to notice.

  Instead he smiled. "You don't know her as well as I do."

  "Maybe, but remember, my mother went through the same things your mom did. She mourned my father always, but I know she still felt the desire to be loved by someone."

  "Did she date?"

  Denise nodded, taking a sip of her Champagne. Shadows flickered across his features.

  "After a couple of years, she did. She saw a few men seriously, and there were times I thought I'd have a new stepfather soon, but none of them ever worked out."

  "Did that make you angry? Her dating, I mean?"

  "No, not at all. I wanted my mom to be happy."

  Taylor raised an eyebrow before draining the last of his Champagne. "I don't know if I would have been as mature about it as you were."

  "Maybe not. But your mom's still young. There may still come a time when it happens."

  Taylor brought the glass to his lap, realizing he'd never even imagined the possibility.

  "What about you? Did you think you'd be married by now?" he asked.

  "Of course," she said wryly. "I had it all worked out. Graduate at twenty-two, married by twenty-five, my first child at thirty. It was a great plan, except that absolutely none of it worked out the way I thought it would."

  "You sound disappointed."

  "I was," she admitted, "for a long time. I mean, my mom always had this idea of what my life would be like and never missed the opportunity to remind me. And she meant well, I know she did. She wanted me to learn from her mistakes, and I was willing to do that. But when she died . . . I don't know. I guess for a while there I forgot everything she'd taught me."

  She stopped, a pensive look on her face.

  "Because you got pregnant?" he asked gently.

  Denise shook her head. "No, not because I got pregnant, though that was part of it. It was more that after she died, I felt like she wouldn't be looking over my shoulder all the time, evaluating everything in my life. And of course, she wasn't, and I took advantage of that. It wasn't until later that I realized the things my mom said weren't meant to hold me back, they were for my own benefit so that all my own dreams could come true."

  "We all make mistakes, Denise--"

  She held up a hand, cutting him off. "I'm not saying it because I feel sorry for myself now. Like I said, I'm not disappointed anymore. These days, when I think about my mom, I know she'd be proud of the decisions I've made over the last five years."

  She hesitated before taking a deep breath. "I think she'd also like you."

  "Because I'm nice to Kyle?"

  "No," she answered. "My mom would like you because you've made me happier in the last two weeks than I have been in the last five years."

  Taylor could only stare at her, humbled by the emotion behind her words. She was so honest, so vulnerable, so incredibly beautifu . . .

  In the glowing candlelight, sitting close, she looked at him squarely, her eyes lit with mystery and compassion, and it was at that moment that Taylor McAden fell in love with Denise Holton.

  All the years of wondering exactly what that meant, all the years of loneliness, had led to this place, this here and now. He reached out and took her hand, feeling the softness of her skin as a well of tenderness rose within him.

  As he touched her cheek, Denise closed her eyes, willing this memory to last forever. She knew intuitively the meaning of Taylor's touch, the words he'd left unspoken. Not because she'd come to know him so well. She knew because she'd fallen in love with him at exactly the same time.

  In the late evening, moonlight spilled through the bedroom. The air was silver as Taylor lay on the bed, Denise resting her head on his chest. She had turned on the radio, and the faint strains of jazz muted the sounds of their whispers.

  Denise lifted her head from his chest, marveling at the naked beauty of his form, seeing at once the man she loved and the blueprint of the young boy she never knew. With guilty pleasure, she recalled the sight of their bodies intertwined in passion, her own soft whimpers as they'd become one, and how she'd buried her face in his neck to stifle her screams. And she'd done so knowing that it was what she both needed and wanted; she'd closed her eyes, giving herself to him without reserve.

  When Taylor saw her staring, he reached over and traced her cheek with his fingers, a melancholy smile playing on his lips, his eyes unreadable in the soft gray light. She moved her cheek closer to his fingers as he opened his hand.

  In silence they lay together as the digital numbers on the clock radio blinked forward steadily. Later Taylor rose. He threw on his pants and walked to the kitchen to get two glasses of water. When he came back, he saw Denise's figure intertwined with the sheet, covering part of her. As she lay on her back, Taylor took a drink of water, then set both glasses on the bedstand. When he kissed her between her breasts, she could feel the cool temperature of his tongue against her. "You're perfect," he whispered.

  She put one arm around his neck, then ran her hand down his back, feeling all of it: the fullness of the evening, the silent weight of their passion.

  "I'm not, but thank you. For everything." He sat on the bed then, his back against the headrest. Denise moved up and he draped one arm around her, pulling her close to him.

  It was in that position that the two of them finally fell asleep.

  Chapter 20

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

  Taylor's truck was gone.

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

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

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

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

  "Hewwo, Tayer," Kyle cried, suddenly alert.

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

  "I ran to the store."

  "At this hour?"

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

  "Why'r
e you whispering?"

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

  She looked at him questioningly.

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

  Denise smiled. "You don't like my Cheerios?"

  "I love your Cheerios. But today is special."

  "Why is today so special?"

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

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

  "Wouldn't you like to know," she teased.

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

  "I think I just found out," he said conspiratorially.

  "Stop," she said, meaning it, but not really wanting him to. "Kyle's in the room."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "But what if it rains?"

  "You already told me it's not leaking yet. That's why you let me put it off this long."

  "Four cups or six?" Denise asked.

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

  "Who's that?" Mitch asked, everything suddenly coming clear now "Hey . . . are you with Denise?"

  Taylor looked toward her admiringly. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

  "So you were with her all night?"

  "What kind of question is that?"

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

  "You sly dog . . ."

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

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

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

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

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

  She rolled her eyes. "You really are a goob."

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

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

  "Can I ask you a question?" she said.

  "Sure."

  "Last night . . . after we'd . . . well . . ." She paused.

  "After we'd done the horizontal tango?" Taylor offered.

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

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

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

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

  "Was it because you regretted what happened?"

  "No," he said quietly, his hands on her skin again. "It wasn't that at all."

  "Then what was it?"

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

  "Yes."

  "That's what it reminds me of. I'd been dreaming about what it would finally be like . . ."

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "You know it's against the law to pick flowers on the dunes. They help protect us from the hurricanes."

  "Are you going to turn me in?"

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

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

  "Sort of. It's a little more romantic, though."

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

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

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

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

  "I like that story," she said.

  "I do, too."

  "But didn't you just break the law, too?"

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

  "Like trust?"

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

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

  "We'll have fun. We'll play a little ball, watch a movie, eat some popcorn."

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

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

  "He's driving," Kyle responded vigorously, and Taylor laughed, well used to Kyle's form of communication by now.

  "We've also got one more stop to make, okay?"

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

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

  "I've been thinking about what you said earlier," Denise said, slipping off the marigold work dress.