Nicholas Sparks - The Rescue

She nodded. “Uh-huh. Why?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear what you told the manager and . . . well . . .” He paused, that steady blue gaze holding her motionless in the store. “Can I give you a hand getting your groceries home? I’m heading right by your place, and I’d be happy to drop it all off for you.”

As he spoke, he motioned to the truck parked right outside the door.

“Oh no, that’s all right. . . .”

“Are you sure? It’s right on the way. Take me two minutes, tops.”

Though she knew he was trying to be kind, a product of a small-town upbringing, she wasn’t sure she should accept.

He held up his hands, as if sensing her indecision, an almost mischievous grin on his face. “I won’t steal anything, I promise.”

Kyle took a step toward the door, and she put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. “No, it’s not that. . . .”

But what was it, then? Had she been on her own so long that she didn’t even know how to accept other people’s kindness anymore? Or was it that he’d already done so much for her already?

Go ahead. It’s not like he’s asking you to marry him or anything. . . .

She swallowed, thinking of the trip across town and back again, then loading up all the groceries to transport home.

“If you’re sure it’s not out of your way . . .”

Taylor felt as if he’d achieved some sort of minor victory.

“No-it’s not out of the way at all. Just let me pay for this and I’ll help you carry your things to the truck.”

He returned to the counter and set the Coca-Cola by the register.

“How do you know where I live?” she asked.

He looked over his shoulder. “It’s a small town. I know where everyone lives.”

Later that evening, Melissa, Mitch, and Taylor were in the backyard, steaks and hot dogs already sizzling over charcoal, the first vestiges of summer lingering almost like a dream. It was a slow-moving evening, the air bruised with humidity and heat. The yellow sun hovered low in the sky just above the stationary dogwoods, the leaves motionless in the still evening air.

While Mitch stood ready, tongs in hand, Taylor nursed a beer, his third of the evening. He had a nice buzz going and was drinking at just the right pace to keep it that way. After catching them up on what had been happening recently-including the search in the swamp-he mentioned that he’d seen Denise again at the store and that he’d dropped her groceries off.

“They seem to be doing fine,” he observed, slapping at a mosquito that had landed on his leg.

Though it was said in all innocence, Melissa gave him the once-over, eyeing him carefully, then leaned forward in her chair.

“So you like her, huh?” she said, not hiding her curiosity.

Before Taylor had a chance to answer, Mitch cut into the conversation.

“What did he say? That he liked her?”

“I didn’t say that,” Taylor said quickly.

“You didn’t have to. I could see it in your face, and besides, you wouldn’t have dropped her groceries off if you didn’t.” Melissa turned to her husband. “Yeah, he likes her.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

Melissa smiled wryly. “So . . . is she pretty?”

“What kind of question is that?”

Melissa turned to her husband again. “He thinks she’s pretty, too.”

Mitch nodded, convinced. “I thought he was kind of quiet when he arrived. So what’s next? You gonna ask her out?”

Taylor turned from one to the other, wondering how the conversation had spun in this direction.

“I hadn’t planned on it.”

“You should. You need to get out of the house once in a while.”

“I’m out all day long. . . .”

“You know what I mean.” Mitch winked at him, enjoying his discomfort.

Melissa leaned back in her chair. “He’s right, you know. You’re not getting any younger. You’re already past your prime.”

Taylor shook his head. “Thanks a lot. Next time I need some abuse, I know exactly where to come.”

Melissa giggled. “You know we’re just teasing.”

“Is that your version of an apology?”

“Only if it makes you change your mind about asking her out.”

Her eyebrows danced up and down, and despite himself Taylor laughed. Melissa was thirty-four but looked-and acted-ten years younger. Blond and petite, she was quick with a kind word, loyal to her friends, and never seemed to hold a grudge about anything. Her kids could be fighting, the dog might have messed on the rug, the car wouldn’t start-it didn’t matter. Within a couple minutes she’d be back to her old self. On more than one occasion Taylor had told Mitch that he was a lucky man. Mitch’s answer was always the same: “I know.”

Taylor took another drink from his beer. “Why are you so interested, anyway?” he asked.

“Because we love you,” Melissa answered sweetly, as if that explained it all.

And don’t understand why I’m still alone, Taylor thought.

“All right,” he finally said, “I’ll think about it.”

“Fair enough,” Melissa said, not bothering to hide her enthusiasm.

The day after Denise had run into Taylor at Merchants, she spent the morning working with Kyle. The accident seemed to have had neither a negative nor a positive impact on his learning, though now that summer had arrived, he seemed to work best if they were able to finish before noon. After that it was too warm in the house for either of them to concentrate.

Earlier, right after breakfast, she’d called Ray and asked him for a couple of extra shifts for the time being. Fortunately he’d consented. Starting tomorrow night she’d work every evening except Sunday, as opposed to her usual four shifts. As always, she’d head in around seven and work until midnight. Though coming in a little later meant less in tips because she’d miss a good portion of the dinner rush, she couldn’t in good conscience leave Kyle in the back room for an extra hour all by himself while he was still awake. By arriving later, she could put him down in the cot and he’d fall asleep within minutes.

She’d found herself thinking about Taylor McAden ever since she’d run into him at the store the day before. Just as he’d promised, the groceries had been placed on the front porch, in the shade provided by the overhang. Because it hadn’t taken more than ten or fifteen minutes for her to make it back home, the milk and eggs were still cold and she’d put them in the refrigerator before they spoiled.

While Taylor had carried the bags to his truck, he’d also offered to put their bikes in the back and give them both a ride, too, but to that Denise had said no. It had less to do with Taylor than Kyle-he was already getting on his bike, and she knew he was looking forward to another ride with his mother. She didn’t want to ruin that for him, especially since this would probably be a regular routine and the last thing she wanted was for him to expect a truck ride back every time they came to town.

Still, part of her had wanted to accept Taylor’s offer. She’d been around long enough to know that he’d found her attractive-the way he looked at her made that plain-yet it didn’t make her uncomfortable the way the scrutiny of other men sometimes did. There wasn’t the usual hungry gleam in his eye while he’d stared at her-the one that implied a roll in the sack would solve everything. Nor had his eyes wandered downward while she spoke-another common problem. It was impossible to take a man seriously when he was staring at her breasts.

No, there was something different about the way he’d looked at her. It was more appreciative somehow, less threatening, and as much as she resisted the idea, she’d found herself not only flattered by it, but pleased as well.

Of course, she knew it could have been part of Taylor’s shtick, his way of coming on to women, a pattern honed over time. Some men were good at that. She’d meet them and talk to them, and every nuance of their being seemed to imply that they were different, more trustworthy, than other men. She’d been around long enough to meet plenty of those types as well, and usually she’d hear little alarm bells going off. But Taylor was either the finest actor she’d ever come across or he really was different, because this time the bells were silent.

So which was it?

Of the many things she’d learned from her mother, there was one that always stood out, one that came to mind when evaluating others. “You’re going to come across people in your life who say all the right words at all the right times. But in the end, it’s always their actions you should judge them by. It’s actions, not words, that matter.”

Maybe, she thought to herself, that was the reason she’d responded to Taylor. He’d already proven that he could do heroic things, but it wasn’t simply his dramatic rescue of Kyle that inspired her . . . interest in him, if that’s what it was. Even cads could do the right thing some of the time. No-it was the little things he’d done while they were at the store. The way he’d offered to help without expecting something in return . . . the way he seemed to care about how Kyle and she were doing . . . the way he’d treated Kyle. . . .

Especially that.

Even though she didn’t want to admit it, over the last few years she’d come to judge people by the way they treated her son. She remembered compiling lists in her mind of the friends who tried with Kyle and the ones that hadn’t. “She sat on the floor and played blocks with him”-she was good. “She barely even noticed he was there”-she was bad. The list of “bad” people was far longer than the “good.”

But here was a guy who had for whatever reason formed a bond with her son, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Nor could she forget Kyle’s reaction to him. Hewwo, Tayer….

Even though Taylor didn’t understand everything Kyle had said-Kyle’s pronunciations took a while to get used to-Taylor kept talking to him as if he did. He winked, he grabbed his helmet in a playful way, he hugged him, he looked Kyle in the eye when he spoke. He’d made sure to say good-bye.