Nicholas Sparks - The Rescue

Taylor took a deep breath. God, she was pretty.

“Can I take you and Kyle to the carnival tomorrow? I’m sure Kyle would love the rides.”

Despite the fact that she’d suspected he would ask, she still felt a rush of relief when she heard the words aloud.

“I’d like that,” she said quietly.

Later that night, unable to sleep, Taylor mused that what had started as simply an ordinary day had turned into something he hadn’t anticipated. He didn’t really understand how it had happened . . . the whole situation with Denise had just sort of snowballed, almost beyond his control.

Sure, she was attractive and intelligent-he admitted that. But he’d met attractive and intelligent women before. There was just something about Denise, something about their relationship already, that had caused his normally tight control to slip just a notch. It was almost like comfort, for lack of a better word.

Which didn’t make any sense, not really, he told himself, flipping his pillow over and mashing it into shape. He barely knew her. He’d had only a few conversations with her, he’d seen her only a couple of times in his life. She probably wasn’t anything he imagined her to be.

Besides, he didn’t want to get involved. He’d been down that road before.

Taylor shook off his blanket in sudden irritation.

Why on earth had he asked to drive her home? Why had he asked her out tomorrow?

And more important, why did the answers to those questions leave him feeling so uneasy?

Sunday was mercifully cooler than the day before. Hazy clouds had blown in that morning, keeping the sun from venting its full fury, and the evening breeze had picked up just as Taylor pulled up the driveway. It was a little before six when his truck bounced over the potholes, his wheels spinning gravel. Denise stepped out onto the porch, dressed in faded jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, just as he was climbing out of the truck.

She hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. It was her first date in what seemed like forever. Okay, Kyle would be with them, and it wasn’t technically a real date, but even so, it felt like one. She’d spent almost an hour trying to find something to wear before finally making her decision, and even then she questioned it. It wasn’t until she saw that he was wearing jeans as well that she breathed a little easier.

“Hey, there,” he said. “I hope I’m not late.”

“No, not at all,” she said. “You’re right on time.”

Absently he scratched the side of his face. “Where’s Kyle?”

“He’s still in the house. Let me go get him.”

It took only a minute before she was ready to go. As she locked the door on the way out, Kyle took off running across the yard.

“Hewwo, Tayer,” he called out.

Taylor held the door open for him and helped Kyle up, just as he’d done the day before.

“Hey, Kyle. Are you looking forward to the carnival?”

“Ess a monstew twuck,” he said happily.

Immediately after scrambling onto the seat, he climbed behind the wheel again, trying unsuccessfully to turn it from side to side.

Denise heard Kyle making engine sounds as she drew near. “He’s been talking about your truck all day,” she explained. “This morning, he found a Matchbox that looks like the truck you drive and he wouldn’t put it down.”

“What about his airplane?”

“That was yesterday’s attraction. Today, it’s the truck.”

He nodded toward the cab. “Should I let him drive again?”

“I don’t think he’s going to give you the chance to say no.”

As Taylor made room for her to climb up, she caught the trace of his cologne. Nothing fancy, probably something from the local drugstore, but she was touched that he’d put it on. Kyle scooted over to make room for him, then immediately crawled into his lap once Taylor was situated.

Denise shrugged, an “I told you so” expression on her face. Taylor grinned as he turned the key.

“All right, little man, let’s go.”

They did the big figure S again, taking their time, bumping haphazardly over the lawn and around the trees before finally reaching the road. At that point Kyle scooted off his lap, satisfied, and Taylor turned the wheel, heading into town.

The ride to the carnival took only a few minutes. Taylor was busy explaining various items in the truck to Kyle-the CB, the radio, the knobs on the dash-and though it was clear her son didn’t understand what was being said, Taylor just kept on trying anyway. She noticed, however, that Taylor seemed to be speaking more slowly than he had the day before and was using simpler words. Whether it was because of their conversation in the kitchen or whether he’d picked up on her own cadence, she wasn’t sure, but she was gratified by his attentiveness.

They pulled into downtown, then turned right onto one of the side streets to find a parking space. Even though it was the last night of the festival, the crowds were light, and they found a spot close to the main road. Walking toward the carnival, Denise noticed that the booths along the sidewalks were fairly well cleaned out and the people who ran them looked tired, as if they couldn’t wait to finally close down. A few of them were already doing exactly that.

The carnival was still going strong, however-mainly kids and their parents, hoping to enjoy the last couple of hours of entertainment that the carnival would provide. By tomorrow everything would be loaded up and on its way to the next town.

“So, Kyle, what do you want to do?” Denise asked.

He immediately pointed to the mechanical swing-a ride in which dozens of metal swings rotated in circles, first forward and then backward. Each child had his or her own seat-supported at each corner by a chain-and kids were screaming in terror and delight. Kyle watched it going round and round, transfixed.

“It’s a swing,” he said. (Ess a sweeng)

“Do you want to ride the swing?” Denise asked him.

“Swing,” he said with a nod.

“Say, ‘I want to ride the swing.’ ”

“I want to ride the swing,” he whispered. (Wonta wide ee sweeng)

“Okay.”

Denise spotted the ticket booth-she’d saved a few dollars from her tips the evening before-and began to reach into her purse. Taylor, however, saw what she was doing and raised his hands to stop her.

“My treat. I asked, remember?”

“But Kyle . . .”

“I asked him to come, too.”

After Taylor bought the tickets, they waited in line. The ride stopped and emptied, and Taylor handed over the tickets to a man who’d come straight from Central Casting. His hands were black with grease, his arms covered in tattoos, and one of his front teeth was missing. He tore the tickets before dropping them into a locked wooden box.

“Is this ride safe?” she asked.

“Passed inspection yesterday,” he answered automatically. No doubt it was the same thing he said to every parent who asked, and it didn’t do much to relieve her anxiety. Parts of the ride looked as if they were stapled together.

Nervously Denise led Kyle to his seat. She lifted him up, then lowered the safety bar for him as Taylor stood outside the gate, waiting for them.

“Ess a swing,” Kyle said again, once he was ready to go.

“Yes, it is.” She put his hands on the bar. “Now hold on and don’t let go.”

Kyle’s only response was to laugh in delight.

“Hold on,” she said again, more seriously this time, and Kyle squeezed the bar.

She walked back to Taylor’s side and took her place, praying that Kyle would listen to her. A minute later it started, and the ride slowly began to pick up speed. By the second rotation the swings were beginning to fan out, carried by their momentum. Denise hadn’t taken her eyes off Kyle, and as he swung by, it was impossible not to hear him laughing, a high-pitched giggle. As he came back around, she noticed that his hands were still right where they should be. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“You seem surprised,” Taylor said, leaning close so his voice could be heard over the noise of the ride.

“I am,” she said. “It’s the first time he’s ever been on a ride like this.”

“Haven’t you ever taken him to a carnival?”

“I didn’t think he was ready for one before.”

“Because he has trouble talking?”

“Partially.” She glanced at him. “There’s a lot about Kyle that even I don’t understand.”

She hesitated under Taylor’s serious gaze. Suddenly she wanted more than anything for Taylor to understand Kyle, she wanted him to understand what the last four years had been like. More than that, she wanted him to understand her.

“I mean,” she began softly, “imagine a world where nothing is explained, where everything has to be learned through trial and error. To me, that’s what Kyle’s world is like right now. People sometimes think that language is just about conversation, but for children, it’s much more than that. It’s how they learn about the world. It’s how they learn that burners on the stove are hot, without having to touch them. It’s how they know that crossing the street is dangerous, without having to be hit by a car. Without the ability to understand language, how can I teach him those things? If Kyle can’t understand the concept of danger, how can I keep him safe? When he wandered away into the swamp that night . . . well, you yourself said he didn’t seem to be frightened when you found him.”

She looked at Taylor earnestly. “Well, it makes perfect sense-to me, at least. I’d never walked him through the swamp, I’d never shown him snakes; I’d never shown him what might happen if he got stuck somewhere and couldn’t get out. Because I hadn’t shown him, he didn’t know enough to be afraid. Of course, if you take that one step further and consider every possible danger and the fact that I have to literally show him what it means, instead of being able to tell him-sometimes it feels like I’m trying to swim across the ocean. I can’t tell you how many close calls there have been. Climbing too high and wanting to jump, riding too close to the road, wandering away, walking up to growling dogs . . . it seems like every day there’s something new.”