Nicholas Sparks - The Rescue

“What did you say? ‘Fowman’?”

Kyle nodded and said it again. “Fowman.” This time he pointed through the door, and Denise looked in that direction. As she did so, Kyle started toward the door, and all at once she knew what he’d meant.

Not fowman, though it was close. Fireman.

Taylor McAden was standing outside the store, holding the door partially open while talking to someone off to the side, someone she couldn’t see. She watched as he nodded and waved, laughed again, then opened the door a little more. While Taylor ended his conversation, Kyle ran up to him and Taylor stepped inside without really paying attention to where he was going. He almost bowled Kyle over before catching his balance.

“Whoa, sorry-didn’t see you,” he said instinctively. “Excuse me.” He took an involuntary step backward before blinking in confusion. Then-sudden recognition crossing his face-he broke into a wide smile, squatting so he could be at eye level. “Oh, hey, little man. How are you?”

“Hello, Taylor,” Kyle said happily. (Hewwo, Tayer)

Without saying anything else, Kyle wrapped his arms around Taylor as he had that night in the duck blind. Taylor-unsure at first-relented and hugged him back, looking content and surprised at exactly the same time.

Denise watched in stunned silence, her hand over her mouth. After a long moment Kyle finally loosened his grip, allowing Taylor to pull back. Kyle’s eyes were dancing, as if he’d recognized a long-lost friend.

“Fowman,” Kyle said again excitedly. “He’s found you.” (Eez foun you)

Taylor cocked his head to one side. “What’s that?”

Denise finally snapped to attention and moved toward the two of them, still having trouble believing what she’d seen. Even after spending a year with his speech therapist, Kyle had hugged her only when prodded by his mother. Unlike this, it had never been voluntary, and she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about Kyle’s extraordinary new attachment. Watching her child hug a stranger-even a good one-aroused somewhat contradictory feelings. Nice, but dangerous. Sweet, but something that shouldn’t become a habit. At the same time, there was something about the comfortable way that Taylor had reacted to Kyle-and vice versa-that made it seem anything but threatening. All of this was going through her head as she drew near and answered for her son.

“He’s trying to say that you found him,” she said. Taylor glanced up and saw Denise for the first time since the accident, and for a moment he couldn’t turn away. Despite the fact he’d seen her before, she looked . . . well, more attractive than he’d remembered. Granted, she was a mess that night, but still, the way she might look under normal circumstances hadn’t crossed his mind. It wasn’t that she looked glamorous or elegant; it was more that she radiated a natural beauty, a woman who knew she was attractive but didn’t spend all day thinking about it.

“Yes. He’s found you,” Kyle said again, breaking into Taylor’s thoughts. Kyle nodded for emphasis, and Taylor was thankful for a reason to face him again. He wondered if Denise could tell what he was thinking.

“That’s right, I did,” he said with a friendly hand still on Kyle’s shoulder, “but you, little man, were the brave one.”

Denise watched as he spoke to Kyle. Despite the heat, Taylor was wearing jeans and Red Wing workboots. The boots were covered with a thin layer of dried mud and well worn, as if he’d used them every day for months. The thick leather was scarred and chaffed. His white shirt was short-sleeved, revealing tight muscles in his sun-darkened arms-the arms of someone who worked with his hands all day. When he stood he seemed taller than she’d remembered.

“Sorry about almost knocking him over back there,” he said, “I didn’t see him when I came in.” He stopped, as if not knowing what else to say, and Denise sensed a shyness she hadn’t expected.

“I saw what happened. It wasn’t your fault. He kind of snuck up on you.” She smiled. “I’m Denise Holton, by the way. I know we met before, but a lot of that night’s fairly foggy.”

She held out her hand and Taylor took it. She could feel the calluses on his palm.

“Taylor McAden,” he said. “I got your note. Thanks.”

“Fowman,” Kyle said again, this time louder than before. He wrung his hands together, twisting and turning them almost compulsively. It was something he always did when excited.

“Big fowman.” He put the emphasis on big.

Taylor furrowed his brow and reached out, grabbing Kyle on the helmet in a friendly, almost brotherly way. Kyle’s head moved in unison with his hand. “You think so, huh?”

Kyle nodded. “Big.”

Denise laughed. “I think it’s a case of hero worship.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual, little man. It was more you than me.”

Kyle’s eyes were wide. “Big.”

If Taylor noticed that Kyle didn’t understand what he’d just said, he didn’t show it. Instead Taylor winked at him. Nice.

Denise cleared her throat. “I haven’t had the chance to thank you in person for what you did that night.”

Taylor shrugged. With some people it would have come across as arrogant, as if they knew they’d done something wonderful. With Taylor, though, it came across differently, as if he hadn’t given it a second thought since that night.

“Ah, that’s all right,” he said. “Your note was plenty.”

For a moment neither of them spoke. Kyle, meanwhile-as if already bored by the conversation-wandered toward the candy aisle. Both of them watched as he stopped halfway down, focusing intently on the brightly covered wrappers.

“He looks good,” Taylor finally said into the silence. “Kyle, I mean. After all that happened, I was sort of wondering how he was doing.”

Denise’s eyes followed his. “He seems to be okay. Time will tell, I guess, but right now I’m not too worried about him. The doctor gave him a clean bill of health.”

“How ’bout you?” he asked.

She answered automatically, without really thinking. “The same as always.”

“No . . . I mean with your injuries. You were pretty banged up when I last saw you.”

“Oh . . . well, I guess I’m doing okay, too,” she said.

“Just okay?”

Her expression softened. “Better than okay. Still a little sore here and there, but otherwise I’m fine. It could have been worse.”

“Good, I’m glad. I was worried about you, too.”

There was something in the quiet way he spoke that made Denise take a closer look at him. Though he wasn’t the most handsome man she’d ever seen, there was something about him that caught her attention-a gentleness, perhaps, despite his size; an acute but unthreatening perceptiveness in his steady gaze. Though she knew it was impossible, it was almost as if he knew how difficult her life had been during the past few years. Glancing at his left hand, she noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring.

At that, she quickly turned away, wondering where the thought had come from and what had brought it on. Why would that matter? Kyle was still immersed in the candy aisle and was about to open a bag of Skittles when Denise saw what he was doing.

“Kyle-no!” She took a quick step toward him, then turned back to Taylor. “Excuse me. He’s getting into something he shouldn’t.”

He took a small step backward. “No problem.”

As she moved away, Taylor couldn’t help but watch her. The lovely, almost mysterious face accented by high cheekbones and exotic eyes, long dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail that reached past her shoulder blades, a shapely figure accented by the shorts and blouse she was wearing-

“Kyle, put that down. Your candy’s already in the bag.”