Nicholas Sparks - The Rescue

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.

“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.