Nicholas Sparks - The Rescue

“Kyle, he’s not what?”

“No . . .” The word came out with a whine, and Kyle made a low growling sound in his throat. He tried to pull away.

Definitely on the verge of a screamfest.

She tried again with things she knew he understood.

“Do you want to go home?”

“No.”

“Are you tired?”

“No.”

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Kyle-”

“No!” he said, shaking his head and cutting her off. He was angry now, his cheeks turning red.

“He’s not what?” she asked with as much patience as possible.

“He’s not . . .”

“He’s not, what?” Denise repeated.

Kyle shook his head in frustration, groping for the words.

“He’s not . . . Kye,” he finally said.

Denise was completely lost now.

“You’re not Kyle?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not Kyle,” she repeated, this time as a statement. Repetition, she’d learned, was important. It was something she did to find out whether or not they were both on the same wavelength.

“Yes.”

Huh?

Denise thought about it, trying to figure it all out, before focusing on him again.

“What’s your name? Is it Kyle?”

Kyle shook his head. “He’s not Kye. He’s linno man.”

She ran through it again, making sure she understood what he was saying.

“Little man?” she asked.

Kyle nodded triumphantly and smiled, his anger suddenly receding as quickly as it had come.

“Eez linno man,” he said again, and all Denise could do was stare at him.

Little man.

Oh Lord, how long was this going to last?

At that moment Taylor approached them, his gear bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Hey, Denise, how are you?” He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

Denise turned her attention to him, still flummoxed. “I’m not exactly sure,” she answered honestly.

The three of them began walking across the park together, and Denise recounted her exchange with Kyle. When she was finished Taylor patted Kyle on the back.

“Little man, huh?”

“Yes. Eez linno man,” Kyle said proudly in response.

“Don’t encourage him,” Denise said with a rueful shake of the head.

Taylor seemed to find the whole thing extremely humorous and didn’t bother trying to hide it. Kyle, on the other hand, was gazing at Taylor as though he were one of the seven wonders of the world.

“But he is a little man,” Taylor said in Kyle’s defense. “Aren’t you?”

Kyle nodded, pleased to have someone on his side. Taylor unzipped his gear bag and dug around inside before pulling out an old baseball. He handed it to Kyle.

“Do you like baseball?” he asked.

“It’s a ball,” Kyle answered. (Ess a baw)

“It’s not just a ball. It’s a baseball,” he said seriously.

Kyle considered it.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It’s a baseball.” (Yes . . . Ess a bessbaw)

He held the ball tightly in his small hand and seemed to study it, as if looking for a secret that only he could understand. Then, glancing up, he spotted a children’s slide in the distance. All of a sudden that took priority over everything else.

“He wants to run,” Kyle said, looking expectantly at his mother, “over there.” He pointed to where he wanted to go. (Ee wanta wun . . . O’er dare)

“Say, ‘I want to run.’ ”

“I want to run,” he said softly. (I wanta wun)

“Okay, go ahead,” she said. “Just don’t go too far.”

Kyle dashed toward the kids’ play area, a bundle of unharnessed energy. Luckily it was right next to the tables where they would be sitting-Judy had chosen the spot for just that reason, since nearly everyone involved in the game brought their children with them. Both Denise and Taylor watched Kyle as he ran.

“That’s one cute kid,” Taylor offered with a grin.

“Thanks. He’s a good boy.”

“That little man thing isn’t really a problem, is it?”

“It shouldn’t be . . . he went through a phase where he pretended to be Godzilla a couple of months ago. He wouldn’t answer to anything else.”

“Godzilla?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty funny when you think back on it. But at the time, oh my. I remember we were at the store once and Kyle slipped away. I was walking through the aisles calling for Godzilla, and you wouldn’t believe the looks that people were giving me. When Kyle finally came back, there was this one lady-she stared at me like I was an alien. I knew she was wondering what kind of mother names her kid Godzilla.”

Taylor laughed. “That’s great.”

“Yeah, well . . .” She rolled her eyes, communicating a mixture of contentment and exasperation. As she glanced at him, her eyes caught his and lingered just an instant too long before each of them turned away. They walked on in silence, looking exactly like one of the other young couples in the park.

From the corner of his eye, however, Taylor still watched her.

She was radiant in the warm June sunlight. Her eyes, he noticed, were the color of jade, exotic and mysterious. She was shorter than he was-maybe five six, he guessed-and she moved with the easy grace of people who were confident of their place in the world. More than that, he sensed her intelligence in the patient way she dealt with her son and, most of all, how much she loved him. To Taylor those were the things that really mattered.

Melissa, he knew, had been right after all.

“You played a good game,” Denise finally said, interrupting his thoughts.

“We didn’t win, though.”

“But you played well. That counts for something.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t win.”

“That’s such a man thing to say. I hope Kyle doesn’t turn out that way.”

“He will, though. He won’t be able to help it. It’s in our genes.”

Denise laughed, and they took a few steps in silence.

“So why did you get involved with the fire department?” she asked him.

The question brought his father’s image to mind. Taylor swallowed, forcing the thought away.

“It’s just something I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid,” he answered.

Though she heard a slight change in his tone, his expression seemed neutral as he studied the crowds in the distance.

“How does that work? Since you volunteer, I mean. Do they just call you up when there’s an emergency?”

He shrugged, suddenly relieved for some reason. “Pretty much.”

“Is that how you found my car that night? Did someone call it in?”

Taylor shook his head. “No, that was just lucky. Everyone at the station had been called in earlier because of the storm-there were already downed power lines on the roads, and I was out setting flares so that people could stop in time. I just happened to come across your car and pulled over to see what was wrong.”

“And there I was,” she said.

At this he stopped and met her gaze, his eyes the same color as the sky. “And there you were.”

The tables were piled high with enough food to feed a small army, which about equaled the number of people milling about in the area.

Off to the side, over by the grills where burgers and franks were being cooked, were four large coolers filled with ice and beer. As they neared the coolers, Taylor tossed his gear bag to one side, piling it with the others, and grabbed a beer for himself. Still bent over, he held up a can of Coors Light.

“Would you like one?”

“Sure, if you have enough.”

“There’s plenty. If we get through all these coolers, you’d better hope nothing happens in town tonight. No one would be able to respond.”

He handed the can to her, and she opened it. She’d never been a big drinker even in the years before Kyle, but the beer was refreshing on such a hot day.