Nicholas Sparks - The Rescue

“See, I told you, honey,” Mitch said victoriously.

“She’s just saying that because you put her on the spot. Now leave the poor lady alone. We were talking here, having a perfectly nice conversation, until you butted in.”

“Well-”

It was all Mitch could say before Melissa cut him off. “Don’t push it.”

“But-”

“Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Mitch’s eyebrows went up and down. “Is that a promise?”

She gave him the once-over. “It is now.”

Everyone at the table laughed, and Mitch leaned toward his wife, resting his head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, looking at her like a puppy who’d messed on the rug.

“Not good enough,” she said, feigning haughtiness.

“What if I do the dishes later?”

“We’re eating off paper plates tonight.”

“I know. That’s why I offered.”

“Why don’t you two leave us alone so we can talk? Go clean the grill or something.”

“I just got here,” Taylor complained. “Why do I have to go?”

“Because the grill is really dirty.”

“It is?” Mitch asked.

“Go on,” Melissa said as if shooing a fly from her plate. “Leave us alone so we can do some girl-talk.”

Mitch turned toward his friend. “I don’t think we’re wanted, Taylor.”

“I think you’re right, Mitch.”

Melissa whispered conspiratorially, “These two should have been rocket scientists. Nothing gets by them.”

Mitch’s mouth was playfully agape. “I think she just insulted us, Taylor,” he said.

“I think you’re right.”

“See what I mean?” Melissa said, nodding as if her point had been proven. “Rocket scientists.”

“C’mon, Taylor,” Mitch said, pretending to be offended. “We don’t need to put up with this. We’re better than that.”

“Good. Go be better while you clean the grill.”

Mitch and Taylor rose from the table, leaving Denise and Melissa alone. Denise was still laughing as they headed toward the grill.

“Now how long have you two been married?”

“Twelve years. It only seems like twenty.”

Melissa winked, and all Denise could do was wonder why it suddenly seemed as if she’d known her forever.

“So how did you two meet?” Denise asked.

“At a party in college. The first time I ever saw him, Mitch was balancing a bottle of beer on his forehead while trying to cross the room. If he could do it without spilling it, he’d win fifty bucks.”

“Did he make it?”

“No, he ended up soaked from head to toe. But it was obvious he didn’t take himself too seriously. And after some of the other guys I dated, I guess that’s what I was looking for. We started dating, and a couple of years later, we got married.”

She looked toward her husband, obvious affection in her eyes.

“He’s a good guy. I think I’ll keep him.”

“So how was it down in the Croatan?”

When Joe had asked for volunteers to fight the forest fire a few weeks earlier, only Taylor had raised his hand. Mitch had simply shaken his head when Taylor had asked him to come along.

What Taylor didn’t know was that Mitch had learned exactly what had happened. Joe had called Mitch in confidence, telling him that Taylor had nearly been killed when the fire suddenly closed in around him. Had it not been for a slight shift in the wind, which cleared enough smoke for Taylor to find his way out, he would have been dead. His latest brush with death hadn’t surprised Mitch at all.

Taylor took a drink of his beer, his eyes clouding with the memory.

“Pretty hairy at times-you know how those fires are. But luckily no one got hurt.”

Yes, lucky. Again.

“Nothing else?”

“Not really,” he said, downplaying any hint of danger. “But you should have come along. We could have used more men out there.”

Mitch shook his head as he reached for the grate on the grill. He began to work the scraper back and forth.

“No, that’s for you young guys. I’m getting too old for things like that.”

“I’m older than you are, Mitch.”

“Sure, if you think of it just in terms of numbers. But I’m like an old man compared to you. I have progeny.”

“Progeny?”

“Crossword puzzle word. It means I have children.”

“I know what it means.”

“Well, then you also know that I can’t just up and leave anymore. Now that the boys are getting bigger, it’s not fair to Melissa if I head out of town for things like that. I mean, if there’s a problem here, that’s one thing. But I’m not going to search them out. Life’s too short for that.”

Taylor reached for a rag and handed it to Mitch to wipe the scraper.

“You’re still going to give it up?”

“Yep. A few more months and then that’s it.”

“No regrets?”

“None.” Mitch paused before going on. “You know, you might want to consider giving it up, too,” he added conversationally.

“I’m not gonna quit, Mitch,” Taylor said, dismissing the idea immediately. “I’m not like you. I’m not afraid of what might happen.”

“You should be.”

“That’s how you see it.”

“Maybe so,” Mitch said, speaking calmly. “But it’s true. If you really care about Denise and Kyle, you gotta start putting them first, like I put my family first. What we do is dangerous, no matter how careful we are, and it’s a risk that we don’t have to take. We’ve been lucky more than a few times.” He was silent as he set the scraper aside. Then his eyes met Taylor’s.

“You know what it’s like to grow up without a father. Would you want to do that to Kyle?”

Taylor stiffened. “Christ, Mitch . . .”

Mitch raised his hands to stop Taylor from continuing. “Before you start calling me names, it’s something I had to say. Ever since that night on the bridge . . . and then again in the Croatan. Yeah, I know about that, too, and it doesn’t give me warm fuzzies. A dead hero is still dead, Taylor.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know. It’s like over the years you’ve been testing fate more and more often, like you’re chasing something. It scares me sometimes.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

Mitch stood and put his hand on Taylor’s shoulder.

“I always worry about you, Taylor. You’re like my brother.”

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Denise asked, watching Taylor from the table. She saw the change in his demeanor, the sudden stiffness, as if someone had turned on a switch.

Melissa had seen it as well.

“Mitch and Taylor? Probably the fire department. Mitch is giving it up at the end of the year. He probably told Taylor to do the same thing.”

“But doesn’t Taylor enjoy being a fireman?”

“I don’t know if he enjoys it. He does it because he has to.”

“Why?”

Melissa looked at Denise, a perplexed expression on her face. “Well . . . because of his father,” she said.

“His father?” Denise repeated.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Melissa asked carefully.

“No.” Denise shook her head, suddenly afraid of what Melissa was getting at. “He just told me that his father had died when he was a child.”

Melissa nodded, her lips together.

“What is it?” Denise asked, her anxiety plain.

Melissa sighed, debating whether to continue.

“Please,” Denise said, and Melissa glanced away. Finally she spoke.

“Taylor’s father died in a fire.”

At her words, a cold hand seemed to settle on Denise’s spine.

Taylor had taken the grate to rinse it under the hose and returned to see Mitch opening the cooler for another two beers. As Mitch opened his, Taylor walked by without a word.