The Rescue (11 page)

Mitch, like Taylor, was also a volunteer with the Edenton Fire Department. At Taylor's urging, the two of them had gone through the necessary training together and had joined at the same time. Though Mitch considered it more a duty than a calling, he was someone Taylor always wanted along when the call came in. Where Taylor tempted danger, Mitch exercised caution, and the two of them balanced each other out in difficult situations.

"Am I that predictable?"

"Hell, Taylor, I know you better than I know my own wife."

Taylor rolled his eyes as he leaned against the truck. "How's Melissa doing?"

"She's good. Her sister drove her crazy at the wedding, but she's back to normal now that she's home. Now it's just me and the kids who are driving her crazy." Mitch's tone softened imperceptibly. "So, how you holding up?"

Taylor shrugged without meeting Mitch's eyes. "I'm all right."

Mitch didn't press it, knowing that Taylor wouldn't say anything more. His father was one of the few things they never talked about. He cracked open his beer, and Taylor did the same before leaning against the truck next to him. Mitch pulled a bandanna from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"I hear you had yourself a big night in the swamp while I was gone."

"Yeah, we did."

"Wish I could've been there."

"We could have used you, that's for sure. It was one hell of a storm."

"Yeah, but if I would have been there, there wouldn't have been all that drama. I would have headed straight to those duck blinds, right off the bat. I couldn't believe it took you guys hours to figure that out."

Taylor laughed under his breath before taking a drink of his beer and glancing over at Mitch.

"Does Melissa still want you to give it up?"

Mitch put the bandanna back in his pocket and nodded. "You know how it is with the kids and all. She just doesn't want anything to happen to me."

"How do you feel about it?"

It took a moment for him to answer. "I used to think that I'd do this forever, but I'm not so sure anymore."

"So you're considering it?" Taylor asked.

Mitch took a long pull from his beer before answering. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"We need you," Taylor said seriously.

Mitch laughed aloud. "You sound like an army recruiter when you say that."

"It's true, though."

Mitch shook his head. "No, it's not. We've got plenty of volunteers now, and there's a list of people who can replace me at a moment's notice."

"They won't know what's going on."

"Neither did we in the beginning." He paused, his fingers pressing against the can, thinking. "You know, it's not just Melissa-it's me, too. I've been at it for a long time, and I guess it just doesn't mean what it used to. I'm not like you-I don't feel the need to do it anymore. I sort of like being able to spend some time with the kids without having to go out at a moment's notice. I'd like to be able to have dinner with my wife knowing that I'm done for the day."

"You sound like your mind's already made up."

Mitch could hear the disappointment in Taylor's tone, and he took a second before nodding.

"Well, actually, it is. I mean, I'll finish out the year, but that'll be it for me. I just wanted you to be the first to know."

Taylor didn't respond. After a moment Mitch cocked his head, looking sheepishly at his friend. "But that's not why I came out here today. I came out to lend you some support, not to talk about that stuff."

Taylor seemed lost in thought. "Like I said, I'm doing all right."

"Do you wanna head somewhere and have a few beers?"

"No. I gotta get back to work. We're finishing up at Skip Hudson's place."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Well, how 'bout dinner, then, next week? After we're back in the swing of things?"

"Steaks on the grill?"

"Of course," Mitch answered as if he'd never considered another option.

"That I could do." Taylor eyed Mitch suspiciously. "Melissa's not bringing a friend again, is she?"

Mitch laughed. "No. But I can tell her to rustle someone up if you want her to."

"No thanks. After Claire, I don't think I trust her judgment anymore."

"Aw, c'mon, Claire wasn't that bad."

"You didn't spend all night listening to her jabber on and on. She was like one of those Energizer bunnies-she just couldn't sit quietly, even for a minute."

"She was nervous."

"She was a pain."

"I'll tell Melissa you said that."

"No, don't-"

"I'm just kidding-you know I wouldn't do that. But how about Wednesday? You want to stop over then?"

"That'd be great."

"All right, then." Mitch nodded and pushed away from the truck as he fished the keys from his pocket. After crumpling his can, he tossed it into the back of Taylor's truck with a clank.

"Thanks," Taylor said.

"You're welcome."

"I mean about you coming by today."

"I knew what you were talking about."

Chapter
11

Sitting in the kitchen, Denise Holton decided that life was like manure.

When used in a garden, manure was fertilizer. Effective and inexpensive, it provided nourishment to the soil and helped the garden become as beautiful as it could be. But outside of the garden-in a pasture, for instance-when stepped in inadvertently, manure was nothing more than crap.

A week ago, once she and Kyle were reunited in the hospital, she definitely felt as if the manure were being used in her garden. In that moment nothing else but Kyle mattered, and when she saw that he was okay, everything was right in the world. Her life, so to speak, had been fertilized.

But give it a week and suddenly everything seemed different. Reality in the aftermath of the accident had finally settled in, and fertilizer it wasn't. Denise was seated at the Formica table in her small kitchen, poring through the papers in front of her, doing her best to make sense of them. The hospital stay was covered by the insurance, but the deductible was not. Her car may have been old, but it was nonetheless reliable. Now it was totaled, and she'd had only liability insurance. Her boss, Ray, bless his heart, told her to take her time coming back, and eight days had gone by without her earning a penny. The regular bills-phone, electricity, water, gas-were due in less than a week. And to top it off, she was staring at the bill from the towing service, the people who'd been called to remove her vehicle from the side of the road.

This week Denise's life was crap.

It wouldn't be so bad, of course, if she were a millionaire. These problems would be nothing more than an inconvenience then. She could imagine some socialite explaining what a bother it was to have to deal with such things. But with a few hundred bucks in the bank, this wasn't a bother. It was a bona fide problem, and a big one at that.

She could cover the regular bills with what was left in the checking account and still have enough for food if she was careful. Lots of cereal this month, that was for sure, and it was a good thing Ray let them eat for free at the diner. She could use her credit card for the hospital deductible-five hundred dollars. Luckily she'd called Rhonda-another waitress at Eights-and she'd agreed to help Denise get to and from work. That left the towing service, and fortunately they'd offered to clear the bill in exchange for the pink slip. Seventy-five dollars for the remains of her car and they'd call it even.

The net result? An additional credit card bill every month and she'd have to start riding her bicycle for errands around town. Even worse, she'd be dependent on someone to drive her to and from the diner. For a gal with a college education, this wasn't much to brag about.

Crap.

If she'd had a bottle of wine, she'd have opened it. She could have used a little escapism right now. But, hey, she couldn't even afford that.

Seventy-five bucks for her car.

Even though it was fair, somehow it just didn't seem right. She wouldn't even see the money.

After writing out the checks for her bills, she sealed the envelopes and used the last of her stamps. She'd have to swing by the post office to get some more, and she made a notation on the pad by the phone before remembering that "swinging by" had taken on a whole new meaning. If it wasn't so pathetic, she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

A bicycle. Lord have mercy.

Trying to look on the bright side, she told herself that at least she'd get in shape. Within a few months she might even be a little thankful for the extra fitness. "Look at those legs," she imagined people saying, "why, they're just like steel. However did you get them?"

"I ride my bike."

This time she couldn't help but giggle. She was twenty-nine years old and she'd be telling people about her bike. Lord have mercy.

Denise shook off the giggles, knowing they were simply a reaction to stress, and left the kitchen to check on Kyle. Sleeping soundly. After adjusting the covers and a quick kiss on his cheek, she headed outside and sat on the back porch, wondering yet again if she'd made the right decision to move here. Even though she knew that it was impossible, she found herself wishing she'd been able to stay in Atlanta. It would have been nice sometimes to have someone to talk to, someone she'd known for years. She supposed she could use the phone, but this month it wouldn't be possible, and there was no way she was going to call collect. Even though her friends probably wouldn't care, it wasn't something she was comfortable doing.

Still, she wanted to talk to someone. But who?

With the exception of Rhonda at the diner (who was twenty and single)-and Judy McAden-Denise didn't know anyone in town. It was one thing to lose her mother a few years back, it was a completely different situation to lose everyone she knew. Nor did it help to realize that it was her own fault. She'd chosen to move, she'd chosen to leave her job, she'd chosen to devote her life to her son. Living this way had a simplicity to it-as well as a necessity-but sometimes she couldn't help thinking that the other parts of her life were slipping by without her even knowing it.

Her loneliness, though, couldn't simply be blamed on the move. In retrospect, she knew that even while she was in Atlanta, things had begun to change. Most of her friends were married now, a few had kids of their own. Some had stayed single. None, however, had anything in common with her anymore. Her married friends enjoyed spending time with other married couples, her single friends enjoyed the same life they had in college. She didn't fit into either world. Even those who had children-well, it was hard to hear how wonderful their kids were doing. And talking about Kyle? They were supportive, but they would never really understand what it was like.

Then, of course, there was the whole man thing. Brett-good old Brett-was the last man she'd dated, and in reality it hadn't even been a date. A roll in the sack, perhaps, but not a date. What a roll, though, huh? Twenty minutes and boom-her whole life changed. What would her life be like now if it hadn't happened? True, Kyle wouldn't be here . . . but . . . But what? Maybe she'd be married, maybe she'd have a couple of kids, maybe she'd even have a house with a white picket fence around the yard. She'd drive a Volvo or minivan and spend every vacation at Disney World. It sounded good, it definitely sounded easier, but would her life be any better?

Kyle. Sweet Kyle. Simply thinking about him made her smile.

No, she decided, it wouldn't be better. If there was one bright spot in her life, he was it. Funny how he could drive her crazy and still make her love him for it.

Sighing, Denise left the porch and walked to the bedroom. Undressing in the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror. The bruises on her cheek were still visible, but only slightly. The gash on her forehead had been closed neatly with stitches, and though she would always have a scar, it was near the hairline and wouldn't be too obvious.

Other than that, she was pleased with how she looked. Because money was always such a concern, she never kept cookies or chips in the house. And since Kyle didn't eat meat, she seldom had that, either. She was thinner now than she was before Kyle had been born-hell, she was thinner than she was in college. Without her even trying, fifteen pounds had simply melted away. If she had the time, she'd write a book and title it Stress and Poverty: The Guaranteed Way to Lose Inches Fast! She'd probably sell a million copies and retire.

She giggled again. Yeah, right.

As Judy had mentioned in the hospital, Denise did resemble her mother. She had the same dark, wavy hair and hazel eyes, they were roughly the same height. Like her mother, she was aging well-a few crow's-feet in the corners of her eyes, but otherwise smooth skin. All in all, she didn't look too bad. In fact, she looked pretty good, if she did say so herself.

At least something was going right.

Deciding to end on that note, Denise put on a pair of pajamas, set the oscillating fan on low, and crawled under the sheets before turning out the lights. The whir and rattle was rhythmic, and she fell asleep within minutes.