The Rescue (28 page)

"Stop," she said, meaning it, but not really wanting him to. "Kyle's in the room."

Taylor nodded and pulled away with a wink. Kyle hadn't turned his attention from his toys.

"Well, today is special for the obvious reason," he said conversationally as he picked up the bag again. "But even more, after I make your gourmet breakfast, I'd like to take you and Kyle to the beach today."

"But I have to work with Kyle and then head into the diner tonight."

As he walked past her toward the kitchen, he stopped, leaning toward her ear as if sharing a secret.

"I know. I'm supposed to go over to Mitch's this morning to help fix his roof. But I'm willing to play hooky once if you are."

"But I took the morning off at the store," Mitch protested gamely. "You can't back out on me now. I've already pulled everything out of the garage."

Dressed in jeans and an old shirt, he had been waiting for Taylor to pull up when he heard the phone ring.

"Well, put it all back in," Taylor said good-naturedly. "Like I said, I'm not going to be able to make it."

As Taylor talked, he moved the bacon around with a fork in the sizzling pan. The aroma filled the house. Denise was standing close by, still in her short robe, scooping coffee grounds into the filter. The sight of her made Taylor wish that Kyle would disappear for the next hour or so. His mind was barely on the conversation.

"But what if it rains?"

"You already told me it's not leaking yet. That's why you let me put it off this long."

"Four cups or six?" Denise asked.

Lifting his chin away from the receiver, Taylor answered. "Make it eight. I love coffee."

"Who's that?" Mitch asked, everything suddenly coming clear now "Hey . . . are you with Denise?"

Taylor looked toward her admiringly. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

"So you were with her all night?"

"What kind of question is that?"

Denise smiled, knowing exactly what Mitch was saying on the other end.

"You sly dog . . ."

"So about your roof," Taylor said loudly, trying to get the subject back on track.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Mitch said, suddenly affable. "You just have yourself a nice time with her. It's about time you finally found someone-"

"Good-bye, Mitch," Taylor said, cutting him off. Shaking his head, he hung up the phone while Mitch was still talking.

Denise pulled the eggs from the grocery bag. "Scrambled?" she asked.

He grinned. "With you looking so good, how could I not feel scrambled?"

She rolled her eyes. "You really are a goob."

Two hours later they were sitting on a blanket at the beach near Nags Head, Taylor applying sunscreen to Denise's back. Kyle was using a plastic shovel nearby, scooping sand from one spot on the beach and moving it to another. Neither Taylor nor Denise had any idea what he was thinking as he did it, but he seemed to be enjoying it.

For Denise, the memories of the previous evening were revived as she felt the lotion being caressed into her skin.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said.

"Sure."

"Last night . . . after we'd . . . well . . ." She paused.

"After we'd done the horizontal tango?" Taylor offered.

She elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't make it sound so romantic," she protested, and Taylor laughed. She shook her head but was unable to repress a grin.

"Anyway," she went on, regaining her composure. "Afterward, you got sort of quiet, like you were . . . sad or something."

Taylor nodded, looking out to the horizon. Denise waited for him to say something, but he didn't.

Watching the waves as they rolled up the shore, Denise gathered her courage.

"Was it because you regretted what happened?"

"No," he said quietly, his hands on her skin again. "It wasn't that at all."

"Then what was it?"

Without answering directly, Taylor followed her eyes, tracking the waves. "Do you remember back when you were a kid? Around Christmas? And how the anticipation was sometimes even more exciting than opening the presents?"

"Yes."

"That's what it reminds me of. I'd been dreaming about what it would finally be like . . ."

He stopped, considering how best to communicate what he meant.

"So the anticipation was actually more exciting than last night?" she asked.

"No," he said quickly. "You've got it all wrong. It was just the opposite. Last night was wonderful-you were wonderful. The whole thing was so perfect . . . I guess it makes me sad to think that there's never going be a first time with you again."

At that, he grew quiet once more. Denise, musing on his words and the sudden stillness in his gaze, decided to let the subject go. Instead she leaned back against him, comforted by the reassuring warmth of his encircling arms. They sat that way for a long time, each lost in thought.

Later, as the sun began its midafternoon march across the sky, they packed up their things, ready to head home. Taylor carried the blanket, towels, and picnic basket they'd brought with them. Kyle was walking ahead of them, his body covered in sand, carrying his pail and shovel as he weaved through the last of the sand dunes. All along the footpath, a sea of orange and yellow blossoms bloomed, their colors spectacular. Denise bent and plucked a blossom, bringing it to her nose.

"Around here, we call it the Jobellflower," Taylor said, watching her. She handed it to him, and Taylor wagged a finger at her in mock reproach.

"You know it's against the law to pick flowers on the dunes. They help protect us from the hurricanes."

"Are you going to turn me in?"

Taylor shook his head. "No, but I'm going to make you listen to the legend of how they got their name."

She pushed away the hair that had blown into her eyes. "Is this another story like the dram tree?"

"Sort of. It's a little more romantic, though."

Denise took a step closer to him. "So tell me about the flower."

He twirled it between his fingers, and the petals seemed to blend together.

"The Jobellflower was named for Joe Bell, who lived on this island a long time ago. Supposedly, Joe had been in love with a woman, but she ended up marrying someone else. Heartbroken, he moved to the Outer Banks, where he intended to live the life of a recluse. On his first morning in his new home, however, he saw a woman walking along the beach in front of his house, looking terribly sad and alone. Every day, at the same time, he would see her, and eventually he went out to meet her, but when she saw him, she turned and ran away. He thought he'd frightened her off for good, but the next morning she was walking along the beach again. This time, when he went to see her, she didn't run, and Joe was immediately struck by how beautiful she was. They talked all day, then the next, and soon they were in love. Surprisingly, at the same time he was falling in love, a small batch of flowers began to grow right behind his house, flowers never seen before in this area. As his love grew, the flowers continued to spread, and by the end of the summer, they'd become a beautiful ocean of color. It was there that Joe knelt and asked her to marry him. When she agreed, Joe picked a dozen blossoms and handed them to her, but strangely, she recoiled, refusing to take them. Later, on their wedding day, she explained her reason. 'This flower is the living symbol of our love,' she said. 'If the flowers die, then our love will die as well.' This terrified Joe-for some reason, he knew in his heart that truer words had never been spoken. So he began to plant or seed Jobellflowers all along the stretch of beach where they'd first met, then eventually throughout the Outer Banks, as a testimony to how much he loved his wife. And every year, as the flowers were spread, they fell deeper and deeper in love."

When he was finished, Taylor bent and picked a few more of the blossoms, then handed the bunch to Denise.

"I like that story," she said.

"I do, too."

"But didn't you just break the law, too?"

"Of course. But I figure that this way, we'll each have something to keep the other in line."

"Like trust?"

"That too," he said as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

Taylor drove her into work that night, though Kyle didn't stay with her. Instead Taylor offered to watch him at Denise's house.

"We'll have fun. We'll play a little ball, watch a movie, eat some popcorn."

After hemming and hawing, Denise finally agreed, and Taylor dropped her off right before seven. As their truck pulled away, Taylor winked at Kyle.

"Okay, little man. First stop is my house. If we're going to watch a movie, we're going to need a VCR."

"He's driving," Kyle responded vigorously, and Taylor laughed, well used to Kyle's form of communication by now.

"We've also got one more stop to make, okay?"

Kyle simply nodded again, seemingly relieved that he didn't have to go into the diner. Taylor picked up his cellular phone and made a call, hoping the guy on the other end wouldn't mind doing him a favor.

At midnight Taylor loaded Kyle into the car, then went to pick up Denise. Kyle woke only briefly when Denise got in, then curled up onto her lap as he usually did. Fifteen minutes later everyone was in bed; Kyle in his room, Denise and Taylor in hers.

"I've been thinking about what you said earlier," Denise said, slipping off the marigold work dress.

Taylor found it difficult to concentrate as it fell to the floor. "What did I say?"

"About you being sad that there will never be a first time again."

"And?"

In her bra and panties, she moved closer, nuzzling up to him. "Well, I was just thinking that if we make this time even better than last night, your anticipation might come back."

Taylor felt her body sidle up against his. "How so?"

"If every time is better than the last, you'll always be looking forward to the next time."

Taylor put his arms around her back, becoming aroused. "Do you think that'll work?"

"I have no idea," she said, beginning to unbutton his shirt, "but I'd sure like to find out."

Taylor slipped out of her room just before dawn, as he'd done the day before, though this time he stopped at the couch. Not wanting Kyle to see them sleeping together, he dozed on and off for another couple of hours until Denise and Kyle came wandering out of their bedrooms. It was nearly eight o'clock-Kyle hadn't slept that late in a long time.

Denise scanned the room and immediately understood the reason. From the looks of things, it was obvious that he'd been up late. The TV was at an odd angle, the VCR was on the floor beside it, cables snaking out everywhere. Two half-empty cups sat on the end table with three cans of Sprite alongside them. Pieces of popcorn were scattered on the floor and on the couch; a Skittles wrapper had wedged itself between the pillows on the chair. On top of the television were two movies, The Rescuers and The Lion King, the cases open, videos on top.

Denise put her hands on her hips, taking in the mess.

"I didn't notice the mess you two made last night when I came in. It looks like you two had yourselves a good old time."

Taylor sat up from the couch and wiped his eyes. "We had fun."

"I'll bet," she groaned.

"But did you see what else we did?"

"You mean aside from spraying popcorn all over my furniture?"

He laughed. "C'mon. Let me show you. I'll get this stuff cleaned up in a minute."

He got up from the couch and stretched his arms over his head. "You too, Kyle. Let's show your mom what we did last night."

To Denise's surprise, Kyle seemed to understand what Taylor had said and obediently followed Taylor to the back door. Taylor led them across the porch to the rear steps, motioning to the garden on either side of the door.

When Denise saw what awaited her, she was speechless.

All along the back of the house were freshly planted Jobellflowers.

"You did this?" she asked.

"Kyle did, too," he said, a touch of pride in his voice, seeing that she was pleased.

"That feels wonderful," Denise said softly.

It was past midnight, long after Denise had once again finished with her shift at Eights. During the past week, Denise and Taylor had seen each other virtually every day. On the Fourth of July Taylor had taken them out on his rebuilt ancient motorboat; later they had set off their own fireworks, to Kyle's delight. They picnicked on the banks of the Chowan River and dug clams at the beach. For Denise, it was the kind of interlude she could never have allowed herself to imagine, sweeter than any dreams.

Tonight, like so many recent nights, she lay on the bed, naked, Taylor beside her. His hands were slick with oil, and the sensation of his hands sliding over her slippery body was unbearably tantalizing.

"You feel like heaven," Taylor whispered.

"We can't keep doing this," she groaned.

He kneaded the muscles in her lower back, applying gentle pressure, then relaxing his hands. "Doing what?"