“Whoa, sorry—didn’t see you,” he said instinctively. “Excuse me.” He took an involuntary step backward before blinking in confusion. Then—sudden recognition crossing his face—he broke into a wide smile, squatting so he could be at eye level. “Oh, hey, little man. How are you?”
“Hello, Taylor,” Kyle said happily. (Hewwo, Tayer)
Without saying anything else, Kyle wrapped his arms around Taylor as he had that night in the duck blind. Taylor—unsure at first—relented and hugged him back, looking content and surprised at exactly the same time.
Denise watched in stunned silence, her hand over her mouth. After a long moment Kyle finally loosened his grip, allowing Taylor to pull back. Kyle’s eyes were dancing, as if he’d recognized a long-lost friend.
“Fowman,” Kyle said again excitedly. “He’s found you.” (Eez foun you)
Taylor cocked his head to one side. “What’s that?”
Denise finally snapped to attention and moved toward the two of them, still having trouble believing what she’d seen. Even after spending a year with his speech therapist, Kyle had hugged her only when prodded by his mother. Unlike this, it had never been voluntary, and she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about Kyle’s extraordinary new attachment. Watching her child hug a stranger—even a good one—aroused somewhat contradictory feelings. Nice, but dangerous. Sweet, but something that shouldn’t become a habit. At the same time, there was something about the comfortable way that Taylor had reacted to Kyle—and vice versa—that made it seem anything but threatening. All of this was going through her head as she drew near and answered for her son.
“He’s trying to say that you found him,” she said. Taylor glanced up and saw Denise for the first time since the accident, and for a moment he couldn’t turn away. Despite the fact he’d seen her before, she looked . . . well, more attractive than he’d remembered. Granted, she was a mess that night, but still, the way she might look under normal circumstances hadn’t crossed his mind. It wasn’t that she looked glamorous or elegant; it was more that she radiated a natural beauty, a woman who knew she was attractive but didn’t spend all day thinking about it.
“Yes. He’s found you,” Kyle said again, breaking into Taylor’s thoughts. Kyle nodded for emphasis, and Taylor was thankful for a reason to face him again. He wondered if Denise could tell what he was thinking.
“That’s right, I did,” he said with a friendly hand still on Kyle’s shoulder, “but you, little man, were the brave one.”
Denise watched as he spoke to Kyle. Despite the heat, Taylor was wearing jeans and Red Wing workboots. The boots were covered with a thin layer of dried mud and well worn, as if he’d used them every day for months. The thick leather was scarred and chaffed. His white shirt was short-sleeved, revealing tight muscles in his sun-darkened arms—the arms of someone who worked with his hands all day. When he stood he seemed taller than she’d remembered.
“Sorry about almost knocking him over back there,” he said, “I didn’t see him when I came in.” He stopped, as if not knowing what else to say, and Denise sensed a shyness she hadn’t expected.
“I saw what happened. It wasn’t your fault. He kind of snuck up on you.” She smiled. “I’m Denise Holton, by the way. I know we met before, but a lot of that night’s fairly foggy.”
She held out her hand and Taylor took it. She could feel the calluses on his palm.
“Taylor McAden,” he said. “I got your note. Thanks.”
“Fowman,” Kyle said again, this time louder than before. He wrung his hands together, twisting and turning them almost compulsively. It was something he always did when excited.
“Big fowman.” He put the emphasis on big.
Taylor furrowed his brow and reached out, grabbing Kyle on the helmet in a friendly, almost brotherly way. Kyle’s head moved in unison with his hand. “You think so, huh?”
Kyle nodded. “Big.”
Denise laughed. “I think it’s a case of hero worship.”
“Well, the feeling’s mutual, little man. It was more you than me.”
Kyle’s eyes were wide. “Big.”
If Taylor noticed that Kyle didn’t understand what he’d just said, he didn’t show it. Instead Taylor winked at him. Nice.
Denise cleared her throat. “I haven’t had the chance to thank you in person for what you did that night.”
Taylor shrugged. With some people it would have come across as arrogant, as if they knew they’d done something wonderful. With Taylor, though, it came across differently, as if he hadn’t given it a second thought since that night.
“Ah, that’s all right,” he said. “Your note was plenty.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. Kyle, meanwhile—as if already bored by the conversation—wandered toward the candy aisle. Both of them watched as he stopped halfway down, focusing intently on the brightly covered wrappers.
“He looks good,” Taylor finally said into the silence. “Kyle, I mean. After all that happened, I was sort of wondering how he was doing.”
Denise’s eyes followed his. “He seems to be okay. Time will tell, I guess, but right now I’m not too worried about him. The doctor gave him a clean bill of health.”
“How ’bout you?” he asked.
She answered automatically, without really thinking. “The same as always.”
“No . . . I mean with your injuries. You were pretty banged up when I last saw you.”
“Oh . . . well, I guess I’m doing okay, too,” she said.
“Just okay?”
Her expression softened. “Better than okay. Still a little sore here and there, but otherwise I’m fine. It could have been worse.”
“Good, I’m glad. I was worried about you, too.”
There was something in the quiet way he spoke that made Denise take a closer look at him. Though he wasn’t the most handsome man she’d ever seen, there was something about him that caught her attention—a gentleness, perhaps, despite his size; an acute but unthreatening perceptiveness in his steady gaze. Though she knew it was impossible, it was almost as if he knew how difficult her life had been during the past few years. Glancing at his left hand, she noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring.
At that, she quickly turned away, wondering where the thought had come from and what had brought it on. Why would that matter? Kyle was still immersed in the candy aisle and was about to open a bag of Skittles when Denise saw what he was doing.
“Kyle—no!” She took a quick step toward him, then turned back to Taylor. “Excuse me. He’s getting into something he shouldn’t.”
He took a small step backward. “No problem.”
As she moved away, Taylor couldn’t help but watch her. The lovely, almost mysterious face accented by high cheekbones and exotic eyes, long dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail that reached past her shoulder blades, a shapely figure accented by the shorts and blouse she was wearing—
“Kyle, put that down. Your candy’s already in the bag.”
Before she caught him staring at her, Taylor shook his head and turned away, wondering again how he could have overlooked her beauty that night. A moment later Denise was back in front of him, Kyle now standing beside her. Kyle’s expression was glum, caught with his hand in the cookie jar and all that.
“Sorry about that. He knows better,” she said apologetically.
“I’m sure he does, but kids always press the limits.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
He grinned. “No, not really. Just my own. I don’t have any children.”
There was an awkward pause before Taylor spoke again.
“So I take it you’re in town for a few errands?” Small talk, nothing talk, Taylor knew, but for some reason he was reluctant to let her leave.
Denise ran her hand through her disheveled ponytail. “Yeah, we needed to grab a few things. The cupboard was getting pretty bare, if you know what I mean. How about you?”
“I’m just here to pick up some soda for the guys.”
“At the fire department?”
“No, I only volunteer there. The guys who work for me. I’m a contractor—I remodel homes, things like that.”
For a moment she was confused. “You volunteer? I thought that went out twenty years ago.”
“Not here it hasn’t. In fact, not in most small towns, I imagine. As a general rule, it’s not busy enough for a full-time crew, so they depend on people like me when emergencies come up.”
“I didn’t know that.” The realization made what he’d done for them seem even greater than before, though she wouldn’t have thought it possible.
Kyle peered up at his mother. “He’s hungry,” he said. (Eez hungwy)
“Are you hungry, sweetheart?”
“Yes.”
“Well, we’ll be home soon. I’ll make you a grilled cheese sandwich when we get there. Does that sound okay?”
He nodded. “Yes, it’s good.” (Yes, ess good)
Denise, however, didn’t move right away—or at least not fast enough for Kyle. Instead she looked at Taylor again. Kyle reached up and tugged his mother by the hem of her shorts, and her hands automatically went down to stop him. “Let’s go,” Kyle added. (Wess go)
“We’re going, honey.”
Kyle’s and Denise’s hands engaged in a little battle as she peeled his fingers away and he tried to grab the hem again. She took him by the hand to stop him.
Taylor stifled a chuckle by clearing his throat. “Well, I’d better not keep you. A growing boy needs to eat.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” She gave Taylor an expression of weariness familiar to mothers everywhere and felt a strange sense of relief when she realized he didn’t seem to care that Kyle was acting up.
“It was good seeing you again,” she added. Even though it sounded perfunctory to her ears—all part of the “Hi. How are you? That’s good. Nice seeing you!” routine—Denise hoped he could tell that she actually meant it.
“You too,” he said. He grabbed Kyle’s helmet and gave it a shake as before. “And you too, little man.”
Kyle waved with his free hand. “Bye-bye, Tayer,” he said exuberantly.
“Bye.”
Taylor grinned before heading toward the refrigerators along the wall to get the soda he’d come for.
Denise turned toward the counter, sighing to herself. The owner was immersed in Field and Stream magazine, his lips moving slightly as he perused the article. As she started toward him, Kyle spoke again.
“He’s hungry.”
“I know you are. We’ll be on our way soon, okay?”
The owner saw her approaching, checked to see if she needed him or just her groceries, then set his magazine aside.
She motioned toward the bags. “Would you mind if we left this here for a few minutes? We have to get some other kinds of bags that loop over the handlebars.”
Despite the fact he was already halfway across the store and pulling a six-pack of Coca-Cola from the refrigerator, Taylor strained to hear what was going on. Denise continued.
“We’re on our bikes, and I don’t think I can get this all home. It won’t take long—we’ll be right back.”
In the background her voice trailed off and he heard the manager answer. “Oh sure, no problem. I’ll just put them behind the counter here for now.”
Soda in hand, Taylor started toward the front of the store. Denise was shepherding Kyle out of the store, her hand placed gently on his back. Taylor took a couple of steps, thinking about what he’d just overheard, then made up his mind on the spot.
“Hey, Denise, wait up. . . .”
She turned and stopped as Taylor approached.
“Were those your bikes outside the store?”
She nodded. “Uh-huh. Why?”
“I couldn’t help but overhear what you told the manager and . . . well . . .” He paused, that steady blue gaze holding her motionless in the store. “Can I give you a hand getting your groceries home? I’m heading right by your place, and I’d be happy to drop it all off for you.”
As he spoke, he motioned to the truck parked right outside the door.
“Oh no, that’s all right. . . .”
“Are you sure? It’s right on the way. Take me two minutes, tops.”
Though she knew he was trying to be kind, a product of a small-town upbringing, she wasn’t sure she should accept.
He held up his hands, as if sensing her indecision, an almost mischievous grin on his face. “I won’t steal anything, I promise.”
Kyle took a step toward the door, and she put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. “No, it’s not that. . . .”
But what was it, then? Had she been on her own so long that she didn’t even know how to accept other people’s kindness anymore? Or was it that he’d already done so much for her already?
Go ahead. It’s not like he’s asking you to marry him or anything. . . .
She swallowed, thinking of the trip across town and back again, then loading up all the groceries to transport home.
“If you’re sure it’s not out of your way . . .”
Taylor felt as if he’d achieved some sort of minor victory.
“No—it’s not out of the way at all. Just let me pay for this and I’ll help you carry your things to the truck.”
He returned to the counter and set the Coca-Cola by the register.
“How do you know where I live?” she asked.
He looked over his shoulder. “It’s a small town. I know where everyone lives.”
Later that evening, Melissa, Mitch, and Taylor were in the backyard, steaks and hot dogs already sizzling over charcoal, the first vestiges of summer lingering almost like a dream. It was a slow-moving evening, the air bruised with humidity and heat. The yellow sun hovered low in the sky just above the stationary dogwoods, the leaves motionless in the still evening air.