The Rescue

  Taylor slipped both arms around her, still staring at her in the mirror. "Hey, have I told you how wonderful you look?"

  "You're changing the subject."

  "I know. But damn, look at you. You're beautiful."

  After eyeing their reflection in the mirror, she turned to face him.

  "Good enough for a barbecue with your friends?"

  "You look fantastic," he said sincerely, "but even if you didn't, they'd still love you."

  Thirty minutes later Taylor, Denise, and Kyle were walking toward the door when Mitch appeared from around the back of the house, beer in hand.

  "Hey, y'all," he said. "Glad you could make it. The gang's out back."

  Taylor and Denise followed him through the gate, past the swing set and azalea bushes, before reaching the deck.

  Melissa was sitting at the outdoor table, watching her four boys jump in and out of the swimming pool, their noisy cries blending into one jumbled roar punctuated by sharp outbursts. The pool had been installed the summer before, after one too many water moccasins had been spotted near the dock on the river. Nothing like a venomous snake to sour a person on nature's beauty, Mitch liked to say.

  "Hey there," Melissa called out, getting to her feet. "Thanks for coming."

  Taylor drew Melissa into a bear hug and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

  "You two have met, right?" he said.

  "At the festival," Melissa said easily. "But that was a long time ago, and besides, you met a lot of people that day. How are you doing, Denise?"

  "Good, thanks," she said, still feeling a little nervous.

  Mitch motioned to the cooler. "You two want a beer?"

  "That sounds great," Taylor answered. "Would you like one, Denise?"

  "Please."

  As Taylor went to fetch the beers, Mitch settled himself at the outdoor table, adjusting the umbrella to keep the sun off them. Melissa made herself comfortable again, followed by Denise. Kyle, wearing a bathing suit and T-shirt, stood shyly by his mother's side, a towel draped over his shoulders. Melissa leaned toward him.

  "Hi, Kyle, how are you?"

  Kyle didn't answer.

  "Kyle, say, 'I'm fine, thanks,' " Denise said.

  "I'm fine, thanks." (I'n fine, kenks)

  Melissa smiled. "Well, good. Would you like to go get in the pool with the other boys? They've been waiting all day for you to show up."

  Kyle looked from Melissa to his mother.

  "Do you want to swim?" Denise asked, rephrasing the question.

  Kyle nodded excitedly. "Yes."

  "Okay, go ahead. Be careful."

  Denise took his towel as Kyle ambled toward the water.

  "Does he need a float?" Melissa asked.

  "No, he can swim. I have to keep my eye on him, of course."

  Kyle reached the pool and stepped down, the water up to his knees. He bent over and splashed, as if testing the temperature, before breaking into a wide grin. Denise and Melissa watched him as he waded in.

  "How old is he now?"

  "He'll be five in a few months."

  "Oh, so will Jud." Melissa pointed toward the far end of the pool. "That's him over there, holding on to the side, by the diving board."

  Denise saw him. Same size as Kyle, buzz haircut. Melissa's four boys were jumping, splashing, screaming--in short, having themselves a great time.

  "All four kids are yours?" Denise asked, amazed.

  "Today they are. You let me know if you want to take one home, though. I'll give you the pick of the litter."

  Denise felt herself relaxing a little. "Are they a handful?"

  "They're boys. They've got energy coming out their ears."

  "How old are they?"

  "Ten, eight, six, and four."

  "My wife had a plan," Mitch said, cutting into the conversation while peeling the label from his bottle. "Every other year, on our anniversary, she'd let me sleep with her, whether she wanted me to or not."

  Melissa rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to him. His conversation skills aren't meant for civilized people."

  Taylor returned with the beers, opening Denise's bottle before setting it in front of her. His was already open. "What are y'all talking about?"

  "Our sex life," Mitch said seriously, and this time Melissa punched him in the arm.

  "Watch it, buster. We've got a guest here. You don't want to make a bad impression, do you?"

  Mitch leaned toward Denise. "I'm not making a bad impression. Am I?"

  Denise smiled, deciding that she liked these two immediately. "No."

  "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 enou
gh 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.

  "She sure is pretty, Taylor."

  Taylor put the grate back on the grill, over the charcoal. "I know."

  "Her kid's cute, too. Nice little guy."

  "I know."

  "He looks like you."

  "Huh?"

  "Just seeing if you're paying attention," Mitch said, grinning. "You looked a little lost when you came back." He stepped closer. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry I said those things earlier. I didn't mean to upset you."

  "It didn't upset me," Taylor lied.

  Mitch handed Taylor the beer. "Sure it did. But someone's got to keep you on the straight and narrow."

  "And you're the one to do it?"

  "Of course. I'm the only one who can."

  "No, Mitch, really, don't be so modest," Taylor said sarcastically.

  Mitch raised his eyebrows. "You think I'm kidding? How long have I known you now? Thirty years? I think that entitles me to speak my mind once in a while without worrying what you think about it. And I was serious about what I said. Not so much about you quitting--I know you're not going to do that. You should try to be a little more cautious in the future, though. See this?"

  Mitch pointed to his balding head. "I used to have a full head of hair. And I'd still have it if you weren't such a damn daredevil. Every time you do something crazy, I can feel my little hairs committing suicide by jumping right out of my head and plunging all the way to my shoulders. If you listen carefully, you can sometimes hear them screaming all the way down. You know what it's like going bald? Having to put sunscreen on top of your head when you go outside? Getting liver spots where you used to part your hair? It doesn't do much for the old ego, if you know what I mean. So you owe me."

  Taylor laughed despite himself. "Gee, and here I thought it was hereditary."

  "Oh no. It's you, buddy."

  "I'm touched."

  "You should be. It's not like I'd be willing to go bald for just anybody."

  "All right." He sighed. "I'll try to be more cautious in the future."

  "Good. Because in a while, I won't be there to bail you out."

  "How's the charcoal coming?" Melissa called out.

  Mitch and Taylor were standing by the grill, the kids already eating. Mitch had cooked the hot dogs first, and the five of them were at the table. Denise, who'd brought Kyle's dinner with him (macaroni and cheese, Ritz crackers, grapes), set his plate in front of him. After swimming for a couple of hours, he was famished.

  "Another ten minutes," Mitch shouted over his shoulder.

  "I want macaroni and cheese, too," Melissa's youngest whined when he saw that Kyle was eating something different from what the rest of them had.

  "Eat your hot dog," Melissa answered.

  "But Mom--"

  "Eat your hot dog," she said again. "If you're still hungry after that, I'll make some, okay?"

  She knew he wouldn't still be hungry, but it seemed to placate the child.

  Once everything was under control, Denise and Melissa moved away from the table and sat down closer to the pool. Ever since Denise had learned about Taylor's father, she had been trying to piece the rest of it together in her mind. Melissa seemed to divine the direction of her thoughts.

  "Taylor?" she said, and Denise smiled sheepishly, embarrassed that it was so obvious.

  "Yeah."

  "How are you two getting along?"

  "I thought it was going pretty well. But now, I'm not so sure."

  "Because he didn't tell you about his father? Well, I'll let you in on a secret: Taylor doesn't talk about it to anyone, ever. Not to me, not to anyone he works with, not to his friends. He's never even talked about it with Mitch."

  Denise considered this, u
nsure how to respond.

  "That makes me feel better." She paused, furrowing her brow. "I think."

  Melissa put her iced tea aside. Like Denise, she'd stopped drinking beer after finishing her second.

  "He's a charmer when he wants to be, isn't he? Cute, too."

  Denise leaned back in her seat. "Yes, he is."

  "How is he with Kyle?"

  "Kyle adores him--lately, he likes Taylor more than me. Taylor's like a little boy when they're together."

  "Taylor's always been good with kids. My kids feel the same way about him. They'll call him to see if he can come over to play."

  "Does he come?"

  "Sometimes. Not lately, though. You've been taking up all of his time."

  "Sorry about that."

  Melissa waved off the apology. "Don't be. I'm happy for him. You too. I was beginning to wonder if he'd ever meet somebody. You're the first person in years he's actually brought over."

  "So there've been others?"

  Melissa smiled wryly. "He hasn't talked to you about them, either?"

  "Nope."

  "Well, girl, it's a good thing you came over," she said conspiratorially, and Denise laughed.

  "So what did you want to know?"

  "What were they like?"

  "Not like you, that's for sure."

  "No?"

  "No. You're a lot prettier than they were. And you've got a son."

  "Whatever happened to them?"

  "Now, unfortunately, that I can't tell you. Taylor doesn't talk about that, either. All I know is that one day they seemed to be doing fine and the next thing you knew, it was over. I never did understand why."

  "That's a comforting thought."

  "Oh, I'm not saying it's going to happen with you. He likes you more than he liked them, a lot more. I can see it in the way he looks at you."

  Denise hoped that Melissa was telling the truth.

  "Sometimes . . . ," Denise began, then trailed off, not knowing exactly how to say it.

  "Sometimes you're scared about what he's thinking?"

  She looked at Melissa, startled by the acuity of her observation. Melissa went on.

  "Even though Mitch and I have been together for a long time, I still don't understand everything that makes him tick. He's sort of like Taylor sometimes, in that regard. But in the end, it's worked out because we both want it to. As long as you two have that, you'll be able to make it through anything."

  A beach ball came flying from the table where the kids were sitting, bonking Melissa on the head. A series of loud giggles broke out.

  Melissa rolled her eyes but otherwise paid no attention as the beach ball rolled away. "You might even be able to put up with having four boys, like we do."

  "I don't know if I could do that."