The Rescue - Nicholas Sparks [127]
Taylor nodded reluctantly.
“Is that because you were trying to give him what you thought you missed growing up, or is it because you like him?”
Taylor considered the question before answering.
“I like him. He’s a great kid.”
Judy met his eyes. “Do you miss Denise, too?”
Yeah, I do. . . .
Taylor shifted uncomfortably. “That’s over now, Mom,” he said.
She hesitated. “Are you sure?”
Taylor nodded, and Judy leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“That’s a shame, Taylor,” she whispered. “She was perfect for you.”
They sat without speaking for the next few minutes, until a light autumn shower began to fall, forcing them back to the parking lot. Taylor opened her door, and Judy got in the front seat. After closing the door, he pressed his hands against the glass, feeling the cool drops on his fingertips. Judy smiled sadly at her son, then pulled away, leaving Taylor standing in the rain.
He’d lost everything.
He knew that as he left the cemetery and began the short trip home. He drove past a row of old Victorian houses that looked gloomy in the soft hazy sunlight, through ankle-deep puddles in the middle of the road, his wipers flashing back and forth with rhythmic regularity. He continued through downtown, and as he passed the commercial landmarks he’d known since childhood, his thoughts were drawn irresistibly to Denise.
She was perfect for you.
He finally admitted to himself that despite Mitch’s death, despite everything, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Like an apparition, her image had flashed through his mind over and over, but he’d forced it away with stubborn resolve. Now, though, it was impossible. With startling clarity he saw her expression as he’d fixed her cupboard doors, he heard her laughter echo across the porch, he could smell the faint scent of her shampoo in her hair. She was here with him . . . and yet she wasn’t. Nor would she ever be again. The realization made him feel emptier than he’d ever felt before.
Denise . . .
As he drove along, the explanations he’d made to himself—and to her—suddenly rang hollow. What had come over him? Yes, he’d been pulling away. Despite the denials, Denise had been right about that. Why, he wondered, had he let himself? Was it for the reasons his mother had said?
I didn’t teach you how wonderful it is to love someone and have them love you back. . . .
Taylor shook his head, suddenly unsure of every decision he’d ever made. Was his mother right? If his father hadn’t died, would he have acted the same way over the years? Thinking back to Valerie or Lori—would he have married them? Maybe, he thought, uncertainly, but probably not. There were other things wrong with the relationships, and he couldn’t honestly say that he’d ever really loved either of them.
But Denise?
His throat tightened as he remembered the first night they’d made love. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew now that he’d been in love with her, with everything about her. So why, then, hadn’t he told her so? And more important, why had he forcibly ignored his own feelings in order to pull away?
You’re alone because you want to be. . . .
Was that it? Did he really want to face the future alone? Without Mitch—and soon Melissa—who else did he have? His mother and . . . and . . . The list trailed off. After her, there was no one. Is that what he really wanted? An empty house, a world without friends, a world without someone who cared about him? A world where he avoided love at all costs?
In the truck, rain splashed against the windshield as if driving that thought home, and for the first time in his life, he knew he was—and had been—lying to himself.
In his daze, snatches of other conversations began to replay themselves in his mind.
Mitch warning him: Don’t screw it up this time. . . .
Melissa teasing: So are you gonna marry this wonderful girl or what? . . .