The Rescue - Nicholas Sparks [38]
She glanced at her son, still pondering the problem, and noticed he was staring through the glass entrance door, toward the street, an unfamiliar expression on his face.
“What is it, honey?”
He answered, though she didn’t understand what he was trying to say. It sounded like fowman. Leaving her groceries on the counter, she bent down so she could watch him as he said it again. Watching his lips sometimes made understanding him easier.
“What did you say? ‘Fowman’?”
Kyle nodded and said it again. “Fowman.” This time he pointed through the door, and Denise looked in that direction. As she did so, Kyle started toward the door, and all at once she knew what he’d meant.
Not fowman, though it was close. Fireman.
Taylor McAden was standing outside the store, holding the door partially open while talking to someone off to the side, someone she couldn’t see. She watched as he nodded and waved, laughed again, then opened the door a little more. While Taylor ended his conversation, Kyle ran up to him and Taylor stepped inside without really paying attention to where he was going. He almost bowled Kyle over before catching his balance.
“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