The Rescue - Nicholas Sparks [62]
She looked at Taylor earnestly. “Well, it makes perfect sense—to me, at least. I’d never walked him through the swamp, I’d never shown him snakes; I’d never shown him what might happen if he got stuck somewhere and couldn’t get out. Because I hadn’t shown him, he didn’t know enough to be afraid. Of course, if you take that one step further and consider every possible danger and the fact that I have to literally show him what it means, instead of being able to tell him—sometimes it feels like I’m trying to swim across the ocean. I can’t tell you how many close calls there have been. Climbing too high and wanting to jump, riding too close to the road, wandering away, walking up to growling dogs . . . it seems like every day there’s something new.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, as if reliving each experience, before going on.
“But believe it or not, those are only part of my worries. Most of the time, I worry about the obvious things. Whether he’ll ever be able to talk normally, whether he’ll go to a regular school, whether he’ll ever make friends, whether people will accept him . . . whether I’ll have to work with him forever. Those are the things that keep me awake at night.”
She paused then, the words coming slower, every syllable edged with pain.
“I don’t want you to think that I regret having Kyle, because I don’t. I love him with all my heart. I’ll always love him. But . . .”
She stared at the revolving swings, her eyes blind, shuttered. “It’s not exactly what I imagined raising children would be like.”
“I didn’t realize,” Taylor said gently.
She didn’t respond, seemingly lost in thought. Finally, with a sigh, she faced him again.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you those things.”
“No, don’t be. I’m glad you did.”
As if suspecting that she’d confided too much, she offered a rueful smile. “I probably made it sound pretty hopeless, didn’t I?”
“Not really,” he lied. In the waning sunlight she was strangely radiant. She reached over and touched his arm. Her hand was soft and warm.
“You’re not very good at that, you know. You should stick to telling the truth. I know I made it sound terrible, but that’s just the dark side of my life. I didn’t tell you about the good things.”
Taylor raised his eyebrows slightly. “There are good things, too?” he asked, prompting an embarrassed laugh from Denise.
“Next time I need to pour my heart out, remind me to stop, okay?”
Though she tried to pass off the comment, her voice betrayed her anxiety. Immediately Taylor suspected that he was the first person she’d ever really confided in this way and that it wasn’t the time for jokes.
The ride ended suddenly, the swing rotating three times before coming to a stop. Kyle called out from his seat, the same ecstatic expression on his face.
“Sweeeng!” he called out, almost singing the word, his legs pumping back and forth.
“Do you want to ride the swing again?” Denise shouted.
“Yes,” he answered, nodding.
There weren’t many people in line, and the man nodded that it was all right for Kyle to stay where he was. Taylor handed him the tickets, then returned to Denise’s side.
As the ride started up again, Taylor saw Denise staring at Kyle.
“I think he likes it,” Denise said almost proudly.
“I think you’re right.”
He leaned over, resting his elbows on the railings, still regretting his earlier joking.
“So tell me about the good things,” he said quietly.
The ride circled twice, and she waved to Kyle each time before saying anything.
“Do you really want to know?” she finally asked.
“Yes, I do.”
Denise hesitated. What was she doing? Confiding about her son to a man she barely knew, giving voice to things she’d never said in the past—she felt unsteady, like