The Rescue - Nicholas Sparks [63]
She cleared her throat.
“Okay, the good things . . .” She glanced briefly at Taylor and then away. “Kyle’s getting better. Sometimes it may not seem like it and others may not notice it, but he is, slowly but surely. Last year, his vocabulary was only fifteen to twenty words. This year, it’s in the hundreds, and at times he puts three and four words together in a single sentence. And for the most part, he makes most of his wishes known now. He tells me when he’s hungry, when he’s tired, what he wants to eat—all of that’s new for him. He’s only been doing that for the last few months.”
She took a deep breath, feeling her emotions roil to the surface again.
“You have to understand . . . Kyle works so hard every day. While other kids can play outside, he has to sit in his chair, staring at picture books, trying to figure out the world itself. It takes him hours to learn things that other kids might learn in minutes.” She stopped, turning toward him, an almost defiant look in her eyes.
“But you know, Kyle just keeps on going . . . he just keeps on trying, day after day, word by word, concept by concept. And he doesn’t complain, he doesn’t whine, he just does it. If you only knew how hard he has to work to understand things . . . how much he tries to make people happy . . . how much he wants people to like him, only to be ignored . . .”
Feeling her throat constrict, she took a ragged breath, struggling to maintain her composure.
“You have no idea how far he’s come, Taylor. You’ve only known him for a short while. But if you knew where he started and how many obstacles he’s overcome so far—you’d be so proud of him . . .”
Despite her efforts, tears began to flood her eyes.
“And you’d know what I know. That Kyle has more heart, more spirit, than any other child I’ve ever known. You would know that Kyle is the most wonderful little boy that any mother could wish to have. You would know that despite everything, Kyle is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. That’s the good thing I have in my life.”
All those years of having those words pent up inside, all those years of wanting to say the words to someone. All those years, all those feelings—both the good and the bad—it was such a relief to finally let it all go. She was suddenly intensely thankful that she’d done so and hoped in her heart that Taylor would somehow understand.
Unable to respond, Taylor tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. Watching her talk about her son—the absolute fear and absolute love—made the next move almost instinctive. Without a word, he reached for her hand and took it in his. The feeling was strange, a forgotten pleasure, though she didn’t try to pull away.
With her free hand she wiped at a tear that had drifted down her cheek and sniffled. She looked spent, still defiant, and beautiful.
“That was the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever heard,” he said.
When Kyle wanted to ride the swing yet a third time, Taylor had to let go of Denise’s hand so he could walk over and present the additional tickets. When he returned, the moment had passed; Denise was leaning on the barrier, resting on her elbows, and he decided simply to let it go. Yet standing beside her, he could still feel the lingering sensation of her touch on his skin.
They spent another hour at the carnival, riding the Ferris wheel—the three of them crammed into the wobbly seat with Taylor pointing out some of the places that could be seen from the top—and the Octopus, a spinning, dipping, gut-twisting ride that Kyle wanted to ride over and over again.
Toward the end of the hour they headed over to the area that housed the games of chance. Pop three balloons with three darts and win a prize, shoot two baskets and win something different. Vendors barked at the passersby, but Taylor walked past all of them until reaching the shooting gallery. He used the first few shots to understand the sighting of the gun, then proceeded to make fifteen straight, trading