The Rescue - Nicholas Sparks [64]
Denise relished every minute of it. It was gratifying to watch Kyle trying—and enjoying!—new things, and walking around the carnival provided a pleasant change from the world in which she normally lived. There were times when she almost felt like someone else, someone she didn’t know. As twilight descended, the lights from the rides blinked on; as the sky darkened even further, the energy of the crowds seemed to intensify, as if everyone knew all this would be over the following day.
Everything was just right, as she had barely dared to hope it would be.
Or, if possible, even better than that.
Once they got home, Denise got a cup of milk and led Kyle into his room. She propped the giant panda in the corner so he could see it, then helped Kyle change into his pajamas. After leading him through his prayers, she gave him his milk.
His eyes were already closing.
By the time she finished reading him a story, Kyle was breathing deeply.
Slipping from the room, she left the door partially open.
Taylor was waiting for her in the kitchen, his long legs stretched out under the table.
“He’s down for the count,” she said.
“That was fast.”
“It’s been a big day for him. He’s not usually up this late.”
The kitchen was lit by a single overhead bulb. The other had burned out the week before, and she suddenly wished she had changed it. It seemed just a little too dim, a little too intimate, in the small kitchen. Seeking space, she fell back on tradition.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I’ll take a beer if you have one.”
“My selection isn’t quite that big.”
“What do you have?”
“Iced tea.”
“And?”
She shrugged. “Water?”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Tea’s fine.”
She poured two glasses and handed one to him, wishing she had something stronger to serve both of them. Something to take the edge off the way she was feeling.
“It’s a little warm in here,” she said evenly, “would you like to sit on the porch?”
“Sure.”
They made their way outside and sat in the rockers, Denise closest to the door so she could listen for Kyle if he woke up.
“Now this is nice,” Taylor said after making himself comfortable.
“What do you mean?”
“This. Sitting outside. I feel like I’m on an episode of The Waltons.”
Denise laughed, feeling some of her nervousness disperse. “Don’t you like to sit on the porch?”
“Sure, but I hardly ever do it. It’s one of those things that I never seem to have time for anymore.”
“A good ol’ boy from the South like yourself?” she said, repeating the words he’d used the day before. “I would have thought a guy like you would sit outside on your porch with a banjo, playing song after song, a dog lying at your feet.”
“With my kinfolk and a jar of moonshine and a spittoon o’er yonder?”
She grinned. “Of course.”
He shook his head. “If I didn’t know you were from the South, I’d think you were insulting me.”
“But because I’m from Atlanta?”
“I’ll let it slide this time.” He felt the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. “So what do you miss the most about the big city?”
“Not a lot. I suppose if I were younger and Kyle wasn’t around, this place would drive me crazy. But I don’t need big malls, or fancy places to eat, or museums anymore. There was a time when I thought those things were important, but they weren’t really an option during the last few years, even when I was living there.”
“Do you miss your friends?”
“Sometimes. We try to keep in touch. Letters, phone calls, things like that. But how about you? Didn’t you ever get the urge to just pack up and move away?”
“Not really. I’m happy here, and besides, my mom is here. I’d feel bad leaving her alone.”
Denise nodded. “I don’t know that I would have moved if my mom were still alive, but I don’t think so.”
Taylor suddenly found himself thinking about his father.
“You’ve been through a lot in your life,” he said.
“Too much, I sometimes think.”
“But you keep going.”
“I have