It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when he realized that the possibility was still there-faint though it was-Taylor felt a wave of sudden relief wash over him. He smiled briefly before setting the can on the table.
“I’m sorry, Denise,” he repeated earnestly. “I’m sorry for what I did to Kyle, too.”
She simply nodded and took his hand.
For the next few hours they talked with a new openness. Taylor filled her in on the last few weeks: his conversations with Melissa and what his mother had said; the argument he’d had with Mitch the night he’d died. He spoke about how Mitch’s death had resurrected the memories of his father’s death and-despite everything-his lingering guilt about both deaths.
He talked steadily as Denise listened, offering support as he needed it, occasionally asking questions. It was nearly four in the morning when he rose to leave; Denise walked him to the door and watched him drive away.
While putting on her pajamas, she reflected that she still didn’t know where their relationship would go from here-talking about things didn’t always translate into actions, she cautioned herself. It might mean nothing, it might mean everything. But she knew it wasn’t simply up to her to give him another chance. As it had been from the beginning, it was-she thought as her eyelids drooped shut-still up to Taylor.
The following afternoon he called to ask if it would be all right for him to stop by.
“I’d like to apologize to Kyle, too,” he said. “And besides, I have something to show him.”
Still exhausted from the night before, she wanted time to mull things over. She needed that. So did he. But in the end she reluctantly consented, more for Kyle’s sake than her own. She knew that Kyle would be overjoyed to see him.
As she hung up the phone, however, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. Outside, the day was blustery; cool autumn weather had arrived in full force. The leaves were dazzling in their color: reds, oranges, and yellows exploding on the branches, preparing for their final descent to the dew-covered grass. Soon the yard would be covered with faded remnants of the summer.
An hour later Taylor arrived. Though Kyle was in the yard out front, she could hear his excited screams over the sound of the faucet.
“Money! Tayer’s here!”
Setting her dishrag aside-she’d just finished washing the morning dishes-she went to the front door, still feeling a little uneasy. Opening it, she saw Kyle charging Taylor’s truck; as soon as Taylor stepped out, Kyle jumped into his arms as if Taylor had never stayed away, his face beaming. Taylor hugged him for a long time, putting him down just as Denise walked up.
“Hey there,” he said quietly.
She crossed her arms. “Hi, Taylor.”
“Tayer’s here!” Kyle said jubilantly, latching on to Taylor’s leg. “Tayer’s here!”
Denise smiled thinly. “He sure is, sweetie.”
Taylor cleared his throat, sensing her unease, and motioned over his shoulder.
“I grabbed a few things from the store on my way over here. If it’s okay to stay awhile.”
Kyle laughed aloud, completely enamored by Taylor’s presence. “Tayer’s here,” he said again.
“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” she answered honestly.
Taylor grabbed a grocery bag from the cab of the truck and carried it inside. The bag contained the makings for stew: beef, potatoes, carrots, celery, and onions. They spoke for a couple of minutes, but he seemed to sense her ambivalence about his presence and finally went outside with Kyle, who refused to leave his side. Denise started preparing the meal, thankful to be left alone. She browned the meat and peeled the potatoes, cut the carrots, celery, and onions, throwing everything into a big pot with water and spices. The monotony of the work was soothing, calming her roiling emotions.
As she stood over the sink, however, she glanced outside occasionally, watching Taylor and Kyle play in the dirt pile, where they each pushed Tonka trucks back and forth, building imaginary roads. Yet despite how well they seemed to be getting along, she was struck once more with a paralyzing sense of uncertainty about Taylor; the memories of the pain he had caused her and Kyle surfaced with new clarity. Could she trust him? Would he change? Could he change?
As she watched, Kyle climbed on to Taylor’s squatting figure, covering him with dirt. She could hear Kyle laughing; she could hear Taylor laughing as well.
It’s good to hear that sound again. . . .
But . . .
Denise shook her head. Even if Kyle has forgiven him, I won’t forget. He hurt us once, he could hurt us again. She wouldn’t allow herself to fall for him so deeply this time. She wouldn’t let herself go.
But they look so cute together….
Don’t let yourself go, she warned herself.
She sighed, refusing to allow the internal conversation to dominate her thoughts. With the stew cooking over low heat, she set the table, then straightened up the living room before running out of things to do.
Deciding to sit outside, she walked out into the crisp, fresh air and sat on the porch steps. She could see Taylor and Kyle, still immersed in their playing.
Despite her thick turtleneck sweater, the nip in the air made her cross her arms. Overhead, a flock of geese in triangular formation flew overhead, heading south for the winter. They were followed by a second group that seemed to be struggling to catch up. As she watched them, she realized her breaths were coming out in little puffs. The temperature had dropped since the morning; a cold front blowing in from the midwest had descended through the low country of North Carolina.
After a while, Taylor glanced toward the house and saw her, letting her know with a smile. With a quick flick of her hand, she waved before burying her hand back in the warmth of her sleeves. Taylor leaned close to Kyle and motioned with his chin, prompting Kyle to turn in her direction. Kyle waved happily, and both of them stood. Taylor brushed off his jeans as they started toward the house.
“You two look like you were having fun,” she said.
Taylor grinned, stopping a few feet from her. “I think I’ll give up contracting and just build dirt cities. It’s a lot more fun, and the people are easier to deal with.”
She leaned toward Kyle. “Did you have fun, sweetie?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “It was fun.” (Ess fun)
Denise looked up at Taylor again. “The stew won’t be ready for a while. I just got it all going, so you’ve got plenty of time if you want to stay outside.”
“I figured as much, but I need a glass of water to wash down some of the dirt.”
Denise smiled. “Do you want something to drink, too, Kyle?”
Instead of answering, however, Kyle moved closer, his arms outstretched. Almost molding into her, he wrapped his arms around Denise’s neck.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Denise asked, suddenly concerned. With his eyes closed, Kyle squeezed more tightly, and she instinctively put her arms around him.
“Thank you, Mommy. Thank you. . . .” (Kenk you, Money. Kenk you)
For what?
“Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked again.
“Kenk you,” Kyle said again, not listening. “Kenk you, Money.”
He repeated it a third and fourth time, his eyes closed. Taylor’s grin left his face.
“Honey . . . ,” Denise tried again, a little more desperately this time, suddenly feeling a flash of fear at what was happening.
Kyle, lost in his own world, continued to hold her tight. Denise shot a “See what you’ve done now” look at Taylor when all of a sudden Kyle spoke again, the same grateful tone in his voice.
“I wuff you, Money.”
It took a moment to understand what he was trying to say, and she felt the hairs on her neck stand up.
I love you, Mommy.
Denise closed her eyes in shock. As if knowing she still didn’t believe it, Kyle tightened his grip around her, squeezing with ferocious intensity, and said it a second time.
