Nicholas Sparks This book is dedicated with love to Pat and Billy Mills

Mitch grabbed a damaged shingle with his gloved hands and began to tug at it, feeling as it ripped in half. He tossed it to the ground and started working the other half.

�And?�

�Does she make you happy?�

It took a moment for Taylor to answer. �Yeah,� he said finally, �she really does.� He searched for the right words as he continued to work the crowbar. �I�ve never met anyone like her before.�

Mitch reached for his jug of ice water and took a sip, waiting for Taylor to continue.

�I mean, she�s got everything. She�s pretty, she�s intelligent, she�s charming, she makes me laugh . . . And you should see the way she is with her son. He�s a great kid, but he�s got some problems with talking, and the way she works with him-she�s so patient, so dedicated, so loving . . . It�s really something, that�s for sure.�

Taylor pried another nail loose, then tossed it over the side.

�She sounds great,� Mitch said, impressed.

�She is.�

Suddenly Mitch reached over, grabbing Taylor on the shoulder and giving him a good shake.

�Then what�s she doing with a slacker like you?� he joked. Instead of laughing, however, Taylor simply shrugged.

�I have no idea.�

Mitch set the jug of water aside. �Can I give you some advice?�

�Could I stop you?�

�No, not really. I�m like Ann Landers when it comes to things like this.�

Taylor adjusted his position on the roof, making his way toward another shingle. �Then go ahead.�

Mitch tensed slightly, anticipating Taylor�s reaction. �Well, if she�s everything you say she is and she makes you happy, don�t screw it up this time.�

Taylor stopped in midmotion. �What�s that supposed to mean?�

�You know how you are in things like this. Remember Valerie? Remember Lori? If you don�t, I do. You go out with �em, you pour on the charm, you spend all your time with them, you get them to fall in love with you . . . and then wham-you end it.�

�You don�t know what you�re talking about.�

Mitch watched as Taylor�s mouth tightened into a grim line. �No? Then go ahead and tell me where I�m mistaken.�

Reluctantly Taylor considered what Mitch had said.

�They were different from Denise,� he said slowly. �I was different. I�ve changed since then.�

Mitch held up his hands to stop him from continuing. �It�s not me you have to convince, Taylor. Like they say, don�t shoot the messenger-I�m only telling you because I don�t want to see you kicking yourself later.�

Taylor shook his head. For a few minutes they worked in silence. Finally: �You�re a pain in the ass, do you know that?�

Mitch brushed at a couple of nails. �Yeah, I know. Melissa tells me that, too, so don�t take it personally. It�s just the way I am.�

�So did you two finish the roof?�

Taylor nodded. He was holding a beer in his lap, nursing it slowly, a couple of hours before Denise began her shift. They were sitting on the front steps as Kyle played with his trucks in the yard. Despite his best efforts to the contrary, his thoughts kept returning to the things Mitch had said. There was some truth in his friend�s words, he knew, but he couldn�t help wishing he hadn�t brought the matter up. It nagged at him like a bad memory.

�Yeah,� he said, �it�s done.�

�Was it harder than you thought it would be?� Denise asked.

�No, not really. Why?�

�You just seem distracted.�

�I�m sorry. Just a little tired, I guess.�

Denise scrutinized him. �Are you sure that�s all?�

Taylor brought the beer to his lips and took a drink. �I guess so.�

�You guess?�

He set the can on the steps. �Well, Mitch said some things to me today . . .�

�Like what?�

�Just stuff,� Taylor said, not wanting to elaborate. Denise read the concern in his eyes.

�Like what?�

Taylor drew a deep breath, wondering whether or not to answer but deciding to anyway. �He told me that if I�m serious about you, I shouldn�t mess things up this time.�

Denise felt her breath catch in her throat at the bluntness of his comment. Why would Mitch need to warn him this way?

�What did you say?�

Taylor shook his head. �I told him he didn�t know what he was talking about.�

�Well . . .� She hesitated. �Does he?�

�No, of course not.�

�Then why is it bothering you?�

�Because,� he said, �it just pisses me off that he�d think I might. He doesn�t know anything about you, or us. And he doesn�t know how I feel, that�s for damn sure.�

She squinted up at him, caught in the dying rays of the sun. �How do you feel?�

He reached for her hand.

�Don�t you know?� he said. �Haven�t I made it obvious yet?�

Chapter 21

Summer rose in full fury in mid-July, the temperature creeping past the century mark, then finally it began to cool. Toward the end of the month Hurricane Belle threatened the coast of North Carolina near Cape Hatteras before turning out to sea; in early August Hurricane Delilah did the same. Mid-August brought drought conditions; by late August crops were withering in the heat.

September opened with an unseasonal cold front, something that hadn�t happened in twenty years. Jeans were pulled from the bottoms of drawers, light jackets were donned in the early evening hours. A week later another heat wave arrived and the jeans were put away, hopefully for the next couple of months.

Throughout the summer, however, the relationship between Taylor and Denise remained constant. Settled into a routine, they spent most afternoons together-to escape the heat, Taylor�s crew started early in the morning and would finish by two o�clock-and Taylor continued to shuttle Denise to and from her job at the diner, whenever he could. Occasionally they ate dinner at Judy�s house; sometimes Judy came by to baby-sit Kyle again, so they could have some time alone.

During those three months, Denise came to enjoy Edenton more and more. Taylor, of course, kept her busy as her guide, exploring the sights around town, going out in the boat, and heading to the beach. In time Denise came to see Edenton for what it was, a place that operated on its own slow schedule, a culture tied to raising kids and spending Sundays in church, to working the waters and tilling the fertile soil; a place where home still meant something. Denise caught herself gazing as he stood in her kitchen, holding his coffee cup, wondering idly whether he would look the same way to her in the distant future, when his hair had turned to gray.

She looked forward to everything they did; on a warm night toward the end of July, he took her up to Elizabeth City and they went dancing, another first in too many years. He moved her around the floor with surprising grace, waltzing and two-stepping to the drumming bass of a local country band. Women, she couldn�t help but notice, were naturally drawn to him, and occasionally one would smile at him from across the floor and Denise would feel a quick hot pang of jealousy, even though Taylor never seemed to notice. Instead his arm never left her lower back, and he looked at her that night as if she were the only person in the world. Later, while eating cheese sandwiches in bed, Taylor pulled her close as a thunderstorm raged outside the bedroom window. �This,� he confided, �is as good as it gets.�

Kyle, too, blossomed under his attention. Gaining confidence in his speech, he began to talk more frequently, though much of it didn�t make sense. He�d also stopped whispering when running more than a few words together. By late summer he�d learned to hit the ball off the tee consistently, and his ability to throw the ball had improved dramatically. Taylor set up makeshift bases in the front yard, and though he did his best to teach Kyle the rules of the game, it wasn�t something Kyle was interested in at all. He just wanted to have fun.

But as idyllic as everything seemed, there were moments in which Denise sensed an undercurrent of restlessness in Taylor she couldn�t exactly pin down. As he had during their first night together, Taylor would sometimes get that unreadable, almost distant look after they made love. He would hold her and caress her as usual, but she could sense something in him that made her vaguely uncomfortable, something dark and unknowable that made him seem older and more tired than Denise had ever felt. It scared her sometimes, although when daylight came she often berated herself for letting her imagination run away with her.

Toward the end of August Taylor left town to help fight a major fire in the Croatan forest for three days, a dangerous situation made more deadly by the searing August heat. Denise found it difficult to sleep while he was gone. Worrying about him, she called Judy and they spent an hour talking on the phone. Denise followed the coverage of the fire in the newspaper and on television, searching in vain for any glimpse of Taylor. When Taylor finally returned to Edenton, he drove straight to her house. With Ray�s permission, she took the evening off, but Taylor was exhausted and fell asleep on the couch soon after the sun had gone down. She covered him with a blanket, thinking he�d sleep until the morning, but in the middle of the night he crept into her room. Again, he had the shakes, but this time they didn�t stop for hours. Taylor refused to talk about what had happened, and Denise held him in her arms, concerned, until he was finally able to nod off again. Even in his sleep his demons gave him no relief. Twisting and turning, he called out in his sleep, his words incomprehensible, except for the fear she heard in them.

The next morning, sheepish, he apologized. But he offered nothing by way of explanation. He didn�t have to. Somehow she knew it wasn�t simply memories of the fire that were eating him up; it was something else, naked and dark, bubbling to the surface.

Her mother had once told her that there were men who kept secrets bottled up inside and that it spelled trouble for the women who loved them. Denise instinctively knew the truth of her mother�s statement, yet it was hard to reconcile her words with the love she felt for Taylor McAden. She loved the way he smelled; she loved the rough texture of his hands upon her and the wrinkles around his eyes whenever he laughed. She loved the way he stared at her as she got off work, leaning against the truck in the parking lot, one leg crossed over the other. She loved everything about him.

Sometimes she also found herself dreaming of someday walking down the aisle with him. She could deny it, she could ignore it, she could tell herself that neither of them was ready yet. And maybe the last part of that was true. They hadn�t been together very long, and if he asked her tomorrow, she liked to think that she would have the wisdom to say exactly that. Yet . . . she wouldn�t say those words, she admitted to herself in her most brutally candid moments. She would say Yes . . . yes . . . yes.

In her daydreams, she could only hope that Taylor felt the same.

�You seem nervous,� Taylor commented, studying Denise�s reflection in the mirror. He was standing behind her in the bathroom as she put the finishing touches on her makeup.

�I am nervous.�

�But it�s only Mitch and Melissa. There�s nothing to be nervous about.�

Holding up two different earrings, one to each ear, she debated between the gold hoop and the simple stud.

�For you, maybe. You already know them. I only met them one time, three months ago, and we didn�t talk all that long. What if I make a bad impression?�

�Don�t worry.� Taylor gave her arm a squeeze. �You won�t.�

�But what if I do?�

�They won�t care. You�ll see.�

She put the hoops aside, choosing the studs. She slipped one into each ear.

�Well, it wouldn�t be so nerve-racking if you�d taken me to meet them sooner, you know. You�ve waited an awful long time to start bringing me to meet your friends.�

Taylor held up his hands. �Hey, don�t blame me. You�re the one who works six nights a week, and I�m sorry if I want you all to myself on the one night you have off.�

�Yeah, but . . .�

�But what?�

�Well, I was beginning to wonder whether you were embarrassed to be seen with me.�

�Don�t be ridiculous. I assure you that my intentions were purely selfish. I�m greedy when it comes to spending time with you.�

Looking over her shoulder, she asked, �Is this something I�m going to have to worry about in the future?�

Taylor shrugged, a sly grin on his face. �It depends if you keep working six nights a week.�

She sighed, finishing with the earrings. �Well, it should be coming to an end fairly soon. I�ve almost saved enough for a car, and then, believe me, I�ll be begging Ray to scale back my shifts.�

Taylor slipped both arms around her, still staring at her in the mirror. �Hey, have I told you how wonderful you look?�

�You�re changing the subject.�

�I know. But damn, look at you. You�re beautiful.�

After eyeing their reflection in the mirror, she turned to face him.

�Good enough for a barbecue with your friends?�

�You look fantastic,� he said sincerely, �but even if you didn�t, they�d still love you.�

Thirty minutes later Taylor, Denise, and Kyle were walking toward the door when Mitch appeared from around the back of the house, beer in hand.

�Hey, y�all,� he said. �Glad you could make it. The gang�s out back.�

Taylor and Denise followed him through the gate, past the swing set and azalea bushes, before reaching the deck.

Melissa was sitting at the outdoor table, watching her four boys jump in and out of the swimming pool, their noisy cries blending into one jumbled roar punctuated by sharp outbursts. The pool had been installed the summer before, after one too many water moccasins had been spotted near the dock on the river. Nothing like a venomous snake to sour a person on nature�s beauty, Mitch liked to say.

�Hey there,� Melissa called out, getting to her feet. �Thanks for coming.�

Taylor drew Melissa into a bear hug and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

�You two have met, right?� he said.

�At the festival,� Melissa said easily. �But that was a long time ago, and besides, you met a lot of people that day. How are you doing, Denise?�

�Good, thanks,� she said, still feeling a little nervous.

Mitch motioned to the cooler. �You two want a beer?�

�That sounds great,� Taylor answered. �Would you like one, Denise?�

�Please.�

As Taylor went to fetch the beers, Mitch settled himself at the outdoor table, adjusting the umbrella to keep the sun off them. Melissa made herself comfortable again, followed by Denise. Kyle, wearing a bathing suit and T-shirt, stood shyly by his mother�s side, a towel draped over his shoulders. Melissa leaned toward him.

�Hi, Kyle, how are you?�

Kyle didn�t answer.

�Kyle, say, �I�m fine, thanks,� � Denise said.

�I�m fine, thanks.� (I�n fine, kenks)

Melissa smiled. �Well, good. Would you like to go get in the pool with the other boys? They�ve been waiting all day for you to show up.�

Kyle looked from Melissa to his mother.

�Do you want to swim?� Denise asked, rephrasing the question.

Kyle nodded excitedly. �Yes.�

�Okay, go ahead. Be careful.�

Denise took his towel as Kyle ambled toward the water.

�Does he need a float?� Melissa asked.

�No, he can swim. I have to keep my eye on him, of course.�

Kyle reached the pool and stepped down, the water up to his knees. He bent over and splashed, as if testing the temperature, before breaking into a wide grin. Denise and Melissa watched him as he waded in.

�How old is he now?�

�He�ll be five in a few months.�

�Oh, so will Jud.� Melissa pointed toward the far end of the pool. �That�s him over there, holding on to the side, by the diving board.�

Denise saw him. Same size as Kyle, buzz haircut. Melissa�s four boys were jumping, splashing, screaming-in short, having themselves a great time.

�All four kids are yours?� Denise asked, amazed.

�Today they are. You let me know if you want to take one home, though. I�ll give you the pick of the litter.�

Denise felt herself relaxing a little. �Are they a handful?�

�They�re boys. They�ve got energy coming out their ears.�

�How old are they?�

�Ten, eight, six, and four.�

�My wife had a plan,� Mitch said, cutting into the conversation while peeling the label from his bottle. �Every other year, on our anniversary, she�d let me sleep with her, whether she wanted me to or not.�

Melissa rolled her eyes. �Don�t listen to him. His conversation skills aren�t meant for civilized people.�

Taylor returned with the beers, opening Denise�s bottle before setting it in front of her. His was already open. �What are y�all talking about?�

�Our sex life,� Mitch said seriously, and this time Melissa punched him in the arm.

�Watch it, buster. We�ve got a guest here. You don�t want to make a bad impression, do you?�

Mitch leaned toward Denise. �I�m not making a bad impression. Am I?�

Denise smiled, deciding that she liked these two immediately. �No.�

�See, I told you, honey,� Mitch said victoriously.

�She�s just saying that because you put her on the spot. Now leave the poor lady alone. We were talking here, having a perfectly nice conversation, until you butted in.�

�Well-�

It was all Mitch could say before Melissa cut him off. �Don�t push it.�

�But-�

�Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?�

She gave him the once-over. �It is now.�

Everyone at the table laughed, and Mitch leaned toward his wife, resting his head on her shoulder.

�I�m sorry, honey,� he said, looking at her like a puppy who�d messed on the rug.

�Not good enough,� she said, feigning haughtiness.

�What if I do the dishes later?�

�We�re eating off paper plates tonight.�

�I know. That�s why I offered.�

�Why don�t you two leave us alone so we can talk? Go clean the grill or something.�

�I just got here,� Taylor complained. �Why do I have to go?�

�Because the grill is really dirty.�

�It is?� Mitch asked.

�Go on,� Melissa said as if shooing a fly from her plate. �Leave us alone so we can do some girl-talk.�

Mitch turned toward his friend. �I don�t think we�re wanted, Taylor.�

�I think you�re right, Mitch.�

Melissa whispered conspiratorially, �These two should have been rocket scientists. Nothing gets by them.�

Mitch�s mouth was playfully agape. �I think she just insulted us, Taylor,� he said.

�I think you�re right.�

�See what I mean?� Melissa said, nodding as if her point had been proven. �Rocket scientists.�

�C�mon, Taylor,� Mitch said, pretending to be offended. �We don�t need to put up with this. We�re better than that.�

�Good. Go be better while you clean the grill.�

Mitch and Taylor rose from the table, leaving Denise and Melissa alone. Denise was still laughing as they headed toward the grill.

�Now how long have you two been married?�

�Twelve years. It only seems like twenty.�

Melissa winked, and all Denise could do was wonder why it suddenly seemed as if she�d known her forever.

�So how did you two meet?� Denise asked.

�At a party in college. The first time I ever saw him, Mitch was balancing a bottle of beer on his forehead while trying to cross the room. If he could do it without spilling it, he�d win fifty bucks.�

�Did he make it?�

�No, he ended up soaked from head to toe. But it was obvious he didn�t take himself too seriously. And after some of the other guys I dated, I guess that�s what I was looking for. We started dating, and a couple of years later, we got married.�

She looked toward her husband, obvious affection in her eyes.

�He�s a good guy. I think I�ll keep him.�

�So how was it down in the Croatan?�

When Joe had asked for volunteers to fight the forest fire a few weeks earlier, only Taylor had raised his hand. Mitch had simply shaken his head when Taylor had asked him to come along.

What Taylor didn�t know was that Mitch had learned exactly what had happened. Joe had called Mitch in confidence, telling him that Taylor had nearly been killed when the fire suddenly closed in around him. Had it not been for a slight shift in the wind, which cleared enough smoke for Taylor to find his way out, he would have been dead. His latest brush with death hadn�t surprised Mitch at all.

Taylor took a drink of his beer, his eyes clouding with the memory.

�Pretty hairy at times-you know how those fires are. But luckily no one got hurt.�

Yes, lucky. Again.

�Nothing else?�

�Not really,� he said, downplaying any hint of danger. �But you should have come along. We could have used more men out there.�

Mitch shook his head as he reached for the grate on the grill. He began to work the scraper back and forth.

�No, that�s for you young guys. I�m getting too old for things like that.�

�I�m older than you are, Mitch.�

�Sure, if you think of it just in terms of numbers. But I�m like an old man compared to you. I have progeny.�

�Progeny?�

�Crossword puzzle word. It means I have children.�

�I know what it means.�

�Well, then you also know that I can�t just up and leave anymore. Now that the boys are getting bigger, it�s not fair to Melissa if I head out of town for things like that. I mean, if there�s a problem here, that�s one thing. But I�m not going to search them out. Life�s too short for that.�

Taylor reached for a rag and handed it to Mitch to wipe the scraper.

�You�re still going to give it up?�

�Yep. A few more months and then that�s it.�

�No regrets?�

�None.� Mitch paused before going on. �You know, you might want to consider giving it up, too,� he added conversationally.

�I�m not gonna quit, Mitch,� Taylor said, dismissing the idea immediately. �I�m not like you. I�m not afraid of what might happen.�

�You should be.�

�That�s how you see it.�

�Maybe so,� Mitch said, speaking calmly. �But it�s true. If you really care about Denise and Kyle, you gotta start putting them first, like I put my family first. What we do is dangerous, no matter how careful we are, and it�s a risk that we don�t have to take. We�ve been lucky more than a few times.� He was silent as he set the scraper aside. Then his eyes met Taylor�s.

�You know what it�s like to grow up without a father. Would you want to do that to Kyle?�

Taylor stiffened. �Christ, Mitch . . .�

Mitch raised his hands to stop Taylor from continuing. �Before you start calling me names, it�s something I had to say. Ever since that night on the bridge . . . and then again in the Croatan. Yeah, I know about that, too, and it doesn�t give me warm fuzzies. A dead hero is still dead, Taylor.� He cleared his throat. �I don�t know. It�s like over the years you�ve been testing fate more and more often, like you�re chasing something. It scares me sometimes.�

�You don�t have to worry about me.�

Mitch stood and put his hand on Taylor�s shoulder.

�I always worry about you, Taylor. You�re like my brother.�

�What do you think they�re talking about?� Denise asked, watching Taylor from the table. She saw the change in his demeanor, the sudden stiffness, as if someone had turned on a switch.

Melissa had seen it as well.

�Mitch and Taylor? Probably the fire department. Mitch is giving it up at the end of the year. He probably told Taylor to do the same thing.�