The Rescue

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?"

Mitch's eyebrows went up and down. "Is that a promise?"

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 enou

gh 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."