"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."
"But doesn't Taylor enjoy being a fireman?"
"I don't know if he enjoys it. He does it because he has to."
"Why?"
Melissa looked at Denise, a perplexed expression on her face. "Well . . . because of his father," she said.
"His father?" Denise repeated.
"Didn't he tell you?" Melissa asked carefully.
"No." Denise shook her head, suddenly afraid of what Melissa was getting at. "He just told me that his father had died when he was a child."
Melissa nodded, her lips together.
"What is it?" Denise asked, her anxiety plain.
Melissa sighed, debating whether to continue.
"Please," Denise said, and Melissa glanced away. Finally she spoke.
"Taylor's father died in a fire."
At her words, a cold hand seemed to settle on Denise's spine.
Taylor had taken the grate to rinse it under the hose and returned to see Mitch opening the cooler for another two beers. As Mitch opened his, Taylor walked by without a word.
"She sure is pretty, Taylor."
Taylor put the grate back on the grill, over the charcoal. "I know."
"Her kid's cute, too. Nice little guy."
"I know."
"He looks like you."
"Huh?"
"Just seeing if you're paying attention," Mitch said, grinning. "You looked a little lost when you came back." He stepped closer. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry I said those things earlier. I didn't mean to upset you."
"It didn't upset me," Taylor lied.
Mitch handed Taylor the beer. "Sure it did. But someone's got to keep you on the straight and narrow."
"And you're the one to do it?"
"Of course. I'm the only one who can."
"No, Mitch, really, don't be so modest," Taylor said sarcastically.
Mitch raised his eyebrows. "You think I'm kidding? How long have I known you now? Thirty years? I think that entitles me to speak my mind once in a while without worrying what you think about it. And I was serious about what I said. Not so much about you quitting--I know you're not going to do that. You should try to be a little more cautious in the future, though. See this?"
Mitch pointed to his balding head. "I used to have a full head of hair. And I'd still have it if you weren't such a damn daredevil. Every time you do something crazy, I can feel my little hairs committing suicide by jumping right out of my head and plunging all the way to my shoulders. If you listen carefully, you can sometimes hear them screaming all the way down. You know what it's like going bald? Having to put sunscreen on top of your head when you go outside? Getting liver spots where you used to part your hair? It doesn't do much for the old ego, if you know what I mean. So you owe me."
Taylor laughed despite himself. "Gee, and here I thought it was hereditary."
"Oh no. It's you, buddy."
"I'm touched."
"You should be. It's not like I'd be willing to go bald for just anybody."
"All right." He sighed. "I'll try to be more cautious in the future."
"Good. Because in a while, I won't be there to bail you out."
"How's the charcoal coming?" Melissa called out.
Mitch and Taylor were standing by the grill, the kids already eating. Mitch had cooked the hot dogs first, and the five of them were at the table. Denise, who'd brought Kyle's dinner with him (macaroni and cheese, Ritz crackers, grapes), set his plate in front of him. After swimming for a couple of hours, he was famished.
"Another ten minutes," Mitch shouted over his shoulder.
"I want macaroni and cheese, too," Melissa's youngest whined when he saw that Kyle was eating something different from what the rest of them had.
"Eat your hot dog," Melissa answered.
"But Mom--"
"Eat your hot dog," she said again. "If you're still hungry after that, I'll make some, okay?"
She knew he wouldn't still be hungry, but it seemed to placate the child.
Once everything was under control, Denise and Melissa moved away from the table and sat down closer to the pool. Ever since Denise had learned about Taylor's father, she had been trying to piece the rest of it together in her mind. Melissa seemed to divine the direction of her thoughts.
"Taylor?" she said, and Denise smiled sheepishly, embarrassed that it was so obvious.
"Yeah."
"How are you two getting along?"
"I thought it was going pretty well. But now, I'm not so sure."
"Because he didn't tell you about his father? Well, I'll let you in on a secret: Taylor doesn't talk about it to anyone, ever. Not to me, not to anyone he works with, not to his friends. He's never even talked about it with Mitch."
Denise considered this, u
nsure how to respond.
"That makes me feel better." She paused, furrowing her brow. "I think."
Melissa put her iced tea aside. Like Denise, she'd stopped drinking beer after finishing her second.
"He's a charmer when he wants to be, isn't he? Cute, too."
Denise leaned back in her seat. "Yes, he is."
"How is he with Kyle?"
"Kyle adores him--lately, he likes Taylor more than me. Taylor's like a little boy when they're together."
"Taylor's always been good with kids. My kids feel the same way about him. They'll call him to see if he can come over to play."
"Does he come?"
"Sometimes. Not lately, though. You've been taking up all of his time."
"Sorry about that."
Melissa waved off the apology. "Don't be. I'm happy for him. You too. I was beginning to wonder if he'd ever meet somebody. You're the first person in years he's actually brought over."
"So there've been others?"
Melissa smiled wryly. "He hasn't talked to you about them, either?"
"Nope."
"Well, girl, it's a good thing you came over," she said conspiratorially, and Denise laughed.
"So what did you want to know?"
"What were they like?"
"Not like you, that's for sure."
"No?"
"No. You're a lot prettier than they were. And you've got a son."
"Whatever happened to them?"
"Now, unfortunately, that I can't tell you. Taylor doesn't talk about that, either. All I know is that one day they seemed to be doing fine and the next thing you knew, it was over. I never did understand why."
"That's a comforting thought."
"Oh, I'm not saying it's going to happen with you. He likes you more than he liked them, a lot more. I can see it in the way he looks at you."
Denise hoped that Melissa was telling the truth.
"Sometimes . . . ," Denise began, then trailed off, not knowing exactly how to say it.
"Sometimes you're scared about what he's thinking?"
She looked at Melissa, startled by the acuity of her observation. Melissa went on.
"Even though Mitch and I have been together for a long time, I still don't understand everything that makes him tick. He's sort of like Taylor sometimes, in that regard. But in the end, it's worked out because we both want it to. As long as you two have that, you'll be able to make it through anything."
A beach ball came flying from the table where the kids were sitting, bonking Melissa on the head. A series of loud giggles broke out.
Melissa rolled her eyes but otherwise paid no attention as the beach ball rolled away. "You might even be able to put up with having four boys, like we do."
"I don't know if I could do that."