“Okay,” she said without much emotion. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “How about you?”
Taylor shrugged, swallowing the lump in his throat.
He spent the next eight hours outside, working steadily, making her yard look as if a professional landscaper had come by. In the early afternoon a load of pine straw was delivered, and he placed it carefully around the trees, in the flower beds, along the house. As he worked he made mental lists of other things to do, and after loading the equipment back on the trailer, he donned his tool belt. He reattached a few broken planks in the fence, caulked around three of the windows, mended a screen that had been broken, changed the burned-out light bulbs in the outdoor lights. Focusing next on the pool, he added chlorine, emptied the baskets, cleared the water of debris, and backwashed the filter.
He didn’t go inside to visit with Melissa until he was finally ready to leave, and even then he stayed only briefly.
“There are a few more things to do,” he said on his way out the door. “I’ll be by tomorrow to take care of them.”
The next day he worked until nightfall, possessed.
Melissa’s parents left the following week, and Taylor filled the void in their absence. As he’d done with Denise during the summer months, he began swinging by Melissa’s home nearly every day. He brought dinner with him twice—pizza first, then fried chicken—and though he still felt vaguely uncomfortable around Melissa, he felt a sense of responsibility regarding the boys.
They needed a father figure.
He’d made the decision earlier in the week, after yet another sleepless night. The idea, however, had initially come to him while he was still in the hospital. He knew he couldn’t take Mitch’s place and didn’t intend to. Nor would he hinder Melissa’s life in any way. In time, if she met someone new, he would slip quietly from the picture. In the meantime he would be there for them, doing the things that Mitch had done. The lawn. Ball games and fishing trips with the boys. Odds and ends around the house. Whatever.
He knew what it was like to grow up without a father. He remembered longing for someone besides his mother to talk to. He remembered lying in his bed, listening to the quiet sounds of his mother’s sobbing in the adjoining room, and how difficult it had been to talk to her in the year following his father’s death. Thinking back, he saw clearly how his childhood had been stripped away.
For Mitch’s sake, he wouldn’t let that happen to the boys.
He was sure it was what Mitch would have wanted him to do. They were like brothers, and brothers watched out for each other. Besides, he was the godfather. It was his duty.
Melissa didn’t seem to mind that he’d begun to come over. Nor had she asked the reason why, which meant that she too understood why it was important. The boys had always been at the forefront of her concerns, and now with Mitch gone, Taylor felt sure that those feelings had only increased.
The boys. They needed him now, no doubt about it.
In his mind, he didn’t have a choice. The decision made, he began to eat again, and all at once the nightmares stopped. He knew what he had to do.
The following weekend, when Taylor arrived to take care of the lawn, he inhaled sharply when he pulled up to Mitch and Melissa’s driveway. He blinked hard, to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, but when he looked again it hadn’t moved at all.
A realty sign.
“For Sale.”
The house was for sale.
He sat in his idling truck as Melissa emerged from the house. When she waved to him, Taylor finally turned the key and the engine sputtered to a halt. As he started toward her he could hear the boys in the yard out back, though he couldn’t see them.
Melissa gave him a hug.
“How are you, Taylor?” she asked, searching his face. Taylor took a small step back, avoiding her gaze.
“All right, I guess,” he answered, distracted. He nodded in the direction of the road.
“What’s with the sign?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“You’re selling the house?”
“Hopefully.”
“Why?”
Melissa’s whole body seemed to sag as she turned to face the house.
“I just can’t live here anymore . . .” she finally answered, trailing off. “Too many memories.”
She blinked back tears and stared wordlessly at the house. She suddenly looked so tired, so defeated, as if the burden of carrying on without Mitch were crushing the life force out of her. A ribbon of fear twisted inside him.
“You’re not moving away, are you?” he asked in disbelief. “You’re still going to live in Edenton, right?”
After a long moment, Melissa shook her head.
“Where’re you going?”
“Rocky Mount,” she answered.
“But why?” he asked, his voice straining. “You’ve lived here for a dozen years . . . you’ve got friends here . . . I’m here . . . Is it the house?” he asked quickly, searching. He didn’t wait for a reply. “If the house is too much, there might be something I could do. I could build you a new one for cost, anywhere you want.”
Melissa finally turned to face him.
“It’s not the house—that has nothing to do with it. My family’s in Rocky Mount, and I need them right now. So do the boys. All their cousins are there, and the school year just started. It won’t be so hard for them to adjust.”
“You’re moving right away?” he asked, still struggling to make sense of this news.
Melissa nodded. “Next week,” she said. “My parents have an older rental house they said I could use until I sell this place. It’s right up the street from where they live. And if I do have to take a job, they can watch my boys for me.”
“I could do that,” Taylor said quickly. “I could give you a job doing all the billing and ordering if you need to earn some money, and you could do it right here from the house. You could do it on your own time.”
She smiled sadly at him. “Why? Do you want to rescue me, too, Taylor?”
The words made him flinch. Melissa looked at him carefully before going on.
“That’s what you’re trying to do, isn’t it? Coming over last weekend to take care of the yard, spending time with the boys, the offer for a house and a job . . . I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s not what I need right now. I need to handle this my own way.”
“I wasn’t trying to rescue you,” he protested, trying to hide how pained he felt. “I just know how hard it can be to lose someone, and I didn’t want you to have to handle everything alone.”
She slowly shook her head. “Oh, Taylor,” she said in almost a motherly tone, “it’s the same thing.” She hesitated, her expression at once knowing and sad. “It’s what you’ve been doing your whole life. You sense that someone needs help, and if you can, you give her exactly what she needs. And now, you’re turning your sights on us.”
“I’m not turning my sights on you,” he denied.
Melissa wasn’t dissuaded. Instead she reached for his hand.
“Yes, you are,” she said calmly. “It’s what you did with Valerie after her boyfriend left her, it’s what you did with Lori when she felt so alone. It’s what you did with Denise when you found out how hard her life was. Think of all the things you did for her, right from the very beginning.” She paused, letting that sink in. “You feel the need to make things better, Taylor. You always have. You may not believe it, but everything in your life proves that over and over. Even your jobs. As a contractor, you fix things that are broken. As a fireman, you save people. Mitch never understood that about you, but to me, it was obvious. It’s who you are.”
To that, Taylor had no response. Instead he turned away, his mind reeling from her words. Melissa squeezed his hand.
“That’s not a bad thing, Taylor. But it’s not what I need. And in the long run, it’s not what you need, either. In time, once you think I’m saved, you’d move on, looking for the next person to rescue. And I’d probably be thankful for everything you did, except for the fact that I would know the truth about why you did it.”
She stopped there, waiting for Taylor to say something.
“What truth is that?” he rasped out finally.
“That even though you rescued me, you were trying to rescue yourself, because of what happened to your father. And no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to do that for you. That’s a conflict you’re going to have to resolve on your own.”
The words hit him with almost physical force. He felt breathless as he tried to focus on his feet, unable to feel his body, his mind a riot of warring thoughts. Random memories flashed through his mind in dizzying succession: Mitch’s angry face at the bar; Denise’s eyes filled with tears; the flames at the warehouse, licking at his arms and legs; his father turning in the sunlight as his mother snapped his picture . . .
Melissa watched a host of emotions play across Taylor’s face before pulling him close. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
“You’ve been like a brother to me, and I love the fact that you would be here for my boys. And if you love me, too, you’ll understand that I didn’t say any of these things to hurt you. I know you want to save me, but I don’t need it. What I need is for you to find a way to save yourself, just like you tried to save Mitch.”
He felt too numb to respond. In the early morning sunlight, they stood together, simply holding each other in the soft morning sunlight.
“How?” he finally croaked out.
“You know,” she whispered, her hands on his back. “You already know.”
He left Melissa’s home in a daze. It was all he could do to stay focused on the road, not knowing where he wanted to go, his thoughts unconnected. He felt as if the remaining strength he’d had to go on had been stripped away, leaving him nak*d and drained.
His life, as he knew it, was over, and he had no idea what to do. As much as he wanted to deny the things that Melissa had said, he couldn’t. At the same time, he didn’t believe them, either. At least, not completely. Or did he?
Thinking along these lines exhausted him. In his life he’d tried to see things as concrete and clear, not ambiguous and steeped in hidden meanings. He didn’t search for hidden motivations, either in himself or in others, because he had never really believed that they mattered.
His father’s death had been something concrete, something horrible, but real nonetheless. He couldn’t understand why his father had died, and for a time he’d talked to God about the things he was going through, wanting to make sense of it. In time, though, he gave up. Talking about it, understanding it . . . even if the answers eventually came, would make no difference. Those things wouldn’t bring his father back.
But now, in this difficult time, Melissa’s words were making him question the meaning of everything he had once thought so clear and simple.
Had his father’s death really influenced everything in his life? Were Melissa and Denise right in their assessment of him?
No, he decided. They weren’t right. Neither one of them knew what happened the night his father had died. No one, besides his mother, knew the truth.
Taylor, driving automatically, paid little attention to where he was going. Turning now and then, slowing at intersections, stopping when he had to, he obeyed the laws but didn’t remember doing so. His mind clicked forward and backward with the shifting transmission of his truck. Melissa’s final words haunted him.
You already know. . . .
Know what? he wanted to ask. I don’t know anything right now. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just want to help the kids, like when I was a child. I know what they need. I can help them. I can help you, too, Melissa. I’ve got it all worked out. . . .
Are you trying to rescue me, too?
No, I’m not. I just want to help.
It’s the same thing.
Is it?
Taylor refused to chase the thought down to its final conclusion. Instead, really seeing the road for the first time, he realized where he was. He stopped the truck and began the short trek to his final destination.
Judy was waiting for him at his father’s grave.
“What are you doing here, Mom?” he asked.
Judy didn’t turn at the sound of his voice. Instead, kneeling down, she tended the weeds around the stone as Taylor did whenever he came.
“Melissa called me and told me you’d come,” she said quietly, hearing his footsteps close behind her. From her voice he could tell she’d been crying. “She said I should be here.”
Taylor squatted beside her. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
Her face was flushed. She swiped at her cheek, leaving a torn blade of grass on her face.
“I’m sorry,” she began. “I wasn’t a good mother. . . .”
Her voice seemed to die in her throat then, leaving Taylor too surprised to respond. With a gentle finger he removed the blade of grass from her cheek, and she finally turned to face him.
“You were a great mother,” he said firmly.
“No,” she whispered, “I wasn’t. If I were, you wouldn’t come here as much as you do.”
“Mom, what are you talking about?”
“You know,” she answered, drawing a deep breath before going on. “When you hit bad patches in your life, you don’t turn to me, you don’t turn to friends. You come here. No matter what the question or the problem, you always come to the decision that you’re better off alone, just like you are now.”
She stared at him almost as if seeing a stranger.
“Can’t you see why that hurts me? I can’t help but think how sad it must be for you to live your life without people—people who could offer you support or simply lend an ear when you need it. And it’s all because of me.”