"A few."
"Any ghost stories?"
"Of course. Every old town in North Carolina has ghost stories. On Halloween, my father would sit me and my friends down after we'd gone trick-or-treating and tell us the story of Brownrigg Mill. It's about a witch, and it's got everything needed to terrify children. Superstitious townsfolk, evil spells, mysterious deaths, even a three-legged cat. By the time my dad was done, we'd be too scared to sleep. He could spin a yarn with the best of them."
She thought about life in a small town, the ancient stories, and how different it all was from her own experiences in Atlanta.
"That must have been neat."
"It was. If you'd like, I could do the same for Kyle."
"I doubt if he'd understand what you're saying."
"Maybe I'll tell him the one about the haunted monster truck of Chowan County."
"There's no such thing."
"I know. But I could always make one up."
Denise squeezed his hand again. "How come you never had kids?" she asked.
"I'm not the right sex."
"You know what I mean," she said, nudging him. "You'd be a good father."
"I don't know. I just haven't."
"Did you ever want to?"
"Sometimes."
"Well, you should."
"You sound like my mother now."
"You know what they say. Brilliant minds think alike."
"If you do say so yourself."
"Exactly."
As they left the harbor and started toward downtown again, Denise was struck by how much her world had changed recently; and all of it, she realized, could be traced to the man beside her. Yet never once, despite all he'd done for her, had he pressured her for anything in return, something she might not be ready for. She was the one who'd kissed him first, and it was she who'd kissed him the second time. Even when he'd stayed late at her house after their day at the beach, he'd left when he sensed that it was time to go.
Most men wouldn't have done that, she knew. Most men seized the initiative as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Lord knew that was what had happened with Kyle's father. But Taylor was different. He was content to get to know her first, she mused, to listen to her problems, to hang crooked cabinet doors and make homemade ice cream on the porch. In every way he had presented himself as a gentleman.
But because he'd never pushed her, she found herself wanting him with an intensity that surprised her. She wondered what it would feel like when he finally took her in his arms or what it would be like to have him touch her body, his fingers tracing over her skin. Thinking about it made something tighten inside, and she squeezed his hand reflexively.
As they neared the truck, they passed a storefront whose glass door had been propped open. Stenciled on it was "Trina's Bar." Aside from Fontana, it was the only place open downtown; when she peeked in, Denise saw three couples talking quietly over small circular tables. In the corner was a jukebox playing a country song, the nasal baritone of the singer quieting as the final lyrics wound down. There was a short silence until the next song rotated through: "Unchained Melody." Denise stopped in her tracks when she recognized it, pulling on Taylor's hand.
"I love this song," she said.
"Would you like to go inside?"
She debated as the melody swirled around her.
"We could dance if you'd like," he added.
"No. I'd feel funny with all those people watching," she said after a beat. "And there's not really enough room, anyway."
The street was devoid of traffic, the sidewalks deserted. A single light, set high on a pole, flickered slightly, illuminating the corner. Beneath the strains of the music from the bar drifted the sound of intimate conversations. Denise took a tentative step, away from the open door. The music was still evident behind them, playing softly, when Taylor suddenly stopped. She looked up at him curiously.
Without a word, he slipped one arm around her back, pulling her closer to him. With an endearing smile, he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it, then lowered it into position. Suddenly realizing what was happening, but still not believing it, Denise took an awkward step before beginning to follow his lead.
For a moment, both were slightly embarrassed. But the music played steadily in the background, dispelling the awkwardness, and after a couple of turns Denise closed her eyes and leaned into him. Taylor's arm drifted up her back, and she could hear his breathing as they rotated in slow circles, swaying gently with the music. Suddenly it didn't matter whether anyone was watching. Except for his touch and the feel of his warm body against hers, nothing mattered at all, and they danced and danced, holding each other close beneath a flickering streetlight in the tiny town of Edenton.
Chapter 19
Judy was reading a novel in the living room when the two of them returned. Kyle, she said, hadn't even stirred while they'd been away.
"Did you two have a good time?" she asked, eyeing Denise's flushed cheeks.
"Yes, we did," Denise answered. "Thanks for watching Kyle."
"My pleasure," she said sincerely, slinging her purse over her shoulder and getting ready to leave.
Denise went back to check on Kyle as Taylor walked Judy to the car. He didn't say much as they walked, and Judy hoped that it meant Taylor was as taken with Denise as she seemed to be with him.
Taylor was in the living room, squatting by a small cooler he'd removed from the back of the truck, when Denise emerged from Kyle's room. He didn't hear her close her son's door, lost in what he was doing. Silently Denise watched as he slid open the top of the cooler and removed two crystal flutes. They clinked together as he shook the water
off them, then he set them on the small table in front of the couch. He reached in again, this time pulling out a bottle of Champagne.
After peeling the foil off the top, he untwisted the wire that held the cork and popped the cork free in one easy movement. The bottle went onto the table, next to the flutes he'd brought. Once again he reached into the cooler, then fished out a plate of strawberries neatly wrapped in cellophane. Once the strawberries were unwrapped, he straightened everything on the table and pushed the cooler off to the side. After leaning back to get a better perspective, he seemed satisfied. He rubbed his hands on his pants, wiping the moisture from them, and glanced toward the hallway. At the sight of Denise standing there, he froze, an embarrassed expression on his face. Then, smiling bashfully, he stood.
"I thought this would be a nice surprise," he said.
She looked toward the table and back at Taylor again, realizing she'd been holding her breath.
"It is," she said.
"I didn't know whether you liked wine or Champagne, so I just took a chance."
Taylor's eyes were fixed on her.
"I'm sure it's wonderful," she murmured. "I haven't had Champagne in years."
He reached for the bottle. "Can I pour you a glass?"
"Please."
Taylor poured two glasses as Denise approached the table, suddenly a little unsteady. He handed one to her wordlessly, and all she could do was stare at him, wondering how long it had taken him to plan this.
"Wait, okay?" Denise said quickly, knowing exactly what was missing. Taylor watched as she set down her glass and ran to the kitchen. He listened as she rifled through a drawer, then saw her emerge again with two small candles and a book of matches. She set them on the table beside the Champagne and strawberries, then lit them. As soon as she turned out the lamp, the room was transformed, shadows dancing against the wall as she picked up her glass. In the glowing light she was more beautiful than ever.
"To you," he said as they tapped their glasses together. She took a sip. The bubbles made her nose twitch, but it tasted wonderful.