Cruel World(39)

“Morning,” she said, turning toward him.

“Good morning.”

“Hi Quinn,” Ty said, still smiling and wiggling his toes.

“Hi. Are you guys playing a game?”

“An old rhyme,” Alice said, rising from the sofa.

“It’s Grandpa Fischer’s. He made it up,” Ty said.

“Yeah. Okay, Ty, get dressed now.”

Without protest, the little boy swung his legs free of the blanket and began to grope on the floor for his pair of jeans.

“They’re to your left,” Alice said. Ty adjusted his reach and snagged the pants and began to put them on.

“How did you sleep?” Quinn asked, moving toward the kitchen. Alice followed him, pausing in the doorway.

“Okay. I think I may’ve gotten a concussion yesterday. It felt like I was lying on a boat last night.”

“How do you feel this morning?”

“Better. A little weak, but that might be the vodka.”

Quinn poured two bottles of water into a pan and brought it to the fireplace. In a matter of minutes, he had the few leftover coals stoked into a blaze, the pan heating beside it.

“When that water’s hot, you can bring it to the bathroom down the hall and clean your forehead. There’s washcloths in the closet beside the door along with hydrogen peroxide in the medicine cabinet.”

Alice blinked at him, her mouth opening and then shutting again. Her eyes roamed his face, and after a moment, he glanced away. No one had ever looked at him the way she did. Not unkind, but curious, probing. He was onstage and she the only audience.

“Sorry,” Alice said, noticing his discomfort. “I—”

“It’s okay. I know how I look.”

“It’s not that, I just—”

“I’ll find something for us to eat,” Quinn said, turning away. He rummaged in the food bag with his head down until Alice retreated from the room. After a few minutes, she passed on the way to the bathroom carrying the pan of water. Quinn cut four apples into sections and put them on plates, then opened a bag of chips, placing a handful beside the apples for each of them. He brought the food into the living room and found Ty sitting beside the glowing hearth.

“Are you hungry, Ty?”

“Yeah, really hungry.”

“Okay, here you go. There’s apple slices there along with some chips.”

Ty took the plate from his hands and lowered it to his lap.

“What kind of chips?”

“Salt and vinegar.”

“Oh, that’s my favorite.”

A smile tugged at Quinn’s lips. “Mine too.”

“Mom might be mad that I’m eating chips for breakfast,” Ty whispered.

“You can blame me,” Quinn whispered back. Ty grinned and began to eat.

Although he wasn’t hungry, Quinn started to pick at his food also. The apples were on the verge of going bad, their flesh sandy on his tongue, but he ate them anyway. When they were almost finished with their plates, Alice returned, her hair wet and combed straight back from her forehead that now had a wide Band-Aid across it. The blood was gone, and her face was fresh and smooth. Quinn caught himself staring, and it was his turn to look away, heat rising in his cheeks.

“Chips for breakfast? I don’t think so little man!” Alice play-wrestled with Ty as he tried to bring the last chip to his mouth and finally succeeded, chewing purposely with his mouth open. “You little brat,” Alice teased, tickling his neck. She took up her own plate and popped an apple into her mouth. “Thank you,” she said after swallowing.

“It’s not much.”

“It’ll make a turd.”

Quinn paused with his hand partway to his face and glanced at her. Ty giggled and clapped a hand to his mouth. Alice shook her head as Quinn let out a small laugh.

“I’m sorry. Old saying of my dad’s. It slips out sometimes. And don’t repeat that, young man,” She said, nudging the still-smiling boy. He nodded once but the grin didn’t fade.

When they were all finished with their makeshift breakfast, Quinn took the plates to the kitchen and Alice followed him while Ty pulled on his socks and shoes.

“I hate to ask you, but you wouldn’t have a vehicle to spare, would you?” Alice said. “I noticed the other homes on the way in and didn’t know if they had cars.”

“You’re leaving this morning?”