Cruel World(52)

“I’ll get this started,” he said, moving to kneel before the glass front. “If the power’s on, I’m guessing the gas will be too.”

“What about the flames? You’d be able to see them from the street,” Alice said.

“Not until it gets darker. Then we can pull the shades and throw blankets over the windows facing the neighborhood.”

Quinn fiddled with the gas valve beneath the decorative, ceramic logs until he heard a small whoosh. He pushed the red button and listened to the distinctive click of an electric starter. Flames erupted out of the fireplace and he felt the hair on his arms shrivel beneath its touch.

“Damn,” he said, sitting back. Alice made a surprised grunt and then snorted once. When he looked at her, her face was lit with the same smile he’d seen in Thor’s armory. “Are my eyebrows still there?” he asked. This made Alice laugh harder, and Ty giggled. “Glad I can be of amusement,” he said, moving back to his post beside the window. After a time, Alice and Ty grew quiet and only the calls of chickadees and the occasional Blue Jay filtered in from outside.

“Can we play a game?” Ty asked just when Quinn thought the boy had fallen asleep.

“What kind of game?” Alice said.

“I don’t know, something fun.”

“Sorry, champ. I’m fresh out of board games.”

“We could play reflex,” Quinn said.

“What’s that?” Ty asked.

“It’s word association. My dad called it reflex when I was little. Like if I say, blue, what’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”

“Mom says the sky’s blue, and so’s the ocean sometimes.”

Quinn felt his face grow hot as Alice narrowed her eyes at him. Had he just asked a blind boy what he associated with a color?

“Yeah, like that. Here, how about dog?” Quinn said, barreling on as embarrassment tried to constrict his throat.

“Friend,” Ty answered almost immediately.

“There you go. Okay Alice, your turn.”

“I don’t want to play.”

“Come on, mom!” Ty protested. Alice gave Quinn a withering look and sighed.

“Okay, hit me, Quinn.”

“Blue Jay,” he said, hearing the bird’s shrill call again in the distance.

“Annoying,” Alice said. Quinn laughed.

“Yeah, they can be that.”

“Car,” Ty said, sitting forward.

“Tahoe,” Quinn said, glancing out of the window.

“Mom, you go. Tree.”

“Grow.”

“Elephant,” Quinn said.

“Big!” Ty exclaimed.

“Shhh, Ty. We have to keep our voices down,” Alice said.

“No fun,” Ty said, half smiling.

“What? Keeping our voices down?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, grinning as his sightless eyes stared at the floor.

“Maine,” Quinn said.

“Home,” Ty answered.

“Ocean,” Alice asked, looking directly at Quinn.

“Freedom,” he said. “Beer.”

“Good,” Alice said, and Ty laughed, his head following their voices. “Steak.”

“Delightful. Flowers,” Quinn shot back.

“A waste. Dancing.”

“Can’t. Trust.”

“A waste. Guns.”

“Loud. Love.”

“Myth. Death.”

“Scary. Fire,” Quinn said, glancing at the flames. Alice opened her mouth and then shut it, her eyes wide, looking past him, through him.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said finally and stood, moving through the doorway and out of sight. A moment later there was the quiet closing of a door. Quinn watched the hallway where she’d disappeared, his brow furrowed. It was only when Ty touched his arm that he realized the boy had risen and crossed the room to him. Quinn gazed down into Ty’s eyes, their focus swimming and watery. His irises were so blue and bright, even beneath the thin veil of gray film they were hard to look at.

“Bend down,” Ty said, tugging his arm. Quinn obliged, tilting his head to one side to accept the secret the boy was undoubtedly about to tell him.

One of Ty’s hands, small and airy, grazed his face.

Quinn jerked away, standing up so suddenly Ty nearly fell backward. The boy’s eyes were as wide as his mother’s had been before she left the room.