Quinn shook his head. “Get in.”
They drove toward Ferry but turned south before coming within sight of the town. The day lightened but maintained its cool, gray tone throughout the afternoon. They had to stop twice to tow wrecks from the narrow country road they drove on. At the second crash, a flock of crows feasted on something in a nearby field, taking flight long enough for them to see the tattered remains of a man’s jacket and pants.
It was near evening when they joined a large highway that took them northwest through a larger town. Vacant storefronts slid by, empty parking lots, the occasional dead car, or body. When they’d left the burg behind, Alice shifted in the front seat, her hands toying with the revolver.
“We should find somewhere soon.”
“Definitely. I’ll pull off at the next exit that looks—” But his voice faltered as they rounded a bend and the setting sun shone full force through the windshield. Quinn took his foot off the gas and coasted to a stop on the left side of the highway near a guardrail.
“What are you doing?” Alice said.
“It’s,” Quinn started but couldn’t continue. He put the truck in park and tore his eyes away from the scene before him, checking the immediate surroundings as he opened his door and climbed out.
“Quinn, are you okay?” Alice asked.
“What’s wrong?” Ty said from the backseat.
“Nothing,” Quinn said, stepping away from the truck. A cool breeze trailed past him, pushing his hair back, and he swallowed, coming even with the steel rail.
A strong river flowed beneath the highway, so blue it nearly hurt his eyes to gaze into it. The water stretched between two rounded hills, their sides rich with dozens of trees that grew close to the water’s edge in tiered rows, their branches beginning to green. The sun painted the dead river grass a shade of yellow as it bent beneath the wind’s touch and it rippled like the water beside it. Reaching tips of rocks studded the center of the river in a zigzag like the zipper of a woman’s dress.
The painting in his room at home lay before him in all its splendor.
His father’s words came back to him. The only way to feel something that you haven’t seen in real life is through art. Tears clouded his eyes, and his lower lip trembled. He sat down beside the guardrail, its cold steel beneath his palm the only sensation telling him he was here and not in his room dreaming of the day he could see the artist’s rendition in person.
“Are you all right?” Alice stood beside him, and he looked up at her, blinking away the tears.
“Yeah. I’m more than all right.”
“What is it, Quinn?” Ty asked, appearing at his shoulder, Denver close to his other side. “I hear water. Is it a river?” Ty gazed out over the rolling hills, not seeing the beauty that was right there before him. Quinn fought off another bout of emotion and grasped the boy’s hand. You have to feel it, Quinn.
“You’re right; it is a river. It’s deep and wide with big, dark rocks in its middle. It curves between two hills that come down to meet it. The hills have trees and long grass, and the sun is shining on it all. Can you feel the sun?”
“Yes.” Ty closed his eyes.
“Can you see the river?”
“Yes.”
“It’s all right in front of you. Everything’s there.”
A smile spread across Ty’s small face, the sunshine lighting it like it did the grass and trees so that he looked more alive than Quinn had ever seen him.
“It’s beautiful,” Ty said at last.
~