Flashover. Dana Mentink

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      Tim watched with an amused grin as a nurse pushed a mortified Ivy in a wheelchair out to the curb. He opened the passenger-side door for her.

      She dove out of the wheelchair before it stopped rolling and hopped into the truck, buckling up gingerly around her injured shoulder. “Thanks for taking me home.”

      “You’re welcome, but I’m still not sure it’s a good idea. Your mother has another plan.” He was careful to keep his eyes on the road as they continued on.

      She stared. “What are you talking about?”

      “Your mom called and told me when you got out to bring you to her place so she can take care of you.”

      “You have got to be kidding me. Did she think I would go for that?”

      “No, but she made me promise to ask.”

      Ivy laughed. “You can’t say no to my mother, can you?”

      “She reminds me of my mother. Every time I go over there she tries to feed me.”

      “That’s a good sign that she likes you.”

      “Nah, I know she does that to everyone from the mailman to the pest-control guy.” He waited a beat. “Antonio called, too.”

      She blinked. “I’ll bet he’s having a ball in his new department. Heard through the grapevine he and Denise Williams are an item now.”

      Tim was uncertain how to respond. He knew how much Antonio hurt Ivy by leaving her, but God forgive him, he couldn’t be happier that the man was out of the picture. “He asked me to tell you he called.”

      “I’ll bet.”

      He was wrong for you, anyway, Tim wanted to say. Charming, macho, great to look at, but did he know you like I know you? Did he take the time to learn everything, Ivy? He doubted it. Anybody who knew Ivy wouldn’t throw her away like Antonio had.

      Ivy remained silent until he guided the truck into the apartment parking lot. Tim opened the door for her and she eased out of the passenger seat. The complex featured an old brick facade, covered by a vigorous scalp of climbing clematis.

      They entered the lobby just as a slender young man with dark hair was trying to exit. He screamed and scrabbled past them and down the steps.

      Ivy jumped back at his sudden movement, crashing into Tim. She stumbled, but he caught her, holding her against his front for a moment.

      Ivy cried out in pain.

      The skinny man ran into the yard and folded himself under a picnic table, covering his eyes.

      “It’s okay, Moe,” Ivy said. “I’m sorry we surprised you.”

      Tim still held her gently, her head tucked under his chin, enjoying the soft feel of her hair on his face. “Is that Moe? I’ve heard you talk about him. He has a bit of trouble talking to people?”

      “Yes. His mother said he has something called Savant Syndrome. People that have it have delays in social reaction and communication, but they can be geniuses in other areas.” She rubbed her shoulder. “He’s a genius in his own way, even though his communication skills are poor and he’s afraid of people. One time I was trying to find a number and he recited the whole C section of the phone book. From memory.”

      “Wow. I can’t even remember my own cell number half the time.” Tim peered at the figure curled up under the table. “Are you okay, Moe? Do you need some help?” When he received no answer, Tim straightened. “Should we do something?”

      “I’ll try to talk to him. Moe, this is Tim. He’s a friend of mine.”

      Moe shot them a terrified look and retreated farther under the table. He mumbled something.

      “What did he say?”

      Tim shrugged. “Numbers, I think. What did you say, Moe?”

      The man’s mouth worked for a second until he muttered again in a louder voice. “M4e2d7s9c3i6z5t5r472cla0n7noe6r5y9r9o7w2.”

      Ivy stared. “That’s really, er, interesting, Moe. Do you want to come out from under there? I wanted to ask you something. I thought I saw you at a fire. Was that you, Moe? Were you near a house on Alder Street yesterday?”

      He scuttled out the back end of the table, dropping a soda can in the process. With another look in their direction, he snatched up the can and ran.

      Ivy sighed. “I check on him once in a while to make sure he’s okay and bring him my cans so he can recycle them. He’ll come home later, I’m sure, because he’s completely addicted to The Song and the Sorrow.”

      Tim blinked. “That soap opera?”

      “Yeah. It comes on every weekday at two o’clock. He’ll be in his apartment watching it at that time, come rain or shine. I usually just poke my head in and make sure he’s all right.”

      “What does he do on the weekends when it’s not on?”

      “His mother, Madge, put all the old episodes on tape for him. Fortunately, there are plenty of them. He watches the repeats on Saturdays and Sundays. She checks in pretty frequently. She’ll probably call tonight, as a matter of fact. I’ll talk to her about seeing him at the fire. Maybe I was mistaken.” They stepped into the elevator and pushed the sixth-floor button.

      “Oh, wait a minute.” Tim poked around in his pocket. “When I came to feed your fish last night, I wrote down a message for you from Madge. I forgot all about it until you mentioned her name.” He pulled out СКАЧАТЬ