From the Heart

be anything but what he was.
    “Wasn’t so good with a bat,” Boss reminisced. “But he had a great pair of hands.”
    “I still do,” Thorpe said dryly, and gave Liv a broad smile which she ignored. “How are things going at the store, Boss?”
    “Just fine. My wife’s running it today. She didn’t want me to miss opening game.” He ran a hand along his squared chin. “Can’t say I argued with her much. She’ll be sorry she missed you. Alice still lights a candle for you every Sunday.”
    “Give her my best.” Thorpe crushed the cigarette under his heel. “This is Liv’s first game.”
    “Well, no fooling.” Boss’s attention was switched asThorpe had intended. Liv noted the move and filed it. Boss glanced at the baseball still clutched in her hand. “Caught yourself a foul too, first time out.”
    “Beginner’s luck,” she admitted, and held it out to him. “Would you sign it for me? I’ve never met a real ballplayer before.”
    Slowly, Boss turned the ball over in his hand. “Been a long time since I put my name on one of these.” He took the pen Liv offered. “A long time,” he repeated softly. He signed his name carefully around the curve of the ball.
    “Thank you, Boss.” Liv took the ball back from him.
    “Thank you. Almost makes me feel like I could still pick a man off of second. I’ll tell Alice I saw you.” He gave Thorpe a final thump on the shoulder. “And the pretty news lady,” he added. “Come by the store.”
    “First chance I get, Boss.” Thorpe watched him move through the thinning crowd and up the steps. “That was a very nice thing you did,” he murmured to Liv. “You’re a perceptive woman.”
    Liv glanced down at the signature on the ball. “It must be hard to give up a career, a way of life, thirty years before most people have to. Was he very good?”
    “Better than some.” Thorpe shrugged. “That hardly matters. He loved the game, and the playing of it.” Sweepers were already pushing their brooms through the narrow aisles, and Thorpe took her arm to lead her up the steps. “All the kids loved him. He never minded being hounded or catching a few pitches after a game.”
    “Why does his wife light a candle for you on Sundays?” She had told herself she wouldn’t ask, that it was none of her business. The words were out before she could prevent them.
    “She’s Catholic.”
    Liv let that pass a moment as they walked toward the parking lot. “Don’t you want to tell me?” she asked at length.
    He jingled the keys impatiently in his pocket, then drew them out. “They run a small, independent sporting goods store in Northeast. A few years ago, they were having some trouble. Inflation, taxes, the building needed some repairs.” He unlocked Liv’s side of the door, but she didn’t get in, only stood and watched him.
    “And?”
    “Twenty years ago ballplayers, average ballplayers like Boss, didn’t make a lot of money. He didn’t have much saved.”
    “I see.” Liv slipped into the car as Thorpe rounded the hood. Leaning over, she unlocked the handle for him. “So, you lent him money.”
    “I made an investment,” Thorpe corrected as he shut the door. “I didn’t offer a loan.”
    Liv watched him as he started the ignition. She could see he didn’t like her touching on this aspect of his life. She persisted. It was simply a reporter’s habit, she told herself, to press for details. “Because you knew he wouldn’t accept a loan. Or that if he did, it would put a dent in his pride.”
    Thorpe let the car idle and turned to her. “That’s a lot of supposition on a very brief encounter.”
    “You just told me I was perceptive,” she pointed out. “What’s the matter, Thorpe?” A smile tugged at her mouth. “Don’t you like people finding out you can be a nice guy?”
    “Then you’re expected to be nice,” he told her. “I don’t make a habit of it.”
    “Oh, yes.” She was still amused, and the smile grew. “Your image. Tough, unsentimental, pragmatic.”
    He kissed her firmly, impatiently. Her surprise spun into longing. She felt his fingers tighten on her skin, and she opened for him. If it was a mistake, she had to make it. If it was madness, she’d find sanity later. In that moment, she only wanted to renew the pleasure he could give her.
    His mouth was enough—enough to satisfy the slowly growing hunger. It wasn’t the time to question why he was the one, the only one, who was able to crack the shield