From the Heart

this small idiosyncrasy,” she told him when they stepped outside. “About having a voice in my own plans.”
    “I’m flexible.” He opened the car door for her, leaned on it and smiled. “If you’d rather go to Acapulco, I can arrange it.”
    It was difficult to feel annoyed when he was smiling at her. She let out a small huff of a sigh. “I might consider rowing,” she said, and gave in to the urge to touch his mouth with hers. “If you man the oars.”

12
    S o much could change in a week. Liv could almost forget what it was like to be alone—truly alone. The nights no longer held absolute silence. She could almost forget what it was like to have no one but herself to depend upon. There was someone in her life again. She no longer attempted to reason out how he had gotten there.
    She was growing to rely on Thorpe’s companionship. She was growing to enjoy the pleasures of intimacy. Simply, she was growing to need Thorpe.
    As the days passed, she found she looked forward not only to their conversations, but even to their arguments. He stimulated her, forced her to think fast if she wanted to hold her own. Intellectually, they complemented each other. There were times, she knew, he sharpened his wit on her, just as she did on him.
    His strength was important to her. There was something rock solid about him. She had once looked for the solidity in someone else and had been disappointed. She wasn’t looking for protection. She had been through too much to doubt her own ability to deal with whatever life tossed at her. When you had gone through the worst and survived, nothing could ever hurt you in quite the same way again. But if she chose a partner, a companion, a lover, he had to have strength.
    She was still cautious. There were still guards over her emotions. But they were growing weaker.
    * * *
    As he had promised, Thorpe took her to a night ball game.
    “I’m telling you, he should look for another profession,” she stated as she stuck the key in the lock of her door. She brooded over the faults of the plate umpire as she shrugged out of her jacket. “Don’t they have to go to school or something before they become umpires?”
    “Or something,” Thorpe agreed, not even trying to hide a grin. Liv had been indignant over the umpire’s calls during the entire drive home.
    “Well,” she concluded, “he must have gotten dreadful marks. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a nasty person who kicks his dog.”
    “A sentiment probably shared by a number of ballplayers.” Thorpe slipped out of his jacket and tossed it to join hers. “Maybe it’s time you took over the sportscast, Liv.”
    She gave him an arch look. “I might do very well,” she returned. “After a few more games, I could probably report a play by play as well as I do a filibuster. Would you like a brandy?”
    “Fine.” He smiled at her back as she fixed the drinks. “Leaving the play by play aside for the moment and concentrating on filibusters, what do you think of Donahue’s chances?”
    “Slim,” Liv responded, and turned back with two snifters.
    “I talked to him today.” Taking the brandy from her, Thorpe drew Liv down on the couch beside him. “Right before he went onto the floor. He’s brown-bagging it. He must have had five ham sandwiches and a half a dozen doughnuts.”
    Liv laughed. “Well, at least he won’t go hungry. That should give him the stamina to keep his filibuster going—if his voice holds out.”
    “He’s determined,” Thorpe commented. “He told me he’s going to outlast and outtalk every one of his opponents. If force of will and ham on rye can do it, Donahue’s got it made.” Liv settled back against his shoulder, and his arm automatically encircled her. “The gallery was packed for most of the day.”
    “We did some man-on-the-streets,” Liv murmured, sleepynow with contentment. “Most people were there from pure curiosity rather than any interest in the issue. But a full gallery and a filibuster make good press. That might keep Donahue going a few days longer.”
    “He made it through day five.”
    “I’d like to see him win.” She sighed. How had she ever been comfortable without his arm around her? “I know it’s unrealistic, and the bill will pass eventually, but still . . .”
    He listened to her slow, quiet voice. There was a parallel between Donahue and himself, he thought. Thorpe had launched his own filibuster with Liv. He was just as determined as the