From the Heart

shower.
    Picking up his lighter, Thorpe flicked it and got spark but no flame. Mildly annoyed, he glanced around for matches, then opened the narrow drawer in the table, thinking he might find some there.
    The photograph caught his eye immediately. It drew his attention first because Liv’s apartment was so conspicuously bare of photos or personal mementos, and second because the child smiling back at him was strikingly beautiful. Lifting it out, he studied it.
    It was a small snapshot framed in silver. The boy was hardly more than a year old, full in the cheeks and grinning broadly. His thatch of black hair was thick and left to fall around his face in a style that suited the freewheeling smile. The eyes were dark, dark blue, nearly cobalt, and filled with a mixture of mischief and delight. Here was a child a stranger on the street would stop to smile at—a child aunts and uncles would have to spoil. You could almost hear the laughter that was ready to burst through the grin.
    With the photo still in his hand, Thorpe sat on the bed.
    “I hope I used all the hot water,” Liv said from behind the door. “It would serve you right for dragging me out of bed at the crack of dawn on a Saturday.” She opened the door and stood for a minute looking down as she belted her robe. “I don’t smell any coffee. The least you can do when . . .”
    Her voice trailed off as she looked up and saw what Thorpe held in his hand. He watched the laughter and color flow from her face.
    “Liv.” He started to explain the hunt for the matches, then stopped. The words would hardly matter, even if they penetrated. “Who is he?”
    Thorpe could count a full ten seconds before her eyes lifted to his. He watched her swallow, saw her bottom lip tremble; but when she spoke, her voice was clear and strong. “My son.”
    He had known it the moment he had seen the photo. The resemblance was unmistakable. Yet he felt a thud of shock at her answer. Keeping his eyes level, he too spoke calmly. “Where is he?”
    Her face was dead white now. He had never seen eyes so dark, so full of thoughts and secrets and pain. A ripple of emotion shook her. “He’s dead.”
    Quickly, Liv turned to the closet and began pulling out clothes. She saw nothing more than a blur of colors. She chose at random with hands that were too numb to shake. Even when she felt him take her shoulders, she continued, pushing at hangers and pulling out a blouse.
    “Liv.” It took a firm hand to turn her.
    “I have to get dressed if we’re going.” She shook her head, already warding off questions as she tried to break his grip.
    “Stop it.” The command was curt, and the shake he gave her was strong enough to draw a quick breath from her. “No, don’t do that. Not now, not ever again. Not with me.” Then, before she could speak, he pulled her against him and held her.
    She might have withstood the command. But he was offering comfort, strength. She leaned into him, and her defenses crumbled.
    “Come, sit down,” he said, “and tell me about it.”
    With his arm still around her, Liv sat on the bed. The snapshot lay beside her. She picked it up and set it in her lap. He didn’t press her further, sensing she needed a moment before she could begin.
    “I was nineteen when I met Doug.” Her viewers wouldn’t have recognized her voice now. It was small and hesitant and threaded with emotion. “He was studying law. He had a scholarship. He was a brilliant man, very free spirited, yet intense about what he was going to do. He was going to be the best defense attorney in the country. Change the system from within the system, challenge windmills, fight dragons. That was Doug.”
    When he said nothing, Liv drew a deep breath and continued. Her voice grew stronger. “We were attracted to each other right away. Maybe partly because our backgrounds were so totally different and our ideals were so shiny. We sparkedsomething in each other. And we were so young.” She sighed, gathered strength and went on. “We married quickly, less than three months after we’d met. My family . . .” With a little laugh, she shook her head. “Well, leave it that they were surprised. Sometimes I’m afraid that might have been one of the reasons I married him. I don’t like to think it was.”
    She stared off into middle distance, into her own memories. For a moment, Thorpe felt cut off from her. He shook the feeling off and continued to listen.
    “It wasn’t the sturdiest