From the Heart

“Nothing I could say can erase what happened or make it easier. But I’m here now.”
    “I know.” Liv sighed and leaned back. “I know.”
    They rowed for a time in silence. There were other boats here and there, dotting the river, but they didn’t come close enough to exchange waves or greetings. It might have been their own private stream in their own private world.
    “It’s still early enough in the spring,” Thorpe said, “that the river isn’t crowded. I like to come at dawn in the summer, when the light’s just breaking. It’s amazing how quiet all those buildings look at sunrise. You can forget there’ll be throngs of tourists tramping up the monument or packing into the Smithsonian. At dawn, it’s hard to think aboutwhat’s going on in the Pentagon or the Capitol. They’re just buildings, rather unique, sometimes beautiful. On a Saturday or Sunday, when I haven’t got a story weighing me down, I can just row, and forget all the times I’ve climbed the stairs, ridden the elevators and opened the doors in all those buildings.”
    “Funny,” Liv mused. “A month or two ago, I would have been surprised to hear you say that. I pictured you as a man with one driving ambition, totally focused on his job, and his job alone. I never would have imagined you needing to get away from it, to separate yourself from the pace.”
    He smiled and continued to stroke steadily through the water. “And now?”
    “And now I know you.” She sat up and let the wind catch her hair. “When did you discover that rowing was your alternative to ulcer pills?”
    He laughed, both amused and pleased. “You do know me. When I got back from the Middle East. It was hard over there. It was hard coming back. I imagine most soldiers feel the same way. Adjusting to normality isn’t always easy. I started working out my frustrations this way, and found it became a habit.”
    “It suits you,” Liv decided. “The understated physicality.” She grinned as he arched a brow. “I don’t imagine it’s as simple as you make it look.”
    “Want to give it a try?”
    She smiled and settled back. “Oh, that’s all right. I’m better at spectator sports.”
    “It doesn’t take much coordination,” he added. Her eyes, which had begun to close, opened again. “Any kid with a week at summer camp can manage it.” He was baiting her purposefully. He wanted to see that gleam of competition back in her eyes.
    “I’m sure I could manage it just fine.”
    “Come on then,” he invited, and locked the oars. “Give it a try.”
    She wasn’t at all certain she wanted to, but the challenge was difficult to avoid. “Do you really think we should switch around? I wouldn’t like to capsize in the middle of the Potomac.”
    “The boat’s well balanced,” he said easily. “If you are.”
    She stood up at that, though warily. “All right, Thorpe, move aside.”
    They changed positions with a minimum of fuss. Thorpe settled down on the small cushioned seat and watched Liv grip the oars. “Don’t put a lot of power into it,” he advised as she struggled for a moment to unlock them. “Just keep it as smooth as you can.”
    “I went to summer camp,” she said sweetly, then scowled as her arms refused to coordinate with each other. “But then, usually we used canoes. I’m great with a paddle. There.” She managed one shaky but reasonable stroke. “Now I’ll get my rhythm. Take that smirk off your face, Thorpe,” she added, and put all her concentration into her task.
    Liv could feel twinges from muscles she hadn’t put to use in years. It was a good, cleansing feeling. She could count to eight with each stroke and feel her shoulders strain then give with the movement. The oars scraped against her palms.
    Oh yes, she thought, I can see why he does it. They were moving—not as cleanly as before, but moving nonetheless through the water under her power. There was no engine, no sail, no dependence on anything but her own effort. Her body, her will and the oars. Yes she understood exactly what he meant. She believed she could have rowed for miles.
    “Okay, Carmichael, time’s up.”
    “Are you kidding? I just got started.” She sent him a grim look and kept rowing.
    “Ten minutes is enough the first time out. Besides”—he scooted across to her when she paused—“I don’t want you to ruin your hands. I like them the way they are.”
    “I like yours.” Taking his palm, she pressed it to her