Your Heart Belongs to Me

would give him.
    He studied her forthrightly: her lustrous dark hair, her high brow, wide-set and deep eye sockets, nose with a slight endearing crook, that sensuous mouth, proud chin, strong but feminine jaw, and back to her granite-gray eyes that made you feel as if she had rolled you out as thin as phyllo on a cold slab of baker’s granite. Although attractive, she lacked the physical perfection of Samantha, yet something about her convinced him that, in profound ways, she was enough like Sam to be her twin, which made him feel comfortable with her.
    “A year ago, I had a heart transplant,” he said.
    She waited.
    “I’m glad to be alive. I’m grateful. But…”
    He hesitated to continue for so long that before he spoke, the flight attendant returned with the Bloody Mary and the coffee.
    Once he had the cocktail in hand, he didn’t want it. He nestled the glass in a drink holder in the arm of his chair.
    As Cathy sipped her coffee, Ryan said, “The heart I received was from a young woman who sustained major head trauma in a car crash.”
    Cathy knew dead Ismay—or someone pretending to be her—appeared to him prior to the transplant, and she knew that he had experienced one dream, maybe others, related to the nurse. Now Ryan could see her fitting those pieces of knowledge together with smaller bits she knew and others that she might infer, but still she asked no questions.
    “Her name was Lily,” he continued. “Turns out, she has a sister, an identical twin.”
    “You were sure Ismay must be a twin.”
    “I thought identical twins were a theme, I needed to figure out the meaning of the theme. But maybe twins are just a motif.”
    His terminology clearly puzzled her, but she said nothing.
    “Anyway,” he said, “Lily’s sister—I think she was driving the car when the accident happened.”
    “We could find out easily enough. But why does it matter?”
    “I think she’s eaten with guilt. Guilt that she can’t endure. So she’s resorting to what psychiatrists call transference.”
    “Shifting her guilt to you.”
    “Yes. Because I received Lily’s heart, the sister blames me for Lily being dead.”
    “Is she dangerous?”
    “Yes.”
    “This isn’t an issue for private security alone. Call the authorities.”
    “I’m reluctant to do that.”
    Her gray eyes now seemed to be the shade of the snow-cloud layer above which they flew, and he could no more see below the surface of her gaze than he could see the land below the storm.
    Into her silence, he said, “You’re wondering why I’m reluctant. I’m wondering, too.”
    He looked out the porthole beside him.
    Eventually, he said, “I think it’s because I’m at least a little bit sympathetic to her, to the way she feels.”
    And after a further passage between the winter clouds and the fierce blind sun, he said, “Going into this, I didn’t realize the emotional weight that accompanies…living with someone else’s heart. It’s this great gift but…it’s a terrible burden, too.”
    All the time he had been looking out the porthole, she continued to watch him. Now as he turned to her again, she said, “Why should it be a burden?”
    “It just is. It’s like…you have an obligation to live not just for yourself but also for the one who gave you her heart.”
    Cathy was silent for so long, her gaze fixed on her mug, that Ryan thought she would pick up the magazine again when she had drunk the last of the coffee.
    He said, “The first time we met in Vegas, sixteen months ago, do you remember telling me that I was haunted by my own death, that I felt an ax falling but couldn’t figure out who was swinging it?”
    “I remember.”
    “Do you remember helping me to consider my possible enemies by listing the roots of violence?”
    “Of course.”
    “Lust, envy, anger, avarice, and vengeance. The dictionary says avarice is an insatiable greed for riches.”
    She finished her coffee, put the cup aside, but did not return to the magazine. Instead she met his stare.
    Ryan said, “Do you think avarice can be a greed for something other than money?”
    “A synonym for avaricious is covetous . A man can covet anything belonging to another, not just money.”
    The flight attendant arrived to ask if Cathy wanted more coffee and whether something was wrong with Ryan’s Bloody Mary. She took the mug and the glass away.
    Following the attendant’s departure, Cathy Sienna broke a mutual silence. “Mr. Perry, I need to ask a