I pulled Thoreau a little closer to me. “Heart attack?”“That’s what I was told.”“But not what you believe.”He shrugged. “My condition is genetic.”“Did she know she had a heart problem?” Sean hadn’t known about his until he’d almost died.“I don’t know.”He sat stock-still, and tension emanated from him in waves. I pressed on. We had to get through this. “What was she like?”“Lucy.”Thoreau glanced up at Sean’s sharp tone. I pet his head, soothing him, and met Sean’s gaze straight on. “Sean.”We stared at each other for a bit, neither blinking, neither giving in. Finally, I repeated, “What was she like?”His Adam’s apple bobbed.“Was she blond-haired? Dark? A redhead? Did she have gray eyes like you? Was she sweet? Tough as nails? Or crazy like my mom?”“A blonde, but not naturally. I remember the smell when she used to use those at-home kits.”“Horrible smell,” I agreed. “Especially back in those days. Once, Marisol and I tried to dye Em’s red hair black.
