Dana Stabenow - Fire And Ice

Enough of what Wy had said to him that Monday afternoon was true, but it was not all of the truth. Liam had known Jenny all his life, had gone to grade school and high school in Anchorage with her, and when they had met again after being separated by their college years and her brief sojourn Outside, it was the coming together of old friends. There was a bond of common history, a common language; it had been so easy for them to slip into marriage, especially since it seemed so suitable to his father, her parents, his department, her family having had political connections from statehood on and the money to go with them. Jenny was attractive and amusing and rich, and Liam was deeply envied by his coworkers, which didn't hurt his ego any. Without any false modesty, he knew he had a lot to offer, too, the promise of better to come.

All this, and they were comfortable together and didn't know any better, and so they married. His father had raised him to prize his word, had utterly condemned Liam's mother for breaking hers when she had run off with the nightclub owner from Bonn. Liam couldn't remember her, or Germany, for that matter; he'd been barely a year old and his father had requested an immediate reassignment. But his father had neither forgotten nor forgiven, and any child of his raising would take his marriage vows seriously. Liam had. Something of a rounder before his engagement, in the time between then and meeting Wy he had not strayed, had not even been seriously tempted to. He was pretty sure he never would have. Not positive, but pretty sure.

But he had met Wy, and he had learned better the levels of communication, of empathy, of desire that were possible between two human beings, and his life had forever changed from that moment. For the first time he saw his relationship with Jenny for what it was. There was nothing of either fire or ice in it; only a tepid warmth, like lukewarm water that when you first stepped in felt comfortable to the skin, but if you stayed in too long would slowly sap the life from mind and body, leaving you numb, spent, incapable even of the few strokes necessary to keep your head above water.

He thought of his father's probable reaction to his son's behavior. Liam Drusus Campbell was thirty-six years old and had been laying down the law to the citizens of the state of Alaska for the last ten years, but he was deeply grateful that Colonel Charles Campbell was safely assigned to flight training in Pensacola, as far as you can get from Alaska and still be in the same nation. Wy had been right about that much, at least.

Besides, he was enough of a disgrace to his father as it was, given his fear of flying.

There was absolutely no doubt that Fate was a woman, he thought that night, lying sleepless in the Horners' spare room. Men weren't smart enough to be this mean. No, no, you're walking the straight and narrow, coping, productive, content, maybe even happy, and Fate comes along and says, "My, don't you look smug," and gives you a big shove and the next thing you know you're wandering around in the wilderness with no idea of where you are or where you're going. You can try to figure out where you've been and how you got there but that's pushing it. All you can really do is feel your way through the brambles and pray you see daylight before you get cut to shreds.

It doesn't help your forward progress any that during all this time you can hear Fate laughing at you.

He'd like to meet up with Fate in a dark alley sometime, he thought, rolling over and thumping his pillow. With a club in one hand.

He'd like that a lot.

He returned to Newenham three days later, and drove to the trooper post to find Moses Alakuyak sitting on the steps, waiting for him. "You practice while you were away?"

"As a matter of fact I did," Liam said, shutting the door of the Blazer behind him. "I practiced out on my in-laws' deck. They think I've lost my mind."

Moses grunted. "You call her?"

Liam gave the shaman a sharp look. "Haven't had time."

"Make time."

Liam was annoyed. "Mind your own business, old man."

"You are my business, boy," Moses retorted, "and so is she. Let's stand some post."

They stood some post.

After ten minutes his thighs began a fine trembling sensation. He checked out his feet to make sure he was maintaining his three-point connection with the earth-right ball, left ball, heel. Root from below, suspend from above.

"So, your wife's dead," Moses said.

"Yes," Liam said. His stance was solid, but the tremble was still there.

"It wasn't your fault."

Liam said nothing.

"You can carry around the guilt for the rest of your life, that's what you want," Moses observed. "It'll wreck you for sure if you do."

The trembling increased.

"Or you can honor her memory by living your life the best you can."

His whole body was trembling now.

"You got a shot at a new life. Take it."

According to Bill, half the residents of Newenham were there to start over. "I don't deserve it," Liam said.

"Who says?" Moses demanded. "You God, you know all, you see all? If life hands you a lemon, make lemonade. If it hands you a Rolls-Royce, climb in and break out the champagne. Take your preparatory breath."

It took Liam a moment to realize that Moses was going into the form. "Ward Off Left."

He caught up with his teacher at right Push Upward. They did Pull Back, Press Forward and Push, and then Moses taught him Fist Under Elbow. It took Liam thirty minutes to train his body to finish up facing the right direction, but at least it was the right direction, no matter how he got there.

Finally, Moses said, "Enough for today. Practice, practice, practice."

"How'd you take up tai chi in the first place, sifu?" Liam said, managing not to groan as he came upright.

Moses busied himself changing into street clothes. "I was in the navy, stationed at Subic Bay. Took my first liberty in Hong Kong. I got up early the first morning, started wandering around, found a bunch of people in a park doing it. Looked interesting, so I went up and talked to the leader afterward. Turns out he'd escaped from mainland China with some American missionaries. He told me what he was doing, the Yang style, and he ran me through the form a couple of times. When I got back to base I looked for a teacher, found one in Manila." He shrugged.

"What do you like about it so much?"

Moses buttoned his shirt, considering. "I like the control it gives me, and the connection it makes between me and the elements. And," he added casually, "the voices don't hassle me so much when I'm doing form. Sometimes it's the only thing that gets me through the night. What'd you find out about Gary Gruber?"

"How did you-"

"I know pretty much everything there is worth knowing, boy, how many times do I have to tell you? He didn't kill Bob for Laura, did he?"

"No. Or at least, not entirely."

"Big wad of cash in his account?"

Liam, who had been trained to talk trooper business only with troopers, and sometimes not even with them, said to this strange old man, "Yeah. Paid in the week before herring. Drawn on Cecil Wolfe's business account."

Moses grinned. "Trust Cecil to figure out a way to claim murder as a business expense."

"Yeah. Nice to know I wasn't completely off base when I fingered Wolfe for killing Bob DeCreft."

"Even you have to get something right once in a while," Moses agreed.

"I took too long to get there, though. I was so afraid Wy was guilty I couldn't see my way clear to who was. And I should have known Wolfe would never have done it himself. Didn't fit the pattern. He sent Mulder to wreck Wy's plane, the rest of his crew to sink McCormick's boat and beat him up. The only time he took direct action was when he shorted Wy on her check, and he knew he was safe enough there because she wouldn't be able to complain without explaining why she'd been shorted. If she did that, she'd never get hired by another herring fisherman ever again."