Fire And Ice

His tone was enough to tell Liam what was coming.

"Je

SEVENTEEN

They buried her next to Charlie, a tiny plot of land and an etched marble stone all that was left on earth of their son. The funeral was small and quiet, with Je

"Don't blame yourself, Liam," John said afterward. "You didn't put her here. Rick Dyson did."

"I can't help it," Rose, his mother-in-law, whispered, her head hanging. "I'm relieved."

He hugged her. "So am I, Rose. So am I."

Alfred, not a hugger, stuck out a hand and said in his bluff way, "I'm glad you could make it, Liam."

"I wish I'd been here, Alfred. I'm sorry as hell."

Alfred Horner shook his head. "Wasn't nothing you could have done. We weren't here, either-we'd gone out to di

"I know. I still wish I'd been here."

"You were here," Alfred said firmly. "You were wherever Je

Liam couldn't speak, could only nod, but it wasn't for the reasons that Alfred might have expected.

When you betrayed someone, you didn't just betray them, you betrayed your families, your community, an entire way of life. He thought of Becky Gilbert, of how her relationship with Bob DeCreft had begun a chain of events that ended twenty-two years later with three deaths. Begun in fire, ending in ice. The poet was wrong; ice was a better destroyer than fire, particularly if you were in the mood for vengeance. Fire was quick and clean, a leap of flame, a wave of heat and then nothing but a pile of soft and formless ash, dispersed with the first breeze. Ice was slow, heavy, corrosive, relentless, grating. It took a long time to get where it was going, and when it got there, it left behind a towering confusion of rubble to be sorted and identified and disposed of. Ice left baggage.

Liam knew he would never be able to look at Alfred and Rose Horner again without remembering that during the last year their daughter had lived whole and conscious and happy upon the earth, her husband had been in love with another woman.

Enough of what Wy had said to him that Monday afternoon was true, but it was not all of the truth. Liam had known Je

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 Bo

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 Je

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 a

"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 co

"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."