by Gin Jones
He opened his eyes and called out, "It is a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Binney. I hope you are not here to look for the criminals, though."
"I have it on good authority that there's no real crime in Wharton these days." She limped over to meet him halfway. Well, a third of the way, she conceded. His long legs gave him an unfair advantage. "I'm here because I want to hit something."
"I often get that urge myself." Kolya spoke with only the slightest of Russian accents, despite having immigrated to the United States only a few years earlier. Helen had met him at the Wharton Nursing Home where he'd occasionally volunteered, leading the residents there in some light exercise classes. At the time, his primary employment had been as a nurse for private patients, although he'd only been doing that work in order to finance his dream of operating a martial arts studio. "If you wish to be good at hitting things, I will suggest you start with Tai Chi."
"Isn't that the slow-motion, arm-waving exercise?" Helen wrinkled her nose. "It doesn't look like much fun. And I doubt that's how you got your muscles."
"It is part of my training," he said, as imperturbable as ever. "You must learn to breathe first before you can hit things without hurting yourself."
"I'm perfectly good at breathing. I've been doing it for forty-some years, and while it's come in handy for keeping me alive, it hasn't been particularly beneficial for either my mood or my physical fitness."
"I see." He nodded solemnly. "You wish to hit something for health benefits."
"Exactly." Finally, someone understood. She hadn't told anyone about her plan before she'd asked Jack to drive her here because she'd known they'd all try to talk her out of enrolling in something as strenuous as a martial arts class, and she'd had her fill of being thwarted lately.
"Still," Kolya said, "learning to breathe through an experience will do more for you than the hitting. Master basics of the Tai Chi first, and then we can talk about the hitting."
An impressive thud came from nearby. Helen looked in that direction to see that two people had emerged from the locker rooms to claim one of the brightly colored mats. They were engaged in what looked like a hybrid of wrestling and kickboxing, and the woman had pinned the much bigger man to the mat where they'd been circling each other. For a brief moment, Helen thought the pinned man might have been the driver of the pickup, since they had similarly overly-muscular arms, chests and necks, but this one had a sturdier-looking bone structure. He was also blond and had a crew cut instead of a thick tangle of long, dark hair.
After a few seconds, the woman let him go, and they both got to their feet, him more slowly than her. Helen recognized the woman as the perky redhead who'd jumped out of her car so nimbly shortly before the pickup truck had rammed her car.
Helen might never attain that level of fitness, but it was something to aspire to. She nodded in the direction of the redhead. "I want to be as tough as that."
Kolya studied the woman, who had pinned her partner again and then released him. She was laughing, apparently amused by how much more slowly the man was getting to his feet this time and how tentatively he was rolling his shoulders to make sure they still worked. He seemed to be most concerned about the right one.
"You didn't have to do that last move," the man said in a nasal tone. "You had me pinned, and I wasn't going anywhere. I think you tore something. Or maybe dislocated it. You never know when to stop."
"Oh, get over it, Ronny." The woman used the hem of her tank top to wipe away a trickle of blood from beneath her nose. "You can't win in this life if you let every little thing slow you down. It's all about believing you can do it, and then you can."
The man's muscles tensed, and Helen thought he was going to explode and tackle the woman like a football player, using his size to overpower her.
Before he could move, though, Kolya shouted over to the pair. "That's enough for now. Go hit the weight machines, and when I am done with my friend here, I will spar with you. You are both letting your form slip. It may not matter here, but it will matter in the competitions next week."
After making sure they'd heard him and were following his instructions, Kolya turned back to Helen. "Danica Darling is…special. Not everyone can do what she does, and even she should not do some of the things she does."
"But you let her anyway. So why do you insist on keeping me from doing what I want?"
"Perhaps you are not so different from Danica." His smile did little to soften the sharp lines of his face. "You are both stubborn, and you do not accept your limits."
"I'm not entirely unreasonable." Helen tapped her cane on the rubber flooring, drawing his attention to the mobility aid. "I carry this, don't I?"
"I do not believe you accepted that necessity easily," he said with a chuckle before turning serious. "Please understand, I cannot promise you will ever be free of the cane. I can help you make the most of your strength, though, so you can walk more comfortably. If you wish, I can also teach you basics of the self-defense."
Helen looked down at her short, frail-looking body and then back up at the tall, solid Kolya. "I can't run, and I'm too small to inflict any real damage on a real, live attacker. My best plan is to stay away from trouble."
"That is a good plan." His smile returned. "But I am realist. I have seen for myself how you attract attention of the violent villains without meaning to do it."
"That was all in the past." Helen waved her hand dismissively, although that little part of her that wanted to hit a person instead of a punching bag was coming out of the shadows at the thought of confronting someone who deserved to be hit. In self-defense, of course, her inner warrior insisted. Never without justification. Except she knew that justification, like beauty, was too often in the eye of the beholder. She had to quash the temptation to hit anything other than a punching bag. "I've got other things to do now that don't involve criminals. I've been gardening a bit, and of course, I've got my friends at the nursing home, and I've got a cat to care for now."
Kolya shook his head. "I do not believe you will be satisfied with such tame activities, any more than I believe Danica will ever control her temper. You will both get into the trouble again."
He had a point, Helen conceded. She had never meant to get into dangerous situations, and yet it had happened several times already in the short time since she'd moved to the usually idyllic Wharton, a two-hour drive from the high stress and higher crime rates of her previous home in Boston. Perhaps she'd have gotten into more trouble before now if her role as the wife—now ex-wife—of the state's governor hadn't kept her too busy to get involved in a criminal investigation. Besides, back then, she'd never been alone, which would have made it difficult for anyone to try to silence her. Now she lived all by herself in an isolated cottage, which was exactly what she wanted, but it did leave her somewhat vulnerable to anyone who wanted to quietly make her disappear.
When she'd told Jack to take her to the martial arts studio, she'd only been thinking about blowing off some steam by hitting things, but perhaps learning some basic self-defense moves wasn't a bad idea.
"If you're right about my encountering more villains in the future," she told Kolya, "then I definitely need you to teach me to be as tough as Danica."
* * *
Kolya told Helen where she could find the Tai Chi instructor, who also served as the office manager, before he headed off to make good on his promise to spar with Danica and her partner.
Helen followed Kolya's directions, turning into the corridor that ran from the workout area to an emergency exit on the far side of the building. At the beginning of the corridor there were two doors directly across from each other. A sign on the wall next to the one on the left held Cyrillic letters that she assumed spelled out Kolya's name.
To her right, there was a frame on the wall where there should have been a sign, but it was empty. Still, that office had to be her destination. The door was ajar, so Helen peered through the six-inch opening to see a woman facing the entrance, but tota
lly engrossed in her work at a tiny plastic folding table that was barely wider than the balance ball that served as her chair. Nothing larger would have fit in the space, since all four walls of the tiny room were lined with deep, built-in shelves filled with oversized books on health, diet, and exercise, with the occasional open spot sporting a framed motivational print.
One of them was Helen's least favorite adage: "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." She refused to be grateful for her lupus. It wasn't exactly killing her—although some days it felt like it was—but it was definitely not making her stronger. Her bones, especially, were being weakened by the corticosteroids she had to take to control other serious symptoms. Her physical challenges weren't making her stronger, but engaging in martial arts might. That was why she was here, after all.
Helen knocked on the door and pushed it open.
The woman started before looking up from her screen and pulling out her earbuds. Her salt-and-pepper, chin-length hair suggested she was a bit older than Helen, somewhere in her late forties or early fifties. Her softly oval face had porcelain skin that was remarkably free of wrinkles, as if she'd lived a life completely free of stress. Perhaps there was some benefit to be gained from putting one's faith in simplistic motivational sayings after all.
"I'm Mia Randall." As she spoke, she closed the laptop, blushing slightly, obviously feeling guilty about whatever she'd been doing and anxious to keep anyone from seeing the screen. "How can I help you?"
"I'm Helen Binney." She took a single step inside the office, bringing her all the way to the front of the desk. "Kolya said you could get me registered as a new member and then sign me up to learn the basics of Tai Chi."
"I can do that. Tai Chi is a great choice." Mia bounced up from her chair, her fluid movements proving that while she was rounder and less obviously muscular than everyone else in the building, she was every bit as strong and fit. "When would you like to start?"
"The sooner, the better," Helen said. "I really want to learn how to hit things, but Kolya said I had to start with breathing lessons."
Some of the enthusiasm drained out of Mia's face, and she turned away to grab some papers from a pile stacked on a shelf among the reference books. "Of course. Everyone wants to learn Sambo, and I can teach you the basics when you're ready. But a lot of people find that Tai Chi can be rewarding in its own right, not just as a means to an end. I hope you'll keep an open mind about it."
"I will, but, considering how foolish some people can be"—and, Helen thought, considering how frustrated she was with her inability to get any concrete answers about treating her lupus—"I don't think I'll ever completely lose the occasional urge to hit something."
CHAPTER THREE
Helen changed into the new sports bra, tank top, and yoga capris she'd picked up when she'd been in Boston, feeling determinedly optimistic about improving her health. Before closing her locker, she debated whether to leave her cane behind. She'd been able to get around without it earlier in the year when she'd been in remission, but after too few weeks, her symptoms had come back with a vengeance, leading to her recent battery of tests and consultations. Even with the adjustments in her treatment, though, she was feeling more unstable than ever these days.
Ultimately, she decided it would be foolish to care more about her image than her stability, so she took the cane out into the workout area.
Mia was waiting for her on a mat at the far end of the room, close to the now-deserted exercise equipment. Marty and his exercise partner must have finished their workout and left while Helen was changing. The newly constructed facilities were apparently more solid and sound-proofed than the rest of the metal building, since she hadn't heard any voices or footsteps in the corridor outside the women's locker room.
Mia stood next to a small wooden chair in the center of a grass-green mat that seemed to get more sunlight from the transom windows than any of the others did. To get there, Helen would have to make her way past where Danica was sparring with Kolya, while her original partner sat nearby holding an ice pack to his shoulder.
Helen stepped onto the first of the mats carefully, aware that the edges might not be positioned perfectly flat and could therefore be potential tripping hazards. While the cushioned mats were undoubtedly softer than a wood or cement floor for landing on, a tumble was still capable of bruising both her skin and her ego.
Kolya disengaged and stepped out of the marked circle in the center of his mat. "Drink now," he told Danica, pointing at where her partner was holding out a reusable blue water bottle for her.
She shook her head and squatted as if to start another round of sparring. Kolya stayed upright in the outer section of the mat, which was apparently a safe zone. After a moment, Danica gave an irritated huff and stomped over to her original sparring partner. He held out the water bottle again, and she grabbed it out of his hand, downing half of it before taking a breath.
"What are you staring at?" Danica asked Helen.
"I was admiring your strength and skill," Helen said honestly, while withholding her opinion of the woman's abusive attitude. It was hot enough in the workout area to make anyone irritable, but it was no excuse for the way Danica treated her partner.
"Whatever." Danica emptied the water bottle and tossed it in the direction of her sparring partner, not seeming to notice his wince when the hard plastic hit him on the shoulder that he'd been icing.
"I'm ready to go again," she called out to Kolya.
"Not until Ms. Binney is safely out of range," he said calmly.
Helen took that as her cue to resume her trip across the mats to the far end of the room.
"You're too soft-hearted, Kolya," Danica said. "She shouldn't even be here if she can't take care of herself. Why do people with disabilities always have to ruin everything for the rest of us?"
"I believe Ms. Binney would prefer not to inconvenience anyone."
Danica shrugged. "She should try harder then. If she just set her mind to it and put in the necessary work, she wouldn't need that cane, and she wouldn't be getting in my way."
Perhaps, Helen thought, coming here to get over her urge to hit something had been as bad an idea as she'd anticipated her nieces and friends would claim. Not for the reasons they would have offered out of concern for her safety, but because the studio wasn't the right venue for her. Between the car accident, Kolya's insistence that she had to learn to breathe first, and now this arrogant woman's attitude, Helen's original desire to hit something like a punching bag had escalated to the point that her previously fleeting and quickly quashed urges to hit a human being had grown stronger, dominating her thoughts. On the plus side, her vague sense of irritation with the whole world had coalesced into outrage against just one specific person, which might make her less likely to take out her frustrations on her friends and family.
Unfortunately—although Tate would say it was fortunate, since he was always dreading the prospect of having to bail her out of jail—Helen knew she didn't have a chance of landing so much as a light slap on Danica before the other woman knocked her flat on the floor. Helen also knew that if the impossible happened and she gave Danica a black eye, it wouldn't change anything. Danica would still be a jerk, and Helen would still be frustrated with her physical condition. The only way Danica would change her behavior was if she developed her own chronic illness, but Helen couldn't wish that on anyone. No one deserved that kind of punishment.
The only real option for dealing with someone like Danica was to ignore her. The best course of action was to concentrate on her own issues rather than someone else's. As she turned away from the other woman, Helen noticed her breathing had become labored from her anger, so perhaps Kolya had been right to recommend learning to control that before she engaged in a form of physical exercise that would leave her even more breathless.
Helen resumed her trek across the mats toward Mia, noticing as she did that Kolya was advancing on Danica. "You will not disrespect the other members of this house. I
t is time for you to leave now."
Danica glared at Helen before jogging in the direction of the showers.
Kolya went over to the injured sparring partner and gave him a hand up. "You should go too. You need to rest your shoulder."
"If I can't compete next week—"
Kolya interrupted him. "Do not borrow trouble. Rest today and I will look at the shoulder tomorrow."
Mia met Helen halfway to the sunny green mat. "I'm sorry. Danica is such a jerk. I wish Kolya would kick her out permanently, but she always apologizes when she's not all hyper from the workout, and he keeps forgiving her." She gave a disgusted snort. "Men are so stupid sometimes."
Helen glanced back at where Kolya was escorting the injured sparring partner in the direction of the locker room. "Do you think he forgives Danica so easily because he's attracted to her?"
"Most men are. At least when she's not damaging their shoulders or their egos." Mia shrugged. "What's not to like? She's tall and beautiful and sexy."
"Kolya doesn't seem that shallow."
Mia turned to look at him too. She cocked her head to one side, considering the possibility. "It's hard to tell with the strong, silent types."
Helen caught the wistfulness on Mia's face and wondered if Kolya knew she had a huge crush on him.
As if he felt their attention on him, Kolya turned around at the entrance to the locker room area and waved in their direction. "If you need anything," he called out across the empty space, "I will be in my office until the lunch crowd arrives."
"And that's our cue to get to work." Mia walked back toward the sunlit, green mat. Once they were both there, she held out her hand. "I'll just put your cane over on the next mat, out of our way. I brought you a chair in case you need to lean on something to steady yourself."