Jo’s Choice
This is Chapter 18 of The Inheritance, a serial fiction novel on FITK
Friday Morning, July 17, 2020, Seattle
… the same dream again… running in the rain in night-time Reykjavík… knowing that when he stopped he would be killed… the idea of dying started to be a viable option… he was so tired of running… always only a step ahead of his pursuers… he made up his mind to stop running and face the inevitable… he turned and saw a car heading toward him at great speed-almost on top of him…
The slam of a car door woke Sean from his uneasy slumber. It was followed by the sound of an engine coming to life and then the crunchy noise of tires on gravel. He rolled over and noted the time: 5 a.m.. Beside him, Mary was still asleep. He got up and went to check on Mareka. She was in her bed, sleeping peacefully. He went into the kitchen and picked up his phone. There was a notification from Jo:
Hi all im gone to spokane to see mom.
I know risky but could never forgive myself if she died alone.
Will call tonite and let u know whats up.
Jo
After Sean made coffee he poured a cup and took it out to the patio. The sky was getting bright with the imminent arrival of dawn and the crows were in their full rush hour mode. Coming from the North Creek Wetlands in Bothell, they weren’t in a focused stream like the evening commute, but the sight was still impressive. Occasionally small groups would peel off the mass and drift down into the neighborhood. One corvid landed on the large boulder in the yard, boldly eyeing Sean.
“Craak, Craak,” said the crow.
“Craak, Craak,” replied Mareka, who had just come out of the kitchen.
The crow on the boulder flew over to the patio railing.
“Craak, Craak,” repeated the crow, “Craw, craak, caw.”
“Craw, Craak, caw, craw,” replied Mareka.
“What are you two talking about?” said Sean.
“Greet dawn, embrace life,” said Mareka, “It’s the crows’ morning greeting.”
"You had a good dream lesson, I see,” said Mary, who joined them on the patio, “and you have found a new friend.”
Their meeting with the crow ended abruptly when the bird took flight.
“He was a scout, ” said Mary, “He’ll spread the word about us, that there are two humans living here who can talk ‘crow.’ That may come in handy someday, for us, and for him.”
Traveling east on I-90, Jo had just passed Issaquah on her way to Spokane. She left early in the hope of avoiding a travel checkpoint. Although she had a legitimate travel excuse one never knew how the travel restrictions would be enforced when going from one part of the state to the other. She set the cruise control for the speed limit +1, timing it so she would arrive at her mother Janet’s house at about 9 a.m..
It had always been hard for Jo to connect with her mother. When everything is grand drama, nothing is. Now, however, Jo had sensed an urgency—something in her mother’s voice—that gave her the impression that this time Janet’s suffering was real. Years of smoking had given her mother a raspy voice—‘the bronchitis’—was what she always said. But when Jo had talked to her the previous day the rasp had become a wheeze. Her mother had also told Jo that with so many older people dead from the Covid-19 for her it was only a matter of ‘when, not if.’
“Where’s Jo today?” asked Mareka as she at the kitchen table with her parents, eating breakfast.
“I got a text from Jo, her mother is very sick so she went to see her,” said Sean, “Toast for you, Kiddo?”
“Mmm, yeah, I’m hungry,” said Mareka, “When will she be back?”
“That’s something we can’t say for sure, ” said Mary, “Probably next week sometime. This isn’t the kind of thing that you can say for sure.”
“Is Jo’s mom going to die?” said Mareka.
“She might. She is very sick,” said Mary, “Jo thinks it’s Covid-19, there are still people dying from it. Not as many as there were last spring, but there are still some.”
Jo drove up to a small frame house situated on the south side of Spokane. Her mother had lived there alone since Jo’s father had died ten years earlier. It seemed so small to Jo now but when she was a young child it was her whole world. When she was living with her abusive ex-boyfriend, it was her refuge. Then came the rainy night eight years ago when her mother, terrified of Jo’s boyfriend, turned Jo out. Jo had walked the couple of blocks to US 195 and put out her thumb and was, by chance, picked up by Mary and Sean. She hadn’t been home since. Jo still had her house key, though, and she let herself in.
“Mother… ?” said Jo, “I’m home.”
Next chapter: Art School
