Mareka’s Lesson
This is Chapter 17 of The Inheritance, a serial fiction novel on FITK
Thursday Evening, July 16, 2020, Seattle
Mareka and Mary were talking in the kitchen.
“What did you learn tonight?” asked Mary, as she washed the plate that Mareka had used to feed ‘Mr. Bright Eyes’, the raccoon who lived in the creek beyond the back yard.
“I could hear him, in my thoughts, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.”
“I could too, it wasn’t language like we use, but it can be understood if you have the proper training.”
“How can I learn it?” said Mareka, “It just sounded like a bunch of jibber-jabber. What did he say?”
“Animals minds work quickly, faster than humans can understand. With your powers and some practice, you’ll be able to understand,” said Mary, “They have lives of their own, far removed from humans. And, by the way, Mr. Bright Eyes is actually a she. She thanked us for the food. I told her, through my thoughts, that we will not harm her, that the food is an offering to show that we respect her and her territory. We will leave her and her children alone. She will respect us and leave us alone as well. I also told her not to expect any more food.”
“Mr. Bright eyes is a she?” said Mareka, “She has a family?”
“Oh yes, and there are other raccoons in the neighborhood as well. I get a sense of them being all around us.”
“Will they hurt us?”
“No, not as long as we leave them be. They like to stay hidden, but they will defend themselves if they feel threatened,” Mary said, putting the plate away, “Okay, it’s time to get ready for bed.”
“I want to know more,” said Mareka, “I want to talk with the animals.”
“When you sleep tonight, dream about what you experienced tonight. The secret language of the animals will come to you, slowly at first, but then very fast. You better get started and and go to bed and get to sleep.”
The chime of a notification from her email inbox interrupted Barbara Merrit from her work on her exposé of Mary Robinson and Sean Carroll. She had been anticipating a reply from the preacher Andrew Stevenson from a previous email but the header in the inbox was from someone she didn’t know:
Marcel DuPage Re: Sean CarrollThe mention of Sean’s grandmother piqued Merrit’s interest. She was well aware of Emily Carroll, the buzz that had been made over her ‘rediscovery’ was one of the things that Merrit had thought ‘fishy’ about Sean and Mary in the first place. She had assumed that Emily Carroll was ancient history. Barbara was intrigued. She hit ‘reply’ and began to type.
Hello! I recently learned of your research on Sean Carroll and Mary Robinson from an associate. Seven years ago they attended one of my ballroom dance events. At the time I didn’t know who they were but I remembered them well when I saw Sean on television in regards to the artwork of Emily Carroll, his ‘grandmother.’ I have some information about them that I think you might find interesting. Let me know if you are interested. You can come to my office or we can meet in a neutral location of your choice.
Sincerely,
Marcel
“What were you and Mareka talking about?” said Sean, slipping under the sheets beside Mary, “I’ve never seen her so eager to go to bed.”
“She was excited about our encounter with the raccoon,” said Mary, “She definitely picked up on what ‘Ms Bright-Eyes’ was thinking, although it didn’t make any sense to her—she thought it was ‘jibber-jabber’—where does she pick up such arcane words?”
“She has also started calling me ‘Pops’! Jo thinks she gets it from all the old movies they watched during the confinement last spring,” said Sean, “Ms Bright-Eyes?”
“He is definitely a she. I told Mareka that she could learn how to understand the language of the animals as she dreamt of them. It worked for me; remember how much I would sleep when I first became aware of my powers?”
Sean smiled. Some of his most cherished memories were of watching Mary sleep in those early days of their relationship, how she would crave his body as she slept, moving closer and closer until she almost pushed him off the bed. And then, as her belly grew along with her powers, she blossomed into a virtual archetype of the mother-goddess.
“I remember it well,” he said, “Outside of being stabbed… and the FBI strong-arm tactics with Molly… and the Brotherhood… Russian assassins… it was a good time.”
“I miss Emily,” said Mary, “Her only wish was to live to see her granddaughter.”
“I think there is a lot of her in Mareka,” said Sean.
“What are we going to do with her? She’s growing up so fast.”
"Well, tomorrow she’s going to help me sort through Emily’s paintings,” said Sean, “I’ll show her what we’ve got—I’m really interested in seeing what she likes.”
“Show me what you’ve got, lover,” purred Mary, “And I’ll show you what I like.”
Next chapter: Jo’s Choice
