Inside Voices

by Sarah Davis

  “That rubber band motor has developed into a chainsaw,” Noah says as he approaches.

  Fjord reaches a front paw up to bat at Noah. Noah catches his paw and holds it to his chest.

  “Steady, big guy.”

  Fjord noses my cheek, licks my nose.

  “Ahh, you smell like fish, Fjord!” I laugh and rub his ears, his left scarred ear rough beneath my fingertips. “I missed my stinky bear.”

  Meanwhile, two smaller beasts assault my legs with their noses. Blue and Winter. Blue gets in a quick rear sniff, making me jump. Their minds are excited, and they weave between Noah, me, and Fjord’s barrier.

  I open the gate and wave the dogs through beside me. They both jog through and greet the bear, Fjord only giving them a passing sniff before returning his attention to me. I sit down on his heavy blanket, and the big baby lays down on his side and rolls onto his back with his head in my lap. He purrs while I rub his chin and throat. I can sense his happiness in my head; his thoughts are bright and airy. The dogs’ excitement does not overwhelm me. Noah stands near the gate allowing me my reunion beneath his watchful gaze. As the animals’ attention steers away from me, Noah pulls me up, his arms wrap around me, holding me to his chest.

  “So, what was it like, hearing your sister?” he asks as we sway gently from side to side.

  I think back to when Lucy was alive. “It felt just like it did several weeks ago. She was just there…in my head. Her voice. I could sense her emotions; see things she was looking at or thinking of.”

  “Have you ever heard anyone else? Or tried…thinking, I guess, to anyone else? Do you think you could? I mean, you have premonitions. And, well your connection to the animals…”

  I wonder at his question. The dreams or premonitions. I shake my head with a slight one-sided frown. I tell him Lucy and I tried with our parents. But no one else shared the same connection with us.

  I break away from his embrace as the animals go outdoors. I close the gate and walk into the living area. Noah snuggles in next to me on the couch.

  “I have a similar connection to the animals.” I hold onto his hand like it is my lifeline.

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Did your sister?”

  I shake my head and lean into his embrace.

  “What about the visions. Could she foresee the future, too?”

  “No. It irritated her at first. Not having either ability on her own. But she experienced them through our bond. The visions were hardest for us. For me. They were rarely of anything good.”

  “No lottery numbers, huh?” he said, rubbing his cheek stubble against mine.

  I sniff and smile. “Not yet anyway.”

  He cleared his throat, and I turn to him. “I can be very animal-like. Are you sure you can’t hear my thoughts?”

  I pull out of his embrace and gaze into his eyes. The inner vibrant green encircled by the dark blue of the deep ocean regard me with an intensity that brings a flush to my skin. My eyes flicker down to his lips.

  “Not sure you are trying, but I believe you want me to do this.” He leans in and kisses me gently on the lips.

  He tucks my hair behind my ear and whispers, “I didn’t know what I would do if I lost you. I still don’t. I cannot picture my life without you in it. I love you, Momma Bear.”

  I sit outside on a lawn chair, enjoying the sun behind sunglasses. It is a rare, calm spring day. Temperatures are in the thirties. Not a cloud in sight. It’s almost too hot. The mosquitos haven’t taken flight yet. Soon, though, with the melt.

  My sister’s voice has been silent in the long winter months since my accident. I still try to talk to her in case she stepped away from her guardian duties. I know I only imagine the echo in the void. Perhaps she will return. Maybe the aurora grabbed her spirit from me and is playing with her. With the swiftly shrinking nights, they brazenly play now on the other side of the world within the darkness, their illuminating dance to the harmony of time and the world turning.

  Although gone, she, like my father, will always be in my heart.

  Noah cannot sense me in his mind nor I him, and I am okay with that. Some of my thoughts are too deep. Intimate. Too embarrassing. There is still too much grief. Guilt, shame. To hear them all at once would be like pouring out a whole pot of boiling water when the other just wanted a cup for tea. I’m sure he would take it with open arms minus the teacup.

  No troubling visions of shadowed figures have afflicted me in the many months since I awoke in the hospital last fall. The scarred bear has moved out of the area, and I still wonder what role he played. Was he my guardian for a short time? My spirit animal? I try not to overthink it. He saved my life, as did Fjord. I owe the bears more than I can ever repay. The refuge can do more immediate good while the benefits of our research work in other ways. I’ve decided to stay, postpone my graduate degree for now or at least any additional college. My learning will continue in the field, or rather, tundra.

  I had a dream of Fjord standing guard over another bear, a sick bear. Behind them I recognized the outcropping of rocks within an eroded section of beach near the refuge. So of course, Noah, Fjord, the dogs and I went down to the beach early the next morning for a walk. With a sled. Just in case.

  On our way to that area, Fjord ran ahead on the pebbled beach trailing the dogs. There is something marvelous in the great lumbering stride of a bear in pursuit. Noah and I hurried after and found Fjord standing guard over a very thin polar bear. Although conscious, she didn’t put up any resistance as Noah and I rolled her onto a sled and took her back. Fjord fussed and was a pain until I reminded him, we were trying to help the bear. Big oaf.

  Snow (Noah named her) stayed in one of the small indoor cages while mother treated her. Dr. Osborn consulted with wildlife and zoo veterinarians all over the world for Snow. A surgeon flew in to consult and then remove part of a front leg, courtesy of a long wound that became gangrenous. She developed pneumonia, and her prognosis was very poor following surgery. But she pulled through.

  Once we knew she was responding to treatment, we began building another outdoor enclosure for her. Snow is young; we estimate around Fjord’s age or a year older, although she has a much smaller frame than he does.

  A month after Snow started to gain some weight, we began introducing the two bears across the chain link fence for short periods of time. This was to help acclimate her to the outdoors and socialize with Fjord. She adapted remarkably well on three legs and maintained a steady pace beside Fjord as they walked the length of fence between them.

  After only a few days of socializing, Fjord put up such a conniption when we attempted to return her to her indoor enclosure. He had started to lose weight. If it weren’t for the cameras, I don’t think anyone would have noticed Fjord slipping the other bear his food.

  When she started to resist parting with Fjord, we caved and allowed them to share Fjord’s enclosure. I didn’t, and still don’t, have a strong connection to her mind and could only influence so much calm in those early days…but without any influence, the two beasts got on as well as any siblings. She’s scrappy where Fjord is gentle. What a combination.

  Late in the summer, a Berlin zoo veterinarian flew in to see the bears. Dr. Barry Kane. He was one of the veterinarians whom mother had consulted with extensively during Snow’s initial treatments and who was now very interested in procuring a male for the zoo.

  “He just wants to visit, meet everyone,” her mother said.

  Yeah, right.

  Dr. Kane was around my mother’s age. He played off his good looks—dark features, wide toothy smile—and accent to try to charm us into giving him Fjord.

  He asked to have closer contact with Fjord and Snow. I relented with Fjord and even managed to not encourage Fjord to be (too) rough with the kind doctor. Fjord was such a ham, his attention seeking and rub-me-behind-the-ear-and-I’ll-love-you-forever side on full display. I don’t think I’ve seen a kid happier with a full bag of chocolates than that guy was covered in pola
r bear paw prints, his neatly combed hair askew with slobber and reeking of muktuk.

  “You could come visit the zoo, see where he would be living,” he offered.

  Dr. Osborn seemed a little too eager at this suggestion. She did need a vacation, just not a European one.

  Perhaps his youthful good looks won him much procurement for other creatures. His tactics were not successful as the decision was left to me.

  “Sorry, doc. This is Fjord’s home. He is not for sale or lease,” I said.

  Bill, with his lack of decorum and filter, grumbled insults within and outside of earshot. Something about candy canes.

  “He’s not European. He’s from New Zealand. A kiwi,” seemed to be his favorite gripe.

  Barry asked me how we found Fjord as a cub. I told him I dreamt about it. And the female? I told him I dreamt about her, too. In defense, my mind was still amused and distracted by candy canes.

  “The next time you dream of a bear cub, please contact me immediately. I will fly back here without question.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait until we find a cub, have it in hand,” I asked him.

  He flashed a handsome, dimpled smile. “No. I do not wish you to become too attached.”

  "Well, I will leave it to Army to decide on what to do with future polar bears in need of care," Penny replied, not wanting to commit to something illegal.

  Fjord is now approaching his second birthday. The lights are out, undulating and flaring overhead. They seem so close, that if I breathed in deep enough I might be able to smell their spectral aroma.

  Fjord and Snow grapple nearby. Even if the lights danced to a specific melody, I wouldn’t hear it over the growls and bawling of the bears.

  They eventually move farther away, losing interest in playing, and roll instead in the new snow. The pink and green from above reflects off their coats and the snow. Such overwhelming beauty.

  As it looks, some of the work I was involved in has come in handy. My goals, my life quest of becoming a marine biologist, are slowly coming to fruition although the direction has changed. Running a rehab station might not have been what I imagined, but it turns out to be what I need.

  I am happy to be alive. Every day is precious. Life is not easy nor is it fair. But I choose to live it the best way I can.

  The nightmares and darkness are hovering, always in the periphery, but I don’t lose focus of what is in front of me. What the future holds. I have lost so much but have gained so much more.

  I do not turn as he approaches. He stands quietly behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder. A bit of fur from my hood nestles between our cheeks, but he nuzzles my neck anyway. His hands find mine in my pockets. Time is nonexistent as we stand together, my fingers curled around my polar bear figurine.

  This is home.

  EPILOGUE

  Penny, can you hear me?

  The Queen

  In a different time and a different place there lived a beautiful queen who ruled her kingdom from atop a high tower. Where once known for her exceptionally friendly nature with the people of the kingdom, for years she withdrew from them to watch over them from above. She was a sad and lonely queen.

  It had not always been so. Once she had a king with whom she ruled. He was a kind and gentle king adored by all.

  One day the royal family rode out to visit the countryside. The perfect morning greeted them with sunshine and light breezes, perfect for a ride into the country and a family picnic. Before leaving the castle gate, the wizened guard warned the king of a powerful storm he felt brewing within his bones. The king laughed and thanked him, assuring him the royal family would be back well before the storm hit.

  The overly warm summer and limited rain was starting to take its toll on the crops. The king wished to meet face to face with the farmers to hear firsthand how things were progressing and offer kind words and support.

  On their last stop before the planned picnic, they met a hunched man. His few wispy grey hairs danced airily around his head as he held his cap in his hands. He reverently greeted the royal family and bid them a speedy return to the castle as a storm was rounding the mountain pass. The king and queen looked and saw it to be true. Although the sky was clear and bright where they stood, great flashes of lightning began to appear between and below colossal billowing clouds assembling in the pass that led into the valley.

  The king and queen thanked the man for his keen observation, blessing him and his family. The king’s youngest granddaughter, astride a snow-white pony, rode up to the man and handed him the picnic basket. She asked him to make good use of the food within, since she and her family would not have need of it. The storm had put an end to their picnic. The man bowed and graciously thanked the young girl who returned thanks with a dazzling smile.

  As the royal family hastened back to the castle, the storm continued to rally behind them. Clouds rushed in, blocking the midday sun, darkening the countryside. Loud, bone-shaking claps of thunder shook the air and grew closer, each strike of sky fire signaling its advance. The guards urged the family to move faster.

  When they reached the castle, the flashes of lightning were blinding them. Stable hands and guards rushed to assist the royal family in dismounting, taking their horses as the storm panicked the steeds. The king led his stallion into the stable as no one, but he could handle the old horse. The youngest granddaughter managed to sneak into the stable and perched on the gate of her pony’s stall to give him one last face rub.

  A bolt of white ripped into the roof of the stable, setting it alight. Screams of humans and horses pierced the air. Stall doors were opened. Those leaving the stable tangled with those entering with buckets of water. The captain of the royal guard ordered the queen and her remaining family to find shelter within the castle walls while he and his men gathered the people stranded within the stable. The queen asked him to find the king.

  The king and his stallion had become trapped when the bolt of lightning ripped through the roof and dropped a huge chunk of a beam on top of them both, leaving no chance of escape.

  Fortunately, few lives were lost in the great fire. Many were injured, including the queen, who had rushed in to find her husband.

  The queen felt guilty she had survived and was deeply afraid she couldn’t rule as well as the king. Many years passed, and she grew lonelier and more anguished. She only held court with her council of advisors once a day to discuss the kingdom’s affairs, with her sitting apart from them and speaking through a barred window.

  Her family spent time visiting her, hoping to coax her out of the tower, to get her to understand the fire was not her fault. It was all in vain…she would see none of them. They eventually stopped trying and visited just once a year, during the kingdom’s celebration of life.

  There was one exception to her refusal not to see her family. The youngest of the queen’s grandchildren, too young for formal schooling, came up every day after lunch to sit with her grandmother. She entered through a secret passageway. If there was any joy in the queen’s heart, it was because of their visits. The girl’s attentiveness and youthful exuberance helped to ease some of the ache in the queen’s heart.

  Each day the girl visited, she would begin by begging her grandmother to go outside with her and play. And each day the queen would refuse. So the girl would make up silly stories and talk about adventures they could have together if they left the tower. The queen would then weave her own tales of unicorns and fair maidens, dragons and valiant princes that would delight the young girl. They would giggle and smile, something no one else in the land would ever witness.

  One day, the granddaughter did not visit. The queen did not fret as the child sometimes busied herself with other activities. After several days in a row of no visits, the queen became fearful something had happened to her granddaughter. She called on her advisors to find her, but they could not. She called on them to give her answers, but they had none. There was no knowledge of anyone visiting the queen,
and they were unaware of the secret passageway.

  The queen’s doctor was called in as the queen became so distraught, she stopped eating and took to her bed. As the doctor could only speak to her through the barred door, she could not make much sense of what the queen was saying. As advisors became desperate and fearful for her life, they brought in the castle’s metal worker who removed the hinges on the door so the doctor could enter and examine the queen.

  During the exam, the queen constantly mumbled about her youngest granddaughter. The doctor ordered fluids and medications to be brought so she could treat the queen quickly. When the queen became lucid enough to understand what was happening, she asked her doctor if she knew why her granddaughter had disappeared. The doctor slowly realized what disease afflicted the queen and was saddened tremendously.

  The doctor gently clasped the queen’s hand. The queen gasped in disbelief as she heard the doctor’s reply. Her granddaughter had perished in the fire along with the king. The queen remembered the visits with the darling girl so vividly and denied the claim. The doctor continued, gently explaining that her granddaughter was buried in the royal cemetery near the king’s grave. The doctor gave her time to accept the reality.

  The doctor then asked if the queen would like to visit her granddaughter and the king. At first, she declined, fearful of the pain such a visit would surely bring.

  The queen continued to want to disbelieve.

  But gradually her memories of all the visits and the absence of physical contact with her granddaughter began to feel surreal. She slowly allowed herself to remember the horrible day and the days that followed…the funerals of the king and her granddaughter, as well as a stable boy, who had tried to save her granddaughter. She gazed upon and rubbed at the scars on her hands and arms, the legacy of her attempt to enter the inferno that consumed the king.

  At last, the queen requested that the doctor take her to the cemetery. They stood in silence in front of the graves for many hours. The queen asked why her dreams had felt so real. The doctor explained the mind, in all its power, can distort reality to protect the body from physical and emotional pain.