The Choice ( a serial work of fiction) Part 10

" So, How are you doing? " Duncan swept me up once more. " Here, here- try the chocolate cheesecake - it has THREE kinds of chocolate in it, all totally decadent. I have to send to New York for one and brought the other two back from Europe." He served a slice from a silver pie server onto a small floral plate. " Doesn't go too well with cranberry juice," he frowned, adding some sliced strawberries , then pouring a small amount of a red liquid from a cruet onto the mix. "Its a strawberry liquor that I make myself in the summer. I think that you will find it delicious." He handed me a small fork and a linen napkin.

It hard not to get caught up in this man's jet stream. It wa a safe and comfortable place to be . "Your uncle tells me tha you like coffee. Dark roast, I believe. I have some incredible Turkish that Ezsebet brought with her tonight . She has been doing business for decades with this small Hungarian deli over on the Upper East Side . " His undertow swept me towards the copper coffee maker which was as elaborate as any that I had ever seen. I watched as he measured the dark beans into a glass container which buzzed them into a finely ground powder. He measured THAT as carefully as any alchemist ever measured his herbs and resins for a potion. The machine steamed and snorted-levers pulled- it was clear that he was in command of his world. Dark and fragrant, the coffee fell from the machine into a small expresso cup. This was also handed to me . And I was in tow to a corner where a small dark haired woman in a black dress was seated.

" Marya!" She stood and greeted him warmly. Pointing to me,Duncan continued " This is Andrew's niece, Rae. Rae, this ia Marya, our historian of sorts..."

" You are too kind, Duncan" laughted the older woman. Her black hair clinging to her head in small fluffy curls , her eyes were dark and I estimated her age to be about fifty five or so. She was petite but gave off a feeling of strength that was surprising. Her voice belied a small trace of French. Her skin gave off the olive sheen more often than not associated with the Mediterranan .

" I am glad to make your aquaintance." We shook hands. Her handshake was self confident. "Please" motioning to the matching overstuffed chair next to her. Thankfully, it had a small table next to it and a coaster was materialized for my coffe cup as I balanced the dessert plate on my lap. The bitterness of the espresso balanced the sweetness of the dessert.

" I am going to tell you a story," began the older woman , solemly. " And when i am done , you may ask any questions that you like. Its just that the story goes together so much better when I am not interrupted." I nodded quietly,

" You are familiar with the Christian story of Adam and Eve?"

" We aren't religious but yes, I know that mythology..."

" Well , then , logically you know that it is not logical to assume that they were the ONLY people on Earth. That there were others as well. The story goes like this.
Once upon a time, in a time of the spoken word, there lived the son of a great Shaman king named A-dam. He was a vain creature , lazy and demanding. He was frequently cruel to the animals of his tribe , taking some into the hills and torturing them until they painfully died. No one tried to stop him for he was the favorite son of his father. It was not unheard of for him to kidnap maidens and despoil them, frequently sharing them among his friends when he had finished with them. No one objected for it was common knowledge in those days that as his father's favorite son , that he would someday have dominion over his tribe and their property. No one wanted to make such a powerful enemy for it was known that his cruelty had a long memory. Mothers watched their daughters closely and quickly arranged the best marriage that was possible when they disappeared."