Medium in Paradise: A Humorous Paradise Romance (10 page)

“Maybe,” she said, guiltily.

“So you’re getting a ride with me every time I have this damned thing on?” she asked, angry for some reason.

“Maybe.”

“You probably put it up there in the closet,” she accused.

“Maybe.”

“You are—you just--!” Dina sputtered.

“How else was I supposed to get around?”

“Sorry to interrupt, but you all are going to have to resolve this spat some other time,” her mother said, briskly. “Right now, we have another problem we need to resolve.”

“That’s easy,” Sam said. “Just get rid of his chair. That’s what’s binding him here.”

“The ugly recliner?” Maria asked.

“Should’ve gotten rid of the damned thing the minute he died,” Mrs. Lassiter mumbled. Fully lucid and sitting up on the couch, she stared at Sam warily, looking for all the world as if she were poised to faint on cue. “But no matter how much you hate someone, if you’ve been with them all their life, you miss ‘em when they’re gone. So I kept it. But now I’m more than ready to let it go.”

“No!” the spirit of Mr. Lassiter yelled, furiously. “You can’t make me leave!”

The chandelier, along with dusty silk flowers in cheap glass vases on the mantelpiece, began to tremble and vibrate as Mr. Lassiter continued to rage. One of the vases crashed to the floor, breaking into several pieces. A cushion from one of the armchairs shot straight into the air coming straight for Dina. She ducked and it thudded into the wall behind her.

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Lassiter wailed, frightened.

“Your husband is pissed,” Dina announced.

“Enough!” Sam said, grimly. “Did you have any last words you’d like to say to Mr. Easy Boy here?” she asked, floating over and grabbing him with one ghostly hand.

“I just want him to leave me in peace,” Mrs. Lassiter said, her eyes filling with tears. “I want to enjoy my last days on this earth without you buggin’ me, Harold. Leave and please don’t come back. You’re not welcome here anymore.”

“Good enough for me.” They both blinked out.

“
Ay mio dios
,” Maria breathed.

“Yeah, that,” Dina agreed, trying to figure out what the hell had just occurred.

“Look--,” Sam the Ghost said, returning seconds later. “You’ll only have about an hour to get rid of that monstrosity. That’s the limit of what I’m capable of.”

“How’d you--,” Dina began.

“I’ll tell you later. Good luck!” With that, she vanished and they got to work.

Thirty minutes later, after rounding up a few young men that lived close by, they had a roaring bonfire going in the backyard, the recliner crackling and smoking merrily in the center. They all held hands and Maria uttered another prayer. Mrs. Lassiter hung back, speaking to one of the young men who nodded, then scurried off around the house. The women returned inside, one of the young men left to tend the fire. Handing Dina a small bottle of anointing oil and a lit sage stick, they went to different rooms in the house blessing each corner and waving the sage stick so the fragrant smoke billowed gently through the entire space.

“That should do it.” Dina’s mother said. They were all back in the sitting room. The air felt lighter, vibrant now that the Laz-y-Boy was gone. “If you have any more trouble just give me a call, okay dear?”

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said with a wide, denture-filled smile.

“Your peace of mind is enough for us.”

**

“You did a great job, sweetie.” Maria had already left and Dina was standing beside her mother’s car as she got inside. “I told you you had it in you.”

“Sam did most of the work,” she grumbled.

“Yes, but you overcame your fear and that’s the important part.”

“Not completely.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a start.” Her mother’s eternal optimism made everything seem so much easier than it actually was. But she was right, she had overcome a major hurdle and she felt this immense sense of joy at having helped Mrs. Lassiter in her time of need. Maybe there was something to this whole Medium thing after all. Maybe she’d been too quick to discard her gifts in her desire to appear normal to the rest of the world. Maybe it was high time she embraced her birthright instead of running away from it.

“I’m—I’m glad you made me do it, Mom.” She impulsively leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie,” her mother said, gazing at her affectionately. “And I want you to give that handsome detective a chance. And not just because Sam told you to.”

“Mom, I just broke up with Anthony.”

“I know, dear. But what better way to get over an old romance than to start a new one?” She grinned and blew her a kiss, as she sped off, gravel spitting in her wake.

Opening the door to her car, Dina heard a snuffling sound emitting from the backseat. After watching a news broadcast about wild animals making their way inside unsuspecting peoples cars via their hood, she warily glanced through the rear window. She was looking into the cute brown eyes of the puppy she’d been holding earlier.

What in the
world
? When had Mrs. Lassiter had the time to dump a puppy on her? Scooping the puppy up, she determinedly made her way back to Mrs. Lassiter’s house. After all, with her busy life, what would she do with a puppy? But as its meltingly brown eyes stared up at her, its tiny little tail wagging hesitantly against her chest, she found her steps faltering, until halfway there, she knew it was a done deal.

Sighing, she turned around and made her way back to the car. Depositing the wriggling puppy back on the rear seat, she pulled off, wryly thinking that now she had a new house, a new ghost, a new breakup and a new puppy.

Great.

On the way home, though she could’ve gone the discount route for pet products through Wal-Mart, Dina couldn’t resist stopping at a trendy little pet boutique nestled beside an equally trendy restaurant. She stocked up on cans of gourmet puppy food that promised to provide
‘…top flight nutrition for your puppy’s meaty desires’
. Then she impulsively bought a boar bristle brush to
‘…make your puppies tender pelt glisten and shine’
. An overstuffed wool-lined pet bed and a leash with a matching collar followed. At the end of it all (after setting a grooming appointment that would cost the better part of fifty bucks), she’d spent a sum of money that made her head hurt.

“Aww, he’s so cute.” Sam the Ghost was hovering at the door when she returned home. “Have you named him yet?” She knelt down to coo at the puppy who skittered backwards with a cautious ‘woof!’ before scampering with a yelp for the flap of material covering the legs and borders of the couch, ears flapping in his wake. He lay there, his paws and wiggling nose sticking out.

You’re scaring him.” Dina deposited the bags of dog food on the counter, then patted the frightened puppy. Picking him up, she held him in her arms protectively, glaring at Sam.  “Unlike me, he knows bad people when he sees them.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she said, as with a final soothing pat, Dina reluctantly set the puppy back on the floor. He promptly rushed back to the cover of the couch flap, probably thinking if he couldn’t see Sam, she couldn’t see him.

“Is it dramatic to think that you should’ve told me you were hitching rides on my aura through a trinket you made sure I had possession of?”

“You make me sound so evil. Like I’m a super-villain, or something,” she replied with a scrunch of her eyebrows as she followed Dina outdoors. “I lost that necklace a long time ago, so it was already in the house. Just not in a place I thought you’d ‘come across’ it.”

“Right--,” Dina said, hefting out the remainder of her purchases and shutting the car door. “So you manipulated me?”

“That sounds about right.”

“From here on out I’ll be leaving that—my necklace--at home.”

“Come on. What fun’ll that be? Hmm…I think we have company.”

They both turned to find themselves, or at least to find Sam, being observed by a five or six-year-old little girl with bouncy brown curls framing a cherubic face. She was staring around the fence bordering the neighbor’s yard, her small hands gripping the fence post. Dina waved, but the girl just stood there looking at the floating Sam.

“I think she can see me,” Sam muttered. She waved and the little girl waved back with a little smile. “And I thinks she likes me.” To Dina’s dismay and Sam’s delight, the girl came skipping over, a charming smile on her face.

“How do you stay up there?” the little girl asked Sam, peering up at her curiously. The little girl had a speech impediment that made ‘there’ sound like ‘the-oow’.

“I’m magical.”

“My Mommy says magic isn’t real,” she announced through her lisp. She tried to touch Sam, but she floated just out of reach.

“Well, as you can see, she was wrong.”

“Uh, look, didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?” Dina asked, trying to scare the little girl off. But this simply made her bolder.

“Yes, but you’re girls so I can talk to you,” she declared with innocent naiveté.

“Just because we’re girls doesn’t make us less strangers, Mia,” Sam admonished, sternly.

“How do you know my name?”

“Magic,” Sam said again, a twinkle in her eyes. Sam’s image started flickering, slow at first, then faster. “Uh-oh, magic’s running out for the day.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Dina asked, alarmed.

“Pulling that guy over to the other side drained more of my energy than I thought,” she explained, her voice and body fading fast. “I’ll have to go now. And no more talking to strangers, Mia!”

She disappeared with an audible ‘pop!’ something Dina felt sure she’d orchestrated for dramatic effect. Mia stood there, her mouth open.

“She really
is
magical,” she breathed in awe, then ran home to tell her mother.

**

“Dina! Glad to see you made it!” Nick engulfed her in a bear-like hug, taking a moment away from his sauce slathering of the delicious hunks of fragrant sizzling meat he was prodding and poking on the grill.

“I wouldn’t have missed free barbequed ribs for the world,” she said, looking around.

After deciding on a brief pair of shorts and a gossamer, off-the-shoulder blouse, she’d left the puppy in a delighted Lila’s care and headed over to Nick’s barbeque. It was a beautiful day, the eight-two degree weather with only the slightest of breezes, perfect for a cookout.

Two picnic tables were in the center of a large, sun-dappled backyard. A couple dozen or so of foldable, nylon beach chairs, some occupied, were scattered around the perimeter. Birds twittered from the treetops as cops and their significant others stood around sipping from beers and chatting in boisterous voices. She’d have known they were cops even without previous knowledge. It was in their stance, their haircuts and the set of their jaw. Children darted around, laughing and playing a frenzied game of tag. Music blared from a speaker somewhere, a top twenty hit that seemed to be more background noise than anything else. Paula and crew hadn’t shown up yet, but she was certain she’d be there fashionably late.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, falling on Detective Barney Nichols. Dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a linen shirt open at the collar, his hair was brushed out, a relaxed smile on his lips. He was sipping from a beer and talking to a very attractive brunette whose body language conveyed her interest in the detective. He threw his head back and laughed. Dina, staring for longer than intended, found her eyes staring into the detectives own. Something passed between them. A thin vein of energy that jangled her senses and sent her stumbling in the direction of a clear plastic tumbler of Nick’s famous rum punch.

“My husband tells me you’re in charge of getting’ him in shape.” A woman with short blond hair, large hips, brown eyes and an unflattering shade of red lipstick slashed across a non-existent mouth, introduced herself as Claudine, then launched into a conversation about how much weight her Marty had lost since joining the fitness initiative. She nodded her head, only partially listening as she sipped from the potent concoction in her cup.

“My apologies, Claudine. But Ms. Douglass is needed somewhere else,” Detective Barney Nichols smoothly said, suddenly appearing at her side. He firmly steered her away from the talkative woman.

“You’re my hero,” Dina said, finishing her punch. The potency of the punch sent warmth coursing through her limbs.

“How much of that have you had?” He inclined his head in the direction of her now empty cup.

“Just one cup.”

“Let’s get some food in you, then. That punch has been known to knock a grown man on his ass.”

He led her over to a table groaning beneath the weight of smoked, pulled BBQ, beef brisket, chicken and various sides, including the requisite southern potato salad. The healthy stuff Nick had promised, was there, but Dina skipped that and with an abandon normally reserved for Thanksgiving and Christmas, piled her plate sky high. They sat down at one of the tables, squeezing in tight as others sat down, and dug into their food.

“So how do you--,” he began, then stopped suddenly. Dropping the rib he’d been holding, he reached over, sticky fingers and all, and plucked the necklace away from her skin. He stared at it, then looking at her. “Where’d you get this?”

“Hey—you could’ve at least wiped your hands first,” she said. Swiping his hand away, she plucked a moist-wipe from one of the containers in the middle of the table, dabbing at the barbeque sauce residue he’d left on her skin.

“Could we talk in private for a minute?”

“Sure.” Reluctantly leaving her plate behind, she got up, following him over to the shade of a thickly flowering dogwood tree, bumblebees buzzing amongst its off-white petals.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked again, his words more urgent.

“I found it in my house.”

“I thought that was gone forever,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You knew the owner?” she asked nonchalantly. At the last minute, she’d decided to wear the necklace after all. After wearing it for so long, it had somehow felt strange going out without it. Of course, Sam showing up out of the blue would be stranger, but she could only hope she remained absent.

“I—yes, I knew her very well.” His eyes had a faraway look as he absently sipped his beer, taking a reflective sip.

“Who was she?”

“She was my fiancé.” The eyes that focused on her own were bleak, sad. “That necklace was a birthday gift. She wore it everywhere, until one day, she took it off and said she’d misplaced it.”

“Didn’t she?”

“Yeah, she misplaced it alright,” he said, with a bitter shake of his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the same night she was in a car accident, I found out she was cheating on me with my partner. I went over to his house a few days after the accident and there it was, sitting on the table by his sofa.”

Dina was shocked, her mouth opening and closing. No wonder Sam was a restless spirit. She looked down, lifting the necklace up to unclasp it.

“No, don’t. It looks nice on you.” A wan smile lifted up one corner of his mouth. “I threw that thing out in the backyard. How’d you find it?”

“I…found it,” she said. “I thought it was the prettiest little thing. I’m sorry it bought up bad memories.”

“It’s not your fault, Dina. Every house has a history and you found a little bit.”

“Is that why you sold the house? Bad history?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I got a great deal on it because it was in pretty bad shape and I figured I’d finish restoring it just before our wedding. But that never happened and with all that had happened I figured it would be better to get rid of it and move on.”

“I have to say, you have great taste for a cop.” Dina smiled up at him. “Beautiful necklace, lovely restoration of my house, good-looking...” Dina grimaced inwardly. Where the hell had
that
come from? Was she flirting with this man? He was right, that punch was strong.

“Good-looking, huh?” A grin spread long and slow across his face and she blushed.

“I mean—I’m sure you’ve heard it before,” she said, trying to play it cool.

“Hey—what do you say we get out of here?” he asked out of the blue.

“I just got here. Wouldn’t it be rude to leave? What in the world are you looking at?” Turning in the direction of his gaze, the brunette she’d seen him chatting up earlier was making her way doggedly in their direction.

“I’ll make your excuses,” he said, urgently. His eyes darted wildly to the brunette. She’d been waylaid by Claudine, who looked as if she was chattering a mile a minute.

“Your girlfriend?” she asked, archly.

“If she gets her way,” he said, darkly.

“She’s pretty. Why wouldn’t you want to date her?”

“Ever had your head stuck in a plastic bag?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“That’s what it’s like being around Marla. Your head, in a plastic bag that’s slowly squeezing off your air supply.”

“Wow, that bad?” The brunette finally managed to break free of Claudine and was continuing in their direction.

“Yes--let’s get the hell outta here!” He grabbed her hand, pulling her though a gate partially obscured beneath the spreading limbs of the dogwood. They were in a short graveled drive packed with cars. Making their way to the sidewalk running in front of the house, they crossed a narrow street until they were standing by the detective’s car. “Where are you parked?”

“Right there.” She pointed to her car parked a few cars down.

“You leavin’ already?” Pauline asked, pulling up beside them in her BMW and sliding her sunglasses over her hair. Two other members of the Southern Ladies Club were in the car with her, all dressed to the nine’s in what seemed to be an endless supply of figure hugging sundresses.

“The detective here is escaping a woman’s clutches and I’m helping him in his flight.”

“Sounds delicious,” she said, laughing merrily.

“You may as well park here once I leave. Nick’s looking for you. You’re gonna knock him dead in that dress,” he said with a wink. Pauline and her friends tittered on cue as he swung into his pickup.

“Whoa there, partner. Just where are we going?” Dina asked.

“On an adventure. Just trust me.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“Aw, just go on and have a little fun with the detective, Dina,” Pauline encouraged, smiling. “You can trust him. He’s a cop,” she said with a wink.

“Fine. But I’m taking my own car. If anything happens you ladies know who I was last seen with,” she said, giving in with a sigh.

They waved goodbye and Dina walked down to her car, pulling out behind the detective. She followed him down winding streets until they reached the two lane highway that ran along the outskirts of town. They quickly made a turn toward the westernmost point of the island, passing beneath a cove of Spanish moss laden trees and across a bridge built above one of the many tributaries leading out to the Atlantic Ocean, before ending up on a quiet street lined with modest homes. The twinkle of water shone behind the homes, boats docked at backyard piers.