Medium in Paradise: A Humorous Paradise Romance (2 page)

Dina pulled up in front of the quaint, lavender-colored craftsman style bungalow and sat in the car drinking in the sight of the spacious rocking chair porch. White shutters and a generous stretch of emerald green grass rolled out to the sidewalk fronting the house. It was hard to believe all of this was finally hers.

“What are you waitin’ for?” Janie Cook yelled out of her window in her perfect southern peach accent.

Parked in the driveway, Janie got out of her car, teetering on heels that were far too high for selling real estate. She was petite, with a shining helmet of blonde hair and a form-fitting suit that showed off her trim, full-busted figure. Beaming, she held the house keys out as Dina got out of the car.

“I’m so excited!” She grinned, nearly jumping with joy. The weight of the keys in her hand finally made the dream she’d been trying to fulfill for the past couple of months, a reality.

“I’ve got somethin’ else for you, too.”

Tossing her gym bag into the trunk, Dina followed Janie as she retrieved an oversized basket brimming with expensive goodies from the trunk of her car. Chatting, they walked up the sidewalk and mounted the four stairs leading to the front door. The chirp of crickets shyly made themselves heard as evening encroached, the sound blending with the soft brush of wind through the leaves of the white azaleas blooming on either side of the porch. Turning the key in the lock she pushed the door open, slowly walking onto gleaming oak floors smelling of a fresh coat of shellac.

“God, it took him the longest to agree, didn’t it?” Janie uttered, rushing inside on a tidal wave of energy real estate agents seemed to have by the gallon. “For a minute there I thought he was gonna back out of the whole deal.”

“He better be glad he didn’t otherwise he would’ve been in for one hell of a court battle and you know I don’t like to lose.”

“Don’t I know it.” There was a glint in her eye and Dina knew she was recalling the hardball tactics she’d used to negotiate the price of the house down. “This is for my ruthless little negotiator,” she said, handing her the basket and giving her a cheek to cheek kiss.

“Thanks, girl. I really appreciate all you did for me to make this happen.” Dina placed the basket on the granite counter in the small, galley-style kitchen, strolling over to take a look out of the large window overlooking the waving rose garden on the side of the house.

“Oh, the late nights, lack of sleep and extreme stress is all just part of the job,” Janie said, waving her hand and chuckling. “I figger you can repay me by invitin’ me over for the dinner party I just know you’re gonna have.”

“Janie, you know I don’t do entertaining,” she warned, turning to look at her.

“I know, I know. But I figger this one time you can make an exception, right?” The look of the hardnosed saleswoman settled on her face and Dina knew this would be a losing argument. “I mean, how often does a girl buy a li’l jewel like this? Besides, with all the money I saved you, you can hire a caterer!”

“I’m just not good at entertaining like you are,” Dina hedged. In the six months since she’d first met Janie, she’d been invited over to her large, colonial style home twice for her legendary parties. The food had been incredible, the guests the Who’s-Who of the island and Janie had been the gracious
, I-know-a-little-something-about-everything-and-everyone
kind of host that always made her guests come back for more.

She liked Janie a lot. She knew her drive to get what she wanted equaled or surpassed her own and as such, she could be incredibly persistent. Hence, one didn’t turn down someone with the connections Janie had on the island and in Georgia proper. It would almost be like business suicide. In a place like St. Simons, turning a powerful ally down could be as unfortunate as a pound cake with a sugar streak.

“That’s probably just ‘cause you need more practice. All self-respectin’ southern gals should know how to entertain, Dina. And as an accomplished businesswoman it’s high-time you stick your toes in the water.”

“I don’t think so, Janie--,” she began.

“I won’t take no for an answer.” Her smile was sweet as she strutted over to the door, her navy-blue eyes shining with determination. “My suggestion is that you plan it for some time in late June. That way it’s after Memorial Day and before the Fourth of July kicks in, which is when I’m hosting
my
big party. We don’t want to have any nasty party competition, right?”

“I suppose.”

“Oh, it’ll be so much
fun
!”

“We’ll see.” Dina’s voice was firm but her resolve had melted into a puddle of goo. It appeared as though a dinner party would be held at her house sometime in late June.

“Okay, darlin’. I’ll contact you real soon to help you send out an evite for the first of what will be many parties in your new house. Toodles!”

Waving her off, Dina wondered just what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

**

“Congratulations, babe. I know how excited you must be to finally move into your new house,” Anthony’s deep voice said as she picked up her phone.

“It’s about time you returned my call,” Dina snapped. She stopped her packing, clearing a space and sitting down on the couch. “I get a few hours, I do. But I called you three days ago, Anthony.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I’ve just been swamped with meetings. You’d be surprised how late the Japanese stay out considering how early they get up. I don’t know how they do it.”

“You look like you’re doing just fine if your Facebook page is anything to go by.”

“What are you talking about?

“Beautiful, eyes as big as a baby doe, pale skin, thick black hair swishing down to a tiny waist that your arm just happened to be wrapped around. Ring any bells?”

“You must be talking about, Ayako. She’s the translator that’s been helping me over here. I told her all about you.”

“Right.”

She hated how bitter she sounded. But he was the first person she’d called after getting the keys to her house and he hadn’t bothered to return it until days later. It told her in more than words just where she fell on his list of priorities.

Her mother had been telling her Anthony wasn’t right for her since she’d first met him. But had she listened to her mother’s words of wisdom? No, because for once, she’d wanted to make her own decisions about a man without any of her mother’s unwanted psychic insights. Anthony was a good man, he just needed a little tweaking, was all.

“Dina, don’t be like that.” A heavy sigh accompanied his plea. “I’ve just been so busy and then when I get back to my room I’m exhausted. It just kept slipping my mind to call.”

“I understand.” Her words were clipped and cold. “I’ll talk to you when you get back in town. Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

“Dina--,”

She gently hung up the phone, swallowed her hurt and got back to packing.

The next several days were a flurry of packing and moving things bit by bit into the house. Eleven days after she’d received the keys, she was completely moved in. Boxes covered every surface. The brand new azure blue sectional she’d purchased was one of the few areas free of clutter.

Shoving an overstuffed, striped pillow aside, she flopped down, surveying the organized chaos with happiness. She loved the old house even more now than she had when she’d first laid eyes on it. Filled with character and good vibes, it was the tiny details that stole her heart. Lead-paned windows that rolled up with the help of double hung sash cords, the stained glass lovingly placed into both the front and rear doors, the hand-carved beams with the roof peak carved into the shape of a butterfly. She’d known it was ‘The One’ as surely as a person that first lays eyes on the love of their life.

She’d even found another little bonus as she’d climbed up a ladder to place clothing on a shelf in the closet. Her fingers had closed around a beautiful, sterling silver necklace with links so delicate they were like cobweb. Shaking bits of dust off, she found herself looking at a finely crafted little butterfly whose body was inlaid with glistening moonstone. Tarnished from disuse, she’d carefully placed it in a bowl of silver cleaner on the bathroom counter. A few hours later, she’d rinsed it off and clasped it around her neck, the lovely necklace completing her ownership of the house.

Getting up with a sigh, she spent the next few hours putting plates, silverware, pots and pans into kitchen cabinets and drawers. Gradually, she made her way into the living room, arranging sculptures, vases and other doodads she’d collected onto shelves. The brand new sixty inch flat screen television had already been installed in the den a few days earlier. By nine o’clock that night she was pooped out.

Walking into the en-suite bathroom, she turned the water in the deep, multi-jetted tub on full blast. She poured some bath gel and oil under the stream of steaming hot water, looking forward to the moment when she was neck deep in the silky bubbles. She walked into her bedroom, once again feeling the thrill of new homeownership as she retrieved a nightgown and a pair of panties out of a box marked ‘nightclothes’. Pulling her clothing off and dropping them in the laundry room tucked between the kitchen and the sunroom, she walked naked to the bathroom.

She was hanging her towel up and preparing to drape her nightclothes across the back of the door, when the hair on the back of her neck and arms prickled with awareness.

“Man, what I wouldn’t have given to have a bod like that before I was killed.”

After more than eight months of having no direct face to face contact with any stray spirits, Dina was ashamed to admit she did what no self-respecting Medium would do under the same circumstances: she screamed.

The ghost, a gorgeous brunette with long, wavy hair, golden skin and deep-set grey eyes, was lounging negligently against the wall in the hallway. She was staring directly at her boobs, her gaze frank and appraising.

“You could definitely use a bit of a trim on the hedges.” The woman gave Dina’s lower half a significant raised eyebrow look, and she grabbed a towel, wrapping it hastily around her body.

“What—who the hell—what the
hell
are you doing in my house?” she finally managed to say in a strangled voice. Why did this ghost look vaguely familiar? The answer tugged at the edges of her memory, then darted away like mist beneath a hot sun.

“I’m haunting it, silly. I thought that would be obvious.” A joint appeared in her hand out of nowhere and she began toking like there was no tomorrow. The smell of the pungent weed floated on the air, assaulting Dina’s nostrils and irritating the bejesus out of her.

“Can you put that out please?”

“Why? You got something against smokers?” She continued to smoke, blowing a stream of vapor out of her nostrils and creating a snazzy figure eight in the air.

“I do, actually. So put that damned thing out,” she snapped. “I did a protection ritual before I even moved into this house to guard against unwanted spirits. So again, I ask you: just how the hell you got into my house?”

“I simply walked in the door,” she responded in an annoyingly matter-of-fact tone. The joint in her hand disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, the strong smell of marijuana still lingering in its wake.

“You know what, lady?” Dina said, shutting the water off and turning around to peer at the bothersome woman with displeasure. “I think it’s time I got rid of you.”

“Oh really?” she said, looking mildly entertained.

“Yeah, really,” Dina said, thinking this had to be the most annoying spirit she’d ever come across.

Firmly wrapping the towel toga-style around her body, she trooped resolutely down the hall, eyes searching for the box that contained her herbal accruements. A strong, fruity odor assailed her nostrils, floating on the wisps of air flowing in through the cracked living room windows. Frowning, she turned, discovering the source of the odor was a hookah the woman had now somehow conjured. She was floating in the air in the lotus position, eyes closed, looking every bit the Cheshire Cat. An outrageous seventies style outfit replete with headscarf and round, purple lensed glasses, had replaced her tight jeans and tank top. She was blowing vapor out of her mouth in the perfect shape of a winking emoticon.

What a showoff!

Her ability to manipulate the energy around her was very skilled which told Dina this was an experienced sprit. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask the woman how she was doing it, but she didn’t want to do or ask anything that might escalate the spirits ridiculous behavior.

“Didn’t I just tell you I don’t like smoking?”

“Look, I need
some
thing. Besides, in case you can’t tell, I’m already dead.” The ghost glided over and settled on the arm of the couch, continuing to puff maddeningly at the hookah. “Gone. Finito. Where I am smoke can’t hurt me anymore.”

“What made you think I was worried about
your
health?” She began riffling through boxes, searching for a sage stick or a bag of protective herbs.

“Oh, it’s just phantom smoke. It can’t hurt anyone on the living plane,” she said, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Are you sure of that? I can smell it and see it, so that means it can harm me.” She wasn’t sure how true that statement was, but it seemed to make sense in her rattled state. Dina studiously searched through a box containing bags of herbs, just not the ghost banishing kind.

“Pretty sure. Hey—you lookin’ for this?” The gallon sized plastic baggie filled with the implements needed to get rid of this ghost once and for all, floated over to her.

“Glad to see you’re so helpful in getting rid of yourself.”

“I figure it was the least I could do seeing as I’m causing you so much trouble,” she said, magnanimously.

Dina reached for the plastic baggie and it floated just out of her reach. She reached for it again, and again it floated out of reach. The third time this happened, she glared at the ghost who was now giggling, a bag of popcorn in her hands.

“Ok, just stop before I get more aggravated than I already am.” Dina crossed her arms, tapping her foot and throwing the ghost a venomous scowl.

“Oh, alright. Just say ‘Mother May I’ and it’s all yours.” The ghost tossed a handful of popcorn in her mouth, staring at her expectantly.

“I will
not
.” Dina glowered, dropping her arms to her side and balling her fists up against her hips.

“I guess that means you won’t be getting rid of me then.”

Dina closed her eyes, the desire to scream in frustration one she almost made a reality. Why? Why after all the hard work, scrimping and saving did she have to move into a house with a ghost with a bad sense of humor?

“Okay, then, ‘Mother may I?’” she mumbled through gritted teeth.

“Mother may I what?” She sat down on the couch, primly crossing her legs.

“Mother may I have my bag?” When this woman was alive she must’ve been seriously short on people that desired her company.

“Louder, I can’t hearrrr youuuuu,” she sing-songed.

“
Mother, may I have my bag of herbs
!” she yelled, furious.

“Now
that’s
the spirit!”

The bag came sailing towards her. She tried to get out of the way, but it still smacked her chest dead center. Picking the bag up off the floor, she quickly grabbed the matches and stalked back out, lighting the sage stick on the way, lighting the sage stick on the way.

“Good riddance, lady,” she said with a savage grin of satisfaction.

She uttered a prayer as she waved the fragrant, smoking bundle of sage in the direction of the woman. The ghost looked frightened, then began screaming, shaking as the power of the burning sage, combined with her prayer, began to work its way into her ephemeral presence. Continuing to utter the words of the prayer she’d learned when she was a child, she got as close to the ghost as she dared, knowing that when ridding ones home of a spirit, anything could happen.

The ghost began spinning, slow at first, then faster and faster. The joint, alongside the hookah and the popcorn she’d been eating, floated above her head in a sort of inverted tornado. She continued to scream, her hands going up and clutching the sides of her head. Gosh, this was working even better than she thought it would. With a final yelp the woman disappeared with a pop, a tendril of smoke and the smell of burning popcorn all that was left of her presence. Sheesh, with the way she’d reacted, maybe she’d been a demonic spirit instead of a ghost. No, she would’ve known that right away if that were the case. Unlike popular belief, demons don’t play games.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she blew the sage out, leaving it smoking inside a vase. Maybe now she could take that bath she so desperately needed.

Moments later she slid into the tub with a delighted groan, reveling in the feel of the jet streams massaging her tense body. Blinking her eyes tiredly, she closed her eyes, on the cusp of a cozy nap.

“Whew!
That
was a doozey!” The floating head of the ghost she thought she’d gotten rid of materialized, hair smoking, face burned and with the leathery appearance of beef jerky. “So, I figure we can talk about the real reason I came tomorrow morning. Goodnight!”

Eyes snapping open, she sat bolt upright and screamed for the second time that night, this time in frustration.