Medium in Paradise: A Humorous Paradise Romance (7 page)

Sure enough, the doorbell chimed. Dina shook her head with a groan. “That better not be my mother or I’m gonna kill her.” She considered ignoring it, but it rang again. Sighing heavily, she slipped into a robe, then walked down the hall to the door. Sliding the security panel open, she was more than a little taken aback to see Detective Barney Nichols staring back at her.

“Can I help you?” she asked, warily.

“I stayed behind to make sure you got this--,” he said, holding her cellphone up to the panel. “—but when the lights went out I realized you were gone.”

“Thanks,” she said with a frown. “I didn’t even realize I left it.” She’d been in such a rush to get out of there, it’s a wonder she hadn’t left something unlocked. On second thought…she probably had.

Unlatching the door and turning off the security alarm, she unlocked the screened-in door so he could hand her the phone. His eyes strayed to the damp bit of skin exposed at her throat and an odd look came over his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“This used to be my house.” His voice was low, husky with emotion. He rocked back on his heels, a sad look crossing his face and disappearing nearly as quickly as it had come.

“I—I didn’t know. I had no idea,” she said, astonished.

“How could you?” he asked, his fathomless eyes looking into her own.

“I—you’re right,” she said, stumbling over her words. “How could I know?” And better yet, why hadn’t Sam told her? “So, then, you were the seller that didn’t want to sell, huh?”

“Yeah. And you were the buyer that drove a hard bargain.”

“Some might say I just like to get a good deal.”

“More like a great deal,” he laughed, shaking his head. He fell silent, standing back and looking up at the house.

“Did you do all the renovations yourself?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms.

“Mostly. Sometimes a buddy of mine would come over to help.”

“How long did it take?”

“More than a year and a half.”

“It’s beautiful. I love it. When I first saw it I knew it was where I wanted to spend the rest of my life,” she said softly.

“I did, too.” He nodded his head, looking down. “But then--,” He stopped, looking off to the side, the light from the porch shining on his profile and creating pockets of dark, pooling shadows.

“But then--?” she prompted him, eager to hear the rest.

“But then everything changed and I was left with a house I no longer wanted.” The words were harsh and final, his body stiff, his back ramrod straight. “I should go. I’m glad you like the house. You look good in it. Have a nice night.”

He walked down to the car he’d parked at the curb and with a final wave, sped off as fast as the speed limit would allow.

**

“Sam! Sam—come out right now!”

“I’m here, I’m here. What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Sam the Ghost floated into view, rubbing her eyes as if she’d been awoken from a deep slumber.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was your fiancé’s house?” Dina demanded, indignantly.

“I didn’t think it was important information,” she replied, innocently. She yawned, stretching.

“That’s bullshit! You left that out for a reason,” she said, suspiciously. “And stop with the act! Ghosts don’t need to sleep!”

“I do need to recharge my energies. Maybe it’s not quite like slumber when you’re alive, but it serves the same purpose.”

“Really?”

“Umm-hmm.”

“Anyway, you can’t imagine my shock when your guy told me I bought this house from him. Is that your connection here? This house?”

“No, I never lived here. Arnie and I—well, Arnie--wanted to do things the old-fashioned way and move in together after we were married.”

“But you did know about the house? It wasn’t a surprise for his future bride?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then I don’t understand your connection to this space. Normally ghosts are trapped in the place they died in, yet you really have no connection to this place beyond the fiancé that purchased it and that in and of itself isn’t enough to allow you to travel here at will. There’s something missing. What aren’t you telling me, Sam?”

But Dina found she was talking to herself because Sam pulled yet another disappearing act.

Tuesday dawned dismal and grey. Then, as soon as she left the house, the cloudy sky finally opened up, pouring forth a torrent of rain.

Instead of going straight to the studio, she stopped by the café next door, heading to a table overlooking the soggy, dripping seating outside. Quickly plopping her umbrella down at an empty table, she went to the counter and ordered her usual, reading a discarded newspaper while she waited for her order. Her cell phone rang, interrupting her scrutiny of a small, angry-looking woman having a disagreement with one of the barista’s.

“Hey, babe. Can you pick me up from the airport on Friday?” Anthony asked once she ferreted her cell phone out of her purse.

“I thought you weren’t going to be finished until late next week.” She resolutely tossed a handful of almonds in her mouth, trying to avoid the temptation of the chocolate-filled croissant calling her name from inside a gleaming display case.

“Me, too. But everything got wrapped up quicker than any of us thought. I’m glad, too. I miss you, Dina”

“Sure, I’ll pick you up,” she said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“You still mad about that whole Ayako thing?”

“I think I’m just trying to figure out what we’re doing here, Anthony.”

“We’re enjoying each other’s company, babe--,”

“I’m not so sure about that anymore…”

“What do you mean?” He sounded alarmed.

“I mean, when you get back here, we need to have a serious talk.”

“Oh God,” he groaned, tiredly. “Again?”

“Yes. Again. We need to sort all of this out and decide what each of us wants once and for all. That way we can either move forward or move apart.” Dina was distracted by the door opening, Detective Barney Nichols easing his way inside. His hair was damp, droplets of rain sparkling in the strands like diamonds on velvet. His eyes quickly surveyed the room, finally falling on her with a slight frown

“Did the ‘spirits’ guide you to this conclusion?” he scoffed, lightly.

“No, they didn’t,” she replied, stiffly. His casual disrespect toward her paranormal gift, something she’d shared with him during a moment of intimacy, grated on her nerves, infuriating her.

“I know what I want, Dina,” he said, his voice firm. “You just want to reach the finish line too fast.”

“Not too fast, Anthony,” she retorted sharply. “The problem with you is that you’re fine with never reaching it at all.”

“That’s not true--,”

“It is.” It was an old argument and one which wouldn’t be resolved in this conversation. “We’ll talk about this when you get back. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Eight forty-five.”

“What?”

“Eight forty-five. What’s got you distracted all of a sudden?” he asked, teasingly.

“A cop,” she muttered, absent-mindedly. “I’ll see you on Friday.” She hung up over his protests, unknowing and uncaring of what his last words were.

Detective Barney Nichols ambled his way in her direction, a tentative expression on his face. He was stopped by an older man wearing a cowboy hat. They chatted for a few moments before he made it the rest of the way to her table. He stood looking down at her without saying a word.

They stared at each other, each waiting for the other to break the silence. Conversation from those sitting and waiting patiently near the counter, swirled around them. But still neither of them spoke. His energy flowed towards her and she didn’t need to be an empath to know what he was thinking. He was attracted to her, but didn’t trust her. He thought she was a little crazy because she spoke to people that weren’t there. Hell, for many years she’d thought the same thing herself. But she was done with that. She was who she was and she wasn’t going to be ashamed of it anymore.

“I speak to the dead, Detective,” she blurted out, breaking the silence. She crossed her arms, waiting for the inevitable wash of emotions to play themselves across his features like a silent film. It always started the same.

First there was disbelief…

“What?” He inclined his head towards her as though he weren’t certain he’d heard her correctly.

“I’m a Medium, Detective,” she said, patiently, studying his face. “I can commune with the dead. I have ever since I was very young.”

Then there was shock…

“A Medium?” He cleared his throat, straightened up to his full height, then narrowed his eyes, giving her a hard stare. The barista called her name and she calmly got up, picked up her expresso and sat back down. He still looked shocked.

“Yes Detective, a Medium.”

“So when you were talking outside in the hallway, you weren’t alone?”

“There was someone standing there just as clearly as you’re standing in front of me right now. They just weren’t visible to the naked eye.”

Then there was fear mingled with more disbelief…

“I—I
heard
her.” His words were hesitant, understanding dawning in his eyes. Dina sat up straighter. Now
this
reaction was surprising. “The voice said, ‘I can show you easier than I can tell you.’ then that was it. At first I thought I must’ve been hearing things. Then I thought back to our…first meeting and now it all makes sense. Go figure…”

Usually this was when people either started laughing in nervous disbelief, or when they lied saying ‘They were cool with that’, then left, never to be seen again. But not him. He was straying from the script. He seemed to be accepting of her unusual gifts.

“Detective Barney Nichols, when I choose to tell people I’m a Medium, most people go running for the hills. But not you. Why is that?” She sipped at her coffee, watching him.

“I may be a detective but I’m not closed to understanding that there are things about this world that can’t be explained away by science.”

“Aren’t you open-minded,” she drawled, offhandedly taking another sip of her coffee. Her heart was racing for some inexplicable reason, his receptiveness to her abilities oddly disconcerting.

“I am open-minded. I watch
A Haunted
and
Paranormal Witness
. In fact, I DVR them,” he said with a sniff.

“Is that so?” Dina chuckled into her coffee. She felt an uncontrollable fit of laughter bubbling up which she controlled by biting down on her lip.

“Yes, it is. For instance, I know that children are often open to seeing spirits because they’re still innocent. I also know that spirits sometimes can be removed from a house, but sometimes they can’t. And I know that sometimes people can hear a spirit, but they can’t see them. Like what happened the other day.”

“That’s all very true,” she said, warily. She’d forgotten about the other type of people she’d met: those who believed in her gifts and thought they were experts on the paranormal because of all the ghost hunter and paranormal reality shows. She hoped Detective Barney Nichols didn’t fall into
that
category. “But you got one thing wrong:
all
spirits can be removed from a house so long as competent people are called in to remove them. It’s demons that may require more…finesse.”

“Demons? They really exist?”

“Very much so. And they’re very dangerous. I’m surprised you’re saying this considering you’re clearly Native American--,”

“Cherokee,” he corrected her automatically. “I’m Cherokee. And what does that mean? You’re surprised?”

“I mean that I was under the impression that—that Cherokee people and Native Americans in general, held beliefs that included an understanding that demons exist. Am I wrong?”

“We don’t necessarily believe that demons exist, but we acknowledge that evil exists and by proxy, I guess that could include a demon.”

“And ghosts? What do you think about them?”

“We believe that our ancestors turn into ghosts when they die. So we don’t necessarily view them as bad. I guess that’s why I’m open to you being able to talk to the dead. The dead exist. So why not? With that said, the majority of us, like most people, have never seen one.”

“Interesting. You are very interesting,” she said, thoughtfully.

“Am I?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you outside of my family.”

“That must mean something, huh?” he asked, a gleam in his eye.

“Maybe,” she said, thinking that maybe she was talking too much.

“So who were you talking to?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Should she tell him it was the spirit of his dead fiancée or should she save that for a later conversation? A later conversation won out. Despite his apparent acceptance of otherworldly presences, she didn’t want to overload his brain with too much information in one sitting.

“A woman who’s trying to find her way to the light,” she said vaguely. Telling a partial truth couldn’t hurt.

“You know her name?”

“Sara,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Sara…and she just appeared one day?” he asked, sitting down opposite her after retrieving his medium mocha from the barista. Dina eyed it disapprovingly and he guiltily said, “What? I used to get the extra-large twice a day. Now I just get this in the morning.”

“You shouldn’t be getting it at all.”

“Baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” He took a small sip of the hot liquid, savoring it, eyes closed. His short, oddly straight lashes shot back up and they were staring into each other’s eyes. “I guess you got your coffee date after all,” he said, lightly.

“Oh, yeah, I guess,” she said, flustered. Then, some of her composure returned and she flashed him an irritated glance. “Why’d you say no? It’s only coffee after all.”

“It didn’t feel like a genuine request,” he said, leaning back lazily. “It felt like you were a suspect being forced to answer a question against her will.”

“Why would you think that?” This guy was very perceptive. She’d have to watch herself around him because she felt certain very little passed his notice.

“Just a feeling I had, that’s all. When you’re a cop, sometimes all you have is a hunch. I learned to trust them a long time ago. So far, they haven’t lead me astray.”

“Well, your hunch was dead wrong.”

“I’m pretty certain it wasn’t.”

“I’m telling you, it was,” she said, determined to prove him wrong.

“Why’d you ask me out to coffee?” he asked, abruptly.

“Because I wanted to.”

“But why?”

“Why not? You must have a very low opinion of yourself to question a woman that asks you out to a simple cup of coffee, Detective Barney. It’s not like I asked for your hand in marriage.”

He regarded her coolly, his suspiciousness back in play. “Your offer seemed to come out of the blue. You’d only seen me once before and on the second occasion you were asking me out. It’s never happened to me in the past--,”

“There’s a first time for everything detective and now that we’ve had coffee, I agree with you. There’s nothing here of much interest. Have a nice day.”

Gathering her things, she quickly gulped down the rest of her lukewarm expresso, picked up her things and left, Detective Barney Nichols watching her every move.