Blue Moon Magic

by Dawn Thompson

  “Grandma Bikini I made coffee. You must wake up now. I need your help.”

  Grandma flailed her arms. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everybody needs me.” Her words slurred together. “You need me. They need me. I need me.” The old woman chuckled. “The hell with all of you sons-of-bitches. I ain’t takin’ my clothes off ever again.”

  Oh, boy. Apparently Grandma was reliving her days as a stripper. With a sigh, Paloma returned to the kitchen to check the liquor cabinet. How much had she had to drink? She checked the lower shelves to find it fully stocked with gin, scotch, vodka and some pricey bottles of Australian wines. All appeared new, their seals unbroken. She peered into the trash bin. Bingo. An empty pint of vodka.

  She poured a cup of coffee for herself, then went back into the den to check on Grandma, who was coming around.

  “Who the hell are you?” she growled, fixing one rheumy eye on Paloma.

  “Your neighbor, Grandma.”

  Her gray brows furrowed. “Oh yeah, right. The gal with the miserable cat that poops in my posies.”

  “The one with a huge, huge, problem,” Paloma added under her breath.

  Grandma shot ramrod straight in the chair as if she’d suddenly come out from under a spell. Paloma sat up, too. My, but the effect of alcohol had worn off quickly.

  “Guess when you found me you thought I’d tanked up on the sauce and passed out, eh?”

  Paloma cleared her throat. She had. But Grandma appeared to have made an astonishing recovery.

  “I wasn’t snockered ya’ little brat. It’s the effects of this powerful Blue Moon we’re having. What you witnessed was one of my visions. That’s why I gave up driving two years ago. Never knew when one would hit.”

  “Vision? You mean as in a psychic vision?”

  “Yep. They’re stronger during some phases of the moon, but this Blue Moon is double whammy for me. I don’t know that I’ve ever had them this close together. Now I want you to make a wish, Paloma.”

  Paloma stared. “A wish? For what?”

  “Dearie, everyone knows wishes made on blue moons are magical. Now’s yer chance.”

  Grandma Bikini was serious? Paloma didn’t have to think. She knew her exact wish. “I want Robert to come back to me,” she said softly. “That’s my only wish in the world. I want him to live again.” Emptiness filled her at the words. Nothing had changed by making a silly wish. Her burning question also hadn’t been answered. How could she save him? She sighed, exasperated. She was back to square one.

  “Oh, hell!” Grandma sprang from the chair like a woman half her age. “I’m gonna miss it.” She teetered to the television set. “Today on Passion’s Crest, Maximillian Chancellor reveals his true identity to Celeste.”

  Paloma had no time to waste discussing soap operas. “Grandma, I need your help.”

  “You think you need help,” she said, waving her hand. “Wait ‘til Celeste gets a load of old Max. She’s gonna need a crap load of help dealing with him, too. Had his face altered at one of them fancy schmancy Swiss hospitals while he was hiding out from corrupt government agents. Actually he’s not really Max, but Reynaldo in disguise. You know, the hunky Latino gardener Celeste met and had an affair with while she was at the sanitarium recovering from a bout of amnesia? He has mob ties, you know. It’s his baby she’s carrying right now.”

  “They’re going to disconnect him from life support today, Grandma.”

  Grandma jerked and turned to Paloma. “No they’re not. When I had my vision I learned that David Hopkins has no close relatives. The so-called cousin who ordered this ain’t even a blood related. He’s a spoiled, distant cousin by marriage who has his eyes on David’s Harley and his beach condo. Don’t you worry, girl. I’m workin’ on a plan in my head right now.”

  Paloma folded her hands in her lap. She hoped it was better than the one she planned to propose. “I’d like to hear it.”

  “Fine. As soon as Max and Celeste get through with their tête-à-tête, I’ll let you in on it. Then I’ll get all purtied up and we’ll go to the hospital.”

  “And what do you propose to do once we get there?”

  Grandma Bikini turned to her and smiled. “Meet Mr. Hopkins’ long lost momma.”

  Paloma stared as a sinking feeling hit her in the pit of her stomach. Actually, she intended to ask Grandma if she would pose as his grandmother. “Pardon me for saying this, Grandma Bikini, but aren’t you a bit mature to have a thirty two year old child?”

  “I’ll tell ‘em he was a late in life baby, a love child fathered by my biker boyfriend, Spike.”

  Paloma put her head in her hands. Oh, God. She was in terrible trouble now. She looked up at the woman. Grandma was insane. They would never believe it. But what choice did she have? Even a last ditch effort was better than none at this point. She blew out a breath. “They’ll want proof you’re related.”

  Grandma winked. “Hey I’m psychic, remember. By the time I get through delivering my academy award winning performance those docs will think I’m their mother.”

  Or they might put you in a straight jacket.

  “So how do you propose to pull this off?” God, she couldn’t believe she was going along with this!

  “I know stuff about this patient’s case that even the doctor’s don’t know.” Grandma gave a smug smile.

  Paloma blinked. “Such as?”

  Grandma sprang from her chair and fumbled in a carved box through a cache of lipstick, the likes of which rivaled even the most well-stocked Avon lady’s.

  “Our Mr. Hopkins,” she turned to look over her shoulder, “or rather I should say, your dear fiancé Robert, is waking up today.”

  * * * *

  The tingle in his toes had returned. A good sign for now. This happened once before, but the sensation went away. An older doctor with icy hands visited this morning, along with another man—one he didn’t recognize. They spoke in hushed tones near the door, as if they didn’t want him to hear their conversation. Did that mean they knew he could hear? His heart leapt at the thought. Then why don’t the doctors and nurses speak to him anymore? Why do they only check the IV’s or scrawl words on his chart?

  His nose itched and he tried to move his hand. Hey, did the index finger on my right hand move? What is that sound? He strained to listen. Moaning? Who else is in the room? Another patient? When did they move someone into the room with him?

  And where is Paloma? Isn’t this the day she comes again? He can’t remember, can’t keep track of days anymore. Why can’t he open his eyes? He must try harder. Yes, that’s it. He will try harder. Somehow he will let them all know he’s here.

  * * * *

  “Get this crazy old woman out of here before she injures someone else!”

  Paloma followed on the heels of the red-faced doctor as he rushed from the room and hurried down the corridor. He snatched a clip board from the nurse’s desk, but kept walking as if she wasn’t important enough to stop and speak with.

  She danced along side him. “Grandma Bikini didn’t mean any harm. Really.”

  “No harm? Let her explain that to the security guard who has a massive shiner over his right cheek now.”

  Grandma Bikini’s yelps continued to echo down the hallway as two orderlies and a second security officer attempted to subdue her in David’s room or rather, Robert’s. A scuffle broke out when an officer placed his hand on Grandma’s arm. Big mistake. Grandma had earned her fifth degree black belt ranking twenty five years ago and was a force to be reckoned with. But Paloma knew why she’d made a scene. To buy time. Although pointless, she had to hand it to Grandma. The clever old gal didn’t go down without a fight and had even stayed in the lead for several seconds.

  “Doctor! Hurry!” a nurse cried from down the hallway.

  Paloma spun around, as did the doctor who swore under his breath.

  “What?” he snapped to Cynthia

  “Come quick. You have to see this.”

  The doctor sighed. “Incompetents�
��all of them. You’d think a couple of orderlies and a pathetic little security guard could subdue Karate Granny.”

  They hurried back toward the room.

  Helen rushed out pale faced and out of breath. Her eyes met Paloma’s, and in that instant, Paloma knew there had been a change. The one Grandma Bikini predicted? The one she’d wished for? Helen looked at the doctor and a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “You’re not going to believe what happened.”

  Dr. Personality stared rudely at the ceiling. “Let me guess, Helen. The old lady’s head is rotating and she’s spewing green pea soup?” Paloma who didn’t find his sarcasm at all amusing. She shot him a dark look and he shrugged.

  Helen laughed. “No, it’s not Mrs. Bikini. It’s Mr. Hopkins. He’s sitting up in bed. And he’s wide awake.”

  Paloma sailed toward the room but the long-legged doc took the lead. A technician pushing an equipment cart and a white-haired doctor flanked by two nurses filed past, blocking her entrance.

  The door closed.

  * * * *

  They were made to wait outside the hospital room while David, or rather Robert, was examined.

  Grandma unwrapped a stick of cinnamon gum and popped it into her mouth. “The young ‘un sat up, he did,” she said, chomping away. “Looked me straight in the eye and called me Grandma Bikini. It was Robert again, I tell ya.” She looked up at Paloma. “You know,” she smacked, “it was like one of those sappy coffee commercials on TV. Almost cried, I did.”

  Paloma blew out a pent up breath and began to pace in front of the door. Dammit! What was taking so long? They’d closed the door before she had a chance to get a glimpse of him. She checked her watch. That was at least forty-five minutes ago. She had to get into that room, had to talk to Robert. She turned to Grandma. “What if Robert lapses into a coma again before I have a chance to speak to him?”

  “Not likely dear. You made a wish on the Blue Moon that Robert would return to you. Now you must believe in the magic.”

  “Do you think he’ll remember me?”

  Grandma crumpled the gum wrapper and stuffed it in her oversized leather patchwork purse. “Of course he’ll remember you. He’s the same old Robert up here.” She pointed to her head. “But it’s going to take some getting used to. I mean, David Hopkins’ body looks nothing like Robert’s. He’s not as tall or dashing with those sultry bedroom eyes and that sleek, dark hair that made women salivate. David Hopkins has athletic good looks. He was into sports before his accident.” Grandma nudged Paloma with her elbow and lowered her voice. “Take it from a gal who’s been around the block a time or two. Athletes make the best lovers.”

  Heat rose in Paloma’s cheeks. Not exactly a comfortable conversation to have with your eighty-four year old neighbor. “Grandma, even if Robert has returned, I’m not sure I can fall into bed with another man’s body. I mean, I don’t know how I’m going to approach that idea yet.”

  Grandma winked at her. “Oh, come on. It’s like a bike, dearie. Men are pretty much all the same. Once you’ve done it a time or two you hop on and ride.”

  Paloma groaned at the crude image.

  Helen exited the room with two other nurses, followed by Dr. Jerk and they strolled to the nurses’ station. She peeked around the door, then jumped back as the technician wheeled his cart through.

  “Go kiddo. Now’s your chance. Get your tail in there.”

  With legs trembling like wiggly jello, she paused to look over her shoulder at Grandma Bikini, who nodded.

  “Go on. It’s gonna be all right. Grandma winked. “Believe.”

  Paloma drew a deep breath and threw her shoulders back. She flicked away a tear with her fingertip.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, girl, don’t start squalling,” Grandma chided. “You want Robert to see mascara smudged around your eyes like a raccoon’s mask?”

  “No, I don’t suppose I do,” Paloma laughed through her tears.

  She knocked lightly on the door and pushed it open wider. At the faint “come in” all the nerves in her body sizzled. Every muscle grew taut with tension as she approached the olive-green drape that separated them.

  “Hello?” she called. “Can I come closer?”

  Sheets rustled. He cleared his throat. “Only if it’s you, angel,” came his reply. Angel. His nickname for her. The voice was raspier than Robert’s had been and not quite as deep. Yes, this would take some getting accustomed to.

  She held her breath as her heart pounded at a deafening tempo in her ears as she reached for the curtain. She hesitated.

  “Well are you going to get over here and give me a kiss, sexy woman, or are you going to hide behind the curtain and make me beg?”

  Tears burst forth and her knees started to buckle. Robert! My Robert! She snatched the drape aside. She blinked. Looking back at her was a blonde haired, brown eyed man. His hair was rumpled and he needed a shave. She swallowed hard as her brain refused to completely accept this was Robert.

  She needed to hear him speak again. “Is it really you?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.

  He glanced down at himself. “Same old me but in a different package.”

  She sniffed hard and brushed away tears with the back of her hand. “This is insane. How can you be in another man’s body?”

  He hesitated. “It’s a long story, one we’ll get around to some day.”

  Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she resisted the urge to touch him. Would that seem forward of her? Or would he welcome it? “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find this has all been a dream. Tell me it isn’t a dream, Robert. Tell me something to make me believe this isn’t some cruel joke.”

  She stiffened as he reached across. Warm, soft flesh enveloped her hand. She jerked her hand away.

  “No, don’t pull away, baby. I’ve been waiting so long to touch you.”

  Paloma eased her hand back to his. Their fingers laced. He smiled and squeezed gently. As she held his hand, memories of the darkness in her life following his accident melted away. Lightweight was the word to describe the feeling, as if a burden had lifted from her shoulders.

  “Does this moment feel like a dream? Like a cruel joke?”

  She lifted her other hand and flicked away a tear. “It feels like old times. But the new you will take some getting used to.”

  “You’re telling me. Wait ‘til you get a look at what’s beneath the hospital gown. Talk about impressive.”

  Paloma snickered. “Oh, Robert, you’re still so naughty.”

  He tugged at her hand. “Come closer and let me hold you?”

  She bit down on her lip to keep it from trembling. “What if someone walks in on us? They don’t know it’s you. They still think you’re David Hopkins.”

  “No one will walk in,” he reassured her. “Grandma Bikini is guarding the door, is she not?”

  Paloma nodded.

  He lifted a brow at her. “After what occurred in this room earlier, angel, believe me, no one in their right mind would come near her.”

  * * * *

  Paloma had been the talk of the neighborhood ever since she’d brought Robert home from the hospital. Neighbors gossiped about the new man who now shared her residence. Her parents also tried to discourage her from marrying a stranger. Only she, Grandma Bikini and Robert of course, knew the truth of his identity.

  Although Robert required the use of a cane from injuries David Hopkins’ body sustained, he was the same man she’d fallen in love with years ago. She continued to call him Robert, although for all intents and purposes he would assume David Hopkins’ legal identity.

  Their Victorian wedding was held in their home on Church Street seven months after Robert’s release from the hospital. In grand style, garlands of pale pink roses, ivy vines and yards of white tulle were strung across rails on the wrap around porch and the white picket fence. Lush, red carpet was rolled out to cover the brick walkway leading to the front steps and strewn with fresh rose petals. On the porch, white
tea lights flickered in crystal votives on wrought iron tables draped with crisp white linen cloths. Every nook and cranny inside the house had been decorated, too, for the June wedding.

  Grandma Bikini made her special champagne punch for the occasion.

  Thankfully, for both Paloma and Robert, David Hopkins’ long lost cousin was unable to attend.

  Paloma dressed for the ceremony at Grandma Bikini’s house. She smiled at Grandma’s reflection in the mirror as she adjusted the veil. This should have been her mother’s job, but she hadn’t approved of the hasty wedding and refused to attend. The one dark cloud hanging over their special day. Grandma, however, served as Matron of Honor, as was appropriate.

  Robert was to pick them up shortly in a horse drawn carriage and together they would ride down the lane to their house next door and walk up the carpeted aisle together.

  For the umpteenth time Grandma Bikini fussed with the veil. From her nervous behavior, one would think she was the mother of the bride. She made a tsk-ing sound. “I tell ya’ it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

  “Since when have you ever been a stickler for tradition, Grandma?” Paloma asked. “You’ve led such an unconventional life yourself.”

  Grandma fluffed the antique lace and seed pearl headdress. Paloma tugged it back the other way. Grandma pulled it to the left a smidge. She growled at Paloma when she reached up to adjust it again.

  The older woman placed her delicate, blue-veined hands on Paloma’s shoulders and stared back at her in the mirror. “Child, it may be true I’ve lived a colorful life, but you don’t mess with some things. Wedding traditions are one of ‘em.”

  Before Paloma could ask Grandma if she’d ever been married, Robert pushed the door open a bit. She hadn’t heard him come in and she glanced at the clock, thinking they were running late. He was decked out in a charcoal gray Victorian era suit and wore a black stovepipe hat.