Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Novel (A Chick-lit Paranormal book) (The Angela Panther Series)

by Aspenson, Carolyn Ridder

  Mel nudged me with her elbow. “I know what you’re thinking so stop,” she whispered.

  “You know I’m thinking she needs a coffee table? Holy crap! You’re like, totally psychic too. Why do we need the psychic Linda when we have the mind reader Mel, who’s free, by the way? Let’s take my one hundred and twenty-five dollars and go get some cupcakes.” I laughed at my own wit.

  Mel laughed too, and I considered telling her I was serious about the cupcakes, but a woman with really bad timing walked in before I got the chance. Sometimes I have crappy luck.

  The psychic Linda didn’t look like a psychic. No long, colorful, flowing skirt or funky scarf. Instead she wore black leggings with red cowboy boots, and a long, blue, pretty stylish actually, sweater. Score a point for psychic Linda. I’ve learned to never trust a woman with bad fashion sense. We introduced ourselves and she motioned for us to follow her through the door. I admit I felt a little uneasy, as if maybe walking through that door might change my life. I had no idea then how much it actually would.

  Psychic Linda sat behind a table filled with candles, and motioned for us to take seats across from her. “Well now, who is here for a reading, today?"

  I shifted in my seat a little and Mel piped up “Oh, it’s Angela. I’m just here for support, if that’s all right.”

  Psychic Linda's lips curled into a smile. “Oh, absolutely. I have many clients who bring in their friends and family for support, and it’s usually not a problem. I find I can connect with the person here for the reading just fine most of the time, but if your energy is strong and begins to impede on my connection with Angela, you’ll have to wait outside.” She turned her attention toward me. “What can I do for you today, Angela?”

  My hands were shaking so I put them on my lap. I was nervous. My face was on fire and sweat was accumulating in my underarms. I hated feeling that way. I hated feeling like I couldn’t control my emotions or the way my body reacted to them. I swiped my hands on my black capris, hoping that would help, but it didn’t. “Um, I guess I’d like to understand a few things happening in my life lately."

  “Okay. I'm happy to help. We can do this a few different ways. I have the gift of sight and can provide you input into your life just by talking with you, but I’m also a tarot card reader, and can spread the cards to help you with your questions. Most people prefer the card reading. I think they like having something to look at with their own eyes. Which would you prefer?”

  I liked the idea of having something to look at other than her eyes. “I guess the cards would be good.”

  She took the cards and shuffled them. “Well, okay then. I have seven different spreads, but each one serves a different purpose. We can do a three-card spread, which targets a specific question, or there is a four-card spread, designed to provide insight into a specific issue, for example. In my experience, the most popular spread is the Traditional Celtic Cross spread. This spread gives a well-rounded reading, and really just gives a total picture of what’s going on with you right now. Would you like for me to do a Traditional Celtic Cross spread?”

  Mel nudged me under the table, and I told Linda that would be fine, though she probably already knew that’s what I’d choose being that she was a psychic and all.

  “Okay, then.” She shuffled the cards some more. “While I’m reading the cards, you may have questions about what they’re showing me, so feel free to interrupt me at any time, okay?”

  “Should I tell you anything first?”

  “You don’t need to, no. The cards know. It’s best to just lay out the spread and let the cards speak to us.”

  She continued, “With the Celtic Cross spread, I choose a Significator card, a card to best describe the energy I feel from you.” She shuffled the cards one more time and then spread them out, face up on the table. “Based on your energy, I feel the best card to use for you is the Judgment card.” She searched through the cards. “The photograph on this card is of an angel emerging from a cloud, and he’s blowing a trumpet. Below this angel, who some say is Gabriel, are people who appear to be standing in coffins, with their arms raised up to him.”

  Creepy.

  Mel asked, “What does the Judgment card mean?”

  I would have asked first, but was sort of creeped out and possibly rendered speechless.

  “Some people feel the Judgment card is negative, mostly because of the picture, but it’s not. Of all the Major Arcana cards – I can explain what that means in a minute – this one has the most Christian influence. Some believe it suggests the Day of Judgment, and while I tend to I agree, I believe it’s also about a rebirth or an awakening. The significance of the Day of Judgment in Christianity is that it’s the day when the dead rise, and before they’re admitted into Heaven, are called upon to stand in judgment from God. For this card, the symbolism is similar. The dead are rising or perhaps feelings or talents or even gifts, if you will, are awakening, and are beginning to establish their place within life or possibly even open up the individual to a new place in his or her life. Hence a rebirth of sorts.”

  She found the card and placed it to her right. I checked out the picture and though it wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t as creepy as I’d feared. There was a card with a beautiful woman sitting on what appeared to be a throne, wearing a pretty big crown, which I assumed was full of precious stones, and she was holding a big wand. I’d prefer that card because it seemed more like me or at least how I envisioned myself, but I wasn’t the expert so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Well then,” she continued as she scooped up the cards and placed them in a pile in front of me. “I’m going to ask you to shuffle the deck once by splitting them in half, wherever you see fit. The piles don’t have to be the same size, just however you decide.”

  I split the cards and placed the split half next to the bottom of the deck. Psychic Linda took the bottom half, put it on top of the first half and began laying them out. The shape wasn’t really a cross, but more like a cross with a line next to it. I wasn’t familiar with Celtic anything and considering I’d been pronouncing it cell tick instead of kell tick for well, ever, I assumed she knew what she was doing.

  Once she finished laying out the cards, her eyes shot up, met mine and then shot back to the cards. I didn't think that was a good sign and I kicked Mel under the table. She kicked me back.

  “Oh. Angela, may I hold your hands? Sometimes it helps to connect our energies for a better reading.”

  Okay, so I’m slightly germaphobic, and considering the fact that my hands were clammy and gross, I wasn’t that keen on getting all touchy-feely with psychic Linda. “Um, I guess so. I have to tell you though, I’m really nervous and my hands are really sweaty. I’m sorry.”

  She laughed, a light laugh. “No worries, dear. Almost everyone that comes to consult me is nervous. I’m used to sweaty hands.”

  I placed my hands on the table and she gathered them in hers. I immediately felt a little more relaxed, and she squeezed my hands quickly before she let them go. She gazed straight into my eyes again. “Angela, you’re here today because of your gift, aren’t you?”

  Mel jumped in her seat. “I knew it.” She pulled out a notepad and pen from her purse to take notes. That’s Mel, always prepared and always annoying.

  Admittedly, I didn’t expect her to come right out and tell me I had a gift, especially from just holding my hand. I’d be lying if I said this didn’t freak me out a bit. Besides I wasn’t sure I actually considered seeing dead people as a gift. “I don’t really know what’s going on."

  She gathered up the pile of cards. “Let’s just talk, okay? The tarot won’t tell us anything different than what your mother is here to tell you, and I think it’s best we let her talk.”

  Mel laughed quietly and mumbled, “That’s Fran, for ya.”

  I kicked her under the table.

  “Ouch.”

  I searched the room, but didn’t see my mother anywhere. “I’m sorry, but I’m confused. Is my mother her
e?”

  “Yes, she’s here. Tell me, when your mother’s spirit communicates with you, how do you receive the communications? Images? A voice inside your head, or perhaps in your dreams?”

  I shook my head. “No. No images or dreams, and she’s not a voice in my head, well, not any more than she was when she was alive, at least. I see my mother. Clear as day. Right with me wherever I am. But I don’t see her now so...”

  “So if you can’t see her, you’re wondering if she’s really here?”

  I nodded.

  “All mediums – people who can communicate with those who have passed – see spirits in different ways. Some see images or symbols when a spirit is communicating with them. For example, if I were to see images and a spirit wanted to say happy birthday, I might see a birthday cake. Other mediums, like me, hear a voice in their head, and right now the voice I’m hearing is telling me she’s your mother, and she’s quite insistent about it, too.”

  Mel laughed so I kicked her again.

  “Ouch.”

  “Spirits reveal themselves to different people for different reasons. Right now, I’m assuming your mother is choosing not to reveal herself to you for a reason, though she hasn’t actually told me that.”

  She paused and shifted her eyes to the side of the room, then laughed. “Your mother is a character, isn’t she? She just said she’d tell me if I’d shut up and let her talk.”

  Mel’s eyes went wide, and she let out a loud snort. I couldn’t blame her for that one, so I didn’t kick her this time.

  “That sounds very much like my mother.”

  Linda shifted her eyes again and was silent for a second. “She’s telling me she has unfinished business.”

  I felt agitated. “What the heck does that mean, unfinished business? Ask her that.”

  I was certain we’d finished up everything she wanted handled before she died, so this unfinished business crap, if you asked me, was just that, crap.

  Linda held up her hand and I waited. “Okay." She giggled. “She’s so funny. She said stop being like your stubborn German father and let her talk. She said she’s been waiting for the right time to tell you this.”

  “Tell her I’m just like my dad, and proud of it, too.” I stuck my tongue out and looked up to the ceiling, hoping my mother could see my defiance.

  Linda smirked. “She says don’t be rude. Angela, your mother tells me her unfinished business is you. You’re the reason she’s not staying in the light.”

  “Huh? Because of me? She told me she’s been to the light and can come and go in it but that’s a little over my head. I don't get it.”

  Linda took a water bottle from the mini-fridge behind her, unscrewed the cap and took a sip. “Would either of you like a bottle of water?"

  We shook our heads, no.

  She took another sip, then screwed the cap back on. “Angela, your mother said she’s not here because you still need her, though she wants to make sure I tell you that you’ll always need your mother. She’s here because of your gift and a few other things.” She paused again, and I realized she was listening to Ma.

  “She said it’s her fault, what’s happening to you.”

  Mel was surprised but I wasn't. The connection was easy to make. Ma died. Ma came back. I saw Ma. Ma’s fault. Made sense to me.

  Psychic Linda talked more. “As a child you had experiences...experiences different than other children. You had an imaginary friend named Bob, she said. Do you remember Bob?”

  Mel glanced at me and raised her eyebrows. I knew she was thinking that only I would have an imaginary male friend and of course, was he hot.

  “Stop it. I know what you’re thinking,” I kicked her under the table for good measure.

  “Ouch, that one hurt.”

  I told Linda, “I don’t remember, no.”

  “Your mother said you were about three and that while she cleaned, you would play with Bob in the family room. She said one time while you were playing, you got up and asked her to take you to the bakery. She said no, she was busy, but you insisted.”

  She paused for a moment. “She kept telling you no, but you threw a fit and told her you had to go because Bob wanted you to tell his wife he was sorry. Your mother said she told you Bob was imaginary, but that just upset you more. You told her that Bob worked at the bakery with his wife, but he went out one night with the boys – she said you used those words – and drank too many beers and wrecked the car down the street from his house. She said his wife needed to know he was sorry he left her.” Linda stopped again to listen to my mother.

  I glanced at Mel, who had stopped taking notes and was sitting in her chair, ramrod straight, eyes wide opened, mouth shaped like a capital O. I was kind shocked too, and I realized this when I tried to tell Mel to close her mouth or she’d catch flies and the words wouldn’t come.

  “Your mother said she finally believed you when you described how Bob hit the tree in the yard four houses away from his and killed the neighbor’s dog in the process. She remembered the story from the paper. She said you cried about that, and she knew there was no way a three-year-old could possibly know about it.”

  Finally, my voice returned. “So, what did she do?”

  “She put you in the car and took you straight to the bakery. She told the woman she thought this was crazy, but she had to do it, and didn’t care if she believed you or not, but her daughter couldn’t make this up at just three years old, and that she knew for a fact you didn’t know about it and she wanted you to be able to do this so Bob would leave you alone. Wow. Your mother can talk faster than any spirit I’ve ever encountered.”

  Mel didn’t laugh. I figured it was hard to with her mouth dropped open.

  “Did the woman believe me?”

  “Yes. Your mother said that when you told her he was very upset about the dog, the woman broke down and cried. Apparently the woman told your mother that her husband adored that dog.”

  “Wow. I can’t believe I don’t remember that.”

  Linda took another sip from her water bottle. My throat suddenly felt dry and I asked her if I could have a bottle too. She grabbed one from the mini-fridge behind her and handed it to me. I unscrewed the top and quickly guzzled two-thirds of the bottle.

  “Angela, your mother tells me there were a few other incidents, too. She said she spoke to your uncle Ernie about it, but never really told anyone else, including your father. Your uncle had the gift, and they both believed it was passed on to you through your maternal grandmother.”

  “But if that’s true, why haven’t I been seeing ghosts all my life?”

  “Children can see spirits easily because they are trusting and naïve, and don’t know that it’s not considered normal, for lack of a better word. Unfortunately, as they age, society teaches them that this type of communication is impossible, and sometimes even satanic, so we shut it off or push it back. We learn to expand our basic five senses, often forgetting that sixth sense ever even existed. Sometimes we discover it again later in life, such as you have, and other times it never re-appears.”

  “Your mother tells me it didn’t happen often, only a few times, really, and that after a while, it just stopped. She considered telling you about it years later, but decided it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  It would have been best to let sleeping dogs still lie, actually, but I guess that wasn’t an option. “So, why now? Why is this happening now?”

  Linda shook her head and sighed. “Because of your mother. She wanted to see if you could see her...see if you still had the ability to see spirits, so she appeared to you, and, as she said, ‘the rest is history’.”

  “Oh my God,” Mel said.

  I was too stunned to kick her.

  I clenched my hands into fists under the table. “Okay. Lemme get this straight. What you’re telling me is that, as a child, I saw dead people – hung out with them in my family room, apparently – and then I didn’t, and now, thanks to my mother, it’s all goi
ng to happen again?”

  Mel grabbed hold of my hand under the table, but I pulled it away, got up and paced around the small room. I shook my head back and forth. “No. No, thanks. I don’t want this. Tell her I don’t want this. Tell her to make it stop. Seeing my mom, that’s fine, but that’s where I draw the line. I am not going to be one of those whack jobs that goes around telling people where their dead father hid his life insurance policy. I am not a freak.”

  “Ang,” Mel whispered and tilted her head toward psychic Linda.

  Oh. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re not a freak. This is just a lot for me to deal with right now. I don’t mean to offend you, really, but this is way over my head.” I grabbed my purse, took $125 from my wallet and tossed it onto the table. “Thank you very much for your time. Mel, let’s go.”

  I turned around and walked out the door.

  It took Mel about five minutes to get to her car. She probably apologized profusely for my outburst, but I was too mad to care.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just take me back to my car, please.”

  She did, and without saying another word.

  Chapter Nine

  There’s a saying we live by in my house, ‘if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy’ and mama wasn’t happy. After I arrived home, I immediately changed into my workout clothes and drove to the park to go for a run. Exercise for me wasn’t just about staying in shape but about relieving stress, and I was stressed enough to run a marathon.

  I’d barely worked out since Ma was diagnosed, and I missed the adrenaline rush. Even out of practice, I managed to run a full two miles, wimpy by my usual standards, but I wasn’t going to complain. I ran past the cows that always butted up against the greenway fence and smiled a fake smile as other walkers and runners came toward me. It felt good pounding my feet against the pavement, and I’d set the volume on my iPhone music so high I couldn’t hear myself think, which was exactly what I wanted – not to think. Just to run or walk, after those first two miles. I walked another mile to cool down, and because I didn’t want to go home and face Jake. We hadn’t really finished our conversation about Ma, and I wasn’t prepared to add this new information into the mix. I knew it would have to come out eventually, but I needed to process it myself, first.