Medium in Paradise: A Humorous Paradise Romance

by Moray, Tabby

  “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.

  The detective’s house was at the end of the street, the backyard obscured from view by a high wooden fence. A neatly appointed ranch with pale gray aluminum siding, vinyl replacement windows and a small serviceable porch, sat on a short expanse of freshly cut grass. Two hanging planters filled with lush ferns and two glazed ceramic planters stuffed to the brim with an array of blooming flowers, completed the quaint picture. Though cute, it was a far cry from the turn of the century beauty he’d so lovingly restored. She wondered if he had any regrets.

  He beckoned her toward the open door with a wave of his hand and she walked inside. A living room with hardwood floors covered in southwestern-style throw rugs and a scattering of masculine leather furniture was offset by high ceilings crisscrossed with varnished open beams. The kitchen had stained cement countertops and stainless steel appliances.

  The two cats Sam had told her about, came running down a hall Dina assumed led to the bedrooms. They gave her a long, cool stare from the safety of an armchair, negligently licking their paws, all the while keeping an eye on her movements. Deciding they liked what they saw, one by one, they came down to sniff at her legs before lazily winding their way around her ankles with arched backs, their sleek black and white coat leaving a trail of fur in their wake.

  “Buzz and Saw,” she said, reaching down to scratch them behind the ears. “They’re pretty cute.”

  “Yeah,” he said, a furrow between his eyes. “How do you know their names?”

  “I—I’m a Medium remember? We know things.” She cursed her stupidity.

  “But knowing their names is pretty specific, isn’t it?” He was looking at her strangely, suspicion sharpening his voice.

  “I don’t question the spirits, detective. I merely accept what they choose to share with me. I’m sorry if that bothers you,” she said, coolly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said after a brief pause. “I was just startled, that’s all. You can’t read my mind, can you?”

  “Of course not. I pick up on certain information and can make pretty good guesses based on energy,” she lied, nimbly. Seeing the look of confusion on his face made Dina feel a tinge of guilt about misleading him.

  “Good, because I’d hate for you to know what I was thinking about your legs right now.” His smile was mischievous.

  “Uh-huh.” She walked over to French doors that opened to the backyard. “You are quite a surprise.”

  The cats followed her, one of them pawing at her ankle then looking up at her expectantly. She picked it up, absently stroking its soft fur. Just past the deck and its neat arrangement of furniture, a large swath of grass ended at a pier where a shiny boat was docked. It floated serenely atop a glistening expanse of water, marsh grasses swaying along the shore.

  “Why?” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

  “Because of all this,” she said, waving an arm to encompass her surroundings. She placed the cat back on the floor and it walked back to the living room, leaping on the armchair. “You have great taste. Surprisingly great taste.”

>   “Because I’m a cop that surprises you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Cops can have good taste, too.”

  “Yes, but they usually don’t.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I’ve seen the cop shows,” she said, grinning. “All that cheap looking furniture and even cheaper suits. I’m assuming at least some of its true.”

  “Alright, I’ll give you that,” he said with a little laugh. “But I have a father who’s a furniture maker and carpenter. He’s the one I inherited my great taste from.”

  “So that’s how you learned to restore old houses?”

  “Yes, he taught me everything I know. Before my Mom and dad bought a house, we lived in crappy rentals. My father would spend time renovating them with second hand supplies until they looked brand new on the inside. The landlords were always happy to raise the rent them out afterwards,” he said with a chuckle. “One of our landlords started hiring him to spruce up his rentals and from there, my father’s reputation spread until he had his own thriving renovation business.”

  “And where’s your family from?”

  “Reservation in North Carolina.”

  “Are you guys the ones that opened a casino in the mountains?”

  “The Cherokee? The one and only. That’s how I was able to afford this. I saved up all the tribal checks I got from the casino profits and was able to buy something a cop’s salary wouldn’t normally allow.”

  “That’s quite a story.”

  “I tell all the girls that to impress them,” he said, a playful gleam in his eyes.

  “And does that normally work?”

  “Always. Poor little Indian boy that made good with his life. Works like a charm.” The look he threw her was filled with roguish charm and she looked away, rolling her eyes.

  “You want something to drink?”

  “Yeah, I’ll take a beer.”

  “Another empty calorie filled beverage? I’ll bet that’s a record for you,” he teased, opening the fridge and taking out two Modelo Especial’s. He cut a lime, popping the top on each beer and placing a slice in each bottle.

  “I like to waste my calories on alcohol and chocolate, thank you very much.” She took a sip from the bottle he handed her, enjoying its crisp taste on her tongue.

  “Are you ready for an adventure?” he asked.

  “As ready as I’m gonna be.”

  **

  After packing up a bag of tortillas and some beef jerky; he tossed beers, bottled waters, raw chicken legs and grapes in a large cooler filled with ice.

  “What’re the chicken legs for?” she asked, peering into the cooler.

  “You’ll see.” He gave her an alluring little smile that made her heart jump.

  They walked down to the boat, each holding one side of the cooler. Hopping aboard, he quickly unmoored the boat, then pulled away from the dock, the low rumble of its twin engines following them. A trench of surf opened up behind them, the blue gray waters of the channel churned up by the boats movement. He chatted about the rest of his family as they slowly moved out of the channel leading to the open ocean. He had three brothers and four sisters, the youngest in his early twenties and the oldest turning forty that year.

  “So they all went into the family business and you decided to become a cop? Why?”

  “Small town. Everybody knows you and everything gets reported back to your family in one way or another. I got tired of it. Went to the military as soon as I turned eighteen, did my basic training in South Carolina, loved it here and when my four years were up, came back, went to police academy and the rest is history.”

  “So you escaped?”

  “I guess you could say that.” His laugh echoed across the water, the eyes he cut in her direction glittering with mirth.

  “Are you good at what you do?”

  That roguish smile again and a showing of pearly whites, “Very good.”

  He slowed the engine then cut them altogether. Sea gulls screamed, wheeling overhead, their beady eyes searching for a meal on the water’s surface. The boat came to a drifting stop just short of leaving the channel. Dropping anchor, he opened a storage area near the hull, removing a crab pot.

  “It’s a little late in the day for crabs, but we might still catch a few.” Attaching a long, plastic line to the railing, he secured the other end to the crab pot. Opening the trap, he dropped the raw chicken legs inside, reclosed it and released it in the water. It landed with a loud splash, quickly sinking until it was lost from view. “You fish?”

  “Of course. I am a southern girl, detective.”

  “Call me Arnie,” he said as he moved below deck. He returned with two long, sturdy looking fishing rods, their width and length suitable to ocean fishing. After making sure they were properly strung and baited, he handed one to her and they walked over to the boats railing, casting their lines, then placing them in the rod holders attached to the railing. They situated themselves on the comfortable seating built into the boats deck and continued talking about their families, the conversation easy and relaxed. Over the course of the next couple of hours, as the sun began melting slowly into the horizon, they caught a couple of mackerel, three seabass and over a dozen crabs before heading back.

  As soon as they returned, Dina got to work scaling and gutting a couple of the fish over a pile of newspapers while Arnie fired up a charcoal grill. Pretty soon, they had a veritable feast of grilled fish and steamed crabs. A few brown-n-serve rolls and a crisp salad were their only accompaniments to the meal. They ate outdoors, Arnie carefully setting the grilled fish and crabs on serving platters alongside slices of lime and bowls of melted butter.

  “I’m stuffed to the gills,” Dina said, plopping with a contented sigh on one of the lounge chairs. Arnie had lit a few citronella torches, their bright flames licking at the darkness and throwing flickering fingers of light across their faces.

  “Then that means I did my job.” He eased back on the lounge chair next to her, folding his hands behind his head. Stars twinkled overhead, the moon a half-full crescent partially hidden behind a fast moving bank of clouds. Water gently lapped at the dock, the sound carrying in the still night air and mingling with the loud mating call of crickets and amorous frogs. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “I did, but we just broke up,” she said, stiffly, the question pulling her right out of her food lethargy.

  “What happened?”

  “We just wanted different things and I felt it was time to move on.”

  “How long were you all together?”

  “You sure ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled, testily.

  “I’m curious about you.” He looked over at her, his eyes probing her face in the darkness. “You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “No, it’s okay,” she said with a shake of her head and a noisy exhalation of air. “I wanted to be married and have children and he didn’t. The oldest reason in the book to break up, huh?”

  “One of the oldest,” he said with a shrug. “Most women wouldn’t want to have children, if like you, they owned their own business and had just released a new exercise video. All the marketing that probably needs to go along with your work must keep you pretty busy.”

  “You sound just like him,” she remarked, tersely. “But like I told him, you make time for things that are important and family is important to me.”

  “Now I’m the one that’s surprised.” She could tell from the way his voice sounded that he was smiling.

  “What? You’ve never met a career girl that made room for family?”

  “Nope. As a matter of fact, that was one of the things Sam and I used to argue about. She wanted to wait for kids and I wanted them right away. And honestly, months before our wedding I wondered if we should even have been getting married, then the accident happened and took that choice right out of my hands.”

  “You still sound like you’re mad at her.”

  “No,
I’m not mad at her. It took a while, but I moved on. If it were up to me she’d be up and out of that hospital bed and walking around right now.”

  “Up and out of the hospital bed,” Dina said slowly. She sat up, looking over at him. “How is that possible when your fiancée is dead?”

  “Dead? Sam’s not dead. She’s in a coma. Has been for the last two years.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Sam—get your ass out here right now!” Dina bellowed as soon as she walked through the door. After Arnie had told her Sam was in a coma, ignoring the questions in his eyes, she’d made a quick excuse and abruptly left. Tossing her purse on the counter, she steamed up and down the hallway until Sam showed up. The look on her face told Dina that Sam knew exactly what she was mad about.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, tentatively.

  “Are you just a born liar or did you learn that after you started cheating on your fiancé with his partner?” she asked, her tone deliberately cruel.

  “I’m guessing Arnie told you that.”

  “You guessed right.” Dina was angrier than she’d ever been. “I see now that this whole dating scheme isn’t about Arnie and his loneliness at all. It’s about you. It always has been.”

  “I—I didn’t mean--,” she began, miserably.

  “I don’t even want to hear it,” Dina said, savagely cutting her off. “You led me to believe you were dead when the entire time you were lying in some hospital bed in a coma.”

  “That’s practically the same thing,” she retorted, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes.

  “It’s completely different. You’re not a ghost, you’re a dream-walker. A person whose body is still alive but whose spirit is roaming around, either by choice, or because they’re locked out of their body. That explains why you can do some of the things you’re able to do. All that effort you put into making sure I had your little necklace was pointless. You could’ve just followed me around at will.”

  “It’s easier to find you if you have something of mine.”

  “Whatever,” Dina said, her tone biting. “What the hell, Sam? Why are you doing all of this? Why didn’t you just tell me the whole truth from the outset?”