Unfortunately, Zeke was gone. She’d set him free. That was another part of the deal she’d made with Ezra. No guardian touched Mae’s soul or stole her energy, and Zeke had to be released from forced service as a guardian spirit under Ezra. She’d paid his karmic debt after helping him face the sins that had led to his sentence, giving him peace, or so she hoped.
Wherever you are, love, I hope you’re at peace. Know that I still love you and always will.
Jeanne hadn’t answered, so Vivian asked again, “Can I meet some?”
“We’ll see,” Jeanne replied. “What else?”
Vivian sighed in frustration. Seemed she might never get a straight answer from these spirits. Picking at the bits of fruit and syrup on her plate, she said, “What’s the guardian council, and why would they have a problem with humans like me, or field guardians like you?”
Jeanne took a sip of coffee, and quirked a brow as she swallowed. “Ever dealt with management?”
“Sure,” Vivian said. She’d almost been one at her old firm. Not an easy job to fill, nor was it easy to accept orders from middlemen and -women who may or may not know as much about the job as their underlings.
“Ever worked under a manager who hasn’t been out in the trenches for a really long time?”
Boy, had she ever. “Uh-oh, trouble in paradise, huh? A little disconnect between the union and corporate?”
“They mean well, I’m sure,” Jeanne muttered. She pushed her plate back and cradled her coffee cup in her hands as if gathering warmth. Or maybe she was warming it up with her natural guardian energy heat.
Jeanne spoke slowly, as if choosing her words with great care. “They have to look at the big picture, things like growth, sustainability, what you might call cost-benefit analysis.” She seemed uncomfortable. Whether she felt bad about sharing the inner workings of the guardian spirit hierarchy or about bashing the big boss, Vivian couldn’t tell.
“Hey, if there’s something going on with the higher-ups that affects me, then I think I have a right to know,” Vivian said, pushing a bit. “After all, we’re on the same side, right?”
“These are tough times, Vivian. So much suffering, so much work. It’s not always easy to balance that with meeting their quotas.”
“Quotas?”
“They need energy too,” Jeanne said with another shrug.
Oh yeah. Pyramid scheme. Add in corporate greed, lack of communication between management and workers, not to mention an apparent lack of oversight, and problems were bound to follow. Vivian wondered if their realm was on the verge of an energy crisis.
Interpreting Jeanne’s expression as a sign to take up another topic, Vivian asked, “So, what do we do?”
Jeanne shrugged again and helped herself to some more fresh strawberries. Vivian considered zapping her in the ass, but refrained. Then Jeanne said, “Wait for Ezra, I guess.”
“That ain’t gonna fly, sister,” Vivian said, grabbing her purse and keys. “I’ve got to go by the office for a few hours and run a few errands. I’ll be back after I stop by to check on Father Montgomery.”
Jeanne raised an eyebrow and moved to block her. “Whoa, what are you up to? Ezra told me to keep you out of trouble. Besides, we still have to talk about your case load!” she practically squealed. “I’ll be working with you now! Isn’t that exciting?”
“Great,” Vivian said, without much enthusiasm.
“Oh Vivian, you should be happy. We are blessed with such a wonderful opportunity to make a real difference in the world of the living. You know, Wallace says that I’m one of the most promising recruits he’s had in a few decades.”
Vivian sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. In spite of her obvious doubts about how the guardian operation was run, Jeanne still had the enthusiasm of a cheerleader and apparently bought into the mission statement. She also appeared to be a play-by-the-rules kind of gal. Wait for Ezra? Not likely. That had gotten her into the soul broker business in the first place. She wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
But Jeanne didn’t need to know that. Shifting gears, Vivian said, “Maybe I’d be a little more gung-ho if I wasn’t worried about my life, not to mention the padre’s. He’s got protection twenty-four seven, right?”
“Of course,” she said, looking a little wounded. “Now, tell me what you’re planning to do.”
“Oh,” Vivian replied with a vague smile. “I just need to check with a confidential source after I run by the office.”
***
The advantage of working part-time, aside from sleeping later and avoiding at least one major office breast-talker and all around douchebag was not being stuck in I-440 traffic. Nashville and the surrounding counties were making an effort to avoid the Metro Atlanta model of growth, but traffic congestion never seemed to improve in spite of never-ending construction. Vivian’s blood pressure, not to mention her penchant for swearing, had improved thanks to a later arrival time at the office and, thus, a less stressful commute.
Walking in and giving a quick nod to her colleagues out front, Vivian moved into her office, fired up her computer, and tackled a week’s worth of emails with ruthless efficiency before reviewing her stack of applications in progress. She had help with credit checks, but preferred to double-check them herself before moving ahead with the paperwork. She’d learned after fourteen years in the business, and even earlier while hanging around her dad’s office, ‘Always look at the three C’s, hon, and look at ’em in order,’ he’d said. Credit equals character, capacity equals income, and collateral equals insurance for the loan to cover your ass in case of default.
That advice was worth more than half of her college courses in this business. It was pretty sound advice for life, come to think of it. Unlike her colleagues in the crumbling mortgage loan industry, she meticulously scrutinized beacon scores, debt to income ratios, and followed the ‘thirty-five to forty percent what you owe to what you make’ net rule.
Whether their loan applications were approved or not, she always offered frank advice to her clients. Though there was plenty of blame to go around with borrowers taking on more mortgage than they could possibly afford, she still got hot under the collar with reports of lenders fudging incomes and their dumb little appraiser buddies inflating property values. That little bit of creative accounting had left way too many families without a home or any of what they’d actually invested.
Though her supervisors over the years had scolded her for wasting time, she also offered free credit counseling when she saw good people struggling. She’d had a nose for it even before she’d acquired her spirit powers, but they definitely helped. These days, she combined both jobs by channeling the burdens of her clients in secret. And in the current economy, the burdens were aplenty. Plus, since she still only worked part-time, she tended to get more of the high-risk and desperate clients that her colleagues didn’t much care for. Today’s case was one of those.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs….” she paused and made a quick glance at the paperwork in front of her, “Ridley—”
“It’s Sam,” said the man in the secondhand suit and tie as he stood and grabbed her by the hand. “I sure do appreciate you meeting us today, ma’am.”
“It’s my job, sir,” she said, returning his handshake and smiling. “And who’s your lovely lady?”
“Oh, this here’s Mary,” he said with a big grin. “She’s the best. She and our little ones.”
“Pleased to meet you both,” Vivian said, turning her attention to Mary. “Now, I understand you need a loan, but I wasn’t clear about the purpose.”
Mary looked down at her hands, clasped together hard in her lap as waves of despair flowed from her.
“We need a little help paying some expenses on the car that Mary uses to haul around the kids,” he said. Vivian didn’t need any otherworldly powers to hear the anxiety in his voice.
“I see,” Vivian began. “But what I don’t understand is why you need such a big loan from us fo
r maintenance.” She leaned forward and gave Mr. Ridley a knowing look. “I mean, if it’s going to cost you that much to fix something that’s broken, you’d be better off getting another car.”
“Well, it ain’t so much repair as it is keeping the car,” Sam said.
“Oh, you don’t have the title?” Vivian asked, probing. God, it broke her heart to see good folks like these fall victim to scams and sharks who preyed on the desperate and downtrodden. She’d been seeing more and more lately.
“Well, we do…” Sam winced as he trailed off, red creeping up his neck to his face. He held his fists clenched at his sides but took a deep breath to calm his emotions. Placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder, he struggled to collect his thoughts, or perhaps for the courage to admit to the trap he’d fallen into.
Vivian had a pretty good idea about what was going on and decided not to mince words about it. She leaned forward and put her palms on the desk, waiting for the Ridleys to meet her gaze before speaking.
“Mr. Ridley, I’m going to give it to you straight. Your take-home pay is pretty good, so you ought to be able to keep up a car you own. You aren’t so forthcoming about the issue with your car or if you even own it, so I figure you’ve probably got yourself in a jam and you’re robbing Peter to pay Paul. You want to tell me who else you owe?”
Sam gave Vivian a hard look and replied, “I came here to get a loan, miss, not no lecture. Are you going to help me out, or do I need to take my business elsewhere?”
Vivian waited. She didn’t want to wound the man’s pride by way of his wallet, but she suspected these were decent folk who got in over their heads. She wanted to know why and how before she decided if she would or even could help them dig their way out. She lowered her gaze, sitting back up in her chair and taking a moment to glance at the paperwork while giving Sam time to decide if he wanted to talk or not.
She didn’t look up as she heard Mary whisper to her husband, “Sam, just tell her what happened. We got to do something, honey.”
“Let me handle this, baby,” he pleaded.
“But we can’t lose the car!” she said, her voice high with desperation.
“Mary!”
“No, I’m done pussyfooting around,” Mary said, turning to address Vivian. “Miss Bedford, our youngest got real bad sick about six months ago and our insurance doesn’t cover squat. We had a mountain of bills and we didn’t want to go and get behind, so we took out a loan against our car.”
“A title loan?” Vivian asked, heart racing as her blood began to boil.
“I know it wasn’t smart, but we’d started hearing from collections agents, calling at all hours of the day and night. It was just awful. So we used the title loan money to pay down some of the medical bills, and then we got behind on some other bills and we went to some of those payday advance places to keep up after we’d burned through our savings. It’s been a rough few years and I haven’t been able to work like I used to with the kids and all.”
“I get it,” Vivian said with genuine sympathy. She’d seen this before. Title lenders loaned the working poor roughly half the value of their cars at a whopping thirty-five to forty percent interest rate per month. If the borrower couldn’t pay them off, they could repossess the car. These sharks had nothing to lose, and the poor soul who took the loan was left without transportation and in worse financial shape than before. Coupled with the rat wheel of never-ending paycheck advances, these folks could work three jobs and never dig themselves out.
And there were so many—more than she cared to count in the half a mile through Antioch or Crieve Hall, be it payday advances, title loans, or pawn shops, though you would be hard-pressed to find any in the ritzy Brentwood or Bellevue business districts. Plenty of politicians made careers out of lashing out at class warfare and social justice warriors, but Vivian had counted about ten loan shark establishments on a seven-mile stretch of Nolensville Road, north of Old Hickory. The problem was real.
“So,” Vivian said. “Are you ready for my first question?”
Sam eyed her with wariness while Mary nodded eagerly. Vivian smiled and asked, “How’s your youngest doing now?”
“Oh, he’s right as rain.” Mary beamed. “Sam, show her that picture of Luke you carry in your wallet.”
While the Ridleys were digging for photos, Vivian closed her eyes and focused on them, taking in nearly invisible wisps of light. The burdens borne on that light filled and enveloped her, the sleepless nights they’d spent tending to the sick child, and those spent worrying about getting by with rent, groceries, utilities, and all that they owed. Relief washed over her as she sensed the love and pride in their family and their support for one another. Flashes of the good made the bad easier for Vivian to take, like the proverbial spoon full of sugar that helped some really bad tasting medicine go down. Tucking away the heavy load, she looked at the photo of their son and smiled.
“Okay, here’s what I’m going to do. You’re going to get a five thousand dollar loan from our office at a good rate, and you are going to take that money and pay off every penny that you owe to the sharks. Do you owe any more on the medical bills?”
“No, ma’am,” Sam said in a very business-like tone. “We paid all of that off.”
“That’s good, but if this ever happens again, you call me first. I’ve worked with docs before and can straighten things out with a better payment schedule and even negotiate your total down. They’re smart enough to know that steady payments are better than nothing at all. Now then, let’s go ahead and schedule your next appointment with me before we get into the nitty gritty on the term, collateral, and the paperwork.”
“Next appointment? I thought we just mailed the check or dropped it by?” Mary chimed in.
“That’s what you did with the other lenders. Not with me. When you come back and we’re going to go over your monthly expenses and work out a budget to get you through the length of your loan with us and hopefully work on getting your savings rebuilt. You putting away anything for retirement, college tuition, things like that?”
The Ridleys stared at her in wonder. Sam cleared his throat and said, “We have some pension money through my job, but nothing for school. You know, no one’s ever offered us something like this. You think we can pay you off and save money?”
“You can do that and more, folks, but you have to start with a budget and stick with it,” Vivian replied, giddy at the prospect of helping real, living people in the ordinary world.
“Why are you interested in helping us save?” Sam asked.
“Well, for starters, it’s just good business. If I get you on the right track with your finances, I’ll get the money back with my cut of the interest, plus I’ll get myself a customer for life,” Vivian said. That was another great piece of advice her dad had given her. It was also why she liked working for a small, independent firm rather than a giant corporation. Personal relationships mattered more than bigger profits at the expense of her integrity.
Or her soul.
“You already got that!” Mary said, standing up and shaking her hand. “You work for that guy on the radio or something?”
“No, ma’am, but I’m a big fan. Stick with me and I’ll have y’all shouting, ‘I’m debt free’ before you know it. Now let’s get you on the books for next week.”
Elated by her success with the Ridleys, she stuck around the office for an extra hour to help the cashiers collect and log payments. In between, she made some calls to “encourage” a few folks who were late on their payments to at least come in and talk about the issue so they could resolve it, as well as making a few solicitation calls. The work was good, but it served another purpose—avoidance.
She dreaded her next appointment so much she even considered joining Mack and Larry, their repo men, on their weekly effort to find the hidden assets of the chronically delinquent. But there would be no avoiding the inevitable. He terrified her as much as he intrigued her, but, more importantly, he was her insurance policy ag
ainst the guardian spirits to whom she was beholden. Her work with the guardians wasn’t exactly voluntary, and the burdens she swallowed through her work with the living took their toll on her mortal body and on her soul.
Only one creature could relieve her of those burdens, and he’d volunteered, asking nothing in return for the service. Granted, feeding on misery benefited him as much as it did her, but he’d never asked her for anything. Not yet.
She swallowed hard.
Best get on with it.
Finally, with a deep breath for courage, she packed up, got into her car, and prepared to meet the reaper.
CHAPTER 6
Most folks who weren’t personally acquainted with the region tended to associate the South with Spanish moss-laden live oaks, sprawling plantation homes, and pretty little Scarlett O’Hara-type spitfires. Nashville had spitfires, and a few plantation homes, but the similarities ended there. It got too cold for live oaks. Music City, and Tennessee in general, resembled Cold Mountain rather than Gone with the Wind. Springtime decorated the capital city and her state with blushing redbuds, dogwoods in red, white, or pink, and grand old magnolias aplenty. Magnolias had a deep-rooted history in the state. Andrew Jackson’s magnolia journeyed from the Hermitage to Washington D.C. in the early 19th century by way of cuttings and as a tribute to his beloved Rachel, then back again following the loss of the original in the tornado of 1998. From the ill-fated “Magnolia League” athletic conference efforts in the 1950s to the nearby private university’s insular magnolia curtain, the scent of the big ivory blooms had long permeated the air here. Vivian could smell them from the steps of the Parthenon in Centennial Park, where she sat waiting for Mr. Darkmore to arrive.
Having arrived early after helping the Ridley family, she used her first free moments since the night before to mull things over while sipping her mocha. Up until last night, she believed things were getting easier since more in the local spirit community were aware of her ability to see them, even if they weren’t always comfortable with it.
Raising the Dead Page 5