by Moray, Tabby
“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.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Eh, Boss lady, I’m havin’ a barbeque at my house tomorrow and I wanted to invite you.” It was early Friday evening just after her last session of the day. Everyone but the misplaced Bostonian with the whiney disposition and Detective Barney had cleared out for the night.
“Is that right?” Dina wasn’t sure how she felt about him calling her boss lady, but Nick was turning out to be a pretty nice guy and one of her favorite students so she figured she’d just have to let it slide.
Nick was standing just to Dina’s side. His shirt and body was drenched in sweat, the hair creeping like thick moss across his shoulders and the backs of his hands, spikey with perspiration. To his credit, the whininess had halted, but that’s still the nickname Dina had penned to the big guy. “Not to toot my own horn, but I’m’a grill master.”
“He is.” Detective Barney was standing just behind him, the usual indecipherable look slapped across his handsome face. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it seemed that Detective Barney Nichols was becoming more handsome by the day, evidence of his hard work already showing in his hardened pecs and biceps after only a week’s work. Clearly he’d had some regular form of exercise he used to adhere to because his muscle memory was working overtime. “If you get invited to a BBQ at Nick’s house, you should jump at the opportunity. His food’s amazing.”
“Dat ain’t true,” he denied, vigorously shaking his head. “I invite plenty of other people but the only ones dat ever show up is you guys. Dere’ll be plenty of great food. I can’t say all of it’ll be healthy, but I’ve added some things to the menu I know you’ll approve of.”
“Then I obviously can’t turn it down,” she said, grinning. It would be nice to have something to do on Saturday night besides stare at the television. If the conversation between she and Anthony went well, maybe she’d bring him along…
“Good, den it’s…badda boom. Who is dat?” Nick breathed, raptly. Quickly wiping himself down with the towel thrown across his shoulder, he ran a finger through his hair, gave himself the sniff-test, grimaced and stood up straighter, sucking his prominent belly in until it looked like a dented barrel.
Dina turned to see what had gotten him all worked up and was dismayed to see not only Molly Laurence and Paula Ingleson, but also her mother, sweeping in her direction. With their pastels, florals and chunky costume jewelry, they looked as if they were initiating a fashion war council with Dina as the poor, unsuspecting target. Her mother got to her first.
After a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, her mother didn’t bother waiting to launch the first nuke.
“Why is it that I had to learn from Paula and Molly that you were hosting a party?” Paula and Eileen hovered back a respectable distance. But they were still close enough to overhear anything juicy. “Why is your mother always the last to know?”
“Hey, Dina,” Paula and Molly said, their soft southern twang chiming in unison, each with innocent looks on their faces.
“We just naturally assumed your mother was already in on the plans,” Molly said, her heavily mascaraed eyes unapologetic.
“As you should’ve.”
“Mom, now is not the time or the place to talk about this,” she whispered, mildly uncomfortable that Detective Barney was witnessing her mother treating her like she was an impudent teenager.
“I can’t catch you any other way because you haven’t been calling.” She finally took notice of the two men in the room, both watching the two of them with the sort of wary fascination a man wears when a beautiful woman that’s isn’t his own wife or mother is around. She frowned at Detective Barney Nichols, then smiled delightedly, saying out loud, “He is very interesting looking, Dina and his aura…calm, decisive, patient…I think I like this one. I’m Dina’s mother, Edith Ruiz. So nice to finally meet you. You must be the detective.”
Dina cringed inwardly. Now the man probably thought they sat around having cozy chats about him while sipping from glasses of wine and nibbling expensive chocolates.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Detective Barney Nichols shook her mother’s hand, all the while wearing a quizzical expression.
“And while we’re makin’ introductions--,” Nick piped up, making his way over to Molly and Paula, but his eyes were trained only on Paula. Paula fluttered, smiling hugely. “I’m Nickolas Albani. But friends call me Nick.”
“Nice to meet you Nick,” Paula said, extending a hand and smiling.
Dina glanced quickly between both of their faces. Could the cool, sophisticated Paula actually be interested in a man as unrefined (and hairy) as Nick?
“Same here,” Molly said, but with less enthusiasm. The hand that shook Nick’s was quickly snatched away.
“I’ve gotta get outta here, but before I go, I’m having a BBQ tomorrow startin’ around six if all of you ladies and a few of your friends would like to stop by. I’m a great cook,” he threw out for the second time that evening. “And I’ll be makin’ my famous rum punch.”
“Why thank you, Nick, but I already have plans. But, if you have another BBQ I may just take you up on that offer,” her mother declined, gracefully.
“I have to say I’ve never met a rum punch I didn’t like,” Paula said, smiling flirtatiously.
“If you give me your number I can text you the address.”
Dina smirked at his obvious attempt to get Paula’s number. To be such a big, hairy brute of a man Nick sure had a lot of game.
“Alright, that sounds like a plan to me.”
“So, detective, how has Dina been treating you,” her mother asked while Paula and Nick exchanged numbers, conti
nuing to flirt unabashedly.
“I don’t think your daughter cares for me much, Ms. Ruiz,” he responded, rocking back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets.
“It’s ‘Mrs’ and I’m sure that’s not true, is it Dina?”
“Of course not,” Dina protested. “I mean—I don’t even know you well enough to dislike you.”
“People dislike one another in a glance so you’ve had plenty of time to form an opinion.”
“My daughter likes you, she just has a strange way of showing it,” her traitorous mother said, smiling.
“Ok, Mom, why are you here?” Dina said, rounding on her.
“I think that’s my cue,” Detective Barney said, making his way to the door. “It was nice meeting you Mrs. Ruiz. Dina, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Hey, Dina? I’ll just talk to you tomorrow,” Paula called out as she and Molly prepared to follow Nick and Detective Barney out the door.
“That Paula will go after anything with a crotch, I swear!” her mother said as soon as they were out of earshot. “My God, the man was practically a bear! If that wasn’t enough to turn the woman off nothing is.”
“Wow, Mom,” she said, shaking her head and grinning. “There’s nothing wrong with Nick. He’s a nice guy.”
Her mother harrumphed, shook her head and turned back to the matter at hand. “I still can’t believe I had to learn from Paula and Molly that my own daughter was having a party. You know how much I hate when anyone from the Southern Ladies Club gets the bead on me,” her mother complained, tapping one foot much as Dina did when she was agitated.
“Gets the ‘bead’ on you?” Dina asked with a little frown.
“During a cleansing I performed a couple days ago the spirit kept saying ‘You’re not gonna get the bead on me’ and it just stuck like a bad record.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “So, am I even invited?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mom,” Dina said dryly, walking to the door and turning all the lights off save the strip of lighting in the rear. “I had every intention of inviting you as soon as I knew I was throwing this party. Jaine was the one that came up with this terrible idea.”