Gertie's Paranormal Plantation: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy Read online

  “Baaa, baaa.”

  A worn leather collar hung around the goat’s neck. I swung it around until I found a small brass tag suspended from a ring. The badly scratched surface had some lettering stamped into it. “Well, you’ve come to the right place, smart little goat. I wonder…did you know that I run an animal shelter here on my plantation? What should I call you?” I looked over the name tag one more time. I made out a few of the letters and did my best to make sense of them.

  GEIS SPOTH

  I assumed this had to be the goat’s name. I clumsily sounded out the letters in a few ways and settled on a version that didn’t make me sound like a goat with a lisp. “Jay Spot.” The name rolled off my Irish tongue easily enough. “Come along, Jay Spot. You can stay out in the cow shed. You’ll be comfortable in there for the night.” I led him out to the shed where I kept a pair of cows that I rescued, more or less, from their fate as ground beef.

  Chapter Two

  Phone Hex

  With Jay Spot safe for the night, I sprinted into the house and up to my room. It was almost time for my phone call. I’m in what most people call a long distance relationship, the dreadful LDR. And all I can say about those arrangements is that they suck. Maybe the suck factor can be reduced, but never eliminated, if you can honestly tell yourself that it will all work out, eventually. That one little word makes all the difference. In order to qualify for the right to use the word eventually, there has to be some absolute, sure-fire event out there on the horizon. I’ve heard other people use it. “It’ll work out when we finish college.” Or, “when he gets back from the Army.” You know, a Something—a bright, shiny Eventually that you might keep in your dresser drawer, take it out now and again and get lost in the starry eyed daydreams of Eventually.

  But I didn’t have a pretty little eventually. My dresser drawer held a sad, rubber reminder that I’d be spending another night alone. And I was out of batteries. Maybe that’s why I picked the weird, ice-blue, strangely shaped toy. It’s highly unlikely I’d ever form an emotional attachment to something that looks like it was made to be a prosthetic penis for an alien. God forbid. I’d be a castaway on LDR Island with my vibrating Wilson.

  My boyfriend, Brad, is a Chicago fireman. We met last summer in a wild fury of instant passion—hot, fiery passion. Literally. My friend Leigh used her witchcraft so I would meet a hot fireman. It should go without saying that getting rescued by a fireman required an actual fire, a fire that I accidentally provided when I burned down a good portion of my friend Lindsey’s house. Brad and I have been in love ever since. In any case, it seems like our love for each other has grown faster than our ability to look to the future. I needed a future.

  We’ve worked it out as best we can. I sometimes used my broom to be in Chicago with him, but only if he was free for the night or weekend and I had someone to take care of my animals.

  Unfortunately, that hadn’t always worked out. Except for last month. We spent nearly the entire month together, the hottest, steamiest December I’ve ever experienced. And now I’m missing him worse than at any time before. This was a new and powerful feeling for me. I’m not even sure that by saying “I missed him” could adequately convey the depth of the emotion, or should I say pain. At times it was nearly unbearable because I felt this longing for him. I swear it felt like part of my heart was missing. I wanted him to be with me, to the point that it physically hurt. I don’t know if that’s a sign of true love. If it isn’t, then I don’t know what is.

  Now I survived on phone calls and phone sex. Phone sex. Those words shouldn’t even be put next to each other. I imagine two phones awkwardly humping away across a desk, keypad beeps accompanying each erotic touch, a dial tone or two when one of them hits just the right spot, and finally the ringer blissfully announcing an orgasm. Hopefully both phones get to ring.

  I checked my calendar. “Yes!” I shouted. I was right. Brad was free until his shift started in a couple of hours and he was planning to call at eight o’clock. The phone rang within minutes.

  “Hi Brad!”

  “Hey, Sunshine. I missed you earlier. I tried calling but you must have been out.”

  “I walked down by the bayou to check on...the wildlife. You’ll never guess what I found on my way back.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A goat. It was following me up the trail all the way to the house. I put it in with the cows for the night. A little strange to find a goat wandering around out here.”

  “A goat? At least it found itself a home. I’m sure you’ll have it spoiled rotten in no time.”

  “So, Brad, what made you so anxious to call me?” I teased. I knew damn well what he’d been missing.

  “You, of course. I’ve missed you. Everything about you.”

  “Uh, you should be more specific.”

  Brad’s voice became deep and soft. “I was imagining myself walking into your room, seeing you sitting on your bed, like you’re probably doing right now.”

  “I like where this is going.”

  “I come up to you and place my hand on your cheek. Feeling your soft skin and gently lifting your chin up. Watching your green eyes sparkle like they do. The only thing I want to do is to lean down and kiss your lips. Softly at first and until they begin to part and our tongues are lightly dancing. I have one hand running through your hair against the back of your neck and my other hand slides around and works the zipper of your dress down your back.”

  I took Brad’s cue and unzipped the back of my dress. “Keep going.” I urged him on.

  “Then I slip the straps of your dress down from your shoulders and my mouth moves to the supple skin of your neck. I can feel myself harden with passion as you begin to breathe harder.”

  I slipped the thin straps of my sleeveless sundress off. I could feel the imagined warmth of Brad’s mouth kissing me as my fingers brushed my neck. I breathed hard into the phone. “Yes, don’t…don’t stop.” I panted like a thirsty pup.

  “I can’t hold back. I have to have you. My mouth finds yours once again and I pull your dress down and off of you and kiss your breasts.”

  “Yes, I can hardly hold back either.” I tried to make sense of Brad’s direction. First, he was kissing me…that I got. What was next? Pull the dress down off of me. Wait! “Hold on, Brad. You can’t pull my dress down off of me because I’m still sitting on the bed.”

  “Right. Okay, so I lift you up and take the dress off then I place my hands over your breasts and run my tongue over your nipples.”

  I tried my best to hide my laughter and simultaneously keep up the heavy breathing sounds. “Umm. Okay.” Nipples. Did he say nipples? I stood up and dropped my dress down around my feet in a completely unsexy manner. “You forgot about my bra. Just a second.” I took off my bra and flung it over my shoulders. “All right. Where were we? Take off the dress, put your hands over my nipples? No, wait. Hands on breasts, lick the nipples? It’s physically impossible.” I laughed out loud. “Okay, I’m sorry. Keep going.” Nipples, nipples, nipples. The word cracks me up.

  “Yeah, baby. I tear off your bra and my hands cup your breasts. I love the feel of your hard, firm tits in my hands…your nipples are like…um…like little pink pencil erasers.”

  It was just too much. Every giggle, every snort, and every chuckle that I had choked back finally broke free. I was like a hyena on laughing gas. I would like to point out that when your clothes are dropped down around your ankles, they become some pretty effective leg shackles. I fell with a thump and a single loud “Ooof!” I was sprawled out on the floor, still laughing. “Oh…Brad. Pencil erasers? My hard, firm tits?” I gasped out between chuckles. “You, haha, you make it sound like I’m a, haha, a mannequin some schoolboys put together. And this heavy breathing…God, I sound like I’m having an asthma attack.”

  Brad was laughing with me. “We haven’t even gotten to the good part where I very awkwardly describe what I do with my fingers. Jesus! Imagine if someone listened in on us. But w
hat if I talked like this…” Brad followed up by giving me his best impression of an old sexologist with a German accent. “Now, I insert zee index finger und den I make the motion like da Volkswagen piston. You see how zat verks? Ja, den I curl dat finger up, just like when I call my little schnauzer. Like dis, herkommen, herkommen puppy! See how I do that to tickle up in there? Ooh she likes when I tickle dat schpot like dat.” Brad and I laughed without saying a word for what seemed to be several minutes. “Doesn’t sound too sexy does it?”

  “Brad, I’m afraid this just isn’t working out.” I bit my lip. That didn’t sound right. It almost sounded like I wanted to give up on our relationship! “The sexy stuff, I mean. Oh God, Brad. I sure miss you.”

  “I miss you, too, Gertie. I just want to be with you, but my shift is about to start and—”

  A thunderous crash from downstairs broke up our conversation. There were more sounds, unmistakable ones. “Brad. Someone or something just crashed through a window. I just heard glass shattering.” My voice was serious and hushed. “It’s downstairs.” The noises from the kitchen seemed to be confined to one area. I listened and tried to get an idea of what it could be. When I heard a rapid thunk, thunk, thunk rising up, it was frighteningly clear to me. The intruder was running up the stairs. I curled into a ball on the floor next to the bed. “It’s coming up here!” I barely said the words and a goat vaulted through the door, over my head, and onto my bed.

  “Sweet baby Jesus! It’s…a goat! It’s Jay Spot!”

  “What? Gertie! Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Jay Spot escaped from the shed somehow. He must have busted through a window and ran in here looking for me.” I watched the goat rub his nose around on the bed. “I better get him out of here before he eats my pillow.” I grabbed him by the collar and held him close to me.

  “I’ll call again tomorrow night. Are you sure that goat isn’t going to cause any problems? Maybe you ought to tie him up outside.”

  I looked at the goat’s brass nameplate one more time. “That’s odd. There’s some sort of writing on the other side of his tag. Scribbling actually.” I took off the goat’s collar. “I’ll have to see if I can make some sense out of this sometime.”

  “Let me know what you find out. I’m curious, too. I better get going, Gertie.

  “Call me…” The line went dead. Jay Spot stood there. I watched his closed mouth roll as he gnawed on the telephone wire. “Bad goat! You just ended my call.” I grabbed one of Jay Spot’s ears and led him back out to the shed. This time I made sure to use the padlock to secure the door. I hung a blanket over my busted window and headed up to my bedroom.

  I double checked my calendar. I realized I had a doctor’s appointment in the morning. I had one of those all too common moments of brief confusion when I noticed I had written down the same doctor’s name for an appointment on the same day but it was hours apart. I knew I couldn’t go wrong by making it to the earlier one and disregard the second. I’d have to deal with the goat and the broken window when I got home.

  As I drifted off to sleep, I heard someone whistling the most relaxing melody. “Randy, working late on something again.” I whispered in a sleepy voice to Darcy.

  Chapter Three

  Booby Hatch Bound

  The little wisps of pink and orange smoke drifted away and I quickly assessed my new surroundings. I was standing in a hallway of a very professional looking office building. I had expected my destination to have more of a hospital feel than a typical corporate corridor. “Doesn’t look like any clinic I’ve seen before.” I tucked my miniature broom into my tote and smiled when I noticed Darcy’s little black paw sweep it under her little blanket of long black fur. The small sign on the door was clear enough. “This must be the place, Darcy.”

  Dr. M. Schmidt

  A shiny, brass colored elevator door on one side of the hallway provided a perfect mirror. I took off my large floppy beach hat and arranged my long straight hair. I noticed I was due to get it cut soon, the reddish strands hung below my shoulders. Speaking of reddish hair, my friend Leigh said my hair was strawberry blonde. I beg to differ, because strawberries are bright red, fire engine red. I just can’t picture any hair naturally in that color red, blonde or otherwise. I straightened out my yellow sun dress. “Good enough.” A muffled cat noise agreed. I knocked lightly on the half opened door and peeked inside the very professional looking office of my new doctor. The room was trimmed in dark cherry wood and the walls had several full bookcases. There were two large brown leather chairs and a cluttered mahogany desk, but no examination table, no bright lights, nothing at all that hinted at a doctor’s office. “This can’t be right. Can it?” I whispered to my hidden cat. “Dr. Schmidt?” I called out.

  A tall, attractive woman in a red dress stepped forward and opened the door. “Please come in. You must be Miss O’Leary.”

  I took a confident step through the doorway. “Whew! Glad I got to the right spot.”

  I’m going to stop my story here for just a minute. I want to explain something about broom travel. Let me tell you, getting to the right place is something you never take for granted when traveling by magic broom. People seem to think it’s as easy as that popular movie where those kids hop on an old broom and zoom around. Who in their right mind would want to rocket around with a splintery old stick grinding against their crotch? And exposed to the elements like that? No, the witch’s broom is a conveniently tiny, handheld, magical device that allows us to go anywhere in an instant. It was explained to me that it works with one part science, one part magic, and one part good luck. You have to know the spell and you only get to recite it once before you get whisked away. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I ended up in some pretty sticky messes.

  “Hi, Doctor Schmidt! It’s nice to meet you. Yep, I’m Gertie O’Leary. Just call me Gertie.” Out of pure instinct, my arms fanned out and I lunged forward to give her a hug. The beautiful woman before me took two quick steps backwards and avoided my embrace. I was suddenly a bird falling from the nest. My arms flailed helplessly, grasping the empty space before me, and I landed face first on the floor. “Oof!” I squawked. “That was a bit awkward.” Thankfully my shoulder bag had swung behind me. “I nearly squashed my puss.”

  “Your puss?”

  “Yeah. Wanna see her? I call her Darcy. She’s sweet. She’s a long-hair, just in case you have allergies.”

  “No. No, that’s quite all right.”

  Not only was that office unlike any other doctor’s office, Doctor Schmidt seemed more unusual than I expected. She stared at me like I was two headed platypus squirming on the floor. She wrote something down in her notebook. Her serious tone seemed more awkward than my embarrassing entrance so I joked a little. “Now for my next trick, I’m going to do a handstand and whistle Yankee Doodle.” I paused and waited for something from her…anything. Nothing. “Just kidding, Doctor Schmidt.”

  She looked down at me through her cat-eye glasses and jotted down something more. Finally, she spoke. “Please, take a seat and tell me a little about yourself. Excuse me for a second.” Matilda took a drink of water from a glass.

  I looked around for an exam table, but all I saw was a large comfortable leather chair with a footrest. “Oh, of course. Here?” I pointed to the chair. “Should I undress now? Panties on or off?” Just then Doctor Schmidt must have swallowed a bug because she coughed and sprayed out her drink on her notebook.

  “Ah, no. Please keep your clothes on, but your compulsion to strip may be something we’ll be talking about at some point.”

  I made myself comfortable in a big overstuffed leather chair. “All right. About myself. Let’s see. My name is Gertie O’Leary. You already know that of course. I’m a witch, but you probably already know that, too. My mentor, Marie Laveau, she’s the Voodoo queen of Louisiana, well, she said I needed to see a doctor before I got sent to someplace called The Funny Farm. Which, by the way, sounds like it would be a grand pla
ce for a holiday. A nice vacation aside, Marie did say I always manage to find a way to screw up. This all came up because two people that call themselves Animal Control came out to my Pussy Plantation…”

  “Pussy Plantation?”

  “I mean my Cat Plantation. Sorry about that. I forget that words have changed meanings over the century. Anyway, these people said I have too many animals and that I was running an unlicensed animal shelter. Some strong words about my cats were exchanged and one thing led to another. I sort of accidentally changed those people into squirrels. But I’m about ninety-nine percent certain that it’s only temporary. Still, Marie is a little worried that I sometimes act impulsively, but what she calls being impulsive, I call being passionate. Well anyway, she goes ahead and says she’d make an appointment. And I tell her, well, that’s perfect for me. I’ve been needing to get into a doctor soon and I’ve already called around and got a doctor’s appointment. The very next day I get a call saying I have this appointment. A bit confusing but at least I got in here.”

  “So, if I understand correctly, you were having a crisis around the holidays. Some of the people in your life said you needed professional help and you also felt that you needed it.”

  “You could say that. You see, I had a bit of a scare last month. I thought I might have gotten myself pregnant. Well, not that I could get myself pregnant, you know. My boyfriend would be doin’ the impregnating and I would be the one gettin’ pregnant. But I’m not and I’m nowhere ready to have a bun in the coven. So here I am.” I paused to see if the doctor had any questions and I admit I cautiously waited for her to shrivel up into a toy doll sized woman. “Say, will you be doing any shrinking today? Just curious.”