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

  “Excuse me? Shrinking?”

  “Marie said you were a shrink. A paranormal shrink. I’ve met all sorts of paranormal folks, but never a shrink.” Matilda gave me quite a nasty look. It was like I just called her a cocaine snorting prostitute, but I swear I had no idea that what I said was anything derogatory. Since she seemed to take offense to the name, I quickly dropped the subject and continued on. “Right. Back to all about me. I’m twenty-five years old, but I was born in 1850. The fact is, I’ve spent most of those years since 1850 frozen. Frozen as punishment for a couple of magical mishaps I’ve had, like burning down Chicago and sinking the RMS Titanic. In all reality, this is my twenty-fifth living, breathing, and thawed out year. And let me tell you, I intend to make it my best yet.”

  Matilda scribbled down even more information. “Interesting. Go on.”

  “Just so you know, it’ll be pretty tough to beat last year. I met my best friend and fellow witch, Leigh Epstein and all of her friends. In fact, they’re all more than just friends. They’re my only family. And having a family is something I’ve always hoped for. You see, I’ve been an orphan for as long as I can remember, and that’s a hell of a long time if you were born in 1850 like me. The icing on the cake was that I also fell head over heels in love with Brad. Brad is just everything to me. He’s funny and sweet, and he looks like he could have been used as a model for a statue of a Greek god, well, without the silly fig leaf covering up his big fat, sorry, I mean his personal parts. I’m getting excited just thinking…”

  “Let’s try to focus on your early years, Gertie.”

  “Oh sure. Well, like I said. I was born in Ireland, an only child and my parents died in the cholera epidemic soon after coming to Chicago. I don’t remember them at all. I was just a wee babe when I was taken in by the Irish Sisters of Mercy Orphan Asylum. It was all right there I suppose, considering the times. We had some school work, I washed a lot, and mostly I was trained to be a seamstress. I still am good at being a seamstress and now that I’m a witch, I could create some incredible outfits for you if you need anything.”

  “When did you discover that you were a witch?”

  “I’ve been a witch now since I was seventeen years old. The way it works, Doctor, you don’t discover witchcraft. It has to discover you. My puss, Darcy, took me to an old book. A witch’s book of spells. It turns out that old book was a grimoire written hundreds of years ago and by possessing it, I gained the powers it had in it. Mostly, I have powers that can change animals into those so-called mythical creatures you’ve heard about. Like making a salamander into a dragon or dogs into almost anything. There’s no end to what you can come up with I guess.” I opened my tote bag and lifted Darcy out into my lap. “This is Darcy’s first trip off the plantation since we’ve moved in. She’s not much of a traveler, but I figured she could use an outing today.”

  While I stroked her long black fur, I explained why it is so important for a witch and a cat to become partners. “It was all because of Darcy, it turned out she is a witch cat. Every witch has one. Sometimes, as in my case, the cat will find the witch and lead them to the source of magic. Other times the witch finds the magic source and the cat follows. They can help with spells or help us locate things. Most importantly they deliver messages between witches. Darcy here must have known how I feel about animals, especially cats. I love them and I feel like it is my purpose to take care of them. That’s why I bought that old plantation in Louisiana. I wanted to create a safe place for stray cats. Eventually, more and more animals came and then I started finding homes for them by turning some of them into special pets for my fellow witches and other paranormal people. It’s become a fulltime paranormal pet shop for Randy and me.”

  “Randy? Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Oh no. We live together and he’s my partner. My boyfriend’s name is Brad.”

  “Very interesting.” She scribbled away and said, “Three.” And ended her note with an apparently decisive punctuation with the way she drove the last mark down with a smack of her pen. “And this triad…this arrangement, it works well?” Doctor Schmidt seemed to have a sly smile for some reason as she jotted down more notes. I’m not sure what she wrote, but I could make out polyamorous. I made a mental note to look that up later.

  “It works fine. Would you be interested in adopting a special pet, Doctor Schmidt? Perhaps a unicorn?”

  “Thank you for offering, Gertie. But I really don’t have the space for one. Maybe some other time?” Doctor Schmidt looked at her watch. “Well, Gertie, it appears we’ve already used up all of our time this morning. You have quite a complex background and to be honest, it’s a bit hard to keep everything straight. I’d like you to start keeping a journal. Perhaps a diary. I would like to see it the next time we meet.”

  I was a bit puzzled. “Oh. That’s it? Then you wouldn’t want to at least take a peek at my undercarriage or give my boobs a squeeze?”

  “No. That’s quite all right, but thanks for the offer, Gertie. Is there anything else you’d like to talk about before you go?”

  “Well, no. I suppose I really should be getting back home. I need to give my Jay Spot a bit of attention.”

  “Your…Jay Spot. Of course, wouldn’t want to neglect that, would we.”

  “Oh, Doctor, the main reason I’m here is because I was told I would be getting a prescription…for you know, those pills. I don’t want another brush with a nervous breakdown like I nearly had last month.”

  “I suppose I can do that.” Doctor Schmidt wrote some incoherent chicken scratch on a small pad of blue stationary. She peeled off the top sheet and handed it to me with her instructions. “Only take one pill when you really think you need it. I think you’ll know when that feeling is coming over you. Again, one pill and it will be enough. Then just relax. You can take this down to the pharmacy on the first floor and they will fill it for you. Nice meeting you, Gertie.”

  “Thanks, Doctor. And it’s been a pleasure to meet you, too.” This time she wasn’t getting away so easily. I caught her in my arms and gave her a good hug.

  Once I picked up my bottle of little pills, Darcy and I flashed back home. It never fails. Once you get home from some sort of appointment, you can suddenly think of a dozen questions you should have asked but didn’t. “Amazing that one little pill can keep you from getting pregnant. What about that smear thing that Leigh told me I needed? What was that again? Pop smear? Oh, I suppose I’ll be going back to see her again anyway.”

  Chapter Four

  Meet Randy Johnson

  “Gertie?” The familiar clear and light voice calling my name could only be one person, Randy.

  I should probably explain a little bit about Randy. That is if it is possible to explain Randy Franchetti, also known as Randy Johnson. When I first met him, he was introduced to me as Randy Johnson and the name just stuck with me. I didn’t find out until later that he earned that as a nickname after someone found his cellphone and it was loaded up with pictures of his large throbbing erection, what he called his Randy Johnson.

  It may seem a bit odd, but Randy lives with me at the plantation. He’s also my business partner and my friend Kelly’s brother. We live together but we’re only friends. It’s not because he isn’t a very attractive man, because he is. He’s sort of tall with an average build, light complexion, and meticulously groomed black hair, which is a bit on the long side. He’s a sharp dresser and the perfect person to have along when I go shopping for shoes or to suggest what colors would look good together.

  After he stopped in here with my other friends last year, he was so excited about the possibilities for this plantation he nearly hyperventilated. Actually, he may have. In any case, I asked him to join me and see what he could come up with. Besides helping me out with the pet shop, he’s been working at making this place into a bed and breakfast for our fellow paranormals. I’ve also appreciated his help with catching up on modern slang.

  He sounds like he’d make a pretty goo
d boyfriend, now that I think about it. The only thing is that Randy is gay, or as he calls himself, my cliché gay friend. He’s also a witch in training.

  “Gerrrr-teeeee…Hey!” Randy interrupted my thoughts.

  “Yep. I’m upstairs.”

  Rapid thumping told me that Randy had quickly ascended the large open stairs. His head poked in through my bedroom doorway. “Good. You’re back. I found out something today that I know you’ll be excited to hear.”

  I patted my hand on the mattress. “Well, get over here and tell me. What is it?”

  “Let me ask you this, Gertie. How happy would you be if your boyfriend could move down here from Chicago?”

  “Beyond happy. You know that. There are only two problems. He’s a fireman and it’s not as if we live in a city that hires brigades of firemen. Even if there was a job for him, I’m not going to beg him to move here. I’d be asking him to leave his hometown, his family…what if he regrets it? Even a little? No. I’d rather just wait and see if he makes that move on his own.”

  “Aw that’s bullshit and you know it.”

  “Excuse me? I think it’s perfectly sensible.”

  “The job, I can understand. But on your second reason, I’m throwing the bullshit flag. And another thing, when the hell did Gertie O’Leary suddenly become perfectly sensible?” Randy stood up and walked over to the window and pointed down to the marshy pond in the back yard. “You’ve got a pond full of manatees that you impulsively stole—”

  “Rescued! I rescued them from that God forsaken, cruel Venezuelan marine life park.”

  “Sure, rescued, just like the chimps from the research lab. And you’ve got Nessie-lite down in the bayou. My point is, that’s what you do. It’s your shtick. You’re impulsive, impractical, and even a little clueless. But because of that, you’re also an idealistic, romantic, starry-eyed dreamer that isn’t afraid to be herself, regardless of what anyone else’s expectations are. Last year we went to the farmers market and you wore lime green, knee-high, pleather boots and a pink, strapless, lace mini-dress. And were you walking a dog? No, you had an overweight, six foot long iguana on a leash.”

  “Don’t forget my rose colored sunglasses and white beach hat!”

  “Yes. How could I? Nobody in Thibodaux will forget that. Suddenly you want to fight that? Don’t. Please.”

  “Well, no, I suppose I don’t. But Burt really needed the exercise.”

  “You see, Gertie, we’ve got something in common. Can you guess what that is?”

  “We both like pineapples on pizza and we both like hot men?”

  “Exactly! I mean, sort of. Because of that, I’ve learned that to be happy, I have to be who I really am.”

  “You’re right. I know how hard it can be to reveal a pineapple pizza obsession.” I winked at Randy. Of course, I knew what he really meant.

  “Oh yes. Occasionally, you can be a little bit of a smart-ass. I forgot to mention that attribute. I think Esmeralda and Kelly are rubbing off on you.”

  “No, they haven’t. Not yet anyway. Not that there’s anything wrong with it…you know, if they wanted to rub off on me. I’m pretty sure that would be something they would be interested in. I’ve never considered it actually, so I can’t say I’m completely opposed to the idea. I’d have to think about it.” I tried to picture how that would work. Rubbing off on me. Rubbing off...on me. I pictured Randy’s sister, Kelly, on top of me. I laughed out loud at the scene playing out in my mind. I raised my hand. “I have a question. Would it require my participation? Or would I just lay there?”

  “What? What the hell are you talking about?” Randy gave me this terribly puzzled look, like I just took my brain out and kicked it through the window. “Was that because I said they were rubbing off on you?”

  “Uh huh.” I nodded sheepishly.

  Randy laughed. “Oh Gertie, you naïve and kinky little sick puppy! It’s just a figure of speech. It means they are influencing you.” He paced back and forth in front of me, one index finger pointing up and one hand behind his back. He was like a plaid version of a TV legal drama defense attorney. “Anyway, I’ve got a plan to get your Brad down here. I was reading the paper this morning and I saw an announcement. There’s one opening for a firefighter over in Thibodaux.”

  “I don’t know, Randy. There’s no guarantee he’d get hired.”

  Randy now faced me and held both hands out. He was ready to make his case. “I know it’s unlikely that they would hire some outsider, especially someone from Chicago.” Randy pointed his finger at me. “But that’s where witchcraft comes in. You can even sprinkle a little more magic that would make him not have any regrets about staying here. He loves you anyway, so I really can’t imagine that would be an issue.”

  I knew it. Randy’s idea would require me to cast a spell and break a promise. “Hold on, Randy. There’s one problem. I made a solemn promise to Leigh that I wouldn’t use witchcraft to get Brad to come down and stay here. I can’t go back on my word.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Leigh’s been a fountain, no, an erupting geyser of half-assed spells that have sprayed catastrophe on every man she knows. And yet, she made you promise that?” Randy was now being downright theatrical.

  “She did. A promise is a promise. It’s ironclad and unbreakable as far as I’m concerned.” I crossed my arms in front of me.

  Randy’s eyes squinted and he leaned in toward me. “In detail, tell me exactly what you promised.”

  “I promised not to cast any spells on Brad to make him move down here. I promised that if he came down, it would be of his own free will.”

  Randy’s eyes opened wide. “Bingo! You promised not to cast a spell on Brad to physically come down here. It’s clear to me that you didn’t say anything about making him stay here. Move and stay are two different things.”

  “Randy, you’re a genius and you would make a great lawyer…or salesman. But I have to wonder what’s got you so motivated to get Brad to stay here.”

  “You, Gertie. You. Actually, the absence of you. Whenever you go away to visit Brad in Chicago, I’m up to my earlobes in God only knows what creatures are running around here. Especially annoying are the howling Sasquatches, fire breathing dragons, and cats. Five fucking hundred cats, Gertie! You’ve been able to use magic to handle these things. I’m just learning my magic.”

  I laughed at how Randy was pulling on his hair over the paranormal pets. “Aw, Randy. And to think you only had my happiness in mind.” I playfully poked him with one finger. “How long do we have before they hire someone?”

  “Last day of January. It gives us three weeks to figure it out. What do you say, Gertie?”

  I was getting excited about the prospect of having Brad with me all the time. “Let’s do it! I’ll think of something. Don’t forget we are having Leigh and Hunter’s wedding here on Valentine’s Day. Hopefully the girls will get in touch soon on the plans for that.”

  “Oh, I haven’t forgotten about the wedding. I’ve been trying to get every spare room in this mansion ready for guests. Say, how did that appointment with the shrink go today?”

  “Weird. Too short, really. I talked a lot about myself and I have to keep a journal now. I was more than a little surprised that I didn’t get a physical exam. In the end, I got what I went in there for.”

  Randy pulled his chin back, like he does when I say something unusual or surprising. “A physical exam? I wouldn’t have expected to get one at all. I don’t think they do that sort of thing. Oh, I almost forgot. I saw that one of your animals took out a window last night. I’ll make some calls and get someone out here to repair it. Who was the culprit? One of the Sasquatches?”

  “Some stray goat I found wandering around late yesterday. If you look in the cow shed, you’ll see him.”

  Randy shook his head. “No, I was out there earlier this morning to let the cows out. There was no goat.”

  “What? That sneaky little devil.”

  “Talk to you later.”
r />   After Randy walked out of the door, I immediately thought about Brad.

  It had only been three weeks and the daily calls just weren’t enough. Something had to give and Randy’s plan was right on time, or maybe I was just emotionally vulnerable enough to get talked into it.

  I watched the rosy glow in my bedroom window. It’s my opinion that a beautiful sunset is always a joy to behold, but when you’re missing someone, it’s also a sad reminder of the lonely night ahead. As the last burgundy ray faded to black, I resolved myself to bring Brad to Louisiana. And making sure it was going to be a one way trip. Witchcraft, of course, was a tool of last resort, but I kept my options open.

  Chapter Five

  Spinning the Moral Compass

  “Try again. This sound, heh…heh.”

  The Sasquatch seated across from me rolled his eyes. I arched my eyebrows and mouthed the sounds to encourage him. In a few seconds he grunted out short sounds. “Ha! Ha! Heh, heh.”

  I’ve made a few observations on the North American Sasquatch, or Bigfoot, ever since the first of several pairs came to the plantation. They’re big. By that I mean it’s not just their eight foot height, it’s their quite rotund body shape. They also smell pretty bad, but if given the chance to clean up, they really enjoy it. Once a week we sneak a few of them down to the self-service car wash on the edge of town. Under the cover of darkness of course. It’s a real hoot to watch them carrying on. If you ever get a chance to experience the joy of Sasquatch bathing, I recommend wearing a complete ensemble of raingear. Sadly, their long shaggy fur only comes in one color. Cinnamon. They are also smarter than they look, precisely why I began speech lessons.

  “Good! Now, one more time. Heh, hell, oh. Hello. Go on, Wills, say hello.”

  Wills found his voice and it was loud. The kind of loud that makes your ribcage vibrate. “Hah! Hah! Oh! Oh!” His huge feet hit the floorboards in celebratory stomps. The thunderous sound resonated through the floorboards. I winced with every WHOMP WHOMP WHOMP. My reaction seemed to spur Wills on. He stomped harder and shouted his attempted lesson in greetings. “Hell no! Hell no!” Little pieces of plaster fell from the ceiling like volcanic ash. My stainless steel hanging pot-rack, laden with copper cookware, spun in a wobbly orbit above the kitchen island. The thing became a nightmarish disco ball that produced a sound like Hell’s wind chimes. The table shook and my ceramic salt and pepper shaker chickens danced a frenzied Irish jig right onto the floor. The beast shouted again, “Hell no! Hell no!”