Page 8 of Someone Save My Midlife Tonight
“Excellent,” she said, standing up and giving me a hug. “I don’t want to sound like a shart or nothin’, but I gotta teach Gram some motherfudgin’ manners. That old broad has gone off the fartin’ deep end.” She paused in thought. “I think that fart, which is a natural bodily function, is a fine replacement for damn.”
“You know,” I said, swallowing back a scream. “I think damn is pretty neutral. Not sure you need toexchange it for fart.”
“Daisy,” Candy said, shaking her head. “If I’m gonna do it, I’m doin’ it all the way. I’d also like to say it’s gonna be real vagina hard to keep all this corn nut penis straight. Might mess up a little here and there.”
“Not a problem,” I said, taking her hand in mine and giving her foaming mouth one last swipe with the burp cloth. “I’d expect nothing less. You ready to go back downstairs as the new and improved cussless Candy Vargo?”
“Hades to the yes, I am,” she said with a grin. “And I ain’t one to be mushy and all that corn nuts bosoms, but I got a real soft spot for you, Daisy.”
“Right back at you, Candy,” I told her.
If only all my problems could be this easy to solve…
CHAPTER THREE
The living roomwas slightly less populated than it was before my nap. My Angel siblings—Prue, Rafe, Gabe and Abby—were patrolling the property along with the ghosts, Dimple, Jolly Sue and Lura Belle. Zander and Catriona were with them as well. They were searching for anything even remotely suspicious. That sat right with me. All of them were as smart as they were deadly. Most of the ghosts had joined them save a few. Heather and Missy were on the couch hunched over an ancient looking book—the same book that had appeared when Alana Catherine had summoned it on the Higher Power’s plane. It was the Immortal Book of Law. Gram’s guess that my child was the future Arbitrator Between the Darkness and the Light along with being the future Death Counselor and the future Soul Keeper gnawed at my insides. How many things could one person be?
Gideon sat across from the gals, feeding Alana Catherine a bottle of breast milk. I thanked my lucky stars that I’d pumped enough for a long while. I hadn’t breastfed my child lately dueto the deadly chaos that had become our reality. My dogs, Donna and Karen, were happily curled up at Gideon’s feet. Donna aka Donna the Destroyer, due to her couch-eating days, wasn’t a dog at all. She was a Hell Hound, and I adored every hair on her body. Karen aka Karen the Chair Eater, was my black lab. She was as dumb as a box of hair and more loving than any animal I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. Both of my fur girls were in love with my baby and always stayed close.
“Daisy! Want to join, friend?” Tim asked kindly, seated at the distressed oak table near the fireplace.
He was playing what looked to be poker with Jennifer, June, Amelia and Tory. Gram, Mr. Jackson and another ghost I didn’t recognize floated above the table and played in spirit—pun intended. The grouping was odd but little in my life was what anyone would call mundane.
“Nope,” I said. “Cards aren’t really my thing. Plus, I need some fresh air.” Real meaning—I wanted to see the surprise Gideon had promised.
“Gaaaammmmeasssss oof chaaancea!” the unfamiliar male ghost said, nodding spastically. “Baaaaaaada!”
I was worried his head was about to take flight. In all the crazy, I’d been neglecting my job as the Death Counselor. It was a true honor to be the conduit for the dead who had unfinished business on this plane, then to aid them and guide them to the Light. So far, not a single ghost I’d helped had been destined for the Darkness. That was a relief, since I’d grown fond of all who I’d helped.
“I don’t think I’ve met you yet,” I said, waving at the man. He was in pretty good shape for a specter. That usually meant he hadn’t been dead for too long. However, his outfit wasn’t of this century. He wore a long flowing robe tied at the waist witha rope made of flowers. The flowers were rotting and dried out, but then again, so was he. Around his bald and mostly intact head was a crown of leaves. I didn’t comment on his attire. That would be rude. I wasn’t rude. I was Southern. It was in my DNA to be polite.
The man might be a cosplayer or just have an unusual dress sense… or possibly an obsession with Greek history. Whatever. He was a guest in my home, and if his silly grin was anything to go by, he was a good guy.
“Jimmmmmeeey Geoooorge Carrrrrrrrotttssssssss aaaaat youuuuurah seeeervice,” he announced, floating to the floor and bowing to me.
I swallowed back my laugh. “I’m Daisy,” I replied. “It’s lovely to meet you, Jimmy George Carrots. I’m the Death Counselor, and I can help you with any unfinished business you might have.”
“Nooooooah bussssinesssssssss,” he told me. “Heeerah toooooah seeeerve!”
That was odd. I was here to serve him, but sometimes the dead were confused. If he was here, he was here for a reason. If he didn’t know why yet, it would reveal itself at the right time.
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”
Alana Catherine seconded the decree with a loud burp and an even louder squeal of joy. The sound of her voice calmed my soul. She and Gideon were my everything.
“Thaaaankah youuuuuuuah,” Jimmy George Carrots said as he floated over to Gideon and our daughter. “Baaaaaaabeeeeey! Soooooo preeettyah. Threeeeeeeeeee!”
I smiled and corrected the silly ghost. “Actually, she’snot even one yet.”
He shook his head vehemently. “Onnnnnneah offfffffffff threeeeeeee!”
His statement was strange. Had Jimmy George Carrots been lurking around for a while? It had taken a trinity to go to the Higher Power’s plane—Gram, Alana Catherine and myself. We were the past, present and future Death Counselors. Maybe that’s what the ghost was referring to. The ghost was definitely befuddled.
Confused, or not, Jimmy George Carrots wasn’t quite done. “Soooooo speecaiiialah! Soooooo immmmpooooratanah! Iiiiiii seeeeeeeeeah! Threeeeeeeeeeee!”
I didn’t disagree at all—except for the three-years-old part. My daughter was pretty, special and important. Alana Catherine blew our guest a raspberry and then laughed with delight. Jimmy George Carrots giggled back. It sounded like a death rattle, but I was getting used to it. Happy was happy no matter what it sounded like. It a strange way, the dead had taught me more about life than the living…
Most of the dead didn’t need my help at all. The life one led determined where a soul went in the end. The deceased only came to me if they needed some kind of closure before they could move on. If a soul’s destination was up in the air, the decision was made by the Grim Reaper and the Angel of Mercy… aka Gideon and myself. The irony was that the Grim Reaper was the one who made the call if a person was to go into the Light, and I, the Angel of Mercy, was the one who decided if a soul went to the Darkness. Apparently, it had been set up that way so there would be no conflict of interest. That scenario hadn’t occurred yet, and I dreaded the day I would have to make the terrible decision.
