Dreams of Jeannie and Other Stories Part 15

Faith broke off when she heard the door knocker.

"I wasn't dreaming," Bobby said, as he got up to answer it. "And I saw her twice. Then when Frankie Fallon mentioned speaking to Marilyn's spirit on his television show, I simply had to invite him over."

"h.e.l.lo, dear souls!"

A short, frail man with a halo of wispy red hair swept into the room, followed by a healthy-looking blonde half his age.

Faith and Michael stood while Bobby made the introductions.

"Faith!" Frankie Fallon exclaimed, kissing her hand. "What a wonderful name! Your parents must have had a beautiful vision for their daughter to have named you Faith."

"Thank you," Faith said politely. "I chose the name myself."

She wasn't sure she wanted her hand kissed, but she let him do it anyway. His skin was so white it was almost translucent, held together by a webbing of blue veins and fine wrinkles. There was so little flesh underneath that Frankie seemed halfway to mummification.

"Even better, dear soul." He looked up at her with large, blue eyes that seemed to be focused on another dimension. "Even better."

As Frankie moved on to inspect Michael, Traci Sloane grasped Faith's hand firmly. Traci's skin seemed especially tanned and solid after Frankie's fragility.

"I'm Frankie's a.s.sistant," she said.

Faith wondered if Traci wore all that jewelry on television. The left ear wasn't bad-just a gold half moon with pearl and lapis dangles-but the right ear had a cl.u.s.ter of gold stars hanging from the lobe, plus three small hoops running up the ridge. Three gold chains and a rope of pearls decorated Traci's pink t-shirt. A trendy floral skirt fell almost to her sandals. Faith reminded herself that she wasn't a consultant and kept her mouth shut. She managed a close-lipped smile.

"Would anyone like wine?" Bobby asked.

"No, no, dear soul," Frankie said. "Not until after the seance. Alcohol attracts too many ent.i.ties, and we may not want them all."

"What does that mean?" Faith asked.

Frankie did his best to focus his blue eyes on them, and Faith found it hard to believe he hadn't consumed the major part of a bottle before he left home.

"Like attracts like," Frankie said. "And spirits attract spirits. That's why so many creative people-actors and writers and artists-become caught by the distilled and fermented kind. They're always surrounded by the ones who have left the flesh, but are still drawn to certain pleasures."

"Are you saying that actors drink because they're surrounded by ghosts who still like the taste?" Faith asked.

"Crudely but wisely put, dear soul." Frankie nodded gently, as if he couldn't remember how to stop. "Creative people are always more sensitive to the presence of the dear departed ones who remain tied to this realm. Many admit that their best ideas come from outside themselves."

Faith sniffed.

Frankie smiled benignly, still nodding. "Although saying these beings remember the taste might be more precise. They can only sense the fumes in their present state. And then there's an amplifier effect, like an echo in reverse. The more one drinks, the more spirits one attracts, and the more spirits one attracts, the more one drinks. Sometimes it becomes hard to remember who is in control. Which is why we will call the spirits before anyone takes another sip of wine."

He held out his arms to gather them in. Traci moved ahead to check out the dining room.

The rosy sun had faded to gray. Traci pulled a lighter out of her shoulder bag and lit the candles.

"A round table would have been better," she said. "Bobby and I can sit on either side of Frankie, but that means Faith and Michael will have to hold hands across the table."

"And we will all do that," Frankie said, "as soon as we have washed our hands. I want a clean connection."

"The bathroom is down the hall to the left," Bobby said. "But it'll be quicker if those who don't have to use the facility for other purposes wash in the kitchen."

Faith took the kitchen. She wanted to stay as close as possible to the dining room. Since Traci used the kitchen sink as well, she was able at least to keep her in sight. Faith began to wish she had inspected the table when she first arrived. But she didn't really think Bobby would rig a seance for her benefit, and neither Traci nor Frankie was left alone in the dining room.

Faith was reasonably confident that nothing would happen when the others returned to the dining room.

They sat as Traci had directed, Frankie at the head of the table, with his back to the kitchen, Traci and Michael on one side, Bobby and Faith on the other.

"Take hands, dear souls," Frankie said, reaching for Traci and Bobby. "And shut your eyes."

Faith felt awkward, stretching her arm across the table for Michael's hand, but she managed. She didn't like shutting her eyes-that was giving an opening for someone to set something up-but she did as told.

The soft, clean hands in hers seemed to form a water seal, bonding her to the circle.

"We ask for a cone of white light," Frankie said. "We ask that only spirits of goodwill come within this room. We would like to speak particularly with the ent.i.ty who was once known as Marilyn Monroe. Give us a sign when you're here, dear soul."

Faith opened her eyes to slits and tilted her head to check the others. Everyone was sitting with head bowed and eyes closed, presumably holding hands.

A faint breeze wafted across the room. Faith saw the candles flicker. She struggled against a rush of anxiety, but it faded as the flames steadied. Michael's eyes popped open.

"Thank you, dear soul," Frankie said. "You can all open your eyes now, or leave them closed, as you wish."

Traci and Bobby opened their eyes. Frankie stayed with his head bowed a moment longer.

"I have the spirit of Hedda Hopper," he said, finally opening his eyes. "She wants us to know that Marilyn won't be coming tonight because there is someone in this room who doesn't adore her. Marilyn didn't like to attend gatherings where one person didn't adore her when she was still in the flesh, and she sees no reason why she should do so now."

"Oh, G.o.d, Faith," Bobby moaned. "I knew I shouldn't have invited you."

"I can leave," Faith snapped.

"No, no, dear soul," Frankie said. "The circle is formed. Hedda can tell us everything we need to know."

"Has Marilyn been here?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, dear soul. Hedda says that Marilyn's spirit has indeed visited this building where she once lived."

"Does she want something from me?"

Frankie was silent. Faith was annoyed to realize that they were all trying to hear whatever Frankie listened for.

"Hedda says that Marilyn's visits do not concern you directly, although she is pleased that you cared enough to invite this humble channel." Frankie was staring at a spot on the far wall of the living room. Faith fought the urge to turn around to check for ghosts.

"Is she here for the crying woman?" Bobby asked.

"Hedda believes so, but she says she has no information on that ent.i.ty."

"Why not?" Faith asked.

Bobby glared at her.

"Some things are not revealed to us, dear soul," Frankie said. "But Hedda does have a message for you. She says your grandmother Myrtle, who wanted to be an actress in life, is enjoying the company of many from the Hollywood community now that she has pa.s.sed on. Burt Lancaster is especially fond of her, and Myrtle is happier than she dreamed possible."

"What?" Faith was so startled that she would have dropped hands if Bobby and Michael hadn't held firmly.

Frankie ignored her. "Myrtle is pleased that you pursued her dream even though it didn't quite work out as you wanted, and she hopes that your new career will be rewarding. She says you will have a new client soon."

Faith was too stunned to respond.

"Does Hedda have a message for me?" Bobby asked.

"Yes. Marilyn is so pleased with you that someday, when you need a prayer answered, she will see that it is granted."

"Wow!"

Faith kept her grip on Bobby's hand.

"Hedda has another message for one in our circle," Frankie said.

"I hope this one is mine," Michael said.

"Yes, dear soul. The message is from your grandfather, Thomas. Thomas knows that the Lord takes care of the lilies of the field, and will surely provide for you, but he nevertheless wishes you would devote more time to your psychotherapy practice. He reminds you that you have gifts that are needed by others, and he hopes you will make use of them."

"At least that was good advice," Faith muttered.

"Hedda has one last message for the company, this one from James Dean. He says you are all very talented people with the potential for great success, as long as you don't drink and drive."

"More good advice," Michael whispered.

The candles flickered in a new breeze.

"Another spirit wishes to speak with us. Jean Harlow says that she does have information about the crying woman." Frankie nodded at something in whatever unearthly realm his eyes were focused on.

"How did Jean Harlow get into this?" Faith muttered.

"Jean Harlow felt a kinship with Marilyn, and occasionally checked on her while she was living here. She still maintains some contact with the building because she finds it so entertaining," Frankie answered. "Jean says the woman is married to a musician, and the reason she starts crying at three-fifteen is that if he isn't home by then, he isn't coming at all."

"That makes sense," Bobby said. "Although crying about it isn't going to do her any good."

"Why doesn't she just leave him?" Michael asked.

"Jean says it's a karmic tie from a past life, and the woman isn't able to change the pattern without help. She says that's why Marilyn has allowed herself to be seen in this building, to draw attention to the situation and get help for the woman. Marilyn hopes one of you will interfere."

"That's for you, Faith," Bobby whispered.

"Why does Marilyn care?" Faith asked.

"Hedda says that Marilyn is improving her chances for a happier incarnation next time by doing occasional good deeds while her soul is in energy form. This crying woman is one of her projects."

"Celestial community service?" Michael asked.

Everyone ignored him.

The candles flickered one more time.

"Hedda says goodbye for now. And so does Jean." Frankie continued to stare in the general direction of the living room wall a moment longer, then blinked and smiled at each of them in turn. "Are you happy, dear souls? You can break the circle if you wish."

"Thrilled," Bobby replied. "Would anyone like wine now? Except Traci, who's driving."

"We would love to spend some time with you, dear souls, but we have another engagement this evening," Frankie said, patting Bobby's hand with the one that had been holding Traci's.

"Don't blow the candles out," Traci said. She stood up and rearranged her shoulder bag. "Let them burn to the stub if you can, otherwise snuff them."

"I'm so grateful," Bobby said, dropping Faith's hand to double the clasp with Frankie. "I hope we can do this again."

"Any time, dear soul, any time."

Faith and Michael stayed in their seats as Bobby showed the medium and his a.s.sistant to the front door.

"Well?" Michael asked.

"I'm sure it's all explainable," Faith answered.

"Then explain it out here," Bobby called from the living room. "And don't blow the candles out."

Faith was tempted, but she refrained.

"Didn't you have to pay him?" she asked, after they had regrouped by the fireplace.

"Credit card over the phone when I made the appointment," Bobby said.

"If he's such a good psychic, you'd think he could sense the deadbeats," Faith said.

Michael tried to shush her, and Faith regretted the comment. A true psychic would indeed ask Bobby for a credit card in advance.

"How would you explain the breeze?" Bobby asked, ignoring the comment.

Faith took a sip of wine. It was a little too warm, but drinkable. "Some kind of air pump in that shoulder bag, triggered by Traci's foot under the table."

"And the names? I gather you have a grandmother named Myrtle."

"He could have gotten my grandmother's name from records somewhere. Everything's on the Internet now."

"Everything but why the woman cries," Bobby replied. "I don't know why you have to tear down the curtain, Faith. Why can't you just accept that we aren't in Kansas anymore?"

"Where's Kansas?" Michael asked.

Both Faith and Bobby glared, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Sorry," he added.