Ghost Whisperer 2
Copyright© 2026 by Duncan7
Chapter 3: Kalinago
Florence greeted them at the aft bridge deck, where soft, twinkling lights cast a warm glow over umbrellas surrounding a table set for two. The gentle evening air was comfortably warm.
Ed helped Ellen get seated before he sat beside her. Ellen looked at the crisp white tablecloth with rose petals sprinkled on it. Two flutes of champagne rested before them, with candles set in the center.
“Wow! You’ve outdone it, Florence,” said Ed.
“Music?” asked Florence.
Ellen smiled and nodded.
Florence pressed a button on a remote, and a romantic melody played. It overpowered the slight noise from the marina.
Two other staff arrived, their movements quiet and efficient, and placed platters of food on the table...
“Chef prepared something special for you this evening. This is a Creole freshly grilled fish with local herbs and sides of plantains and coconut rice.”
“Bon appétit!” said another staff member.
Everyone left. Ed and Ellen looked at each other.
“Yum!” said Ed.
Ellen took a deep breath. “It smells so good!” The rich scent of herbs and the sea filled her senses.
Ed helped serve the rice, and Ellen dished out the plantains.
“Ready for the fish?” he asked.
“Please.”
Ed placed the flaky fish onto their plates. “Do you recall when we tried to go to that restaurant in Seattle? We had to leave in a hurry.”
Ellen chuckled, remembering the chaos. “Oh yes. That was crazy. At least here we’ve had no trouble yet.”
“Agreed, although we met that ghost in the quiet cove...”
“I wonder what they’ve prepared for dessert,” she said with a smile.
“I don’t know.”
Ed’s gaze drifted to the marina, where the dark water shimmered. He thought he saw the outline of a dolphin. He smiled and waved. The dolphin nodded its head and dipped below the surface.
Later, Chef came out to see them. She brought with her a beautifully presented coconut tart for dessert. It had a sweet, tropical aroma that screamed, “Eat me!”
More staff brought steaming coffee to round out the meal.
Ed glanced down at the dock. Mystic was med-moored, meaning the stern was facing the dock. A stern-faced bodyguard stood watch at the passerelle, where people might come aboard. They took their safety seriously.
“So, how’re you liking marriage?” asked Ellen, her voice soft.
Ed’s gaze returned to Ellen. She’d caught him distracted. “It’s marvelous, dear. Will it always be like this?”
“It could be if you like. We also have our responsibility to help others.”
“Right. Tomorrow we take the remains of Arico back to his people. I was thinking we might look for recipients of our trust.”
“That’s a great idea! See, that’s what makes me love you so much. You always think of others.”
They kissed.
On the lower decks, Arico floated around. This vessel was amazing compared to the simple fishing boats of his time. He floated through a wall into the engine room. Everything in there was white and spotless. The crew kept everything pristine. It was incomprehensible to the ghost of a former fisherman.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows as they awoke together.
“Good morning, husband,” said Ellen, her voice a soft melody.
“Shower time!”
They rolled out and did their morning routine. It was only their second morning, but they already had a sense of ease in each other’s presence.
Ed dressed in shorts and a shirt, while Ellen dressed in a yellow sundress.
A flashing red light on the intercom caught Ed’s eye. He tapped it, and a message glowed: “Breakfast on aft bridge deck.”
“Ellen, are you ready for breakfast?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Hand in hand, they left their suite.
As they stepped out onto the aft bridge deck, the Dominican morning air hit their senses. The dock buzzed with sounds of activity.
Florence greeted them with coffee, the rich, dark aroma filling the air.
“Ah, perfect.” Ed and Ellen sat at the table and picked up a mug of coffee.
“Chef can prepare you an American breakfast, a full English, or perhaps some eggs?” asked Florence.
“Maybe some scrambled eggs and toast for me,” said Ellen.
“Same here.”
Florence departed, leaving a jug of dark, fragrant coffee on the table.
“She’s a keeper,” said Ed.
“Definitely. Also, our trip today is taken care of.”
“Good. Less work for me to do.” Ed grinned.
Soon, Florence returned, accompanied by another staff member carrying a tray laden with covered plates. Florence whisked off the covers and placed their plates in front of them. She placed several jars of glistening jam and pats of cool butter on the table.
The staff vanished as silently as they had appeared.
Ed noticed that the plates and the food on them was hot. He picked up a fork and took a bite.
“Mmm, good eggs,” he said.
“Good staff.”
Ed gazed out at the marina. He observed various people bustling around on the docks.
“Have you received any messages from back home?” asked Ed.
“No. I told them not to send any.”
“Oh, okay.”
After savoring the last bites of their breakfast, Ed and Ellen returned to their suite before heading to the stern. Two bodyguards and Florence waited on the dock for them.
As Ed and Ellen stepped ashore, they all turned and walked to the marina parking lot. Two sleek black SUVs waited for them. Ed wondered briefly how they always had SUVs waiting. Perhaps they were common in the Caribbean?
“We have the box?” asked Ed, his voice low.
“In the back,” said Florence.
Ed turned and spotted Arico sitting back there. Ed shrugged.
“The ghost is behind us with his remains. Please tell him we’re taking him home.”
Florence turned and spoke a phrase in Creole. “N ap mennen w lakay ou.”
The two SUVs pulled away from the marina and headed East, the morning sun glinting off their windshields.
Their trip took about fifty minutes to reach their destination. The two SUVs stopped in front of a building with a grass roof. The wall facing the road was open, and Ed saw people sitting on chairs within. Ed’s gaze swept over the scene, taking in the rustic charm of the structure.
Their bodyguards stepped out first, before letting Ed and Ellen, and Florence exit the vehicle.
An elderly man, his face a roadmap of wrinkles, rose from a chair, his movements slow and deliberate.
“Welcome to the Kalinago Barana Aute! Please enter and have a seat,” he said.
Inside, the scent of dried herbs hung faintly. Ed, Ellen, and Florence walked inside and sat where he gestured. The bodyguards remained at the SUVs.
“My name is Joachim, and this is Amana and Kalina. We’re elders of the Kalinago people,” he said, his eyes kind.
“My name is Ed. This is my wife Ellen, and this is Florence.”
A moment of quiet passed, filled only by the gentle rustle of palm leaves outside. “We must drink tea and talk. I sense you have a story to share.”
Kalina, a woman with a serene smile, poured steaming cups of herbal tea and passed them out.
“So, what brings you to the Caribbean?” asked Joachim, his eyes twinkling.
“My husband and I just got married. We’re from Seattle, and we came here on our honeymoon,” said Ellen.
“But you came here today. There must be more to the story.”
“Dis man is an Oungan. He can talk with de spirits!” said Florence.
Joachim’s gaze shifted to Ed, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, before returning to Florence. “And your accent tells me you’re local.”
“Yes, Sir. I work for these people.”
They sipped their tea, the warmth spreading through them.
Joachim turned his attention back to Ed. “Please tell me about your talking with spirits?”
“I got hit on the head. Afterward, I could see and hear ghosts. I don’t follow any belief system. Back in Seattle, an indigenous community adopted me as their medicine man.”
“That’s incredible!”
“It’s both a gift and a curse,” said Ed.
“And how might we be of help?” asked Joachim.
“I discovered a ghost on an island near Antigua. He didn’t speak English, so I got Florence to translate. It turns out he was a Kalinago fisherman, cast away on the island long ago. He died there.
“He asked if we could bring his remains home. While his remains were on that island, he couldn’t leave,” said Ed.
Joachim raised his eyebrows. “He told you that?”
“Yes. He said he came from Waitukubuli. That’s here, isn’t it?” asked Ed.
“Yes. Did he tell you his name?”
“Arico.”
The three elders exchanged somber glances, a shared understanding passing between them.
Amana spoke, her voice carrying the weight of generations, “I remember that name from our history. He was lost in a great storm, over a century ago.”
“May I ask, a century ago was it common for the Kalinago to speak Creole?” asked Ellen.
“Yes. They used to speak Kalinago and Creole. Now, we dropped Creole and speak English. The Kalinago is almost a lost art.”
Amana leaned forward. “Do you have his remains with you?”
“Yes, they’re in the car. May we bring them in?”
“Yes, please.”
Ellen stood and walked outside into the bright, humid air. She spoke briefly with the burly bodyguards. One of them, whom Ed recognized as Max, retrieved the wooden box and brought it to the elders and placed it on the cool, smooth floor beside the elders.
Only Ed noticed Arico trailing the box. He glanced around the weathered building, a faint smile touching his lips. He was home.
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