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I found that I act as sort of a conduit for the dead. If someone is holding my flesh, they, too, can hear straight through to the other side. It’s not something I asked for, but then, it’s not exactly something I’m protesting either. I’ve already filled both Bess and Nettie in on this Ransom Baxter doppelgänger and his quasi-romantic intentions with me.
“What’s cookin’, good looking.” Nettie winks in the direction of the denim-loving specter and he winks right back.
“The heat on this infernal island,” he grouses. “Why in heaven’s name would people pay to step onto a rock born of fire and sulfur? It’s as if Hades has opened for tourism.”
“This earthly version of Hades is robed in more than a little paradise,” I tell him.
“Speaking of paradise,” Nettie says. “Give us the scoop.” She hitches her head toward Bess. “One of us is aging rapidly, and rumor has it, she’ll soon be promoted to the big cruise ship in the sky.”
Bess chuffs at the thought, “Says the one who will most likely be leading the way. Who are you calling old?”
“Hear that?” Nettie nods my way. “She can’t even remember the last five minutes of our conversation. There’s not a lot of hope for her.”
“There’s plenty of hope for just about anyone,” Phineas counters as he nods to Bess. “You, my redheaded friend, are going to enjoy the spoils of utopia. The men of the kingdom are enamored with copper treasures such as yourself.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Nettie warns. “I have it on good authority the curtains don’t match the carpet.”
Bess kicks me from under the table and I give a hearty oof.
“Sorry,” she says. “That was meant for the Peeping Tom next to you.”
“I’m no Peeping Tom,” Nettie says. “It was Sparky here. He needed to borrow a brush for his own copper locks, so I headed into your cabin this morning. It’s not his fault you don’t shut the bathroom door when you shower.”
Bess leans back. “How on earth did you get into my cabin?” She gives my hand the death squeeze as if I were to blame for the breaking and entering.
Nettie sheds an indulgent grin. “Let’s just say I’m a good tipper with the housekeeping staff as well.”
“Go on,” I say to Phineas before a bar brawl breaks out over a used hairbrush and carpeting that may or may not match the curtains. “What brings you here?”
“Forget about here,” Bess says. “Tell us more about paradise. As much as I don’t care to think about it, Nettie is right. I won’t be trapped in this skin forever. And for every vacation I’ve ever taken, I’ve done some research on the place I was headed to. Since I can’t exactly do that with paradise, you’re my best bet. Lay it on me, Phineas. What do I have to look forward to on this next adventure?”
“All right,” Nettie says. “I want to be in the know, too—and so does Sparky.”
Phineas lifts a brow. “Sorry to be the one to break it to your wooden friend, but there’s no port of entry for him.”
Nettie’s jaw drops and so does Sparky’s. “Where’s the port of entry?” she demands. “And who do I see about putting in a formal complaint? Wooden boys have rights, too, you know.”
Phineas pins an affable smile to his face. “The Good Book has the answers you seek.”
“Great news,” Bess tells Nettie. “The ship has a Bible in the bedside table of each cabin. You can start digging for that wooden loophole tonight.” She nods at me. “We know the way, but just to be sure, I’d better brush up on my beliefs tonight.”
“You must be certain,” he says. “But alas, even though there’s only so much time one is given to believe, you’d be surprised how many eleventh-hour pardons abound in the good kingdom. It goes to prove no matter how big the sinner, how great the sin, a final breath is still plenty of time to make amends with your maker.”
“Good to know,” Nettie says. “Hear that, Sparky? There’s still time to set this space rock ablaze with misdeeds and some good old-fashioned immorality.”
Bess rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the takeaway he intended.”
“Indeed not,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I’m opposed to a little carnal fun.” He purses his lips my way.
“Good to know they’re still hot-to-trot on the other side,” Bess says without the proper enthusiasm. “Hey, wait a minute... The Good Book specifically says there’s no marriage in heaven.”
“Yeah.” Nettie chuckles. “That’s why they call it paradise.”
“You’re both right,” he tells them. “But the fact there is no marriage is often misconstrued as there are no romantic inclinations in paradise. Marriage on earth is a strict covenant that yokes two people as one. People often feel trapped in that binding agreement for various reasons, and as far as spiritual laws are concerned, they rather are. Nevertheless, that covenant isn’t allowed in paradise. It’s more of a concept than a law.”
“Wait,” I say. “So you’re telling me there’s still romance in the Good Place?”
“Of course, there’s still romance.” He frowns and looks decidedly like Ransom on any given day—sans the unfortunate denim suit. “Why people infer that there’s no romance is beyond me. When the Master creates something wonderful, He doesn’t get rid of it. He improves on it.”
