The Complete Sookie Stackhouse Stories (Sookie Stackhouse/True Blood)

by Charlaine Harris

  “How about you, Bernie? Do you have any younger brothers or sisters?” I asked Sam’s mother, to keep the conversational ball rolling.

  “Oh, they have to be younger? I must be showing my age.” Bernie turned a wry face to me. She was stirring something on the stove.

  “You have to be the oldest, if you’re the shifter.”

  Then they were all looking at me, this time in surprise. “Sam did tell you a lot,” Mindy said. “Humph. He doesn’t usually talk much about his heritage.”

  “I’m not sure if I heard it from Sam or from a werewolf,” I said.

  “Unusual,” Bernie said. “Have you dated other shifters?”

  “Yes,” I said simply. “And my brother’s a bitten panther.”

  There was another round-robin of exchanged glances among the women, broken by Bonnie demanding to go potty. Mindy stopped matching socks to sweep her up and carry her off to the hall bathroom.

  “So you have no problem with wereanimals at all,” Bernie said.

  “No,” I replied, and I’m sure I sounded as surprised as I felt.

  “We just figured . . .”

  “What?”

  “We just figured,” Deidra said, “that your family wouldn’t like the idea of you marrying into a shifter family, like my family didn’t. I mean, they’ve come around now, but when they saw the woman change on television, they freaked out.” The two-natured, following the vampire pattern, had sent their most personable representatives to local television stations to change on the air.

  Don hadn’t been the only one who’d reacted with panic.

  “If I had a big family, there might be more of a problem. But my brother wouldn’t mind me marrying into a family with the shifter gene,” I said. “He’s all I’ve got to worry about.” And I wasn’t any too worried about his opinion. “Not that I have any plans to get married,” I added hastily. I hadn’t even planned on getting married in the vampire way, for that matter. “Are you going to wear the traditional white dress, Deidra?” I had a doomed feeling that no matter how I tried to keep the conversation on the actual wedding about to take place, the women of the family were going to continue to steer it toward a possible future match between Sam and me.

  The bride nodded, smiling. Gosh, Deidra was a dentist’s dream. “Yeah, it’s pure white and strapless,” she said. “I got it on sale at a bridal shop in Waco. It was worth the drive.”

  “How many bridesmaids?”

  A cloud crossed her face. “Well,” she began. After a perceptible pause, she tried again. “Two,” she said, smiling for all she was worth. “My sisters.”

  “Two of her friends backed out after the shooting,” Bernie said, her back to us. Her voice was flat.

  Mindy had come back into the kitchen with a scrubbed daughter, and she let Bonnie out into the backyard with the men. “Incoming,” she yelled, and shut the door. “Bitches,” Mindy said abruptly, and I knew she was referring to the bridesmaids who’d reneged on their obligations.

  Deidra flinched.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie, but that behavior was low,” Mindy said. “Any true friend would be thinking more about you and your feelings than about their disapproval of our family.”

  Mindy had good sense.

  “Well, you still got the two best ones,” Bernie said, and Deidra smiled at her mother-in-law-to-be. “Sookie, I hope you like baked chicken.”

  “I sure do,” I said. “Is there anything I can be doing to help?”

  Bernie said no, and I could see that the cooking area would be easier for one person to manage without a newcomer getting in her way. To keep the conversation going, I told them about having to step in at the Bellefleur double wedding when one of the bridesmaids had had a sudden attack of appendicitis. They all laughed when I described trying not to breathe in the too-tight dress or move too quickly in the too-small high heels, and I began to feel a little more at ease. Mindy finished folding clothes, Bonnie came in crying with a skinned knee, and Craig accidentally threw the ball over Doke’s shoulder and into Mr. Collins’s backyard.

  In the background, I’d heard the men’s voices as they called to one another and to Mason, and I was alerted when they all fell silent. I listened.

  Then I was out the door and looking to my right. Jim Collins was standing there at a gap in the overgrown hedge, his balding head shining under the sun, the baseball in his age-spotted hands. I knew what he was going to do before he did it; I knew it as his intent formed. Collins was in his sixties, but hale and fit, and the ball went right toward Sam with impressive force. My hand shot out to intercept it. It stung like hell, but I would not have winced for all the cotton in the Delta. I caught Collins’s gaze and held it. I didn’t let myself speak. I was afraid of what I’d say.

  There was a long moment of silence. Mindy’s husband, Doke, took two steps forward. He told Collins, “Don’t think about acting out in front of my son.” Doke was so angry he had to exercise all his restraint.

  At that moment, I wished I were a witch so I could throw Bernie’s neighbor’s malevolence back at him. But I didn’t have any superpowers or any supernatural powers, or any kind of power at all. All that I had that was mine was my unpredictable ability to read minds and my unexpected strength and quickness, which came from taking the occasional sip of Eric. My arm dropped to my side, the ball clenched in my fist, and Sam came over to put his hand on my shoulder. We watched Jim Collins, still expressionless, turn to go back into his house.

  “Was he trying to hit me?” Sam asked quietly.

  I was too angry to speak. I turned my head to look into Sam’s eyes. I nodded.

  “Thanks, Sookie,” he said. “That would have been bad. Maybe I could have caught it in time. Maybe not.” Sam was very, very quick, like all twoeys—but he’d been caught off guard.

  “I only moved quicker because I knew about it ahead of time,” I said, leaving Eric and his blood out of the conversation. “That creep wants to provoke you. I hope none of the rest of your neighbors are like him.”

  “They never used to be,” he said, his voice bleak. “Now it’s hard to tell.”

  “To hell with them,” I said. “You-all are good people, Sam. There’s nothing wrong with you and your mother, except maybe your mom didn’t pick her second husband too well.”

  I could hear the other men going into the house, Mason’s piping voice exclaiming over my good catch.

  “Mom understands that now,” Sam said. “I think it never occurred to her that Don would be so angry about her other nature, because she was so sure he loved her.”

  Time to change the subject. “Your mom’s fixing chicken,” I said. “Oven baked, with Parmesan cheese and bread crumbs.”

  “Yeah? She’s a pretty good cook.” Sam’s eyes brightened.

  “I don’t know how we’re all going to squeeze in around that table.”

  “I’ll get the other card table out of the closet. We’ll all make it.”

  And we did. No one mentioned Jim Collins again, and no one asked me any questions about what I’d done. The Merlottes (extended version) seemed to be a clan that accepted the odd without a blink . . . at least, they did now.

  It was a long evening after a long day, and I was ready to retire when the dishes were done and Deidra had departed to her parents’ house. Mindy and Doke had left for home soon after supper was eaten so they could bathe the kids and get them to bed. The next day, Saturday, would hold both the wedding rehearsal (in the morning) and the wedding itself at four in the afternoon, followed by a reception. All three events would be at Deidra’s church.

  Craig made a point of having a conversation with me while I was washing dishes and he was drying them. He told me that the reception would be only a punch and cake affair, which is often the case in the South. “We made up our minds too quick to do anything else,” he said with a smile. “After Deidra’s folks�
��the Lisles—kicked up a fuss and postponed the first date and made us go to counseling, we didn’t want anything to get in the way of this one. We don’t care about having a sit-down dinner. Punch and cake is fine with us, and a lot cheaper.”

  “Where will you live?” I asked. “In Dallas? Sam said you-all went to college there.”

  “I took an apartment in Houston after I graduated,” Craig said. “I got a job doing tech support for a big firm of CPAs. Deidra’s got to finish training as an EMT.”

  I assumed she’d have to put that off because of the pregnancy, but it was none of my business to say anything.

  “She’d really like to become a physician’s assistant, after we get on our feet,” he said.

  “I hope she can do that,” I said. Deidra would have a hard row to hoe, with a new husband and a new baby.

  “What about you?” Craig asked.

  “And my future?” I actually had to think about it. Craig and I were alone in the kitchen. Sam had gone outside to move his truck because it had been blocking Deidra’s car. Bernie was in the bathroom.

  “I’ve got a good job working for this really nice guy,” I said, and Craig laughed. I hesitated. “Maybe I’ll take some online courses. I don’t do well in classroom situations.”

  Craig was silent for a few moments. He was thinking he could tell I wasn’t dumb, so what could my problem be? Maybe I had ADD, or just a total lack of ambition? Why hadn’t I advanced further in life?

  Though I felt a flash of resentment, I realized that Craig naturally wanted his brother to be dating a girl who had some goals and aspirations. It was hard to resist showing off, trying to impress Craig with my one unique ability.

  For example, I could have told him that I knew he’d recently quit smoking at Deidra’s request and that right now he was craving a cigarette. Or I could have told him that I knew he and Deidra were going to be parents. Or I could have told him that my boobs were real, which would have answered another unspoken question.

  When you opened yourself up and stayed in a person’s head for more than a second, you could really pick up on a lot of stuff.

  Analyze what you’ve thought of in the last few minutes. Would you want anyone else to know about it? No. Sam had asked me once if I thought I could do a good job for Homeland Security. I tried to imagine how. Standing in an airport by the search line? Would any bomber or terrorist be going over his plan mentally, in detail, in an airport chosen at random? No, I thought not. I’d have to have a little more direction than that.

  I wanted to discuss this with Craig, as I’d wanted to say it to so many people in the past. I’d often wished that other people understood my daily path, understood what I lived with. Not that I wanted to act all whiny and put-upon—“Poor Pitiful Pearl,” as my grandmother used to call me when she thought I was in danger of being sorry for myself.

  I sighed. It wasn’t Be Kind to Telepaths week, and I had better tighten up my suspenders and get on with my life. I told Craig good night and took my turn in the bathroom when it was empty. It felt good to shower away the long day, and I belted my robe around my waist and emerged with the bundle of clothes I’d removed.

  Sam was waiting by the door to my assigned bedroom. He looked tired but relaxed, and I could tell he was happy to be at home. He stood aside to let me enter first, and I put my clothes down on top of my tote bag and straightened up to find him looking at me with affection. Not lust, not frustration . . . affection. My heart went all gooey. We hugged, and it felt wonderful to breathe him in. He didn’t mind the damp hair, the bare face, the worn bathrobe. He was happy I was here. He stood off a little, though he didn’t entirely let go. “Thanks for coming with me, Sookie,” he whispered. “And thanks for defusing that situation with Mr. Collins.” Sam thought Jannalynn would have sprung over into the old man’s yard and given him a shellacking. He seemed to believe that the problem with his mom’s neighbor was over. I didn’t know what to say to him. I decided, I should let him sleep well and be happy. Tomorrow is the wedding.

  “No problem,” I said. “I’m glad my softball training came in handy.”

  Sam went to the doorway. “I’m down there, in my old room,” he said, jerking his head toward a door on the other side of the hall and down a bit. “Craig’s in there with me. Mom’s at the end of the hall.”

  I started to ask him why he’d told me, but then I realized I did indeed feel better knowing where he’d be in the night.

  “You going to call Eric?” he said, almost inaudibly.

  “I may try,” I said. “He’d probably appreciate it.”

  “Tell him . . . Nah, don’t tell him anything.” Sam was not a big fan of the Northman. “I was going to say, ‘Tell him thanks for letting you come,’ but you can go where you damn well want to.”

  I smiled at Sam. “Yes, I can, and I’m glad you know that.” Over his shoulder, I saw the door at the end of the hall open just a crack, and I could see Bernie’s eyes peering at us. Sam gave me a little grin, and I knew he could tell we were being observed. I winked at Sam with the eye away from Bernie, and I kissed him. It wasn’t long, but it was warm. There was a look in Sam’s eyes when we let go of each other, a look that let me know he might’ve enjoyed putting on a much longer show for his mom, but I laughed and stepped back.

  “Night,” I said, and shut the door. I heard Sam’s steps move away, and I fished my cell phone out of my purse. “Hey, you,” I said quietly when Eric answered. Bernie would surely have the sharp shifter hearing.

  “Are you well?” he asked. I could hear some noise in the background. It didn’t sound like the familiar bar noises.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “There seems to be a lot of hostility here in this town against Sam and his mom, and I’m a little bit worried about that. Maybe the hater is just their cranky old neighbor, but I got a feeling there’s more to worry about.” This was what I hadn’t discussed with Sam, so I was glad to pour it out to Eric.

  “That’s worrisome,” he said, but he didn’t sound too worried. “Can you handle it, or do you need help? What’s the name of the town?”

  “I’m in Wright, Texas,” I said, and I may have said it a little sharply. After all, you expect your boyfriend to listen when you tell him stuff, and I knew I’d told him about the wedding. “It’s west and a little south of Dallas.”

  “How far?”

  I described the route we’d taken to Wright, and Eric said, “That would still be in Joseph Velasquez’s territory. When Stan became king, he gave Joseph the sheriffdom.”

  “Your point?”

  “I’d have to ask Joseph for permission to send someone to help you.”

  “Well, I appreciate the thought.” Though I noticed that Eric hadn’t actually said he’d do it. “But the wedding will be tomorrow afternoon in the daytime, so I don’t think a vampire would be a big help.”

  “If you’re really worried, you could call Alcide,” Eric said reluctantly. “Maybe he knows the leader of the nearest pack down there, and it’s possible the packleader would be willing to come to make sure things go well. Though surely Sam and his mother know the other two-natured in the area.”

  I didn’t know how seriously to take one man’s malice, but I did know from the shadow of his thoughts that there were more people in the town who believed the way he did. Maybe sending out a request for help would be a good idea. On the other hand, that was hardly my call to make.

  “What’s going on with you?” I asked, trying to sound completely focused. Eric had his own political problems, and the representative of the Bureau of Vampire Affairs was breathing down his neck about a violation of one of the rules for operating a vampire-owned business. A barmaid had promised a female customer that she (the barmaid, Cyndee) could bribe one of Eric’s vamps to bite the woman. Cyndee’d been blowing smoke, but the BVA had to investigate the allegation. Plus, there was a tense situation with Eric’s
boss, Victor Madden.

  “I think the BVA investigation is going to exonerate us,” he said, “but Victor was here today with his own accountant, going through my books. This is well-nigh intolerable. I can fire Cyndee, and I have. I understand that’s all I can do to her.”

  “Don’t worry about things down here, then,” I said. “You’ve got your hands full.”

  We talked a little longer, but Eric was preoccupied, and so was I. It wasn’t a very satisfactory conversation.

  I’d unfolded the couch to find it was already made up, and I discovered a folded bedspread and a pillow lying on the sewing machine. The evening was warm and the windows open, so I didn’t exactly need the bedspread, but the pillow was nice and fluffy. I turned off the overhead light and stretched out on the lumpy mattress. As I adjusted my spine, I wondered if there was any foldout couch in the world that was as comfortable as a bed. I reminded myself to be glad I wasn’t sleeping on the floor.

  I could hear a muffled conversation coming from the room Sam was sharing with Craig. The brothers laughed. Their voices died away gradually. Through the open window, I heard a small animal outside, and the hoot of an owl. The breeze coming in didn’t even smell like the wind at home.

  I considered the possibility of calling Alcide Herveaux, the Were packleader in Shreveport. He was the werewolf I knew the best, and he might have some insight for me about the situation in neighboring Texas. But not only was I harboring a great resentment toward Alcide since he’d pressured me into taking hallucinogenic drugs so I could solve a pack dispute; I knew he was feeling resultant guilt himself. People who felt guilty lashed out, in my experience. It would be just my luck if he sent Jannalynn to provide backup.

  Awkward.

  Geez Louise, I’d be on the chopping block in no time flat. I wondered what kind of conversation Sam had had with her before we’d left. (“Yes, I’m going to my brother’s wedding, but I’m taking Sookie because she’s more presentable.” I thought not.) And truly, it was another thing that was none of my business.