From Dead To Worse

Chapter 21

The next day I took Bob to Wal-Mart to purchase some clothes. Amelia had pressed some money into Bob's hand, and the young man had accepted it because he had no choice. He could hardly wait to get away from Amelia. And I couldn't say as how I blamed him.

As we drove to town, Bob kept blinking around him in a stunned way. When we entered the store, he went to the nearest aisle and rubbed his head against the corner. I smiled brightly at Marcia Albanese, a wealthy older woman who was on the school board. I hadn't seen her since she'd given Halleigh a wedding shower.

"Who's your friend?" Marcia asked. She was both naturally social and curious. She didn't ask about the head rubbing, which endeared her to me forever.

"Marcia, this is Bob Jessup, a visitor from out of town," I said, and wished I'd prepared a story. Bob nodded at Marcia with wide eyes and held out his hand. At least he didn't poke her with his head and demand to have his ears scratched. Marcia shook hands and told Bob she was pleased to meet him.

"Thanks, nice to meet you, too," Bob said. Oh, good, he sounded really normal.

"Are you going to be in Bon Temps long, Bob?" Marcia said.

"Oh, God, no," he said. "Excuse me, I have to buy some shoes." And he walked off (very smoothly and sinuously) to the men's shoe aisles. He was wearing a pair of flip-flops Amelia had donated, bright green ones that weren't quite big enough.

Marcia was clearly taken aback, but I really couldn't think of a good explanation. "See you later," I said, and followed in his wake. Bob got some sneakers, some socks, two pairs of pants, two T-shirts, and a jacket, plus some underwear. I asked Bob what he'd like to eat, and he asked me if I could make salmon croquettes.

"I sure can," I said, relieved he'd asked for something so easy, and got the cans of salmon I'd need. He also wanted chocolate pudding, and that was easy enough, too. He left the other menu selections up to me.

We had an early supper that night before I had to leave for work, and Bob seemed really pleased with the croquettes and the pudding. He looked much better, too, since he'd showered and put on his new clothes. He was even speaking to Amelia. I gathered from their conversation that she'd taken him through the websites about Katrina and its survivors, and he'd been in contact with the Red Cross. The family he'd grown up in, his aunt's, had lived in Bay Saint Louis, in southern Mississippi, and we all knew what had happened there.

"What will you do now?" I asked, since I figured he'd had a while to think about it now.

"I've got to go see," he said. "I want to try to find out what happened to my apartment in New Orleans, but my family is more important. And I've got to think of something to tell them, to explain where I've been and why I haven't been in touch."

We were all silent, because that was a puzzler.

"You could tell 'em you were enchanted by an evil witch," Amelia said glumly.

Bob snorted. "They might believe it," he said. "They know I'm not a normal person. But I don't think they'd be able to swallow that it lasted so long. Maybe I'll tell them that I lost my memory. Or that I went to Vegas and got married."

"You contacted them regularly, before Katrina?" I said.

He shrugged. "Every couple of weeks," he said. "I didn't think of us as close. But I would definitely have tried after Katrina. I love them." He looked away for a minute.

We kicked around ideas for a while, but there really wasn't a credible reason he would have been out of touch for so long. Amelia said she was going to buy Bob a bus ticket to Hattiesburg and he would try to find a ride from there into the most affected area so he could track down his people.

Amelia was clearing her conscience by spending money on Bob. I had no issue with that. She should be doing so; and I hoped Bob would find his folks, or at least discover what had happened to them, where they were living now.

Before I left for work, I stood in the doorway of the kitchen for a minute or two, looking at the three of them. I tried to see in Bob what Amelia had seen, the element that had attracted her so powerfully. Bob was thin and not particularly tall, and his inky hair naturally lay flat to his skull. Amelia had unearthed his glasses, and they were black-rimmed and thick. I'd seen every inch of Bob, and I realized Mother Nature had been generous to him in the man-bits department, but surely that wasn't enough to explain Amelia's ardent sexcapades with this guy.

Then Bob laughed, the first time he'd laughed since he'd become human again, and I got it. Bob had white, even teeth and great lips, and when he smiled, there was a kind of sardonic, intellectual sexiness about him.

Mystery solved.

When I got home, he would be gone, so I said good-bye to Bob, thinking I'd never see him again, unless he decided to return to Bon Temps to get revenge on Amelia.

As I drove into town, I wondered if we could get a real cat. After all, we had the litter box and the cat food. I'd ask Amelia and Octavia in a couple of days. That would surely give them time to stop being so antsy about Bob's cat-dom.

Alcide Herveaux was sitting at the bar talking with Sam when I came into the main room ready for work. Odd, him turning up again. I stopped for a second, and then made my feet move again. I managed a nod, and waved to Holly to tell her I was taking over. She held up a finger, indicating she was taking care of one customer's bill, and then she'd be out of there. I got a hello from one woman and a howdy from another man, and I felt instantly comfortable. This was my place, my home away from home.

Jasper Voss wanted another rum and Coke, Catfish wanted a pitcher of beer for himself and his wife and another couple, and one of our alcoholics, Jane Bodehouse, was ready to eat something. She said she didn't care what it was, so I got her the chicken tender basket. Getting Jane to eat at all was a real problem, and I hoped she'd down at least half of the basket. Jane was sitting at the other end of the bar from Alcide, and Sam jerked his head sideways to indicate I should join them. I turned Jane's order in and then I reluctantly went over to them. I leaned on the end of the bar.

"Sookie," Alcide said, nodding to me. "I came to say thank you to Sam."

"Good," I said bluntly.

Alcide nodded, not meeting my eyes.

After a moment the new packleader said, "Now no one will dare to try to encroach. If Priscilla hadn't attacked at the moment she picked, with us all together and aware of the danger we faced as a group, she could have kept us divided and kept picking us off until we'd killed each other."

"So she went crazy and you got lucky," I said.

"We came together because of your talent," Alcide said. "And you'll always be a friend of the pack. So is Sam. Ask us to do a service for you, any time, any place, and we'll be there." He nodded to Sam, put some money on the bar, and left.

Sam said, "Nice to have a favor stashed in the bank, huh?"

I had to smile back. "Yeah, that's a good feeling." In fact, I felt full of good cheer all of a sudden. When I looked at the door, I found out why. Eric was coming in, with Pam beside him. They sat at one of my tables, and I went over, consumed with curiosity. Also exasperation. Couldn't they stay away?

They both ordered TrueBlood, and after I served Jane Bodehouse her chicken basket and Sam warmed up the bottles, I was headed back to their table. Their presence wouldn't have rocked any boats if Arlene and her buddies hadn't been in the bar that night.

They were sneering together in an unmistakable way as I put the bottles in front of Eric and Pam, and I had a hard time maintaining my waitress calm as I asked the two if they wanted mugs with that.

"The bottle will be fine," Eric said. "I may need it to smash some skulls."

If I had been feeling Eric's good cheer, Eric was feeling my anxiety.

"No, no, no," I said almost in a whisper. I knew they could hear me. "Let's have peace. We've had enough war and killing."

"Yes," Pam agreed. "We can save the killing for later."

"I'm happy to see both of you, but I'm having a busy evening," I said. "Are you-all just out barhopping to get new ideas for Fangtasia, or can I do something for you?"

"We can do something for you," Pam said. She smiled at the two guys in the Fellowship of the Sun T-shirts, and since she was a wee bit angry, her fangs were showing. I hoped the sight would subdue them, but since they were assholes without a lick of sense, it inflamed their zeal. Pam downed the blood and licked her lips.

"Pam," I said between my teeth. "For goodness' sake, stop making it worse."

Pam gave me a flirty smile, simply so she'd hit all the buttons.

Eric said, "Pam," and immediately all the provocation disappeared, though Pam looked a little disappointed. But she sat up straighter, put her hands in her lap, and crossed her legs at the ankle. No one could have looked more innocent or demure.

"Thank you," Eric said. "Dear one—that's you, Sookie— you so impressed Felipe de Castro that he has given us permission to offer you our formal protection. This is a decision only made by the king, you understand, and it's a binding contract. You rendered him such service that he felt this was the only way to repay you."

"So, this is a big deal?"

"Yes, my lover, it is a very big deal. That means when you call us for help, we are obliged to come and risk our lives for yours. This is not a promise vampires make very often, since we grow more and more jealous of our lives the longer we live. You'd think it would be the other way around."

"Every now and then you'll find someone who wants to meet the sun after a long life," Pam said, as if she wanted to set the record straight.

"Yes," Eric said, frowning. "Every now and then. But he offers you a real honor, Sookie."

"I'm real obliged to you for bringing the news, Eric, Pam."

"Of course, I'd hoped your beautiful roommate would come in," Pam said. She leered at me. So maybe her hanging around Amelia hadn't been entirely Eric's idea.

I laughed out loud. "Well, she's got a lot to think about tonight," I said.

I'd been thinking so hard about the vampire protection that I hadn't noticed the approach of the shorter of the FotS adherants. Now he pushed past me in such a way that he rammed my shoulder, deliberately knocking me to the side. I staggered before I managed to regain my balance. Not everyone noticed, but a few of the bar patrons did. Sam had started around the bar and Eric was already on his feet when I turned and brought my tray down on the asshole's head with all the strength I could muster.

He did a little bit of staggering himself.

Those that had noticed the bit of aggravation began applauding. "Good for you, Sookie," Catfish called. "Hey, jerkoff, leave the waitresses alone."

Arlene was flushed and angry, and she almost exploded then and there. Sam stepped up to her and murmured something in her ear. She flushed even redder and glared at him, but she kept her mouth shut. The taller FotS guy came to his pal's aid and they left the bar. Neither of them spoke (I wasn't sure Shortycould speak), but they might as well have had "You haven't seen the last of us" tattooed on their foreheads.

I could see where the vampires' protection and my friend of the pack status might come in handy.

Eric and Pam finished their drinks and sat long enough to prove they weren't skedaddling because they felt unwelcome and weren't leaving in pursuit of the Fellowship fans. Eric tipped me a twenty and blew me a kiss as he went out the door—so did Pam—earning me an extra-special glare from my former BFF Arlene.

I worked too hard the rest of the night to think about any of the interesting things that had happened that day. After the patrons all left, even Jane Bodehouse (her son came to get her), we put out the Halloween decorations. Sam had gotten a little pumpkin for each table and painted a face on each one. I was filled with admiration, because the faces were really clever, and some of them looked like bar patrons. In fact, one looked a lot like my dear brother.

"I had no idea you could do this," I said, and he looked pleased.

"It was fun," he said, and hung a long strand of fall leaves— of course, they were actually made of cloth—around the bar mirror and among some of the bottles. I tacked up a life-size cardboard skeleton with little rivets at the joints so it could be positioned. I arranged this one so it was clearly dancing. We couldn't have any depressing skeletons at the bar. We had to have happy ones.

Even Arlene unbent a little because this was something different and fun to do, though we had to stay a bit later to do it.

I was ready to go home and go to bed when I said good night to Sam and Arlene. Arlene didn't answer, but she didn't throw me the look of disgust she usually awarded me, either.

Naturally, my day wasn't over.

My great-grandfather was sitting on my front porch when I got to the house. It was very strange to see him in the front porch swing, in the odd combination of night and light that the security lamp and the dark hour combined to create. I wished for one moment that I was as beautiful as he was, and then I had to smile at myself.

I parked my car in the front and got out. Tried to walk quietly going up the steps so I wouldn't wake Amelia, whose bedroom overlooked the front. The house was dark, so I was sure they were in bed, unless they'd been delayed at the bus station when they delivered Bob.

"Great-grandfather," I said. "I'm glad to see you."

"You're tired, Sookie."

"Well, I just got off work." I wondered if he ever got tired himself. I couldn't imagine a fairy prince splitting wood or trying to find a leak in his water line.

"I wanted to see you," he said. "Have you thought of anything I can do for you?" He sounded mighty hopeful.

What a night this was for people giving me positive feedback. Why didn't I have more nights like this?

I thought for a minute. The Weres had made peace, in their own way. Quinn had been found. The vampires had settled into a new regime. The Fellowship fanatics had left the bar with a minimum of trouble. Bob was a man again. I didn't suppose Niall wanted to offer Octavia a room in his own house, wherever that might be. For all I knew, he had a house in a babbling brook or under a live oak somewhere deep in the woods.

"There is something I want," I said, surprised I hadn't thought of it before.

"What is it?" he asked, sounding quite pleased.

"I want to know the whereabouts of a man named Remy Savoy. He may have left New Orleans during Katrina. He may have a little child with him." I gave my great-grandfather Savoy's last known address.

Niall looked confident. "I'll find him for you, Sookie."

"I'd sure appreciate it."

"Nothing else? Nothing more?"

"I have to say . . . this sounds mighty ungracious . . . but I can't help but wonder why you seem to want to do something for me so badly."

"Why would I not? You are my only living kin."

"But you seem to have been content without me for the first twenty-seven years of my life."

"My son would not let me come near you."

"You told me that, but I don't get it. Why? He didn't make an appearance to let me know he cared anything about me. He never showed himself to me, or..." Played Scrabble with me, sent me a graduation present, rented a limousine for me to go to the prom, bought me a pretty dress, took me in his arms on the many occasions when I'd cried (growing up isn't easy for a telepath). He hadn't saved me from being molested by my great-uncle, or rescued my parents, one of whom was his son, when they drowned in a flash flood, or stopped a vampire from setting my house on fire while I was sleeping inside. All this guarding and watching my alleged grandfather Fintan had allegedly done had not paid off in any tangible way for me; and if it had paid off intangibly, I didn't know about it.

Would even worse things have happened? Hard to imagine.

I supposed my grandfather could have been fighting off hordes of slavering demons outside my bedroom window every night, but I couldn't feel grateful if I didn't know about it.

Niall looked upset, which was an expression I'd never seen him wear before. "There are things I can't tell you," he finally said. "When I can make myself speak of them, I will."

"Okay," I said dryly. "But this isn't exactly the give-and-take thing I wanted to have with my great-grandfather, I got to say. This is me telling you everything, and you telling me nothing."

"This may not be what you wanted, but it's what I can give," Niall said with some stiffness. "I do love you, and I had hoped that would be what mattered."

"I'm glad to hear you love me," I said very slowly, because I didn't want to risk seeing him walk away from Demanding Sookie. "But acting like it would be even better."

"I don't act as though I love you?"

"You vanish and reappear when it suits you. All your offers of help aren't help of the practical kind, like the stuff most grandfathers—or great-grandfathers—do. They fix their grand-daughter's car with their own hands, or they offer to help with her college tuition, or they mow her lawn so she doesn't have to. Or they take her hunting. You're not going to do that."

"No," he said. "I'm not." A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "You wouldn't want to go hunting with me."

Okay, I wasn't going to think about that too closely. "So, I don't have any idea of how we're supposed to be together. You're outside my frame of reference."

"I understand," he said seriously. "All the great-grandfathers you know are human, and that I am not. You're not what I expected, either."

"Yeah, I got that." Did I even know any other great-grandfathers? Among friends my own age, even grandfathers were not a sure thing, much less great-grandfathers. But the ones I'd met were all 100 percent human. "I hope I'm not a disappointment," I said.

"No," he said slowly. "A surprise. Not a disappointment. I'm as poor at predicting your actions and reactions as you are at predicting mine. We'll have to work through this slowly." I found myself wondering again why he wasn't more interested in Jason, whose name activated an ache deep inside me. Someday soon I was going to have to talk to my brother, but I couldn't face the idea now. I almost asked Niall to check on Jason, but then I changed my mind and kept silent. Niall eyed my face.

"You don't want to tell me something, Sookie. I worry when you do that. But my love is sincere and deep, and I'll find Remy Savoy for you." He kissed me on the cheek. "You smell like my kin," he said approvingly.

And he poofed.

So, another mysterious conversation with my mysterious great-grandfather had been concluded by him on his own terms. Again. I sighed, fished my keys out of my purse, and unlocked the front door. The house was quiet and dark, and I made my way through the living room and into the hall with as little noise as I could make. I turned on my bedside lamp and performed my nightly routine, curtains closed against the morning sun that would try to wake me in a few short hours.

Had I been an ungrateful bitch to my great-grandfather? When I reviewed what I'd said, I wondered if I'd sounded demanding and whiney. In a more optimistic interpretation, I thought I might have sounded like a stand-up woman, the kind people shouldn't mess with, the kind of woman who speaks her mind.

I turned on the heat before I got into bed. Octavia and Amelia hadn't complained, but it had definitely been chilly the past few mornings. The stale smell that always comes when the heat is used the first time filled the air, and I wrinkled my nose as I snuggled under the sheet and the blanket. Then thewhoosh noise lulled me into sleep.

I'd been hearing voices for some time before I realized they were outside my door. I blinked, saw it was day, and shut my eyes again. Back to sleep. The voices continued, and I could tell they were arguing. I cracked open one eye to peer at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was nine thirty. Gack. Since the voices wouldn't shut up or go away, I reluctantly opened both eyes at one time, absorbed the fact that the day was not bright, and sat up, pushing the covers back. I moved to the window to the left of the bed and looked out. Gray and rainy. As I stood there, drops began to hit the glass; it was going to be that kind of day.

I went to the bathroom and heard the voices outside hush now that I was clearly up and stirring. I threw open the door to find my two housemates standing right outside, which was no big surprise.

"We didn't know if we should wake you," Octavia said. She looked anxious.

"But I thought we ought to, because a message from a magical source is clearly important," Amelia said. She appeared to have said it many times in the past few minutes, from the expression on Octavia's face.

"What message?" I asked, deciding to ignore the argument part of this conversation.

"This one," Octavia said, handing me a large buff envelope. It was made of heavy paper, like a super-fancy wedding invitation. My name was on the outside. No address, just my name. Furthermore, it was sealed with wax. The imprint in the wax was the head of a unicorn.

"Okey-dokey," I said. This was going to be an unusual letter.

I walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and a knife, in that order, both the witches trailing behind me like a Greek chorus. Having poured the coffee and pulled out a chair to sit at the table, I slid the knife under the seal and detached it gently. I opened the flap and pulled out a card. On the card was a handwritten address: 1245 Bienville, Red Ditch, Louisiana. That was all.

"What does it mean?" Octavia said. She and Amelia were naturally standing right behind me so they could get a good view.

"It's the location of someone I've been searching for," I said, which was not exactly the truth but close enough.

"Where's Red Ditch?" Octavia said. "I've never heard of it." Amelia was already fetching the Louisiana map from the drawer under the telephone. She looked up the town, running her finger down the columns of names.

"It's not too far," she said. "See?" She put her finger on a tiny dot about an hour and a half's drive southeast of Bon Temps.

I drank my coffee as fast as I could and scrambled into some jeans. I slapped a little makeup on and brushed my hair and headed out the front door to my car, map in hand.

Octavia and Amelia followed me out, dying to know what I was going to do and what significance the message had for me. But they were just going to have to wonder, at least for right now. I wondered why I was in such a hurry to do this. It wasn't like he was going to vanish, unless Remy Savoy was a fairy, too. I thought that highly unlikely.

I had to be back for the evening shift, but I had plenty of time.

I drove with the radio on, and this morning I was in a country-and-western kind of mood. Travis Tritt and Carrie Underwood accompanied me, and by the time I drove into Red Ditch, I was feeling my roots. There was even less to Red Ditch than there was to Bon Temps, and that's saying something.

I figured it would be easy to find Bienville Street, and I was right. It was the kind of street you can find anywhere in America. The houses were small, neat, boxy, with room for one car in the carport and a small yard. In the case of 1245, the backyard was fenced in and I could see a lively little black dog running around. There wasn't a doghouse, so the pooch was an indoor-outdoor animal. Everything was neat, but not obsessively so. The bushes around the house were trimmed and the yard was raked. I drove by a couple of times, and then I wondered what I was going to do. How would I find out what I wanted to know?

There was a pickup truck parked in the garage, so Savoy was probably at home. I took a deep breath, parked across from the house, and tried to send my extra ability hunting. But in a neighborhood full of the thoughts of the living people in these houses, it was hard. I thought I was getting two brain signatures from the house I was watching, but it was hard to be absolutely sure.

"Fuck it," I said, and got out of the car. I popped my keys in my jacket pocket and went up the sidewalk to the front door. I knocked.

"Hold on, son," said a man's voice inside, and I heard a child's voice say, "Daddy, me! I get it!"

"No, Hunter," the man said, and the door opened. He was looking at me through a screen door. He unhooked it and pushed it open when he saw I was a woman. "Hi," he said. "Can I help you?"

I looked down at the child who wiggled past him to look up at me. He was maybe four years old. He had dark hair and eyes. He was the spitting image of Hadley. Then I looked at the man again. Something in his face had changed during my protracted silence.

"Who are you?" he said in an entirely different voice.

"I'm Sookie Stackhouse," I said. I couldn't think of any artful way to do this. "I'm Hadley's cousin. I just found out where you were."

"You can't have any claim on him," said the man, keeping a very tight rein on his voice.

"Of course not," I said, surprised. "I just want to meet him. I don't have much family."

There was another significant pause. He was weighing my words and my demeanor and he was deciding whether to slam the door or let me in.

"Daddy, she's pretty," said the boy, and that seemed to tip the balance in my favor.

"Come on in," Hadley's ex-husband said.

I looked around the small living room, which had a couch and a recliner, a television and a bookcase full of DVDs and children's books, and a scattering of toys.

"I worked Saturday, so I have today off," he said, in case I imagined he was unemployed. "Oh, I'm Remy Savoy. I guess you knew that."

I nodded.

"This is Hunter," he said, and the child got a case of the shys. He hid behind his father's legs and peeked around at me. "Please sit down," Remy added.

I shoved a newspaper to one end of the couch and sat, trying not to stare at the man or the child. My cousin Hadley had been very striking, and she'd married a good-looking man. It was hard to peg down what left that impression. His nose was big, his jaw stuck out a little, and his eyes were a little wide-spaced. But the sum of all this was a man most women would look at twice. His hair was that medium shade between blond and brown, and it was thick and layered, the back hanging over his collar. He was wearing a flannel shirt unbuttoned over a white Hanes T-shirt. Jeans. No shoes. A dimple in his chin.

Hunter was wearing corduroy pants and a sweatshirt with a big football on the front. His clothes were brand-new, unlike his dad's.

I'd finished looking at them before Remy'd finished looking at me. He didn't think I had any trace of Hadley in my face. My body was plumper and my coloring was lighter and I wasn't as hard. He thought I looked like I didn't have a lot of money. He thought I was pretty, like his son did. But he didn't trust me.

"How long has it been since you heard from her?" I asked.

"I haven't heard from Hadley since a few months after he was born," Remy said. He was used to that, but there was sadness in his thoughts, too.

Hunter was sitting on the floor, playing with some trucks. He loaded some Duplos into the back of a dump truck, which backed up to a fire engine very slowly, guided by Hunter's small hands. To the astonishment of the Duplo man sitting in the cab of the fire engines, the dump truck let go of its load all over the fire engine. Hunter got a big kick out of this, and he said, "Daddy, look!"

"I see it, son." Remy looked at me intently. "Why are you here?" he asked, deciding to get right to the point.

"I only found out there might be a baby a couple of weeks ago," I said. "Wasn't any point in tracking you down until I heard that."

"I never met her family," he said. "How'd you know she was married? Did she tell you?" Then, reluctantly, he said, "Is she okay?"

"No," I said very quietly. I didn't want Hunter to become interested. The boy was loading all the Duplos back into the dump truck. "She's been dead since before Katrina."

I could hear the shock detonate like a little bomb in his head. "She was already a vamp, I heard," he said uncertainly, his voice wavering. "That kind of dead?"

"No. I mean really, finally."

"What happened?"

"She was attacked by another vampire," I said. "He was jealous of Hadley's relationship with her, ah, her..."

"Girlfriend?" No mistaking the bitterness in her ex-husband's voice and in his head.

"Yeah."

"That was a shocker," he said, but in his head all the shock had worn off. There was only a grim resignation, a loss of pride.

"I didn't know about any of this until after she passed."

"You're her cousin? I remember her telling me she had two. . . . You got a brother, right?"

"Yes," I said.

"You knew she had been married to me?"

"I found out when I cleaned out her safe-deposit box a few weeks ago. I didn't know there had been a son. I apologize for that." I wasn't sure why I was apologizing or how I could have known, but I was sorry I hadn't even considered the fact that Hadley and her husband might have had a child. Hadley had been a little older than me, and I guessed Remy was probably thirty or thereabouts.

"You look fine," he said suddenly, and I flushed, understanding him instantly.

"Hadley told you I had a disability." I looked away from him, at the boy, who jumped to his feet, announced he had to go to the bathroom, and dashed out of the room. I couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, she said something.... She said you had a hard time of it in school," he said tactfully. Hadley had told him I was crazy as hell. He was seeing no signs of it, and he wondered why Hadley had thought so. But he glanced in the direction the child had gone, and I knew he was thinking he had to be careful since Hunter was in the house, he had to be alert for any signs of this instability—though Hadley had never specified what form of craziness I had.

"That's true," I said. "I had a hard time of it. Hadley wasn't any big help. But her mom, my aunt Linda, was a great woman before the cancer got her. She was real kind to me, always. And we had some good moments now and then."

"I could say the same. We did have some good moments," Remy said. His forearms were braced on his knees and his big hands, scarred and battered, hung down. He was a man who knew what hard work was.

There was a sound at the front door and a woman came in without bothering to knock. "Hey, baby," she said, smiling at Remy. When she noticed me, her smile faltered and faded away.

"Kristen, this is a relative of my ex-wife's," Remy said, and there wasn't any haste or apology in his voice.

Kristen had long brown hair and big brown eyes and she was maybe twenty-five. She was wearing khakis and a polo shirt with a logo on the chest, a laughing duck. The legend above the duck read, "Jerry's Detailing." "Nice to meet you," Kristen said insincerely. "I'm Kristen Duchesne, Remy's girlfriend."

"Pleased to meet you," I said, more honestly. "Sookie Stackhouse."

"You didn't offer this woman a drink, Remy! Sookie, can I get you a Coke or a Sprite?"

She knew what was in the refrigerator. I wondered if she lived here. Well, none of my business, as long as she was good to Hadley's son.

"No, thanks," I said. "I've got to be going in a minute." I made a little production out of looking at my watch. "I got to go to work this evening."

"Oh, where is that?" Kristen asked. She was a little more relaxed.

"Merlotte's. It's a bar in Bon Temps," I said. "About eighty miles from here."

"Sure, that's where your wife was from," Kristen said, glancing at Remy.

Remy said, "Sookie came with some news, I'm afraid." His hands twisted together, though his voice was steady. "Hadley is dead."

Kristen inhaled sharply but she had to keep her comment to herself because Hunter dashed back into the room. "Daddy, I washed my hands!" he shouted, and his father smiled at him.

"Good for you, son," he said, and ruffled the boy's dark hair. "Say hello to Kristen."

"Hey, Kristen," Hunter said without much interest.

I stood. I wished I had a business card to leave. This seemed odd and wrong, to just walk out. But Kristen's presence was oddly inhibiting. She picked up Hunter and slung him on her hip. He was quite a load for her, but she made a point of making it look easy and habitual, though it wasn't. But she did like the little boy; I could see it in her head.

"Kristen likes me," Hunter said, and I looked at him sharply.

"Sure I do," Kristen said, and laughed.

Remy was looking from Hunter to me with a troubled face, a face that was just beginning to look worried.

I wondered how to explain our relationship to Hunter. I was pretty close to being his aunt, as we reckon things here. Kids don't care about second cousins.

"Aunt Sookie," Hunter said, testing the words. "I got an aunt?"

I took a deep breath.Yes, you do, Hunter, I thought.

"I never had one before."

"You got one now," I told him, and I looked into Remy's eyes. They were frightened. He hadn't spelled it out to himself yet, but he knew.

There was something I had to say to him, regardless of Kristen's presence. I could feel her confusion and her sense that something was going on without her knowledge. But I didn't have the space on my agenda to worry about Kristen, too. Hunter was the important person.

"You're gonna need me," I told Remy. "When he gets a little older, you're gonna need to talk. My number's in the book, and I'm not going anywhere. You understand?"

Kristen said, "What's going on? Why are we getting so serious?"

"Don't worry, Kris," Remy said gently. "Just family stuff."

Kristen lowered a wriggling Hunter to the floor. "Uh-huh," she said, in the tone of someone who knows full well she's having the wool pulled over her eyes.

"Stackhouse," I reminded Remy. "Don't put it off till too late, when he's already miserable."

"I understand," he said. He looked miserable himself, and I didn't blame him.

"I've got to go," I said again, to reassure Kristen.

"Aunt Sookie, you going?" Hunter asked. He wasn't quite ready to hug me yet, but he thought about it. He liked me. "You coming back?"

"Sometime, Hunter," I said. "Maybe your dad will bring you to visit me someday."

I shook Kristen's hand, shook Remy's, which they both thought was odd, and opened the door. As I put one foot on the steps, Hunter said silently, Bye, Aunt Sookie.

Bye, Hunter, I said right back.