“Welcome, Sister,” said a short blond . . . something. I couldn’t even be sure of the gender. “Have you come to join us here?”
I struggled to answer. “I hadn’t planned on it,” I said. I stepped back into the hall and let the door shut after me. I gripped Claude’s arm. “What the hell is going on here?” When he didn’t answer, I turned to my great-uncle. “Dermot?”
“Sookie, our dearest,” Dermot said, after a moment’s silence. “Tonight when we come home we’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
“What about him?” I said, nodding at Bellenos.
“He won’t be with us,” Claude said. “Bellenos sleeps here, as our night watchman.”
You only needed a night watchman if you were afraid of an attack.
More trouble.
I could hardly stand the prospect of it.
Chapter 3
Okay, I’ve been stupid in the past. Not consistently stupid, but occasionally stupid. And I’ve made mistakes. You bet, I’ve made mistakes.
But during the ride back to Bon Temps, with my best guy friend driving and giving me the silence I needed, I thought hard. I felt a tear trickle from each eye. I looked away and blotted my face with a tissue from my purse, not wanting Sam to offer sympathy.
When I’d composed myself, I said, “I’ve been a fool.”
To his credit, Sam looked startled. “What are you thinking of?” he said, so he wouldn’t say, “Which time?”
“Do you think people really change, Sam?”
He took a moment to line up his thoughts. “That’s a pretty big question, Sookie. People can turn themselves around to some extent, sure. Addicts can be strong enough to stop using whatever they’re addicted to. People can go to therapy and learn how to manage behavior that’s been out of control. But that’s an external . . . system. A learned management technique imposed on the natural order of things, on what the person really is — an addict. Does that make sense?”
I nodded.
“So, on the whole,” he continued, “I’d have to say no, people don’t change, but they can learn to behave differently. I want to believe otherwise. If you have an argument that says I’m wrong, I’d be glad to hear it.” We turned down my driveway and began to go through the woods.
“Children change as they grow up and adapt to society and their own circumstances,” I said. “Sometimes in good ways, sometimes in bad. And I think if you love someone, you make an effort to suppress habits of yours that displease them, right? But those habits or inclinations are still there. Sam, you’re right. Those are other cases of people imposing a learned reaction over the original.”
He gave me worried eyes as we pulled up behind the house. “Sookie, what’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “I’m such an idiot,” I told him. I couldn’t look him square in the face. I scrambled out of the truck. “Are you taking the whole day off, or will I see you at the bar later?”
“I’m taking the whole day off. Listen, do you need me to stick around? I’m not real sure what you’re worried about, but you know we can talk about it. I have no idea what is going on at Hooligans, but until the fairies feel like telling us . . . I’m here if you need me.”
He was sincere in his offer, but I also knew he wanted to get home, call Jannalynn, make plans for the night so he could give her the gift he’d gone to such trouble to select. “No, I’m good,” I said reassuringly, smiling up at him. “I’ve got a million things to do before I come to work, and a lot to think about.” To put it mildly.
“Thanks for going to Shreveport with me, Sookie,” Sam said. “But I guess I was wrong about getting your kinfolk to talk to you. Let me know if they don’t come through tonight.” I waved good-bye as he backed up to drive back to Hummingbird Road to return to his double-wide, situated right behind Merlotte’s. Sam never completely got away from work — but on the other hand, it was a real short commute.
As I unlocked the back door, I was already making plans.
I felt like having a shower — no, a bath. It was actually delightful to be alone, to have Claude and Dermot out of the house. I was full of new suspicion, but that was a sadly familiar feeling. I thought about calling Amelia, my witch friend who had returned to New Orleans to her rebuilt home and her reestablished job, to ask her advice about several things. In the end I didn’t pick up the phone. I would have to explain so much. The prospect made my brain feel tired, and that was no way to start a conversation. An e-mail might be better. I could set everything down that way.