We walked a little farther along the gallery to the door to the largest bedroom, which was open a discreet few inches. Halleigh stepped in ahead of us.
“Sookie and Mr. Compton have brought the family Bible,” she said. “Miss Caroline, can he bring it in?”
“Yes, of course, have him bring it,” said a weak voice, and Bill and I walked in.
Miss Caroline was the queen of the room, no doubt about it. Andy and Portia were standing to the right of the bed, and they looked both worried and uneasy as Bill ushered me in. I noticed the absence of Portia’s husband, Glen. A middle-aged African-American woman was sitting in a chair to the left of the bed. She was wearing the bright, loose pants and cheerful tunic that nurses favored now. The pattern made her look as though she worked on a pediatric ward. However, in a room decorated in subdued peach and cream, the splash of color was welcome. The nurse was thin and tall, and wore an incredible wig that reminded me of a movie Cleopatra. She nodded to us as we came closer to the bed. Caroline Bellefleur, who looked like the steel magnolia she was, lay propped up on a dozen pillows in the four-poster bed. There were shadows of exhaustion under her old eyes, and her hands curled in wrinkled claws on the bedspread. But there was still a flicker of interest in her eyes as she looked at us.
“Miss Stackhouse, Mr. Compton, I haven’t seen you since the big wedding,” she said with an obvious effort. Her voice was thin as paper.
“That was a beautiful occasion, Mrs. Bellefleur,” Bill said with an almost equal effort. I only nodded. This was not my conversation to have.
“Please take a seat,” the old woman said, and Bill pulled a chair up closer to her bed. I sat a couple of feet back.
“Looks like that Bible is too big for me to handle now,” the ancient lady said, with a smile. “It was so nice of you to bring it over. I have sure been wanting to see it. Has it been in your attic? I know we don’t have much connection with the Comptons, but I sure wanted to find that old book. Halleigh was nice enough to do some checking for me.”
“As a matter of fact, this book was on my coffee table,” Bill said gently. “Mrs. Bellefleur—Caroline—my second child was a daughter, Sarah Isabelle.”
“Oh my goodness,” said Miss Caroline, to indicate she was listening. She didn’t seem to know where this was headed, but she was definitely attentive.
“Though I didn’t learn this until I read the family page in this Bible after I returned to Bon Temps, my daughter Sarah had four children, though one baby was born dead.”
“That happened so often back then,” she said.
I glanced over at the Bellefleur grandchildren. Portia and Andy weren’t happy that Bill was here, not at all, but they were listening, too. They hadn’t spared a glance for me, which was actually just fine. Though they were puzzled by Bill’s presence, the focus of their thoughts was the woman who had raised them and the visible fact that she was fading away.
Bill said, “My Sarah’s daughter was named Caroline, for her grandmother. my wife.”
“My name?” Miss Caroline sounded pleased, though her voice was a little weaker.
“Yes, your name. My granddaughter Caroline married a cousin, Matthew Phillips Holliday.”
“Why, those are my mother and father.” She smiled, which did drastic things to her scores of wrinkles. “So you are. Really?” To my amazement, Caroline Bellefleur laughed.
“Your great-grandfather. Yes, I am.”
Portia made a sound as though she were choking on a stink-bug. Miss Caroline disregarded her granddaughter entirely, and she didn’t look over at Andy—which was lucky, because he was turkey-wattle red.
“Well, if this isn’t funny,” she said. “I’m as wrinkled as unironed linen, and you’re as smooth as a fresh peach.” She was genuinely amused. “Great-granddaddy!”
Then a thought seemed to occur to the dying lady. “Was it you arranged for that timely windfall we got?”
“The money couldn’t have been put to better use,” Bill said gallantly. “The house looks beautiful. Who will live in it after you die?”
Portia gasped, and Andy looked a little taken aback. But I glanced at the nurse. She gave me a brief nod. Miss Caroline’s time was very near, and the lady was fully aware of it.
“Well, I think Portia and Glen will stay here,” Miss Caroline said slowly. It was evident she was tiring fast. “Halleigh and Andy want to have their baby in their own home, and I don’t blame them one bit. You’re not saying you’re interested in the house?”
“Oh, no, I have my own,” Bill reassured her. “And I was glad to give my own family the wherewithal to repair this place. I want my descendants to keep on living here through the years and have many happy times in this place.”
“Thank you,” Miss Caroline said, and now her voice was barely a whisper.
“Sookie and I must go,” Bill said. “You rest easy, now.”
“I will,” she said, and smiled, though her eyes were closing.
I rose as quietly as I could and slipped out of the room ahead of Bill. I thought Portia and Andy might want to say a few things to Bill. Sure enough, they didn’t want to disturb their grandmother, so they followed Bill out onto the gallery.
“Thought you were dating another vampire now?” Andy asked me. He didn’t sound as snarky as he usually did.
“I am,” I said. “But Bill is still my friend.”
Portia had briefly dated Bill, though not because she thought he was cute or anything. I was sure that added to her embarrassment as she stuck out her hand to Bill. Portia needed to brush up on her vampire etiquette. Though Bill looked a little taken aback, he accepted the handshake. “Portia,” he said. “Andy. I hope you don’t find this too awkward.”
I was busting-at-the-seams proud of Bill. It was easy to see where Caroline Bellefleur had gotten her graciousness.
Andy said, “I wouldn’t have taken the money if I’d known it came from you.” He’d evidently come straight from work, because he was wearing all his gear: a badge and handcuffs clipped to his belt, a holstered gun. He looked pretty formidable, but he was no match for Bill, even as sick as Bill was.
“Andy, I know you’re not a fan of the fang. But you’re part of my family, and I know you were raised to respect your elders.”
Andy looked completely taken aback.
“That money was to make Caroline happy, and I think it did,” Bill continued. “So it served its purpose. I’ve gotten to see her and to tell her about our relationship, and she has the Bible. I won’t burden you with my presence any longer. I would ask that you have the funeral at night so I can attend.”
“Who ever heard of a funeral at night?” Andy said.
“Yes, we’ll do that.” Portia didn’t sound warm and welcoming, but she did sound absolutely resolved. “The money made her last few years very happy. She loved restoring the house to its best state, and she loved giving us the wedding here. The Bible is the frosting on the cake. Thank you.”
Bill nodded to both of them, and without further ado we left Belle Rive.
Caroline Bellefleur, Bill’s great-granddaughter, died in the early hours of the morning.
Bill sat with the family during the funeral, which took place the next night, to the profound amazement of the town.
I sat at the back with Sam.
It wasn’t an occasion for tears; without a doubt, Caroline Bellefleur had had a long life—a life not devoid of sorrow, but at least full of moments of compensatory happiness. She had very few remaining contemporaries, and those who were still alive were almost all too tottery to come to her funeral.
The service seemed quite normal until we drove out to the cemetery, which didn’t have night lighting—of course—and I saw that temporary lights had been set up around the perimeter of the grave in the Bellefleur plot. That was a strange sight. The minister had a hard time reading the service until a member of the congregation held his own flashlight to the page.