Chapter 11
Because Merlotte’s was almost empty, my lateness wasn’t an issue. In fact, Sam was so preoccupied I wasn’t sure he noticed. His abstraction made me feel a little better. I’d wondered if Jannalynn had spun Sam some kind of tale to cover her malice, in case I complained to him about her shoving another man into my bed. Sam didn’t seem to have any idea that Jannalynn had done her best to embarrass me by advising her boss to play peek-a-boo with my bedsheets.
Though it was easy to be angry at Jannalynn because I didn’t like her, when I thought about it, Alcide should have known better than to take such bad advice. If Alcide had been stupid for giving her idea credence, Jannalynn had been mean for thinking of it in the first place. I understood now that we were enemies. It was my day for unpleasant realizations.
Sam was absorbed in going over the books. When I discerned from his thoughts that he was trying to figure out how he could manage to pay his bill with our beer distributor, I decided that today he had more problems than he could handle. He didn’t need to hear that his girlfriend had embarrassed me.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was between Jannalynn and me, no matter how tempted I might be to inform Sam about his girlfriend’s true character. I felt like a smarter and better person after getting my head straight on that, and I hustled food and drinks with a smile and a pleasant word the whole shift. I had some good tip money in consequence.
I worked late to make up my time, and that was okay because Holly was late in turn. It was after six when I went into the office to fetch my purse. Sam was slumped at his desk, looking pretty bleak. “You need to talk about something?” I offered.
“With you? I figure you already know whatever I’m thinking about,” he said, but not as if that bothered him. “The bar’s in a slump, Sook. This is the worst patch I’ve ever been through.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be completely stale or practically untrue. Something always turns up. It always seems darkest before the dawn. When God closes a door, he opens a window. All things happen for a reason. Into every life a little rain must fall. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. In the end, I just bent and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You call me if you need me,” I said, and went out to the car feeling troubled. I put my subconscious to work on a plan to help Sam.
I loved summer, but sometimes I hated daylight saving time. Though I’d worked late and was going home, it was still glaring sunlight and would be for maybe another hour and a half. Even after darkfall, when Eric and Pam could come to the house, we’d still have to wait for Colton to get off work.
As I got into my car, I noticed there was a chance it would be dark earlier than usual. An ominous mass of dark clouds seethed to the west . . . really dark clouds, moving fast. The day would not end as beautifully and brightly as it had begun. I’d just been remembering my gran saying, “Into every life a little rain must fall.” I wondered if I’d been prophetic.
I’m not scared of storms. Jason once had a dog that’d dashed upstairs to hide under Jason’s bed every time he heard a crack of thunder. I smiled at the memory. My grandmother hadn’t approved of dogs in the house, but she hadn’t been able to keep Rocky out. He’d always found a way when the weather turned bad, though that way had less to do with the dog’s cleverness than with Jason’s soft heart. That was one good thing about my brother; he’d always been kind to animals. And now he is one, I thought. At least once a month. I didn’t know what to think about that. While I’d been looking up at the sky, the clouds had been moving in closer, and I needed to get home and make sure my departed guests had left all the windows closed.
Despite my anxiety, after I looked at my gas gauge I realized I had to fill up the car. While the pump was working, I stepped out from under the awning at the Grabbit Kwik to look up. The sky was ominous, and I wondered if we were under a tornado watch. I wished I’d listened to the Weather Channel that morning.
The wind picked up, and bits of trash whipped across the parking lot. The air was so heavy and damp that the pavement smelled. When the gas pump cut off, I was glad to hang up the nozzle and climb in the car. I saw Tara going by, and she glanced my way and waved. I thought of her impending baby shower and her impending babies, with a little guilt. Though I had put everything in line for the shower, I hadn’t thought about it all week, and it was only two days away! Surely I ought to be concentrating on the social event rather than a murder plot?
It was a moment when my life seemed . . . complex. A few drops of rain splashed on my windshield as I pulled out of the parking lot. I hoped I had enough milk for breakfast, because I sure hadn’t checked before I left the house. Did I have some bottled blood to offer the vampires? Just in case, I stopped at the Piggly Wiggly and got some. Grabbed up some milk, too. And some bacon. I hadn’t had a bacon sandwich in ages, and Terry Bellefleur had brought me some early fresh tomatoes.
I slung my plastic bags into the front seat of the car and dove in after them, because the rain abruptly slammed down in earnest. The back of my T-shirt was soaked, and my ponytail hung sodden on my neck. I reached in the backseat and pulled my umbrella into the front. It was an old one my gran had used to cover her head when she’d come to watch me playing softball, and when I looked at the faded stripes of black and green and cerise, I felt a smile on my face.
I drove home slowly and carefully. The rain drummed on the car and bounced up from the pavement like tiny jackhammers. My headlights hardly seemed to make a dent in the rain and the gloom. I glanced at the dashboard clock. It was already after seven. Of course I had plenty of time before the Victor Murder Committee met, but it would be a relief just to get to the house. I considered the dash I’d have to make from the car to the house. If Dermot had gone out already, he would have left the door to the back porch locked. I’d be completely exposed to the rain while I fumbled with the keys and my two heavy bags of milk and blood. Not for the first or last time, I thought of spending my savings — the money from Claudine’s estate and the lesser sum of Hadley’s legacy (Remy hadn’t called, so I had to assume he’d meant he truly didn’t want her money) — in getting a carport attached to the house.
I was thinking of how I’d situate such a structure, and wondering how much it would take to build it, as I pulled up behind the house. Poor Dermot! By asking him to go out tonight I’d doomed him to a miserable, wet time in the woods. At least, I assumed he’d think it would be miserable. Fairies had a whole different scale than I did. I could lend him my car, and he could drive to Jason’s, maybe.
I peered through the windshield, hoping I’d see a light on in the kitchen signaling Dermot’s presence.
But the door to the back porch was hanging open over the steps. I couldn’t see well enough through the gloom to tell if the house door was open, too.
My first reaction was indignation. That’s so careless of Dermot, I thought. Maybe I should have told him he had to leave, too. But then I thought again. Dermot had never been so careless, and there was no reason to think he would be today. Instead of being irritated, maybe I should be worried.