“All the dogs at the shelter are dead,” I said. “They were shot.”
Sam rose to take a tentative step toward me, and I could tell he wanted to offer me comfort. But I was too angry to accept it, and I held the palm of my hand toward him to let him know that.
“I moved the sign into Jim Collins’s yard,” I said. “That man’s a murderer.” My rage deflated just a little.
“Oh, Sookie,” Bernie began, sounding both alarmed and a little reproachful, and I held up the same palm to her.
“It was him,” I said. “He was not the only one, but it was him.”
She sat back and looked at me with more objective attention than she’d given me since I’d met her. “And you know this how?” she said.
“He’s condemned by his own words, from his own brain.”
“Sookie can read minds, Mom,” Sam said, and after a second’s thought, Bernie flushed a dull red. She had thought a few unflattering things about me. I’m a big girl; I can live with that. It wasn’t like I hadn’t heard plenty of similar things before.
“Shapeshifters are hard to read, if that makes you feel any better,” I offered, and I sat down at the table with a thud. As the rage oozed out of me, it left an empty space, an aching hole. I looked down at my leg as if I could see it through my clothes, see the thickened, whiter flesh of the scarring. I made myself sit straighter. This family had enough on their plate without having to bolster me up.
“My friend Quinn showed up,” I said, and from the corner of my eye I saw Sam start. “He came with a couple you know, Bernie,” I said, looking at Sam’s mother. “A woman named Trish Pulaski and a man named Togo Olympio.”
“Trish and I have been friends since we moved to Wright,” Bernie said. “You probably remember her as Trish Graham, Sam. She divorced a while ago, took back her maiden name, and started up with Togo. I’ll never understand that relationship, but I tell myself it’s none of my business.” Bernie’s face suddenly reflected much more of the woman behind it and less of the mom, as if she’d switched hats internally.
“The point is, they’re very concerned about Craig and Deidra’s wedding going off without a hitch.” I watched Bernie’s face pass from incomprehension to reluctant horror.
“You think there may be more?” she said.
I found myself understanding why Bernie had been stunned when her husband had reacted so drastically to her revelation. As well as being unimaginative, Bernie was a wee bit on the unrealistic side.
“Mom,” Sam said, “if they’re starting off by killing all the dogs in the pound, I think you can assume there’s going to be something else happening. Maybe we should think about postponing the wedding? Move it somewhere else?” He looked at his brother.
Craig said, “No.” His face hardened as I watched. “We put it off once because Deidra’s family wanted to understand more about what she’d be getting into, being married to me. We got the couples counseling. We got the totally unnecessary genetics counseling. Deidra’s ready to marry me. Her family is used to the idea, if not exactly thrilled. We set another date, and then we had to move it up.” He cast a quick glance at me. He was wondering if I knew exactly why. “Because of Deidra’s brother going overseas.”
“Next month,” I said helpfully.
“Right. Well, we didn’t want to wait till the last minute. In fact, we don’t want to wait another day.”
Sam was looking from me to Craig.
“But everyone has been pitching in to help,” Bernie said, still stuck on the hate. She’d lived here for years, and I could tell she was having a very hard time believing that people she’d known for more than a decade could turn on her. “I mean, the ladies in the church, the pastor . . . they’ve all been so happy that Craig and Deidra were going to get married. They threw Deidra a wedding shower in the fellowship hall.”
“See, most people aren’t bad,” I said, as if I were reassuring a child. “I’m sure it’s a minority here in Wright, a handful of people, but we don’t want anything bad to happen that would ruin the wedding. Craig and Deidra need happy memories of this day, not . . .” My voice trailed off as I thought of what I’d seen at the shelter.
“Yes, I understand,” Bernie said. She sat up a little straighter. “Craig, honey, I think you need to call Deidra right now. I hope nothing has happened over at her place.”
Nothing could have gotten Craig moving as fast as that idea, and he had speed-dialed his fiancée almost before his mother had finished speaking. He stepped into the living room while he spoke to her, and he snapped his phone shut and came back into the kitchen with an air of relief.
“They’re fine,” he said. “I didn’t tell them about the animal shelter. I hope they won’t find out until after the wedding. Deidra’s at the Clip N Curl, getting her hair done.”
It was all of eight thirty in the morning. Despite the important issues we were facing, I shuddered at the idea of how long a day it was going to be for Deidra.
“When are Mindy and Doke and their kids coming?” I asked.
“They’re supposed to be here in an hour,” Bernie said. “Should I call their cell, tell them to turn back?”
“No,” Sam said. “No, this wedding is going to take place. We are not going to let a few crackpots make us back down. That is,” he said more quietly, “if that’s what Craig and Deidra want to do.”
Craig smiled at Sam briefly. “I’m getting married today,” he said. “I don’t want to put anyone in danger, but we’re having this wedding.” He shook his head from side to side. I could see the unhappiness, the bewilderment, the determination. “They all know us. Why do we seem like we’re any different from the way we’ve always been? And it’s not like Deidra or I turn into anything.”
Sam stared at his brother, and Bernie winced.
To his credit, Craig noticed. He said, “Sam, we talked this all out a couple of months ago. You’re my brother, and you and Mom are like God made you. If they’ve got a problem with that, they can take it up with him.”
Sam laughed, though unwillingly, and I nodded at Craig. That was a good little speech. I hoped the next time Sam felt down about being different, he would remember his brother’s words. I wouldn’t forget them myself.
I went to the guest room to put on my makeup. I’d dashed out of the house in such a hurry that morning, I’d left out several important steps in my daily routine. I wasn’t an essential part of the rehearsal (or the wedding), but the family clearly expected me to go with them.
I tried to think of some tangible help I could provide—besides looking at dead animals and/or threatening a neighbor who already hated the family. (In retrospect, that hadn’t been a smart thing.) When Sam knocked on the door thirty minutes later, I let him in. I’d pulled on the yellow and gray skirt outfit with matching yellow sandals. The top zipped up the back, and I turned around so Sam could finish zipping for me. I didn’t have the flexibility in my arms that I’d had before . . . Oh, the hell with it. Not today.
Sam zipped me up as though this were our routine. He was wearing a dress shirt and khakis, and his loafers were shined. He’d brushed his hair neatly back. I admired the new look, but I found myself missing the long tangle of hair he’d had before.
“Listen, I did something I shouldn’t have done,” I said when I was zipped. I picked up my brush and began untangling my hair, which was very long now.
“If you’re about to tell me what you said to Collins, I heard. So did Mom. Shifters have real sharp hearing, you know . . . and the windows were open.”
I could feel my cheeks turn red. “Sorry,” I said.
“I would have gone in and hit him,” Sam said, and that was so close to what I’d been thinking that I jumped.