In the background, I’d heard the men’s voices as they called to one another and to Mason, and I was alerted when they all fell silent. I listened.
Then I was out the door and looking to my right. Jim Collins was standing there at a gap in the overgrown hedge, his balding head shining under the sun, the baseball in his age-spotted hands. I knew what he was going to do before he did it; I knew it as his intent formed. Collins was in his sixties, but hale and fit, and the ball went right toward Sam with impressive force. My hand shot out to intercept it. It stung like hell, but I would not have winced for all the cotton in the Delta. I caught Collins’s gaze and held it. I didn’t let myself speak. I was afraid of what I’d say.
There was a long moment of silence. Mindy’s husband, Doke, took two steps forward. He told Collins, “Don’t think about acting out in front of my son.” Doke was so angry he had to exercise all his restraint.
At that moment, I wished I were a witch so I could throw Bernie’s neighbor’s malevolence back at him. But I didn’t have any superpowers or any supernatural powers, or any kind of power at all. All that I had that was mine was my unpredictable ability to read minds and my unexpected strength and quickness, which came from taking the occasional sip of Eric. My arm dropped to my side, the ball clenched in my fist, and Sam came over to put his hand on my shoulder. We watched Jim Collins, still expressionless, turn to go back into his house.
“Was he trying to hit me?” Sam asked quietly.
I was too angry to speak. I turned my head to look into Sam’s eyes. I nodded.
“Thanks, Sookie,” he said. “That would have been bad. Maybe I could have caught it in time. Maybe not.” Sam was very, very quick, like all twoeys—but he’d been caught off guard.
“I only moved quicker because I knew about it ahead of time,” I said, leaving Eric and his blood out of the conversation. “That creep wants to provoke you. I hope none of the rest of your neighbors are like him.”
“They never used to be,” he said, his voice bleak. “Now it’s hard to tell.”
“To hell with them,” I said. “You-all are good people, Sam. There’s nothing wrong with you and your mother, except maybe your mom didn’t pick her second husband too well.”
I could hear the other men going into the house, Mason’s piping voice exclaiming over my good catch.
“Mom understands that now,” Sam said. “I think it never occurred to her that Don would be so angry about her other nature, because she was so sure he loved her.”
Time to change the subject. “Your mom’s fixing chicken,” I said. “Oven baked, with Parmesan cheese and bread crumbs.”
“Yeah? She’s a pretty good cook.” Sam’s eyes brightened.
“I don’t know how we’re all going to squeeze in around that table.”
“I’ll get the other card table out of the closet. We’ll all make it.”
And we did. No one mentioned Jim Collins again, and no one asked me any questions about what I’d done. The Merlottes (extended version) seemed to be a clan that accepted the odd without a blink . . . at least, they did now.
It was a long evening after a long day, and I was ready to retire when the dishes were done and Deidra had departed to her parents’ house. Mindy and Doke had left for home soon after supper was eaten so they could bathe the kids and get them to bed. The next day, Saturday, would hold both the wedding rehearsal (in the morning) and the wedding itself at four in the afternoon, followed by a reception. All three events would be at Deidra’s church.
Craig made a point of having a conversation with me while I was washing dishes and he was drying them. He told me that the reception would be only a punch and cake affair, which is often the case in the South. “We made up our minds too quick to do anything else,” he said with a smile. “After Deidra’s folks—the Lisles—kicked up a fuss and postponed the first date and made us go to counseling, we didn’t want anything to get in the way of this one. We don’t care about having a sit-down dinner. Punch and cake is fine with us, and a lot cheaper.”
“Where will you live?” I asked. “In Dallas? Sam said you-all went to college there.”
“I took an apartment in Houston after I graduated,” Craig said. “I got a job doing tech support for a big firm of CPAs. Deidra’s got to finish training as an EMT.”
I assumed she’d have to put that off because of the pregnancy, but it was none of my business to say anything.
“She’d really like to become a physician’s assistant, after we get on our feet,” he said.
“I hope she can do that,” I said. Deidra would have a hard row to hoe, with a new husband and a new baby.
“What about you?” Craig asked.
“And my future?” I actually had to think about it. Craig and I were alone in the kitchen. Sam had gone outside to move his truck because it had been blocking Deidra’s car. Bernie was in the bathroom.
“I’ve got a good job working for this really nice guy,” I said, and Craig laughed. I hesitated. “Maybe I’ll take some online courses. I don’t do well in classroom situations.”
Craig was silent for a few moments. He was thinking he could tell I wasn’t dumb, so what could my problem be? Maybe I had ADD, or just a total lack of ambition? Why hadn’t I advanced further in life?
Though I felt a flash of resentment, I realized that Craig naturally wanted his brother to be dating a girl who had some goals and aspirations. It was hard to resist showing off, trying to impress Craig with my one unique ability.
For example, I could have told him that I knew he’d recently quit smoking at Deidra’s request and that right now he was craving a cigarette. Or I could have told him that I knew he and Deidra were going to be parents. Or I could have told him that my boobs were real, which would have answered another unspoken question.
When you opened yourself up and stayed in a person’s head for more than a second, you could really pick up on a lot of stuff.
Analyze what you’ve thought of in the last few minutes. Would you want anyone else to know about it? No. Sam had asked me once if I thought I could do a good job for Homeland Security. I tried to imagine how. Standing in an airport by the search line? Would any bomber or terrorist be going over his plan mentally, in detail, in an airport chosen at random? No, I thought not. I’d have to have a little more direction than that.
I wanted to discuss this with Craig, as I’d wanted to say it to so many people in the past. I’d often wished that other people understood my daily path, understood what I lived with. Not that I wanted to act all whiny and put-upon—“Poor Pitiful Pearl,” as my grandmother used to call me when she thought I was in danger of being sorry for myself.
I sighed. It wasn’t Be Kind to Telepaths week, and I had better tighten up my suspenders and get on with my life. I told Craig good night and took my turn in the bathroom when it was empty. It felt good to shower away the long day, and I belted my robe around my waist and emerged with the bundle of clothes I’d removed.
Sam was waiting by the door to my assigned bedroom. He looked tired but relaxed, and I could tell he was happy to be at home. He stood aside to let me enter first, and I put my clothes down on top of my tote bag and straightened up to find him looking at me with affection. Not lust, not frustration . . . affection. My heart went all gooey. We hugged, and it felt wonderful to breathe him in. He didn’t mind the damp hair, the bare face, the worn bathrobe. He was happy I was here. He stood off a little, though he didn’t entirely let go. “Thanks for coming with me, Sookie,” he whispered. “And thanks for defusing that situation with Mr. Collins.” Sam thought Jannalynn would have sprung over into the old man’s yard and given him a shellacking. He seemed to believe that the problem with his mom’s neighbor was over. I didn’t know what to say to him. I decided, I should let him sleep well and be happy. Tomorrow is the wedding.