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Chapter Three

He had won my Grandmother over. She liked him straight-up from the get-go. She couldn't understand my doubts over him, his... oddity. The next two evenings went by, and she was forcing me into having him over. I guess she knew, in hindsight, what he had wanted from me.

He was to come over this evening and, instance the doorbell rang, Gran was racing to answer it like a mad woman.

I dithered by the doorway eavesdropping, my hopes of him not turning up instantly foiled. It was him, all right. I could hear their muted voices throughout the hallway by the front door. Not only was he early, but he was twenty minutes early!

"I apologize for being so early," he laughed nervously, and I could tell Gran found it so endearing of him. He was instantly winning her approval, and charming her mitts off. "Call me overeager, but I was really looking forward to this."

"Oh, earliness is always a good sign of a man's character," Gran insisted conversationally.

"Well, I certainly hope so." I stole a brief and quick peek behind the wall at them. They were standing at the front door; Well, at least Gran was. He still outside, hanging about near the threshold that lead into the hallway. The tall man was considerately wiping the soles of his shoes on the bristly front mat, as if to rid them of dirt, and Gran was looking at him in an odd way I could only describe as a mixture of both awe and admiration. "May I come in?"

"Of course, you're very welcome to," Gran laughed in glee.

"Please, say I can come in," he urged her. He was definitely winning Gran over within a heartbeat.

"Yes, do come in. We're very happy to have you in our home tonight." And, with that, she gave an awkward hand gesticulation, as if to wave him in.

He gave her a silent thankful smile, and quickly, I ducked around the corner as not to be caught out.

"Uh, where is she?" Instantly, I knew he was referring to me.

"Sookie, where are you?" Gran called cheerfully, and I cursed underneath my breath. I wished I could have somehow dissolved into the carpet then, as not to have to endure this terrible evening. Honestly, after our talk two days ago in the yard of Church, I wouldn't have been more the merry to avoid this strange man forever. "Sookie?" Gran called again in a more impatient way when she received no answer from me, and I knew it was her infamous tone that told me I'd better get my butt out of the living room and make nice with this strange man fast.

"Yes, Gran," I sighed. "Coming!"

She called my name yet again, so swallowing down my irritation, I strode down the hallway to greet him.

"Oh, good. Here she is," Gran said, in relief, once I reached them. "Well, I suppose I ought to leave the pair of you to it. I might go prepare the four of us some snacks." She patted me on the arm as she passed me, and it seemed a warning pat-down that told me to be friendly, or else. "Sookie, be a good hostess and show Mr. Northman around the house," she told me, as she was halfway to the small kitchen.

Mr. Northman! He has a name. Well, a last name, at least. At the discovery, I felt all the little hairs on the nape of my neck stick on end.

"You look very nice," he said, commenting on the way I was dressed, with a swift tilt of his chin at my floral dress and the cardigan I was wearing for the evening. Instantly, I knew with in the way he said the comment, it was that he assumed I had dressed so nicely for him. And, in a sense, I had, at Gran's insistence, of course. It wasn't because I liked him in some way, or wanted him impressed.

"Do I?" I said it far too sharply, and it seemed he had caught onto my brisk and curt manner. His face fell a fraction, and I savoured the look on his face, even if it was slightly cruel of me.

"Yes, you do." I was enjoying his ongoing discomfort more than what was probably considered polite. But too bad. "As you can probably see for yourself, I'm wearing the best clothes I have again." In a somewhat self-conscious gesture, he ran his hands down the sides of his trousers.

And maybe, deep down inside, it registered in my mind that he did look very charming in his blue suit. What was so formal about the occasion, though?

"Yes, I can sure see that," I answered stiffly. He wasn't going to get any compliments from me.

We stood around, in a way that felt awkward and as if years had passed us by. And then, he said uncertainly, "How about that tour of your house?"

"Fine," I muttered, resigned. I walked into the living room and only bothered to turn around to make sure he was following. He was staring at me. It was like our other surroundings hardly interested him at all.

"Can we sit for a bit?" he asked, pointing towards the couch.

I didn't answer. I just sat, and I guess he took that as permission himself. He sat on the couch beside me, and suddenly it felt too small. Our thighs were touching, and it occurred to me that he was sitting far too close than I would have liked. I tried to scoot over a bit to make some room, but stopped abruptly when he went so far as to place his hand gently on my knee, as if to magically stop my squirming. And it certainly did stop it. It probably wasn't meant to be intended as sexual, but it sure did feel sexual to me. A sexually inappropriate gesture.

I glared at his hand, and since it was my face he was looking at, he caught onto it quickly. It was his turn to squirm and, awkwardly, he removed it and placed it decently against his thigh, rubbing up and down quickly.

"So, uh. Sookie? Is that name short for something? Japanese?"

"No, it isn't."

"What do you do?" he asked, a bit nervously and tensely. I'm assuming he was asking me what I did, as far as jobs go.

"I work casually as a waitress at Merlotte's, from time to time. When I don't, I study." It was all I felt necessary to tell him. He was a stranger, after all. I didn't want to give too much away.

"Oh, really?" He seemed interested by that, which was the very last thing I was hoping for. "What do you study?"

"Certain different things," I said shortly, shrugging.

"Well, that is wonderful." We fell into an unbearable awkward silence after that. He cleared his throat, in a gentle and nervous way. His hands were restless, rubbing up and down the material of his pants. He had a heavy looking gold ring on his index finger, with a big black stone in the middle that glinted this way and that way off the light. I could feel his eyes on me. I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye; One of his eyebrows were raised, as if he was amused and waiting for me to say something. "Uh, aren't you going to ask me what I do?" he prompted, with humour.

"What do you do, then?" I sounded just as disinterested as I felt.

"I am currently trying to open a bar, in the Shreveport area. Vampire themed."

"Why vampire themed?" My voiced failed me; I sounded interested, because I was. "You like vampires or something?"

A soft smirk formed over his features. "Something like that, yes." He gave out a short laugh. Then he laid his hand on my knee again, and turned a fraction on the seat of the couch. "I have something I would very much like you to consider."

"Ask away, then."

He started stroking my knee, in an extremely touchy-feely way that unsettled me. And then it dramatically stilled, when footsteps pounded down the stairs.

As if right on cue, my older brother, Jason, was storming down the stairs. I felt instant relief over the familiarity of my brother entering the living room. He was clad in no more than his boxer shorts and socks; minimalistic things to be wearing in front of a guest. He stopped stock-still awkwardly when his eyes settled on our unknown guest. Our guest took his hand off my knee and scrutinized my brother, and I was stunned by the sudden shift in his posture and demeanour. His eyes were frosty and cold, as he took in my brother's shirtless form. Poor Jason was almost blushing.

"Well, damn," he chortled, trying to make light of the situation, which was typical of my brother. "Gran never told me we had a guest over. Friend of yours, Sook?"

"Um, I don't know," I laughed nervously, unsure of whether to call him my friend or not. I didn't even know him.

"Eric," the tall man said, and in an oddly dismissive way, he turned back in his seat to stare at me intently. I really wished he wouldn't stare so much. "There is something I urgently need to ask you. Is there anywhere we could go? Somewhere with a little less... distraction maybe?" By distractions, he obviously meant my brother, because he darted him an icy look over his shoulder along with it.

Jason backtracked, getting the vibe he was sending off loud and clear. He put his hand up into the air apologetically. "Hey, don't mind me. I'm just coming down here to check the scores." And by scores, Jason meant the latest football game, of course. He made himself at home by plopping down onto the one-seater couch and flicking on the television, going to extreme lengths to ignore us. It was far too loud, all the wild cheering from spectators filling the room.

I looked over at my strange guest, and he looked as if he was biting down on the tip of his tongue to stop himself in time enough from saying something extremely unpleasant to my brother. He took firm hold of my hand and before I had enough time to protest, he was pulling me off the couch and sending me off out into the hallway. He stopped and looked down at me with such urgency, it was startling. I noticed in by taking my hand, he had slipped something light and papery into it.

I glanced down at it uncertainly, assuming it was just a note. When I unfurled it carefully, and read it, it dawned onto me then just what he was giving me.

It was a check for $24,000 signed by an Eric Northman.

I was speechless, and read it again, just to be sure.

"What?" I gasped, flustered by the enormous weight of what the paper held in it, and what it signified. "Why're you giving me this?"

"Turn it over," he whispered, and I caught onto the way his voice broke with intense emotion. I did as he said, and there it was. Three words, weighing so heavily down onto my conscience.

Be my wife.

His wife? His wife!

"In opening this bar, I know I will become a very wealthy man in time," he continued on weakly, as though it mattered to me. "And, in you agreeing to this, you won't be denied of anything." His voice shook and broke. "A man is nothing if he doesn't have purpose in the world. That purpose, can be you. I can make the money, and provide for us. We will be wealthy, and well-off. I have never been more certain of anything else in my entire life, but that I want you."

"Want me?" My voice was just as uneven and breathless. "But you don't even know me?"

"Well, I guess that can be easily solved. We can learn to get to know each other. We can take it slowly, day by day." And I pushed the check back into his hand tightly. It was ridiculous. I'd heard enough.

I looked up at him, and his face was so hopeful and earnest. I realized he truly wanted this. And it scared the life out of me.

"I can't," I protested, suddenly fearful. "I couldn't possibly."

"Why not?" He sounded as if he was trying to contain his temper. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Things like this happen in the world all the time! People get married without knowing so much as the other person's name! They come out of it just fine!"

"I don't know you, and you're... you're... strange!"

"Strange?" He laughed out loud in exasperation. "Well, thank you!"

Gran came bursting out of the kitchen a moment later. I could tell by the expression on her face that she had heard everything. "Oh!" She laughed, and without warning, she embraced us both. "This is the happiest moment of my life! My granddaughter getting married!"

Nothing could ever go past my Grandmother's ears.