Happy Halloween! Thanks for all the reviews, especially all the long, thoughtful ones from guest reviewers. Thank you for taking the time, it's appreciated.


Small Town Blues:


Over breakfast, I decided I'd come out even with Niall. Barely.

The old goat had apologised for upsetting me, but not for failing to make clear the impact of my actions on Sam. I had stood up for what I believed in and said my piece. We both had. It was almost like a real family fight.

Having vented my frustrations with Niall, I needed to apologise to Sam. Having no stomach for an audience, especially Bernie if she was still around, I chickened out and called Merlotte's. I asked to speak to Sam in his office, bracing myself as I waited for him to pick up.

"Sookie?"

"Hi Sam. I, um …" I took a deep breath and pushed forward. "I found out from Kennedy just last night that you were real sick last winter. You were at Ludwig's, in a coma?"

"Uh-huh," he said guardedly.

"Oh Sam, I had no idea. Are you okay? I mean, there weren't any lasting effects?"

He cleared his throat. "Took a while, but I'm fine."

His discomfort made me babble. "It was the join, wasn't it? Niall didn't tell me how it would affect you. You know what he's like, never effing explains anything properly. I never would have agreed if I'd known. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he said stiffly.

"All I got was a few days of fever. I figured that's all you'd get too. I swear I had no clue it would be worse than that."

"A few days? Figures," he mumbled bitterly

I winced. I deserved that. "I can't apologise enough, Sam. I can't imagine what your family went through, seeing you like that." My voice hitched as I imagined him unconscious and helpless.

"Yeah, better not call them for a while. You're not exactly flavour of the month."

"I guess they're pretty mad I wasn't around." I purposefully didn't mention Bernie's visit. I was sure she wouldn't tell him and I was damned if I was going to be accused of stirring up trouble between them.

"Yeah. They are."

"Um... How much do they know?"

He sighed. "Craig and Mindy, just that we were having problems, I moved out and caught some virus. Kinda hard to explain the rest when they don't know fairies even exist. Mom knows everything. She knows the join made me sick, that you were off fixing things. But she..."

"Blames me anyway." I said it for him. "I know it won't do any good, but can you … can you pass on how sorry I am to Bernie and everybody else?"

"Sure. Probably won't help none. Look, I've got to go."

"Oh, okay. Bye Sam."

The phone clicked; he was gone.

I sat glumly at the kitchen table for a while, feeling remorseful for everything I'd put Sam and his family through. Eventually I convinced myself to stop wallowing and got up to make some of Wynn's calming tea. Half an hour later I was about to go out when the phone rang. Answering it, I discovered it was the day for uncomfortable phone conversations.

"Hi Sookie. I got your message." Amelia, returning my call. She was trying for perky, but she sounded almost as nervous as I was.

"Thanks for calling back. I need to ask you something about the wards…" I trailed off, wondering how to break the news of my impending divorce.

We had drifted apart long before I took off last December. Asking her to find out about the join had been the first time I'd trusted her with anything like that in years. I'd kept her at arm's length, for good reason. Amelia running her mouth had put me in danger one too many times and I'd never really taken her back into my confidence.

If I let the elephant of past mistakes sit on the line, stretching the link between us, our friendship would snap under its weight. Or I could wrestle it out of the way, forgive the past and draw Amelia back into my life.

The silence lengthened.

It wasn't like Amelia to keep quiet. Maybe she'd matured. Maybe it was time to forgive her.

Elephant wrestling it was.

"Ames?" I hadn't called her that in a while. "I could sure do with a friendly ear today. Can we catch up? Really catch up?"

I heard her breath hitch. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Neither of us said anything for a second. Then we spoke over each other, stopped and laughed.

"You go first, Ames."

"Okay. How was your trip? Tara said you went to Europe."

"Oh, um, yeah. Niall took me to somewhere … interesting. And terrifying."

She gasped and said enviously, "He took you to his home?"

"Um, no. Somewhere else. You remember I asked you about joins?"

"I knew it! As soon as I heard about Sam I just knew it!" That was Amelia, more excited to be right than upset about Sam's trials and tribulations. She said smugly, "You weren't asking for someone else, were you? You were asking for yourself."

"Yes. Well, for Sam actually."

"Sam?"

"Yeah. When I used the locket, it made this super-strong, out of control join between us."

"Out of control?" she squeaked. "Oh my God, that's dangerous magic."

"It sure is. Dangerous for Sam, as it turned out. I had to go somewhere to get it undone."

"Oh wow. That must've taken some mojo."

I shuddered. "The old gal who did it sure had mojo coming out the wazoo."

She whistled. "Hence the terrifying bit, huh? We'll have to get together and talk properly."

I could visualise the hungry gleam in her eyes. Amelia had a thirst for knowledge, magical knowledge, and you couldn't get more magical than another realm, a sacred pool and an ancient drowned woman. She'd lap it up.

"Sure. I can bore you to tears with my holiday pics too. I spent a week sightseeing in England, which was kind of fun." Maybe she'd know what sort of supe Wynn was.

"That'd be great." Then she suggested hesitantly, "You could come visit me?"

I'd never been to Amelia's. Her and Bob, and little Felix, had always come to Bon Temps. "Oh, that would be nice."

She picked up on my doubtful tone. "It's difficult for me to get away from the store over the summer, what with the tourist season. I know, I know. It's the same with the bar."

"Oh. About that. I'm not working at Merlotte's."

"You're not? Wait, are you… No, you can't be. You just got back."

"Can't be what?"

"Um, pregnant?" I heard the cringe in her voice. "Sorry, Sook, I just–"

"It's okay. No, I'm definitely not expecting." Or likely to be any time soon. I was destined to be single for a while, I thought sadly.

"Oh." Then, in a very small voice, she added, "I am."

My mouth opened for the obligatory congratulations. Then I registered the quiver in her voice and hesitated, suddenly unsure. Was she worried it would upset me? Was there something wrong?

Amelia broke the silence, with a desperate rush. "I'm not due until December, so it's ages yet. Plenty of time to get Felix used to the idea. And we won't have to buy so much for a second. It'll be much easier this time around–"

I butted in at her first intake of breath. "Ames, slow down. What's wrong? Don't worry, I'm not upset."

"I … It's not that."

"Is … is it medical?" I couldn't quite bring myself to be blunter after my own heartaches.

"No, no. Everything's fine. With the pregnancy anyway. It's–" She choked and swallowed noisily. "It's Bob and me."

"Oh, honey. What happened?"

"I... I can't talk about it over the phone. Just … things are really strained." She added very softly, "Clinging on by a thread, actually."

I related. Big time. I swallowed my own lump. "A thread is better than nothing, Ames. I have a real good reason for quitting Merlotte's." I took a deep breath. "Sam and I are calling it quits. We're getting a divorce."

She gasped. "Oh no, Sookie. I'm so sorry."

"Me too. That's why I was calling about the wards."

"Oh. I get it. You want Sam taking off them. You didn't pay attention when we did them, did you?" She was mock-scolding me.

I smiled. "No, not really."

"Well, you should have. That shit is important, you know. They're tied to you; we added Sam as your husband. Once your marriage is dissolved the ward won't recognise him."

"Oh, that's… great." Dissolved. Washed away. Gone like it had never been.

There was an awkward pause.

Then I realised Ames would understand. I could talk about it. I wasn't alone.

"Things haven't been right for a while, Ames. We kept fighting, stupid ugly fights over the most ridiculous things. It was awful. Some of it was the join and some of it was just … us."

"That's terrible."

"It was. I never should have married him. He's always been a great friend and I should have stuck with that. I just hope we can get that back eventually, because right now everything's screwed up. Maybe … maybe it's a blessing we never had a kid."

"Oh Sook, don't say that." Her voice was thick with tears. My cheeks were wet. We both sniffled a good few times before she spoke again. "I know what you mean. I don't want to lose Bob as a friend either. This sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, Ames. It sure does. Thanks for listening, I appreciate it."

"No problem. You too." She moved around a little. "Shoot, I've got to go. Look, let's make a deal. If either of us needs a shoulder, we'll call each other. Right?"

"Sure, Ames. You take care now."

My misery shared and lessened, I felt perversely grateful that Ames was going through her own difficulties so she sympathised with mine. It was only later that I realised she'd hadn't shared any details of what exactly had happened between her and Bob.

I ran errands the rest of that day and the next. I took control of my bank accounts, cleared the backlog of mail and collected all the documents Mr Cataliades asked me to gather.

The rest of the week yawned ahead of me, empty of routine and purpose. I looked at job vacancies but nothing local appealed. I was still persona non grata with a significant section of Bon Temps anyway, so I figured I'd wait that out and look seriously once the dust had settled.

I was at a loss for what to do with myself. Without the bar, without all the things I did with or for Sam, there was a very big hole to fill. I was a little dismayed to discover how much of my life had revolved around him, but I consoled myself that at least I'd been a supportive wife in that way.

Tara didn't call and I didn't feel particularly comfortable socialising alone any place in town. I could hardly drop by Merlotte's. I would have gone stir-crazy if Michele hadn't been home on leave. Dropping by for a chat with her nearly every day and seeing Junior saved my sanity.

As Friday drew closer, anxiety overrode boredom.

Mr C had arranged an early morning meeting at Sam's lawyer's office. I still thought of it as Sid Matt's place even though he retired two years ago. His replacement Frank Hughes was middle-aged, but still trim, and greying, but not balding. He was calm and efficient, but I missed Sid Matt's warm old-fashioned Southern charm.

Frank showed us into a nondescript meeting room where Sam was waiting. The place felt impersonal and cold. I fidgeted in my seat while Frank organised coffee that I was far too nervous to drink.

I had witnessed the messy fallout of divorce before, notably the spectacular implosion of Arlene's third marriage which ended in a flurry of allegations and counter-allegations and a whole mess of nasty ugliness. So I was tense, not knowing how Sam would act. Frank's cool manner did little to soothe me, nor did Sam's appearance. He was wearing a dark suit and a funeral face to match. I refused to peek into his head; I was not stooping that low.

Frank said a few words and then handed out a list of our assets to be divided.

Sam cleared his throat and tried to smile at me. "Sookie gets the house."

I nodded quickly, wanting the painful process over with, and countered with: "Sam gets Merlotte's."

Sam hesitated, sharing a look with Mr C. "No. I get the duplexes and the rental business intact."

I frowned. "But–"

Mr C coughed politely. "I believe Mr Merlotte is referring to the fact that you own a third of Merlotte's. That investment was made before the marriage and should remain yours."

Frank sat forward. "Do you have the papers?"

"Yes." Mr C flipped the folder in front of him open and deftly extracted them. He handed them to Frank. "I've highlighted the initial transaction and included the ownership document."

Frank looked them over and turned to Sam. "Do you still intend to buy her out?"

I blinked. That was an awful lot to take out of the bar after a bad winter. I said, appealing to Sam with my eyes, "Oh, that's not necessary, we could–"

Sam shook his head, determined. "No, Sookie. You gave me that money when I needed it. I know you've got income from your inheritance, but that was your savings. I'm buying you out."

I asked pointedly, "Can Merlotte's afford that?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Yes." When I opened my mouth, he interrupted quickly. "The bar won't go under if that's what has you worried. I'm taking on another partner."

I was about to ask who it was, but Sam set his jaw in a way that said it wasn't any of my business.

Mr C coughed again and suggested an amount, the original sum plus a return based on Merlotte's increased value. I wasn't in this for every cent I could get, and I certainly didn't want any of them thinking I was. I argued stubbornly for just the original amount, which was all I ever expected to be repaid. Mr C countered that was reasonable for a short-term loan, but not for one over three years. Sam agreed with him and I reluctantly compromised on an amount based on how the money would've grown in my savings account.

After that, it was simple. We kept our own vehicles. I would return some bits and pieces Sam had left in the house, and pick up my personal items from Merlotte's. That was that. We drew up the papers, notarised what needed notarising and signed what needed signing.

The whole time I kept up a brittle calm. Sam was tense and quiet, mind shut tight. It wasn't until we were out in the parking lot that chinks opened up in our respective suits of armour.

Sam was standing by his truck fishing in his pocket for his keys.

"Sam?" I said tentatively, from a couple feet away.

He looked over, his expression guarded.

I swallowed and stepped closer. "I just wanted to say … thank you for being reasonable in there." I waved at the building. "That could have been... you know. I know it wasn't easy for you. Thank you." I reached out and squeezed his arm very quickly.

He searched my face for a second and then nodded to himself. "Thank you too, Sookie. Take care now." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes and faded as he turned away.

"You too, Sam," I said quietly.

I had more free time than Sam so I volunteered to file the papers.

Mr C drove me over to the parish courthouse, where he walked me through the filing process. That was the easy part. We got the filing number from the clerk and to speed things up, we drove straight back to Bon Temps to serve Sam with the relevant papers. Mr C took them into him at Merlotte's, got them signed and stamped, and we drove back over to deposit them at the courthouse.

The clerk filled out the certificate, which needed a judge's signature the same day. Even with Mr C's comforting presence, my palms were sweating when I went into the judge's chambers.

The judge looked over the papers, giving me several piercing glances over his reading glasses. Agitated, all I could tell from his mind was that he was examining the proof we'd lived apart for six months. Mr C had provided paperwork that showed I'd been in Europe. Rather dubious paperwork as that wasn't precisely true, but no-one had stamped my passport 'Other Realm'.

Fearing that the judge had spotted an inconsistency, my heart thudded when he asked if I'd enjoyed Rome. Turned out he only wanted to reminisce about a trip to Italy he'd taken with his wife. I faked my way through that conversation by pulling details from his memories, almost faint with relief when he finally signed and we could leave.

The final step – more paper shuffling, more signatures – had to wait until the following Wednesday.

I invited Mr C for a meal afterwards, mainly so I wasn't alone. While we ate, he filled me in about Merlotte's.

What he told me explained a whole lot: Sam needing the loan in the first place, his nagging me to invest more money, even why I never had anything to do with the rental business. Heck, it explained Sam living in a trailer behind the bar for years and needing Eric's help with my bail money.

Sam bought the bar with cash, but took out hefty loans to buy the duplexes. For years he'd been using the bar profits to cover the repayments if the rental income fell short. When Victor opened the Roadhouse and those idiots were protesting outside the bar, profits nose-dived. Sam hadn't told me, but a couple of his tenants left too, probably frightened off by Victor's goons. Both businesses came up short and Sam couldn't rob Peter to pay Paul. That's when he got into a real mess and needed my help. When he made me part-owner, it wasn't exactly the respectful gesture I'd thought. He literally couldn't pay me back.

On a recommendation from Greg Vicks, Portia's husband, Sam hired an accountant called Chuck Yates to sort out the books. Chuck separated the two businesses completely, putting all the debt back where it belonged with the rental business, incidentally enabling Sam to hide all this from me after we got married. Mr C refrained from commenting on Sam's motives there. Chuck's actions put the bar back on good footing, but a few lean months this winter and everything fell apart.

I was disturbed that Sam was buying me out if things were so bleak, but Mr C reassured me it was all sorted out back in March when an investor from Mississippi bought a share of the duplexes, reducing Sam's debts dramatically.

The hotshot with money burning a hole in his pocket was Edward Burrows, Stephanie's uncle. I put two and two together and Mr C confirmed Stephanie was here keeping an eye on her uncle's investment. Officially, that is. Unofficially I reckoned there was more to it, but I kept that to myself. Mr C was vague on how Mr Burrows got involved, but I figured as Stephanie was a shifter, Sam or Bernie had a connection to the family.

I had a real good hunch Mr Burrows was buying my share of Merlotte's.

I felt bad that Sam had to share his bar with a stranger, but it was better for Sam if it wasn't my business any more, literally and figuratively.

There was no point having a conniption because he'd hidden his financial woes from me out of stupid macho pride. I could let it go. None of it affected me. Not anymore.

After Mr C had gone, I felt … I didn't know how I felt about the divorce.

I should be proud of us both. We handled a painful task calmly, with tact and sensitivity, like adults. I should, but the whole thing felt unreal, too detached.

Ending a marriage should have an impact, hit you in the gut. This… It bothered me that it hadn't. I was a little saddened that the whole thing could pass away with hardly a whimper, as if it was scarcely alive in the first place.

I had a sudden, vivid memory of Eric slashing his arm deeply, blood dripping slowly from the long gash.

What did I want? Sam to tear his hair and beat his chest, for him to bleed for me? That was ridiculous.

No, it was far better this way, without any melodramatic outpourings of grief. Easier on both of us. I'd hurt Sam enough, and if he was still hurting I was the last person he would want witnessing that.

This way we both kept our dignity intact.

I slept uneasily that night, so I was groggy when the phone rang at two o'clock in the morning.

I snapped wide awake when I recognised Jason's voice. Fifteen minutes later – out of the house real fast, ignoring speed limits on the way – I was pulling up at my brother's house.

For a woman in labour Michele was far calmer than Jason, who was fidgety and eager to be off to Clarice. Michele was pale, but holding up. The guest room was ready for me to stay in, to babysit Junior. Michele popped in to kiss him before they left. He was fast asleep.

I slept on and off until movement on the bed woke me. I opened my eyes to meet Junior's curious stare, his face disconcertingly close.

"Trucks?" he asked hopefully.

I groaned and sat up, shooting the baby monitor a glare. So much for some warning to get myself together. It was six o'clock.

"Not right now. Breakfast first, Jay-Jay." Jay-Jay was his latest nickname. He liked it, so it was sticking.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, I cooked pancakes and fielded questions. Not where were mom and dad, or when would his baby sister arrive, but whether I knew how to make pancakes properly with chocolate chips, when we could play trucks and why he couldn't have a cookie, which made me chuckle. He was cute and exhausting. Just like Jason.

When Jason rang two hours later we were still playing with Jay-Jay's toy trucks. Michele and baby girl were doing just fine and I could bring Jay-Jay to meet his sister.

Marie Adele Stackhouse was a gorgeous tiny bundle of joy.

I took a bunch of photos – I'd dragged myself into the twentieth century and bought a digital camera after finding Dave's easy to use – of Jay-Jay holding Marie Adele for the first time. Jason told him very seriously that he was a big brother and he had to protect his little sister.

Jason glanced up at me and our eyes met, his full of regrets and mine forgiveness.

The Schuberts arrived. I took photos of the proud grandparents with Marie Adele and Jay-Jay. Nominating myself as official photographer gave me an out when it came to any questions Michele's parents might have about Sam's absence. Grandma Schubert side-eyed me a few times, but said nothing. Grandpa was a lovely guy, far too kind to put me on the spot.

The novelty wore off for Jay-Jay when Marie fell asleep. Grandpa and I took him for hot chocolate, leaving Michele and her mom chatting while Jason made some calls.

Watching Grandpa Schubert with Jay-Jay brought memories of my own grandfather, Mitchell, patiently teaching Jason and me to fish. He loved roaming the woods with us. I had idly imagined Fintan a time or two since I learnt about him, but I hadn't thought of Mitchell in a long time. I was young when he died and I'd let him sink into the past. Seeing Jay-Jay holding his Grandpa's knotted hand, I realised I'd done Mitchell Stackhouse an injustice. He showed me the meaning of patience, the worth of things made with your own two hands and a gentle sense of humour.

He was my true grandfather.

Back in Michele's room, I was quiet. The others assumed Jay-Jay had woken me too early and left me alone. Sitting in a corner, my eyelids drooping, I thought on family long gone and what it meant to be a Stackhouse in name, not in blood.

I was convinced Fintan had loved Gran and their children. After all, he gave her the Cluviel Dor and hid us all, from his family and enemies alike. I'd never determined Gran's feelings and motives. Was Fintan just a wild hair, an attractive means to an end? Did she truly love Mitchell, or was she too loyal to leave him? I didn't know, despite living with her all those years, privy to her thoughts.

I had loved Mitchell Stackhouse.

I surprised Mr Schubert by hugging him tightly when he and his wife left.

Jason ordered pizza for lunch. He took Jay-Jay to clean up afterwards, so it was just me, Michele and the baby when Tara cautiously stuck her head around the door looking askance at Michele. Jason had called JB, and reluctantly agreed Tara could visit with him while the twins were with JB's parents.

Michele shrugged and JB bounced in like an excited puppy. He cooed at Marie Adele while Tara stayed awkwardly near the door. When Jason and Jay-Jay came in, there was enough noise from the guys to hide the stilted small talk between us womenfolk. Michele smiled at JB holding Marie, and finally Tara unbent some and went to look at her, smiling fondly at JB in a way I hadn't seen for a while.

Kennedy and Danny arrived next, holding hands. I had a pang that Sam wasn't sharing the moment with me, but Jason had made it clear he wasn't welcome. Acutely aware I was a spare wheel, I offered to get coffee and slipped out. I leant against the wall outside the door, enjoying my first real moment alone of the day.

Aunt Sookie?

I looked around for Jay-Jay before I registered that the whisper was wrong – older and oddly muffled.

Hunter and Remy rounded the corner. Hunter grinned at me, his brown hair flopping over his hazel eyes. He was eight years old, thin and tanned. He was definitely Remy's son, but I could see Hadley in the set of his eyes and mouth.

We hugged and kissed. I went back in with them so I could capture Hunter and Marie meeting for the first time on camera. After five minutes Hunter began to fidget. I shot him a sympathetic look and a private message.

Want to escape?

Yes please. It's great that they're all so happy but it's too loud.

I took Remy's drink order and Hunter jumped up, offering to help. We shared a secret smile as we left. On the way to the cafeteria we chatted mind to mind, about Marie Adele at first. Then I asked how he was. Remy's latest girlfriend, Hannah, had stuck around while I was gone. Hunter was okay with that; she was easy going. Hannah didn't know he read minds, but Hunter got on with her. It was easier now he didn't blurt out everything he heard. I asked how school was. He was better at shielding than I was at his age, so he had it easier with other kids, but he still got tired and head-achy. Remy had found him a smaller school and told his teachers he suffered migraines, so he was allowed to go to the sick room for some peace when he got overwhelmed. It wasn't perfect, but he was coping.

It helped enormously that Remy had grown to accept it. Remy's thoughts never got as bad as my momma's. Even if Hunter sometimes caught Remy's unease, he wasn't being dragged to psychologists or accused of making it up for attention. The pull momma felt towards daddy, his fairy magnetism, was the root of that. All Hunter had to put up with was Remy's mostly ordinary frustrations as a single dad.

Did you see anything cool in England?

I grinned and showed him some images: the moors, the castles, the sea, Dave's cool car.

Way cool. I hope I get to go there when I'm a grown-up.

Me too Hunter. He deserved a fuller life than mine. I brought back a present for you, so no peeking in my head.

No, ma'am.

He watched me thoughtfully while I fed coins into the vending machine.

Your shields are different.

Oh shit. Blood. Vampires. Eric. I tightened those shields hard as I pressed the button for coffee. I kept my mental voice calm. Oh? Different how?

Tougher. No holes. Usually it's like … Like when someone walks by at night when your window is open. You hear a few words before they get too far away. Like that. I hear bits. But not today. And when you show me pictures other things leak out. They didn't this time.

Double shit. How did I explain my super-sealed shields to an eight year old? I searched for a place to start, ferrying coffee over to the tray I had ready on a table.

Can you teach me to do it?

I froze at the longing in his question. Hunter saw my reaction and his face fell.

It's okay if you don't want to.

I put the coffee down, turning to face him. No Hunter, it's not that. I would if I could. It's–

I'm not good enough?

No. No. It's something I can't teach you. Something happened to me that made me stronger. But it was a one off, and it's gonna wear off soon.

Oh. He relaxed, understanding something from my uncomfortable expression. It's a grown-up thing. That's okay. I don't wanna know.

His shudder of distaste had me worried he'd seen something gruesome or explicit. I had a quick peek and smothered a smile. It was nothing he'd seen telepathically. He'd walked in on Remy and Hannah making out. Mild stuff, but at eight kissing was the pits. Especially if it was your dad.

Sorry kiddo. I pulled him into a hug, careful to avoid skin contact. He was wearing long sleeves even though it was warm.

"That's okay," he whispered bravely, hiding his disappointment. My heart broke for him.

In compensation, I let him load up the tray with candy and we headed back, talking out loud this time. We were in the elevator alone when I remembered I'd never found out if he'd seen Lattesta back in December. I showed him what Lattesta looked like.

He frowned. "I don't remember. I know him though. Is he … bad?"

"He's a special sort of cop. But he knows about me." I tapped my head. "He tried to make me help him. He was mean. If you see him, stay away from him and tell your Dad. But I don't think he'll bother you."

He nodded seriously. "Okay. I'll remember."

Eight year-olds should trust cops. I felt horrible for chipping away another piece of his innocence, but he was better off warned just in case Lattesta turned up again like a bad smell.

When we got to our floor, we met Hoyt coming down the corridor. He took the tray from me and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Hey, Sookie. How are you? I see Jason got you waitressing for him."

I smiled. "Hey Hoyt. Congratulations on the baby by the way."

He blushed. "Thanks, Holly and me are real pleased." He turned to Hunter. "Here, Cody's inside. Grab some candy for you both." Hunter didn't need to be asked twice, he looked up to the older boy. He shot off to see Cody, fists full.

"Sook?"

I stopped on my way to open the door for him. "Yes, Hoyt?"

"You got folks in your corner, Sook. Me, and Catfish, and some of the guys... We know you. Not everybody believes the stuff folks are saying."

I was touched. "Thanks Hoyt."

While everybody grabbed a drink, I fished Hunter's present out of my bag – a book about castles. Hunter was impressed and so was Cody. It sure kept them quiet.

Soon after that Jay-Jay got cranky, needing sleep. I took him back to Jason's and dozed on the couch while he napped. Luckily I'd set an alarm, so when Jason, Michele and Marie Adele arrived later, dinner was ready and the toys were cleared away.

I went home that night content.

I braved church the next morning to give some heartfelt thanks for Marie Adele's safe delivery. After the service people were a mite friendlier. Quite a few came up to coo over the photos on my cell and pass on congratulations for Jason and Michele. I was careful not to listen in, taking their interest and polite remarks at face value.

My shields held firm.

I spent the afternoon at Jason's cooing over Marie and cooking for them. Poor Michele was exhausted. She took a nap when I arrived, looking fresher after it. She gave me the blow-by-blow account of the birth again, lingering on how green Jason went before he cut the cord so we could tease him good-naturedly. He took it well.

I went home that evening, caught up on some chores, had a brief chat to Thalia about guard rosters and turned in early. Something woke me at eleven, but I was so tired and happy that I rolled over and went right back to sleep. The next morning, I found a short note from Bill and gift for the new arrival on the porch.

It would have been easy to spend all my time at Jason's, but he only had a week off work and I didn't want to intrude on that delicate time of family bonding. I stayed away Monday, doing chores and sunbathing.

Tuesday, I was restless and ran a couple of errands. My reprieve had ended and the guardians of morality were back to giving me the cold shoulder. In Bon Temps, that was ladies of a certain age. Free during the day, they lay in wait wherever I went. I took the high ground and ignored them.

My last stop was the library. With so much time on my hands the previous week, I needed new reading material. Barbara Beck was tight-lipped when I walked in. Two mature ladies whispering by the romance shelves shut up far too quickly when I arrived behind them.

I'd had enough. I picked the sour looking one, brushing past her to get a lock on her mind. What I saw had me biting back a cuss word that would get me thrown out.

Firstly, Sam and I were spotted outside Sid Matt's place, so somebody put two and two together to get sixteen. The whole town knew we were divorcing.

That, I expected.

The rest…

Delightfully, Bernie had been over for the weekend, somehow generating a flurry of talk. I thought darkly that there needed to be a special divorce procedure for mother-in-laws. One that involved a shotgun.

Sunday afternoon, Bernie was overheard complaining to Maxine that I'd poisoned Jason against Sam, who was gutted he couldn't visit the new baby. Yeah right, like Bernie even cared. As a bitten panther, Jason was the twoey version of trailer trash to her. She'd be glad if Sam never laid eyes on his kids again.

Hot on the heels of that loveliness, Sam had had a blazing row with his mother. No-one knew the details, but my name was overheard, so obviously the rift between mother and son was all my doing.

Final verdict from sourpuss and her friends: I was spiteful, vindictive and intent on tearing two families apart. But I was no better than I ought to be, because I'd upped and left Sam for a vampire, a vampire who put Sam in a coma.

Great. Just what I needed.

I counted to twenty, ignored their sly glances and chose my books. Two romances and a murder mystery.

For a moment, faced with Barbara's fake smile as she checked out my choices, I imagined telling them all some home truths about Bernie, the world's worst interfering mother-in-law. About how she'd never accepted me because I wasn't the right 'breed' to marry her son.

Then I realised how that made shifters sound. No-one around here could fail to recognise that 'stick to your own kind' attitude for what it was. I looked at the two older women, both white. Not everyone of their generation would disagree with Bernie's sentiments. I'd be wasting my breath.

I plastered on the Crazy Sookie smile and politely thanked Barbara Beck. I left the library in high dudgeon, muttering about unfairness, lonely old women and their over-active imaginations.

Wednesday I had a date at the courthouse. I'd assured Mr C I could do this alone, but I wished for his steadying company as I approached the judge, praying for no last minute hitches. He rambled on about Rome again while I nodded and smiled, all the while willing him to get on with it so I could get out of there. Eventually he signed off on the papers.

My divorce was entered into the public record.

That was it.

I walked out of the room, clutching the final judgement. I slipped it carefully into the folder I'd brought, and headed to my car. I drove home. I took the folder to the cabinet in the front room, where Gran had always kept important family documents. I took out the box file and opened it.

My marriage certificate was on the top, the last document added.

I sat on the floor, staring at its fancy lettering for some time.

Finally I added the divorce certificate and put the box back in its place. I didn't bawl, didn't shed a tear. I spent the rest of the day quietly, alone, absorbing my change in marital status.

Michele invited me round Thursday morning, knowing a fix of Marie Adele would chase away my divorce blues. I thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent with my niece and nephew, grateful for Michele's unspoken support.

When I got home, Sam had left a message on my machine letting me know he'd got his copy of the final decree and that if I stopped by the bar at three, he had my things ready. I appreciated him suggesting the quietest time of day. I had the last box of his things ready to take over.

I parked behind the bar, hoping to be in and out without being spotted. With the box on my hip I struggled to open the back door, but as soon as I did I heard muffled voices coming from the office. The voices got louder, and I hesitated a few steps inside. The office door was snatched open.

"... done nothing but help you. Asshole."

Stephanie burst out of the office, scowling thunderously. Her lip curled as she pushed past me and I heard her mutter, "Cut the damn apron strings," before she slammed out the door.

"Steph, wait!" Sam shot out of the office after her, pulling up sharply when he saw me, his gaze darting to the closing back door. He clearly wanted to chase after her, but he stayed put. He ran his hand sheepishly through his hair. "Oh. Hi."

I glanced after Stephanie. "Is this a bad time?"

He shrugged, feigning indifference. "No, it's fine." He took the box from me and gestured to the office.

My desk was cleared, a lone box sitting on it.

"I started a box... I'll give you some time to look round, make sure you're got everything." He stepped out of the room and left me to it.

I was glad he had. That box had a lump forming in my throat. Merlotte's had been my second home most of my adult life. The place was full of memories and I was sad to leave. I slowly checked the drawers and the contents of the box. Sam had even packed the plants I'd added to the office, as if he wanted all reminders of me gone.

I reckoned I would too, in his shoes.

Ten minutes later, I was done. I set my keys for the bar on the desk and left.

Sam was waiting in the corridor, leaning against the wall. He took the box without a word and carried it to my car. Once it was safely in the trunk, he rubbed the back of his neck. I waited for him to spit out what was on his mind.

"Sookie, I owe you an apology."

"You do?"

He sighed. "Yeah. For Bernie."

Really. That had been a long time coming. "What for, exactly?"

He looked at his shoes. "Turns out she's been … Well, not to beat around the bush, she's been trying to set me up this whole time."

So that was what he and Bernie fought about. Figured. I wasn't going to say I told you so, but I was going to make him say it. "Set you up?"

He coughed. "With … other women … shifters." He searched my face. "You don't seem surprised, Cher."

"I'm not. I tried to tell you." I tried not to sound bitter.

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I should've listened."

I shrugged. I didn't ask for details, didn't need to. The skank in the bar in Texas. That little shifter chick from out of town that turned up at Merlotte's. Lord knew who else and how many. I didn't want the list.

He cleared his throat. "She, er, promised my dad. That she'd make sure I had a shifter child."

"Oh." He'd never spoken about his father. "I guess that was important to him."

"Yeah. Not important enough to talk to me about it." It was his turn to sound bitter. "Sookie?" He waited until I looked at him. "I never cared about that. Whether you were a shifter or not."

I managed a smile. "I know, Sam."

"Good." He shuffled uneasily and I waited for him to spit out what else was bothering him. He was tentative when he spoke. "I … Don't take this the wrong way, but I think I should warn you about something."

"Go ahead."

"It happened a while ago, before we got ma–, before I moved into your house."

And he was just telling me now? Secretive is as secretive does. I kept my face questioning rather than accusatory.

"I… Well, to cut a long story short, I found a couple of bugs."

Bugs? I had visions of Dean chasing fireflies for a second, until it hit me he meant the other sort of bug. Nastier, more invasive and electronic. I asked sharply, "Where?"

"On your car, the porch steps. I got rid of them as soon as I found them; put them out in the woods. Figured whoever was listening would take a while to work that out before they came back to plant more."

"And did they?"

"Once. Planted one by the back door, another by your room. But after I moved in I never found any more. Now you're alone out there … I could come by and check?"

"Oh. I can get Thalia to…" He looked like he wanted to interrupt. "What? You think a vampire planted them?"

"Not for certain. Whoever it was covered their tracks pretty well. The second lot were planted at night, and the only vamps around at the time were Karin and Bill."

Karin was dead. I was pretty sure Sam knew that. So meant… I tensed. "Why are you telling me this now, exactly?"

Sam flushed, rubbing his neck nervously.

"Sam," I said warningly.

"I just thought–"

"You know Bill's been calling on me," I snapped, cutting off his lame excuse. "Have you been watching me? As Dean?"

"No, of course not." We glared at each other, until he relented. "I heard … Okay, Dean overheard Kennedy talking to Danny about it."

"Uh-huh." I wasn't happy with him or Dean nosing around my friends and my business. Too many ex-wives put up with crap like that, but I wouldn't be one of them. "I can't say as I approve of you eavesdropping on my friends about me, Sam. It's not healthy."

He snapped, "It was an accident." Then he took a breath and tried again. "I just … I don't want to see Bill hurt you again. You gotta be on your guard with him, Sook."

I sighed. "You think it was Bill that planted those bugs."

He shrugged. "Maybe. Or Karin on Eric's orders. I never trusted Karin's motives with you."

Those bugs certainly didn't make Karin seem trustworthy. Maybe that explained why Sam had a hissy fit over Pam's guards. I knew Eric hadn't had much contact with his children, so it was unlikely he had ordered it. Karin or Pam might have taken the initiative though, to keep an eye on me. Pam would probably admit it if I asked. She'd been open about them tracking my car and phone the other night.

Bill. Now why would Bill bug me? I couldn't fathom a reason that made much sense. To keep me safe? Why take the trouble with Karin there? Bill hadn't seemed interested in me back then, so I wanted to dismiss what Sam was hinting at. But maybe he was on to something. Bill had been quite enthusiastic about that walk.

Sam touched my arm when I'd been silent for too long. "I thought you should know. I… I know it's too late to change anything, but I shouldn't have kept all that stuff from you."

He was contrite, I could tell that much. "No, you shouldn't have. I'm glad you realise that."

"Just be careful around Bill. I don't trust him."

His feelings about Bill were harder to read. "I'll be careful. Thanks for telling me, Sam. See you around?"

"Sure. Take care, Cher."

He gave me an awkward pat on the arm and walked quickly away. I watched him go, wondering how much of our conversation was motivated by genuine concern and how much by old-fashioned jealousy.