Recap of Previous Chapter: Eric shows up unexpectedly at Sookie's doorstep and is surprised to learn he is a father. He responds harshly to Sookie and E.J. and then leaves suddenly, indicating only that he'll call her later.

Disclaimer: All SVM characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I'm just taking them on a tour of New England.

Chapter 20: The Bloodsuckers

The next morning, I woke up with a headache.

Yesterday's surprise visit had set off a cleaning frenzy with a windows theme. I'd snapped out all the blinds, one by one, and given them a thorough scrubbing in the tub. I'd slipped all of the curtains off their rods, washed them, and hung them out to dry on the clothesline. I'd sucked up all the sand and grit from the window sills, using the thin, pointy wand attachment on my vacuum. Then I'd shined up all of my windows from the inside, and even managed to tackle the outside on the bottom floor. This morning, I was pleased to see they still sparkled.

It's nice to have control over something.

Today's theme was slated to be "floors."

I longed to start cracking on them, but E.J.'s fussiness meant he was content only snuggled up against me in the sling; I'd have to come up with another project. And I'd be damned if I was going to sit by the phone waiting for it to ring.

No, I definitely needed to stay busy and productive.

I grabbed for my well-worn list. "Talk to L.L." was still on there.

He had said he'd stop by yesterday and hadn't, though maybe he'd seen Eric's car in the driveway. In any case, it was time. Without giving it any more consideration, I walked straight out the door to L.L.'s house.

I'd walked this route so many times, I was surprised I hadn't worn a path in the ground: across my side yard, skirting a short row of hydrangea bushes just starting to green up, onto his side lawn, crossing over a small guest parking area lined with broken bits of seashells bleached to a bright white, and then around to his front lawn with its flower beds in transition, with straggling spring flowers not quite ready to give in to summer growth. The air felt strangely uneven, like a cake batter not thoroughly mixed, streaked with ingredients. Warm land breezes twisted and spun with swirling pockets of cool air pushed off the still frigid ocean waters. I tugged on the fabric of the sling to cover E.J.'s toes. Socks were impossible to keep on his feet, which was why I usually dressed him in footed sleepers. But he outgrew those darned things so fast.

Outside L.L.'s front door, several boxes were stacked atop each other, which seemed strange. L.L. wasn't one to leave a mess without tending to it. And with E.J.'s weight in front of me, I needed to brace myself against the door frame to reach the bell. I was just starting to think they looked like moving boxes when L.L. opened the door.

His face immediately registered surprise.

"Sookie."

"I got Octavia's message that you stopped by. I know you said you'd return, but…"

"You look well."

Sensitive about that subject, I could feel my face flushing. I wished he hadn't steered the conversation in that direction right off the bat, reminding me of that horrible night. "I'm fine," I said through my puppeteered grin. "Thank you for calling for help for me." Of course I was thankful, only this was too awkward. How do you say, "I'm grateful you saved my life," to someone who also may have stabbed you in the back?

"I was scared for you. I…"

I held my hand up. Enough. To be honest, I wasn't in the mood to process his feelings on the matter. "Thank you, L.L.. I wanted to catch up with you today because tomorrow I go back to work. And then after that…"

He nodded. "You'll be busy." L.L. picked up quickly on the business vibe. "Actually, I set these boxes here to bring them over to you. As I was sorting through my things, I came across some odds and ends you might be able to use."

"You're moving." It was the only possible explanation.

"Yes. As it turns out, my…lease is up."

"Oh."

I supposed in normal conversation, I would have thanked him for thinking of me and asked him where he was moving to. But this was no normal conversation.

There was a Big Bad coming. I just knew it.

L.L. continued. "You need to know something. I tried to give you some information…that night…and now, well, there's not much more that I can do, and you need to be informed."

I cringed inside.

"Would you like to come in and sit down?"

"No. Give it to me straight."

He paused. And shifted his feet. And scratched behind his ear. And cleared his throat. Sweet Jesus, was he capable of giving it to me straight? I wanted to reach out, grab hold of his shoulders, and shake it lose from him, but I was still holding E.J.. Truly, I did not want to be dragged through the twisty route any more than I already had been. "L.L.?"

"The woman you asked me about, Lorena Ball…"

"Yes." I waved my hands impatiently.

"She owns all the property on both sides of you."

"Right."

"Sookie, local politics are a crooked mess."

"Yes, I know that too."

"Lorena has been working to put a proposal together to develop this property."

"Not mine, she isn't!"

"Obviously she can't take your property. But she's recently finagled a land deal elsewhere on the Cape that's pleased some key players on the zoning board. It's exactly the right grease to help win the approval she needs to go ahead with her development here."

"What do you mean, development?"

"I'm not sure. She's floating different plans, trying to get a feel for what will fly with the board. A small, private yacht club. Condos. Maybe more."

"And then there's me. Smack dab in the middle…"

"She's not afraid to build around you. She figures eventually you'll cave. One plan I saw was even designed to fit in with your house." He raised his eyebrows at me purposefully. Eric.

I would deal with Eric later; this was L.L.'s moment to shine. "And you knew all of this and never told me."

"There were complications with…E.J.." He gave another eyebrow raise.

"Give me a break, L.L.. This has been brewing for years, long before I knew Eric." I emphasized his name pointedly.

"I've been trying to find a way out for you. Something that would stall Lorena. But I've had to be very careful about my inquiries and disclosures because Lorena and I have had professional ties. And it's not wise to double cross Lorena."

I turned away from him. To think that all of these plans had been developing for years right under my nose made me feel like a fool. The whole time I'd dated him, he'd never said a word.

Matter of fact, I'd dated two men who'd kept their traps shut.

But if L.L. was telling the truth, he'd been plotting on my behalf to get me out of this jam. He hadn't told me for professional reasons of confidentiality and to keep his double-crossing plans hidden from Lorena. There was more to their relationship—I was sure of it—and thinking about his living here in her house for years, involved in a weird, underground power struggle with her while he was dating me brought my stomach to a lurch. Maybe later my anger would surge, but for now, all I felt was pity. Pity for him.

And—as much as I hated it—pity for myself.

"I can't believe there's nothing."

"Nothing that I can figure. Not without a lot of money. And even then…"

"So I'm supposed to simply give in?"

"Well…"

"What about Pam Ravenscroft?"

He shook his head. "I warned you away from her because I was worried for you. Given all of her…connections…"

"…You mean with Eric?"

"Yes. I was afraid she wouldn't be acting in your best interests."

"But how do I know who to trust?"

"Sookie, listen to me. Having your property listed as historic ultimately wouldn't help you, in this case. Zoning decisions happen locally, and a historic designation doesn't bind anyone. Lorena's been working quietly for years lining up her board members. It's a corrupt mess. And now…"

He stopped shy of saying I was a sitting duck.

I wondered exactly how all of this information would benefit me. Now that I had some more of the puzzle pieces in place, could I do anything to make a difference?

From my spot here in front of L.L.'s house, I tried to imagine what it would look like in a few years, with his house torn down and a fancy yacht club in its place, maybe with a deck and tables and umbrellas, and people lounging about or working on their boats. Weddings and bar mitzvahs and retirement parties. A whole fleet of boats coming and going. And on the other side, new neighbors—lots of new neighbors stacked atop each other, driving in and out of our little neck of the woods on a freshly-paved road. I'd have to install a fence to keep E.J. safe from the traffic. How expensive would that be?...

I was getting ahead of myself.

My problems could be decidedly worse. I mean, she wasn't building a nuclear power plant next to me, right? How bad could condos and a yacht club be? I'd have to share my beach, but really, it wasn't mine anyway. Maybe there'd be some friends for E.J. to play with. I pictured them out in the water, jumping off the floating dock…

…and began to cry as a war waged within me.

L.L. reached to embrace E.J. and me, but I pulled away stiffly and brought my hands to my face. Dammit! I hated these tears; I had no right to wallow in self pity. I had a home. A beautiful home. And I had no personal, private claim to this gorgeous oasis. Other people were entitled to share in it too. That type of not-in-my-back yard attitude had stalled Cape Wind for years.

But then I started thinking about how it always seemed that the little people like me were the ones getting screwed all the time. The Cape Wind project, which aimed to install windmills in Nantucket sound, had been stalled for years, but this project out here on an isolated piece of land, affecting only E.J. and me, really, would slip by largely unnoticed.

Cape Wind , on the other hand, impacted large groups of people with money who'd launched every possible angle of attack. At least two Wampanoag Native American tribes had protested, on the grounds that putting windmills in Nantucket sound would impact their spiritual sun greetings and submerged burial grounds. Commercial fisherman had argued their gear would tangle with underground cables. Boaters had complained the windmills would be located smack dab in the middle of a high traffic area.

And then there were the environmental groups.

An idea clicked into place so suddenly, I wondered how I had missed it earlier. Brusquely, I wiped my hands across my face, smearing a trail of tears. "I gotta go."

L.L. looked stunned. There would be no more blah, blah, blah discussions. I had something else to work on—a new angle—and little time for it.

He handed me a thin folder and flipped it open to the top sheet. "This is an estimate of what I think Lorena would pay for your house, without a vicious fight."

Catching the emboldened figure at a glance, I gasped at the amount, considerably larger than anyone had ever offered me. I'd suspected they'd been low-balling me, but not by this much.

"She'd probably be willing to pay slightly more, but if you ask for significantly higher, she'll grow suspicious, push back harder, and then you'll have more expensive attorney fees. But I wouldn't go lower than that, depending, of course, on how the market plays out in the next few months. Lorena hates to lose money. She'll save herself some money in the long run if she can acquire your property before she starts building. But if you wait…"

Nobody else will want my property once it becomes the center stage of a three-ring circus.

New possibilities were churning in my head. I loved my house and would fight as hard as I could to pay for taxes…and the electric…and the oil…and the insurance…and—God help me—the upkeep too…but in the end, it would all come down to what was best for E.J. and me. Food on the table; a warm, safe bed; quality child care, education, and health care benefits all would take priority over my home's treasured view and its lovely scent of old wood—of times gone by—and the cherished sense of belonging it imparted, rooted here to this place in the world.

I would miss it terribly.

But if Lorena would pay me this amount for my home, I'd have enough to buy a modest home for E.J. and me, send me back to school, and pad our accounts for a long time. Even start on E.J.'s college fund. It meant long-term security for us. I'd be a fool not to consider.

Maybe I was being naive. Of course L.L. might still be in cahoots with Lorena, but I believed he was genuinely trying to help me. He had acknowledged his involvement with her, and now he was giving me information that could probably ruin his career.

He was putting a lot on the line for me. "Thank you," I said, meaning it genuinely.

L.L. nodded. "When I run errands later, I'll stash these boxes on your porch."

"Thanks again." I tucked the folder under my arm, and without any further ado, headed toward my home. With the amount of research ahead of me, I considered whether to stay here, with my slow computer, or drive to the library, where I'd have a harder time managing E.J..

Plus believe it or not, in spite of Lorena's imminent threat, I was feeling optimistic and confident, better than I had in a long time. I had options. Not simply one option. Options. Plural. I loved our home, but I would not let it drag us down. I would see to it that our home would bring us security, one way or another. We'd figure it out wherever we landed.

I was nearing the hydrangea hedge when the sound of car wheels on potholes turned my attention toward a flash of red headed my way.

Eric. Impatient, I didn't have the time or head space for a yadda-yadda with him at that moment. He sped up to an abrupt stop, flung the door open wide, and strode toward me with a folder tucked under his arm. There seemed to be a lot of those going around that day.

"I know how to save your home."

Well, good day to you too. "Excuse me?"

"Your home. I know how to save your home."

He was wearing his belt. He strode toward me with an expression playing across his face that was not at all contrite. We'd come full circle, back to that first day I'd met him, when he'd strode into the diner so confidently.

Only that time I'd grabbed his…package.

Plus I hadn't been sporting a baby accessory.

Yeah. Times had changed. I tugged at the strap of my sling, straightened the fabric, and stood up a little taller. Did he have a plan? I'm sure he did, but I didn't need any saving. And I definitely didn't want his coming in here and taking over. No, not when I'd finally begun to come up with my own plan.

"Is this why you left so suddenly yesterday?"

He paused. "I said I'd call." He held up the manila folder. His white flag. I imagined this was as close as he'd venture to an apology or any sense of remorse. And by accepting his help, I'd be entering into a new contract with him.

The bold words printed on the front cover caught my attention.

Macrobdella sestertia. If this was what I thought it was…

I simply couldn't resist. I reached out, my thumb catching along the folder's rigid, straight edge, knife-like. I wouldn't have to press too firmly against the blade to draw blood. My pulse quickened; it throbbed in my neck as I swallowed hard.

Wordlessly, Eric released the folder into my hand. With E.J. still slung in front and another folder tucked under my arm, I needed to do a bit of juggling to manage it all.

"Macrobdella sestertia," I stumbled over the words printed on the outside.

Eric seemed agitated and unsettled. I was about to open up the folder when he reached over and did so himself, rifling through papers.

"Here." He removed a drawing that could have come out of a biology textbook and pointed to its caption. "Macrobdella sestertia," he read. "Otherwise known as the New England Medicinal…"

"…Leeches!"

He nodded.

"The same kind I pulled off L.L.!"

He nodded again.

"Are they endangered?"

"Yes."

A laugh spilled out of me. Eric broke out a full grin.

"Bloodsuckers!" Giddy with excitement, I remembered the slimy, bright green, orange-spotted creatures that had latched on to L.L.. Who'd have ever predicted it would come down to bloodsuckers? We were on the same page. Well, he'd gotten there a bit before me, but I'd been heading in that general direction, toward an environmental angle. And by the looks of it, he'd made a good start. "They're awful, and I love them!"

"Sookie, Lorena's not squeamish."

No, indeed. All the better. It would make for a more interesting fight. "Neither am I."

Eric's smile had turned into a bit of a leer with a whole history behind it. He had a thousand tales to tell, for sure. I felt excited by the uncertain journey ahead of us.

"Want to come inside?" We still had a lot to figure. I realized I wasn't quite ready to give up on my home, especially with another person in my ranks.

We walked the unmarked path toward my house silently. Eric's steps were uneven, changing between long, purposeful strides and shorter steps as he worked to stay within a step or two of me.

Passing through the parlor, I pointed at the bouncy seat. "Could you grab that?" Maybe E.J. would tolerate it for a bit after I fed him. Eric picked it up awkwardly, dangling it way out in front of him as though it were a dirty diaper. Once in the kitchen, he sat at the table while I tucked away L.L.'s folder in a drawer and poured drinks for both of us. Maybe one day we'd celebrate a victory together and pop a cork. Champagne would be nice too.

E.J. remained a shrouded lump between us as Eric opened the folder and began spreading papers full of jargon: Massachusetts Endangered Species Act, Priority Habitat maps, Conservation Commission, Wetlands Protection Act, Species of Concern, Notice of Intent.

"It's not a slam dunk, you understand? There's no guarantee we'll succeed in stopping her development."

No, I could see that, and the more I shuffled through the papers, the more I realized what a complicated path we faced, full of pitfalls. And what's more, I suspected that not too far into it, there'd be no turning back. We'd probably need legal counsel, which I couldn't afford. "I have a friend of the family, Sid Matt Lancaster, who might be able to help, though I doubt he has a great deal of experience with environmental law."

"I know someone too. Desmond Cataliades. Ever hear of the Northeastern Beach Tiger Beetle?"

I shook my head.

"Neither had I until I was working on a project that got stopped in its tracks by it, owing to Desmond."

"How's he feel about bloodsuckers?"

He smirked. "I think he'd be willing to work with them. He's one hell of an environmental lawyer."

"Sounds expensive."

"I can't afford him either, but he owes my family a favor." Eric looked up from the carefully-constructed rows of paperwork with those eyes of his that reminded me of a hazy summer sky. I felt their heat.

Just when I thought I might start to squirm, E.J.'s wriggling and stretching in his sling drew my attention away from Eric's steady gaze. Grateful for the distraction, I suddenly found myself working with great intent at coaxing his "best burp yet" out of him.

Swish, swish swish. Pat-pat-pat, pat-pat.

E.J. sat supported in my lap, his lightly bobbing head steadied by my hand, while my other hand worked circles and pats against his back. After a big feed, he always seemed a bit milk drunk; slightly groggy, relaxed, uncoordinated, and drooly. I stifled my urge to coo at him.

Swish, swish, swish. Pat-pat-pat, pat-pat.

Babies have a way of commanding the attention of every adult in the room simply by being. As I concentrated on the most thorough burping E.J. ever received, Eric's eyes scanned over him with a scientific scrutiny, defining the observables. E.J. was his critter under the microscope.

Swish, swish, swish. Pat-pat-pat, pat-pat.

Suddenly, Eric's hand darted out, reaching for us with such purpose, I flinched instinctively, all swishing and patting stopped. Stiffening through and through, I grasped my hold of E.J. more securely, while deep inside, my heart clenched hard into a tight cocoon.

Eric's hand slowed as he neared us, his fingers skimming across the top of E.J.'s signature wild and crazy hair. And just when his fingers touched the downy spikes I knew so well, past and present and future began to slip and slide; their fragile layers would collapse together if I so much as relaxed a pinkie.

Around us, the protective arms of my home held us. I listened hard for her voice whispering from its walls. Let go, Sookie. I remembered Gran and me releasing those crisp, clean sheets to the ocean breezes. I pictured myself sinking back into the dark waters of the pond. And I wondered if Gran would be right this time, too.

A/N It's beyond the scope of this story—and my expertise—to delve into environmental issues and law. Cape Wind is a real project, first proposed in 2001, which would be the first offshore wind farm in the U.S.. Technically, in real life the New England Medicinal Leech is labeled a "Species of Concern," but I simply couldn't resist using it here. ;)

Thanks for reading! I have one more chapter planned, in the form of a very long epilogue.