A/N: A Midsummer Night's Dream is one of my favourite plays. Titania and Oberon are the Queen and King of the Faeries, and Puck a tricksy, mischievous sprite both in the play and in English folklore. This site is being rather puckish today.
I was up by seven out of habit. I did my best to stay quiet so Amelia could sleep in. Rather than taking a shower, I closed the bedroom door and went out to the kitchen to make breakfast and brew the coffee. Muffins out of the box again. They were tried and true. I'd take them in the car so Jason could have something to eat on the way home. I got out my laptop and started making a list of the things that would need to be done today and in the coming days, concerning their house. I know it wasn't my responsibility, per se, but frankly I didn't know what else to do with myself.
He'd need to contact his insurance company first thing. I wasn't even sure where to begin with the house. The whole back wall and the back part of the roof had burned away. The inside was probably still completely sodden, and would remain so for days. No doubt having a little more air circulating in there was a good thing. They'd want to get some of their possessions out, so we'd need boxes. I had some, but I wasn't sure how many we'd need. I'd stop and get some on the way to pick up Jason. A short while later I got a call from Maryelizabeth Norris, though it turned out to actually be Crystal on the other end. Her own phone was still at their house. I wondered if it was intact. Amelia came out a short while later and over coffee, we agreed that she would stay here while I went to get Jason and Crystal. It wasn't that she didn't want to come and see to them and their house, but we were expecting the mattress delivery and she said she'd take care of that as well as stripping off the bed, and making up the new ones. I was grateful to her for being willing to take care of that. She practically shooed me out the door and said she'd work on something for lunch for all of us while she waited.
The drive out to retrieve Jason was pretty quiet. Crystal seemed a little numb whereas I was continuing my internal list-making. When I picked up her up, Crystal told me Maryelizabeth was headed over to the house to try to get started on... evaluating the situation, she guessed. Maryelizabeth had also extended the offer for Jason and Crystal to stay at her place, I was told. I frowned a bit at that, but refrained from commenting yet. When we reach the hospital and I park the car, Crystal practically leaps out in her eagerness to retrieve my brother.
"Crystal?" I call out to her. She's already several paces ahead of me.
"Yeah?" she turns on her heel impatiently.
"Can you go up and get him checked out? I'm going to drive over and get some more boxes, since we're up here already. It'll save us a trip later."
"Yeah? Yeah. I can do that. I'll go get him," she says.
"Okay. I won't be long. I'll pick you up at the entrance in a little bit," I assure.
Once she wasn't checked by me, she practically runs off. I took out my phone and dialled.
"Hello?" the increasingly more familiar voice answers.
"Maryelizabeth? Hi, this is Sookie Stackhouse," I state.
"Oh hi, Sookie," she replies.
"Listen, do you have a moment?" I ask.
"Sure... It's kind of a wreck here. I'm not too sure where to start." I guess she'd already got to Jason and Crystal's.
"I figured it would be," I agree. "I'm on my way over now to pick up some boxes so we can pack the stuff they'll need, whatever can be saved," I tell her, before continuing, "Crystal said you've offered to let them stay with you?"
"Yeah. I figure it's the least I can do, you know?" she asks.
"I do know. I was going to make them the same offer, staying at my Gran's old house. I'll be in New Orleans full time pretty soon, and there's a lot of space here for them. The house will be pretty much empty but for a few old things. I wanted to call and tell you I was going to offer, so it didn't seem like I was going around you, nor ignoring your generosity."
"Oh," she says, almost sounding sad. "I guess that would be better for them, having a whole house to themselves."
"Right," I agree, "It's still up to them to stay where they want, obviously." I feel certain that Gran's house is the better offer. Maryelizabeth lives in a very tiny house out in Hot Shot, a hole in the road little hamlet even smaller than Bon Temps. I didn't think her place had more than one bedroom. I knew they could make it work if they had to, but they didn't have to. I guess our family was a little better off than Crystal's, not that that was saying much. I knew from experience that the less you have, the prouder you can be of what you do possess, and I sincerely hoped that Maryelizabeth wouldn't view me as stepping on her toes for upstaging her offer.
"Okay. We'll let them decide," she says. "I'll see you guys in an hour or so then?"
"We'll be there," I agree.
We say our thank you's and goodbye's and then I hurried to pick up another twenty boxes and some more tape and a big fat magic marker and some bubble wrap so we'd be well prepared for whatever we might need. I got back to the hospital and I was still a few minutes waiting at the entrance for Jason and Crystal to appear. He was wheeled out in a chair and she looked fretful to see him in it despite that he was able to stand up and walk over to the car without assistance, once permitted.
"How's your head?" I ask him, once we're all settled back in. Crystal was in the back seat, so I kept trying to make a point to catch her in the rear view mirror as we talked so she wouldn't feel excluded from the conversation. She ended up leaning forward and resting her head against Jason's arm in between the seats for most of the drive.
"Little sore. My leg is stinging like a bitch though. It's worse than that time I got bit by the jellyfish," my brother answers. Summer trips had been rare for us growing up, but there had been one memorable trip with Gran's Descendants group to Sabine Pass, right on the border of Texas down by the coast. There'd been two battles on land but it was also the site of a naval blockade trying to upset supply lines into Texas during the Civil War. For Jason and I, that meant almost a whole day at the beach and it had been the best trip ever, right up until Jason stepped on a jellyfish and got stung (not bitten, Jason) so badly that Reverent Minter had to carry him back to the bus. I remember being terrified at the time with the way my brother was howling. The old folks just agreed that if he'd been able to carry on like that way back during the war, he would have scared the Union out of the natural harbour single-handedly.
We chatted back and forth about my brother's relatively minor injuries for a short while, including his anticipated recuperation time. He planned to be back to work next week. Crystal was still subdued. I was really glad she hadn't seen Jason as I had seen him, laying on the ground unconscious and, oh yeah, on fire. With the way she'd slipped into a panic, I think having that image in her mind would have messed her up pretty badly. It was certainly messing me up pretty badly. When I finally raised the issue of them staying at Gran's house, Jason treated it like a foregone conclusion and Crystal didn't say much.
"I spoke to Maryelizabeth while you were checking Jas out," I tell her. "I hope you don't mind, I just figure there might be a bit more space for you guys, while you're having your place rebuilt."
Crystal just nods at that and thanks me. It seems as though Jason has made the call, and she'll abide his wishes. The subject switched to insurance, and I was really proud to hear that much like with me, Gran had successfully impressed upon Jason the need to keep up with insurance for the home. So he'd, they'd, be covered for a lot of what was lost. That was a good thing. I gave him my phone so he could call Greg Auber to meet him out at their house today. Mr. Aubert had been Gran's insurance agent, and was now both Jason's and mine. He'd always been kind to Gran and that had gone a long way with either of us once we were grown ourselves and deciding who to give our business to. Since Jason worked for the Parish, he had good health insurance too. He wouldn't have to worry about being stuck with huge medical bills, either. Just moderate ones.
Once we got back to Jason's house, I found Maryelizabeth in their bedroom trying to pack up their clothes and decided to help with that. I could take some of them back to my house and get started running them through the wash. Jason had reached the house in good spirits that didn't falter until he got inside. From outside, looking at the front, you almost couldn't tell what had happened. Once inside, the acrid stench and the damp and smoke-stained everything exposed the reality. The smell really was terrible. I couldn't recall having ever smelled a house fire before, but rest assured, it is not the same smell as a wood fire, or even the same as when people burn their garbage. Maybe it was closer to the second, but I'd certainly never been exposed to this concentrated. We were breathing in the scent of charred linoleum, roof tar, paint, carpet, resin, sealant... It was truly caustic. I found myself breathing through my mouth. I should have had Jason steal some of those masks from the hospital, to filter some of what we were all now inhaling. I put them on the list.
The upshot of the morning was this: As far as we could all tell, nothing major that couldn't be replaced had been damaged irreparably. They'd lost a lot of possessions. A lot of things, even in the rooms that the fire hadn't touched, were destroyed by smoke or else by water, but they were simply things. Mr. Aubert had come with some forms for my brother to fill out, cataloguing what was lost. He urged him to get a surveyor out here ASAP to start seeing about repair estimates. Hearing that, I went ahead and called Connie Babcock at Herveaux and Son again and asked her if she could get someone out here pronto.
Jason and Crystal's cars and keys and phones and wallets were safe. My brother's idea of a spot for safe-keeping was his underwear drawer, so thankfully all of his important documents were intact. A fire safe for them, like I'd gotten for myself, went on the list. The big loss, to my mind, at least, was the framed pictures of our family that had been in the back hall. These had been photos of my parents in this house before they even had Jason or I, and then some of them with us, from before they had died and Jason and I had gone to live with Gran. There had been one of their wedding day, and another with both sets of our grandparents in it. A couple of these were ones that I had in duplicate on the walls of the farmhouse, but some we wouldn't see again. The discovery of this particular destruction had been the only profoundly sad moment of the morning. I was younger, and my memories of them at this point, were hazy at best. These pictures had always made them seem more real to me. Jason caught me in the scorched hallway holding the remnants of a frame and knew exactly what it was and my expression did nothing to hide what I was thinking. Longing. Love. Sorrow. He threw his arm around my shoulder and squeezed my shoulders for a long moment.
After that, I went ahead and filled my car with as many boxes as I could (only four, as it turns out), and drove back to my house to start making room for them. I opted to set them up in the guest room, since that room was emptier. The new beds had arrived and Amelia had already made them up with sheets and blankets. She was at work in the kitchen when I arrived, fixing lunch for us all. She'd made egg salad sandwiches and potato salad. I unpacked the car and started washing the smoke out of my brother's clothes while she finished up. Then, the pair of us worked to haul the remaining boxes from my move out of the front room and into my bedroom to keep everything separate from whatever of their stuff they decided to bring over.
I called Jason and invited him to bring another batch of their clothes and linens over in the truck, as well as himself, Crystal, and Maryelizabeth to come for the lunch Amelia had done up. Crystal and Jason showed up about twenty minutes later. Maryelizabeth had gone home. She'd taken the morning off work to help out, but decided she really ought to get in for the afternoon. The four of us sat around talking about all the things we were waiting to learn; how quickly the house could be repaired, how much of those costs the insurance would cover. One thing we did not touch on was the subject of the wedding. I wasn't sure they'd still be able to go ahead as planned, considering this would doubtless leave them with a lot of unanticipated expenses, not to mention the fact that they'd planned on having the reception there. Once I let my mind wander in that direction it was hard to think of anything else.
I figured that this was just about the most serious thing that my brother had ever had to deal with, the fire that is. Especially when it was immediately combined with the previous most serious thing - planning the wedding and preparing for fatherhood. I've reflected in the past that my brother has had a pretty easy life. Not a life without its sorrows, but a life without much tribulation. This seemed to punctuate the end to his easy-breezy existence, with finality.
"Sookie?"
"Hm?" I ask. I'd heard my name.
"I said, did you want to stay another night?" Amelia says, apparently repeating herself.
"Stay? Oh, that's up to Jason and Crystal. Can we be of any use to you guys?" I ask, turning to them. "Do you want help packing or clearing or cleaning?"
I saw the look on Jason's face, and I could tell he was about to tell me yes, to stay and help, but Crystal cut in first. "That's alright. You girls should get back to New Orleans."
I shot my brother a look. I couldn't help it. He was watching Crystal with an expression that in him I considered to be inscrutable.
"Are you are?" I ask. I am honestly willing to stay if they need us, and I want them both to know this.
Something had been communicated silently between Jason and Crystal and I wasn't exactly sure what it was. My brother gave the slightest nod as he turned back to look at me, "Nah, Sook. You guys should go. You'll be back next week, anyway, right?"
I nodded. "I think so, some time. I have meetings Monday and Tuesday, so maybe by Wednesday."
"Yeah, we have this covered Sook. You've done a lot already."
"Okay then. I guess we'll clear out after lunch," I say, and I couldn't help feeling slightly unwanted. I struggled both to shrug it off and to not fall into my reverie again but rather to stay with the conversation. Though we attempted to find a few topics that were not the house fire, it was hard to stray too far from that. Before Jason and Crystal left again to go back to their salvage efforts, I took time to tell them where I'd been keeping things, at least anything I'd changed from when Gran lived here. It wasn't really much. I'd made the front closet into a coat closet and was keeping all the linens back in the closet in my bathroom. It was just more convenient to me. I was keeping all the cleaners out on the side porch, as opposed to under the kitchen sink, and told them to help themselves with anything they needed for the house. Jason had keys, but I gave the spare set from the kitchen drawer to Crystal. They left, and Amelia and I went back to my room to pack up.
Gran's old bed had been a queen size, so when they were shifting things around this morning Amelia had them move her actual bed, the wooden frame with its headboard and footboard, into the guest room. The new California king was just set up on a frame in my room. The room looked strange, not least because the second mattress and its base were propped against the wall and still in their plastic wrappings. Somehow, it managed to seem emptier. I flopped myself down on the bed. It was even more comfortable than when I'd tried it at the store.
"You need to do something about the wallpaper in here," Amelia remarked from the doorway.
I looked around me from my prone position. She gestured toward the wall behind the bed so I propped myself up to look. You could see the pale outline of where Gran's headboard had rested undisturbed for years. I made a face. It wasn't that the walls that had always been exposed were visibly dirty, just aged.
"And look," she said, walking over to lift a picture down. The same outline of where the frame had sat was obvious.
I pulled a face. I'd stripped the wallpaper and painted in the upstairs rooms last month. It was not a chore I was particularly looking forward to doing again, but she was right. The age of the pale flowered paper in here was showing more than ever.
"Next week then," I promised. I'd have things to keep me busy, at least.
We packed up again and then I went out to change the laundry while she fixed some snacks for our drive. I left the basket of fresh laundry on the bed in the guest room for Jason and Crystal and a note that told them there would be more in the dryer when they got back. I made sure there were hangers in the closet and the drawers were clear. Amelia had loaded our bags into the Rabbit again and when I could find nothing else to do, we left. I took the first leg, and we drove more or less in silence for about forty-five minutes until I finally spoke.
"I'm sorry you didn't get your chicken," I said lightly.
"I'm sorry your brother's house burned down," she replied back dryly.
"They were weird today, right? It wasn't just me?"
"It's hard to say. I have no idea what I would be like in their situation."
"I feel like they would have wanted me to stay longer."
"Did you want to stay?"
"I don't know. Should I have?"
"You asked them and followed their wishes, that seems like the right thing to have done."
"I guess so," I say, sounding unconvinced and uncertain. "It almost seemed like they didn't want me."
"I'm sure it's awkward for them, being forced to rely on your kindness."
"What? It's Jason's house too."
"It isn't though, it's yours."
"He grew up there. It'll always be his in a way."
"I figure you're the only one that sees it that way. Gran left it to you. Your parents house was technically left to both of you, and you signed your part over to Jason ages ago. He got that one, you got the other. Did you ever think of his house as yours?"
I frowned at that. "No, I guess I didn't."
"So I reckon he feels odd about that maybe. At best, he's imposing, at worst, maybe they're taking your charity."
"Charity! He's my brother! She's about to be my sister!" It's charity when you're helping strangers. When it's family, you help them as you would yourself.
"Says the woman who was going to ready to refuse money she needed from the person responsible for that very need. Face it. You Stackhouses have a streak of pride a mile wide."
I huffed out a sigh. Well, it's not like I could argue that. Now I started to question how Jason would respond to the other idea I'd been kicking around. So much for that.
"What are you going to do this weekend?" I asked her after a while.
"You mean when my best friend abandons me in favour of luxury and carnal delights?" she teased.
"We're having lunch with his grandmother on Sunday, but I'm free besides that if you want me to stay, or if you want to hang out," I say quickly.
She smacked my arm at this point, but thankfully I saw it coming out of the corner of my eye and it didn't make me jerk in traffic or anything.
"Watch it!" I scolded her.
"You watch it, missy. I don't want your pity any more than your brother does."
"It isn't pity, I just want to be around for you if you need it."
"I've had my sulking. And while our Bon Temps excursion wasn't quite the quaint country getaway I'd had in mind, it certainly served to put matters into perspective. There are bigger things in life to worry about than a girl who doesn't like me the way I like her."
"True," I agreed, infinitely relieved. Amelia is not one to wallow by nature. I could hear the sincerity in her words and knew that she was ready to pick herself up and dust herself off.
"Did Claudine call yet?" she asked, changing the subject.
"No," I frowned. "I'm sure I'll hear from her before we get there."
I didn't though. Amelia and I switched seats at our accustomed spot and I sat there for the remainder of the drive failing to distract myself with the radio while furtively dithering with my phone to check that it was in service and I had no voicemails. The only thing I received during the drive was a text from Pam letting me know she was at the airport and would see me Monday. I figured it was a message sent out of boredom while she waited for her flight, but I kind of liked the fact that we were becoming better friends, so I obliged her and we sent a few messages back and forth. Amelia and I chatted about lesser things, like how I'd paint Gran's room, and what kind of furniture I'd get in there eventually. She was campaigning hard for a white, yellow, and blue colour scheme. I was worried that would make it look like a nursery. She finally pulled up in front of her apartment and I stretched mightily while she dragged her suitcase out from the back seat again.
"Want me to come up for a while?" I asked her with a yawn.
"Nope," she answered with her own yawn. They're contagious. It's been proven scientifically. Not only in a real clinical study, but this had been my project in the science fair one year. "Go see Eric. I'm going to take a bubble bath with a bottle of wine," she grins lazily.
"That sounds lovely," I told her.
"Call me if you want to stay on Sunday or Monday though?" she said.
I nodded that I would. We'd had plenty of time to talk in the last couple of days, and she knew that I sometimes felt awkward about hanging around Eric's while he wasn't there. Now that Penny was out of the picture, the open invitation to stay at Amelia's had been reinstated. She'd been very emphatic about it, expressing her guilt over letting me down on this account. I had assured her it was fine, though.
So, we said our goodbyes and I drove over to Eric's hotel. I lugged my suitcase out of the trunk and only then did it occur to me to call him to let him know I was around.
"Hey!" I greet in response to his hello.
"Hey Sookie, did you decide to stay in Bon Temps tonight?" he asks, as I pull the little handle out of my rolling bag and pull my trunk closed and lock it.
"Nope!" I answer cheerfully. "We just got back. I'm at your hotel."
"You are?" he asks.
"Yup, just heading into the lobby. Are you here? Hey, will my little card key still work?"
"It should. Yes, I'm upstairs."
"Oh good, I didn't even know if you'd be back yet." It was only about seven, and he tends to work later than this. I guess because it's Friday, and Pam's already gone.
"I'm just finishing some things up here," he says, and I notice for the first time that he sounds a little out of sorts. There's something of an edge to his tone.
"Everything alright?" I ask.
"Hm? Oh yeah, sure. Listen, I'll see you in a couple of minutes," he says and disconnects.
Alright then. I hope he hasn't had a bad day with work. I feel like I could really use some concentrated snuggling on his couch and maybe some room service or some takeout food later one. Hopefully he's amenable to this plan. Maybe we could try Amelia's idea of a nice hot bath, too. Actually, that might be even better. I see Paul at the desk and he's got a warm smile for me which I return. One of the bellhops comes up to try to help with my bag but I assure him I can manage it. I recognize him, but I don't know his name. I take a quick peak at his tag. It's Bill. Hmph. Well, I'll try not to hold that coincidence against him.
I ride the elevator up to the sixth floor and as I push the button I remember again my curiosity about the penthouse suites. Maybe I will ask Eric to show me. I'd like to know what lavish looks like really, if Eric's room is only the penultimate offering. As I reach his door it opens for me, and for a second I smile, assuming that he's been waiting to greet me, but instead a completely different blonde appears in the doorway. She is dressed smartly in a soft grey suit. She is quite pretty, a little taller than I am and more narrow in the waist and hips. She's grinning as well but when she sees me her expression falters as surely as mine must have. She averts her eyes and moves past me, and I pause long enough that the door swings shut behind her. I didn't have the card out since I knew he was in there, so instead I knocked. I heard the elevator chime closed behind her. It hadn't been called away in the few moments since I'd left it and she'd got right on.
I felt like I was standing there for a little while and so I knocked again and then started fishing into my purse to get my wallet out when finally he opened the door. He was in another of his well-fitted dark jackets with a silvery grey shirt, but no tie. His hair was down. He looked lovely. I felt all the more dishevelled in comparison.
"Hey," he says, stepping towards me and curling an arm around my shoulders. He pulled me to him and kissed the top of my head.
"Hi," I say, letting go my suitcase to pull my arms around him in return. I let my head fall against his chest, happy to leave it tucked under his chin. My hands went inside his jacket around his back. I breathed him in. There was a faint hint of his cologne which I happened to really like, left over from when he must have put it on this morning. We pull away from each other after a long moment and he moves back to open the door for me to enter with my suitcase. "Who was that leaving?" I ask.
"Bethany Storbridge," he answers quickly. "She's one of the managers with the Northman Group."
"Really?" I ask. "Is everything okay? I thought they were getting on without you for now."
"They are, for the most part. She had some information I need to see on a new property my grandfather had been looking to acquire in Hawaii. It's going up for auction soon. She wants us to bid. Pam didn't have time to get over there today so Bethany brought things over on her way home from work."
"Ohh," I say as I accept the explanation. Yeah, maybe I'm a little relieved.
He catches that right away and lifts his eyebrows at me. "Ohh?" he queries back.
I feel myself flush immediately. "I'm sorry," I apologize. "You just seemed off on the phone and then a hot blonde was coming out of your room giving me the stink eye..." I trail off.
"You assumed," he begins.
I put my hand up. "Not assumed. Worried. Just for a second there. I'm sorry."
He frowns at me, his forehead creasing.
"It's me," I continue, embarrassed now. I step towards him again and tentatively put my arms around him, hugging him close to me again. After a moment his arms encircle me. "I'm not untrusting where you're concerned," I say. It's much easier to speak directly into his chest than to look at him. "I'm just...fearful. I like you. It would hurt a lot...to get caught up short again." It's a bitter admission, and I hate that the shadow of Bill Compton made its way into this room, that it darkened my view of Eric even briefly. I know it might be understandable. Psychologically speaking, I'm probably defying the odds finding myself able to let something new be this good, this soon. That thought is small consolation.
He holds me tighter as I make my profession. His tone had been almost offended before I cut him off, but now he understands. He holds me, and it's exactly what I need. He pulls back only enough to kiss me on the mouth. It starts slowly, softly, sweetly, but once it has begun it is infused with his passion. It is the kiss I was expecting when the door opened and I was greeted with Bethany Storbridge instead. I make soft sounds of pleasure as he lifts me up so I'm on my tiptoes and even then they're only barely touching the floor. He breaks away to tell me, "I like you too. I would like to show you how much I like you." It's the low sex voice again and any thoughts I have about anything but him are gone. I nod. I would like him to show me that. In detail. With all the footnotes. I follow him back to the bedroom and with slow and meticulous care he does just that.
"Did you hear from Madge?" he asks. He is on his back, and I am curled around him with an arm on his chest, my head against his shoulder, and my knee slung across his thigh. He is stroking across my shoulder blades, twirling the ends of my hair with one hand. His other is tucked behind his head exposing his armpit. I let my fingertips trace across the tuft of blonde hair there, across the tendons and muscles of his underarm. It seems like such an intimate place to touch someone, even more so than their private parts, which of course, have more use.
"No," I sigh. "I couldn't get Claudine, either. I guess I'll try tomorrow."
"I'm sure it will work out."
"You're sure, huh?"
"I have a hunch."
"You didn't go on a date with Eloise Batiment while I was gone, right?" I try to make my tone light, poking a bit of fun at my own insecurity.
"No, I couldn't fit her in my schedule. My assistant seems to have developed a bit of loyalty to my girlfriend and deliberately keeps me quite busy when she is away," he tells me and I hear the smirk.
I feel him shiver as I just happen to trace across the hollow of his armpit again. He is at my mercy right now. He is reminded.
"My grandmother mentioned it when I confirmed our lunch date for Sunday," he explains, abandoning the joking. "I suppose their world is very small. It was mentioned by Madge that she has a potential renter, and you have an uncommon name that is easy to recognize. I am sure you got a rave review."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good then. Hopefully I'll hear soon."
"How is your curriculum coming?" he asks.
"It's shaping up. I think I'm going to keep the keep the history theme for the other session, and focus on the geometry of some of the world wonders. The Aqueducts, the Pyramids of Giza and the South American ones, the Great Wall of China, Stonehenge. Maybe even skyscrapers. There are so many things like this, we could do a different one every day and explore the math that went into designing, and working out the time and the manpower involved."
"I like that," he says. "It's a nice real-world application for them, if you get into architecture or the civil engineering aspects. It'll be a continuance on theme for those who attend both sessions, but definitely different enough that there will be no repetition in the two."
I can't help but smile at that. I'm very flattered he has paid so much attention, and his approval seems genuine. "I'm presenting it to the directors on Tuesday, so we'll see if they like it," I tell him.
"I can't imagine they won't. It makes me wish I'd gone to summer school, though admittedly a portion of my envy stems from having a crush on the math teacher."
I give a little gasp. "Mister Northman, don't get fresh or I will have to keep you after class," I tease.
"I do not think I would particularly object to being detained in this instance," he says.
We lay like that for a little while longer, just talking and flirting and being playful. It was so welcome after the last couple of days. We did get up to bathe before it got too late, and I nearly fell asleep in the tub again before we decided to call it a night. Morning came and we were famished, resulting from the enjoyable exertions of the night before and as a consequence, the fact that we never got around to having dinner. I let him order again while I was blowing out my hair. Once mine was done I did his, since he insisted on standing around watching me be naked and bending over. I can't imagine his fascination, truly.
Our food arrived and we brought the tray over in front of the television to enjoy our feast. I was surprised when he told me he'd ordered the blueberry pancakes since we agreed they were better elsewhere, and then extra surprised when they turned out to be the same ones I'd eaten when we'd stayed at the other hotel that I had chosen.
I chuckled with delight and helped myself. "Did you sneak back and steal the recipe?" I ask him.
"No," he grins. "The cook."
I peered at him. "What, really?" I ask.
"Yes," he confirms. "Apparently our benefits are much better and I offered a minor salary increase. There was no reason for him to refuse."
"Wow," I say. Like a dish? Just bring the cook home with you. How strange!
"The hours are more consistent for him, too. Apparently we lucked out with him at breakfast that day. He had a very erratic schedule at the other place, sometimes mornings, evenings, sometimes overnights. He was eager to start here right away."
"That's great," I say. "Are you thinking of opening a restaurant here as well now that you have an extra cook? Lots of hotels have them."
"No, I have no interest in that. And we do not have an extra cook. We let one of the old ones go after the hire was made."
I stare at him.
"She received a very nice severance. It will hold her over until she finds a new position. I hear there is a vacancy across town," he grins. I don't.
"That's a little... heartless, don't you think?"
"I do not," he says firmly. "Someone who does a significantly better job was willing to step in. She has been amply compensated, and will receive a good reference. What should I have done? Continue to employ an inferior cook after her replacement was instated, out of kindness?"
"Eric, she wasn't bad at her job," I argue. "The food here has always been good."
"People do not stay here because they want an average experience, Sookie. We are offering finest luxury and that extends from the man who takes your bag to the woman who books your reservations to the pancakes on your plate. Consider that anything that has ever been brought here has been done with the staff's full knowledge that it is for me. Now their boss, previously the grandson of their boss. It will have been their best effort - or it better have been. If this can be so easily surpassed on any random morning at a competing hotel, can I really feel confident that I am offering my clients the best?"
I bit my lip. I see his point of course, but gosh. 'Sorry, but your cooking is merely mediocre. You're fired.' It's like a real life version of one of those reality shows on the food channel.
"We must offer the highest quality of service. That is the crux of this business, and not to fall back on the old trope of 'it's just business,' but that is simply the case here," he asserts.
"Do you find it difficult to enforce these decisions?" I ask. I'm reaching for his compassion at this point. Surely it's around here somewhere?
"If I considered it from a personal angle, I certainly might. The old cook was a good employee," he stresses, "But ultimately unsatisfactorily in her job. The fit was not right. These things must be done, and so they are done. I cannot afford to dwell on it."
I frown, but reach over and pat his arm as though assuring him I understand. I sort of do. It is a necessity, albeit an unpleasant one.
I shift the conversation to our plans for the day, and we decide to drive into Mississippi and visit De Soto National Forest. They've got hiking trails, and I feel like a good long walk. Eric will get to drive on the winding scenic roads. It's only about an hour outside of the city. It seems like a good plan all around. On our way up we pick up some sandwiches to carry along for a picnic. There are some more serious hikers in evidence once we arrive, people with walking poles and fanny packs, hip packs, whatever you want to call those ghastly belted pouches. Some people had backpacks, which probably would have been a good idea, to be honest, but Eric was happy to carry the little bag with our lunch. He clasped my hand with his free one and we just strolled, content to be passed by the others who clearly had places to go and nature to see.
We are in no hurry and we walk for about two hours before we decide to stop. We found a nice clear spot beside the river to have our lunch, and stay sprawled and happy after we finish. I lean on my hands, throwing my head back, soaking in the sun. I can feel him watching me, but I don't mind. This is peaceful and relaxing, just what I needed. Occasionally people paddle by us in their canoes or kayaks, the steady beating of their oars cutting into soft burble of the slow moving water to herald their arrival well in advance. We grin and wave back when children wave and call up at us, totally astonished and excited to see other humans way out in all this wilderness. Or maybe it was just the fact that Eric is a beautiful giant that drew their attention.
"They must think you're some kind of forest nymph," he murmurs in my ear as a father paddles by with two young sons riding along in the boat. I smile, loving the fact that we're on nearly the same page. He bites my earlobe as he slides his hand across the ground behind me, leaning in. "A fairie, perched along the riverbank, having her lunch," he says, kissing down my neck. These are the sweetest sweet nothings ever.
"Hm...Tinkerbell?" I ask, smiling.
"Titania," he answers. Oh gosh.
"Does that make you Oberon?" I turn to him and he kisses me, the intensity slow but immediate. He catches my shoulders on his arm and leans into me and I lie back against him. His other hand comes up to cup my face, smoothing his fingers across my cheeks. He does this wonderful thing again where one moment I am sitting up and the next time I open my eyes I see only his face and the sky, my back resting on the ground, my head cradled in the crook of his arm. That's a smooth move right there. His hand trails down my neck and across my collar, down my side, resting at my hip. He doesn't move to take it further, we're in public after all. That does very little to prevent the effect this is having on both of us. I hear him shift and give a soft sigh.
The sound of a throat clearing breaks the spell. "Good afternoon, folks." Oh, Puck.
Eric pulls away, lifting his head. Briefly, upside-down, I see the tall figure of a park ranger standing a few feet away. I sit up quickly, brushing dirt out of my hair as Eric stands.
"Folks, I'm going to have to ask you to save that sort of thing for your home. We got families here."
"I think you'll agree I was working on that, sir," says Eric wickedly. Brazen! Oh Jesus Christ.
I couldn't look up at either of them. I quickly grabbed for the paper bag we'd brought our po-boys and sodas up in, gathering the napkins and bottles back into it, like a good little non-litterbug.
"I could see that, son," I hear the ranger reply. It sounds like he may have cracked a grin, but I'm too mortified to check. "But let's keep it g-rated in the park. You can be cited for public lewdness here in Mississippi."
"Certainly sir. Our apologies," he says, all sincerity.
"Uh-huh. You folks have a good day now. Don't forget to take your paper out. There's a garbage can at the trailhead."
I heard him walk off. I am still unable to turn around. I hear Eric failing to stifle his laughter. He comes around to stand in front of me. I had to shield my eyes to look up at him now that his back was to the sun. Good grief. Why does he insist on continuing to look like some sort of god with that golden light flowing all around him? He offers his hand to pull me up. I let him. I just stand there shaking my head for a minute, and all the while he's chuckling.
Finally I push against his chest. "I was working on that, sir?" I quote him exasperatedly. He laughs louder.
"Come on, Tinkerbell," he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "You heard the man, we need to keep this g-rated. No violence either!" he says, cringing away from my mock-withering glare.
Finally I broke down and laughed along with him. We wander back to the car, and somehow it seemed to take longer than the walk out had been. We were a bit fatigued by now. For once I found I had no problem matching Eric's pace. He stretched hugely before folding himself back into the car, walking ahead while I threw out the garbage and made a point of separating out the bottles to recycle.
"This was fun," he says as we turn out of the little parking lot.
"Yes," I agree.
It was going dark by the time we got back to the city and though we bandied about the idea of going out to dinner or a movie or a dance hall, we decided we'd rather stay in. So we ordered a movie and watched about half of it before getting distracted again. After finishing what we had started laying down the river, I found myself in bed, exhausted. He noticed me starting to drift off and left the room, returning with a folder and switching on the low lamp next to his side of the bed.
"Will the light bother you?" he asks.
"I don't think I could stay awake even if you tried to keep me up," I babble drowsily.
"Sleep then, I just want to read through this for a little while."
"Whassat?" I ask.
"It's the proposal Ms. Storbridge brought yesterday."
"I thought no work on weekends?" I pout, turning to curl my arm across his waist, nuzzling my head into his side. He brings his arm around my shoulders and holds the papers up over my head to peruse.
"I'm not ready to sleep yet. I just don't have any other time," he says, and I hear a touch of frustration in his voice.
"Mm. Sorry, baby," I mumble. "Sleep soon, okay?" I'm about three quarters there myself at this point. I think I give him a little pat and ran my toes up and down his calves for good measure.
"Soon," he agrees, bending to kiss the top of my head. I fall asleep to the soft shifting of papers and the warm feel of Eric.
I'm not sure how long he stayed up after I went to sleep, but I do know that when I woke up he was still deep asleep. I listened to him snore for a little while but eventually got up and showered. I felt the slight strain of the previous day's activities in my hips and my calves and the hot water felt sumptuous and assuaging. I washed and scrubbed and stretched, taking full advantage of the spacious chamber to enjoy the heat and steam. I hadn't bothered turning on the lights in here. Whether or not my head was just under the stream of water when he entered, or if I'd just grown comfortable around Eric to the point where I could fully relax without keeping a portion of my mind hyperaware of my surroundings, I didn't hear him come in. I didn't know he was there until his arms came around me.
I tensed instantly. His hands slid up my sides, one cupping my breast, the other pulling me tight against him. It wasn't sexy. He nuzzled into my neck, kissing me there, lapping at the water from the shower. He groaned. I could feel him hard against my back. I forced myself to breathe. He wasn't hurting me, and he wasn't here to hurt me. This is only Eric Northman. It feels like him, it smells like him, and I love being in this proximity to him in almost every circumstance. I was shaking, involuntarily.
"You're trembling," he rasped against my shoulder. The soft hoarse voice I normally melt for.
He turned me and pressed me back against the tile wall, warm from the water. Warm, not cold. Different. This is Eric. He kissed me. I couldn't kiss him back. My arms were rigid at my sides. I should be hugging him back or something. I should want to touch him right now.
"Sookie?" he asked, stopping, straightening up, stepping away. I breathed again.
His hands came to my shoulders and rested there, but then he moved them away. "Sookie?" he asked again.
"Please put on the lights," I whispered. He left. The lights switched on. I was under the stream of water again with my eyes wide open facing the entry when he returned. I rinsed off quickly and scooted past him. I was going to have to explain that now. I dried off and put on underwear and a robe. I was sitting on the bed towelling my hair when he emerged very shortly later. I had forced myself calm. He was standing in the doorway, a large towel wrapped around his hips, apparently too put off to come anywhere near me.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"Yes, I am sorry about that," I say. I can't really look at him. My hair is going to be a rats nest of tangles but rubbing it brutally dry is a wonderful use for all this tense energy I am filled with.
"And what was that, exactly?"
"Just a stress reaction. I'm really sorry, normally I'm more aware than that, you just startled me, is all."
"You've been...attacked."
"Um. Yes. Listen, that almost never happens to me anymore, it was just a perfect storm of similarities right then. I'm sorry if I've freaked you out, but if you could just forget it, I would really appreciate it."
"No, I don't think I can."
I bit my lip. So, I was damaged goods and that is a deal-breaker for him. Well, that's... That's awful, actually, but I think I have always known that this would come up sooner or later with someone. Bill had not minded very much, and that had been a huge relief. It's not like it's something I would divulge if I didn't have to, but at some point in a relationship I guess you must. Some guys just won't want to deal with it, and that's fine. I am sure there are some problems a partner could have that I wouldn't want to deal with if I had the choice. Leprosy. Gambling addiction.
I nod at him. "Okay."
I quickly stand up and pull some clothes from the top of my suitcase. I've got to go now. I hurriedly pull on jeans and a shirt and shift past him into the bathroom so I can brush out my hair and grab my toothbrush from in there. I moved double-time, dragging a brush through my wet hair, ripping through the tangles. I parted it in a neat line and just pulled it back into a tight ponytail. I held the brush and toothbrush in my hand and turned toward the bathroom door. I don't know why he is still standing there. He put his hand out to bar my path.
"Where are you taking those?" he gestures to my brush and my toothbrush.
"Amelia's," I tell him. "I have meetings in town tomorrow and Tuesday. Listen Eric, again, I'm really sorry. For everything."
"You need to stop this now," he states.
I look up at him. He takes the brushes out of my hand and throws them toward the bed and I hear them bounce lightly as they land and he pulls me into a hug before I can push away from him. I wouldn't have even if I had the choice. I loved his arms around me.
"I'm not going to forget it. I don't want to do that to you again if I can help it. I didn't know. I'm sorry."
"Eric, that's real nice of you to say, but this is just... I don't want you to have to think about this, nor to have to be careful with me. I don't really expect you to understand."
"Sookie." He's asking for my attention so I meet his eyes again. "I do understand."
I blink several times as he holds my gaze, letting what he has just said sink in and at last I let my arms come up around him and clutch him to me in return, as surely as he is doing. I don't cry or anything. It's not that kind of moment. It's just him and I realizing another thing we have in common. I don't feel the need to ask him about it, any more than I feel the need to offer him my own sad details. We'll talk about it sometime, but right now, everything that needs to be said has been said, and it is okay. I tucked my head against his chest and we just stood there for a while in the embrace.
"Come dry your hair," he says when he releases me.
I nod and follow him back into the bathroom. I had to be a bit careful with the dryer because I'd really done a number on my scalp brushing my hair so violently. When I finished, he took the hairdryer and did his own hair. I fixed my makeup and it turned out pretty. I turn to leave and he gives me an odd look.
"You forgot to kiss," he says, pointing at the mirror. I lean up and kiss him on the cheek, instead. He catches my mouth and kisses me back and as he's doing so it hits me again that yes, this actually is okay. I broke the kiss with that thought powering my smile and he cocked his eyebrow in response but I just shook my head and walked past him out of the room. I pulled at the towel he was still clad in as I went, and causing it to fall.
"Get dressed!" I squeal, suddenly impelled to move away faster.
I must have shocked him, because I was actually able to get away. He can catch me in only a couple of steps if he tries with that crazy wingspan of his. I was out in the front room a few minutes later when he came out of the bedroom dressed in jeans and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled back to his elbows.
"Hey handsome," I say. I just can't resist telling him.
"Hey beautiful," he croons. Mmm.
It was too early to go to Inge's, but too late to have a big breakfast or brunch, so we simply went downstairs and walked to a coffee shop and had pastry and got our caffeine fix. After that we walked around enjoying the warmth of the day. We went around the little park in front of St. Louis Cathedral. It seemed like as good a place as any to say a silent prayer and so I did, thanking God for the safety of Jason and Crystal and Amelia, and for Eric's understanding. I felt him squeeze my hand as he noticed my abstraction and I smiled at him and we walked on. We decided to drive to his grandmother's house so we ambled back to the hotel to retrieve his car.
Inge Northman looked like she was dressed for church when she joined us, in a pale yellow pantsuit with pearls. I felt a little embarrassed that Eric and I were just in jeans. We didn't look shabby but maybe I should have gone up and changed into a skirt. I suppose since together we outnumbered her it was okay. Greta had greeted us warmly at the door and showed us through to the patio where the table was laid for lunch and Inge had come out moments later. Eric greeted his grandmother with a kiss on the cheek and an affectionate, "Fahma."
"I'm glad you two could come," she smiled as we sat down, making a point of looking on me as well as Eric.
"Thank you for having us," I said.
We chatted for a while about me, my job, the summer program, the house I was hoping to rent. She supplied to me herself that she'd heard about it, volunteering that she had sung my praises. I confessed that I was worried they would hate me because Eric wasn't interested in dating Eloise. She laughed at that, assuring me that they'd been trying to find a match for Eloise since she was eighteen and wouldn't take it too much to heart. Poor Eloise, I thought.
Inge told me about Sten's club house, as she called it, and how he would have lived out there if she had let him. I found myself smiling at that. It was nice to hear her speak of her husband fondly. I also took her remarks with some measure of approval for the house I was hoping to live in. I had vaguely worried if I would encounter any snobbery about her grandson dating someone who lived in one of her friends' outbuildings. I was relieved this wasn't the case. Eric seemed content to let us talk. Inge shared some gossip about her other acquaintances. I recognized Patti's name, her husband was having a surgery, but by and large the people she spoke of were unfamiliar to me. Eric had nodded several times in acknowledgement though, so I suppose they were family friends.
"Eric, have you heard from your father lately?" Inge asks.
Predictably, Eric tenses. "Not since he offered to buy us out for your pension, Fahma," he answers stiffly.
"He has not rescinded that offer," she remarks. Very quickly the grandmother seemed to fade and a sharp, shrewd old woman was sitting in her place. "Did you receive the prospectus on the property in Hawaii?"
"Yes. Ms. Storbridge brought it by on Friday."
"Hmph. You watch out for that one," she says, glancing at me briefly then back at Eric. I admit, I felt mildly vindicated at that. I said nothing of course, as this conversation concerned me not at all. "Have you had a chance to look it over?"
"Last night," he agrees.
"Your grandfather wanted this. He has been waiting for that land to go up for sale for a decade."
"I realize that, but I am not sure this is the right time to build. Neither for the company, nor us personally," he says.
"Your father intends to bid as well."
"Against us?"
"Yes. He called me to let me know that he intended to carry on my husband's work in this way, by building the resort Sten wished for."
"He will cut into that forest and build one of his Las Vegas monstrosities," Eric replies dully, with resignation.
"Yes," she agrees. "And that is of course not what Sten and I had envisioned in the least."
"No," Eric agrees. "No, I saw the draft work. I don't know what architect you had draw that, but it was certainly intriguing."
"Eric you will need to bid."
"Can we afford it?" he sighs.
"I will help."
"Fahma," Eric begins.
"We do not have to rush out and begin construction this year. I am simply asking you to please buy this property."
"Why are we doing this today?" he asks, pained.
She glances at me again. "You make it difficult to do things any other way," she states plainly. "I am sorry Sookie. I am pleased to see you of course, but my grandson resists his inheritance. In this instance, I cannot but act as I might to gain his undivided attention." Cunning and blunt. Family traits, most definitely. I gave her a slight nod. I glanced sidelong at Eric, who resembled the shallow side of livid.
I moved my chair back and made to excuse myself but Eric caught my arm. "Stay," he requested. I settled back down and saw Inge nod with approval. "How much over value is he planning to pay?" Eric asks his grandmother.
"Enough," she answers. "He is both disciplining you, and lashing out at me."
Eric snorted with mirthless laughter. "He is your son."
"And I love him of course," she says naturally. Ugh. This family.
"Fine," Eric concedes.
"Fine, you will do as I ask?" she tries to clarify.
"I do not have the time to do smart business on this. Not speculate, not evaluate. I will do it because you ask."
"It is a solid investment."
"And I must take your word on that apparently," he says testily.
"Can you call a meeting with the managers for us this week?" she asks.
"I will ask Pam to find the time," he says.
"Thank you," she says. She picks up a little bell that I had not noticed on the lunch tray. It had been tucked behind the centrepiece. Greta appears after a short tinkling ring. "Please clear and bring the raspberry torte," she requests. Inge Northman turns to me with a smile, the grandmother once again. "You will love this. It's from the most charming bakery. Honey and raspberry and vanilla cream," she gushes.
I heard Eric sigh.