Disclaimer: The Sookie Stackhouse Series is the creation of Charlaine Harris. Don't sue me Charlaine! I love your books.

Understanding

III.

Eventually, I emerged from a state of numbness. My days were simple. I would rise at dawn, make tea for us, collect the eggs and work in the garden. We baked bread. I would play with the cats, take long walks and help cook simple meals. I slept many days from sunset to sunrise. We lived in silence, with Eithne only occasionally telling me things with her mind. I spent several months without speaking a word out loud, savoring the sound of silence. One day we went into Navan for supplies. I wore a scarf over my head, protecting my face from the chill air. A child sitting on a fence offered me a willow wreath as we passed. I looked into the child's solemn face, connecting to him with my eyes.

"You are beautiful lady. You and all your kind."

I found, for the first time in more than two months, my voice.

"Thank you," I said nodding my head. It seemed strange to hear the sound of my voice, light and with a pleasant timbre. I tried to remember the sound of that other voice, but time had succeeded in banishing it from my memories.

Winter arrived and the garden was done for the year. I learned to weave and my hands were well suited to the work. I took long walks in the snow on the moor. I slept. I still seldom spoke.

After four months of rest, in the last gasp of winter chill, as the crocuses poked through the dust of snow still on the ground, Eithne thought at last I was ready to begin. I began to use my mind not just to read people, animals and things, but to focus my energy into them. As spring came, the gardens began to bloom richly with the care I gave them. Life seemed to bloom effortlessly in the earth around her cottage. Eithne would summon spirits of all kinds to amuse me in the reading. I learned to read the energy in all things, not just in the mind. Eithne tempted me with the idea of healing. We visited people in their homes and though often still silent, I would focus on their wellbeing, seeing their ills and seeking relief for them.

In early March, Eithne received a packet with letters. She placed them on the table for me and said that they would wait until I was ready to read them. I set them aside. A week later, I picked up one.

It was from Jason, much to my surprise. He said that he hoped that I was well, or at least doing better. He did not quite understand what had happened but hoped that I was doing whatever I needed to do to be well enough to come home. He said that he had been checking on the house, to make sure that things were in good shape for Amelia and Octavia throughout the winter. He was well. His daughter had been born. They had named her Ava.

The following day, I read a letter from Sam. It was a sweet, slightly formal letter, in which he told me about goings on in Merlotte's and in Bon Temps, in general. He closed in saying that he had not realized that while he had always been busy watching over me, that I had been such a good friend to him in my quiet way. He had no one to whom he could talk as he could to me and he missed me terribly.

The sense of the loss- of normalcy, of my former life- was overwhelming. I had never felt so alone before, even after Gran died. I was seized with crying and did not speak again for several days.

Another week went by, one in which I learned to better control my emotions and to temper my abilities by intense directed meditation. Grounding myself was so difficult for me. Emotion just unhinged me, caused me to spin out of control. Eithne was unsure I should ever do magic of the sort I had wrought twice in the past. In a long conversation with someone, likely Pythia and largely out of my earshot, she made reference to the fact that physically, I just did not seem suited for the energy that had found it's way into me. I had grown long and lean in my months with her. Although my breasts were still quite ample, my curves were fewer and with only the work of the garden and weaving I had become more muscular and lithe. I had the sense that I had even grown taller. My face had grown thinner, my eyes darker blue in color. One day when I caught my reflection in the glass of a window I was struck by how changed I looked. But my body was a fragile reservoir for the energy I could tap into. Magic, Eithne thought, could simply drain me dry if I was not properly guided.

My mind on the other hand, after years of working on my own, was now pliable and versatile. She encouraged me and said she could help me both hone my skills and protect myself from the negative emotions that seemed to crush my spirit. She taught me words of healing, in the process of healing me. In visits to the elderly or ill in County Meath, I found that I could leaven others' hearts and minds with a simple touch and a few words. The grieving especially appeared to benefit from my thoughts focused on alleviating their sorrow. I didn't need Eithne to explain the reasons for my connection to those who grieve.

I opened Pam's letter, and Amelia's, on the same day.

Pam's letter, written with the beautiful handwriting of the era of her human life, was light and funny, detailing amusing anecdotes of adventures with Felicia, involving shopping at all night clothing stores. She closed with an uncharacteristically emotional statement, saying that I was the closest thing that she had had in her vampire life to a sister, and that she hoped that I would have the good sense to get well and come home soon.

Amelia's letter related taking care of the house, of Jason's work on keeping things up outside for them and providing them firewood for the winter. She and Olivia were taking students at home, and hoped I wouldn't mind. They weren't letting any of them stay overnight and had been careful not to let them do any work near any of my personal things. She and Tray were considering a more serious commitment. She wanted to talk to me about it, but wanted to see me in person to do so.

The last letter remained unopened until almost the end of the month. I would walk by the table when doing chores in the cottage and stroke the air above it with my fingers. Trying to slowly inure myself to the emotions it represented.

On the afternoon of the 29th, Eithne and I visited the Lia Fáil, the Stone of Destiny, on the Hill of Tara, near the banks of the Boyne. The Lia Fáil was brought to Ireland, legend would have it, by the Tuatha Dé Danann. The stone of kings, it was considered to have magical powers. I sat near the base of the stone, wrapped in my cloak, with my hands placed on the pillar of stone to meditate. I saw visions of home, of family, of loved ones present and lost. I saw visions of a future in which I would be working in some way with various supernatural groups, and between these groups and humans. I saw a path laid out before me, and my living a long life. I saw a pair of deep blue eyes meeting mine as if in a mirror. I gazed at them for some time and then turned away.

Eithne watched me carefully upon my return to the cottage. I sat at the table looking at Eric's letter. I had been gone about six months and today was my first wedding anniversary. Eithne brushed my hair and put it up as I sat looking at the letter. I sighed and tears brimmed in my eyes as I reached for it. I opened the letter to find a short note in Eric's strong, firm handwriting.

Sookie,

I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

I wait for you. I love you.

Eric

Eithne's thoughts swirled around me, in deft, healing whispers. To no avail.

He had sworn to protect me and he had. But the cost had been too much to bear. The brutality of that night was like a hot brand on my soul.

I rose and looked out at the hills and moors of County Meath, pressed my forehead to the cold glass of the window and lost myself in the painful memories of that night. Keening softly, I watched the reflection of my tears in the glass as if they were the rain.

Eithne sighed heavily. We would begin again.