Charlaine Harris - Dead in the Family

“You know,” she said, interpreting my glance, “I can handle myself.”

Everyone in Bon Temps knew that Kennedy could handle herself, and that was the problem. Her reputation might constitute a challenge to certain men (certain men who were assholes). “I know you can,” I said mildly. Danny Prideaux was insurance.

And there he came through the door. He was taller than Kennedy by a couple of inches, and he was of some racial mixture that I hadn’t figured out. Danny had deep olive skin, short brown hair, and a broad face. He’d been out of the army for a month, and he hadn’t yet settled into a career of any sort. He worked part-time at the home builders’ supply store. He was willing enough to be a bouncer for a few nights a week, especially since he got to look at Kennedy the whole time.

Sam drifted out of his office to say good night and brief Kennedy on a customer whose check had bounced, and then he and I went out the back door together. “Let’s go to Crawdad Diner,” he suggested. That sounded good to me. It was an old restaurant just off the square around the courthouse. Like all the businesses in the area around the square, the oldest part of Bon Temps, the diner had a history. The original owners had been Perdita and Crawdad Jones, who’d opened the restaurant in the forties. When Perdita had retired, she’d sold the business to Charlsie Tooten’s husband, Ralph, who’d quit his job at the chicken processing plant to take over. Their deal was that Perdita would give Ralph all her recipes if he’d agree to keep the name Crawdad Diner. When Ralph’s arthritis had forced him to retire, he’d sold Crawdad Diner to Pinkie Arnett with the same condition. So generations of Bon Temps diners were ensured of getting the best bread pudding in the state, and the heirs of Perdita and Crawdad Jones were able to point with pride.

I told Sam this bit of local history after we’d ordered country-fried steak with green beans and rice.

“Thank God Pinkie got the bread pudding recipe, and when the green tomatoes are in season, I want to come in every other night to have ’em fried,” Sam said. “How’s living with your cousin?” He squeezed his lemon slice into his tea.

“I hardly know yet. He just moved in some stuff, and we haven’t had a lot of overlap.”

“Have you seen him strip?” Sam laughed. “I mean, professionally? I sure couldn’t do that on a stage with people watching.”

Physically, there sure wouldn’t be anything stopping him. I’d seen Sam naked when he changed from a shifter form into human. Yum. “No, I always planned on going with Amelia, but since she went back to New Orleans I haven’t been in a strip-club kind of mood. You should ask Claude for a job on your nights off,” I said, grinning.

“Oh, sure,” he said sarcastically, but he looked pleased.

We talked about Amelia’s departure for a while, and then I asked Sam about his family in Texas. “My mom’s divorce came through,” he said. “Of course, my stepdad’s been in jail since he shot her, so she hasn’t seen him in months. At this point, I’m guessing the main difference to her is going to be financial. She’s getting my dad’s military pension, but she doesn’t know if her job at the school will be waiting for her or not when the summer’s over. They hired a substitute for the rest of the school year after she got shot, and they’re waffling over having Mom back.”

Before she’d gotten shot, Sam’s mom had been the receptionist/ secretary at an elementary school. Not everyone was calm about having a woman who turned into an animal working in the same office as them, though Sam’s mom was the same woman she’d been before. I was baffled by this attitude.

The waitress brought our plates and a basket of rolls. I sighed with anticipated pleasure. This was much nicer than cooking for myself.

“Any news on Craig’s wedding?” I asked, when I could yank myself away from my country-fried steak.

“They finished couples counseling,” he said with a shrug. “Now her parents want them to have genetics counseling, whatever that is.”

“That’s nuts.”

“Some people just think anything different is bad,” Sam said as he buttered his second roll. “And it’s not like Craig could change.” As the firstborn of a pure shifter couple, only Sam felt the call of the moon.

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I know the situation’s hard on everyone in your family.”

He nodded. “My sister Mindy’s gotten over it pretty well. She let me play with the kids the last time I saw them, and I’m going to try to get over to Texas for the Fourth of July. Her town has a big fireworks display, and the whole family goes. I think I’d enjoy it.”

I smiled. They were lucky to have Sam in their family—that was what I thought. “Your sister must be pretty smart,” I said. I took a big bite of country-fried steak with milk gravy. It was blissful.

He laughed. “Listen, while we’re talking family,” he said. “You ready to tell me how you’re really doing? You told me about your great-grandfather and what happened. How are your injuries? I don’t want to sound like I expect you to tell me everything that goes on in your life. But you know I care.”

I did a little hesitating myself. But it felt right to tell Sam, so I tried to give him a nutshell account of the past week. “And JB has been helping me with some physical therapy,” I added.

“You’re walking like nothing happened, unless you get tired,” he observed.

“There’s a couple of bad patches on my left upper thigh where the flesh actually. Okay, not going there.” I looked down at my napkin for a minute or two. “It grew back. Mostly. There’s a kind of dimple. I have a few scars, but they’re not terrible. Eric doesn’t seem to mind.” In fact, he had a scar or two from his human life, though they hardly showed against the whiteness of his skin.

“Are you, ah, coping okay with it?”

“I have nightmares sometimes,” I confessed. “And I have some panic moments. But let’s not talk about it anymore.” I smiled at him, my brightest smile. “Look at us after all these years, Sam. I’m living with a fairy, I’ve got a vampire boyfriend, you’re dating a werewolf who cracks skulls. Would we ever have thought we’d say this, the first day I came to work at Merlotte’s?”

Sam leaned forward and briefly put his hand over mine, and just then Pinkie herself came by the table to ask us how we’d liked the food. I pointed to my nearly empty plate. “I think you can tell we did,” I said, smiling at her. She grinned back. Pinkie was a big woman who clearly enjoyed her own cooking. Some new customers came in, and she went off to seat them.

Sam took his hand back and began working on his food again. “I wish. ” Sam began, and then he closed his mouth. He ran a hand through his red gold hair. Since he’d had it trimmed so short, it had looked tamer than usual until he tousled it. He laid his fork down, and I noticed he’d managed to dispose of almost all his food, too.

“What do you wish?” I asked. Most people, I’d be scared to ask them to complete that sentence. But Sam and I had been friends for years.

“I wish that you would find happiness with someone else,” he said. “I know, I know. It’s none of my business. Eric does seem to really care about you, and you deserve that.”

“He does,” I said. “He’s what I’ve got, and I’d be real ungrateful if I weren’t happy with that. We love each other.” I shrugged, in a self-deprecating way. I was uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

Sam nodded, though a wry twist to the corner of his mouth told me, without even hearing his thoughts, that Sam didn’t think Eric was such an object of worth. I was glad I couldn’t hear all his thoughts clearly. I thought Jannalynn was equally inappropriate for Sam. He didn’t need a ferocious, anything-for-the-packmaster kind of woman. He needed to be with someone who thought he was the greatest man around.