Шарлин Харрис - From Dead To Worse

"Hey, Crystal, it's Sookie!" I called, though I tried to keep my voice subdued so I wouldn't startle her if she were napping.

I heard a muffled sound, a moan. It came from the biggest bedroom, the one my parents had used, which lay across the family room and to my right.

Oh, shit, she's miscarrying again, I thought, and dashed to the closed door. I flung it open so hard it bounced off the wall, but I didn't pay a bit of attention, because bouncing on the bed were Crystal and Dove Beck.

I was so shocked, so angry, and so distraught that as they stopped what they were doing and stared up at me, I said the worst thing I could think of. "No wonder you lose all your babies." I spun on my heel and marched out of the house. I was so outraged I couldn't even get in the car. It was really unfortunate that Calvin pulled up behind me and leaped from his truck almost before it stopped.

"My God, what's wrong?" he said. "Is Crystal okay?"

"Why don't you ask her that?" I said nastily, and climbed into my car only to sit there shaking. Calvin ran into the house as if he had to put out a fire, and I guess that was about the size of it.

"Jason, dammit ," I yelled, thumping my fist on my steering wheel. I should have taken the time to listen to Jason's brain. He'd known good and well that since he had business in Clarice, Dove and Crystal would probably take the opportunity to have a tryst. He'd planned on me being dutiful and dropping by. It was just too big a coincidence that Calvin had shown up. He must have also told Calvin to check on Crystal. So there was no deniability, and no chance of hushing this up—not since Calvin and I both knew. I had been right to worry about the terms of the marriage, and now I had something entirely new to worry about.

Plus, I was ashamed. I was ashamed of the behavior of everyone involved. In my code of conduct, which doesn't really make me a very good Christian at all, what single people do in caring relationships is their own business. Even in a more casual relationship—well, if the people respect one another, okay. But a couple who's promised to be faithful, who's pledged that publicly, are governed by a whole different set of rules, in my world.

Not in Crystal's world, or Dove's world, apparently.

Calvin came back down the steps looking years older than he had when he'd bounded up them. He stopped by my car. He wore an expression twin to mine—disillusion, disappointment, disgust. Lots of dis es there.

"I'll be in touch," he said. "We got to have the ceremony now."

Crystal came out on the porch wrapped in a leopard-print bathrobe, and rather than endure her speaking to me I started the car and left as quickly as I could. I drove home in a daze. When I came in the back door, Amelia was chopping up something on the old cutting board, the one that had survived the fire with only scorch marks. She turned to speak to me and had opened her mouth when she saw my face. I shook my head at her, warning her not to talk, and I went straight into my room.

This would have been a good day for me to be living by myself again.

I sat in my room in the little chair in the corner, the one that had seated so many visitors lately. Bob was curled up in a ball on my bed, a place he was expressly forbidden to sleep. Someone had opened my door during the day. I thought about chewing Amelia out about that, then discarded the idea when I saw a pile of clean and folded underwear lying on top of my dresser.

"Bob," I said, and the cat unfolded and leaped to his feet in one fluid movement. He stood on my bed, staring at me with wide golden eyes. "Get the hell out of here," I said. With immense dignity Bob leaped down from the bed and stalked to the door. I opened it a few inches and he went out, managing to leave the impression that he was doing this of his own free will. I shut the door behind him.

I love cats. I just wanted to be by myself.

The phone rang, and I stood up to answer it.

"Tomorrow night," Calvin said. "Wear something comfortable. Seven o'clock." He sounded sad and tired.

"Okay," I said, and we both hung up. I sat there a while longer. Whatever this ceremony consisted of, did I have to be a participant? Yeah, I did. Unlike Crystal, I kept my promises. I'd had to stand up for Jason at his wedding, as his closest relative, as a surrogate to take his punishment if he was unfaithful to his new wife. Calvin had stood up for Crystal. And now look what we'd come to.

I didn't know what was going to happen, but I knew it was going to be awful. Though the werepanthers understood the necessity for breeding each available pure male panther to each available pure female panther (the only way to produce purebred baby panthers), they also believed once the breeding had been given a chance, any partnerships formed should be monogamous. If you didn't want to take that vow, you didn't form a partnership or marry. This was the way they ran their community. Crystal would have absorbed these rules from birth, and Jason had learned them from Calvin before the wedding.

Jason didn't call, and I was glad. I wondered what was happening at his house, but only in a dull kind of way. When had Crystal met Dove Beck? Did Dove's wife know about this? I wasn't surprised that Crystal had cheated on Jason, but I was a little astonished at her choice.

I decided that Crystal had wanted to make her betrayal as emphatic as it could possibly be. She was saying, "I'll have sex with someone else while I'm carrying your child. And he'll be older than you, and a different race from you, and he'll even work for you!" Twisting the knife in deeper with every layer. If this was retaliation for the damn cheeseburger, I'd say she'd gotten a steak-size vengeance.

Because I didn't want to seem like I was sulking, I came out for supper, which was lowly and comforting tuna noodle casserole with peas and onions. After stacking the dishes for Octavia to take care of, I retreated back to my room. The two witches were practically tiptoeing up and down the hall because they were so anxious not to disturb me, though of course they were dying to ask me what the problem was.

But they didn't; God bless them. I really couldn't have explained. I was too mortified.

I said about a million prayers before I went to sleep that night, but none of them ended up making me feel any better.

I went to work the next day because I had to. Staying home wouldn't have made me feel any better. I was profoundly glad Jason didn't come into Merlotte's, because I would have thrown a mug at him if he had.

Sam eyed me carefully several times and finally he drew me behind the bar with him. "Tell me what's happening," he said.

Tears flooded my eyes, and I was within an ace of making a real scene. I squatted down hastily, as if I'd dropped something on the floor, and I said, "Sam, please don't ask me. I'm too upset to talk about it." Suddenly, I realized it would be a big comfort to tell Sam, but I just couldn't, not in the crowded bar.

"Hey, you know I'm here if you need me." His face was serious. He patted my shoulder.

I was so lucky to have him for a boss.

His gesture reminded me that I had lots of friends who would not dishonor themselves as Crystal had done. Jason had dishonored himself, too, by forcing Calvin and me to witness her cheap betrayal. I had so many friends who would not do such a thing! It was a trick of fate that the one who would was my own brother.

This thought made me feel better and stronger.

I actually had a backbone by the time I got home. No one else was there. I hesitated, wondering whether I could call Tara or beg Sam to take an hour off, or even call Bill to go with me to Hotshot ... but that was just weakness talking. This was something I had to do by myself. Calvin had warned me to wear something comfortable and not to dress up, and my Merlotte's outfit was certainly both those things. But it seemed wrong to wear my work clothes to an event like this. There might be blood. I didn't know what to anticipate. I pulled on yoga pants and an old gray sweatshirt. I made sure my hair was pulled back. I looked like I was dressed to clean out my closets.