"I don't have anything to say about your daughter. I didn't even talk to her directly. I saw her for maybe five minutes."
"Is it true your boyfriend was taking blood from her?" Harp Powell asked.
"You can ask him that. But you'll have to go after dark, and he may not be too glad to see you." I smiled.
"Is it true that you live here with two male strippers?" Powell persisted. "Kym was a stripper," he added, as if that would somehow soften me up.
"Who I live with is none of your business. You can leave now," I said, still smiling, I hoped very unpleasantly. "Or I'll call the sheriff, and he'll be here pretty quick." With that, I went inside and shut and locked the door. No point in standing out there listening to questions I wouldn't answer.
The light on my phone was blinking. I turned the sound very low and pressed the button to play it. "Sister," said Bellenos, "no one here will admit to giving any blood to the girl who was killed, or giving blood to anyone at all. Either there's another fairy somewhere, or someone here is lying. I don't like either prospect." I hit the Delete button.
I heard knocking at the back door, and I moved to where I couldn't be seen.
Harp Powell knocked a few more times and slid his card under the porch door, but I didn't answer.
They drove off after a couple of minutes. Though I was relieved to watch them go, the encounter left me depressed and shaken. Seen from the outside, did my life truly seem so tawdry?
I lived with one male stripper. I did date a vampire. He had taken blood from Kym Rowe, right in front of me.
Maybe Harp Powell had just wanted answers to his sensational questions. Maybe he would have reported my answers in a fair and balanced way. Maybe he had just been trying to get a rise out of me. And maybe I was feeling extra fragile. But his strategy worked, though not until too late to directly benefit him. I felt bad about myself. I felt like talking to someone about how my life looked-as opposed to how it felt to be inside it, living it. I wanted to justify my decisions.
But Tara had just had her babies, Amelia and I had some big issues to settle, and Pam knew more about what I faced than I myself knew. Jason loved me, but I had to admit my brother was not too swift mentally. Sam was probably preoccupied with his romance with Jannalynn. I didn't think I knew anyone else well enough to spill my inner fears.
I felt too restless to settle down to any pastime: too fidgety to read or watch TV, too impatient to do housework. After a quick shower, I climbed in the car and drove to Clarice. Though the day was ending, the hospital parking lot was unshaded. I knew the car would be an oven when I emerged.
I stopped at the little gift shop and bought some pink-and-blue carnations to give to the new mother. After I got off the elevator at the second floor (there were only two) I paused at the glass-fronted nursery to peer in at the newborns. There were seven infants rolled up to the window. Two of the clear plastic bins, side by side, were labeled with cards reading "Baby du Rone."
My heart skipped a beat. One of Tara's babies wore a pink cap, the other a blue. They were so little: scrunch-faced, red, their faces beginning to stretch as they yawned. Tears started in my eyes. I had not ever imagined being so bowled over by the sight of them. As I patted my cheeks with a tissue, I was happy that I chanced to be the only visitor looking at the new arrivals. I looked and looked, amazed that my friends had created life between them.
After a few minutes, I ducked in to see an exhausted Tara. JB was sitting by the bed, dazed with happiness. "My mom and dad just left," JB said. "They're going to open a savings account for the kids tomorrow." He shook his head, obviously considering that a bizarre reaction, but I gave the du Rone grandparents high marks. Tara had a new look to her, a gravity and thoughtfulness she'd been lacking. She was a mother now.
I gave them both a hug and told them how beautiful the babies were, listened to Tara's childbirth story, and then the nurses wheeled in the babies to breastfeed, so I scooted out.
Not only was night closing in, thunder was rolling through the sky as I stepped out the hospital doors. I hurried over to my car, opening the door to flush out the worst of the heat. When I could bear to, I got inside and buckled up. I went through the drive-through at Taco Bell to order a quesadilla. I hadn't known how hungry I was until the smell filled the car. I couldn't wait until I got home. I ate most of it during the drive.
Maybe if I turned on the TV and simply vegetated the rest of the evening, I might feel like a worthy human being by morning.
I didn't get to carry out my program.
Bubba was waiting at my back door when I pulled up. The much-needed rain had begun to descend on my way home, but he didn't seem to mind getting wet. I hadn't seen the vampire since he'd sung at Fangtasia the night we'd killed Victor; I was startled to see him now. I gathered my food trash, got my keys ready, and sprinted over to the screen door, my key ready. "Come on in!" I called. He was right behind me as I unlocked the kitchen door and stepped inside.
"I come to tell you something," he said without a preamble.
He sounded so serious that I tossed my empty food bag and my purse onto the table and whirled around to face him.
"What's wrong?" I asked, trying not to sound as anxious as I felt. If I lost control, it would only agitate the vampire, who had not had a very successful transition from human life to living death.
"She is coming to visit you," he said, taking my hand. His was cold and wet from the rain. The sensation was unpleasant, but I couldn't pull away. Bless his heart.
As gently as I could, I said, "Who's coming, Bubba?"
"Me," said a slightly accented voice from the darkness. The back door was still open, and I could see through the screen porch door. Since she was backlit by the security light, I could just perceive the outline of a woman standing in the pounding rain. The noise of it almost drowned out her voice. "I have come to talk. I'm Freyda."
I was so completely off guard that I simply couldn't make myself speak.
Bubba stood facing out into the darkness, standing right under the light in my bright kitchen, his dark hair drenched, his jowly face determined. I was touched to my core, and I was terrified for him.
"I don't mean you harm, upon my word," she called. She turned her head slightly, and I could see her in profile. Straight nose, tight chin, high forehead.
"Why would I believe you?" I asked.
"Because Eric would hate me if I harmed you." She stepped up to the screen door. I could see her in the light, now. I thought, simply, Damn.