Bill’s voice was dry. “It certainly is.”
“And having to hide your resting place,” I blundered on.
When I felt the quality of Bill’s silence, I apologized.
“I’m sorry,” I said. If it hadn’t been so dark, he would have seen me turn red.
“A vampire’s daytime resting place is his most closely guarded secret,” Bill said stiffly.
“I apologize.”
“I accept,” he said, after a bad little moment. We reached the road and looked up and down it as if we expected a taxi. I could see him clearly by the moonlight, now that we were out of the trees. He could see me, too. He looked me up and down.
“Your dress is the color of your eyes.”
“Thank you.” I sure couldn’t see him that clearly.
“Not a lot of it, though.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s hard for me to get used to young ladies with so few clothes on,” Bill said.
“You’ve had a few decades to get used to it,” I said tartly. “Come on, Bill! Dresses have been short for forty years now!”
“I liked long skirts,” he said nostalgically. “I liked the underthings women wore. The petticoats.”
I made a rude noise.
“Do you even have a petticoat?” he asked.
“I have a very pretty beige nylon slip with lace,” I said indignantly. “If you were a human guy, I’d say you were angling for me to talk about my underwear!”
He laughed, that deep, unused chuckle that affected me so strongly. “Do you have that slip on, Sookie?”
I stuck out my tongue at him because I knew he could see me. I edged the skirt of my dress up, revealing the lace of the slip and a couple more inches of tanned me.
“Happy?” I asked.
“You have pretty legs, but I still like long dresses better.”
“You’re stubborn,” I told him.
“That’s what my wife always told me.”
“You were married.”
“Yes, I became a vampire when I was thirty. I had a wife, and I had five living children. My sister, Sarah, lived with us. She never wed. Her young man was killed in the war.”
“The Civil War.”
“Yes. I came back from the battlefield. I was one of the lucky ones. At least I thought so at the time.”
“You fought for the Confederacy,” I said wonderingly. “If you still had your uniform and wore it to the club, the ladies would faint with joy.”
“I hadn’t much of a uniform by the end of the war,” he said grimly. “We were in rags and starving.” He seemed to shake himself. “It had no meaning for me after I became vampire,” Bill said, his voice once again chilly and remote.
“I’ve brought up something that upset you,” I said. “I am sorry. What should we talk about?” We turned and began to stroll back down the driveway toward the house.
“Your life,” he said. “Tell me what you do when you get up in the morning.”
“I get out of bed. Then I make it up right away. I eat breakfast. Toast, sometimes cereal, sometimes eggs, and coffee—and I brush my teeth and shower and dress. Sometimes I shave my legs, you know. If it’s a workday, I go in to work. If I don’t go in until night, I might go shopping, or take Gran to the store, or rent a movie to watch, or sunbathe. And I read a lot. I’m lucky Gran is still spry. She does the wash and the ironing and most of the cooking.”
“What about young men?”
“Oh, I told you about that. It’s just impossible.”
“So what will you do, Sookie?” he asked gently.
“Grow old and die.” My voice was short. He’d touched on my sensitive area once too often.
To my surprise, Bill reached over and took my hand. Now that we’d made each other a little angry, touched some sore spots, the air seemed somehow clearer. In the quiet night, a breeze wafted my hair around my face.
“Take the clip out?” Bill asked.
No reason not to. I reclaimed my hand and reached up to open the clip. I shook my head to loosen my hair. I stuck the clip in his pocket, since I hadn’t any. As if it was the most normal thing in the world, Bill began running his fingers through my hair, spreading it out on my shoulders.
I touched his sideburns, since apparently touching was okay. “They’re long,” I observed.
“That was the fashion,” he said. “It’s lucky for me I didn’t wear a beard as so many men did, or I’d have it for eternity.”