Finally Bill moved to lie beside me, propped on one elbow, and he put his hand over my stomach.
“I am the first.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Sookie.” He bent to kiss me, his lips tracing the line of my throat.
“You could tell I don’t know much,” I said shyly. “But was that all right for you? I mean, about on a par with other women at least? I’ll get better.”
“You can get more skilled, Sookie, but you can’t get any better.” He kissed me on the cheek. “You’re wonderful.”
“Will I be sore?”
“I know you’ll think this is odd, but I don’t remember. The only virgin I was ever with was my wife, and that was a century and a half ago . . . yes, I recall, you will be very sore. We won’t be able to make love again, for a day or two.”
“Your blood heals,” I observed after a little pause, feeling my cheeks redden.
In the moonlight, I could see him shift, to look at me more directly. “So it does,” he said. “Would you like that?”
“Sure. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” he breathed, and bit his own arm.
It was so sudden that I cried out, but he casually rubbed a finger in his own blood, and then before I could tense up he slid that finger up inside me. He began moving it very gently, and in a moment, sure enough, the pain was gone.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m better now.”
But he didn’t remove his finger.
“Oh,” I said. “Would you like to do it again so soon? Can you do that?” And as his finger kept up its motion, I began to hope so.
“Look and see,” he offered, a hint of amusement in his sweet dark voice.
I whispered, hardly recognizing myself, “Tell me what you want me to do.”
And he did.
I WENT BACK to work the next day. No matter what Bill’s healing powers were, I was a little uncomfortable, but boy, did I feel powerful. It was a totally new feeling for me. It was hard not to feel—well, cocky is surely the wrong word—maybe incredibly smug is closer.
Of course, there were the same old problems at the bar—the cacophony of voices, the buzzing of them, the persistence. But somehow I seemed better able to tone them down, to tamp them into a pocket. It was easier to keep my guard up, and I felt consequently more relaxed. Or maybe since I was more relaxed—boy, was I more relaxed—it was easier to guard? I don’t know. But I felt better, and I was able to accept the condolences of the patrons with calm instead of tears.
Jason came in at lunch and had a couple of beers with his hamburger, which wasn’t his normal regimen. He usually didn’t drink during the work day. I knew he’d get mad if I said anything directly, so I just asked him if everything was okay.
“The chief had me in again today,” he said in a low voice. He looked around to make sure no one else was listening, but the bar was sparsely filled that day since the Rotary Club was meeting at the Community Building.
“What is he asking you?” My voice was equally low.
“How often I’d seen Maudette, did I always get my gas at the place she worked. . . . Over and over and over, like I hadn’t answered those questions seventy-five times. My boss is at the end of his patience, Sookie, and I don’t blame him. I been gone from work at least two days, maybe three, with all the trips I been making down to the police station.”
“Maybe you better get a lawyer,” I said uneasily.
“That’s what Rene said.”
Then Rene Lenier and I saw eye to eye.
“What about Sid Matt Lancaster?” Sidney Matthew Lancaster, native son and a whiskey sour drinker, had the reputation of being the most aggressive trial lawyer in the parish. I liked him because he always treated me with respect when I served him in the bar.
“He might be my best bet.” Jason looked as petulant and grim as a lovely person can. We exchanged a glance. We both knew Gran’s lawyer was too old to handle the case if Jason was ever, God forbid, arrested.
Jason was far too self-absorbed to notice anything different about me, but I’d worn a white golf shirt （instead of my usual round-necked T-shirt） for the protection of its collar. Arlene was not as unaware as my brother. She’d been eyeing me all morning, and by the time the three o’clock lull hit, she was pretty sure she’d got me figured out.
“Girl,” she said, “you been having fun?”
I turned red as a beet. “Having fun” made my relationship with Bill lighter than it was, but it was accurate as far as it went. I didn’t know whether to take the high road and say, “No, making love,” or keep my mouth shut, or tell Arlene it was none of her business, or just shout, “Yes!”