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“That’s very nice of you,” I said. I was surprised by her generosity, because I’d definitely had the impression she wasn’t keen on Quinn having a girlfriend, and she wasn’t keen on me, specifically.

“You seem okay. You tried to get us out of there in time. And he really cares about you.”

“And you know this how?”

“He told me so.”

She’d gotten part of the family directness, I could tell.

“Okay,” I said. “Where are you parked?”

19

I’D BEEN TERRIFIED THE WHOLE TWO-DAY DRIVE: that I’d be stopped and they wouldn’t believe I’d gotten permission to use the car, that Frannie would change her mind and tell the police I’d stolen it, that I’d have an accident and have to repay Quinn’s sister for the vehicle. Frannie had an old red Mustang, and it was fun to drive. No one stopped me. The weather was good all the way back to Louisiana. I thought I’d see a slice of America, but along the interstate, everything looks the same. I imagined that in any small town I passed through, there was another Merlotte’s, and maybe another Sookie.

I didn’t sleep well on the trip, either, because I dreamed of the floor shaking under my feet and the dreadful moment we went out the hole in the glass. Or I saw Pam burning. Or other things, things I’d done and seen during the hours we patrolled the debris, looking for bodies.

When I turned into my driveway, having been gone a week, my heart began to pound as if the house was waiting for me. Amelia was sitting on the front porch with a bright blue ribbon in her hand, and Bob was sitting in front of her, batting at the dangling ribbon with a black paw. She looked up to see who it was, and when she recognized me behind the wheel, she leaped to her feet. I didn’t pull around back; I stopped right there and jumped out of the driver’s seat. Amelia’s arms wrapped around me like vines, and she shrieked, “You’re back! Oh, blessed Virgin, you’re back!”

We danced around and hopped up and down like teenagers, whooping with sheer happiness.

“The paper listed you as a survivor,” she said. “But no one could find you the day after. Until you called, I wasn’t sure you were alive.”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “A long, long story.”

“Is it the right time to tell it to me?”

“Maybe after a few days,” I said.

“Do you have anything to carry in?”

“Not a thing. All my stuff went up in smoke when the building went down.”

“Oh, my God! Your new clothes!”

“Well, at least I have my driver’s license and my credit card and my cell phone, though the battery’s flat and I don’t have the charger.”

“And a new car?” She glanced back at the Mustang.

“A borrowed car.”

“I don’t think I have a single friend who would loan me a whole car.”

“Half a car?” I asked, and she laughed.

“Guess what?” Amelia said. “Your friends got married.”

I stopped dead. “Which friends?” Surely she couldn’t mean the Bellefleur double wedding; surely they hadn’t changed the date yet again.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Amelia said, looking guilty. “Well, speak of the devil!” There was another car coming to a stop right by the red Mustang.

Tara scrambled out. “I saw you driving by the shop,” she called. “I almost didn’t recognize you in the new car.”

“Borrowed it from a friend,” I said, looking at her askance.

“You did not tell her, Amelia Broadway!” Tara was righteously indignant.

“I didn’t,” Amelia said. “I started to, but I stopped in time!”

“Tell me what?”

“Sookie, I know this is going to sound crazy,” Tara said, and I felt my brows draw together. “While you were gone, everything just clicked in a strange way, like something I’d known should happen, you know?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know.

“JB and I got married!” Tara said, and the expression on her face was full of so many things: anxiety, hopefulness, guilt, wonder.

I ran that incredible sentence through my head several times before I was sure I understood the meaning of it. “You and JB? Husband and wife?” I said.

“I know, I know, it seems maybe a little strange . . .”

“It seems perfect,” I said with all the sincerity I could scrape together. I wasn