Definitely Dead

graveled driveway through the woods, and when I pulled into the clearing and drove behind the house to park at the back door, its isolation struck me all over again. Living in town for a few weeks had made the house seem even lonelier, and though I loved being back in the old place, it didn’t feel the same as it had before the fire.
    I’d seldom felt worried living by myself in this isolated spot, but over the past few months my vulnerability had been impressed on me. I’d had a few close calls, and twice there’d been intruders in my house waiting for me when I’d come in. Now I had installed some really good locks on my doors, I had peepholes front and back, and my brother had given me his Benelli shotgun to keep for good.
    I had some big lights on the corners of the house, but I didn’t like to leave them on all night. I was considering the purchase of one of those motion-detector lights. The drawback was, since I lived in a large clearing in the middle of the woods, critters often crossed my yard at night, and the light would come on when every little possum rambled across the grass.
    The second point about a light coming on was . . . So what? The kind of thing I was scared of wasn’t going to be intimidated by a light. I’d just be able to see it better before it ate me. Furthermore, there were no neighbors that a light might startle or rouse. Strange, I reflected, that I’d seldom had a frightened moment when my grandmother had been alive. She’d been a tough little lady for a woman in her late seventies, but she couldn’t have defended me against a flea. Somehow, the simple fact of not being alone had made me feel safer.
    After all this thinking about danger, I was in a tense state when I got out of my car. I’d passed a truck parked in front, and I unlocked the back and went through the house to open the front door with the miserable feeling that I was about to have to go through a scene. The quiet interlude on my front porch watching the bees in the pear tree seemed a week ago, instead of hours.
    Calvin Norris, leader of the Hotshot werepanthers, got out of his truck and came up the steps. He was a bearded man in his early forties, and he was a serious man whose responsibilities sat squarely on his shoulders. Evidently Calvin had just gotten off work. He was wearing the blue shirt and blue jeans all the Norcross crew leaders wore.
    “Sookie,” he said, nodding to me.
    “Please come in,” I answered, though I was reluctant. However, Calvin had never been anything but civil to me, and he had helped me rescue my brother a couple of months ago, when Jason had been held hostage. At the least, I owed him civility.
    “My niece called me when the danger had passed,” he said heavily, taking a seat on the couch after I’d waved my hand to show he was welcome to stay. “I think you saved her life.”
    “I’m real glad to hear Crystal’s better. All I did was make a phone call.” I sat in my favorite old chair, and I noticed I was slumping with weariness. I forced my shoulders back. “Dr. Ludwig was able to stop her bleeding?”
    Calvin nodded. He looked at me steadily, his strange eyes solemn. “She’s going to be okay. Our women miscarry a lot. That’s why we were hoping . . . Well.”
    I flinched, the weight of Calvin’s hopes that I’d mate with him resting heavily on my shoulders. I’m not sure why I felt guilty; because of his disappointment, I guess. After all, it was hardly my fault that the idea had limited appeal for me.
    “I guess Jason and Crystal will be getting hitched,” Calvin said matter-of-factly. “I have to say, I’m not crazy about your brother, but then I’m not the one marrying him.”
    I was nonplussed. I didn’t know if this wedding was Jason’s idea, or Calvin’s, or Crystal’s. Jason certainly hadn’t been thinking marriage this morning, unless it was something he’d neglected to mention in the turmoil of his worry about Crystal. I said, “Well, to be honest, I’m not crazy about Crystal. But I’m not the one marrying her.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll do my best to help them out, if they decide to . . . do that. Jason’s about all I’ve got, as you know.”
    “Sookie,” he said, and his voice was suddenly far less certain, “I want to talk about something else, too.”
    Of course he did. No way was I going to dodge this bullet.
    “I know that something you got told, when you came out to the house, put you off me. I’d like to know