13
There comes a time to accept that some relationship patterns will never change. The problem with being a vampire is that it can take hundreds of years for that time to come.
—Love Bites: A Female Vampire’s Guide to Less
Destructive Relationships
Mama had outdone herself.
With little effort or prompting on my part, my mother had pulled together a baby shower that would have made Martha Stewart turn chartreuse with envy.
“Oh. … my.” Jolene sighed as I helped her waddle through the front door of my parents’ house.
Since the ultrasounds had been unclear as far as the twins’ gender, Mom had kept things charmingly gender-neutral. A hand-sewn banner shouting “Congratulations!” in appliquéd pink and blue letters hung over the foyer table. On the table, guests could “sign in” by autographing a little baby album for Jolene and offering her an invaluable piece of parenting wisdom. To our left, the parlor’s chairs were arranged in a circle around a small pile of beautifully wrapped presents. A clothesline was strung on one side of the room, artfully hung with little gender-neutral baby outfits, matching socks, and hats I knew Mama wouldn’t have been able to resist buying for the twins. To our right, Mama had dressed the dining table with little votives of wildflowers between plates of rattle-shaped cookies and candy-colored petit-fours.
“It’s all so beautiful.” Jolene sighed again. “And no one’s naked.”
“Well, if that’s not a baby shower prerequisite, it should be,” I said, shuddering as Mama came into the dining room with a huge bowl of her special strawberry “shower punch.” I groaned. Every Southern woman prides herself on her own special shower-punch recipe, whether it’s combining lime sherbet and ginger ale or creating a frozen ring of pulverized pineapple in a bundt pan and letting it slowly melt in a punchbowl full of orange juice. Mama had never revealed her secret punch formula to me. Personally, I’d never understood the appeal of combining bizarre ingredients in unnecessarily complicated ways when popping the top of a Coke can was so much easier.
That’s probably why I wasn’t in charge of the shower.
“Oh, Mrs. Jameson, it’s so … thank you.” Jolene sniffled, throwing her arms around Mama’s neck. Mama, who was not familiar with werewolf strength, winced in Jolene’s grip but patted her on the back.
“Oh, honey, I’m happy to do it. Zeb means a lot to John and me. That means you do, too,” she said, gently peeling Jolene’s arms away so she could breathe. “Now, Jane said you’d had a pretty hearty appetite lately. So I made you a little snack to pick at before everybody gets here. Why don’t you go make yourself at home in the kitchen?”
I arched an eyebrow as Jolene followed her nose into the kitchen. Through the door, I heard her squeal, “She baked me a ham!”
“Zeb told me Jolene could go through a lot of food,” Mama said, carefully placing the punchbowl on the table. “You sure do have an interesting group of friends, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Mama,” I said, kissing her cheek. “Really, it’s beautiful. Hey, what did you mean by ‘everybody’? It’s just going to be me, Gabriel, Dick, Andrea, you guys, Aunt Jettie, and Mr. Wainwright. You’ve put together a gorgeous spread for a bunch of people who don’t eat.”
Both Jolene’s and Zeb’s relatives were conspicuously absent from the guest list. I think we can all agree that was for the best.
“I may have invited a few more people,” Mama said. “There are a lot of parents who know Zeb from school, people my age who knew him when he was little, who want to help him celebrate the babies. Plus … I may have sent invitations to all your aunts and cousins, making it sound like Jolene was somehow related to them.”
“Mama!”
“Well, I had to go to all their showers and their daughters’ showers,” she huffed, looking slightly embarrassed. “And you’re not going to need one, so I’m calling in all your chips for Jolene. No one can remember half of the names in this family anyway. They’ll show up, give her a present, and walk away thinking they’ve done their duty for a distant relation.”
“That’s …” I laughed. “Actually kind of brilliant. I underestimate you.”
“Constantly,” Mama told me. “Now, I don’t want you to worry about the boys. Your daddy’s got a card table set up out back with enough beer and poker chips to keep them entertained for hours. He’s actually pretty excited about spending some time with Dick and Gabriel. He has this list with all kinds of questions about the Civil War. And I’m so glad you and Gabriel have come to your senses, honey. You’re perfect for each other. All you have to do now is get him to put that ring on your finger …”
“Mama, I’m not legally allowed to get married,” I told her. “There wouldn’t be much point in our getting engaged.”
“Honey, I know this is a sore subject. I would just feel better if I knew you were settled.”
“Mama, I’m going to live forever, and so is my boyfriend. I think that’s about as settled as you could expect, considering the circumstances.”
Mama considered that for a moment and seemed satisfied.
“Besides, I think we have a more immediate problem. As much as I appreciate you planning this expanded shindig for Jolene, what are we going to do about the extra guests? What if people don’t want me around because of the undead issue? This would be the first time I’ve seen a lot of the aunts and cousins since … Oh, wait, is Grandma Ruthie coming?”
“I decided it was best not to invite your grandma,” Mama said, carefully adjusting the folds of a chair cover. “And honey, if anybody has a problem with you being here, they can get the hell out of my house.”
I blinked back the mysterious moisture gathering at the corners of my eyes. “Thanks, Mama.”
“Who’s ready for some Texas Hold ’Em?” Daddy boomed as he came downstairs in his silly translucent green dealer’s visor. It went well with his lucky rainbow suspenders.
Dick was going to eat my father alive.
“You guys aren’t playing for money, right?” I asked.
I will admit to sweating a little when the doorbell rang.
The first guest to arrive was Iris Bodeen, a distant relative of one of my step-grandpas and an avid “band mom” when Zeb and I were in the Marching Howler Band. She handed Jolene a case of diapers and told her what a catch she’d snagged.
“Zeb was always good to my Jessica, even when she was going through her awkward phase,” Mrs. Bodeen said of her daughter, who had developed debilitating acne our sophomore year. “He was kind, even when it would have been easier not to be. He’s going to be a wonderful father.”
Jolene beamed at her.
Nina Tipton, whose rambunctious twins had made Zeb’s life hell his first year of teaching, almost cried when she talked about Zeb’s patience with them. “A lot of teachers would have just washed their hands of my boys … especially after the clown incident. But your husband worked and worked until they were able to sit still for a whole day without punching or kicking or trying out new wrestling moves. They would have been expelled from elementary school if it wasn’t for Zeb Lavelle.”
And on and on it went. It was a shame that Zeb couldn’t hear these testimonials, as he was sequestered on the back porch. An avid fan of the Gambler movies, Daddy was doing his best riverboat-dealer shtick for Dick, Gabriel, Zeb, and Mr. Wainwright. I frequently snuck to the back window to check on the “menfolk.” Mr. Wainwright seemed to be floating silently behind Gabriel giving Dick clues about Gabriel’s hand. I sent Aunt Jettie outside to even the playing field.
So far, I’d managed to stay under the radar, helping Andrea keep the plates filled while Mama handled hosting duties. The guests I did come across didn’t seem surprised or alarmed to see me. Well, my cousin Junie was making it a point not to speak to me. But that had far more to do with my discussing her stripping career near a microphone at a family funeral the year before than any vampire issues.
“Janie, honey, how have you been?” asked Loralee Warner, who worked with Mama at A Stitch in Time. Loralee’s usual mode at any party was to camp next to the buffet and watch the proceedings from there. She was a fan of tiny food she didn’t have to cook herself.
I lifted an eyebrow and searched for potential double meanings in Loralee’s words. I couldn’t find any.
“I’m fine, Miss Loralee. How are you?”
“Oh, my hair’s grayer, and my butt’s bigger, but what else is new?” She snorted. “You know, your mama told me about your, um, big changes that you’ve been going through.”
I could only imagine what Mama and Loralee talked about while trapped in the quilt shop for hours. On Mama’s frustrated days, I doubted I came across in a flattering light. “I’m sure she did.”
“You know, my sister’s boy, Jason, he was turned last year.” She sighed. “But it turned out to be the best thing for him. He actually had to think about what he did before he did it. Was it safe for him to leave the house? Did he have enough blood to get him through the week? Was he talking smart to a vampire who was older and stronger than he was? He had to do a lot of growing up. He’s almost tolerable to be around now.”
“Well, there’s something to strive for,” I muttered.
“Your friend Jolene,” Loralee said quietly. “She’s not quite human, either, is she?”
“Please don’t tell anybody,” I whispered, looking to see if the other guests overhead her. They were far too engrossed in Jolene’s opening what appeared to be a vibrating musical baby swing with five speeds.
“Oh, honey, I don’t care,” Loralee said. “The way I see it, you vampires and whatever Jolene is, you’re just making things more interesting for the rest of us. Are there any more sausage balls?”
And with that dizzying change of subject, the conversation was over. No one in this crowd, it seemed, cared that I was a vampire. These were people who had known me since the day I was born. Their children had attended my birthday parties. They’d attended all of my step-grandpas’ funerals. Being with them now was no different from when I was a human. As long as I kept the frothy punch flowing, I was welcome. Now, that wasn’t to say that I would be welcome in any crowd. There was a good chance that for the next fifty years, I would walk into any conversation with a human who knew me before I was turned expecting some sort of insult or rejection—which was a result of my own neurotic nature, really. Humans were neither all good nor all bad. And just as in my interactions with vampires, I would have to approach each of them on a case-by-case basis.
The fact that it had taken me this long to come to this “stunning” conclusion made me a little sad.
I wiped my hands on a tea towel and made my way over to Jolene, who was cooing over the double bassinet Andrea and Dick had given her.
“Dick wanted to buy you a breast pump.” Andrea snorted. “I learned never to take him into a baby store. Ever. He snickered every time he heard the word ‘nipple.’”
“Well, that’s what you get for dating a giant twelve-year-old,” I told her, sitting on Jolene’s left.
“Oh, honey, they’re all that way,” my mother’s best friend, Carol Ann Reilly, told me in a world-weary tone.
“Look who’s all smug and secure now that she’s made up with her boyfriend,” Jolene said.
“My boyfriend is more of a giant fourteen-year-old,” I muttered. “Just as emotionally immature but somehow more dangerous.”
“Oh, honey, they’re all that way, too,” Carol Ann assured me again.
It was far from the small family shower I had planned, but Jolene was positively glowing with every exchange. We cooed and awed appropriately over every little outfit, crib sheet, and stuffed animal. Hell, I got a little emotional over Jolene’s shiny new wipes warmer.
By the end of the evening, my relatives were convinced that they remembered Jolene from family reunions when she a little girl. She was invited to join several Mommy and Me groups and a sewing circle. Mama considered her baby-shower-related social debts settled.
The boys were allowed back into the house after the ladies left, trailing cigar smoke and chip crumbs in their wake. Considering what Gabriel and I had been up to, I fully expected to burst into embarrassed flames at being in the same room with both him and my father. Let’s just say that we’d spent several evenings experimenting, and we’d figured out that I could read Gabriel’s mind if I was drinking his blood during exactly the “right moment” during sex. Unfortunately, his thoughts tended toward the possessive grunty male part of his personality. We were still working on deeper, more meaningful communication, hence the spontaneous combustion of parental shame.
I focused on helping Mama with the dirty-dish patrol. The heavily pregnant Jolene, despite having eaten her weight in sausage balls during the shower, tucked into a heaping bowl of ice cream and Canadian bacon. Daddy, Andrea, and Zeb made a furtive grab at whatever food Jolene hadn’t claimed.
When Daddy finally took a break from grilling Dick and Gabriel about their nineteenth-century childhoods, Gabriel took Dick into the parlor and handed him a little leather portfolio containing the deed to the Cheney family manse. Considering that they’d spent the evening gambling, I took this as a bad sign. But it seemed to be something that Gabriel had been thinking about for a long time.
“I want you to have it back,” he told Dick. “There’s no way I can ever really repay you for being the kind of friend Jane needed, but I can give you this.”
“I can’t,” Dick protested. “You know what that bet cost us. To take it back now would just make it all pointless.”
“Not to be rude, but it was all pointless,” I noted from across the room. Four eyes narrowed at me. “What? I said not to be rude. That’s like saying ‘God bless them’ right after you say bad things about someone. It means it doesn’t count!”
“What are they talking about?” Daddy whispered, clearly fascinated.
“Did Dick win at cards tonight?” I asked Daddy. Daddy nodded. “Well, he tended to play drunk when he and Gabriel were human, so he usually lost. Dick lost his family’s house to Gabriel. The pair of them are so stubborn that it’s taken them this long to get over it.”
“Wow!” Daddy couldn’t have been happier than a desperate housewife watching her favorite “stories.”
Gabriel cleared his throat. I had the good sense to seem sheepish and mouth, “Love you.”
“After all you’ve done for Jane, it’s the least I can do,” Gabriel said, pressing the portfolio into Dick’s hand.
“I don’t know what to say, son. I’m sorry we let it get this far. I’ve missed having you around the last hundred or so years,” Dick said, looking the most human he had since I’d met him. He looked younger somehow, more vulnerable. He took the portfolio but then looked up, his eyes pleading. “Can I still irritate the hell out of you?”
“I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t,” Gabriel said honestly. “I think you would sicken and die.”
They shook hands and gave each other manly punches on the arm. Dick announced to Andrea that they were moving up in the world, to a deluxe antebellum home that she could redecorate to her heart’s content. Then he lovingly fed her a deviled egg. Andrea blushed, especially when Dick tried to kiss her afterward. Deviled eggs are not a sexy food.
“Does this mean that we’re going to be double-dating now?” I asked. Andrea rolled her eyes.
Gabriel’s grin was wicked. “Yes, because I think it’s only fair that since Dick got my girlfriend into a bar fight, I should be able to take his girlfriend out on the town and put her in danger while he watches. Maybe we can go to a biker convention.”
Dick growled. “Hey, Jane fared better in that fight than I did.”
“I thought you weren’t involved in the fight with Walter,” Gabriel said, his brow furrowed.
“Not that one, the other one, with Todd. The one … you don’t know about.” Dick grimaced. “Crap.”
“You got her into another bar fight?” Gabriel exclaimed. “You were supposed to be looking out for her, not putting her in harm’s way! That’s it. Dick, Jane, from now on, all of your play dates are supervised. Andrea, sweetheart, I’m taking you sky-diving. It’s only fair.”
Daddy laughed and headed into the kitchen for another round of beers. Andrea climbed into Dick’s lap and suggested alternative activities, such as bull riding, swimming the Ohio River during peak barge traffic, motocross racing without helmets, and letting me cook for her. Dick’s scowl grew deeper with each suggestion. Having finished the world’s most disgusting sundae, Jolene was propped up against Zeb’s side, both of their hands gravitating to her enormous belly. Jettie was distracted from inventorying Jolene’s loot with a fond pat on the cheek from Mr. Wainwright.
I had a family. A family that loved me, without judgment, without reserve. And my parents had somehow fallen right into this motley crew and were enjoying themselves. Sure, there were blood relatives out there who couldn’t stand the sight of me, but I could fall back on these people. They would fight for me, kiss my booboos, take me out for tequila shooters when life got me down. I didn’t need more than that. All was right with my world.
So, it made sense that my grandma Ruthie chose this moment to come storming through the door.
“Jane Enid Jameson!” she thundered, slamming the door behind her. Grandma was in a fine froth, her snowy white hair frazzled and her cheeks flushed. She was dressed in a pink and orange plaid pantsuit, the kind of thing that would send Aunt Jettie into a giggle fit when she was living. Apparently, it worked its wonders after death, too, because my ghostly aunt was laughing her invisible ass off. And she wasn’t alone.
“Enid?” Dick snickered.
I ignored Dick’s low laughter as Grandma screeched, “How could you embarrass your sister that way? She told me what you did at the Chamber of Commerce meeting. How could you? You know how important her public image is with this new business she’s starting. How dare you attempt to sabotage her by telling prominent members of our community that she’s—”
“Related to me?” I tried to keep my voice calm as I said, “Grandma Ruthie, as you can see, I have guests. Maybe we can have this discussion at another time.“
“Don’t you tell me when and where I can talk to you, young lady!” she yelled. “This is your mother’s house. I’ll come and go as I please.”
“Mama, what is all this fuss about?” my mother asked as she came out of the kitchen. “Just calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down, Sherry,” Grandma Ruthie snapped. “It’s bad enough that you’ve continued to let Jane into your home, but now you’re letting her drag her undesirables into your living room? Hosting parties for them? This foolishness has gone on long enough.”
“Don’t talk like that in front of my friends,” I told my grandmother.
“Oh, don’t mind us,” Jolene said, transfixed by the family feud unfolding in front of her. I’m sure it was a novelty for her, considering that most McClaine family disputes ended in both parties phasing and proving their werewolf fighting skills. Usually naked.
“ These are your friends?” Grandma Ruthie sneered, observing my motley group, my chosen family. “ These are the type of people you spend time with under your great-great-grandfather’s roof?”
“Watch it, Grandma,” I warned her, seeing the expression of insult on Andrea’s face. Dick, on the other hand, was used to that sort of comment and remained unperturbed.
“Now, let’s all just calm down,” Mama said in a different tone from the one she normally used during these confrontations. She wasn’t trying to placate Grandma. She was just trying to keep us from coming to blows in her parlor. That was weird.
Grandma drew herself up to her full height and used her matriarch voice. “I will speak my mind, Jane.”
“Well, then, you’ll speak it in the kitchen.” I put my hand under Grandma’s elbow and not-quite-gently led her through the kitchen’s swinging door.
Mama warned, “Now, Jane, be careful.”
“Mama, I’m not going to hurt her.” I sighed.
“No, no, I know that,” Mama assured me. “It’s just that all of my nice dishes are sitting out on the counter. Try not to break anything.”
I barked out a laugh. “Mama!”
“Oh, she’s had it coming for years,” Daddy told me. “Your mama’s just not ready to do it herself yet.”
“I’m working on it,” Mama promised. “She can’t keep talking to you that way. I’ve let it go on for far too long. Maybe if I’d stood up to her years ago, we’d have a better relationship. You and I might have had a better relationship. I’m trying to set some boundaries with her, honey, but she’s so old. And I’m so—”
“Scared of her?” I suggested.
Mama nodded. “Give her hell, baby.”
That said, I squared my shoulders and marched into the kitchen to face off with my tiny septuagenarian foe.
“Be as rude to me as you’d like,” I told her. “But don’t ever insult the people in that room in my presence, do you understand me?”
“Don’t you talk to me that way,” Grandma snapped. “You were raised to have respect for your elders, Jane.”
“I was raised to have respect for people who show respect to me. That’s something you have never done. Now, why don’t you go home to your half-dead fiancé and let me and Jenny figure out our issues for ourselves?”
Grandma stamped her size-six orthopedic shoe. “You will apologize to your sister, Jane. And you will end this foolishness with the lawsuit and give Jenny her share of the Early legacy. I command it.”
I goggled at the raging geriatric before me and then burst out laughing so loudly that Gabriel stuck his head through the doorway to check on me. I waved him away as I leaned against the counter for support and let the bloody tears roll down my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said, giggling. “Did you just command me to do something? Have we met? Has that ever worked for you? Jenny got her share of the ‘Early legacy.’ She took it, out of the house one piece at a time, without asking. And so did you. You’ve been smuggling valuables out of that house since Aunt Jettie’s funeral. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
“Let me tell you something about your precious aunt Jettie,” Grandma spat.
In the corner of my eye, I could see Aunt Jettie squinting at the dry-erase marker Mama kept on her refrigerator. She grasped it and began to scrawl on the front of the fridge. Ruthie’s face froze in horror as an invisible hand eked out, “Ruthie … This is Jettie … I need … to tell you … you’ve gotten fat.”
“Jane, I don’t know how you’re doing that, but stop it. It’s morbid,” Grandma scolded, her face paling.
“I’m not doing it,” I said. “I’m telepathic, not telekinetic. Aunt Jettie, maybe you shouldn’t …”
Aunt Jettie winked at me. “Honey, she’s had this coming for years.”
“Jane, stop that right now!” Grandma yelled as Jettie called her a “natural brunette,” underlining “natural” three times.
“It’s not me, it’s Jettie,” I said. “She’s been haunting the house ever since she died. I wasn’t able to see her until I was turned.”
“Of all the sick jokes,” Grandma Ruthie spat. “How dare you use my sister’s memory this way!”
“Oh, come on, you can believe in vampires but not in ghosts?”
Grandma Ruthie sneered at me.
I sighed. “What if I told you something that only Jettie would know?” I asked as Jettie leaned in to whisper in my ear.
Grandma’s mouth flapped open like a beached guppy’s. “I’m not going to—”
“Aunt Jettie says that if you don’t cut me some slack, she’s going to visit your mother and tell her all about what you were doing in Edgar Oliver’s backseat when you were supposed to be at Bible study.”
Ruthie blanched. “How could you—my mother’s dead.”
“Yes, but Jettie can go over to the Half-Moon Hollow Women’s Clubhouse anytime she wants and visit Grandma Bebe. That’s the way ghosts work. They can haunt wherever they choose, move from place to place. They even visit each other.”
OK, that last part was a total bluff. Grandma Bebe was a sweet old lady who had no unfinished needlework, much less unfinished business, when she died. She moved into the light a long time ago. But Ruthie didn’t know that. And I told her that so I could tell her this: “Jettie’s even visited Grandpa Fred a few times. He’s haunting the golf course.”
Jettie cackled with glee as Ruthie’s cheeks drained of color. “You tell her to stay away from my Fred.”
“Tell her yourself, Grandma. She can hear you. Much better, in fact, than she could in life. Besides, you’re engaged. Why should you care? And I don’t think he’s your Fred anymore. Remember till death do us part? He’s dead. You’ve parted. Grandpa Fred’s on the market again.”
Ruthie turned a sickly white under her artfully applied Elizabeth Arden powder. “You lifeless Jezebel! You stay away from my Fred!”
At this point, it seemed a moot point to note that Aunt Jettie had actually broken up with Grandpa Fred earlier this year to take up with Mr. Wainwright. Aunt Jettie, obviously enjoying Grandma’s discomfort, seemed to think so, too.
“They can’t … all be yours. Though you … certainly had more … than your share,” Jettie scribbled out in surprisingly legible script.
“Dried-up old maid!” Ruthie yelled.
“Black widow!” the refrigerator spat back.
“Unclean spirit!” Ruthie gasped.
“Varicose-veined ho!” Jettie scrawled, prompting an indignant gasp from Grandma.
“I will not stand here in my daughter’s home and be insulted!” Ruthie shrieked. “Jane, you tell your great-aunt that I will not set foot in River Oaks until she can keep a civil tongue in her skull—which, by the way, never had the bone structure I have. And she was always jealous!”
“She can—”
The door slammed in dramatic fashion.
“Hear you.” I finished.
Jettie slumped to the floor, clearly exhausted by her telekinetic efforts.
“That was awesome,” I marveled. “Telling Grandma everything you’ve ever thought about her doesn’t mean you have closure and you’re moving on, does it? I was just getting used to having you around.”
Aunt Jettie reached up to stroke her transparent hand along my cheek. “No, I could have insulted Ruthie while I was living. I’m sticking with you, kiddo.”
“Lucky me.” I chuckled. “My relationship with Grandma isn’t ever going to change, is it?”
Aunt Jettie led me over to the swinging door, where my friends were crowded, listening. “No, baby, it’s not. You and Ruthie have exactly the kind of relationship you want with each other. It was the same with us. Ruthie and I chose not to like each other. I’m not saying that’s right, but it’s the way things are. There’s no law that says families have to be best friends. You can choose your own family, which you have. Of course, you can also choose to want a better relationship with people you were born to. It’s up to you. Until then, sit at the fountain of my experience and learn Ruthie’s weak points.”
“‘Vericose-veined ho’ was one I hadn’t heard before,” I admitted as we pushed through the door, gently popping an eavesdropping Dick in the side of the head.
Dick cursed. Aunt Jettie shrugged. “You leave the TV on during the day. I’ve watched a lot of Maury Povich .”