Chapter Seven - The Yearning

Bill Compton silently cursed under his breath as he realized the batteries in his portable CD player were quickly dying. Bill had been listening to one of his favorite singers, Billie Holiday, as she sang "Easy Living". Bill sometimes wondered if it was something about her name. Holiday. Bill had been in Pod's and Jerry's Nightclub in Harlem during the 1930's when he first heard Billie Holiday sing. Bill enjoyed an eclectic variety of music, but there was something about the blues that broke through into Bill's soul. As he installed fresh batteries, Bill thought once again on how nice it would be to have electricity, but so far he'd had no luck in hiring anyone who was willing to come out and do an estimate. After old Jesse Compton had died and the house had remained vacant for a few years, the Louisana Power Company had disconnected the power and now would not restore it until an inspection was done by a certified electrician who would atest that everything was in compliance. Listening to music, along with reading, was one of the few pleasures that he enjoyed. Since he had returned to Bon Temps and undertook the immense task of restoring his home, Bill had found that listening to music as he worked kept him company and helped to allay some of the terrible lonliness he felt. Other than those midnight trips to Home Depot in Monroe for building supplies, or to one of those stores that stayed open 24 hours for a supply of TruBlood, Bill had not ventured out and had stayed to himself since his return. Bill had been a somewhat solitary man since being made vampire and except for the few times he had joined a nest, he had pretty much remained to himself. But now he was beginning to be hungry for the sound of another's voice, a yearning to be around someone, anyone. It didn't make any difference if they were human or vampire. He briefly thought about driving into Shreveport to visit the popular vampire bar, Fangtasia, owned and operated by an old acquaintance of Bill's, Eric Northman. But Bill just wasn't up to dealing with Eric tonight. At times Eric really set his teeth on edge and he'd have to get a lot more lonely before debasing himself enough to visit Eric and his co-hort Pam. Since the vampires had come into the open, the world seemed to be overrun with fangbangers, and they annoyed Bill to no end and Fangtasia seemed to be the Holy Grail for area fangbangers.
But the immediate task occupying Bill's time and attentions was the renovation for the large, elaborate bathroom. This would require a great deal of planning as a wall into an adjoining bedroom including the entire doorframe would have to come down. Bill realized that the greatest task at hand would be getting the huge bathtub up the staircase. Bill would have no problem actually carrying the tub, he was endowed with the superhuman strength all vampires have, especially those with any length of years. But the logistics were another matter. But it would be worth it, Bill thought. There is nothing a vampire enjoys so much as a long, relaxing soak in a warm tub. He also planned to install a large walk-in shower on the other side of the room. Bill had no need of a kitchen, no need of more than one bedroom, so this bathroom would be best part of his home. Bill had decided to use the smaller bedroom just to the left of the staircase. It was the bedroom of his childhood and later used as his personal dressing room after he married. As he began to tear out some of the boards around the doorframe, he looked up at the ceiling and realized that he was looking at the same ceiling that he and his younger brother Robert had looked up at after being put to bed so many years ago. In the darkness they would giggle, talk and tell each other their greatest secrets and dreams, trying to whisper so as not to be heard by mother lest she come in and scold them. Dawn would usually find them curled up into each other, like young pups, drawing warmth from each other against the coolness of the morning. He smiled as he remembered them sliding down the bannister, hoping no one was around to see them. And how his mother would try to look stern, but he could always see the tiny smile behind her pretty blue eyes when she caught them. He missed his brother. After Robert died there were nights Bill would wake up, crying out, and father would come into his room to comfort him. Mother was still too sad. It would be a very long time until the light returned to her pretty blue eyes. Until he would hear her laugh again
In addition to music, Bill had always been fond of reading. Even when he attended school as a child, Bill never hated the reading assignments or the nightly ritual of Bible reading required of him. Bill's mother had also insisted he learn to play the piano, along with his younger sister Julia. Bill soon discovered that he possessed a natural talent for music, a natural ear as it were and it became a great passion of his. So when he discovered a piano in one of the downstairs rooms, a library it seemed, he was quite pleased and excited. And the small, dusty collection of books - mostly classics, but there were a few novels he found interesting - were a thankful diversion from the nightly tasks of renovations that seemed to require more and more time. The house was really in an immense state of disrepair. But for Bill, it was like a labor of love. For when he measured, cut and sawed the boards, he could feel his father beside him. He could hear his father's gentle voice talking to him, giving him instructions on how he should measure, how he should angle the saw, what kind of wood he should select. Although an electrical saw would save him a great deal of time, Bill was glad to feel those old familiar tools in his hands once again.
There were nights when Bill grew tired of working on the old house and would take his bottle of TruBlood and walk out to the cemetery. He would visit family, friends and more often than not usually end up at the gravesite of his Caroline. He would sit down beside her and pour out his heart and sadness to her. He would tell her how very sorry he was for not returning home, how he and only he, was to blame. If only he hadn't become lost, if he had just stopped to rest and not become so tired, he might have managed to find his way home to her where they would have lived out their lives together, had more children and watched them grow into adulthood. He told her of his bitterness at the vampire Lorena, for what she had stolen from him. Stolen from her, stolen from his children. He spoke of his great lonliness, and his fear of finding no one in Bon Temps that would accept him for what he was. That he would be doomed to remain alone in the home of his childhood. Of his fear that he would become nothing more than the town monster that people recoiled from in horror when he came near.
Then there were the nights when Bill would walk through the cemetery and he would hear the sound of a car pulling into a graveled driveway. He would walk to the edge of the road and hide in the shadows and watch as a small yellow car pulled up in front of the Stackhouse home. Bill could see from the mailbox that someone descended from Jonas Stackhouse still lived there. Bill remembered that Jonas Stackhouse was somewhat of an odd sort. He could never exactly pinpoint what it was, but there was something always a little different about Jonas. A lot of people considered him crazy. Bill would watch as a pretty young woman, hardly past her teens, would get out of her car. She would usually be dressed in some sort of uniform and most times when he saw her it appeared she was returning from her job. She was very lovely. Bill could sense that there was something special about her. A powerful lifeforce seem to radiate from her, something other humans that Bill had come into contact with did not possess.. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he knew she wasn't like any other human he had ever been around. But there was one thing that Bill noticed more than anything. Her hair. It was beautiful, the color of sunshine and rain. It set Bill's loins on fire, made him ache even more with lonliness, yearning and need. More than anything, Bill loved to run his hands through and to bury his face in the fragrance of a woman's hair. It was his thing. Not breasts, not legs, not even a fine ass sent him over the edge like long, beautiful hair. It was the hair that made him catch his breath every time. He never understood the need of some women to keep their hair cut off, short, like they were men. He thought it looked awful. He thought about where this young woman might work, what she was like. Bill was lonely, so lonely. He knew he needed to go out, to continue his quest to mainstream and find out for sure if anyone in town would accept him, but still he was reluctant.
But soon, very soon.