Fourteen and a half minutes.
Emmett squirmed in his seat, well aware what my total motionlessness indicated.
C’mon, Ed. You know it wasn’t serious. Anyway, it’s not even about the girl. You know better than I do whatever’s going on with Rose. Something between you two, I guess. She’s still mad, and she wouldn’t admit for all the world that she’s actually rooting for you.
He always gave Rosalie the benefit of the doubt, and though I knew that I was just the opposite—I never gave her the benefit of the doubt—I didn’t think he was right this time. Rosalie would be pleased to see me fail in this. She would be happy to see Bella’s poor choices receive what she considered their just reward. And then she’d still be jealous as Bella’s soul escaped to whatever waited beyond.
And Jazz—well, you know. He’s tired of being the weakest link. You’re kind of too perfect with the self-control, and it gets annoying. Carlisle’s different. Admit it, you’re a little… smug.
Thirteen minutes.
For Emmett and Jasper, this was just some sticky pit of quicksand I’d created for myself. Fail or succeed—to them, in the end it was nothing more than another anecdote about me. Bella wasn’t part of the equation. Her life was only a marker in the bet they’d made.
Don’t take it personally.
There was another way? Twelve and a half minutes.
You want me to back out of it? I will.
I sighed, and let the rigidity of my pose relax.
What was the point of stoking my anger? Should I blame them for their inability to understand? How could they?
How meaningless it all was. Infuriating, yes, but… would I have been any different if it hadn’t been my life that had changed? If it hadn’t been about Bella?
Regardless, I didn’t have time to fight with Emmett now. I would be waiting for Bella when she was done with Gym. So many more pieces to the puzzle I needed to discover.
I heard Emmett’s relief as I darted out the door at the first sound of the bell, ignoring him.
When Bella walked through the gymnasium door and saw me, a smile spread across her face. I felt the same relief I had in the car this morning. All my doubts and torments seemed to lift from my shoulders. I knew that they were still very real, but the weight was so much easier to carry when I could see her.
“Tell me about your home,” I said as we walked to the car. “What do you miss?”
“Um… my house? Or Phoenix? Or do you mean here?”
“All of those.”
She looked at me questioningly—was I serious?
“Please?” I asked as I held her door for her.
She raised one eyebrow as she climbed in, still doubting.
But when I was inside and we were alone again, she seemed to relax.
“Have you never been to Phoenix?”
I smiled. “No.”
“Right,” she said. “Of course. The sun.” She speculated about that silently for a moment. “It creates some kind of a problem for you…?”
“Indeed.” I wasn’t about to try to explain that answer. It was really something that had to be seen to be understood. Also, Phoenix was a little too close for comfort to the lands the aggressive Southern clans claimed, but that wasn’t a story I wanted to get into, either.
She waited, wondering if I would elaborate.
“So tell me about this place I’ve never seen,” I prompted.
She considered for a moment. “The city is mostly very flat, not much taller than one or two stories. There are a few baby skyscrapers downtown, but that was pretty far away from where I lived. Phoenix is huge. You can drive through suburbs all day. Lots of stucco and tile and gravel. It’s not all soft and squishy like it is here—everything is hard and most things have thorns.”
“But you like it.”
She nodded with a grin. “It’s so… open. Just all sky. The things we call mountains are really just hills—hard, thorny hills. But most of the valley is a big, shallow bowl and it feels like it’s filled with sunlight all the time.” She illustrated the shape with her hands. “The plants are like modern art compared to the stuff here—lots of angles and edges. Mostly spiky.” Another grin. “But they’re all open, too. Even if there are leaves, they’re just feathery, sparse things. Nothing can really hide there. Nothing keeps the sun out.”
I stopped the car in front of her house. My usual spot.
“Well, it does rain occasionally,” she amended. “But it’s different there. More exciting. Lots of thunder and lightning and flash floods—not just the nonstop drizzle thing. And it smells better there. That’s the creosote.”
I knew the evergreen desert shrubs she referred to. I’d seen them through a car window in Southern California—only at night. They weren’t much to look at.
“I’ve never smelled the scent of creosote,” I admitted.
“They only smell in the rain.”
“What is it like?”
She thought about that for a moment. “Sweet and bitter at the same time. A little like resin, a little like medicine. But that sounds bad. It smells fresh. Like clean desert.” She chuckled. “That’s not helpful, is it?”
“On the contrary. What else have I missed, not visiting Arizona?”
“Saguaros, but I’m sure you’ve seen pictures.”
I nodded.
“They’re bigger than you’d expect, when you see them in person. It takes all the newbies by surprise. Have you ever lived anywhere with cicadas?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “We were in New Orleans for a while.”
“Then you know,” she said. “I had a job last summer at a plant nursery. The screaming—it’s like nails on a chalkboard. It drove me crazy.”
“What else?”
“Hmm. The colors are different. The mountains—hills or whatever—are mostly volcanic. Lots of purple rock. It’s dark enough that it holds a lot of heat from the sun. So does the blacktop. In the summer, it never cools off—frying an egg on the sidewalk is not an urban myth. But there’s lots of green from the golf courses. Some people keep lawns, too, though I think that’s crazy. Anyway, the contrast in the colors is cool.”
“What’s your favorite place to spend time?”
“The library.” She grinned. “If I hadn’t already outed myself as a huge nerd, I guess that makes it obvious. I feel like I’ve read every fiction book in the little branch near me. The first place I went when I got my license was the central library downtown. I could live there.”
“Where else?”
“In the summer, we’d go to the pool at Cactus Park. My mom had me in swimming lessons there before I could walk. There was always some story in the news about a toddler drowning, and it freaked her out. In the winter, we’d go to Roadrunner Park. It’s not huge, but it had a little lake. We’d sail paper boats when I was a kid. Nothing very exciting, like I’ve been trying to tell you.…”
“I think it sounds lovely. I don’t remember much about my childhood.”
Her teasing smile faded, and her eyebrows pulled together. “That must be difficult. And strange.”
It was my turn to shrug. “It’s all I know. Certainly nothing to worry about.”
She was quiet for a long time, turning this over in her head.
I waited out her silence for as long I as could stand it before I finally asked, “What are you thinking?”
Her smile was more subdued now. “I have a lot of questions. But I know—”
We spoke the words simultaneously.
“Today is my day.”
“Today is your day.”
Our laughs were synchronized now, too, and I thought how strangely easy it was to be with her this way. Just close enough. The danger felt far away. I was so entertained I was nearly oblivious to the pain in my throat, though it was not dull. It just wasn’t as interesting to think about as she was.
“Have I sold you on Phoenix yet?” she asked after another quiet moment.
“Perhaps I need a bit more persuasion.”
She considered. “There’s this one kind of acacia tree—I don’t know what it’s called. It looks like all the others, thorny, half-dead.” Her expression was suddenly full of longing. “But in the springtime, it has these yellow fuzzy blossoms that look like pom-poms.” She demonstrated the size, pretending to hold a blossom between her thumb and index finger. “They smell… amazing. Like nothing else. Really faint, delicate—you’ll get a sudden hint of them in the breeze and then it’s gone. I should have included them with my favorite scents. I wish someone would make a candle or something.
“And then the sunsets are incredible,” she continued, switching subjects abruptly. “Seriously, you’ll never see anything close here.” She thought for another moment. “Even in the middle of the day, though, the sky—that’s the main thing. It’s not blue like the sky here—when you can even see it here. It’s brighter, paler. Sometimes it’s almost white. And it’s everywhere.” She emphasized her words with her hand, tracing an arc over her head. “There’s so much more sky there. If you get away from the lights of the city a little bit, you can see a million stars.” She smiled a wistful smile. “You really ought to check it out some night.”
“It’s beautiful to you.”
She nodded. “It’s not for everybody, I guess.” She paused, thoughtful, but I could see that there was more, so I let her think.
“I like the… minimalism,” she decided. “It’s an honest sort of place. It doesn’t hide anything.”
I thought of everything that was hidden from her here, and I wondered if her words meant that she was aware of this, of the invisible darkness gathered around her. But she stared at me with no judgment in her eyes.
She didn’t add anything more, and I thought by the way she was tucking her chin just slightly she might again be feeling like she was talking too much.
“You must miss it a great deal,” I prompted.
Her expression didn’t cloud over the way I half expected. “I did at first.”
“But now?”
“I guess I’m used to it here.” She smiled as though she was more than simply resigned to the forest and the rain.
“Tell me about your home there.”
She shrugged. “It’s nothing unusual. Stucco and tile, like I said. One story, three bedrooms, two baths. I miss my little bathroom most. Sharing with Charlie is stressful. Gravel and cactus outside. Everything inside is vintage seventies—wood paneling, linoleum, shag carpet, mustard Formica counters, the works. My mom’s not big on renovations. She claims the dated stuff has character.”
“What is your bedroom like?”
Her expression made me wonder if there was a joke I wasn’t getting. “Now or when I lived there?”
“Now?”
“I think it’s a yoga studio or something. My stuff is in the garage.”
I stared, surprised. “What will you do when you go back?”
She didn’t seem concerned. “We’ll shove the bed back in somehow.”
“Wasn’t there a third bedroom?”
“That’s her craft room. It would take an act of God to make space for a bed in there.” She laughed blithely. I would have thought she’d be planning to spend more time with her mother, but she spoke as though her time in Phoenix was past rather than future. I recognized the feeling of relief this engendered but tried to keep it off my face.
“What was your room like when you lived there?”
A minor blush. “Um, messy. I’m not the most organized.”
“Tell me about it.”
Again she gave me the you must be kidding look, but when I didn’t retract, she complied, miming the shapes with her hands.
“It’s a narrow room. Twin bed on the south wall and dresser on the north under the window, with a pretty tight aisle in between. I did have a little walk-in closet, which would have been cool, if I could have kept it tidy enough to be able to actually walk into it. My room here is bigger and less of a disaster, but that’s because I haven’t been here long enough make a serious mess.”
I made my face smooth, hiding the fact that I knew very well what her room was like here, and also my surprise that her room in Phoenix had been more cluttered.
“Um…” She looked to see if I wanted more, and I nodded to encourage her. “The ceiling fan is broken, just the light works, so I had a big noisy fan on top of the dresser. It sounds like a wind tunnel in the summer. But it’s a lot better for sleep than the rain here. The sound of the rain isn’t consistent enough.”
The thought of rain had me glancing at the sky, and then being shocked by the dimness of the light. I couldn’t understand the way time bent and compressed when I was with her. How was our allotment up already?
She misunderstood my preoccupation.
“Are you finished?” she asked, sounding relieved.
“Not even close,” I told her. “But your father will be home soon.”
“Charlie!” she gasped, as though she’d forgotten that he existed. “How late is it?” She looked at the dashboard clock as she asked.
I stared at the clouds—though they were thick, it was obvious where the sun must be behind them.
“It’s twilight,” I said. The time when vampires came out to play—when we never had to fear that a shifting cloud might cause us trouble—when we could enjoy the last remnants of light in the sky without worrying that we would be exposed.
I looked down to find her staring curiously at me, hearing more in my tone than just the words I’d spoken.
“It’s the safest time of day for us,” I explained. “The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way… the end of another day, the return of the night.” So many years of night. I tried to shake off the heaviness in my voice. “Darkness is so predictable, don’t you think?”
“I like the night,” she said, contrary as usual. “Without the dark, we’d never see the stars.” A frown rearranged her features. “Not that you see them here much.”
I laughed at her expression. So, still not entirely reconciled to Forks. I thought of the stars she’d described in Phoenix and wondered if they were like the stars in Alaska—so bright and clear and close. I wished that I could take her there tonight so we could make the comparison. But she had a normal life to lead.
“Charlie will be here in a few minutes,” I told her. I could just hear a hint of his mind, perhaps a mile out, driving slowly this way. His mind was on her. “So, unless you want to tell him that you’ll be with me Saturday…”
I understood that there were many reasons Bella wouldn’t want to her father to know about our involvement. But I wished… not just because I needed that extra encouragement to keep her safe, not just because I thought the threat to my family would help control my monster. I wished she would… want her father to know me. Want me to be part of the normal life she led.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said quickly.
Of course it was an impossible wish. Like so many others.
She started to organize her things as she prepared to leave. “So is it my turn tomorrow, then?” she asked. She glanced up at me with bright, curious eyes.
“Certainly not! I told you I wasn’t done, didn’t I?”
She frowned, confused. “What more is there?”
Everything. “You’ll find out tomorrow.”
Charlie was getting closer. I reached across her to open her door, and heard her heart start thumping loudly and unevenly. Our eyes met, and it seemed like an invitation again. Could I be allowed to touch her face, just one more time?
And then I froze, my hand on her door handle.
Another car was headed to the corner. It was not Charlie’s; he was still two streets up, so I’d paid little attention to these unfamiliar thoughts heading, I assumed, to one of the other houses on the street.
But one word caught my attention now.
Vampires.
Ought to be safe enough for the boy. No reason to run into any vampires here, the mind thought, even if this is neutral territory. I hope I was right to bring him into town.
What were the odds?
“Not good,” I breathed.
“What is it?” she asked, anxious as she processed the change in my face.
There was nothing I could do now. What rotten luck.
“Another complication,” I admitted.
The car turned onto the short street, heading directly for Charlie’s house. As the headlights lit up my car, I heard a young, enthusiastic reaction from the other mind inside the old Ford Tempo.
Wow. Is that an S60R? I’ve never seen one in real life before. Cool. Wonder who drives one of those around here? Custom-painted aftermarket front splitter… semi-slicks… That thing must tear the road up. I need to get a look at the exhaust.…
I didn’t concentrate on the boy, though I’m sure I would have enjoyed the knowledgeable interest another day. I opened her door, throwing it wider than necessary, then I jerked away, leaning forward toward the oncoming lights, waiting.
“Charlie’s around the corner,” I warned her.
She jumped quickly out into the rain, but there wasn’t any time for her to get inside before they saw us together. She slammed the door, but then hesitated there, staring at the oncoming vehicle.
The car parked facing mine, its headlights shining directly into my car.
And suddenly the older man’s thoughts were screaming with shock and fear.
Cold one! Vampire! Cullen!
I stared out the windshield, meeting his gaze.
There was no way I would find any resemblance to his grandfather; I’d never seen Ephraim in his human form. But this would be Billy Black, no doubt, with his son Jacob.
As if to confirm my assumption, the boy leaned forward with a smile.
Oh, it’s Bella!
A small part of me noted that, yes, she had definitely done some damage during her snooping in La Push.
But I was mostly focused on the father, the one who knew.
He was correct before—this was neutral territory. I had as much right to be here as he did, and he knew that. I could see it in the tightening of his frightened, angry face, the clenching of his jaw.
What is it doing here? What should I do?
We’d been in Forks for two years; no one had been harmed. But his horror couldn’t have been stronger if we’d been slaughtering a new victim every day.
I glared at him, my lips pulling back just slightly from my teeth in an automatic response to his hostility.
It would not be helpful to antagonize him, though. Carlisle would be displeased if I did something to worry the old man. I could only hope that he adhered to our treaty better than his son had.
I peeled out, the boy appreciating the sound of my tires—only street legal by the smallest degree—as they squealed against the wet pavement. He turned to analyze the car’s exhaust as I drove away.
I passed Charlie as I went around the next corner, slowing automatically as he noted my speed with a businesslike frown. He continued home, and I could hear the muffled surprise in his thoughts, wordless but clear, as he took in the car waiting in front of his house. He forgot all about the silver Volvo that had been speeding.
I stopped two streets up and left my car parked unobtrusively beside the forest between two wide-spaced lots. In seconds I was soaking wet, hidden in the thick branches of the spruce that overlooked her backyard, the same place I’d hidden on that first sunny day.
It was hard to follow Charlie. I didn’t hear anything worrisome in his vague thoughts. Just enthusiasm—he must have been happy to see his visitors. Nothing had been said to upset him… yet.
Billy’s head was a seething mass of questions as Charlie greeted him and ushered him inside. As far as I could tell, Billy hadn’t made any decisions. I was glad to hear thoughts of the treaty mixed in with his agitation. Hopefully that would tie his tongue.
The boy followed Bella as she escaped to the kitchen—ah, his infatuation was clear in his every thought. But it was not hard to listen to his mind, the way it was with Mike Newton or her other admirers. There was something very… engaging about Jacob Black’s mind. Pure and open. It reminded me a bit of Angela’s, only not so demure. I felt suddenly sorry that this particular boy was born my enemy. His was the rare kind of mind that was easy to be inside. Restful, almost.
In the front room, Charlie had noticed Billy’s abstraction, but did not ask. There was some strain between them—an old disagreement from long ago.
Jacob was asking Bella about me. Once he heard my name, he laughed.
“Guess that explains it, then,” he said. “I wondered why my dad was acting so strange.”
“That’s right,” Bella responded with overdone innocence. “He doesn’t like the Cullens.”
“Superstitious old man,” the boy muttered.
Yes, we should have foreseen that it would be this way. Of course the young members of the tribe would see their history as myth—embarrassing, humorous, even more so because the elder members took it so seriously.
They rejoined their fathers in the front room. Bella’s eyes were always on Billy while he and Charlie watched television. It looked as if, like me, she was waiting for a breach.
None came. The Blacks left before it was very late. It was a school night, after all. I followed them on foot back to the boundary line between our territories, just to be sure that Billy didn’t ask his son to turn around. But his thoughts were still confused. There were names I didn’t know, people he would consult with tonight. Even as he continued to panic, he knew what the other elders would say. Seeing a vampire face-to-face had unsettled him, but it changed nothing.
As they drove past the point where I could hear them, I felt fairly sure that there was no new danger. Billy would follow the rules. What choice did he have? If we broke the treaty, there was nothing the old men could actually do about it. They’d lost their teeth. If they broke the treaty… well, we were even stronger than before. Seven instead of five. Surely that would make them careful.
Though Carlisle would never allow us to enforce the treaty that way. Instead of heading directly back to Bella’s house, I decided to make a detour to the hospital. My father had a late shift tonight.
I could hear his thoughts in the emergency ward. He was examining a delivery truck driver from Olympia with a deep puncture wound in his hand. I walked into the lobby, recognizing Jenny Austin at the desk. She was preoccupied with a call from her teenage daughter and barely acknowledged my wave as I passed her.
I didn’t want to interrupt, so I just walked past the curtain Carlisle was hidden behind and then continued on to his office. He would recognize the sound of my footsteps—unaccompanied by a heartbeat—and then my scent. He would know I wanted to see him, and that it wasn’t an emergency.
He joined me in his office only moments later.
“Edward? Is everything all right?”
“Yes. I just wanted you to know right away—Billy Black saw me at Bella’s house tonight. He said nothing to Charlie, but…”
“Hmm,” Carlisle said. We’ve been here so long, it would be unfortunate if tensions arose again.
“It’s probably nothing. He just wasn’t prepared to be two yards away from a cold one. The others will talk him down. After all, what can they do about it?”
Carlisle frowned. You shouldn’t think of it that way. “Though they’ve lost their protectors, they are in no danger from us.”
“No. Of course not.”
He shook his head slowly, puzzling about the best course of action. There didn’t seem to be one, other than ignoring this unlucky encounter. I’d already come to the same conclusion.
“Will you… be coming home soon?” Carlisle asked suddenly.
I felt ashamed as soon as he voiced his question. “Is Esme very upset with me?”
“Not upset with you… about you, yes.” She worries. She misses you.
I sighed and nodded. Bella would be safe enough inside her house for a few hours. Probably. “I’ll go home now.”
“Thank you, Son.”
I spent the evening with my mother, letting her fuss over me a bit. She made me change into dry clothes—more to protect the floors she’d spent so much time finishing than anything else. The others had cleared out, and I saw that this was her request; Carlisle had called ahead. I appreciated the quiet. We sat at the piano together and I played as we talked.
“How are you, Edward?” was her first question. It wasn’t a casual query. She was anxious about my answer.
“I’m… not entirely sure,” I told her honestly. “It’s up and down.”
She listened to the notes for a moment, occasionally touching a key that would harmonize with the tune.
She causes you pain.
I shook my head. “I cause my own pain. It’s not her fault.”
It’s not your fault, either.
“I am what I am.”
And that’s not your fault.
I smiled humorlessly. “You blame Carlisle?”
No. Do you?
“No.”
Then why blame yourself?
I didn’t have a ready answer. Truly, I did not resent Carlisle for what he had done, and yet… didn’t someone have to be to blame? Wasn’t that person me?
I hate to see you suffer.
“It’s not all suffering.” Not yet.
This girl… she makes you happy?
I sighed. “Yes… when I’m not getting in my own way. She does indeed.”
“Then that’s all right.” She seemed relieved.
My mouth twisted. “Is it?”
She was silent, her thoughts analyzing my answers, picturing Alice’s face, thinking of her visions. She was aware of the wager and also that I knew about it. She was upset with Jasper and Rose.
What will it mean for him, if she dies?
I cringed, yanking my fingers off the keys.
“I’m sorry,” she said swiftly. “I didn’t mean to—”
I shook my head, and she fell silent. I stared at my hands, cold and sharp-angled, inhuman.
“I don’t know how…,” I whispered. “How I move past that. I can’t see anything… nothing past that.”
She put her arms around my shoulders, lacing her fingers together into a tight knot. “That’s not going to happen. I know it won’t.”
“I wish I could be as sure.”
I stared at her hands, so much like mine, but not. I couldn’t hate them the same way. They were stone, too, but not… not a monster’s hands. They were a mother’s hands, kind and gentle.
I am sure. You won’t hurt her.
“So you’ve placed your money with Alice and Emmett, I see.”
She unlaced her fingers to smack me lightly on the shoulder. “This is not a joking matter.”
“No, it isn’t.”
But when Jasper and Rosalie lose, I won’t be angry if Emmett rubs it in a bit.
“I doubt he’ll disappoint you there.”
Nor will you disappoint me, Edward. Oh, my son, how I do love you. When the hard part is over… I’m going to be very happy, you know. I think I will love this girl.
I looked at her with raised eyebrows.
You wouldn’t be so cruel as to keep her from me, would you?
“Now you sound just like Alice.”
“I don’t know why you fight her on anything. Easier to embrace the inevitable.”
I frowned but started playing again. “You’re right,” I said after a moment. “I won’t hurt her.”
Of course you won’t.
She kept her arms around me, and after a few moments I laid my head against the top of hers. She sighed, and hugged me tighter. It made me feel vaguely childlike. As I had told Bella, I didn’t have memories of being a child, nothing concrete. But there was a kind of sense memory in the feeling of her arms around me. My first mother must have held me, too; it must have comforted me in the same way.
When the song was finished, I sighed and straightened up.
You’ll go to her now?
“Yes.”
She frowned, confused. What do you do all night?
I smiled. “Think… and burn. And listen.”
She touched my throat. “I don’t like that this causes you pain.”
“That’s the easiest part. It’s nothing, really.”
And the hardest part?
I thought about that for a minute. There were lots of answers that could be true, but one felt the most true.
“I think… that I can’t be human with her. That the best version is the one that is impossible.”
Her eyebrows pulled together.
“Everything will be all right, Esme.” It was so easy for me to lie to her. I was the only one who could ever lie in this house.
Yes, it will be. She couldn’t be in better hands.
I laughed, again without humor. But I would try to prove my mother right.
14. CLOSER
IT WAS PEACEFUL IN BELLA’S ROOM TONIGHT. EVEN THE FITFUL RAIN, which usually made her uneasy, did not disturb her. Despite the pain, I was peaceful, too—calmer than I’d been in my own home with my mother’s arms around me. Bella mumbled my name in her sleep, as she often did, and smiled as she said it.
In the morning, Charlie mentioned her cheerful mood over breakfast, and it was my turn to smile. At least, if nothing else, I made her happy, too.
She climbed into my car quickly today, with a wide, eager smile, seeming just as hungry to be together as I was.
“How did you sleep?” I asked her.
“Fine. How was your night?”
I smiled. “Pleasant.”
She pursed her lips. “Can I ask what you did?” I could imagine what my level of interest would be if I had to spend eight hours unconscious, totally unaware of her. But I wasn’t ready to answer that question now… or maybe ever.
“No. Today is still mine.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything I haven’t told you.”
“Tell me more about your mother.”
It was one of my favorite subjects, because it was obviously one of hers.
“Okay. Um, my mom is kind of… wild, I guess? Not like a tiger is wild, like a sparrow, like a deer. She just, doesn’t do well in cages? My gran—who was totally normal, by the way, and had no idea where my mom came from—used to call her a will-o’-the-wisp. I got the feeling that raising my mom through her teenage years was no cakewalk. Anyway, it’s pretty hard for her to stay in one place very long. Getting to wander off with Phil with no sure end destination in mind… well, I think it’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her. She tried really hard for me, though. Made do with weekend adventures and constantly switching jobs. I did what I could to free her from all the mundane stuff. I imagine Phil will do the same. I feel like… kind of a bad daughter. Because I’m a little relieved, you know?” She made an apologetic face, turning her palms up. “She doesn’t have to stay in place for me anymore. That’s a weight off. And then Charlie… I never thought about him needing me, but he really does. That house is too empty for him.”
I nodded thoughtfully, sifting through this mine of information. I wished I could meet this woman who had shaped so much of Bella’s character. Part of me would have preferred that Bella had an easier, more traditional childhood—that she could have gotten to be the child. But she wouldn’t have been the same person, and truly, she didn’t seem resentful in any way. She liked to be the caretaker, liked to be needed.
Perhaps this was the real secret as to why she was drawn to me. Had anyone ever needed her more?
I left her at her classroom door, and the morning passed much as the day before. Alice and I sleepwalked our way through Gym. I watched Bella’s face through Jessica Stanley’s eyes again, noting, as the human girl did, how very little of Bella seemed to be in the classroom at all.
I wonder why Bella doesn’t want to talk about it?Jessica wondered. Keeping him to herself, I guess. Unless she was telling the truth before, and there’s nothing actually happening. Her mind ran over Bella’s denials on Wednesday morning—It’s not like that, when Jessica had asked about kissing—and her inference that Bella had looked disappointed.
That would be like torture, Jessica thought now. Look but don’t touch.
The word startled me.
Like torture? Obviously an exaggeration, but… would such a thing actually cause Bella pain—no matter how minor? Surely not, knowing as she did the realities of the situation. I frowned and caught Alice’s questioning glance. I shook my head at her.
She looks happy enough, Jessica was thinking, watching Bella as she stared through the clerestory windows with unfocused eyes. She must have been lying to me. Or there have been new developments.
Oh!Alice’s sudden stillness alerted me at the same time as her mental exclamation. The picture in her mind was of the cafeteria at some near future date and…
Well, it’s about time!she thought, breaking into a huge grin.
The pictures developed—Alice standing behind my shoulder in the cafeteria today, across the table from Bella. The very brief introduction. How it began was not yet fixed. It wavered, dependent on some other factor. But it would be soon, if not today.
I sighed, absently swatting the birdie back across the net. It flew better than it would have had my attention been focused; I scored a point as the coach blew his whistle to end class. Alice was already moving toward the door.
Don’t be such a baby. It’s not much. And I can already see that you won’t stop me.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “No, it won’t be very much,” I agreed quietly as we walked together.
“I can be patient. Baby steps.”
I rolled my eyes.
It was always a relief when I could leave the secondary vantage points behind and just see Bella for myself, but I was still thinking about Jessica’s assumptions when Bella came through the classroom door. She smiled a wide, warm smile, and it looked to me, too, like she was very happy. I shouldn’t worry about impossibilities when they weren’t bothering her.
There was one line of questions that I had been reluctant to open thus far. But with Jessica’s thoughts still in my head, I was suddenly more curious than I was averse.
We sat at what was now our usual table, and she picked at the food I’d gotten for her—I’d been quicker than her today.
“Tell me about your first date,” I said.
Her eyes got bigger, and her cheeks flushed. She hesitated.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“I’m just not sure… what actually counts.”
“Put the qualifications at their lowest setting,” I suggested.
She stared toward the ceiling, thinking with her lips pursed. “Well, then I guess that would be Mike—a different Mike,” she said quickly when my expression changed. “He was my square-dancing partner in the sixth grade. I was invited to his birthday party—it was a movie.” She smiled. “The second Mighty Ducks. I was the only one who showed up. Later, people said it was a date. I don’t know who started that rumor.”
I’d seen the school pictures in her father’s house, so I had a mental reference for eleven-year-old Bella. It sounded like things weren’t so different for her then. “That’s perhaps setting the bar a little too low.”
She grinned. “You said the lowest setting.”
“Continue, then.”