“She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew it himself.” Their union had been a magical thing. Whenever Jasper thought of it, the entire household relaxed into dreamy contentment, so powerful were his communal emotions. “She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find us.”
I’d missed that first introduction, when Alice and Jasper had presented themselves to an extremely wary Carlisle, a frightened Esme, and a hostile Rosalie. It was Jasper’s warlike appearance that had them all so apprehensive, but Alice knew exactly what to say to ease their anxiety. Of course she knew exactly what to say. She’d envisioned every possible version of that momentous meeting, and then chosen the best. It was no accident that Emmett and I had been away. She’d preferred the smoother scene without the family’s primary defenders in residence.
It was hard to believe how firmly entrenched they were by the time Emmett and I arrived, just a few days later. We were both shocked, and Emmett was ready for battle the second he laid eyes on Jasper. But Alice ran forward to throw her arms around me before a word could be spoken.
I wasn’t frightened by what might have been construed as an attack. Her thoughts were so sure of me, so full of love for me, I thought I’d had the first memory loss of my second life. Because this tiny immortal knew me perfectly, better than anyone else in my current or former family. Who was she?
Oh, Edward! At last! My brother! We’re finally together!
And then, with her arms tight around my waist—and my own arms hesitantly coming to rest around her shoulders—she thought swiftly through her life from her first memory to that very moment, and then forward in time through the highlights of our next few years together. It felt very strange to realize in that instant that now I knew her, too.
“This is Alice, Emmett,” I told him, still embracing my new sister. Emmett’s aggressive pose changed to one of confusion. “She’s part of our family. And that’s Jasper. You’re going to love him.”
There were so many stories about Alice, so many miracles and phenomena, paradoxes and enigmas, I could have spent the rest of the week just telling Bella the bullet-point version. Instead, I gave her a few of the simpler, more mechanical details.
“She’s most sensitive to nonhumans. She always sees, for example, when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they may pose.” Alice had become one of the family’s defenders, too.
“Are there a lot of… your kind?” Bella asked, sounding a little shaken by the idea.
“No, not many,” I assured her. “But most won’t settle in any one place. Only those like us, who’ve given up hunting you people”—I raised an eyebrow at her and squeezed her hand—“can live together with humans for any length of time. We’ve only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable.” Also Tanya, the matriarch of that clan, was persistent to the point of harassment. “Those of us who live… differently tend to band together.”
“And the others?”
We’d reached her home. It was empty, no lights in any windows. I parked in her usual spot and turned the engine off. The sudden quiet felt very intimate, there in the dark.
“Nomads, for the most part,” I answered. “We’ve all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North.”
“Why is that?”
I grinned and nudged her gently with my elbow. “Did you have your eyes open this afternoon? Do you think I could walk down the street in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? There’s a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in the world. It’s nice to be able to go outside in the day. You wouldn’t believe how tired you can get of nighttime in eighty-odd years.”
“So that’s where the legends came from,” she said, nodding to herself.
“Probably.”
There was actually a precise source behind the legends, but that wasn’t something I wanted to get into. The Volturi were very far away and very much absorbed in their mission to police the vampire world. They would never affect Bella’s life beyond the lore they’d concocted to protect immortals’ privacy.
“And Alice came from another family, like Jasper?” she asked.
“No, and that is a mystery. Alice doesn’t remember her human life at all.”
I’d seen that first memory. Bright morning sunlight, a light mist hanging in the air. Tangled grass surrounding her, broad oak trees shading the hollow where she woke. Besides that, a blankness, no sense of identity or purpose. She’d looked at her pale skin, shimmering in the sun, and not known who or what she was. And then the first vision had taken her.
A man’s face, fierce but also broken, scarred but beautiful. Deep red eyes and a mane of golden hair. With this face came a profound conviction of belonging. And then she saw him speaking a name.
Alice.
Her name, she realized.
The visions told her who she was, or shaped her into who she would become. These were the only help she would get.
“And she doesn’t know who created her,” I told Bella. “She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. If she hadn’t had that other sense, if she hadn’t seen Jasper and Carlisle and known that she would someday become one of us, she probably would have turned into a total savage.”
Bella pondered this in silence. I was sure it was difficult for her to comprehend. It had taken my family a while to adjust, as well. I wondered what her next question would be.
And then her stomach gurgled, and I realized that we’d been together all day and she’d eaten nothing in that time. Ah, I needed to keep better focused on her human needs!
“I’m sorry, I’m keeping you from dinner.”
“I’m fine, really,” she said too quickly.
“I’ve never spent much time around anyone who eats food,” I apologized. “I forget.” It was a poor excuse.
Her expression was totally open as she responded, vulnerable. “I want to stay with you.”
Again, the word stay seemed to carry so much more weight than it usually did.
“Can’t I come in?” I asked gently.
She blinked twice, clearly thrown by the idea. “Would you like to?”
“Yes, if it’s all right.”
I wondered if she thought I had to have an explicit invitation in order to come inside. The thought made me smile, and then frown as I felt a spasm of guilt. I would need to come clean with her. Again. But how to broach such a shameful admission?
I stewed on that while I got out and opened the passenger door for her.
“Very human,” she commended.
“It’s definitely resurfacing.”
We walked together at human speed across her shadowed, silent yard as if this were a normal thing. She flickered glances at me as we walked, smiling to herself. I reached up and pulled the house key from its hiding place as we passed, then opened the door for her. She hesitated, looking down the dark hallway.
“The door was unlocked?” she asked.
“No, I used the key from under the eave.”
I replaced the key in question while she moved to turn on the porch lamp. When she turned back, yellow light made harsh shadows across her face as she raised both eyebrows at me. I could see she meant the look to be stern, but the corners of her lips were puckered as though she was fighting a smile.
“I was curious about you,” I confessed.
“You spied on me?”
It didn’t seem to be a joking matter, but she sounded as if she were about to laugh.
I should have confessed all then, but I went along with her teasing tone. “What else is there to do at night?”
It was the wrong choice, a cowardly choice. She heard only a joke, not an admission. Strange again to realize how, even with the huge potential nightmares resolved, there continued to be much to fear. Of course, this issue was nothing but my own fault, my own extremely poor behavior.
She shook her head slightly, then gestured for me to enter. I moved past her down the hall, switching on lights as I went so she wouldn’t have to stumble in the dark. I took a seat at her small kitchen table and looked around, examining the angles that were invisible from outside the window. The room was tidy and warm, bright with gaudy yellow paint that was somehow endearing in its failed attempt to mimic sunshine. Everything smelled like Bella, which should have been quite painful, but I found that I enjoyed it in a strange way. Masochistic, indeed.
She stared at me with a hard to read expression. A little confusion, I guessed, a little bit of wonder. As though she wasn’t sure I was real. I smiled and pointed her toward the refrigerator. She whirled in that direction with an answering grin. I hoped she had some food easily accessible. Perhaps I should have taken her to dinner? But it felt wrong to think of subjecting ourselves to a crowd of strangers. Our new understanding was still too unique, too raw. Any obstacle that would force silence would be unendurable. I wanted her to myself.
It only took her a minute to find an acceptable option. She cut out a square of casserole and heated it in the microwave. I could smell oregano, onions, garlic, and tomato sauce. Something Italian. She stared intently at the plate while it revolved.
Perhaps I would learn to cook food. Not being able to appreciate flavors the same way a human did would definitely be a hurdle, but there seemed to be quite a bit of math to the process, and I was sure I could teach myself to recognize the correct smells.
Because, suddenly, I felt sure that this was just the first of our quiet evenings in, rather than a singular event. We would have years of this. She and I together, just enjoying each other’s company. So many hours… the light inside me seemed to stretch and grow, and I thought again that I might shatter.
“How often?” Bella asked without looking at me.
My thoughts were so caught up in this tremendous image of the future that I didn’t follow her at once. “Hmmm?”
She still didn’t turn. “How often did you come here?”
Oh, right. Time to have courage. Time to be honest, no matter the consequences. Though after the day I’d had, I felt fairly sure that she would eventually forgive me. I hoped.
“I come here almost every night.”
She spun to look at me with startled eyes. “Why?”
Honesty.
“You’re interesting when you sleep. You talk.”
“No!” she gasped. Blood washed into her cheeks and didn’t stop there, coloring even her forehead. The room grew infinitesimally warmer as her blush heated the air around her. She leaned against the counter behind her, gripping it so hard that her knuckles turned white. Shock was the only emotion I could see in her expression, but I was sure others would come soon.
“Are you very angry with me?”
“That depends!” she blurted out breathlessly.
That depends?I wondered what could possibly mitigate my crime. What could make it less or more horrible? I was disgusted by the thought that she was reserving judgment until she knew exactly how offside my lurking had been. Did she imagine that I was as depraved as any peeping tom? That I’d leered at her from the shadows, hoping for her to expose herself? If my stomach could turn, it would have.
Would she believe me if I tried to explain my torment at being separated from her? Could anyone believe the kinds of catastrophes I’d imagined, thinking she might not be safe? They had all been so far-fetched. And yet, if I were separated from her now, I knew the same impossible dangers would begin to plague me again.
Long seconds passed, the microwave shrilled out its announcement that its work was done, but Bella didn’t speak again.
“On?” I prompted.
Bella groaned the words. “What you heard!”
I felt a rush of relief that she did not believe me capable of a viler kind of surveillance. Her only worry was embarrassment at what I might have heard her say? Well, on that matter I could comfort her. She had nothing to be ashamed of. I jumped up and rushed to take her hands. Part of me thrilled to the fact that I could do this so easily.
“Don’t be upset!” I pleaded. Her eyes were downcast. I leaned in so that our faces would be on the same level, and waited until she met my gaze.
“You miss your mother. You worry about her. And when it rains,” I murmured, “the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it’s less often now. Once you said, ‘It’s too green.’”
I laughed quietly, trying to coax a smile from her. Surely she could see there was no need for mortification.
“Anything else?” she demanded, raising one eyebrow. The way she half turned her face away, her eyes moving down and then darting back up again, helped me realize what she was worried about.
“You did say my name,” I admitted.
She inhaled and then blew out a long sigh. “A lot?”
“How much do you mean by ‘a lot,’ exactly?”
Her eyes dropped to the floor. “Oh no!”
I reached out and wrapped my arms carefully around her shoulders. She leaned into my chest, still hiding her face.
Did she think I had ever been anything but overjoyed to hear my name on her lips? It was one of my favorite sounds, along with the sound of her breath, the sound of her heart.…
I whispered my response into her ear. “Don’t be self-conscious. If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I’m not ashamed of it.”
How I had once wished to be able to dream of her! How I’d ached for that. And now, reality was better than dreams. I wouldn’t want to miss one second of it for any kind of unconsciousness.
Her body relaxed. A happy sound, almost a hum or a purr, sighed out of her.
Could this really be it? Was I to have no punishment at all for my outrageous behavior? This felt more like a reward. I knew I owed her a deeper penance.
I became aware of another sound beyond her heart thrumming in my arms. A car was drawing closer and the thoughts of the driver were very quiet. Tired after a full day. Looking forward to the promise of food and comfort that the warm lights in the windows offered. But I couldn’t be perfectly sure that was what he was thinking.
I didn’t want to move from where I was. I pressed my cheek against Bella’s hair and waited until she also heard her father’s car. Her body stiffened.
“Should your father know I’m here?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure.…”
I brushed my lips quickly against her hair and then released her with a sigh.
“Another time, then…”
I ducked out of the room and darted up the stairs into the darkness of the tiny hall between bedrooms. I’d been here once before, finding a blanket for Bella.
“Edward!” she called in a stage whisper from the kitchen.
I laughed just loud enough for her to know that I was close.
Her father stomped up to the front door, scraping each of his boots twice against the mat. He shoved his key into the lock, and then grunted when the handle turned with the key, already unlatched.
“Bella?” he called as he swung the door open. His thoughts registered the smell of the food in the microwave, and his stomach grumbled.
I realized that Bella, also, had still not eaten. I supposed it was a good thing her father had interrupted us. I would starve her at this rate.
But some small part of me was just a little… wistful. When I’d asked if she wanted her father to know I was here, that we were together, I’d hoped that the answer would be different. Of course, she had so much to consider before introducing me to him. Or she might never want him to know she had someone like me in love with her, and that was perfectly fair. More than fair.
And truly, it would have been inconvenient to meet her father officially in my current state of dress. Or undress. I supposed I should be grateful for her reticence.
“In here,” Bella called to her father. I heard his soft grunt of acknowledgment as he locked the door, and then his boots stomping toward the kitchen.
“Can you get me some of that?” Charlie asked. “I’m bushed.”
It was easy to understand the sounds of Bella moving around the kitchen while Charlie settled himself, even without a more convenient set of thoughts to watch through. Chewing—Bella was finally eating something. The refrigerator opening and closing. The microwave whirring. Liquid—too thick for water, I would guess milk—poured into glasses. A dish set gently on the wooden table. Chair legs scraping against the floor as Bella sat down.
“Thanks,” Charlie said, and then they both were chewing for a long moment.
Bella broke the companionable silence. “How was your day?” Her inflections sounded off, as if her mind was elsewhere. I smiled.
“Good, the fish were biting… how about you? Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”
“Not really—it was too nice out to stay indoors.” Her casual answer wasn’t as relaxed as his. She wasn’t a natural at hiding things from her father.
“It was a nice day,” he agreed, sounding oblivious to the edge in her voice.
A chair moved again.
“In a hurry?” Charlie asked.
Bella swallowed loudly. “Yeah, I’m tired. I’m going to bed early.” Her footsteps moved to the sink and the water began to run.
“You look kinda keyed up,” Charlie continued. Not so oblivious as I’d thought. I wouldn’t miss these things if his thoughts weren’t so hard to get to. I tried to make sense of them. Bella’s eyes flashing to the hall. The suddenly brighter color in her cheeks. This seemed to be all he was aware of. Then a sudden confusion of images, nebulous and without context. A 1971 mustard-yellow Impala. The Forks High School gym, decorated with crepe paper. A porch swing and a girl with bright green barrettes in her pale hair. Two red vinyl seats at a shiny chrome bar in a tacky diner. A girl with long, dark curls, walking along a beach under the moon.
“Do I?” Bella asked with put-on innocence. Water ran in the sink, and I could hear the sound of bristles against melamine.
Charlie was still thinking about the moon. “It’s Saturday,” he announced randomly.
Bella didn’t seem to know how to respond. I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, either.
Finally, he continued. “No plans tonight?”
I thought I understood the images now. Saturday nights from his youth? Maybe.
“No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep.” She sounded anything but tired.
Charlie sniffed once. “None of the boys in town your type, eh?”
Was he worried that she wasn’t having a normal teen experience? That she was missing out? For a second I felt a deep twinge of doubt. Should I be worried about the same? What I was keeping her from?
But then the sureness and sense of right from the meadow washed over me. We belonged together.
“No, none of the boys have caught my eye yet.” Bella’s tone was slightly patronizing.
“I thought maybe that Mike Newton… you said he was friendly.”
I hadn’t expected that. A sharp blade of anger twisted in my chest. Not anger, I recognized. Jealousy. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever disliked anyone quite so much as that pointless, insignificant boy.
“He’s just a friend, Dad.”
I couldn’t tell if Charlie was upset by her answer or relieved by it. Perhaps a mixture of both.
“Well, you’re too good for them all, anyway,” he said. “Wait till you get to college to start looking.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Bella agreed quickly. She turned the corner and started up the stairs. Her footsteps were slow—probably to emphasize her assertion that she was sleepy—and I had plenty of time to beat her to her room. Just in case Charlie followed. It would hardly be in line with her wishes for him to find me here, half-dressed, eavesdropping.
“’Night, honey,” Charlie called after her.
“See you in the morning, Dad,” she responded in a voice that tried to sound tired but failed badly.
It felt wrong to sit in the rocking chair as usual, invisible in the dark corner. It had been a hiding place when I hadn’t wanted her to know I was here. When I was being deceitful.
I lay across her bed, the most obvious place in the room, where there could be no hint of trying to disguise my presence.
I knew that her scent would engulf me here. The smell of detergent was fresh enough to suggest she’d washed the sheets recently, but it didn’t overpower her own fragrance. Overwhelming as it was, it was also painfully pleasant to be surrounded in such a sharp way by the evidence of her existence.
As soon as she entered the room, Bella stopped dragging her feet. She slammed the door shut behind her, then ran on her tiptoes to the window. Right past me without a glance. She shoved the window open and leaned outside, staring into the night.
“Edward?” she stage-whispered.
I suppose my resting place was not that obvious after all. I laughed quietly at my failed attempt to be aboveboard, then answered her.
“Yes?”
She spun so fast that she nearly lost her balance. With one hand, she gripped the window ledge for stability. Her other hand clutched at her throat.