Counting the Sand

by TheTBone

"The marine tiers of tears unshed manifested by the waves rolling and hurdling over the sea floor. The picturesque allegory became even more exquisite." Renesmee and Esme spend a day of bonding on Isle Esme. Oneshot.

I do not own Twilight. I wouldn't mind doing so, however.

Glittered it did.

The ocean surrounding the isle gleamed and shimmered with pride, lifting its gaze towards the sun, only to lower it again in shame and change its mind once again endless times to the welcoming sun. With no fixed point, no clear beginning or end in sight, a blur of irregularity, the only promise was to be unpredictable. The only unspoken rule being to continue the pattern of inconsistency within the universe. The silk, satin sea drifting quietly in the morning, swaying gently under the yawning morning sky opening up airily above. The calm irrigation encircled the pinnacle of peace, the atoll ensconced within soft, amicable, unthreatening movement of water, the flutters for pure enjoyment rather than peril and harshness, no intention to cause any sort of distress.

Not that Renesmee would ever need to worry about austere, callous things such as these. Any faint sense of inhospitably or starkness would quickly be met and no match for her familial unit. Nothing heinous would come within mere miles of the precious gift of the youngling.

Treasured as no one and nothing had ever been cherished or adored before. Valued above all else to a special group of eight in particular, everywhere to turn in her octagon world would she would find support, a sturdy foundation, a indestructible structure built with all of the necessities to get through the day, all of the tools needed to survive eternal life on earth. She was already knitted into the group, patched into the quilt of the loving creatures around her. Each bringing to the table something ultimately essential, in different volumes, magnitudes, and timelines, but something vital nonetheless. They would all dish out their part, their offerings waiting dormant deep within until the girl who was wrapped tightly and comfortably around each their fingers requested the key to their wisdom, the want and desire to unlock the knowledge and astuteness they each possessed.

On this particular day, however, the relatives making sure this was so was limited to the adoptive grandmother of the all-important gift. There with her ever-present smile and unconditional, fierce love, no match to any other, not the weak-at-the-knees, fondling kind, though that was often expressed, but the intense extreme love, making her just as protective as others. Some would say even more so considering the fact of the power and supremacy of the heart. There's not to say her gift did not offer a sense of vulnerability as well, being taken advantage of with the curse of wearing her heart on her sleeve was a constant concern, but the fact of the present she had and her kind presence acted as a defense mechanism when dealing with unusually cruel circumstances. No one would intentionally hurt one with such an ambiance and attitude, and if they could get through the guilt knowing they would, their defense would be weaken by the remorse of hurting someone seemingly so innocent, making them ill to know the effect of their actions. Sometimes revenge coming in the form of responsibility, the punishment being the shadow of hurt illuminating her face, other times facing her herself.

It was different, the fact if you were trying to hurt her or one of hers. Harming her would be nothing compared to damaging one she considered to be a child of her own. Action and consequences would rise and become quick and unforgiving, the stakes heightened by the fact you were messing with a cherished item. Defense would come in rebuttal and sometimes attack if getting even the slightest vibe of crude intentions meant for the object of her affection. The bright, striking amber eyes reaching your soul to seer disappointment into your core, disciplining the fact of the too-closeness with cruel intent.

Protective, she wouldn't think twice about putting herself in to harms way if that meant one she cared for and looked after were to be guaranteed safety. She thought it her duty to watch over her prized custody with upmost strength, the job her main importance without a doubt.

Renesmee, of course, was smart. Wise beyond her years and wise beyond that. Though she sensed the fact of affection towards her, she could not fathom the partiality other felt for her, the keenness others retained for her could not be expressed, it wasn't humanly or supernaturally possible. Amounts and sums of such love were not measurable, for there was no chart high enough to show it for just one-eighth of the clan let alone all of them combined. The passion overwhelming and the adoration suffocating and delicious in every possible way.

This morning was peculiarly calm for the Cullens, peculiarly calm and delightfully simple. They were on a vacation, on leave from the usual craziness and hectic conditions of everyday life back in the rainy town of Forks. The constant tasks of hiding, covering, and holding back was enough to wear down even them, the robust and resilient immortal beings. The small strip of land was perfect in every way, a simple place where they could all gather and reveal true identities without hassle, worry, or fear. They could go out into the sun, see the light and each other in incredible and similar ways. They could simply be who they were without breeching ancient contracts or fears of safety.

Though the conditions were the most ideal of all, even on Isle Esme, they could not escape the higher power of desiring fuel for their endeavors, which led them into the hands of longing to hunt. Being the child she still was, hunting would prove dangerous for Renesmee, for through her aspiring independence she would insist on doing it all her own, and though nearly indestructible, wildlife still proved a dangerous threat to the slightly more fragile being. And though probably perfectly capable handling herself, being a daughter of the infamously clumsy Isabella Swan, there was more in common than just those piercingly deep brown eyes, mischief was always awaiting her just around the corner, waiting to pop out and leech on at any free, unexpected moment.

And so seven bound together in order to increase energy and quench the thirst burning within their throats, a united front to venture into the woods and fulfill their physical needs. One stayed behind, much to the dismay of all the rest. Groans and disapprovals spiraled out the mouths of the rest of the family when the sprightly woman offered to care for the child in their leave, four in particular.

"Are you positive, love? I would be perfectly content to await here with you as we could depart to hunt together at a later time," the doctor and mate had said. His compassion towards his wife and concern and for leaving her and his granddaughter, even for a short period of time, was slightly amusing to Esme considering her imperishable condition. She was quite aware, though, of the reason of his apprehension. He was brought back to the days of her adolescent self, susceptible to things such as broken legs from falling from trees, broken bodies from jumping off cliffs, and broken hearts from falling-outs in relationships. His distress was admirable, and showed his true and passionate feelings for her, an indescribably magnificent thought. She brushed off his offer gently, teasing him about him thinking she was too fragile to which he teased back, a forever young relationship for a forever youthful couple.

The couple to which the article belongs was another obstacle. "Are you sure mother? We wouldn't want to pressure you." Edward had asked, bringing up an entirely new point of the fact that every time she could swear her heart still skipped whenever he called her that.

"Do you not see me as capable and trustworthy?" She'd said jokingly, knowing full well that was not the reason, but also knowing the feeling of wanting to protect your own blood. With only the few days she'd had with her own relational son she felt the urge and anxiety in having to keep him safe, more necessary than breathing and more imperative by many times than her own life. She hadn't run away for her own sake, but for the sake and well being of her kin.

"No of course not!" Bella said quick to defend Edward's words, not processing the sarcasm in her tone. "We just wouldn't want to intrude on your time here as well," she'd said, still shy and wanting to please even after her transformation. She was a lot like Esme in the fact of defending her fancied family. Bella chimed in with her now husband, yet another thing she couldn't, and wouldn't want to get used to, thoroughly enjoying the concept of having another adoptive daughter.

"Bella, darling, I wouldn't see it as having to care for your child; I would see it as you letting me." Esme reassured her, having to be softer and more straightforward with her newer, more emotionally fragile accomplice in the vampire life.

Bella nodded, still looking slightly skeptical about her offer made apparent by the unconfident smile, not believing that anyone else could feel the way she did of her little girl. In order to get her to fully understand the meaning and truth behind her words, she emphasized the fact without them. Esme stroked a tender, light finger across her cheek before placing it on the small her back and met her eyes. "It would be an honor if you'd let me have this opportunity to spent this time alone with her, not a burden," she reassured. Bella then gave an assured smile and larger nod, and Esme knew she'd gotten the message.

The last was the most hard to work around and would be the most surprised had Esme not known her well or for many years. The seemingly icy, uninterested, detached, and snobby figure was anything but, especially in the presence of Renesmee. Technically and formally known to the general public as Rosalie Hale, but to Esme, Rosalie Cullen, as she was just as much a daughter to her as anything had been connected.

She did not necessarily blame others in their conclusions and assumptions of these bad attitude dubbings of the gorgeous vampire. Her beauty blight in both the human and vampire life spans, presuming she was cold and heartless on the inside where it counts was simply not fair, she soon learned. Seeking to learn about each her roommates turned pegged offspring, Esme desired to consult with each about their past experiences, not discouraged against but warned against gently by her husband she held off on that particular part with the certain outwardly impersonal frozen teen, until the beloved and blessed, long-awaited day she had sought her comfort and open, keen ears. But that was another story for another time.

Rosalie had grown one of the most attached and ferociously protective towards the copper-curled child. Having the draining and devastating load, she shared the fate of herself regarding child-baring, and was treating the job of aunt with careful and stubbornness that only she could put out. When hearing Esme's offer, she hastily and naturally asked her intentions. Esme didn't let the comment influence her, for she knew Rose was only making sure of her well being, and her way was hostility rather than calm rationality. Esme assured her that Renesmee would be fine in her care, pushing down the wounded feeling from the insensitive remark. She finally, albeit hesitantly, agreed to the condition, and with one last look, a mix of embarrassment, sorrow, fear, all coated by menace, was gone.

The expedition would be slightly different, for the fact that the island had no woods, and they would have to somehow maneuver to mainland for prey, the diminutive detail not asked by Esme, for she was more a free-spirit play-it-by-ear kind of gal.

And then there were two, when the time finally came to put the morning into action, after pointless, yet sweet, good-byes from the family towards the matriarch and the brown-eyed youngster, kisses and hugs abundant even for the simple act of going away for insignificant minutes on the timeline of forever. Not that that mattered to any of them, they made every second count, not wanting to waste limitless time.

So they made their way out the door, each shooting their own glances through the window, what each looked like not going unnoticed by Esme. She waved back politely, although a little self-conscious about their doubts towards her. Well, she would just have to prove them wrong, she told herself as she went to go meet Nessie, nose pressed up again the freshly cleaned windowpane, still flailing her hands, gesturing out the window to her leaving family. She understood, but with any young child would get pangs of separation anxiety, and Esme felt her biggest job would be to take her mind off of such feelings.

"Hey baby girl," she voiced to Nessie in attempt to distract the momentary abandoning. The sprite turned in a flash to meet the familiar sound of the chiming placid voice. She smiled with her prematurely growing teeth inside her small line of pink gums.

Her age and growth rate were confusing, even to vampires with all their wit and intelligence, not that numbers ever mattered much to Esme. All she knew was that she was her little girl, her grandchild in all senses of the word. Nessie was smart for her age, not being more than a couple of months she could walk, control body movements most of the time, conduct simple sentences, and comprehend much more than anyone knew.

"What would you like to do today, dear?" Esme asked her, letting her have free reign, knowing she was intelligent enough to process instead of a simple yes or no. This prompted Nessie to reach up her index finger to meet her chin, an eyebrow arched down and one mirrored upwards, her nose and forehead both crinkling in thought, the wheels turning inside the mesmerizing mind of an extraordinary child. She sighed as if in deep concentration. She finally brightened up and managed a nod as if she knew she'd be satisfied with her answer.

"Beach," she verbalized joyfully, pointing out the back window as if to clarify her point and looking at her grandmother for confirmation of the plans, taking it a step further and gently pressing her hand to her cheek to relay the information in vivid images, some of visualizations, some of memories, and some of an unclear future, rough drafted, doodled thoughts of her premonition.

"That sounds like fun! What a great idea," Esme said praising her, still amazed at her abilities, though it was a possibility that she was a bit biased considering the special relationship between the two. Renesmee beamed nonetheless, grinning ear to ear, her smile stretching as ample as the extensive horizon.

The little ball of energy shrieked with joy and made a beeline for the door, fully clothed with incorrect attire and sprinting to take a bite of exciting adventure of the scrumptious combination of salty seawater and sand smidgens. Esme laughed at the juvenile anxiousness and dashed to the bubbly toddler, scooping her up into her strong, soft embrace.

"Not so fast, little one, a bathing suit perhaps? What would Alice think of you wearing these to play outside?" She questioned, trying to maintain serious composure, but almost giving way and giggling despite herself thinking of Alice's style sense and inheritance to Renesmee, no doubt going to give her parents headaches when her adolescent years approached. Renesmee nodded like this was an obvious thing, her brown-red curls freely bouncing around and hopping out of Esme's arms to bound up the stairs in search of an adequate outfit. As much as she wanted and would be willing to help her pick a suitable choice of a bathing suit, she knew that Renesmee enjoyed the independence of choosing a simple waterproof garment.

She was back down the stairs, joining her grandmother again in record time in a quite interesting wardrobe choice consisting of a blue cheetah-print bottom and electric green and hot pink striped top. Esme nodded a sign of confirmation at the very interesting fashion choice…Alice still had a bit of work to do before Renesmee would be a designer at Vogue, but the fact that she was even relatively interested was enough for her fashion-forward aunt. The only person she really had to share her love of chic trends was Rosalie, and although she knew they loved each other as sisters, it was almost like Rosalie was much older and mature. This could be due to the fact that Rose had a very clear picture of the horrors of her human life and the unquenched thirsts of it she left behind. Alice on the other hand didn't remember hardly a thing about her past, relying on imagination, family, school and normalcy to try and figure out what she had missed. This imagination was often passed off as naivety, making it seem as Rosalie was much older and mature in her relationships with everyone she came into contact with, especially her family.

Alice was also always the youngest, smallest, and baby of the group. She was nineteen, physically, although her deprived human condition left her looking much smaller and undeveloped; she could have passed for a preteen if need be. Her energy, much like Emmett's, was child-like, perky, and optimistic as opposed to seriousness and pessimistic ideals, which made her look like a younger sister to even Bella, seventeen when they'd first met her, younger in human age and quite less mature in years total living at all.

But now she'd finally have someone frailer and smaller than her, humanly younger. Renesmee was a blank slate, a contrast to the already made up mind of Bella, ever-influenced by the entire family, a mix of everyone, the best and strongest hopeful. Esme could already see the similarities of her and each member and knew they would get even stronger with time. She was a sponge of experience and soaked up everyone's quirks around her, the very point made by the choice of bathing suit.

"Are you ready to go?" Esme asked in amusement. Renesmee nodded and smiled happily and pranced to the door like a runway model, head up in confidence and theatricality, and lead her grandma out the door with pizzazz. Charmed, Esme followed the tiny diva onto the, her, island.

She loped into the ocean, scuttling until she got to the water. The water encircling her and trickled and seeped off her smooth skin. She danced around in the water, squealing with delight at the prospect at getting wet and slippery. She slid around while Esme sat on the edge and watched the awkwardly adorable prance, a strange, exotic dance of childhood. She giggled as she squatted and hopped on her toes, her ankles bouncing and leaping, step by step a pattern of youth.

She dropped to her belly, desiring and urging to swim as she'd seen her older relatives do, bopping around and flopping on her belly. She was having a ball, a solo party, the shindig of her life. It only took a second. Only one miscommunication of her brain to her body, a break in the nervous system and soon she was flailing. The waves had carried her quicker and deeper than she'd originally planned and soon she was thrashing, whirling, flapping and floundering about. Small, pathetic squeaks escaping her lungs in a desperate cry for help.

Esme was there in a flash. Forgetting about her cashmere crème cardigan and rather expensive beach skirt, she shrugged her shoes off of her rapidly moving feet and dove into the unique mix of hydrogen and oxygen to rescue the alarmed child, pushing down her own panic in attempt to remain calm.

Though it took only a few seconds, even less than usual considering the unnatural speed, a perk of having superhuman powers, it seemed longer from both ends. Esme rushed through the rushing water, an inelegant, graceless combination of a gawky swim and run in order to reach her. Finally she had her in a death grip in her arms and returned to safety. Renesmee coughed and spat water out of her full lungs; salt water was not pleasant for her vampire or human taste buds. After the rounds of coughing became controlled, Esme relaxed a bit, thinking that calling Carlisle wouldn't be necessary, and gave a relieved heave.

Renesmee was not at ease though, this made obvious by her stiff posture and pouty lips, the look in her eyes frightened. Not of the wrath of Esme, though she had warned her to stay close to shore and not go so far out for fear of drowning, but of disappointment. The displeasure more a punishment than a lecture or scolding. "Sorry," she murmured, upset at herself for her mistake.

However, Esme knew the difference between blatant disobedience and an honest mistake. She wouldn't waste time or chew a child out for an accident, that wasn't fair. She instead decided on a compromise, a slight reprimand but also reward for honestly. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean to. Just be careful next time baby, I don't like to see you hurt. Now let's get you out of that wet swimsuit and we can do something else, all right sweetheart?" She proposed.

It was silly it really was Esme's maternal instincts. She inherited them in this life for no purpose, a tease since her body would never cooperate and bear biological children of her own, but that didn't mean they weren't still there. They were still dominant even in impractical situations. She wanted the health and safety of her children, even if it was obvious that they would not grow ill, old habits and past, irrational guilt had died hard especially after what happened to her child. And so even when Edward, Bella, Rosalie, Emmett Jasper, Alice, came inside after a swim, she would find herself gently prodding and commanding to change into warmer clothing for fear of sickness. Rosalie would occasionally roll her eyes sarcastically since she knew there would be no cause for concern or phobia of this, but would obey anyway in respect. They were wonderful, the best actually, because though they did need motherly guidance at times, they went along with her orders and affections. She needed them to survive this world. She needed them and Carlisle more than anything.

Renesmee was an easily occupied little girl. She was observant, curious, and inquisitive. After changing and the oceanic fiasco she spent the rest of the time with a more low-key activity. She was enjoying padding across the dry, light-brown outside floor, the morsels of sand lightly coating her minute toes like flour, and then sprawling out on the sand on her back and looking at the sun while drawing pictures unconsciously in the sand next to her, inhaling the ocean scented air.

Esme lounged beside her, looking at the gorgeous icy-looking blue sky and marveling in awe as to what the girl next to her could possibly be thinking about, listening to her slow, steady breath, watching her eyelashes flutter and blink in the wind, closed, always closed in thought, and the slight twitching and movements of her eyebrows as an idea came and went. Sleep and rest was fascinating, something humans took for granted. The beauty of relaxation and subconscious at work, the amazement, wonder, and mystery as a child slept.

Esme inquired that Renesmee must be asleep and flipped over on her back as well, knowing she would not sleep, but getting as close to shutting-down as possible. Complete peace and calm, a state as close to unconsciousness to a vampire.

"Grandma?" Renesmee asked quietly, so quietly in fact, that Esme thought she might have simply been talking in her sleep.

"Hm?" she replied, hoping maybe she would nap, not wanting to reply to loudly and wake her up.

"Where are we?" She asked philosophically, like she was asking our purpose in life and place in the universe. Esme would've laughed and teased and told her if she figured out she could tell Edward and Carlisle her discoveries. But however brilliant she might be, Esme knew the question had to be simpler than that. And she was obviously patiently expecting an answer considering the honesty and natural stubbornness in her voice likely somehow non-biologically affected by Rosalie.

"We're at the beach," she said, wondering why she should be asking. She knew was a beach was, she had heard of them and been down to La Push with the wolf pack a few times.

"What beach? Not Jacob's," she stated, certain and solid in her answer, sure and not questioning at the end.

"Nope, you're right. This is Isle Esme," she stated, Renesmee's eyes widening at the prospect. Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, and then understanding registered on her tiny face. She nodded in satisfaction and sat up, her little arms pushing hard on the soft ground beneath her. Esme sat up as well, curious and ever-supervising, nervous and weary, always extra and sometimes irrationally careful despite the fact she was not but a foot away.

Renesmee sat cross-legged, Indian style and facing Esme, in the process shoveling up two fists full of sand. She set it in front of her Grandmother some of the small specs still sticking to her juvenile palm. Esme wondering what she could be doing, the sand was all over yet she'd moved just a tiny amount. "Esme's island, Esme's sand," she said smiling brightly, proud that she'd put two and two together, making Esme's chuckle.

"Yes, that's right," she praised back. Renesmee's face went critical again, another thought popping into her brain for her to pick and make clear. She started fingering the sand again, unaware she was doing it, sifting in through her fingers repeatedly, testing and feeling the grittiness of it between the pads of her fingers in concentration. She suddenly stopped motion as Esme waited patiently and interested to the outcome of her thoughts.

She pointed to herself, her index finger gently jabbing herself in the middle of her torso, "Renesmee," she said in admiration, as if she was trying on the word and it fitting perfectly, emphasizing the middle of her beautiful unique name. "My sand too?" she questioned, sounding out the word again and again in a whisper, as if she could get a clear answer out of the phonics and structure of the letters.

Esme laughed, dinging like a carillon, pure and tinkling, her head falling back slightly in a wholesome jingle. "Yes, darling, it's your sand as well. And it's your mommy's and daddy's and Grandpa's, and all your aunts' and uncles'. We can share the island, right?" She asked, getting faux permission. Renesmee nodded, her chubby cheeks turning up into a grin, pleased she felt included in the decision making process and given the responsibility of choice.

There were a few moments of silence, not awkward, just peaceful, happy, reflective, the ocean breeze soaking into their slightly sparkling skin, tousling the their hair in wisps, framing their heart-shaped faces, kissing their locks atop their twinkling foreheads, dazzling and glistening their skin in splendor like tinsel.

Renesmee looked all around her, twisting and pausing at each small rotation she made with her head, cephalic rounding atop her neck, squirming along until she had completed a rotation and was back to where she started. "Grandma?" she sighed, and continued when Esme gave her an encouraging bob of her head, signaling her to continue, "Can you count the sands?"

Esme gave a slight laugh as she exhaled. "No, honey, I don't think I could. There's just so much of it," she said, apology in her voice, wondering why she would want to take on such a daunting task, passing it off for young, naïve adventurism, an educational counting quest, an exciting sounding voyage and exploration of the unknown.

Renesmee looked away, moving her head forty-five degrees to the right, looking distractedly at the ocean and smiled sheepishly, "I love you more than them," she whispered, referring to the diminutive specs of earth beneath them.

The ocean was a metaphor for Esme. The marine tiers of tears unshed manifested by the waves rolling and hurdling over the sea floor. The picturesque allegory became even more exquisite by choosing that exact moment to symbolize Esme's exact feelings, the sentiment coming to life before her eyes. The large mass of water shared itself, a tiny droplet finding refuge on Esme's cheek and slyly sliding down her cheek. The saltiness symbolizing excess fluid from her overflowing heart, panging in a delightful, light way, giving the appearance of a single tear. Esme wouldn't dare wipe it away. It was a sign, a beautiful sign to herself and Renesmee that no matter what they were bonded together, fused by feeling. And that though the love was not human it was true, it was real, and my God it was powerful.

Renesmee was still looking away bashfully at the compliment and her attachment. Esme, flattered intoxicated with happiness still remembered Renesmee's feelings. She took her icy fingers and tenderly tilted her chin up to meet her eyes, her amber, touched eyes. She didn't speak at first, just smiled and hoped that she could understand just a fraction of the true pang of thankfulness in her heart. Seeing her gratitude, Renesmee smiled back. "I do too, sweetie, I do too," she said finally, or rather managed to whisper, her throat closing tightly in an appreciative way.

Though no formal initiation, the two were soon embracing, Esme softly shushing and rubbing her back and tousling her bronze mane while the younger child positioned her head in her shoulder, still grinning at spending time with her Grandmother.

Although no official power, Esme didn't need one to get know things. She didn't need Edward's mind-reading to know that Renesmee was feeling content. She didn't need Alice's to know that Renesmee was going to grow up and become an incredible young woman, and she didn't need Renesmee's power herself to share the feelings of the hug and the day. It was a day they'd remember forever, enjoy now, and gave insight to what would happen soon to come. Though they could live forever life still went quickly. It was times like these where they all needed to slow down and just be. Be with each other, in each others' presence, in each other's arms.

She looked out at the ocean again. Still looking like a copy from earlier, it didn't seem as bright now. She knew exactly why. Renesmee wasn't in her peripheral vision at the time she'd last examined it. Because compared to what she was cradling in her arms it looked dull. Compared to what she cuddled and comforted in her support it lacked. It was no match for Renesmee. Nothing was.

Glittered she did.

A/N: I spent a considerable amount of time on this piece of work and wanting to take a break and shy away from my other plot and more dialog-based stories and focus more on the language and maybe do a more mature piece like this. I got the inspiration on, what do you know, a beach a few weeks ago. I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear constructive reviews! Thank you so much for your time and reading.