Author's Note: Hello all! I have returned, with the next installment to the Johnson's story – with even more Cullen goodness than the last one!
My title is a reference to the number, "On My Own" from Les Miserables, as well as a reflection of Lisa's character.
Since my characters reside in Scotland, I'm using a few British terms (though I'm not writing in full-on-British-English grammar and spelling); for any American readers, I'll define the important ones in the beginning of a chapter. This chapter: "car park" is a parking lot, "Learner's plate" is a red "L" magnet placed on the car of a learning driver (I think these would be really helpful here in the US), and "wellies" are short for "wellington boots;"the American equivalent is "galoshes" or "rain boots," "Burns Day" is a Scottish holiday celebrating the life and work of Robert ("Rabbie") Burns. I also highly recommend the free Google Earth download; its loads of fun and can give you some perspective as to these locations. (Muchalls is a real village, as is West Calder; Carlisle will be working at a real hospital – my mum once worked there - and Aberdeen and Edinburgh are, of course, exceptionally real.)
And, finally: I own neither Twilight nor its respective characters.
Chapter One:
Utterly Terrifying
"Make a right turn back into the car park." The test evaluator instructed. I remembered Edward's advice as I flipped on the indicators.
"Keep calm, and think clearly. This is the part where it's easy to get cocky and make mistakes."
I parked neatly, straightening the automobile with deft vampire skill, and turned to see the test evaluator's reaction.
"Good job – you've passed." He scrambled to find the right words, and I shifted my eyes, instead watching the rain pounding against the windshield. It was easy to forget the power of my eyes upon an unprepared human; a look that would have left my siblings eyes rolling could render a normal man immovable.
I smiled and turned off the engine, pulling up the hood of my rain jacket as we returned to the bleak brick building for the printing of my new driver's license. I mentally celebrated, but remained the vision of calm and collected while I stood in yet another line.
I was driving home, thankful to be able to take off the embarrassing Learner's plate, Edward Cullen sitting comfortably in the passenger's seat. He had taught me everything he knew about British road laws and road conditions and how to drive a stick shift (and how not to get caught at outrageous speeds on deserted country roads). I had thanked him profusely already, but I took a minute to express my gratitude once more.
"Thanks again for teaching me to drive. I know it took up plenty of your time, and I'm not exactly the most talented of drivers, so thank you for your patience."
"Lisa," he chuckled as he fiddled with the music volume, "I like cars, and I like driving. I didn't mind one bit. Right now, you should be proud that the United Kingdom deems you worthy to grace its roads with your maneuvering skills. It's a much harder test to pass than any in the U.S."
Once we had returned to the pretty cottage a mile outside of Muchalls, a small seaside village less than half an hour away from Aberdeen, I said goodbye to our family friend. Unable to feel the bitter cold of the wind and wet, I watched Edward speed off in his dark, shiny sports car; he had a three-hour drive back to West Calder, though I wouldn't be surprised if he made it in half the time.
Standing on the old stone doorstep, fitting my key into the lock on the large wooden door, I remembered the first time my family had walked into this house. There was no joy or light in anyone's eyes – we could not look forward to a new life, because we were so ashamed of the past. Josh would look no one in the eye; he would hole himself up in his room with his tattered Bible, rereading those familiar passages that he could recite with ease, as if searching for something. Molly would watch her brother, and her usually happy demeanor would dissipate; she blamed herself for his melancholy, and could not bring herself to paint or photograph or even chat for hours on the phone with Alice Cullen. Try as I might, I was powerless to do anything for my brother and sister when they were in such dull spirits.
Hanging my wet jacket by the door and slipping off my "wellies," I listened to the almost tangible difference since we'd arrived. I could hear Molly humming as she developed photos in her old-fashioned dark room – she'd taken to choosing the best of the local scenery and quaint old buildings, and framing them for various rooms throughout the house. Josh was playing a game on the wallboard in the living room, with his own comical running commentary as he crashed cars and lost points.
"And there she goes! Boom! One down, 21 more to destroy. Watch out little blue Ferrari!"
I sorted through the mail alert on the wallboard in the kitchen – all bills, and all low. As vampires, we moved quickly through showers, required neither heating nor cooling, and could see clearly even during the darkest of nights. We liked to run the electricity a little, to keep suspicion away and to enjoy the marvels of modern technology, but I couldn't imagine the amount we had saved over the years from not flushing toilets or needing to frequently brush our teeth.
I moved quickly up the narrow staircase and into my room. The simple green upholstered armchairs, with matching curtains over the window; a fluffy sheepskin rug; a matching antique wardrobe, coffee table, and desk; the room was simple and functional, fitting both my own personality, and the house's charm.
I pulled a worn notebook from the desk, and a pen. I wasn't a huge fan of the inconveniences of this old style of writing, but there was something more intimate about a handwritten diary.
January 19th, 2108
Today, I got my British driver's license. It took me long enough! At least now, when we spend Burns Day with the Cullens, we won't have to rely on anyone else for transportation.
I don't really see why the Cullens insist on celebrating a trivial Scottish holiday – we can't eat a traditional haggis, we aren't even Scottish, and Burns is long dead – it's not like he'll be offended. I think Esme just likes any excuse to have us all together; she likes to refer to us as her "extended family" – like second cousins or something, I suppose. Not that I mind – I like the variety of our dear friends; the conversation and a few good laughs.
Next Goal: Become further acquainted with Robert Burns poetry before said holiday.
I returned the notebook and pen to the desk drawer, being precise in my placement. I had been keeping short records of my daily life for years – I didn't want eternity to become a mishmash of endless days and nights, doing nothing and learning little. My diary had become a sort of achievements list – and I really liked lists. I liked order, being able to see things in a line and think straight, being able to check things off – the sense of accomplishment.
I also liked mystery novels. I moved towards Josh's now-occupied room, voicing my desire.
"Do you have the Bubb Cusack?"
Josh made a vague motion towards the shelves in the furthest corner of the room. I never understood how he grouped his library – alphabetically or by genre or preference? It always confounded me, but I didn't feel the need to ask. My organization, like his faith, was a point of contention within the coven. He and Molly accepted that I would clean up behind them, if they left a mess in the public areas of the house, but I could not criticize their personal spaces. As an unspoken rule, we kept our idiosyncrasies to ourselves.
"Thank you," I sang as I turned back towards my room.
"Cheerful much?" He didn't look up from Heart of Darkness; he wasn't doing himself any favors reading such depressing material. I would have suggested some lighter material, but I considered it providence that he was reading something other than theology nowadays.
"I've got my driver's license." I pulled out the card from its slot on my handheld. "Exciting, isn't it?"
I heard his mutter when I reached the hallway.
"Utterly terrifying."