A Rainy Day With Nessie
I got this idea from Martha Stewart "Living" in February. She did a piece on collecting old calligraphy practice books from the 18th, 19th and early 20th century. Apparently, there was a fad for calligraphic portraits, and one "penman" made his money travelling around the country, inscribing calling cards, doing portraits, etc. I figured that this was probably the way a boy in early 20th century America would have learned to write, before the Palmer Method was introduced. As he now has superhuman speed and eye-to-hand coordination, this type of thing would be fairly easy for this particular "boy". And a lot of fun to do with his daughter on a rainy day.
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Shopping with Alice gives me a headache.
Or, it would if I were still capable of getting headaches. We'd spent all day pillaging downtown Seattle, and the wee trunk of her sun-yellow Porsche was stuffed to the gills with shopping bags.
Her excuse was two-fold: first, we "needed" clothes for our upcoming trip to South America and second, Ness was growing so fast that she "needed" new outfits to last her into the next couple months.
Trying to talk Alice out of a shopping trip is like trying to get Dick Cheney to open up his man-sized safe. Or something equally difficult.
But frankly, nothing that impossible springs immediately to mind.
Alice's car was the only sunny thing about this day. It was drizzly, overcast and slightly chilly. In other words, a typical spring day in the Pacific Northwest. Over the ocean, just off the port beam of the little car as we turned north toward Forks, iron-gray clouds lowered, pushing more rain on shore. The wind whipped the surface of the water into a stiff chop, making the cold water look even more uninviting than usual. I was glad we would be home soon. I wanted nothing more than my husband, daughter and snug little cottage around me.
I noticed Alice was driving faster than usual for her. We were zipping through Hoquiam sooner than I anticipated which pleased me. I would be home that much sooner. We did slow a bit through La Push, Alice carefully scanning both sides of the road. I wondered why, until I spied Jacob emerging from the woods on the far side of the road, in his usual cut-off shorts, pulling on a t-shirt.
Alice flashed the headlights at him. He looked startled for a second, but then apparently caught on to whatever message she was trying to send. He grinned and gave her a two "thumbs up", before darting across the road toward town. She hit the accelerator, flinging the car forward around the corner and out of town, giggling her musical Alice giggle.
"Ok, I'll bite. What was that about?"
"You'll 'bite'…hee hee..." giggled Alice again. She was positively giddy. Something was up.
Probably something that would make me very, very angry. She was clearly anticipating enjoying the fireworks that would result, or so I thought. That Jacob was in on it was clear. Maybe I would succeed in strangling him this time.
"Alice," I said through my teeth, "Just what in the hell is going on?"
"Oh, just a little something Edward and Nessie have cooked up to surprise you," she sang. And giggled, again.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared out the window at the trees flashing by. We were almost to Forks, and Alice had to slow for traffic. "What kind of surprise," I growled.
"Now, Bella, you needn't be so grumpy," she said reprovingly. "It's a little redecoration project. You're going to lo-ove it!"
"I doubt that," I groused, still looking out the window. The town flashed by, traffic lightened, and the car hurtled forward again.
"Be nice. It was Nessie's idea," she said, a trifle sharply this time. We were now pulling down the long, tree-lined drive to my in-law's house.
"Oh, that makes me feel much better," I snapped, "Her father and Jake indulge that child's every little whim. I'll be surprised if the house is still standing!"
"Bella, you'll love it. Now cheer the hell up, and don't hurt Nessie's feelings with your foul mood. She's very excited to show you," Alice snapped back. She swung the car around the last turn, and into the clearing. Instead of stopping at the front door, she turned for the garage.
Now I felt bad. I hated arguing with Alice. Usually, she's right anyway. Plus, she is my favorite sister-in-law.
"Fine."
"Fine."
Alice pulled into the garage, shut the engine down, and was out of the car and into the trunk in a flash. Shopping bags were being flung everywhere (neatly, of course). I got out, and stood watching. I found that best when shopping bags and Alice were involved.
The bags were being sorted into several large piles: Alice's personal buys, Nessie's things and the things she insisted I buy for myself and Edward. I sighed. It was a lot to carry through the woods. Not that carrying any load would tire me, it was just sort of a pain to be burdened by things that were likely to get caught on trees and the like as I ran for home. I was hoping Edward was in the main house, to help carry some of this stuff.
Alice had calmed down enough (sorting through shopping bags had that effect on her) to turn and face me calmly. "Really, Bella. You'll like this surprise. No fooling." She looked into my eyes with perfect sincerity. I was still suspicious. She'd pulled this trick on me before, but I couldn't detect any falseness in her tone or expression. "'Kay," I sighed. "Where are they, anyway?" I picked up an armful of bags.
"They're at the cottage, anxiously awaiting your arrival," she said, gathering up her bags. Sighing again, I got the rest situated on my arms and in my hands.
As we left the garage, Esme came around the corner from the back yard. Gardening was her new passion, and she'd clearly been at it hard. She and Carlisle had big plans for a new garden, and she'd designed and laid out most of it already. Plants were ordered, and as soon as it got warm enough, a "planting party" was in the works.
Esme wore a battered, floppy straw hat, her hair coming loose in caramel-colored tendrils around her dirt-streaked face under it. Her shirt (clearly an old one of Carlisle's, based on the baggy, oversized fit) and worn cotton capris were equally dirt-stained. Her gardening clogs were muddy, and she carried a trug full of sweet-pea blossoms and cuttings. These were the first flowers in the cutting garden this year, a comparatively modest effort from last season.
She appraised the piles of shopping bags on our arms, working off one dirt-caked gardening glove and then the other, dropping them into the basket atop the flowers. "Hi, girls! It looks like you did well on your trip." She smiled broadly at me, "Bella, you better hurry home! Nessie has been calling here every couple of minutes to find out where you are."
"On my way, thanks Esme," I said, turning to head for the cottage. I heard Esme ask Alice, very quietly as I launched myself across the yard, bags fluttering and rattling behind me, "You didn't tell her anything, did you?"
"Not a thing." I could hear the smile in Alice's voice as I headed for the woods and home.
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I leapt the little stone wall that formed the boarder of our own front garden, relieved to be home at last. The front door stood ajar, and I shoved it the rest of the way open with my rear end, backing into the opening, swinging my armload of shopping bags to the floor.
As I came into the front room, I saw Edward putting away some of what appeared to be some of Esme's drafting supplies into a box on the desk by the window. If my heart still beat, it would have stopped at the sight of him. It was my usual reaction every single time I saw him after any absence, no matter how short.
His bronze hair was tousled, as usual, falling over his broad forehead as he bent to put away the pens and ink in his long fingers. He wore an old, faded blue sweater and battered jeans which fit him to perfection. He finished his task, and looked up at me, smiling my favorite crooked smile. Before he could say anything, Renesmee bounced out of her bedroom and made a graceful leap into my waiting arms.
"Mom-ma," she sang, in her high, sweet voice, "You're ho-ome!" I nuzzled my face into her soft bronze curls (the exact shade of her father's hair), giving her special "Nessie hug". "I AM, sweetie," I exclaimed, "I missed you SO much! Aunt Alice tells me you have a surprise for me." I touched my forehead to hers, so that our noses met, and we rubbed our noses back and forth together in what she called an "Eskimo kiss". She loved that, but said, "No fair cheating!" Instead of her pictures, this time all I got from her was a feeling of excited anticipation.
Edward had come over, and put his arms around both of us, giving my shoulders a squeeze. "Nessie and I got bored today. So, we have a surprise for you in her room." He quickly kissed my cheek, and took my hand to pull me toward Ness's room.
Ness wiggled free from my arms, dropped easily to the floor and took my other hand. She was now about as tall as a six year old, even though she was less than a year old, technically. It was breathtaking how fast she grew and changed. She read just about any book we gave her (although she still loved to have either Edward or me read her to sleep at night). Carlisle and Rosalie were tutoring her in math and science, and she was grasping concepts at a junior high level. I still had a hard time getting used to it, even though I knew she would stop growing, and aging, in a couple more years.
"Close your eyes, Momma!" Renesmee chimed at me. I obeyed, and allowed them to lead me into her room. Edward put his hands on my shoulders, and spun me around three times, like we were playing "pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey." I heard him chuckle. "Ok, now open your eyes," he said when he'd stopped spinning me.
I did. And gasped, awestruck at what I saw.
For covering every inch of the walls, from about three feet off the floor, was the most beautiful black-and-blue-and-white-and-grey mural I'd ever seen.
It appeared to have been done entirely with black and blue inks, and in a style of looping, curling calligraphic drawing that I don't recall having seen before. The drawings around three of the walls appeared to be a forest, in which every member of our family had a role as a forest creature. On one wall, Emmett's face was imprinted onto a bear, sitting plumply on a rock, a large salmon in one paw. Rosalie's face was sketched onto a nearby deer, daintily picking her way across the carefully-rendered forest floor. Carlisle was a giant eagle atop a fir snag, spreading his wings over the forest, casting his eye benevolently down on the scene. Esme was a smaller bird, sitting atop a tree opposite, a sweet smile on her face for her mate.
Edward's and Jasper's faces emerged from the bark of two huge trees inscribed on the opposite wall, in which I and Alice sat, respectively, in the form of fairies (evident from the wings sprouting from our backs). These portraits were more "sketch-like" than the others, more realistically rendered.
I was perched on a branch, my bare feet dangling gracefully, in a tiny little "Peter Pan" dress with a dagged hem. My hair spilled down my back, parting around a pointed ear. One hand rested on my near leg, the other patted Edward's tree cheek. I was laughing up at Alice, perched on a higher branch in Jasper's tree, than me. Alice smiled down at me, looking for all the world as if she were up to some new trick. She also had pointed pixie ears and wings and was similarly dressed and posed, patting Jasper's cheek. Both tree men smiled at their "elves" fondly.
Wolves peeked from under ferns, around trees and sat next to the brook that connected the mural around the room. They each looked like their human form in some way, from Leah's swiftness (she was depicted as running flat out, all four feet bunched under her belly as she gathered for another stride) to Jacob's size to Seth's sweet expression.
At the top edge of the mural, ran a boarder of carefully rendered alphabet letters. One set, both upper and lower-case, were in Edward's personal script. The other set was in Renesmee's more modern cursive.
At the bottom of the mural, at chair-rail height, was a graphic boarder of intersecting lines and boxes, shaded in black, grey and blue, that looked familiar. It took me a moment to realize it was a duplicate of the woven pattern in Ness's "promise bracelet" from Jacob. In some of the boxes was a repeating pattern of tiny wolves in various poses. Some, running, with legs bunched up like Leah's portrait above. Some, lying down, front legs stretched out before them, heads cocked to the side as if listening. Some, sitting quietly, heads also cocked. Some, trotting along, as if on important business somewhere. Some, heads back and howling.
The style of this boarder was different, more graphic and block-like.
But, the most wondrous thing, of all the amazing things on these walls, was the huge, almost life-size portrait on the back wall, over Nessie's new, "big girl" bed.
It was of the four of us, Jake, Edward, me and Renesmee. Jacob, standing in the back, arms encircling, one hand on my shoulder, the other on Edward's arm. Edward and I, in front of Jake, each resting a hand on Nessie's shoulders, who stood in the middle, smiling sweetly. Our faces had been sketched with such precision it was almost photographic, but still charmingly hand-drawn. Over our heads, as part of the leaves of the trees that arched over us, were the words, "En plus de ma vie". More than my own life.
If I could have burst into tears, I would have. Instead, I pressed my hands to my face, eyes wide. "Oh, Edward," I breathed, "Did you do all this?"
"Jacob did the border, and provided suggestions on the wolf portraits. Nessie did her own alphabet, and also directed the position and layout. She also came up with the animal-avatar idea." He said with a smile.
"But you did everything else?" I said, shocked. I still had my hands pressed to my face, staring around me in wonder. I had no idea he was artistic, as well as musical. But, then, it shouldn't have surprised me that he was good at something else. He was good at everything.
"When I was a boy, at school," he explained, "I was taught a somewhat outdated method of writing. My father was chagrined, as he liked modernity and progress, and my private school was pretty conservative. But," he added, smiling again, "part of that method involved learning how to use calligraphy to draw. If you look closely, you'll see that all the portraits are done with the subject's initials. And the background uses only our initials, B, E, C, R, N for Nessie, and J."
"So, you did this all with pen and ink?" I couldn't get over it. This was stunning. Simply stunning. Edward still had his arm around my shoulders, and Ness bounced over, her eyes full of excitement, to take my hand. When she did, my mind was filled with her memories of the day; Edward working swiftly and accurately to fill the walls with the drawings, dipping pen in ink time and time again; Jacob carefully setting out his lines and shapes, going back to fill in the little wolf portraits. She showed me how she showed her father and Jake what she wanted and where.
Finally, she showed me being perched atop her father's shoulders, carefully inscribing her letters into the top of the wall as he stood perfectly still, holding the ink bottle aloft for her, and being disappointed that they didn't look quite as nice as Edward's. He reassured her that they looked just great, and were unique to her. She showed me that she felt better when her dad said that. She showed me Jacob giving Edward a fist-bump, her, a big kiss on the cheek, and taking off when he realized he was late for a meeting on the Rez, as well as her disappointment that he wouldn't be here for the "big surprise".
"I got bored, Momma," she said, smiling up at me, her cheeks pink with excitement, "And my walls were too plain. So, Daddy helped."
"You both should get bored more often," was all I could manage.