Twilight Belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
Not Me.
.
.
JPOV
It is supposed to be a novel, a fiction, an amusing way to pass the time. Not my usual genre by any means, but the attention it had received piqued my interest. It is supposed to be a best seller, a prize winner, a fantasy.
To my increasing horror, it is none of these things.
It is a history, a message, it is horrifically authentic.
I drop the book to the floor. More accurately it slips from my hands and crashes to the floor. I was powerless to prevent it. No matter how long the decent to the place under my desk. A feat to accomplish all things considered.
That alone is enough for my wife to take pause. But, it is the tidal wave of emotion that crashes through my careful control that sends her sprinting at lightning speed to my library door.
Is it really, could it possibly be her? Who else could it be? How did we not know? How did Alice not see? Have the others really not already seen it? It's everywhere.
How can I tell her, them, him? Oh god, how can I tell him?
I silently thank the powers that be that we live alone now, far from the others. Thankful Emmett and Rose have Edward watch this decade. I need time to guard this, to hide it from him. Walls like that aren't easy to build and after more than a hundred and fifty years I'm sorely out of practice.
She stands just outside the door. Confusion, Panic, fear. She's trying hard to rein it in. Finally calm enough, she pokes her head in.
"Jas..."
"Call them" I cut her off before she asks a question I just can't answer yet. "All of them, bring them home."
"Jas.." she tries again. She is impatient, curious, worried and starting to get angry.
"Please, Alice, Please, I promise you everything is alright. Please, trust me. Find them for me, just bring them home." I can't do it without her. She knows this.
"Home where?"
"Washington" the right place, the only place for this.
EPOV
I sit in my airplane seat and think I'm going to be sick. Not that I could if I wanted to.
I think I want to.
I run my fingers through my hair for the hundredth time in five minutes and we're not even leaving the runway.
Washington.
Why in the name of all things holy did Alice pick Washington? I heard Emmett as he fought the same fight I would have, the location of this little family reunion. But, whatever she said had him convinced. He's been doing a fairly good job staying blocked since then, much to my annoyance.
To be honest, I just didn't have it in me to push. I know the family as a whole is still guarded when it comes to me. Not that I blame them. After the 'incident' as we've taken to calling it, in Volterra, I deserve it. Well, that and they're usually right. If they think I can't handle something, I probably can't.
So why do I have to be here now? Why would she put me through this?
I go back every year but no one knows, every September for the last one hundred and forty nine years.
At the very least I can still give her that.
I never stay. Never see the High School, Port Angeles, the Meadow all the places I hold tightly in my still heart. All the places that are ours and ours alone. I can't stand the thought of them without her. I never see the house. Ours or ...hers…
To the airport, to the cemetery, back to the airport.
The first year I was too consumed with grief to know better. I went to Charlie's. Charlie, bless him, hadn't moved a single thing of hers. And from what I could pick up, never did. Until the day Charlie died, a very respectable 43 years later, her room was exactly the same. A perfect shrine to his baby girl, our girl, lost too young, too soon.
That long day, I climbed in her window and sat in my rocker. I touched her clothes and pretended I touched her; I grabbed everything I could get my hands on. She would have touched those same things, somewhere in bends and twists of time I could touch her again. I laid in her bed a breathed the ghosts of her scent. The burn in my throat was then nothing compared to the burn in my chest.
I sobbed relentlessly and the hole in my heart ripped open with such force, immortal or not, it should have killed me.
On Alice's call, it took Emmett, Jasper and Carlisle to drag me away, fighting for all I was worth, before Charlie made it home from work. They took me straight to Alaska and finally released me under strict orders to stay out of Washington. Again, they are probably right.
Having proof of what I'm sure of now, that her things, her scent, her memory has faded from the town, her house, her bed - would be too much for me to bear. As they say: Ignorance is bliss, or at least Ignorance is my existence.
Now I know better. Follow the routine. Airport, Cemetery, Airport. It is my mantra for those visits. Variations are asking for trouble.
I haven't seen the big white house since the September that ended it all. I have a running fantasy of sneaking back and burning the damn thing to the ground. I'd punish it for still standing as a reminder of that night, while Bella stands no more. Esme would be hurt and angry, certainly angry, and that is the one thing that stops me. Poor Esme, I've already put her through enough.
Still though, the fantasy remains, the house burns with the fury of my heart.
Maybe I would be lucky enough to burn along with it.
Didn't realize you were afraid of flying Eddie.
I turn in my seat to glare at a smiling Emmett. Really though, I appreciate the gesture and he knows it, anything to ease the tension building in my body and threatening to explode.
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We finally make it to the house in early evening. Alice has been here. The driveway path is clear. The lights are on, the garage is open. Despite myself and my irritation with the situation in general, I find I am almost excited to see Alice. It's been far too long and I've missed her.
Don't look at the house, don't look at the house just get your things and walk in.
She's waiting for us on the porch, her expression pensive. Combined with the fact Jasper is nowhere to be seen I find myself suddenly nervous. Where is Jasper? Why did she need us together? What has she seen? I catch her eye.
I don't know Edward; I don't know what it is. He won't tell me. I can't see anything unusual. I'm worried.
He? Jasper? This is Jasper's doing?
Carlisle and Esme pull in beside us. By the time we unload our bags Jasper is behind Alice. Rubbing her little arms and looking more worn than I've seen him. Marching cadences are going round in his head and the panic starts to set in. Jasper is second only to Emmett in not blocking thoughts. This has to be bad, very bad.
"Jasper?" I ask.
His eyes won't meet mine.
Carlisle looks to me but I have nothing.
"In the dining room please everyone. I have something for you" he turns without looking at me.
I cock and eyebrow at Alice who only shrugs.
We settle around the table and Jasper comes in with a box and starts placing a book in front of each of us.
"Jas, if I knew you were playing Oprah I would have just stayed home" Emmett whines from my left.
"Wait, isn't this what you were reading the other day?" Alice asked him "The one you dropped?"
Now she had everyone's attention and Jasper looked not the sheepish I expected but strong, determined and still singing those ridiculous marching songs in his head. We stared openly at Jasper. We don't drop things.
Jasper unnecessarily cleared his throat "I had Alice bring you all back for this, to see this."
"I'm not reading some crappy chick-lit Jasper, thanks anyway." He made motion to leave but one look from Jasper was enough to hold him to his seat.
I look at the book. Storm by Eve. The cover shows a single red apple in a rocky ocean, a storm overhead. How odd. No last name, another turn of the page holds my attention a bit better.
For the Guardians
and
For Adam
I love you still.
For Eternity
"I still don't see why dragging us down here for a book club was necessary." Emmett grumbled again.
"I've heard of this", Carlisle's voice pops up "something about angels and demons I think, right?
"No" Japer said a bit too forcefully looking to the floor. "It's not about Angels, it's about the guardians" he muttered "It's about us"
We fell silent.
I block the confusion of thoughts around me, more intrigued by Jasper than the books in front of us.
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time" Rose finally said looking just as annoyed as her husband.
"Did they get something right this time, Jas?" Emmett offers.
"No, no, you don't understand" Japer said shaking his head."It's not a book about vampires."
He looked me in the eye.
"The book is about us."
