It surprises me how warm Renesmee's hand is. I had always been told that vampires were supposed to be cold to the touch, and I was never to get close enough to try to find out. But I guess she was part human, so she could be warm.

I am in a daze. I see Jake holding a small child that looks very much like Renesmee, he adores her, and she looks at him with the same adoring expression. There are pale people surrounding them, but I focus on Jake. He hasn't changed a bit. He looks the same as he does now, apart from the small amount of facial hair he keeps as scruff. The child appears fascinated with him.

I see the same Jake holding a small girl's hand. She too looks like Renesmee as well. He's tugging her along as they head for a small park. She's giggling about something and Jake looks incandescently happy when she's smiling.

I see Jake again, a young teenage girl cradled in his arms. Her eyes are red, as if she'd been crying. This girl could easily be Renesmee. She only appears maybe a year or two younger than Renesmee is now. Jake appears to be in pain, emotional pain. He sets her down on a couch, so that she's sitting upright. She pulls at his shirt and immediately begins sobbing into his shoulder. I can see that it's practically killing him. He apologizes to her, saying something about it only being a little while. Only a year. A pale man is standing in the background, his arms folded across his chest. He seems concerned, but I don't know who for. He looks like Renesmee. I wonder if he could be her father.

I see Jake swinging Renesmee around in a circle. They're in a airport. Her arms are clasped around his neck, she's hugging him, her face overcome with happiness. Jake looks equally happy. They look like they belong together. When he sets her back on her feet, they kiss softly at first but then they progress into things that I wouldn't ever approve of doing in an airport. I hear a slight growl. I see the pale man again, next to him a pale woman, who also looks very much like Renesmee as well. She must be her mother, Bella, I remember. Jake and Renesmee pull apart reluctantly, but embarrassed. Renesmee looks at her parents and then the ground, Jake is still staring at her, adoring her, obviously in love with her.

Something fades. I'm not sure but I know I'm sitting in the forest again. Renesmee is beside me staring at me with questioning eyes. I stare at her for a second, before I realize that this supernatural stuff has gone a step too far.

She nods and then says in a musical voice, "all those girls were me."

I'm pretty sure I just fell off the fallen tree at this point because I'm staring straight into the mossy earth. I push myself up and lean my back against the log.

"Jake told me that you don't do well with this stuff," she says. Her voice is so sweet, I feel as if I spoke any words they would come out husky and brisk compared to hers.

"Jake's been in my life since the day I was born. He's loved me that long, a little over sixteen years."

I exhale sharply. And I realize it's true Jake hasn't changed in sixteen years. Though Renessmee seems like she's barely sixteen so far. Quil had told me that she ages differently, I just didn't realize how differently.

"What did you notice about that?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.

I thought for a moment. The fact that she addressed me directly practically scared me to death. I had no doubt that she could probably kill me, no matter how sweet and innocent she looked or how kind her voice sounded.

"Umm," I stumble over words. "I don't know," I manage to say. My voice did sound insignificant compared to hers.

She exhales softly. "When I was happy, Jake was happy. When I was sad, Jake was sad. It practically killed him when he had to leave for a year on Sam's orders. Imprinting-"

"For the love of all that is holy!" I interrupt her. She looks a little shocked by my over abruptness. "I don't care about imprinting. Imprinting love is forced. You're forced to be with him. I don't understand why you go along with it," I finish and shake my head in disgust.

"I'm not forced to be with Jake at all," she says calmly in a reassuring manner, a patronizing manner. "Believe me sometimes my father would really like to take his head off because of the things Jake thinks, but I'm with Jake because first he was always there for me. And over time I came to love him as I do now. I'm not with him because I have to be. I'm with him because I want to be. It's easier not to have to keep secrets from him about my life. He understands what I am, not human or vampire, but something in between. "

"Fine, I'll give you that, but I don't have those problems. I can be whoever I want to be."

"And Quil will be whoever you want him to be," she says.

"So then it doesn't matter. If I don't want him as anything in my life, he won't be there

right?"

"I guess, but that's not the point."

"Then what is the point," I'm on my feet now, my hands are balled into fists. I'm angry. It's like not only does this Imprinting, force me to be with him, but everyone else wants me to be with him. I'm so sick of pleasing everyone else. I should be able to date who I want, not based on fate.

"The point is he loves you," she says, still sitting. She doesn't become defensive when I

raise my voice. She's relaxed. Something I've never seen. She's confident.

I walk over to a tree angered and pound my fists against the trunk once. Resting my head on one of my fists I say, "That's not a good enough reason."

"Claire, how many times does a girl get a guy to say he loves her and really mean it? How many guys would love you enough to be patient for sixteen years to wait for you? How many guys could stop growing up physically just to be with a girl? He's going to live as long as you do Claire. He's going to grow with you Claire, once you two reach the same place," Renesmee reasoned. Her speech sounds like something directly from the movies. Something Julia Roberts would say pleading her love for a leading male.

"I don't know," I manage to say in a dead tone. It's not what I want to say, because if I do say what I'd want to, it would end very badly. I know I am beginning to see her point, but I don't want to admit to that. Jacob loved her every single second of every single day. He would go out of his way just to make her happy, just as Quil had done for me so many times. I know if I say anything else, she'd report back that she'd gotten through to me, that I at least understood where she was coming from, and where Quil and I could be. It all seems like those terrible romance films that I usually hate, and somehow how all I want right now is to be apart of one. Somebody slap me.

I give Renesmee the "weak smile" and turn and walk away. She follows at a distance.

It takes me three times as long to walk back to Emily's house, mainly because I'm trying to come up with something to say. The rain isn't that bad, so it doesn't bother me much. It's a simple mist, but it's warm and thick enough that it soaks my clothing, and I'm dripping wet by the time I reach Emily's door. Renesmee follows me at a distance but comes into the door at the same time I do.

When I walk in I'm dripping all over the carpet, but Emily is there greeting me with a warm towel and doing the same for Renesmee.

"There's some of your clothes that you left here last time you were here, over in the guest bedroom," Emily tells me.

I give her the weak smile and walk down the hall towards the bedroom. After changing I come out, determined to get a ride home, I'm not going to try and walk again, I'm too tired after not sleeping all night and going through more Quil crap all day. I really want nothing more that to take a nice long nap.

When I walk back into the kitchen, Renesmee's hands are on Rachel's and Kim's faces. I note that this is her communication, she's showing them our conversation. So much for any type of confidentiality, I note mentally. Rachel and Kim are standing against the counter, entranced, until Renesmee removes her hand. Then they settle in the bar chairs around the counter, both fumbling with their hands as a distraction. Resemee hops up on the counter and leans her head back against the oak cabinet. Emily stands directly in front of my contemplating words.

Emily turns to me and gives me the "weak smile" before open her mouth and speaking in a soft tone, "Can we talk with you, Claire?"

"You can talk, but assure you that you will be talking at me, not with me," I say cynically.

"Claire," Emily begins.

"Emily," I practically shout. "Emily I'm tired. I don't want to talk anymore. I get it. This is a convening of the imprints, and at least for now I'm refusing to be apart of your little club. I'm exhausted. This isn't easy. I've barely known twenty-four hours, and everyone's bombarding me for a reaction, an answer. But no one will allow me to have the time to think about it. Or even the time to have an answer that you guys don't like," I say exhaling sharply before I continue. "I didn't sleep last night. I couldn't sleep last night. And now I'm exhausted. Please let me go home and sleep," I plea. "I promise I'll talk to you when I'm ready. I'll talk to Quil when I'm ready. Just not now okay. Because I swear I'll pass out soon."

Emily looks at Kim, Rachel, and Renesmee, before turning back to me and nodding.

"Renesmee?" she asks.

Renesmee gracefully stands before inclining her head in an inquisitive manner.

"Renesmee, will you drive Claire back home please? I'm expecting the boys to be back

soon and they're going to want food, which I have yet to start preparing."

Renesmee simply nods, holding her hand out to grasp the keys.

As we walk out toward the garage Emily calls my name once again, "Claire," she says as she approaches me slowly. "We're having a barbeque on Friday as a send off for Jake and Renesmee. I hope you'll be there, but I'm going to let you know in advance, that Quil will be there."

"Okay," is all I manage to say.

When Renesmee drops me off I thank her for the ride and I say goodbye nicely. I like her, although she isn't the most trusting creature to keep things confident with.

When I walk in my mother is watching a movie in the den with my dad. Her head is rested on his shoulder, and their hands are embraced. Now that's love, I note. They got to know each other over time, and they weren't forced to love each other. They just did.

Walking past the kitchen I flip through the mail, and see a yellow sticky note on the counter. My mom's handwriting reads:

Emily called. I'm not going to pry unless you want me to. Sleep and take some time to think. Remember I love you, and I'm sorry for this morning.- Mom

I just pick up the note and head to my room. I don't even bother changing, it's still bright out, only three in the afternoon, and I expect that I have to be in civilized clothes when I wake up later. The second my head hits the pillow I'm out like a light, and I'm particularly thankful that I do not dream, it's simply black, satisfying sleep.

When I wake it's still bright out. I feel like I could just continue to sleep for hours, but I'm guessing that if I don't wake up now, I'll stay up all might and mess up my sleep schedule any further than it already is.

I stare at the ceiling for a minute as I let myself wake. As I glance at the clock it reads seven eighteen. I know dinner is usually at seven thirty in the summer, and my mother must be coming to get me when the footsteps sound outside my door. I sit up in my bed to show my mother that I'm physically awake.

She opens my door and says, "Oh, good. You're awake." She leaves my room promptly then, closing the door behind her.

I turn to stretch out my back. It cracks loudly, probably because I slept in such a rigid position. Staring out the window that's next to my bed, I see that the sun has come out just in time for it to set. My window is patched with stale raindrops, and they are slowly sliding down to form a puddle on the outside sill. It takes me a minute to realize that there is something wrong with this picture. On top of my sill is an envelope inside a small plastic bag.

I don't make an attempt at being quiet, I release the metal hinges to my screen and pull it from it's case in my window. It makes a screeching sound as it refuses to be yanked away from it's home, but I doubted my mother would hear over her cooking and clanging of plates.

Then I unlocked the plastic hinges, and they don't refuse. I slide the window gently up, and it goes with ease. I grab the plastic bag, shaking the rain off of it and bring it inside. I replace everything back to it's original state before my mother calls my name for dinner.

"Just a minute," I call back.

I sit cross legged on my bed as I slowly open the plastic, and remove the white envelope. I flip it over and see my name written in thick chunked writing:

Claire

I immediately recognize it as Quil's script.

"Claire!" my mother calls once again from the kitchen.

I wait, my thumb just tucked underneath the envelope seal. Part of me wants to rip it open as fast as I can. The other part of me wants to throw it in the trash. I wait, barely breathing.

My door opens and my father's standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. "Dinner. Now," he says sternly.

"Okay," I say trying not to give a tone to make things worse. I'm guessing my behavior over the past twenty four hours hasn't warranted me leeway in any aspects.

I get up and set the letter on my dresser, deciding that I'll decide what to do with it after dinner.