Arielle
Sun streaked pearly pink across the sky, splashed onto blue, blue water that rolled against white sand as I walked the beach. I'd taken great care to avoid the rays of the sun directly; to avoid exposing what I truly was. I carried my shoes—the tattered laces of the ancient Nikes tied to hang on my shoulder. The hems of my jeans were frayed, and the jeans themselves had long since faded to white at the stress points. At the moment, I supposed I looked no more kempt than the scattering of beach bums still snoring away on the sand. Watching them sleep made me long for the restfulness of it herself. But time was already running out: it spilled like that white, sun-kissed sand held in a closed fist. The decision had been made; Alice would already know exactly where my final destination would lie. But would I be able to prevent Carlisle from coming after me? From blindly chasing the blood and death; fire and madness? All of which and Voltura seemed a world away from this soft tropical dawn.
I would go today. The journey from the beaches of Napes to the heart of Italy, to Preston, and inevitably my death, would take less than an hour. I refused to admit the absolute fear that flooded my system. It wasn't fear for myself, for I was not allowing myself to succumb to cowardice anymore. My concern, instead, was directed at those I loved, towards those I'd hurt when I left. I thought of Rosalie, my closest female confidant. And I knew, that after vanishing like I did, the bond of our friendship would also have vanished. I thought of Carlisle. The memories returned in an unparalleled flux. The gentle wave of his golden hair, the seductive curve of his lips. And because I could no longer avoid it, I thought of Paige. As I began to remember, I froze, the strength of the flashback hitting me as one hadn't in years.
Paige never had Christmas before. Not a real one with a tree and lights, with presents. Not with family. She'd never had one in a house filled with music and the smell of fresh cookies and decorations hanging everywhere. They'd always moved around Christmastime, and never had a chance to really settle into a routine.
Of course, she wasn't a kid or anything. Sheesh, she was in sixth grade. It wasn't like she believed some fat guy in a red suit was going to pop down the chimney. Get real.
She was just getting into the whole business because everybody else was making such a production of it. All that whispering and talking in code and giggling. Christmas was supposed to be special for kids.
She was only sneaking downstairs to scarf up some cookies. How was a girl supposed to sleep when there were a million cookies in the house?
Carrying the music manuscript she'd framed in one hand, the first piece she'd finished on her own, Paige tiptoed in the dark, a girl of slight build with flaming red colored hair and cautious green eyes.
There was music playing. She stopped at the top of the stairs, listening carefully to be sure it was the radio and not Edward at the piano. After dinner, her uncles, her cousin, her mother -- she really like that phrase: her mother. After dinner, they'd all played music until Renessme had finally passed out on Bella's lap. Then they'd kicked Paige upstairs to bed. And that was a gyp because it had barely been 10 and it wasn't a school night or anything.
Emmett had made all those lame Santa remarks, razzing her.
Remembering it, Paige tried to sneer, but it came out as a wide, delighted grin.
As she crept downstairs, Paige saw they'd left the tree on. She'd never seen anything like it. Arielle had wanted a real one, and in Paige's opinion, Arielle ruled. So they'd hauled in this big pine, and the guys had grumbled about stringing lights. But Paige knew they'd liked it. Now it was loaded with what seemed like a thousand ornaments, and presents with big bows and miles of ribbon were stacked under it.
Some of them had her name on them.
Probably dopey stuff like underwear and socks, she told herself, struggling against the sheer thrill of seeing those brightly wrapped boxes sparkle under the lights. Like they belonged there.
Like she belonged there.
She started to walk over, just to shake one, but spotted her father pretending to be sleeping on the couch.
Paige cursed under her breath, whipped what she had in her hands behind her back. She flushed at the idea of getting caught doing a baby thing like poking at boxes that would be unwrapped in a matter of hours anyway.
She stood indecisive, but the excuse of wanting cookies had become reality. Then, because Carlisle had kicked off the throw, she crept over to pull the cover back over him.
He'd been square with her, Paige thought. No, more than square. He'd been everything good, everything decent she'd stopped expecting. He and Arielle and the rest of the Cullens had given her hope when she'd come to believe hope was just one more fist in the face.
And Paige wished there was something she could do to pay them back. She hoped her mother liked the scarf she'd gotten her. It was really red, and Arielle liked wearing red things. But she wished it was, like diamonds or something.
"Yeah, right." She thought to herself.
She backed away from the couch, then snuck like a thief into the kitchen. Se had a smug grin on her face and her hand in the cookie jar when the back door swung open. Yelping, she whipped the frame behind her back.
Emmett cursed and blocked the door. "Paige." He said it loud enough to warn his brothers to hide the bike they'd spent the last two hours assembling. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Looks like petty thievery to me." Emmett heard his brothers' swearing whispers, the commotion of getting the bike back down from the porch, then stepped inside. "I thought you were cut off from the cookie supply."
"That was yesterday." Needing to brazen it out, Paige plucked one out, bit it. "It's after midnight, so it's today."
"Good point."
Edward strolled in, took one look at the situation and shrugged out of his jacket. "That wind bites. Why aren't you in bed dreaming of sugar plums?"
Since Carlisle was asleep, Paige's answer was short and crude. She started to slide away, but Edward was quicker and dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder. "What's behind your back?"
"Nothing."
"You've been at the presents."
Paige snorted, eyed the distance to the doorway. "No. Shaking boxes is for babies." Because she'd been caught doing it twice this week, she shrugged. "I only did it before because Nessie gets a bang out of it."
"Uh-huh. So what's behind your back?"
"Nothing." Paige started to make her move, but Edward ambled to the stove, cutting off that route, then Jasper strolled over to get a cookie for himself out of a cupboard. Boxed in, Paige hunched her shoulders. "It's nothing. It's no big deal."
"Give it over, kid." Emmett crooked a finger, then grunted when Paige shoved the wooden picture frame into his belly. As Emmett's eyes narrowed, promising retribution, Paige tossed up her chin.
"Look at that," Jasper murmured, sliding a hand over Paige's hair as the girl bristled. "It's music."
"Looks good," Emmett angled it, as if that would give him a better understanding of the language he didn't speak.
"Really good." Edward agreed quietly.
"It's no big deal."
"I decide what's a big deal around here," Edward kept a hand on Paige's shoulder as he studied the sketch. Yes, it was clever. The girl had talent. "And this qualifies. This is a very big deal. Who's it for?"
Paige shrugged. She felt warm in the belly. Not creepy, she realized, but good. Good and warm. The three men weren't blocking her in. They were standing with her. As they'd stood with her before.
"Just us. I was going to maybe leave it under the tree or something. You can hang it someplace if you feel like it."
"Arielle's going to cry when she sees it."
Paige looked up now. Nothing Edward could have said would have pleased her more. "Yeah?"
"Oh yeah. Then she'll give you all kinds of sloppy kisses and, if you play your cards right, enough cookies to keep you in a sugar coma till New Year's."
"Pretty good deal."
"Yeah." Edward rubbed a hand over Paige's shoulder, then propped the manuscript on the counter. "It's a pretty good deal all together."
"It's snowing." Jasper said in his quiet voice. Paige bolted for the door. Emmett managed to snag her by the collar before the girl yanked open the door, dashed out, and tripped over her own Christmas present.
"No playing outside at..." He looked at his watch, groaned. "Man, three in the morning."
"I just want to see."
"It's white stuff," Jasper explained. "It falls out of the sky and makes the roads hazardous and ruins suede shoes."
"It's Christmas snow," Paige said frantically, and then immediately felt stupid.
"We'll check it out from the front porch."
"Better, let's wake everybody up and get this party started."
Paige's eyes widened, and even her own yelp of delight didn't embarrass her. "Really? Now? Right now?"
"Sure. Santa's come by now. He'd want to avoid the snow." Emmett sent a sneer towards Jasper. "I hear he wears suede boots."
"Carlisle's on the couch. I'll wake him up. "Paige started out, skidded to a halt and looked back. Her face was bright as a young girl's should be on Christmas morning. "This is really cool."
As she raced toward the living room, Paige laughed about Emmett's Santa in suede boots. He had something a lot better than Santa Claus and a bunch of elves.
She had family.
The memory staggered me to her knees. In that moment, I knew, had I been able to, that I would have wept bitterly for all I'd given up.