The next several hours passed in a wash of strange faces and shrill noises. I made my way to the airport, bought a ticket to the States, and sat to wait. I barely remembered to blink and move my limbs every now and then as my thoughts ran rampant.
What in God's name is going on? Bella would never hurt Charlie. How can he be dead? Did her clumsiness take a turn for the worse, and Charlie got caught in the crossfire?
I tried to imagine a scenario that would result in the tall, solid man being mortally wounded. Bella was always bumping and bruising herself, but she'd never caused serious damage before.
Even when we almost killed her, it was only a paper cut, my mind reminded me.
My thoughts continued to swirl in circles. Crossfire. That was it. It had to have happened on the job. Forks was a small town, but being a police officer was always a risk. Had he been shot? If he'd interrupted a burglary or something similar, how would that have anything to do with Bella? Did Bella even know which end of a gun was up?
Jasper had said they thought Charlie was dead for a while. Did that mean he went missing? How did nobody notice he was gone? The man must have had three years' worth of vacation built up. He did nothing but work and fish.
A tinny voice overhead announced boarding for the flight to New York, and my legs lifted and carried me to the terminal as if independent from my body. I nodded and smiled when appropriate, a mannerly robot. The flight was soon underway and I closed my eyes, determined to avoid conversation with the people around me.
Reaching New York took forever, and yet I was hardly aware of the hours passing. I hadn't lost time like this since São Paulo, and I promised myself that I would feed as soon as possible.
I left the airport and took a cab out of the city, watching the houses grow larger and farther apart. Eventually I instructed the man to pull into a cul de sac and handed him the fare, with a large tip. His eyes nearly disappeared into the smile that lit up his face, and he thanked me profusely. As he drove off, I glanced into my wallet and realized I'd given him the rest of my American bills. Well, hell. That was almost two hundred dollars. No wonder he was so excited.
I walked purposefully behind a brick Cape Cod as if headed for the back door, then stepped onto the porch and listened carefully. There was no one inside and the minds nearby were distracted. I jumped quickly into the grass and made my way into the woods, heading northwest as fast as I could. I needed my family.
Several hours and three deer later, I burst through the tree line and saw with relief that my father waited for me at the door. Waking up the stone driveway, I studied his face as I approached. Despite the perfect smoothness of his features, he looked old and worn. His eyes showed a sorrow that went deeper than the tragedy that had driven us from Forks.
Son, he thought. It is good to have you home again. I smiled.
"It's good to see you, Carlisle." I reached up and clasped his shoulder, an almost-hug that conveyed my relief and weariness. He grasped my forearms and nodded.
Your mother is waiting. I fought to keep my face neutral. Esme had grown more distraught with each phone call. I was not looking forward to facing her.
Stepping up to the porch, I squared my shoulders and took an unnecessary breath. Following Carlisle inside, I closed the door as quietly as possible and then turned around, only to run into a wall.
I looked up into honey-colored eyes and a wave of caramel hair. "Mom."
Her hand lifted so slowly that I could have been across the room before it reached me, yet I held still and waited for her censure. The light slap to my cheek would have barely hurt a mortal, yet the sound of stone against stone echoed through the room.
"How could you, Edward," she whispered. "You left us once, and I thought you had learned your lesson. Evidently not."
Has she been angry, I might have found the energy to argue. Her voice was desolate, and the chill of her tone sent a shiver through me.
"It was necessary."
Esme tilted her head, studying me. "Which part?"
"You know I needed to find Victoria. I couldn't take the risk that she might go back for Bella. But beyond that, I couldn't stand to see everyone…" I paused. "In pairs."
"We have always tried to be considerate of your alone time, Edward," she reminded me.
I couldn't look at her. "It wasn't the same anymore. Even the reminder of it…knowing everyone had someone."
"And what made it different than before? That it was by your own choice?" Her arms clasped across her chest.
"This was hardy my choice, Mom," I said, irritated. "Killing my girlfriend was not a choice."
"But changing her was."
My hands fisted without permission. "That was never an option."
Esme glanced down at my hands, then back up to my eyes. She watched the expressions flicker across my face, then sighed.
"You've been so busy making decisions for everyone else, you've forgotten to make any for yourself."
I was irritated. "What does that mean?"
Her face held pity. "My poor boy." Her arms gathered me in and I let her pull me forward. I was so tired.
After a few moments of peace, the buzz of voices in my thoughts grew too loud to be ignored. Lifting my head, I looked towards the stairs and saw the rest of the family watching our embrace.
Jasper stared at me warily. His thoughts indicated that he was trying to determine which set of emotions was easier to bear—the family's worry and regret over my absence, or the anger and resentment brought about by my return.
Alice was abnormally still, but her thoughts swirled like a hurricane. Esme's quiet rage and Carlisle's weariness had only grown more pronounced over the months I'd been gone, and Emmett's usual attempts to joke everyone out of their doldrums had fallen flat, until finally he grew uncharacteristically silent. Their miserable faces repeated over and over in her head, growing more resigned as time passed. Despite Alice's concern for everyone, her worry for Jasper was paramount, and I internally cringed to see her remember the constant reassurance and support she had to offer in order to keep him from buckling under the weight of the family's feelings.
Emmett glared at me, his thoughts vicious. The usual simplicity of his thoughts and words was merely a product of his overwhelming contentment. He blamed me for the loss of his happiness, and his constant stream of memories over the past several months showed me why. I watched through his eyes as my family members sank deeper into their misery, and felt even worse than I had before.
"Well, brother," he sneered. "Finally back from vacation? Can you spare a few hours of your valuable time to clean up the giant pile of shit you created, or do you have to go fuck over someone else?"
I waited for Esme to scold him for his language. She simply stared at me silently, waiting for an answer like everyone else.
Despite months of castigating myself for my actions as I failed to track down Victoria, despite my terror at seeing Bella's father appearing on television all the way in South America, and despite the hostility that hit me like a wall as I walked back into my family home—it was the silence that finally got through to me. I knew for certain that if Esme wasn't bothered by the obscenities flying out of Emmett's mouth, then I had well and truly fucked up.