Dr. and Mrs. Cullen,
Enclosed are the official transcripts of your adoptive children. On behalf of the faculty and staff of Fork High School, I wish you the best of luck in Los Angeles. There is no doubt that your children will do well with any endeavor in high school and afterwards. There should be no problems transferring any of the credits, however you should be aware that Edward's class-cutting habit might not be as well received at his new high school.
Good Luck,
Mrs. Cope
FHS Secretary
Carlisle placed the secretary's letter into a file folder neatly entitled Forks, WA and returned the file to its home among countless other folders, representing the countless other towns he had inhabited since his second life began. Some folders, mostly the ones with European names on them, contained papers older than the Declaration of Independence. Those were carefully preserved. Others, like Forks, WA, and Rochester, NY, were thick and contained trivial information such as high school transcripts and college admissions letters. Carlisle kept careful record of every town they resided in and he had more high school diplomas in his possession than he cared to admit.
The doctor nearly laughed out loud when he reflected on the last sentence of Mrs. Cope's letter. While each of the younger members of his family held tendencies to brush off class once in a while, even on the cloudy days, Edward routinely skipped his lessons. Carlisle suspected it was because of his ability—he couldn't imagine it was very easy to hear the thoughts of hundreds of hormonal teenagers all at once, and Edward needed distractions to keep his sanity.
Before the influenza hit Chicago, all of those years ago, Carlisle had treated Edward for what he now knew to be migraines. He suspected these migraines were somewhat related to the ability he now had. Even as a teenager, it appeared as though Edward was tuned into the inane and trivial thoughts of his peers. Even Carlisle was aware that Edward, always acting older than his years, desperately yearned to escape his hormonal counterparts by fighting overseas as a soldier. All he wanted was to be miles and miles from the thoughts.
Ironically, when Edward missed class he was never more than a few hundred yards away from the thoughts, listening to music in his car.
Music was Edward's own form of silence—an escape from the voices he heard when everyone else heard nothing. Carlisle knew Edward found it difficult to tune out the voices in everyday life, but music soothed Edward's soul and allowed his mind to relax itself of its sixth sense.
Which was why Carlisle was worried. Since their departure from Forks in the third week of September, Edward hadn't turned on a single stereo or mp3 player.
Carlisle doubted Edward realized just how much the absence of his music affected the household—their new house in Ithaca seemed muted. If music was playing in the car or through their home entertainment system, he turned it off. Carlisle suspected half of this was Edward's unconscious decision to protect himself from any reminders of Bella, but the other half was nearly masochistic. Edward was denying himself the one reprieve from the ability he sometimes called an affliction. Without music, Edward remained painfully aware of what he wasn't: human.
Carlisle had known the transition would be difficult. He just couldn't fully understand the situation. He knew there was a reason behind Bella, a naïve young human girl, explosively walking into their lives. God was testing Edward as well as the rest of them. Being a spiritual man, Carlisle knew this.
But what was the lesson to be learned here?
Surely, God could not intend for Edward to find the strength to deny himself this one true happiness—a soul mate? Carlisle could not believe in his heart that God would intend for one soul to endure the pain of an eternity without his mate. Even in the times of hellfire and brimstone, Carlisle's God had always been compassionate and even-handed, with reason for everything. He had to believe that his God wouldn't subject a pure soul like Edward's to such pain if there weren't reason. The ends would justify the means, and in this case, Carlisle prayed that this lesson would be 'love conquers all.'
Edward growled from the garage, where he was assisting Rosalie with a new carburetor for the Viper. Carlisle had nearly forgotten he was home, and for a moment felt ashamed that Edward had heard his musings.
Edward, do you truly believe God has forsaken Bella as well? That he would deny her such a perfect and unfaltering love?
He tensed when his son growled again at him. He could hear Rosalie questioning him, and Edward brushing off her curiosity.
You must believe that He is testing you. Will you overcome His obstacles with grace and dignity? Or will you attempt to change God's plan to suit your own masochistic tastes? Edward, you have a good soul. You were meant to love and be happy.
His son, his beloved son who was no longer happy, responded with a hiss. Carlisle knew then that his trial would be long and drawn-out, not because God wanted it to be so, but because of Edward's stubborn nature. His son's faith in God and love had already been broken, and it crushed Carlisle to know that Edward's spirit would soon follow.
"Music and silence combine strongly because music is done with silence, and silence is full of music." -Marcel Marceau
