Sunday and Monday dragged by as my excitement grew. I was anxious to get on that plane, to know I was actually going with Edward and Carlisle to Mexico. I knew it would be a new and unique experience. Yet part of me continued to worry that I wouldn't be able to provide the help Sister Caroline and the children needed.
I was also afraid that I would disappoint Edward and Carlisle. In truth, I didn't have much experience with children. I had done little babysitting, and the handful of friends I'd grown up with in Phoenix had either been only children or had older siblings. I enjoyed Angela's little brothers, and they seemed comfortable enough around me, but that was just two small boys. How would I interact with an entire houseful of youngsters?
Edward could sense my worry, of course. I wouldn't admit that I was afraid of letting him down, but I did confess that I felt inexperienced with children. He assured me I'd be a natural, and told me again that whatever help I provided would be much appreciated. His kind words assuaged some of my fears, but I still found myself wide awake on Monday night.
Edward lay beside me, running a hand gently over my hair. "You need to sleep, love," he murmured. "We'll be flying most of the night."
"I know. I'm just… excited, I guess."
He kissed me very softly. "Hmm. A little nervous, too."
I couldn't deny it. I nodded.
"You know, I always feel a bit anxious before we go, too," he said.
I turned over to look at him. "Really? Why?"
He smiled rather abashedly. "Well, there's the whole vampire thing…" I poked him in the ribs. "No, really, it's always a concern. I've been going to Sister Caroline's for three years now, and I worry that she'll notice that I haven't seemed to age. Oh, by the way, I'm a fourth-year med student."
"What?"
"The first time I went, Carlisle told her I was in my first year of medical school. He knew he'd need an assistant when he examined and treated the children; at that point, some had received no medical care for several years, and there were a lot of issues to deal with. I have to admit that I was nervous; you know most of my medical knowledge is theoretical." He gave me a wry half-smile.
"Two M.D.s. Right," I acknowledged. Sometimes I forgot that Edward had been in school longer than most people have been alive.
"Mmm, yes."
"But you were amazing, right?"
He laughed shortly. "I wouldn't exactly put it that way. It was definitely a learning experience, but Carlisle is an amazing teacher—"
"And you're a quick study," I interjected with a grin.
"I suppose so. Anyway, everything worked out fine. But we've had to maintain the pretense. So please remember if it comes up."
"Am I still your girlfriend?" I asked.
He was taken aback by my question. "What? Of course, love. Why would you ask that?"
"Well," I began, fighting a smile, "isn't it a bit creepy for a fourth-year med student to be dating a high school senior?"
He grinned in understanding. "Right—the age thing. Sister Caroline knows I'm younger than the typical medical student; Carlisle told her I finished my undergrad at nineteen, so that would make me twenty-three now. How about if you're a junior at the University of Washington?"
"What's my major?"
"English lit," he replied immediately. "If there's any doubt, just start quoting Wuthering Heights. You certainly know it well enough!"
"Ha ha." But I was smiling. For some reason, participating in the Cullens' little ruse was rather exciting. And it was also good practice for the future, when I would undoubtedly have to assume various academic identities indefinitely.
"So is there anything else I should know?" I asked. "Any other background information?"
Edward considered this for a moment before replying. "I don't think so. The basic story about Carlisle and Esme adopting us as teenagers still holds. Aside from that, we've never gone into too many details about our family with Caroline. I think she's so grateful for the help that she's made a point not to question things too deeply."
I frowned in concern. "Do you think she suspects anything?"
He shrugged. "She's a rational, well-educated woman, but she's lived in a culture rich with traditional beliefs and superstitions for a long time. She's heard things, had a few questions from the locals about us... But I've never heard any real doubt in her mind. She adores Carlisle. If anything, she half-way believes he's an angel sent to help her."
I smiled. "Maybe he is."
Edward quirked an eyebrow at me. "It does beat the alternative."
Suddenly I recalled a couple of articles I'd read in the Phoenix newspaper years ago. Funny, I'd never considered it before… I sat up and asked, "Are there vampires in that part of Mexico?"
He gave me an inquisitive look, pushing himself up onto his elbow. "Why do you ask?"
"Well," I began, knowing even before I spoke that it would sound ridiculous and possibly somewhat insulting. Still, I had to say it. "You know, there are all those stories about the, um, chupacabra."
Edward burst into quiet laughter, his hilarity only suppressed by the knowledge that Charlie slept nearby. "The goat sucker? You believe that?"
"No, of course not." For some reason I felt a bit defensive. "But if there were vampires in Mexico, that might explain it—especially if they were vegetarians like your family."
He was still smiling as he said, "You're adorable, Bella."
His words were spoken so affectionately that I didn't mind the mild condescension they implied.
"Okay, I get it," I grumbled good-naturedly; it was difficult to muster too much perturbation as I gazed up at that perfect, beautiful face. "It's just a myth."
He seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Well, there's probably some truth to it. Something has attacked farm animals and consumed their blood, but it's another animal; it's not a vampire."
"How do you know?"
"Jasper spent quite a bit of time in that area years ago. The legends aren't new; they've been around for at least a century. He saw a couple of the animals that were killed. Whatever did it had canine incisors." Amusement took over his expression again. "And we don't have fangs."
"Canine? So it could have been some sort of wolf?"
He nodded. "Most likely. As to what kind of wolf, I really can't say."
I knew what he was thinking: He would be inordinately pleased to blame the attacks on a werewolf; that would automatically implicate Jacob in some peripheral way. I decided to change the topic.
"So there aren't any vampires in Mexico," I clarified.
He did not reply immediately. Finally, he said, "There were several large colonies there once, many years ago, but the Volturi eradicated them. We haven't heard anything to suggest any activity in recent years—"
"Recent being, when?"
"The last twenty years or so. Jasper thinks there may have been a few rogues who made their way to Michoacan after the earthquake in 1985. They moved on shortly afterward. Unfortunately, disasters tend to attract our kind."
"Why is that?"
He shook his head, indignation passing over his face. "Easy prey, and often no questions or suspicions afterward."
"That's horrible," I said, an automatic reaction to the thought.
"It is," he agreed. After musing for a few seconds, he said, "I suppose that's one reason my family chose to help the orphanage."
"You're giving something back, not taking away."
He smiled at my understanding. "Exactly. Now, if you want to do more than walk around like a zombie during your first couple of days there, you need to get some sleep."
Trying to lighten the mood, I chanted, "Zombies and vampires and chupacabras, oh my!"
Edward chuckled and lay down beside me again as I stretched out. "Will you settle for one out of three?" he asked, grinning slightly.
I rolled over to face him, resting my hand against the cool smoothness of his cheek. "With you, I'm never settling."
He kissed me gently then wrapped his arms around me. "Buenas noches, querida."
"Buenas noches," I responded, closing my eyes as his fingers trailed lazily up and down my arm.
After a barrage of questions about my preparedness for the trip and reminders to call him as soon as I arrived in Mexico, Charlie finally offered me a quick hug then told me good-bye before he left for work. Edward picked me up for school as usual, tucking my carry-on in the trunk of the Volvo. Carlisle would retrieve it when he and Esme came for us later in the day.
The morning dragged by. The teachers were holding off on giving seniors any new lessons, since none would be in school for the next three days. Half-hearted discussions and reviews did not make the hours pass any faster.
Charlie had agreed to let me skip my last two classes so that we could catch an earlier flight to Los Angeles. Of course Edward was excused, as well, and we left school at 1:30. Carlisle and Esme waited in the parking lot in Emmett's Jeep. The back was loaded with the suitcases full of supplies. As Edward and I were climbing into the back seat, Alice suddenly appeared, slipping in beside us. She didn't need much room, really.
"Are you going, too?" I asked in surprise.
"Just to Sea-Tac," she chirped. "I'll keep Esme company while she's driving back."
Esme smiled at her in the rear-view mirror. Alice grinned then turned to me.
"You're going to have a memorable experience," she said.
"Memorable? In what way?" I questioned.
She waved a hand. "Oh, in lots of ways. And it's really good that you're going this time."
Edward shook his head in warning, which only prompted me to ask what she meant.
"You're human," she explained happily, "and you'll be eating and drinking and naturally doing all those human things that Carlisle and Edward have to pretend to do while they're at the orphanage. Your being with them will make them seem more human to Sister Caroline."
"Oh, okay," I acknowledged.
Carlisle added, "But that's not the reason Edward and I invited you to accompany us."
"It's fine if it is," I said quickly. Really, if this was what I could contribute—the one thing I could do to ensure that the Cullens could continue working with the children—I was happy to oblige.
Edward's arm slipped around my shoulder. "It's not, love. That was actually an afterthought. We know you're going to be very helpful and contribute a great deal to the orphanage."
Alice nodded sagely, utterly confident. However, she refused to tell me anything specific about my time in Mexico. She simply assured me that my presence there would be beneficial in several ways.
"Even I can't see all of them," she admitted. "But I do see Sister Caroline's gratitude to you when you leave."
I still felt anxious, but now I was becoming intrigued. Was there something I could do that really would benefit the children? I couldn't imagine what it was, but I was eager to find out.
I hadn't thought I'd be able to sleep on the plane, but I drifted off for a couple of hours somewhere over Mexico. Edward had made sure I consumed no caffeine, instead encouraging me to have only water. He remembered my state of wakefulness during the long flight back from Italy. But this was different; now I wasn't afraid that he would disappear if I closed my eyes.
Naturally Carlisle had booked us into First Class, explaining that he thought I'd be more relaxed in the roomier seats. His tone was so sincere as he said he hoped I would be comfortable enough to sleep that I couldn't fault the additional expense. Besides, Edward informed me that his family usually traveled First Class because it provided more privacy and less chance for scrutiny by other passengers.
The seats were, in fact, quite nice. With the armrest up and the seats reclined, Edward and I were able to snuggle up comfortably. Carlisle sat across from us reading through a small stack of medical journals he'd brought. At some point he switched to a volume of poetry—Keats, I noticed.
It was actually the poet's words that eventually lulled me to sleep. Edward began reciting "Endymion" to me, his soft voice as smooth and soothing as a velvet wrap. My eyelids grew heavy as he spoke the beautiful words:
Just so may love, although 'tis understood
The mere commingling of passionate breath,
Produce more than our searching witnesseth:
What I know not: but who, of men, can tell
That flowers would bloom, or that green fruit would swell
To melting pulp, that fish would have bright mail,
The earth its dower of river, wood, and vale,
The meadows runnels, runnels pebble-stones,
The seed its harvest, or the lute its tones…
The last lines I heard left me with a sleepy smile:
Tones ravishment, or ravishment its sweet…
If human souls did never kiss and greet?
Edward woke me about fifteen minutes before the plane landed in Mexico City. We still had a short flight to Durango, then the drive to the orphanage. We waited about an hour for our final flight then boarded the small plane. The sun was just peeking over the horizon as we landed.
I felt a little foggy as Edward and Carlisle gathered the bags and loaded them onto two luggage carts then led me through the airport to the rental car area. Somehow Edward managed to maneuver the cart with one hand while keeping the other securely around my waist.
Soon the bags were loaded into the rented SUV, and I was tucked into Edward's embrace in the back seat. Before we drove off, Carlisle reached into his carry-on and produced a small, soft-sided cooler. He passed it back to Edward.
"Esme prepared that for you," he told me with a knowing smile, then he started the vehicle and pulled out of the lot.
I unzipped the bag to find a small can of Coke, two bottles of water, a sandwich, and some dried cherries. Edward made sure I drank half of one bottle of water before I had the Coke. By the time I had eaten the sandwich and had a handful of the fruit, I was feeling much more alert.
As we drove toward the mountains, I asked about the children again. I remembered most of what Edward had told me, but I wanted to be certain I knew a bit about each one. I recalled that the current ages ranged from about three to twelve, and there were eight girls and five boys.
"Actually," Carlisle said, "two of the children have left; one was adopted by an American couple, and the other by a family from Belize."
"Really?" I asked. "That's wonderful! I thought most of them stayed until they were old enough to be on their own."
Edward smiled as his gaze flicked to Carlisle. "Over the last year or so, Carlisle has been able to point a few individuals in Sister Caroline's direction, and several children have found permanent homes with loving families."
"That's wonderful," I said. "Which ones have been adopted?"
"Luisa and Carlos," Carlisle told me.
I recalled that Luisa was four, and Carlos was seven. I felt warmth spread through me with the knowledge that both now had families to call their own. For a moment, tears prickled at my eyes.
Edward kissed my cheeks gently. "I know," he whispered.
"So," Carlisle said, but his voice was just a bit rough with emotion, too, "now there are twelve children. A new little one arrived last week."
"How old?" I asked.
"Caroline thinks she's about three, but she's very small and most likely suffering from some long-term nutritional deficiencies." Carlisle's tone was quite sober now, and in the mirror I saw that his usually placid expression reflected deep concern. "There may be other issues, as well."
"Oh no," I said. "Will you be able to help her?"
"We hope so," Carlisle replied, but he remained somber.
"The medical issues are most likely manageable," Edward began. "The other issues may not be as easy to deal with."
"What's the matter with her?" I asked.
"We're not really sure yet," Carlisle said. He didn't seem as if he planned to add any more.
Still, I had to ask, "What's her name?"
Edward sighed. "Caroline doesn't know. She hasn't spoken yet and responds very minimally to language. She may have some hearing loss, or it may be a severe developmental disorder, or possibly both."
My heart sank at this news. "What happened to her? I mean, how did she become orphaned?"
"She was found wandering alone near the road, about twenty miles from Canatlan. The local priest knows Caroline, of course, so took the child to her. There was no sign of either parent anywhere nearby, and no one has made any inquiries about her," Edward told me.
"That's terrible," I responded.
"Unfortunately, it happens," Carlisle said, his tone heavy with regret and sadness. "At least she's in a safe place now, and we will do everything we can to help her."
"Poor thing," I murmured.
After a few moments, Edward spoke again, making an effort to lighten the mood. "Sister Caroline is hoping you can help one of the older girls with some pre-algebra. Math has never been Caroline's strong suit."
"Which girl?" I asked.
"Elisa."
"She's thirteen," I confirmed, remembering that this girl was one of the oldest children.
He nodded. "Caroline feels that she's very bright and is ready for some more advanced math."
I felt a bit worried at the prospect. I knew the subject matter well, but I'd never had to think about how to convey it in Spanish. "Um… I'll try."
"I'm sure you'll do well," he said sincerely.
"It's just that I'm not sure how successful I'll be teaching them in Spanish," I admitted.
Edward grinned, and Carlisle chuckled.
"What?" I asked. Once again, they were having a silent conversation in which I was not included.
Carlisle spoke, mild amusement in his voice. "I think Edward neglected to tell you that most of the children are completely bilingual. Sister Caroline believes that they will have more opportunities in the future if they're fluent in both Spanish and English."
I was a bit surprised by this information. "So she gives them English lessons?"
He shook his head. "Not really, at least not formally. Up until the age of twelve or so, the human brain is adept at learning language naturally. She speaks to them primarily in English but doesn't discourage them from speaking Spanish with each other. She conducts most of their lessons in English after she feels they have some foundation in the language."
"Sort of like kids raised in a bilingual home," I confirmed. "They just pick up both languages without even really trying."
"Exactly," Carlisle replied.
I felt relieved to hear this. While I hadn't been opposed to practicing my Spanish, I was glad I wouldn't need to use it exclusively.
We chatted amiably for the remainder of the trip, my attention often drawn to the changing scenery as we drove up into the foothills. I saw scrub pine and various types of brush and wildflowers. Somehow I had expected something more arid, more like the Sonoran desert I had seen during the few trips Renee and I had taken to Puerto Penasco, the Mexican beach town about four hours' drive from Phoenix.
"It's really pretty here," I commented.
"It is," Edward agreed.
"I thought it would be a little more like Phoenix," I confessed. Instead, the terrain reminded me of the area around Prescott, about one hundred miles north of my former home.
Edward smiled in mild amusement. "Mexico isn't all desert. This is the Sierra Madre Occidental Range. The elevation here is about 5000 feet."
I noticed that the skies were cloudy, just as Alice had predicted. "Is it usually overcast?" I asked.
"Not typically," he said. "But systems do move through. The weather here is relatively mild, but it gets quite warm during the summer."
"Not was warm as Phoenix, though," I suggested.
"No," he replied. "And it should be pleasant while we're here. There was an early heat wave in April, but things are back to normal now."
We passed the town of Canatlan and continued along a smaller road. Eventually we took a turn onto a dirt road and followed this for several miles. Finally the orphanage came into view. My heart sped up as I realized that a new and unique experience lay just ahead of me.
To be continued...
