"But I got ice cream for her!"
Emmett's booming voice jolted me out of my slumber and brought back the dull thudding in my head.
"Sshh. Keep your voice down," Carlisle cautioned, his tone firmer than usual.
"How'd she get hurt, anyway?"
"She said she tripped on the porch and hit her head on one of the posts," Carlisle responded quietly. His voice was getting a bit louder as he came into the room.
I opened one eye cautiously. The pain in my head remained steady, so I risked opening the other eye. Carlisle smiled down at me.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?"
"Okay, I guess," I replied huskily.
Emmett loomed at the foot of the bed, his expression an odd, humorous mix of concern and excitement. His attempt to speak softly almost made me laugh aloud.
"Bella! What'd you do to yourself? You've gotta be more careful!"
I gave him a self-effacing half-smile in reply.
Carlisle studied my eyes for a moment then lifted my hand and pressed his fingers lightly over my wrist. "Do you remember why Emmett went out?" he asked me.
"To get ice cream," I answered.
"What flavor?"
"Chocolate chip."
He nodded in satisfaction, clearly pleased that I wasn't suffering any serious memory impairments. "How's your head?"
"A little sore," I said honestly. Darn, I'd meant to say I felt fine. Maybe then he'd relent and take me to Angela's house after all…
Carlisle's cool fingers moved gently over the bump again. "Hmm," he muttered to himself.
"But I'm really feeling much better," I added quickly. "Emmett can run me over to Angela's—"
"Bella," Carlisle said, his tone kind yet firm, "no. You need to stay here. Or, if you'd really rather not, I can take you to the hospital. But you need to remain under professional observation."
Ugh. I really, really hated hospitals… But then again, if I were tucked away at Forks General, maybe Edward wouldn't find out I'd been hurt. Keep it from Edward. Don't let him know.
"Bella?" Carlisle questioned, concern returning to his voice. "Do you want to go to the hospital?" He knew how I felt about those ignominious institutions; I'd visited them often enough. He looked worried.
I swallowed. "Um, no, here's fine, I guess," I conceded.
He shook his head, a small frown creasing his perfect brow. "Emmett, would you bring my bag, please? It's downstairs on the coffee table."
"Yeah, sure." Emmett's huge form shot out the door.
Carlisle asked me several questions—even going so far as to give me a math problem to do in my head. Then, once Emmett had delivered the ubiquitous black bag, he checked my reflexes, blood pressure, eyes, and ears again. I made a mental note to act more like myself; I really didn't want to endure another examination. The whole thing made me want to squirm.
Emmett had stepped out of the room while Carlisle examined me, but the instant he'd finished my biggest brother reappeared holding a large bowl.
"Here's your ice cream," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Do you feel like eating, or are you still nauseated?" Carlisle asked.
"Um, no, I'll have a little. Thanks." That sounded like me, right?
Emmett handed me the bowl, and I saw that he'd filled it completely with ice cream—more than I could possibly eat even in the best of circumstances. I quirked an eyebrow at him, but he just smiled wider.
"I have a phone call to make," Carlisle said, standing up and excusing himself with a polite nod.
"How's the burn victim?" I asked, pleased that I'd thought of it.
"He's in Seattle, at the hospital now. His condition is serious, but he's receiving the best care possible."
Emmett watched me expectantly as I dipped the spoon into the bowl and took a small mouthful of ice cream.
"Mmm, good," I mumbled.
"Yeah? There's lots more!"
"This'll be fine. Thanks."
He watched me eat for a few moments, then he asked, "So, how'd you manage to hit your head? Carlisle said you tripped?"
"Yeah, two left feet, remember?" I looked pointedly at the ice cream.
"Dang, Bella, you were doing so well! I thought you were pretty graceful."
"Old dog, new tricks," I muttered around the spoon. Then my stomach lurched, and I felt sweat prickling at my skin. "Oh shoot," I groaned, thrusting the bowl at Emmett as I slid off the bed.
"Bella?" he asked, perplexed as I stumbled past him. "Hey, what's the matter?"
I don't think he fully understood until he saw me hunched over the toilet, expelling all of the ice cream I'd eaten. He looked equally disgusted and fascinated at the same time. I would have found his expression humorous in another, less uncomfortable situation.
When my stomach was empty, I sank back on my heels, wiping the tears from my eyes.
"Hey, are you crying?" Emmett asked, now appearing only concerned. He crouched beside me and gently laid a huge hand on my back.
"No," I replied hoarsely, "not really. It just happens when you—I mean when humans—throw up."
"Oh. Yeah, I sort of remember that…"
He glanced warily at the toilet then flushed it quickly. I took a couple of deep breaths to quell the lingering dizziness. When I looked up again, Carlisle had joined us. I was actually a little surprised that it took him this long… I'm sure he heard me the second I started to retch.
"Sorry," I muttered, scrubbing a hand over my face.
My legs were turning to jelly, and suddenly I found myself sitting in Emmett's lap, leaning against his cold, stony chest. He had an arm wrapped lightly around my waist.
"You okay now?" he was asking me. "You're really pale…"
"You should talk," I retorted mildly.
Carlisle smiled at this. He was kneeling before me now, wiping my mouth and cheeks softly with a warm, damp washcloth. I thanked him when he'd finished.
"I think we'll try to keep your stomach empty for the next few hours," he said, "aside from some water, if you can manage it."
"Did I get bad ice cream?" Emmett asked, worried.
"No, son," Carlisle replied, still slightly amused. "Nausea is a relatively common occurrence after a concussion."
"How long's it gonna last?" he wanted to know.
"Not much longer, I hope," I responded. "I hate throwing up!"
"That was pretty gross," Emmett acknowledged.
I elbowed him lightly in the ribs. I'm not sure he even felt it, but my elbow certainly did.
"Has it passed entirely now?" Carlisle asked, studying my face closely.
I nodded. "I think so."
He stood. "All right, then back to bed."
Emmett carried me from the bathroom and set me softly upon the bed. I had to giggle at his expression as he tucked the blanket around me. He was concentrating quite hard as though he were performing a very serious task.
"Thanks," I said, trying to plaster a more solemn and grateful look upon my face.
"Shit Bella, you kinda scared me in there," he said in a confidential tone. "You sure you're okay?"
I nodded. "I'll be fine. I'll just rest for a little while, and then you can take me home."
Emmett was about to reply to this when he cocked his head slightly to the side. Carlisle had vanished again, but I could tell from Emmett's response that he'd heard my request and was responding to it.
"Um yeah, Bella," Emmett said a bit haltingly, appearing slightly discomfited. "You're gonna have to stay here tonight—twenty-four hours." He emphasized the number with a nod of affirmation.
My smile faded immediately to a frown as I groaned inwardly. I would still be here when Edward returned…
"Emmett," I said rather desperately, "remember that the dance lessons were supposed to be a surprise for Edward. Can you please, please try to keep them out of your thoughts when he gets home? I really, really want to surprise him at the wedding."
He grinned conspiratorially at me. "I didn't forget. Don't worry, little sis, I won't think about it one bit."
"Are you sure?" I questioned dubiously.
He arched an eyebrow at me. "C'mon, Bella, do you think I could live with a mind reader for more than sixty years if he knew every single one of my thoughts? The stuff Rose and I do alone would be enough to give him the equivalent of a vampire stroke—"
This time I groaned aloud. "Emmett! Please!"
"Uh, sorry?" He was barely abashed at all. "Anyway, no problem. Eddie-Boy won't find out, at least not from me."
"Carlisle?" I asked quickly, dropping my voice before I forgot that it wouldn't do one bit of good.
"You're gonna have to talk to him about that. I mean, he's all for romantic gestures and surprises and stuff, but he's also got this thing about lying… which is sort of funny when you consider that deception is a huge part of his life nearly every single day." He shrugged. "I guess that's why he tries to be honest when he's with us."
"I'm not asking either of you to lie," I clarified. "I just don't want Edward to know about our lessons until the wedding."
"Yeah, I get it, and really I'm fine with it." He snorted as a thought struck him. "Knowing old Eddie, he'd think I was the one who hurt you, and I'd never hear the end of it—assuming I still had ears after he'd finished with me!"
My stomach churned again, and I inhaled slowly to quell the queasiness.
"You're looking a little green again," he observed shrewdly.
"I'm fine," I reassured him, taking another breath. "My head's just starting to hurt a little more."
He nodded. "I guess I better let you get some rest. You need anything? More ice cream?"
"No! I mean, no thanks, Emmett. And thank you for helping me with the surprise."
He grinned. "I can't wait to see his face!" With that he stood and dashed out the door.
I grimaced when I wondered if Emmett would still have eyes by the end of the day. Because despite his affirmation, I wasn't fully convinced that he would be able to keep his memories hidden. And if Edward did find out… I shuddered. Keep it from Edward; don't let him know.
I closed my eyes and sank back into the plush pillows, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart.