A/N: I'm back! I hope you all had a wonderful weekend. I had a great, refreshing retreat where I was able to pray and be still and rest, and it was just the best. It was something I've been needing for quite some time. So now I'm back at it—refreshed and renewed! Unfortunately I didn't get as much pre-writing done as I'd hoped. There was just too much beauty in the mountains and opportunity to nap ;)
I won't hold that over myself, and I hope you guys don't either!
Here's the next chapter for ya!
P.S. I struggled a bit over whether Renee would give the guest room to Edythe or Beau, and then decided she would think her son tough and gentlemanly enough to endure a weekend on the pull-out in the den ;)
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As Archie had promised, our departure from SeaTac went flawlessly, and soon we were coasting thirty thousand feet in the air, settled snugly into our first-class seats.
As soon as the aircraft's wheels lifted from the tarmac, so did every anxiety from my shoulders. Victor would be no match for my family—it was a certainty. Archie and Jessamine alone probably could have taken him out—combining his foresight with her Southern army training—but it was good to know the rest of my family would be there to back them up.
Beau's expression was unreadable as we floated through the sky, across the country, but I hoped he saw this weekend as an opportunity to forget about the problems at home as much as was possible. It would be beneficial for him to spend some time in the sun, to converse with his mother and step-father.
I had continued to assure him, time and time again, that there was no rush—that this was eternity we were speaking of. But he always seemed so immediately sure about his decision to join my family by way of venom.
Renee waited for us at the airport, and as soon as she saw her son through the crowds, her mind burst into a cacophonic display of what I could only equate to a firework show. I was reminded, again, that her mind was so unique to anything I'd ever experienced. Whimsical and dreamy, simplistic in her thinking, but also so insightful. The moment she saw us, a deeper intuition inside her psyche was triggered.
I was enthralled as she examined the changes she noticed in her son as we strode toward her—the length of his hair, the way his torso had filled out some, but most noticeable to her was the new strength and light in his eyes. She had never seen him more sure of himself as we made our way through the terminal toward her.
Renee's thoughts were mostly conveyed by way of still-frames and images—another internal mechanism I wasn't used to. So many people thought in words, in phrases. But Renee's consciousness was almost entirely based on sensation, intuition and pictures. It was fascinating.
"Beau!" she squealed, running the last few steps toward her son and yanking him into her tight embrace. I surrendered him to her immediately. "Oh, look at you!" She gripped his hands and held his arms out. "You look good, honey!" A very brief flash of the Beau she'd seen last fall, when Charlie had called and requested she come, because he didn't know what else to do with his catatonic son, flitted through her mind. He'd been gaunt and pale, then. I flinched, as if the image of this world-weary, heartbroken boy could physically harm me.
At any rate, her mother's heart was entirely unburdened at the sight of him now—well, healthy, glowing even.
There were tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes as she greeted her son, and then her thoughts shifted, reorienting themselves like the ocean's tide—in that strange, give and take way I'd noticed in Phoenix—and she turned toward me.
"Hello, sweetheart," she said, and I detected no bitterness, or even a hint of disapproval, as she leaned in to draw me to her.
"Hello, Renee," I said to her, a little thrown by her graciousness. Why was she so understanding? How was it possible she did not see me in any sort of ill-light? "It's lovely to see you again."
"Oh, you as well, Edythe," she said, "I'm so glad you two came to see me!" She seemed to compose herself, blinking back the remainder of her tears as she planted her hands on her denim-clad hips and gave her son a condescending glare.
In that instant, I saw so much of Beau in his mother it was staggering.
"You haven't visited nearly enough," she accused.
"Sorry, Mom," Beau mumbled, truly looking abashed. As his mother turned away to read the carousel boards, a flash of sadness flickered across his face, and I reached out to hold his hand.
Before I could interlock my fingers with his, however, Renee reached for her son's hand and hauled him off.
"Looks like your luggage is coming in on carousel eight," she reported. Her interception had not been intentional, and I giggled to myself as I trailed behind them. Beau threw me an apologetic glance over his shoulder, but I only smiled, shaking my head at him. His mother's doting affections didn't bother me one bit.
Our luggage was a few of the first off the airplane, and we took them out to Renee's new 4-Runner. The house wasn't far from the airport, but Renee somehow managed to encapsulate a surprising amount of dialogue into the brief trip home.
She barely stopped to take a breath between her monologing, glancing over at Beau, who sat in the passenger seat, every few moments to ensure he was still listening. And he was. His attention never wavered from his mother's face for a moment.
And the expression on his face… I had never seen anything like it. So affectionate, so patient, so filled with loving awe… It made a place deep inside my heart ache—wishing for some elusive thing I had no earthly clue of.
As Renee showed us into the house, she apologized for Phil's absence, explaining he had to be up early in the morning for a baseball tournament his high school team was to be a part of over the weekend.
"Don't worry about it, Mom," Beau assured her, "We'll find some time to catch up, I'm sure."
Renee smiled at him softly. "Yes, I'm sure," she agreed. "For now, let's just focus on getting you two home and to bed." She patted her son on the knee. "I'm sure you're both just zonked."
The house was familiar in a dreamlike way—I'd seen it before, but only dimly through Renee's thoughts. It was a little yellow structure, quaint with daisies in the boxes under the windows, and just a few minutes' walk from the beach.
Renee showed me first to the guestroom upstairs—furnished in demure blues and creams—and then pointed out the bathroom to both of us.
"Towels are on the counter."
Then she took us downstairs and showed Beau to the pull-out bed in the den, which Renee had made up ahead of time.
"It's more comfortable than it looks," she assured her son, suddenly anxious.
Beau lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, eliciting a series of hair-raising screeches. "It's perfect, Mom."
Renee dithered in the kitchen with a cup of tea she had no intentions of drinking, while Beau and I said goodnight. She tried not to eavesdrop as we lingered in the entryway, but she couldn't help but notice the almost gravitational pull that connected Beau and myself. She noticed the way I watched him, with searing intensity, and the way our movements seemed to echo the other's.
She planned to discuss that with her son in the morning, but wanted to let him have a good night's sleep, first.
Beau encircled me in his arms and pulled me to his chest. "I guess I'll see you in the morning."
I grinned into his shirt, glad he sounded as enthusiastic as I felt about being separated for the remainder of the night.
"Goodnight," I whispered and leaned up to capture his eyes with mine, "Sweet dreams, Beau." I intentionally allowed my breath to fan across his face, knowing the effect it would have on him. I was not disappointed by the stunned, adorably disoriented expression that came over his face.
Knowing his mother was sneaking peeks, I settled for a quick kiss on his cheek before I turned and headed toward the second level.
Not quite as subtle as she thought she was, Renee wished her son a good sleep mere seconds later, and headed up the stairs behind me.
In the bathroom, I flushed the toilet and ran the water—keeping up appearances for Renee, and then dressed in the sleeping clothes I'd brought in the bedroom.
The airy, light material of the lace trimmed lilac camisole and matching pants was surprisingly comfortable, and I wondered why I hadn't purchased sleeping clothes for myself at an earlier date.
Sitting in the center of the bed, I braided my hair and listened to the sounds of running water in the guest bathroom as Beau got himself ready for sleep. A few moments later, he descended the stairs again, and through the floor, I heard the pullout bed's springs creak gratingly once more.
The house fell into familiar silence. In the master bedroom across the hall, Phil woke briefly when Renee crawled in next to him—but it was only a matter of minutes before they were both deeply asleep.
Downstairs, Beau rolled over in the bed, and then was still again. I could hear the rhythm of both his breathing and heart through the floorboards, and I knew that he wasn't asleep. Every so often, his heart rate would pick up, and then slow.
I waited, hoping with all that I had that he would come to me. It was an unfamiliar, giddy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wondered if this was how school girls felt, waiting for her parents to fall asleep so she could sneak out of the house with the neighborhood 'bad boy'.
When ten more minutes passed and Beau still did not come to me, I pulled out the book I'd brought along, preparing to settle in for the long night ahead.
It was just after 1:30 when I heard Beau get out of bed and creep across the front hall, to the stairs. I was grinning before his foot mounted the first step, and by the time he knocked once, and eased my door open infinitesimally, I was sure my dimples were on full display.
"I was beginning to think you'd never come," I whispered as he slipped the door shut quietly behind him and tip-toed across the floor toward me. I laid the book aside and curled willingly into his arms.
"I wanted to be sure they were asleep," Beau breathed. His breath burst, warm and minty, across my face. He'd brushed his teeth.
"I feel bad," I admitted, "Here I am, with this cozy little room—and you're stuck on the pullout bed downstairs."
Beau laughed softly and kissed my pouting bottom lip. "I'm not stuck there now, am I?"
"No," I murmured, "You're not."
He pressed his lips to mine again, their warmth searing me through without hesitation. For a few, slow minutes, I allowed myself to swim in the weightless, tranquil waters of his osculates, running my fingers through the lush strands of his hair, so as to stir up his fragrance in the air around us.
When Beau began to gasp for breath, I pulled my lips from his and lay my ear against his heart, listening to it bang around behind his ribcage.
In the next few moments, I began to croon his lullaby, and he fell into slumber on the pillow beside me.
I listened to the patterns of Phil and Renee's breathing throughout the night dutifully, and when Phil's seemed to shift toward waking, I shook Beau gently.
I hated to send him away, but I doubted he would agree to changing beds, even if I didn't require a soft place to lay my head.
I sent him back to bed, half afraid he would stumble, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, down the stairs. Only when he flopped heavily into the pullout bed did I begin to breathe again.
In the master suite, Phil started the shower, and I laid back on the pillow Beau had just vacated, inhaling the notes of his perfume he'd left behind.
Outside, the sky was still dark. Within half an hour, Phil had departed for his early morning workout before practice at seven, and the house fell silent again.
The foundation seemed to inhale and expire in exact time with Beau and his mother.
I forced myself to wait for day's first light before I allowed myself to get up and dress for the day. It felt strange to pull on shorts and a tank top when I knew I wouldn't be stepping foot in the sun. It was more skin than I was used to showing, by any rate, and I threw a slouchy cardigan on over the top, second guessing myself.
I went down the stairs and sat in the swinging bench on the back porch, indulging myself by watching the sun rise. I had nearly forgotten how heartbreakingly stunning daybreak could be. I'd long ago become accustomed to the cloudy, diluted sunrises from the North. But the South… The South was something different altogether.
When the sun garnered enough strength to hint at the illumination of my skin, I headed inside. Coffee was brewing on the counter next to the refrigerator—exuding a nasty, bitter smell into the air. I was just heading up the stairs to gather my books—a prop—when Renee began to descend.
"Oh," she gasped, a little startled by my soundless footfalls, "Good morning, Edythe. You're up early."
I smiled genially at her. "I guess I'm not used to the sun rising so early. It's so bright."
Renee laughed, looking cozy and relaxed in her bathrobe, her hair pulled away from her face with a large clip. "Yes, I suppose it would be quite a change from Washington."
"I was just going to grab my books, and then I'll join you downstairs. I was going to do a bit of studying—"
Her eyebrows knit together in confusion, and she wondered why on earth I would want to spend my weekend holiday doing schoolwork. "There's plenty of time for homework later," she chided, "Leave the books and let me fix you a cup of coffee."
Her hospitality was so welcoming, so unexpected, that I could not bring myself to reject her offer. So I followed her down to the kitchen and let her fix me a cup of coffee. We sat side by side at the kitchen island, while Renee sipped the revolting sludge inside her sunny yellow mug, and I intermittently dumped mine, little by little, into the nearby potted plant, in spurts too quick for Renee's human eyes to notice. I hoped I wouldn't unintentionally kill it.
"It's good to see you two lovebirds back together," Renee said after a long stretch of contemplative silence, "It wasn't good for him to be apart from you." Her brow knit, bringing, once more, to recall, the image of her sullen and despondent son.
I flinched, my shoulders hunching beneath the agony the picture elicited, but Renee was staring into her coffee cup and didn't see my reaction.
"I wondered if I was simply imagining things, when Beau was in the hospital last Spring. But seeing you together last night only confirmed my suspicions." She turned toward me. "Just how long have you known that you're in love with my son?"
Surprised by her audacity, but seeing no reason to evade her questions, I confessed, "Even longer than he's loved me."
Renee lapsed into quiet solitude, the still-frames skimming through her mind at such a rate, I found it a task to keep up—even for a supernatural. She lingered the most over her memories of Beau as a gangly, big-blue-eyed little boy. Then her thoughts seemed to race ahead of her, imagining her son older, in the world on his own, successful and with children. All the while, she was sure she'd see me beside him.
"He seems very faithful to you," she said quietly, almost as if she were speaking only to herself, "But you two are so young." A jolt of unease went through her, remembering her own whirlwind love story with Charlie, remembering how badly that had ended. "I just can't help thinking you two need more time before you make these big decisions together."
Beau's mother appraised me with wide, cerulean eyes, and I couldn't have agreed with her more.
I smiled softly, deftly maneuvering our conversation into easier territory, as I heard the beginnings of Beau's stirrings in the den. By the time he came out to greet us, rooster tail and all, we were playing cards.
I was surprised by the immediate bond I felt with Beau's mother. For all her temporary, non-habitual ways, I was pleased to find we had much in common. We shared the same taste in music, both lovers of Classical and Instrumental music. Though Renee was a huge fan of modern romance novels, she also enjoyed the Classics, which was another touching stone of camaraderie for us. We discussed Bronte's works at length, both agreeing that her literature had shaped vital parts of our personalities.
I was able to avoid raising too much suspicion due to my fabricated term-paper excuse, while Renee took her son out antique shopping, and then on a beach excursion. As much as I wished it were possible for me to join him, to see the way he would bask in the sun, this was also an important time for him to get some alone time with his mother. After all, it may be the last time he would ever see her, and I wanted him to be able to say everything that needed to be said, to do everything that needed to be done. I didn't want him to have any regrets when the time came to say goodbye.
Phil finished with his practice early enough to take us out to dinner. I managed to get through the meal without taking a single bite of the salad I'd chosen from the menu. I felt despicable for wasting the entirety of a meal Mr. Dwyer was treating me to, so I'd purposefully chosen the least-expensive item on the menu, which happened to be the house salad.
When Beau whispered in my ear that it was unusual to just order salad, I ordered a side of baked chicken and garlic bread as well.
I managed to hide an appropriate amount of the meal in my napkin.
On our way out to the car, Renee enclosed her concerns for me in Beau's ear.
"She's awfully slim, Beau," she worried in a low whisper, "Are you sure she eats enough?" She was silently listing the symptoms of an eating disorder in her mind, unable to quite feel confident in her assumption, but unable to come to any other conclusion.
"She's perfectly fine, Mom," Beau insisted, patting Renee's hand, which was looped through his arm. "She's… Really careful about her diet, is all." Then he glanced over his shoulder at me and winked.
Beau got up early the next morning to make his mother breakfast as thanks for having us. I watched, fascinated, as he whipped together a viscous-looking batter that turned my stomach.
"What do you call that, again?" I inquired as he plucked a ladle out of the cracked blue pitcher by the stove.
"What, this?" he asked, pointing at the mixing bowl.
I shook my head and jerked my chin toward the circular looking contraption that was plugged into the wall.
"Oh, that—that's a waffle iron."
"It looks… Dangerous," I observed as I watched him scoop up a ladle-full of the nasty looking batter and pour it into the strangely-textured pan.
Beau laughed as he closed the lid and flipped the entire thing over. "Not in the least."
Nevertheless, I continued to watch warily, half afraid he might burn himself.
Beau busied himself by whipping cream and sugar into stiff peaks, and then slicing up a basket of swollen, putrid-smelling strawberries.
When Renee and Phil came downstairs soon after, Beau got a half-hearted scolding from his mother.
"You're the guest—I'm supposed to do the cooking," she chided as she stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.
"I don't mind," he replied, grinning, as he passed her a plate. He'd piled everything together in a way that looked artistically messy. "Consider it my thank-you gift."
Renee and Phil ate at the breakfast bar. When she urged me to help myself to a plate, I made a joke about having wolfed down three of the—awful, reeking—golden squares while Beau had still been cooking.
It was nice to chat with Phil a bit—it was clear he and Renee were very much in love, and that she was very happy. I remembered when I had assumed there had been some sort of ill-ease between Beau and his step-father, encouraging his move to Forks. But I couldn't have been more wrong. The two chatted easily, jokingly—Phil pushed Beau to reconsider his college options, that Florida State was a perfect place to consider.
Beau quickly deflected the prodding with a comment about the humidity. Even from inside the house, I, too, felt as if I were inhaling vapors most of the time.
When breakfast was finished, Phil headed out the door to prepare for the big game this afternoon. When Beau started toward the sink, I jumped up.
"I'll get those. You two get out of here."
Beau paused in the middle of the kitchen, and I hip-checked him toward the door.
"Edythe, no—leave the dishes. You're a guest here," Renee said.
"Oh, I don't mind," I assured her, grinning. "It's the least I can do for being so rude, eating without you."
Renee appraised me sweetly. "You eat whatever and whenever you like," she encouraged me. Her thoughts shifted, picturing the strip by the beach, wanting some time alone with Beau before we had to leave for the airport in just over an hour.
"Thank you, Renee." Then I turned to Beau. "Beau, you should take your mother for a stroll by the beach before we have to leave. Soak up the last of the sun." I gave him a pointed look.
Renee immediately brightened. "That would be wonderful—you should join us, of course, Edythe," she offered politely.
"I appreciate the offer, but I have a ton of packing left to do. Plus, I'd really like to try and finish up my term paper. I'm almost finished with it."
"Are you sure?"
"Completely. Go on ahead."
They left together through the back door. Quickly, I took care of the dishes, drying and putting them away. Of course, my packing was finished. Everything was ready to go, and I found myself sitting in the shade-darkened sitting room with nothing to do.
My mind drifted toward the welfare of my family. If everything had gone according to plan, Victor would have entered Forks last night, and they would have intercepted him. I tried to soothe myself, knowing Archie would have called if anything had gone wrong; but still, I couldn't help to worry.
If any one of them had been harmed, it would be entirely my fault. This was my responsibility, and as much as I knew I was in the right place, here with Beau, I felt like I was somehow shirking my duties.
The longer Beau and his mother were gone, the more I began to panic. It was completely irrational thought that tormented my mind; I was aware of this, but I could not stop the thoughts.
Somehow, Victor found a way to walk conspicuously in the sun.
He's found him.
He realized where we were and he's come here.
The relentless qualms tortured me, and finally I could stand them no more. I dashed up to my room to pull my cell phone out of my purse, powered it on, and called Archie.
"Okay—for one, give it a rest," he said by way of an answer, "Beau and Renee are perfectly safe. They'll be back in precisely seven minutes and twelve seconds."
A great weight was lifted from my chest, and I felt as though I could breathe again. In the immediate postlude to the relief, however, I realized that there was an underlying tension in my brother's voice. There was something he wasn't telling me.
"What happened?" I demanded of him.
Archie sighed heavily on the other line. "He got away, Edythe."
I went firm with tension, my muscles locking.
"He came in on the river, as we expected—I suspect he was trying to disguise his scent. We were waiting for him, but just as we were about to ambush him, he took off. We gave chase, but it was like he was reading the boundary lines from a map, Edythe. He ran exactly parallel down the line. The wolves were following him, too, so of course I was blind… Jess and El almost had him—but then the grey one flipped; she was sure El was over the line, and she got distracted, lunging at her. Of course, that set Royal off and he stepped in to defend Eleanor. It would have been a nasty fight if Jessamine and Carine hadn't nullified things. Jess was able to send a wave of lethargy over the crowd to take the fight out of them, and then Carine used her voice of reason. But by the time everybody got their heads screwed back on right, Victor was long gone… I'm sorry, Edy—really, I am."
"No," I said, and my voice sounded hollow as I processed the story. I would have a better idea of what had happened once I arrived home and was able to see the recall clearly in my family's minds. "No, Archie—don't feel bad. I think Victor must have a talent for evasion. It makes me feel just a little better, having not been able to track him properly. Maybe I'm not as bad at it all as I thought I was."
Archie gave a hard, single note of laughter. "He'll be back." Now, his tone was ruthless, bloodthirsty. "And we'll get that bastard next time."
"You're sure he's not lingering near town?" I felt suddenly wary. There was no way I would bring Beau home if there was a chance Victor was hanging around, waiting for us to return. But I didn't see how I could coax him to extend our trip without raising suspicion—he was too perceptive for that.
"Positive," Archie assured me now, "Once I was clear of the nasty dogs, Seattle was pretty apparent in his future. Haven't seen anything else since then. I guess I'll see you tonight, then."
"Yes," I confirmed, "See you."
A couple minutes later, Beau and Renee hurried in, shaking off the rain and cursing those tropical storms.
"I just need to go upstairs and change," Renee said, heading for the second level, "And then we can head out for the airport."
Beau noticed my anxiety and came to me, the rain accentuating his scent. Even after an hour apart, the burn in my throat was more noticeable. I let him take me in his arms and rested my cheek against his chest, taking the opportunity to rearrange my features.
"Everything good?" he wondered.
"Of course," I said brightly, tipping my head back to grin at him. "How was your walk?" I stretched up on my tiptoes to catch the drop of rain clinging to the tip of his nose with my lips.
"It was good." But suddenly, he seemed a little uncomfortable.
I felt my brow crinkle in concern. "Beau? What is it?"
Now, it was his turn to put on a mask. I noticed this immediately, but when he assured me it was nothing, I didn't push him. It didn't feel right, urging him to be vulnerable with me when I was keeping my own secrets from him—no matter how little he needed to know of them.
He excused himself to duck into the den to change his shirt. I stayed where I was, contemplating what processes might be going through his mind. My gaze shifted, falling entirely accidentally on the mirror in the hallway. Beau was standing in the den, his naked back to me, fishing a clean t-shirt out of his suitcase. He didn't realize the door stood slightly ajar, that I could see the entire expanse of the smooth skin of his shoulders.
It was entirely discourteous of me, but I found I couldn't tear my eyes away. In an almost indulgent way, I found myself tracing the geography of flesh and bone. I'd never seen so much of him before, and the unfamiliar enthrallment took me off guard. He was… Beautiful. It was the only word I could think of to explain the bare stretch of bone and cartilage, knit together with sinewy muscle and smooth, porcelain skin.
As I watched, Beau lifted his arms to pull the clean t-shirt over his head, accentuating certain curves of his back, the skin folding together in the most fascinating way, between his shoulder blades.
Renee's voice startled me from my fascination, and I jerked myself away from my gaping.
"Alrighty, lovebirds!" Renee trilled, bounding down the stairs in a pair of denim capris and a frilly top, "Ready to go?" Her affect was bright and carefree, but in her mind, she was sad to see her son go. He'd grown up so much in the past couple of years—time only seeming to accelerate even more while he'd been in Forks—and she wasn't sure when she would have the chance to see him again.
As if I were suddenly as much an Empath as Jessamine, I felt a lump rise into my throat in response to her tender, maternal emotions.
I didn't think Beau was immune to the gravity of our farewells, either, as he held his mother close for an extra couple of seconds. His heart lurched a little unevenly when he pulled back to gaze into her face, and I heard him swallow heavily.
"I love you, Mom," he told her, his tone thick with emotion, "I'll… I'll see you."
Renee clung to her son a moment longer, the tears coursing, unrestrained, down her cheeks. "Oh, it was so good to see you two," she sniffled, "Come back to see me again soon."
Beau, unable to quite formulate a coherent answer, stammered a bit over his words. But she wasn't really listening as she turned to hug me, gripping me with surprising strength.
"Promise me you'll make him happy," she whispered fiercely in my ear, "That you'll support him and stand by his side, no matter what."
"I will—for as long as he wants me," I guaranteed her.
She hugged her son once more, and then we headed off to catch our flight. The image of our turned backs, fingers interlocked between us, seemed to superimpose an image into Renee's mind—an image I doubted would fade even a little, anytime soon.
Beau was very quiet on the flight home. He stared out the window for most of the venture, his eyes following the line of the horizon as we soared west, toward the setting sun. He remained as such all through the afternoon, as we caught our connecting flight in Atlanta, and then as we landed in Seattle.
I was beginning to worry that something worrisome had come up in his conversation with Renee on the beach—after all, he hadn't been willing to tell me very much about it. Or maybe he was just sad, believing this may very well be the last time he saw his mother.
Either way, I could stand the silence no more. We'd been in the Volvo for nearly twenty minutes, and he still hadn't spoken a word.
I reached over to lay my hand over his. "You've been very quiet," I observed, "Did the plane make you sick?"
Beau turned his face toward me sharply, as if he'd forgotten where he was. "No—I'm good," he said, "Just… Thinking."
I nodded in understanding. "I thought it went very well… But it must be sad for you, to leave."
Beau surprised me when he shrugged. "Yeah," he admitted, "But I'm kinda glad we were only there for two days. She was… Making me nervous."
Anxiety was definitely not an emotion I had been expecting, and I felt my lips turn down in confusion. "Nervous?"
"Yeah—I think she notices things a lot more than Charlie does."
I nodded, thoughtful. I was suddenly much more interested in the conversation the two had shared this morning. Something must have come up. I wasn't entirely confident, but from the images in her mind, it was clear she saw us together in the future, and I wondered if she'd spoken to Beau about this. "She has a very fascinating mind, your mother. Childlike and whimsical in some ways, but also very insightful. She… Sees things differently than other people."
Beau nodded, considering this, and turned his gaze once again to the window. Soon after, his eyes fell shut and his breathing slowed. He slept for the rest of our journey, and when I pulled up in front of the Swan residence, I reached over to touch his cheek.
The sensation of my cool fingers on his skin brought him round, and he blinked a few times, seeming disoriented.
"Good morning," I teased, "We're home."
As we got out of the car, we both noticed the curtain part subtly in the front window. I was a little taken aback by Charlie's enthusiasm about having his son home. I could understand now that he'd be anxious Beau would find Florida more to his liking.
There was another timber of expectancy in his mind, and as I focused, I realized what it was. Charlie's memories were always clearer than his current thoughts, and apparently, the recurring recall of Julie Black's phone calls were at the forefront of his mind.
He was expecting the phone to ring any moment now as he glanced at the clock, and realized another five minutes had passed.
I felt the instinctual locking of my muscles, and Beau seemed to notice my stiffness when he reached out to take my hand as we headed up the walk.
"How bad?" Beau inquired, misreading my expression.
"Charlie's not going to be difficult," I assured him, and wished I could say the same for Julie Black, but I simply didn't know. "He missed you." I took a discreet breath, hoping to urge my body back into relaxation, but I couldn't quite achieve it.
Why now? Why, after all this time of avoiding and dodging, was she so intent on talking to him now? Was this going to be her usual way of things—to waltz back into the picture after we were finally settling into some reprieve of normalcy amongst all the chaos…?
Charlie was waiting for us at the door, swinging it wide, an animated grin on his face with which to greet his son.
"Welcome home, kid! How was Jacksonville?"
"Can't say I was a fan of the humidity. And I wish I'd brought bug spray." He wrinkled his nose slightly.
Charlie's anxious thoughts began to ease. "So they didn't convince you to move down there next year for school?"
Beau shook his head, like he wasn't really sure. "Don't think so."
Remembering his manners, if only a tad reluctantly, Charlie turned toward me. "And what about you? Did you have a nice time?"
"Yes. Renee was a lovely host, and I'm very glad I got to know her a little better," I said, smiling serenely and amicably—which never failed to confuse his emotions. He was constantly fighting the battle between what he knew about Dr. Cullen's well-mannered children, and the girl who'd broken his son's heart the year previous.
"That's… um, good. Glad you guys had a good time."
He turned back to Beau, his joy welling up again. "It's real good to have you back, kid," he said, and then, taking Beau by surprise, gripped him in a sudden hug, thumping his back twice, hard. "For one, the food sucks when you're gone."
Beau laughed. "Guess that's my cue." He started to head for the kitchen.
It wasn't until that moment that I realized Beau was happy to be home, too. He seemed more relaxed than he'd been all weekend, and suddenly, some of my residing tension made sense. Part of me had been unable to let go of the thought that he might just change his mind about Florida. Of course, it would rearrange things substantially, but if Beau would still have me, I wouldn't allow it to sway me from staying by his side.
Regardless, I was happy to know daytime outings wouldn't be out of the question for me anytime soon.
"Would you give Julie a call back before you get started?" Charlie called after his son, interrupting my moment of happiness. I automatically felt myself tense again. "She's been calling every five minutes since six o' clock this morning. I told her I'd have you call her before you even unpacked."
"She wants to talk to me?"
"Pretty bad, I'd say. She wouldn't tell me what it was about—just said it was important." The words were barely out of his mouth when the phone rang. His annoyance rose a little. At least give me a few minutes alone with my kid…
I recognized Julie's persistence wasn't the only presence he wasn't entirely thrilled about, and I would leave, but I found myself too caught up in what Julie Black might possibly want with Beau. I couldn't risk having her tell him about what had happened this weekend. There was no benefit in him worrying about something there was no need for. Of course, it would be Julie Black to bring him avoidable strife…
Beau turned and headed for the kitchen. I followed him quietly, anxious.
When he yanked the phone off the cradle and abruptly turned his back on me, a part of me went cold.
"You're back," the voice on the other line said, flat and emotionless.
I tensed, but I saw the visible relaxation of the muscles in Beau's shoulders. He hesitated a moment, and when he answered her, his voice was low, heavy with some sort of emotion I couldn't comprehend. "Yeah."
"Why didn't you call me?" she demanded, and I felt my brow crease with perturbed frustration. How dare she expect Beau call her right when he got in—especially when she had been the one avoiding him for weeks?
Surprising me, as always, Beau chuckled softly. "Maybe because I've been home for all of five seconds?"
"Oh." Julie sounded surprised and, appropriately, abashed. "Sorry."
"No problem." I was appalled at Beau's tendency to brush things off—even when there was perfectly assumable reason to hold a grudge against the person in question. This person, especially, deserved some sort of trial. "Did you need something?"
On the other line, I heard Julie take a breath, and then release it—as if she'd been about to say something, but then had quickly changed her mind. I realized my hand was halfway raised toward the phone, ready to snatch it from Beau if she started to say anything about Victor's 'visit'. I didn't think Julie Black would be so foolish, but still…
"Are you going to school tomorrow?"
This question surprised me. It hadn't been what I'd been expecting to hear in the least, and I wondered about this, speculating whatever convoluted assumptions could be running through her head. Did she think I'd stolen him away?
"Um… Yeah?" Beau said now, "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I dunno. Just curious." It was clear she was trying to sound just a bit too casual. In the background, I heard the distinct howl of a wolf. "I gotta go."
Beau seemed surprised by her abrupt cessation of the conversation. "Wait—" he blurted, "I…"
"What?" she said, impatient now, and her clipped tone raised my hackles.
"I just… Thanks for calling."
"Yeah, I guess I just needed to hear your voice," she said, suddenly hesitant and shy. Another faint howl sounded, more insistent now. "I'll talk to you soon, okay?"
"Okay, but—" The line went dead.
Beau pulled the receiver away from his ear, appraising it with a bemused expression on his face.
"That was short," he muttered, his brow furrowed in dejection.
"Is everything all right?" Of equal strength, relief and fury coursed through me. I was thankful that she hadn't said anything totally out of line to him, but I was also irate that she'd so clearly upset him.
The color in his eyes shifted as he contemplated for a moment. He didn't turn toward me, but instead stared across the kitchen, out the rain-streaked window. "Dunno," he mumbled, "Guess so. It was just… Weird." He shook his head, still deep in thought as he crossed to the refrigerator and began to pull out ingredients for dinner.
I kept my eyes on his face as he laid the ingredients on the counter, pulling pots and pans and wooden spoons from cupboards and drawers. His brow remained wrinkled, his eyes pensive, throughout this whole process.
I was afraid to say something, to interrupt his intense concentration.
Was it really just confusion over what his friend had wanted, or was he missing her again—thinking up ways to evade me and find himself in La Push again? Was it really just their comradeship he yearned for, or were there deeper, unresolved emotions he was still working through?
I watched him worriedly as he continued his ministrations, and I noticed the moment that he tensed in the middle of the kitchen floor, the half-thawed package of hamburger slipping from his suddenly slack fingers.
I was there to catch it before it hit the floor, setting it on the nearby counter before laying a steadying hand on his back.
"Beau, what is it?" I murmured anxiously. His face was totally blank, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head slowly, but didn't say anything for several minutes. The age old, tormenting curiosity took hold, and finally, I took his arm, shaking him gently. "Beau," I hissed.
"I think…" he finally said, his voice flat and affectionless, "I think maybe she was checking…"
"For what?" I demanded, my own whispering voice tight and too high-pitched with tension.
"To see if I was still human."
I stiffened, and an involuntary hiss slid through my locked teeth.
The nerve of that woman child! The audacity she had…!
"We'll have to leave," Beau continued quietly, "I mean, before you change me. So that it doesn't break the treaty. We won't ever be able to come back, right?" He turned his stunning, beseeching gaze on my face, and there was such heartbreak in his eyes, I felt the fissure snake through the center of my own chest in response.
"Yes," I whispered, hating to assent to this. It would be painful for him—excruciatingly so—to have to leave his friends and family behind, knowing he would never again see them. Would this realization stir hesitation in him? Would it give him more time?
I didn't know—but I hoped.
.
She'd better show up soon. I don't want to hang around here longer than I have to. Stupid bloodsuckers... Paula had every damn right to take out that tall chick. She was on our land, and they knew it, too… Next time, it's fair game…
I felt my hands tighten reflexively around the steering wheel, and my body went rigid. We were a few blocks away from school the next morning when I heard Julie Black's sullen, furious thoughts up ahead. She was waiting for us in front of the school, entirely intent on 'warning' me about 'trespassing on their land'. She had no plans to edit or splice her speech—despite the fact we would have an entire student body of witnesses hearing our exchange.
What a child! What an immature, heedless child!
"If I asked you to do something for me, would you?" I struggled to keep my voice even, not wanting to alert Beau to any sort of tension.
But I was afraid any impression of tranquility was vanquished when he glanced at me sideways and took in my expression, which I was apparently not hiding well enough.
In response, his heartbeat thrummed faster. "Do what?"
We were pulling into the parking lot now, the girl's thoughts gaining volume and emotion. If it had not been made clear to me the evening previous by way of my family's memories, Julie Black's thoughts made it very clear now that the scuffle on Saturday evening had been worse than Archie had alluded to on the phone.
Things had come much closer to getting out of hand than he'd let on, and the wolf-girl was making it very clear in her thoughts, now, that she would have let them, too, if she'd been calling the shots.
"Stay in the car for me?" I requested of Beau as I pulled into my usual spot, already knowing the dim likelihood of him agreeing with me. "Just for a few minutes. I'll come back for you—I promise."
Beau's warm hand clamped around my forearm.
I braved a glance at his face—which was bemused and, I was surprised to find, a little panicked. "Why?" he asked cautiously, and I sighed as he automatically began scanning the school property for whatever threat I must have inadvertently alerted him to. "Jules?" he breathed when his eyes fell on the girl, waiting on the sidewalk between the parking lot and the school, her deathtrap of a motorcycle parked illegally behind her.
I knew in that instant that the battle was lost—the only thing I could hope to be successful in, now, was keeping her from saying the words out loud.
Jeez, everybody's staring, she thought now, almost self-consciously. But she was also aware of the appreciative male eyes, taking in her toned arms—which were bare, exposed by the tight black tank top she wore. Her jeans were dirty, but fit well. Well, at least all the eyes on us here will keep Black Widow from trying anything stupid… Julie knew her sisters were nearby, waiting in the shadows of the forest if some kind of violent confrontation were to arise—as if I possessed as little discipline as the dog.
I scoffed quietly at her thoughts. Beau didn't seem to hear me. He was still staring at the spot where she waited, arms folded in front of her, her expression far more composed than her insolent thoughts.
"Apparently, you came to the incorrect conclusion last night," I explained quietly, "The reason she wanted to know if you'd be in class today was because she knew where you were, I would be, too. She was looking for neutral ground to speak with me—where we would have witnesses."
"Huh," Beau said, his eyes still fixed on the wolf girl, and then he unclipped his seat belt. "I guess we should go talk to her, then."
I groaned as he gripped his bag and climbed out of the car, but quickly gathered my own things and rounded the hood of the Volvo till I was at his side. We headed toward Julie Black together, and I was pleased when he reached down to twine his fingers with mine.
The pleasure intensified when Julie's thoughts raged at the sight of us holding hands.
Around us, the students' thoughts were a typical mass of apprehension, perplexity, and the occasional thrill of exhilaration. All in all, a typical response to what some assumed would be a typical schoolyard fight. They had no way of knowing just how graphic things would become if a fight were to break out. What kind of carnage would ensue…
I would do everything I could to avoid it happening, but I held no confidence in Julie Black's self-control, and I wondered why on Earth her Alpha would allow her to confront one of their enemies in this way…
Look at them, all lovey-dovey, holding hands… Ugh. Like holding hands with an ice cube. How can he stand it? She fought back her first shuddering tremor at the sight of me, and straightened from where she'd been attempting a casual lean on her glossy black bike.
Immediately antagonistic, though I gave her no inclination that I was going to be, she folded her arms across her chest.
I kept my expression as cool and as expressionless as I could manage, but my instincts, too, were rising inside me, difficult to quell. The reflexes were all the more difficult to deflect when the only thing that mattered to me strode toward the threat with absolutely no hesitation.
I had to resist the urge to step in front of him when we reached a reasonable proximity, knowing the action would raise further suspicion in the crowds around us.
"A simple telephone call would have sufficed," I said, unable to come off quite as blasé as I'd been hoping for.
Julie's mouth twisted. "Hm—too bad I don't have any leeches in my speed dial. I know!" she said, as if a wonderful idea had just occurred to her. Her thoughts, however, were sardonic. "Let's, like, totally exchange numbers, and then I can, like, text you next time I, like, need something!" Her plastered on grin looked more like grimace than smile. Her mockingly upbeat tone had hit a nerve, and my next words came out harder.
"I'm sure even you could have realized you would be able to reach me at Beau's house."
"Look—bloodsucker," she snapped, "If I was looking for advice on how to run my life, which I'm not, or how to rip someone's jugular out—"
"This is hardly the place for that discussion, Julie," I cut her off.
Imbecile! Did she not realize how many people were listening to our conversation? Did she have any idea, at all, what it meant to be discreet? To keep the supernatural details of our life conspicuous?
Apparently not, as she'd hardly made an effort with Beau.
"Oh, I'm so sorry for the inconvenience," she cooed again in her falsely cheerful tone, "When would be a better time for you? Maybe I could come by your place after school, and we could, like, paint our nails and have a little chat then?"
I squashed the unimpressed snarl rising in my chest, reminding myself that it was my duty to stay calm. If I stayed calm, then hopefully she would, and we could avoid traumatizing the students of Forks High together.
I exhaled, forcing composure. "That will hardly be necessary," I assured her, though I knew she hadn't been serious.
The hell?! Is she joking?
"Anyway, I'm already aware of what you came here to say. You can consider us warned."
Before anything else could be said, I tugged on Beau's hand, moving to skirt around the girl—sure to give her a wide berth—but Beau resisted my pull, hesitating.
"Warned?" he repeated, and I risked a glance up into his face as his eyes flickered between the two of us, puzzled. "Warn them about what?"
"Nothing," I insisted, anxious to have him out of here before the girl could say anymore.
Unbelievable! she thought, irate, Like a mother hen—trying to protect him from everything. She may as well bubble-wrap him. I can't believe she would try and hide this from him!
"You didn't tell him?" she asked incredulously, "He doesn't know?" He has a right...! This involves him! He has a right to know!
Why did she insist on subjecting him to such pain? Did she derive some sort of pleasure from seeing him scared, lonely, and miserable? "Please—just let it go, Julie."
"How come?" she snapped, jutting her chin. Scared he'll take our side? That he'll see it was your little coven that overstepped their bounds—and if it hadn't been for your brawny sister, the fire-haired bloodsucker would be a pile of smoking, purple ash by now? Is that why?
I ground my teeth together, swallowing back another growl.
"What's going on?" Beau demanded, "What aren't you telling me, Edythe?"
I didn't answer him, too enraged to speak. I knew my face was fixed in a mask of inhuman rage as I glared at the wolf girl, but I couldn't bring myself to reign it in.
You don't tell him, I will… You know what they say: all's fair in love and war…
"Jules?" Beau turned his searching, demanding gaze on the object of my disdain.
With fire in her eyes, Julie smirked at me. We both know he would have rather heard it from you… But, of course, I'm happy to fill in the places you're not able to…
She turned to him. "She didn't tell you that one of them crossed the line on Saturday night? Paula was a bit affronted—rightfully so, if you ask me. Her actions were completely justified—"
"It was no-man's land!" I hissed, "Eleanor didn't cross the line!" How could she possibly not see that it had been her side at fault? That the grey wolf—who was always quicker to react, and of higher emotional degree than any of the others—had overreacted?!
"Says you!" Julie retorted childishly. Her fists, clenched at her sides, were beginning to tremble, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Get ahold of yourself, girl, she said to herself, Don't cause a scene.
Too late for that, I mused.
She took two deep breaths, and stilled the trembling. The urge to phase quickly died out when Beau spoke again, reminding her that she'd be putting him in danger if she gave over to the urge to shift.
"Wait—are you saying… That Eleanor and Paula got in a fight? Why? What happened? Is Paula okay?" Beau's voice broke, straining tighter with the intensity of his distress, and I glared accusingly at Julie before turning to stroke Beau's arm.
"Nothing happened," I assured him, soothingly, "No one got hurt. Please don't worry."
You have got to be kidding me! Julie's incredulous thoughts broke through my concentration. He doesn't know the half of what went down? Seriously?!
"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" she said out loud. "Was that the reason for your little weekend retreat?" She said the words in a scathingly, sickly sweet voice, thick with mockery. "So that he wouldn't find out about—"
"I think you should leave," I spat, unable to keep the mask fixed in place any longer. I had never wished with more passion that we could have been alone in this instant, so that I could put her in her place properly, and without any sort of restraint. "Now."
Julie Black was not so thick to remain blind to the pure loathing that exuded from my expression. A mental shiver, something like an intuitive nudge, went down her spine, and she suppressed another tremor. Ignoring this, she continued to test me, to challenge me.
I guess I get to be the one to tell him.
"Why didn't you tell him?" she persisted, knowing she was being cruel and unrelenting—she ought to have known this would hurt Beau, but all she could think about was spiting me!
I stared at her, aflame with rage, unable to speak for fear my anger be released in an unfurling series of snarls and hisses. I saw, in the deeper recesses of her mind now, as I focused, that she had no remorse for the pain and terror she would put Beau through. Her only stance was that she assumed he would be angry with me for hiding this from him, and that he'd turn back to her—the one who never hid anything from him, no matter how much it hurt him. But, hey, it was worth it—because she was being honest.
In the midst of my wrath, two things suddenly became very apparent to me: Beau's heartbeat, and his breathing. Both of which were quickly winding into high gear. He stumbled back a step, gasping for breath, and when I looked up into his face, his eyes were wide with dread, sweat beading on his forehead. His face had lost several shades of color, and a lash of cold fear went through me.
Quickly, I reached for him, fearing he might crumble to the rain-slicked pavement beneath our feet.
"He…" Beau gasped, eyes fixed and unmoving, "He came back…"
"See what you've done," I snapped at Julie under my breath as Beau struggled to see reason. I lifted a hand, stroking his neck soothingly, wishing there was something I could say to ebb his fear.
Though guilt was becoming apparent in her thoughts, Julie remained indignant. "He has a right to know."
"There was never any threat," I spat at her, careful to keep the volume of my voice low as the students inched closer, "He was never in any sort of danger. There was no point."
Julie shrugged. "Better freaked than lied to." You'll see—he'll agree with me, too. Just you wait. Wish I could be there to see it…
"So you think honesty is more important than security?" I demanded scathingly, "You don't care how much pain or trauma you put him through, as long as he knows the truth about what's going on miles away from where he's safe and happy with his mother, where he would never have been affected in the slightest?"
In a category of my mind that was always precedent, but wasn't always in the forefront of my thoughts, I recognized Beau's heart and breathing rates beginning to return to normal ranges. However, the panic did not fade from his eyes, and I cursed the immature woman child standing in front of us for instilling that unrelenting fear in him.
I felt Beau shiver, and I whispered quiet reassurances to him. No matter how cliché or dated they were, every word I said stood true. It would be okay. I wouldn't let anything happen to him.
"Beau doesn't need you sugarcoating anything for him," Julie said, "He's stronger than you think he is—and he's been through worse."
Abruptly, Julie Black's bitter and narcissistic thoughts were absent, in lieu of a few choice memories. She compared the bright, animalistic panic she witnessed in his eyes now, to an image indistinct and partially rendered—as if the memory was someone else's.
No matter, the shocking blow of it was no less concussive. The agony tore through me at the sight of a shapeless form, curled on the dirty forest floor. Beau had been soaked to the bone by the rain on that black, moonless night. His face was completely void of color—but more than that, entirely void of expression. He stared unseeingly, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, as the rain pelted him like needles.
Another image—this one was clearer, obviously firsthand—of vacant expression after vacant expression, on the face of a too-thin boy. The bones of his cheeks strained harshly against his pallid expression, his clothes hanging limp from his shoulders. No hint of a smile anywhere, no notes of laughter or joy—only unceasing, unerring despondency…
The images shifted again, seen through eyes too far up off the ground. I immediately recognized the perfect circular shape of the meadow Beau and I shared together. But it had died in the winter, gone brown and lifeless. On its edge, Beau stood. There was some strength back in him, but his expression still haunted me, still ripped me through with the agonizing truth: I had done that to him… And then, in the middle of the meadow, the small, dark-haired vampire called Lauren, who had fled to Alaska when our confrontation with Joss had begun last Spring, appeared.
She had returned, and now there was vengeful thirst in her crimson eyes. She slouched into a hunter's crouch, ready to take Beau's life from him in barely an instant…
Julie Black showed me more images—one a profile shot as they sat together in his truck. Beau appeared lost in thought, and though the aura of the memory held laughter and a state of ease, it had abruptly shifted to concern when she recognized the familiar expression on his face—the blank stare, the listless affect in his eyes as he found himself lost in grief, in mourning.
The graphic images inflicted on me the purest of tortures, the cruelest of agonies, because I knew that I was the cause of every instant of this pain Beau had suffered through. I was the reason behind every moment of it; I had been the one to bring the despondency, the despair, the misery and the agony upon him.
"What's wrong?" Julie taunted softly, letting the memories—and the agony conjugated with them—slowly fade. "Didn't like that so much? Maybe it'll teach you to quit rooting around in peoples' heads."
She threw me another one, the thought I now knew must have been a memory: Beau and Julie in his tiny kitchen, a breath away from sharing a kiss.
This made me flinch once more, experiencing an entirely different form of agony.
"Edythe?" Beau murmured, low in my ear, and I felt his arms encircle me, "Edythe, what's wrong?"
With some effort, I managed to clear my expression and lift my head.
He spun on Julie, who was feeling very full of herself. He took a half step away from me, toward her, one arm still wrapped around my waist, the other raised, fist clenched. "Whatever you doing, quit it," he snapped at her, real anger glinting in his eyes.
"It's nothing, Beau," I assured him, my voice still whisper soft as I gripped his balled fingers and smoothed them out again, pulling him back again. "Julie only possesses surprisingly notable recall."
Just as I was regaining the last of my composure, Julie seemed to notice and brought me to my metaphorical knees with another gut-wrenching image: Beau's pale, marble colored face. Sand in his hair. Cyanotic lips. Drenched and unresponsive.
Unable to stop my response, I flinched again.
"I said—cut it out, Jules," Beau repeated, his voice as hard as steel, "Right now."
Julie grinned and shrugged, as if the entire ordeal had been completely nonchalant to her. "Whatever you say."
What's all this excitement about? A crowd in the parking lot? I heard some kids mentioning an unfamiliar girl with a motorcycle… I hope it's not a fight…
Principal Green was making her way across campus, having been informed about the gathering in the parking lot.
Beau was still glaring at Julie, so I squeezed his hand to ensure I had his attention, fully recovered from the onslaught of Julie's memories now. "The principal is on her way to discourage loitering on public property. We should get to class."
I began to turn away, and thankfully, Beau began to follow this time, but then Julie snorted a laugh.
"What a goody-little-two-shoes you have on your hands there, Beau. Bet you two don't get up to much." Her voice rose. "Listen! If you ever feel like having a little fun again, I've still got your bike in the garage!"
Beau's hand stiffened in mine, and he stopped walking. He turned halfway, glaring at her, surprised, over his shoulder. "You're not supposed to have that. You told my dad you would sell it."
Julie shrugged. "S'not mine to sell… Anyway—if you ever want to take a little ride again—" Just a glimpse of the remembered exploit coursed through her mind. How Beau's hands had felt as she'd coached him, how he'd looked so happy and strong and carefree as his shoulders hunched over the handlebars, flying down the dirt road… The way he'd sailed through the air— "Y'know," she continued, "In case you ever get bored of your little model student there." She jerked her chin at me, her eyes still on Beau's face.
Beau sighed in exasperation, and then, all at once, the fight seemed to go out of him. Julie Black was almost smiling, a playful glint in her eye, and something palpable passed between them.
"Jules…" Beau said softly, and there was something there in his voice, unmistakable emotion that I'd never witnessed in him before. It struck me with physical force, and I suddenly felt like I did not belong in this exchange they were having.
And truly, as if I were all but gone, the girl leaned forward, her eyes softening and all her defenses evaporating. "I've had a lot of time to think lately," she started, apologetic. She hated things had turned out this way, hated what it had done to their relationship. "About, y'know, being friends? And… Maybe I was wrong before. Maybe we can try again. On my side of the line. So… Come by sometime, whenever you're free."
This seemed to take Beau by surprise—which made both of us. I, for one, was appalled at the girl's audacity. At her shameless manipulation of Beau's first show of some kind of tender emotion. How dare she use him like this!
Now, he glanced down at me, seeming to measure my reaction.
I would not come in the way of their bond, but the physical danger of the werewolves was just as present as it had always been. And especially after what had happened on Saturday, I still didn't feel safe enough to allow Beau anywhere near their proximity.
But I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to say any of this now. It would be enough of a fight later.
"I don't know, Jules," he said hesitantly, his eyes back on her face.
"I miss you, Beau. So much. It sucks without you there, and the girls keep telling me it's gonna get easier, that it's better this way, but I just…" She trailed off, emotion catching in her throat, and real, actual tears glistening in her eyes.
I was astounded. There was not one iota of maleficence in her thoughts; there was only heartbreak, grief and the longing to be with him again. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought this a spectacular show. But it was no show for Julie. She was completely sincere.
"I know, Jules," Beau said, sighing, "I know, but…"
Julie's gaze shunted to the ground, and she kicked a stray pebble off the sidewalk. "I know. Doesn't change anything?" She laughed a little, sadly. Then she seemed to shut her mind off from the vulnerable emotions, gathering the grief and heartbreak into a little box in her mind, and shutting it away, behind lock and key. She allowed the anger and pride come to the forefront now. "Whatever. I'll survive. Who needs friends, anyway?"
One of Beau's arms began to lift, as if to reach out for her. Halfway extended, he clenched his hand into a fist, but I couldn't bring myself to release him. The protective instinct inside was too strong to uncurl my fingers from his other hand.
At that moment, Principal Greene approached, effectively putting our conversation to its end.
"Alright, everyone—time to get to class. Let's go… Everyone, and I mean everyone. That means you, too, Miss. Crowley."
Beau didn't take his gaze, concerned and almost tender, off of Julie's face as the principal pushed her way through the crowd and found us at the center of attention.
"I can guarantee detention for anyone who's still standing here by the time I turn around," she called out loudly, and then turned her suspicious, bespectacled glare on us. "Miss. Cullen," she said, the shock apparent in her tone. Edythe Cullen? But she's never been one to cause trouble before… "Is there a problem here?" She glanced between myself and Julie Black and her illegally parked motorcycle.
"No. No problem, Mrs. Greene," I assured her politely, "We were just on our way to class."
"Excellent," she approved, and scrutinized Julie Black closer. Hm, I don't recognize her. Not a new student, surely… She looks like she could be in university… Maybe a friend of one of the Cullen siblings'? "I don't recognize you," she said out loud, "Are you new to Forks?"
"No," she replied brightly, a cocky smirk plastered across her lips. She was obviously enjoying this a little too much.
Mrs. Greene did not take nicely to either insolence nor sass, and Julie's cavalier response irked her. "Then you'd best remove yourself from school property before I am forced to call the authorities."
Julie smirked, picturing Charlie showing up in his police cruiser, and the—in her eyes—hilariousness that would ensue. She didn't think Charlie would be able to bring himself to arrest the daughter of his long-time friend, but I certainly knew better. Chief Swan took his job seriously, and he would do what it took to keep his town safe, and in tip-top order.
She debated staying, but thought better of herself.
She lifted her hands in mock surrender to our principal. "Yes, Ma'am," she said with mock earnestness, and then spun to mount her bike, kick-starting it right there on the sidewalk. In a moment, she was gone.
Such disrespect! Mrs. Greene raged, I should not have to put up with this in my school!
She turned her frustration on me, now. "Miss. Cullen, I'm going to ask that you please ask your friend not to trespass on school property again."
"Oh—she's certainly no friend of mine," I assured Mrs. Greene, "But I'll be sure to relay the message." I smiled genially at her.
Mrs. Greene was immediately regretful of her former attitude toward me.
I should have known this wasn't her fault. Edythe's received nothing less than straight A's in all her semesters here; I've never known her to cause a stitch of trouble before. I shouldn't have been so rude…
"If you're worried about any trouble, Edythe, I'd be happy to—" She'd been about to say 'involve the police', but I decided to interject.
"Please, Mrs. Greene. Don't worry yourself over nothing. It won't be happening again."
"I should hope not. Now, off to class you two."
She ushered us away, hesitating a moment more before making her way back toward her office.
Once we were around the corner of the cafeteria building, I pulled Beau to a stop and took his precious face between my hands.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," he said immediately, but there was a strange light in his eyes, a glint of serious resolve, and I knew I would have to answer the long list of questions he undoubtedly had.
When we reached the English building, Mrs. Berty barely looked up from the Frost poem he was reciting.
"…from what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. But if I had to perish twice…" she droned on, monotonous and bored.
We took our seats, and Beau yanked his notebook out of his pack, wasting no time as he ripped out a leaf of paper and began to scribble furiously.
I was surprised, when only seconds later, he slid the paper across the table to me. Resigned, I took it and appraised what he'd written. I almost laughed at the brevity of his demands, but I supposed they were encompassing enough.
What happened?
This didn't seem the most ideal way of going about things, but if Beau insisted it be this way, I wasn't going to argue.
I detailed the occurrences of what had happened Saturday, that Archie had, indeed, seen the image of Victor's approach on Tuesday, but that our weekend in Florida had been more of a precaution than any sort of protective measure.
I passed the note back to Beau, and appraised his expression as he read through my confessions, his brow furrowed. I saw the emotions pass through his eyes, one after the other: anxiety, wariness, concern, satisfaction.
His eyes ceased to scroll across the page, but he continued to stare down at the paper, frowning, and I discerned he was still deep in thought. Finally, he erased the paragraph, appearing incensed.
What about Charlie? he began to scrawl. I was already shaking my head before he'd finished the question—this had never been about Charlie—but he ignored me, insisting on seeing the sentence through, and then shoving the note back toward me.
He was never in any danger, I wrote, If he'd been after Charlie, Archie would have seen it. He's been keeping careful tabs on Victor's decisions—he won't get past us again, I guarantee it.
Beau read this, and then sat shaking his head, clear unease on his face. I was about to reach out to squeeze his hand in a comforting gesture, but then he turned his piercing eyes on me, accusatory and greatly contemplative.
Finally, he turned his eyes back on the page under his hand and began to write again, this time slowly and deliberately. I watched him scrawl each letter several times over, until each word was clearly emboldened.
When he was finished, he struck a vicious line underneath the entire thing, and passed it back to me—though it was entirely unnecessary. I'd read the entire thing as he'd written it.
You will tell me next time.
When I lifted my eyes back to his face, he was staring at me again. I examined his fair complexion, the strained set of his jaw, and the electricity in his eyes. I'd always known Beau to be unerringly courageous, even selfless to a fault. In a way, I understood his desire to know what was coming, so that he'd be able to steel himself. But I struggled to understand what benefit would come to him, by worrying about things he really didn't need to worry over.
At any rate, I did know one truth: Beau deserved better than being lied to.
I sighed, and reluctantly nodded, making my promise. As I did so, he released the breath he'd been holding, his shoulders relaxing.
Really? First they walk in late… And now they're passing notes back and forth? Do they think they can just completely ignore me? I think it's time to intervene…
Mrs. Berty's thoughts preceded her progression down the aisle toward us as Beau was scribbling Thanks on the page. Moving quickly, I snatched the page out from under his still-moving hand, tucked it beneath my book, and quickly scrawled notes for everything she'd covered in class so far.
"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Miss. Cullen?" Mrs. Berty demanded, her hand already extended for the notes she'd seen us scribbling back and forth. She was feeling very high and mighty, having caught one of the Cullen kids red-handed.
What she didn't know, however, was that my supernatural speed and ability to recall things with picture perfect clarity enabled me to have the upper hand.
"My notes?" I infused the appropriate tenor of confusion in my voice as I passed them over.
She read them thoroughly, her cheeks going pink when she realized that, somehow, she'd been wrong.
I could have sworn I saw them passing that paper back and forth… Lori, old girl, you're really getting along in age, imagining things…
She walked away, still baffled, and Beau rolled his eyes at me.
.
A/N: I tried multiple different avenues of conversation at the Cullen house that could have taken place between Beau and Edythe's return to Forks and the following morning, but nothing was coming out right. Everything was either ending up wayyy too serious, or completely shallow and trivial. So I just decided to leave it out entirely. The chapter was long enough without it, anyway.
Let me know what you thought of this one, my lovely readers, and I'll see you next time :)