Tangle of Thorns
Chapter 3
"Why am I making these?" Esme asked with a light smile.
It was Christmas time, 1979, and she was busy mixing apple spices into the dough she had already prepared. She was making gingerbread cookies, not entirely sure why apple had to be added to the recipe.
She turned and faced her five 'children,' all seated at the long kitchen table. In looking for the question's answer, Alice turned to face Rosalie, seated next to her, who turned to look questioningly to Emmett, who turned to Edward, who...
Was not paying attention.
Esme sighed, watching her 'youngest' affectionately. Though Edward was older than Rosalie, Emmett and Alice all– Jasper and Carlisle being the only members of their family older than him– he had been changed at a younger age than any of them, and Esme often found herself worrying about him. Many times she wondered if he'd been changed too soon, as if he was still not quite ready to be an adult, as if he never would be ready.
Of course, that was, in a way, what every mother wanted– for their children to stay young forever, never to grow up, always there for them to look after. At the same time, though, Esme wished that Edward could find some degree of happiness in this life. He insisted that he was fine, but Esme felt– maternal instincts, perhaps– that somewhere beneath his contentment with life, he was lonely. She'd never say this out loud, and she did her best not to even think it, but still, the thought was always there.
Edward seemed to realize that everyone was looking at him. He snapped out of his reverie and looked up at his mother from under his eyelashes.
He said, "Jasper likes the way they smell," and next to him, the blond grinned sheepishly.
Emmett snorted. "What's so great about gingerbread and apple? It smells pretty normal to me."
Jasper shrugged, seeming nonchalant, but– again, perhaps it was a mother's intuition– Esme thought she noticed a certain defensiveness in his eyes.
Jasper murmured, after a moment, "They're two of my three favourite smells." Jasper wrinkled up his nose. "I don't really remember, but I think apple was my favourite food when I was human." It sounded like a question. He pursed his lips. "It's one of the only foods that they eat that doesn't smell... Revolting."
Esme smiled tightly, not wanting her son to think she was laughing at him. She set the bowl down on the table– the bowl having just been purchased for this occasion– and placed a pan next to it– the pan, too, just bought.
She tried not to laugh when she said it, but Jasper probably knew she felt like it anyways.
"Well, they're your cookies, dear." Esme kept her voice light. "Should I get you little cut outs so you can make shapes?"
Jasper's brow furrowed, even while a tiny smile graced his lips. She expected him to be the one to answer, but it was Emmett, instead, who said, "Oh, let's do teddy bears!"
It happened just after he returned, after those horrible, scary, 8 months of loneliness.
He was hunting, so he was away for a few days. This was before Bella started talking to Jacob again. She could have driven herself, could have been perfectly safe without being hauled around, but Edward didn't seem to think so. He had Alice drive her to work, and Emmett pick her up.
"You know," Emmett remarked, gazing out the window at the dark road. His voice sounded like music against a drumbeat of rain patters. "Edward used to..." Emmett trailed off, eyes still fixed away from Bella.
"Used to what?" she asked. She could feel another strand of Edward's past unraveling itself, and she grasped for it, wanting, needing to know more. "Emmett! Used to what?"
Emmett scoffed, and his eyes finally flickered to where Bella sat. He grinned.
"We shower because dirt, and other things, build up on us during the day. We don't sweat, though, and our hair doesn't get greasy, the way it does for you humans. So we don't actually have to use shampoo and stuff."
Bella pouted. "Emmett, stop trying to change the damn subject." Now she really wanted to know.
"I'm not," he laughed. "I'm trying to tell you, but you keep yelling at me." The car–Edward's spare– pulled into Bella's driveway. Emmett chuckled, "Well, I'll see you later, Bella."
Bella felt her lips twisting into a pout. "Emmett," she pleaded, "Please please please tell me."
He shrugged. "Jeez, Bella, it's nothing major. He used to use lavender scented shampoo– quite a few years ago. He liked the way it smelled. That's all."
Bella stared at Emmett with what must have been a completely uncomprehending expression. "Why did you even bring it up if that was it?" she asked, but she stored the information away for safe keeping.
Emmett rolled his eyes. "It's how you smell, Bella. Like lavender. I'm just pointing out that it's always been one of his favourite scents, that's all."
"Oh." Bella knew that her tone was full of surprise. "And freesia, too right?" she eventually asked. "Edward said I smelled like that as well."
"Yep," was Emmett's answer. He said, "Edward used freesia scented shampoo for awhile, too. Another of his first choices... He pretty much struck gold with you, Bella."
Bella didn't know what to say. She looked down at her lap, ideas forming in her head, not quite taking shape, not quite making any sense.
"Of course," Emmett continued. "He's into honey, too."
"He is?" Bella inquired. "But..." She never finished her sentence.
Emmett shook his head, knowing. "You don't smell a thing like honey. But you got two out of three. That's pretty good." He looked at her as if trying to discern something. Then he said, "I know because he had honey car freshener things," as if he wasn't sure he'd answered the right question.
Bella sat quietly, eyes still trained on her lap. The rain droned on, and she remembered all the times Edward had talked to her about this same thing. Floral. That was the word that came up, almost always, unfailingly.
"Emmett," she finally ventured, and glanced up to see his face full of concern, probably worried that he'd said something which would later upset Edward.
"What is it?" he asked, gently touching her shoulder, and she smiled despite herself. Emmett was always the first to turn to when Bella wanted to hear a good joke, but she looked forward to having him as a brother because he was sensitive, too, and as reliable as the rock he felt like.
"I was wondering... How does it work? How does it smell? I mean, Edward used the lavender and the freesia and the honey scented stuff and it never made him... thirsty, right? So, why, if that's the way I smell...?"
Bella allowed the question to fade off, knowing Emmett would understand.
"Oh, that's simple," Emmett answered, smiling at the question, relief evident on his face. "Okay, what scents do you like the best?"
"Strawberries," Bella answered unthinkingly. "And Edward."
She blushed before the word was completely out of her mouth.
Emmett laughed at her, a devilish smile crossing his features. Bella stuck her tongue out at him, but the look on his face made her anger and embarrassment melt away. Soon she was giggling along with him.
Emmett shook his head. "Do you like the way chicken smells when you cook it?"
"Yes..." Bella gave Emmett a questioning look.
"Well it's like... you smell like human blood– cooking chicken– more like raw chicken, really, but I thought if the chicken was cooked you could better relate..."
"Nice metaphor, Emmett. Really nice."
He shrugged, still grinning.
"Except... Human blood seasoned with lavender and freesia. Imagine cooking chicken with spices that smell like strawberry and... Edward thrown in. That's what it's like."
"So I'm a cooking chicken that smells like lavender and freesia?" Bella asked, trying to keep her face from betraying a single emotion.
"Well, yeah. That just about sums you up, Bella."
Bella shook her head and opened the car door, getting out. She slammed it shut, turning towards the house. Then she heard the mechanical whirr of the window, followed by Emmett's voice, strangely quiet for once.
"Bella?"
"Yes?"
Emmett paused. "You don't..." He seemed to struggle for words. "You don't realize how grateful we all are to you. He's never so happy as when you're around." The car started to back away. "Bella," Emmett said, "Don't ever think that you're just a nice smelling chicken roast."
Bella was flustered at first. "I– won..."
Then she laughed. Only Emmett could say something so sweet with such ridiculous words.
"I won't Emmett," she chortled, and the car disappeared into the night. Bella headed slowly inside, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. She looked into the distance, to the moon in the sky.
"I won't," she whispered, to no one in particular.
The way a vampire smelled was hard to describe. In some cases, it was easy to notice the similarities between their human scent and their undead scent. In others, the only smell remaining from their human days was a subtle undertone, one it took supernatural senses to detect in the first place.
Vampires smelled sweet, unfailingly. They were like flowers, fruits, citruses. The way they smelled wasn't musky, or thick, but light, like sugar. Not for the most part anyways.
Jasper, for example, had a scent that was very earthen as a person. His blood would have smelled, more or less, like almond, tobacco and cinnamon. The scent wasn't airy, as is a vampire's. On the contrary it was a very thick, heavy smell. In Jasper's second life, he smelled like a pile of sugar with only the vaguest trace of almond. You would have to stand next to him and sniff his hair to notice it– even if you had superhuman nose power.
Scent, as vampires coming fresh into their new life, discovered with all too much force, is a complex thing. It isn't just perfume that has undertones and base notes. People do, too, and what they smell like can seriously affect the way they affect you.
Jasper seems a good example once more.
Some vampires don't pick up on the subtle scents. They don't notice the jasmine tones, or the slight, almost non-existent smell of citrus. A scent was a scent to them; vampires like this, by a fairly large majority, had never noticed the undertones because they never ran into any that smelled particularly good to them.
If someone puts a favourite spice on the fire, you're bound to notice it and recognize it, but if it's something boring, some scent you've never taken any fancy for, chances are it'll just slip by your recognition. All it really takes to awaken a vampire's senses to subtlety is to find a human that smells like their favourite scents, and wave them right under their nose.
He was trying to relax, though God knows it wasn't going all that well. The chair was a comfortable one– not that it made any difference against his rock hard back. The book was a favourite of his, but he couldn't keep his mind on it. The words in front of his eyes kept fading into people walking past, voices on overhead speakers, and a familiar scent hitting his nose. Then it was a bus door shutting as a young girl clambered on board.
Jasper shook his head, impelling himself to concentrate on the novel in front of him. He finally managed to drift into the world of the book, forgetting momentarily his worries. He didn't realize that the footsteps weren't his imagination until the door to the quiet room opened and someone stepped inside. The scent was easily recognizable. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting The Fountainhead drop to his lap.
Jasper wondered confusedly at the emotions he felt coming off of the person who now stood behind his chair, but only for a moment. He forced himself to stop thinking about it.
Edward reached down and wrapped his arms around Jasper's neck, resting his chin on his brother's shoulder. Neither spoke. In a way, neither had to. It wasn't that Edward already knew everything Jasper said, or that Jasper understood perfectly the feelings Edward wanted to express with his words anyways. They didn't really need to say anything.
It was simple for Jasper to get along with Edward. There was an easy connection between them, a feeling that, maybe more so than the others, they really were siblings. They had just never taken the time to strengthen that connection, to get to know each other. Sometimes Jasper regretted the fact that he'd never learned more about his brother. Other times he was glad that he'd spent so much time concentrating on Alice only, and that Edward had always been–before Bella at least– just little bit antisocial.
Sometimes he was happy that he didn't understand the way Edward thought as well as he did Emmett, or Rosalie, or any other member of their family. This was one of those times.
Jasper sighed, and Edward shifted, planting his forehead against Jasper's shoulder.
After a moment, he growled, "It smells like musty paper in here."
It hadn't been what Jasper expecting, and the tone in Edward's voice, against those words, was comical enough for him to let out a tiny laugh. He gazed fondly at the shelves that lined the walls, each of them sagging with the weight of the books on them. He answered, "Isn't it great? It's another of my favourites."
"Musty paper?" Edward asked disbelievingly, his voice quiet. "Books? They smell so... dry. So... I can't even describe it."
Jasper took in a deep breath, sucking in the room's air, but it was something else that finally cliked in his mind.
"Guarana."
"Pardon?" Edward asked, lifting his head. Jasper could feel his eyes on him.
"That's what it is. Beneath your vampire scent. Guarana. You smell like it... Just a little." He wrinkled up his nose. "I can't believe it took me fifty five years to figure that out. It's a bit... deeper?– than a vampire's regular smell."
Jasper felt the shock drifting from Edward, filling the room and changing the emotions that had settled before. Edward turned his head and sniffed his arm. He paused and then pressed his cheek against Jasper's neck.
"So I do." There was silence, and this time it seemed awkward. Edward let out a frustrated sound. "How did we get on to this topic? That's not what I came here to talk about."
Jasper closed his eyes again, and did his best to avoid picturing the airport, the look he remembered on Edward's face, the blood in the ballet studio...
Edward murmured, "It's not your fault, Jasper. I–" But then he seemed to falter for words, like even he couldn't think of a way to erase Jasper's guilt.
"I should've been able to tell that she was planning it. I should have noticed something." His voice was bitter, cold, as he said it.
"No," Edward replied. "It... She said so herself, Jasper. It was... a miracle–" Edward's tone was wry, and Jasper felt a wave of cynicism, almost anger, coming off his brother. "That she got away from you."
Neither spoke after that. Not for awhile anyways. Finally Edward straightened, walking slowly across the room to the door. Jasper heard him turn the doorknob.
"Jasper."
Jasper didn't say anything, but Edward knew he was listening.
"I don't blame you."
The door clicked shut somewhere behind him.
