Chapter 9
Storm
It's comforting being with him. He didn't ask me to forgive him, but I already have. We sit together, with our arms around each other, and it's soothing and healing in a way I never expected. He feels safe to me, and I lay my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. I listen to the sounds of the island – the surf and the wind blowing off the ocean. His hand begins to feel familiar on my arm. I concentrate on that feeling, and let go of all the worries and hurts of the recent revelations.
The crash brings us both up off the couch and we head for the door. The wind outside shrieks as we open the door to the storm which has picked up. The shed is being battered by the wind, and the crash was the door being torn open.
Carlisle is already there, wrestling the door closed and locking it. The wind is whipping the trees, and the surf is clawing at the beach with frothing waves. A tree in the distance gives way to the wind, and crashes into the island foliage. I feel my hair whipping around my face, and he takes my elbow to lead me back inside.
"It looks like it's going to get worse than we expected." He looks at me with concern in his eyes.
"It's just a storm, it's not like we have to worry about it ourselves." I remember the tropical storm from my first days on the island.
"This isn't just a storm. I think we're seeing the beginning of a hurricane, and it will likely get worse. It was supposed to pass the island, but it must have taken a different track." He paces and looks out the window. "We should be safe from the storm surge, unless it slows down and sticks around until high tide. But right now, that wind could be a problem."
Almost as if it hears him, a large tree branch crashes through the window into the family room. Carlisle hurries to clear the debris and in minutes there is just an opening where the window had been. The wind whirls inside the small house, knocking paintings from the walls and toppling lamps.
"Give me a hand with this!" We take the kitchen table, and hold it over the opening and brace it with the couch. He comes up with a handful of big nails and a hammer, and we ruin the table to save the rest of the house. I sweep up the glass, and even through the heavy table I can hear the storm battering the island. I move around the house, righting lamps and putting the pictures back on the walls. Carlisle is taping the remaining windows.
We again sit on the couch next to each other. I laugh when I hear a few glass shards crunch beneath me. "Just like me to sit on glass." I scoop up all the small fragments. "If I was still human, I'd be on the way to the hospital now."
"No, if you were still human, you'd be trying to convince everyone that you weren't hurt." He smiles at me. "You of all people make a better vampire than a human." He shakes his head.
I checked the couch for tears, glad that I haven't ruined the furniture.
"That's not good." Carlisle looks out the door at the calm outside.
"What do you mean? It looks like it's passed over us already." Even the wind has died down as I look outside.
"This isn't just a storm Bella, it's a hurricane. We're in the eye, and depending on how big it is, we're about to get slammed with the back side of it. The wind will blow the other direction, and the wall of the eye is the fiercest part of the storm. If we make it through that, we just have to hope that the storm surge doesn't flood us." He looks around, as if assessing what he wants to save from a flood.
"We're pretty high up on the beach, you don't really think the water will rise this much, do you?" It's hard for me to believe that the placid little cove where I swam with Edward, could rise high enough to flood the bungalow.
He laughs. "I can see you've never been through a hurricane. I've lived through the time when people couldn't travel fast enough to get out of the way of the storms. They couldn't predict them in advance, and by the time you knew about it, it was too late. Hurricanes used to kill a lot of people."
"But it can't kill us." I still don't understand what all the fuss is about.
"It can't kill us, but it can make it hard to leave if the pier washes away. The plane won't have a place to dock, and we'll have to swim out to meet it. And even if it can't kill us, It can affect a lot of people on the islands and the mainland. I'll be honest, if it gets bad and they need a doctor, I'll probably pitch in and help out."
"Maybe I could help too... I mean I'm not bothered by Nessie's blood, so maybe... "
He looks at me, as if assessing me somehow. "Maybe you could. There aren't very many of us who have that kind of control."
"Why didn't Esme have better control?" I remember my birthday when she'd had to leave the room. "I mean she'd never tasted human, right?"
"Esme... she hunted human once." He looks like he's ashamed of it. "It was early in our relationship, and she was still so damaged. We quarreled. I wanted more than she was ready to give. She told me I was being insensitive, and she left. She was gone for days, and I couldn't find her. When she came back, her eyes were red. She didn't want to tell me what happened, but I admitted I loved her no matter what, and she broke down and told me." He looks at me almost tortured, and I put my arm around him.
"She went looking for her husband. I still don't know if she went to reconcile with him, or if she had murder on her mind from the beginning. I like to think that she simply wanted to tie up any unfinished business between them. She told me she found him in a bar. He didn't recognize her, since he thought his wife was dead. She actually enticed him away from the bar before she confronted him and told him who she was. He made the mistake of trying to hit her. She claims she lost her temper, and she beat him quite severely. She told me his blood was irresistible, and she fed from him, and left him dead in an alley."
"My god, that's just like Rosalie!" I am stunned that the two women had so much in common.
"No, Rosalie didn't feed on her attackers. I found out later that Esme had warned her against it. That one slip made her vulnerable to taking human life again. It's why she couldn't be around you when you were bleeding."
"But you've tasted human too. Why doesn't it bother you?"
"It does bother me. I told you I'm just as vulnerable to losing control if I taste the blood. But I had a couple hundred years to work on my control before Edward. At first it was mostly a religious conviction. I felt that as long as I didn't taste human blood, it meant that I wasn't a monster. I prayed a lot in those days, and of course I only fed on animals."
"Why did you become a doctor? I mean if you were a minister at first, what made you change?" It surprises me how little I actually know about him. He's had such a long life, and I've never thought to ask him before.
He smiles. "That happened quite by accident." He looks embarrassed. "You know that animals don't like us, right?" I nod. "Well, in my day there weren't many ways to travel that didn't involve animals in some way. I certainly couldn't ride a horse, and I stayed clear of wagons and coaches as well. But I was trying to be a gentleman once, and I helped a woman who was struggling with a trunk. I lifted and carried it for her, and she needed it loaded onto a wagon. I couldn't very well tell her no, so I hoisted it up onto the back of the wagon for her. The team of horses didn't seem to mind." He smiles, like he can still remember it.
"She was a pretty young woman, and she held her hand out for me to assist her as she got into the coach. There were already six other passengers on board, and it was going to be a tight fit with all her skirts and petticoats. As she was trying to make a spot for herself, the horses took notice of me. The coachman wasn't paying attention to the animals, and the one nearest me began to panic. Before the woman made it into the coach, it took off, with her hanging onto the door, and the team raced down the street."
He shrugs his shoulders. "I felt like I had to help, so I chased after the coach hoping that I could catch her before she was seriously hurt. To make a long story short, the coach picked up speed before the panicked team missed a curve and the whole thing overturned. They didn't stop, and the coach was dragged several hundred yards before I risked being seen and snapped the harnesses to free them." He looks grim as he remembers.
"The woman I'd tried to help was trapped under the coach, and I had to lift it off of her. The other passengers were dazed, but mostly unhurt. But she was in bad shape when I pulled her free. There was blood. Quite a lot of it in fact, and without even thinking, I set about bandaging her wounds with bandages I tore from her skirts. I had to set her leg bones, since they were poking out of her skin. I splinted the bones, and finished cleaning and binding her wounds before anyone came to help.
"I wish I could say I was a success right from the start, but even the best doctors practiced a primitive art back then. I had set her broken bones perfectly, and I'd even managed to stop the bleeding. But there was so much dirt in the wounds, infection set in. She ran a fever for days, and she almost died. When she finally pulled through, she had a lot of healing still to do, and she would have some serious scars to carry with her. But I decided I would learn as much as possible, so I'd be better prepared if I was ever needed again. Once I started learning, I found I loved it. It's amazing to be able to help people, to deliver babies, and save lives."
"I always thought you did it as a way to make up for being a monster."
He laughs. "I know Edward believed that." He looks serious for a second. "I might have once believed we were monsters – certainly while I was a human hunting them I did. But I refuse to see myself that way anymore. We're not human, I know that. But I'm not willing to give up my humanity – that part of me that keeps me humble. There are few choices once that's gone; either we embrace the monster, or aspire to be God."
"What about just being supernatural? I think that's what Edward did. He knew he wasn't human, and I think he mourned that part of himself. But he also didn't want to be a monster or a god either."
"Forget about what Edward did and thought. What does Bella think?" He looks at me so directly I almost turn away.
"I feel... like I've got too much time. I feel like I'm a parody of human. I fell like I was crazy to ever ask for immortality. But I'm not a monster, and I'm not a god either." I look at him, feeling completely open and honest. "I feel like... everything I ever was has been magnified and strengthened. But I don't know if I even like what or who I am. I'm so powerful and strong that I can't even die, but I'm also a mass of weakness, insecurity, doubt, pain, and need.
"Physically I may be a perfect vampire. But I don't have anything left to hide behind now, and I'm not sure who Bella really is without the trappings – without my human frailty and clumsiness... without my youth and inexperience... without my human family... and definitely without Edward. I don't know who I am, Carlisle. It feels like every string that held me to my identity has been cut."
He pulls me tight against him. I cling to him, feeling mental tears as I mourn so many of my losses.
The roaring outside feels like my own soul crying, but soon I realize it's the storm. I've never known wind to blow so hard, and the table over the window shudders with the strength of it. I pull away from him and we stare at each other as the storm rages outside. It's as if I'm seeing him for the first time ever. He's spent the whole day with me, and I've gone from wishing for death, to fighting to set aside my grief. I feel a tenuous connection to life and hope, and I know it's because of him. He smiles wistfully and pushes the hair from my eyes.
"I think this is going to get really bad, Bella." At first I'm confused about what he means, but the wind rattles the door in it's frame and he lets me go, standing to check the security of the little house. "I can hear the walls straining with the wind." Once he mentions it, I hear it too. In the distance I hear trees falling, and I can hear the frenzy of the surf.
We get busy, rolling the decorative rugs and placing them out of reach of any water that might come this far. We then stack everything that could be damaged, and he switches off all but the one light so he doesn't have to go out and refill the generator. Still we're both caught off guard when the tree beside the house snaps in two and comes crashing through the kitchen roof. He has the presence of mind to turn off the generator, but all I can do is stare at the gaping hole and the fury of the storm.
"Help me with these, Bella!" He's pulling the paintings from the walls, and stacking them on the bed. I wonder that he isn't more concerned about the hole in the roof. "Please Bella, I can't lose these!" There's a note of panic in his voice, and I remember that Esme painted them – they are irreplaceable. I help him, even taking the one from the bathroom, then I also remove the shower curtain, thinking that it's water resistant. We carefully wrap them as the wind tears at the roof and widens the hole.
Everything inside the house is wet and being blown around while we accomplished our small task. Once they are wrapped, he sandwiches them between the mattresses of the bed. The flat screen TV falls from the wall with a crash, and two more windows blow in.
"We have to get out of here – now!" He doesn't wait, but takes my hand and pulls me through the door. We spill out into a maelstrom of flying debris and stinging rain, and I feel the wind trying to blow us out to sea. The little house is over-matched. As we watch the wind and rain batter against it, it sways, groans, and collapses.
I stand in shock. I've seen destruction before, but I just can't reconcile mine and Edward's honeymoon retreat, with the pile of rubble on the destroyed beach. I look at Carlisle, and he's even more stunned than I am. He stares at the place where we'd stored her paintings, and it's buried under the collapsed walls. He charges into the ruins, tossing aside beams and clay roof tiles in a frantic dig.
I step through the destruction and take him by the arm. "Just leave them, Carlisle!" I have to shout to be heard over the wind. He turns to stare at me as if I've suggested something insane. "The walls and roof debris will protect them. If you take them out now, they'll just get wet, or turn into sails in the wind." He finally nods at my reasoning. "Come on, let's go inland so the wind won't feel like it wants to sweep us out to sea."
He lets me lead him to the center of the island. The trees are still blowing horizontal, but the sound of the surf isn't so loud. We find where several trees have blown down, creating a wall of debris. We hunker down and take shelter on the side away from the wind. We're both wet and dirty, but the weather doesn't mean much to us. What's left us in shock is that it's gone – the house with so many of our romantic memories.
I put my arms around him to try to comfort him, but mostly because I need his strength. It takes him a while before he even realizes I'm with him. When he does he mumbles an apology, and enfolds me in his arms, tucking my head beneath his chin. We wait out the storm just like that, neither of us speaking or moving for hours.
The wind and rain die down as the predawn light shows us the devastation on the island. The trees left standing are angled in the direction of the wind, and the underbrush is littered with leaves and broken branches. We come out of our huddle and pick our way back to the beach. There are still some strong wind gusts remaining, but they're nowhere near storm strength.
As the sun rises, we get our first glimpse of what a hurricane can really do. The house and shed are both destroyed, and the beach is strewn with debris. Carlisle just stands looking at it all, incongruous in his casual pants and worn T-shirt. I'm not much better in my bedraggled sundress.
He walks around the flattened beach house and starts right to work, securing the fuel for the generator so it doesn't become a hazard. His next priority is uncovering Esme's paintings. With vampire strength, he tosses aside chunks of roof and walls where the bedroom used to be. I pitch in and help him, and I can almost see his relief when we uncover the bed and find her paintings just as we'd left them.
We carry them out with the same care we would living survivors of the disaster. In the shade of some tall shrubs, he unfolds the shower curtain to look at them. Some of the frames are cracked, but the paintings are unscathed. He takes the canvases from their frames and rolls them up together. He secures them in a sheltered area, then he sits down as if he hasn't got the strength to stand. With his knees drawn up and his head buried in his folded arms, he is the picture of defeat. I sit down beside him, but I'm almost afraid to speak or to touch him.
His voice is soft and resigned. "It's all gone now, Bella. Her dream – her tribute – all gone. I can't help but think there has to be a reason I was here to see it all end – what are the chances?" He looks at me and a twisted smile taunts his face. "All day yesterday I talked a good game. Get over it. Move on. Put it behind you. I thought there was something wrong with you, that you wanted to stay mired in your grief. I thought I was over it – over her. But today I'm not so sure. I feel like I failed her. I feel like I've lost her all over again. What is Esme Island if not a sanctuary? It was always the perfect reflection of what she was to me."
I put my arm around him tentatively. He feels stiff and he doesn't seem to register the touch. "You can't control the weather, Carlisle. You can't command the wind. You haven't failed her."
"But it's gone. It was our little piece of forever... it was supposed to be... forever."
"Forever changed on us, Carlisle. We didn't do anything wrong, but it's different now." I can't bring myself to give him back his own argument. I don't have the strength to pull us both out of the pit, even though I know I don't want to be there anymore myself. "I'm glad you were here."
"That's not a very nice thing to say, Bella. I know I was hard on you, but still..."
"That's not what I mean. If you hadn't shown up when you did, who knows where I'd be today. You brought me in off the beach, Carlisle. The storm would have taken me out with it's surge – and I would have let it. I don't think the tide would have brought me back in. How long would I have drifted on the oceans currents? Maybe I'd get tangled up in a seaweed forest, or maybe my hair would tangle me up in some coral. I might never have been found."
He looks at me like I'm spinning a fantastical fairy tale. "You do know, you'd snap out of it to feed, right?"
"I'm not so sure. It's been three months, and even though I smelled the pilot, I didn't awaken for him. Even though I smelled the blood as soon as you opened the container, I didn't get up for it either. If you hadn't poured it down my throat, I would have held on to my death state." He looks at me strangely.
"You smelled the pilot? Bella, you had sand in your nose, are you sure?"
"I heard his heart beating, I smelled his blood, and his Old Spice aftershave – yes I'm sure." He looks incredulous.
"If you have that kind of control, then you're better than I am. I told you I tried to lie at the bottom of the ocean. I only lasted a few weeks before I was feeding on sea creatures... come to think of it, you were right by the waters edge. You should have been compelled to go after water animals. The goats should have been irresistible. Didn't you feel the hunger?" He looks at me in awe.
"I felt it. I just wouldn't listen to it. Carlisle, I really did want to die. If you weren't here... " I look at him, trying to convey what I know to be true. "You saved me. Maybe you were on the island because I would have been lost otherwise. I'm really sorry about the house, but I'm glad you were here."
He throws his arms around me and hugs me tight. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner. Bella, I had no idea you were so far gone." I hold onto him, glad to see he's pulled out of his guilt and defeat. "I'm so sorry my dear, sweet, girl." His hands smooth over my hair, and he pulls me closer. I feel his face against mine, and his breath against my neck. "I'm so glad I didn't lose you too," he murmurs against my neck.
It's only my vampire senses that let me feel the brush of his lips against the skin of my neck. I catch my breath. We turn and stare at each other... so close. His eyes are too intense, and I look at his face instead; his straight nose, his soft mouth, open to his shallow breathing, his chin. I meet his eyes again, and I close mine against their intensity.
I know what's going to happen – know it as surely as the tide knows the position of the moon. I'm not sure if I'm waiting in anticipation or dread, but I'm waiting. His lips press gently against mine, so soft, and gentle as the man behind them. I sigh. He holds me carefully, as if I would break, and his mouth moves on mine, a tender exploration. Eyes closed, I relax into him, and my hands move over his back. I feel the moisture of his lips, and know his tongue has licked them. They move over my closed lips, taking tiny little tasting kisses.
My hand finds it's way into his silky hair, and the way my fingers sift through it keeps him close. I give in, and my mouth responds to his. He softly moans, and my lips part. His tongue touches mine, just the slightest little exploration, and I come undone. I open to him and pull him to me, suddenly wanting to feel him, taste him, explore him.
I kiss him fully – wantonly. I'm fully alive, and I feel his lips sliding against mine, and his tongue tasting and teasing me. It's raw and passionate, and forbidden, and I take it all in greedily. I feast on his mouth, and clutch at his hair. I feel his arms holding me tight, as his hands move over my back and through my hair.
The deep moaning is his, and the soft little gasps and sighs are mine. The sea gulls cry in the distance, and the surf plays it's white noise endlessly against the sand. He shifts, and presses me back against the beach grass, with his weight resting gently on me. I arch against him and pull him close, renewing my exploration of his delicious mouth.
He pulls away, and my lips feel abandoned. "Look at me, Bella." His voice is soft and beguiling. I open my eyes and look at his serious face. The sun has set his hair to shining like a golden corona, and the sparkle of his skin I know matches my own. "I'm sorry if I took advantage..."
"Shh... I need to be alive now. I want you to kiss me, Carlisle. I mean, if you want to..." I gaze at his eyes as he leans down to kiss me. His hands caress both sides of my face as our lips meet, then my eyes drift closed. I lose track of time as we kiss, fully caught up in each other, as the sun warms our bodies and our hands touch and caress one another.
I know there are reasons this is wrong, and I know I should stop. But I feel such a strong aching need to be touched and kissed, and it just feels right. I open my eyes, and take in the sight of him as we kiss. It's Carlisle, with his surgeon's fingers combing through my hair, and his three hundred and fifty year old mouth exploring mine. I feel his tongue sliding against mine and my fingers tangle in his blonde hair like they have a will of their own.
I want him.
The very thought makes me gasp, and he moves again, edging more fully on top of me. His weight on me more than anything, lets me know how serious this is, and where it could lead. I like the feel of him against me, and his kisses are drawing me down that slippery slope in a way I wouldn't have believed possible.
I close my eyes and just let myself enjoy the moment. I know I'll have plenty of time to worry and regret later, but right now I'm lost in his kisses. I intentionally explore him with my hands, taking in the softness of his hair, before moving to his shoulders. I enjoy the feel of his muscles as his own hands caress over me. I move my hands down, over the soft worn T-shirt fabric, and rub his lower back. My fingers trace the furrow of muscles down his spine, to the curve at his waist. I rub circles in the small of his back, wanting to explore further, but I don't dare.
A small move of his hips grabs my attention. He's becoming aroused, and I can feel him through the thin clothes. I imagine what could happen as we kiss, and I let myself fantasize about making love to him. I picture our clothes off, and his hands on me, and his body possessing mine. I know he would be gentle, and I know it would feel good. But then what?
He pulls away, and rolls over onto his back, raising his knee to block any observations of his excitement. "Oh my god... girl... Bella.... I'm about to lose all reason." He turns his head to look at me and I roll onto my side, propping my head on my hand. "You don't know how close I am to... " He groans and stares at the sky.
"I know." He turns his eyes to mine, and we just gaze at each other. "We didn't do anything wrong, Carlisle. I don't want to feel guilt over this." I reach out and lay my hand on his face. He takes my hand and kisses my palm.
"I don't feel guilty – at least not right now. To be honest, I really don't want to stop."
"Then why did you?" I watch his face. He smiles and looks at me.
"I think you know why. If I don't stop now, I might just keep going until... "
"Until we make love?" Just saying the words puts the image back in my head, and I'm glad I can't blush. A part of me aches for that union, and a part of me recoils at the idea.
He rolls over on his side to face me. "Would we make love, Bella? I won't deny I feel powerfully attracted to you. I could very easily make you mine, right here and now." He squeezes his eyes tightly shut. When he looks at me again, he's completely in control. "But would it be making love, or scratching an itch? There's too much at stake here to just give in to physical desires. It's been a long time for both of us, and I think we'd be crazy to rush into this just because we're both lonely and needy..."
"You forgot horny." I smile and he laughs.
"I haven't forgotten horny, I just wasn't going to say it." He grins and kisses the tip of my nose. "I love you, Bella – that's never going to change. But this... " He made a gesture, pointing back and forth between us. "...this attraction is new. I'm not sure what it means, or if it can stand up to reality. Just yesterday you said I was sick when you thought I was attracted to you."
"I'm sorry." I want to explain, but I don't understand myself. He's right about everything, and I just feel confused. "Can you still hold me?" Without another word, he pulls me into his arms. I still want to kiss him, but I feel content just feeling him close.
I meditate on what's happened to all of the relationships in my life. My best friend Alice kept secrets from me. My daughter has another baby. Jacob had a brother he didn't know about. Rosalie is with Garrett now. My husband went willingly to his death. And the man I thought of as my father-in-law is attracted to me. What surprises me more, is that I'm feeling drawn to him as well.
We move apart and sit up. We both hear it before humans would have – a plane. As we stare up at the sky, it flies low and tips it's wings. It's the float plane coming to "rescue" us.
"Come on, we've got to hurry." He helps me up from the ground and we run to the ruined house. He tears through the debris and tosses aside the broken half of the tree in his rush. In the ruined cupboards he finds what he's looking for, then he asks me to try to find some towels or bedding in a hurry. I manage to find the towels, though they're soaked and dirty.
He wrings them out, then drapes a towel over our shoulders. Then he surprises me when he dusts my face, hands and legs in flour. He repeats the process on himself. "Did I miss any sparkle?" I have to laugh at his ghostlike appearance. I dust the back of his neck as the float plan makes it's landing. He hurriedly grabs the paintings. As the plane ties up to the pier, which has suffered some damage as well, he takes my hand.
The pilot looks at us as if he can't believe we're still alive. We don't waste any time as we climb into the plane and he stares at the destroyed beach house. On the way back to the mainland we get a rundown on the path the hurricane took. It missed his own home, but he was shocked when he saw it was headed right for us. As soon as he could, he took off to come and see if we made it through okay.
He continues to chat about how strange it is that it missed so many heavily populated places, but managed to target the island. It was only a category two storm, but it had a tiny well-defined eye. He says he watched on the news and saw it pass right over the island. He looks back at us and shakes his head. "What are the chances of that happening?" Carlisle looks at me and squeezes my hand.
As much as we want to get back home, we stop in Rio to spend the night. He has to get in touch with the caretakers and make arrangements to clean up the destroyed house. We also need to buy something to wear and clean up. He rents us a suite of rooms in a nice hotel, and I shower and change into clean, new clothes as he makes phone calls.
I've bought him something decent to wear as well, but he spends quite a while on the phone. I use a washcloth to wipe some of the flour and mess from his face. He stops talking, and just watches me. I turn the cloth in my hands and wipe over his mouth and chin, then lean in to kiss him. I pull back and we just stand there speechless. Something on the other end of the call grabs his attention, and he tears his eyes away from me.
"No, I don't want you and your wife to have to clean up the debris. I want you to hire someone to do it. Yes of course I'll pay. I know you only have a small boat. Do you know someone else who already does that kind of work? Good... yes... call them and hire them to remove the destroyed house. Yes that's right, you don't have to do it." I can see the exasperation on his face and in his stance. It takes him a few more minutes to get off the phone.
Finally free from the phone, he heads for the shower. I'm watching something on TV when he comes out, wrapped in a towel. I stare, and he notices.
He looks good. His mind is over three hundred and fifty years old, but his body is twenty-three, and amazing. Muscular chest and shoulders, firm, flat stomach, and muscular legs. I meet his eyes and turn away, embarrassed. He takes his clothes and disappears.
He emerges from the bathroom fully dressed, and I don't turn to look. I've all but ignored the man for more than a dozen years, I don't know why it's so hard to keep my eyes tuned to the weather on the TV. It's in Portuguese, but that shouldn't matter.
His hands on my shoulders massage and caress me. He drapes my hair over my shoulder and kisses the other side of my neck. I sigh, and my head rolls limply, giving him more access. He nibbles at my ear, then whispers, "Bella, we need to talk." I groan.
We sit on opposite ends of the couch and I watch him. He looks too serious. "I need to know if this is something you want." His eyes lock onto mine as if he can discern the answer there.
"I'm not sure what you mean. What is 'this?'" I'm afraid of the answer.
"This... This thing between us." He looks nervous. "I need to know...do you... should we... damn!" He's off the couch and pacing. His hands tear through his damp hair in frustration. "Bella, I'm too old to play games, and I need to know what you want!"
"That makes two of us." I stand as he looks at me. "What I want, I can't have. I want my husband. But as you've pointed out, he's gone and he's never coming back." He deflates, and I know my words have hurt him. I go to him and take his hands as he tries to pull away.
"I don't want you to be upset. I'm not trying to hurt you." I finally get him to look at me. "Tell the truth Carlisle, if she walked in, you wouldn't look twice at me. We would both rather have them back, am I right?"
"I don't deal in impossibilities. Esme is dead. She's not going to walk through that door. What happened between us on the island... I need to know if it's the beginning of something, or a fluke."
"Well then, shouldn't you be asking yourself what you want?" I stare at him defiantly. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
"Your room is through that door. I'll see you in the morning, Bella." He turns and retreats into his room, closing the door on me. I don't even know why we bothered with bedrooms, since we don't sleep. I pace the sitting room, then realize I'm acting out his favorite stress release, and I flop gracelessly onto the couch. I pull my knees up to my chin and sulk.
