Chapter 10
BPOV
My fingers hesitantly separated the worn pages, as – unused to an audience – I nervously gave voice to the familiar story of the March sisters. This time, however, the well-loved words on the page didn't capture my undivided attention. Instead, it was the warmth permeating from the feet beneath me that kept me hyper vigilant to the fact that I was currently sitting on Edward's bed.
"There are many Beths in the world, shy and quiet, sitting in corners till needed, and living for others so cheerfully that no one sees the sacrifices till the little cricket on the hearth stops chirping, and the sweet, sunshiny presence vanishes, leaving silence and shadow behind," I read.
Edward made a soft laugh, causing me to falter slightly – and I let my eyes drift from the page to sneak a glance at him. He was staring at me intensely, eyes unblinking behind a smile slowly spreading across his face.
"What?" I ask, self-consciously.
"Nothing. Please, continue," he prodded, politely.
I refocused on the text, relaxing into the wall I was propped against. The next time I looked over, his face was slackened with the unconsciousness of upcoming sleep; so I read the words in a gentler tone, hoping they brought comfort to him in his feverish state.
At some point, my eyes grew heavy, too... and the words blurred together until I had joined Edward in dozing.
I woke up with Edward attempting to pry the open book from my hands. When I hurriedly tried to stand, he gently placed a restricting hand on my shoulder. I let my hair fall across my cheek in order to hide the red I felt pooling at the surface.
"Hey, it's okay," he spoke softly to me.
I took a breath and tried to rid the tension that had worked its way into my body. Edward wore a sleepy smile, his hair endearingly dishevelled.
"I'm sorry, your poor feet," I stuttered out an embarrassed apology.
"Oh, yeah, I've lost all sensation. You've completely crushed them. But on the bright side, you're an effective foot warmer," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at me.
The sudden, loud rumbling of Edward's stomach was a welcome distraction. Despite being more comfortable with Edward, I don't think I can meet his easy-natured conversation. There's still always the fear that the wrong words can have repercussions.
"Are you feeling any better?" I queried.
"I think so. I mean, not quite so queasy. Still feel under the weather, though."
"Maybe try some more soup. If you wanted, I could reheat you some?" I offered uncertainly.
"That would be awesome! And I promise to try not to regurgitate it," he joked. Something about Edward always seemed to quiet the onslaught of worries that tried to fight their way to the surface.
He rose slowly from bed in an exaggerated stretch. Unlike Emmett, he wasn't overtly muscular – but as Edward elongated his limbs, I could see the evidence of his athleticism. Edward routinely disappeared into the woods behind the house in the same pair of worn sneakers. Once his ear buds were secured, his feet pounded on the mud track, easily finding their rhythm. I was by no means an athlete, but I could see the appeal; and sometimes wondered if I could find the same tranquility in those forests Edward seemed to.
"Bella," Edward spoke softly, snapping me back into the room with him. I coughed awkwardly as I realized that my eyes were trained on his muscles.
"You ready to get some grub?" he asked. I nodded stiffly, glad that my thoughts weren't transparent to him.
When we trailed into the kitchen, Esme smiled warmly, pushing aside the pieces of paper she had been perusing.
"Good rest?" she queried, turning to busy herself with the kettle before I could read her expression. Had she peeked in and found me asleep on Edward's feet? I ducked my head – though Esme didn't appear angry, even if she had.
"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she asked Edward over her shoulder, before making her way over to him and attempting to feel his temperature. It was comical watching her fussing over her son, Edward towering over her with a fond smile. Bending slightly, he allowed Esme to place the back of her hand against his forehead.
"You don't seem as warm," she said in relief. Edward gently extracted himself from his mother's clucking ministrations, and took a seat on a breakfast stool.
"As much as I love you, I came down for the food," he joked.
I moved towards the fridge, glad for anything to occupy my hands. Something about their interaction unsettled me... but I wasn't sure what. The familiar task of reheating soup helped to dissipate the unease I felt.
"Edward, stop that!" Esme scolded sharply.
I jumped at Esme's raised voice, having rarely heard it. Looking up from the saucepan, I saw the stool Edward had been teetering on return to four legs on the ground. Nonetheless, Esme's hands hovered a moment longer in the air – still in readiness to catch him.
"Sorry, you scared me. Please don't tip back on your chair," Esme spoke softly.
"Sorry, Ma," Edward said meekly.
I ladled the steaming soup into three bowls and carefully slid them over to Edward and Esme, hoping to dissolve the awkward tension that had fallen upon us. It was evident Esme wasn't angry, that she'd just panicked when she saw the only thing keeping her son's head from meeting the floor was a precariously balanced stool.
Before Jake, I would have seen it as an overreaction; but now, I could empathize with the lack of control Esme must have felt. Similar to when Jake put a small piece of Lego in his mouth… an innocent action that got a much harsher rebuke than warranted... but all I could picture in that moment was him choking.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Esme said softly, giving my hand a pat. She then cast a wry glance in Edward's direction.
"How's it settling, should Bella and I take a step back?" Esme teased, shuffling back slightly on her stool.
"Gee, thanks Ma, your concern is touching," Edward rebutted, clasping his hand over his heart. Esme took a pointed slurp of her chicken broth, and I mimicked the action to conceal my amusement.
"I don't know about you kids, but I fancy a movie day," Esme announced, as she stared out the glass exterior of the house was used as a backboard for each raindrop, producing a steady thrumming. Accompanying the dullness of the sky, the mood was already set for a perfect movie atmosphere.
Soon after I found myself under a woven blanket, Esme wedged between me and Edward. There was a brief discussion on what film should be watched; the opening credits of 'Ice Age' flashed onto the screen. I think there was very little Edward wouldn't agree to for Esme, though she seemed pretty adamant Edward enjoyed this film.
At some point, both Edward and I had curled ourselves against Esme. Admittedly, the film was cute; I also found myself being drawn into the idea of three animals of different species and character forming a close knit family unit. If only integrating into a new family was as easy as it was portrayed in cinema.
We giggled at the witty lines lost on the younger demographic of the animation, and I was surprised to find my eyes damp. It finally dawned on me that the unsettled feeling I had been experiencing was a memory tugging at me: a very similar sick day, once upon a time, when which a little girl snuggled into her father's shoulder as he bravely bore yet another screening of 'Snow White,' gently smoothing her hair.
"Bella, what's wrong honey?" Esme asked, shifting so she could better see me.
The dampness of my eyes had become a torrent of tears. This time, however, I didn't desperately try to push away the memory. It didn't have to be just a cruel reminder of what I had and would never hold again. Watching Esme and Carlisle's tender care of each of their children gave me hope that perhaps even I could have that stability and comfort again from good parents. So I did what I finally felt safe enough to do: grab onto – and share – a memory from my childhood.
"I had an earache and my dad, Charlie, kept me home from school. He placed me on his knee, and I twirled his mustache – as was our habit – and we watched a movie together. I miss him so much, I feel empty without him." I spoke with a strength of voice I hadn't used in a long time.
But Esme's shoulder wasn't my Dad's. Her shoulder doesn't carry his familiar scent; and when I shift my cheek, it doesn't scrape across his stubble. The casual security Edward displays with his mother makes me wonder if I'll ever share that with another person. Looking at them now, it's easy to imagine a younger Edward in his mother's arm. An obvious lack of concern of crossing boundaries, no hesitancy between them... just a warm, tribal familiarity.
Esme offered no platitudes, but tightened her grip around my shoulders. Edward extended his hand across her lap, opening his palm in invitation. I clasped his hand, their silence only making my words more powerful. We sat there huddled together and I drew comfort from their touch, in a link of supportive grasps and silent handholds across a loving lap, as we vaguely watched the characters on screen.
The bubble was burst as the rest of the Cullen siblings burst through the door.
At the sound of the others, Esme leapt up from the couch, taking quick strides to welcome home her children. Immediately, a dark rucksack skidded across the wooden floor, colliding with a thud into the opposite wall – Emmett's still-outstretched hand clearly identifying him as the culprit.
"Emmett, how many times do I have to tell you my floor is not a bowling alley?" Esme sighed disapprovingly, a scolding which did in the slightest detract from her delight in holding her eldest son.
"Sorry, Ma, it's heavy," he announced, flashing what I now know to be his signature dimples while dramatically rubbing his shoulder.
"Yeah, you looked real weighed down," Edward piped up from his place on the sofa.
"Well, isn't he perky? Your color looks better. Doesn't his color look better, Rosie?" he mocked, swooping in to pinch Edward's cheek. Edward jerked back, batting Emmett's offending fingers away – just before offering an alternative finger of his own when Esme's back was turned.
"If you two are done, I would like to hear about your days?" Esme ended the brotherly volley, reclaiming her seat between Edward and myself.
The synchronization in their actions from Esme's cue gave me a greater insight into the Cullen routine, and I was pleased to discover my presence didn't appear to disrupt the natural order of things in the household. Alice sidled up beside me, resting her head gently on my shoulder.
"Hi, Alice," I whispered, earning an instantaneous smile.
"Hi, Bella. I missed you today," Alice whispered back.
"Me too," I replied sincerely.
Despite the significant day I had shared with Esme and Edward; I couldn't deny that I had missed the company of my other foster siblings. The humming of a refrigerator comes to mind: that constant background noise that becomes part of your normal. Without it, it's replaced with an eery silence that leaves you acutely aware of its absence. It had been lacking Emmett's animation and teasing; Alice's easy-flowing conversation; Rosalie's assured opinions and Jasper's astute observation skills. Although they are entirely different in personality, the comfort I get from them is distinctly the same.
Carlisle POV
My hands seemed to work on muscle memory as I inflated the cuff around Mrs. Ronan's arm, using my stethoscope to listen for the sounds of blood flowing within the artery. I remember that when starting out as a junior doctor, even taking vitals such as blood pressure was practical work I was eager to partake in. Now, other than rare cases, it was really the patient interaction which made turning up at the ER so appealing each day.
"It's still a little high, Mrs Ronan, I'd advise you stay in here with us a little longer," I informed her, as I noted her systolic and diastolic pressure on her chart.
"It's not exactly a hard sell, Doc – what with these plastic curtains to gander at, and the tantalizing smell of antiseptic," she replied dryly.
"You're forgetting the jell-o available in both green and red," I quipped.
"It's a wonder I left the last time I was in here," she laughed.
"Don't blame me, you left against medical advice. We'd keep you if we could, you're good for the moral," I teased. I noticed her wince as she tried to readjust herself on the bed and quickly stepped forward to assist her, plumping a pillow before placing it behind her back so she was more upright.
"An old lady like me doesn't have the energy anymore to be chipper," she scowled, hiding her discomfort.
If ever there was a case of all bark no bite it was certainly Heather Ronan. Over the years, she's contributed more to the community of Forks than most can claim to – though the frailty of old age and loneliness made her a little prickly towards people; the exception being my wife. Esme first approached Mrs. Ronan in her attempts to learn how to make a quilt when she was pregnant with Emmett. We've laid an extra chair at the holidays ever since, Mrs. Ronan's only son having passed away.
"Are you sure I can't phone Es? She's much prettier to look at than the partition," I offered.
"You know she'd only worry," she replied dismissively.
"I don't like lying to my wife, Heather."
She was saved by the shrill ring of my phone. Looking down at the caller ID, I saw it was home calling, and quickly stepped out into the hallway, making my excuses.
"Hello you," I said softly.
"Hey, Edward's not feeling well," my wife's out of breath voice carried across the line.
You'd think having a medical degree and being an emergency room attending would enable me to react rationally in this situation. But having children makes parents decidedly irrational; and with the additional knowledge of everything that can go wrong with the human body stored in my memory, it makes leaping to the worse case scenario quite easy.
"What's the matter? Do you need me to come home, I can get someone to cover my shift," I said, logging onto the staff rota on a nearby computer.
"No need to be so rash, Carlisle, it looks to be just a stomach bug. I'll check his temperature, but I don't think it's anything you need to come home for," she replied calmly.
My hands ceased typing and I took a steadying breath: just a stomach bug. Stomach bugs are common occurrences, easily transmitted in the close quarters of a school. I bit back the urge to demand Es bring him in, knowing she had plenty of experience in caring for the kids when they were sick… and that if Edward needed to be hospitalized, she wouldn't hesitate to do so.
"I'm definitely keeping him home from school, I just wanted to let you know," she uttered after my silence. I heard her scolding him in the background during an attempt to take his temperature.
"He's got a fever, temperature is 101.5," she fretted. Though reason still told me that was nothing to be alarmed over and the temp was to be expected, it still concerned me that my son was in discomfort.
"Rest, fluids and call if his fever gets higher," I instructed.
"Will do, Carlisle," she agreed.
"Love you, Es."
"Love you, too."
After listening to the dial tone for a minute, I pressed the end call button and stepped back into Mrs. Ronan's room.
"Everything okay?" she asked, since apparently my concern was etched into my face.
"Yes, Edward's home from school today with a bug, nothing serious," I said reassuringly. Whether to convince her or me, I'm not quite as sure.
"He'll be fine. Strong and healthy lads don't have the same recovery rates as elderly women. Esme's told me some, but tell me about Isabella," she demanded, casting her eyes over at the empty chair beside her bed.
"She's like our Es, gentle and loving. Just needs a little time to realize she's safe now, and that while being cautious is fine, it isn't needed in our home. She's quick-witted as well; you can just tell sometimes she has a retort ready to whip out, but she withholds it," I described fondly.
"Es said the last foster father was a scumbag," Heather gritted out.
"My Es said that, did she?" I laughed, quirking my eyebrow at her.
"I may be paraphrasing," she admitted, amused.
"Yeah, Mr. Newton took out his own shortcomings on Bella. God, Heather, it tears you up. Thinking that the same time we were sitting and having a family dinner, a couple hours away Bella was getting beaten by an animal disguising himself as a father," I ranted. This exact image haunted me as I tried to sleep at night, and only the knowledge that she was tucked in just down the hall even came close to soothing the restless feeling that evoked.
"I don't need to tell you that it was out of your control. What you and Esme are doing now is what matters. Opening your home to Bella, giving her a chance to recover and thrive at this point is crucial for her. I'm looking forward to meeting the young lady," she said with a smile.
"If anyone can break someone's calm resolve, it's you, Mrs. Ronan," I joked.
"I know you're partial to me, but aren't they paying you to treat patients?" she jabbed.
I left her cubicle chuckling, writing down an order of pain reliever to ease her discomfort. I'd have to go over to her home and fix that loose floorboard she tripped on over the weekend. Working in a small town, it's inevitable that paramedics will wheel in a gurney carrying someone familiar; Mrs. Ronan was today's.
Shifting the gear into park, I hurriedly gathered my bag, knowing Edward was now in close proximity to me. My keys jangled as I grasped the one that opened the front door and fit it into the lock. But I had to pause in the doorway, to savour the simple domestic scene I was met with.
Raising children is hard work, and often induces hair tugging; but watching them now makes me incredibly grateful to have been able to experience fatherhood. I caught Esme's eye from across the room, we shared a smile as if thinking the same thing. That all the potty training, sibling squabbles, broken knickknacks was easily eclipsed by watching them yelling at the TV over a talent show act together.
"Dad, stop lurking, it's weird," Alice called, without turning to look at me. Like I said: fatherhood, very rewarding.
I muttered my greetings to each child, exceedingly pleased to find Bella giving me a shy smile from the corner of one of the couches. I walked over to see Edward somehow sleeping through the ruckus. His complexion looked good, and a brief touch of his forehead revealed it to be warm but not alarmingly so. I let the even rise of his chest dispel any lingering concerns that I had for the moment.
I headed upstairs to ditch the work clothes I had on, opting for something casual. As I unbuttoned my shirt, Es walked in, sinking onto the bed with a sigh.
"How was your day?" I asked.
"Overall, pretty great," she beamed.
"Tell me about it," I said, tossing my shirt into the corner of the room to join my wife on the bed. I pulled us so we were resting against the oak headboard.
"Firstly, you're as bad as Emmett tossing your shirt on the floor. As for today... now don't get me wrong I hate that Edward was sick... but it was so nice having him home for the day. He's so headstrong and independent, it felt good to be needed," she said bashfully.
"Es, he'll always need his mother," I said, tightening my arms around her.
"I know, I know. I still liked having an excuse to coddle. We watched 'Ice Age'," she said, smiling.
"It seems right that he should be forced to sit through that the same number of times we did. I don't think I can handle another sloth phase," I guffawed.
"It was adorable," Es giggled.
"It was. Though I still don't understand the appeal, surely the tiger was an obvious choice for a childhood obsession," I reasoned.
"I don't think Edward's ever been one to go for the obvious choice," she challenged.
"That's true."
"Bella shared," Es said proudly.
"She did?" I asked impatiently.
"Yes. She told Edward and me about a sick day she spent with her own father. It broke my heart watching her pining for her parents, but it was beautiful that she let us in on that memory," Esme said, her eyes getting cloudy. I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, glad that she'd been there to anchor Bella today. We held onto each other a little while longer, giving reassuring kisses intermittently.
"It can't have been easy for her. There's no hiding we're an affectionate bunch. I hope that doesn't make the wound more raw," I worried.
"Maybe exposure is what she needs, to realize that she deserves to experience that all again," Es suggested.
"Exactly. This can be her new normal," I said confidently.
"I don't want to gossip… " Esme drifted off.
"I'm intrigued," I said, poking Es in her side.
"I may have found Bella and Edward napping together," she said in quick succession.
"Napping, as in on two separate pieces of furniture?"
"As in she fell asleep on his feet, with a book in her lap," Esme spoke, attempting to conceal the excitement in her voice. I couldn't begrudge any happiness Bella found here, even if it involved my lovestruck teenage son.
"Heather can't wait to meet her." The minute the words left my mouth, I recognized my mistake.
"You've spoken to Heather? I tried to get a hold of her this morning and it went straight to answering machine," she said accusingly, her eyes narrowing as she took in my shifty behavior. It was fruitless lying now; I'm too transparent to her.
"Don't get upset, but Heather had a fall," I said gently. Esme bolted upright on the bed, turning to look me square on.
"Why didn't you call me?" she asked, confused.
"She specifically instructed me not too," I said sheepishly.
"Bull-headed woman doesn't know what she wants. You should have called me. She's okay though?"
"A little bruised and sore, but she was already back to criticizing my work ethic," I joked.
"I'll visit her tomorrow," she decided.
"I'm sure she'd appreciate that," I agreed.
"I better put the dinner on. Without food, I don't know how much longer we can reasonably expect the children to behave," Esme joked.
"Children being the politically correct way of saying Emmett," I teased.
We descended into the kitchen, Esme placing a chopping board and greens in front of me. She flitted over to the radio, letting smooth music softly play in the background as she set about making the meal. I grabbed the vegetable peeler, and began preparing the vegetables Es had set aside – this mundane task made enjoyable given the view of my wife's hips swaying as she danced around the kitchen, and the sound of my children's laughter floating in from the neighboring room.
A/N: Hello! Apologies for the long delay since the previous post. Between the flu and college work I've been out of commission. My gratitude goes to 'BelleBiter' for betaing this chapter and helping me to produce the chapter I had envisioned. Thank you to 'Jupiter 2005' for pre reading this chapter. Of course, a big thank you to all the readers for your reviews they are the biggest form of encouragement to keep writing.
Disclaimer: Steph Meyers owns Twilight, Louisa May Alcott owns Little Women.
Hope you enjoy!