Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer gets all the credit for Twilight. I get all the credit for this plotline.
A/N: Wow, I called it. It really took me the whole two weeks to get this out. But here you go…the next chapter (and on time!)
Chapter 10: Confrontations
"It was so nice to see everyone," I mentioned to my grandpa as I cleaned up the empty cans of soda and stacks of newspapers that littered his living room. No matter how many times I came over, there was always a new mess waiting to be cleaned. Grandpa never seemed to grow out of his bachelor phase and his friends were just as bad. My grandma kept on top of the clutter, but it seemed that without her, the task was left to me.
"Everyone was surprised to see you," he replied absently. I turned to look at him. He was staring out the window at the rainy landscape, drumming his fingers on the arm of his recliner. He seemed like he was waiting for something…or someone.
"Is someone supposed to be coming over?" I asked, trying to appear nonchalant. I wanted to bet all the money I had saved up on who I thought he was waiting for, a certain someone who hadn't been in the group that just left.
"Rebecca, could you start a pot of coffee for me?" he asked without looking at me. I couldn't tell if he was avoiding the question or if he just wasn't paying attention.
"Sure," I replied. I cast him a curious glance before I went to the kitchen to start a new pot.
With a steaming cup of coffee in hand, I carefully made my way back to the living room. My grandpa accepted the cup graciously and took a cautious sip before setting it on the table next to the phone.
Wait a minute. Had the phone been there before? I was sure it hadn't because I had set it back on the receiver when I was cleaning up. So my grandpa sent me out of the room to make a phone call. I had to give him credit. He was tricky, even in old age.
"I'm sorry if I interrupted anything by coming here," I started, attempting to sound repentant. "If you have things to do, I could go—"
"Don't be ridiculous. If you want to stay here, that's fine. It's just that…everyone is worried about Adam," he admitted. Finally, I was getting somewhere.
"What about Adam? What's wrong with him?"
My grandpa seemed reluctant to answer. "He…he hasn't been around much lately."
"He's missing?!" I blurted out, suddenly terrified.
"No, no. Not missing," Grandpa reassured me quickly. "He's just going through a rough time. He's not talking, not eating a lot. He won't return phone calls or answer the door. He's essentially…ignoring us."
"You and me, both," I muttered. I earned a quizzical glance. Right. I had forgotten how great my grandpa's hearing was.
"Why is he going through a rough time?" I wondered aloud.
"There've been a lot of changes in the past few weeks," was my grandfather's cryptic reply. He opened the newspaper, successfully ending the conversation.
The next day during my study hall, I made my way to the library. I had homework that needed attending, and I had finals to study for, but I had already made up my mind about what I was going to do. I clicked on the internet icon and went to the school's search engine.
'Cullen' was all I typed.
About seven thousand results came up, most talking about Rugby. I scrolled through quickly, seeing if anything caught my eye. A link to "The Seattle Times" was at the top of the second page, the title reading "New Wonder Doctor at Valley General Hospital." I clicked the link, remembering my grandpa's reaction to the same article a month ago.
"They're back," he had muttered in disgust.
"Who are the Cullen's?" The name I saw as I read over his shoulder didn't mean anything to me.
"Just a family that used to live here."
How long ago must they have lived here for my grandpa to remember them, and yet for me to have no memory of the name? His reaction seemed to be the key. Who did he hate? A month ago I would've confidently said 'no one.' But that was a month ago. I could now safely say he hated at least three people. Victoria, the Cullens, and my grandma's ex-boyfriend.
Three things simultaneously ran through my mind.
A lonely white house sitting forlorn in a clearing.
My grandma's journal, the last entry I had read. 'I drove to their empty house and threw all of the unwanted acceptance letters through the broken window.'
My wistful voice as I asked, 'Who do you belong to?'
I logged off the computer as quickly as I could and ran to the section I had visited weeks ago. I skipped past the junior section knowing her face wouldn't be there. Prom. She was dancing happily with her arms around a boy's neck, unaware that her picture was being taken. A shock of bronze hair was set against the background of his white skin. There was no caption next to the picture, no clue to set me in the right direction. Was he even in the same grade?
To be thorough, I started from the beginning, working quickly through the freshman and making my way to the sophomores. "Bronze hair, bronze hair, look for bronze hair," I muttered aloud, skimming each page as quickly and meticulously as possible.
Juniors. I only read a few names before I reached one that knocked my breath away. Cullen. Cullen, Alice. Cullen, Edward. I looked to his face, suddenly positive that he was the one I was looking for. He was beautiful…and intimidating. His soulful eyes gazed carelessly at me, silently questioning whether I had any right to be looking at him. His bronze hair fell loosely into his face, and a smile that said 'I don't care to be here right now, but I'll smile anyway' graced his lips. I tried to search for the words to describe him, other than beautiful or perfect. Cocky. Confident. They all fit his look of detached interest. I looked closer and found myself thinking back to last Thursday in the store, being inspected by a pair of similar golden eyes. Glancing over the picture of Edward Cullen again, I noticed the similarities to the men at Fork's Outfitters. Pale with eyes of liquid amber. It was there that the similarities ended, but nonetheless, I felt there was a connection somehow.
I turned my attention to Alice Cullen who sat to the left of her…brother? Cousin? Golden eyes, flawlessly white complexion. It was bizarre to see those repetitive traits over and over again. Alice seemed more sincere than her neighbor, a bright chipper smile spreading across her small face. I felt more comfortable inspecting her picture than I had with Edward's. She seemed to invite me to look at her. 'Come on, Becca, you're smart. You can figure it out,' she seemed to tease.
I closed the yearbook, grabbed the one next to it, and made my way with both to the checkout desk. "Can I take these?" I asked the elderly librarian.
"Those are yearbooks," she stated, sounding a bit clueless.
"Research paper," I lied quickly. "On the…the, uh…trends in society, based on teenagers in small towns."
She stared at my intently, her hawk eyes peaking over what I could only think to describe as old lady glasses. Finally, she passed the scanner over the books, a satisfying beep announcing they were mine until the return date.
I sat on my bed at Grandpa's, books surrounding me on every side. Both yearbooks were open and the journal was set between them. Grandpa decided to go to Seth's house for dinner, asking first if I wanted to join him. I declined, even though I was tempted. Adam would make himself scarce if I decided to come around. I had to catch him off guard, and he already seemed forewarned of my arrival.
I was desperately trying to find more information on the Cullen's. I had typed Edward's name in the search engine and came up with one relevant article in the Forks Forum over sixty years ago. When I clicked on the link, it said it could no longer be found. After that, it was a frustrating search of how exactly the Cullen's fit into Forks' past. All I had discovered so far was that Edward had left between prom and the time the senior pictures were taken. He—and Alice for that matter—were absent, and my grandma was a shell of her former self, staring blankly up from the page, obviously heartbroken.
Were the men I saw at Fork's Outfitters sons or grandsons of Edward? If so, where could I find them? I had a feeling that Edward was the answer to many of the mysteries in the journal. If I could find him, I would be that much closer to understanding. Of course, like Grandma, he could already be dead, but I had to find out.
I picked up the journal, hoping my grandma had written anything of value.
June 4th, 2006
So much has happened in the past month. Victoria is becoming pushier, testing the boundaries. It won't be long now until she gets tired of waiting. I don't know what the outcome will be, but Jake and the rest seem confident.
I visited Mom a few weeks ago. She seemed so relieved to see me in person. Last time didn't end so well. But I'm living, I'm breathing, I'm laughing. She can't ask for more.
I went to a bonfire with Jake last night. I feel a part of this group now. Would I feel so comfortable with them if he had stayed? Would they feel comfortable with me? I got to hear the legends of the Quileute tribe. Finally I feel like I understand everything. I'm not exactly thrilled with the whole 'age' thing, though. It doesn't seem fair. First it was him, now Jacob. Who knows, next it will be Angela.
I smiled, knowing my grandma had felt the magic of our legends, just like I felt it every time I heard them.
I yawned, stretching my arms and back, accidently knocking one of the yearbooks off the bed. It landed spine down, flipping open to a random page. I picked it up, glancing at the seniors pictures smiling back at me. Something caught my eye, and I suddenly felt dizzy, maybe even a little sick.
Cullen, Emmett. I recognized not only his last name, but his eyes, his hair, his face, his hulking frame. He was the man I saw in the store, except he hadn't been sixty years older like he should have been, but the same age as he was in the yearbook. That would have been coincidence enough if another pale figure hadn't caught my attention. Hale, Jasper. Golden eyes. Blonde hair. Inquisitive expression. Looking the same a few days ago as he did in 2005.
How could someone not age a day even after half a century? There was nothing my brain could come up with that sounded even slightly plausible. Had I seen ghosts? I glanced to the journal. What had my grandma said about age? I assumed she meant Edward when she said 'he,' but what did his age have to do with anything? Would he look the same if I found him today? It was impossible. This was all just one massive coincidence that the universe threw as a curve ball to mess with peoples' minds. It just happened to be my mind that was being messed with.
Fighting an impending headache, I cleared my bed off and crawled under the covers. Sleep evaded me. I tried counting sheep, drinking warm milk—I regretted that choice instantly—, brushed my teeth (that didn't help me sleep, it just got the horrible milk taste out of my mouth), and even tried a pm aspirin. Nothing helped. I couldn't stop thinking about the two men. They weren't just lookalikes of the boys in the yearbook, they were identical. Who…what…were they?
I woke up early after a fitful night's sleep. The sun wasn't up but the rain had stopped sometime in the night, making it a perfect morning to go for a walk. I needed to clear my mind, or at least have enough space to think. I felt crowded in my grandpa's small house, as though my thoughts were too big to fit inside his walls.
The comforting crunch of the rocky beach soothed me as I made my way down the shoreline. I walked a ways before sitting on a semi-dry log. Letting my gaze wander over the dark water, I began sorting through the confusion in my head.
From what I already knew, the Cullen's were the ones that lived in the white house in the forest. My grandma had dated Edward Cullen, however briefly, before being heartbroken by his departure. Why did he leave? That was my first question.
My train of thought shifted to Emmett and Jasper, the two ageless mystery men. How were they the same as sixty years ago? Was this some sort of Tuck Everlasting situation? I was ready to consider the impossible.
My last question was the one that puzzled me the most, the one that kept me tossing and turning last night. How is it all connected?
I let those questions sink in as I waited for the sun to slowly peak over the trees behind me. The ocean itself was still black, but the faint pink and oranges of dawn were beginning to reflect off the mirrored surface. Sometimes I wished I lived on the eastern coast, just so I could watch a sunrise over the water. And yet, with the sun slowly waking the world behind me, I felt connected to the sleeping waters in front. The western coast found a more peaceful sunrise, mist and fog swirling together, like a child refusing to shake off the last bit of sleep. It was this type of peace I needed to help me sort through my thoughts.
The sky was filled with a mixture of soft blues, baby pinks, and vibrant oranges before I stood up, brushing off my pants, and wrapping my coat a little tighter around my body. The wind was picking up and it wouldn't be long before another spring storm rolled in. I slowly began making my way back to the house, not wanting to get caught in the impending rain.
I pulled my swirling hair out of my face and that's when I saw him. My heart sputtered to a stop before picking up tempo. Now was my chance.
"Adam!" I called. His retreating figure froze and melted simultaneously. His back was ridged but hearing me call his name seemed to soften him somehow. He shuddered before continuing to walk away.
'Wrong move,' I thought to myself. I started jogging after him, but it seemed like his walk was faster than my slow paced run. I picked up speed until I was in a full out sprint after him, rock and sand kicking out behind me. Just before I could reach him, he stopped and whipped around to face me. It wasn't just his abrupt stop that startled me. If I could think of any word to describe him, it would be dead. Or lifeless, rather. His face was haggard and his eyes were shadowed under his prominent brow. His skin was paler and his lips were drawn in a tight line. I tried to remember the Adam I had seen just over a week ago. One that was smiling and bright and glowing. I compared that Adam to this one and couldn't even find a resemblance. Maybe, just maybe, there was a slight similarity to this new Adam in the eyes. Eyes that I couldn't get a good look at because he wouldn't raise them to look at me.
"Adam," I said his name, more tenderly this time, and once again it sparked a reaction in him. This time he buckled under the weight of it. His shoulders slumped and his eyes, still focused on the ground, seemed to drop even further. The way his head was bowed reminded me of a man in prayer.
His voice was so…changed, so wrong, that I didn't recognize it at first. "We can't talk right now, Becca."
"Why not? What's wrong? Why are you so diff—?"
"Just drop it, Becca!" he snapped, suddenly defensive. His eyes flew from the ground to the ocean beside us, never once resting on me.
"What is your problem?" I asked, crossing my arms. It was my turn to be defensive. "Why have you been so…bipolar these past few days? Why are you taking it out on me?"
"Because you won't leave me alone!" he shouted, throwing his hands up in the air, then resting them over his face. "Just leave me alone." His voice was muffled and strained.
"Maybe I should," I admitted, wanting desperately to get the last word and leave, before he could hurt me more. "But, I can't. I just want to know why you won't talk to me, why you won't even look at me."
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
"I just don't, okay!" he crossed his arms tightly over his chest.
"Why have you been avoiding everyone? Ignoring me?" I wanted to yell at him, I wanted to hit him, mainly I just wanted answers.
"It's just better if we're not friends." He sounded resigned.
I attempted to make my voice sound stronger, but it still ended up sounding strangled. "I was under the impression you were interested in being more than friends." He didn't answer, so I prodded him again. "Were you?"
"No."
"I don't believe you."
"I never thought of you that way, Becca."
"Liar," I accused. "Look me in the eyes and tell me again."
"Bec—"
"Look me in the eyes!" I shouted in frustration.
"Becca, I—" he stopped, his voice sounding unsteady.
His eyes met mine.
A/N: I forgot to say this before in my Author's Note, but thanks to Kellinw, I've been nominated in three categories in the Twilight Awards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What an honor. I started this story hoping to get good feedback, but this is so beyond my expectations! Thank you so much!
I got over 20 reviews in the past two weeks and it's really blowing me away how much you guys like this story. What an honor to write for such awesome reviewers! You guys deserve to be nominated for awards more than I do! Without your feedback and positive words, I don't know if I'd have the inspiration to keep going. High five, everyone!
Let me know what you think of this chapter. There was a lot of agonizing over the details here because it's starting to pick up speed. There's gonna be a lot more action ahead, so be prepared!
