Chapter 14
Carlisle II
When Alice and Bella had left, I followed Jasper out into the hall. "Thanks for your help in there, son," I said, patting him on the shoulder.
"Not sure it did any good. Listening to Bella – it's like she's a completely different person."
"You're wrong there," I said thoughtfully. "One thing hasn't changed. Her passion, her emotions are still focused on Edward."
Jasper frowned. "You say that like it's a good thing. All I see here is one hell of a disaster."
"No, not good necessarily. Just interesting. We have to take whatever clues we're given in hopes they'll add up to an explanation of what's motivating her. Let me know if you notice anything that might help."
"Of course." He nodded before heading down the hall, but he didn't look optimistic. He looked like I felt – shocked, perplexed, worried.
"Carlisle," Esme said, materializing out of the darkness, "what in the world is going on?"
I drew her into my arms, as much to obscure the expression of alarm on her face as to offer any real comfort. "I don't know. I thought I had a reasonably good idea of how this scenario would play out, but I was completely wrong. I'm as much in the dark as the rest of you. But, how is Edward taking this?"
"I can't really say. He was so completely stunned. I'm not even sure he heard a word I said. Once he understood we couldn't give him any answers, he pulled away and went back to Renesmee's room. It's probably the best place for him right now. If he has her to hold onto, it may help him realize that this is just a temporary situation. At the least, his concern for her might keep him from . . . well, going off the deep end."
I knew exactly what she meant. Like a lot of deeply sensitive people, Edward is a creature of extremes. His intelligence takes note of the gray areas, but he's emotionally incapable of letting them blunt his reactions. It's the reason neither Esme nor I made any great attempt to interfere with his infatuation for Bella. Parents have to pick their battles. That we would lose this one was inevitable.
We'd never known him to show any significant interest in a girl, though it was clear from the beginning that nearly all of them were his for the taking. I'd sometimes thought he might have opened up a little more socially, dared to cultivate the kind of cautious friendliness with his peers that we could allow ourselves, if his effect on women hadn't been so marked.
I'd seen it from the beginning, the way females of every age turned around to look at him as he passed, faltered under his gaze, appeared to soften when he spoke. Edward put it down to our natural – or supernatural – ability to mesmerize humans, but it was more than that. Had he remained mortal, I was certain he would have left a trail of broken hearts in his wake with no conscious intension of doing so.
Having the one person in the world he'd opened himself up to, the one who'd been able to revive the human part of him – the part that had the capacity for love and happiness – inexplicably turn away from him was not likely to have anything but a disastrous effect.
"Do you think he'll follow Bella down to Charlie's?" I asked my wife.
"No, I'm sure he won't– not yet anyway. He's too used to giving her what she wants, and she made it very clear she didn't want to see him. Until he's recovered enough to think his way around it, I don't believe that will be a problem."
"I'll go talk to him," I sighed into Esme's sweet-smelling hair.
"Would you like me to come with you?"
"It's better if we don't give him the impression we're ganging up on him. He's likely to be a little volatile right now, but I want to get him talking before he internalizes everything again."
"If anyone can get through to him, it's you," she said with conviction. "I'll be in my studio if you need me."
"I will need you," I admitted and kissed her in a way meant to communicate how much. When I released her, she gave my arm a final reassuring squeeze, and disappeared down the hall.
I stood there a minute, trying to decide what my approach should be, finally realizing it didn't matter. Edward was going to be Edward no matter what I did, so I'd just wait and take my cue from him.
I opened the door to Renesmee's room very quietly to find him standing in the middle of the floor, holding her tight in his arms. He rocked her gently from side to side, so that I caught a glimpse of her adorable face – fast asleep, her little rosebud mouth parted in complete relaxation. Edward's face was buried in her curls.
They were so much alike that I couldn't see where her hair ended and his began. It was a peaceful scene, and I wasn't about to disturb it, though I knew he was aware of my presence. After a long while, he laid her gently back in the bed, kissing her cheek before turning and striding right past me without a single word.
Not good.
Not good at all, I thought, lingering in the hallway after he'd gone. If only I could think of a way to stop the coming eruption before it started. Why was it still this difficult? I knew Edward as well as I knew anyone. I should be able to find a way to reach him, my youngest and oldest child, the one who held a special place – for so many reasons – in the deepest part of my heart.
I realized that I was listening for sounds of destruction. The piano perhaps or, God forbid, the window wall, but the house was quiet. No growls reverberating off the walls, no colorful expletives.
The calm before the storm.
I forced myself forward, looking for him first in the main rooms, then back up to his old room and everywhere in between. He had to have left. I cursed myself inwardly for hanging back. Had Esme been wrong? Was he hell-bent on going after Bella?
I whipped open the front door about to charge into the night, when a wave of reprieve washed over me. He was sitting on the bottom step, his head in his hands, not moving. I passed him, walking softly, and took a seat on a boulder a few feet away, where I could keep an eye on him.
Long minutes passed. He showed no sign of ever looking up. I knew all too well that he could stay like this indefinitely, and a part of me wanted to let sleeping dogs lie. Whatever I said now was only likely to ignite his temper, but avoiding the issue was not going to get us anywhere either.
"I'm sorrier than you know, son, that I wasn't able to help Bella with her memory problem before you got home. I really didn't want you to have to see her so confused, but what actually happened . . . it never entered my mind that she'd react the way she did."
Another few minutes passed in which he acted as if he hadn't heard me. Then he rubbed his eyes. His arms came to rest on his knees, fists unclenched, fingers relaxed.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
"You're too hard on yourself, Carlisle. Clearly, Bella's memory is perfect."
His face was so expressionless, his voice such an even tone that I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. He must be. "I don't understand what you're saying."
He ignored me, looking off into the distance. "I know that you think immortals can have souls," he said in the same flat voice. "Bella tried to convince me that was true, even for me. For the first time, I may actually believe her."
"Of course, you do Edward – you of all people. You're essentially a good, decent –"
He stopped me with a glare that could have blasted a hole in anything other than a vampire.
"Why else," he continued, "would God or Fate or an immensely vindictive universe have waited until I was truly . . . happy . . . to exact retribution?"
"Retribution? Edward, you have to stop this business of blaming yourself for everything bad that happens to the people around you. You don't deserve it."
"You're blind, Carlisle. Blinded by your compassion. I'm not like you. I never have been. I have to give credit to whatever power controls these things. The irony is exquisite. You have to admit that the punishment fits the crime."
"What crime?"
"Where would you like to begin? The people I've killed? I wouldn't. That's so common, nothing out of the ordinary for our kind. Perhaps you could start with the way I've deceived and manipulated and lied to the one human in this world who dared to accept me, love me even, although it was only because she saw what I wanted her to see."
A sickening realization was coming to me, belatedly. He was looking at me with clear contempt for my intelligence. His words. They were some of the same ones Bella had used in my study. He'd been listening to every damning thing she said.
No wonder he hadn't responded to the overtures of the others, no wonder he'd taken himself off to the peace and quiet of Renesmee's room. He did it in order to focus on the harrowing thoughts Bella was placing in my head.
"Edward, I didn't think. I should have known you'd be listening. You can't take what Bella said literally. She's not herself right now."
Once again, he acted as if I hadn't spoken. "Let me see, she thinks I hated her. Anything wrong with that particular memory, Carlisle? No, wait. I believe I confided that fact to you at the time. I hated her like I'd never hated anyone in my life. Her very presence threatened everything I'd achieved in this existence – the control that allowed me to hold back the monster, your misplaced belief that I could be like you. I would say her recollection is remarkably accurate."
"None of that's important anymore," I interjected.
"No? How about the fact that I wanted to kill her? You know that memory is correct as well. I was so consumed with it that I was willing to cancel out all those decades of abstinence and take down as many innocent bystanders as it took to get to her. You don't know how coldly and calculatingly I planned it."
"But you didn't do it. For God's sake, Edward, you saved her life from that skidding van – at great risk to all of us."
"Thank you, Carlisle," he said with deceptive smoothness. "You're right, of course. I was also willing to sacrifice all of you. Excellent point."
"That's not what I meant. I'm saying your actions speak louder than anything you might have been thinking."
"By actions, I assume you include the time I really did nearly kill her. As I recall, you were the voice of reason in that instance. Someone should tell Bella that, although I know you're too modest. You really should get credit for saving her."
"If you're talking about Phoenix, that's nonsense. You would have stopped on your own."
"I didn't want to stop," he said with that ruthless honesty he turns only on himself.
"Of course, you didn't. You were in the throes of the most intense, instinctual phenomenon our kind can ever experience, but we both know you were the only one who could have stopped it, and you did. That took tremendous will-power."
"But can you deny that I'm also the one who put her there in the first place?"
"That's far more debatable. If you're going to assume the powers that be – Fate or God –whatever you want to call it, are determined to make you pay for every wrong thing you've ever done, then you have to acknowledge that they might have played a part in placing Bella in the path of danger. All I'm asking is that you give yourself a little bit of credit."
He looked at me and his expression softened a little. I wondered what he saw. He looked horrible – for Edward. His hair was standing up in all directions. His shirt was wrinkled and his tie had come completely undone. He never looked that unkempt even in the midst of a kill, but it was his expression, when he let it show, that spoke of inner torment.
I doubted I looked a whole lot better. The feeling that my family was falling apart and that I was doing nothing to stop it must have taken its toll on my own appearance.
"If I have credit due," he said quietly, "it's only because of you. What conscience I have is merely your voice telling me how I should want to behave, if I were capable of being more like you. It's the primary reason I didn't act on that first murderous impulse. I hated the thought of destroying your faith in me."
"It wasn't the only reason, Edward. I know it wasn't. I would not sit here and let someone else disparage you like this. I'm not going to listen to you do it to yourself."
"Yes, you are." A fleeting smile appeared and then was gone. "It's your nature. It's what makes you so good at what you do, not just as a doctor, but in holding this family together. I know you think I blame myself too much, but in that regard, as Bella implied, you are blind. If I could find something positive to say about my behavior, I would, because I know it would please you, and I'm sorry I can't do that more often."
"Then try," I demanded. "Stop seeing everything as black and white and tell me something you did right."
For a minute, I thought he wouldn't answer, but finally he said, "I did try to warn Bella that I wasn't a good friend for her. I did that several times, trying to push her away, and there was a part of me that actually meant it."
I nodded my encouragement, "I believe that. Only she wouldn't listen to what you were saying."
"She wouldn't listen, because while I was pushing her away on one hand, I was pulling her toward me on the other. That was Bella in confusion, not the person you saw tonight. Now, it's as if the things she refused to hear before are suddenly registering for the first time. That's not confusion, Carlisle. It's called enlightenment."
I sighed. I'd been expecting turmoil, though I wasn't sure how to deal with it. This, this cold logic, I hadn't prepared for at all. I floundered around for a way to refute it. "Look, Edward, it's clear that what she's remembered are the negatives. We have to assume the good memories will return as well."
"Prepare for a long wait," he advised with a bitter twist of his mouth. "There's some way to go yet on the negative side of the ledger. I don't believe she mentioned that I stalked her relentlessly, that I broke into her house and spent night after night in her room watching her sleep."
"Even humans do things they wouldn't normally do when they're in love," I offered weakly.
"I told myself the same thing," he said with a nonchalance I wasn't buying for an instant. "Until it occurred to me that I wasn't human, that what I was doing was simply business as usual for a predator."
"It's hardly predatory," I argued, "to constantly subject yourself to the presence of someone whose blood you crave and not attack her. She was asleep, defenseless."
"She's always been defenseless," he muttered darkly.
"And you didn't take advantage of that. You were completely alone with her all those nights and you didn't kill her."
"Is this one of those things I'm supposed to take credit for?" He arched a brow at me. "Very well, then. In that regard I'm precisely as noble as every other person on the planet – of whatever species – who didn't kill Bella. You must be proud."
My jaw clenched. Arguing with Edward is somewhat akin to banging your head on a stone wall. If you're as indestructible as I am, you may eventually break through, but not without a superhuman headache.
"She thinks I've been controlling her," he went on, "and I cannot see an honest way to refute that. She was drawn to Jacob, as she should have been. He loved her. He didn't go out of his way to put her in danger. He was eager to give her the kind of life she deserved. Only one thing prevented it, and that was my interference."
"You're overlooking the small detail that it's you she loved, not Jacob, not in the way that mattered. There aren't many men who would allow the woman they love to spend so much time with an obvious rival. It couldn't have been easy, Edward, but you bore it because you wanted her to be happy."
"Is that the reason? Or was I simply afraid she'd end up hating me if I stood in her way? I went along with it only so far, and then I reeled her back in – every time. Tell me that doesn't qualify as controlling behavior."
By now, I should know better than to try to sway Edward's self-image when he's on one of these downward spirals. Thanks to Bella, it had been a while. In fact, a week ago I would have wagered that nothing could pull him down that treacherous path again.
How could he possibly slip into the old habits of self-criticism with Bella staring at him adoringly every time he turned around? And only Bella had the power to send him there again. Edward was right about one thing. Something in the universe was very fond of irony.
"So all your behavior has been selfish. Let's assume for a moment you're right."
"I am," he stated flatly, subjecting his hair to another round of torture.
"I'm not so sure that isn't true of all lovers who've found lasting happiness together. You take note, Edward, in every successful couple, you'll find that each partner thinks they're the lucky one. Hardly a day goes by that I don't look at Esme and wonder how someone with my history could have ended up with a sweet . . . pure soul like her, yet she's made it clear that she's grateful for me. I suspect that kind of selfishness may be the secret to most enduring passions."
"Bella has never been selfish."
"Well, she's not the pawn you're making her out to be. She wasn't some flighty airhead you took advantage of or one of those rebellious girls who needles her parents by taking up with the school bad boy."
There'd been overtures by a few of those over the years, but, of course, Edward had seen through them. Their efforts to claim more than a haughty glance from him had gone unrewarded.
"Too bad, isn't it?" he went on caustically. "You might have been able to assign a modicum of responsibility to someone reckless or aggressive, but I had to exploit the most caring, responsible, innocent person in Forks, someone who had no concept of the things she had to offer."
He was up and pacing now, unable to contain the black energy roiling inside him. "I should have fixated on someone like Jessica Stanley. She threw herself in my path continually with her intrusive fantasies. Irritating and presumptuous in the extreme, but we might have made a fitting couple. She's almost as big a hypocrite as I am. Her mind is singularly petty and untrustworthy. We were probably made for each other."
I'd been sitting with my arms on my knees, but now my hands shot out, of their own volition as if they could reach across the space between us and shake him into silence. "Edward," I said through gritted teeth, "could you . . . please . . . just shut up!"
I closed my eyes, listening to the tactless words ricochet around my head. I seldom allow myself to be provoked, particularly by a member of my own family. When I looked up again, Edward was back on the step.
This is what he must have looked like as a little boy, I thought suddenly. He was peering up at me through long lashes, his eyes wide with surprise and something else – perhaps a tinge of the satisfaction a child feels when he's at last succeeded in pushing the parental hot button.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," he said with a glimmer of his crooked grin. "Aren't you the one always telling me I need to open up more?"
"You know what they say about being careful what you wish for." I shot him a weary smile. "I always have the feeling you say such a small fraction of what you're actually thinking. That can be frustrating."
"Not half as frustrating as listening to what everyone else is thinking, most of which should never escape their mouths."
"I imagine you're right there." The splattering of rain we'd both been ignoring was graduating into torrents, soaking our clothes. I thought about suggesting we move inside, but I doubted Edward had even noticed it. His brows had knit together again. He raked the wet hair out of his eyes. "This day has been a little surreal for me, listening to you and Bella, both of you trying your best to convince me that you're a monster."
"You should be pleased we're in such harmony," he muttered, hiding again behind sarcasm.
"Hardly. You're both remarkably one-note. Bella at least has an excuse. She's only remembering part of what she knows. You, on the other hand, are deliberately refusing to see anything that doesn't fit your own dark vision. You know perfectly well, you can't expect to solve a problem if you insist on ignoring half the variables. We've got to restore the missing positives to Bella's mind. It's the only way for her to regain any perspective, so her genuine feelings can come back to her."
"What positives are those, Carlisle?" he said, and the vehemence was back in his voice. "What exactly have I done to make her life better, aside from nearly getting her killed on numerous occasions and then being so good as to save her? I've cut her off from her friends and family. Destroyed all the experiences she would have had in a regular human life. I've brought on all the misery you saw in her tonight. She's never let me give her the material things I'd like to. Oh, yes, I did buy her a Ferrari, which she clearly doesn't want."
"You've given her your love, Edward, and your loyalty. Isn't that what most people want out of life?"
"Only if it's mutual. Otherwise it's a nightmare."
"She loves you just as much as you love her," I countered. "She's proved that many times over."
"Her love is irrational," he said softly, once again dropping his head into his hands. "I've always known that."
"Is yours any different?"
His head jerked up. "Yes, it is. I love her because she's brave and beautiful and funny. She's kind and extremely smart, and she had insight even before she was a vampire that was clearly above the norm. "
I let him go on in that vein, thankful to have something positive flowing out of him, even if it was for someone else. When at last he started to repeat himself, I interrupted. "If she's all those things, and I'm sure she is, then what makes you think she'd be gullible enough to let you dazzle her into a relationship she didn't want? Do you really think you're that good at it?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. I never tried to that extent before, but it's the only explanation, when you consider some of the irrational things she's done."
"Like what, for instance?"
"Like what happened in Italy." A flicker of old pain crossed his face. "Have you forgotten how that came about? Sooner or later she's going to remember it. Possibly my finest hour," he said bitterly. "I lied to her – the biggest and most blatantly fictitious lie I've ever told anyone – but I made her believe it. I abandoned her in the woods, where anything might have happened to her.
"She spends months feeling miserable, because of me, and what's her response? She goes half way across the world to rescue me from myself. Is that the action of a rational person? Or more like someone hypnotized into obedience? I believe I used all three of my talents there – lying, manipulating and deceiving. She's three for three."
"You once thought she did it because she loved you so much."
"That's because I'm a conceited megalomaniac. Haven't you heard?"
"Only from you . . . and a few veiled innuendos from your wife."
He didn't smile. "She doesn't remember Renesmee. The only reason she could possibly resist the memory of her own child is that Nessie's mine as well. She can't bear the thought of something that's a part of me. I believe that speaks volumes about her feelings toward me."
I saw another way in despite his fatalistic attitude. "Surely, that should be our top priority here – restoring some normalcy to Renesmee's life. Whatever has caused all this, she doesn't deserve to suffer the consequences."
"I told her I'd fix it," Edward said, his voice almost a whisper. "She said something was wrong with momma. I don't know if it can be fixed or even if it should be. Am I just trying to arrange everything for my own selfish ends again? I can't tell anymore."
"Then focus on the one thing you're sure of. We need to get to the bottom of this for your daughter's sake. I'm afraid I've been going about it the wrong way. We couldn't come up with an actual cause for Bella's state of mind, so I concentrated on ways to relieve her symptoms. I thought there might be parallels in human pathology that could help me treat her, but nothing really fit.
"After what happened tonight, I'm more convinced than ever that conventional medicine doesn't hold the answer. I've never heard of this kind of emotional about-face, not without extensive physical trauma and that's out of the question here. Now I'm thinking we need to go back and determine the cause, if at all possible. I need you to help me with that, Edward."
"How?" he said and the word held more despair than hope.
"I think we should start with questioning Alice about exactly what she saw the day this all started. I'll talk to Bella and see if anything of significance has come back to her."
"Wait." He blinked, as if emerging from the blackness of his self-reproach. "Bella cannot stay at Charlie's. She needs to be here where you can look after her."
"It's not a good idea for Bella to be here, as long as she's so frightened of you. Even if you stay out of sight, I doubt that she'd agree to it."
"Then I'll leave," he said without hesitation. "Carlisle, do you honestly think I would ever risk seeing that look on her face again? For weeks, when we first met, I actively tried to make her afraid of me. It didn't work. I said things to her that would make most humans' blood run cold, but she didn't bat an eye. No matter how angry I've been, she's never once looked at me with fear – until today. It was . . . " His voice drifted off, but the anguish in his face spoke volumes.
"I understand, but that's not a solution, Edward. You need the support of your family, and we certainly don't want to be worrying about how you're doing."
In fact, for decades Esme and I had both dreaded a repeat of what had happened long ago, when Edward had vanished for years without a word. That period was – for all intents and purposes – his adolescence, the rebellious phase that had helped him mature into a responsible adult.
There had been other emotional crises, two in recent times, but he'd never again left us wondering what had become of him. I didn't think he'd put Esme through that again, not if he could control his impulses. My fear was that this blow to everything he cherished might compromise his control.
I found myself talking more quickly in an effort to forestall that option. "You have to stay close, Edward, so we can solve this thing together. I'm mired down in my own realm of expertise, and it's not showing much promise. I need someone who can think outside the box. How's your Hungarian?"
"What?" he blinked at me.
"The language – Magyar. I've been going through our history files, hoping to find something that might parallel Bella's condition. There was an immortal in Pest in the early 19th c who worked with newborns, much as Jasper did. He made extensive notes, not a word of which I can read. Could you take a look at it?"
"I can try," he said cautiously.
I spoke again before he could continue, determined to deflect him from talk of leaving. "Edward, all of us who care for you and Bella, who've watched your relationship grow, know full well that solving a problem for one of you is futile unless the solution finds you together. You need to be here so that – "
"Carlisle, I'm not going to do that." His tone was soft and unequivocal, more arresting than a shout.
"You're not going to . . .?" I shut my eyes. Of course. He had heard everything I was thinking, as clearly as what I was saying. He knew exactly where my fear lay.
"I made a promise to Bella – that I'd never abandon her again. I intend to keep that promise."
I opened my eyes to meet his, steady, despite the rain that coursed down his moon-white skin.
"I will always be close by to protect her, to come to her if she should want me. I only meant I'll stay away from the house, so she isn't frightened. You can assure her there will be no chance of an encounter."
"It's not right for you to have to leave your home."
"I won't." He said with the ghost of a smile. "I will be in my own home – with my daughter."
My personal fears had made me slow on the uptake. "Of course," I said, "the cottage. Bella seems to have forgotten it."
He grimaced. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"
I ignored my own clumsiness and his reaction to it. "You're right. It's the perfect solution. Nessie needs you, and we can all come down and give you a hand."
Once again, I'd said the wrong thing. "I can take care of my own daughter," he growled.
"I know you can, but we don't want to be cut off from her either, and having the other people who love her around may make it easier to get through the time without her mother. We'll keep Bella safe and make sure she stays on this side of the river."
Edward was silent again, eyes lowered to the rain-washed path, seeing something much darker, I was certain.
"Whatever facts Bella may be using to justify her hostility," I reminded him, "you can't take what she's saying to heart. You know this isn't the way she truly feels. Until we figure out how things have gotten so warped, the best I can do is try to calm her down and convince her the anger isn't necessary."
"No!" His eyes snapped up to mine again. "Let her keep her anger, Carlisle. It's energizing. Without that . . . she may have nothing . . . nothing but fear . . . and . . . sadness. It could be like before . . . when I left. I won't have that."
My knowledge of Bella's condition during that dark time was secondhand, but it didn't take a psychiatrist to recognize that she'd been severely depressed. "Has she talked about that much?" I asked.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Only to minimize it – for my sake, as usual, but I've seen what she was like through others' thoughts – Charlie for one, Sam Uley, her friends at school. And Jacob – he certainly never missed an opportunity to give me a vivid replay."
"Well, Jacob had his own agenda back then. You'd need to take his version with a grain of salt."
"Not true. Bella was at her most normal when she was with him. The rest of the time was . . ." His voice drifted off. He was looking inward again, heedless of the raindrops dotting his hair and lashes, like diamonds . . . or tears.
"There's something to what you say. If being angry gives her a sense of purpose, then you're right, it's better than withdrawal. I've felt all along we have to let her set the tone if we're going to get a hint of what's driving her. It just won't be easy if she persists in this delusion that you're out to hurt us all."
"What? You mean as opposed to showing you a good time like I am now?" His arch look took in our bleak surroundings, the two of us soaked to the skin. "Perhaps I should have invited the others."
I smiled. Sarcasm could be energizing too. "If you recall, I wasn't invited either. Strictly a party crasher here. Look, son, first thing in the morning I'm going to arrange for coverage at the hospital so we can brainstorm this problem together. And I'll bring you that Hungarian file." I rose, relieved when he did the same, and followed him up the steps to into the house, my hand on his shoulder.
"I apologize for the way I spoke to you back there," I said quietly, as the door closed behind us.
My deceitful, lying son answered with the perfect honesty that he fails to recognize as part of his nature. "Actually, Carlisle, I found it rather entertaining."
"I was afraid you'd say that. It was not the effect I intended. Why don't you try to relax – maybe play the piano for a while."
"The piano?" He looked at the object in question as if he had no idea of its purpose.
Of course.
When Edward's in a self-critical mode, he tends to deprive himself of every small pleasure that might alleviate his pain. It's one of the worst examples of a patient trying to heal himself that I've ever seen, but I was simply too emotionally exhausted to take him on about it.
"I'm sorry about your suit," I said, glancing at the puddle gathering on the floor from his bedraggled wool pants. "It was certainly a nice one."
He shrugged. "It didn't have the effect I intended. I'm going to change and spend the night in Nessie's room. Goodnight, Carlisle."
I snagged the throw rug with my foot, blotting up the evidence of our passing before it could do any damage, and went to find my wife. She met me at her studio door. Her lovely eyes were filled with anxiety as they scanned my face for clues to how my talk with Edward had gone.
"It was pretty quiet out there," she said, slipping her arms around my waist. "I didn't hear anything breaking."
"No. All his anger is inner-directed at the moment."
"Oh, dear, that could be worse."
I pulled her close. "There's no need to worry for now. He's gone to be with Nessie, and that will help keep his head on straight. He plans to take her back to the cottage, so we can bring Bella here." I stepped back, realizing she was getting soaked. "Sorry, let me get out of these wet things and find some dry ones."
"I'll go along with half that plan," she said with a suggestive smile. The woman's a genius when it comes to knowing what I need.
If only everything could be solved so easily, but it seemed that we were up against one of life's most unpleasant facts.
Sometimes love isn't all you need.