Author's Note: Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter, especially PastOneonta, Ariel-Scarlett, Kendall, fawnnwaf, MelkiSihou, PoisonIvy533, and ezinmaful... You gave me such thoughtful comments and great ideas, especially regarding Claire. You may see that your ideas have inspired me in this chapter. I'm sorry I didn't get to email all of you with individual thank you notes. Trying my best, though. And for every reviewer, I hope you know that I appreciate all of you, and all of your words! Please enjoy this new chapter. -AmandaForks
Chapter Fourteen
"Claire's Kitten, Angela's Sweetheart, Riley's Demise, and the Laundry Room of Desire"
On Saturday morning, Bella sat at the kitchen table with Charlie, staring at the latest issue of the Forks Forum. There they were, as Charlie had predicted: photos of the white horse Riley and the pack had killed, one photo of it alive and lovely with its little girl owner, and one photo of it eviscerated in the mud. Bella had never seen the guts of an animal before outside of a science classroom on dissecting day, and even then she'd not seen them up close. Usually she was feeling faint in the school nurse's office on those days. But here was a full color photo of pink and yellow entrails, long loops of intestines, the white arcs of ribs exposed beneath torn flesh, and the pale, pinkish mass of a lung. The horse's mouth was open, tongue exposed, and her black eye, the one that wasn't in the mud, had turned dull and opaque.
She shoved the paper away and put her head on the table on her folded arms.
"Eat something, Bells," said Charlie. "Harry called. Emily and Leah are on their way."
But she couldn't choke down even the smallest piece of toast. As much as she'd like to believe that Riley had done that to the horse all by himself, in a state of excusable vampiric hunger and confusion, she knew that Jacob had done half of it in a state of stone-cold purposefulness because Sam had commanded him to do it. And Jacob had obeyed.
Wasn't he a co-Alpha? Couldn't he have said something like, "Wait a minute. Maybe we can help the horse." She tried to remind herself that the horse had been beyond saving and there was a man firing at them with a rifle.
Poor horse. Poor Jake.
Charlie said the Peninsula Daily News would pick up this story and run it tomorrow in the Sunday edition. That meant people from Hoquiam to the Hood Canal, from Quilcene to Neah Bay, would be on the look out for a pack of wolves. And there were plenty of outdoorsmen-types around here, people who enjoyed hiking and hunting, people who owned guns. Even now, said Charlie, there was a group of men and women assembling at the Elks Lodge downtown, ready to drive up to the horse owner's farm and fan out into the woods, looking for animal prints—or the animals themselves.
"But there's a vampire out there," said Bella dully.
"Sam, Jake, and Jared'll flank and follow. And I have to put in an appearance."
"Blehhhhh….." said Bella, her head still on her arms on the table. "Sam, Jake, and Jared should be catching up on sleep."
"Well, they can't," said Charlie. "I'm meeting with a naturalist at the park service this afternoon. There have been real sightings, of real wolves, off and on around here for the past ten years. Unconfirmed, of course. I'm hoping to spin this into speculation that lone wolves, usually young males, have been exploring this area for a long time, in a perfectly normal way, then heading back east where there are others—girl wolves, basically—to induce them back to familiar territory."
"Girl wolves?"
"You know. Females."
"Is that true?"
"Pretty much. There are a few packs east of the Cascades."
"Really?"
"Yes," he snapped. "I've become a bit of an expert on Washington wildlife."
The doorbell rang. Today was the day on which Ellen Uley had promised Claire that Bella would get her a real kitten. Though sorry she had accidentally killed Claire's baby skunk, Bella hoped to avoid driving all the way to the Humane Society in Port Angeles. She had looked up animal shelters on the internet, and conveniently enough, there was a pole barn on the south end of town acting as a mini-shelter. With luck, there would be kittens. Bella opened the door and was surprised to see not Leah or Emily or even little Claire, but Angela. Her eyes were red.
"Can I come in?"
"Of course."
Angela was dressed in one of her usual leggings and long sweater outfits, this time a pair of navy blue polka dot denim leggings and a pink tunic sweater. Her hair was nicely styled in a smooth, high ponytail. Bella gestured for her to sit on the couch.
"I'm going downtown," said Charlie, "so you can talk about boys."
"Geez, Dad, you always think girls are talking about boys!"
Charlie smirked at them as he put on his coat, but as he turned to the front door, Bella saw his smile fade.
As soon as he was gone, Angela teared up. "My mom found out about Cody and Quil."
"How did she find out?"
"I told her."
Bella did not think she would ever understand the kind of relationship where a girl could talk to her mother about her problems. Angela's mom had asked why she was moping around, and Angela had confessed all: her hurt over what Ben had said about her awkwardness, her determination to get a new boyfriend, Quil's apparent disinterest, her inability to think of something to start a conversation with Cody about, and his apparent obliviousness that she had targeted him. Targeted him, but couldn't talk to him.
"My mom said, 'You want someone to love you,' and I was like, 'Yes,' and then she told me to go adopt a stray cat."
"She what?"
"She said a stray cat would love me forever." Angela tucked her fingers inside the cuffs of her sweater sleeves and dabbed at her eyes. "She said it would think I was the coolest person in the world."
"Well, it probably would."
"So I was wondering—"
The doorbell rang again. This time, it was the guests Bella was expecting. Leah stood on the porch, wearing her blue anorak and jeans. She had her long, black hair in two gleaming braids over her shoulders. At the curb, Sam's big black truck idled beside Angela's little Corolla, with Emily at the wheel and Claire in the backseat of the quad-cab, pressing her hands against the glass and peering out at Bella with big, dark eyes.
"I told her it was Adopt-a-Skunk Day at the shelter," said Leah.
Claire took one hand off the window to wave at Bella, a quick, fluttery motion, before she teetered and pressed her hand on the glass again to steady herself.
"You're horrible," said Bella.
Angela came to the door, too, and Leah said bluntly, "What's wrong?"
"Boys," sighed Angela.
"Her mom said she should get a cat instead of a boyfriend," supplied Bella.
"Too bad we're only going looking for skunks," said Leah.
It made Angela smile a little. "I already dated a skunk."
Though chilly, it was a clear, sunny spring day. Charlie's rhododendrons were loaded with buds. Blue hyacinths bloomed beside the porch steps, sweet enough to smell just standing near them. The crocuses and daffodils near the mailbox were nearly spent, and tulip leaves were beginning to poke through the mulch beside the hyacinths. Suddenly, Bella recognized these as the same flowers bloomed in Jacob's yard. Could his mother have planted them here as well, taking care of Charlie? Giving him a little brightness in his life after Renee left?
Leah invited Angela to join them.
"Are you sure?"
"Sure. We'll just move Claire's carseat."
Emily killed the engine and slid down from the driver's seat. She kept her head lowered, letting her heavy, dark hair fall over her face, and the tips of her ears turned pink. Angela sank to a knee to greet Claire at eye-level as she introduced herself, holding out a hand, but the little girl scuttled behind Emily's knees. "She's shy," said her aunt.
Angela looked up into Emily's face before Emily could turn away, and what happened next was one of those moments that made Bella feel lucky—so, so lucky—to have Angela for a friend.
"I'm Angela," she said, simply extending her hand upward instead.
"Emily."
"I got burned by boiling water when I was ten. I lifted a teapot off the stove and it spilled. I had to go to the hospital and everything." She hiked up her sweater, pulled her leggings down a bit, and revealed a large patch of smooth yet gnarled-looking skin on her lower abdomen. The burn scar had hardened and thickened, and the red color in her skin appeared slightly marbled and shiny.
"Oh, my God, Ange!" said Bella. "I never knew that!"
"That's because I never showed you what's in my undies."
"It looks so weird!" blurted Bella.
"You look weird," said Leah, poking her in the arm. "And rude. Geez."
"It's okay," said Angela. "It does look weird."
"Is this why you wear all those high-waisted grannie panties?" blurted Bella again, thinking of all the times they'd changed clothes side by side for gym class.
"So you have been looking at my underwear," teased Angela. "Yeah. Sometimes I wish I could go to the beach in a bikini."
"Maybe you could," said Emily quietly. She put her hair behind her ears. "I got clawed by a bear."
Angela grinned at her. "If this is what the bear did you you, I'd be afraid to see what you did to the bear."
Silence. Emily frowned, her eyebrows pinched together, then slowly her face relaxed and the left side of her mouth, the still-flexible side, curled into a smile.
"Get it?" said Angela.
"Yes."
"You should say it was a bar fight. The bear was making trouble."
Rolling her eyes, Emily said, "Okay, okay. The bear had it coming to him." Still smiling tentatively with one half of her beautiful, brutalized face, she crawled into the backseat to move Claire's carseat to the center.
Behind her back, Leah offered Angela the world's most discreet high five. "I wish I'd thought to say something like that," she whispered.
It was hard for Bella to figure out if Claire was dim-witted or just a normal three-year-old. She had almost zero experience with little kids. They drove through town with Emily and Leah in the front seats and Bella, Angela, and Claire in the back. Claire stared at Bella long enough that Bella felt she ought to start a conversation.
"So you like cats? We're going to the cat shelter."
"Skunks?"
"No, those things you had before… under the porch? Those are skunks. Cats are different."
"I like skunks."
Bella sighed. "I'm going to get you a kitten." She had her checkbook in her back pocket and hoped this errand would be quick and cheap. "They don't have any skunks at the animal shelter anyway."
Emily drove south past the Chinook Pharmacy, the diner, the Umpqua Bank, the high school, Pacific Pizza, and the shopping plaza that contained Newton's Outfitters, the Thriftway, and ACE Hardware.
Seeing the hardware store made her think of Riley. Angela must have had the same thought. "Do you think they'll ever find him?" she said sadly. "I don't know," said Bella. She hated lying, partly because it felt wrong, but mostly because she was so bad at it that she worried about getting caught. But she really could tell the truth here. The official story was that Riley was still missing, along with the unidentified woman—Victoria—he'd gone hiking with. Bella didn't know what Riley and Charlie would decide about whether or how to end the investigation.
Which was the greater mercy, to let Riley's parents keep hoping indefinitely, or to give them the peace of knowing for sure that he was dead? Charlie and the pack were strongly opposed to telling his family the truth, and Riley was so ashamed and horrified at what he'd become that she doubted he'd insist on seeing them. She'd spoken with Jake and Riley on the phone last night as they strategized with Charlie and Sam at the Cullens' place. Riley was grieving, believing he could never speak to his family again, knowing that they were mourning him as well. He wondered if he could leave a letter for them somehow, telling them he loved them. Or maybe he could call them on the phone and say that he'd joined a cult and would be moving to Greenland.
"Greenland?" Bella had said.
"Well, I don't know!" Riley said. "I just mean, I could tell them I'm going somewhere they can't follow, but not to worry about me."
Charlie, however, told Riley that would not give his parents peace; they would likely try to find this "cult." And leaving a note might make his parents think his death was intentional. Wouldn't that break their hearts all over again?
"I just wish I could say goodbye."
If he were still a human being, Bella knew that the young man on the other end of the phone line would have tears his eyes.
"I don't know what to do either," Jake sighed after Riley passed him the phone. "Sam says we should somehow convince everyone that he's dead so the search can be called off. Charlie says the search will be called off anyway in two more days because of resources. But after that, volunteers might keep looking. It would be dangerous for them."
"It sounds like he has to be dead," Bella said quietly.
"Where there is life, there is hope," Jacob said.
"What?"
"It's from the Bible."
"You go to church?"
"Sometimes. You got a problem with that?"
"No. No, I just didn't know that."
As she remembered this conversation, riding in the truck with Emily and everyone, she reflected that she was learning all kinds of things about her friends lately. Angela had a giant ugly scar in her pants? Quil was suddenly obsessed with a three-year-old? Jacob went to church? Holy crow. She didn't know if she could handle any more surprises.
"Where there is life, there is hope," Jacob had said. But then he added that he didn't know if Riley was alive anymore. He wanted to know what Bella thought.
"Maybe," she offered, "it's a different kind of life. I used to think it was a perfect life." Her cheeks felt hot as she said this, and imagining what Riley's parents were going through made her tear up, too. What would her transformation and disappearance have done to Charlie? "But now I—"
"I wish I was there with you," Jacob said quietly. "I would hug you."
She drew in a shaky breath. "Thank you. I don't think— I don't think there's any hope left for Riley."
"I'm coming," said Jacob. The phone line went dead. Bella went out the back door and sat on the steps until Jacob emerged from the woods. He was barefoot. They sat on the back steps and hugged as Bella confessed how her heart ached when she thought of her old desire to change. Jacob cried, too, just imagining her being gone. He tried to stop because he didn't want the pack to see him crying later, in his memory, and Bella said, "I hate the pack mind." She looked hard into Jacob's eyes. "You stay out of his head," she admonished the other wolves. "Quit looking in here. Paul. I mean you. Stupid Paul."
"Lay off Paul," said Jacob. "He got shot."
"Okay, Paul," said Bella, still staring into Jacob's dark eyes. "Sorry I called you stupid. But you are rude and vulgar and ought to mind your own business."
"You're egging him on," said Jacob. "He's just going to kick my ass."
"No one can kick your ass!" Bella growled, then blushed at her language. "No one can kick your can because you are the Alpha!"
"One of them."
"Now go away, everybody," she said firmly. "Quit looking in his head because I'm going to kiss him."
"Yeah. That's really going to make them bored with looking in here."
"Get out," said Bella. She leaned toward Jacob, put her hand over his eyes, and kissed his lips.
He kissed her back.
It was eight o'clock, but still somewhat light outside. Bella was still getting used to this aspect of living at a more northerly latitude. Shadows stretched over the lawn from the edge of the woods. The air was cool, and spring peepers were chirruping in the trees. Keeping her hand over Jacob's eyes meant she couldn't put her hand anywhere else.
"Do not think about this later," she said. "Paul will kick—will try to kick—your ass for crying, and I'll kick it for sharing private stuff."
"Either way, I lose," he sighed.
Bella wished the twilight gloom were darker. Then she realized— "Hey. It's really dark in the laundry room." She reached up, turned the doorknob, and the two of them rolled into the back porch. It was nearly completely black in there, the only window covered with heavy brown paper because Charlie thought it would prevent drafts. As Jacob kicked the door shut behind them, Bella banged her elbow on the clothes dryer.
"Ah, god, you're so cute," said Jacob, crawling toward her, kissing her elbow, then her upper arm, then shoulder, then lips.
"Why do you like that about me?" Bella mumbled.
He paused. In the dark room, finding each other by sound and touch, it seemed he could say things that were hard to say in the light. "I like to take care of you," he mumbled back. With his lips on her neck, he found the courage to say that he wanted her to need him, too.
"I do." She whispered a lot of other things that made her blush hot to say them. She did need him. To help her learn to trust again. To be her sun. He mumbled more sweet things against her skin, including how he knew she was blushing because he could feel her cheeks get warmer, and she raised herself tall on her knees, kissing him harder, her heart pounding as she suddenly thought of how quickly this could end. He seemed to feel her fear.
"I won't," he said. "I just won't."
"You could see some girl and forget me instantly."
"No. I never could."
"It would break my heart. I didn't need Edward; I just wanted him so bad, wanted him to love me."
"Shh. I am not breaking your heart."
"I need you. I think this is wrong, somehow." The dark room, the feeling of his hands and lips, but not the sight of him watching her, allowed her to tremblingly confess her fears. "I should be more independent or something. But I'm not; I need you; like maybe this isn't healthy."
"I don't care. I think of you before I sleep and as soon as I wake up. I want to be with you all the time. I need you to want me and love me."
"Don't cry."
"I can't go back to how we were before."
He raised himself on his knees, too, pulling her torso against his with one arm while his other hand touched her face to guide his kisses. She felt she couldn't have stood if she wanted to, she was shaking so bad. "This is weird and co-dependent and we're going to get hurt!" she wept.
"Yes, yes, and no." He raked his teeth over her neck.
She had not expected, when she twisted the doorknob, that they'd be tumbling into a dark cave that let all their emotions come creeping out of the tender, scared places in their hearts. It was like floating in outer space with only each other to cling to. It was hard to talk in between kisses and fierce embraces, and she had no idea how much time passed as they knelt in front of the washing machine, but she managed to tell him that sometimes, she was afraid he would die.
"I have claws."
And sometimes she was afraid that he couldn't need her as much as she needed him; that is, she needed him really, really bad. She tried to act normal, but—
"Really bad," he assured her. "Totally obsessed and sick and unhealthy, but there is no one else for me."
"But I might get clingy. Like with Edward."
"Funny how Ed rhymes with shred. Did I mention I have claws?"
The washing machine made a dull, metallic thump as he leaned her backward, bumping her head against it. It made her laugh, which felt equally intense in the near-total darkness.
"Why is your face red?" said Claire.
Bella was jerked back to an awareness of her present surroundings. The little girl was riding in a booster seat, sitting somewhat higher than Bella and Angela on either side. She was holding her small stuffed zebra and the black plastic spatula she used to style its hair. In her raised seat, her spatula brandished imperiously, she looked like a tiny queen.
Bella frowned at her.
Claire frowned back. "Why?" she stodgily repeated.
"Because it's hot in here," she grumbled. She tried to lower the window, but when she pressed the button, it wouldn't move. "Child locks," explained Emily, pressing a button on the driver's door that allowed her to move the window.
Claire set the blade of her spatula flat on Bella's cheek and said, "Tssss," as if she were flipping a burger in a hot pan.
Fortunately, they turned into the parking lot of the animal shelter just then. Gravel crunched under the tires as Emily pulled up to the building, a large pole barn painted blue. There was a white sign over the door with blue letters: Clallam County Wildlife Rehabilitation Center.
What? Oh, no…..
She had to eat her words. The animal shelter did have skunks. Several. Two had bandaged paws. One looked mangey and skinny. The others looked okay, standing up on their rear legs to sniff at them through the bars of their cages.
"Oooooooh…" said Claire.
"Dammit, Leah," Bella whispered, smacking her arm. "Why did you have to tell her we were getting a skunk?"
"Because I like to fuck with you." Leah crossed her arms and leaned against a wall beside a poster of Washington wildlife.
The room was bright and airy, divided into different work areas by the arrangement of desks and cages. There was a sink in the back and a few freshly washed glass terrariums turned upside-down, drying on a countertop, an open window with a fan running in front of it, and a smell of cedar chips, animal excrement, and reptile. It was hard to explain what "reptile" smelled like, but Bella recognized the scent because it pulled up memories of Renee's many kindergarten class pets—lizards, tortoises, turtles—that had flourished in the classroom only to die mysteriously over summer vacation at Renee's house. After Bella turned eight, she saved them by simply remembering to feed them.
As Angela walked quietly down an aisle, peering at stinky reptiles, Emily lifted Claire onto her hip so she could see the skunks better. There were carrots and lettuce leaves in their cages. Some of the skunks paced back and forth in a way that made Bella want to wait in the lobby.
"Can I help you?" said a middle-aged man in a green polo shirt and khaki pants. He had a shiny, pink face, a bald head, a neatly-trimmed, long, white beard, and a bright smile. "Marvin," said his name tag.
"We're looking for a pet," said Emily. "A kitten."
"Skunk," said Claire. "A stripey skunk."
"A kitten," said Emily.
"Ho, ho, ho," Marvin chuckled. He seemed like the kind of person who would play Santa Claus in the winter. He pointed to an educational display on a table and explained that it was a traveling exhibit. He and his co-workers visited schools to teach kids about local wildlife and what to do if they saw an injured animal. Looking around the room again, Bella noticed a tall, brown owl in a large enclosure, a number of snakes in terrariums under heat lamps, and a spotted fawn, holding itself perfectly still under a desk the way it might have hidden under a bush. "Ho, ho," said Marvin. "We're not that kind of animal shelter. We help sick or injured wildlife. Take that fawn there."
Bella thought he must have noticed her looking at it.
"Its mother put it in a meadow and told it to stay put. But she never came back. Some neighbors found it at the back of their property. Watched it for two days, trying not to get too close. Human scent, you know. But the doe never came back. Poor critter."
"Awwww….." said Angela. "Can we pet it?"
"'Fraid not," said the man. "We're bottle feeding it, which is already too much human contact. It'll have to be released when it's weaned, and it needs to stay wary of people."
Angela looked wistfully at the baby animal, and Bella frowned and looked away. There had been a time when she'd felt like a deer. A prey species that the Cullens had ex-sanguinated and abandoned. But she'd always imagined herself, even in her darkest times, as an adult deer. Now here was a fawn, told by its mother to stay still and stay put, to be a good little fawn, and then the mother never came back. Nice. She did not feel like standing here, staring at a helpless, abandoned baby animal.
"I'm waiting outside," she said.
Was this part of why she felt clingy with Jacob? Perhaps, she grimaced. But it was nice to know he didn't mind. Last night in the laundry room had been like peeling an onion of need, every layer revealing another pearly white, eye-stinging truth that was, depending on how you looked at it, magically romantic or edging on unhealthy: I need you—I need you more—No, I need you more—No, I need YOU more…. They also exchanged, in whispers, words of love and defiance: they didn't care what anyone said; they were going to be as clingy and clutching as they wanted because it felt good. At least, they acknowledged, it felt good right now. Maybe later their feelings would settle down.
"Okay," she had said, still kneeling, letting her head fall back against the washing machine. "This is good for now. You don't mind if I'm all needy?"
"God, no," he'd said, kissing her harder, pressing his body against hers. She felt smashed against the metal in a surprisingly delicious way. "You don't mind either?" he said, pulling aside the neck of her T-shirt to press his lips against her collarbone. "I can tell you these thoughts, and touch you like this, and—"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes…."
How amazing it felt to be so open about her emotions. How reassuring to know he felt the same. How fantastic to be crushed against the cool metal surface of a large home appliance. It was as if their feelings were solidifying into a dense, weighty sphere, a fist of titanium, heavy enough to have its own gravitational force, like a tiny, gunmetal gray blackhole.
I need you to need me, he had confessed. This truth had come to him earlier this week, he said. He just hoped she wouldn't think that it was a weakness or that he would be anything other than completely strong for her, despite being helplessly ruled by his need for her to need him. Bella had taken his face in her hands and looked into the space where she thought his eyes were—it was utterly dark in there—and felt a small thrill as she told him what she hoped would reassure him forever: I will never stop needing you.
"Wow," he'd said. "That's kind of disgusting." He touched her forehead with his index finger, right between her eyebrows, and said, "I knew you'd be frowning." He kissed away the wrinkle there, and kissed her lips, and her neck, and in spite of herself she melted to the floor and he followed.
"Sorry about all this laundry," she had said. "Some of it is dirty."
"I love it. It smells like you." After a pause to toss a few things behind him—"These ones smell like Charlie"—he stretched himself beside her, holding his weight on his elbows, and found her lips. He kissed her neck and shoulders and forehead, too. "I've dreamed of this," he whispered.
"Laundry?" she teased.
"No." Kiss. "No." Kiss. "Not at all."
They kissed until tingles spread through her body. She wondered if he felt the same. She hoped he did. She put one hand on his sternum, feather-light, and the other in the close-cut hair on the back of his head. When he made a whimper into her mouth, she knew he felt it. Rocking onto his left elbow, he freed his right hand to stroke the side of her face. She lifted her head, hoping he'd put his lips on her neck again, but instead he slid a knee between her legs.
It made her stiffen, not with apprehension, but with surprise. He froze, sensing her stillness. They stared at one another, as much as they could in the dark room.
"Oh, my god," he whispered. "I'm s—"
"No!" she said.
"Please." He tugged on her arms until she sat up with him. Kissing her again, gently, he said, "This is scary."
"No."
"Scary good."
When she tucked her head under his chin and kissed his neck, she could feel him shivering. "Why?"
Gently, he took her hand and guided it down his torso, down and down, until she felt her fingers brush, through his jeans, something new.
"I can't help it," he whispered.
Wondrously, she stroked her index finger over the fabric there. Her best friend. She was discovering this with him.
"Oh, my god, please stop that," he whispered. He stood up, pulling her to her feet as well, and twined their fingers together on both hands, backing her against a wall and kissing her again, softly at first, then with a hard urgency, holding her hands over her head and pressing them to the wall. Just as quickly, he pulled back. "I have to go…." And he was out the door, jogging into the trees, shaking his hands, rolling his head to stretch his neck.
Bella had watched him go. Her body was on fire. And his body— She hadn't thought that would happen, hadn't thought of it at all, like— ever. Oh, Jacob, her sweet Jacob! Had he been called away, or had he been embarrassed?
Biting her lip, she leaned against the building and looked up at the cloudless sky. They'd been rolling in a pile of her underwear, the exact same stuff that had spilled from her dresser in an excruciatingly awkward white waterfall a few days ago, and if she had felt embarrassed about that, then maybe Jacob... Oh, she wouldn't have thought it of him, but maybe, deep down, he was kind of ... shy?
We are the same, she thought. More and more. Even his compulsive cleaning of engine parts and the way he arranged them on a towel on the garage floor according to size. He could take on the Alpha thing, and the Chief-in-Training thing, and be the model student, and be friendly to everyone in town—part of the job, Billy would say, charming Billy, charismatic, controlling Billy—and yet he'd freeze and run away from what happened in the laundry room. It made her love him more. As if that were possible! It made her think that if he could be shy and a leader, then maybe she could, someday, do those things, too. Like speak to a crowd. Make decisions. We are the same. She tried to think of what she'd want him to say to her, if their positions were reversed.
Soon the others came outside, Emily still carrying Claire on her hip. Claire was crying about not being able to adopt a skunk.
"We should not have come here," Emily frowned.
"I'm sorry," Bella said. "I didn't know it was the wrong kind of shelter."
Angela offered to hold Claire, but she just clung harder to Emily's neck. Leah held open the truck's door, but Claire didn't want to go inside.
From the highway, Bella saw a silver, severely dented minivan approaching, and then the van pulled into the shelter's parking lot and Quil hopped out. Angela looked startled and edged closer to Bella, who instinctively stepped in front of her friend. Though she knew he hadn't meant to, Quil had hurt Angela's feelings.
Dressed in his Newton's Outfitters white polo shirt, clean jeans, and mostly mud-free boots, he wore no coat and his face was flushed. Slamming the van's door behind him, he shook his hands as if they were wet. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were darting around the perimeters of the parking lot. Claire stopped crying and regarded him suspiciously.
"What are you doing here?" snapped Emily. "Everything is fine."
"I was just passing by."
"You were not. You're supposed to be at work."
"Lunch break."
Emily asked Leah to get Claire buckled into her carseat, and Leah asked Angela if she knew how to do that. The two of them leaned into the backseat, trying to find and fasten the right clips, as Emily took Quil's elbow and steered him back to his van. "Everything is fine," she repeated. "Don't get fired."
Quil's hands were trembling. "I can't stand it," he whispered. "Please let me come with you."
"No. You have to work so we can eat. And you have to let her be a normal little girl."
"Nothing is normal anymore!" he cried. "Bella?"
She had never seen him so upset. Not even when they'd thought that Jacob had been kidnapped by Sam and his wolf monster. His eyes were red; his skin was clammy and pale. He gave a tiny, strangled cry and put his fist in his mouth.
The imprint. Bella remembered. If it happened to Jacob, could he be stronger than this? Happy-go-lucky Quil was a mess, but she thought—she really did, after last night—that Jacob had a shot at resistance. Emily, however, thought that Quil could not resist. She seemed to think she ought to help him along.
"You just stop feeling this way," she hissed. "Stop it!"
"Like Sam?" he countered. "You think this thing can be fought?"
"If you care about her, you'll stop caring about her!"
"Aunt Emily?" came Claire's little voice from the truck, and tears sprang to Quil's eyes.
"Just tell me where you're going," he begged. "So I can know she's safe."
"She with me, so she's safe." Emily stalked back to the truck.
Closing his eyes, Quil leaned against the side of his van and put his hand over his chest. His shoulders seemed to shimmer, like hot air over asphalt.
"Do you have creepy feelings for this kid?" said Bella. She had to ask.
"No!" Quil clapped both hands over his mouth and shuddered as if nauseated.
Bella looked over her shoulder. Through the windshield, Emily was glaring at her. "Port Angeles," she whispered. "Humane Society. We're getting her a kitten."
"Oh," he said, squeezing his eyes shut against tears. "Thank you."
For the past three mornings, Paul had awakened on Embry's living room sofa—or, to be more precise, on Tiffany Call's sofa. Each time, he feigned sleep while he assessed his surroundings, and as soon as he was sure he was alone in the room, he vaulted out the window.
The first time he'd done this, he had slipped to a knee, but after two more days he was landing gracefully upright. The air felt good. Cool and misty. It soothed his burning skin. In the cover of the woods, he could rest more, curled on moss. It felt good to have his nose closer to the dirt. Old Quil's garden had ripe cabbages and carrots at this time of year. There were mushrooms in the woods, but he didn't know which ones were safe.
Two days ago, someone had gone to his house and retrieved some of his clothes, his school books, and his toothbrush. Now his things smelled like Embry had touched them. But they didn't smell like Embry usually smelled, which was salty, sharp, sweaty, and self-loathing. These things smelled like Embry without the loathing. The scent was almost unrecognizable, as if an unknown animal had run his father's gauntlet. It was a shame because Paul wasn't going to wear any of those clothes.
His stomach cramped now as he rested with his back against Old Quil's shed. Three days of eating nothing but vegetables was having a bad effect on his digestion. He wished he could stay awake long enough to get dinner at Sam's house. Emily usually made something savory and hot, if singed. He also wished he could phase so he could catch some game. He didn't mind eating raw; he didn't even mind the bones, teeth, feathers, or fur. They were crunchy. They looked good cracking between his teeth while the others averted their eyes. But he could neither stay awake nor phase. The one time he'd tried, his wound had opened. Sam and Jake had Ordered him to remain in his first form, and he was too weak to fight them both. So here he was again, half-sick on vegetables with a vampire's luxury item slowly absorbed by his skin. The silky fibers of the cashmere sweater were matted with his blood, and his blood was tainted with the same. As soon as he could think straight, he'd exchange this ridiculous sling for something from La Push. Anything. A fucking plastic bag from the general store.
Would a regular person have died from this wound? Probably. Would Paul? Probably not, if only because he had a goal. He wanted to live long enough to beat or claw the smirk off Jake's face. Ordering him to remain unphased was only Jake's second Order, and the first one he'd performed without yelling, and it had worked. It happened yesterday evening, after they'd found him curled in a wolf's position and partly in his human body, bleeding again, under Sam's back porch. There were a lot of spiders under there and some skunks, but they had scurried away when he raised a lip and growled. He'd thought he could sleep under there, warm in his fur, till he smelled dinner, but no, Ellen Uley ratted him out. Scary witch. She had smelled him or something. Soon the rest of the pack was up in his business.
"Come on, man," said Jared, leaning to peer under the porch. "You ain't a porch dog. Ain't like one of them hillbilly cautionary tales about if your porch caves in and kills more'n five dogs, then you might be a redneck."
Paul, half-conscious and halfway between forms, snarled at him.
"I didn't know you could talk like a hillbilly," said Quil to Jared. "What would you call that accent?"
"I don't know. I learned it on the radio," said Jared. "Country music station. Some of the singers sound like this."
"Heh-heh," said Quil. "Do it again."
"Porch dog," said Jared. The word "dog" came out really slowly, like dowwwww-g.
The rest of the boys cracked up. Ellen came carefully down the porch steps, using a cane, and Sam's mother came out, too.
"Sam," she said, "I told you to put up some netting around the bottom of the porch. Is there another animal under there?"
"It's just Paul," grumbled Sam.
"Paul!" said Allison sharply. "You get on out from there." She pointed at the grass beside the steps. "Out!" Then she leaned over, like Jared, and peered into the gloom. "Oh, my god! What's that?"
"It's just Paul," grumbled Sam again. "He's stuck in the middle."
Allison shivered and backed away.
Closing his eyes, Paul channeled all of his energy into repulsiveness. He felt stuck in a red, fleshy blob, hairy and dirty, wet and sticky, brown skin blurred, half-furred. He would not have wanted to look in the mirror, not even for curiosity's sake. This was why phasing with a bang was best. Not the slow way, like when Embry had dragged Jacob between worlds too soon. He wished Embry would stop thinking about that. It was so, so tiresome to see the new co-Alpha's body flashing through everyone's minds, unbidden, in a state of— a state of— of something unreal, inside out, fetal, feral. Sort of like how Paul looked now, except that Jacob hadn't been able to settle on a form for six agonizing hours, and Jacob hadn't been the grit-his-teeth-and-shut-up-about-it kind of person. Embry's aural memory was just as irritating, forced on them when they phased. Paul, however, could take it. Sure, he was slumped under Sam's porch, halfway through the change, too tired and sick to complete it, but it didn't hurt anymore, and he wasn't hollering about it.
"Pick one or the other, man," said Jared.
"Say it like a hillbilly," said Quil.
"Ain' no call a-lie there a-lookin' like that."
"I think he's bleeding again," said Embry. "Look at the dirt near his arm. It's getting darker."
Paul thought Embry ought to be with Riley. Somebody ought to be with Riley. Shit, was it supposed to be him? He couldn't remember. He moved a paw or hand or pink appendage to raise himself, his body moving toward duty though his mind moved toward the earth, his consciousness fading, and his limb slipped.
"Riley's up north sucking on a seal," said Embry. "He's fine."
"Ew," said Quil.
Paul didn't know if that "ew" was meant for his slimy, half-formed body or the idea of sucking on a seal. He could hear Sam assess and comment on his condition. It sounded like this: " ….. " because Sam didn't use words when his meaning could be conveyed with a frown.
"As yer Beta," said Jared, though the word came out like betta, "I'm 'a urge you not to dick around a'tween bodies."
"He should pick a form that Sue can work with," said Embry.
"Sh'ain' no vet," said the Betta.
Paul sighed, exhausted and sick. He could practically feel the pressure of Jacob Black's lips pressed together in a hard, flat line, the expression he assumed when he was either A) trying to keep his temper or B) trying to make a decision. Sure enough: "Paul, uh, I Order you to remain human."
"Specify the duration," said Sam.
"Till we say so," said Jacob.
"Nice touch."
Paul's body slid into a weak, brown, thin thing that he hated, and there it stayed. Blood on his upper half. Blood in his ear where his head lay on the ground. Blood on the side of his face.
"It worked!" Jacob sounded surprised.
"Of course it worked."
"Huh. Sam, I Order you to stand on one foot."
"Not going to work."
"Quil, I Order you to stand on one foot. Ha! It worked!"
Shut up, shut up, shut up, you stupid, spoiled chief-baby, thought Paul. Then Jared tugged on his ankles, dragging him into daylight, causing him to cry out and lose consciousness. When he woke, he was in Sam's bathtub, warm water up to his armpits, Sam holding his head up while Emily bathed him. "No," he moaned, but Emily said, "Shh." After that he didn't remember anything till he woke again on Tiffany's couch, ravenous and confined.
Now, on Saturday morning, as he leaned against Old Quil's shed and gnawed carrot after carrot, he felt that he wanted to kill something, but the only thing he had access to destroy was himself. As if in answer or recognition, a tendril of pale blue smoke came creeping over the ground like a snake scenting prey. As it approached, Paul felt a numbness in his shoulder and brain, like novocaine. "Go away, you freaky runt," he growled, and the smoke became the white seeds of a dandelion puff, blown away. The pain returned.
"Hey, look. Elk," said Leah as they passed a meadow north of Forks where one of the Park's resident herds of Roosevelt elk often grazed. "Claire, look, there's some elk." But Claire was asleep. Her head was lolled back against her booster seat and her mouth was open.
Angela had her head cocked to one side, staring at the girl. "Awww," she said, very quietly. She pointed at Claire's tiny, upturned nose, her delicate black eyelashes, and her sweaty hair stuck to her forehead, then she looked at Bella as if seeking a mirror for her adoration. Bella shrugged. It took some effort to keep her face impassive when she was thinking, Ew, a kid. "Look at her little fingernails!" whispered Angela. Yes, yes, thought Bella. She's got ten of them. She nodded to at least acknowledge Angela's comment, and the four women and the girl rolled north on Highway 101 toward Port Angeles. Lake Crescent was especially beautiful today, they remarked, under a bright blue spring sky with the water flat and still. Sam's truck was very clean and comfortable, and way nicer on the inside, thought Bella, remembering how the only other time she'd ridden in it was right after she discovered the wolves and was covered with swamp mud, freezing in the truck bed on the way back to town.
"I don't know if I can have kids," said Angela suddenly.
"What?"
"My scar. What if it won't stretch when I'm pregnant?"
Emily glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "It's not so bad."
"What if it won't stretch and something bad happens to the baby? Or what if I can't get pregnant in the first place because no one wants to get close to my scar? It's kind of right next to an important place."
"An important place?" said Leah. She spoke to an imaginary lover in a sexy, breathy voice, saying, "Ooh, babe, come upstairs and I'll show you my important place."
"Shut up," said Bella. Two months ago, she would never have been able to say those words to Leah, but now she felt comfortable enough with her new friend to defend her old one. "It is an important place."
"Maybe this is why Ben—"
"Shut up," said Bella again, this time to her old friend. "If he looked at that and ran, then he is worse of a jerk than I thought."
"Ooh, babe," said Leah, this time in a deep voice like a man's, "your important place looks extra tough."
"Tough?" said Angela.
"Not unattractive tough," said Leah in her man voice. "More like, uh, strong. I want to fill it with mah babies."
Emily snorted. "Baby-shield tough."
Angela did not look convinced.
"Here," said Emily, taking one hand off the wheel to dig in her purse in the center console. "Put this stuff on it." She passed Angela a jar Bella had seen before, a jar that Ellen Uley had given to Emily while smearing green goop on her face. When Angela unscrewed the lid, it smelled just as horrible as Bella remembered: like gasoline and grass clippings.
"What is it?" said Angela, wrinkling her nose.
"I don't know. Ellen gave it to me. Sam's great-grandma."
The stuff looked so old, in its battered tin jar, that Bella wondered if Sam's great-grandma had gotten it from her own great-grandma. Yikes.
"She told me to put it on my scars, and it might help. I think they're less red lately."
Angela said she'd try it, dipping one fingertip into the goop.
"But don't get any in your eyes," added Emily. "Don't forget it's on your hand and wipe your eye because it stings like a bi— stings very bad."
"I swear," said Leah, "you're as bad as Bella."
Bella looked at Emily in the rearview mirror, the two of them narrowing their eyes, and she knew they were thinking the same thought, one that didn't require any curse words to express it: "Leah is a stinker."
The girls stopped at a diner in Port Angeles so Claire could have a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of milk. The others had Cokes and shared an order of French fries. Bella considered ordering a cheeseburger but knew she ought to save her pennies to buy the kitten. When Emily said that they could stop at a pet shop on their way to the Humane Society, Bella frowned as she realized that she also needed to buy cat food, a collar, a litter box, litter, and flea repellant.
The waiter dropped off their check, staring at Emily's scars, which made Bella frown more. Emily let her hair fall over her face and turned her head away, and Leah, as they left, took a huge gob of chewing gum from her mouth and fastened the twenty dollar bill they'd paid with to the table.
At the pet shop, Bella used a plastic litter box as a shopping basket, filling it with the cat supplies she deemed the barest necessities. Claire followed her through the aisles, dragging a plastic stick with a sprig of feathers tied to a string. "Put it back," whispered Bella, and the girl stared up at her without blinking until Emily caught up with them, saying, "No, no, no. You're getting it dirty." She plopped it in the box Bella carried, and Claire took this as permission to get more. Mutely, she trotted back and forth from a display of toys, choosing stuffed mice, a fish made of crackling fabric, a sparkly pink collar, a silver bell for it, and a packet of catnip.
"This?" she said at last, sniffing the green herb.
"It's weed," Leah explained. "Cats smoke it."
"They do not," said Emily.
"Weed for cats," said Leah.
Claire squatted on the floor and held out the package to an imaginary cat, whispering, "Want some weed?"
"Give me that." Emily put it back on the shelf, and when she walked away, Leah put it back in Bella's box. Dammit, thought Bella, I'm the one who's paying for all of this.
At the cash register, an older woman cooed at Claire, calling her a lucky sweetie and instructing her to be a good cat mommy. The word made Claire's eyes fill with tears. "Shh," said Emily, carrying her outside. "Her mommy is sick," Leah explained to the apologetic cashier. Angela helpfully heaved a box of cat litter onto the counter, and Bella, wondering why anyone had to pay for little rocks in a box, handed over nearly a hundred dollars.
As they pulled out of the parking lot in Sam's truck, Bella noticed a silver Nissan Quest minivan following them.
Jake, Jared, and Sam spent most of Saturday stalking prey. Or at least, that's what it felt like to Jacob. As sneakily as possible, they followed the party of Forksians who felt it was their business—their obligation—to search the woods for the wolf pack that had killed the white mare. This was how Forks looked after its own. With rifles. Jacob hoped no one would get hurt accidentally. Jared scouted about a half mile ahead of the search party as Jake and Sam flanked it to the rear. As the morning wore on and nothing happened, Jacob began to wish he were home in bed. Mostly the men kept to the trail because slogging through the bushes, trees, and ferns—like us, grumbled Jacob—was slow and difficult. He knew he should be thankful that this job was dull, padding silently through the forest, keeping out of sight, but he hadn't slept well for weeks. The last time he'd felt anywhere near well rested had been in Bella's bed, the morning after the pack spared Riley.
Bella… So often, her eyes looked hunted, haunted, or just plain hurt and scared. Secretly, he suspected she was a pessimist. He supposed she had reasons for that. One of the things he loved best was to make her smile. Or to feel her smile under his fingertips, or under his lips, like last night.
Last night in her laundry room had been…. Well…. It was hard to keep his mind on the forest, Charlie, and the men he was supposed to protect. He remembered what it felt like to have her talking into his mouth, her lips and tongue and breath, her trembling hands, as they clutched each other, both babbling words that would have been impossible to say in broad daylight. He was kissing her, and she couldn't stop telling him all the things she worried about—they were mostly the same things he worried about—and in his relief, in his rush to tell her everything, they'd been talking through their kisses. Wonderful and strange. It made a stabbing pang in his gut. Now he looked at his brownish red, furred feet padding over the moss. Soft and cool on his paw pads. How would the moss feel on his bare skin, he wondered. On his bare, human skin. Or hers.
He sensed black frown of the other Alpha. Look at this, said Sam. Through the black wolf's eyes, and through Jared's eyes as they, too, shared this vision, he saw a long, narrow stretch of broken branches and torn up earth, like the path of a tiny tornado, running east-west.
Holy— What is that?
It's us, said Sam. Us running back to the Cullens' place after the horse problem with Riley and Paul.
Jared and Jacob looked glumly at the mess they'd made.
How are we supposed to keep people from finding this? said Sam.
It's not on the trail, Jake offered. They probably won't go over there.
"I got a print," called one of the hunters, bending over a muddy spot on the trail.
Shit, said Sam.
Jacob, closest to the print, closed his eyes and lowered his nose. It was faint, but he caught enough scent to reassure the others that it was just Embry's. Jacob estimated the scent was two or three days old.
At least it was Embry's, said Sam. At least he's a runt for a reason.
He's not a runt, said Jacob.
Haven't you ever wondered why—
No.
"Wolf print?" called another hunter.
"Yep," said the first.
The hunters left the trail and fanned out from the print, looking for more. They made loud noises, cracking fallen branches underfoot and rustling more branches as they bent them to pass by and let them loose to spray dew everywhere. For Jacob, who had been straining his ears all morning, the sounds were startling enough that he shook his head, his fur standing up as shivers rolled down his spine. He wanted to laugh. One minute he was listening to the wind whine between needles at the top of a Sitka spruce and the humble scraping of a banana slug's radula in the leaf litter; the next minute, his sensitive ears were bombarded with the clumsiness of thirty hunters. And these were quiet people, he knew. People who were used to the woods.
Dude, you got two of them coming your way, said Jared to Sam.
Sam turned his black frown to Jacob again, saying, Do something.
With a sigh, Jacob lifted his muzzle and lazily said, "Awooooooo."
Instantly, the hunters changed direction. Jake became the scout then, and Jared and Sam fell in to flank on the east and west. Wind blew their scent north to him: coffee, cigarettes, body odor, a lot of whiskey, barrel oil, bacon, and maple syrup, probably from someone's breakfast.
Phew, said Jacob, wishing the whiskey smell would blow some other direction. It was sharp and strong. Who has whiskey for breakfast? he complained. It's not even noon.
A bit judgmental there, aren't we? said Jared.
I'm just saying, returned Jacob, that it's kind of early in the day to be loaded and carrying a rifle.
So later in the day, that would be okay?
No. I'm just saying—
Hey. I just thought of this. The guy is loaded and the rifle is loaded. That's two kinds of loaded. Ha ha.
Shut up, said Sam. You are making my head hurt.
The wolves spent another hour leading the men north. While the hunters stopped for a lunch break, the wolves looked for food, too. Jared found some pale mushrooms, which he chomped open-mouthed before Sam could ask if they were safe to eat, and a large, gray moth. Jacob watched, mystified, as the sandy brown wolf startled the moth where it was resting on a tree trunk. The moth fluttered upward, and the wolf leaped after it, jaws snapping, tail wagging, pink tongue lolling as he circled beneath it. Sunlight slanted through the branches. The brown wolf fell on his back, rolling, shaking himself, twisting his spine and scratching his shoulders on the earth. With one more leap, it pawed the moth and sent it higher, out of reach, then sat on its haunches and watched it till it disappeared high in the pines.
Jared? said Sam. Jared?
Sometimes it seemed to Jacob that Jared wasn't in there anymore.
The pet shelter smelled so bad. Urine, feces, fur, disinfectant. Ammonia. Bella put her hand over her nose as she, the other girls, and Claire passed through the door to the cat area. Dogs were on the other side of the building. A volunteer led them down a hall—a Hall of Cats, thought Bella—lined with stacked silver cages, each containing one cat and an informative tag. "Chester," said one, referring to an extremely large, round, yellow striped cat with green eyes. If cats could be considered overweight, this one was obese. "12 years old. Neutered. Bites." Emily stood in front of that cage so Claire wouldn't develop an interest in Chester.
"We'll need you to fill out an application," said the volunteer, a gray-haired woman in a blue Humane Society T-shirt. "The papers are in the lobby. And if you would like to hold any cats, just let me know."
Emily went to the lobby, and Bella took her place in front of Chester's cage, hoping he wouldn't snag her sweater or try to bite her.
"It stinks in here," she whispered to Angela, but Angela didn't notice; she was slowly drifting down the hall, peering into each cage, looking, Bella supposed, for love. Maybe she could be more supportive.
"Here," she said to Leah. "Stand here."
Leah didn't feel like surreptitiously censoring Claire's cat adoption experience. "See this cat?" she said forthrightly. "It bites. You can't have it." Claire was leery enough of her cousin to silently step back.
Trailing after Angela, Bella looked at the cats. Which one would love and cuddle her friend? The shelter volunteer allowed Angela to open the cages and pet the cats. She was very gentle, even holding some of the cats in her arms to hug them, but the cats pushed on her chest with their paws and strained their heads away from her. The volunteer said that most of these cats didn't get enough socialization to enjoy hugs. Some didn't like to be picked up at all. "Except for Chester," she said. "He's very affectionate. Sort of."
"Why he bite?" said Claire.
"His owner declawed him," said the volunteer. "He started biting to defend himself in a different way. That's how he ended up here."
Claire stared at Chester.
"No," said Leah.
"It's illegal to declaw cats in Europe, Brazil, Australia, New Zealand…." Bella stopped listening as the volunteer rattled off a long list of countries that consider declawing a form of animal cruelty because it amputates the first joints of the cat's toes.
"Awww….." said Angela. "Poor baby." She opened Chester's cage and scratched his ears, and the cat stretched his neck to put his teeth on Angela's fingers.
"See there?" said the volunteer. "He's not really biting you. That's a warning. He's just telling you he doesn't like you."
Charming, thought Bella.
"Hey, Claire," said Leah. "Look at these kittens."
Emily poked her head into the cat area and asked Bella to come to the lobby. "Can you finish filling this out?" she asked. She had arranged to meet her sister Julie and their mother here while Claire chose a kitten. They were out in the parking lot now. Bella took the adoption papers and found a table and pen. The form was surprisingly complicated, with questions about the adoptive owner's household members, dwelling place, vet access, finances, and experience with animals. Geez, she thought, frowning at the secretary, Do you or don't you want to get these pets out of here? She filled out as much as she could, assuming the kitten would live in Sam's household, and made up the answers she didn't know. Then, to be helpful, she filled out papers for Angela, too. She gave them all to the secretary and took a seat near a window that looked onto the parking lot.
There was a copy of Cat Fancy magazine on the windowsill. She was bored enough to flip through it, looking at the pictures. As she was debating whether or not she was bored enough to actually read an article called "Hope for Hairball Horrors," a movement in the parking lot caught her eye.
It was Emily's sister. Julie was circling her car, a small, older model black Ford Escort, while their mother, a tall woman with brown hair held up in a clip, kept trying to cut her off, circling in the opposite direction. It was an anxious dance, and Julie had her hands cupped over her nose and mouth as if it were hard to breathe. Her eyes were very wide. Emily stood still, holding the handle of a baby's carseat. The baby was asleep, tucked under a yellow blanket. None of the women noticed a silver Nissan minivan slip into a parking spot on the far side of the lot.
The door to the Hall of Cats opened. Leah came out with a cardboard cat carrier box. "Sorry about this," she said. "We're only allowed to adopt kittens in pairs." She set the box on the floor and opened it. Two black and white kittens peered up at the girls. Surprise, surprise, thought Bella. They're skunk-colored. One of them played with Leah's braid as she leaned over the box.
"Please tell me this is a two-for-one deal," said Bella.
"Sorry again."
There went seventy dollars.
"Oh, no," said Leah. She was looking out the window.
Bella watched as she went outside, hugged her aunt, and began transferring baby clothes, diapers, bottles, formula, toys, and blankets to a cargo box in the back of Sam's truck. Emily stood still, her face pale.
Whatever was happening out there made Bella feel that grumbling over the cost of the kittens was shameful. She fastened the flaps on the box and took out her checkbook. As she was paying the adoption fee, Claire toddled out from the Hall of Cats carrying the enormous yellow tabby. She had her arms around Chester's ribcage. His front legs stuck straight out as the rest of his heavy body hung limply against her torso. His eyes were narrowed in a cat-like frown and his fat tail dragged on the floor, but he wasn't biting.
"Him, too," said Claire.
Bella allowed herself one sigh. "How much?" she asked the secretary.
"That one is free."
"Thank you."
Chester did not want to be lowered into a cat carrier box. He stuck out his legs and pushed against the rim. Bella tried pushing on his back, but he hissed at her. When Claire set him on the floor, he resumed his puddle-like shape.
Your mom is in the parking lot, thought Bella. Something told her she should not speak it. The volunteer came out and lay the carrier on its side, placing a treat in the back. Chester looked at her. She added a second treat. Claire offered a third. "This little girl wants to adopt you, you big dummy," said the volunteer. "Now scoot." She put three more treats in the back of the box, and when Chester still didn't move, she upended the entire bag. Very slowly, the cat slunk into the box. It was barely big enough for him.
We're going to have to buy more food at the pet store on the way home.
Crawling on her knees, Claire began to slid the heavy box toward the door. What happened next made Bella think that three years old was awfully young to have a broken heart.
God, this is so boring, thought Jacob. He, Sam, Jared, and the hunters had been wading through the brush for nearly five hours. His mind drifted to his moments with Bella in her laundry room. Laundry. Laundry everywhere. On the floor. In baskets they tipped over. One basket had been full of towels warm from the dryer; Bella must have just finished folding them before he came. They tipped that over too, making them shiver with delight at the combination of the warm towels and the cool linoleum floor, the floor which was soon covered with laundry. All he could smell was Fells Naphtha soap and Bella, Bella, Bella. The floor became a soft pile of her scent and he pressed her into it, stretching his body on top of hers for the first time. He thought of all the things that might be in that pile, things that had intimately touched her skin and felt her warmth all day. If only he hadn't messed it up. What if he'd scared her? Or worse, repulsed her? The thought made him want to run and run, to run until he was too exhausted to feel anymore.
Where's Quil? said Embry.
Jacob's attention was pulled back to the pack, and he cursed himself for thinking about Bella while phased. Sneakily, he tried to peek into the other wolves' minds to see if they'd been peeking into his. It seemed he'd escaped with his privacy intact. Shifting his focus to Embry, he could see gray sand and smooth, gray and brown beach stones between his front paws. His brother was lying like a sphinx on the beach far north of La Push.
Quil is supposed to take over for me, said Embry, and through his brother's eyes Jacob could see Riley, lying on his back with half of his body in the surf. The drained carcasses of six seals lay beside him like deflated black balloons as Riley's body rocked gently in the waves.
What's he doing? asked Jacob.
Practicing.
For what?
For tomorrow. He's got a plan.
Do I want to know this plan?
You'll have to. Tomorrow. And where's Quil?
He's at work, said Sam. In Forks.
I don't think so, said Embry. He's farther away than that.
Dark tentacles of doubt seeped from Sam's mind, spreading his unease to the others. His wordless message: Something is wrong with Embry; his mind is coming apart and moving in too many directions.
Nothing's wrong with him, said Jacob, though he, too, had to admit he was creeped out occasionally.
Leave him alone, said Jared, but it was too late. Embry had already left them alone, his mental connection fading. The last thing Jacob saw was the sun burning on the water, the reflected light stinging his brother's eyes. Or were his eyes stinging for a different reason?
Emb? said Jacob, and then, Dammit, Sam, you're supposed to build us up. Make us feel confident and connected. You're the Alpha.
So are you.
Ohhhhmmm….. intoned Jared. He sounded like a big bell, sending the others an image of his mother, a yoga teacher, sitting in lotus position on a blanket in their yard. She was breathing deeply, her palms upturned on her knees, her middle fingers gently touching her thumbs. Ohhhhhmmmm…..
Sam's and Jacob's minds went blank with stupefaction.
Breathe man, said Jared. Ohhhhhmmmmmm…
Jacob detected in Sam's mind a squelched impulse to say, Fuck off. Instead, Sam said, Fine, and took a deep breath.
Ohm, said Jacob.
No, man, Ohhhhhmmmmm…
Ohm.
Close enough. I invite you into my head, said Jared grandly, as if he were showing them a room behind a curtain. The Alphas let themselves pass through a heavy green barrier of leaves to see through Jared's eyes, and his eyes were eyes of moss. His eyes were lichen, moss, mushroom and moth. His breath, wind in cedars. His paws, leaf litter. His tongue, glacial water pouring into rivers.
I see nothing, said Sam.
Ohm? said Jacob.
Look harder, said Jared. Or rather, look softer.
A quiet crackling sound came from Sam's head: the result of a thousand tiny assumptions shattering.
Bella stared at the highway as she rode home with Emily, Leah, Claire, and Claire's baby brother Jeremy in Sam's truck. She was sitting in the front seat. Leah drove, and Emily sat in the backseat with the children. "Relax," said Leah, and Bella realized that she'd been sitting bolt upright for miles, watching the dashed yellow lines in the center of the road whiz at her face and vanish under the truck. "What's happening?" she whispered, and Leah whispered back, "I don't know."
Jeremy was two months old. He couldn't hold up his head yet. He had begun to squall in the parking lot of the Humane Society, and Emily had popped a pacifier in his mouth and clipped his carseat into the backseat of the truck. Then she had tried to help Claire.
Poor Claire, thought Bella.
When Claire had shoved the carrier containing her new, humongous cat through the shelter's door, she had seen her mother and grandmother in the parking lot. Bella was left to carry the kittens' and the cat's boxes as Claire ran to them, shrieking, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!" and Julie burst into tears, clutching Claire in a hug as the girl cried, too. Claire touched her mother's face and sobbed, "I want to go home." It made Julie cry more.
"Not yet, honey," said Claire's grandmother. This was Sue Clearwater's sister, Bella remembered.
Claire cried and cried. Silently, Emily loaded the two boxes of cats into the truck, placing them in the footwells of the backseat.
"I brought you your doll," said Julie. "And your other zebra. They're in—where, Leah?—they're in the box there."
Claire didn't care where those toys were.
"I'm sorry," wept Julie.
It was so awful that Bella felt she ought to look away. Somebody's mother was unable to take care of a little girl. Of a little fawn. She sidled closer to Leah as if the other girl's strength could somehow help her.
The baby spat out his pacifier and squalled again, a bleating, ragged cry that made Julie hyperventilate. "Oh, no, oh, no!" she cried. "Somebody help him!"
"He's just hungry, honey," said Julie's mother. "Emily can help him. She can. Yes, she can." From a quilted pink diaper bag on her shoulder, she pulled out a half-empty bottle of white formula. Quickly, Emily stuck it in the baby's mouth and said, "See? He's okay. Everything is okay." Emily had to lean halfway into the truck to hold the bottle up so the baby wouldn't ingest air.
"Emily can take care of everything," said their mother. "And I'm going to take care of you." Julie looked at her mother with the same expression that Claire had on her face, a look that said, Save me. "Julie, you need rest. Lots of sleep. You need to eat something."
"No!"
"It's just for a few days, honey. This is an emergency. Let me take care of you. Emily can take care of the kids."
"No!"
Emily caught her mother's eye and made a tiny shooing motion. "Mommy has to go," she told Claire.
"I'll come get you soon," said Julie unsteadily. "Just as soon as I can. Be a good girl for Aunt Emily."
"She's always good," Emily said. Leah took the bottle from her and held it for the baby as Emily gently tried to peel Claire off of her mother.
"No, no, no, no, no!" wailed Claire.
Julie's mother helped detach Claire and urged her older daughter toward their car. As they drove away, Bella saw Julie put her hands over her face.
Claire began to scream uncontrollably. The door of the silver minivan opened and Quil sprinted across the parking lot. He pulled the screaming child out of Emily's arms and sat cross-legged on the dirty asphalt with her, rocking her, curling around her. Tears ran down his own cheeks. When Emily reached for Claire again, he shook his head hard and folded the girl into a world that was almost entirely Quil. The screaming continued. He whispered to her.
"You creepy pervert!" shouted Emily. "Don't you touch her!" She tried to reach into the circle of Quil's arms, but he spun on his seat to face away from her, rocking Claire and hugging her hard.
"I think it's okay," Bella whispered. "He's okay."
Claire screamed and kicked.
"He knows what it's like," whispered Bella, remembering what Jacob said about the layers of Quil's mind. When Emily clawed for him again, Leah dropped the bottle and pulled her away. As the baby squalled, Bella picked up the bottle, which had fallen on the floor mat next to a cat carrier. Specks of dirt and lint clung to the orange rubbery nipple, so she wiped it on her shirt before sticking it back in his mouth. Leah was telling her cousin about Quil's dad. Bella stared at the baby, his black eyes and pink, sweaty face, and wondered if she should have washed the nipple.
Emily didn't give a fuck about what had happened to Quil's dad. Bella cringed to hear her say it—shout it—to Leah as she flung off her cousin's arms and started for Claire again. Quil got up and jogged around the parking lot with the girl, bouncing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "Shh!" he said as she screamed over his shoulder. "Shh! It's okay. It's okay."
It was not okay.
Jeremy spat out the bottle to cry, too.
No wonder Julie is freaking out, thought Bella, trying to make him suck on the bottle again. She found the pacifier, also linty and dirty on the floor mat, and wondered if the baby could get sick from it. She wiped it off, but he refused it. His raspy, bleating cries made her think she should pick him up, but she couldn't unfasten the car seat buckles.
"Here, take this," said Angela. Bella had almost forgotten about her. Angela passed her a red cord, freed the baby, and held him against her shoulder, patting his back firmly. Smack, smack, smack.
Should a person pat a baby this hard? Bella wondered. Jeremy's little head flopped against Angela's neck. He opened his toothless mouth and gummed onto her neck, sucking hard. "Ow, ow, ow!" she said, still smacking his back. "Jesus!" Then she looked at the sky and said, "Sorry, God." The baby made an enormous burp and vomited formula down the back of her shirt.
Somehow, it deflated the situation. Claire leaned her head on Quil's shoulder, sniffling now instead of screaming. Leah looked at the barfy back of Angela's shirt with a curled lip and found Claire's zebra in the box of baby stuff. She used the toy as a rag while Claire wasn't looking. Emily screwed the heels of her hands in her eyes and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Quil. I was upset."
"Fine," frowned Quil. "I wouldn't want a creepy pervert to get at her, either."
Bella looked at the red cord in her hand and realized it was a leash. At Angela's feet sat an old, white-muzzled Basset hound with droopy red eyes, long brown ears, and a slobbery chin.
"Isn't he cute?" said Angela. The dog leaned on her leg. "He loves me already."
Now, as they rode in Sam's truck, Claire slept in her carseat, exhausted and dehydrated. Leah grimly ferried them home and Bella stared at the yellow dashed lines. Emily found a tissue in her purse and blew her nose quietly. At least, thought Bella, Angela was having a good day. Once they'd loaded the kids in the truck, they realized there was no room for one more adult and a dog. Quil offered Angela a ride. She accepted graciously. Poise, thought Bella. Angela had conducted herself with totally non-crushy calm, walking beside him to the silver van, and the dog followed, sniffing his ankles.
"You guys are in some kind of club," said Leah as they drove. "Some kind of secret club, everybody except me, and it's pissing me off."
"Leah," said Emily.
"This is like what Jake said. Weeks ago. Everybody is following Sam around, doing whatever he says. Party at Sam's house, all the time. Even you."
Bella shrugged as if she didn't know what Leah was talking about.
"It's because of our break-up, isn't it?" said Leah. "Everybody's taking his side."
"No," said Emily.
"Not me," said Bella. "I don't even like him very much."
"And what the fuck is up with Quil?" Leah continued. "Acting all mature all of the sudden. Paying attention to a kid."
"He's not acting mature," said Bella defensively. After everything that had happened today, Bella was surprised—and worried—to hear Leah skip over Julie's problem and zero in on the pack. Leah was not stupid. "He's not mature," she said again. "He's his usual self."
"Of course," said Emily.
"He's not his usual self," said Leah scornfully. "He's all buff-looking, skipping school, hanging out with Sam whom he hates. Or used to hate."
Bella wished there were something outside the window other than trees that she might comment on to reroute this conversation.
"You can tell me, you know. That's what friends do." It was just what Angela had said to Bella about her own secrets, except that Leah said it like a snake.
"I'm sor—" began Bella.
"Nothing to be sorry for because nothing is wrong," said Emily. "Nobody's having a club. This is not second grade. It's just— Maybe they forgive Sam. Maybe everybody has forgiven him except you."
Leah's eyes got very big and her face burned. Bella realized she was stuck in this truck, at least forty-five minutes from home, with an argument that had been a long time coming. "Holy cow!" said Bella. "Would you look at those trees?"
"Do not ask me to forgive him," Leah spat. "I will never forgive him."
"Or me," said Emily quietly.
Leah glared at the road. "That's different," she said at last. "You're family."
"He doesn't forgive himself, you know. Like you. He will never forgive himself."
"Well, he dug his own hole! He can rot in it."
"You don't mean that."
"The fuck I do."
"Super green out there," said Bella.
"He's a good person," insisted Emily. "He feels like shit every day. Over you. Over me. Over my face. Over hurting Seth."
"Thanks for reminding me," said Leah. "One more reason."
"You think he can look himself in the mirror? Sometimes I think he ought to go ahead and cry about it, but he won't let himself. I swear, if I gave him a whip, he'd go out in the woods and whip himself like a monk."
"Birthday's coming up," said Leah. "Now I know what to get him."
Emily looked out the window. "He clawed my face," she said quietly.
"Metaphorically," said Bella.
Nobody said anything for miles and miles.
Quil is coming back, said Embry.
Jacob felt the voice in his own mind, but not in the others'. Sam was still half in Jared's head, learning to breathe like a tree. The Forks hunters were heading home for the day. Jacob had assumed primary responsibility for escorting them safely home.
You can tell them if you want to, said Embry. I don't care.
Sorry about before, said Jacob.
Embry shrugged.
You're very interesting, you know that?
Embry thought it was funny how Jacob added the phrase "you know that" to his statements when he addressed someone with a comment on his or her person. He had heard Charlie do that, too.
Charlie likes you, you know that? he said in imitation.
Good thing, said Jacob.
Riley's made up his mind. He's going to die tomorrow, on the last day of the search. Lots of volunteers in the woods. He'll wait till somebody sees him, and then…
Jacob caught an image of Riley's cold body half-submerged, tangled in a wash of logs and litter at the mouth of the gushing Sol Duc River. Volunteers on a trail would see him, scream, identify him from afar—That's him all right—Oh, God, poor guy—Oh, his poor parents—and then Riley would let loose, tumbling out to sea. He'd make sure his body was unrecoverable. He'd give his parents peace.
Jacob could see Riley on the beach through Embry's eyes, gathering the seals he'd drained. He opened their slack jaws and forced stones down their throats. Jacob could imagine their organs bursting as the vampire loaded them down, stone after stone after stone. It was like packing dufflebags. He supposed Riley would swim them out to sea and sink them.
Tell him I'm sorry, said Jacob.
I'm so tempted to hug him.
Don't. He could bite you.
He says we stink like dog shit. He needs a hug, and I should do it instead of Bella.
Jacob shuddered.
"What's that spot on your neck?" said Quil.
He was driving to Forks with a girl in his van. A girl he had laughed with at Bella's anti-Valentine's Day party. A girl who had asked her father to help him buy the van. A girl who had offered to ride an hour and a half with him, while his timing belt squealed, to Hoquiam to buy a new one. She had once invited him to have milkshakes with her, Bella, and Riley. Like a double date, he realized now. And what had he done? He'd turned around and invited Mike, and then at the diner he'd told her she'd never learn to flip non-dairy creamer cups like the boys.
This girl no longer seemed eager to talk to him.
There was a pink spot on her neck that he couldn't stop glancing at, even as he concentrated on driving carefully, obeying the speed limit, checking his mirrors often.
Angela sat with her hands folded smoothly in her lap.
There was a pink spot on her neck.
"That spot," he said again.
"Hmm?" The girl pulled down her sun visor and looked in the small mirror there. "It's a baby hickey."
"Oh." He wished he hadn't asked. He wished his face wasn't pink. He should have known that a girl like her—so pretty and sweet and smart and nice and friends with his other friends—would go ahead and let some other boy put a little hickey on her neck when he had been such an ass for weeks. He wondered what the other boy's neck looked like now. He wondered what her lips felt like. "Oh," was all he could think to say.
Angela stroked her hands lovingly over her new dog's head. They had tried to get the dog to ride in the back, but the thing only wanted to sit at her feet. She smiled at it softly, gazing into its big brown eyes.
The trees and fields passed by. After a while, he thought of something.
"What are you going to name him?"
"Sweetheart."
That gave him a strange feeling.
She only had eyes for the dog. "I think I'm going to call him Sweetheart."
God, he was an idiot.
Leah pulled into Bella's driveway to drop her off. Claire and her brother were still asleep. The three women climbed out of the truck so they could talk without waking them.
"He clawed your face," said Leah flatly.
"Not really. He spooked the bear. The bear clawed me."
"He caused the bear to claw your face."
"Yes."
"You are such a liar."
Emily blew her nose and said, "Doesn't matter what you think. Julie's afraid of the baby." It was hard for her to explain this in a way that made sense because it didn't make sense. "Julie is afraid of the baby. He can't even roll over, and she thinks he's trying to get her."
"That's insane," said Leah.
"Possibly," said Emily, and she began to cry again. "I'm losing her. Something is happening to her." She said Julie sometimes called her in the middle of the night, pacing around her house and trying to hide from the baby. Emily could hear him crying in the background. Taking Claire for a week when Jeremy was born had turned into two weeks, then a month, then two months….. and it didn't look like Claire could go home any time soon. Jeremy Vasquez, Sr., was in Afghanistan with the Navy. "What the fuck is the Navy doing in a desert?!" Julie screamed one night. "The DoD is lying to me!" It was hard for Emily to talk her down. It was true that Jeremy couldn't always tell his wife where they were going, but Emily figured he was indeed in Afghanistan. He was a Navy SEAL. They did plenty of things on land. But maybe Julie would rather imagine that he was in the Gulf of Oman. She had suggested this. But Julie had screamed that someone was lying to her if that were true.
Their mother was equally concerned. She worked full time cleaning vacation cabins. She couldn't take the baby, but somebody had to take the baby because often, when she went to check on Julie, Julie was hiding from the baby. Her heart, too, was breaking for her daughter.
Emily stared at the driveway, exhausted. "I can't take care of Claire and the baby. I said I could, but I just can't."
"It's spring break next week," Bella offered. "I could help. I guess. I mean, I don't know how, but I could hold it or something."
"It's not an 'it.' He's not an 'it.'"
Leah offered to help, too. "It's my cousin."
"I had a class in junior high," said Bella. "I had to take care of an egg like it was a baby. I dropped it, but I could try not to drop this one."
Emily groaned at put her hands over her face. "It's a baby, not an educational project."
"It's not an 'it,'" Leah reminded her.
Bella suddenly remembered someone who needed an educational project. "I have an idea."
That night, as she made dinner for Charlie, Bella's thoughts drifted again to Jacob and the laundry room, despite Emily and Julie's crisis, Riley's aching heart, and Charlie's day with the hunters—despite these things that seemed more important. She felt deliciously warm, remembering how it felt to lie beneath Jacob as he pressed her into the pile of clothes. What was he thinking now?
She stirred rice and vegetables and set the table. Six o'clock turned into six thirty, then seven o'clock. Where was Charlie? She ate dinner, brushed her teeth, put away the leftovers, and had started on her homework, trying not to worry about him, when the doorbell rang. She knew it wasn't her father because he would have just walked in.
Jacob was on the porch. "Charlie's having dinner with Joy. Can I come in?"
She closed the door behind him and looked at the floor, biting her lip. She felt that her cheeks must be getting pinker and pinker, like a bowl filling up with water when the faucet has been left on. "Shoes," she whispered, pointing to a mat by the door. He slipped them off. A quick glance showed her that he was looking at the floor, too, his face just as flushed.
"Sorry about, yesterday. The uh, laundry," he said. "And then, um—"
"It's okay." She hooked her pinky finger through his.
"I didn't mean to scare you, or rush you, or make you think I only want one thing—"
"I would never think that."
"And I'll try not to do it again."
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no….." she said. She had to keep her head down because her cheeks were burning so much, but she managed to steer him backward until she had him pressed against the wall beside the door. She kissed his sternum because that was as high as she could reach. Slipping her fingers beneath his T-shirt, she timidly stroked his back, reaching no more than a few inches above his waist. His skin was burning hot and covered with goosebumps. "Is this okay?"
She had to look up to see his reply, because he only nodded stiffly with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands balled to fists at his side. The light switch was beside his elbow. She flicked it off. "You can do it, too."
At first he shook his head.
"Please."
When he lifted her shirt just the tiniest bit, stroking his fingertips over the small of her back, she drew in a sharp breath. He froze.
"It's okay," she said, still touching his skin. "It's good."
"You're in charge," he whispered.
So she lifted her face and stood on her tiptoes, inviting him to kiss her, and she pressed herself slowly against the length of his body, firmer and closer, until she felt what she was hoping she'd find. He winced. "Don't worry," she assured him. "It's okay. It's good." His lips were trembling as he opened his mouth to her, accepting her tongue, responding carefully.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Share your thoughts with me, please?
1. What do you think of Angela and her pet? Maybe she should forget about Quil and/or Cody.
2. What should Emily do about the crisis in Claire's family? How can Claire be helped? What about baby Jeremy?
3. Does Riley have a good plan to give his parents peace?
4. Your thoughts on the pack mind here? Is Embry's mind coming apart, moving in too many directions, as Sam fears? What is going on with Jared? Did you like the porch dog scene with Paul, or was that too icky?
5. Leah is not stupid. What, if anything, could (or should) she learn about the pack?
6. What do you think of Bella and Jacob's closeness in the laundry room? Are they unhealthily needy of one another? If so, is it okay, or are they headed for heartbreak? Will more intimate physical experiences be emotionally safe, given the intensity of their feelings? What if he imprints, as Bella fears?
7. Favorite bits? Stuff you'd like to see more of?
Thanks for your thoughts, and thank you for reading. Oh my gosh, it's been three months since I last posted a chapter. I hope you're still there!
-AmandaForks