DISCLAIMER: the wonderful Stephenie Meyer owns the characters and world of Twilight. I owe her a big thank you for being able to borrow the talents of her fabulous vampires to bring a little cheer to someone very special.
Music Vibe: Foo Fighters with "Miracle"CHAPTER 14: MIRACLE
Yolanda POV
Another night, another set of conversations. Black holes and revelations! The lows and the highs. The dips and rises of this life's rollercoaster.
After Carlisle had graciously bid me goodnight and gone to seek out Esme, Rosalie had spent much of the night sat by my bedside, with Alice popping in and out intermittently to help with my various needs.
Rosalie's mate Emmett spent the occasional ten minutes or so with us, but I could see that a room filled with illness made him uncomfortable. He was gracious during his visits, but I could still see mischief peeping out from behind his kind eyes. I rather imagined he kept his brothers entertained and challenged in his pursuit of physical activities to run off some energy. I'd heard them playing a ballgame outside previously, with shouts of glee and rowdiness, punctuated by the sounds of rocks colliding. I wondered what was causing that and assumed they were destroying something out at the front of the house – either that or breaking rocks for a new rockery!
Earlier in the dawn hours, Rosalie had helped me into the bathroom to clean up a bit. I had taken stock of my physical state. It had been a few days since I'd looked properly at myself - I usually tried to avoid it at all costs.
As I stood at the sink, washing my face, I saw a tired and frail petite woman staring back at me. Steamer trunks under the eyes from lack of sleep, but now with slightly less strain around the vivid blue eyes, which were probably still my best feature. Skin looking far too pale and washed out, almost vampiric. Not enough sun – an irony given the Texas skies I'd been living under for the past decade or so. My Irish ancestry was evident. My mouth was less grimly set than it had been – so that was an improvement. My teeth were a bit dodgy, weakened from lack of nutrition and the drugs I'd been taking. However, they were still all mine and when I smiled, my face did light up nicely, although not frequently enough. Somewhere buried inside me was an infectious laugh. However, my seriously black humour was always bubbling there at the surface - I wore it like a shield.
Although I hated to see my lack of hair as a general rule, I took off my headscarf so I could wash my scalp. This morning I was gratified to find that there had been some re-growth atlast, so my scalp was covered in a very fine sheath of light red hair, not thick but more like a baby's first down. Thankfully, it wasn't waywardly curly as it had been last time it grew back after chemo. It was however a welcome sight after all these months. Hmmm if it would grow a bit more, I'd have a gamine Annie Lennox kind of vibe going on. That wouldn't be bad at all. I could live with that. Or die with that! I let out a snort of derision. A date with death. Sounds like the title of a film. Hair today, gone tomorrow. A short cut. Shut up Yolanda, you'll give yourself a headache!
I finished my ablutions and hobbled back towards the bedroom, feeling a bit brighter for seeing that small blessing of hair. Count your blessings, right?
Alice had fixed me up with some new clothes to wear. Bella and I were approximately the same size, so Alice had generously liberated some items from her wardrobe. Bella's and my style were pretty similar – I liked layered, Sloppy Joe kinds of things, to keep warm. My thin frame didn't retain much heat and baggy clothes helped to hide my lack of weight.
Rosalie helped me change into some soft grey jogging bottoms, a white Tshirt and a long V-necked emerald green pullover. I decided that, to celebrate my new baby hair, I would go without a headscarf. When I looked across at the mirror on the far wall of the bedroom, I could see that the pullover looked surprisingly good on me, especially against the hint of red on my scalp. All I need is an orange scarf and I'd look like the Tricolour. Pah!
I mused that maybe leaving my head uncovered to the sunlight would help it grow faster. Whisht Yolanda! Be grateful you can ditch the scarf just now. You're looking more human than a few days ago. Now there's another irony. Life is full of them just now.
I thanked Rosalie for her help and hobbled over to the window to survey the grounds of the house. The house looked to be a large one, on three levels, set way back from the road apparently, as I couldn't hear any traffic. I loved the light and air of the place - an artistic eye had put it together.
I heard the bedroom door open and Renesmee bounded into the room, carrying some books which she put on the bedside table. She ran into Rosalie's outstretched arms and they cuddled one another affectionately. She turned to smile at me and gave me a wave.
What a difference a day makes. She was much less unsure of me today. "Good morning Renesmee. How are you today?"
"Ok. Uncle Emmett says he's going to teach me how to play hopscotch today and he wants to go tree climbing with Aunt Rose later."
I heard laughter from downstairs and twigged that it was Emmett.
"Behave, Emmett" admonished Rosalie, rolling her eyes.
"Yes darling wife" came the wry response.
Renesmee and I shrugged our shoulders at each other, a bit clueless as to what that particular exchange was all about. Renesmee held her hand up to her aunt's face, who in turn shook her head with a smile in response to whatever question she'd been asked.
So this was what life in a vampire household was really like. I got the sense they were starting to relax around me, which was a welcome thought.
I needed to sit down again, so made my way to the bed. Once settled on top of the covers, I patted the space beside me and invited Renesmee to climb up. "Did you bring a book for me to read with you, like we agreed yesterday?"
Renesmee nodded. Instead of the children's book I'd assumed she'd bring, Renesmee had chosen an anthology of poems. It was quite a weighty tome and I was surprised at her choice.
She opened the book and turned to a poem at random. This one was sort of appropriate – Morning at the Window, byTS Eliot.
Expecting to be doing the reading, I was startled when Renesmee's clear precise voice recited the words in front of us. It was quite evocative of a bygone age and brought to mind streets of London or Dublin, both cities which I knew. Born of Irish parentage, I had grown up in England. There was a feeling of "home" in these words.
I thought back to a few hours ago. After my emotional outburst had passed, Carlisle and I had quietly chatted about our mutual homeland. We'd reminisced about where we'd both grown up. We'd talked about changes we'd seen and the places we'd been to in our search for knowledge. The more we talked, the more he lapsed into his native accent, losing his transatlantic tones. I could take on an Irish lilt if I wished, thanks to my mother, but my English accent had also opened doors for me in the US over the years. My thoughts were Irish in tone, but that was not surprising since the older I got, the more like my mother I got.
During my conversation with Carlisle, I'd found it comforting to speak to someone who could relate to being an ex-patriate, albeit we were centuries apart in experience. In another reality, we might have shared a pot of tea during our chat!
Bringing my thoughts back to Renesmee, I wondered whose book it was she had pinched. Her mother loved literature and her father apparently wrote journals and was well-read, and so no wonder their child had inherited their love of the English language.
In flawless style, Renesmee read out loud, fully enjoying the roundness of the words and rhyming of the lines. She moved on at speed as if she were speed-reading and memorising everything she devoured with her eyes. Her diction was purrfect. Her voice was bell-like. She didn't hesitate one jot.
When she'd finished reading the Eliot verses, she picked another poem, one more poignant than she could have known - The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost:
Oh boy! This is mind-blowing! Evidently, her mental development was incredible and would challenge an adult's. I wondered if she would ask me what it all meant. Thankfully I was saved by the bell when Bella put her head round the door as Renesmee finished reading the poem.
"There you are, sweetheart. Would you like to come and hunt?"
Renesmee nodded in consent. She looked up at me and put her hand to my face. Instantly I saw an image of a library, crammed floor to ceiling with books. There were paintings on the wall and what I took to be beautifully illustrated manuscript texts on a couple of lecterns, evidently cherished items.
"Where are you showing me Renesmee? Is that here?". She nodded. "Is that where you got this book from?" She nodded again. "And you'd like to get some more books?" Another nod. "Ok, maybe we can do that later".
Renesmee smiled, then Bella smiled at me in comprehension. "I take it she's showing you the library. It's her favourite place to be apart from when she's playing with one of us. She's a regular bookworm like her old man!"
"It certainly looks interesting. Nothing pleases me more than a room full of dusty old books! I'd guess we're all kindred spirits."
"We'll show you around later if you'd like" said Bella.
"Thank you for reading to me Renesmee." I gave her a little cuddle and a tickle which felt a bit like I was scratching a softish nail file.
"Ok little one – let's go eat!" Renesmee needed no further invitation and skipped off out of the room with her mother.
I smiled at Rosalie, who came to sit beside me. She touched my face tenderly with her cool hand and asked me how I was doing. "I'm ok, just a bit awed by that wonderful child. Also feeling a little wistful."
"After hearing your story, I understand your last comment. She embodies all that is good and strong and pure. Her light is strong. I'd have loved a child of my own like that, but now we all make do with the gift she has given us. She is treasured and adored." Rosalie's eyes softened at the topic.
"How could you not love a child like that? She is simply magical. I feel blessed to have met her."
Rosalie turned her head as if listening to something. She smiled briefly. "Edward says thank you for that lovely comment".
It still shocked me how sound travelled in this house, even at low levels to their super-hearing, and how little privacy there was for them all. It made the family's harmony all the more stunning – they cut each other so much slack and cooperated on so many levels, it really did take superhuman effort to maintain a cohesive existence. I mentally saluted their achievements.
Rosalie and I continued to talk for a while about things which had coloured our view of life. I was fascinated by her tales of living in the 1930s and how much she remembered from those days. Her honest recalling of the exaction of justice on the men who had so terribly abused her had me absolutely gripped, cheering her on, and I could feel some excitement at the prospect of the possibilities of my forthcoming new life. My mind wandered momentarily into the delights of some vampy action involving sharp teeth, super strength and lots of threats to the purrson who had wronged me most.
While we'd been talking, Rosalie admitted that she used to have little regard for humans, but that my story had touched her for the simple fact she couldn't stand bullies. She said she was glad of Emmett's initial compassion towards me as he had caused her to look further at me and it was then she had determined that life had not been kind to me.
As a vampire she was often dismissive of human frailty but Bella's arrival in the family had opened up her eyes to the world outside of the Cullen's tightly-knit unit. She also admitted she didn't always like what she found, but she was atleast prepared to listen to other views nowadays, whereas before she would have been scornful of any intrusion on the Cullen world. She managed to surprise herself sometimes with her levels of empathy, although they were nowhere near how the others felt generally.
I was glad to hear this, as it meant that vampires did grow and change over time. I could look forward to many years of learning and absorbing new things. I would have the potential to fulfill so much.
Our chat was interrupted by some commotion from downstairs. Suddenly, there was deep throaty laughter, punctuated by Alice's own tinkling laughs. There were the sounds of backslapping, excited voices and merriment of an old friend being greeted.
Jasper's voice surprised us both when we heard him say to the newcomer "Shall we all dance a jig for ya?"
Rosalie and I both looked at one another quizzically. "What on earth....?"
She leapt out to her feet and assumed a crouch as if preparing for a fight. I'll swear she growled – actually growled! Adrenaline surged through my veins at the sight.
There was a movement outside the bedroom door and Alice flew into the room, eyes wild with excitement, her face lit up with the hugest of smiles. She danced her way, literally, over to the bed.
"Well..?" demanded Rosalie of her. "What's going on?"
"It's ok Rosalie, stand down." Alice turned to me, her face radiant. "Your visitor has arrived Yolanda. It's going to work out purrfectly - I've seen it!"
It was then a strong male voice started singing "When Irish Eyes are Smiling" from out in the corridor. I listened as the familiar words sank in, but I sat there disbelievingly. I know that voice.....No it can't be.....I'm dreaming.....
The voice came nearer as the singer approached the bedroom. My heart started racing. How can this be?
My trepidation and disbelief was finally rewarded by the sight, at the door, of a pair of piercing blue eyes looking at me with a glint in them. The sandy-haired man stood just over six feet tall and I would have recognised that slightly grizzled but hugely handsome smiling face anywhere.
My heart just about failed me in shock!
- * -
A/N: Well Yolanda, did you expect to be serenaded? How did you like that? Your wandering troubadour has arrived!
There's more lemony stuff on the horizon in a few chapters - I just have to get my citrus press out from the cupboard again.