Chapter 12! YES!
This chapter is not going to pick up right where the next one left off, I decided to speed things up a little. This one takes place somewhere around April.
In the weeks that followed the confrontation, everything seemed to be getting back to normal.
Charlie was furious and ranting, Emmett and Jasper where making jokes of how Edward was going to screw up in a week and I'd be gone mercilessly, Carlisle and Esme where just as supporting as ever, and Edward was over reacting every time I accidentally let it slip that my hand was hurting. Completely normal.
The cuts weren't very deep, but they were in a very delicate spot, so it would be a month–give or take a little–before I could get the stitches out. One month of wrapping them in gauze for everyday wear and plastic for in the shower. One month of putting a sticky, clear, gel-like unknown substance every time I wake up in the morning and right before I go to sleep every night. One month of the slight tugging as I moved my skin the wrong way making my stomach lurch. I could handle that, right? God, I hoped so.
On the day that I got the call, I had a sick feeling in my stomach. The one where you know something is going to happen, you just don't know if it will be good, bad, or a little in-between.
I woke up that morning, and immediately clutched at my stomach–ignoring the scratching sound of a corner of gauze that was sticking out rubbing against my tank top. The feeling was there, and rearing at full force.
I decided to ignore it and got up to get breakfast. I brushed my teeth and hair and was pacing my room trying to think of something I forgot to do that could be causing the feeling. I finally just gave up and decided to get dressed.
I put on acid wash skinny jeans and a flowing white top that was sleeveless. I put on a black belt–that, instead of a buckle, had a hook-type thing to secure it–that I put around my waist. I put on some black 4-inch heels and small gold hoops. I only wore a strapless top because I knew the Cullen's house would be perfect temperature. For until I got there, I grabbed a dark brown jacket with the zipper on the far left side.
I let my curls hang naturally, and put on minimal makeup. It was only on my way out the door that I noticed I woke up an hour earlier than usual. The Cullens usually weren't up and running until about 8:00, and it was only 6:57. I took of my jacket and decided to watch TV until it was time. After about ten minutes of flipping through the channels, I settled on Food Network, where Emeril Live was on. I was trying to focus on the lamb chop he was showing the audience how to make, but the uneasy feeling just wouldn't go away.
It was starting to freak me out, so I lied to myself and reasoned that it was probably just a stomach bug. I took a dose of Pepto Bismol and spent the remaining part of the hour rubbing my stomach and trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on the show.
I glanced at the clock for the millionth time. Finally! It's 7:45! I raced outside and climbed into my truck. Uneasy feeling or not, I was overjoyed to be going to see the only actual family unit I had ever had. My mom and I where as close as was humanly possible, but I still missed out on the feeling of a united family as a child. I knew it was wrong, but I considered the Cullens my real family.
I pulled up to the house after driving the now familiar road, and parked in the Cullens insanely huge garage. I walked up to the front door, and didn't even ring the doorbell before stepping in, that's how closely I fit in this family.
Emmett was the first to greet me. He was making his way to the stairs, but when he heard the door open his head swivelled twords the sound, and he grinned widely. He turned directly around and ran twords me, yanking me up off the ground and engulfing me in his bear hug.
"I'd say 'brotha from another motha' but I don't think you're a guy." He said once he put me down, his grin that seemed permanent still in place.
"You think? What does that mean! I'm personally offended!" I gasped while feigning hurt.
"I'm just sayin' that I don't entirely know for sure!" He smiled at me and shrugged his shoulders, keeping them in that upwards position for an extra moment.
I gasped in pretended shock and slapped his shoulder. I arranged my facial features in an insulted scowl.
"Emmett! Leave that poor girl alone!" Esme's voice came wafting in from the kitchen, getting closer as it spoke.
"Aw, mom! I was just kidding with her!" Emmett grinned, unrepentant.
"Yes, and the last time you where 'just kidding' she nearly choked to death. Must I make my point clearer by refreshing your memory?" she retorted while throwing him a knowing smirk.
Emmett's face fell, he didn't like to be reminded of that particular memory of me. "That was an accident."
"An accident that could have easily been prevented if you had stopped the first time I told you to." Was it some secret rule that mothers always had a witty comeback? Emmett opened his mouth to protest, but Esme cut him off before he could. "Not another word. I said no more teasing, and that's final."
Emmett hung his head. "Okay." he grumbled.
She smiled, and turned to me. "Have you eaten breakfast yet, dear?"
"Yes, but thanks for asking." This was the usual way Esme acted around me, like I was her biological daughter.
"Will you be staying for lunch, then?"
"Most likely."
She smiled triumphantly. "Excellent."
She shot Emmett one more warning look, and disappeared back into the kitchen.
"You know, you listen to her more." Emmett nodded glumly in agreement. "So this means no more teasing . . ." He repeated the last action. ". . . around her."
His head shot up, and a slow smile spread widely across his face. "Really?"
"Absolutely, Champ."
He ruffled my hair. "You're the best, Bella."
"Like you have to tell me." He laughed at that.
Around that time, Edward appeared at the top of the staircase. "Bella!" he smiled. He ran down the stairs and stopped right beside me. "When did you get here?"
"About five minutes ago."
"Emmett hasn't been harassing you, has he?" he shot a level stare at his brother.
Emmett held his hands up as if telling a cop he wasn't armed. "Mom already set me straight, so you're off the job for today, Officer Friendly."
Edward smirked, but wrapped an arm around my waist and led me up to his room. This was normal, we always hid out in his room until called down for something, and then went right back up afterwards. My dad would throw a fit if he knew about that, as would my mom, but Esme and Carlisle seemed perfectly fine with it.
I had asked Esme about that once, and never expected to get the answer I did.
"Ummm, Esme?" Hesitation colored my voice as she handed me another dish to dry. The boys and Carlisle had gone out for a few hours to run some errands, and I had offered to help Esme do dishes. The Cullens had a dishwasher, but Emmett–thinking that all the dishwasher did was spray water and soap on dishes–had put his collection of baseball bats in said dishwasher to be cleaned. Needless to say, the Cullens where in the market for a new dishwasher. Until they found one, all dishes where being washed by hand. She was washing, I was drying and putting away.
"Yes?" she asked, looking up only momentarily from the ceramic bowl she was washing.
"Why do– How . . .?" I had no idea how to continue. How do you ask a mother why she didn't suspect that when you and her son where alone in his room you weren't doing anything she would have a stroke over?
When she heard me having trouble forming a complete sentence, she had looked up. After a moment of complete silence, she said, "You can ask me anything. You know that, don't you?" I nodded in reply.
"W . . . Why do you trust Edward and I so much alone in his room?" I meant to ask it slowly and deliberately, but it came out rushed and tense.
She just smiled and returned to the task at hand. I had expected her to at least be shocked or taken aback, but she didn't, all I got was a smile.
I as frozen in place. I didn't know what I should do. Should I follow her lead and act as if nothing had happened, or should I insist she answer my question?
Before I could make a decision, she turned twords me. "Edward is not like his brothers, dear. For them, a relationship is not a relationship if there is not physical aspect of it. I know what you're thinking, and, no, I don't mean it like that. What I'm saying is, in their mind, there is no relationship until the first kiss. Edward's mind works differently. He focuses on the emotional aspect of it, everything else is not necessary. My two older sons, no, I didn't trust them alone with a girl at Edward's age. And, believe me, they have pointed that out on several occasions. But Edward is very different, he's so much sweeter. Whether he was seventeen or twelve, he was always so much sweeter. That's why I trust him."
We where silent for a few minutes, looking at each other. "Thank you." I finally whispered.
We hung out in Edward's room until lunch, just listening to CD's. He had the best music collection I had ever seen. I had a thing where I would go to him and name some random CD that almost no one had ever heard of. Every time, he would lead me to a section of his shelves, pull it off, and hand it to me. Someday I would find a CD he didn't have. Someday.
Lunch was interesting, as usual. It had to be, with Emmett and Jasper there.
When we got back to his room, I told Edward about my feeling, and he seemed genuinely concerned. He asked me to tell him what it was when I found out, and I promised.
I went home a few hours later, and the feeling was still raging at full force.
I decided to clean to help pass the time.
I tackled the kitchen first, it was showing the most signs of distress. Probably because Charlie had made his own breakfast today. Next was the living room, it actually wasn't all that bad. After that, I spent a good hour and a half on the bathroom. If Charlie hadn't made that mess from his breakfast, that room would have came in first for messiest, no contest. Then, I moved on to the bedrooms. I cleaned up anything that was straying from it's designated place, then moved on to the beds. I stripped them of their sheets, and threw my set in the washer while Charlie's sat in front of the washer, waiting it's turn.
I had taken the sheets out of the washer, put them in the dryer, and Charlie's in the washer when it happened.
The phone rang, shrill and demanding, and I hurried down the stairs to get it. I couldn't run, more than likely I would trip and fall.
I yanked up the receiver and held it to my head. "Hello?" I answered breathlessly.
"Bella," the voice on the other end said nervously. I hadn't thought to check the caller ID. If I had I would have realized the call was coming from La Push reservation.
A voice I never thought I would hear again had sounded from the other end.
Cliffie! Ha Ha! I'm mean, I know. I was going to continue . . . but I just couldn't resist leaving it there!
Next chapter coming Saturday! (Saturday night, that is.) Love ya all! ; ) 3