Been a few weeks, I know, but here we are! Thanks to everyone who's reading.
See you at the bottom.
Recovering & Discovering
December, 1945
Edward
I refused to leave Keira alone in the house, but Carlisle didn't want to leave the two of us by ourselves with so much happening. So, after Emmett returned with everything Carlisle needed, we compromised, wrapping Keira's chest as tightly as possible without causing her further discomfort before we dressed her in some of Esme's clothes. The coat Keira had worn to my house was ruined, and we had to improvise something to keep her warm as we all left the house together. Emmett carried to soaked lounge chair, and Carlisle toted a paper bag filled with my and Keira's clothes. Rosalie and Esme kept their senses on our surroundings as we walked — Rosalie more begrudgingly than Esme. I paid attention to nothing but Keira while absently following Carlisle through the woods.
"Where are we going?" Keira asked softly, her head on my shoulder.
I looked in her eyes as they helplessly attempted to focus in the growing darkness. "We have to destroy everything with your blood on it," I explained as gently as I could.
"Why?" she whispered.
Inhaling, I lifted my eyes to Carlisle, wondering if time was right to reveal this to her. He glanced over his shoulder at me but said nothing. He bowed his head, agreeing that it was all right, and I returned my attention to Keira. "Do you remember when we were collecting our samples for our Science Project?" I whispered. She nodded. "You know I told you about the local Native Indian tribe?" Again, she nodded. "Well, they're not an ordinary tribe. It's a little complicated, but when we moved into the area, we discovered their secret just as they discovered ours. And we formed a truce with them of sorts that we would never harm another human being, no matter how unintentional," I stipulated, glancing at Emmett. Then I continued. "And they agreed to leave us alone."
"What was their secret?" she asked logically.
Again, Carlisle glanced at me, but I could see he still wanted me to tell Keira so she would know. After nearly another minute, I spoke again softly.
"You've heard of vampires, yes?" I asked. She nodded. "Have you ever heard of a shape-shifter? A human who can change their shape at will." This time, she shook her head. I paused, collecting my thoughts. "Well, hundreds of years ago, perhaps more, this particular tribe was . . . attacked by my kind. Two vampires. The attack awakened what they came to call their spirit warrior — the wolf, and it was made to protect the tribe from vampires. They believe having us close triggers a physical reaction. We do nothing to provoke them, but this will more than likely cause somewhat of a problem."
"So . . . they're men who shape-shift into wolves?" Keira asked, instantly thinking of a raging beast howling at the moon.
"Yes," I confirmed, "but they're not werewolves. Lycanthropy is an affliction of the flesh, or sometimes witchcraft. No, these men transform to protect their people and their land. You'll see — eventually."
She relaxed then, laying her head over my shoulder again, and several seconds passed as we all walked.
"I think I knew it all along," I whispered suddenly.
"What?" she inquired lifting her head again.
I lowered my eyes to hers a second time. "About you," I clarified. "This. It all makes perfect sense to me now."
She laid her head back down. "At least someone understands it. I know I don't."
I smiled sadly. "Oh, I don't understand it," I argued softly. "Not at all. But I knew it. I knew something was different about you. I always thought it was inside your mind — this sadness you always seemed to have even when you looked happy. I thought . . . someone had hurt you. But it was in you this entire time — whatever this is. I don't know how it's possible, and I have no clue how to figure out what we're to do next. But we'll discover it together."
"It doesn't scare you?"
I hesitated, glancing up at Carlisle and hearing that he was still going over one theory after another. "It . . . worries me," I confessed. "I don't know what it means. For you. Carlisle's never seen anything like this in all his years, and he's seen enough. Does this mean I no longer need to protect you, even if I know you're still vulnerable? How are we supposed to keep you safe if anyone discovers this?"
I had no answers, and it appeared she didn't either as she held me tighter. We weren't as far from the house as Carlisle would've liked, but he stopped, smelling the air.
"Where were you when you and she . . ."
He exhaled, still blanketing the woods with his eyes.
I looked around, knowing exactly where we were and how far away we were from where Keira had fallen. "We were more than two miles northeast," I measured. "The clearing a few miles from the road."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a book of matches and tossing them to Rosalie. "You know what to do," he commanded.
There was an uncomfortable edge in his voice, but Rosalie didn't hesitate, glancing at me and then shooting off in the direction I'd pointed. I didn't ask where she was going or what she was going to do. There was only one reason why he would give her a book of matches all her own. As soon as she was gone, Carlisle nodded to Emmett.
"Wood and kindling," he requested. Emmett sprang into action immediately, leaving the broken lounge chair on the ground.
Esme stepped closer to me, easily taking Keira from my arms to cradle her gently. "Help him," she insisted. "I've got her."
Though I didn't want to be even a small distance away from her, I knew every tiny molecule of the chair and clothes had to be completely destroyed. There could be no trace of Keira's blood left behind — not even in the ground where we burned it. The tress gave easily to my anger as I knocked down two smaller hemlock specimens and dragged them to where Emmett was already ripping apart two more trees for the fire. Whether the flames were sky high or low and smoldering, I knew it would all burn hard tonight.
Carlisle waited until a large pile was formed, placing the paper bag near the base and then mixing in the broken lounge chair wood within the splinters Emmett and I had created. He created a slow burning fire, depositing small ignited matches around the base of the pile of wood and then stepping back to where we were waiting. Suddenly, a large, vibrant orange cone lit the dark night, illuminating the trees around us and allowing us to see that not only were we alone for now, but we'd also not drawn any attention as of yet. We were far enough away from town that no one there would see the blaze, and I knew our nearest neighbors were more than fifteen miles away. While they might see the smoke, we would keep it contained, and it would be gone before any authorities could be called to investigate. But after several minutes, I realized why we had needed more distance.
As soon as the smoke hit my face, I felt sick, nearly falling to my knees and covering my nose and mouth as the scent of Keira's blood overpowered my senses. I'd thought the smell would never affect me again after being coated in it for nearly an hour. But this was almost unbearable. It had only been a couple of days since I'd hunted, but I was suddenly overpowered by the need to quench my thirst yet again. I knew it was only temporary. I knew the feeling would dissipate as soon as the fire died down, but if I could smell this now and identify it as human blood, I knew we wouldn't be left alone much longer. Even if Keira was alive and well, though healing and still weak, our neighbors would be visiting us soon. The wolves would not be able to ignore this.
Emmett made a small track around the large blaze, creating a barrier the fire wouldn't be able to cross, and we stayed as far from the heat as possible while still making sure everything that needed to burn did so. It took several more minutes for me to regain my composure, and I found a boulder to sit on as the fire crackled softly. Esme found her way to where I'd settled, easing Keira back into my arms and then lifting her hand to my face. I nodded, silently assuring her I was all right. She began to walk a circle around the perimeter of our spot, and I held Keira as close to me as I could without hurting her any more.
"This won't be good enough," she guessed, to which I lifted my eyes to hers.
Without acknowledging what she was referring to, I spoke. "No."
She didn't say anything else after that, and I didn't prompt her any more that night. She was still weak, and until Carlisle knew for certain how much she'd healed, I couldn't push her. But she needed to know. Our problems were only beginning.
She fell asleep in my arms as we all sat there watching the fire meant to consume the blood she'd lost. She never shivered from the cold, and she never asked to go back. I wondered if she would become impervious to the cold now, but I didn't do anything but wonder. Until I knew for sure, I wouldn't take anymore chances with her ever again.
The house was unusually cold when we returned from the woods, and Rosalie came back just as we arrived to the porch. It was almost midnight, and Carlisle moved to make a new fire in the parlor while Esme and Rosalie moved upstairs.
"Edward," he called before I could follow them. "Let Emmett take Keira upstairs. We need to talk."
I glanced back to see Emmett step behind me silently.
I didn't want to let Keira out of my sight. What if she woke, and I wasn't there?
"Son," Carlisle said, gesturing for me to follow him into his study.
A soft sigh left my lips, and I slowly turned to Emmett, allowing him to take Keira from my arms.
"It's okay," he promised me.
He didn't say anything else, turning away with her and carrying her upstairs where Esme and Rosalie had gone. My chest ached as the distance between us grew, and I felt so much more incomplete than I ever had in all my years with Carlisle.
The inside of the library was brighter now that he'd strewn lights around for when Keira sat down here. Her eyes weren't as good as ours, and she required a little more illumination than we did. I sat at his desk quietly, and he watched me even while he spoke.
"I'm fairly certain you were too distracted," he said, "and that's understandable. But we weren't alone tonight. I smelled as much. And we need to be careful."
The high-back leather chair he usually sat in was strangely uncomfortable as I rocked in it slowly. "They'll wait until we're no longer a threat to them to confront us," I said off-handedly. "And they'll want to see her."
He nodded. "Yes, they will. But we don't have to do anything she's uncomfortable with. And she needs time to heal."
I leaned forward over the desk, thinking of the first time we'd all met the wolves and agreed to our truce. It had been nearly impossible to convince them we meant them or any of the humans around us no harm, but over the small amount of time we'd been in the area, we'd done everything in our power to make sure their trust wasn't misplaced.
We never hunted on their grounds. We never caused any inconspicuous circumstances where our involvement in anything would've been impossible to explain away. And there had never been a reason for them to think we weren't abiding by our side of the agreement.
However, this situation with Keira would prove to be slightly impossible to explain properly. The wolves either wouldn't have the knowledge to understand or they wouldn't care that Keira was alive and healing. I couldn't decide which it was just yet.
"We can't hide anything from them," I said to Carlisle. "She's alive, and she's still human so far as we know. There's no reason to lie to them about this. And none of us did this to her. It was an accident — nothing more."
The kind expression on Carlisle's face faded slightly. "Of course. I'm simply wanting to be as careful with her as possible. She needs us all now, Edward."
I bowed my head. "I wish Rosalie understood that. But she continues to be resistant."
To that, Carlisle laughed softly though his facial expression remained the same. "You know how she is when things change," he reminded me. "I'll check on Keira again to be certain she's not uncomfortable, but she needs her rest. We'll have more to talk over in the morning."
He gave me no time to acknowledge what he said as he moved upstairs to the second level of the library, but there was no need. The next several days would be some of the most trying we'd ever had as a family. While it was clear that we all had our own reactions to Keira — some of them good, some of them bad — I realized it was also evident that she'd found a place with us no human had ever experienced. We couldn't have predicted it even if we'd tried.
I left the library slowly, moving upstairs and meeting Emmett at the second landing.
"This isn't bad, is it?" he asked.
I sighed heavily, listening to Esme and Rosalie upstairs. "I don't know. But it's just getting started. Keira needs us to keep her safe. Even if Rose doesn't think it's so important, Keira's a part of us now."
"You know you can count on me," he nodded. "And don't worry about Rose. She's still getting used to all this, and once she sees what we all see, everything's going to be okay. I know it."
Grateful for his agreement of Keira's safety, I bowed my head. "We'll have to see about that."
Emmett grinned a little. "Well, you know you could talk to her," he suggested. "The two of you don't have to be so stubborn, especially now."
He wasn't wrong, and I could see in his bright brown eyes that he was beginning to dislike how Rosalie and I continued to fight. It didn't take much on my part to acknowledge him, but I wanted to see Keira to make sure she was okay. We passed on the stairs quietly, and while he went to his room, I moved on to Carlisle and Esme's room.
Keira was sleeping, and Esme looked up as I stepped into the room.
We didn't say anything for a few minutes, and I sat at Keira's side taking her hand in mine.
She was warm the way she'd been before leaving for the woods, and her color was a hundred times better than it had been earlier. The beat of her heart was steady, and her breathing was deep and soft. I could no longer hear the shudder in her lung as air moved through it, but I could still smell her blood as it flowed through her wound.
"She's still so tired," Esme said softly.
I didn't say anything back. Esme squeezed my shoulder and left without saying anything else.
I wanted to say something, but there were no words. I'd come to terms with everything that had happened in just the last several hours. No more could be done but to allow Keira to heal from her injury. If I'd known upon arriving in this town that I would've met her and discovered this, I wouldn't have believed it. This was so far beyond anything I knew, and there were still no guarantees of anything.
What could I say to make this better?
Images of Fisher and Abigail flashed through her mind, and my face also found its way to her thoughts. Once I certain she was sleeping peacefully and Carlisle was reading his books to find something — anything akin to what he was witnessing, I took my leave from Keira's side, sitting alone in my room.
The darkness outside seemed to envelop the world we found ourselves in, but somehow, there was light trying to break through. It wasn't from outside. I realized it was from within our house. It was Keira.
Rosalie found me in my room, of course, and while she knew I wanted nothing more than to be left alone, she came closer to me and touched my shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
I glanced at her. "Why?"
To that, she held up a gold locket. I recognized it as Keira's, taking it in my hand.
She lost over two pints of blood, Rosalie thought grimly. I almost missed this. You should give it back to her.
"Do you remember when you died?" I asked instead of acknowledging her.
Her face hardened. "You know I do."
I looked away, grasping onto Keira's necklace and staring out the window at the dark horizon. "It's been ten years since I've seen so much blood."
I didn't say anything else, shutting my eyes and expecting her to leave. But she didn't. She stayed.
The sky began to lighten well before the sun was meant to make its appearance. Pearlescent grey clouds filled the expanse of the heavens, and the dark green woods became illuminated as I sat in my room with Rosalie still waiting with me. In the hours before dawn, she'd moved to a stray chair and begun recalling the first time she saw Keira and the way I'd attempted to stay away from her for her own good. I realized from Rosalie's eyes that she'd never believed Keira was really bad for me. On the contrary, over the last three months, it had become obvious to my sister that I cared very much for Keira.
On the outside, Rosalie tried to look indifferent and angry, but she was truly only terrified of what would happen if anyone had discovered the truth about us. I could concur with her on that note wholeheartedly, so to speak. But she knew now that Keira was different from all the other humans we'd ever encountered. It wasn't only this ability she possessed. Rosalie understood that Keira saw us as people — normal.
A stray streak on sunlight broke through the clouds, signaling the official beginning of a new day, and instead of rising the way I knew Rosalie would expect, I remained sat in my own chair and turned to face her with Keira's necklace.
"I know you want me to give this to her," I said softly, slowly laying the necklace in Rosalie's hand. "But you should do it. You and Keira need to talk."
Gone now were her stubbornness and complacency. Now I could see that my sister knew everything had changed.
She sat still as a statue for only a few seconds, breathing a compulsory breath and then standing from her chair to leave my room. I listened to her descend the stairs to the second floor where Keira was still sleeping, knowing Rosalie would be careful with her words. The day was only just beginning, and whether any of us liked it or not, the world we lived in now was completely different from the one that had existed the previous day.
Though I wanted to give Rosalie and Keira as much privacy as possible, but I was unable to stay away, following my sister slowly until I was standing on the bottom step just above the third landing leading to the floor my house where my room was situated. Esme stepped out of the room and looked at me, but she didn't say anything, turning to go downstairs.
"You're awake," Rosalie said, and I realized she was talking to Keira.
I stepped off the last stair, moving slowly toward the door as it stood cracked open.
"How are you feeling?" Rosalie asked softly.
"Okay," Keira replied. Her voice was rough and sounded like it was still coated in blood. "Kind of hungry, but he said I probably shouldn't eat anything yet."
"Do you need anything?"
There was a moment of silence before Keira spoke again. "Can you help me sit up?"
Still moving a small step at a time, I crept closer to the door, easing in until I could see into the room through the crack. Rosalie was helping Keira into a sitting position. The clothes Keira had been wearing the night before were on the floor, and she was wearing one of Esme's robes. She looked a little more rested than she had upon waking the first time. Was her wound any smaller this morning?
Her thoughts were still centered around her brothers, but she was also thinking about everything I'd told her about the wolves. I didn't know if she really understood how serious this was for all of us, but she knew it was no longer safe. She knew everything had changed. I wished so much that it didn't have to be that way for her.
Slowly, Rosalie held up Keira's necklace and laid it in her hand. "I found this where you . . . fell. It must have come off when you . . . It looks a lot like one I had when I was your age. An aunt gave it to me for my birthday — said it was a family heirloom, and she wanted me to give it to my own daughter one day. I lost it the night I . . ."
The room fell quiet. Keira was thinking of her own grandmother and how she'd only had her necklace a few months before her grandmother died. Though none of this was said, Rosalie understood how important it was to Keira. I was surprised that this one piece of jewelry was what began to melt the cold exterior my sister had put up to keep most everyone out.
"I never realized how alike we are," Rosalie said after half a minute. "Or maybe I didn't want to admit it to myself."
A small smile creased Keira's left cheek. "How are we alike?"
Rosalie thought about the first time she'd seen Keira and how she'd been intrigued by her appearance at school. "Did Edward tell you anything about me?" she asked Keira.
The conversation I'd had with Keira the first night I stayed in her room came to her mind in an instant, and I was surprised at how clear the memory was.
"He said you were attacked and Carlisle saved you. Was there more?"
My sister was surprised at this. She'd clearly never expected me to be so delicate, but I knew she already realized I'd been such a way for Keira's sake. And at this point, she seemed to know I was standing on the other side of the door. It did nothing to prevent her from forming what she wanted to say in her mind and then saying it.
"Yes, there was more." She paused. "My parents were a lot like yours," she began purposefully. "My father was a banker, and my mother was what you would call a homemaker. It was 1933. I was the oldest child, and I had two younger brothers. But I was the apple of my parents' eye. They doted on me. The Depression didn't exist in our house. I realize now how impossibly shallow it was of me to think that way, but times were different then." She paused, laying her hand over Keira's. "I'm not saying you're shallow. But your life is a lot like mine was — full, content, unshakeable. It scared me. Especially when it looked like what had happened to me was beginning to happen to you."
Rosalie paused again, re-gathering her thoughts and allowing only a fraction of the events to come to the front of her memories.
In that short moment, Keira spoke again. "What happened to you?"
A glance at the door in my direction told me Rosalie didn't like that I was standing there, but I was surprised to see in her mind that she understood how I couldn't be away from Keira in the same way she couldn't be away from Emmett. Without saying anything to me, she returned her attention to Keira.
"I want you to know what my life was like because it led to what happened. I want you to understand that I never hated you. I never wished anything bad would happen to you. But this is my family, and I'll protect it with my last breath. I didn't trust you, but you always did what you could to make sure I was all right with your presence. This confused me at first. I've only been like this for twelve years, but I'll be this way for eternity. I don't like change very much."
To that, Keira actually laughed softly. The movement caused a flicker of pain up her torso, and I took a step into the room before Rosalie spoke again.
"I'm sorry," she said, and I watched her move another pillow behind Keira to keep her comfortable. "I don't want to cause you any pain — even if I do it unintentionally."
Keira held the right side of her chest. "It's okay. But Emmett and Edward have been telling me that for three months. I never wanted to change anything. And I never expected this to happen."
I watched astonished as Rosalie again took Keira's hand and rubbed it gently.
"I know," she admitted. Then she continued her story. "As I said, my parents were a lot like yours. But they were different in one very important way. I was too young and selfish to realize it then, but they only really cared about the way people saw them. They neither acknowledged nor assisted those less fortunate than they were, and it was because I was so beautiful and admired that they believed it would bring them all the fortune and recognition they desired."
The thoughts easing through Rosalie's mind turned simplistic and monotonous in nature, and it was then that I realized she was trying to shield herself from me so I wouldn't be able to anticipate what she was about to tell Keira. I didn't move from where I'd stopped. I already knew her story from what Carlisle had told me. I only hoped she remembered to be as delicate as I'd been.
"If I hadn't become this," Rosalie said, meaning her being turned into a vampire, "I don't know if I would've ever known these things. I was 18, but I was a grown woman. I wanted to be married and have a big house with lots of babies and a husband who loved me. It was all I thought I really wanted. And I was told by my parents that it was my beauty that would allow me to achieve this. I was admired by any man who looked at me. All my girlfriends were envious that I had this effect on them. My parent might not have been content with their lives, but I was. No one else could have the things I did, and it filled me with so much pride. I think now that was my flaw — amongst other things. It was because of that I never saw what was happening right before my eyes."
"You were young," Keira countered, obviously attempting to soothe Rosalie as it became obvious that her story didn't have a happy ending — the story of her human life anyway.
"I was silly and shallow," Rosalie argued shaking her head. "There's no other real way to say it. But as I said, I was content. So much so that there was only one thing I wanted that it looked like I would never have."
Keira shook her head, obviously a little confused. "What was that?"
Rosalie didn't hesitate. "To be normal."
I could see on Keira's face that she was beginning to understand, but before she could say anything, Rosalie continued. This time, the longing in her voice was gone, replaced by a bitter harshness I knew she held onto for one reason and one reason only.
"My father and mother were what you would call social climbers. They wanted to have so much, and I was the key to all of that. And in Rochester, the one way you gained more was by taking it. There was one family who was believed to be the best family. They may as well have been royalty. The Kings were the most prestigious family in town. If you wanted to climb any higher than where you were, they were the family you aspired to be. Royce King owned the bank where my father worked. He owned nearly every good business in town."
Rosalie again paused, glancing at me a second time and silently begging me to leave.
I knew this was a painful memory for her, and even though she was determined to tell it, she wanted only Keira to hear it from her own mouth.
As if on cue, Carlisle came up the stairs then, and against my own need to remain near Keira, I followed him away from the room when he beckoned me to follow him.
Rosalie sighed a breath of relief the moment I was gone, but she was still apprehensive. She continued probably fifteen or twenty seconds after I left, telling Keira about how Royce King's son had seen her at the bank and thus had began their "engagement," if you could call it that.
My reactions to Rosalie's presence after Carlisle found her aside, when he'd told me what had been done to her, I was so disgusted. To think any man could be that way to a woman was unfathomable to me. Even though my father and I hadn't exactly been close, my mother had always taught me to respect the women around me — even the ones who were too forward for their own good. To Rosalie, I know it sounded like I resented her, but it was completely the opposite. I pitied her. There was no way I could've possibly expressed this to her at the time. Rosalie was a proud creature after her transformation, a lot like I was after mine. We weren't exactly peas in a pod, but we were too much alike for us to agree on anything.
"I have to call into town today," Carlisle said as we descended the stairs. "Keira's father will want an update on her, and now that I've checked her wounds often enough, I know how long she'll need rest."
I redirected my attention, still able to hear Rosalie but now focused on Carlisle. "How much has she healed?" I asked, more like pleaded even though I was intrigued at the images that found their way to his thoughts.
"The rest did her an immense amount of good," he reported, stepping off the bottom stair and leading me into his library. "Her wound is now nearly three-fourths the way closed. She's still bruised, of course, and she said she was still a little uncomfortable, but with the damage to her lung, I wasn't surprised. At this rate, she'll be completely healed by this afternoon. It's extraordinary, really. And I've only come across one problem."
I paused at the entrance of the library, watching him move around to his desk where he'd already begun documenting Keira's progress in a journal. "What's wrong?" I asked him.
"I've read every medical journal I have," he said. "And I've gone through all the publications from the hospitals I've visited the last several decades. There's next to no evidence of any human ever developing an ability like Keira's."
I listened to his words, noticing a hesitation in his voice, and I stepped further into the library. "Next to no evidence," I repeated. "Then there's at least a small amount. Is it bad?"
He sighed softly, sifting through the papers on his desk and finding a small collection of folders I'd never seen before.
Carlisle had been collecting books on nearly every subject imaginable since well before he'd found me, but I'd read every book in this library. I'd read every paper — sometimes two or three times. My yearning for knowledge and information had been nearly unquenchable. But the papers in his hand were foreign to me.
"I found one account," he revealed. "At first, I was surprised that I'd forgotten it. It was near the time of my human life, and documentation of things then was virtually unheard of. And with the fire in 1666, the idea of any information surviving was greatly diminished. But this was my father's, and it was kept very safe."
I moved closer to the desk, and before I said anything, he extended his hand and gave me the papers, speaking as I began reading.
"There was a woman in London who could do what Keira can do," he abridged from the text in my hands. "At least this is what she told my father in confession. She was a few years older than Keira and much more adept at it apparently. In his own journals, my father never wrote of this, but it was in his records for the church that he wrote about her. He said she was afraid of what it meant and wanted God to take back the gift he'd given her."
I continued to read silently. Her name had been Angeline. There was no last name written. She'd been a few months passed her 18th birthday when the account was written. Carlisle's father wrote that she was a beautiful girl and that it was a shame she might be possessed by the Devil. I scoffed at the closed-minded sense of writing given by the horribly zealous man who neither understood nor cared that she might have felt the same way and didn't want to be burdened with her gift. But I was confused.
"I don't understand," I said to Carlisle. "Yesterday, you said you'd read other journals about this."
He shook his head. "I read rumors, Edward. There were claims. No proof. No documentation of another human having this ability. Even my father's account was biased and unverified. It seems whoever the individuals those doctors had seen were, they vanished before any real questions could be asked of their condition. I'm not finished looking. I swear I will find an answer. But at this point, it appears that Keira is the only one of her kind — alive, anyway."
I wanted to keep arguing, but Carlisle prevented me from it, speaking a little more resolutely when I tried.
"We need to call her father, Edward. If we're going to keep her safe until she's completely healed, we have to give him a good reason for her to remain here for at least another day."
I sighed heavily, tossing the papers back onto his desk. "You mean lie," I complained.
He bowed his head penitently. "Yes."
Though I was unhappy about being untruthful about Keira's condition to her family, I knew how important it was not to frighten them when she needed them to understand. But if we weren't honest with them, how would that ever be possible?
The telephone was still a peculiar device to us, especially because the contraption was still new to many people this far away from a large city. But we had made sure to have one installed in the house since it already carried to lines necessary to hold it. And Keira's family also had a telephone because they'd owned one in Seattle before moving here. The idea of not having it had seemed strange to them.
As he had the night before, Carlisle called into town to speak to Keira's father. Walter Jones was much less forgiving this morning.
"If she's doing better, I want to speak to her," he demanded of Carlisle.
"She's sleeping. And I would prefer not to wake her. She needs her rest, Walter. I promise you she's fine."
"I'm coming out there."
While I was standing next to Carlisle as he spoke on the phone, I became worried. I took a step toward my father, but he stopped me, still speaking to Walter.
"I understand your concern, but I beg of you. Please give her time to heal. She's feverish, and I wouldn't want you to see her this way. I swear to you it will only be one more night. She'll be well tomorrow morning, and Edward and I will bring her home to you. You have my word."
"You can't keep me from seeing my daughter," Walter commanded.
"And I'm not trying to," Carlisle assured him. "You can trust me. She's in good hands. When she wakes later, I'll have her call you."
This time, Walter didn't argue. But he didn't acknowledge any of what Carlisle said, hanging up before he agreed to anything. Carlisle put the receiver down, sighing heavily.
"That was a little more unpleasant than I would have liked," he said with a forced smile.
"What do we do if he comes out here?" I pleaded. "We can't keep him outside while she's laying upstairs with a hole in her chest."
He lifted his hands in an attempt to keep me calm. "Please, Edward. If he feels it necessary to come out here, then we'll figure something out. And her wound isn't as expansive as it was last night. If he needs to see her, there should be no signs of her injury. But she's uncomfortable with her body's new state, and I would rather he not see that." He paused and moved around me where we were in the entryway. "We'll just keep doing what we've been doing. If he comes, then he does. He's her father, not our enemy."
He left me there, moving up the stairs to check on Keira.
I tried not to dwell on the prospect of Keira's father coming to the house, following Carlisle upstairs silently. Rosalie stood outside his and Esme's room, and she looked up at me once I was close. I could see she'd been able to finish her story. Her sculpted eyebrows and forehead were both pinched painfully. Though she always tried to look strong, it was obvious this had caused her as much sorrow and anguish as it had the night it happened. Only twelve years had passed. It was obvious she was still very much affected by what had happened — no matter what she did with Emmett.
It took a little more determination on my part to comfort her. I didn't embrace her. She would never let me do that. Instead, I reached for her hand and took it in mine. Almost immediately, she looked away, but she didn't pull her hand back. The frown on her face intensified, and I squeezed her hand gently.
No words were necessary for her to know what I felt. She was surprised and showed it when she lifted widened eyes to look at me.
"Edward," Carlisle called.
Rosalie pulled her hand away, stepping around me and going downstairs. I sighed and stepped into his room.
Keira looked tired from talking to Rosalie, but she smiled when she saw me.
"Is something wrong?" I asked Carlisle.
The blank expression on his face told me nothing as he sat there still holding her hand after he'd taken all her vitals. His thoughts were centered around the rate her wound was healing and the fact that she hadn't eaten anything in almost 24 hours.
"Esme can make her something," I said to his unspoken observation.
A little hope spread across his face, and he bowed his head. "Of course." He looked at Keira. "I'll come right back."
Her tired smile widened a little, and he traded places with me to find Esme while I stepped into the room to sit at her side. I took her hand in mine, taking note of her temperature and her heart rate. Despite getting rest, she was weak.
She shivered as our skin touched, and I tried to let go of her. She wouldn't let me.
"It's okay," she said softly. "I like to hold your hand."
I sighed softly, caressing her hand. "Carlisle called your father," I replied.
"That's what he said. Based on the two of you acting like the world's coming to an end, I'm guessing it didn't go well."
My own smile was sad. "Something like that," I confessed.
She squeezed my hand. "Don't worry. He'll see that I'm okay when I come home, and it'll be okay."
I wanted to have some of her confidence, but it was difficult. Walter had sounded so worried and angry over the phone. He could come out here so easily, and my instincts to protect Keira were becoming stronger as more time went by. It wasn't easy to convince myself that he was still her father. He had a right to see her.
Silence filled the space between us, and I was content to sit there and hold Keira's hand until Carlisle came back. Probably ten minutes passed, and Keira began to go back to sleep. I heard Carlisle's steady footsteps up the stairs then, followed by Esme, and he entered the room less than fifteen minutes after leaving. I smelled broth and juice. Keira opened eyes then, and I rose to let Esme sit in front of her just as the doorbell rang.
It didn't take much calculations on my part to know who was at our house. I only glanced at Carlisle before leaving the room to answer the door.
Halfway down the stairs to the foyer, a stray thought made me pause.
What am I supposed to tell Abigail if she finds out about this?
Fisher.
The closer I got to the door, I could see him standing on the other side. With Kyle.
This was not going to be easy.
I hesitated at the door, knowing Fisher and Kyle were only here to see their sister. Fighting my gut to keep them out, I opened the door, instantly faced with their pleading faces. Even Kyle looked worried.
"Where's our sister?" Fisher demanded.
Looking in his scared aquamarine eyes, I knew I couldn't keep him from seeing Keira. "She's upstairs," I said turning and opening the door wider for them to come inside.
Neither of them hesitated, walking passed me and hurrying upstairs. I followed them slowly, and Carlisle appeared outside his room as we all made it to the second landing. He looked at me, questioning silently, and I nodded. With that, he stepped out of the way.
"She's still very tired," he said to them softly.
Fisher stepped into the room first, followed by Kyle, who eyed me a little suspiciously though his thoughts were centered around his sister and the fact that she was apparently very sick and needed to be at home. Esme was still sitting in front of Keira, helping her with the broth, and when Fisher was close enough, Esme stood up slowly so he could sit in front of his sister.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, his voice elevated with concern. "Dad said you got sick last night, and you had to stay here. I was worried about you."
He touched her face and then took her hand in his. She smiled weakly.
"I'm fine," she assured him. "You don't have to worry about me. Carlisle and Esme have been wonderful. You didn't have to come out here. He says I'll be fine by tomorrow."
Fisher scoffed and scooted closer to her. "Don't be ridiculous," he shushed. "You're my sister. Of course I'm gonna come out here for you. And Dad was too upset to drive, and Kyle and I came out. You look different."
Keira's eyes found mine, and her thoughts were clear. He needs to know.
I glanced at Carlisle, remembering what he'd said earlier about how Keira's wound wouldn't be as visible now that she'd had time to rest. It wouldn't be enough to tell Fisher and Kyle about what had happened to her. They would have to see it.
Without thinking of what would happen afterward, I stepped into the room. "It's because she is different," I said.
"Edward," Carlisle warned.
I stopped beside him. "They need to know. Maybe they can help."
Fisher turned his head to look at me, and Kyle stepped into my line of sight.
"What's going on here?" he asked, the suspicious tone in his voice increasing.
I moved closer, glancing at Esme and then folding my arms over my chest. "Keira isn't sick," I said. "She was injured yesterday — very badly, and we thought she was dead. But an amazing thing happened. Her body began to heal her wound, and she woke up."
I paused, and Fisher spoke.
"That doesn't make sense," he argued. "How was she injured? If it was so bad, she should've gone to the hospital. Why didn't you tell my father this yesterday?"
"We were worried," Carlisle said. "We didn't know what it meant, and she was very weak. We were trying to figure out how it was possible. It wasn't our intention to prevent you from knowing what had happened."
"It's true," Keira said. She grasped onto Fisher's hand and pulled herself up to be in front of him before easing the fabric covering the right side of her chest from her skin.
Slowly, the remnants of her wound came into view. It no longer looked like a gaping hole, but it was still badly bruised and still looked like she'd been stabbed.
"What the hell is that?" Kyle demanded. He moved around the bed to sit on Keira's other side, seeing the wound on her back and then lifting his eyes to mine. "What did you do to her?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but Carlisle intervened.
"Please don't misunderstand," he implored. "This was an accident. None of us could've predicted anything like this would happen, but we did everything we knew to do after she began to heal. We were hoping she would be mostly healed before you saw her."
Fisher looked over Keira's wound, still holding her hand. "Are you hurting?" he pleaded.
She shook her head. "Not as much as I was. Like I said, Carlisle and Esme are taking care of me."
He lifted his hand to her face. "How is this possible?"
"We don't know," she said softly.
"What does it mean?" he asked frantically.
Keira lifted her eyes to mine again, pulling her robe back on.
"We're doing everything we can to find out," Carlisle insisted. "I'm looking at every medical journal I have, and I'll be able to use the hospital's resources once I return to work in another day or two."
"Do you really think you can find anything in a small town hospital?" Kyle asked incredulously.
"I only have credentials for the hospital in Hoquiam," Carlisle informed him. "But if I need to, I suppose I can call in a consult from Seattle. There might also be a way to request help from San Francisco. I assure you we will do everything we can. Her safety and health are just as important to us as it is to you. You're welcome to stay here for the day and see her progress for yourselves. We have food if either of you get hungry."
Carlisle looked at me and nodded to the door.
"We'll leave you alone for a little while," he said, gesturing to the doorway.
I bowed my head and turned to leave silently. I didn't want to be away from her, but I understood how important it was for Fisher and Kyle to see that she would be all right.
"Can Edward stay?" Keira asked softly.
I glanced at Carlisle, and he smiled for probably half a second before nodding solemnly.
"I don't see why not," he agreed.
Silently, he and Esme left, and I resigned myself to the chair next to the bed.
"I probably need to finish eating," Keira said, gesturing to the tray Esme had been holding.
Fisher never said anything, reaching for the tray and setting it over Keira's legs before she lifted the spoon and began eating again.
I watched her more intently than I had the previous night. The most important thing now was her comfort and acclimation. Beyond that, nothing else mattered.
And as unbelievable as it may seem, we're actually coming to the end of this part of the story. Just a few more chapters, and we're done.
Also, I didn't want to go into as much detail with Rosalie's story as SM did in Eclipse, but I did take a few elements from that passage, so anything recognizable is all hers.
Next chapter might be a few weeks out. I'm working on several projects right now.
See you next time!