Bella was getting slightly depressed. It turned out that the bakery was not at all well-kept and repairing it had taken its toll. She had next to nothing left in her savings from ferrying the girls here. She was beginning to suspect that perhaps she should have just bought her ticket home.

It didn't help matters that she was now inclined to be a little less friendly with the neighbourhood. The supposed dinner offer had gone so spectacularly. Bella had felt embarrassed, once at Michael's pathetic attempt, and another at the resulting chaos.

Most of all, she felt duped. Lauren had after all written 'please call upon my house at dinner' not at all telling of her own presence. Michael had not been at all lecherous. Bella had, with a sinking feeling, seen a pile of wrapped peonies in a pretty ribbon and quickly realised this was a ploy, but hardly a dangerous one.

It's not too difficult to surmise that having any sweet actions fail with his own wife, a young man was inclined to try elsewhere. Lauren had all but arranged it, and Bella wasn't about to pontificate on the moralities of the townsfolk; certainly not with the one certain booming industry at night.

In fact, Bella had figured all this information so quick she felt a little too feeling to outright reject the man, he certainly wasn't a threat, but it was certainly a lost cause. She'd been more than glad for Edward's interference; it was, in a little ridiculous way, a bit gallant. And it did get her out of an excruciating dinner. Bella had reminded herself of the dignity in leaving when she had gone to bed hungry that night.

0o0

It was the following Sunday that Bella realised that there was a certain group that had formed. As Esme and Alice bonded so easily on the train, and Rosalie seemed to tolerate the two more than most; the latter two's husbands had also seemed to get along well.

Dr. Cullen had a long-standing invitation held to Mr and Mrs McCarty and Mr and Mrs Whitlock, to attend a Sunday luncheon hosted by Esme. As it was held in their house, Edward was no doubt in attendance. Bella had been slightly surprised he was still a bachelor and was loathed to offer her matchmaking services lest that exclude her from the running.

He was impressed, it seemed, that Bella had made such a long trip with no husband for herself. She made sure to tell him, as attractively as possible, that while the letters were for her girls, a husband was not out of the question yet.

0o0

Bella was invited to take tea with Esme, and she gratefully took up the offer. This could be the start of a lovely friendship, and her purse could stand to see her eat somewhere else. She went to the Cullen house, and was greeted cheerlessly by Edward, looking very respectable.

"Hello," He steps to the side, and she walks to the parlour. She was a little off put by his sombre, withdrawn attitude. It was empty; though there were some tea things set out.

"Is Esme coming soon?" Bella asked, mentioning vaguely further into the house. Edward just glances out the window, then his gaze bounces to the doorway and he look nervous.

"Well, actually, something happened and I'm not too sure the cause …." Edward explained, looking very concerned when there was loud yelling and Esme's trying to yell louder over it.

Bella was alarmed, and she headed to the back door. Though Edward tried to have her stay in the parlour, a true gentleman, she insisted on investigating the commotion.

"It's nothing to concern yourself with!" Edward told her as he followed her through the house to the kitchen, the source of the racket.

"I'll be the judge of that, thank you!" Bella replied over her shoulder and opened the door to the kitchen.

A man was laid on the floor, biting a piece of cloth to stifle his screams. His leg was mangled, and there was an awful lot of blood. Bella felt dizzy at the sight; she never did fare well with blood. The nausea swoops through her belly and causes her mouth to water badly.

Carlisle was leant over him, inspected the leg. "His horse threw him," Carlisle barked, his tone hard and fast as he mentioned to his assistant. "Esme, the gauze, hurry," he glances up and sees the people in the doorway, his expression morphing to surprise. "– Bella! This is no place for you!" He snaps.

Bella pointed to Esme as she hands a roll of bandages. "Esme's here!" She argues. Though she did feel like vomiting.

Esme glances at her with disinterest. "I'm the nurse, dear," she reminded her sternly. "You are getting in the way." She replied, and Bella felt a little hurt at the brush-off, though she was rapidly feeling very ill. The blood …

Esme leans over the boy's face and waits for his attention. "Now Jacob, we're going to set your hip, but if there's even a touch thing wrong, you'd rather lose the leg than your life, hm?"

At her words, the boy -for his face is young and bloodstaine- begins to struggle in earnest, eyes wide with panic. She tries to stop him, but Edward steps forward quickly, past Bella, while shedding his coat and rolling up his sleeves.

"Bella, please, stay outside." He tells her sternly, and she watches the flex of his forearms as he moves. "Let me help." He tells Esme. He takes the boy on the table by the shoulders, and leans close to his face, eyes beseeching.

"It's going to be alright," he says softly, and so close, the boy stills, mostly. He reaches down and takes one of the boy's hands in his, wrapping his long white fingers over the boy's brown palm. "do you understand?" he asks softly. Intimately, Bella thinks.

The boy spits his gag. "I can hear you, release my hand, dolt!" He snaps, detangling Edward enough to shove his gag back in and shoot him an extremely annoyed look.

Edward looks taken aback for a moment, and Bella nearly laughs at him. She was beginning to realise her attentions may need to be placed elsewhere. She also knew she needed to place herself elsewhere, before the gore made her sick. The metallic scent was already causing bile to burn her throat.

He seems to remember she's in the doorway, and quickly turns towards her, hurriedly picking up his discarded coat and ushering her out, back to the parlour.

In the lounge, they sit again, but Edward is distracted, his gaze elsewhere, only grunting to her queries. After a minute, she concedes. "Perhaps I'll go for some fresh air?" She suggests, and Edward looks surprised, as though just noticing her pale face and heavy breathing.

He offers to accompany her; but she assures him she'll not go far. She steps out with some relief; she doesn't want any witness if she does retch.

0o0

Esme and Carlisle have the boy sleeping and relatively stable. Bella was patting her own face with a hanky she'd wet at the water pump and takes a moment to breathe in the crisp green air outside. It was helping, being outside and staring at the trees. Such a densely green place; Bella thought it was growing on her.

Coincidentally; it was also growing on this house. Bella did not truly understand how precocious plants could be until she saw how often, from the buildings to the fenceposts; moss and small vines clung with the tenacity of little green fingers saying 'you're new and you're mine'.

She hears the footsteps through the nearby window and knows she should make her way in too, but her own wooziness keeps her rooted.

"He'll be alright?" Edward's voice is tight with something unspoken, it cracks on his next words. "Thank goodness. I thought he knew better than to rush when he's late to see me!" The boy protests.

Not more than ever, Bella feels the need to announce herself, but she's too late to be polite to do so. She freezes and hopes none of them glance through the window and discover her.

"Edward, come calmly." Carlisle says, "Jacob is fine now, and I doubt his horse threw him for rushing,"

But Edward seemed insistent on coming very uncalmly. There was dire agitation in his words; "If anything happens to him!"

Esme gave a humming sound, that elicited from the others complete silence. "Edward, is this Jacob a very … close friend of yours?" Her tone was both curious and confused, and there was a muffled thump of a chair being heavily sat on.

Bella itched with her own curiously, it made the hairs on the back of her neck stick up. Carefully, knowing full well of all the privacy she was encroaching on the window and using the clinging leaves as cover.

She glances in. Edward sits with his head in his hands. Seeing only his trembling hands and hunched back, he seems young, Bella wasn't comfortable thinking of him so young, as it made her feel so very old. Carlisle stands next to the chair, looking with something like sorrow at Esme. She who stands alone on the rug, confused and, Bella thinks, seeming very lonely.

"Yes, we are very close." Edward's voice is soft and cautious, and his hands falls limply. "He comes to see me every Sunday morning, when we're alone. It's why I don't go to church."

There's a beat of silence, and Bella finds herself holding her breath, watching Esme blink in surprise, as Carlisle petted Edward's defeated shoulder.

Esme pulls in a deep breath, her chest opening as she straightens up, and she smiles so gently. "I see!" She says, bringing her hands together. "Oh, well, no wonder you would have wished me to go so early!" She says and walks over to take up on of Edward's limp hands and pet it as though to rouse movement.

Carlisle seems gripped with another concern entirely. "Oh, is it too early for you, Esme?" He asks, brow furrowed as Edward lifts his head and lets Esme fiddle with his rolled-up sleeve.

Esme only laughs. "It's fine, really!" She assured him, as Edward finally takes to his feet and brushes off their concerned hands.

Carlisle ducks his head, his face close to Edward's as he says gently; "… Perhaps you can come next week."

But Edward is up and striding to the other side of the room. "No, no, Carlisle," Edward snaps, forceful and reproachful. "if God believes me damned why should I entreat him?"

It's a firm face and tone that replies; "Because I don't want you alone with your thoughts while Jacob heals."

"He'll need me!" Edward argues, his reproach melting to petulance. "I shan't go!" He storms out of the room, and Bella freezes, hoping he'd very much not go to stalk off his mood outside and discover her.

Esme stood next to Carlisle, looking of all things fond. "Carlisle, Edward should stay here." She told him. "God does not count those dragged kicking and screaming as devout, surely." She reminds him, looking out the open door after Edward.

Esme doesn't see Carlisle's gaze on her, Bella does. "… I suppose you're right." He relents, and she nods in satisfaction.

There's something so tender in the room that finally, in her own solitude, the thought 'I should go' flickers in Bella's mind. She's surely been rude enough, and they don't miss her.

Bella takes up her damp hanky and picks her way to the motel. Thoughts on how being the sole library in a small town was a lonely thing to be.

0o0

Esme takes Carlisle's arm and leads him into the tearoom. She's sure they lost Bella quite quickly after the poor woman became white and sweated profusely at the sight of all that blood.

Esme intends to fix the cups herself, but Carlisle's restlessness prompts him to ask her to sit and begin to busy himself with the cups. Esme does so, quiet in her realisation that she couldn't precisely recall the last time a man had made her a cup of tea.

In the silence; Carlisle carried on his explanation with warmth, and some feeling; "He's a good man; I knew him from his piano recitals at parties his parents took him too. After they died, he had an incident in a pub …" Carlisle hands over the cup and take in a few deep breaths.

"They beat him very badly, when I offered to adopt him," He chuckles darkly, recalling fond memories in dire times, "he might have already been seventeen, but he accepted immediately. He was lonely, I think, for fatherly affection." Carlisle tells her carefully, though his lips were quirked up.

It embarrasses Esme, a little; obviously her initial puzzling over their relationship did catch Carlisle's attention. But she smiles at him, and his grey eyes are warm. "Of course."

0o0

Bella asks after the boy, Jacob, after the service. Esme had explained to her that Edward had skipped mass to look after him.

In pastor mode, the Pastor Cullen chuckles a little. "Jacob Black; he comes into trade and bargain quite often." Carlisle explains, "He's a good young man, not yet nineteen, if you'd believe it." He looks tenderly in Esme's direction, "he's not the best bedridden thing; Esme's confident with all his cheek he's surely to be well soon enough without her help." He laughs lightly at that, and Bella smiles too. Even if the patient was putting up some difficulties, they both knew Esme would see him though.

"Edward's taken to playing nursemaid, actually." He says, and laughs again, though this time Bella can't quite manage it. "I think they may just fight more than Rosalie and he." He says.

Bella feels that pang again, of that special group. She waves them off, though, as they depart for Sunday lunch.

"Oh Bella, don't be sil!" Alice giggled as she looped her arm through Bella's, "Come on," she tugs her forward, and Bella happily joins them.

The lunch was excellent, and the company more than satisfying too. Emmett was boisterous, and slightly unmannered, but he put his cup down when Rosalie told him to, lest he spill, and dutifully chewed each bite of food before speaking. It seemed that while he was unlikely to ever be a gentleman; Rosalie would see a husband carved out of him, yet.

Jasper was quiet and attentive. Bella considered Alice and Jasper's match her biggest success, it was obvious the little woman adored him. Carefully sat close to each other; and Bella was sure she was the only one looking closely enough to see how Jasper watched her; as though his every attention was focused on her alone.

It reminded her of a fragment she'd read from the lady-loving Greek;

And all the wrong he did before, loose it,
make him a joy to all his friends,
a pain to his enemies and let there exist for us
not one single further sorrow

Esme and Carlisle were discussing the next shipment of supplies for the clinic, but Bella didn't miss the way she made sure that his teacup was always full, and how he would pluck finger sandwiches to lay on a napkin on her armrest.

She felt a little alone, as the couples coupled off, and glanced around for Edward. Excusing herself, she leaves the room, and hears a soft, deep laugh.

Following it, she ends up at the door of the guest room, half open.

Edward sat on the foot of the bed, where Jacob is tucked under the covers tightly, sitting with his long legs spread straight.

Edward was grinning madly at a tiny chess board in between them. "Serves you right!" Edward exclaimed with no small amount of satisfaction. "You may claim to best me in archery, but I can prove that I can best you at chess!" He added, looking boyish and pleased.

Jacob leaned forward, scowling heavily, which looked strangely strange on his brown face; as though he was much more used to smiling. "Let me out of this bed and I'll show you how good I am with a bow, nurse!" Jacob declared, sounding huffy but with no real anger.

"No, winner picks the prize!" Edward said lightly. "You're not to remove yourself from that bed until Esme changes your bandages after tea." He decided, and he only looked even more pleased. Edward stood from the bed, and Bella jerked back from the door, hoping she hadn't been caught peeking.

But Edward only moves the chess board from the bed to the stout table beside it and sits at Jacob's hip. "In bed until tea?" Jacob asks, looking now very sorry. "What if I must relieve myself?" He whines.

Edward's grin turns predatory, and suddenly Jacob isn't sulking, but beginning to smile himself. "I can help with that …." He says softly and puts his face extremely close to Jacob's ….

Bella steps away from the door, sure her cheeks were scarlet, and flees back to the parlour as quickly as she could.

0o0

Alice and Rosalie walk, arm-in-arm, tightly around the garden. Rosalie had requested a short turn about the house and assured them all only Alice need accompany her.

Alice was struggling to keep up; Rosalie's considerable height and tight grip all but dragged the little woman along with her. Esme stepped outside and sat at the porch steps, nursing her tea, watching them and Rosalie's obvious agitation.

Alice puffs a little from the trotting it took to keep up with Rosalie's pacing. "It's a miserable little day today!" She declares, watching Rosalie for signs that she was listening.

"He told me he loves me." She hisses conspiringly. "He built me the witch's hat, because he loves me." Rosalie added as she marches past Esme.

Esme's mouth thins at the words, and her tone is careful; "Sweet of him to say."

"Oh, Rosie, I'm so happy for you!" Alice looks over-joyed, and starts to skip, another easy way to match Rosalie's pace. "It's wonderful," she watches Rosie's stormy expression with growing doubt and glances to Esme uncertainly. "Isn't it wonderful?" She questions.

"He doesn't know what it means." Rosalie spits, her vitriol making Alice falls into giggles.

"Harsh by far!" She argues cheerfully.

"He doesn't!" Rosalie insists, looking wretched. "The only women he knows are his family! How am I supposed to believe him; he doesn't know me!" She says, looking at the windows as though she expects to be overheard.

"Well maybe you should teach him." Esme replies levelly.

But Rosalie wasn't listening, consumed by her own troubles. "If he finds out …"

"About the mugwort?" Alice asks, and Rosalie stops dead, yanking Alice by her joined arms. Rosalie stares at her in mounting horror, but Alice is quick to explain. "I was hunting through Carlisle's medical books, but I found it on one of Esme's herb glossaries."

Rosalie looks between the two of them; the women who have made it so far with her, and now looks at her with something warmer than any female friend or relative would have. "… I'm used." She mutters, ashamed.

Esme hums. "You're used to a certain lifestyle and used to certain men treating you a certain way." Esme says, her tone measured but not cold. Firm but not stern. "You're not used to men like Emmett. You're not used to him."

Rosalie crouches at Esme's feet on the step, and she looks so furtive that Alice is quick to copy her. They make a strangely furtive assemblage. "I can barely stand it. He asks me how I feel and how I think." She explains resentfully. Alice looks at her with wide eyes and no comprehension. Esme only watches. "I had a perfect routine for a socialite, I knew exactly how to be engaging and delightful. Oh, I have feelings, and I think, but that's something I keep to myself, just like my mother taught me. She always said, 'hungry women only starve'." She growls.

Esme nods slowly; she had a mother who had thought just the same, though not with such pretty words. Good girls don't make a fuss. But Alice stands up with the pleasant disregard of a woman whose hunger has been the reason she'd gotten anything at all. "Oh, do you want a tea cake, Rosie?" Alice offers. "I will get you one." She continued blithely and skips inside before anyone answer.

Esme sips her tea and lets out a little sigh. "This place is … trying to eat." Esme begins, as Rosalie choose to sit on Esme's shoes than on the dirt. "Trying to consume a forest that has been here an age before us. It takes a hunger to make it."

To that, Rosalie looks out at the forest and says nothing at all. The backdoor creaks and Alice steps out with hands full. "I lied. I bought four tea cakes!" She tells them.

Can't keep Jake out of anything I write because I write just for me! There's a heap of things dear to me in this chapter; and sharing each of them reminds me of how much I enjoy what I do. The problem with writing non-chronologically is that relationships and characterisation are inconsistent, so maybe don't get comfortable because relapses and waning like the tides are common also in real life.