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Chapter Thirty-Three

"Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. Love still stands when all else has fallen."

- Unknown

27 June – Late Tuesday Night – Jasper's POV

Carlisle's number was already being dialed, even before I had a conscious thought to make the call.

"Where, son?" was his immediate response. I wanted to both rejoice and fall apart at his words. Was my life thus predictable that he knew my needs before a word from me was spoken?

"The After Cabin, Carlisle," I croaked through my heavy emotions. It was the place the family sometimes retired to after hunting. It was the place I had taken Bella on a date and played my cello to her.

The phone fell from my hands before crashing to the ground. Without thought, my body molded into a ball on the ground, as if trying to protect it from anymore hurt. I looked pathetic and pitiful, but it couldn't be helped. Time passed as I waited for my comforter to arrive. I was sick of this fucking trend, the constant weakness I showed in front of my mentor. The time had to come where it really ended, and for some happiness to abounded. There had to be a law of averages.

Gentle yet firm arms finally wrapped around me; I knew it to be Carlisle. He had come like promised. Immediately I could feel his remorse kicked in. As I fell apart, so did he. I hated him having to suffer on my behalf.

"Bella has cancer," I finally whispered aloud. The truth had refused to take hold in me. Until I had finally spoken the declaration, it hadn't seeped in. Carlisle said nothing, but continued to feel sadness over my situation. I couldn't even imagine the thoughts that raced through his mind. Family was everything to Carlisle, and this was one more calamity we had to endure.

"Don't feel sorry for me, Carlisle, just make it go away," I begged innocently. I knew there was no chance of that happening, but my father always made things better. It was his very nature, his own special gift. To me, Carlisle was above the rest; sans Bella.

"I do feel sorry for you, and I would do anything to take away such a heavy burden, but I cannot. There is something you also misinterpreted, son." I pulled away and gave my rock a searching look. His remorse started to increase. My instincts told me to fucking run, to spare myself something that couldn't have been good.

"What have I misunderstood?" I asked, trepidation thick in my voice.

"I knew of Isabella's ailment," he confessed, never taking his eyes from mine. I never knew such betrayal from him. And there was that fucking tainted word: never. Fate was using me like some washed-up whore, and I feared what would become of me after the bitch was done.

Anger, like the blazes of hell, scorched my entire body. It felt as if I was being changed again and Maria's venom was burning my insides. The only thing that had ever hurt worse was Bella's heart stopping. What was becoming of my life?

The CRACKING sound pulled me from the arcane fire and into the present. My hand stung from where I'd hit Carlisle across the face. His head whipped around at an alarming rate; the noise ricocheted off the walls of the cabin. He slowly turned back towards me; shock clouded my eyes, but understanding his. Once again, he proved how much better he was than me, than everyone else. However, in that moment I didn't want his fucking understanding, I wanted his betrayal to stop stinging.

As I went to go slap him again, his hand caught my forward motion in a vice like grip. I almost winced at the pressure he exuded on me wrist.

"I deserved the first slap, but you aren't entitled to another." His voice was iced over steel. "I'm your father and will fucking demand the respect that position holds!" His tone caused me some fear. "I refuse to give into your violent behavior. I know you are hurting, son. One doesn't need your gift to see the obvious. I mourn with you and the loss you are feeling right now. However, there is a limit. Slapping my face isn't going to make things any better, and it isn't going to take away the mistakes. Go and take care of your emotions, Jasper. You are more than entitled to that, but get your shit together. These are responsibilities you willingly took on."

I gave him a look that called him out on his sanity. I may have loved Bella, but that didn't give her the right to lie.

"I don't condone that Isabella hid the truth from you, Jasper, but she did what she thought necessary. We all make mistakes. I thought you'd be the first to realize that." I started to squirm under his intense gaze. "Just as I don't judge you, your mistakes, I give that same courtesy to all my children. Would you expect any less from me? Where would be the fairness in that, my son? I love you something fierce, Jasper, but I refuse to play favorites and cater to your violent whims.

Relationships are both good and bad. It can't always be roses and unicorn shit, Jasper. You must take the negative with the positive. I've never known you to run from a mistake or problem- and yes, I say never. You've skirted around it for a while, but somehow resolved it. I expect nothing less from you in this situation. You've taken on these responsibilities and challenges, son. It's time to live in a season of uncertainty. It's not easy, but with yours and Isabella's amazing love, you should prevail this season. It's time to live up to the responsibilities and make the best of the situation." He released his grip from my wrist but didn't drop it. He brought my shaky hand to his chest and placed it over his silent heart.

"It doesn't beat, Jasper, but that doesn't mean it doesn't feel. I love you, Isabella, Cheyenne, Esme, Edward, Rosie, Emmett, and Alice, more than could ever be defined. We have taken on our challenges together; I would have been no other way. My family is fucking everything to me. I cannot describe such depths with my words; they pale in such a blinding comparison. I know you hurt, my son. I share both of your burdens. Go – hunt and then return to your Isabella. Don't punish her more than necessary. Be upset for her lying, but get over it. She loves you like I love Esme." He gave me that knowing look. "It's what you've always desired, son. She may have lied, but she is absolutely selfless when it comes to you. If you doubt her love, look at the most amazing gift she ever gave you." He didn't need to say it aloud. I already knew the answer.

"Cheyenne," we both whispered together.

Before I could respond, my father pulled me into his embrace and squeezed his love into me. Carlisle should have chewed my ass up for physically assaulting him, but he gave me his love instead. The guilt ate at me and would always. It was a low I should have never sunk to.

"I forgive you, always!" he whispered before pulling back. "I'll call Isabella and tell her you are safe. She's already called my cell phone several times." I simply nodded. His hand came up and stoked my cheek before he kissed my forehead and left me in silence.

It wasn't until the silence all but swallowed me that I finally realized, in the fight that Bella and I had, not once had she said Cheyenne was "her daughter" or "my child". She simply called her Cheyenne, never taking the correct ownership over her. Because when it was all said and done, Cheyenne was the daughter of her blood. Bella knew differently, she knew Cheyenne was also the daughter of my soul.

…

I decided to hunt. I needed to run and find some peace for my ever-racing mind. I was on a steep precipice, afraid of falling forever. I needed some release. The things she had told me about her life, had built up in me, fighting to become free from my literal skin. The anger, betrayal, and guilt burned the shit out of me; it left me stifling, feeling utter agony. I mourned in Bella's presence from what she told me, but it hadn't been enough. My stupid resentment had taken over, ending my bereavement.

After I realized the damage I was bringing upon her, I pulled myself in and bottled my emotions. I would deal with them later, and later I had. Once again it took the compassion and wisdom of my father to set my ass straight. My time was now here, and I readily allowed the release to fall. I had become somewhat complacent with Bella, keeping emotions to myself, not wanting to upset the fragile peace we had. It wasn't like she was always mentally available to me before she had left, anyhow. Now, my practice of keeping things to myself had fallen to the wayside. I had to instinctively reach far down and dust off my talent of silent emotional hell. However, it didn't bother me. I reminded me of the truth that had stayed with me for over a decade, Bella was worth anything. I may have been fucking pissed at her, but I would go to the end of all to keep her safe and protected.

I now pushed that truth away and let my other emotions have fair play. Yes, I loved Bella, but I was allowing myself to feel the release of extremely bottled anger, madness, lividness, sorrow, hurt, anguish, turbulence, unrest. All these things ravaged me, tearing my skin from the inside out. As the brutal cocktail of feelings tore through I ran for dear life. My mind was a raving mess, but the thing that stung the most was the fear and real possibility of losing Bella for good. The most important fact of our future had finally caught up with me: her mortality.

Without preamble, I finally found a wolf and took it down. I instantly snapped its neck, never wanting it to suffer for my tortured pleasure. I viciously sank my teeth into its neck, ripping the skin away. Hot, sticky, blood spurted into my mouth and dripped down my chin, mingling with the venom. I savagely sucked the very life source of the broken animal and felt the blood almost coagulate in my veins. Its life line became my own, feeding my restlessly agitated monster; my constant feelings of torment not really abating. I felt like this broken animal: dead, unresponsive, and unbalanced, with no life left to give.

Bella – my angel, had cancer. She had a fucking disease imbedded in her blood and organs that threatened her very life. It almost seemed like an oxymoron, her new status. As Bella breathe to survive and as she ate and drank to sustain her health, said illness took the very life she was trying to sustain. What a fucking irony, if there ever was one. I didn't understand how in the hell she could deal with such a thought? How could her mind focus on the positive, and try to disregard the poison in her body, slowly slipping her from this existence?

Those thoughts stirred in my mindscape, and my eventual break down finally came. With the thought of my angel having cancer, the possibility of her being lost, taken from me to another place I could never go, was unfathomable. I gathered the slain wolf in my arms and plunged to the ground. Deep, antagonizing body trembling attacked my person, and made me totally limp. I could move no part; every part of me was at the total mercy of my throbbing.

There – in the lonely twilight of my pain, with a dead animal crushed in my arms – I lamented my love. I no longer felt the icy chills of anger, but the antagonizing slow burn of heartache. I wept for her continued loss: for her fright of her demented step-father, for her lost childhood and the rest of her innocence that her step-father had taken, for her need of me over the years, for my absence in her life, and for the lost opportunities we could have shared.

All of these things had been beyond my control, but that notion didn't lessen my tribulation and guilt. Every breath and thought I ever had of Bella was filled with a longing, for only goodness to be placed in her life. Bella had experienced many short ends of sticks in her short life, and the fact that she could even smile, was a thought I had trouble processing. My mind became scrambled and I somehow needed to get control of the errant images.

In and out my breathing immediately started to do, my color mantra repeated in my mind's eye. I focused the calmness of the descendant night around me. My body started to release its coiled tension, allowing different parts of my locked body to move. The intense pain became alleviated, leaving in its wake a throbbing soreness in my tireless muscles; another cruel irony. I uncurled myself from the fetal position and relinquished my hold on the completely demolished, unrecognizable animal.

I placed a kiss on its destroyed face and silently thanked it for its untimely sacrifice. It was never fair that things had to suffer for my depraved actions. I rolled away from mangled carcass and lay on my back, focusing on the heavens in its glorious beauty. The stars were almost ostentatious in their beauty. Bella's beauty, while also sublime, was more hidden. Her natural shyness and unassuming gentleness only added to her eloquence.

When one took the time to actually look and admire, one was gifted with a beauty the stars couldn't touch. Billions had looked at the stars, at one time or another, but few ever had the privilege of looking at Bella. She was her name, personified. Her very soul and essence cried of her splendor, and I was fortunate to witness such a part of her. Venom steadily filled my eyes; I was just sad.

Life, in all its prestige, was never fair. I wondered if it ever would be. Some people were rich while others were poor. Some were beautiful, while others were average or simply faded into the background. Some were gifted with amazing talents, while others had more subtle gifts. Some had jobs and families, while others struggled on their own with no one to console. But I came to the infinite understanding that no matter how much one wanted to give everything to everyone, it wasn't possible. And even then, when one gave one the world, they seemed to want more. Thus was human nature and the balance was once again skewed. Until one relinquished all selfishness, nothing would ever be equal.

However, even in this equation there were those select few who were happy with what life afforded them. They may not have had the good looks, riches, and wildly successful moments, but they had enough to live on and enough happy moments they could cherish always. I wasn't among this select few, far from it. These were the people who always astounded me, and I counted Bella as one. While talking to me, she showed me her inner hope. She had suffered, but she knew herself to be blessed. Her cancer was out of remission, yet she was still an incredible, selfless mother. She had much love to give her little one. Bella may sound like a charlatan, an imposter who could never actually exist. But for those who thought such a notion fictional, they could simply fuck themselves. My angel was all of that and more, and it wasn't my biased opinion of her (well maybe some) that made her who she was.

My thoughts started to calm even more, and my breathing became even. I was finally able to bring the venom in my eyes to a standstill. My sorrow, although still present, had been spent and released. My inner monster was caged again, and my disruptive thoughts abated, giving way to more sane and logical thinking. Clarity had been restored. I would continue to have struggles, like my love, but I hoped with her presence in my life, I wouldn't have to face them alone. We would be there, hand extended, ready to catch the other if either of us failed. I had selfishly, always, wanted to be the center of Bella's world; I wanted her every thought to revolve around me. I wasn't ashamed to admit such a weakness. The girl was literally in my fucking soul, as was Cheyenne.

Cheyenne . . .

That was another thing I had to process. Bella had loved another and not just in the platonic sense of the word. She had fallen into a gentle love with someone she never even intended to ever fall for. I could sympathize with her in that aspect. Bella had come into my existence as a child, and like a whirlwind, had left just as quickly. She lit my world ablaze, never fully becoming extinguished. Her flame sizzled in me and spurred me to better myself. It was ultimately my decision to become better and to seek control, but I had painstakingly accomplished those goals with her borrowed childlike faith. She never got to witness my struggles and my subsequent control firsthand, but she was my literal living proof that all things were possible. She was my desire to do right and she had survived my crimson stained teeth. So I could definitely understand how Bella had fallen for Mike and his quiet, yet solid support of her. Our story was the same, except ours defined our very souls.

As my mind continued to churn with thoughts of Bella and Mike, I finally admitted my inane jealously. I wanted Bella all to myself, but Mike still held a piece of her, and rightly so. My main objective concerning my jealously was Cheyenne. Bella had every right to love whom she wanted. She had chosen Mike, and I had to accept her choice. The crux of the jealously was him as her daughter's biological father. I knew that baby loved me endlessly, but it didn't lessen his blood running through her tiny bluish veins. Bella's story once again reminded of me of that pained truth. I had unfairly accused her of being a bad mother (even if it was in a round-about way. The words had been spoken, never to be taken back). It tore at me to think of Cheyenne calling anyone else 'daddy'.

But then . . . Carlisle, yes, my humble father, reminded me of such a blessing. Bella had given me that gift. Cheyenne was my daughter, no matter how much Mike may have "donated" to her. He may have had part of her physical body, but her little soul was a part of me. It was evident every time she wrapped pudgy fingers around my skin. Our connection touched and my skin flared with heat. I realized that Mike would probably never have that connection with her. It made me feel sorry for him, but I was a selfish creature. Cheyenne was my daughter!

It didn't matter who the biological father was, I already knew myself in love with the little beauty. The miracle of her life always fascinated me. I had known that child was going to be something special.

With my thoughts of my little Cheye beauty squared away, I focused on the mother again. Bella's words were correct when she said I thought her almost infallible. She could almost do no wrong in my eyes. It may have been unhealthy, but who the fuck cared. I loved that woman like no other. The fact that she had lied to me, so blatantly and kept something as important as her health from me was the true pain behind the anger. I had already burned when her heart had stopped beating, and she understood the depths of that hurt.

Time after time, I had reached out, asking for the truth behind her mental and emotional absence. And time and time again she refused to tell me. It hurt that she could look me in the eye and claimed all was fine. It rankled me like no other. Perhaps it was my pride and selfishness that caused such anger to erupt like some red-hot volcano. Bella should have never lied, and it wasn't right of her to lie to me continually, but I could now understand.

She was used to handling things independently. My limitless love and devotion to her could be scary at time. I knew that and she confessed that. When one added all the Cullen's and Rosie's devotion, it was enough to scare the girl shitless. Bella had low self-esteem, and even though she was better now, it was an uphill battle reminding herself she was actually worthy of such love. That fucking Renee had been a joke. Some children may have loved the freedom Renee had given to Bella, but it was not a way to rear a child. I understood that to be my own opinion, but she had done a fucking shit job with her daughter.

With everything overwhelming Bella and only knowing one way to handle such stress, Bella had to leave for a time. She could have taken Cheyenne with her, but realized she wouldn't have given my daughter the proper attention and devotion. Bella had entrusted me with her, and I had claimed her to be a bad mother.

I was still angry at Bella for her mistrust, and it would take time before I could fully trust her again, but I could also understand where she came from. When the pain and anger had a chance to subside, it was amazing the insight and clarity one could attain.

After feeling like I could finally manage myself and the grief, I stood up and examined my personage. I was covered in dried blood, dirt, and matted fur. My emotional battle was clearly displayed on me and I needed to head home.

I ran back to my car and halted when I thought of something. I reached into the glove department of my car, and pulled out a copy of my favorite book. Ages seemed to pass since I had read a passage in it. Every word may have been seared into my infallible memory, but reading the words again added to the emotion it invoked. I had read Shelly's journal many times, but I still loved to indulge. The copy I held was a little worn, but not too much. I took excellent care of it (even if it wasn't the original). I never had to worry about the oils on my dead fingers ruining the pages.

Oh, small miracles, I thought with a grim smile on my face. I turned to the entry I wanted and allowed myself to become lost in her world she painted with her words. She may not have been the most eloquent of writers, but she spoke to the soul of a person.

...

"My store was taking longer to open then I originally intended. Why does it seem that the things our heart's desires most, are the very things that take the longest to become reality or kept away from us? It seems like when one is finally on the cuff or the brink of said reality we cannot reach the last inch.

Ugh . . . patience was never one of my strong suit, but fate sometimes seemed unusually cruel. Giving a preview of what one can have before yanking it back. I knew this wasn't always the case and I was being pessimistic, but I was restless.

When I had first gone to college, I already knew my bookshop would be a reality. I went with the intention of getting a Master's in business, coming home (yes, to my small town . . . LOL), and cutting that shiny red ribbon to my dream. Fate then decided to change my world. I met Brent and fell in love. He became the new dream, and my previous one was put on hold. After years of chosen devotion to him and our love, we were over and I was heartbroken, with only the hope of my bookshop left. I FINALLY got to work, and with much elbow grease and kissing ass at the local bank, I was a small business owner.

'Kiss my less-than-perky ass, Fate,' I wanted to scream but refrained. I was on my own yellow brick road of fate. I achieved my dream.

As if I had somehow tempted the bitch, Fate had to play with my life again. My mother was taken from me. All things in my world stopped and only my heartache continued. I grieved for my fallen mother and my loss, but chose to never take the ruby red slippers off. I started on my path again, with the intention of opening, finally. So after more patience I never had enough of (and still don't), this is where one finds me today, shit out of patience and even more money . . . LOL. In thinking about my mother, I was reminded of a time in my life when I was little and impatience for a ruby red bike (with kick-ass tassels on the handlebar and a banana seat).

I cried when I didn't get my most important wish. My mother looked into my little brown eyes, filled with tears, and gave more than just her lasting wisdom.

'Sometimes, baby girl,' she said, 'you just have to deal with it. Not everything happens right when you want it to. There is a natural order to the world, and sometimes we have to respect that. I know it seems hard right now, but you always remember, honey, just because you don't have it now, doesn't mean you never will. Life just has to take its course. The world may seem stacked against you, but if you fight for what you want and stay your course, the dreams will happen. You may be too young to understand this concept now, but you will when you're older. Trust me, baby girl.'

My mother really knew what she was taking about. What was with mothers anyway? When we are young, she is our heroines, when we come into adolescence, she becomes the bane of our existence; so not cool and never with the times. Then oh, yes, we come into adulthood, and learn that the wisdom she gave us was more incredible than any shit we could read out there (fucking "Dr." Phil). For those who never had mothers or for those who were never able to be mothers, there were those like me who could pass on these little bits of wisdom. What else was I going to do, go to the gym . . . I think not.

With the twist and turns of life, I came to realize my mother was right, perhaps not always, but a majority of the time.

Things seemed to work out in the end."

…

I came out of my Shelly induced coma, and took her words to heart. I would keep fighting; there was nothing left to be done. Life had given Bella her cards, and I couldn't exchange them, even if she wanted me to. Isabella was my angel, my friend, my lover, and incredible other half. I loved her. It was all so simple, and yet still so very complicated.

Author's Notes: Recently got back from vacation, with the sunburn across my nose and cheeks to prove it . . . LOL. It's nice getting away and taking a break from RL, but it is always there waiting when one returns.

Anyhow, sorry if this chapter seemed like a filler, I really tried not to make it seem like that. I thought Jasper deserved his time to vent. What did you think of Carlisle? I thought bomb-effin-shell. Everyone seems full of surprises. It was also nice to channel Shelly for a bit. It has been a long while, and I needed her brand of wisdom to make sense of this chapter. Also, please don't think this story will turn extremely morbid. It isn't planned as such. Even though we all go through terrible shit in life, we have to live in the moments we are given, and I plan on doing that with Bella.

Well, I'm off to read the reviews for last chapter. I haven't got a chance yet, I had to leave the laptop at home (*cried endlessly*). I may be irrevocably addicted to the damn thing. There will be about 40 chapters to this story – not including epilogues. Just an FYI . . .

Hope all is well with everyone and much love!

Posted: Sunday, 25 September 2011