A/N Twilight is not mine.
Your reviews continue to blow me away and make me cry happy tears. I got such lovely anonymous ones too - thank you so much! You asked how often I update: about every 10 days. Oh and PS: this fic will have a HEA, promise!
Thanks to Sherry and Deb for their help. Shoutout to Hev99 for being a good girl with puppy eyes.
If certain details in this chapter aren't perfect - I've used some creative license. I loved to write Esme's voice. She's been waiting so patiently for so long to be heard.
Bella Swan truly is the most special person I have ever met in my life. Strong as a rock, even if she doesn't see herself that way, honest, polite, smart, sweet, caring. I can vividly remember the day Carlisle came to talk to me about this girl.
There was never any doubt that I wanted to give her a home, but had I known it would be like this, I would have tried to speed up her arrival perhaps.
Of course, there have been hard moments, but above all I can see her remarkable progress and the enormous effort she puts into everything she does. Every time she tries to communicate, my heart soars a little. Every time she does something for herself, even if it is such a simple thing as making tea, it makes me glow.
I can sense the need in her to be normal, to be at ease as a member of this household. I can sense her disappointment when she realizes the things she won't or can't do. When words elude her, or when she realizes she is still unwilling or unable to eat with us present, I sometimes feel as frustrated as she.
More than once I have fought the urge to hug her, to cradle her in my arms and to assure her that it's okay, that she just needs time and that with us, she can take all the time she needs. But I can't touch her. More than anything I have to respect the boundaries she has set, even though it hurts me to do so.
Unfortunately, I can also sense her fear. The deeply ingrained fear to do something wrong, to meet violence, to be hurt in one way or the other. My mother instincts go into overdrive when I see her like that but once again, we have to play by her rules.
Carlisle tells me that only time can teach her that she is in fact safe here. In the meantime we shall keep on reaching out to her, show her time and again that nothing will happen.
The poor girl. I try not to think of the horrors she has endured but it is visible in her eyes, her face, the way she moves. She tends to fold in on herself, trying to make herself invisible.
She's not only not speaking, she's quiet. She is so very careful to not make any sound at all, and I cannot suppress a shudder when I think how she has come to act like this.
But she is doing better. Even after a few short weeks she is doing so much better. I still marvel when I think back at the few times she has allowed me to touch her, the last event having been at school in the locker room. Her reaching out to me had been a small miracle in my eyes. It seems that only when she is most vulnerable, she will allow herself the luxury of contact.
Carlisle doesn't agree with me on this. He thinks that Bella automatically associates all touch with pain. I am not sure. I think Bella is perfectly capable of distinguishing violence with friendly touch. I think however Bella is afraid, unwilling to receive friendly touch, too. What her reasons behind this are, I don't know, but I do know that when she accepts it, it feels like she is indulging herself.
She wants it. I am sure she does. She just does not know how to allow herself to enjoy it.
I would like to let her know that it is okay for her to initiate these forms of contact, but I am not sure how.
Words don't seem adequate to convey that it is okay for her to want physical contact. She is so scared to open up to things like that. I think she feels this makes her weak. Sometime during her life she must have decided it is better to do things on her own and as such she doesn't let anybody in.
It must be such a burden for her to carry.
Perhaps if my other children were more affectionate with me, Bella would see that it is okay to touch, to embrace. But my children are young adults or almost so and they are past the hugging stage. I can hardly ask them to give a good example without giving away Bella's past — something she has asked us not to do.
My children are not naïve, though. Although they do not discuss it with us often, I know they have a hunch. Especially Edward, who came to talk with us last week to ask about Bella. He wanted to know if and when she would start therapy. There is something deep inside him that is drawn to the girl. I can only wonder how this will develop and hope it doesn't go wrong.
But he seems patient and understanding and as such I do not feel the need to warn him. I think Bella is fairly at ease around him and it shows when he sits on the porch with her more and more often.
I see them exchanging a phone from time to time and I think they are communicating through the device. The way she looks at him, with wonder, awe, curiosity but also a hint of fear and a lot of hesitancy, makes me think she sees something in him she doesn't fully realize yet.
I smile when I think that perhaps all is not lost for this girl, that perhaps there is something in her that is capable of giving and receiving love. And if my son can bring that about in her, I will not try to prevent it. I just hope they won't get hurt. Edward is my son and I consider Bella my daughter already. It would break my heart if they would be in pain.
Perhaps therapy can help Bella to move along. I was over the moon when she agreed to try. I do realize that her motives are not the right ones, and that she is most likely to do it for us, out of fear for repercussions, than for herself. As far as I understand she doesn't seem to grasp the concept of abuse, doesn't see that she is a victim.
It is not up to me to tell her this. She probably wouldn't believe me and if she would I would not have the knowledge and skills to catch her when she falls. I am hoping that therapy will provide this safety net for her, a safe place where she can tell her story and come to terms with it.
We have such faith in Siobhan. Having a past similar to Bella's, we think she will understand how Bella thinks and acts. As a certified peer counselor, she has helped countless girls to come to terms with their past and to get their life back on track. We have not told Bella yet that Siobhan has a certain history. We think it is best that Siobhan will disclose that information when the time is right.
We can only hope that Bella will try the therapy and give Siobhan a chance.
~O~
Thanksgiving is approaching rapidly. Bella's love for cooking once more shows when I ask her to help me to fix a menu for the holiday. She also comes with me to do groceries, something she really seems to enjoy even though I can tell she hates to be in the supermarket.
I think she really enjoys being able to help me out, and once more I am reminded of Renée's words. 'Before you know it, she takes over your entire housekeeping.'
I have been careful to prevent that from happening as indeed it seemed that Bella was prone to make herself useful in the house. I didn't always know how to handle her obvious disappointment when I forbade her to do something. In the beginning, and especially before she went to school, she often looked lost when there wasn't anything she could do.
I wonder if she has any hobbies. She seems to enjoy reading, but she never seems to be calm enough to really enjoy it. Always on guard, looking around her every few minutes to gauge the situation in the room. I'm not sure if she notices she does this herself.
It would be so nice for her to have a hobby she can lose herself in. Like Emmett and Jasper have their sport, Alice has her clothes, Rosalie her car knowledge and Edward his music, I wonder if there is anything that could keep Bella occupied for hours every week, if not every day.
She enjoys doing homework, something that struck me as odd as first until Carlisle offered it might provide her a good form of distraction from other things. And Bella enjoys cooking. The pies she made last week were excellent. The 'thank you' gesture they held was evident.
And she will help with Thanksgiving dinner this year. To be honest, I'd rather have her help me, even if it is out of guilt or responsibility, than any of my other children who simply cannot see the joys of cooking and will do it with evident displeasure.
Bella wants to make marzipan. She hasn't told me when she wants to offer it to us, and I wonder what she is planning to do with it. It thrills me she has come so far as wanting to surprise us with something. A few weeks ago it would have been inconceivable to her to make something we don't know of beforehand. Even with the pies she was careful to ask permission.
She seems calmer, more at ease hopefully. I knew it would take time for her to relax, to get used to a new environment, but she has done surprisingly well. She's so obviously trying to reach out, even if she is not sure how to do it. I am beginning to become more at ease too in the house, no longer worrying every minute about her wellbeing.
However, when I see James' car pulling up in the garage from the garden where I am working, I hurry my way inside. I don't know how Bella will react to visitors, especially men.
I step into the house just as James reached the kitchen. Going to college in Seattle, he's only one year older than Rosalie and Emmett. They see each other regularly in the weekends. I like the guy, even though he's such a sweet talker it makes my teeth hurt.
Today is no exception as he relentlessly showers me with compliments. When he approaches Bella I can see her tense up, but Emmett handles the situation remarkably well. Emmett and Jasper have had the most trouble getting used to Bella in the house. They seem to stay away from her just as she seems to stay away from them.
But as long as they don't fight, I won't meddle. Our family is big, it will take time to get to know each other and in the end you can't like every person in the world.
When James has gone with Emmett, Bella speeds from the kitchen with her tea, leaving me chuckling, but I feel sad. In all likelihood she will never be completely at ease around men. She has been hurt too much, let down too often.
Only time will tell if she can ever heal. And I must say I wonder if therapy truly is the best solution we can offer right now. My gut feeling says that time and a loving family can do more than any therapist would do, but I don't speak my mind. In the end, she will need therapy to fix what we cannot heal.
On Monday, I make a start with the first preparations for the Thanksgiving dinner. I bake the bread I use for the Turkey stuffing myself, and if I make it a few days earlier it will be older, which makes the taste richer.
Probably drawn in by the smell or by perceiving somebody is working in the kitchen, Bella's curiosity wins over her reluctance and she comes to check out what is going on. I greet her with a warm smile and I don't even really have to invite her if she wants to join, because before I have finished my question she has moved to the sink to wash her hands and starts to knead the dough, a tiring, hard task you need to have strong hands and arms for.
Bella has both, I have noticed this by the sheer weight of the groceries she can lift with ease. I wonder how she got this physical strength, especially considering her build is decidedly tiny and she has been malnourished for a long time.
She works at a comfortable pace and from my peripheral vision I can see how her face turns from tight and tense to a more serene expression as she gets lost in the motions of kneading. When I move to her to add a little salt she steps back, but doesn't seem as startled as usual.
"You seem to feel better," I observe as I prepare the form the bread will be baked in.
She nods without looking up from the bowl with dough.
"I'm glad," I continue.
She looks up at me now, an incredulous look flashing over her face before she can put it in a more neutral expression.
"I really am," I reassure her. "And if you need anything, or want anything, you know you can come to me, right?"
She nods, but I can tell she doesn't believe me. The Gym incident is a painful example of how she still feels she cannot come to us with these serious problems. She would rather risk detention and retribution than tell us beforehand of her insecurity.
And I berate myself for what happened. I have lain awake for nights after I went to pick up Bella from school. I should have known that she would not be able to do gym, instead I trusted she would set her own boundaries.
Painful as it is to admit, she can't do this. She cannot say 'no' and not because she doesn't speak. There is no way she can refuse anything somebody asks from her. It is easy to abuse this trait and I hope that in school nobody will take advantage of her.
Bella will not tell us when things go too far. I think she is afraid of punishment if she tells us there is something she doesn't want. I have talked about this with my husband and he agrees, although he keeps telling me I should not keep blaming myself for what happened. It happened, and it was solved elegantly. Also, he thinks, incidents like this will show her that her life is different now. Perhaps she will learn from this she can trust us.
Too afraid to say 'no.' I wonder how we can ever teach her that 'no' means 'no' in this house, and not a delayed 'yes.'
Soft footfalls approach the kitchen and I know it's Edward before I see him. Everybody has a different walk in this house and I can always hear who it is just by the sound of their footsteps.
Bella seems startled at first when he greets us in the kitchen, but she focuses on the dough again and doesn't even step aside when Edward brushes by her to get something to drink from the fridge.
This tiny development strikes me as huge but I don't want to comment on it, afraid it will bring them both discomfort.
"Are you baking bread?" he asks as he sips from the bottle of water he took.
Bella nods as I answer. "Yes. It's for the stuffing."
Edward chuckles a bit. "I wonder what would happen if we just had burgers for Thanksgiving. Would the world end?"
"I'm sure it wouldn't," I say, smiling at my son who leans back against the cooking island, at ease with his long, lean form. We know that hasn't always been the case. He was positively gangly when he was younger.
"But the tradition is nice," I continue.
"So what are we having this year, besides the turkey?" he asks.
"You sound like Emmett," I tease him. "And you'll see what's there. Patience is a virtue."
"Will you make ice cream? Just so I know if I need to reserve some space for dessert."
"I will," I say and smile when he fist pumps in the air. "And perhaps Bella will make a pie or two, if she wants to?"
"Oh, will you? Mom's ice cream with your apple pie. Heaven."
Bella looks up at his hopeful gaze and finally nods, insecure.
"Awesome," Edward grins. "I'd like to reserve a piece in advance."
Bella looks down, shy, but smiles.
Edward's grin turns victorious and he shoots me a knowing gaze when he turns to leave the kitchen.
"I'll go now. I can't even make hot milk," he jokes as he leaves.
Bella's head shoots up and she gapes at him, her eyes wide. Edward turns and smiles wide as he winks at her, leaving her stunned.
My curiosity flares. This is obviously something they both know about. What could have happened that he can joke about this and she seems almost scandalized about him bringing it up? Perhaps they are closer than I originally thought.
Bella places the bowl with the finished dough before me on the counter and pulls me from my thoughts. Her face looks hopeful, but expectant, and I tell her that the dough looks perfect.
To my surprise she lingers in the kitchen, making us tea as I place the bread dough in the pre-heated oven. When we sit down at the kitchen table to chat for a bit, she looks almost lost. Unable to read her mood, I slide my hand forward on the table, seeking out a form of contact, connection. I want her to know that she can ask for contact every time and after having discussed it with Carlisle, we agreed we should show, not only tell.
Bella looks at my hand for a long time and bites her lower lip, a gesture that often means she is thinking hard about something. Just as I start hoping she might return the contact, she sits back and looks away. The connection is broken and I sit back too, sipping my tea to hide my disappointment.
I cannot blame Bella for refusing contact, but deep down I am so sure, so certain that if she would allow a hug, it would work miracles in her healing process.
On Tuesday she comes down after eating to help me start on the other preparations for the Thanksgiving dinner. We need to marinate things and Bella surprises me when she digs up ingredients to make the marinade herself instead of out of a package. We work away in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables and letting them soak in the rich tasting fluid.
When we are done and the foods are in the fridge, she once more makes tea for the both of us. These tiny gestures show me how considerate she is of others, even though she chooses to only show it in ways she feels are safe.
I am so proud of her that she has started to drink in our presence. As if she has decided one moment it wouldn't do her any harm. She doesn't wait anymore for me to look away to take a quick sip, instead she just drinks, albeit reluctantly. But she drinks.
"You really enjoy cooking, don't you?" I ask, trying to make conversation on a safe topic.
She nods, a tiny smile lighting up her face.
"Did you cook Thanksgiving dinners before?"
I sense it's the wrong question before she reacts. She shakes her head and looks away, uncomfortable.
I have to ask. I have to know.
"Did you not celebrate Thanksgiving before?" Keeping my question vague I hope to not upset her.
Bella presses her lips together and shakes her head again, still not looking at me.
"Then this will be your first," I say softly, brightly. "We always try to make it a family day."
I wonder if I should bring up if she wants to join us for the dinner. It would hurt my heart if she were to eat in her room. There has to be a way to get her to join us Thursday.
As there is no time like the present, I take a breath to speak, but I am interrupted by Emmett who is raising his voice in the living room.
Bella's eyes widen and she is completely alarmed immediately as her head whips into the direction of the voice.
"Dude, I told you, no cheats!"
"I wasn't cheating," Jasper protests.
"Sure you weren't," Emmett huffs in response. "I saw it man, you can't do that move without cheating."
"Emmett," Jasper says lowly, "I wasn't cheating."
"You were! Why are you lying to me? Goddammit man, I thought I could play with you."
"You're just a sore loser," Jasper spits, getting annoyed now. He doesn't like to be called a liar.
"A sore loser?" Emmett retorts, his voice rising in volume and from the corner of my eye I see Bella tense up further, her face going pale in fright. "I wouldn't even be losing if you played fair."
"I was playing fair!" Jasper shouts back. "I didn't mean to cheat. Seriously!"
"Sure," Emmett huffs.
"Sake, Em. Every time you lose from me you call me a cheater. That really is your problem, not mine."
Just as I am about to step in, Emmett walks into the kitchen, shouting over his shoulder. "You never play fair. I'm done with you, Jasper."
Bella flies up from her chair when Emmett rounds the corner, the chair scraping loudly on the floor, and she backs up to the far wall. She's exceptionally frightened of angry people and it shows right now again as she is pressed against the wall, the way her hands are splayed against the plaster betraying her fear.
"Emmett," I say to get his attention.
"What," he snaps at me, still upset.
"Calm down." I keep my voice calm, mainly to show Bella there is no need to be afraid.
"How can I be calm when Jasper is fucking with me?" he asks angrily.
"I'm not fucking with you!" comes the reply from the living room.
"Language," I remind them both, but because I am apprehensive to raise my voice I am not sure Jasper even hears.
Emmett groans, a frustrated explosion of sound that seems to scare Bella even further.
"You are frightening Bella," I say softly, wishing I didn't have to tell him this, but in his anger he hasn't even noticed her standing pressed against the wall.
His gaze locks on her and she cowers, her eyes growing wider as she seems to stop breathing.
"Fuck!" he exclaims, then stalks out of the kitchen, up the two flights of stairs to his room. He slams the door so hard we can hear it on the ground floor. Bella's hands come up to protect her head at the loud noise in an automatic gesture of protection.
"It's okay," I coax, wishing I had better words. "He won't hurt you. Nothing will happen. It's okay. Take some deep breaths for me."
She does as she's told, but she's near a panic attack. I wonder if I should use the counting method with her, but she doesn't seem to be in so deep this time.
Jasper steps into the kitchen and halts when he sees Bella.
"Did we scare you? Oh I'm so sorry Bella. Emmett and I always fight. No big deal."
It is to her, I think, but I can't say these words out loud.
"Hey, do you want to game with me?" he asks. I admire how he can talk to a girl whose face is hidden behind her arms. "I promise I won't cheat." A laugh bubbles in his voice and to my surprise Bella lowers her hands to look at him.
Finally, she shakes her head slowly, as if she is scared to refuse him.
He smiles, then shrugs. "That's okay. I'll play alone then."
He disappears from the kitchen again and the sounds of the game drift from the living room once more.
"When Emmett has calmed down he will apologize to you," I tell Bella. "I do not tolerate shouting in my house. That goes for you too, Jasper," I say into the direction of the living room, knowing my son will hear me.
"I know. I'm sorry mom," he replies calmly. He's always able to let go of anger easily. Emmett will probably need a few hours to calm down again.
I stay with Bella until she feels calm enough again to sit with me at the kitchen table. I make us a second cup of tea and try to talk to her, but she's quiet after her scare.
Around nine I hear my oldest son reappearing from his room.
"Emmett's coming down," I warn Bella gently.
She doesn't look up at my words but tenses infinitesimally, wrapping her hands around her mug a little more tightly.
As I expected, Emmett steps into the kitchen, looking guilty. He leans his hands on an empty chair and sighs.
"Sorry. For earlier."
Bella regards him from the corner of her eye.
"Are you calmer now?" I ask.
"Yes. I shouldn't have exploded like that. Sorry."
He says it like he means it and I accept his apology, then offer him tea.
"No thanks." He hesitates for a moment before he leaves the kitchen again, his shoulders tense with an unknown load he bears.
"Something's bothering him," I say to myself, and to my surprise Bella nods in agreement. "Would you happen to know what it is?"
She shakes her head, but she can't lie and from her behavior I can see that although she's not sure, she has a definite hunch.
"You can talk to me," I try to reassure her. "You can tell me what you think."
She shakes her head now, short, rapid movements that betray her sudden stress. She doesn't want to tell. Why not? Would she feel like she is talking behind his back?
"Okay," I say softly. "Don't tell me if you don't want to. Do you want anything else to drink?"
She shakes her head again and leaves the kitchen soon after, disappearing into the solitude of her room once more.
~O~
I'm so happy Bella wants to make marzipan. I have never made it before, in fact I've rarely eaten it, but I like the taste. I have looked up the recipe and learned that it has to be made the day before consumption. Trying to be forthcoming, I ask Bella after school on Wednesday if she wants to start on the candy tonight. The look of surprise she gives me surprises me in turn, as if she would never expect me to think along with her.
But in a way, it is true. She has stopped long ago to expect things from people.
Bella nods and we agree to work in the kitchen together again after dinner. Then she trudges up the stairs to nap.
That sole aspect of her behavior speaks volumes of how much energy it all costs her. She tries to mask it when she is with others, but she works so hard to act 'normal' and it must be draining for her. It worries me a lot, to be honest. I really am not sure if she is ready to go to school, and not only for the amount of energy it costs her. But she is doing well, I am told. I have asked my other children how they think she is and I have called some teachers — Mr. Banner, coach Clapp — to ask them how she is around them.
They are positive. Mr. Banner is amazed by the way Edward and Bella interact. They are both very smart and the assignments they have to do are never a challenge. Normally he would pair up stronger students with the weaker ones, but he won't split up Edward and Bella, he promises me. Bella pays attention, takes notes, and has even asked for extra homework. She's a model student, he says, and with a smile in his voice he jokes that he doesn't have to worry she will whisper behind his back in class.
Coach Clapp tells me that he was amazed by the quality of the detention assignment Bella handed in. He's not allowed to compliment her on it or grade it, but it was a nice surprise to read. She calls in at the beginning and ending of each class, working on her thesis in the library in the meantime. He tells me that now the main part of her tension has fallen away, she is a pleasant girl to be around.
But now, Bella goes upstairs to sleep. I have emailed Renée about this and she informed me that Bella told her once she did this too with Stefan.
"Only," Renée added with a sad voice, "I think she did it then because she was often awoken at night."
It saddens me that this girl, this beautiful and sweet girl, has been through so much.
I focus on clearing the last of the groceries away before I start making dinner. I have done all the groceries today while the children were at school, preferring the relative quiet in the supermarket. It's mayhem on Thanksgiving itself and chances that you can't find everything you need are very real. I always go the day before, choosing to not take Bella after school because I was afraid it would be too stressful for her.
During dinner the atmosphere is relaxed. Bella eats upstairs again but it seems as if every night she is more hesitant about taking her plate and leaving. I don't address it, feeling that it should be her choice to eat with us. She knows we set the table for her too, and that she is free to join any time. I just wonder how I should solve it tomorrow, for Thanksgiving.
Would it be too much to ask her to sit with us at least? Or would it be the worst form of teasing, since we will eat all this wonderful food and she won't be able to?
I have to make a decision about this, soon.
"How was school?" I ask in general when we have all filled our plates and start eating. It feels incomplete without Bella here, even though she has never joined us before.
"Good, especially now we have the rest of the week off," Emmett replies, grinning.
"We have a Trig test next Tuesday though," Alice mutters. "Stupid teacher. There goes my holiday."
"I can help," Edward says, always immediately ready to assist his twin sister. "Or Bella could. Hell, she's even better than I am."
"She's more patient, at least," Alice teases.
"Because she doesn't dare to speak up," Emmett adds, his lips quivering in a suppressed smile.
"Oh!" Alice exclaims, mock scandalized but laughing.
"Hey, now," Carlisle warns good-naturedly.
"Maybe Bella could help you with Trig," Rosalie tells Emmett, looking at him over the table.
"Ah, Rosie…"
"What's wrong?" I ask. Trig has always been a challenge for Emmett.
"I have a Trig test coming up too," Emmett mumbles.
"When? You will do fine I'm sure. You just have to start practicing in time."
Emmett sighs, his mood suddenly sullen. He hates the subject with a passion, but he won't pass it if he ignores the problem. There has been talk of extra classes, but they get in the way of his football practice and he has been adamant — football comes first.
Carlisle and I have agreed with Emmett that he can go to football practice as long as he keeps getting acceptable grades for Trig. Once they drop too low, he will have to skip the practice to get the extra lessons. It is a reasonable deal he has kept for a long time, but slowly but surely we have seen his results dropping.
Right now, he is tense about it. It shows in his neck and shoulders but mostly it shows in the scowl on his face. He picks at his food, his good mood temporarily disappeared. And I realize that this is what has been bothering him lately.
Would Bella know about this?
"You'll do fine," I repeat.
"Yeah, whatever," he mutters in reply and his words alarm me that perhaps his results are worse than we know right now.
"I got this wonderful assignment for History," Jasper pipes up, as always trying to help his brother out by diverting the attention.
"What?" Carlisle asks, interested. He loves history.
"The witch hunts in Salem."
Rosalie snorts delicately. "That would be your idea of fun."
"No seriously, it's awesome. Not that there were people killed, of course, but the whole hysteria around it. The stories got more and more fantastical as more people were involved."
"When's it due?" I ask. I know nothing of the witch hunts but it pleases me that Jasper seems so excited about it.
"Oh before Christmas. I have all the time in the world."
"Hey then we can watch Hocus Pocus," Alice smiles. "That was about the witches of Salem."
"Hardly!" Rose laughs. "But it was a fun movie. Let's watch it this weekend."
"Remember we are going to see Mary Poppins this Saturday," I remind them.
Emmett groans, rubbing his face in his hands. "Do we have to go?"
"Emmett," Carlisle says calmly, but in a way that does not allow contradiction, "This is Bella's first Thanksgiving here and we have gone out of our ways to try and find something that would be enjoyable for her, too. We never ask you to join in any other family activity, but you will come with us this weekend. This is the last time we will ask you to join us. But think about Bella, and how much it will mean to her to come out with us, the complete family. Think of how it will make her feel to be a part of that."
Properly chastised, Emmett's shoulders sag. "I'm sorry. I just really hate musicals."
"With a family this size, it is impossible to find something to do that will please everyone. If what we do doesn't please you, then think about this: you are pleasing us, after all we do to please you."
Carlisle's words are strong, but rightful. We go out of our ways to make our children as comfortable as possible and we do realize we pamper them. Carlisle certainly does not hesitate to put our children back into place when they start to take things for granted.
"Sorry," Emmett says again, and this time he means it.
"Apology accepted," Carlisle answers. "Now eat your dinner before it gets cold."
There is a long silence during which the only sound in the room is the soft clanking of cutlery on plates.
"Who's shopping Friday?" Rosalie asks then, breaking the silence.
"I am," Alice pipes up, and with that, the tension is dissolved.
After dinner Rosalie helps me to clear away the dishes. She doesn't do this often and when she does, it is usually because she wants to talk about something with me.
Tonight is no exception, only the topic catches me off guard.
"Mom, what happened to Bella?"
My movements halt for a moment before I continue washing the pans in the sink.
"What do you mean?"
From the corner of my eye I can see her shrug. "You know what I mean. Before she got here. What happened?"
I dry my hands on the kitchen towel and turn to her. Rosalie keeps putting plates in the dishwasher, ignoring my look.
"Why do you want to know?"
I can hear her swallow before she speaks again. She still doesn't look at me.
"I saw her panic twice because of a guy. In this house she's much more afraid of the men than the women."
She hesitates.
"What is your point?" I ask, fearing where this is going.
"She wasn't just beaten, was she?"
This time I need a moment to formulate an answer.
"Never mind," she says, "your silence says enough."
"Rosalie," I say softly, making her look at me. "Bella asked us to not disclose her past. Please respect that wish."
"I will," she replies. "I was just wondering is all."
Soft footsteps on the stairs signal that Bella is coming down. Rosalie takes a deep breath and relaxes her shoulders as she finishes filling the dishwasher.
She doesn't want Bella to see her tension. This is remarkable and somehow it reassures me that Rosalie will not confront Bella about her past.
"Hello," I greet Bella when she steps into the kitchen. She seems to look pale. I wonder if she is worrying about something, but she's not showing the usual signs that something is on her mind.
"Are you ready to take over the kitchen?"
She returns my smile, which warms my heart.
Rosalie leaves the kitchen to go upstairs, probably spending the evening with Emmett. I don't see them often downstairs anymore, but I guess that comes with them growing up. And she and Emmett seem happy together. I won't stand in the way of that.
Bella insists on helping me with a lot of other dishes first. We make all we can make one day beforehand, our cheeks flushed in the heat of the kitchen. I chatter along, ask her where she learned to do this and that, and all she answers time and again, is 'internet.'
She loves to cook, and it shows all the more when we make more complicated dishes. We prepare the turkey as far as we can and when I start on the ice cream, Bella starts on the marzipan.
It's surprisingly easy to make it, I see. She adds coloring agents and turns different portions of creamy white marzipan green, pink, red and yellow. She keeps one batch in its natural color too. I am beginning to suspect she is planning to make figures with the marzipan.
She forms the almond paste into blocks and covers them, then finds a place for them in the fridge.
"Will you finish them tomorrow?"
She looks up at me and nods.
"I can't wait to see what you are planning," I say, unable to hide my curiosity and excitement. "I'm sure it will be wonderful."
Something flares in her eyes but her shyness wins and she looks down again, uneasy. She helps me to clean the counter of the last remnants of our cooking spree and we sit down at the kitchen table once more with tea and some cookies.
It's becoming a ritual I rather like, I must admit.
Alice joins us at the table, followed by Jasper. Carlisle is up in his study to finish some things, in the hopes he can enjoy a four day weekend with us.
Jasper grabs a cookie immediately, he's always been a sweet tooth.
Although I like that my children are joining us, it takes away the possibility I saw to ask Bella about the dinner tomorrow.
"All well?" Alice asks Bella as she sits down with her mug.
Bella nods and they exchange glances that mean more than just an inquiry after wellbeing.
"So, what will tomorrow look like?" Jasper asks.
"Well, you all have the day off, so you're free to do what you like. I'd like you to be home between four and five, so we can set up for the evening," I start. "I think I will spend most of the day in the kitchen, and you are all free to join and help."
Two pairs of eyes carefully look away, but Bella meets my gaze and nods, to let me know that she'll be there to help me out.
I knew she would.
"Do you have any plans?" I ask Alice and Jasper.
"Not much. The weather will be dreadful. That reminds me, I want my winter comforter. Is it in the garage?"
"Yes, to the left," I reply. "Bella, would you like a thicker comforter too? It's getting colder at night."
She hesitates for a moment, then nods.
"Come and get it with me," Alice says, and without hesitation Bella gets up to follow Alice toward the garage.
"Wonder if she ever says 'no,'" Jasper muses.
"Well, she refused to game with you yesterday. Don't eat too much sugar, dear."
Jasper swallows his third cookie and sips his tea. "She did. She never plays, but she's really good. Edward told me."
"Did he?"
"Yeah, but it's like she's afraid to play. She's afraid of everything," he adds as an afterthought, speaking so softly I can hardly hear it.
"She's been through a lot."
"When you adopted me, what was I like? Was I scared, too?"
I think I can follow his train of thought and I think back to all those years ago, when a very tiny, blond curled toddler, still more a baby than anything, looked up at me with wide, scared eyes.
"You were," I say softly. "You were so scared you refused to open your eyes when we arrived home. And then it took you several days before you stopped crying and started eating."
"Really? I must have given you a headache," he muses. "How was Rosalie?"
I laugh at the memory. "Stoic. She looked at me like she ruled the world and refused to let me help her."
Rose, being almost a year older than Jasper, had been a toddler when she came to us and she had had her determined ways to get accustomed to her new family.
"Sounds like Rose," Jasper smiles.
We sit in silence for a moment as we listen to Alice and Bella reappearing from the garage and going up the stairs.
"Did you want an extra blanket?" I ask him.
He chuckles. "Nah, I'm hot enough at night as is."
I nod and we talk some more, about Alice, about school, about his friends.
"Jasper, play with me?" Edward comes to ask.
"Oh, excellent," he grins, and after nodding at me he gets up to join Edward in the living room.
The atmosphere in the house is light, everybody is happy to have a few days off school. It seems almost a given they will go to bed later than usual.
Alice bounces back down the stairs and catches me just as I am about to leave the kitchen to see how long Carlisle will take.
"Hey, mom?" she says softly, so as not to be overheard by her brothers playing in the living room.
"Yes?"
"Don't worry about Bella and the Thanksgiving dinner, okay?"
I blink in surprise, but Alice speaks before I can ask for clarity.
"Trust me."
I nod, wondering what she means and if I should be worried or not.
Alice smiles and hugs me fiercely for a moment before she joins her siblings in the living room, meddling with the game instantly.
Bella is staying upstairs I think, and I go to Carlisle's office to see how he is.
He greets me with a warm smile, but I can tell he's tired.
"You look beat," I say softly, walking around his desk and standing between his legs, massaging his scalp gently with my fingertips and nails.
He gives an approving groan and closes his eyes as his hands come up to my waist.
"It has been hellish at the hospital. We're short of staff and now another specialist is leaving."
I sigh with my husband. Yet another excellent doctor lured away by bigger money and more prestige.
"Will you replace him?"
"A job opening has been placed but little response so far." He chuckles humorlessly. "I guess times aren't as bad as they appear to be."
"Somebody will show up, I'm sure."
He turns his head and leans his cheek against my stomach. "The world needs more positive people like you."
"How long do you think you need?" I ask, hoping he will be able to spend some time with us before we have to go to bed.
"I was actually done," he replies to my delight. "I dare to hope I won't have to go back this week."
"You have worked the last ten Thanksgivings," I chide him softly. "I would hope they would give you this one time."
He sighs against my abdomen. "I hope so."
We go downstairs and watch as our children are playing games, happy to see them happy and relaxed. I curl up at Carlisle's side and know myself a rich woman, and not because of the amount of money in the bank.
~O~
Thursday is mayhem in the kitchen, but nobody knows but Bella and I. As the others watch the parade on television, something Bella states she does not care for, she and I cook like our lives are depending on it, and it is such a relief for me that Bella seems to know exactly what to do. She is never in the way and her silence seems less oppressive, and more at ease as we work alongside each other.
Never once need I tell her to do something, and she keeps track of different dishes at the same time. It is impressive.
Around three when we take a short break, she makes it known that she needs some time to work with the marzipan.
"You want the kitchen? I can leave," I offer.
She shakes her head and points upstairs.
"You want to do it in your room?"
She nods and her gaze asks for permission to do so.
I excuse her and she leaves the kitchen with her bowls of marzipan. Once more curiosity flares. But I know now that Alice is in on this tiny little plot, so Bella doesn't have to do this alone. This eases my mind a bit, because Bella looks stressed beyond belief. Yet she seems determined to push through.
I can't wait.
She's back within ninety minutes, placing a covered container in the fridge and without so much as a blink helps me to finish the last of the dishes.
Alice is hanging around, trying to help but basically simply snacking from all the delicacies that are spread out on the counter. I slap her hand away playfully and she laughs, munching and dancing out of my reach.
Bella, as ever, looks on with wide eyes.
When we are done with all the preparations, I wipe my hands on a rag and turn to face Bella. "We usually dress up a bit for Thanksgiving night. I am going up to change."
I realize at this point I am lost. I am not even sure if Bella has anything else but the comfortable, wide clothes she has. It's more than fine with me if she wears them, but will she even join us to begin with?
Alice speaks up the moment I take a breath in my hesitation.
"Hey Bella? Come with me. I want to show you something."
Bella follows Alice out of the kitchen without hesitation, leaving me no time to ask or wonder why. Shrugging, I go upstairs after them and go to change in our bedroom, where Carlisle is changing into a light blue oxford.
"Everything ready?" he smiles at me.
"It is. I'm curious though. I feel like Bella and Alice have something planned."
Carlisle's eyes light up. "That makes me curious, too."
I quickly change into slacks and a white blouse, complimented with the pearl necklace Carlisle gave me for our fifteenth anniversary.
I kiss my husband when I am dressed. "I'm going downstairs to prepare the table. Take your time. I'll call you when it's ready."
"Thank you, as ever," he replies, kissing me once more.
I smile and leave the room to go and make the last of the preparations.
When I want to place the first of the appetizers on the table, Alice catches my arm to stop me. "I want to show you something."
Confused by her request and wondering why she uses the same words she used on Bella before, I follow her out of the kitchen. I see Alice looking over my shoulder, but I don't understand her gaze and don't read too much into it.
Once more, curiosity flares and I follow Alice obediently until we are in the library.
"What did you want to show me?"
She meets my gaze, then smiles. "You got me."
I nod, and smile back as I realize that this was a set-up, and Bella is now probably in the kitchen, preparing.
We wait for a few minutes and I listen to the sounds of the others in the house. Emmett, I know, always eats light during the day of Thanksgiving, so he can eat extra at dinner. He's been grumpy, because he is hungry. It's the same every year and part of the tradition.
There is a light atmosphere in the house, the buzzing excitement we always feel on Thanksgiving Day.
Alice disappears for a moment to check in the kitchen, probably, and comes back to me, beaming.
"Call them for dinner," she whispers. "Go into the kitchen together."
She grasps my hand and squeezes it tightly for a moment, a sign of her barely contained happiness.
I call the others for dinner and they all appear at the foot of the stairs while Alice puts on some nice music. I tell the others to wait before they step into the kitchen. They all look confused and bemused, but patiently wait.
And then Alice gives us a 'go' and we walk to the dining table. Chills run over my body and I sigh a laugh when I see what Bella has done.
Flowers. She has made marzipan flowers in different shapes and colors and placed them on each plate.
When I come closer, I can see how perfect they are. Roses, tulips, daisies, gerbera's, sunflowers. They're all there.
The gasps from the others tell me they are all equally surprised.
They walk up to the table almost reverently and look down at the treats. Even Emmett and Jasper are quiet, looking down at the flowers with admiration.
"Did you make these?" Edward asks.
Bella nods, completely shy with our reactions. She is so tense, so worried about our reaction, but how else could we react than with utter and complete delight? And then I notice what she is wearing. A thick knitted black turtle neck with a wide collar and woolen charcoal slacks. Alice must have arranged these clothes for her. Bella looks stunning in this attire and I tell myself to thank Alice later for finding these clothes that are so much better than the oversized hoodies Bella prefers, yet still hide enough of her body for her to be comfortable.
"This is amazing," Rosalie sighs as she sits down to look closer at her plate. "Look at that! All the petals were done separately."
We all step closer to admire Bella's work. She must have used some sort of icing to make subtle color nuances on the petals. Everybody has a different set of flowers, with different color combinations.
"I don't want to eat this," Jasper says as he looks up, his eyes wide. "That's just a waste of this art."
Bella looks down and shrugs, uncomfortable as ever with the compliment.
"This is magnificent," Carlisle says softly as he picks up a flower and turns it carefully in his fingers. "Well done, Bella. This is truly stunning."
Bella's hand trails to her ear in a nervous gesture.
"Let's all sit down," I propose. And again I realize I don't know what Bella wants tonight.
I hesitate and see how she goes to what would be her place at the table. Alice follows her and speaks softly. "You can do this. I know you can."
With a deep breath, Bella sits down resolutely, leaving us all stunned.
My heart flutters and I tear up, but I try my best to beat down the tears and focus on dinner. I don't know yet if Bella will eat, but what she has done tonight is so huge I want to shout out in my happiness.
My gaze falls on Edward and he is looking at Bella with such pride in his eyes this time my tears do spill down and I walk to the counter to compose myself, trying to hide my tears from the others.
"How long will they keep?" I hear Edward asking behind me.
"A day or two, but they will get hard," Alice says. "Why, you want to keep them?"
"Yeah," Edward replies. "They're too pretty to eat."
"She has more," Alice says softly, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "She made more, so we all would eat these."
The others break out in laughter at Bella's forethought and I walk back to the table to join them in eating the marzipan.
"What is it, actually?" Emmett asks as he chews. "I like it."
"It's marzipan," I reply. "Basically it's a paste made of crushed almonds and sugar."
"Excellent for my figure," Rosalie teases.
"Oh, Rose, like you will be thinking of your figure tonight," Edward mocks back.
Rosalie smiles and lifts up a marzipan rose to her mouth. "Nope. Not tonight." She takes a bite and moans.
Bella looks on, her face as happy as I ever saw it.
~O~
We have the first course of the meal after the marzipan flowers and easy conversation flows. Somehow we all seem to understand that Bella does not want to be the center of attention and so we act like she has always joined us at this table.
She pulls at the sleeves of her new jumper, giving away her discomfort with the clothes. But she holds on strong and from the corner of my eye I can see how she sneaks a bite every now and then when nobody is looking.
She helped me cook for days on end. She made us this treat. She dressed in clothes that fit the dress code of this evening. She is sitting at the table with us. And she is eating.
More of a breakthrough I would never have dared to dream of.
I meet Carlisle's gaze and I can see he's equally happy, and when I look at my children I can see they are all proud and glad.
The atmosphere is light and relaxed and we eat and chat, about everything and nothing, but happy topics in general.
When I get up to clear the plates Bella jumps up to help. I tell her to stay seated, but she's adamant and helps me to clear away the dishes quickly and to get the turkey from the oven. The delicious smells waft into the kitchen as she opens the over door. It's perfect.
Carlisle comes to help to put the bird on the table, careful around the tall candles I have lit earlier. He cuts the bird as is tradition and offers the first serving to Bella.
"Thank you for coming to our household and for enriching our lives. Thank you for giving us a chance to take care of you. Thank you for my family, for all the riches you give me."
Bella is stunned, and the rapid blinking of her eyes makes me think that she is trying to hold back tears.
"Your turn," Edward whispers to Bella after she has accepted the plate with the first serving of turkey.
As if prompted, she reaches into her pocket and gives a folded note to Alice, who reaches over the table to give it to me.
I fold it open and recognize Bella's handwriting immediately. "Do you want me to read it aloud?" I ask, and Bella nods. Her blush already flares and Alice reassures her. I swallow thickly and read.
Thank you for taking me in. Thank you for being patient with me and teaching me what I need to know. Thank you for giving me this chance. Thank you for being there.
We are all quiet for a long moment and I have to get a napkin to wipe the tears from my eyes.
"Thank you, Bella. Thank you so very much."
It's an intense and emotional moment, and it is ended abruptly by Emmett's loudly growling stomach.
Carlisle smiles and gets up again to serve everyone their meat as each in turn tell the others what they are thankful for.
And then we eat. And chat. And pretend to ignore Bella, because Bella is eating the turkey, at our table, with all of us present.
I am so proud of her, I can't even begin to put it in words.
~O~
After the main course Bella, Alice and I clear the table as the others move to the living room to watch the game.
During half time I serve dessert — my homemade ice cream with Bella's apple pie. Bella herself declines her portion with a small smile and pats her belly to indicate she's full. The others attack the last course of the meal however and for a while all that can be heard are appreciative moans and sighs, and the soft clatter of cutlery on plate.
Bella spends the rest of the evening with us and even stays with us as we start a game of trivial pursuit after the game on TV is done. Alice easily takes Bella by the hand, so to speak, and simply announces to us that she and Bella are a team.
Emmett and Edward throw in fake protests, but I can see even Bella can tell that they are joking. She looks so relaxed, somehow. Her cheeks are rosy with excitement and her eyes are wide and sparkling.
I hope this doesn't backfire. But I am no fool and I won't expect this progress to burst forward with equally big steps from now on, either.
Very probably she will lock herself up in her room all day tomorrow, to recover from the time she spent with us down here today. I won't mind. What she has given us today is the best present I could ever have gotten. I am grateful indeed.
Bella looks on, the perfect spectator to our game. She smiles with us when somebody makes a joke and follows each player on the board with her eyes.
And then she surprises us all when Alice gets a difficult question she doesn't know the answer to, and Bella writes down the correct answer at lightning speed, once more showing how much she secretly knows.
We all burst out in laughter when Alice blurts out Bella's answer just before her time is up, and she gets the points.
"Well done," Alice smiles at Bella, and as can be predicted Bella looks down, hiding behind her hair and shying away from the compliment.
I hope she will learn soon that she is accepted exactly as she is here. And that compliments are just that — compliments.
~O~
On Friday Bella barely shows herself, as expected. I bring Bella lunch and later dinner in her room, assuring her again and again I don't mind, that I am proud of what she did yesterday and that it is completely up to her if she wants to join her again. She is always welcome. But right now she needs some time alone and I understand.
The house is quiet. Carlisle is outside playing with the boys and the girls are shopping.
Black Friday. I would have gone with them, but I don't want to leave Bella alone in the house with all the men, even though I know she'll be perfectly safe. I also don't want to put Bella through the immense stress that Black Friday brings. I'll go again next year, if the opportunity arises.
My daughters come home well after dinner, utterly exhausted but with piles and piles of bags and rosy cheeks. They show Carlisle and I what they bought, and go to bed early, still overwhelmed by the chaos of the day I'm sure.
On Saturday morning Alice and I sit together in the living room and I know she will want to talk about the day before.
"Thank you for everything," I start the conversation. "I take it you helped Bella planning last night?"
Alice nods, beaming. "I did. I went to see her a few days ago and she ate chocolate with me. That brought me to the idea of getting her to join us at the Thanksgiving dinner."
"You did well. We all really enjoyed it. I hope it didn't stress her out too much."
"She was tense and nervous. But we had a real good talk and I think I convinced her that the world wouldn't end if she tried and failed. And that she would feel really good when she tried and succeeded."
I smile. "It seems she is getting over her reluctance to eat around others."
Alice thinks for a moment before she replies. "She still won't eat in school though. I've tried and tried but she just won't."
"That is unfortunate, but it is her choice. Even though I don't approve, she has done it like this for a long time. She is used to being without food for longer periods of time."
"It's like anorexia, but different," Alice muses.
I look at my daughter. Always so perceptive, she sometimes acts so much wiser than her age. She really wants to go into fashion, but I bet she would make a very good psychologist if she would want to be. I decide to tell her the truth.
"It's about control."
Alice smiles humorlessly. "I know that. Just like her not sleeping or her not talking. Did you know she sleeps in the tub sometimes?"
I blink in shock. "What?"
"She does."
"How do you know?"
"Because I heard her once when I got out of bed to use the bathroom. I heard her moving around and walked up to her door, to listen if she was okay. Then I heard her go into the bathroom and then I swear I heard her stepping into the tub, but there was no sound of water at all. And then all got silent. I think she sleeps in the tub sometimes."
This piece of knowledge unsettles me and I make a mental note to talk to Carlisle about this sometime soon.
"I think she feels safer there," Alice says sadly. "It can't be very comfortable, though."
"No," I agree, lost in my thoughts for a bit.
We're quiet for a moment, both trying to imagine Bella sleeping in a bathtub.
"So, did you notice Bella's clothes yesterday?" Alice asks then, changing the subject.
"I did," I smile. "You did a wonderful job on that. At least, I take it this was your doing?"
"It was," Alice smiles. "I was so surprised she actually accepted them. I sometimes really feel she just wants to be normal, you know?"
"That makes sense. Going through the motions of this life sometimes seems a struggle for her."
"Her fear must be paralyzing."
I nod slowly. "That's why we are happy she is willing to try therapy."
"Oh she is?" Alice's eyes light up. "That is wonderful."
"It won't magically heal her," I warn.
"No, I realize," my daughter replies. "But perhaps she would consider to talk again some day."
We spend the rest of the early afternoon talking, and the topic shifts from Bella to other subjects, varying from school, to siblings, to friends, to fashion. Always fashion.
I end up going up with Alice to her room to see the new green dress she has been working on. The girl really has a knack for design. And the dress is going to be very pretty.
"I'd like to finish it before Christmas, but see this?" she points to an intricate piece of fabric at the shoulder, "this is taking way more time than I thought."
"Then work on it now," I smile. "We'll Christmasify the house tomorrow, so I think you won't have much time then."
"Oh yes!" she exclaims, clapping her hands. "Oh, mom, can I go into the storage now and see what we have?"
I smile at her exuberance. "Sure. Why don't you ask Bella to join you?"
"God I love you," Alice beams, and she's off, leaving me in her room as she bounces up to Bella's bedroom door.
I don't hear them until I call around the house for dinner. Bella shyly gets the tray, indicating she wants to eat alone. I nod and smile at her, letting her know it's all right.
During dinner we talk a bit about Bella's sudden surge forward during Thanksgiving, and her retreat afterwards.
"I'm sure she'll come out again," Carlisle says. "She has experienced it now, so perhaps she'll want to do it again."
"Perhaps we should ask her?" Edward asks. "If she wants to join? Make her feel welcome?"
"But you'll have to make sure she knows she can refuse," Rosalie says.
"Of course," he replies. "Could we try to do it tomorrow? If we wait too long it might just become harder for her."
"We'll see," I say. "We have the show tonight. I'd like to see how she'll hold herself."
"I think she will surprise you," Jasper says. "If you see her at school… I think it will be the same in the theater."
"What does she do at school?" I ask, curious.
"You'll see," Emmett replies for Jasper with a glimmer in his eyes. "You'll see."
After the early dinner we pile into two cars — we gave up the family van when the children learned to drive — and set course for Port Angeles.
Carlisle drives his Mercedes and I sit next to him. Alice is in the back with Bella, chatting animatedly. The others are in Emmett's Jeep behind us. I hope they won't decide to take a different exit on the highway. I know that particularly Emmett is not looking forward to seeing the show.
On our way to Port Angeles I try to warn Bella that the show is sold out and that the theater will be crowded. Bella looks at me when I look over my shoulder and she nods with wide, serious eyes.
I wonder what my children meant when they told me not to worry about Bella in a crowd.
When we arrive at the theater I find that I am starting to become nervous for Bella. But she just looks forward, huddled in her thick coat, and follows us without blinking.
Alice stays near and watches Bella closely, guiding the way without coddling her. When we enter the foyer I start to realize what my children were talking about. We walk up to the wardrobe and I look over my shoulder to see if we are still complete, and see how Bella weaves fluidly around the people with a grace I never expected from her.
My mouth falls open when I see her, and as Carlisle wraps his arms around my waist I know he is seeing it too.
"We told you," Edward says as he comes up next to me. "She's okay in crowds."
"Indeed," Carlisle agrees, still looking at Bella as she makes her way up to us, slipping off her coat and handing it to Alice.
It's no problem at all to find our way to our seats now we know that Bella is all right. Something feels off with her however, but since I cannot put my finger on it, I don't put too much thought into it. She is here with us.
I wonder what she will think of the show.
As the lights go out, we settle into our seats and prepare to be swept away.
The musical is colorful, upbeat and cheery. It's easy to get lost in it and when I look to my left, I see that even Emmett is smiling at what happens on the stage. I am relieved. Even though for me there was no question of him not coming, I am glad to see that he is enjoying himself.
Looking to my right, I can see Alice, Bella and Edward. Bella has her hands by her face, as if she's hiding. But she's mesmerized by the show, her eyes wide and shiny as she takes in the spectacle on the stage. Her guard, it seems, is completely down. Even behind her hands I can see her smile.
I nudge Carlisle and nod into Bella's direction, and his face lights up in a smile as well. It was a good decision to take her out. Thinking herself unseen in the darkness of the theater, she lets herself relax and enjoy.
I smile and turn my attention back to the stage, where chimneysweepers are doing a wonderful dance. Carlisle nudges me after a moment, and when I turn to him to see what he means, he leans in to whisper in my ear. "Look at Edward."
I look past Bella to see my son. Only he isn't looking at the show. He's looking at her.
Aww... Some progress, eh?
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Thanks for reading!