Author's Note: Hello everyone. I'm afraid I have some very sad news. Unfortunately, I'm leaving tomorrow for vacation. I will be gone for a week and as much as it pains me to say, I will have no internet access. Anyway, I realize Eclipse comes out in a few days and unfortunately, I will not be able to finish this story before it does. But I promise, I will try my best to finish it regardless when I get back. This is NOT the end. But I just wanted to let everyone know, this will be the last chapter I give you for about a week. So I hope you enjoy it. I love you all!
Chapter 37: Promises, Promises
I clutched Edward's hand with almost brutal force as we ran. Carlisle was setting a difficult pace to keep up with. He ran with a purpose in his stride that none of us could hope to match. I couldn't deny this fact: Carlisle was scaring me. Something buried deep inside my stony heart told me he was going to get us all killed by doing what he was doing. I didn't think I could take it if something happened to another one of my family members…any one of them. He wasn't thinking straight. Anyone could see that. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't thinking at all. I could understand the need not to let yourself think. I'd felt it too once, I had to remind myself. It hurt to think at a time like this. It hurt to remember anything that might bring the wash of despair that you were trying so desperately to avoid. But I couldn't help but think that might just be could for Carlisle at the moment. The rest of us were still buried in impossibly deep, inescapable grief as well, but at least we could talk to one another about it. We could mourn by remembering the good times, but something told me Carlisle wasn't letting himself mourn at all. And that was something everyone so desperately needed to do before it could feel even remotely alright again.
But Carlisle wasn't doing that. He wasn't letting anything in except the rage. The need to avenge. Anything else, anything that might cause him to come to terms with the awful reality of it all, anything that might let the hurt in, he censored out of his every thought.
And then a horrifying thought struck me as I saw the roof of the house appearing over the crest of a distant hill before us. It hit me like lightning: fast, hard, merciless and unexpected…not to mention painful. Was Carlisle trying to get us all killed? Had he already realized what had happened and come to terms with it faster than any of us had? Had he beaten us to a decision that none of us could even dream of making just yet? Was he trying to end the pain? Was he trying to kill himself?
Fighting down the panic that leapt into my throat then, I struggled to calculate our chances for survival in my head…and what realistic chances Carlisle might think we had. I thought hard, my brain having to work much harder as a result of my consistent leg motion…
There were six werewolves – five if the one Emmett shot had died – and there were six of us. But then I had to factor in the strength and body mass issue. The Quileute wolves were big…very big. In their bestial forms they dwarfed us in size and muscle mass. Even Emmett wasn't anywhere near that big… But they had to tear us to shreds completely in order to kill us and all we had to do was produce a decent shot through the head or heart…didn't we? I suddenly found myself wondering how it was exactly that one went about killing a werewolf. I supposed any conventional method would do…blood loss, destruction of a vital organ, neck or spinal fracture… but I found myself staggeringly unnerved at the fact that I didn't know the true answer to that question.
As we neared the house we slowed to a walk. I never let go of Edward's hand. I wondered momentarily if these were going to be the last moments we ever spent together. I would do everything in my power to make sure that didn't happen, I decided, but something told me that was going to be a difficult vow not to break. The way he was gripping my hand told me he was prepared to do anything and everything in his power to protect me. There was no doubt in my mind that he was ready to place his own life on the line to do so. It certainly wouldn't be the first time…
Carlisle glanced questioningly at Edward as we reached the house and Edward nodded. "There is someone inside," he informed his father, even sounding a little disappointed at this fact. I could tell from the uncertain tone of his voice that he couldn't tell who it was just yet, but based on Carlisle's assumptions, it was more than likely the Quileutes. I groaned inwardly and gripped Edward's hand a little tighter. So they had stayed. A part of me was hoping we might return to an empty house.
But then Edward's expression changed as he stared at what was left of the splintered and scathed front doors. Knitting his eyebrows together curiously, he let go of my hand for a moment and took a step onto the porch. Even Carlisle paused now, intrigued as to his son's antics.
Rosalie was first to ask, clearly unable to bear her brother's stunned silence for much longer. "What is it?" She inquired, tilting her blond head to one side curiously. Edward stopped when he reached the top of the steps and grasped the old railing with one hand suddenly, as though he could just barely stand on his own two feet. Turning slowly back to us, his expression was a strange mixture of sadness and bewilderment as well, as though he couldn't believe what he was picking up.
"It's not the wolves," he told us quietly, his velvet voice just barely audible in the hushed atmosphere of the morning. I watched as Jasper, Rosalie and Emmett exchanged stiff, daring glances with each other and myself. Our already hard bodies stiffened, tensing with the impact of this new information. We couldn't let ourselves hope. We couldn't let it go that far…
So there was someone else in the house. That didn't mean anything…but it was impossible to deter the gravity of the situation. Impossible to keep the life out of our eyes as we looked at Edward.
Carlisle only stared at his son, unblinking, unmoving, afraid to let himself think as we were.
Jasper was the one to say it as we stood there. "You don't think…" But he let his voice trail off and Carlisle was already moving then, pushing past Edward and crashing through the already half-ajar front doors. We were right behind him, not missing a step as we followed him into the huge, familiar front room. That's where we stopped, stunned.
The room – in fact the entire house – reeked of werewolf, but the stench was old. It wasn't difficult to figure out that the scent was stale. They'd already left, probably hours ago.
It was clear that the main living room had been almost completely destroyed, but somehow it didn't look so bad anymore. All the furniture was back in its prior positions and repaired in the best way it could be, although the surfaces were still marked and torn with the carpentry of massive teeth and claws. The piano seemed to be the only thing untouched. But these things weren't the reason we froze in our tracks the moment we got a look at the inside of the house…not by a long shot.
The reason we stood there, staring, breathless, was the sheer beauty that met our eyes as we looked at the fresh aspects of the room. None of this had been here before, we knew, but I felt my cold heart swell almost to the point of bursting in my chest as I looked at it, raising both hands to cover my mouth and knows in an attempt to stifle the wondrous cries that were threatening to shriek forth.
"Oh my God," I heard Rosalie whisper as she too, took in the sight before us. Our breath caught then, astonished.
The room was littered with what must have been hundreds of the most beautiful flowers I was certain I had ever seen. Blue, white and pink. The colors worked together gloriously as they dazzled everything from the floor to the walls…even the high ceiling above us. The dominant flowers – the ones that seemed to be the most plentiful – were the white lilies. I recognized them from the pool beneath the waterfall in the woods.
Candles shed an entirely different light on the room than the sunlight from outside could ever hope to do. In every corner of the room, against every wall, there were candles. There must have been a thousand of these. They stood everywhere not much different from the flowers, but these were in a vast variety of shapes and sizes. Some were in large, elegant holders and others stood freely, supported by their own, wide base. And all of them were lit, causing the room to dance with immaculate, golden light.
But it was the piano that truly caught our attention. Atop the beautifully furnished, mahogany wood was a set up so perfect that even the most creative, considerate human could never manage it. I knew it would have brought tears to my eyes if that were possible. I felt the lump in my throat tighten again, constricting my chest almost painfully.
There were two sets of candles on top of the piano, each set placed evenly in a smaller, but still glorious candle holder of its own. There were three in each set. And each decorative holder stood on either side of a framed photograph. The picture was in a standing frame, so it was propped up atop the wood of the piano. And in it, Esme's cheerful face smiled out of the glass, looking almost lifelike, almost real as her sweet, kind honey eyes and perfectly curved lips were frozen in an impossibly happy moment in time, suddenly seeming very long ago now. Her long, caramel hair flipped over one shoulder casually, she looked as beautiful as ever, as though the camera had in fact somehow done her unexpected justice.
Before the picture, lying formally on its side in front of the candles on the surface of the wood was the single, most full and perfect red rose I had ever seen. The pedals were so beautifully symmetrical and impossibly red, reminding me not of blood, but of life somehow…so vibrant and lovely…like Esme.
As I watched, unable to tear my eyes away from the beautiful sight, Carlisle took one, tentative step toward it. I was unable to see his face from the angle at which I stood – behind him – but I heard the bitter-sweet tone in his voice when he finally spoke, surprising all of us with the impossible amount of tenderness in his tone. "Who did this?" He asked of no one in particular, his voice barely above a whisper and quite tight with emotion as his eyes took in the glory of it all.
I thought, my mind even sounding as bewildered as my voice would have if I spoke. I was almost certain I knew the answer to that question. My breathing quickened as I realized what must have happened. Yes, I was sure of it. It had to be her. She'd seen it all and come back to fix everything. Alice. She was here. Now. Finally. A few hours too late, but that didn't matter now. She was here.
That's when the figure stepped out from the doorway to the staircase, halting in her tracks when she saw us. I glanced up, managing to tear my eyes away from the alter of sorts for the briefest moment. I quickly released the breath I had been holding as my eyes fell upon her. I had been close. The big, beautiful eyes and playful features. The lovely, sad smile. It wasn't Alice, but at least we had someone who would help us now. If anyone could, I knew she could. And I was glad for her presence. If we couldn't have Alice, this was the next best thing.
"I thought you might come back," Tanya said in her clear, bell-like voice as she took another step into the living room from the spot in which she'd been standing. I noted for the first time now that she was dressed in an incredible black gown of sorts. It hugged her curves perfectly, but still retained a presence of formality to it as it flowed over her shoulders and nearly completely down to the floor. It was stunningly simple, but elegant at the same time as it accompanied the sadly beautiful up-do of her red-blond hair.
In her hands she held something I wished I hadn't gotten the chance to see. I had to look away immediately before it sent chillingly unpleasant images to my head. The rest of my family pretended not to see the urn as she carried it forward and stood it purposefully on the piano next to the rose, the burning candles and the picture of Esme.
"I still would have gone through with this even if you hadn't, of course," Tanya continued, avoiding our sad gazes as she fingered the ridges of the frame that surrounded Esme's smiling face in the photograph. "Even by yourself, I think it's right to honor the dead." She looked up at Carlisle then, her eyes tender with affection as she spoke of Esme. "Don't you?"
I heard Edward take a deep breath next to me, which quickly turned into a sigh. "So the others then," he pressed, uncertain, "they're not…"
"No. I'm alone," she replied quickly before her young friend could finish. "They wanted to come, but they were needed where they were. Understandably. I had to come though." Her eyes flashed back to the photo of Esme and she sighed deeply. "I'm really going to miss her," she stated after a long moment of silence. "She was an amazing woman." She paused again. Turning her eyes back to us for the second time, she exhaled loudly, as though letting down her calm, composed barriers. "Carlisle, I'm…so sorry," she told him finally, her musical voice unbearably quiet as the gentle smile vanished from her features.
Carlisle was silent for a long moment, his eyes trained on the carpet under his feet. Finally though, he nodded. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice so tight it sounded agonizing as he strode forward suddenly, moving around Tanya to get to the staircase, which he bounded up too quickly for anyone to follow. Not that we would have anyway. We let him go willingly, allowing him to take the time he needed alone.
Tanya watched him go as well for a moment before turning back to us and closing her eyes for a long second, as though fighting back the emotion that was threatening to tear her apart. Finally, she shook her head. "He's not taking this well, is he?" She guessed, her voice heavy with grief and compassion for her friend as she stood there, hanging her head for a moment.
Edward sighed again and shook his head. "To be honest, I don't think any of us are," he replied quietly. "It…it was a nasty blow…to lose someone like her."
Tanya smiled a miniscule but meaningful smile as she took another small step toward us, bringing herself close enough now to reach out and touch Edward's arm with the gentlest of pressures. "I understand," she assured him softly. "And I truly am very sorry."
Edward dropped his eyes to the ground now and I could tell he was holding his breath, fighting down the sorrow that was undoubtedly creeping up into his throat. I looked at Tanya seriously then. "How did you know…?" I asked quietly after a long moment, but she answered quickly, her voice still as clear and impossibly strong as ever.
"Kate felt it," she answered, her voice flowing easily despite the strain on her throat. "She knew something terrible had happened. Then I got here and…" She didn't finish the statement. I could tell she was careful to be sensitive enough not to upset us with gruesome details. That's when my eyes flickered over the urn that sat atop the piano and I realized exactly what Tanya had done for us.
I quickly changed subjects, achingly resistant to think about that aspect of it anymore. "So, Kate is…like Alice?" I questioned quietly, suddenly convincing myself that I was curious enough to do so.
But Tanya shook her head. "Not exactly," she replied, seeming glad for the change of subject. "Kate has…premonitions about things. Not future things like our dear Alice, but things that are happening right now, this very moment that she can't see. She's almost always right." Tanya paused and laughed softly to herself as if at some private joke. "It's the same reason I detest playing poker against her."
No one laughed. I could tell Tanya was doing her best to get our spirits up, but it simply wasn't going to work. There was no way any of us were going to laugh today. But Tanya didn't seem discouraged in the least. She sighed and seated herself at the piano bench, facing us, still smiling that lovely, sad smile.
Emmett sighed now as well as he glanced around at the room. "We're just sorry this had to happen to your home," he apologized suddenly, his eyes scanning the scathed and torn furniture around us, but Tanya merely shrugged and waved dismissively, as though we should pay no attention to it in the least.
"Nonsense," she murmured in response as she too glanced around. "It's nothing compared to what you could have lost."
"Or what we did lose," I heard Rosalie mutter under her breath, just loud enough for the rest of us to hear.
Tanya sighed again. "I should think you'd all be very thankful you made it out okay," she attempted to reason with us. "It could have been much worse, after all."
Jasper spoke next, his voice suddenly agonized as we realized how little of us remained in the living room. With Carlisle gone, it was only the children, and not even they were all present. "Forgive us, Tanya, but we're just having a hard time believing that right now," he replied, his voice heavy through a tight sigh.
But again, the ancient vampire wasn't discouraged. She smiled a little wider now, astonishing all of us with her impossibly optimism. Then again, I supposed if you lived long enough, optimism became a very important aspect of every day life as well as dealing with tragedies.
"Well," she breathed finally, after a lengthy moment of heavy silence, "I think perhaps you should all go upstairs and get changed then. I was thinking of having a little…memorial service…for Esme."
"A funeral?" Rosalie repeated, distain for the idea coloring her tone.
Tanya shrugged. "Why not?" She retorted evenly. "Isn't it customary when someone dies to honor them with a celebration of their life?"
I exchanged brief glances with Edward and I knew Rosalie, Jasper and Emmett were doing the same behind us, all thinking along the lines of the same idea: why not? Tanya had a point. And we knew it was what Esme would have wanted, if anything at all.
I was the one to step forward, surprising myself with my own boldness. But this matter had to be addressed. Placing a grateful hand on Tanya's shoulder, I forced a smile onto my lips. "I think that's a very good idea," I agreed quickly, my eyes flitting over Esme's photograph again for a moment before turning back to face the rest of my family. "Edward," I called back to him tenderly in a voice barely above a whisper, "I'm going to get changed. I'll meet you back down here in a few minutes."
He stared at me for a long moment, clearly not entirely registering what I'd just told him, no matter how simple it may have been. Finally though, he nodded once in acknowledgment. "Okay," I whispered one last time before I turned and made for the staircase. I wasn't entirely certain what I was doing. Perhaps I was desperate to get past all of this somehow, I didn't know. Maybe I sincerely thought a funeral was the best idea for us at the moment, no matter how morbid it may seem. Maybe there was some, small, impossible chance it could help…somehow. I couldn't be sure, but for some reason I knew we had to do it. Perhaps there was no reasonable answer; we just had to do it.
Fortunately though, after a moment the rest of the family seemed to come to same conclusion I did, for they followed me up the stairs to our rooms.
I took my time getting dressed, knowing that none of this was going to happen quickly, no matter how badly we wanted it to. Mourning was something that could never be rushed. Death always felt so strange and morose when it touched one's life that it was impossible to just pass over without a second glance back. Grieving took time. Finally smiling for the first time again and truly meaning it took time. It felt impossibly foreign at the moment, the thought of smiling. Like a true, cheerful smile would never cross my lips again. Nothing would ever be the same again. Not with Esme gone. It seemed impossible that everything could just 'go back to normal'…or as normal as normal got for us. It would simply never happen.
I recalled Charlie telling me once after Harry died about the mourning process. It all sounded so sad to me. So deep, so…lifeless. And that's when I'd asked him 'but you get over it, right?' Then Charlie had shaken his head sadly. 'You just get on with it,' he'd told me.
I sighed. Get on with it. That certainly sounded like a much friendlier, more feasible option than getting 'over' it. Getting on with it, that I could do. Putting on a black dress that I'd borrowed from Tanya and combing my hair, that I could do. Walking back downstairs, that I could do.
When I'd finished changing and pulling my hair back into a clean, even ponytail, I stood before the mirror in the bedroom I'd been assigned to use. I smoothed down a few stray strands of my dark hair, tucking them behind my ears. Then I glanced down at the dress I was wearing. It seemed to fit well enough. Tanya was slightly taller than I was, but she was about the same size around.
I stared at my eyes for a long moment. I still detested the vibrant red coloring that seemed to leap out at me every time I looked in the mirror, so obvious that there was no way I could hide them or pretend they were of different coloring, such as the old, familiar brown they once were. It was impossible to do that now. They were simply too…red.
I sighed. "Well, would you just look at those eyes?...They're so beautiful."
I felt the hard, vengeful lump catch in my throat again as I remembered those words that had been spoken to me not long after I was changed. And I remembered who'd spoken them. Collapsing back into a sitting position on the bed, I doubled over in despair, resting my forehead in one hand and hugging my chest with the other, attempting almost desperately to stop the pain before it ripped out my heart completely.
A broken sob caught in my throat, constricting my chest until I thought I would burst. I wanted so badly to cry…and for the first time in my life…I couldn't. I wanted to relieve the strain on my throat that hurt so bloody much. And, as much as I had never realized it before, tears seemed to be a way to relieve the internal pain as well. Releasing tension and stress through saltwater was a concept that I had never been familiarized with, but suddenly it seemed all too true as I thought about it. Humans had it good. They could cry when they were sad. Bleed when they were hurt. But we couldn't do that. And so the pain continued to build until we could find another way to release it…no wonder vampires had such bad tempers.
And there was someone else who should have been here at a time like this as well. "Oh, Alice," I found myself whispering as I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and shook my forehead against the inside of my fist, "where are you?"
That's when I heard it. The music that floated meaningfully up the long staircase and through my bedroom door directly to my ears, as though I and only I were meant to hear it. Another dry sob swelled in my throat and I let out a deep breath as I listened, closing my eyes again after glancing up to look at the closed door between me and the hallway. "Oh, God…"
Slowly, I got to my feet. The music became unbearably loud as I opened my bedroom door and took a few tentative steps into the hall. Then one onto the step. Then another one onto the step below it. I felt as though I were on autopilot, drawn to those agonizingly familiar notes as they drifted up the stairs.
When I reached the bottom, I paused in the doorway that opened up into the huge living room. Edward was there, already dressed in a black suit and tie, seated at the piano bench. He seemed to be the first one ready. He was alone in the living room. With his normally disheveled hair combed smoothly down and his face sullen as he played, I couldn't help but notice the sad spark of life that came into his eyes as he hit the chords that we both knew and loved so much.
I heaved a heavy-hearted sigh and rested my temple against the side of the doorframe, listening. Emotion built up in my chest the more I listened. I had to close my eyes, but then I quickly decided that was a bad idea and reopened them as memories began to flash across my suddenly isolated mind. I remembered the image of Esme, standing behind us the first time I had gone to their house, smiling proudly as she listened to her son hit the ivory keys in perfect order, perfect timing, some simultaneously. Her sweet voice echoed around the boundaries of my memory. "Well, play for her." "You just said showing off was rude." "There are exceptions to every rule."
Slowly, the unbearably sweet notes rolled to a gentle close. Edward sighed and looked up at me in the doorway. He's known I was there, I knew. But it seemed he'd never let his eyes stray from the keys as he did now. Our eyes met and locked for a long moment, a meaningfulness passing between us that only came from being on the same brain wave. He was remembering exactly the same thing I was.
"It…was her favorite," he stated finally, his eyes falling back to the piano as he fingered the edge of one of the keys, careful not to disturb the sudden silence by putting pressure on it.
I nodded. "I know," I replied, my voice anguished with the strain of desired tears.
Breathing a sigh for what felt like the billionth time today, I crossed the small distance to the piano and seated myself carefully next to Edward, resting my head against his shoulder as he welcomed me into the safe, comforting hold of one of his arms. He rubbed the length of my upper arm over several times for a long moment. I felt him rest his cheek against the top of my head as we both raised our eyes to look at the framed picture that still stood so naturally atop the piano.
I sighed yet again and closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his arm around me again. "I wish she was here now," I half-whispered, anguished.
I felt Edward's gentle lips connect with my hair. "I know, Bella," he crooned as he continued to stroke my arm lovingly. "I know. I think we all do." We sat like that for a long moment, silent, still, before Edward finally pulled away, but only enough to look down into my face. He still kept me securely under the comforting hold of his arm. "So you know what I do?" He murmured after another long moment. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "I try to imagine what she would say."
I lowered my eyes to my lap now and managed a soft laugh somehow, barely a ghost of a laugh, hardly anything at all, a loud, shortened breath maybe, but it was a laugh. "'Stop moping around?'" I guessed after I thought about it for a while.
Edward chuckled now too and nodded. "Maybe," he offered his quiet agreement as he raised his eyes to the photograph again. "Maybe."
There was another long moment of silence as Edward pulled me against him again. Finally though, he parted his smooth, glass-like lips again to speak, talking so quietly that if there had been anyone else in the room, only I would have been able to hear. "Bella, after the funeral Carlisle wants to leave," he stated quickly, forcing himself to take a deep breath before he did so.
I was the one to pull away this time, looking up into Edward's face with a concerned expression on my saddened features. "Leave?" I repeated, confused.
Edward sighed and nodded, deliberately avoiding my gaze. "Yes," he breathed airily, his tone suggesting that he didn't like the idea at all himself. "Tanya managed to talk some sense into him and he thinks it would be best if we left…to find Alice."
I stared at him for a long moment, unblinking before he pressed on.
"She's been missing an awfully long time now and he thinks it would be best if the family were all together at a time like this."
I nodded in agreement. "And what do you think?"
He shrugged and lowered his gaze further still. "I think it's vitally important that we find my sister," he paused, "but I also think it's still very dangerous to leave again without knowing where or when the wolves will strike. We're safe in the house now. Tanya's here. As small and sweet-natured as she is, believe me, no wolf would chance an ambush while she's here."
I shuddered at the thought.
"And I also think that Carlisle's right in the sense that he wants to limit the number of us that leave for our own safety – he would go alone if he could…but he needs one other person to go with him, and I think he's wrong in who he's chosen."
I stared at Edward for a long moment again, silent, my gaze gauging his expression. I wasn't so thick as to be unclear on a matter such as this. It was ridiculously simple to decipher. "He wants you to go with him." It wasn't a question.
Just the same, Edward avoided the answer. "Jasper wanted to go himself, understandably, but he would be no good to Carlisle on a search for Alice. I on the other hand…"
"You could help find her," I finished for him, knowing.
Edward stared at me for a silent moment and finally nodded. "Yes."
I wasn't a slow or simple person…or…vampire rather. I knew what this meant. I fought down the fear that threatened to bury me as I thought about this for what felt like several, very long minutes. I tried not to remember the last time Edward had said something like this to me…not exactly along the same lines, but close enough to tug at the fault lines in my chest where my heart had been ripped out the first time.
For the longest of moments, I held perfectly still, my eyes wide and fixed on his beautiful face. Finally, I forced myself to take a deep breath. "Okay," I said abruptly, my voice sounding hoarse and cracked out of the silence. "Okay." I had to remind myself to jumpstart my brain again. It had frozen, locking down for impact. But for the moment I could think again. Not to any surprise of my own, my thoughts went to Alice, wherever she was.
"Edward, you have to go," I stated finally, having to focus very hard on making my voice sound calm. "You have to go and find Alice. She needs you." As I'd reminded myself earlier, I wasn't a stupid person. I knew this could take weeks, months, maybe years if the situation was truly dire. But I also knew that it was something that had to be done, for better or for worse.
Edward took my face then, almost roughly between his hands. "But I need you," he reminded me simply.
I sighed and lowered my gaze. "Then I'll go with you," I concluded finally, sounding immensely satisfied with my decision, but Edward shook his head.
"You can't. I won't let you endanger yourself like that."
I groaned audibly then and rolled my eyes. "Well, then, make up your mind!" I commanded irritably. "Either we both stay or we both go…but you at least need to go, Edward. You know that. We both know that." I thought I'd won the argument when he dropped his eyes to his lap again, breathing a heavy sigh.
"I can't go without you," he concluded finally. "And I won't. I made a promise to you that I would never leave you again…and I won't."
I knew what this meant. He didn't mean he was going to bring me along. He would never allow that. He wanted to stay…but I wasn't going to allow that.
Forcing myself to take a deep breath to clear my tightened throat, I had to push my next words over my lips, as much as it pained me to do so. "You have to." It came out in a whisper. It was almost a physical blow as I said it. It hurt because I knew it was true. There was no way around it. Goodbye was the only solution.
And as I stared up into the deep, golden pools that were his eyes, I could see clearly that he knew it too. The fault line in my chest rippled.
He took my face in his hands again, clearly seeing the pain in my eyes and fighting it down with his own opposing gaze as he looked at me with an expression that was more intense than I'd ever seen on him before. "Bella, listen to me," he stated, his normally smooth voice almost rough with urgency. "It'll be different this time. I promise. It'll be different because this time I am coming back."
My chest hurt badly. I visibly cringed.
"We will see each other again. That's a promise. I'll go and find Alice. You stay here…be safe."
I subconsciously fingered the diamond on my left hand, remembering the engraving on the inside of the band. I had to force myself to nod. "Okay." Again, it was a barely audible, anguished whisper. I struggled against the agony that was slowly overtaking my chest. "Just…just promise me one more thing." I closed my eyes for a moment, waiting for the answer I so desperately needed to hear.
Edward stared at me, and finally nodded.
"Promise me you won't let anything happen to yourself," I whispered, opening my eyes to look up into his. I needed to see the sincerity there. The truth. "Promise me you'll stay alive…no matter the cost. I need you to stay alive. I couldn't survive it if I lost you too."
Edward was still for another lengthy minute, staring down at my through unreadable eyes. Finally though, he inhaled and his eyes bore into my soul as he spoke. "Bella, I would promise you anything in the world if it would make you believe that I am coming back. I will find you again." All too suddenly, he bent his head and thrust his lips against mine, moving them with an urgency I'd felt twice before since we'd met. Each time had ended in goodbye. Breaking away finally, he stared at me with a sincerity that would have convinced the most cynical of creatures.
But I wasn't convinced. "Promise me," I repeated, relentless. I needed to hear him say it.
Finally, he sighed, defeated. "I will if you will."
I thought about this and nodded finally. "I promise." I didn't particularly care if something happened to me, but if it made him promise that he wouldn't let anything happen to him, then I would say I did as well.
He stared at me, scrutinizing my expression to gauge the sincerity of my statement. Finally, he seemed satisfied. He nodded. "Alright then," he murmured. "I promise too."
The memorial service passed without anything of consequence occurring. We'd known what to expect from the beginning and it was exactly as any funeral would be carried out. We sat, stone-faced and sullen while Tanya read the eulogy she'd prepared. She was the only one strong enough, it seemed, to do so and as she spoke, she spoke with such clarity and strength that none of us regretted the decision of allowing her to do it. But it wasn't the tone of her voice that forced happiness upon our decision. It was her words.
"Esme Cullen…was a very special soul," was her opening line. "I think anyone who knew her can testify to that. She was kind-hearted and sweet-natured, and her mothering instincts certainly left nothing to be desired. I think I can safely say that no where in this vast world of ours exists her equal.
"Now, death certainly has a strange way of falling upon us when it does. It hits so quickly that even if it was to be expected, no one could have prepared themselves for it. It's foreign and frightening…and very, very painful when someone whom we all loved so much…is snatched away from us in the blink of an eye, sometimes without allowing for the chance to say goodbye."
At this statement, my eyes flickered to Edward's face. It was hard and unreadable, but I knew what he was thinking.
Tanya pressed on, her eyes skimming the page before her at an impossible pace. "But life always finds a strange way to make all of that alright. When we remember the good times we shared with her, it warms our hearts to a point where we simply don't feel the pain anymore. It's not that it isn't there of course, but it feels a little less strenuous when we are able to smile at the memories. It relieves the pain in a way that nothing else can…not even crying."
I instantly took note of this statement. So that was it. That was what had to be done. Just one meaningful smile? That's all it took?
"Someone once told me that even a thousand tears could never equal the worth of one smile. And if I remember correctly, Esme had a smile that valued a thousand times more than anyone else's. She looked at the world through nurturing eyes. Loving eyes. She had a good soul and nothing, nothing could ever take that away from her. Not even in death."
I glanced at Edward curiously. He'd once told me he didn't believe in the afterlife for us, but how could he seriously entertain the notion that there was possibly nothing left for someone as wonderful as Esme had been. He had to believe she'd gone somewhere, met some kind of incredible destiny. How could God not welcome someone like her into his kingdom of heaven?
"And we have to believe, that even in death, Esme would never abandon us. She loved her husband and children more than anything else in the world and still does. She is with us even now, as we mourn. Go outside. Listen to the birds sing. The crickets chirp in the grass. Listen to the gentle whistle of the wind in the trees and I promise you…you will hear her. She is here, in our hearts and in our memories. And as much as it pains us to say goodbye, we have to let her go. For it is our hearts, our smiles and our memories…that will keep her alive forever."
I could have sworn in that moment that if we had been humans instead of vampires, there wouldn't have been a dry eye in the room. There wasn't a word in Tanya's speech that wasn't of the utmost truth. It was true, some of it hurt to hear, but every word was of the most sincere honesty, and hearing it brought every one of us a hopeful and comforting message: she would never really leave us. As long as we remembered her, she would never truly die.
Tanya gingerly folded the piece of paper from which she was reading into quarters and placed it delicately atop the piano, next to the assortment of beautiful things that had compiled there over the last little while. She then turned to look at Carlisle, who stood, motionless at the back of the room, listening.
"Carlisle," she called softly, her melodic voice barely above a whisper as she addressed him, "would you like to say something?"
I twisted around in my chair to see what his answer would be, but, to my – and everyone else's – disappointment, he merely shook his head no. "No, thank you, Tanya," he replied, having to clear his throat before he spoke again. "I think you said it all."
She watched him for a moment and then nodded respectfully in response to his decision. "Alright. As long as you're sure."
He nodded now. "I am," he replied. "But if you don't mind," he added quickly, his voice growing tight again, "I'd like to spend…one last moment alone with her."
I couldn't help but manage a small, sad smile as I looked at him then. I thanked heaven for his last statement. He was beginning to sound like his old self again, which was something none of us had ever expected. Tanya certainly was a miracle worker.
Tanya nodded once in his direction, smiling thankfully, as though she were thinking exactly the same thing. "Of course," she whispered once in response before ushering the rest of us out of the room. It cleared fairly quickly, although I hung back for a moment, just long enough to touch Carlisle's arm meaningfully as he passed me on the way to the piano. He halted, looked over at me for a moment. I granted him a sympathetic but reassuring smile before turning and continuing on my way out the doorway to the staircase with Edward. As we left I was certain I caught a glimpse of Carlisle out of the corner of my eye, seating himself heavily on the piano bench before the picture, the rose, the candles, the urn and the written eulogy.
Once in the hallway of sorts though, I paused, wondering. Maybe I should speak to Carlisle. He seemed to respond well enough to me merely looking at him. Perhaps I could help in some small way.
Noting my hesitation, Edward turned back to face me as he reached the base of the stairs, his expression questioning.
"You go on upstairs and get changed," I told him in a quiet, serious voice. "I'll meet you out front in a minute. There's something I've got to do first." Perhaps I felt it my responsibility to do so, I couldn't be sure. All I knew was I had to do it. Just like so many things I had done in the last agonizing twenty-four hours. Not even that. I stunned myself at the sense of haste that hit me then. All of this had happened so quickly.
But Edward seemed to understand as he granted me one small, crooked smile that never reached his eyes before turning and continuing up the staircase to his room.
I forced myself to take a deep breath then. I smoothed down my hair and straightened out the wrinkles in my dress before turning and striding as confidently as I could back toward the living room. I stopped though, when I heard his voice…
"How do I…even begin to say goodbye to you?"
I paused, hesitating a moment too long.
"I've attended a lot of graves, Esme. I never thought I'd be attending yours."
I knew I shouldn't have listened. I knew this was a moment more sacred, more private than any I could even come close to being privileged enough to experience. I shouldn't have been there. I shouldn't have turned and rested by back against the wall outside the living room. I shouldn't have listened. But I did.
Carlisle's voice tightened suddenly, frightening me with the knowledge that I if I hadn't known who he was, I would have been certain he was crying. "When you were carried down that road to my hospital for the first time…I never knew how long the road would be…" his voice broke, "or how wonderful it would be sharing it with you." I heard the soft tap of the piano cover closing over the keys, undoubtedly so he could lean on it. "So I don't know how I could…" his voice was agonizingly strained with emotion, "just drive away without you now…"
I heard a broken, dry sob escape his lips, startling me. "Oh, Esme…what am I ever going to do without you?" I heard him kiss something; the picture maybe. His voice came out in a cracked whisper next. "I love you."
That was it. I felt I'd heard enough. I wasn't supposed to be listening to this in the first place. It wasn't for me to hear. So I sighed quietly to myself and marched slowly toward the stairs, being careful to remain out of Carlisle's line of vision as I made my way as quietly as I could up to my bedroom, where I threw myself onto the mattress of the bed, burying my face in the pillow there and allowing the last wracking sobs of the ordeal to burst out of me, tearless.
It couldn't have been more than ten minutes that passed before I finally picked myself up off the bed and made my way downstairs. I heard the roar of one of the motorcycles' engines and flew down the spiral staircase, desperate to get my very capable goodbye in before someone else I loved disappeared from my sight.
As I reached the front door and swung it open, stepping out into the bright, summer sunlight, I noted that the others seemed to have already said their goodbyes. They stood on the porch, out of the way as Edward mounted his own bike next to his father.
But the moment he saw me his eyes widened and he dismounted again, spreading his arms readily as I flew into them, burying my face in his shoulder and clinging to him with enough force to shatter his bones if I wanted to. Carlisle killed the motor on his vehicle and stepped off as well, realizing that it was going to be another minute or two before they got the chance to leave.
I held onto Edward for a lengthy minute before drawing back just enough to look into his perfect face. "You were going to leave without saying goodbye," I accused, only half joking as I took his face gingerly between my hands.
He chuckled, a heavy, forced sound. "Oh, Bella, I thought maybe you didn't…"
"Want another sad goodbye?" I whispered before he could finish, my eyes boring into him seriously.
He sighed, gauging my expression. "Yes."
I felt the despair creeping up into my throat as I looked at him then, shattered at the thought that I'd almost missed my chance to talk to him one last time. "Oh, Edward." I stretched up on my tiptoes and caught him on the lips, inhaling sharply as his hands found the back of my head and neck and held my face up to his for a moment that exceeded my intentions. His lips were hard, urgent. It was that goodbye kiss that I'd always dreaded so much.
"I'll be back," he whispered urgently when he finally broke away, dropping me back on the ground so I was standing flat on my feet again. "I promise."
I thought for a moment, debating. Finally, I decided to say it. After all, now may be the only chance I ever got to do so. "Edward," I murmured after a long moment of silence in his arms, "I need you to make me a third promise."
He looked down at me seriously, his eyes scrutinizing as he waited for me to continue.
"I need you to promise me that if anything happens to me…"
"Bella, nothing…"
"Please, Edward, just let me finish," I cut him off before he could say the words that I'd heard so many times before. "If anything happens to me," my eyes flickered over Carlisle for a brief instant, then they were back on Edward, "you won't become a monster." I dreaded the thought of Edward acting the way Carlisle had the night before or even early this morning. I couldn't bear the thought of hearing him say the words that I'd heard Carlisle state to his wife only moments before. I wasn't going to let that happen. He wouldn't feel that way. It wasn't right.
But Edward was silent for a long moment, unanswering. I knew what he was thinking without having to read his mind. He couldn't promise me something like that.
"Promise me, or I'm coming with you," I threatened, not joking in the least anymore.
He nodded without further hesitation. "I promise."
I felt him tighten his hold around my back as he held me against him, inching his face closer to mine after a moment. "And Bella?" He murmured again, his voice so low this time that even I had trouble hearing.
"Yes?" I asked when he didn't continue.
"When I get back…I'm going to marry you." His voice was so unbelievably tender that it caused the emotions I had been holding at bay to burst forth through the coherent damn I'd built up. Throwing my hands from his chest around his neck one more time, I inhaled the wonderful, familiar aroma of his leather jacket deeply.
I squeezed my eyes closed, praying that somehow, this moment could last me for the rest of eternity. I never wanted to let him go. I knew that if I let him go, he was going to disappear. My heart began tearing out of place. "I love you," I whispered in his ear without opening my eyes.
He squeezed me more tightly against him at this. "I love you too."
Then his grip loosened. I felt deep, agonizing anguish rip at my heart as I let go of him too, allowing him to step back toward his motorcycle.
Inexplicably, my eyes turned in Carlisle's direction. He stood by his own bike, unsmiling as he looked at me, although I couldn't help but notice as some of the old light of compassion came back into his eyes. For reasons I could not fathom myself, I stepped toward him, sighing deeply as I looked up into his kind face. Then I did something I had never done before. I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
At first I felt the muscles in his chest tense with shock from the ordeal, but then he seemed to relax. I felt his arms encircle my back ever tentatively, holding me carefully for a long moment before I finally pulled away. "Carlisle," I half-whispered, knowing there would be tears in my eyes if there could have been, "you once told me that you've never seen anything in four hundred years to make you doubt the existence of God…in one form or another…not even in the reflection in the mirror."
He watched me seriously for a long moment, curious, waiting for me to continue.
"And I believed you," I pressed, desperate to get this out before I lost my chance. "You said that you believed there is a point to this life, even for us. You said that even though it was a long shot, even if we were all damned regardless, you hoped that we would get some measure of credit for trying. Do you remember that?"
Slowly, he nodded, clearly recalling that night at the kitchen table when he'd stitched up the gruesome gash in my arm.
"Well," I continued, sighing heavily as I looked up into his lonely, beautiful eyes, "I believed you then too. And I still do. I believe that we all have a reason for being here, whether it's for each other or ourselves. And the night of the fire you said that we were still a family…no matter what happens."
He stared at me for a long moment then, impressed by my boldness and clearly thinking over everything I had told him. Finally though, he nodded his expression still serious, but somehow a little brighter as his wise eyes took me in. "Thank you." He told me kindly after another silent moment. "That's very true…and don't you ever forget it."
Finally, I smiled. A smile that meant something. A smile that truly portrayed how I felt: relieved. Relieved that Carlisle finally seemed to be coming into his own again. His mind was clearing out of all the bad stuff. He was sparking back to being the flame of his old self. "I won't." I promised him gently before taking another step back, nodding my acknowledgement at his departure. He nodded too…and then remounted his motorcycle.
I looked at Edward then, my expression altering drastically as I came to the horrifying realization that this was it. This was the moment. This was really goodbye.
"Goodbye, Bella," he murmured softly in my direction before mounting his own bike, but his expression was optimistic as his beautiful ochre eyes took me in. "I'll see you again soon. That's a promise."
I managed another miniscule, meaningless smile. "I'll hold you to it," I attempted to lighten the situation by saying. The crooked smile I received then was completely, one hundred percent worth my pained efforts. My spirits soared when I saw it. Then he winked. I heard him rev the throttle once or twice. And then he was gone.
I kept my eyes fixed on the back of his leather jacket until it was completely out of sight, the roaring sound of the motors fading all too quickly into the distance. The agony that hit my chest then was excruciating. I felt like audibly crying out, maybe dropping to my knees and curling up the way I had that night in the woods. My heart hurt. It was more than an emotional pain. It became physical when I was unable to shed the tears I so desperately wanted to release.
That's when I heard Rosalie's voice from behind me on the porch. "And then there were four…"