I headed to the kitchen where Esme and Carlise were skinning and slicing sweet potatoes and piling them into a gigantic baking dish lined with a sheet of pastry. They were engrossed in a whispered conversation.
"Everything ok?" I asked, making them both shift uncomfortably.
"Bella, just the girl," said Carlise, changing his upset frown.
"Carlise is helping me since we have an extra mouth to feed tonight," added Esme, drying her hands with a cloth and walking over to me.
"How are you feeling?" She pressed a hand to my forehead and the pulse at my neck. I wasn't sure why. I was suffering from nightmares, not the flu.
"A little better" I didn't want to admit to a speedy recovery. I realised it could work to my advantage.
"You look better." Carlise winked, dicing without looking.
"Yes…you've even tanned…slightly," said Esme apprehensively.
I was baked, but not tanned. I was still a pasty olive.
"What did you paint?" Asked Carlise, breaking the awkward silence.
"Just the landscape," I fibbed, not wanting to go into the whole owl thing again.
"You should let us see it when you're finished." He chomped on some leftover pieces of mush.
I made an uncommitted sound for agreement and stepped toward the table laden with food and dishes. "What's for dessert?"
"Apple Tansey," replied Esme proudly. "It's Colonial Williamsburg recipes tonight."
"What's that?"
"It's the historic district of the independent city, Williamsburg," explained Carlise, stopping what he was doing and grinning. I sensed one of his historical overview on the land coming.
"For most of the 18th century Williamsburg was the centre of government, education and culture. Many helped mould the democracy in the commonwealth of Virginia." He paused. Maybe waiting for me to congratulate.
"Oh," I mouthed.
Esme patted my back, possibly in pity at my lack of local knowledge.
"The motto of the city is that the future may learn from the past," she added.
They both looked at me then, ardently and serious, as if the quote was specifically designed to administer something intelligible to my numb-suckle brain. But it didn't. It only made my stomach growl.
"Sit, you must be hungry." Esme pushed me into a chair. "You haven't eaten a thing all day." She fussed, grabbing something out of a top cabinet.
Carlise was still watching me, now totally pokerfaced. He blinked and turned away as if something had caught in his eye. For a moment I thought it was a tear, but obviously it wasn't. He was grown man.
Esme returned with a bowl of diced melon and apricots. "Here you are…eat this, dinner won't be long now."
I didn't wait for a spoon.
"Right I'll be on my way," announced Carlise pretty bleakly, turning to catch Esme's eye. She was avoiding it. It felt rude of me to watch some personal problem exchanging between them. Yet I was transfixed.
"Esme," he said, apprehensive.
She turned, juggling a bowl of fruit and canapés. "Yes."
"Take a rain check."
The disappointment on her face meant she understood.
He snagged an apple out of the fruit bowl and took a large bite. With a nod and wink in my direction, he swept out of the back door and left. It was the strangest I had seen in him be since I arrived. He was almost volatile, but without the display of anger. And there was something else; the way he looked at me was…changing. There was a definite flash of despondent sorrow that had somehow leaked onto the outer frame of his smile, down turning it too fast to be absolute and genuine. Esme was mirroring his underlying mood. Only her eyes never lost their warmth. They only grew into great big pools of comfort that steered me away from sinking negatively towards a darker side of glum.
Esme handed me a spoon, but I had already finished eating. She seemed disgraced by her mistake. "I'm sorry Bella. There's been so much to take care of today. It must have slipped my mind." She looked frantic and unsteady, turning left and right. "Now where did I put that spatula?"
I picked up a plastic white spatula from behind the baking dish. "Is this what you're looking for?"
"Oh, yes, thank you, Honey. What would I do without you?" She smiled; one eye glistened as she turned to the stove.
I didn't get it. Why did they both seem upset?
She placed the dish in the oven and began to peel the apples.
"I actually came to help."
She peered up from her peeling, acting as if I was talking to thin air.
"Can I help?" An outright question was needed.
"Help?" She echoed.
"Yeah, you know, help with the cooking. I could cut those." I stood and grabbed the knife.
She took a hold of my hand. "No, you mustn't." She looked in desperate need of counselling more than I did. Her soft brown eyes throbbed and watered.
"Why not?" I asked flippantly.
"You're a guest. Family."
"I wouldn't go that far." I smiled. She didn't smile back. She didn't even blink or move an eyebrow. I didn't like this new side to her.
"We're not actually related," I joked, trying to break her grimace. It only made it worse.
"Unrelated guests are still customary to be served not to serve." She grinned, returning from her delirium.
I groaned.
"You're related by marriage, yes, but you're still family to Carmen. Rene was like a sister to her as you know." She stroked my head. "You have the Cullen's strong eyes" There was another long silence. "Brave eyes."
There was a disgruntled grunt from behind me.
"Ha! Brave. That'll be the day, and any relation of mine would have a backbone," snapped Tanya with her witless tongue.
Esme gathered her bowl of apples and busied herself at the sink.
"You back to the world at large?" Demanded Tanya as she approached the table. I ignored the question.
With a filthy harrumph, she picked up a slice of apple and popped it into her mouth. "More's the pity. You know you should consider deeper therapy or even past life transgression to see why you're losing it so early."
"Miss Mornay, please," said Esme.
"Don't you Miss Mornay me," she slurred back, obviously from over drinking.
Esme stopped in her tracks.
"I hear you bartering, playing little milk maid. Think you can outdo our hospitality, do you?"
Is that what she called it?
"Well do you?" She croaked
Esme looked shaken, unable to answer without offending the mongrel.
"Yes she does and very well thanks," I replied. "Plus you should try and run a comb through that so called hair of yours. Maybe then you'll look less like a breed of troll."
Her jaw dropped as I left. I enjoyed that, and the most delicious apple crunching in
my mouth. It felt good to be back. On form that is.
"There you are!" Jasper was coming down the stairs just as I was about to climb them. His shirt buttons were open, probably to show off his washboard of a stomach. He was good looking, I could admit that, what with the widow's peak in his corn silk hair and plume symmetrical features standing out to demand your attention, it was hard not to notice and absorb your whole attention. And it did have mine, just not in the way his upbeat smile was assuming.
"Where ya headin?"
"To my room."
"What? Why?" He made it sound like a really bad idea. He was also standing at a proximity that was verging on top of me. I gingerly leaned back against the stair rail.
What was coming over him?
"I've got things to do," I proclaimed, dodging the swift manoeuvre of his head.
I landed on two stairs above him, looking down was a much safer position.
"Like what?" His voice had taken on his breezy flirtatious tone. It was pretty impressive.
"Like…knit…darn some socks, you know…catch up on some ironing with a herbal drink."
"Sounds just what I need." He moved up a step.
I bit back a smirk.
"I might…even sleep."
"Even better."
"Alone." I smiled, and turned to climb the stairs. Unfortunately, he followed me until he reached my side.
"I'm insulted you thought otherwise," he muttered playfully, each step matching mine.
"My mistake." I huffed, getting tired from the climb.
"You can make it up to me." He charged ahead of me to stand on the landing.
"I don't think so." I tried to get by him.
"Ah, yeah ya do," he insisted, blocking my every move.
I gave up.
"Ok fine, what?"
"A date"
"No."
"A drink."
"No." I squirmed past him, dashing down the hall.
"Come on, how's one date gonna hurt?"
I wanted to name several. He continued to follow me down the dankness of the hallway.
When I refused to answer him, he took my elbow and turned me around till he was leaning me back against the painting of fair-haired maiden, wrapped in white silk and playing a harp.
"I don't want to go on any dates ok. Not with you, not anyone."
"Why? Celibate?"
"No."
He looked at the painting and smirked.
"A virgin," he whispered, with only half the decency to be discreet.
"That's none of your business."
"You are…you're a virgin" He laughed. "That's a real shame." He sneered, reminding me of someone else. Daniel. My now ex best friend's husband. I pushed him away into the incoming light of a small open window. His finger suddenly touched his bottom lip. His brows furled.
"You just slapped me?" He said, bewildered.
"No I didn't."
"Real hard." He winced, licking a droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with the tip of his tongue.
Maybe I did. But I didn't remember. Why couldn't I remember?
He didn't look angry, only amused, almost thrilled by the concept of a female mishandling him.
"I'm sorry," I blurted.
"S'okay, Doll." He winked, his tongue fumbling around his mouth as he moved his jaw.
"I like a girl with guts."
He sneered again.
I ran away.
