AN: The Quileutes aren't shapeshifters, as a reminder

Sydney's spring break, early April 2011

Sydney's POV

It was Mom's birthday and Esme and I were planning to surprise her when she got home from work. She hadn't wanted to make a big deal out of her birthday since she had to work anyway but Esme wanted to do something. I suggested making her favorite blueberry lemon muffins, so that's what we were going to do when she got here.

I was in the living room, working on Mom's birthday card while I waited for Esme. Earlier in the week, Esme took Mom and I up to Port Angeles for a shopping trip. It was to help make our new house feel like home. We got floating shelves that now hung over the TV and in the dining room and they had several succulents. Those were Mom's favorite plants. The ugly flower throw pillows on the couch were replaced with ones that had a blue ombre pattern that reminded me of a mermaid's tail.

Esme and Mom had also asked me what I wanted and I was surprised. I'd never been asked about decorations outside of my own room before. But I suggested fairy lights. Angela had them in her bedroom and I thought they looked really pretty. Now we had fairy lights hanging over the big front window.

The new stuff really did help. Alone in the house now, I felt more at ease than normal.

When I heard a car door close outside, I checked out the window before hurrying to open the door. Esme smiled when she saw me and opened the passenger door of her car to get several bags – mostly grocery bags, but there was a small gift bag as well. "Hi," she called.

"Hi," I replied. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, no, I've got it, sweetheart. Thank you."

I could feel my face warm at the nickname. Nobody outside of family had called me that before. "Did you get everything?" I asked, backing up so that Esme could come in and shutting the door behind her.

"Yes, I did." She winked and went over to the dining room to leave the gift bag on the table.

"Can I see what you got her?" I asked.

"Go ahead," Esme said with a laugh as she set the grocery bags full of baking supplies on the kitchen counters.

I carefully pulled out the tissue paper and found a framed picture. In the picture, Mom was kissing my head while I had my eyes screwed shut and was holding in an embarrassed laugh. I thought I looked kind of dumb. Esme must have taken it when we went out to a beach in La Push a couple of weeks ago, though I didn't remember seeing her do it. I put it back in the bag and made sure that it was completely covered again.

"I hope your mom will like it," Esme said.

"She will." I knew she would. We left all our pictures behind. I joined Esme in the kitchen and hopped up on the counter. "Can we go to the beach again tomorrow?"

"Of course." Esme cleared away the bags with an amused smile. "Now, you want to preheat the oven while I get out the bowls and things?"

"Sure. What temperature again?"

"375."

I leaned over to the stove and turned the knob to the right temp. Once Esme got the bowls and other utensils out, she guided me through the process of baking the muffins. She must've had a really good memory because she didn't even seem to need to look up the recipe.

As she helped me zest a lemon into the butter, I wrinkled my nose at the strong citrus smell. She saw that and said, "You remember Emmett, my sister-in-law's boyfriend?"

I nodded.

"He told me about a classmate of his that eats a lemon every time they're in class."

I frowned. "That's weird."

"That's what Emmett thought too." She handed me a cup of sugar. "Now you can add this."

I dumped the sugar in and started mixing it. "If he can eat lemons like that, I bet Warheads wouldn't bother him." My cousins and I used to play a game where we had to keep a straight face while eating a Warhead.

"Warheads?" Esme asked, confused.

"They're a really sour candy. You've never had them?"

"I can't say that I have," she said lightly.

From there, Esme handed me the rest of the ingredients to mix in, letting me do most of the work. She said it was because the muffins were my idea.

Once we got to the part where the batter was ready to put into the muffin pans, I asked, "When's your birthday?"

"October 4th. What about yours?"

"November 19th."

Esme smiled at that. "That's also my husband's birthday."

"Oh. Cool."

The first time I saw Carlisle was before Mom started going to group where we met Esme. One afternoon, Mom brought me back to the hospital after picking me up from school. I was hanging out in the lounge when one doctor got angry with Mom about something. I didn't know what; as soon as he raised his voice, I froze up. Carlisle intervened, stepping between the doctor and Mom, to calm things down.

I didn't make the connection that Carlisle had been Esme's husband until a couple of weeks ago when he joined me and Esme at the park.

I found I didn't mind sharing a birthday with him.

The batter all in the pans, we put them into the oven and set a timer. I put the finishing touches on Mom's card while Esme drew in her own sketchbook. She always had it with her now whenever we hung out together and I liked having someone to draw with.

Once the timer went off, a strange thing happened as I was carefully getting the muffins out of the oven. The pans were still very hot when Esme grabbed one without an oven mitt to make room for the other on the counter. She caught me staring and a second too late, withdrew her hand and exclaimed, "Ouch!" She moved over to the sink to put her hand under running water.

It was like she had to remember that touching a hot pan hurt. "Are you okay?" I asked.

Esme stared at her hand under the faucet as if embarrassed. "Um. Yeah, I'm fine, Sydney." I watched her silently, unsure of what this meant. After a moment, Esme sighed and shut the water off.

"I'm fine," she repeated. "Please don't worry about it." Her golden eyes were bright and it seemed like this was something she didn't want to talk about.

I didn't understand why. Not being hurt couldn't be a bad thing, but I said, "Okay."

Esme gave me a tentative smile. "I guess we should let those cool."

"Yeah," I agreed. I took the hand that she pretended had been burned. It didn't look red at all and was cold as usual. She went still as if worried, but I asked, "Want to watch a movie while we wait?" Mom wouldn't be home for a while.

"Sure," Esme said in an oddly shaky voice.

The closer it got for Mom to get home, the more I was filled with nervous excitement. I really hoped that she like what Esme and I did. Esme noticed and helped me filter that excitement by suggesting we arrange everything on the table. We were in the middle of doing that when Mom came in the door.

"What's all this?" Mom asked, surprised.

"Happy birthday!" Esme said with a smile.

"Happy birthday!" I echoed. "We made your favorite muffins."

"You did?" Mom said. She looked happier than I had seen her in a while.

Esme nudged me and winked at Mom. "It was Sydney's idea and she did all the work."

I ducked my head.

Mom pulled me into a hug and kissed me. "Thank you, peanut."

I held onto her longer than I normally did. "I love you."

Mom kissed me again. "Love you." She let go of me and then hugged Esme and thanked her too.

She loved everything – my card, Esme's gift, and the muffins.

The next day was overcast and windy, but at least it wasn't raining yet. I gazed out at the ocean, watching the white capped waves crash to shore, and outstretched my arms. A big gust of wind pushed me back into Esme.

"Don't get blown away," she teased.

I grinned up at her. "I'll try."

"Good. I don't want to have to explain to your mom."

I laughed.

We had lunch earlier in Esme's car, since it was a little too chilly with the wind to sit outside. Or rather, I had lunch. Esme said she had a big breakfast and wasn't hungry. I noticed she did that a lot and wondered if it had something to do with her not getting burned. I wanted to know but I wasn't going to ask. I didn't want to upset her.

First Beach wasn't crowded and the water was too cold to go swimming, but that was okay with me. I liked being here, listening to the waves and the gulls and climbing on the various pieces of driftwood. I was almost tempted to do an aerial on one, like it was a balance beam, but I could hear my mom's voice in my head tell me not to.

"You know, before coming here to Forks, I've only been to the beach once," I said.

"Really?"

I nodded. "We took a vacation to California and went to Disneyland and stuff when I was five." I didn't remember much of it, just vague memories of going on rides and then Dad lifting me up to a chin up bar on a beach. The beach was very different from this one – bright blue water, white sand, and sun. "Mom says that was before."

Esme frowned, confused. "Before what?"

"Before Dad got mean."

Esme made a low sympathetic noise.

"But I don't really remember before. Dad was just…like that." I didn't know why I was talking about this. My stomach knotted and I felt jittery. I kept walking, focusing on the big island offshore. "He'd get angry out of nowhere. But he could also be really nice and fun. It was confusing."

"I understand why that would be confusing," Esme said. She must have seen my tension because she touched my shoulder. "You know you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

"I know." Esme hadn't ever pushed me into talking, which was why I felt like I could. My English teacher here once tried to get me to talk because she thought I was too sad, but that only made me feel weird and singled out.

We got as far as we could walk on one end of the beach and turned around to go back. I wanted to go back to talking about fun things, but I suddenly couldn't get a memory out of my head. Chewing my lip, I peeked up at Esme. "One time – " I started and trailed off as my heart started beating faster.

Esme looked at me with steady eyes. "I'm listening."

I stopped walking and fixed my gaze back on the waves. It was easier to talk about it this way. "In fourth grade, I was having trouble with math homework. I was frustrated and crying and then Dad threw my workbook and started yelling at me." It was hard to remember. I could picture him throwing my workbook across the room but if anyone asked me specifically what he yelled, I couldn't say.

"Where was your mom?" Esme asked.

"I don't know. Work, maybe." Everything else about that day was gone. Just that one awful moment remained, so that it started feeling like I made the whole thing up.

"Did you ever tell her about it?"

I shook my head.

"Why not?"

I shrugged and started walking again. I saw Esme fall into step with me from the corner of my eye. "I guess I thought I deserved it." Maybe the math hadn't actually been that hard and I was overreacting.

Esme stopped and I turned to look at her. She had a fierce, almost angry expression on her face and for a second I worried it was at me. "Sydney, you absolutely did not deserve that."

All of a sudden, I started crying. It startled me and I covered my face with my hands, embarrassed. I didn't know why I was crying, but I couldn't make myself stop. I felt Esme put her arms around me and hold me close.

"You didn't deserve it," she said again softly and stroked the back of my head.

AN: Thanks to Jessica314, whenaspritemeetsaunicorn, idealskeptic, Catspector, Ooshnish, and dieFabuliererin for reviewing. Thanks for reading!