49. Second Chances
Carlisle joined me upstairs the moment the thought to do so passed through his mind. He was only a pace behind me as I stepped into the room where Bella lay. All evidence of our daughter's bloody birth was gone, from the room as well as from Bella. My mother and sister had cleaned both so thoroughly, the only scents remaining were those of bleach and the perfume of Bella's living body.
"She hasn't moved," Jasper said.
"What of her emotions? Is she..." I couldn't give voice to the question, too afraid his answer would be negative. Jasper knew me well enough that I didn't need to speak of my fears.
"She'll be alright, little brother."
"You're certain of that?" When he nodded calmly, I pressed, "How can you be so sure? What do you feel?"
"She's in there," he hedged, but I caught the word he was trying not to think.
"What do you mean, sometimes?"
"Just..." He sighed. "The emotion I feel fades in and out."
"Which emotion? She's afraid?" I gasped when he automatically thought the answer.
"Sometimes," he repeated firmly.
My fingers traced the delicate features I knew so well. Had I the skill, I could have carved her face from stone, just by muscle memory. "And when she is not afraid? What then?"
He hesitated.
"What, Jasper? What are you trying to keep from me?"
"Nothing. I only find it difficult to put into words. If I had to call it anything, I suppose I would call it confusion." ...or maybe I'm the one who's confused.
He studied her in silence while I watched his mind. I could tell he was using his gift and was frustrated, but I was unsure of what he sensed. Still, I was relieved he sensed anything at all, especially if it was confusion. That was my Bella.
"Come back to me, Bella," I whispered. "Wake up. Please, you have to wake up."
"She is better off unconscious," said Carlisle.
"She must be in so much pain."
"Mmm. Probably not. When we sedate patients for surgery, it is done with the very intent that they do not feel any pain from the injuries we are inflicting. We must cut and break in order to heal, but I think there are not many who would consent to a surgery they could feel."
"She wasn't sedated, damn it! She was dead."
"All the more reason for her to remain unconscious. Recovery from a trauma of that kind takes time. The venom will bring her awareness back all too soon." ...and then you will both wish she had not yet awoken...
I looked away from her to glare at him, but he did not apologize for thinking the unfortunate truth.
Instead, Carlisle focused his eyes on identifying the minute changes Bella had undergone. Was her hair more brightly red, or was that simply a change in the light? Were her cheeks less sunken than before, or only shifting to the pale, reflective skin of a vampire?
His thoughts turned hazy, and I would have been able to tell from their lack of clarity that he was remembering - or trying to remember - his human years, even if I had not recognized the church in which the young Carlisle knelt. The memory was still, as though the boy never moved, though the self-image he held seemed to age as I watched. A strange tingling started in my knees and spread to my lower back. My shoulders burned, and I almost looked to see if the wounds which Sam had caused were reopening somehow.
The images in his mind caused me to gasp from the sudden change of aching stillness and silence in the church to faceless corpses floating in some body of water. Windows glimpsed during a hurried sprint down a narrow street flashed through his thoughts. He visibly flinched from the abrupt appearance of a face never quite remembered in full. The haughty nose had been of Roman descent, surely, but the eyes, had they been round? Or were they wide only in surprise?
The presage of pain from muscle strain was as nothing compared with the searing fire his mind embraced now. Usually, when speaking of his own transformation, Carlisle stuck to a recitation of the event, a story told as though it had happened to someone else. He had automatically shied away from the memory of pain - for my sake as much as his own.
Now, with Bella going through her own transformation on the table before him, he examined the event in as much detail as he could remember: throwing himself into a puddle of water which had not put out the fire; a strange grittiness which squeaked between his teeth as he bit his woolen coat against the cries of pain; the cool floor of a cellar which had done nothing to abate the burning agony of the thing which used to be his arm; a confusing jumble of voices, some shouting, others speaking calmly, while one called his name.
His fear on hearing that voice was tangled with shame and longing, but more than anything, was due to having failed the man, yet again. But the pain in his molten limb was growing, and he could no more ignore it than he could give in to it, not with his father standing meters away.
The memory faded with the final image of himself writhing on the cellar floor amid a pile of potatoes, both hands clamped over his mouth and nose, for to breathe would have been to give voice to his physical pain. Oxygen deprivation could no more have killed him by that point than it could now. Remaining silent prevented Carlisle from having to force his father to destroy his only son.
"You think she's only faking?"
"No," he said with a small laugh. "Jasper would feel something much different if that were the case, and besides, Bella could never lie that well."
Jasper nodded during Carlisle's speech, and I almost allowed his words to comfort me until I realized that was my brother's doing.
"You need it as much as she does, and almost as much as I do," he said before I could protest. "You may as well give up and relax now; you will eventually."
I grunted in annoyance, but gave in to the inevitable. By the time he left to coo at his niece, I grudgingly admitted to myself that I was glad to no longer be afraid, but then questioned how much of that was my brother's doing too.
"Stop worrying already!" he called up the stairs. "Don't make me come back up there."
I cocked an eyebrow at Carlisle. "Aren't you supposed to be the father around here?"
He stretched his arms and indulged in an intentionally drawn-out filling of his lungs. The sigh which followed could have been expressed by a human at the end of a long but satisfying day.
"Nope. I believe I am now entitled to all the privileges which come with being a grandfather, and that includes telling everyone else how to parent and not doing any of the hard duties myself."
"You can't give them parenting advice; they didn't have a baby!" I said as I waved my hand in the direction of our family.
"It takes a village? Or in our case, a coven."
Fighting the laugh that wanted to burst forth, I said, "Why must you turn everything into a joke? If I didn't know better, I'd say Emmett got it from you."
"Why must you turn everything into a catastrophe? You are hardly the first man to become a father, nor the first vampire to wait anxiously for his beloved to wake. I admit the circumstances are unusual, but the end result will be the same. Your venom repairs her body. Her psyche will catch up. She will wake when she is ready and not one moment sooner."
Carlisle was surely right; he always was. Bella would be fine - well, aside from being a vampire. Unwilling to debate with him further, I turned my attention back to watching the last changes the girl I loved would ever make.
Those which she had already undergone were incredible. My bites were barely perceptible crescents which I only picked out with ease because I knew precisely where each one was located. Human eyes would not even have been able to see the way her skin shimmered at a different angle, but another vampire would recognize them as bite marks, were they to look close enough.
Other than those imperfections, which had been left by me, her skin was flawless. I mourned for the spattering of freckles which had once graced her shoulders. In their absence was skin which was uniformly perfect. It was no longer creamy, but bluish, and would soon loose even that much color.
My thumb grazed the place on her knee which used to feature a scar from a childhood accident. She had blushed furiously and refused to tell me how she got it when I had once asked. Should I ask a few days from now, would she even remember how she had obtained a scar which was no longer there?
Bella had shaved her legs over our honeymoon, somehow managing not to slice herself even once. I knew of the contortions women had to put themselves through to remove all the hair from their legs and still couldn't figure out how she had done it without slicing herself. Not even a nick!
Over the weeks since our return, there had been more for her to worry about than grooming, but apparently my mother or sister had decided Bella would prefer not to have stubble on her legs for the rest of time, and had removed it while it was still possible to do so. Like a river rock worn smooth by the flow of water, the venom had filled in and evened out the follicles and pores and turned her legs into perfect satin twins just begging for my touch.
The direction of my thoughts made Jasper groan, but he admitted that lust and longing were better than those he had been fighting. I didn't follow through - it would have been inappropriate for me to grope her - but I did anticipate a time in the very near future when I would be encouraged to explore every inch of her new body.
Downstairs, Esme and Rosalie were slowly introducing Renesmee to the world around us. Her reactions were fascinating to watch, and her gift doubly so. She was my beloved Bella anew, gentle and sweet, curious about everything, and absolutely unafraid. Whereas her mother was hidden from me, Renesmee's mind was an open book which she invited us all to read.
Hours old, her gift gave her the ability to express herself more clearly than any college professors I knew. My mother and sister thrilled over her ability to communicate her simple curiosity so clearly. There was no artifice nor question of her meaning or intent. Her eyes were not clouded with preconceptions, nor was she hampered by expectations. The world was full of wonders for anyone willing to see them with the boundless enthusiasm of a child, and she treated the woven fabric and grains of wood with equal fascination.
How could I have gotten so lucky? What family didn't wish desperately to know the needs of their newborn? How often had I observed exhausted parents pacing the floor with a wailing baby, and neither parent nor child knew what the problem even was, much less how to solve it?
There were no such issues here. Renesmee could show us exactly what she needed, and if that had included pacing the floor with her for hours, we would never tire of it.
The only dark spot was Jacob. The wolf was in the kitchen, but he wasn't eating. My family was so absorbed in our newest member they hadn't noticed when he had skulked off to think. He didn't seem to have made much progress. I supposed Bella would call him dazzled. Every time he attempted to shake it off and think about what imprinting on my daughter meant, he couldn't help but to return to the object of his imprint and become dazzled all over again. And she wasn't even in the room!
I wondered if this was typical of all newly imprinted wolves or just because it was Renesmee.
Alice's high pitched squeal made me smile. It was good to see my sister's visions of the future again, especially as they didn't include clothes this time.
"We need you too, Carlisle!" she called up the stairs.
"Apparently everyone is going shopping," I said in response to his questioning look.
"Shopping?"
I snickered at the distaste in his voice. He enjoyed the activity almost as much as I. "Mmm. At least for appearance's sake, they need you, Emmett, and Jasper to carry things."
...much is she planning on buying?
"It's not how much; it's what. Furniture is bulky."
"Ah." ...but I think first we should... There was a spring in his step as he left.
Not everyone was convinced now was a good time for an outing. Rosalie really should have known better than to argue when our tiny sister took charge.
"Yes, everyone!" Alice exclaimed.
"Just leave her here alone?"
"She won't be alone."
"The mutt doesn't count!"
"Edward will be with Bella, and Jacob can watch Renesmee while we're gone."
"Over my pile of ashes."
"Rosalie," my father said as he descended the stairs, "Jacob Black has done much for this family. He deserves to spend time with her just as much as you."
My daughter reinforced his statement by placing an image of the wolf in question into Rosalie's mind.
"Fine! Don't let me stop you. Shop. Have fun. But you don't need me. I'm staying."
This time it was Esme who interceded. "Jacob saved both their lives, and all of ours. He's not about to harm either of them. It would do you good to get out of the house, and you can hunt while the rest of us are in town."
"Indeed, it would, Rosalie," Carlisle said. "It has been far too long since you last fed. Before we leave, however, I would like to measure Renesmee's growth."
Rosalie resisted, clutching the tiny girl to her tighter than a human would have withstood, but my daughter was strong, and pressed her face against my sister's neck in response to the hug.
"Yeah, babe. Let's go hunting. I'd love a good chase right about now." Emmett's suggestive smile was more compelling than any argument.
Rosalie relented and gave Renesmee to our father, saying, "She already feels heavier."
"So she does," he agreed.
"I just fed her another bottle, so she should be alright for a little while."
"All the more reason to do this now."
"But, what if she - "
"If she thirsts while we are away, I am certain Edward will be capable of seeing to her needs, and to any others she might have."
Resolutely turning his back on my oldest sister, Carlisle didn't see the look of anguish which contorted her face, but Emmett did. He was quick to take her into his arms, where he could speak soft words of reassurance into her ear. They would not be gone all that long. Renesmee would not change so much in those few hours away.
Jacob had stopped me from coming upstairs with her earlier, but didn't realize my father planned on taking those measurements in the very room where I now stood. I wondered if he would have dared to stop Carlisle even if he had known where my father was taking her. I tore myself away from Bella long enough to meet them at the top of the stairs.
My daughter gave me that toothy grin when I settled her in my arms. She looked around with bright interest as I strolled slowly down the hall. The place seemed familiar to her, though she didn't recognize it as where she'd been born until she saw Bella. If I hadn't been watching her mind so closely, I would have missed the decision to go to her. Just in time, I tightened my hold before she tried to launch herself toward her mother.
"Patience, little one," I said with a laugh. She didn't have to wait long; I was beside my beloved Bella before I had finished speaking.
A crease formed between her chocolate eyes. She remembered each member of our family, including myself, reaching for her eagerly. She didn't seem to understand that Bella could not do so. The little rosebud mouth puckered at the seeming rejection.
"Shh. Your mother is only sleeping," I whispered in her ear. "She will want to hold you when she wakes."
"Hmm. I have no doubt of that, but for now, it is my turn."
Reassured less by our words than the tone in which we spoke them, Renesmee was content to simply be in the same room with Bella. She found Bella far more interesting than Carlisle, though he watched her curiously as he brought over a thin measuring tape and a scale.
"Alright, Renesmee. Parents always like to keep track of their child's growth, and you are certainly growing quickly. Your father will stay here with you and your mother, but the rest of us are going into town. We will not be gone long," I sincerely hope... "but I would like to weigh and measure you before we leave."
She didn't protest when I laid her onto the scale. Her eyes were glued to Bella, whom she could just see over the lip of the tray. Most newborns would be kicking or waving their arms about, perhaps wailing in protest over being out of their parents' arms, but Renesmee was no more bothered by the hard, cold surface on which I had placed her than any vampire would have been.
"Very good, Renesmee. Now, let's find out how big you are."
She remained cooperative until he blocked her view of Bella when he tried to wrap the tape around her head. Unlike the scale, which she found to be uninteresting, the measuring tape had many lines and numbers. She didn't know what they meant, but seemed to know it was important and wanted to see why.
You are not helping, he scolded when I could no longer hold back the laugh. She had almost rolled over in her attempt at keeping his hands in view.
"Sure, I am," I said, and scooped her off the tray. I propped her up with her back against me and murmured into her ear, "Can you be still like me, little love? You can see the tape measure when he's finished."
She craned her head around to study my statue-like stillness.
Much happier in my arms than she'd been on the scale, she allowed Carlisle to measure her head and chest circumferences. With only a little coaxing, she consented to remain still when he measured her height, too. I'd had to lay her back down for that, but he worked at vampire speed, and she was in my arms again within a second.
I could tell simply by looking at her that she had grown in the short time since I'd left her downstairs. Carlisle's measurements were definitive whereas my perception was simply that she had grown.
He had no need to jot down his figures. Proportionally, she was rather adult-like, something which would have concerned him if the measurements had been taken from a human child. His mind filled with images of charts and numbers while a frown flickered across his face. The numbers themselves might have been quite different, but I thought the curve of her growth looked normal for any healthy month-old child, despite having been taken hours apart, not weeks.
A feeling of unease settled into my stomach which I couldn't name. I tried to dismiss the sensation as habit. My daughter thrived, and her mother would wake soon. What was there left to worry over?
The curiosity in his mind when he handed her the tape measure was as nearly as clinical as it had seemed when measuring her physical changes. Her fine motor skills were not quite as precise as mine, but neither did she crumble it in her fist as any other newborn baby would have done. She didn't fully understand what the numbers and lines meant, but enjoyed their pattern. When he held his hand out to take it back, she placed it right into his palm.
Her level of comprehension was already astounding; would that grow as exponentially as the rest of her?
The chatter of my family died away as they piled into various cars and left on their errands.
Simply as an excuse to fill the relative silence, I hummed the opening notes of my favorite song. I only got a measure into it before Renesmee recognized what I was singing. I broke off when she squirmed about. With a little shuffling, she settled into my arms again, but this time, her head was cradled in my hands with her feet against my chest.
I held her upright slightly, close enough that she didn't have to stretch to reach my face. After all the long years of eavesdropping, how incredible it was that Bella's daughter wanted to share her thoughts with me.
Out of sheer delight, I started rocking from side to side and resumed humming. There was no heartbeat for her to feel, but the rumble in my chest from my voice tickled her feet, and she seemed to enjoy the swaying. I felt normal, human, to be rocking my own daughter in my arms, singing her a lullaby. I wondered if she was human enough to need sleep. She had slept within Bella, so I saw no reason to think she would not do so now.
She focused on my face, occasionally glancing over toward Bella, but her eyelids grew heavy quickly, and I had only just begun a second rendition when they fluttered closed, her hand dropped away from my cheek, and my daughter slept.
Babies, in general, had held no appeal to me, and far too much appeal to my red-eyed monster. An infant would have been a mere snack, but their blood promised a purity that humans rarely retained as they aged. No amount of baby powder could disguise the scent of such blood, nor those of milk, urine, and feces which most human children carried. However clean their parents kept them, however often the child's diapers and clothes were changed, it was never enough to my sensitive nose. My desire to give Bella one had been less about the child itself, than my inability to provide her with such a basic human need.
How wrong I had been. The proof was sleeping in my arms.
Careful not to disturb her, I leaned close and inhaled deeply. Half-human child that she was, Renesmee smelled delicious, but there was no need in me to quench the dryness of my aching throat with the blood I could hear surging through her veins. She smelled nothing like a human baby. Her scent was unmistakably that of a vampire, sweet, and with a hint of something familiar. Strawberries?
I breathed in again.
"You're not gonna start sniffin' her butt, are you?"
I'd been so entranced with the tiny being in my arms, I'd missed Jacob coming upstairs. He was leaning in the doorway, smirking like he'd caught me in the middle of some embarrassing act.
"Excuse me?"
Quil used to do that to Claire to check if she'd only farted or...
"Oh, for the love of - No. Besides, with her ability to communicate so clearly, that won't be necessary."
Jacob's eyes flickered to Bella and returned to Renesmee. "She alright?"
Pointedly misunderstanding him, I said, "Bella is changing. She will wake in a few days."
"No, I meant..." ...her.
He was staring at Renesmee with his mouth slightly agape. The girl we both loved was changing into a vampire only feet away from where he stood. He'd fought tooth and nail to prevent such a fate, but now, Bella's condition didn't seem to bother him at all. I wondered if he would feel the same when the morphine wore off and the screaming began.
Bella had been convinced Jacob would hate her once she was not a human, but some thing, cold and alien, and no longer the Bella he had known. Was this disdain the beginnings of that? It saddened me that she might be right about this, too.
There was at least one thing she'd been wrong about: Jacob's hatred for her child. He stared at her in rapt fascination, rather like I was doing. Could I fault him for that? When he had been the one to save us again and again?
Not hardly.
"Renesmee relaxed after she saw her mother. Carlisle confirmed she's growing."
And now she's asleep.
"Yes."
And when she wakes?
"What do you mean?"
He imagined himself reaching for the tiny girl in my arms and anticipated my furious reaction. It had been that way from the beginning. He'd seen my glower from across the dancefloor at our prom, and every time he'd taken Bella from me since. He had no reason to think I would react any differently now.
Were we to play out that same animosity for eternity? With my daughter in the middle this time?
Before he could blink, I had closed the distance between us. He didn't flinch from my sudden appearance inches from where he stood, but he did look away from Renesmee at last. There was a wary defiance in his eyes which faded when I slowly held my arms out, silently offering to pass him the sleeping child.
