Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chapter 3: Living Uncomfortably
BPOV
Thank goodness it is Sunday and I still do not have a weekend shift.
I feel awful. In so many ways.
I did a stupid thing, one that Charlie, a decades served Chief of Police, has been warning me about all my life. I wrecked my new car. I got rescued by a minor, an angry one at that. And I let Charlie put hard liquor in my cocoa before bed.
What time is it?
Ugh. Eleven.
I flop back down and wrestle my way back into my bedding. Maybe I can just write today off?
No. I cannot. I must get my car back and arrange for it to be repaired. I am sure Charlie will be happy to drop me off at work tomorrow, but who wants to arrive at a hospital in a police cruiser one day more than strictly necessary?
I struggle upright again.
Oh good, at least I had the sense to bring a glass of water to bed with me last night.
Or maybe, I did not, it is still cold and there is a note beside it from Charlie.
'Car at garage for repair, probably ready to pick up Wednesday. Feel free to sleep in, idiot child of mine.
Dad'
Great. I text him a quick thank you and wriggle back down in the bed. Another hour should do the trick, and then I can make him his favourite dinner.
Sleep eludes me; however, my thoughts seem to be stuck on Edward Cullen.
What a strange boy he is. Well, I say boy because he must be all of seventeen, eighteen? But he does not seem very boyish, more like a grumpy old man. He does not speak or carry himself like a teenager either. And he is, I can admit in my head, far too good looking and well-constructed for a mere boy. He must be supremely confident too, to take on a handful of aggressive drunks alone in order to rescue little old me. I will have to do something to thank him too. But not the way I dreamed about thanking him last night, that would be nasty, given his age.
….
Damn. I do not have everything I need to make Charlie dinner; I will have to walk to the store. Oh well, the exercise and fresh air will do me good. And at least it is not raining for once.
Nevertheless, I dress for all the possible Forks weather outcomes and rush out the door, only to almost run into a ridiculously small woman on the porch.
"Hello," she says, beaming at me like a lighthouse.
"Er, hello."
"I'm Alice," she adds, offering me her tiny hand.
"Hi, Bella." We shake hands and her chilly one reminds me of Edward's.
"I know," she laughs, studying me shamelessly.
"I, um," I am at a loss, that is what I am.
"Sorry," she says, "I've heard all about you and you probably have no idea who I am?"
That would be correct.
"I am Edward's twin sister, Alice Cullen."
"Ah! Hi, again, pleased to meet you."
Now it is my turn to study her. She has the same deep gold eyes as Edward, and the same astounding beauty. But there the similarity ends, they could not be more different. She is tiny, like a woodland nymph and fairly vibrates with barely contained energy, whereas, if Edward were any more closed off, he would have an actual closed sign hanging round his neck.
Her short spiky hair frames her face perfectly, her makeup is 'barely there' flawless and her clothes are so fashionable that even my brand-new jeans are mortified on my behalf. I feel like an unkempt heifer. Which is pretty much what I am by comparison, I suppose.
"I came to see how you are," she says, her face pinching with worry, "Edward told us what happened last night, you must have been terrified!"
"Well, I did not realise how much trouble I was in until Edward arrived. He saved me."
"He is very heroic," she laughs.
"Yes. I will have to do something to thank him."
"Pasta," she says with a wink, "he adores mushroom ravioli."
"Oh, right, well. Maybe I could make him some?"
"He'd love that," she exclaims, clapping her hands together and going off into gales of tinkly laughter.
"Okay, well. It was nice to meet you Alice, I was just on my way to the store . . ."
"Excellent, so was I, I can give you a lift."
…..
I did not particularly want a lift, but this did not appear to bother Alice at all. So, we went together. She did not stop talking the whole time, but you could not dislike her for it, friendliness and positivity absolutely radiated from her like a strong perfume. Literally all you can do is smile and try to keep up.
She found a mushroom ravioli recipe on her cell and organised me buying the ingredients.
Eventually she deposited me, still speechless, back at home.
…..
"Something smells nice," Charlie observes as he takes off his gun belt and stows it in the hall cupboard.
"Chilli."
"Sucking up?"
"Saying thank you."
"You're welcome. Here, I got you some more pepper spray for your bag."
"Thanks, I will put it with the others."
"You do that and think about using it next time."
"I will."
"Good."
…..
Monday morning, I decide to walk to work rather than ride in Charlie's cruiser. I know it is childish but I still remember the cringing embarrassment of being seen in it during my teenage years, Besides I was used to walking during my residency and I am starting to get a bit doughy around the middle.
I have been power walking for twenty minutes, beginning to curse my stupidity, when a car I recognise pulls up quietly beside me.
"Good morning, Bella."
"Good morning, Carlisle."
"Can I offer you a lift, exercise is a wonderful thing, but Alice tells me it is going to rain, and the sky would seem to agree with her analysis."
I look up and he is not wrong.
"Yes, thank you, that is very kind of you."
His car is enormous and better appointed than Charlie's house. So much so that I cannot help but sink down in the leather seat with an audible sigh.
"It is comfortable isn't it?" He chuckles as my cheeks flame with embarrassment.
"Yes, the leather smells wonderful too."
"Cars are a guilty pleasure for my family and I," he says as we pull smoothly and soundlessly away. "We are lucky to be able to afford to indulge ourselves. Esme bought this beauty for me last year as a birthday present."
"It is lovely."
"Will you be getting your car back soon?" He asks as the rain starts to pour.
"Yes, Wednesday hopefully. Please, will you tell Edward how grateful I am for his help on Saturday night."
"Of course, but he doesn't need thanking, Edward always does the right thing. You could thank him yourself if you do us the honour of accepting our invitation to dinner on Saturday night?"
"I, um, oh. Yes, thanks you, that would be lovely."
"Charlie is welcome too, naturally."
Great, he will love that. Not.
…..
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"I'm not going to any fancy pants dinner at the Cullens where I'll have to dress up and make small talk when I could be down at the Res with Billy and Harry."
"I don't t want to go on my own."
"Why not? Get out, meet some new people! What's the point of leaving home for all that education if you just come back and slip straight into your old hermity habits? Get out, live a little."
"You are a fine one to talk about old hermity habits," I mutter under my breath as I stomp away.
…..
"How do I look?" I ask him on Saturday night.
"Like you're going to a parole board hearing. As the inmate."
"What?!"
He sighs.
"What about the dress you wore last week?"
"It has not been washed." Not entirely true.
"Do you own anything else that isn't black and would have the added benefit of being inappropriate to wear under your white coat at work?"
"Only jeans."
"Then you look lovely, have fun."
…..
Their place is quite hard to find considering what a small-town Forks is, but boy is it worth it. One minute you are driving down a pristine asphalt driveway hemmed in by towering trees and the next you are sailing through a wildflower meadow approaching a shining beacon of light on a hill.
What is it with men and their descriptions of things? Clinical and a bit terrifyingly chic says nothing about the beautiful cedar clad house before me. It flows out of the trees behind like a pearl from an oyster shell, glowing with light from the huge windows and with curving walls that flow in and out of the land around it. Like a living magazine cover, shock and awe in the home building department. As I draw nearer, I realise that the split-level roofs are planted with the same wildflowers as the meadow.
But as I pull up on the fan of asphalt by the fluid steps sweeping up to the open double doors, I realise what Charlie meant about it being terrifyingly chic. I am already uncomfortable here.
While I am contemplating my failings, Carlisle appears in the doorway, clad in jeans and a long-sleeved superhero t-shirt that makes him look like a blonde Sheldon Cooper. This cheers me up enormously.
As he bounds down the steps a slight woman with auburn hair appears behind him. Must be Esme.
"Bella! Thank you so much for coming!"
"Hi, Carlisle."
"This is my wife, Esme."
"Hello," I manage as I try to climb out of the car without hitting anyone with the door or falling flat on my face.
"Hello, Bella." She replies as Carlisle tucks her into his side, out of harm's way. "So nice to finally meet you, welcome to our home."
I proffer the bottle of Chenin Blanc I bought for the occasion and Carlisle takes it as I follow them into the house.
Wow. It must take real talent to make a place this imposing feel so welcoming inside. Carlisle is explaining where all Esme's interior design ideas came from as they show me the ground floor, but I am only partially taking it all in. Because. Wow. I would die to live in, or feel comfortable in, a house like this.
"We thought we'd eat in the kitchen," Esme says as we enter the room in question. And I can see why, it is exquisite. And large enough to feed twenty people quite comfortably.
"Something smells delicious," my stomach orders me to remark.
"I hope pasta will be okay?" Esme asks, seeming concerned. "We tend to eat rather simply I'm afraid."
"Pasta will be wonderful," I assure her with a smile, "Charlie thinks it is the Devil's food unless it is in a lasagne."
"How can anyone not like pasta?" Carlisle chuckles as he opens the wine.
"Can I do anything to help"? I ask Esme as she examines the various pans on the state-of-the-art range cooker.
"Not at all," she says easily, "come, have a seat and a glass of wine. Tell me all about yourself . . ."
…..
I seem to have done most of the talking and most of the eating but neither of them seems to mind. In fact, they are a picture of relaxed affection, and surprisingly easy to be around. Not that I feel we will all be firm friends, weirdly I feel like I have just met a set of prospective parents.
Speaking of which, the children have been neither present nor mentioned. Can I ask about them, or would that be considered rude?
As if reading my mind Alice bounds into the room.
"Bella! Hi! How was dinner?"
"It was lovely, thank you."
"Good. Esme wouldn't let us join you, she says I monopolize conversations and Edward ruins them. Whatever that means."
"Hush now," Esme chides her, "help clean up, I think Bella and your father would like to talk medicine for a while."
"Bella, would you like to see my study? I have a lot of medical texts dating back centuries."
"Yes, please."
…..
I do not know how many hours I spent in his study but frankly I could happily have moved in. The open fire was a nice touch but the floor to ceiling books on every wall were the stuff of my dreams. They were not all medical texts, but I could happily have opened, sniffed and read every single one from cover to cover. He tried to lend me a few but I was so afraid of defiling them with the outside world that I refused. Regretfully.
As I finally took my leave piano music floated out into the night with us, capturing my attention.
"Edward," Esme explains proudly, "he plays beautifully doesn't he?"
"Yes," my reply is totally heartfelt, "he really does."