Eleutheromania - (n.) an intense and irresistible desire for freedom
000
The sensation of being gently awaken is one somewhat unfamiliar to Bella. Her passenger door is open, as is the driver's door. There is the sound of crickets bowing away the way a string player in an orchestra might. Slow and soothing. If it were not a cricket. She sleepily hopes there aren't any in the house. Through the grogginess of sleep, she manages to recognize that it is Angela that is indeed shaking her right shoulder to wake her up. She is only slightly confused as to why she is being shaken.
"C'mon Bella, wake up. We're here." Her voice is quiet, as though she knows that what she says won't be received properly. She steps away to allow for her friend to properly wake up.
Bella hums in return, the sound something low and almost guttural, the way a morning voice might be. Or napping voice, as is the case at the moment. She opens her previously squinty eyes and moves her neck to the sides. One side is slightly more stiff than the other, and Bella makes sure to rub it until the area under her skin is warm before stretching again. Once satisfied, her arms are next and legs follow shortly after.
The longer she is awake, the more alert she feels. She isn't quite awake enough to sprint after little kids but she is awake enough to release her seatbelt with a steady grip. She steps out of the car, mindful of her knapsack still in the car, and close to where Angela is standing patiently. She rolls her shoulders back, feeling something, multiple somethings click into place. She puts her hand on her hip and twists to the right before repeating the process on the opposite side. She breathes in deeply before letting it all out in a major heave. She feels stupidly lethargic but satisfied now. Angela is still waiting patiently on the gravel of the driveway.
"Done yet?" Okay, maybe not so patiently. Then again, she did take her sweet time cracking whatever needed cracking.
She ignores the snark and instead drawls out,"Yes."
It is only now that she realizes that they are parked in front of her home. Obviously they wouldn't be anywhere else. It just… hadn't clicked yet. Wow. The place where she will spend the next two years. She cracks a smile at that. She pulls her out backpack and slides her arms through the armholes.
She then walks towards the rear end of the small car, hearing the gravel crunch under her Converse. The night seems quiet but she can vaguely hear the busy buzz of nature nearby. God, no more dead plants and fucking yellow and dry shrubs just outside the city limits. The few green trees and flowering plants always seemed sickly and out of place. Okay, maybe not sickly but the point is that she's here now. Where things are fresh and green and new, alive. The one place that she always looks forward to coming during school breaks and the like. Here, where the weather wakes you up and doesn't make you feel as though you are on fire and melting.
She breathes in the cool air deeply again. She feels around the car before her fingers finally find purchase in the dip of the door handle. Once open, she grabs her suitcase and lifts it out of the trunk with ease. She pops the handle out and rolls it along her driveway once she closes the trunk door. From there, she can see that there is a dim light coming from the white house.
Handle in hand, Bella is unsure of what to do next actually. She shifts her weight from one foot to another before walking forward. Her life motto has always been fuck it, and whatever happens happens. Thankfully, it seems as though Angela had sensed her inner turmoil and decided to save her from mentally flailing about. She also steps forward and gives Bella a sort of side-arm hug, her left arm encircling Bella's neck. She lets go with a jingle of her car keys and a goodbye of "Later Bella, see you tomorrow. Or when I see you. Or something…"
Bella can only grin a sheepish sort of smile when her introvert habits are called out like this. And by another introvert, no less! At least Angela understands that she might need a few days to herself and then some following the 'move.' Getting adjusted and whatnot. Truly it's a transparent excuse; most of her important belongings are already here. Her favorite books, her gaming console, which had been a gift from Charlie, her music favorite CDs and movies.
Either way, she is more at ease knowing that Angela will feed people this excuse, should they ask. Which they will, due to this being a somewhat small town. She groans when she thinks of how the first day of school will be. At least that's still a handful of weeks away.
She rolls the suitcase over the gravel, tugging in some parts in an attempt to make it smoother. She tugs harder, pulling up instead, when she reaches the steps leading up to the front door. The brown door is still the same as ever, contrasting and complementing the white coat of paint of the outer house.
Despite the late hour, and her slightly closed eyes, the corners of her mouth turn upwards as she raises her arm. She makes a loosely curled fist and raps her knuckles in a 'shave-and-a haircut' knock.
The already low volume of the tv becomes lower. And the couch groans slightly, as though weight is being disturbed and distributed. There is a pause, one in which Bella assumes footsteps are being taken. There is a moment of what seems to be absolute silence. Finally there is a responding knock.
She gets a 'two-cents' answer and her smile grows from its tiny size to one that could probably light up the darkness outside. There is the distinct sound that a deadbolt makes when it is twisted specifically in such a way so as to signify that a door is now open. Open sesame works too, but dramatic moments such as these need to be different.
Obviously she knows who it is, and normally the dim lightning coming from inside and the dark from the outside should make it hard to see who it is. But she can see him quite clearly. Low and behold, there is Charlie.
"Dad!"
There is a smile that mirrors her own, before his arms are open. "Bella!"
There's familiar arms enveloping her, arms that she equated to tree trunks as a little girl but that connotation has long faded. Bella's head reaches just past Charlie's shoulders, and she always wishes she could've passed him in height. But then she thinks it through a little more and she is quite satisfied with her average height.
He squeezes once more before releasing her and asking, "How was your flight kiddo?" He steps back to let Bella and her luggage in. Once she's properly inside, he closes the door, deadbolt and all. As they walk straight towards the living room, Bella deposits her suitcase at the base of the stairs on her right. She removes her rucksack and it soon joins the suitcase on the floor. She can see the dim light of the kitchen light across from the stairs.
"Absolutely fascinating, and long," she replies at last, an odd combination of deadpan and thoughtfulness coating her vocal chords as the words come out. She glances at the tv and queries, "What're you watching?"
"Reruns. Come sit." He sits on the couch that was backed up against the stairs. She idly remembers that she would sit between the banisters as a child. Sometimes to watch a game, but mostly to just be around her father. He'd always hear her though, and pat the seat next to him, nevering minding that her bedtime was long past. At least now she wouldn't fall asleep and have to be carried.
Now this is comfortable. Charlie doesn't fuss over her like Renée does. They have their chatty moments before they sink back into the familiar agreeableness of silence and observation. He can see that she is just fine and leaves her be, trusting that she'll speak up when she feels like it. Like father, like daughter, she muses. The volume of the television increases slightly, just two small bars, she notes, landing on an even number. She finally notices that it is a baseball game.
Her knowledge of sports is fairly limited, seeing as they don't interest her overly so. Pee wee soccer didn't count. Usually she'd have a book to get distracted with, and when a team would score (either team, really) she'd attempt a half-hearted 'whoop' or 'yay.' Charlie would 'hmm' and 'mmm', as well as grunt occasionally, with a scowl accompanying it.
She continues on this way, lost in her thoughts, and before long the game is over. Charlie switches off the television before tossing the remote on the couch, watching it bounce with a sort of anticipation, and he sighs in relief with it doesn't fall.
He picks up a plate from what seems to be out of nowhere but in reality was on the floor under the armrest. He takes it to the sink as Bella is putting her bag on, once again, and she reaches for the handle of her magical contraption on wheels. She reaches the top of the stairs soon enough, Charlie following soon after.
"Hey, Bells? It's good to have you here."
She smiles back at him and mutters, "Thanks Dad."
Well, that was about as emotional as he got. Her too. Still, she appreciates the effort. He takes a left and she takes a right. She makes a mental note to brush her teeth in the bathroom just parallel from the stairs. Or was it perpendicular? Either way, it's at the end of the hallway. After she drops her stuff and finds her pjs though.
As expected, she finds her room mostly untouched when she pushes open the door. The door that childishly have the letters b-e-l-l-a in colorful stickers. Other than that, it's unadorned and she hasn't the heart to take them down. How else would she know which is her room when she's sleepy and barely functioning?
And there, on her bed is the absolutely most important thing to ever exist in the entire goddamn universe: Spoons. God, she missed him so much. The temperamental cat probably prioritized a nap over her. Or he was just confident that she would eventually come looking for him, hence the reason why he was on her bed. On her pillow specifically. As she steps forward into her room, rolling her stuff in, the black menace lifts its head up to look at her with its yellow-green eyes. She approaches with soft footsteps.
He meows.
He meows again, louder this time and his mouth opening more than previously, showing off sharp canines. Bella watches in amusement as he sluggishly gets up, taking a long pause to stretch, arching this way and that. He stands on his paws and moves, crouching down and Bella realizes almost a second too late that he is going to jump.
Her brain can't help but think and think and think ho don't do it, ho don't do it, ho don't-
"Oh my god."
He jumps. Quick reflexes and something else ensure that he is safe in her arms. She wonders why she wasn't the least bit surprised but pushes the thought away as the cat in her arms squirms. His claws dig in, and Bella feels it through her hoodie and hisses silently at the sensation. Up he goes, onto her shoulders, ready to conquer the world apparently.
She sighs and frowns in an exaggerated manner before muttering, "You could've just asked, y'know."
He chirps now, the sound right against Bella's right ear. He's probably fucking delighted. She smiles now and is mindful of his warm weight against her back. "Be careful now, okay?" she tells him. She bends her knees and slowly picks up her forgotten luggage and sets it gently on the bed.
As she unzips the zipper, she can't help but remember how they got him. It had all started one morning, a few days before Bella was to return to Arizona. She was around 11 or 12 at the time, if she remembers correctly.
She doesn't exactly remember which school break it was. The weather just felt nice here in Washington. Being a precocious child, she had hatched the perfect plan. She had done some research at the library when Charlie would take her. He never quite seemed to know what to do there. He'd sit at the chairs or couch, guarding over her ever-growing pile of books the way a dragon would with a hoard of gold, watching her make continuous trips between the aisles and the checkpoint of the couch. When she was even smaller, head reaching his waist, he would trail her and take whatever book she had for him to read. No matter how long it was. Or how many books would stack up in his arms.
She smiles at the memory. She starts by taking out her socks and shirts, laying them out on the bed.
000
She had been watching a game with Charlie that night. She had asked, in that young quiet voice of hers, knowing that she had a good chance of making it work. The commercials were playing but for once, Charlie had muted the television.
"Dad? Don't you ever get lonely?" She took a big bite of her sandwich. While she was munching, she viewed her father's profile from the corner of her eyes. She would cue the puppy eyes in case Charlie looked her way.
"Course not, B, I've got you here," he replied, eyes still on the t.v., his sandwich long gone by then. He was steadily diminishing his pile of potato chips, chasing them down with a swig from his beer.
"But when I go back to Mom, I mean. I'm not here to make noises and wake you up and stuff."
"Not really. You're a pretty quiet kid." He smiled and chuckled here, no doubt thinking of all the ways Bella has possibly ever made some actual noise in his house.
She scowled at this. "No, I'm not."
"Hmm you're right!" He turned to tickle her, getting delighted peals and shrieks in response. It only ended when Bella seeked the refuge of the floor. No, she didn't fall. Obviously.
"I'm serious. Daddy, you should get a dog!" Here she presented her best Wow-what-a-great-idea-that-I-just-thought-of face. Complete with wide eyes and eyebrows that jumped up towards her forehead, delighted smile on her mouth. Way different from her I'm-planning-something face. That one was more of narrowed eyes and staring off into a random point in space, lips mildly pursed in concentration. She even used his parent moniker that she had been starting to drop from her vocabulary recently. She was growing up now, no point in continuing with it. Unless it was used for special occasions. Like now.
"Ah." So that was what this was all about. What to say, what to say? "Hm, no, I think not. They require lots of time and attention. Just like you!"
"Hey! Well, what about a fish?" Present an equally debatable option that was way on the opposite end. The weakest point in her presentation, so to say. She had to come off strong with the dog and then drop the bar with a fish.
Here he blushed a bit, the tips of his ears growing red and his tanned cheeks seemed to grow darker. "I think... that I would forget to feed it," he mumbled. Fish didn't do anything! Maybe a bubble or two on the occasion, right? Except for those suction fish, they clean or something.
"Pfft." She laughed quietly, wheezes exiting her chest as she shook. When she recovered and his skin had cooled by then, she said, "Well, what about a cat, Dad? They're independent right? Plus they catch rodents and stuff."
He stared at the television in quiet contemplation. Elbows rested on his knees, face in his hands as he carefully and really thought about a possible pet in the house. Most likely it wouldn't like him, whatever it was, for reasons known only to him. Plus he would be at work for most of the day, now that he was Chief.
Okay, hypothetically, it would have to keep out of trouble. Something small and quiet. Something that would not bark at all hours of the night and well into the morning. Not a fish though. Too fishy.
"Please Dad? I get worried sometimes. You're here all the time and I'm not. You need some company Dad!"
"Worried? Ah, Bella, you shouldn't have to worry about me; I'm the biggest and baddest thing out here. Criminals flee from me!" He struck a pose here, intent on making his daughter laugh again.
"Like the wolf, from Red Riding Hood? Or a bear? Like from Brother Bear!" she inquired, forgetful of or ignoring the fact that the wolf has very different outcomes in the different stories. And Brother Bear! She loved that movie.
"Sure Bella," he smiled indulgently, knowingly almost. Though that didn't quite answer her question. Or maybe he did. He technically said yes to both. That was an answer right?
...
"So are we getting a cat?"
"Who's this 'we' you speak of?"
Nonetheless, he had woken up early the next morning. As he was sipping his required cup of joe, he was also skimming and flipping through the yellow pages. He had to search for the darned thing. In a small town like this, he knew where almost everything was. But because he had little interest in animals, he never thought it handy to remember the pet shop hours. Seemed like now was as good a time as any.
And so, he called for the shop hours. And as he stood to place his now empty cup in the sink, Bella came stalking down the stairs. She wasn't quite awake yet, if the hand rubbing her eye was any indication. "Eggs and juice?" he asked quietly.
"Mhmm."
Ah, yes, the monosyllabic answers. Typical. He watched her open her mouth in a yawn capable of competing against a lion's. She pulled the chair, the legs of it making a scraping noise against the tile. She sat down. There was one way he could remedy this. There was no sugar coating something like this. He had to drop this bomb.
"We're going to the pet shop today." Quietly muttered words that he actually wasn't entirely sure that she heard him.
The hand that was about to rub the other neglected eye dropped slowly. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time that morning. She raspily responded, "Really?"
At his nod, the chair again made it's grating noise. Her footsteps could be heard going up the stairs at a much faster pace than when she first came down. And that was that, so Charlie got to work on those eggs. He even opened a package of bacon that he'd been meaning to use up.
When Bella came down once more, she was all dressed up for the day. Shoes in hand, she sat down in her chair and waited impatiently for Charlie to serve breakfast. Charlie smirked and took his sweet time pouring her juice. He poured it slowly, "Like this?"
"More!"
"How about now?"
"Daaaad!"
Bella immediately started to scoop up her eggs when he finally placed a plate in front of her. The bacon was temporarily ignored, at least for now. By the time Bella finished, Charlie was only halfway done. And so she waited and waited, and then waited some more. When he stood to take his plate the kitchen, she's quick to get him his car keys.
When they are finally on their way to their destination, she had calmed down enough. Almost too much now; she had a thoughtful look on her face. Still, they made it to the pet shop in one piece. Charlie suspected that Bella would've jumped out the car before it stopped completely, had he not given her a stern look.
The small bell above the door signaled their entrance to both the employees and animals, heads turning to briefly look their way and ears twitching up, respectively. Charlie offered a nod to the employee closest to them. Bella just walked the big space, looking for cat stuff in general. He had informed her of his plan to buy supplies here. And explained that perhaps it would be better to get a cat from an adoption or rescue center. To this she agreed with vehemently. Mentally, Bella lamented the fact that she didn't come up with the idea first.
And just like library trips when she was younger, Charlie ended up carrying the heavy stuff. The cat food bag was under one arm, litter under the other, and the canned food was in his other hand. Bella herself was gladly carrying all the little things—collar, harness, a toy or two, treats, brush. Well, these were inside the cat carrier actually. There was a small cat bed atop the carrier, barely below Bella's line of vision.
The overloaded pair made their way over to the cash register, where the cashier did not seemed the least phased by their purchases. Of course he didn't, he worked at a pet store. He probably saw such purchases similar to theirs all the time.
The bell once again signaled that the door had opened, though this time it watched Bella and Chief Swan leave. It made for a mildly comical sight. A tall man and a tiny girl loading all of their purchases into the small car from their overwhelmed arms. Still, they managed to stuff everything into the car, most of it in the front passenger's seat.
Next trip was to the center. There they walked in, a mosey sort of walk, now that Bella's energy had decreased from its previous levels. As soon as they crossed the threshold of the door, Bella flitted from container to container, searching for the perfect companion. Her future partner in crime. She didn't notice that the animals here seemed to warily watch Charlie.
A siamese cat caught her attention first, its gradients of color mostly concentrating on its paws and tail. Pale blue eyes watched her carefully, contrasting sharply in comparison to the rest of its body. She had to find a younger cat, she thought, a frown molding her face. She slowly checked out the different types of cats.
None with long fur, Dad would have to live with it and it would probably drive him insane. But no hairless ones either, Dad would get creeped out at night if he got up for a glass of water or something. In the midst of these thoughts, she did not notice that she had stopped walking.
Bella wondered why her shoes were just there. Then she realized she had wandered off. She glanced up and met the liquid chartreuse eyes of yet another cat. A black cat. One that was watching her just as intently as she was him. Its tail flicked some newspaper aside in anticipation. Excitement maybe? or just curiosity? It meowed, the sound muffled slightly by the glass partition.
"Hey, Dad?" asked Bella quietly, as though hesitant to raise her voice, hesitant to startle the cat. She turned to locate him and found him a few feet from her, eyeing a cat from a respectful distance away. "How about this one?"
And the rest was history, as one would say. They went up to someone who worked there and Bella stopped paying attention as they talked about paperwork. She was asked if she would like to pick a name. She had waited for this glorious moment.
"Spoons," she said confidently. Charlie chuckled quietly at the lady's face. He disguised it as a cough once she turned back to him. Father and daughter walked out with a new member. Their tiny duo turned into a perfect trio that rare sunny day.
000
By the time Bella finishes reminiscing, her clothes are out of her suitcase, most of them already in their designated spots. She couldn't fall from the bed if it was against the wall. Not that she moved much as a child, but Reneé always worried. And since the cool wall usually provides temporary relief from the warm sheets, she never bothers to relocate her furniture. Both here and back in Phoenix.
She picks up some tank tops and makes her way around the bed, forward, where the drawer is across from the bed and against the other wall. Spoons decides that he apparently doesn't want his human to move. He jumps from his perch on her shoulder, his little paws pushing back against her shoulder when he does jump. She glances at him briefly, more out of habit than actual concern; he's jumped from higher places, she's certain. Still, her gaze lingers on his retreating form before she turns back around. He'll be back by the time she's tucked into bed. She places the tank tops somewhat haphazardly in their spots in the second drawer, amongst their brethren.
From the corner of her room, she surveys her room. It is just as she left it. Of course it would be. Still, she can't help but mentally categorize the various items in her pastel room. It's still that soft, sea green color that Bella is always thankful for. At least her room isn't yellow like the kitchen. She does like those cupboards actually, she grew up with them. But she still finds it curious whenever she thinks too deeply about it.
Her average TV is neighboring with her PlayStation on the drawer. Games and controllers and charging wires and electronic things of the sort are in the first drawer. Lazy clothes, pjs and otherwise, are on the last drawer.
She walks forwards, her clothed feet making little noise against the wood flooring. Her desk could use some minor dusting, she idly remarks. The dust is easy to spot against the black wood. She pulls out the swivel chair and sits, grasping onto the lever, and bringing the chair low. She struggles against the lack of friction but manages to bring her chair over to the window.
Well, two windows really but she always thinks of it as her corner window, despite the small sliver of wall separating the two. She's tempted to open one, to smell the fresh Washington air. But the room is the right temperature and it smells like home. Smells like the detergents Charlie buys. And when she finally settles for the night, she knows that she will bury her nose in the sheets and pillows, delighted at the scents and homey feelings in her chest. She feels so fucking happy and warm inside that she thinks she's crazy.
Exhaling a happy sigh, she chuckles at the sight of her bookshelf. It is a miracle that no books have fallen yet, that is how stuffed it seems to be. It could also be the fact that Bella hasn't really put her books away properly. She has this horrible habit of reading something halfway and getting distracted with another book. She makes another mental note to fix it tomorrow. Or soon.
Actually, it seems as though the new book she bought at the airport will have to be placed on her bedside table. Alongside her small lamp and even tinier alarm clock, with its green digital numbers.
Bella releases another sigh and attempts to kick off her sneakers before realizing that she can't quite do that. Darn Converse with their shoelaces. She bends down to yank at the aglets, then moves to untie the knot when that doesn't work (surprise, surprise). She steps past the boundary of her door and into the bathroom to complete her nightly rituals. Once done she heads back to her room with inaudible footsteps.
Now that the sweet mint is coating her teeth, she hunts down some appropriate pjs. Some shorts and an old t-shirt from her suitcase do the trick. She's glad past Bella had the foresight to pack the pjs atop of everything else. She yawns. Loudly. She'll finish unpacking tomorrow. She leaves the door slightly open for Spoons to come back through and goes about fixing her bed. She gets in bed and kicks the covers off. Her head is resting against her soft pillow and she thinks about what time is it before she reaches out to check her clock. It's mildly late. Late as in she should sleep now. She has slept at later times but lately she's been trying to sleep more. Sleep is good. Really good, and with those thoughts, she fumbles around for a floppy cushion to hug in the comforting dark.
She finds it and whistles lightly, the sound beckoning the listener with its airy wings. A sleek predator, a domestic substitute for a panther, hears the call but remains where he is at the moment, content to stare out the window a little longer. The moon is bright and it illuminates his eyes. Spoons comes trotting through a while later, once he is sure that his master is sound asleep.
000
Sand. That grainy substance that irritates people at the beach. Its other form, glass, is something to be marveled at. Usually. The versatility of glass and other such natural materials provides for the basics in construction, beauty, and amongst other such projects, houses. However, certain houses are anything but ordinary and its occupants even less so.
For one thing, a house in the middle of the woods might resemble a small cabin more than anything else. Rustic and classic, traditional almost. The modern behemoth is nothing like that and is instead a curious mixture of such elements. Its wood panels attempt to camouflage and blend it with the surrounding stalks of green; however, the vast quantity of windows belies this and a visitor is left with the distinct thought of, lamp. Lightly lit, warm, and welcoming, which was the intent of its designer, one Esme Cullen.
This particular effect is achieved best at night, when the lights combat against the neighboring darkness in a game of tag. But out in the wilderness, the middle of nowhere almost, who would stumble upon this glass castle, this looking glass mirage? Why, but the inhabitants of course. And those who know of its existence and exact location. And other curious wildlife, though naive animals perhaps. Comrades usually pass the message along to avoid these harbingers of death. The blond Raphael has yet to come home, and most of his angelic companions are in, they pass along tonight.
Thus, the animals are no longer curious; they retreat to much safer distances. And the insects buzz louder in their freedom and knowledge that they are safe. Esme Cullen is not privy to these conversations, and longs to see a playful fox or a harmless hare roaming about.
Instead she stops looking out the windows, or walls almost (that's how large they are), turns her attention back at hand. Or the cutting board rather. She is just finishing up grating some carrots and picks one of the tomatoes nearby. Another addition to the salad that she decides on a whim. Rosalie and Carlisle are the ones that eat greens the most. Well, they eat them best actually. Emmett and Alice put up half hearted complaints and fuss about it sometimes. Edward really should eat more, in general, not just greens, she thinks. Jasper has his times and intervals on when he eats. He still struggles sometimes with their changes in diet. It's not something he's entirely accustomed too but he's making plenty of headway.
"Need any help, Mom?" Emmett asks, entering the kitchen from somewhere else in the house.
He smells the food and is instantly floored; it smells that good. It's not some fancy schmancy meal from an overpriced restaurant. It's one of those, giant welcome home meals. An Esme specialty, he would say if asked. He comes closer and whisks the gravy that Esme left unattended. He braves a taste test, cornering some of the sauce with a spoon. Using his pinky, he savors the taste, letting its texture and flavors roam over his tongue. He is almost satisfied with it. He thinks carefully about what can be added and looks to what Esme is preparing in the kitchen as another hint. Perfect. He opens up the cupboards above him and reaches for a specific seasoning. With a dash befitting of a chef (he's getting kind of rusty, he admits), he tastes it once again and leaves it on the stove to simmer. Up above him, Edward's playing is decreasing into a gentle diminuendo. He'll start another song soon, something longer this time.
He spots a bag on the counter that he left to thaw earlier and opens it eagerly. He turns around to find a specific drawer and from there pulls out a sheet pan. He gingerly places the biscuits from the bag onto the sheet, setting them at equal distances apart from each other. This is the last thing to do before the rest of the food is done. He debates about whether or not to put them in the oven. He mentally shrugs and waits another few seconds, firm in his decision. He pops the oven open and deposits the biscuit laden tray on a heated row, wafts of hot air searching his face before disappearing in the cooler air outside the oven. Alice would've called, he reasons, if they were going to be late or if he should've put the goods in at a later time.
By this time Esme is tending the roast beef. The salad is done, he sniffs. He has nothing against salads; it's just that there are better things to eat. Like potatoes! He spots the golden corn in its milky soup next to it. Esme seems to guess that he'd gravitate towards what needed to be tended and asks, "Would you smash the potatoes, dear?"
He grabs the necessary ingredients from the fridge (cheese and butter amongst them) and makes his way back to his beloved potatoes. He sets about to making the perfect side dish. He is just about to place the used utensils in the sink when he hears tires coming up the driveway. It is around this time that he realizes that piano notes can no longer be heard. He eyes the stairs curiously as he hears Edward hurriedly walk down the stairs. After he is done playing the piano, he always seems to forget that he can come down the stairs faster than that. Still, he can't be that excited to see Rosalie and Alice. Maybe the latter, but he racks his brain anyways for an answer that doesn't seem forthcoming any time soon. Maybe something happened…?
000
The trip from Port Angeles back to the outskirts of Forks is uneventful. It is calm and fast and gone too soon, if she is describing it accurately. Normally she drives around the speed limit, a little below, a little above, but not today. At Alice's insistence Rosalie drives well above than what she normally drives at. It's not concerning, and her crimson car is small enough to constitute what she does as 'weaving in and out of traffic.' Her superior senses, aided by Alice's clairvoyance, prevent any crashes or run ins with police officers. It's getting late but not yet late enough by their standards. Her fruity concoction is quite delicious, she decides. She might ask Alice for the exact order next time.
And so, they reach the smooth pavement leading up to their home in good time. It is only in the forest that she eases up on the gas pedal. The windows are rolled down and she thinks she can catch the faintest of whiffs of freshly cooked food. As they wheel closer, Rose realizes that her nose is entirely correct (not that it wouldn't be) but the home cooked scent is stronger now. She breathes it in deeply.
She is barely pulling the car to a stop when Edward flies out the door. He is mindful not to let the door hit its surroundings, but there is no other way to describe what he just did besides flying. She can feel a small sprout of annoyance and displeasure beginning to grow; her eyebrow twitches upwards the slightest of degrees. Imperceptible almost, it settles down not a fraction of a heartbeat later.
He is at Alice's door immediately, although he stands clear of the door's radius and waits impatiently for her to step out. As soon as she is out, he asks fervently, "Alice, what did you see? Alice."
Rosalie stares her brother down as she opens her own door and closes it not so quietly. She's careful, of course; it is her car after all. Edward pays no mind to the noise. It probably doesn't even register with the storm of thoughts he's barraged by. Hazel eyes wide, Alice smiles and it is something of a cheshire cat. Her response is of gentle, playful chastisement. "We're hungry, Eddie. Let's eat first, okay?"
He blinks at this. Twice actually. "Right. Of course. Let me help with your bag. Sorry," he mutters the last word quietly as he makes his way to the trunk. He forgot his manners in his excitement! Excitement? Maybe that's the wrong word, he contemplates, hand on the handle and his other shutting the trunk gently. He had only managed to get a glimpse of Alice's fast thoughts before they had shifted to the latest trend in music and world news. He frowns at her scattered thoughts, wondering about what she wanted to tell them. He decides to mentally recite the notes to Chopin's 'Torrent' as a way to assuage his curiosity and distract himself. Alice's patience could weather storms and dull rocks to a smooth finish. Though she has her specific gift so maybe it doesn't really count…
Rosalie is mirroring his frown, just a minute pull downward resting on her lips. A perfectly shaped eyebrow arches in thought. Alice had not mentioned anything of the psychic sort. It must be big, she decides neutrally, big enough for a family meeting if that is indeed what her sister is planning. The food is still beckoning and she follows her two adoptive siblings up the porch steps.
Rosalie walks into the kitchen to the sound of a timer beeping. "Biscuits are done!" she hears from Emmett, who quickly dons an oven mitt to retrieve the freshly baked goods. Esme leaves a towel near the sink before coming forward to greet Alice. She did enter first after all. Rosalie herself is engulfed in warm, motherly hug before a question is spouted off in Alice's general direction. "How was your trip, dear?"
And the gates are open. The little pixie brightens up even more as she answers Esme's inquiry with details of her own. Edward smiles slightly at the mental and verbal images she provides. Emmett is enraptured too, though his reaction is to blow hot air around and fan his mouth because he stuffed a piping hot biscuit in his cheeks. This elicits a real and fond smile from Rosie as she takes in the lighthearted scene.
She chuckles at Emmett's come kiss it better, that's directed to an attentive Edward. Although she and Edward don't always see eye to eye, she's glad that he's been starting to open up more with Emmett, in terms of affection. She suspects it is mostly due to the changing of times and attitudes, in comparison to a mere few decades ago. Rosalie has already heard all of Alice's details so she mostly just tunes her out. She decides to get to work on setting the oval table. Alice had mentioned that Carlisle would be home soon to dine with them.
She locates all of the necessary tableware and positions them where everyone will be seated. She places plates everywhere but one seat, Jasper's. Seeing as he isn't here, she doesn't bother. Still, she frowns at the empty seat that is usually reserved for her twin.
She's heading back to the kitchen when keys turn the deadbolt and the door opens. She blinks at the fact that the deadbolt was actually used and that she didn't notice. She ponders the thought that either Alice or Esme slid the deadbolt closed. Out here, in the middle of nowhere in a forest, with them living here, it wasn't as though it was actually needed. Predictably, Carlisle also clicks the deadbolt with a firm twist.
He drops off his leather satchel at the base of the coat stand by the door. It's old and faded and Rosalie actually isn't entirely sure of how old it is. He greets Esme next, a kiss on the check as he's passing by her to help transport the various foods to the table.
Once they see the matriarch and patriarch take bowls to the table, the rest follow suit. The kitchen is emptied and the table is filled. They take their seats, which don't always have a specific arrangement. Again, food is passed around and spoons deposit delectable heaps of food onto the spotless ceramics.
"How was today?" Carlisle asks genially and generally, eagerly awaiting updates from his coven. Although they are adults, he often feels more at ease playing the role of parent to his adopted children. He passes the warm biscuits to Esme on his right.
Alice contributes first, offering varying details from what she originally described to Rosalie and Esme. Rosalie oftens wonders how she does it, repeating the same answers and seeing the same things. Even Emmett and Edward chip in their two cents; that's how descriptive Alice is. Though it also helps that Edward saw it secondhand. Only once the describing trio have exhausted their details do they move onto events that actually happened today.
Edward describes his struggles with guitar, his fingers not used to the positionings. His eyebrows furrow slightly but he's excited by his new project. Esme her new plans for client. She smiles radiantly when she mentions plants and little possible designs. Emmett delights in his science experiments that, due to the relative isolation, can explode in the backyard. He switches to a brief review of sorts on a new game he's keen to play, though Rosalie can tell that it is also a subtle invitation to play. Rosalie even divulges a detail or two about a car part she's placed an order on. Carlisle muses on something experimental at the hospital. Slowly the food from the table and china is steadily disappearing. So much for leftovers, Emmett sighs.
However, it is Alice that provides delicate information. Just before, she had called Jasper and put the call on speaker.
Serious, if it needs everybody's input, Rosalie thinks as Jasper picks up the call. She can see Edward nod consciously, as though she had spoken aloud. Her lips quirk down at his action. Jasper waits patiently for what is sure to come. Alice turns to Esme and Carlisle, eyes slightly unfocused as she recalls the memory. "I saw a girl today at Port Angeles… I saw her but then I didn't."
When she speaks again, there is a mixture of excitement and curiosity and slight concern. "Sometimes I see people just to see what they're going to do. It's automatic and fast and it never fails. My gift, it took a while on this girl, and even then it wasn't entirely concrete. Like seeing a transparent ghost," she elaborately chronicles for those without mind reading abilities. She can see that Edward is frowning behind his enclosed hands.
"Is she a potential threat?" Jasper breaks the silence first. Though they can't see him, they can certainly catch the tone of protectiveness that coats his voice.
"Not sure yet..." It's Edward who replies next, though rather distractedly. He's scanning the memories that Alice is helpfully replaying. His eyes are closed as he attempts to see her impressions as his own.
"I don't want to move yet. Not so soon," comes the displeased response from Rosalie. She has a general vague idea of where this conversation might go. Emmett quietly backs her up, seeing that Edward's own opinion is not going to be presented without all the facts.
"No one's going to move."
The coven swivels to face their matriarch. Though they vote on matters such as these, her say carries much weight. The cautious atmosphere lessens slightly at her firm and positive stance. She speaks again, gently, as though not wanting to ruffle her gathered thoughts, "Did you happen to catch a name?"
"Yes, I did! First name only though. Bella."
"Bella?" Blonde eyebrows wrinkle his contemplative face as Carlisle finally speaks. The group waits for him to express his thoughts again. A few seconds pass by, and when it is apparent that he is busy within his mind, Jasper's voice comes through the phone to interrupt. "Carlisle?"
"Right, well.. It's merely hospital gossip but, Chief Swan's daughter is coming to finish up her schooling here. Her name is Isabella. Of course, it's all just chatter until we know for certain but…"
When Jasper speaks again, it is directed to the mind reader, "Is it the same person Edward?"
"Carlisle hasn't seen her yet." Gossip is gossip but more than likely, the employees are less concerned with how this Isabella actually looked like. In fact, the memories in Carlisle's mind demonstrate that they are more chatty about the past divorce and its aftermath. How depressed and heartbroken the Chief had been and how he got better the more she came to visit.
"We shouldn't stay here."
"Don't be ridiculous, of course we can."
Everyone looks on as the twins butted heads. Before it could get any worse, Edwards interrupts with his own reasoning. As the cautious one, he likes to get all the information he can before coming to a decision. "If Alice's visions are unclear, then there is going to be a risk in staying."
"There's always going to be a risk; it's against our very nature to settle down. Besides, Alice said it took a while, not that she didn't see her at all."
Well, looks like Rosalie really did not want to move. For that matter, neither did Esme. She loves this small town and its rich environment and friendly inhabitants. They could hear the small hum of vexation through the phone. His twin sibling did provide some good counterpoints.
"The best course would be to gather information, but not at the risk of exposing ourselves."
"We've been doing a pretty good job of blending in though. Carlisle works enough hours, Esme goes grocery shopping every week. Heck, Edward even goes to church sometimes. Wouldn't people get more suspicious if we just up and left?" Emmett calmly disagrees with Jasper. They worked too hard at integrating to just flee. He understood that Jasper's background played a great part in the way he dealt with uncertain situations like these, but… "I want to stay."
"Moving would be safer." Edward reiterates. Looks like they were putting things to a vote now. Three for staying and two for leaving. If Alice had trouble with her gift, what about us? he wants to voice. But he doesn't for fear of backtracking. They will cross that bridge if and when they vote in favor of staying.
"I feel as though we are missing the bigger picture," Carlisle started, "yes, there are always going to be risks. But it seems as though Bella is only here to finish her education. As it is, we are more of a risk to her and every other student and adult that we pass by, whether they know it or not. We don't know if she will pose a threat, nonetheless she's human. However, we are here to coexist."
Seeing that he had his coven members mulling over his words, he continues, "Jasper, the best course of action seems to be gathering more information. She could merely be the exception to Alice's gift. We've traveled but we certainly have not met every individual in the world. There's no guarantee that there aren't others like her. I wish to stay and wait things out."
"Alice?"
She isn't sure who spoke but she looks up from her line of sight. Her concentration is on the future. Not just the coven's but of various people living in Forks. Since they seem fine, and their futures are not disturbed, she finally opens her mouth. "Nobody seems to die in any of my visions, so… it seems safe to stay. I want to stay and see what happens." She directs this last sentence more to the phone on the table than the others.
Struggling to see someone's future? Obvious downsides but the upsides… She is very much curious and excited to meet this person. At this point even Edward is grudgingly agreeing with her thoughts.
"Well, that settles it! I want dessert! Who wants some ice cream?" Emmett gleefully declares as he picks up some plates and carries them over to the kitchen sink. They get to stay! He practically skips over to the fridge and pulls out his pistachio ice cream. Edward silently slinks after him and wraps his arms around Emmett's robust torso as he places the blue carton next to where the spoons are located. He wants a hug; he wants comfort. He rests his head on Emmett's shoulder, closes his eyes, and tries to block out everyone's thoughts of what to do and what tomorrow's agenda is like. Emmett smirks as Edward quietly accepts a spoonful of pistachio ice cream; he likes it while his copper haired companion is mostly befuddled by the odd flavor.
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A/N I am glad y'all seemed to like it and wow, I can't believe the amount of people who favorited and followed. I am in awe. Feel free to leave some reviews, they help me grow! Seriously, I was on a high for days. Feedback and suggestions very much welcome. Switched out the dashes for zeros, hope that's better for line breaks. [Last edit 7/12/19]
