Chapter 12- Perfect Strangers
March 1, 2005
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Rain begins falling from above once we leave the Forks city limits behind us. It's that aggravating, misty type of rain that does little more than fog up the windows and causes your hair to poof out like a French poodle's. This area of the state probably uses more hairspray per capita than almost anywhere else in the world. To combat the frizz problem, many of the older women here have resorted to using so much Aqua Net in their hair that it now looks like they have construction helmets attached to their heads. The upside to this strange hairstyle is that rainwater can no longer penetrate the top layer of their helmet hair.
Accompanying the rhythmic slapping of the windshield wiper blades against the glass is a song from long ago. The music began playing the moment Edward cranked the car and hasn't stopped since. The singers are male, their voices harmonious and soulful. I've recognized a couple of the songs so far, but I haven't heard them in ages. I asked who they were and he said that they were the Righteous Brothers, a group from the '60s. He offered to change it to something else of my choosing, but I declined. The music currently playing fits the atmosphere better than anything I could come up with.
The more distance we put between ourselves and the town, the fewer houses there are. Large tracts of woodland often separate these properties, making it rare for these folks to have any close neighbors. Occasionally, I spot a farm boasting rustic barns and other agriculture equipment scattered around. One place has a small herd of speckled black and white cattle standing out in the drizzling rain. The cows on this flat, grassy field idly chew the cud while their glazed-over brown eyes lethargically stare off into the distance. Even the young ones that should be energetic and full of life just stand there, not doing much of anything. That's the depressing thing about life in Forks - even the domesticated creatures here look bored out of their minds. I should probably report their owner to the authorities for animal cruelty. You shouldn't be allowed to have animals in your care if you can't provide something interesting for those poor cows to do besides just standing around. But I guess I shouldn't get too upset at the careless farmer. Not everyone understands just how dull it is here. Some people actually like living in Forks. They think it's quaint and peaceful. These people somehow take pleasure in what little Forks has to offer them. You can usually find these misguided souls gathered at the Thriftway during their time off. There you can hear them chat and debate over many exciting topics - such as, whose rain gauge received more precipitation in the last twenty-four hours, or how much will the rutabagas in the produce aisle cost next week if gas prices keep going up. As for myself, if I didn't have people like Edward in my life to help keep my brain from petrifying, I would have probably gone crazy weeks back and be mindlessly staring off into outer space just like those cows.
A few miles out of town, Edward points out the enormous sawmill that employs a good portion of the young males in the community. In fact, many of the boys in my class will probably be hired there as soon as they graduate. Even Charlie worked there for a while before I was born. A huge smokestack jutting out from the building emits puffs of smoke into the air, bestowing even more gray clouds into our already dreary sky. I spot one of the workers smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. He's sitting in a pick up truck with the windows rolled down, the expression on his face nearly lifeless. Based on this alone, I'm assuming that it's no fun working there.
After that slight visual stimulation, the countryside doesn't offer much of anything else to get excited about. Other than a house here or there on this winding road, there's mainly just trees to look at as we drive to his house. That's what this community is primarily known for besides the rain and mud. We have trees of every conceivable size and shape. Tall ones. Short ones. Bushy ones. Scraggly ones. Ones with broad, olive-green leaves. Others with sharp, pokey needles. Some trees have stood untouched for decades and look like something you would have seen a brachiosaurus munch on once upon a time. And although each tree evokes a majestic beauty that no one can deny, they can also be pretty bland. There's just so many of them that they lose their impressiveness after a while. Once you've seen a million trees, you're not as interested when you pass by number one million and one.
Mile after mile Edward's Volvo goes. When will it stop? Who the hell knows? It's been around thirty minutes since we left Forks and signs of civilization have become practically nonexistent. When he offered to take me to his house, he didn't emphasize just how far away it is from town. Why would anyone want to live way out here? The last house I saw was around five miles back. And, to be honest, I am using the term house loosely. It looked more like a shack - complete with a raggedy porch that was falling apart and rusting tin roof with gaping hole. I seriously doubt that anyone has lived there any time this century. Since we went by that dilapidated structure, it's been nothing but trees, rocks, and then more trees. We haven't passed any vehicles in a long time either. The longer we go on like this, the more difficult it is to restrain myself from asking Edward in a whiny voice, "Are we there yet?"
Without giving me a heads up, he yanks the steering wheel to the left and his car swerves onto a nearly invisible side road. It's a single lane, tiny and kind of spooky thanks to the foggy mist and ominously dark forest that surrounds us. It curves back and forth across the landscape, dodging trees whose trunks are almost wide enough to allow a car to pass through them. Weeds and bushes hug the side of the gravel lane and brushes up against the car as we pass. Low hanging branches create a sort of natural roof above us, cutting down on the amount of rain hitting the car by more than half. In a way it feels as though we have entered a tunnel. It's much darker here than it was on the main road.
My senses go into high alert. I cautiously scan all around us, searching for a house or road sign to indicate that there is a legitimate reason why Edward would take this route. This road looks like the shortcut some dumb fairytale character would take just so she can get to Grandma's house fifteen minutes sooner, not realizing that the Wolf is lying in wait for her. If this was a horror movie, this would usually be right around the time when I would assume that the driver is a deranged serial killer and the passenger (AKA, me) is his next victim. I'm sure there is some quiet, secluded place around here where Edward could murder me in relative peace and no one would ever know what happened to me. The thick underbrush and miles of unspoiled woodlands would ensure that my body would remain hidden for years to come.
But I know that I am most likely letting my imagination get ahead of me. If Edward wanted to kill me, I doubt he would be fussing with the heater settings and asking if I'm warm enough. Considerate serial killers are probably rare.
The car passes around a cluster of overgrown shrubbery and the landscape magically changes before my eyes. The forest vanishes and turns into acres of beautifully maintained lawn. There are no unsightly weeds. No scraggly shrubs to harm the landscape's neat and orderly appearance. Then I see something even more impressive than that.
My mouth immediately falls open.
Appearing before us is a mansion that I don't think my brain could ever conjure up. It's Tara meets the White House meets Cinderella's Castle. It's gigantic, towering over everything in the area. The only things that are close to beating the mansion in height is a grove of massive cedars that line the driveway like guarding sentinels all the way up to the house, enhancing the royal vibe.
I can't believe what I'm seeing. Jessica told me that she heard that this place was the size of a castle, but I don't think I took her claim seriously enough. I thought it was an exaggeration. An unfounded rumor.
But I was wrong.
I've never seen anything like this place before. The house may have a plain white paint job, but it isn't boring at all. It's three stories tall and has so many windows that I would need an abacus to keep count. A wide and welcoming porch stretches across its front, decorated with dozens of potted plants. Long leaved, green potted plants sit on the railings, tables, and the floor. Hanging baskets filled with flowers of a variety of colors drape down from above. The front door is made from a dark wood and is taller and wider than any door I have ever seen in person. Its closest counterpart is the door Dorothy and Scarecrow knocked on when they wanted to meet the Wizard of Oz.
"Holy crow," I whisper, my eyes nearly popping out from my skull.
I turn my head a little to look at Edward. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he really does reside in a castle. After all, he looks and acts like Prince Charming. He doesn't even have to try to look handsome. A few minutes ago, I watched him rub his hand carelessly through his hair, causing it to poke out in all directions. It should look like a mess, but he somehow makes it work for him. His hair is in fantastic disarray, looking as if a stylist just spent the past hour creating the effect. As for me, if I tried to ruffle my hair in the same manner, I would look like a crazed bag lady that speaks to pigeons and lives in an old refrigerator box.
He slows the car down as we draw closer to the building. When he glances my way, I decide that I should say something at least semi-intelligent to make up for staring like a dummy at the house for so long.
"I wasn't expecting your house to look so...big," I say in an uncertain voice.
His face breaks out into a boyish smile - the type that ordinarily would give me heart palpitations - but I think my shock at seeing his fancy residence has given me temporary immunity. "There's seven of us that live there. We need the space to keep from getting on each other's nerves. If it were much smaller, we would probably go insane," he jokes with sparkling eyes.
I smile back as he parks near the steps leading up to the porch. As soon as the car makes a complete stop, I quickly push open my door and get out so that I can stare up at the behemoth in front of me. Tiny water droplets hit my face as I look up at the structure, but for once I'm not paying the annoying rain much attention.
While I'm busy studying the house, Edward goes around the front of the car and joins me. I glance over at him and watch as his mouth briefly frowns before assuming a more natural expression.
I follow him as he leads us across the porch and up to the front door. Without needing to unlock it, Edward turns the doorknob and throws the door wide open. Then, looking at me expectantly, he goes to stand to the side of the welcome mat and patiently waits for me to go inside. His door opening OCD is still in full effect and appears to have no end in sight. I have a strong urge to see what he would do if I were to insist that he should go ahead of me. But I ultimately decide not to put him through it. It would probably be cruel to mess with him like that.
With a sigh, I roll my eyes at him, walk through the door, and step into the house. The first thing I notice is how modern and open the space is. The walls of the entrance area are white, just like the exterior of the house. On the wall by the front door is an Impressionistic painting of a snow covered landscape with a mountain range in the background. And, right front of me, is a grand, sweeping stair case that Scarlett O'Hara should be rushing down at any moment. It's the main focal point of the area.
Well, it was until I saw something more eye-catching than the surroundings.
A woman who looks to be in her mid to late twenties stands several feet away. Her pale white fingers are arranging a bouquet of lemon yellow roses in a glass vase which rests on a wooden table. She's dressed in a tight beige sweater and a pair of designer jeans that look as if they were designed with her in mind. Her hair is the color of dark maple syrup and hangs in subtle waves to just below her shoulders. She has cheekbones that are as angular and perfect as a fashion model's. Her top lip is a Cupid's bow while her bottom is slightly less wide, giving her mouth the illusion of being heart shaped. As I watch her, a slow smile spreads across her ivory white face, making her appear even more gorgeous than before.
But it's her eyes that fascinate me the most. They're the color of amber - a golden yellow hue that looks warm and vibrant. I've seen this eye color only once before in my life.
Alice's eyes are the exact same shade...
"What a surprise, Edward. I didn't expect you to be back home so early," the woman says in a clear voice that sounds uncannily like a choir of angels.
I manage to tear my focus away from the beautiful woman and notice that Edward's full lips are set into a thin line. One of his dark brows have arched up and he stares at the woman silently for a few beats. "We had a change in plans," he carefully drawls. He takes a quick peek at me before continuing on. "Esme, this is Bella, my study partner."
My body flinches when I realize who this person is.
Esme. As in, Edward's adoptive mother - the one that I assumed was matronly and old based upon what he has told me about her. I pictured her as being some plump, middle-aged lady with gray hairs beginning to show. Instead, Esme looks like a Hollywood starlet that is simply portraying a Mom in her next film role. She doesn't even have one wrinkle marring her face. How could anyone that lives with five teenagers not at least have frown lines?
However, she does have extremely ashen skin and dark circles under her eyes. Just like...
"Oh, this is Bella?" Esme croons, her gleaming, honey-colored eyes looking me up and down. When they meet my own gaze, another smile - more lovely than before - appears on her face. Clasping her hands together in front of her, she breathes out, "My...but, isn't it nice to finally put a face to a name. You are all I've been hearing about for the past month. It's been 'Bella this' and 'Bella that' for far too long."
Between her astounding good looks, angelic voice, and young age, I didn't think anything else could take me by surprise. But she just found something else to blow me away.
Edward has mentioned me to Esme - many times if what she is telling me is the truth. This alone leaves me a little flabbergasted. Why would Edward ever want to talk to her about me? What has he said?
Oh, by the way, Esme. There's this poor girl that I met recently that can't walk more than ten feet without falling on her face. It's quite entertaining to watch. Would you care to meet her? We can take bets to see how far she can make it inside of the house before she tips over.
But the kind, sweet smile she is giving leads me to believe that he hasn't said anything too embarrassing about me. Esme looks genuinely glad to meet me. Exactly why she would be glad is beyond me, but I'll take whatever hospitality she's willing to give.
"It's nice to meet you too," I smile back once my initial shock has worn off a little.
My eyes reluctantly move away from her and goes to study our surroundings more thoroughly, my body going into a low spin mode as I turn in place. I thought the outside of the house was magnificent. And it is. But it isn't nearly as jaw-dropping as the inside.
The space is enormous. It makes the school auditorium look cramped. And it has a light, airy quality to it that feels surreal. It's rainy and dreary outside, but it feels nothing like that in here. Various artwork and sculptures decorate the room, many of the pieces probably being museum quality. Hanging above us is an intricate crystal chandelier that would put the New Year's Time Square ball to shame.
All of the furniture is either a rich, dark mahogany or upholstered in a clean, white fabric. There's a long couch, one small loveseat, and two cushioned chairs set up in a cluster in the living room area. Near the front window is a grand piano that's so shiny and polished that I could probably see my reflection on its surface if I looked. The back wall of the room is nothing but one giant glass window which brings in an enormous amount of natural light. Beyond the window is a lawn that stretches for many acres all the way down to a picturesque, rocky stream.
I halt my spinning once I've completed one full rotation. I'm once again facing towards Edward's Mom, who is still smiling at me just as friendly as before. "You have a lovely home. It feels like I stepped into a dream. It's so airy and open," I tell her honestly.
"That's all thanks to Esme," says Edward, a proud smile gracing his lips. "She took this rundown house and had it completely renovated. She dabbles in interior design, you see. Of course, I wasn't here yet when this was done, but I've been told that the change was like night and day."
"Wow," I reply in awe, trying to imagine taking on that kind of a headache on my own. I get tired sometimes just trying to dress myself in the mornings.
Edward smiles a bit wider, then abruptly snaps his head towards his mother. "Esme, I suggested to Bella that she could borrow some of the library's books. Is that all right with you?"
"Of course! What type of books do you prefer, dear?" she immediately responds, her gaze focusing on me.
I suddenly freeze up, feeling shy and tongue-tied. Edward sprung the question on her so quickly that I wasn't prepared for it yet. Plus, saying what I want is a little embarrassing. I like to read a variety of books, but my favorites are the romances of the past. I prefer to read stories about country balls where there are miscommunication issues and where the young people of the area are trying to find their proper match. I like reading about gentlemen who kiss their ladies' hand with as much enthusiasm as they would if it were their beloved's lips they were paying homage to. I like to read of heroines exploring English moors and sprawling manors while they wear ankle length dresses.
These things probably sound strange coming from a girl of today. But a few years ago, back when Mom was deep into her Hinduism phase, she came up with the theory that I once lived in pre-Victorian England in a past life. She said that maybe back then I was too illiterate or poor to have any books, so now I am making up for lost time by reading them all. This explanation is as good as anything I have been able to come up with.
Uncertain of what to do, my eyes seek out Edward's face, desperate for reassurance. He nods his head a couple of times and quickly darts his eyes to Esme and then back at me, silently pushing me to answer the question.
"Umm," I hum hesitantly, half worried about how strange my request will sound. "Classics, mostly. Jane Austen. The Bronte sisters. Books like that."
But Esme doesn't look at me as if I'm crazy or anything. All she does is move her head up and down and instantly replies, "I see that you have a fondness for romantic nineteenth century literature. We do have a few that fit that description, though we mostly have nonfiction and early twentieth century literature. But, you're welcome to anything you like, dear."
I take a relieved breath and say, "That's very kind of you."
"Hey, Bella!" shouts a voice that rings like a bell.
Slightly confused, I look around until I discover that the three of us are no longer alone. The furniture in the living room area that I saw empty a minute or two before now have occupants. And one of these people has a smile aimed solely at me.
"Hi, Alice," I smile back at her, feeding off her enthusiastic welcome.
She perks up and her smile stretches into a wide grin for several beats. Then, her eyes flick away from my face and lands on someone else that stands beside me. "Edward, quit being such a slowpoke and bring Bella in here!" she demands with playfully, narrowed eyes.
Edward's normally perfect posture becomes slouched. Heaving out a gruff sigh, he glances at me and then his sister. "Very well," he says resignedly, and leads the way into the living room.
I follow close behind him, anxiously dodging furniture and expensive decorations that are probably worth more than my life. Once we have safely made it across the room, he stops in front of his four seated siblings and I do the same. Blinking a few times, I focus on the three that I have never seen up close before.
Sitting on a fancy chair near the couch is Jasper. He's as attractive as I already suspected. His hair is a light blonde and seems to be on the longish side, falling well below his ears. The hairstyle gives him the look of a bohemian poet, all that's missing is a bongo drum and beret. His mouth has a small but friendly smile. Mike once described him as being expressionless, almost like a robot. But, right now, I don't see it. I'm thinking that he is just very reserved.
On the couch next to Alice is Rosalie. She looks as gorgeous as Marilyn Monroe but with paler skin, less moles, and more curves. Her blonde hair is similar to her brother Jasper's but much longer in length. Despite her fair hair, her eyelashes appear naturally dark and thick. Her face is so beautiful and flawless that she doesn't need any makeup, though I can see that she is wearing a dark red lipstick. She's sitting there and staring at me impassively, neither welcoming nor hostile. She isn't smiling at me like everyone else has so far, but this doesn't really bother me. I've seen her give some of the kids at school some pretty terrifying glares that probably resulted in quite a few wet pants. I think I'll take her current unsmiling expression over the alternative.
The last person on the couch is Emmett, his arm slung across Rosalie's back. He's much larger than I previously thought. In fact, he's so big that it's kind of scary. If he wanted to, he could probably snap off my arms and legs and toss them up a tree - just like what little Jimmy Whatley did with my sneakers back in second grade when I wouldn't let him cheat off my spelling test. Emmett is packing muscles everywhere. His arms are as thick as some of the tree trunks outside. And his pecs are so huge that it looks like he has soccer balls stuffed up his shirt, utilizing the technique middle school girls do when they shove Kleenex into their bras to create DIY breasts.
All four of them are as beautiful and handsome as I already knew they would be. But, what I did not know until now is that they all have the same eyes. Warm and mysterious, the color is an odd liquid gold. The shade has to be rare. It has to be very unusual to have not one but five people with this eye color living in the same house...
"Bella, I would like to introduce you to my siblings," Edward says in a formal tone. "This is Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie... Of course, you've already dealt with Alice."
Emmett thrusts out his hand towards me and I instinctively flinch, even taking a step backwards to put distance between myself and the giant. "Nice to meet ya," he bellows in a voice so loud that it rattles the walls.
I wonder how the Cullens would react if I were to suddenly jet out of the house and hotwire Edward's Volvo out of here?
But a surprising thing happens. While I'm gulping in terror, Emmett breaks out into a large, dimpled smile. "Don't worry Bella. I won't bite," he jokes, throwing in a wink for good measure.
My mouth slowly curves into a smile as I realize something. Emmett isn't all that scary when he's smiling. And he has dimples. Dimples. Mean people couldn't possibly have those. Now that I have stopped dwelling on his Schwarzenegger muscles, I see that he is much nicer than I first assumed. Looking into his eyes, they seem more child-like than menacing.
Seeing that he is still waiting for me to take his hand, I reach out and grasp his gigantic hand with my tiny one. We begin shaking hands, moving them slowly up and down.
My forehead scrunches in confusion, my eyes darting down to look at his hand. It feels as hard as stone. It's like I'm shaking hands with a statue. Does he have so many muscles in his body that even his hands are buff? But, then, why would they be cold? They feel like ice even though the room isn't chilly. My grandma had a circulation problem the last few years of her life and her hands and feet sometimes were cold, but she had a heart condition that was the main contributor. I doubt Emmett deals with that...
"Oh! Carlisle's home early," Esme announces warmly, interrupting my thoughts.
I step away from Emmett and look around, expecting to see the seventh and last member of the family somewhere in the room. But I don't see anyone new. And I didn't hear any noises to indicate that someone else has arrived home.
I turn to Esme who is standing next to Jasper's chair, and direct my question to her. "How do you know? I didn't hear anything."
The room goes strangely silent.
Esme moves her mouth a couple of times but nothing comes out. Emmett's lips are puckered out and he stares uneasily down at the floor, avoiding my eyes. Rosalie remains stone-faced, however I catch her briefly looking at something behind me.
Unable to help myself, I follow her gaze and look out the front window. Right at that moment, a sleek, black car zips into view and cruises up the driveway. It's driving like a bat out of hell. It's so fast that Charlie's old police cruiser probably couldn't catch it.
I guess that this must be Carlisle, Edward's adopted father. But I still don't understand how Esme knew that he was here. He didn't appear until after she made the announcement...
"We have an advanced security system," says Alice behind me. I whip my head back around and notice that she's pointing her index finger at a white box that is attached to the wall near the front window. "It blinks several times in succession whenever someone's car passes the sensor. Esme doesn't like hearing the alarm blaring on and off all day, so she keeps it on silent a lot and keeps her eye on it when she is in the living room."
My eyebrows knit together while I try to sort through Alice's explanation. I have no experience with alarm systems. The type of houses that I live in don't need them. My family and I have never owned anything a burglar would want to steal. In fact, I always suspected that if Charlie's house was ever broken into, that some kindhearted cat burglar would feel sorry for us and leave behind cash and a note telling us that we should at least upgrade our TV. So, I guess that her explanation is plausible.
But...
Wasn't Esme facing towards me instead of where the alarm hangs? And if that's the case, how could she have seen it blink?
The front door swings open a moment later and in steps a man no older than thirty. His slicked back hair is the fairest blonde color that I have ever seen. Like Edward's siblings and Esme, Carlisle has strangely pale skin that otherwise appears flawless. He's outrageously handsome, too. Dressed in his white doctor's coat, he looks like the type of guy you'd see starring in a soap opera. He'd be the actor playing a doctor that tells the lead female character that she has a brain tumor that's inoperable. Then, thanks to a few pills and a prescribed love affair, the woman is magically cured of her disease.
Carlisle walks into the living room and I get a closer look at him. His eyes are yellow gold, too. Just like his wife and most of their children. Except for Edward. It's weird that six people in this one household have such milky white skin and the same unusual eye color - especially when most of them are not related. I can understand that Jasper, Rosalie, and Esme may have similar characteristics since Esme is their aunt. But what about the rest of them? Alice and Emmett were adopted. Why do they share that trait?
I guess it's possible that Carlisle and Esme are just eccentric and like to adopt kids with unique features like themselves. Edward may not have their golden eyes, but he does have a pair of spellbinding emerald green ones that have kept me entranced...
Esme gracefully glides up to Carlisle, stands on the tips of her toes like a ballerina, and plants a kiss on his cheek. "We have company," she tells him.
He grins when we make eye contact. "Is that so?"
She smiles and nods her head. "Yes indeed. Edward finally decided to bring Bella over to visit."
From beside me, Edward huffs out a dry laugh. "Actually, I brought her here so she could borrow some books. The visiting is just a happy coincidence," he says sarcastically.
Esme lifts her hand and waves away her son's remark. "However you want to spin it, dear," she lightly replies. An instant later, her gaze zeros in on my face. "Bella, do you like apple pie?"
My eyes widen and my head jerks back. "Oh!" I exclaim, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. "Well, yes...I do."
She claps her hands together and beams at me happily. "Perfect! Why don't you two take a seat and I'll go fetch you a slice," she instructs before she glides out the room.
I stand there for a while, slightly confused. What just happened? She asked me if I liked apple pie - not if I wanted to eat it at this very moment.
Once I recover from my bewilderment, I look for a place to sit down since it appears that I'll be eating pie soon. There's no more room on the couch and Carlisle just took the last empty chair. The only place left is a loveseat that sits to the side of the couch.
I carefully walk over to it and sit down. It's a very nice piece of furniture. The cushions are soft as a cloud and the fabric is smooth to the touch, feeling like satin to my fingers. I don't want to know how much something like this must have cost Esme. The loveseat's only fault is that it's kind of small. It's less than half the size of the couch, so there isn't much room to stretch out. But I guess that doesn't matter. It's just me sitting here.
Once I have settled comfortably, I look around the room and notice that Edward is still standing up. His back is facing me and I can't see his face. One of his hands are dragging through his bronze hair, tugging so hard that I'm surprised that tufts of it aren't being pulled out. Meanwhile, Alice is smiling sweetly up at him, her eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings.
Esme enters the room balancing a silver serving tray in her arms. I see plates, a pie, and several utensils placed on top. At that moment, Edward twists around and he begins walking in my direction. I can finally see that his face is a little paler than it normally is. And, stranger than that, his eyes appear troubled. Yet before I can decipher his abrupt mood change, something else occurs to me.
There's no place for Edward to sit other than this miniature loveseat.
As this thought is occurring to me, he is already lowering himself down onto the loveseat, squeezing into a spot right beside me. I try to move over as much as I can, but it's no use. There's no where for me to go. Soon he and I are being crushed together and I'm getting to know him in a whole new way. Other than the time I used him as cushioning in the school parking lot after the accident, I've never been this close to him before. Usually, we keep a foot or two of space between us at all times. But now you couldn't slip a sheet of paper between us. I am being bombarded by new sights and sensations. I can see a small beauty mark hiding right behind his ear. A vein in his neck throbs in a steady beat. I can smell his cologne in the air, overwhelming my already heightened senses. His entire right side is pressed up against me. I can sense his every movement. I can feel every breath. His lean body feels hard. It isn't all soft and smushy like mine is.
He's so close to me that if I were insane and possessed absolutely no self control, I could say to hell with it and just go ahead and cuddle with him to my heart's content.
My face erupts in flames. God it's hot in here. Who decided to turn the furnace up?
While I'm silently suffering from heat exhaustion, Esme sets her silver tray on a table in the middle of the room. Grabbing a plate, she places one perfectly sliced pie wedge in the exact center. Next, she moves effortlessly across the space and hands me the plate and a fork.
"Thank you," I mumble nervously. I then direct my concentration on the dessert in front of me, desperate to occupy my thoughts on something other than the male body currently rubbing up against me. It wouldn't look right if I swoon into a fainting heap in front of everyone.
The apple pie looks exactly as you would expect it to. Golden crust. Juicy apple filling. But I'm still wary. I lived with my mom for too long for me to automatically assume that just because something looks edible that it is safe to eat. Mom was great at baking cookies that looked gooey and delicious on the outside but tasted like gravel in the middle.
I cautiously take my fork and cut off a small bite of Esme's pie. Placing it in my mouth, I slowly chew. The next thing I know, my taste buds are doing a joyful dance and I start devouring my slice of pie hungrily. This has to be the best apple pie that I have ever tasted. It's a perfect blend of sweetness and spice.
I thought Esme was just a unearthly beautiful woman that just so happens to be the mother figure to a bunch of orphans. But now I see that there is much more to her than just a pretty face. She is freakin' Martha Stewart 2.0.
"Now, who else wants some?" Esme asks once she has finished serving me.
"No, thank you," Carlisle grins, patting his stomach. "I had a big lunch."
Jasper pipes up next, his mouth twisted to the side. "Alice and I got into that leg of lamb while you were outside, so we're too full. Sorry," he finishes apologetically.
Esme's hands fly away from the tray to rest on her hips and she stares at them with fire in her eyes. "I can't believe you two! That was for tonight!"
Alice's already large eyes widen further, giving her a guilt-ridden expression resembling what a young child might give you if they were caught stealing cookies from the kitchen. "But it smelled so delicious, Esme. We couldn't help it," she replies pitifully.
Esme lets loose a frustrated sigh and briefly lifts her eyes skyward. "Fine," she breathes out, instantly forgiving them. She stops worrying about Alice and Jasper and turns to the next person on the couch. "What about you Rose?"
With her back rigidly straight, Rosalie folds her arms across her chest. "Em and I are going to that Italian place in Port Angeles in a little while. We made reservations," she reveals with a throaty voice.
From beside her, Emmett's light laughter fills the room. "Yeah. We're eating alfresco tonight!"
I pause in my chewing, confused by his comment. It's raining right now. And it's cold out there.
At the same time, Alice giggles and shakes her head at Emmett. "I think you and Rose will freeze if you ate outside tonight, Em."
"I'll take a slice, Esme," calls out Edward a few beats afterwards. With a smile that I can only describe as motherly, Esme quickly prepares him a plate and hands it to him. She looks so eager to do something for him that I almost expect for her to tuck a napkin around his neck and ask if she can feed him.
While the two of us eat our pie and act like we're not practically joined at the hip thanks to this cramped loveseat, the rest of the family chats among themselves. I listen in as they talk about little things like school and upcoming social events. It's interesting hearing them sound like a stereotypical family. They laugh. They tease. They encourage. This is the type of family that you only see on old reruns. I feel like I'm visiting the set of the Brady Bunch.
Eventually, Carlisle says, "I have news from the hospital. Apparently Emmett did such a fine job last Christmas portraying Santa Claus for the children's ward, the staff would love if you would help them out again."
Emmett proudly smiles and shrugs his shoulders relaxedly. "Sure. That's fine with me. Playing Santa again should be a lot of fun."
"No Emmett," Carlisle replies, shaking his head. "I'm not talking about you playing Santa. They want you to dress up for their Easter reception in the playroom."
Emmett's jaw drops and his eyebrows rise up. Then, just as quickly, his expression turns into an amused incredulity. "Easter? So what are you saying? That they want me to be the Easter Bunny?" he chuckles in disbelief.
But Carlisle isn't laughing. "That's right."
Emmett's laughter abruptly ends and he starts shaking his head back and forth. "Nope! No way! I am not dressing up like a fluffy bunny. End of story!"
Sitting on the arm of Carlisle's chair, Esme cries, "But it's for the children! Just imagine how delighted they'll be when they see you! Do you want to disappoint them?"
"Can't they get somebody else to wear that wimpy costume?" he whines.
"Not really," says Carlisle sadly. "The costume is very large and the man who wore it in years past moved away. You're the only person that we know that not only fits into the costume, but also has the spare time to devote to entertaining the children that day."
Rosalie's head snaps to stare at Emmett. "He'll do it," she declares flatly.
"I can't!" Emmett blurts out. "Have you seen that thing, Rose? It's pink!"
Leaning forward a little, Alice looks around Rosalie and says, "Actually, it's more of a magenta."
Emmett's brows crash together and he shoots her an irritated scowl. "Yeah. Everyone else in the world calls that pink, Alice."
"You're doing it," Rosalie commands, locking her arms stubbornly across her chest.
"But-"
"You can't win this argument," she interrupts, cocking up her brow. "It's for kids, Em. You are going to stop complaining, suck it up like a man, and make sick children happy for a couple of hours. If you keep up with the bellyaching, I'm going to make it much worse for you."
He swallows roughly and looks more frightened than I did when I first met him. "What will you do?" he asks in a hoarse whisper.
"I'll get Alice to alter that bunny costume and make it ten times more girlie than it is now. Then - not only will you wear it for the kids at the hospital - you will wear it for the rest of the day. And I will make sure that every man, woman, and child in this county sees you. We will visit nursing homes, auto part stores, gas stations - everywhere."
Alice's lips curl up and she claps excitedly. "Now that sounds like a fun assignment! I can attach a pretty silk ribbon around the bunny's neck."
"Maybe you can add in a few flowers to the costume," Jasper adds with a sly smile.
Alice's face lights up. "Great idea, Jazz! Emmett can carry around a whole basket of tulips and pansies! He can toss them on the ground wherever he goes. You know, like an overgrown flower girl! That would be adorable."
Holding his hands up in defeat, Emmett's nose wrinkles. "OK, you guys, you win! I'll wear the dumb costume as it is."
"Are you sure you don't want the flowers?" teases Jasper. "I think you're manly enough to pull it off."
"Positive," Emmett glares back.
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A/N-
Next Chapter- More wacky fun at the Cullen household. And Bella gets to see another side of Edward that he has so far kept hidden.
Thanks for reading! :-)