A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one. It's nice and long, though so it should make up for the wait, right? You guys were right, Jasper is starting to access some deeper emotions. Keep that in mind before you kill me for this one, alright?
Special love for all of my reviewers!
Esme's POV
"Are you okay, sweetie?" I kept my voice as gentle and loving as possible, so as not to scare him. "Do you want me to get you something?" Anything? I wished he would give me some clue as to what he was thinking.
"No, I'm all right." He tried gamely to smile at me, but even I could tell it was forced.
Alice stepped in. "Want to walk down to the gift shop?"
"No."
"How about I make Emmett bring the Xbox back over, and we can play?"
"No."
I tried again. "Do you want me to bring in some DVDs? Books?"
"No." This time he didn't even smile, though I had noticed he always had a grin for Alice.
"We could play cards." I was running out of suggestions.
"No. I'm fine."
Which could roughly be translated as I want to sit alone and wallow in self pity, just like yesterday, and the day before.
"What do you want to do, then?"
"Nothing. I feel like shit."
Normally, I would have corrected his language, but nothing about the past few days had been even remotely normal. Alice recovered from her illness fairly quickly, but not before passing it on to first Rosalie, then Carlisle. Edward was finally recovering, but this morning, Emmett had started running a fever. Add in the fact that Jasper had suffered several more seizures in the hospital, and it all added up to a rather large mess.
He could have been telling the truth about not feeling well, or he could have just been trying to get us to leave. Ever since the head neurologist had handed down an epilepsy diagnosis, he had become withdrawn and depressed. The doctor felt sure that it had been caused by the scarring left on his brain from what his former foster mother had done to him. This round of seizures had probably begun once he became ill with the flu and his body's defenses were lowered. Carlisle had brought by stacks of literature explaining the disease and all possible treatments, but they had sat untouched by the bed.
True, things could have been a lot worse, but it was easy for me to say that. I was a grown woman, married and with a beautiful family. I wasn't a seventeen-year-old boy, who felt like he had no one in the world. Poor guy.
"What about a popsicle?" A sore throat really hadn't been part of this particular flu, but I was desperate to do something.
He shrugged and turned his head away, the very picture of abject misery. Alice opened the curtains, trying to let a little light into the dark, depressing room. "It's like a morgue in here."
Jasper made an irritated huffing noise, clearly trying to repress some rude comment. Had it been anyone but Alice, he probably wouldn't have even made the attempt, but he's soft on her. The two of them are so cute together, the way they seem to understand each other without speaking.
I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. It needed to be cut badly, even worse than when he had arrived, but he had stubbornly refused to let anyone near him with a pair of scissors. I wondered if something specific had happened to him, or if he were just generally wary of people being behind him with sharp objects. Maybe both. I had long since decided that hair wasn't the hill to die on, and just let it go.
At least I could touch him now. After three days of being so sick that he could barely hold his own head up, much less do anything substantial for himself, he had decided that my comfort wasn't such a bad thing after all. He wouldn't ask for it, or make any indication that he wanted me to touch him, but he didn't shy back, either. Sometimes, like right now, he even seemed to enjoy it. His eyes had closed, and he relaxed slightly.
Truth be told, I wasn't quite sure what else to do for him. The classes we had taken to certify as foster parents hadn't prepared us for a case like Jasper's, or for helping a child face the reality of a life-changing illness. I had hoped that Carlisle would do better, but that wasn't the case. What was so easy to do with his patients became impossible when it was family.
And Jasper was family. The house didn't exactly seem empty without him, but it was certainly lessened. Even Edward, who didn't really seem to have much to do with Jasper when he was there, sensed that something was off. He had been asking about Jasper, but couldn't visit. The flu was running rampant, and no one wanted someone who was ill visiting the ICU.
"Can I look at this stuff?" Alice refused to give up, gently badgering him until she got a normal answer from him.
"Sure." He didn't even turn his head.
"You didn't even look! I could be going through your underwear or your medical records, and you just gave me permission."
With Alice, it was generally easier to just give in, rather than fight with her. Jasper glanced over, noting that she was holding the papers that Carlisle had brought over to help him come to terms with things. "Go ahead."
Instead of looking over them quietly, she climbed up next to him and started reading parts out loud. "Epilepsy is a recurrent disorder of the nervous system, characterized by repetitive and uncontrolled jerking of the limbs, accompanied by a loss of consciousness. Seizures can be either grand mal or petit mal. Petit mal seizures, also known as absence seizures, do not result in convulsions or collapse. A person having a petit mal seizure may appear blank or disoriented for a period of several seconds to several minutes." She broke off there. "Hey, I'll bet that's what happened last week!"
Jasper's confused expression probably mirrored my own. "Huh?"
"You know, the night we had spaghetti? Remember, I said you blanked out on me, but you didn't remember doing it?"
He nodded, but I interrupted before he could reply. "Wait a minute. You knew there was something wrong, and you didn't do anything? Alice, what were you thinking?" We were supposed to be keeping a close watch on Jasper and any symptoms he might be displaying, and that couldn't happen if some members of the family were covering for him.
The words were barely out of my mouth before Jasper leaped to her defense. "I made her. I lied and told her that it was a dizzy spell, when I knew it wasn't. So, it's my fault."
That just meant they were both in trouble. I made my voice calm and loving, two emotions I was most decidedly not feeling at the moment. "Jasper, I understand that you want to protect Alice, and that is very sweet of you. However, she definitely knew better than to lie for you. If she had said something then, you might not be in the hospital now."
Her face crumpled, and I felt terrible, especially since that wasn't actually true. If Alice had come to me, I would have been concerned, but probably just kept a better eye on him. I certainly wouldn't have assumed something of this magnitude. "We'll talk about it later, okay? I'm disappointed in both of you." My words were mostly spoken to Alice.
Had they not been side by side, I would have entirely missed what happened next. Tears sprung up in Alice's eyes, and Jasper flinched. Was he upset because Alice was, or because I was? Whatever the reason, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
I tried not to get my hopes up. Common wisdom said that for every year of abuse, it should take a year for the kid to heal. The only problem was that Jasper didn't have five years. He had only two months, and I knew that wouldn't be enough. I had to think of a way to convince him to stay. The question was how.
"Epilepsy cannot be cured, but seizures can be kept under control through the use of anticonvulsant drugs. Common drugs include Phenobarbital, Depakote, and Clonazepam." Alice was reading out loud again, apparently trying to dispel the tension in the room. "Which one are they trying you on?"
"I don't know." He seemed totally disinterested in his medication, just like he was disinterested in everything else to do with his condition.
"How can you not know? Don't you even care about what's wrong with you?" She sounded incredulous.
"I do, but . . ." He trailed off there.
"But?" Alice was never afraid of pushing him too far. She had amazing instincts about when to keep going and when to ease off and let him have his space. I would have given absolutely anything to have that power for just one day. Just one day in which I felt like I wasn't failing with him.
He didn't reply, just looked around the room desperately. Once he had determined that none of the inanimate objects were going to help him, and I was just as curious to hear his answer as Alice was, he shrugged. "I don't know."
"How about because if you try and learn about your medications, then you have to admit to yourself that this isn't going away? That this is going to be your life now, and there is nothing that Dad, nor I, nor you, can do to change it? Am I close?"
"Mary Alice Cullen!" I was horrified that she would come right out and say that. Not that I didn't agree with her, one hundred percent, but there were countless ways to put it more tactfully. I was already rethinking my earlier assessment that she wouldn't push him too far.
But Jasper didn't get angry, or break down. He just whispered. "Yeah, you're close."
It hurt to hear him say that, but I was careful not to let the pity show on my face. I had no idea what to say to him, because Alice was right. None of us could do anything to change Jasper's circumstances; we could only help him deal with them. If he would let us, which was a shaky prospect at the best of times.
Maybe the surprise I had planned would buck his spirits up a little. If everything went according to plan, it should arrive about four, just a few minutes from now.
"Well, you need to stop pitying yourself. It sucks, we get it. You can still walk, still see, and still hear. You are mentally intact. If you take a little interest in your treatment, you can still have a perfectly normal life. Starting with us figuring out what medication you're on." Without waiting for either permission or a reply, she stood up and gathered his medical records off the table near the bed. Jasper, apparently stunned into silence, just stared at her.
I was feeling rather stunned myself. Alice was not particularly good about standing up for herself. She would much rather go with the flow, even if we were doing something she knew wasn't a good idea, than speak up and risk being ostracized. What was it about Jasper that made her willing to risk his affections to help him out?
Alice ran a finger through his records, her eyes scanning for anything of interest. "There! They have you on Phenobarbital. Mom, do you have a piece of paper?"
She knew me too well, and I retrieved a small notepad from my purse. Alice flipped it open with a flourish, and began writing. "Jasper's list of questions. Question one: Why Phenobarbital instead of something else? Question two: When can I go home? What else?" When she received no reply, she nudged him. "What else, Jasper?"
"Will I still have seizures, even with the medicine?" The words were mostly mumbled into his chest.
"Good." She wrote it down neatly. "And?"
She dragged a few more questions out of him in that manner, pushing him far further than I would have ever dared to. Finally, when I could almost see the tears forming in his stormy eyes, she stopped and closed the pad. "Now we'll know what to ask the doctor the next time he comes." Then she laid her head down on his shoulder. "I'm not trying to pick on you."
His eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion evident in every line on his face. "I know."
I felt as though I could watch them for years and never even come close to understanding them. Somehow, Alice had gotten Jasper to take responsibility for at least a little bit of his treatment, something no one else had managed. He had stubbornly shut out Carlisle, me, and an entire team of doctors to the point where we had been asked several times if he was mute. No, just bullheaded. Not only had she managed to get him interested, she had done it with a minimum of trauma and fuss. I was impressed.
A knock sounded at the door, causing all three of us to jump. Alice leaped up, her excitement nearly causing her to trip over her own feet. "Come in."
A teenage boy entered, quiet and nervous, followed by a woman who looked to be in her late fifties. Jasper bolted upright, a smile like I had never seen before spreading across his face. "Pete!"
"Hey, Major." They didn't kiss, didn't embrace, didn't do anything but grin at each other. Then Peter lightly tapped Jasper's shoulder. "You're a mess."
"You're here!" Jasper's voice wavered between happy and incredulous.
"Well, yeah. It's Saturday, isn't it? Just because you got your stupid self too sick to come to Port Angeles doesn't mean that I should have to miss out."
Jasper rolled his eyes. "Yes, Peter, because I gave myself five seizures and have spent the past week in the hospital all to screw with your mind and inconvenience you."
Peter replicated his sarcastic tone. "Yeah, I can see your point, five seizures does seem a little excessive to get out of seeing someone. Three seizures and some puking, maybe, but probably not five."
Looking from one to the other, I noticed something interesting. If I remembered correctly, Peter was only fifteen, but he was already big. If I had to guess, I would say he was at least six feet tall, with a build similar to Emmett's. Though not as heavy, Jasper himself was also quite tall. Both of them were easily able to overpower their much smaller foster mother. But by all accounts, neither one had so much as tried. Why?
I turned the thought over in my mind, standing up and tugging Alice with me. I held out my hand to Peter's foster mother. "Hi, I'm Esme Cullen, and this is Alice. I know we've spoken on the phone, but it's nice to finally meet you in person."
She smiled back at me, and in her eyes I recognized the battle-weary look of another foster mother. The look that said she understood nights spent rocking drug-addicted babies and terrified children. That she, too, had installed alarms on windows and doors — not to keep the outside from coming in, but in a last-ditch effort to keep a delinquent teen at home. That she had attended court hearings, and spent her afternoons in the principal's office, begging for her kid to get just one more chance. "I'm Lucy. It's a pleasure to meet you, also. Thank you so much for allowing Peter to come visit."
I gave Alice (who was pretending not to listen in on the boys' conversation) another pull. "Oh, no problem. Any friend of Jasper's is welcome to come visit us whenever they like. Would you like to go down and get a bite to eat? I'm sure the boys would like some privacy." The last part was tacked on mostly for Alice, who scowled at me.
As we went out the door, I found myself having to ignore Peter's not-so-subtle whisper of "Jesus, Major, your foster mom's a milf!" Sick as it was, I couldn't help but preen a little bit at the compliment.
I led Lucy down to the cafeteria, wondering what I should do now. If I hadn't had Alice with me, I would have pumped her for some information about Peter, or Jasper, or anything that might have happened in that house. But without that to fall back on, I was a little lost. My 'gracious hostess' topics seemed out of place, considering the circumstances we were meeting under.
Luckily, Lucy had a few topics of her own. "So, what are you going to do about the trial?"
A cold feeling started between my shoulder blades. "The trial?"
"Oh, God, you didn't know? They brought that bitch up on charges. Child abuse, neglect, attempted murder, assault . . . I'm not even sure what else. We got a letter earlier this week saying that Pete might have to testify." She looked down at her hands. "I'm so sorry. I thought you knew already."
If they thought Peter might need to testify, Jasper would definitely be called. But between dealing with hospitalized kids, suspended kids, and sick kids this week, the mail was building up on the counter. There could have been any number of important documents in that pile, and I would have never noticed. "No, it's been a crazy week for us. The flu's going around the house, plus Jasper being sick. Tell me more about the trial." I wasn't upset with her, but to be honest, I was more than a little peeved with Demetri for not giving us a heads-up.
"They haven't set a date yet, but I figure it's going to be soon. She's been in jail for the past two months, and they have to either set a speedy trial or let her go. But they're going to take Pete to the station on Tuesday so he can make a statement." Suddenly, she paled. "You don't think he and Jasper are up there talking about it right now, do you? Getting their stories straight?"
I hoped not. If both Jasper and Peter refused to speak, the case might fall apart. I was sure that she would be convicted of hurting Jasper, no matter what he or Peter might claim, simply because we had the 911 tape that said otherwise. But the other charges? Jasper was smart, and I was sure he could muddy the waters enough for her to get off. "I don't know. If they were going to do that, they've done it already. Let them have some time together."
She sighed. "I really did intend to bring Peter to see him in the hospital. But they wouldn't approve it, because they aren't blood related, so I had to fight them about that. Then suddenly he was being released, but they wouldn't tell us where. Confidentiality and all that. I was so relieved when Jasper was able to make contact."
"They love each other." I did want Jasper to think of us as his family, but I had to accept that there were other people he loved just as dearly. Peter would always be a brother to him, no matter whom they lived with. If I didn't try and keep that relationship intact, how would he ever be able to accept that any relationship could be permanent?
"Of course they do. I tried to get Jasper, too, you know."
I hadn't known that. Actually, I had been under the impression that there hadn't been any interest in Jasper, other than Carlisle and me. "No, I had no idea."
"Yeah, I knew Pete missed him a lot, and he's my only foster right now, so I figured I could try. They turned me down due to his medical issues, and they wanted him placed with a man in the house." She smiled sadly at me. "It's probably for the best, though. I don't know how I could have handled all this."
"There are days when I don't know how I handle it. One minute at a time, I guess. There isn't much choice once they're in the house."
She smiled. "That's true. So, is it just the four of you?"
"Oh, no. My husband and I have another three at home. All teenagers, if you can believe that. We actually haven't fostered for quite a while, but we're glad to have Jasper."
Some of us more than others. The one who was the most pleased about it was seated across from me, obviously bored out of her mind. I handed her my phone. "Call your father and see if he's heard anything about this. Then you can go back and check on the boys." It wasn't my most subtle move, but I needed the privacy and I figured that she would be so glad to get back to Jasper that she wouldn't question me.
She all but ran out of the cafeteria, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground. Lucy watched her go. "So, I can assume that her excitement is stemming from seeing Jasper, and not from calling her father?"
Her joke, small as it was, broke some of the tension at the table. "You could say that. She's gotten rather attached to him."
"That's good. He obviously needs someone to love him and take care of him for once. Pete had no idea how to be a teenager, because he was too busy being a parent. I have to keep telling him that I'm the adult in the house, and he doesn't need to do things like pay bills or clean the entire house. He needs to worry about his schoolwork and Prom."
"Do you have school troubles with him, too? I've pulled Jasper out for the year. He was failing anyway, and there was no point in throwing another change on him." Any clues about Jasper's foster siblings might provide me with clues about the boy himself.
"Not that bad, but he's being tutored right now to try and catch him up. He's desperate not to fail this year, but there isn't much time left for him to pass. I would have pulled him out, but he was insistent that he go. I think school is a safe place for him, and keeps him from getting overwhelmed with all the changes at home, so I didn't make a big deal out of it. He's trying very hard, and I keep reminding him that that's all he has to do." She sighed. "Now I just have to get him to believe it."
'Welcome to my world. Jasper will barely accept anything from us, because he thinks there's some sort of hidden cost to it." I had forgotten how this felt, this camaraderie with other foster parents. With other people who understood why your eleven-year-old was having a toddler's tantrum in the middle of the mall, or the humiliation that comes with finding out your sexually abused six-year-old was caught giving the rest of her first grade class a graphic sex ed lesson. "It's like living with a feral cat. I can feed him, and provide him with a warm place to sleep, but I can barely touch him."
"You do what you can for them. Sometimes all you can do is let them go." Her tone told me that she, too, knew what it was like to lose them. But I didn't want that to happen with Jasper. He had already fallen through the cracks of the foster system; I refused to let him fall through the cracks of society also.
"I know. It still hurts, though." I knew in my heart that Jasper wasn't irrevocably damaged, not yet, but he was getting close. There was only so much and human being could be expected to endure, and without a support system, he was going to lose it. "But I can save this one, I know it. I just don't have enough time. He's almost eighteen, Lucy, and I can't legally force him after that. But how do I convince him to stay?"
She looked down. "If you figure it out, let me know."
There was nothing to say to that, and we fell into a long silence. Finally, she picked up her tray. "Do you want to go check on the boys? Peter and I need to be going soon; they're calling for snow again tonight, and I don't want to be out driving if I can help it."
As we walked down the hallways, Lucy kept glancing at me, as if she wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if she should. After what felt like forever, her eyes met mine. "He does like you. I can tell by the way he looks at you."
It was nice to hear that someone else thought so, someone who was familiar with the manipulations and trial of foster kids, and knew how to see through all of that. "I hope so. I like him. He's a survivor." My own struggles made me much more appreciative of Jasper's, both mental and physical.
The door to Jasper's room was closed, and I could hear nothing but the soft mumbles of voices within. Lucy knocked on the frame before entering. "Pete? We need to get going."
This time the two of them did embrace, an awkward one-armed hug that seemed to mean more than I could read. Then Peter smiled at me. "It was very nice to meet you, Mrs. Cullen, Alice. I hope I'll see you again."
Something about the way he said that made me nervous. "You're welcome to come visit any time. Jasper should be released soon, and you can come see us at the house."
His smile faltered, didn't quite meet his dark eyes. "That would be nice." He slipped his jacket on and turned back to Jasper. "Trust them, Major." He left with those cryptic words still dangling in the air between us.
Jasper looked after them as they left, not saying a word. When he finally looked at me, there was a coldness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. They had changed to a glinting grey, almost the silver of a knife's blade, and I felt a trickle of fear. Not only of him, though there was nothing to indicate that he was violent, but I was getting a sense that things had somehow changed, and I was in huge trouble.
"What's wrong?" I kept my voice level and my eyes on his.
He looked down. "Nothing. I don't want any of you around tonight, so tell Dr. Cullen not to come."
The warning bells in my mind began to ring louder. Jasper had long since stopped referring to us as Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, instead choosing Carlisle and Esme. That was fine with me; I knew better than to expect 'Mom' and 'Dad' so soon, or maybe ever. "Well, I don't think that's a good idea. Why do you suddenly want us gone?"
"I don't trust you, and I don't care if you think it's a good idea. Now leave me alone, bitch."
Alice sucked in a harsh breath. I was stunned. Jasper had never been anything but soft-spoken and easygoing, a perfect gentleman. I wasn't sure what had shocked me more, his language or him saying he didn't trust us. What had changed so quickly? Still, they were just words, and I had heard worse over the years. "That language is unacceptable. Alice, go get the car while I have a talk with Jasper."
Her lips trembled as she took the keys, telling me she was as surprised as I was. I wondered if Peter had said something to upset him, and regretted leaving them alone together. I remembered Lucy saying she had wanted Jasper also, and wondered if he thought he would be placed with his friend if he were out of our house. "Now, tell me what's going on." I made my voice a combination of a question and command.
A strange gleam had started in his eyes, the gleam of a predator. "No. I want you to leave. Have me transferred to a group home, because I'm not coming back to your house."
I had heard that threat more times than I cared to count. It was generally a last-ditch I'll-get-rid-of-you-before-you-decide-to-get-rid-of-me effort, and not a true reflection of their feelings. "That isn't an option. I thought you were enjoying yourself at our house, and we like having you very much. Why do you suddenly feel unwelcome?"
A maniacal fire light behind his eyes. "I'm not speaking to you any more. Now get out of here, you fucking cunt."
Ah, this brought back memories. It had been years since one of the children had called me that. It still hurt to hear it, but nothing I couldn't deal with. "You can lay there and curse at me all you want, or lay there and sulk, but I'm still not leaving. Now, do you want to tell me what's wrong, or do you want to glare?"
His hand slid along the table until he found a water glass. Without ever breaking his challenging stare, he picked it up and cocked his arm to throw. I dropped my tone to one that suggested he'd better listen well. "If you throw that at me, do not think for one instant that I will hesitate to report you as violent. And let me tell you right now, Jasper Whitlock, the only place that will take a violent seventeen-year-old is juvie. Would you rather be put in with a bunch of perverts and murderers, or go back and live with us? Your choice." My voice remained steady throughout my speech. We were down to pure animal instinct here, and I was toast if I showed him fear.
Indecision wavered on his features. For a small eternity, we remained frozen, neither willing to give the other anything. Then he lowered his arm, letting the glass drop on to the floor. It bounced and skittered away under the bed, but I barely noticed. The cornered-animal look left his eyes, leaving behind a sort of bewildered hurt that was somehow far worse. "Fine." It came out as a miserable whisper. Then he curled up on his side, facing away from me, and buried his face in the pillow.
The mother in me screamed that I needed to do something. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and gather this strange, broken child into my arms. But the realist in me knew better. So I didn't touch him at all, even though he had allowed it just an hour ago. Instead, I sat in the chair next to his bed and tried to figure out how I had become the enemy in such a short time.
Alice came back inside, staring at his back. Our eyes met and she mouthed, What's wrong? I shrugged. "Sweetheart, do you think you can drive yourself home? I think Jasper needs both your father and me here for a little while."
Jasper didn't respond, except to burrow further under his quilt. Rosalie had brought it a few days ago, claiming that it was too cold for him in the room. It was in interesting gift, considering that I knew this was her favorite, and Jasper seemed to have claimed it for his own. I wondered if she knew she didn't stand much of a chance of getting it back. Either he was softening a little towards me, or he just didn't want Alice to hear his shocking language. He always did try his hardest in front of her.
She paused uncertainly. "Can't I stay? Jasper, don't you want me to stay?"
He gave an almost invisible nod, but, this time, I wasn't going to allow it. Jasper did far too much hiding behind the other kids, and they did too much hiding of things for him. I needed it to be just him, Carlisle, and me if we were going to have any chance of working things out. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but not this time."
She got the message and lightly patted the lump under the covers. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I have to stay after school and make up a test, but as soon as I'm done with that, I'll be here."
Another nod, but he refused to raise his head. She shot him a worried look, but eventually left. As soon as she was out of earshot, I turned to the lump. "Is there something you want to tell me before Carlisle gets here?"
The silence stretched on for so long that I thought he wasn't going to answer me. When he finally did speak, it was low and muffled by the blanket. "I trusted you, even though I knew better."
"But you don't now." I wondered what had happened to change his mind.
"You lied. Everyone lies — the social workers, you, Maria, everyone. I just thought you might be different."
It turned my stomach to think that Maria and I were now sharing a category in his mind. What could I have possibly lied to him about? "What have I lied to you about?"
When he responded, it wasn't to my question at all. "I'll miss Alice. I like her a lot."
"She'll miss you, too. We all will, which is why I don't understand why you want to leave." I was trying to figure out if he really wanted to leave. Most of the time, they didn't, but the kids had always broken long before this point. Jasper didn't seem to be making a huge deal out of this; instead, he was resigned to having to leave. Maybe he was serious.
My phone rang, shattering the quiet of the room. The number was unfamiliar, but I didn't seem to be getting anywhere with Jasper, so I answered it anyway.
"Esme, this is Lucy, Peter's foster mom? I just got some information that you probably need to know. It seems that Peter — "Here she broke off and spoke to someone in the background. "No, I didn't say it was your fault, Peter. I'm just letting her know what happened. Sorry about that, Esme. Peter apparently brought the trial up to Jasper, to see what he thought about all of this. He didn't realize that Jasper didn't know about it until he had already said something. You may need to explain to him that you didn't know about it, either, or you might have a mess on your hands."
Too late for that one. Inwardly, I cursed myself for not realizing what had happened immediately. It was logical that Peter would turn to his best friend for advice, assuming that they had the same knowledge. But it certainly did explain why Jasper was suddenly convinced that we were a family of liars who deliberately kept things from him. "I'm afraid it's a little late for that, Lucy, but thank you so much for calling. You've pretty much explained why Jasper's been alternately cursing at me and refusing to speak for the past half hour."
She whistled. "Oh, boy. I'm so sorry, Esme, if I had known that Jasper didn't know yet, I would have told Peter not to say anything."
"I know. Thanks for calling; I'm going to try and sort this whole mess out with Jasper. Why don't I call you tomorrow and let you know how things are going?"
"All right. I'll speak to you then."
We hung up, and I found myself looking at Jasper with a lot more compassion. He hadn't just decided off the top of his head that we were liars, or tried to manipulate things so he could live with his best friend. He felt that we had genuinely betrayed him, and was hurt by that fact.
His reaction told me two things, both of which were extremely important. First, Jasper was starting to bond to our family. If he weren't, he would have accepted this news as a confirmation that he was right not to trust us, as opposed to getting upset. Second, I was going to have to try a lot harder to keep ahead of him. He was smart, and had access to information that a younger child wouldn't.
Although he was perfectly capable of following our conversation, and had to have known I had disconnected the call, Jasper didn't move. I sat for a few minutes in silence, gathering my courage and weighing my options with him. In the end, I decided to just go for it, and be as direct as I could. "Are you angry because I didn't tell you about the trial?"
He rolled towards me so quickly that I heard his shoulder pop. His blue eyes were hard and completely dry, as if he had long since learned that tears were a useless venture. "Don't patronize me. You know I am."
Despite his acid tone, I was hopeful. He was actively engaging me in conversation, which was more than I had gotten out of him in a while. "Can we talk about it?" He didn't actually have a choice in the matter, but I had to ask.
"I don't think there's anything left to say." His eyes probed mine, uncertainty flickering in their depths. I wasn't reacting to this in a way that was familiar to him, and it was making him nervous. If I had been callous about it, or yelled, or even struck him, it would have been all right. But my calm questioning was completely out of his realm of experience.
"All right. I'll talk, you can listen." I waited to see if he would use the childish move of plugging his ears, but he didn't. He just watched me. Of all the kids I had fostered over the years, Jasper probably had the most steady staring habit. He watched us constantly, looking for clues as to what was happening, or cues for his own behavior. Even if I looked up and caught him staring at me, he almost never looked away. All that time spent in silent contemplation of others had given him unparalleled skills at reading other people's emotions. It may well have been that skill, more than anything else, which kept him alive for this long.
"I didn't know that a trial date had been set until this afternoon, when Peter's foster mother told me. Either we didn't get the letter, or it's just been so chaotic this past week that it never got opened. If I had known, I would have told you."
"I don't believe you." As good as he was at reading the emotions of others, Jasper wasn't quite good enough to keep his own from showing in his eyes. It was true that he didn't believe me, but his eyes told me how badly he wanted to.
I supposed that was fair enough. I had never given him a reason to distrust me, but a few weeks' worth of me keeping my word didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. "How can I get you to believe me?"
Calm, I reminded myself. You are a calm and gracious lady. You will not yell at, or get exasperated with, a child that has been placed in your care. Instead, you will remain patient and work on finding a solution together.
Jasper looked down for the first time, trailing his fingers across the patterns on the quilt. His brow furrowed as he thought. "Bring the letter."
"Excuse me?" Of all the solutions he could have come up with, that wasn't one I had been expecting.
"Bring the letter. If it's not opened, you're telling the truth. If it is, you're lying."
It was a pretty good idea. "All right. I'll call home now. I need to make sure that Alice made it home, anyway."
Rosalie answered the phone on the second ring. "Hi, what's going on there? Alice came home all upset and said that Jasper's leaving. That isn't true, is it?"
How could I explain this? "I hope not. Listen, do you know where your father has been throwing the mail the past few days?"
"Dining room table. Why, did we miss something important?"
You could say that. "Go on down there and check for something from Social Services, all right? Don't open it; just let me know if it's there."
"Okay." I could feel Jasper's eyes boring holes into my back, but I didn't look over. Please, please, let the letter be there and be unopened.
Papers rustled in the background as she kept talking. "Emmett's puking his guts up, so could you get some popsicles on the way home? We have some, but we're all out of purple and he's cranky as a bear. Oh, look, there's two letters from Social Services. What do you want me to do with them?"
I felt bad for asking, especially with Emmett so sick, but I knew he would want this. If there was one thing that Emmett understood, it was loyalty to his brothers. "Can you bring them to the hospital? Please, honey."
"Is this about Jasper? Mom, are we going to lose him?" Ever since their little showdown in the garage a week ago, Rose had become extremely protective of her newest brother. She had come to the hospital every day, whether he was awake or not, and spent some time with him. At home, she researched his condition, looking into all treatment options and trying to decide which was best. It was probably fair to say that, at this point, she knew more about these things then Jasper himself did.
"Rose, I don't know." I could hear the frustration in my own voice, and tried to temper it. "If you can't come today, that's fine, but I need to know."
"I'll be there in a half hour." The steely determination in her voice told me that she had grasped how important this was. "Don't let him do anything stupid, okay?"
"Okay."
After I hung up with her, I just sat there, looking at Jasper. To my great surprise, he actually seemed to be falling asleep on me. His eyes were half closed, his breathing deep and quiet. Every once in a while, he would yawn softly, something that made him look years younger. Apparently, he felt that he was physically safe in my presence, which was a step up from when he had arrived. He just didn't think that he was quite ready to trust me yet.
The sad part was, Rose could show up with a dozen letters, all proclaiming my innocence, and he still wouldn't trust me. Oh, he would believe that, in this instance, I had been telling the truth, but that wouldn't mean instant trust, just that I hadn't lied this time.
Much as I wanted to think so, I knew that this wasn't going to be like the movies, where I would show him the letter and he would suddenly realize that it was all right, that I would always be there for him. Then he would melt into my arms, and he would cry, and I would cry, and when it was all over, we would face the future together as mother and son. Yeah, not likely.
A much more realistic scenario was that he would emotionlessly accept the unopened letter, barely giving it a nod. Knowing him, he would apologize for his foul language earlier, which I would accept, and we would go back to the way we had been before this happened. Not strangers; a little more than acquaintances, but not quite friends.
But he wouldn't forget it. Every little act of kindness, every bit of trust I showed him, was being stored in his mind, to be pulled out and thought over later. Eventually, there would be enough for him to consider it safe to reach out to me. It would be a grudging, closed-fist sort of reaching out, but he would try. If he were successful, he would try and again and again, until it was something he no longer had to plan on doing. It would just be a reflex. And really, what else was trust but reaching out on reflex, knowing that someone else would be reaching back?