A/N: So, who else thought Jasper was looking really, really fine in Eclipse? Damn! Special thanks to my beta, thesoundandthefury, because I think I put her through the wringer with this one! Next Chapter will be in Emmett's POV, which everyone seemed to like the last time.
Esme's POV
Everyone was dragging this morning. Jasper was asleep at the kitchen table, his head in his arms and his breakfast untouched. I shook his shoulder as I passed, causing him to pick his head up groggily, looking like something that could be starring in a zombie movie.
Carlisle and I had both forgotten to set the alarm on our nightstand last night, so we were all running forty-five minutes late. Emmett and Edward had nearly gotten into a fistfight over who would shower first, an argument further complicated by the fact that Rosalie and Carlisle had used nearly all of the hot water. Edward, being the fastest, had managed to race down the hallway and get in first, so Emmett had retaliated by drinking the last of the milk.
Even Alice, my ever-cheerful pixie, was in a rotten mood, though hers had nothing to do with anything that had happened today. She was upset because I wouldn't let her go with Jasper and me today when he had to give the police his statement. No matter that there was going to be absolutely nothing to see, as Jasper would be alone in the room with just a police detective and a representative from Child Services. They wouldn't even let me, his legal guardian, stay. Alice was convinced that Jasper needed her, and would be comforted by her presence. Whether that were true or not, I wasn't going to pull my daughter out of school the week of midterms just so she could spend hours hanging around the police station.
There was no denying that Jasper adored her, though, and he did seem more relaxed when she was around. If it came down to it, I would be more than willing to pull her out of school if he ended up having to testify at the trial. So far, I hadn't said anything to her about it, since I had yet to bring it up with Jasper himself, but I was pretty sure he would be fine with it.
"Mom! There isn't any milk!" As both the baby and the first child of the family, Edward was used to getting his own way. "Emmett drank it on purpose!"
"I did not! I needed it for my cereal." The smirk on Emmett's face told a different story.
"Emmett! Edward!" I was too tired to finish the thought. It was times like this that I understood why certain animals ate their young, or at the very least left them to fend for themselves. Consumed with worry about Jasper, I hadn't fallen asleep until nearly one in the morning. Jasper had woken us up around three-thirty, but it was Carlisle's turn to go deal with him, so I had gone back to sleep. It was a little callous, but at this point, we all needed that extra sleep.
With the way the kids were behaving this morning, though, I might as well have just stayed in bed. "Just knock it off. Edward, we have three different kinds of juice or water; deal with it. Emmett, quit antagonizing your brother. If you want the first shower, get up earlier."
Without saying anything, or even raising his head, Jasper slid his full glass of milk across the table to Edward. For one terrible minute, I considered calling Demetri and telling him that I would be glad to keep Jasper, as long as he took the other two back.
Edward accepted the glass. "Thank you, Jasper. You're a good brother."
Emmett flipped him off, but he took no notice. Jasper gave him a thumbs-up, and retreated to his sleepy posture. His eggs were surely cold and rubbery by now, so I couldn't imagine him wanting them at all. Emmett, who would eat anything, grabbed his bacon. "Thanks, bro. I figure if you want to share with Eddie, you'll want to share with me, too."
"Whatever. Take the eggs, too."
"Fuck, no; how long have those been sitting there?" He gave Jasper a hearty slap on the back, one I noticed Jasper didn't flinch away from.
"Language. Go on, all of you. If all you can do is complain, just go on to school. Go through a drive-thru or something on the way if you're that hungry." I was fed up with all of them. "I'll see you this afternoon, and I love you."
They grumbled and filed out, probably sensing that I meant business. Jasper, woken again by the sudden flurry of activity, stood up and began clearing away the breakfast dishes. At first he had done this nervously, every single morning, as if he were desperate to prove that he was doing something right. Now he seemed calmer about it, more sure. I hoped that that meant he was doing it to make me happy, or because he had accepted that doing chores was part of being in this family, and clearing the breakfast table just happened to be one of his. Whatever the reason, he did it each morning without fail.
"Thank you, sweetheart." There it was again, that quick nervous grin. "Did you get anything to eat?"
"I'm not hungry." He flipped open the pill organizer and took two with a sip of water.
"Are you nervous about today?" It was a foolish question. Of course he was nervous. He had to go into a room full of strangers and spill secrets that he had never told to anyone, so a woman he was deeply attached to could be found guilty and sent to prison. But I wanted to let him know that I was here if he needed to talk, and that I did care about his well-being.
"Yeah, kinda." The words were mostly mumbled into the table top.
"Just tell the truth, as best as you remember. That's all you have to do for now."
If he caught the implication in the last part of my sentence, he said nothing. I scrambled briefly for something to say, but ended up settling for a good old-fashioned bribe. "You need to put something in your stomach. Why don't we go to the diner, and then go from there? Then you can have a meal to yourself, without Emmett and Edward stealing from you."
There was a split second flare in his eyes, the one that meant he was trying to figure me out, trying to understand what my motivation for being nice was. He was willing to accept my help, but he couldn't quite accept that I was totally on his side. "Okay."
This had to be some sort of record. Jasper never agreed to anything that quickly. Most of the time, it involved a thirty-second to one-minute stare-down, while he tried to read every possible intention into our voices. Then he would finally, if reluctantly, give you an opinion. "Great. Go got dressed, and I'll finish up here." It was generally best if you didn't give him a chance to change his mind.
By the time I was done, he was just coming back down the stairs. I had wanted him to look nice for the police station, as proof that someone was trying to take care of him the way they should. He had balked at a tie, but I had managed to coax him into a nice pair of slacks and a blue sweater. "You look very handsome."
He flushed a little and looked down, looking a little bit like he wanted to melt through the staircase. He was embarrassed, yes, but I didn't miss the quick flicker of pleasure in his eyes. Like any other teenage boy, he liked having his ego stroked.
As we drove, I debated whether or not to say more about the trial. I clearly remembered his reaction the last time he had felt lied to, and I wasn't eager to repeat the experience. But he was already so anxious that he could barely eat, and I didn't want to risk him passing out at the station. Maybe it would be better to wait until we were actually inside the diner, as I was willing to bank on his reluctance to make a scene in public.
These were the debates that all foster parents had with themselves. I supposed that every parent did it to some degree, but it was more intense with a foster child. You were constantly weighing how much to tell them and when. With a kid like Jasper, whom we had only had a short time, it was harder still. Was bringing up the trial going to help by keeping him abreast of things, or was I traumatizing him further? What if he got so upset that he wasn't able to give a statement to the police?
Fortunately, Jasper seemed unaware of my inner struggle. His nap on the kitchen table seemed to have done him wonders, and he was downright chatty. Well, chatty for Jasper. He rather pointedly didn't mention where we were going. "Do they have stuffed French toast? How do you stuff French toast, anyway?"
French toast wasn't something I would have chosen to talk about, nor was it something I was particularly knowledgeable about, but anything was better than silence. "I don't know, and I'm pretty sure they don't have it. Would you like to go somewhere else?"
He looked at me for a second, trying to figure out what it was I wanted him to say. I ignored him and focused on the road. If I didn't give any indication of my preferences, he would be forced to assert his own. "No, it's okay. Unless, you know, you don't want to take me there."
"What do you mean?" If I asked a direct question, most of the time he would give me an honest answer.
He studied the car roof for a few seconds, tracing the fabric with a finger. "Everybody in town goes to the diner. I thought that, maybe, you would rather not go with me. People talk."
In other words, he was concerned that I would be embarrassed to be seen with him. "Let them talk. The more it looks like we're hiding you, the harder it will be in the long run." Now was not the time to tell him that he had been the hot topic of discussion for the entire town before he had even arrived.
He gave me another shy smile. "Can I have an omelet instead?"
"If you want." I wasn't about to play into his food issues by telling him what he could and could not eat. When he had first arrived, I had thought he was doing well on that front. Most of the time, he didn't shove his food down like he was afraid we would take it. Instead, he ate in careful, precise movements, taking his fair share and nothing more. True, he ate less than I thought he should, but he didn't seem to be losing weight, so I let it go.
I had been naïve, perhaps deliberately so. His hospital forms clearly stated that he was underweight upon admission, and had gained quickly while hospitalized. That should have told me that the lack of eating was not his choice. The fact that he was tightly controlled enough not to let me see his issues didn't mean that they weren't there.
Had Jasper been any younger, I would have been tossing his room regularly, looking for drugs, alcohol, food stashes, or anything else that didn't belong. But Jasper was very nearly an adult, and I had been less comfortable going through his stuff without any signs that there was an issue.
Thus, it had been an unwelcome surprise when Alice and I had cleaned his closet out to paint it and we found a stockpile of Pop-Tarts and canned food hidden in the back. I had noticed that we seemed low on both, but with five teenagers in the house, it was possible that any one of them had eaten the items, so I didn't think much of it. The sight of those items stashed away like that bothered me more than it should have, considering how many times I had been through this before. Food was always available here, and he had never been turned down when he asked for it, so I hated that he still felt insecure enough that he had felt the need to steal it.
Carlisle and I had discussed the issue to death, and in the end, we had said nothing to Jasper about it. I had taken the items back to the kitchen, and was keeping a very close eye on what was in the cabinets. So far, nothing else seemed to be disappearing, so either he was getting over his fears or had become much more sneaky.
The diner was close to empty, as it almost always was at nine a.m. on a weekday. Jasper remained close to my side, his usual position when we were out in public. This wasn't really indicative of trust on his part, more of a sort of wary acceptance that I was the lesser of the two evils.
We were seated by a smiling waitress, who took our drink orders and left us to peruse the menus. The food was pretty standard diner fare — nothing too fancy, but plenty to satisfy a teenage boy.
"Well, Mrs. Cullen, how nice to meet you here." The voice was unexpected, and both of us jumped. Jasper hunched down towards the table, trying to make himself invisible.
I smiled at the man I had known for years, but only recently become acquainted with. "Hello, Chief Swan."
"Good morning, Mrs. Cullen. Is this Emmett or Jasper?" The last words were directed at the top of Jasper's head, as he wasn't looking up.
I wasn't sure if Jasper was willing to answer or not, but I wanted to give him the chance. He refused to take the Chief's outstretched hand, but he was able to raise his head and softly say, "Jasper."
"Nice to meet you, son." He didn't seem particularly put off by Jasper's rude behavior, which I appreciated. Of course, Chief Swan had dealt with many of my foster kids, so he was well aware that a little rudeness was the least of his concerns. As if he sensed how uncomfortable being the center of attention was making Jasper, he turned his attention back to me. "I'll let you get back to your breakfasts. I'll see you Friday with Bella; is there anything we could bring?"
The thought of having dinner guests brightened my mood considerably. "Nope, just yourselves."
"Bella always comes home raving about your meals. I'm not much of a cook myself, so the poor girl's been stuck feeding both of us." His dark eyes shone when he talked about the daughter he was just now getting to know.
"Esme's a good cook." Never in a million years would I have expected Jasper to contribute to the conversation.
Charlie grinned. "That's what I hear. You two have a good day."
I thanked him and Jasper mumbled something indistinct, but that was probably some variation of 'Thank you' also. The waitress took our orders, and I steeled myself for what I was going to say. "Jasper, there's something we need to talk about."
He shut down immediately, his entire posture deflating and his eyes going blank. Here it was, the speech about how he was going to have to find some alternate living arrangement. "Okay." The word was so defeated that I wanted nothing more than to gather him into my arms and tell him that it would all be okay eventually.
"Do you understand the charges being brought against Maria?"
He flinched visibly at her name, but nodded. "Yeah."
At least he was attempting to talk to me. "Okay, now, do you understand what a plea bargain is?"
"I'm not stupid." He had begun to pick nervously at the sleeves of his sweater. Something was wrong, he just knew it.
"I never said you were. Well, Maria is refusing to take a plea bargain, which means that she will go to trial. If that happens, it's very likely that you will be called as a witness for the state."
I had been watching him closely as I spoke, figuring that his reaction to this news would be as subtle as most of his reactions. Instead, his head snapped up, and his eyes bored so deeply into mine that I felt sick. He was breathing hard, and the fear written all over his face made me feel as though I were doing the wrong thing by telling him this.
"No." Though there was considerable force behind it, the word came out as mostly a rush of air. "No, I can't."
I was forced to revise my previous thought. Jasper might not willingly make a scene in public, but he was rapidly losing control. "Jasper, look at me and be calm." I made my voice firm but not harsh.
He did neither, so I repeated the command. His therapist had recommended the technique, after Jasper lost it in his office several times in a row. He compared these episodes, which were essentially panic attacks, to a balloon that had lost its tether. Jasper couldn't prevent himself from floating away, so he needed someone to ground him. Alice was particularly successful at it, though Carlisle and I could do it quite well, also.
"Jasper." Before I could get the rest of it out, his panicked eyes swung up to meet mine. "Good boy; now be calm."
The key to it all was the repetition, and staying calm myself, which was harder than it sounded. Jasper was fearful, yes, but I had seen fear spiral into rage before, both with him and with other children. Even now, the memory of the feral blackness of his eyes that day at the hospital was enough to make my breath hitch.
Slowly, slowly, his death grip on the table relaxed. His pupils, which had been so dilated that I could barely see any blue at all, shrank back down to normal size. When he spoke, it was in a normal voice, though the anguish in it made me cringe. "Esme, I can't."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, if we ever do. Now eat." I was aware that we were attracting curious stares, both from our waitress and from Chief Swan, and I wanted to do something to dispel the tension. Seeing him eat would soothe their minds and hopefully prevent someone from calling DSS on us.
He shoved an entire strip of bacon in his mouth, then sat quietly, trying to think of a way to get out of this situation. I could have told him it was a lost cause. Explained agencies and procedures and the penalties for lying under oath until I was blue in the face. I could have made him understand that I was as powerless in all this as he was.
But I didn't. Though legally he was almost an adult, mentally and emotionally he was still a child. He needed to have that tiny child's bit of faith that told him that I was magic, and I could do anything. My gut was telling me that if I lost that, I was going to lose everything. The trial, Jasper, absolutely everything. "It may not come to that, but I want you to be ready, okay?"
He nodded, nervously bolting his last few bites of egg. "You'll come to the trial, even if it happens after my birthday?"
Or maybe he was beginning to trust us after all. Not enough to believe that he would be living with us once the checks stopped coming, but enough that he seemed to draw a certain amount of comfort and strength from our presence.
I had to tread lightly here. "I hope you'll still be living with us then, but even if you choose to move out, we will always be there for you."
I could have gone on, told him how much we loved him, but something held me back. It was too soon, and I didn't want to take the risk of alienating him.
He didn't say anything else, but there was an almost visible release of tension. Jasper was so quiet that it was easy to forget the amount of worry and stress he was carrying on a daily basis. Not only from the upcoming trial, but from trying to remember how to live comfortably in a family. I knew he had Felix to talk to, but the man had already admitted they weren't making much progress. He hung on to his emotions and secrets, giving the outside world only tiny peeks into his mind.
"All right, then, let's go. The faster we get there, the faster we can get finished." Jasper rose calmly, his face and eyes completely devoid of any signs of his early panic. He was quite good at shutting his emotions off like that, a trait that may have been one of the reasons he;d survived as long as he had. Without being asked, he picked up my coat and held it out, allowing me to slip into it.
Had it been anyone else, even Carlisle, I would have found this behavior overbearing. When people found out about my MS, they overcompensated by attempting to do the simplest things for me, as if I were an invalid child. Even my own kids could get that way, never letting me lift heavy objects or play rough games.
With Jasper, though, it was different. He treated both Alice and Rosalie with the same careful courtesy, almost as if he had been raised in a different century. He was constantly opening doors, carrying shopping bags, and generally making sure that the women of the house went first and got the best parts of whatever we did. "Who taught you to be such a gentleman?"
"My mom. She said that that was how my dad swept her off her feet, and hopefully I would do the same for some girl one day. Of course, I still thought that girls carried cooties back then, so I didn't want to. Now it's just a habit, I guess."
Oh, boy, the dreaded talk about birth parents. There were so many things that could go wrong here that I regretted ever bringing the subject up. Did Jasper miss Samantha? He must. But there would be other, more complex, emotions at work here.
Did he resent her for abandoning him, first to foster care, then with her suicide? Maybe. He was certainly capable of understanding that she had been very ill and not in control of herself, but emotions tend to defy logic. There was always love in his voice when he talked about her, but he had to at least feel the small sting of that desertion.
This was the hardest subject to broach with adopted children. Rosalie refused to acknowledge that she had ever had another family, and rejected any attempts by them to contact her after she turned eighteen. Emmett, too, had no interest in seeing his mother, who was still serving a life sentence for murder. She wrote him occasionally, and he saved all of her letters, but he hadn't seen her since the day the police came and removed him from the house. Once a year, he saw his siblings, but that was the extent of his contact with them. He had more than a dozen nieces and nephews, whom he seemed to enjoy, but knew very little about. They had us, and they had each other, and that was good enough for them.
Alice was the complete opposite. She was in frequent contact with her birth family, and always chose gifts for them at Christmas and their birthdays. She saw them several times a year, and was free to call them as often as she wanted. They were good people, and good parents, but they simply hadn't been capable of coping with her needs. Every time I brought Alice to see them, I saw the pain in Sarah Brandon's eyes when she heard her little girl call some other woman 'Mom.' But Sarah never failed to hug me, and thank me for doing what she could not. Alice's younger sister frequently came along, and I was glad to see that the girls were forming a sisterly bond.
Edward, like Jasper, was a true orphan, but unlike his brother, he had no memory of his birth parents. Both had died of a particularly vicious flu outbreak when he was just a toddler. Edward, too, had been very ill and not expected to survive. But he had defied the odds and been placed in our home two days after his third birthday. Carlisle and I had saved a large box of memories from his parents, including photographs and pieces of jewelry. Edward didn't know we had it, though I intended to show him soon. I had been waiting for him to bring his birth parents up, but it didn't seem like he was going to do that on his own. I wondered sometimes if he thought he would hurt Carlisle's and my feelings by asking, but he deserved to know about that part of himself.
"She sounds like a nice lady." I wished I had never brought this up. I would rather explain that Santa wasn't real to a school full of kindergarteners. Why couldn't Jasper have just wanted to know about sex?
"Yeah, she was a good mom." He sounded a tad defiant, as if he had already compared us and found me lacking.
"I don't doubt that." His tone both worried me and gave me hope. He felt the need to emphasize how much he loved his birth mother, so he would have an excuse not to bond to me. As long as he held on to her so tightly, there would be no room in his heart for someone else. Of course he loved her — she was his mother, after all — but he also used her as a shield between himself and anyone who wanted to get close to him. I just needed to find a way to let him know that it was all right to love his mother, and it was also all right to love the rest of us.
"Yeah. She was just too sick to keep me, that's all. She didn't want to give me up." He didn't sound completely convinced.
"I know. She really did want to get you back." I felt confident saying that much, at least.
He suddenly became very focused. "How do you know?"
"I've read your file. Right up until she . . . passed away, she was doing everything possible to get custody of you back."
He didn't say anything after that, just opened the car door for me. He was smiling a little bit, though, and I could tell that he was pleased. It was nice to have a third person confirm that you were wanted, after all. Even if it was just me. "How long is this going to take?"
I went along with his need to change the subject. "I don't know; I've never had to do this before."
He glanced over. "But you have had to take one of your kids to the police station?"
More times than I cared to think about. "Yes."
"How come?"
I exited the highway as I thought. "We had a break-in once, and I took Alice and Edward with me when I made the report. Then I took Rose after she ran away — "
"Rose ran away? Why?" He sounded shocked, and not only a little bit impressed.
"She decided that we didn't love her any more, and she would be better off in another family. She was gone for three days." Three of the worst days in my entire life.
He sat back, trying to digest this new information. "But she's your kid. She loves you guys."
I was going to have to choose my next words very carefully. I had to be clear to Jasper, but not overwhelm him. "She was our foster daughter then, and she did like us, but that was part of the problem. She was afraid that we would leave her, so she made sure to leave us first."
He nodded slowly, pointedly studying his lap. My stomach turned a nervous flip. I had a great fear that Jasper would run, and that if he did, we would never see him again. He had already proven that he wouldn't fight back, so his only option was to run. I didn't know how to tell him that even if he did, we would look for him, and do everything we could to bring him home.
"Can we go to a movie after?"
Apparently he was off on his own mental track, one that had nothing to do with my worries. Also, he didn't seem to have that embarrassment that most teenagers did about being seen in public with an adult. "Sure, if we get done in time. If not, we can go tomorrow." It would be nice to get out of the house.
"Okay."
Before I knew it, the police station was looming up in front of us. Jasper tensed, and his knuckles whitened as he clutched the armrest. For a few horrible minutes, I was plagued with visions of needing to have the police pry him out of the car, kicking and screaming. He got up on his own, though, and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Let's get this over with."
The receptionist seemed to be expecting us, and we were quickly ushered back into a room. Three men were waiting, their faces welcoming. One stepped forward. "Hi, Jasper, I'm Mark Davis, and I'm a guardian ad litem appointed by the state. My job is to see that your interests are protected during questioning. Is that all right with you?"
His tone suggested he was talking to someone much younger, and I could tell that Jasper didn't like him. But he managed a mumbled 'Yes' and sat down where the man had indicated. Mr. Davies smiled at me, a slick smile that I didn't quite like, either. "I'm sorry, Mom, but you need to wait outside."
I rather took offense at the title, but I couldn't afford to alienate anyone right now. Jasper looked up, his face a grayish-green and his eyes begging me not to leave him. Almost without thinking, I dropped a kiss on top of his head. "I'll be right outside if you need me."
One of the officers, the one who didn't look that much older than Jasper himself, led me out. "This could take a while, so can I get you a coffee? We have a lot of history to go over."
I didn't need anything to further ramp up my already racing nerves. "No, thank you."
"Just let us know if you need anything." Then he was gone, and I was left alone with my roving thoughts.
I needed plenty of things. Some more time to try and get Jasper ready for this. An infallible book of parenting, so I would understand how to motivate Emmett, or help Edward socially. Most of all, I needed a time machine, so I could go back and prevent any of them from suffering in the first place.
Time passed; first one hour, then two. People came and went, their eyes never quite meeting mine. One of the officers assigned to Jasper came out and took a smoke break. He gave me a smile that went nowhere near his eyes. "We'll be finished shortly. He's holding up very well."
Finally, close to two and a half hours after he had entered, Jasper reappeared. He was pale and blinking a lot, acting slightly dazed. He came toward me without hesitation or complaint and flopped bonelessly into the chair next to mine. I stroked his shoulder in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. "Almost done, I promise."
The cop nodded at Jasper. "You did very well, son. We'll be in touch about the trial, and you have my card if you think of anything you forgot to tell me today."
Jasper nodded. "Sure." His tone was calm and easygoing, but I knew he would do no such thing. Jasper didn't reveal his secrets unless he was forced to. He looked at me. "Can we go to the movie now?"
For a minute, I was too shocked to answer. I couldn't believe that, after being grilled for almost three hours, and being forced to reveal his most intimate secrets and experiences, he wanted to do anything but curl up into a ball and give up on the world. "If you want."
The rest of the day passed in a sort of a hazy blur. At the theater, I broke my own rule and bought a supersized tub of popcorn and two sodas. Jasper watched the movie intently, and laughed in all the correct places, but there was something distant about it all. Afterwards, he couldn't tell me his favorite part, or any of the characters' names. I didn't mind being his distraction, but I couldn't help but worry about him. Even though he gave the impression of being completely put together, I could tell we weren't that far away from a nervous episode.
At home, he bounced from activity to activity, never settling down. For the first time since he arrived, he was funny and social, commanding everyone's attention. The rest of us could only stare at this new, charming version of Jasper. It was like looking at a shade of what he could have been, if only life had been a little different to him.
Toward the end of the evening, though, he began to wear out, cracks showing in his otherwise happy demeanor. Rosalie looked from him to us, her eyebrows raised and her face a giant question mark. I shrugged my shoulders. Yes, I was worried about him, too, but every time I asked, he insisted he was fine. There just wasn't much I could do for him.
Watching him spin from one side to the other, a passage I had once read came to mind. Jasper was a little bit like the mythical swan. On the surface, he was graceful, calm and unruffled. Underneath it all, he was paddling as fast as he could, just to try and stay afloat.
Once eleven o'clock rolled around, I started shooing the kids upstairs. I didn't really care what time they actually went to bed, but if I didn't point them in the right direction, Alice would spend all night stretched out in front of the television, and Emmett would help himself to an additional two meals, at least. If that boy took in any more calories, he was going to end up seven feet tall and 400 pounds.
If I had had my way, I would have blown up the old air mattress, and put Jasper in with Carlisle and me for the next few nights. It was a trick you learned fairly quickly when you dealt with traumatized kids. There were times when you had to forget the physical age and work with the age they were functioning at. Right now, Jasper was at an age where he needed plenty of parental comforting.
It should have been simple, but of course it wasn't. Guidelines clearly stated that a foster child was never to share the same room with the foster parents. In the past, I would have said 'screw it' and put the kid in question in the corner anyway, but this time it was different. Jasper was being very closely monitored by the head office, and I had no doubt that the slightest misstep on our part would lead to him being removed from our home. So, instead, I bid him good night, and told him to come get us if he needed anything. He wouldn't, of course, but I never lost hope that one day, he might. Then I left him to whatever demons waited for him at night.
There wasn't much left to do, so I went to bed shortly after midnight, when Carlisle came home. He sat on the edge of the bed, giving me his sexiest smile. "How did it go today?"
"Jasper's losing it, and the rest of them are acting like a pack of wild animals. Other than that, it went great."
He pulled his socks off, raising one eyebrow. "Did he do all right at the police station?"
"Yeah. He was in there forever, almost three hours, but that's good, right? I mean, the more details he can give them now, the less likely it is that he'll have to actually testify later." Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. How did Jasper deal with this alone, in silence?
"Hopefully. What's up with everyone else?"
The real issue was probably that they were picking up on the tension that had pooled in every corner of the house. "Just sibling spats. You know, he took the milk, she used all the hot water, nobody loves me, that sort of thing. Today it was just all of them. Except Rose, she was the only one behaving herself."
He laughed. "You know it's a messed-up day when Rosalie is the best behaved of the bunch."
"She's settled a lot, though. Actually, she's done really well since Jasper came. I think she likes him, thank God. I wouldn't wasn't to set off another Rosalie versus Edward issue."
"I actually noticed that, but I think she — "
Whatever he might have thought, he didn't get to tell me. Jasper started screaming, the same way he had last night, and the night before. Carlisle stood. "I'll get him."
Only this time, there was something different. For the first time, he spoke. "Mom! Mom! Mommy! Mom!" It was absolutely heart-wrenching.
My husband's eyebrows rose, nearly into his hairline. "I think he wants you, Mom."
I got up, popping his shoulder as I passed. "He wants Samantha, Carlisle."
"Well, she isn't here, is she? You're the only Mom available, so go get him."
Emmett was in the hallway, leaning against the doorframe. "He talks." His voice was blurry with sleep. Like the rest of them, he knew he wasn't allowed to go in there. Though Jasper had yet to be violent with any of us, there was always the chance he would accidentally lash out, and I didn't want any of them hurt.
Unfortunately, I didn't have time for Emmett right now. He was a big boy and capable of taking care of himself, at least at the moment. Jasper went into another round of "Mommy, Mommy!" followed by more choked-off sobs. It was only times like right now, when he wasn't in total control of himself, that I ever heard Jasper cry. He was out of bed, sobbing inconsolably, as he looked right through me, his eyes half-lidded and swimming with tears.
I approached him cautiously. "Hey, honey, it's Esme. Let's get you back to bed, all right?"
His eyes focused on mine. "Mommy." He didn't sound as if there were any question in his mind.
I had so badly wanted to hear him call me that, but I wanted him to mean it. I didn't want to hear it when all he saw was a shade of his dead mother. There would be time later for me to feel bad about what I was about to do, but right now, Jasper was my main priority. "Yeah, it's me. Come on, sweetie, let's lie down."
He came easily enough, and I had no problem tucking him back into bed. He had been aware of my presence, and even able to interact appropriately with me, so this didn't really have the signs of one of his night terrors. More likely, it had been a plain old sleepwalking episode. Still, I couldn't deny the fierce surge of protective affection that his words caused. Jasper was mine, my child, and I would be damned if I would let anyone take him from me.