Chapter Notes: This update is getting posted a lot later than I had originally intended, and I'm sorry to have kept everyone waiting, but life in general has been super-stressful these past few weeks. I think – and part of me doesn't want to say it aloud because I might jinx myself – that things are starting to slow down, so I should be able to manage my time in writing this story a little better. Cross your fingers.
Anyway, I know I said at the end of the last chapter that we'd be going to Florida next, but there were so many arrangements that needed to be made beforehand that this entire chapter was spawned to take care of them all. Hence, the title. But don't worry, Florida is coming…and I'm really excited to write about what might have happened there.
I also want to apologize for any inconsistencies in this chapter. I did a ton of research on several factors, but I'm only human, so something might be off. If you come across anything that makes you scratch your head, let me know in a review and we'll see if we can clear things up. Thank you!
And now…enjoy.
Warmth infuses my stone body all the way to the tips of my fingers as I lay the last corpse into the small ditch made by the tree I had just uprooted. Six deer and one very aggressive mountain lion disappear into the ground beneath the replanted cedar, and I brush the dirt off my hands, feeling unusually full. I have not glutted myself on this much blood in weeks due to my intense reluctance to leave Bella for more than a few hours, and those quick hunts typically involve two or three deer at most, although I did manage to cope on even less when the nightmares had held me captive to her side.
The nocturnal activity of the forest calls to the predator in me, yet instead of indulging my thirst any further I burst forward into an unreserved sprint, the wind singing in my ears as the trees blur into one another in a wash of purple and blue-black. Scenting the air, I turn to follow a familiar path laced with traces of my siblings' light aromas and soon leap across the river behind our home, my steps slowing as snatches of thought and conversation fills my mind.
"– understand why he's taking her to Florida, of all places." I know he's an idiot, but this is ridiculous. "Besides, she'd be perfectly safe here with some of us while the others deal with Victoria."
"Rose is right; they don't have to leave. We should do this together." He has to want a piece of her for going after Bella in the first place. I know I would.
"You know how he is – overreacting is the only way he can deal with the extreme emotions that Bella brings out of him." After spending ninety years as a recluse, unaware of what he was capable of feeling for another, he now has to work twice as hard to balance impulse versus logic. "His first priority is her safety, and removing her from Forks is the most efficient, if a bit excessive, means of doing so."
Treading soundlessly into the house, I linger just out of sight behind the corner wall separating the dining room from the hallway while Carlisle responds to Jasper's observation. "Be that as it may, Edward is counting on us to handle the matter in their absence and all of us are committed to protecting this family."
The unspoken agreement that Bella is now a part of our family is, for the first time, unanimous.
"Alice has narrowed down Victoria's arrival to Saturday, after sunset, so we should –"
Oh! Esme's soft gasp stills everyone in the room. Incredibly, she somehow senses my presence, for she looks toward the doorway with expectant topaz eyes and murmurs, "Edward?"
I circle around the corner, hands stuffed in my pockets, and grin faintly at Esme. "How did you know?" I ask, amused yet curious.
She beams at me and replies in a matter-of-fact tone, "A mother's intuition."
Her soft touch graces the top of my shoulder as I pass her and cross the floor to lean against the night-darkened window wall, folding my arms loosely over my chest.
Carlisle picks up where he left off, stating, "So we should take shifts watching the southeast perimeter of the forest, since Alice's vision indicates that Victoria will approach from that direction."
I don't think it's wise to limit ourselves to one entry point. Jasper shakes his head, and then says aloud, "But if she catches our scents she may cut around us and try to get into town another way." Glancing over at Emmett, he asks with grim interest, "Did you find anything when you scouted out the area to the south?"
My brows arch in surprise. I had not known that my brothers were already coordinating a defensive strategy in my absence, though I should have anticipated it. Once Alice relayed to the family what she had seen, Jasper's military brain would have immediately begun plotting to how best entrap the nomad when she arrives – and Emmett is always game for making himself useful in the protection of those he cares for, so he must have volunteered to do a little recon while he and Rose were out hunting.
A scowl twists Emmett's usually open expression. "A whole lot of nothing," he answers Jasper in frustration. "Just trees and rocks – you know, the usual. We went a little farther towards the coast" – his scowl deepens with obvious disgust – "but then the damn dogs started following our every move until we turned back to head home." His mind flashes with a memory of two pairs of yellow-green eyes winking beyond the invisible boundary line drawn through the woods as he and Rosalie took note of any unusual spots in the terrain that might help to pin down exactly where Victoria will come from on Saturday.
Rose sniffs, her upper lip curling ever so slightly in disdain. "The smell is even more foul up close."
Meanwhile, my father's thoughts are swirling with apprehension. I hadn't considered factoring in the wolves, he murmurs inwardly. "Should Victoria manage to elude us and head west," he comments in a tense voice, his gaze flicking from me to Jasper and back again, "what will happen if she steps onto Quileute lands?" We cannot follow her without violating the treaty, although young Jacob Black has infringed upon many of its terms in recent months.
I stave off an irritated growl. It seems that I cannot escape the mention of the mutt's name even among my own family. But Carlisle does have a valid point. In a cool tone, I answer, "Then perhaps the dogs can make themselves useful."
Once the words are out of my mouth, a sudden thought occurs and I look aside, frowning in speculation. While the ultimate goal of Victoria's destruction would be achieved if the pack is forced into action, I will not be satisfied that the nomad will not pose a threat to my Bella ever again until I see her broken, smoldering remains with my own eyes, or at least through the eyes of my family. "But we would have to make certain," I continue quietly, "that if the pack fails, we have to finish the job."
Jasper's forehead crinkles in deliberation. "Then we'll have to redouble our efforts to include the southern part of the forest, as well," he says after a moment.
"Wonderful." Rosalie tosses her blonde hair with a resentful sneer, complaining, "Now I'll have to put up with the stench of those flea-bitten mutts for the next two days." It's bad enough that the entire house reeks of food every time Bella is here and Esme insists on cooking for her…
Blocking out my sister's selfish grumbles with well-practiced ease, I head towards the staircase and take the steps three at a time to the third floor, entering the safe haven of my room while the others discuss details.
A tan-colored leather travel bag is lying open on top of the sofa and, peering inside, I notice that Alice has given me the option of selecting one outfit to pack for the trip to Florida. So after a quick shower and change, I put a pair of lightweight khakis along with a pale blue button-down that I know Bella is fond of in the bag and zip it closed, not concerned in the least by what my sister might have picked out. I have learned to trust her judgment on such things or risk her wrath – in which case one may find that all of their pants have been replaced with duplicates that are two sizes too small with hems about three inches shy of the ankle.
Then I reach for the small laptop situated on my desk and the screen glows to life as soon as I flip it open. My fingers tap with rapid efficiency over the keys as I log onto the airline website and enter the voucher numbers to book an afternoon flight from Sea-Tac to Jacksonville International Airport. Travel time is about five hours, and with the three-hour difference, we should arrive in the Sunshine State right around twilight, which will allow me to move about outdoors safely and not attract unwanted attention.
Once everything is in order, I slip the laptop in my bag as well and sling the thick strap over my shoulder, checking off items from the list in my head. I have a cover story already crafted that will explain why I won't be seen outside during the day, and I also want to ensure as much as I am able that Bella has an enjoyable, relaxing visit with her mother, blissfully unaware of the redheaded fiend seeking her death being anywhere near her home in Forks.
Jogging downstairs, I find everyone in the exact same positions as I had left them, though the conversation has dwindled off to less serious subjects. Emmett and Jasper are engaged in a commentary on an old black and white film about the Civil War in front of the new plasma television I had purchased to replace the one I destroyed the night Bella won her majority vote to fully join this family. Rosalie looks to be absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair around her finger but is truthfully cataloging all of the adjustments she would like to make to her M3 convertible in the near future in her thoughts, and Esme steps away from Carlisle to meet me beside the piano, determined to give me a proper farewell.
I fold her familiar shape in my arms, thankful yet again to God or fate or whatever power that brought this incredibly tender, loving woman into my father's life – and mine, as well – for I am convinced that not even my own mother could love me more. "Bye, Mom," I murmur softly. "And be careful." Pulling back a little, I turn my head to look at each of them. "All of you."
A nugget of guilt swells like a ball of ice in the pit of my stomach when I realize that I am once again leaving my family to deal with the repercussions of my actions, but the feeling disappears under a soothing blanket of comfort.
I glance sideways to meet Jasper's steady golden eyes.
He inclines his head a bit, reminding me in his thoughts, Your first priority is Bella. Keep her safe, and we'll make sure that neither of you will have to worry about Victoria ever again.
Despite his assurance, I cannot help but think that I should put forth more effort in what will be happening here while avoiding the perpetual sunlight of Jacksonville. "I'll call often," I announce decisively, "to check on the status of things. Perhaps I can offer an informed opinion, if nothing else."
Oh, please… Rose groans, like you don't 'offer an opinion' enough already. "I think we can manage without you," she retorts with biting sarcasm, holding out a hand to examine her immaculately polished nails.
"Rosalie," Esme chides, though her gaze is on me, and she smiles softly, the faintest dimples appearing near the corners of her mouth. "You shouldn't worry so much, Edward. Everything will be fine. Just enjoy this time with Bella." Some time away together ought to do you both a world of good, she adds mentally, and her mind's eye brightens for an instant with the crystalline image of a pristine white sand beach framed by a vivid blue ocean – a memory from the island that Carlisle gave to her as a gift.
It won't be the same as there, Esme clarifies, her eyes sparkling with good humor, but I know you're a romantic at heart, like your father. You will find a way to create a special moment for Bella. And you'll be able to interact with Renée in a more relaxed environment, considering how the two of you first met. She gives me a rather pointed look, and I concede with a nod. This meeting with the erratic, unconventional mother of the woman I love is bound to be easier than when we had exchanged hushed, preoccupied greetings in a Phoenix hospital room a year ago.
Walking towards the door, I stop and glance over my shoulder. Then I nod at my father, give my mother one last smile, and say to the room at large, "See you Sunday."
"Don't get sunburned!" Emmett calls out gleefully just as I cross the meadow behind the house on my way to the garage.
My bag gets thrown into the Volvo's trunk after I verify for the umpteenth time that I have everything I need, and in a matter of seconds I am driving down the winding road to the highway, eager to return to the slumbering angel in her too-small bed.
About a half mile from my destination, I pull off the rural pavement and follow the faint impressions of tire tracks into the outskirts of the forest, guiding the Volvo beneath the low-hanging branches of a cluster of silver pines, their dense needles able to conceal the car from passing motorists.
The top corner of the door knocks aside one of the branches, sending a shower of droplets onto my face and hair, but I pay it little heed while I stow the keys in the CD compartment and push the door closed with a muted click. The wet smell of damp earth mixes with the fresh aroma of rain-soaked foliage in my nostrils, but even at this distance, I can detect a whisper of freesia on the breeze.
I weave through the trees swiftly, running parallel to the road until the little white house appears beyond the undergrowth, seeming as silent as its neighbors. Yet from the upstairs bedroom window, the familiar thrum of a slow heartbeat echoes across the night, pulling me like a magnet up the nearby tree and inside, my eyes immediately locking on the sprawled out figure occupying the entire mattress.
Bella is lying on her stomach, one leg twisted in the sheets while the other hangs partially off the bed. An arm is buried under the pillow that she has her face pressed into – a tiny explosion of joy bursts like a firework in my brain when I realize that it is the pillow my head usually rests on – and the fingers of her other hand are curled around the folds of a soft throw that Alice must have placed over her after she had kicked off the blankets.
Speaking of Alice… I watch her remove something from Bella's closet and fold it neatly, placing it in a canvas bag that she unearthed from somewhere in this room. With her back to me, she thinks in a defensive tone, I'm only helping. Don't have a hissy fit.
It never fails to amaze me how one little pixie of a vampire can drive me to the brink of aggravation with a minimal amount of effort. I pinch the bridge of my nose, holding tightly to the wrappings of self-control wound around my temper, and retort in a low whisper, "She won't like what you pack, Alice. And I seem to recall telling you explicitly just last week to please not force her to appreciate fashion as much as you." My lips vibrate with the quickness of my words, and I make a halfhearted swipe for the bag, but of course Alice sees it beforehand and moves it out of my reach, looking offended.
I haven't forgotten. And you should know that I didn't put anything in there that Bella wouldn't pick for herself. She finishes straightening the crease in a short-sleeved shirt and sets it atop the other clothes with a flourish.
A sudden frown darkens her expression and she heaves a sigh, an image of Bella pawing through the contents of the bag sometime before school swimming into view in her mind. Neither of you trusts me, she bemoans dramatically, though I'm trying to do you both a favor. "She wouldn't be ready by the time you get here to take her to school," her high-pitched voice mingles with the crickets singing in the forest, "and I refuse to be treated as a bargaining chip." She huffs a bit, indignant, and glares at me with a single brow arched in expectation, waiting for what she knows is coming.
I rake a hand through my hair, my shoulders sagging as I let out a breath. "I'm sorry." Her jewel-tone eyes soften at the apology, but her thoughts remain eerily silent. Tentatively, I lift one side of my mouth into a rueful smile. "Would it help if I promised not to intervene the next time you buy something for Bella to wear?" I will myself to mean it, focusing on my sense of confidence in Bella's stubborn mindset to keep her from surrendering to my sister's pleas and compromising her practical streak just for the sake of dressing in an outfit that costs more than that pathetic excuse for a truck parked outside.
A slow smile lights up Alice's face, though she attempts to seem nonchalant as she replies, "Maybe." Her teeth gleam faintly in the dim light when her smile widens victoriously. "Did you just promise not to intervene the next time I buy something for my sister?" I know you did. She bounces up and down on the balls of her feet, the chipped floorboard under her right toe creaking as she shifts her weight.
"Yes," I hiss, throwing a worried glance at Bella, but she merely nuzzles her cheek further into the pillow, mouthing something unintelligible.
Alice crows in triumph inside her head. By the by – her thoughts turn abruptly to the vision she'd had yesterday of Bella and I amidst palm trees – there's going to be a thunderstorm shortly before your plane's due to land, so the sky will still be clearing when you arrive.
Tendrils of silken mahogany hair tickle Bella's temple and trace the curve of her neck, capturing my attention as I mumble vaguely, "Thanks, Alice." With a fingertip, I gently smooth the strands away from her creamy skin.
That's my cue. Nimbly, Alice slips out the open window and drops to the ground with graceful ease. After she reminds me to expect her at the car when I return to collect it from its hiding place, her mind fades from my perception at the same time that she disappears into the trees, leaving me to find a few more moments of peace with my Bella.
I carefully rearrange the blankets, swathing her in warmth to protect her from my icy flesh, and then I stretch out beside her on top of the quilt, my face inches from hers so that the heat of her breath swirls across my lips. However, the pillow obscures most of her features, and I find myself wishing that she would roll onto her side.
Unconsciously, I twine an arm around her waist, tugging ever so slightly, and she turns, compounding my delight as she murmurs my name. The fingers that had once clutched the blanket grasp my shirt in almost the exact same manner, and despite the layers of fabric separating our bodies, she manages to wriggle close enough to nestle her head into the space between my neck and shoulder.
I bury my nose in her tousled hair, breathing in deeply. The coiled tension within my muscles starts to ebb as her scent fills my lungs and the balmy temperature of her vibrantly alive form seeps into my granite skin, my eyelids fluttering with pleasure.
In all likelihood, I will have to release her from my embrace before she awakens, but as dawn colors the horizon outside her window with shades of lavender and then a muted hint of gold, she does not stir once. I monitor every infinitesimal reaction of her body, waiting for the inevitable shiver due to my cool touch or the uncomfortable twitch because of the hardness of my frame… though she surprises me once again by continuing to sleep more calmly than I can recall in recent weeks.
Reluctant to wake her, I watch the filtered sunlight gradually lighten the tiny room, creating weak shadows on the floor and walls and glittering on the corners of the picture frames she arranged atop the dresser. Mere minutes remain until her alarm clock is set to go off, so I glance down at the crown of her dark head with regret and then brush the back of my hand along her cheek, following the line of her jaw to the gently throbbing pulse in her throat. "Bella, love…wake up."
She shivers, and makes a humming sound that does not seem particularly encouraging.
A smile shapes my mouth while I move my hand along her collarbone to her shoulder. There I pause for a few seconds, battling with a surge of uncertainty and a powerful desire to resume what I had intended to do next in my attempt to rouse her.
Bella decides for me when her soft exhale warms the side of my neck, producing an electric tremor that jitters down my spine, and my hand slides over the curve of her shoulder to her ribs, each millimeter of progress igniting my nerves like live wires.
Her startled gasp causes me to freeze for an instant, but then her heartbeat launches into its customary hyperactive rhythm and I sense that I am allowed to continue, although my brain is screaming at me to stop this insanity.
The gentle arc above her hip entices me forward, and my palm fits into place as though it was meant to rest there. Bella's chest rises and falls against my own in shallow breaths. I swallow hard, fighting the impulse to tighten my hold and pull her warm body on top of mine – deliberately initiating the charged position we had found ourselves in just the other morning.
Before I have completely mastered the dangerous urge, she slowly lifts her head, her endless brown eyes swirling with wonder, elation, and hope. An obvious question also resides in her deep gaze, for which I am unprepared – or afraid – to answer. Instead, I offer her a shaky grin, vainly trying to ignore the temptingly soft heat beneath my hand, and murmur, "Good morning."
She automatically returns the greeting, her tone husky from sleep and emotion, and I lose any hope of resistance as her eyes drift to my lips. As cautious as she was the first time she dared to willingly enter the circle of my arms, Bella leans in for the lightest kiss. It quickly morphs into the restrained passion we have been practicing for some time now, though the new location of my grip on her fragile figure and the way she combs her fingertips through my hair is severely testing all vestiges of self-control that I possess.
My desire whispers silkily in the back of my skull of how effortless it would be to shift her feather-light weight, to press her into my chest so that her heart echoes in my silent ribcage and her warmth soaks into my stone body, to mold myself around her to make a single, whole entity…
Too dangerous! my mind shrieks. The analogy I had constructed shortly after I gave in to the idea of pursuing a relationship with Bella flickers to life in my head, warning me once again that she is as delicate as silk stretched over glass, and it will only take a fraction of a second if I am not in absolute control of my strength to break her. If I were to seriously consider the possibility of…consummation, there is no doubt in my mind as to what would happen. One moment of inattention, and she would shatter. I would kill her.
I break away from her slowly, cupping her face in my palms as I work to contain the self-loathing churning like acid in my bones, and by the time her eyes blink open, I have a tender, apologetic expression firmly in place. "We've tempted fate enough for one morning, love. You need to get ready for school."
A rebellious fire flares in her dark irises, but it is soon tempered by acceptance. "Okay," she mumbles, still a bit breathless, and slips her fingers out of my hair. Then she rolls away and hops out of the bed, walking directly to the door to head across the hall for her human moment.
With her hand on the knob, she hesitates, and keeping her back to me, she says quietly, "But for the record, I think I'd like to wake up that way every morning." And with a flurry of motion, she exits, pulling the door shut behind her, her feet beating a rapid tempo to the bathroom.
Sitting up, I bend my legs and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I push both hands through my hair, willing myself to stay focused. It was rash and idiotic of me to let things lapse so far into the near chaos that I actually compelled me to entertain the notion of – Stop it, Edward. I tug violently at the strands woven through my fingers to banish the thought. It is impossible; I cannot permit myself to dwell on it any longer.
Charlie snuffles as the sound of running water coaxes him awake, and I lower my hands, wry humor filling me as I reflect on the irony of our situation. He had confronted his daughter last night with the dreaded 'sex talk', believing that we had already taken that significant step in our relationship despite the fact that he clung to the dim hope – a hope that has since proven true – that Bella is more responsible than her parents had been in high school.
So I find myself wondering how Renée will perceive our connection with one another. Will she view it as a teenage fling, or will she notice something deeper? Will she just assume that her normally levelheaded daughter gave in to the pleas of her typical hormone-driven boyfriend?
It matters not if I receive the blame for potentially ruining Bella's chances at a college education, but I care very much if anything said or done this weekend shames or hurts her in any way.
Suddenly, it becomes gravely important that I convince at least one of Bella's parents that I love her more than my own life and will strive for the rest of eternity to make her happy and be worthy of her love.
"What is that?"
I jerk a little in surprise. I had been so absorbed in my musings that I did not hear Bella return to her bedroom. Looking up, I see her standing at the foot of the bed, cheeks flushed and her index finger jabbed at the nearly full canvas bag sitting in the rocking chair.
"Alice couldn't resist when she saw we were going on a trip," I reply, spreading my arms in a helpless gesture. "But she did assure me that you wouldn't have been ready on time if she hadn't stepped in."
I climb off the bed as she growls under her breath about meddling fortunetellers and stand in front of her, reflexively taking her small, warm hands in my own. "Our flight out of Sea-Tac is scheduled for 4:15," I inform her in a low voice, "so make sure that Charlie knows we'll be leaving right after school."
She promptly clamps down on her bottom lip, her eyebrows pulling together worriedly even as she nods in agreement. "When will we get back?" she asks.
"Sunday night." My thumbs sweep over the soft ridges of her knuckles. "You'll call him after we land." I bend down and she tilts her chin at the same time, meeting me in the middle for a brief kiss.
Afterward, I deliver the well-known promise to be back in a half hour and disappear out the window, lingering in the tree line across the street several minutes longer than usual before Alice calls to tell me in a patronizing tone, "She's going to be fine, Edward – you don't have to hover around her waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now come on back to the car. I'm getting lonely sitting here all by myself." She hangs up before I can get a word in edgewise.
Rolling my eyes, I settle against the trunk of a nearby tree and listen to the sounds of activity coming from the house. Despite the relative dependability of my sister's visions, there is always an off chance of a spontaneous decision altering the course of the future and I will not risk leaving Bella unprotected for even a handful of moments. Alice will see, if she hasn't already, that I am remaining here and can drive the Volvo down the street at the appropriate time.
I smirk faintly. I can almost hear her annoyed huff when she receives that particular vision.
Bella's light footsteps skip down the stairs, and I watch through the kitchen window as she bustles about, turning on the coffee maker for Charlie and pouring herself a glass of juice.
Her father trudges into view a few minutes later, and she hands him a steaming mug as soon as he sits down at the table. "Thanks, Bells," he mumbles groggily. Taking a sip of his coffee, he sighs with what could be interpreted as relief and then glances around the room, wondering aloud, "Where's today's paper?"
"Right here." Bella pulls the folded newsprint off the counter behind him and places it in front of him. While he begins reading a front-page article that continues its coverage of the murders in Seattle, she opens a cupboard to withdraw a package of her favorite breakfast food and keeps her back to him as she says, "Hey, Dad?"
"Hmm?"
"Edward got us a flight to Jacksonville that's leaving Seattle at 4:15 this afternoon," she blurts out in one quick burst.
As soon as she said my name, Charlie stiffened, but he holds the paper open in front of his face while he replies in a monotone, "Does your mother know?"
Her eyes widen in alarm. "I…" Then a bright gleam of inspiration lights up her features and she answers, "I'm going to call her once we're at the airport. I kind of want it to be a surprise." Her fingertips pluck at the corner of the Pop Tart in her hand as she chews on her lower lip.
He grunts, which Bella seems to take as an affirmation. She turns around, her curtain of mahogany hair twisting delicately to the small of her back, and the two of them linger in silence until Bella tentatively informs him, "We'll get back on Sunday night. Not too late," she adds in haste. "I'll call you after we land."
The newspaper rustles as he flips to the next page. "All right." His voice is the same bland pitch as before, and Bella's shoulders hunch a little, signaling the wince that must be distorting her expression.
I am on the verge of deciding to march up to the front door regardless of the consequences and help her face Charlie's seeming indifference when those shoulders suddenly tighten and she stands up straight, her heartbeat jumping into a faster rhythm. "I'm really sorry about this, Dad," she begins sincerely. "And I'm sorry for the things I said last night." Then her voice hardens, filling with a steely resolve that is as astonishing as it is beautiful. "But I am going to see Mom this weekend, and Edward is going with me. He and I are a package deal, remember? It's time you learned to accept that."
She exits the kitchen in a direct manner that is neither angry nor aloof, and both Charlie and I stare after her – he in amazement and a hint of remorse, and I with fierce pride and adoration.
A moment later, like turning up the dial on a radio, a familiar mental voice rises inside my head. …don't understand why he can't leave her be for thirty minutes…although it's been a while since I've driven his car, and Rose did a good job with the tune-up… I wish he would just buy me my Porsche already; I've been waiting all this time…
Skirting along the tree line, I follow the constant stream of her thoughts and the purr of the Volvo's engine to the next block over from Charlie's house. Alice spots me as I push through the underbrush and sticks out her tongue. Your chauffeur has arrived, she thinks derisively and climbs out, the warning noise beeping incessantly as she leaves the door open and sits in the back seat.
I squelch my grin and slip behind the wheel, relieved when the obnoxious beeping ceases the instant I close the door. Then I shift sideways to peer at Alice. She is glaring obstinately out the far window, avoiding eye contact, though I know her well enough to realize that her sour mood will not last long.
Hoping to shorten that time even further, I say softly, "Thank you, Alice." She will understand that my gratitude extends far beyond the simple gesture of bringing my car here, and her stern expression immediately gentles as she looks at me from the corner of her eye.
Go pick up your Bella. We don't want to be late for school. A smile twitches in her cheek.
The Volvo coasts into the Swan driveway in seconds, and I glimpse Bella's smiling face as she glances out her bedroom window and then disappears. In the kitchen, Charlie is still engrossed in the paper. He pretends not to notice when his daughter breezes through, tugging on her jacket. She stops beside his chair, commenting, "So, I'll be home on Sunday. Okay?"
He grunts again. Bella lets out a deep breath, and then leans down to kiss his cheek. "I love you, Dad," she murmurs quietly, once again cracking the toughened shell he has built around his heart for the last eighteen years.
But he still waits until she opens the front door to say in a low voice, "I love you, too, kid."
I lean across to tug on the door handle, pushing it open for her as she walks towards the car, and she tumbles inside in a cloud of warm sweetness, the tender smile on her full lips reminding me of how she had stood up for us to her father. "Hi," she breathes, her brown eyes aglow.
Reaching for her hand, I shift the car into reverse and back out of the driveway, all without looking away from her captivating gaze. "How did it go with Charlie?" I inquire gently. In all likelihood she will give me a vague response, not wanting to burden me with guilt or remorse for coming between her and her father, but I will continue to ask every time. It is my wish that one day Bella will be comfortable enough to share all of her feelings, good and bad, with me.
Predictably, she shrugs, dropping her eyes to our clasped hands. "It went better than last night."
I tighten my fingers around hers ever so slightly while suppressing a brief flicker of disappointment. Today is obviously not the day that Bella sets aside her selflessness and unleashes the full brunt of her thoughts and feelings upon me, but I still want her to understand that whenever she decides to do so, I will welcome the onslaught with open arms.
To change the subject, I remark lightly, "We'll have a few minutes to stop back at the house before we drive down to Seattle, since I see that you neglected to bring your bag." A crooked grin punctuates the end of my sentence as she blinks at me, taken aback.
The startled look quickly fades, becoming a thoughtful expression that inadvertently commands my attention, given that her lips are pursed, and then she says, "Okay, so, I should have a little time to make Charlie something to heat up for dinner."
Always seeing to the needs of others. "Of course," I agree softly, marveling once again at her generous spirit. If only she would extend that same generosity to those who want to give to her rather than just receive all that she offers so freely.
We pull into the parking lot at school, and our classes blur into one another as teachers deliver the usual assortment of reminders to study for final exams and speeches about finishing up the year in a positive manner.
Having heard the like for more decades than I care to remember, I focus on the object of my favorite pastime and watch her doodle absently in her notebook. The toe of her sneaker is tapping against a leg of our table, sending tiny vibrations across its surface, and I notice that she is glancing up at the clock with increasing frequency – an action that has repeated itself on and off throughout the day.
Also in combination with her apparent restlessness, the sheet of paper in front of her is decorated with starbursts and thick scribbles instead of the loops within loops that I am accustomed to seeing.
Her pulse skyrockets the instant that the final bell rings, and I catch a glimpse of an unguarded smile on her face before she composes her features, yet her dark eyes continue to dance as I walk beside her towards the outside doors.
As she brushes past me while I hold the door, I bend down to whisper teasingly in her ear, "Excited, love?"
The heat of her blush warms the damp air that swirls around us and I chuckle out of sheer enjoyment, reveling in the fact that I can cause a rosy glow to bloom on her skin with minimal effort, as well as in celebration that Bella seems eager to begin our weekend jaunt.
Suddenly she veers to the right, jogging a little to catch up to a pair ahead of us while she calls out, "Angela! Ben!"
Her friends turn around, curious, and before I can join them, Alice ghosts to my side. Her expression is calm, but her tawny eyes mirror the knots of anxiety and misgiving in her thoughts.
"What is it?" I ask her, worried.
Meanwhile, Bella is apologizing to Angela and Ben for having to cancel their plans for this weekend. "It's really last-minute, but I'm going to Jacksonville to see my mom. And Edward is coming with me." She beams at Angela with undisguised delight, and the beauty of that smile loosens the icy tension in my muscles just enough to keep me from lapsing into the unnatural stillness of my kind.
Alice shakes her head as though she is ridding herself of something unpleasant and then replies in a swift murmur, "It's fine, Edward. See?" She opens her mind, replaying the flashes she gathered during the day. "Everything is still on schedule." But there are these holes that just won't go away. Her frustration is keen as she shows me the unusual breaks in her visions.
Could the holes be contributed to the wolves? "You have to promise me that you'll call if anything changes," I urge. "Especially if the pack becomes involved. Their interference could make you lose track of her altogether." I refuse to speak that creature's name when Bella is smiling and talking with friends less than ten feet away.
Don't I know it, my sister thinks darkly. Then she rolls her eyes and chides aloud, "You really shouldn't worry so much – it'll give you wrinkles." Her gaze drifts sideways, and a gentle smile momentarily chases the shadows from her expression. "Take Esme's advice, Edward, and just enjoy this time with Bella."
Looking back at me, she sends a fleeting image of Bella and I walking hand-in-hand along the shore, the scene painted with the muted tones of dusk.
It swirls out of view like smoke in a glass jar an instant later, and Alice growls low in her throat, the sound positively menacing. Stop hinging the entire weekend on what happens here! she yells mentally, and I lean backwards a bit, stunned by her vehemence. You can't claim single-handed responsibility for everything that affects Bella; it's not only your choices that brought all of us to this moment. Bright gold sparks of intense emotion crackle within her piercing glare. Whether you're ready to accept it or not, she is going to become a part of our family in every possible way, so you better start learning to trust others with her care. And that includes Bella herself.
I make the connection between her words and the meaning behind them immediately. "You think that I should tell her?" I force out the question through gritted teeth to keep from shouting, disbelieving that my favorite sister can be so unsympathetic to her best friend's emotional wellbeing.
Alice releases a hard sigh, her eyebrows forming a single black line across her forehead. It doesn't matter what I think. What matters is how Bella is going to feel when she finds out that you lied to her about visiting Renée in Florida. Despite the severe frown twisting her mouth, Alice's gaze is sad as she adds in the barest whisper, "The end doesn't justify the means."
A tremor wracks my indestructible frame when the face of the Bella she had come back to after six months – the Bella I had broken – enters her mind, and once again the sallow cheeks, the bruise-like shadows around dulled brown eyes and the frantic pleas to not be left alone slice through my chest like a thousand knives.
The pain is earned, and I receive it as penance for my blasphemy, but I cannot fully mask the wince that distorts my features for a split second.
That fraction of time is enough for Alice to recognize my agony and banish the memory from her thoughts, her small hand touching my shoulder hesitantly. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… She exhales slowly, her ocher eyes begging for forgiveness. Bella is your mate, and I know you only want to protect her. There's nothing wrong with that. Why frighten her when she's not in any danger?
The rhetorical question echoes oddly within my head even as Alice lowers her hand and glances to the side. Incoming, she warns, while the pulsing heartbeat of my whole world grows louder, drowning out all other sound.
With Bella beside me, I can extinguish the haunting reminders of my greatest mistake and look down at her with a faint smirk. Her excitement has become a tangible thing in the last few minutes, and I realize that my sister's final statement is correct. Why should I scare Bella needlessly about what will happen here this weekend when she will be safe with me on the opposite side of the country?
As they walk towards Angela's car, she waves at us while Ben wraps an arm around her waist. "Have a nice weekend!" she calls, grinning. They must be really serious if Edward's going to Florida to meet her mom, the genuinely kind girl thinks. I mean, they were always serious – but since the Cullens came back the two of them are more inseparable than ever. She peers over a shoulder just as I bend down to kiss the top of Bella's head and her eyelids flutter briefly, a tiny smile curving her lips. Angela nods to herself, turning back around. Seeing them together, I can believe that there is such a thing as soul mates.
Soul mates… If ever I can truly have faith in the existence of my soul, as Bella does, I would consider myself incredibly blessed to be paired with her pure, selfless light.
"Don't you two have a plane to catch?" Alice points out in her usual chipper voice, interrupting my philosophical thinking. She is already standing next to the Volvo, hands on her hips, an eyebrow quirked in expectation.
Fitting my palm against the small of Bella's back – her pulse stutters in response – I usher her towards the car, confident that we have plenty of time to reach Seattle, so long as Bella allows me to drive at the speed I am accustomed to.
Minutes later, we are parked in the driveway of Charlie's house. The three of us climb out of the Volvo, and Alice gives us a cheery wave. "Have fun," she says with a bright smile. "And Bella, be sure to leave that new top in your bag. Trust me." She winks, her mind scrubbed clean of anything relating to this mysterious article of clothing, which only strengthens my intense curiosity when Bella flushes a delicate pink.
In a blur of black and white, Alice scampers into the forest, sending mentally, I'll talk to you tonight when you call after everyone's asleep. Remember what I said, Edward.
Which part? I want to call after her, but I doubt it would do any good. Despite her claims to the contrary, my sister often plays the role of Oracle – speaking in riddles and half-voiced predictions so that I can learn something valuable instead of cultivating my so-called god complex through knowing the future and reading minds.
I wonder if she will ever pursue a career in psychiatry…which would be deeply ironic, considering her origins.
Behind me, Bella lets herself in the house and I follow in her wake, but as she veers off towards the kitchen I head for the staircase to collect her bag from her bedroom.
The canvas duffel is waiting atop the mattress along with a small carry-on, and I hesitate for a fraction of a second, entertaining the idea of peeking at the contents and satisfying the interest that my sister stirred within me regarding Bella's wardrobe. However, I firmly tell myself to not invade her privacy and grab both bags in one hand, focusing on the steady beat of her heart as I come back downstairs.
A sizable cold-cuts sandwich is being wrapped in plastic when I duck my head into the kitchen. Bella glances sideways as she sets the covered plate in the refrigerator beside a can of Charlie's favorite beer and says, "I'm almost done." She brushes breadcrumbs off of her hands and then reaches for the pad of paper on the counter, scribbling a quick note to her father, which she sticks on the fridge with a magnet. "Okay," she mutters, looking around one last time as though making sure that nothing is out of place, "let's go."
Light rain mists our faces and hair as I set the bags in the trunk and Bella locks up the house, and soon we are cruising down a rural highway to get to the interstate.
Just before I drive up the on-ramp, I turn to her, beseeching with my eyes. "Bella, love…" I murmur softly, nodding first at the clock on the dashboard and then towards the speeding cars ahead.
She heaves a sigh, pushing her head back against the seat. "All right, fine. But only because we're in a hurry." Her eyelids scrunch closed, which thankfully blocks out my enthusiastic grin, and she crosses her arms tight over her stomach as the low purr of the engine accelerates into a strong hum.
Hoping to relieve some of her unnecessary tension, I slip a CD that she is fond of into the slot and adjust the volume, pleased when the familiar strains of melody appear to soothe her almost instantly. The nervous creases around her eyes and mouth relax while her body settles more comfortably into the seat, and her head lolls a bit to one side, angling her face in perfect profile towards me.
I watch the watery, late afternoon light play across her delicate features as the Volvo weaves in and out of traffic, and a few tendrils of mahogany hair escape from behind Bella's ear, spoiling my unobstructed view. I so badly want to brush them aside, to feel the warm satin of her cheek…but I am certain that she will not react kindly if I do not keep both hands on the wheel. So I distract myself by monitoring the rush of thoughts coming from fellow commuters, outdistancing most of them in a matter of minutes.
The low clouds hide some of the taller buildings of downtown Seattle as we journey to the airport, and my fingers flex restlessly on the steering wheel at the realization that I have brought my Bella dangerously close to the epicenter of a newborn vampire's hunting ground.
Striving for calm, I release a slow breath. Mere hours from now, we will be safely ensconced at Renée's home in Jacksonville, thousands of miles from any potential threats. I cannot afford to have Bella pick up on my apprehensive mood now.
After locating a suitable parking garage, we soon find ourselves inside the main terminal. The last time both of us were here, Bella was barely awake and emotionally spent, and I was one of the walking wounded, holding onto her as though she might evaporate from my arms whenever I blinked.
From the way Bella fidgets with the strap of her carry-on and drops her eyes to the floor, I would guess that she is remembering as well.
Gently, I enfold her small hand in mine, threading our fingers together, and begin to walk towards the appropriate counter. She clutches my palm like a lifeline, but throws her head up high, determined to overcome the shadows of the past.
I stroke the tender flesh of her wrist with my thumb, adoring her as always for her bravery, and her pulse flutters underneath my touch.
Our tickets are reserved under Cullen, and the middle-aged woman behind the counter automatically zeros in on Bella's left ring finger, though she reminds herself a beat later that the social outlook on marriage has changed over the years when there is no sparkle of a diamond on Bella's hand. To my relief, she does not address the issue, but instead wishes us a pleasant trip, beaming an officious smile.
We still have a few moments before boarding, so I find a cluster of chairs in a less crowded area and sit down while Bella fumbles one-handed with the zipper of her bag and rummages around inside. "I should call my mom," she tells me, pulling out her cell phone.
Pressing it to her ear, the line rings nearly four times before Renée's slightly breathless voice answers, "Hello? Bella, honey, is that you?"
I stifle a chuckle as Bella rolls her eyes, a faint smile curving her lips. "Hi, Mom."
"Oh, I'm so glad you called! I was trying to remember…" A clattering noise echoes in the background, followed by a muffled oath, and then Renée asks almost sheepishly, "Could you tell me which cleaner to use on a ceramic tile floor? Phil tracked in a ton of dust from the baseball field and it looks just awful." Abruptly, she inserts in a cheery tone, "Did I tell you that the high school team he coaches is in the playoffs? He's so proud of those boys."
"Yes, you did. And you can use an ammonia-free cleaner on the floor, but sweep up as much as you can first," Bella rattles off patiently.
"I know that, honey." Renée's voice is loving and indulgent, like it amuses her that her daughter knows more about domestic living than she does. "So do you have any big plans for this weekend? Is Edward taking you to the prom?"
A low laugh escapes my mouth. Bella nudges my shoulder with hers – I rock away from the feather-light touch so she doesn't injure herself – and then she retorts into the phone, "He took me to prom last year, Mom, remember? And I really didn't want to go through all that again. Besides, we've got other plans." She glances over at me, chocolate eyes glittering with excitement. "We'll be in Jacksonville this weekend," she announces happily.
Renée gasps. "Are you serious?" she says slowly, disbelieving. "Isabella Swan, if you are teasing your poor mother…"
"I'm serious, Mom," Bella laughs. "We're at the airport in Seattle right now."
Squealing like a hyperactive teenager, Renée celebrates loudly on the other end of the connection. "Bella! Oh, Bella, this is so wonderful! I can't wait to show you the house – I've got to finish cleaning! And we can walk down to the beach" – her words are flowing so quickly that I wonder how she has enough air to keep talking – "and there's this fantastic boardwalk where we can go shopping and have some lunch. Phil's going to be working with his team so it'll be just you and me, like old times! We'll have so much fun –"
"Mom, wait." Bella interrupts the never-ending tangent, her fingers suddenly squeezing my hand so tightly that her knuckles are turning white, and her leg starts jittering up and down nervously. "I'm not coming alone." A quick breath, and then she says in a rush, "Edward's with me."
Silence. I place my free hand firmly on Bella's knee to stop its frantic movement. "Oh," Renée replies after a couple of tense seconds. "Well… well, that's great! We'll be happy to have him visit us, too. He can sleep in the guest room, and you know Phil has been wanting to meet him."
I tilt my head a bit to the side, stunned that she accepted my presence so easily, and that the enthusiasm in her tone seems genuine. Bella smirks at my expression and mouths, "See?" And in a completely unexpected move, she raises our tangled hands to her lips and kisses the back of mine.
My skin continues to burn long after she withdraws, a deep blush blooming on her face, and I swallow hard, tiny jolts of electricity traveling up my arm and spreading throughout my stone body.
"What time does your flight get in?" Renée's eager question breaks into the unbearable tension surrounding us like a bubble.
"Um…" Bella lowers her gaze, her heart beating double-time as she stutters, "Around 7:15, I think."
"I'll be there to pick you up as soon as you land," her mother announces decisively. "You just call me and I'll swing the car around. Okay, honey?" Without waiting for an affirmative reply, Renée exclaims again, "I can't believe you're coming to visit, finally! I've got so much to do before you two get here – I'll see you soon, Bella, all right? Bye!" And then she hangs up.
Letting out a soft noise that is half laugh, half sigh, Bella murmurs, "Bye, Mom," and closes the phone. Then she peers up at me, smiling faintly, but her eyes seem apologetic. "She'll be late," she informs me in a matter-of-fact tone, "but she'll get there at some point. I hope you're not in a hurry." Her grin tips to one side teasingly.
I lift her small hand, entwined with my own, and copy her earlier sentiment by brushing my lips over her knuckles. "Not at all," I reply against her warm skin, watching as her face reddens with fresh color while I stare at her through my lashes.
At that moment, the announcement that our flight is now boarding rings out across the loudspeaker, and I stand up fluidly, pulling Bella with me. "Shall we?" I release her hand, only to tuck it through the crook of my arm.
She nods, that entrancing glow of happiness lighting up her features, and I realize that she is going to be more of a distraction than ever at this rate. I can scarcely drag my eyes away from her as we walk down the hallway leading towards the plane and I hand our tickets to the smiling flight attendant.
"Thank you, sir." She eyes us for a second, speculating on our relationship. Both young, but obviously in love. Maybe a late spring break weekend? Glancing at our seat numbers, her eyebrows arch in mild surprise. "First class is right this way, Mr. Cullen," she says, gesturing at the doorway on the far left. "Another attendant will be on hand if you require any further assistance. Have a pleasant flight."
I thank her and guide an open-mouthed Bella through the indicated door. After a half dozen steps, she mutters critically, "First class, huh?" The scowl twisting her lips is as unwelcome as it is adorable.
Shrugging, I answer calmly, "Carlisle and Esme bought the vouchers, not me. All I did was schedule the flight."
She harrumphs, unsatisfied, but her displeasure eventually fades while we settle into our seats, Bella immediately claiming the spot next to the window. She appears awed and a bit intimidated by the apparent luxury of the first-class cabin.
I glance around for a moment, critiquing with a knowing eye. It is a bit less inviting than some of the European airlines, giving off more of a corporate air, but as long as it serves its purpose of seeing to Bella's comfort, it will do.
I stow our bags in the compartment above us, and she cranes her body upward to peek over the top of her seat. "Um, Edward…there's no one else here," she observes in a puzzled voice.
"It's still a bit early, love." I can hardly admit to the fact that I purchased nearly all of the surrounding seats just so we could have some privacy during the flight. I grin at her, and joke quietly, "We're not to only two passengers on the plane. Don't worry." Although I could have chartered a private jet if she had wished.
Some minutes later, a kindly flight attendant whose mental tenor vaguely reminds me of Angela Weber comes to our row and asks if we would like any refreshments. I decline, of course, but Bella requests some water and a glass of ice.
When the flight attendant presents her with a bottle of Evian and a crystal tumbler, the glare she shoots in my direction is not as reproving as I had expected, which causes me to feel a brief flicker of hope. Perhaps she is finally beginning to understand that wealth is merely a part of what it means to be a Cullen, and that it should not make her feel inadequate or uncomfortable. But it is only a hope.
At precisely 4:15, the plane taxis down the runway and rises into the sky, and I sense a enormous weight being removed from my mind. Every mile we travel now is another mile between Bella and the one yearning to end her life, and I know that my family will not allow her to escape this time. This threat will be eliminated while my Bella spends some much-needed time with her mother, all without the worry and fear of what will be happening at home in our absence that would plague her if I had told her everything.
I expect to feel relieved, even victorious…but instead a bitter tang lingers on my tongue, and Alice's sharp warning echoes in my head. What matters is how Bella is going to feel when she finds out that you lied to her about visiting Renée in Florida. The end doesn't justify the means.
Bella unknowingly rescues me from wallowing in self-doubt by suggesting almost shyly, "Did you want to watch the in-flight movie?"
Looking sideways at her, the tender warmth in her deep brown eyes banishes my lingering uncertainty and I ask in return, "Do you want to watch the movie?"
She lifts a shoulder, wrinkling her nose a little. "Not really. I've seen it already, and it wasn't that great the first time." She reaches for my hand and pulls it onto her lap, wrapping her slender fingers around my palm.
"Okay, no movie." I have no objection to anything she does or does not want to see – I am only interested in watching one thing on this plane, and right now her heated touch is scorching my icy nerves like the embers of a hearth fire.
Silence covers the cabin for a few minutes. Bella flips my hand over and starts to trace the lines on my palm with a fingertip, back and forth, creating patterns that will be branded into my invulnerable flesh for hours. Yet as much as I am enjoying her caresses, I can tell that she is searching for something to pass the time when she exhales very softly and shifts her position a handful of millimeters.
Struck with sudden inspiration, I lean over and press my lips on the underside of her jaw, the delicious aroma of freesia wafting around me, and Bella's breath hitches in response. My nose skims along the curve of her cheekbone to her ear, and I murmur softly, "Would you like me to read to you? We're more or less completely alone, and I know you must have brought a few of your favorites." Another gentle kiss caresses her temple before I pull away, smirking at her dazed expression.
She shakes her head, blinking quickly, and then looks up at me with wide, incredulous eyes. "You want to read to me?" she says, as though she hadn't heard me correctly. I nod once in affirmation and her face lights up with pleasure for a whole second – until a slight frown tugs at her mouth. "You won't want to read what I want to hear," she sighs, disheartened. "But thanks anyway." A feeble grin struggles its way across her lips as she lowers her gaze to our joined hands still resting in her lap.
Now that I am aware of how meaningful it is to Bella that I read aloud to her, I could care less about her choice of literature, although I believe that I have a pretty good guess in mind.
With a single finger, I gently lift her chin and notice the glimmer of hope in her brown irises. Raising an eyebrow, I remark in an amused tone, "Wuthering Heights?"
A blaze of crimson heats her skin as she bites down on her lower lip, and then she gives the barest nod.
Without further ado, I rise out of my seat to retrieve her bag from the overhead compartment, tugging smoothly on the zipper. Bella's worn, dog-eared copy of the novel is right on top, so I easily take it out and stow her bag back in its place.
As I sit, a familiar hint of bronze catches my attention, peeking above the wrinkled pages from a spot she must have marked. I open the book slowly, and see myself between the words of Emily Brontë.
The photo's edges are warped from constant handling, even though it has only been a few weeks since I returned this to Bella from the hideaway beneath a loose floorboard in her bedroom, and my keen eyesight can make out the faint smudges from her fingers on and around my smiling face.
I study the doting, indulgent Edward in the picture with a twinge of nostalgia. This is tangible proof of how different circumstances could have been if I had not surrendered to fear mere hours after this photo was taken. Although I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that while we had literally walked through hell to reach this crossroads in our relationship, the man that I was seven months ago had not yet come to terms with the fact that living out Bella's human life by her side would never be enough time.
The Edward of the past was naïve, shortsighted, and appallingly blind to the feelings of the girl he loved, convinced that her mortal heart could not possibly contain the same depth of devotion as his own.
Fool, I chastise him inwardly.
Soft warmth presses against my side at the same time that Bella murmurs in question, "Edward?"
I slip the photo behind the book cover and wrap an arm around her fragile body, my chest squeezing with a rush of tenderness when she lays her head on my shoulder. For show, I clear my throat, and then begin reading in a low, velvet tone. " 'While Miss Linton moped about the park and garden, always silent, and almost always in tears…' "
As we progress through two chapters, Bella becomes fully relaxed, almost drowsy, beside me, snuggling her cheek into my shirt while I read on. " 'That is quite possible,' remarked Heathcliff, forcing himself to seem calm: 'quite possible that your master should have nothing but common humanity and a sense of duty to fall back upon. But do you imagine that I shall leave Catherine to his duty and humanity?' "
A quiet yawn warms the cool skin at the base of my throat. I glance down, angling my head slightly to see Bella's eyelids drooping with fatigue. Although she keeps insisting that she is sleeping better these last few weeks than she can remember, she still does not gain the necessary amount of rest that is recommended for someone her age. And since we have an uninterrupted block of time until the plane lands in Jacksonville, she should try to take a short nap.
"You can sleep," I encourage her gently, stroking her arm with the lightest touch. Meanwhile, I begin to slide the photograph – without looking at its poignant image – to save the place where I left off, even though Bella probably has most the book memorized.
"Wait." She stops my hand with her own. "Can you read a little more? Please?" Tired brown eyes plead with me from within her heart-shaped face, and combined with the unrivaled power she is able to wield by speaking that one small word, I have not the slightest hope of denying her.
I sigh in defeat; however, I can hardly complain as Bella nestles even closer against me, the faint echo of her heartbeat vibrating inside my ribcage, and then I return to the story.
Her breathing slows almost as soon as I pick up where I'd left off, so I lower my voice even further, crooning the words like a lullaby – although they are hardly comforting in and of themselves as Heathcliff continues his impassioned speech. " 'At a most miserable period of my life, I had a notion of the kind: it haunted me on my return to the neighborhood last summer; but only her own reassurance could make me admit the horrible idea again. And then, Linton would be nothing, nor Hindley, nor all the dreams that ever I dreamt. Two words would comprehend my future – death and hell: existence, after losing her, would be hell.' "
Oddly enough, I can now see a dim reflection of myself in Heathcliff, but I cast the mixed emotions aside and store them away in my multi-layered brain for future examination.
" 'Yet I was a fool to fancy for a moment that she valued Edgar Linton's attachment more than mine. If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day. And Catherine has a heart as deep as I have: the sea could be as readily contained in that horsetrough, as her whole affection be monopolized by him. Tush! He is scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her horse.' "
I snort in wry amusement. That Heathcliff would compare his rival Linton to a dog is a comical coincidence, to say the least.
Bella stirs, roused a bit by my lapse of control, and mumbles into my shirt, "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," I reply, and begin to smooth her hair with my palm – an action that has worked wonders in the past – while I turn my eyes back to the novel. " 'It is not in him to be loved like me: how can she love in him what he has not?' "
Sleep finally claims Bella not two minutes later. I set the book on the empty seat at the end of our row and then motion for the flight attendant, requesting a blanket. The soft gray fabric will protect Bella from the cool filtered air of the cabin and my chilled skin, and once she is suitably wrapped up I close my eyes and rest my cheek on the crown of her head.
While I am incapable of joining her in slumber, these moments when I hold her as she sleeps, lovely and vulnerable, are infinitely precious to me. I have learned to quiet my thoughts, to drift in the soothing rhythms of her breaths and pulse – and in these times I can find respite, something that I now know I tried in vain to achieve in my ninety years of existence through music or solitude.
But Bella is my only solace, the safe harbor for my…soul, and I will never relinquish her love again.
The next four hours are welcomingly peaceful. Weary as she is, Bella does not utter a single sound, though I am watchful for the barest shiver and I monitor her body temperature carefully.
In due course, the seatbelt light clicks on just as I sense the airplane shifting in its path, the pilot preparing to begin descent.
Apologetic, I brush my fingers across her cheek, moving my body sideways in an added effort to wake her. "Bella," I call, prompting a faint shiver from her as my exhale raises goosebumps on her neck. "We're here. The plane's about to land."
Her eyes blink open, and she looks around groggily while I settle her in her seat and fasten the belt around her waist. Outside the window, the dark storm clouds that Alice had predicted are starting to disperse, allowing unruly rays of red-orange sunlight to pierce the safe shadows of the approaching dusk.
I stare at the half-hidden ball of fire hanging low on the horizon, a flicker of misgiving prickling my mind. Alice had assured me that the sun would not be a problem when we arrived, and I trust her visions completely, but…
A sharp gasp breaks into my worried thoughts, and Bella's head whips towards the window as she sits bolt upright, held in place by the seatbelt. Twisting sideways, she then looks up at me with wide-eyed fear and squeaks, "Edward!"
"What's wrong?" I ask in a bewildered tone. Behind her, the fiery glow has once again vanished behind the clouds.
She must notice my gaze flicking to the window, for she spins back around and yanks down the shade, then turns to whisper frantically, "What are you going to do about the sunlight?"
Touched by her concern, I nevertheless cannot bear to see her exquisite features so marred by panic, and I reach out to cradle her face between my hands, my thumbs lightly caressing her skin. "It's all right, love. Alice told me that it would be cloudy enough this evening for me to move about safely."
"But –"
I gently put two fingers over her lips, silencing the obvious protest. "She has never been wrong before, and I trust her," I say in a soft yet firm voice. "Besides, you said that Renée will be late in picking us up from the airport, and the sun is due to set very shortly."
Her frightened stare loses some of its potency as my words sink in, and I lean towards her to kiss her brow, lingering while the heat of her body seeps into my lips.
When I draw back, she is wearing the most peculiar expression. It seems almost…troubled. "Now what?" I tease good-naturedly. Whatever is causing her distress will be easily and swiftly dealt with; all she has to do is tell me.
"I just realized…" She wriggles her shoulders as though uncomfortable. "I mean, I already knew – but it just kind of hit me a second ago, and now…" Flustered, she halts the babbling, and then heaves a deep sigh.
I am practically teetering on the edge of sanity while she deliberates inside that impenetrable mind of hers, and finally, after chewing on her bottom lip for six agonizing seconds, she speaks. "It's not just the sunlight now that you have to avoid. You're going to have to stay indoors for the next two days, aren't you?" It comes out as more of a statement than a question, but even so, I give her a small nod. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, frowning, and presses her hand over mine on her cheek.
Always so selfless. Shaking my head, I offer her a crooked smile and reply affectionately, "Don't be. It's a small sacrifice compared to giving you the chance to spend some time with your mother."
When she continues to gaze at me, compassion and guilt swirling in the depths of her chocolate eyes, I lift my hand to trace the tiny V shape in the middle of her forehead with a single finger, willing the lines to disappear. "It will be fine, love," I assure her again.
Suddenly, the whine of the jet's engines changes pitch, signaling that the plane is beginning its approach to the runway. "Ladies and gentlemen," a flight attendant's pleasant voice crackles over the loudspeaker, "as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Please turn off all electronic devices until we are safely parked at the gate. Thank you." The speaker clicks off.
Bella latches onto my hand, her heartbeat accelerating as the plane shudders around us, the engines growing louder. "I hate this part," she mutters, and shuts her eyes tightly.
I rub soothing circles onto the back of her hand with my thumb, not concerned in the least. From what I can detect in their minds, both the captain and co-pilot are highly competent and go about their duties with skilled efficiency.
Soon, we are touching down and coasting to a slow crawl. Through the shade covering the window, I can make out a muted tint of peach light, before the long shadows of the terminal blot it out.
The flight attendant makes another announcement while Bella lets out a relieved breath, though she does not let go of my hand. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Jacksonville International Airport. Local time is 7:17PM and the temperature is 78°. For your safety and comfort, we ask that you please remain seated…"
Author's Notes: Wuthering Heights quotes are taken from Chapters 12 and 14.
Heaps of gratitude goes out to everyone that leaves a review. No matter how big or small, I appreciate each and every one. I realize that I haven't responded to everyone, but I will try my best to change that. Please know that if I haven't written a reply to yours yet, I have read them all, and am so thankful for each one.
Side note: I adore Muse's new song, "Neutron Star Collision". It was playing in the background during the last quarter of this chapter, and definitely helped me and my muse (no pun intended) overcome a bit of writer's block.
***UPDATE 5/23/10*** I realize the glaring inconsistency of this chapter is the time elapsed from when Edward and Bella leave Forks for Seattle, and then the flight from Sea-Tac to Jacksonville. For the sake of salvaging the plot of this chapter, let's just say that school got out early (say, 12 noon), the departure time from Sea-Tac was 2:15pm instead of 4:15, so they still arrived (after a 5-hour flight) in Jacksonville at 7:17pm. *sigh* I knew that I was probably setting myself up for disaster when I decided to involve logistics. Please forgive me, and try to look past that error to focus on what is happening with the characters. Thank you.