Disclaimer: The Twilight series is the creative property of Stephenie Meyer. I do not own any of the characters. Any references or quotes from Meyer do not belong to me. This is a fan-based story. The basis of this comes from Rosalie's story in Eclipse. It is not my intention to plagiarize. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone for reviewing! I hope you enjoy Chapter 3. Drop me a line and let me know! I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter posted. It took awhile to write.
Soundtrack for the chapter: "Stardust" performed by Nat King Cole. I listened to it over and over while I was working on the second half of this chapter.
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"I try to forget what happiness was, and when that don't work, I study the stars."
-Derek Walcott
"I'm telling Carlisle!" Rosalie threw at him, her red mouth pulled down in a pout. She made an effort to stomp down the stairs, her body floating with her as she did. "Carlisle," she called angrily. "Edward is reading my mind again!"
"She started it," Edward protested, running a frustrated hand through his tousled hair.
Carlisle chuckled, not lifting his eyes from the book he was poring over, "You two are just going to have to learn to live with each other."
"I don't think that's possible," Rosalie hissed, as Edward slid down the banister, passing her easily.
"Fortunately," the doctor said, glancing up, amused, "You have all of eternity to figure it out."
"Till death do us part," Edward couldn't help but laugh.
"This is not funny, Edward," Rosalie shot a daggered look in his direction. "I don't want him to hear what I'm thinking!"
"Why? Are you thinking things you shouldn't?" Edward asked, his voice innocent.
She stared at him a moment, grateful that no blood would rush to her face to give her away. Except that Edward heard her silent thank-you and grinned
"Oooh!" she stomped her delicate foot down making the entire house shake slightly.
"Rosalie, be careful, dear," Esme called from the kitchen where she was arranging wildflowers. "This vase is an antique."
"Not that it's any of your business," Rosalie told him huffily. "But I am a lady and my mind is occupied with things of that nature only."
"Oh? Is that why you were imagining what Carlisle would look like with his shirt off?" Edward's smile was angelic.
Rosalie growled and launched herself at Edward, teeth bared. The two crashed to the floor, making the room vibrate again.
"Get off me, Rosalie!" Edward said, through clenched teeth.
Carlisle sighed, "Children, please. Take it out of doors. For Esme's sake and for mine."
It was May 17th, a Sunday. Three full weeks had passed since Rosalie had been brought into the Cullen household. Of course, Rosalie thought, time mattered very little now. The days melted into sleepless nights into more days and she wondered if this is how the rest of her existence would pass…one moment falling ceaselessly into another.
Carlisle and Esme were very patient with her, explaining things she did not understand and helping her manage the burning ache in her throat. She was, she decided, grateful to them. She felt a growing fondness for their doting. It reminded her, achingly, of her human parents. Parents she might never see again. The thought cut her deeply and so she pushed it away from her. Yes, Carlisle and Esme were good to her, kind, long-suffering, and loving.
Edward was a different story. He seemed indifferent, even irritated by her presence. It annoyed her to find him even better-looking than she had when human, as if her eyesight had grown sharper. Occasionally, his deep golden-eyes would catch her staring at him in a way she knew couldn't be modest and his head would incline towards her slightly, his eyebrows raised disdainfully, as if he could hear her indecency. Imagine her chagrin when she discovered that, in fact, he could. It simply was not to be borne. Were not even her thoughts her own?
But the more annoyed Rosalie grew, the more irritating Edward became. He seemed to take derisive pleasure in upsetting her.
Her thoughts broke off suddenly as she noted the smirk planted firmly across his face.
"Ugh!" She gave up, storming from the room.
"Edward," Carlisle warned, keeping his voice light and steady even as he kept his eyes on the page he was reading.
"What did I do?" Edward asked, stubbornly refusing to make eye contact with Carlisle.
The older of the two looked up with a worn expression to gaze at his son. Edward reluctantly turned towards him and relaxing his stance, sighed. "I'll…I'll try to be better."
"I know you will," Carlisle said, patting his shoulder.
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The rest of the afternoon passed in relative calm. Edward had shut himself in his room and the sounds of Benny Goodman and His Orchestra trickled down the stairs into the dark living room. Carlisle and Esme had gone for a hunt. Rosalie suspected it was just so they could be alone.
So it was, at around midnight, she found herself sitting on the edge of the staircase in the pitch black, not bothering to turn on a lamp. Rosalie felt as though a great weight was pressing down on her, pinning her to the ground, preventing her from moving. It reminded her too much of that night three weeks ago when everything had changed.
Questions pounded the inside of her skull, begging to be answered. She sat back and allowed them to flow freely now. It did not matter that she had no answers, only more questions. Questions like…had he ever loved her? Would he have proposed without the pressure from their families to do so? Had he been thinking of hurting her like that before? Had he hurt someone else, another girl? More troubling, what had she done to make him behave that way? Had she said something, done something? Small voices, the ones that came in the hushed whispers of mothers in crowded parlors, told her that good girls were safe from this sort of thing. She thought, ashamed, of the vanity she had taken in modeling that pale blue gown in the store, on the street, in front of dozens of men. Had they wanted to hurt her, too? And then for some strange reason, she recalled Edward Platt, as she had known him, nodding his head politely in her direction that very afternoon. Had he heard what other men were thinking? Had he known this was coming? Rosalie felt a silent wail of anguish build in her lungs and knew she would never release it. What had she done? Ruined her hopes, dreams…the happiness of her parents. She wondered if they were still searching for her. Her dream children seemed very far away now. She could not even make out the dimples in their faces, could not remember what she had decided to name them.
She heard a noise, the slightest rustle in the upstairs hall and knew, instinctively, that it was Edward.
She stiffened, straightening herself on the stair and wiping the invisible tears from her cheeks. "What do you want?" she asked softly, afraid her voice might crack.
Edward sat on the stair above her, not speaking, as still as if he had been carved there a century ago.
"I said, 'What do you want, Edward?'" Rosalie repeated, through clenched teeth.
He began carefully, "I'm afraid I couldn't help…overhearing you."
Rosalie winced at that.
"I…I think you should know that…"
"If you are about to spout some important wisdom about something you know nothing about, then I advise you to shut your mouth and go back where you came from because I am not interested in hearing it."
Edward studied her face for a moment and sighed, "Alright. Let's go."
"What? Where?"
He looked annoyed, "Obviously, you're not going to cheer up on your own. There is nothing more irritating than a pouty vampire. Come along."
"I'm already in my dressing gown."
"No one will see you."
"What makes you think I'm interested in going anywhere with you?" Rosalie's eyes were haughty.
He shrugged, "Fine. Stay here and sulk."
Edward was down the stairs and out into the night air before Rosalie sighed and followed after.
They ran in silence for several miles, Edward not sparing a glance in Rosalie's direction. She watched him uncertainly, her eyes wary.
The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk.
"What?" Rosalie said, putting on another burst of speed to match his stride.
He didn't answer but the smile grew.
"What?" she asked again, more frustrated.
"No."
"No what?" she asked, exasperated.
"No, I don't hate you," he said simply.
"Are you sure about that?" she muttered, gritting her teeth as she fought to keep up with him.
"Quite. Hate and annoyance are hardly the same thing."
Rosalie considered this as the ground continued to blur beneath them.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"You'll see."
Rosalie was about to protest when they rounded a small grove of trees and a large white archway bearing a peeling sign appeared. Seabreeze, it read.
They slowed to a stop at the entrance and Rosalie felt her mouth open in surprise. "I've been here before."
Edward nodded, "With your family?"
"It's…it's been years."
Edward was already inside the park, easily vaulting the high gates.
"Edward, they're closed!" Rosalie was shocked.
He raised one eyebrow, leaning towards her from the other side of the iron gate. "And you're afraid because…?"
"What if someone sees us?"
"Alright. Stay here, then," Edward shrugged, shoving hands in his pockets and spinning on his heel to walk deeper into the park.
There was a thud as Rosalie landed neatly inside the gates. Edward didn't pause, strolling at a fairly human pace towards the dark shape of the carousel that loomed above them.
On either side of him, small boutiques lined the boardwalk, windows advertising any and everything. He barely glanced at them but paused when he felt Rosalie freeze behind him, her eyes on something in a storefront display. He did not have to turn to know what had caught her attention.
He turned anyway and walked back to where she stood, still as a statue before a small milliner's shop.
Reflected in the glass, Rosalie's beautiful, marble face was crumpled in pain and confusion. In the window hung a flowing, ivory wedding gown, its lacy sweetheart neckline ending in dainty capped sleeves. The gentle empire waist fell in droves of soft, sweeping lace and tulle, twisting into a long, full train. Along the edges of the dress, appliqué shimmered in white embroidery thread.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said, pursing her red lips tightly together.
Edward didn't answer.
"I saw this same dress in Marie Claire almost a year ago." Her words were dismissive but her voice was higher-pitched and slightly desperate.
Edward's eyes narrowed as he watched her face. Abruptly, his expression softened and he put a hand on her elbow. "Come on. We'll ride the carousel."
"This was supposed to be my dress," Rosalie went on, as if she hadn't heard him. "I should have been married by now, happy...Mrs. Rosalie King." The words twisted bitterly inside her, knifing their way up to her throat and forming a lump there. The darkness of her last human memories thudded behind her eyes and she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.
"They'll fade, you know."
Rosalie turned her head slightly to look at him but he was looking at the dress, his eyes dark with thought.
"What?"
"The memories," he said.
Flashes of her last night alive washed over her. Royce's hot, unwelcome breath on her bare shoulders. The degrading laughter cutting the evening silence. The paralyzing fear and the pain…"All of them?" she whispered aloud.
Edward nodded, "Eventually."
Rosalie looked back at the heartbreakingly beautiful dress in the window again, her eyes full of longing.
This time Edward grasped her arm firmly and pulled her away from the store. "I think it's time to ride the carousel now."
Rosalie let herself be dragged away from the shops and towards the large circle of painted animals, even allowed Edward to pick her up and set her side saddle on a faded blue horse with painted feather plumes in its mane. She did not even bother to watch him pick the lock on the ticket booth and start the ride.
The carousel's tune was dimly familiar to her and Rosalie hummed it now, leaning her golden head against the tall pole as it moved up and down mechanically.
"Hmm…hmmm…sometimes I wonder why I spend the lonely nights dreaming of a song…mmm…mmm…hmmm…mmm…And I am once again with you. When our love was new and mmm-hmm-mmm mmm-hmm-hmm…hmmm…But that was long ago, and…and…now…" her voice broke on the last lyric.
"And now my consolation is in the stardust of a song," Edward murmured musically, perched on the back of a painted wooden chariot a few feet from her.
The carousel turned slowly. With the whole park laid before her, Rosalie thought it seemed quite dream-like. The soft, sweet music, subdued for a carousel ride…The dark shadows falling among the groves of trees and picnic tables…Through the leaves, she caught sight of the enormous roller coaster that had always been her favorite as a girl. She loved the feeling it gave her, something like flying.
Beyond the last of the rides, she knew the lake was waiting, its dark, lapping waves drifting aimlessly through the bay. Her mother loved the lakefront. They would take their lunches and sit on the rocks closest to the deep, cold blue of the lake. The wind would sting their faces and Rosalie would turn her face towards it joyfully, opening her mouth to catch gasps of air after every gust, for those few moments not caring if her hair blew free of the bobby pins and curls. She relished the sensation of each breath as it was stolen away from her. It was like breathing in danger and excitement and freedom with each full gasp.
She stood up as the carousel drifted to a stop. "I want to stand out on the bay."
Edward didn't say anything but followed her as she ran out, through the midway, past the many rides and attractions and down onto the harbor's long, wooden dock.
When he reached her, Rosalie was standing on the wooden planks closest to the shore line, breathing deeply of the wet night air.
"Do you know how to swim?" Edward asked, eyeing the water's edge.
"Of course, I know how to swim," Rosalie's voice was sharp with irritation. Her parents had taken her to the beach often. Her mind lingered for a moment on the fuzzy human memory…her father in a striped bathing suit, his arm around her mother, the picnic basket at their feet, the warm sun falling across her skin as she sunk her toes deep into the sand. The sadness in this memory was wounding and Rosalie shook her head, frustrated, "Anyway, what does it matter? I wouldn't drown."
Edward didn't respond. He stared at her a moment, frowning, and pulled his shirt over his head.
"What…what are you doing?" she stammered, surprised.
He rolled his eyes, "I'm going swimming, Rosalie. What does it look like?"
"Where's your bathing suit?" she demanded.
"I don't have one," he said simply. "I don't swim in public."
"Well…I'm public!"
"Have I offended you?" Edward frowned, looking for a moment as if he truly cared.
"Yes," Rosalie sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yes, you have." In truth, Rosalie had seen a catalog advertising a new French bathing suit for men that had no top, at all, and had not felt the least bit offended then. She had snuck several peeks at that page of the catalog before her mother had pronounced it "trash" and thrown it away. It was beside the point. This was not France and they were not in a catalog.
Edward gave a chuckle, a soft, kind sound, the hard lines of his face breaking into a smile that revealed brilliant white teeth, made brighter in the moonlight. Rosalie was startled, watching his whole body relax, his expression becoming carefree. He smirked in her direction and then leaned off the dock to dive smoothly into the lake. After several seconds, he appeared at the surface, his now soaked hair sticking to the sides of his face.
"You look like a drowned rat," Rosalie said, still standing on the edge of the dock and trying very hard to look bored.
Edward didn't answer but dove back underwater again, swimming deeper than before.
Rosalie frowned, shifting her weight from foot to foot for a moment. Curiosity overcame propriety and she reached for the silk sash of her gown. It felt strange not to shiver as the robe landed on the dock and she stood brazenly in only her pink satin nightgown, a present from Esme.
Edward's head popped out of the water again and Rosalie gasped, taking a step back and covering her bare shoulders hastily.
"Don't look at me!" she demanded, angrily.
He put a hand to his forehead in the shape of a visor, effectively shielding his face from view. But not before Rosalie caught the silent laugh in his eyes.
Before he could make a snide remark, Rosalie jumped feet first into the water, bracing herself for the cold. Oddly, the water felt almost warm against her agate skin. Unable to keep herself from force of habit, she plugged her nose and ducked her head under.
Edward dropped his hand from his eyes and drifted up to float on his back.
They were silent for several minutes. The sound of the water slapping against the rocky shore was lulling, comforting.
"Will you explain something to me?" Rosalie asked suddenly.
"Mmm?" Edward's eyes were closed.
"Why does Carlisle make you spend time with me? Does he really think I need a babysitter?"
Edward's expression became annoyed. "No, that's not it."
"Then what is it?"
He shook his head, "It's not important."
"I want to know," she insisted.
Edward sighed and focused his eyes on something far away as he answered, "Carlisle thinks…" He paused and shook his head. "Carlisle thinks that if you and I spend enough time together, we will…become…attracted to one another. It's ridiculous."
"Attracted to each other? Like…like…" she sputtered.
"I'm surprised you didn't know," he shrugged.
"Attracted? To you? Ha! As though I would ever be interested in you!" Rosalie laughed, trying hard to make her voice sound normal. There was the lump again and something new…a strange sensation that could have been mistaken for warmth…something like embarrassment.
"Likewise," Edward said, his eyes smoldering.
Something in his voice, the sense of dismissal, upset her. She struggled to work through the feeling, ignore it. She could not possibly feel…disappointed. She was…just surprised that he didn't find her attractive. Most men did.
Nearby, Edward snorted.
"I really wish you would stop that," Rosalie said, still fighting the strange ache in her chest. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not polite to eavesdrop?"
Edward considered this before answering, "I don't really remember."
"You…don't?"
"I told you. Human memories fade."
More silence.
"So…" Rosalie said, casually. "Out of curiosity, why exactly am I not good enough for you?" She fought to keep the hurt out of her voice but failed miserably.
Edward shrugged, "I guess no one's good enough for me. Just ask Esme." He grinned.
Rosalie frowned but nodded, as if she understood.
Edward flicked water into the cool night air, absent-mindedly.
"May I ask you something?" Rosalie asked, feeling suddenly foolish.
"You may."
"Earlier…you were going to tell me something. On the stairs." She looked down, feeling ashamed again, "What was it?"
"I was going to say, 'None of this is your fault.'"
She looked up quickly, surprised.
Edward's face was remote, but gentle.
"Oh." Rosalie turned her eyes to see where he was gazing. She did not know how long they stayed that way, watching the sun crawl up over the horizon.
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Author's note on research: A tremendous amount of research went into this chapter. Seabreeze is, in fact, a real amusement park in Irondequoit, quite close to Rochester. It was built in 1879 and is the 4th oldest amusement park in the United States. By the 1920's, it had a carousel, one of the largest salt swimming pools, and one of the country's first roller coasters, The Jack Rabbit. Thanks to many websites that contributed photographs and historical details. A concerted effort has been made to maintain historical integrity as much as possible. However, some artistic license has been taken to fill in the gaps and for plot purposes. All clothing described is from pictures and descriptions of 1930's fashion. The song "Stardust" was written by Hoagy Carmichael in 1927. The lyrics were written by Mitchell Parish in 1929. To my knowledge, it is the second most recorded song in history.