A/N: Sorry that this chapter was long in coming. I feel like I've been working on it forever, I kept on having to stop to do more research. I'm sorry if it seems that this chapter has a lot of layers. I needed to set up some things for the last two chapters. Some of the things in this chapter are going to be brought up again later so don't worry if you don't understand everything at first.
EPOV
"Is it supposed to show an exploding car?" Bella asked doubtfully.
"Maybe. What do you think, Carlisle?" We stood just inside the front doors of the Seattle Art Museum looking at the nine cars in the lobby, seven of which floated above us with rays of light shooting out of them on all sides.
Carlisle smiled at Bella. "I think you're right, it may in fact be an exploding car."
"Oh my, Bella. You may just be able to teach Carlisle how to understand Modern art at last," Esme exclaimed as she returned with our tickets.
"I don't know about that," Bella murmured.
Carlisle gave Esme an exasperated look as he took his ticket and then turned to Bella. "Maybe my problem is that I have yet to absorb a late twentieth-century view of the world. You can help me with that Bella."
"Late-twentieth? You're running a bit late with that aren't you? We're in the twenty-first already," I chided.
"The last century moved very quickly and I had a lot on my mind," Carlisle defended. Having a wife and kids is hard work, he teased.
Bella looked at Carlisle and laughed. "I'll see what I can do."
"Wonderful, now does this piece have a name?" Carlisle asked Esme.
"Inopportune: Stage One. What do you think that means?" Esme asked.
Carlisle smiled. "I suppose anytime a car explodes it would be quite inopportune."
Bella bit her bottom lip and shifted her weight nervously. "Yes, but the car doesn't look like it's going to explode." She pointed down to where the initial car stood. "It's perfectly normal, and then – boom."
I heard Esme's thoughts race in excitement and I had to suppress a groan. If she honestly thought she could make Bella teach Carlisle about Modern art today...
"Go on, Bella," Esme encouraged.
"Umm, okay," Bella said, hesitantly looking up at Carlisle. "It's inopportune not just because it's unexpected, but because it's not supposed to happen. The explosion is an intrusion."
"An intrusion such as..." Esme asked, prodding Bella to say more.
Bella frowned and looked at the cars again. "Terrorism," she said hesitantly.
"Exactly," Esme nearly shouted. "Do you see now, Carlisle?"
"Yes, I suppose so. Bella, the world of my youth was plagued by death. But your world," Carlisle shook his head, "has been formed by sudden and unforeseen destruction. I have seen these things happen, but I don't understand them the way you do. Does that make any sense?"
"I guess so," Bella said quietly.
"So can you tell me, Bella, why is it that the car at the end looks exactly the same as the car at the beginning? Why isn't it destroyed?" Carlisle asked.
Bella was quiet for a moment. "I guess it could be saying that terrorism shouldn't have an impact. That in principle we should reject changing who we are because of the violence. But also I guess it could be saying that terrorism doesn't actually have an impact. Random destruction, no matter how explosive, doesn't have as large an impact as those doing it hope for."
I smiled. I loved the way Bella's mind worked. It was so intuitive and observant. I nearly hummed in pleasure as I heard Carlisle's thoughts echo my own.
"Thank you Bella, that's very interesting," Carlisle said.
"Sure," Bella said, blushing slightly.
"If this is part one is there a part two?" I asked Esme.
"Yes, there is. Follow me," Esme said happily.
I smiled and took Bella's hand. As long as Bella seemed to have a good time I would let Esme indulge in acting as our tour guide.
I stepped into the gallery which held Inopportune: Part Two and laughed softly. Carlisle and Esme were grinning as well, while Bella looked around shocked.
"They're lions," Bella hissed.
"Tigers, Bella. South Chinese tigers," I corrected.
"Really? Are they nice?"
Was she really asking if I found them tasty? "They're unfortunately practically extinct."
"That's terrible. They look magnificent," Bella said wistfully.
Magnificent indeed. Though I could see that the artist created the tigers artificially using wooden frames and painted fur, he had managed to convey both the powerful muscles and graceful stance of the feline.
"They're also very ferocious," Esme said. "This piece of art depicts a fourteenth century Chinese story about a large man-eating tiger who was terrorizing a village. The hero of the story, a bandit named Wu Song, kills the tiger."
"And this is that tiger," Bella said, walking around the room slowly, looking at the nine tigers who posed in various positions with hundreds of arrows imbedded in their bodies.
"So is this about terrorism as well, Bella?" Carlisle asked. "Is the tiger the terrorist?"
"I don't know," Bella said doubtfully. "The artist didn't portray the destruction of the village, or the victory of the hero. It's just the tiger, being killed, writhing in pain."
"They're not all in pain though," I said, "some of them are quite angry." I dropped my lips to Bella's ear, "I would know."
Really, Edward, Esme reproved. I spared her a glance. If I couldn't be honest about myself with Bella then what was the point?
"I suppose the tiger is angry," Bella said. "I mean, to him he was just going about his business and then he gets jabbed with a hundred arrows."
"So the hero defending the lives of the villagers was inopportune for the tiger?" I asked.
Bella stopped in front of the tiger who was on his hind legs, snarling viciously. "I think that if Part One had a message about destruction Part Two has a message of empathy. The tiger might be a terrorist, but even he has feelings, and he doesn't want to die."
"So is this piece saying that we should have empathy towards terrorists?" Carlisle asked.
"Maybe. But the empathy doesn't mean feeling sorry for a terrorist, it means recognizing that they have feelings too when faced with destruction."
"So both parts show where destruction and empathy, violence and emotions, come together?" I asked.
"I think so," Bella said, looking to Esme for confirmation.
"I think that is an excellent interpretation, Bella," Esme said with a smile.
Bella flushed slightly and gave Carlisle a tentative smile. "I told you about art from my time, maybe you can tell me about art from your time?"
"I would be happy to," Carlisle said, his thoughts racing with excitement. "Esme, could you guide us to the Renaissance and Baroque sections please?"
"Right this way," Esme said.
When we came to that section Carlisle gave a contented sigh. "Wonderful, they have some pieces on loan today. Come Bella, let's start here," he said eagerly, guiding her over to a painting in the middle of the room. I heard his thoughts deliberate between just lecturing Bella about the art and guiding her thoughts. Deciding that she was intelligent enough to figure things out, he decided upon the Socratic method. "Do you know what this piece of art depicts?"
"Adam and Eve," Bella said immediately.
"Right. This piece is called Adam and Eve and it was painted by Lucas Cranach. Do you know what is happening in this picture?"
Bella cocked her head to the side, thinking deeply. "Eating forbidden fruit?" she asked uncertainly.
"Yes. According to the biblical narrative God placed Adam and Eve in Eden where they lived in perfect harmony with nature. There were two special trees in Eden. The Tree of Life, whose fruit gave them eternal life. And the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, whose fruit they were not allowed to eat, and if they did eat it would cause them to die."
"This is that tree?" Bella asked, indicating the painting.
"Yes it is. The serpent, there in the tree, tricked Eve, telling her that the fruit will not give her death, it will make her like God. So Eve ate some, and then gave some to Adam."
Bella nodded seriously, looking at the scene depicted before her, and then giggled. "Adam looks confused."
Indeed, Adam was taking the fruit from Eve with one hand while scratching his head with the other. "Women are very beguiling creatures. We're actually completely at your mercy," I explained to Bella with a wink.
"What are the animals doing there?" Bella asked.
"According to the story, Eden was a place where all of nature was in complete harmony. No death, no violence. The lion could lay down with the lamb." Carlisle pointed at the lion in the picture which was lying contentedly among a lamb and a family of deer. "After Adam and Eve ate the fruit, however..." Carlisle trailed off.
"Death," Bella finished softly. She turned her head to look in my eyes. "See Edward, we're not so strange. We're just living in Eden."
Carlisle's and Esme's thoughts broadcasted confusion as I groaned. Didn't Bella realize that people have been looking to reclaim Eden for millennia, all to no success? How could we be sure to find it, much less live there? I smiled at her and shook my head, "Bella, there's no such thing as Eden."
Bella pulled back from me and frowned. "Maybe not, but there could be."
I stared back at her. What was that supposed to mean? "Can we move on to the next painting?" I asked, sending a pleading look at Carlisle.
Carlisle nodded and stepped over to the next painting on the wall. "This is called the Judgment of Paris and it is also by Cranach. Putting these two paintings of his side by side is actually largely ironic."
"Ironic?" Bella asked, looking from the painting we stood in front of now and the one we had just been looking at.
"Yes. Can you see any similarities between them?" Carlisle asked.
"Well, there are naked people again. And a man under a tree, but he's sleeping, not confused. And there is an animal, a horse."
Carlisle nodded. "Though you can't see it very well in this painting, Paris actually has an apple. The difference between this story and the story of Adam and Eve is that here Paris is the one who is presenting the fruit to the gods. Or rather, in this case, the three goddesses who are nude in front of him."
"Why do they want his fruit?"
"The three goddesses here, Juno, Minerva, and Venus had been debating which of the three of them was the most beautiful," Carlisle explained. "The gods, being smart, did not want to become a part of this debate, but decided that Paris was a fair judge. So they sent Mercury to him with a golden apple and told Paris to bestow the fruit upon the goddess he thought was most beautiful."
"They all look pretty much the same though," Bella said, pointing to the three nude goddesses in the picture, "how did he choose?"
"According to the story the goddesses didn't exactly play fair. Juno, in Greek called Hera, was objectively the most beautiful. She promised Paris that if he gave her the apple she would make him king over all Europe and Asia. Minerva, in Greek called Athena, offered him wisdom and the skills of war. Venus, Greek Aphrodite, promised him the love of the world's most beautiful woman."
"Which did he choose?" Bella asked.
"What do you think, Bella?" Carlisle countered.
Bella shook her head. "I don't know."
"Think, Bella," I said softly, "where have you heard of Paris before in Greek mythology?"
Bella's eyebrows pulled together as she thought. "The Odyssey?" she asked me tentatively.
"Exactly. This is the same Paris," I explained. "He gave the apple to Aphrodite, and in return she gave him the love of the most beautiful woman, Helen, who was the wife of King Menelaus. Which set off the chain of events leading to the Trojan war and resulted in the deaths of himself, Helen, his family and most of his city."
Bella stepped back and looked at both Cranach pieces. "So the fruit in both cases brings death?"
"Death is merely the result," Carlisle said. "In the Greek story the apple came from the goddess of discord, Eris, and therefore it was named the Apple of Discord. It is the discord which causes the events that end in death." Eris, also known as Enyo, in Latin, the Etruscan goddess of war, Bellona, Carlisle's thoughts mused.
I looked at Carlisle and hissed sharply. Did he really just equate Bella with Discordia?
Carlisle at least looked abashed and glanced away. I'm sorry, Edward.
"Next piece," I announced, urging Bella further down the hall.
"Right," Carlisle said. "Bella, this one is by Jan Brueghel the Elder and is called Allegory of Hearing."
"Allegory of hearing," Bella repeated slowly. "What is an allegory of hearing?"
Carlisle motioned towards the picture. "Tell me what you see, Bella."
"Well, there are musical instruments, and a woman and child with, what is that? A deer of some kind?"
"It's a stag," I informed her.
"Right, and then, umm, a clock. And a globe."
"And how do those three things go together?" Carlisle asked.
Bella looked at the painting for a long moment. "I don't know. I mean, it's an allegory of hearing. And you can hear music, and the woman is playing an instrument of some kind, but I'm not really sure what the stag is doing, or the clock and globe."
"Edward, perhaps you can explain this one," Carlisle suggested.
I nodded and bent my head down to place my lips near Bella's ear. "This painting shows the relationship of sound between music, nature, and science."
"There's a relationship?" Bella asked doubtfully.
"Yes. Music is actually highly scientific. How a piano is laid out, for example, with the tonal qualities of each step and half-step, divided into octaves, forms a series of ratios of sound frequencies. When some of these sound frequencies are played together, such as a perfect fifth, they produce consonance, a sound we find pleasing to hear. Other frequencies when they are played together create dissonance, which is quite unpleasing. Interestingly, in a perfect fifth chord the ratio is a perfect three to two, meaning that the upper note makes three vibrations in the time it takes the lower note to make two vibrations."
"So what you're saying is that music expresses the mathematics of the vibration of sound?" Bella asked, looking at the painting with a frown.
"Yes. See on the left you have instruments and the way music is expressed on paper in musical notation. Then on the right you have the representations of science, the sphere of the globe and the tempo of time broken down into its own ratios and meter in the clock. And between them is nature, represented in the stag, and the Muse of music, represented in the woman."
"And the stag represents the creation of music, the vibrations? And the Muse brings the vibrations together into consonance?" Bella queried.
"Exactly, Bella," Carlisle affirmed. "But there's more to it as well. Do you see the pictures on the walls in this painting?"
Bella stepped closer to the painting. "Yes, but I don't understand what they are supposed to show."
"On the left the picture on the bottom is the Annunciation, when the angel Gabriel told Mary she would give birth to Jesus. Above it is depicted the story of the angels announcing the birth of Jesus to the shepherds in the fields. On the right is a picture of Orpheus taming the wild animals with music. According to the myth, when he played his lyre the animals would become docile and even the water in the streams would stop to listen. Can you think of how these pictures relate to what is going on in this painting?"
I could see Bella pause to think deeply as she shifted her weight on her feet. This was a rather busy piece and dealt with subjects Bella was not particularly familiar with. "If you don't understand at first, that's okay," I reassured her, squeezing her hand gently.
Bella looked at me, and then back at the painting. "Does it have to do with harmony?" she asked tentatively.
"It does," Carlisle confirmed. "On the left you have harmony with the divine and on the right you have harmony with nature."
"And the two come together in the world, which you can see through the windows between them?" Bella asked.
"That's a very good interpretation," Carlisle said with a smile. Perhaps it is too bad you can't read her mind, Edward. I think it would be fascinating.
I sighed my agreement as I put my arm around Bella's waist, pulling her to me.
"Next one, Bella?" Esme asked eagerly.
"Sure," Bella agreed, turning to walk down the hall some more.
"Wait, what do you think of this one?" Carlisle asked, pointing at the ceiling.
Bella looked up at the fresco on the ceiling. "It's...different," Bella said with a grimace.
"You don't like it?" I asked her.
"It's so...ethereal. I mean, the other three paintings expressed ideas, but they used things in this world to show it. This though," Bella motioned to the painting above us, "is just...fantasy."
"The other three were Northern European Baroque," Esme explained. "This is a later Italian Rococo where they depicted mythology using fantastical elements and romanticized settings."
"Yeah, people sitting on clouds is pretty unbelievable," Bella said disparagingly.
"This was painted to be on the ceiling," I reminded her. "The sky and clouds create the illusion of opening up the ceiling to the outside."
"That I can understand. The people though..." Bella insisted.
"They're not actually people," Carlisle explained. "Like the previous piece this one is an allegory. Its name is the Triumph of Valor over Time and it shows how the fame of valor outlasts time."
"Really?" Bella asked.
Carlisle smiled. "Well, that's the idea. The old man with the lion represents Valor. The winged woman above him is Victory, crowning Valor with the laurel wreath of victory. There under the feet of Valor is Time, his scythe has fallen down in defeat. And then there, on the edge, is Ignorance, averting his eyes from Valor's triumph."
Bella shifted her head from side to side as she looked at the ceiling, examining the fresco intently. She then shook her head and looked at Carlisle. "But what does it mean?"
Carlisle glanced at Bella and then looked back up at the ceiling. I looked at him curiously. His thoughts indicated that he understood this piece in a way far differently than the obvious and he was uncertain how to express that to Bella.
Esme saw his hesitation and jumped in. "According to the Italian family which commissioned this piece they wanted to show that the fame of the family's achievements, both military and economic, would withstand the passage of time."
Bella frowned. "What family was that?"
"The Porto family," Esme answered.
Bella shook her head. "I've never heard of them."
Esme cocked her head to the side. "No, I suppose not," she murmured. "Maybe Time's scythe is raised up again where you're concerned."
Bella nodded and looked back up at the fresco again. "Maybe, though," she said with a sigh, "the meaning is more abstract." Bella looked at Esme. "What did this Porto family do?"
"The family was one of the rulers of the city of Vicenza, which was a part of the Venetian empire, for centuries. They conducted military campaigns against both the Germans and the Turks. By the time they commissioned this fresco they were patrons of the arts, and hired some of the finest artists and architects in Italy. One member of the family was a novelist, and wrote the original Italian version of the story of Romeo and Juliet."
"I've heard of that," Bella said with a nod. "But I don't think those achievements, no matter how famous they may have been at the time, show the triumph of valor."
"What do you mean, Bella?" I asked.
Bella took a deep breath and looked at the fresco on the ceiling. "I think valor triumphs over time when it does something which causes the future to change out of its ordinary course. It doesn't need to be something big or amazing. Even little things like helping others causes valor to be more powerful than the mere passing of time."
Carlisle turned and looked at Bella. "According to Roman philosophy," he said slowly, "the world works in a series of scientific principles. However, some events seem to fall outside science. They are sudden and random and capricious, and nearly always destructive. These events are called the Fortunes. The goal of man, then, is to live a life of reason and wisdom, not allowing the randomness of the Fortunes to determine his destiny. Taming the Fortunes can only be achieved by Valor, the strength of the will."
I shook my head. "And yet Dante said that Fortune is the handmaid of God, dispensing the events the divine has decided in his master plan."
Carlisle looked at me and frowned. "But mere events do not decide a person's destiny, or defy basic personal reason."
I opened my mouth to give a retort but quickly closed it again. Debating Humanism with Carlisle was not my favorite activity and I hardly wanted to do it here in the art museum when I would rather concentrate on Bella. "I'm sure that's so, Carlisle," I said with a sigh.
Bella looked between Carlisle and I. "So was I wrong?"
Carlisle smiled at Bella. "No, Bella, I think you were quite right."
Bella looked at me in disbelief. "Really?"
"Yes, Bella," I said, giving her waist a soft squeeze.
"Oh, okay," Bella said, ducking her head into my shoulder.
Careful, Edward, she may give Machiavelli a run for his money one day, Carlisle's thoughts told me, chuckling in amusement at Bella's embarrassment.
"Are you done here with the Baroque art, Bella?" Esme asked her.
"I think so," Bella said with a nod.
"Let's go this way," Esme suggested.
I held Bella's hand happily as we browsed the Asian and Mediterranean art. Esme thankfully kept her explanations of the art simple and brief. But I was forced to remember her friendship with the interfering Quileutes when we came to the Native and Mesoamerican section and a display of Kwakwaka'wakw art.
"In the myth stories in our culture we believe that the animals and the birds can take off their cloaks and transform into human beings," Bella read from the plaque next to the display case of the Thunderbird dancing regalia. Bella's eyebrows pulled together. "Yes, but the dances show the place where the supernatural and human realms come together."
Bella looked at me and smirked. "Kind of like now."
I smiled at her. "Yes, I suppose a lot like now."
"Did you know that according to legend there was a group of Thunderbirds living in human form on Vancouver Island?" Bella asked.
"Yes, Bella. The lesson of the story is to never make a Thunderbird angry."
I wonder though, Carlisle thought, if maybe just as the Quileute's transformed into wolves other tribes had the genetic anomaly to turn into birds. It would explain the Sioux stories of the Thunderbird exterminating the Unktehila.
I gave him an exasperated glare. Just because he was the only undead medical doctor in the world didn't mean he also had to be a naturalist for the supernatural.
It's just a theory, Edward.
I rolled my eyes. I would have to remember to keep my eyes open for massive vampire-killing birds the next time we went to the Northern Plain states.
Bella looked back at the Thunderbird and smiled. "It reminds me of a story Billy told me when I was a little girl," she murmured.
"Billy Black told you tribal stories?" Carlisle asked. Interesting, she may have more of a connection to the tribe than I thought. Perhaps it was inevitable that she learned our story from the young Black if the Chief considers her family.
I suppressed a growl. Whether Bella was an unofficial honorary member of Billy Black's family or not, the Quileute boy still breached the treaty.
"Yeah, I got bored when he and Charlie went fishing when I came up for my summer visits, so he would tell stories to Rachel and Rebecca and me. He told us one about a she-bear who took a human form and married a man."
I stiffened as I recalled the details of the Nez Perce legend. "Bella, why would you remember that story?"
"I don't know," Bella said, blushing. "I guess I thought it was romantic that the beautiful bear-girl took the man to live in her den."
I spun Bella around so I could look at her directly. "You thought that was romantic?"
Bella looked down and shrugged.
I sighed. Bella had confounded me again. "But in that story the she-bear gets killed by hunters and the man runs off with French explorers. What happened to Cinderella and Snow White and happily ever after?"
Bella crossed her arms and looked at me defiantly. "You know, in the original Little Mermaid the mermaid doesn't get to marry the Prince and she dies. Telling children nothing but happily ever after stories skews their perception of the world."
Carlisle and Esme were trying very hard to contain their laughter as I struggled to respond to Bella. "So you prefer Andersen's tragic tale over Disney's happy trite?" I asked.
Bella simply nodded.
"I also prefer the original telling of the Little Mermaid, Bella," Carlisle said. "I actually find the ending quite inspiring."
I sighed. Of course Carlisle would think that. "But fairy tales are just that, fairy tales," I insisted, looking at both Bella and Carlisle.
Carlisle sighed. Some myths are true, Edward.
I gave him a hard look. Was he really going to use Bella's words against me?
"Would you like to go eat lunch?" I asked Bella, eager to end this conversation on mythical creatures.
"Sure, but," Bella looked at Carlisle and Esme, "not everyone needs to come with me. Really."
"We'll just head up to the decorative arts section," Esme told her.
"When you're done you can find us in the gift shop and then we can head back to Forks," Carlisle said to me as he took Esme hand and walked away.
"Lovely, some time for just the two of us," I said with a sigh of relief, putting my arm around Bella's waist and leading her to the museum's café.
"What would you like to eat, Bella?" I asked as we sat at a table.
"Wow, this is their lunch menu?"
"Yes, and this restaurant is supposed to be very good, so just pick something."
Bella paused. "I'll just have the grilled cheese and tomato soup."
I looked at the menu again. "It's actually a griddled cheese sandwich and roasted tomato soup," I corrected.
"Is there a difference?"
"Are you asking me?"
Bella rolled her eyes. "There's no difference."
I was very confused. "I'll go put in your order then," I said, getting up to place her order at the counter.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Bella?" I asked when I came back with our order number and a coke for Bella and a glass of water as a prop for me.
"Yes. It's so interesting to explore the art with you and Carlisle and Esme. Charlie wouldn't know what to do here. And Renee, well, Renee would be just impossible."
"Impossible? How?"
Bella shook her head. "From her giggling over the nudes to her crazy speculations about what's happening on Greek pottery, going to an art museum with Renee is really just embarrassing."
I sat back in the chair and wondered again how it was that someone raised by a person such as Renee could have turned out to be so mature.
"But talking about Baroque art with Carlisle was fascinating," Bella continued. "There's nothing quite like learning about something from people who grew up with it."
"Very true. You even taught Carlisle a few things about Modern art."
"Really?" Bella asked.
I frowned. Hadn't Carlisle explained this to her? "Bella, you may bury your nose into English Romanticism on a regular basis, but you are the one who grew up in the society which produced Modern art."
Bella fiddled with the straw in her coke. "Yeah, but Carlisle is so smart. It's hard to think about me teaching him anything."
"It's not about knowledge, Bella," I explained. "It's more about the formation of your psyche. Carlisle can intellectually understand Modern art, but only your mind understands it on a more emotional and expressive level because the world which created your psyche is the same world that produced the art."
"So I can never understand Baroque art the way Carlisle does?"
"No, not really, but neither can I," I said with a shrug. "But you did interpret them very well. Carlisle was quite impressed."
"He was?"
I smiled at her shocked expression. "Don't tell me you're intimidated by Carlisle?"
Bella flushed and looked down. "Carlisle is...I mean sometimes he's like a regular doctor. But he's so much more than that, and he knows so much, that..." Bella trailed off.
I reached across the table to take her hand. "Bella, Carlisle knows that you are seventeen, he doesn't expect you to know everything. But a mind is a mind, and you use your mind, and Carlisle appreciates that."
"Oh. Okay," Bella said, squeezing my hand.
"I appreciate it as well," I said with a smile, "even though your mind insists on keeping me out."
"Sorry," Bella laughed.
I straightened up as the server brought the food to our table. "Griddled cheese sandwich and roasted tomato soup?" Bella raised her hand. "And the chardonnay chicken salad for you, sir," she said, putting the plate in front of me.
"Chicken salad?" Bella asked as the server walked away.
"It's for you. You should eat more. We have a long drive ahead of us still today."
"I had a big breakfast."
"I know, but still." I had ordered room service for Bella that morning, guessing she would not want to brave something called the Tea Room. I thought eggs and oatmeal was simple enough, but Bella didn't seem to agree.
Bella reluctantly pulled the salad over to her, taking a bite. "Edward, when you hunt do you ever, I mean, does it ever bother you? The killing of the animals, I mean."
I frowned. "Bella, it's better than the alternative."
Bella shook her head. "I'm not talking about that."
"Then what are you talking about?"
"That exhibit with the tiger, I saw the way you admired it, its strength and power. Do you ever regret killing something that magnificent?"
"Bella, the world works in a series of predator and prey relationships. Humans fall into that scheme as well, though humans posses the intelligence to advance their standing in it by use of technology. I do recognize the beauty in my prey, but prey is what they are, and given my natural hunting instincts killing them gives me a sense of victory, not regret."
"I understand that, but do you ever wish for the perfect harmony? The place where nature comes together to make beauty instead of destruction?"
"Paradise, you mean?"
"I suppose."
"Yes, I wish for Paradise." How I wished to enter that prelapsarian state with Bella. The place where animals did not fear me, where I was not constantly tempted to taste Bella's blood, the place where she would live forever by my side. I did not dare to hope that one day I might find that place. Bella, however, belonged there with Charlie and Renee and her grandmother. Perhaps my parents would keep her company there as well. I was certain Bella and my mother would get along wonderfully.
Bella speared a piece of chicken with her fork and put it in her mouth. "See, right now I'm the predator of chicken, but I don't feel anything, it's just food. Is that the way you feel when you hunt?"
"Yes." It was also the way all vampires except my family and the Denali's felt when they hunted humans, but there was little reason to bring that up now.
"But I've never killed a chicken. I've never even seen a chicken be killed. I'm not really a predator, I'm more like a scavenger. If I had to actually kill this chicken," she took another bite, "I might feel differently."
"Bella, if you had lived in Forks six or more decades ago you probably would have been killing a chicken at least once a week in order to cook for your father."
Bella grimaced in disgust. "Oh. I wonder how I could do that."
I shrugged. "You would have gotten used to it. Just like I am used to killing animals."
"Do you think so?" Bella asked.
I tried to picture Bella with a hatchet chopping off the head of a chicken on a stump behind her father's house and winced. "Bella, sometimes the necessary things in life don't come in neat packages. We all do what we have to do to survive."
"I know," Bella agreed, "but it still seems sad somehow."
I sighed. Bella was so emphatic, I didn't know why she was so accepting of me. "Carlisle has always insisted that when we hunt we do it as humanely as possible. There is no need to sadistically cause our prey any pain. Emmett likes to play with his food, especially bears, but it's just another form of wrestling for him. Once we start to feed though," I paused to gauge Bella's expression, she looked openly curious, "we make sure they die quickly and painlessly."
Bella nodded. "Do you like chicken?"
"What?"
"Do you like chicken?" Bella asked again, waving her fork.
I grimaced as I looked at the piece of dead flesh on her fork. "No."
"I mean fresh chicken, of course," Bella said in an exasperated tone.
Ah. "I don't think I've ever had chicken. Most barnyard animals smell pretty terrible actually."
Bella smirked. "Too much like food?"
"Maybe that's it. You humans chose to domesticate some of the blandest smelling animals on the planet."
Bella took another bite. "Chicken is pretty bland, I suppose."
"And not at all beautiful," I added.
"Roosters are pretty though," Bella countered.
"To some people I suppose," I said with a shrug.
Bella frowned. "But their feathers have such an interesting array of colors."
"It's all for show," I insisted. "Underneath the allure they're just–"
"Peckish?" Bella asked with a smile.
I laughed. "Yes, peckish, that's a very apt description."
"Edward," Bella said hesitantly, fiddling with her soup, "when you-." She paused and looked around the table quickly and then started again, dropping her voice to barely above a whisper. "When you left, when you left Carlisle, did you-" she took a breath and looked at me before looking down again. "I mean, you used your gift to find, um, victims, right? But that also meant that you had to listen to their dying thoughts, didn't it?"
I fell still. Why did Bella have to ask me the very question which dredged up my very worst memories?
"Edward?" Bella whispered.
"Yes, Bella, yes I did." I said as emotionlessly as I could manage. One of the perks of hunting animals was being free from those thoughts. Jasper and I at least shared an affinity in that regard.
"Oh," Bella said as she swirled her sandwich in her soup. "Because when James bit me and I was sure I was about to die I didn't have anything like my life flashing before my eyes or a spiritual experience. I just felt the inevitability of death and regretted that James was using me to hurt you."
I looked down at the table and gritted my teeth. Of course Bella would be unselfish and worry only about my unhappiness with her dying thoughts, even while it was my fault she was about to die. "Bella--" I started to say, shaking my head.
"Edward," Bella cut in, "sometimes it seems like people, humans I mean, live life thinking that they are never going to die. But I've never thought that way. I mean, I never thought much about how I would die. At least, I didn't think it would be because of a vampire in my old ballet studio. But I've always understood that death is inevitable. Is that normal for someone who isn't just seconds from death?"
I squeezed my eyes shut. Why did Bella have to be so abnormal? "No, it's not normal, especially for a teenager."
Bella nodded and chewed her sandwich for a long minute. I wished once again that I could read her mind, her silence at times like these always made me nervous.
"I belong with you, Edward," Bella finally said softly.
I closed my eyes and groaned. Of course this had to be the direction of Bella's thoughts. "Bella, you are with me," I tried to assure her.
"You know what I mean, Edward," Bella insisted.
"Yes, I know," I said flatly.
Bella flinched at my words and looked down at her soup again, swallowing hard. I had hurt her.
"Bella," I said softly, reaching across the table to take her hand, "you are with me, I promise."
Bella blinked quickly and nodded.
I sighed. Bella would let the matter drop, but I could tell we were still firmly at an impasse.
"Finish eating," I encouraged, "and we'll head back to Forks." I gave her a mischievous smile. "Having Carlisle drive has its perks."
Bella gave a small smile. "Yeah, I might have to stretch my leg out again on the way home."
I shook my head. "Bella, after what Carlisle and Esme saw at the Symphony I hardly think they're going to shocked that we want to hold each other."
Bella's eyes brightened. "You want to cuddle too?"
"Of course I do, Bella. So hurry up and eat."
Bella eagerly began eating her sandwich and I laughed. She seemed to be as eager for the drive back to Forks as I was.
A/N: The Seattle Art Museum owns five of the art pieces mentioned in this chapter. Cai Guo-Qiang's Inopportune: Stage One and Inopportune: Stage Two. Lucas Cranach the Elder's The Judgment of Paris (1516-1518), Giovanni Battista Tiepolo's The Triumph of Valor over Time, and Calvin Hunt's (Tlasutiwalis) Thunderbird mask and regalia.
Lucas Cranach the Elder's Adam and Eve and Jan Brueghel the Elder's Allegory of Hearing are not in Seattle. Pretend they're "on loan."
Many thanks to 22blue and ms_ambrosia over on the Twilighted forum who helped me identify the Jan Brueghel painting.
You can find links to all the art on my profile page.
The Nez Perce story is called "The Man Who Married a Bear." In it a Grizzly-Bear girl meets a man called Five-Time-Surrounded-in-War while he is fishing for salmon. She is curious about him so she dresses up as a beautiful human girl and the man falls in love with her. He doesn't know she is a bear until she takes him to live in her den. Winter comes and one night the girl has a dream and blood comes out of her mouth. She tells the man that hunters from the man's village are coming to kill her, but she will kill one of the hunters instead. The next day that is what happens. But the next night the girl has another dream and blood comes out of her mouth. The girl tells the man that this time the blood is hers. There are more hunters coming, and this time they will kill her. The next day that is what happens. The girl is killed and the man goes back to his village and eventually he leaves with some French explorers, never to be heard from again.
While I'm at it, I should give a shout out to Minisinoo who gave me some pointers for the Native American elements in this chapter. A while ago something I read something by her which forced me to contemplate the exact nature of Bella's role with the Quileute tribe. I was thrilled to include some Native American elements in this chapter. For the record, at this point Edward doesn't like Billy Black because he sent Jacob to interfere with his relationship with Bella, and Billy Black doesn't like Edward because of his relationship with Bella. The antagonism is understandable on both sides, so I don't want anyone hating on one or the other. I highly recommend Minisinoo's fic Cowboys & Indians to anyone wanting to explore more about the relationship between our favorite vampires and the Quileutes. In it Edward helps Seth Clearwater put on his own dancing regalia, which is something which can't be missed. Read it at wwwDOTthemedicinewheelDOTnet/twilight/cowboys1DOThtml .
