a/n As proof that I do read your reviews (which I'm very bad at replying to and usually do only when something really strikes me), I'm really considering an outtake involving Edward, Bella, mistletoe, and a rogue Carlisle... The idea intrigues me. I may write it and put it out in a few months. Damn you, HesMines!
And now, I give you... Rosalie. Battered, angry, irrational, bitchy as hell. God, I love her!
Brotherly Love—Kentucky, 1934
For the past two hours, Rosalie had sat at the abandoned piano, trying in vain to pick out something that sounded like a real song. She'd mastered a few children's rhymes, but nothing good. She supposed she'd brought it on herself, but Edward really had crossed the line this time. He'd been out in the garage tinkering with the car and trying to avoid her for the past two hours, and she'd been periodically calling him all sorts of foul things in her head to keep him away from her while trying to not think of how much his words had hurt her.
Rosalie tossed her long blonde tresses behind her back and stalked back toward the rustic log cabin. This was not what she had had planned when Carlisle had asked if she would mind leaving Rochester. She'd thought maybe the city, or another small town in a different state. She had not planned for mountains, dirt, and a cabin that was old, even by Civil War standards. This was not where someone like her belonged. She belonged in a comfortable mansion like the one the Cullens had lived in back in Rochester. It was like she was being punished.
"You're not being punished," a voice said behind her, sounding annoyed. She turned to see Edward, his bronze hair windswept and his face pulled into a bit of a grimace. "I'm being punished."
"You're the one who decided it was necessary to throw half my clothes out in the rain."
"You started it." Edward pretended to toss his hair as if it were as long as hers and walked, perfectly imitating her gait and voice, back up to the house. "'I'm Rosalie Hale, and I think the entire western world should bow to me.'"
Why was there never anything in her hands to throw when she needed it?
"You were too busy worrying about your hair to think you'd need anything to throw at me." Edward smirked back at her.
"Stop reading my mind!" she barked, stomping after him. She felt a little satisfaction when she felt the vibrations of her steps under her feet. So much power...
"Stop following me." Edward let himself in the house, and she stared after him in annoyance as he slammed it behind him, despite her clear intention to enter after him.
The boy really could be a cad sometimes.
Rosalie let herself in and slid out of her shoes. She could hear the strains of a Chopin nocturne drifting in from the family room, and she felt a stab of jealousy once again that she quickly squashed. She didn't need to play piano. She had enough good looks to get her by.
The nocturne stopped and was replaced by a thunder of notes as Edward slammed his hands down.
"You're not that good looking, you know," he called, and she could hear the sneer in his voice.
"At least I'm better looking than you," she shouted back, her feet carrying her to the living room before she was really conscious of the action.
"At least I have more to go off of than looks," he shouted back, knocking over the piano bench as he jumped to his feet.
"At least people want me," she growled.
Edward laughed bitterly. "You haven't learned a thing," he said, glaring at her. "You think people want you? You're right, Rosalie. They do. They only want one thing. Nobody in their right mind would want you for you."
Rosalie's mouth dropped open. She couldn't even believe he'd said that out loud.
"Edward!"
Esme stood in the doorway, a trowel in her hand and a look on her face that almost made Rosalie shrink back. Edward certainly did. She seemed to tower over him as she stalked toward him, the little shovel held out in front of her like a weapon of punishment.
"I do not know what has gotten in to you, but this kind of behavior is unacceptable!" When Rosalie snickered, Esme rounded on her. "And you, young lady, need to learn an acceptable time to close your mouth! Neither of you is going to leave this house until one of you apologizes." Rosalie did not dare refuse.
It had been two very long hours. Only once had Rosalie tried to step out, but she had been scared back inside by a rare hiss from Esme. Now, she sat at Edward's piano, torn between trying to find a book to learn from and destroying the instrument completely.
She decided against the latter. It would just get her in more trouble.
After a few minutes of searching, Rosalie gave up trying to find a beginner's book. Edward had been playing piano since he was a little boy. He didn't have any need for learners' books.
A knock on the door frame interrupted Rosalie's search. She frowned at Edward as he walked into the room. His hands were stuck deep in his pockets, and he was staring at his shoes, scuffing the carpet with them, as if they were fascinating.
"I thought I'd come see if you wanted help," he muttered.
Shock coursed through her, but she frowned more deeply. "Why?"
"You get too frustrated too fast," he said, still not looking at her. "If I don't help you, you'll never learn."
She opened her mouth to argue with him out of habit, but then stopped. He was right, after all. Hadn't she just been thinking that this was pointless?
"Fine," she muttered, folding her arms and watching as Edward pulled his hands out of his pockets and moved to sit down. He glanced back at her and patted the bench next to him. Stiffly, Rosalie made her way over to sit down next to him, seating herself on the edge of the bench and crossing her ankles with her hands folded in her lap. Edward rolled his eyes and grabbed a hand, forcing it to curve a little.
"Here," he said, putting her hand on the keys. He adjusted her fingers until each one was on a separate key. Then he did the same thing with her left hand. "Now, do exactly as I do." He played a few notes, and she echoed them back slowly, her fingers feeling a bit clumsy. He did it again, and she played back. For the next hour, Edward would teach her something, then show her music.
"You see?" he'd say. "This is what you just played." He taught her the notes and after a while gave her new music she'd not yet played and told her to play it for sight. Not having read music since she was a little girl, it was slow going.
The sun was setting behind the clouds several hours later when Esme came back inside, and Rosalie glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. She was standing in the doorway, Carlisle's hand in hers, smiling across at the pair of them at the piano. Edward was teaching her a duet on piano, a little Mozart song, and when she finished, only making one mistake, Esme and Carlisle clapped.
Rosalie couldn't help the little smile that pulled at her lips. "Did you like it?"
Esme beamed. "It's lovely, Rosalie."
"Edward taught me," she said, nudging her brother with her shoulder.
Edward's eyebrows raised at something, and she stared at him confused. It took her a minute, but it finally clicked. So did everything else.
When she'd been human, Rosalie's way of showing love to her younger brothers had come in various forms. She could remember teaching George to tie his shoes, and picking on Andy on the way home from church, picking fights with him and calling him names. It had driven their parents crazy sometimes.
Now she was doing the same thing. Certainly, the fights she had with Edward were over quickly, never lasting more than a day or two, but she really did love him like she'd loved her human brothers.
She'd never had an older brother before, though. Never had she been taught anything by her brothers like Edward. She'd heard before from her friends that big brothers were supposed to be very annoying, but very fiercely protective. Her mind flashed back to a man in the market a few weeks ago that had been staring at her. Edward had glared at the man until he'd looked away. It had felt nice to have someone looking out for her, especially when Edward had muttered that he didn't like how he'd been thinking about Rosalie.
"I don't like it when they do that," he'd said. "You're too good for them, anyway." The tone of his voice had not in any way indicated that he felt anything like that toward her, so maybe this was what it had been over.
Now, Edward rolled his eyes at her and nudged back, nearly making her fall. He laughed. "Wouldn't want you to slip and ruin your hair, would we?"
Rosalie scowled. "You wouldn't dare."
He shrugged and stood up. She heard his feet pause, but before she could turn around, she felt his large hand on top of her head and she squealed indignantly as he mussed her blonde hair.
"You jerk!" she shouted.
He laughed. "Sorry."
"No, you're not."
Edward's eyes rolled. "Not about your hair so much, you're right." His hands went back in his pockets, and he looked down at his shoes again. He was quiet for a moment before he said, "I'm sorry I said nobody would like you for you. It was rude of me. And it's not true."
Rosalie laughed bitterly. "In case you haven't noticed, Edward, I'm a bit of an ice queen."
He shrugged. "Maybe. But you're also very intelligent and sometimes you can be interesting to talk to when you're not so focused on clothes and hair."
"Gosh, Edward," she said dryly, "that's so kind of you."
But it was. He didn't see her that way—he never had. He wasn't going to point out things that he found attractive about her, and he wasn't going to compliment her without a little insult tacked on at the end. It was the same way her brothers had been. Rosalie got to her feet, smiling at him timidly. He glanced up from under his lashes and smiled back.
"Sure you're pretty," he said, suddenly sly, "but I'm faster than you."
"Race you to the bridge and back?"
Edward laughed. "You're on."
As they raced out of the house, Rosalie heard Esme laughing behind them, and Carlisle's chuckle of delight. As she raced behind Edward, trying to think of a way to trip him up, she smiled. It was nice to have a real family again.
a/n Up next... The House Crusher.
