Chapter 7: Kin
"Jacob," Bella murmurs suddenly, pleadingly. "No, Jake, don't go."
I freeze. The fury that overwhelms me makes it impossible to think. The only thing I know is that I can't move lest I hurt her.
"Edward," she murmurs, and her voice calls me back to reason. I don't know how long it has been since she spoke his name, but the joyful tone in which she utters mine, so distinctly different from her previous mournful entreaty, helps me work through the devastating jealousy.
And then I have to face the truth all over again. I drove her into his arms. It is my fault that she had to rely on him for more than protection from Victoria. But how much more than friendship is it for her? Despite her disavowal of deeper feelings, does she actually love him?
"Now you know how much I love you," she murmurs, as though rejecting my concerns about her feelings for Jacob. "I can't exist without you."
"I'm yours, too, my love," I reply. My voice is strained; I hope that detail doesn't worm its way into her subconscious and affect her dreams.
And then I take a deep breath and wade into the raft of memories I witnessed today, piecing together the months of Bella's life that I've missed.
As bad as Sam's memory of Bella's catatonic state is, the worst is one of Jacob's—of Bella begging him not to break up with her, offering him a proper relationship and a chance that she might one day change, because she can't bear to lose him, too.
The pain in her eyes, in her voice—it was nothing to the pain I had caused her, but it was also different. When I left, she withdrew into herself; when he turned his back on her, she was deeply hurt, but she was angry, too. Was it because her 'distraction' had been taken away? Was that the only reason she was prepared to offer herself to him? But I can't think like that. It is less of a torment to believe she might love him too than to think she might only have entered into a relationship with him to escape the constant pain of my betrayal. (Would Juliet have risked death if Paris had not been a stranger but a beloved friend?)
I have seen the others' memories of her pain, but will I ever know how deeply I hurt her? After all, she has proven time and again that her thoughts are not what I expect. I don't deserve such a warm welcome—and then I remember her doubt and my unfair reaction to it. I absolutely earned her distrust. It was wrong of me to blame her for believing my lies and distrusting the truth.
Evidently, I am an even baser creature than I think I am. I have deceived myself even as I act the part of a noble man and mislead everyone else. But Bella isn't the only one who thinks I am better than I am. Carlisle, whose judgment I rely on in every other matter, is equally convinced.
So it seems there is only one thing I can do: learn to be better—to live up to their high opinion of me. There is no alternative; as long as Bella is certain of her course, as long as she wants me, I must be the best I can be. And I can't let my well-deserved self-loathing or my self-inflicted jealousy cripple me—my negativity only adds to Bella's burden.
"I love you, Bella," I whisper to her, over and over, until my voice sounds normal again, and then I keep saying it, willing it to be enough.
When she awakes, it is hard not to ask about her dreams, and I wonder if she notices that I don't ask how she slept. But she seems so rapt that I'm still here that I'm inclined to think she is too preoccupied to notice (despite her usual astuteness).
Her joy pleases me as much as it tears at my conscience. I wounded her so deeply, yet she has welcomed me back into her life without reproof. My one consolation is that she understands the reason I left, and I hope that she forgives my failures because she understands the worth of her soul, not simply because she has no other choice—because she loves me too much not to forgive me. Because that is the only reason I think I will be able to forgive myself (because I love her too much not to).
She waits until Charlie leaves the house before going downstairs to get breakfast, so I don't bother putting my shirt back on. I scrounge through the cupboards, eager to serve her, and for once, she lets me without complaint.
"The kitchen looks neglected," I remark, though I'm not sure I want to hear the explanation.
"Charlie and I have been eating in La Push most nights," she replies, confirming my apprehension.
She looks guilty, so I stroke her face with my hand. "As dangerous as the wolves are—" I ignore the eye roll she gives me; I know she doesn't think they're dangerous—"I'm glad you had somewhere to go."
She nods, but her thoughts are elsewhere. Probably on Jacob. I manage to hold my hand steady as I pour milk into a bowl of cereal, but I tilt the cartoon a little too much and milk splashes out of the bowl.
Bella laughs at my uncharacteristic clumsiness and jumps up to grab a cloth—but I get there first. "Sit," I insist, turning her gently back to face the table.
While she returns to her seat, I get a spoon from the drawer, then place the bowl and spoon in front of her. I put away the milk and wipe up the mess before she even picks up the spoon.
She grins at me, and then starts to eat. I watch her closely; I have missed everything she does, even this, which seems as bizarre to me now as it did the first time I watched her eat cereal. I almost expect her to comment on my rapt attention, but she doesn't. She watches me in return.
When she is finished, I check that she's had enough, then take the bowl before she can get up. I wash and dry it and place it back in the cupboard, completing the task in a comfortable eight seconds.
"Very good," she teases, praising me, so I bow and ask her for my next task.
She considers for a moment, then holds out her arms. "Carry me upstairs, please."
I obey at once, indulging myself by kissing her as I walk. Once upon a time, she would have insisted I watch my step, but she doesn't say a thing; in fact, her passionate response almost catches me off guard.
After transporting her safely to her room, I sit cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, while she changes out of her sleepwear.
When I open my eyes, she is wearing a white blouse and a sky-blue skirt. "Beautiful," I murmur.
She gives me a little smile and her cheeks flush with color; then she pulls on her shoes and retrieves her car key from the desktop, where I left it yesterday.
"Do you think they'll be home yet?" she asks.
"Undoubtedly," I reply. Then I rethink my sureness. "Well, Alice will be, at least."
That makes her smile. She turns and skips out of the room; I pull on my shirt (without buttoning it) and then follow, catching her as she reaches the top of the stairs. She pouts at the shirt, but then slides her fingers between the two sides to stroke my chest.
This seems like a good time to officially check her hand, so I make the request. She is her usual dismissive self, but when I take a look, it does seem a lot better than I'd expected—her skin has already knitted over all but the largest punctures and the remaining scabs are surprisingly small (so even Jasper will be able to cope with it). Knowing she would rather not have a proper bandage, but preferring not to leave it fully exposed, I offer an alternative covering—a clean handkerchief.
Bella is surprisingly agreeable, so I retrieve one from her drawer and wrap it twice around her hand. She smiles and compliments me on my "nifty" folding, then heads downstairs to the truck, her steps quickening. I feel my own excitement building, though it is tinged with nerves—I have not seen my family for 122 days.
We are both quiet while Bella sets out along the familiar route.
"Carlisle agrees with me," she says, out of the blue.
"About what?" I ask warily.
"About your soul."
I sigh. "When did you two talk about that?"
"He must've been careful with his thoughts," she muses.
"You haven't answered my question."
"My birthday," she says with a sigh, "when he was stitching my arm."
I sigh, too. "I'm sorry," I say again.
She glances at me, then back at the road. "How long since you saw them?"
"One hundred and twenty-two days," I admit.
Her eyes widen, then she shakes her head. "Poor Esme."
I can't disagree. I am torn between pure delight at our impending reunion and pure guilt at having caused her worry and heartache for a purpose that has ultimately failed—and one that she never believed in in the first place.
And then I start hearing my family's thoughts. Esme's excitement pierces my heart with remorse—but I can't help feeling her excitement, too. I missed them all so much… I even feel a swell of fondness for the familiar refrain of Rosalie's self-centered, bitter-tinged thoughts (until I listen to what she is actually thinking).
Alice is waiting outside the house, bouncing up and down on her toes, impatient for us to arrive. She knows I can hear her thoughts already, so she is trying to moderate them; however, we both agree I don't deserve such considerateness, which makes her feel less mean whenever she slips and thinks about how much she wants to scream and throw things at me.
As is Alice's intent, Bella sees her the moment the truck comes around the final bend. She makes a noise I've never heard her make before—a squeal of delight. "Alice!"
Alice takes that as permission to engage, so she races to the truck. I crank the window open partway and she leaps through the gap and sits on my lap, as though I am just a part of the seat—and she is trying hard to pretend I'm not here. "Bella!"
Bella isn't the least bit thrown by Alice's sudden appearance in the truck. She laughs. "I've really missed you!"
"Me, too!" Alice cries, literally bouncing with joy.
Esme runs outside and waits for Bella to pull up. Unlike Alice, who has decided to punish me (for the moment) by ignoring me rather than scream at me in front of Bella, she is as excited to see me as she is Bella. But she stands by the driver's door, because she wants to hug Bella first—to make up for not saying goodbye. The guilt Esme personally feels at abandoning Bella makes me feel absolutely wretched.
The others make their appearance as Bella switches off the truck; Carlisle and Emmett had been delayed by their efforts to convince Rosalie to be nice—to both Bella and me—and Jasper is hanging back because Alice warned him about Bella's wound.
Bella all but falls into Esme's arms as she climbs out. The happiness in both of their faces is as wonderful as it is gut-wrenching. Then Esme steps back to let Carlisle welcome Bella while she turns her attention to me. For her sake, I do my best to hide my guilt and share her joy at having me back. She hugs me tightly, focusing her thoughts on her happiness at having her beloved son and daughter back in her life. Then she teases me with her amusement that she has even missed occasionally worrying about her thoughts and the effect they might have on me.
Meanwhile, Carlisle only gets half a hug with Bella before Alice is worming her way in. Bella and he both laugh and let her into their embrace. Esme lets me go, and Emmett gives me a deliberately hard punch on the arm, before taking his turn with Bella.
He whips her away from Alice and spins her around. He moves a little too quickly, so Bella is giddy when he sets her down, but he knows to keep a good hold on her. She gives him an extra smile, and I wonder if she is thinking about Rosalie's selfish resentment of this life, or anticipating her own enthusiasm for life as a vegetarian vampire.
Carlisle turns to me then, and pulls me into his arms. I feel so many emotions, it is hard to focus on my own thoughts let alone everyone else's.
"I'm so sorry," I murmur.
"Hush," he says, his thoughts full of the deepest love.
"I love you," I reply, and I am glad that he feels my answering love for him.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, and then leads me inside. Bella, Alice, and Esme follow behind, arm in arm, and then Emmett drags Rosalie in behind him. Jasper hasn't breathed since Bella arrived, and he continues to hold his breath as he is the last to step inside. He shuts the door and then allows himself a moment to enjoy Bella's intense happiness while he's still gripping the door handle. I let myself enjoy it, too, just for a moment, and he gives me a quick smile when he feels my own mood soar.
While Esme tells Bella how she and Carlisle spent the past few months, I listen to the fuller tale in their thoughts. Carlisle has been working nights in Ithaca and teaching part time at Cornell, while Esme restored a seventeenth-century house in the forest north of the city. Carlisle enjoyed the academic discussions and Esme loved the house, but beneath their memories of meeting new and interesting people and exploring new locales, it's clear they had both been ready to drop everything at a moment's notice and return to Forks.
Then Emmett updates her on his and Rose's latest honeymoon (in Africa, to appease her as much as possible). Rosalie hangs back from both of us, irritated that I'm getting such a warm reception after the havoc I've wreaked on her world. The fact that I am about to fail—that the future Alice has long seen for Bella is about to befall her and the "stupid girl" will get the life she shouldn't want—so my efforts and all their concessions have been for nothing, makes her especially angry. Though she deserves to be angry with me, her anger at Bella makes the apology stick in my throat.
Alice keeps her news short—verbally and mentally—so I don't learn any more than Bella does: she has been looking into her past. Jasper is the only one who knows more detail than that, which is surprising and unnerving, but I try not to dwell on it; I trust his serenity as he deliberately fills his thoughts with a selection of the latest philosophical teachings he's been debating in his classes at Cornell.
When the conversation seems to be heading towards the question of how Bella spent these past months, she stops it with the news that she has something she needs to say; then she makes a face and Jasper feels a burst of nervous energy scatter a little of the happiness.
"Edward has agreed to make me a proper member of this family," she says, "and I hope you'll have me."
"Hell, yeah!" Emmett agrees, with his usual enthusiasm; in his thoughts, he teases me for my illogical—in his opinion—determination not to change her. Bella wants it, I want it, everyone wants it, and yet I still fight it.
Esme enfolds Bella in her arms. "You already are a proper member of this family."
"But Jasper will enjoy not having to fight the urge to kill you," Alice jokes; Jasper gives Bella a rueful smile, but keeps his mouth shut.
Bella smiles at them, and then at Carlisle, whose affectionate expression is evidence enough that he agrees with Esme. Only Rosalie looks sour, but her objection is not primarily for Bella's sake—it is her own vanity and, again, her frustration at being forced out of Forks.
Before she can express her petty objections, I explain that Bella isn't presenting this intention with any urgency. "We're going to go to college first."
This puts Rosalie's mind sufficiently at ease (for now), though her disgust at Bella's rejection of her humanity remains, and that is something I can't disparage.
"Who cares about college," Emmett says. "I wanna hear about last night." I can't believe you went up against Victoria and didn't tell us!
I sigh. "I'm sorry, Emmett. I would've included you if the wolves could've handled it."
"Less apologizing, more reporting."
I nod, then begin my tale. For his sake, I describe the hunt in reasonable detail—he thinks I'm toning down the violence, so I try to convince him that it really was that easy. I do my best to explain the pack's curious telepathy, because it is integral to the story and fascinating. Alice is sour about it, though, so I don't mention that it is especially interesting for me to hear telepaths for the first time.
When I get to the news that I now have permission to come and go as I please, Bella purses her lips. I'm confused for a moment—until her eyes stray toward my arm.
"Bella, I don't—"
"They'll see them anyway, won't they?" she asks innocently.
I sigh. "The fight against Victoria went smoothly," I tell my curious family, "but there was a small incident in the morning." Before Emmett can rip the shirt off my body, I shrug off the left sleeve. "One of the wolves tore off my arm," I explain, holding out my left arm so they can see the scars on either side of my elbow.
Esme gasps, and they all crowd around me, studying the scars with much interest—except Jasper, of course, who maintains the distance between himself and Bella.
Carlisle uses the pattern of scarring to visualize the process of reattachment; Alice thinks I deserved it (and she's peeved she didn't get to witness it); Rosalie is amused that I am no longer 'perfect'; and Emmett is actually jealous—he likes the teeth marks.
"Badass," he says approvingly.
I can't help but chuckle.
Now that the catching up is out of the way, Rosalie leaves; Emmett goes with her, knowing he will pay for it for months if he stays. Esme and Carlisle stay a little longer, but they are both aware of the need for me to rebuild my relationship with Alice, and of Bella's friendship with her, so they eventually go upstairs to give us some space.
Without them, Alice's one-sided contributions to the conversation are harder to work around. Bella sees the tension between us and tries to break it, but Alice is even more pointed in her efforts to ignore me. To bypass Bella's hesitancy to tell her own story, Alice asks for specific details about her life while we've been away; the books she's had to read for school, those she's read for pleasure, the places she's visited—
I gasp when Alice sees Bella admit that her sudden taste for motorcycle riding had been to encourage hallucinations of me. I am torn between relief that Jacob wasn't her chosen distraction after all (whatever he may have become later) and horror that she was putting her life at risk to see me even when I wasn't there.
Bella looks at me, but Alice keeps her focus on Bella. She asks about Charlie, which is the only thing that could distract her, so I have to wait a little longer for Bella's explanation.
And then, to make me wait even longer, Alice suggests that I play for them. Esme hears her and immediately hopes that I will—she begs me not to feel pressured, but there's no way I can ignore the piano when I know how truly happy it will make them both.
Thanks to Jasper, I can feel exactly how much Bella enjoys my recital of Esme's favorite. Partway through, the music shifts a little, becoming a fresh take on the expression of love and family in the original version.
Jasper wants to touch Bella—to feel her happiness firsthand—but he is afraid to get too close, and I am too afraid of the same thing to want to reassure him. I will not risk Bella's safety, even to ease my brother's guilt.