Bella opened the door and was shocked.
Grey houndstooth slacks, low heeled black shoes, red silk blouse with an open collar. Several strands of fine gold chain looped around a bare neck. Bella thought her hair was a touch darker than the last time they had been together, more of a chestnut than caramel. Some thin gold strands ran through her hair and highlighted the ends. Maybe it was the light overhead on the porch, but she looked radiant. She had what appeared to be a small package in her hand, something wrapped in aluminum foil. Charlie came up beside Bella, ready to snarl at Edward's arrival.
"You must be Charlie, Bella's father. I'm Esme."
It stopped Charlie in his tracks. You could practically hear the freight cars slamming into his locomotive from behind as he hit the brakes. He held out his hand, still dumbstruck.
"I was at Sendik's market and I remembered Bella liked these." She said, turning to Bella "Edward called me and told me you hurt yourself?"
"Oh, yeah, I hurt my hand." She looked at the ice pack. "We were going to see Carlisle." She looked resigned, "Either at home or at the hospital, he's going to see me sooner or later and probably often."
She looked up, "You think he'd be used to patching me up by now." Esme noticed Bella was shaky, she was hurt and it showed.
"Is that your hand? Let me see." She stepped into the front room. She turned her back to Charlie and took Bella's hand. "Let me see this."
Bella removed the ice bag. She closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled. Esme's cool touch felt wonderful.
"You've split two knuckles, honey," she said, concerned.
"Edward will be here in a moment and he'll get you taken care of." Charlie had the creeping impression that Esme was talking to him.
Jacob looked just as surprised as Bella at the woman who had just come in. Charlie, genuinely shocked, started to look around, out of his comfort zone.
"Here, where are my manners?" she looked around; "Let me take these to the kitchen."
She smiled at Jacob as she went by him. He was still lounging in the chair, one leg over the armrest.
She could hear Edwards car pull up, and his spirited dash to the front door.
He would keep them busy.
Esme looked around. The yellow cabinets, the well worn kitchen table with three chairs. Organized, clean, lived in, but worn. There were three barrels on the counter; one with wooden spoons, another with utensils, and the third with, what? A Shiny Toy Gun? A childhood toy perhaps? She fixed on some of Bella's schoolwork stuck on the sides of the refrigerator with flower shaped magnets. Colorful bits of construction paper cut into flowers, dogs, suns, a house and all the flashing delights that run through a child. There was a cutout hand print with a water colored label; Happy Father's Day – Bella age four. Hanging on the opposite wall, by a thin dry piece of string was a frame made of colored Popsicle sticks. Inside was a photo of a very small child in front of a birthday cake with three candles. A bright, smiling, harried woman next to her, smiled for the camera. The child had a hand painted sign she was holding over her head as high as her little arms could reach. It said - three is not one or two, she is three!
It hit Esme. It hit her hard. Bella had been a real child. A little girl. A precious little girl. A child. That one piece, that shining piece, that warm sun that is forever extinguished inside her, that numb clawing ache that will last absolutely forever… Esme put her hand to her mouth.
Now that child is the mahogany haired beauty that has captured her son. Yes, she concluded, she would even defy Carlisle then beg for his forgiveness. Bella was Edwards and Bella was hers.
She went to the front room and stuck her head around the corner. She smiled sweetly and looked at Jacob. "You look nice and tall, could you help me get a plate down from the cabinet?"
Bella turned, "Uh, they are in the-"
Edward tugged at her hand, and pulled her attention back to him.
Jacob bounded out of the chair, anxious to get out of the front room with Charlie and Edward.
"Sure."
She backed into the kitchen when Jacob sauntered in.
"Here try some of this first, tell me what you think. They are date and cinnamon."
Esme opened the bundle and as she jostled with unfolding the foil, a muffin slipped out and headed toward the floor. Jake instinctively bent down to catch it before it landed.
And immediately he knew he'd made a mistake. A flash of pale movement whispered in front of him and now his hands were bound. She had both of them locked in front of him, held firmly in place by her petite hands. She'd bumped him up against the refrigerator. The bottles inside clinked and some knick knacks on top toppled over with the force.
"Wha..?"
"Hello Jacob."
In just the next quick second, he learned that Laurent was a thug. They had toasted their success at Sam's with bowls of chips and bottles of soda. Sam and Emily toasted each other with cold beers from the refrigerator in the garage. Emily had smiled with them as they recounted the chase while she gently massaged Sam's shoulder. She knew he had been hurt but she would never shame him in front of the others by bringing it up. She wanted to touch him, to know he was home, to know he was safe where she could see him. To love him. They laughed the laugh of the invincible. But, here, now, Jacob knew it was a lie.
This was a Vampire. Serpentine and deadly in biblical proportions.
"With three phone calls I can have half the world's demons at your door. "
"This isn't really your business lady-"
"Did you hurt that child? Did you press yourself upon her?"
"No it wasn't like that."
"Then how was it?"
"I am not afraid of leeches and I -"
"I didn't ask you to be afraid, I asked you a question. Did you hurt that child?"
She was strong; Jacob exerted pressure to get her to release his hands. She clenched harder. He felt he could break free if he tried, but if he couldn't? She would know the limits of his strength and would tell the others. Yes, better to relax, not fight the grip, letting her think she is strong is better than letting her know she is. Don't struggle, just relax, don't fight it. Calm, calm. Get to Sam.
"Yes, you are like your father," she said. "Did he tell you I met him once? He was, I think, about seven or eight. He was with your grandfather." She searched his face for a moment, "And young William grew up wise and thoughtful. You should learn from his example."
"He isn't scared of you."
"The brave die just a quick as the fearful."
He looked down upon her. It was the eyes, amber, rimmed with a very thin line of bright gold. But inside, they drew him into the darkness. Inside, deep into them Jacob could see flashes, just sprites really, of golden sparks. Wolves had this same spark, they had seen it, and Laurent had seen it. It is what rage looks like from inside the heart.
Venom was starting to swirl in her eyes. The rage was maternal and ancient.
This is the last thing a snake charmer sees.
Slow, slow, slow, slow, breathe, breathe, calm, calm, calm . . . . . . . . . Sam
Esme, smiled wider now. No, she didn't, not really, she grinned. They didn't have fangs, that was myth, but their teeth grew sharp. Esme was unique in her world and Jacob felt a pang of bile laden pain as he looked straight at it. Her canines were sharp, to be sure, but nothing that would look out of place with a quick glance. When her smile pulled her lips back just a bit farther the teeth just behind the canines, the bicuspids, were missing. In their place was a second set of canines. And they were a bit longer. Liquid was filling her mouth.
She shreds.
"Let me be brief, we have company. My son worships her Jacob, every bite of her lip, every wisp of hair out of place, every breath she takes, every glance, every touch: she is music to him and he worships her for it. I love her as well, young Jacob. She is my daughter, in every sense of the word."
Esme closed her eyes for just a moment, as if to find the right words to define the shape and depth of her hurt and anger. She whispered smoothly, like cool steam water rolling over a stone.
"My boys will gladly hold you down while you watch me slaughter your father."
He tried to muscle past her, but she put up an arm to block him. "Get away from me," he said as he ducked under to head for the others. But not before she whispered one final warning.
"Don't forget, I will outlive you and I will come back for your children."
Her eyes followed him for a moment. The men were tense in the other room, conversation was quiet, but it rumbled.
That was their business, this was hers. Esme stepped over to the stove and turned the handle of one of the burners. Tick, tick, tick, whooomp. She put her hand over the flame. She looked focused as she turned her hand over and over.
Yes, if he hurt her she would come back and annihilate them all.
She put her hand over her mouth for a brief time. She then grabbed a muffin and headed to the front room.
Jacob was standing beside Charlie, facing Edward, but he moved back to the chair and flopped down noisily when Esme returned. Bella was off to the side holding the ice pack. She would look down and around and occasionally pull her lip under her teeth.
"Hold out your hands Charlie." Esme was buoyant and smiling. He did so with both hands as if he was trying to capture rain water. She dropped the single muffin in his hands. "I had to save you at least one; Jacob was going to wolf them all down!"
Esme glided up close, very close, to Charlie and used her hand to cover his. She slowly closed his hand over the muffin. "Sometime I just don't know where these boys put it all."
"Yeah, it boggles the mind sometimes. Doesn't it?" Charlie had that slight smile, that mischievous one.
"Sometimes I think Edward would attack anything that moved. " Esme looked straight up into Charlie's face. She put one hand on Charlie's chest and patted it. "I think Carlisle was telling me you missed your State Physical for this year?"
She playfully patted his chest again- she thought inwardly Edward, tell Carlisle to check for heart disease.
"Was that this month?" He shot a glance over to Bella as if she was somehow responsible for him deliberately not going to the appointment.
"I'll tell you what, Charlie, we'll tell Dr. Snow you will be there early Saturday morning and I promise he will have you out before the fish start biting. Deal?"
"Can he really promise that? I hate sitting around."
"I can make it happen." She was looking up through her lashes. "Promise me?"
"Certainly," he said, how could he refuse?
"Good, we can't have our chief constable falling ill, can we?"
"No, not since you put it that way, I guess." Charlie's face was now just short of beaming. A certain ruddiness started to creep into his complexion.
Edward leaned in to Bella, "So that's where you get it from." He was smiling broadly.
Esme stood on her toes and gave Charlie a friendly and warm kiss on the cheek. "Now don't you forget – Saturday."
"I'll not forget, Esme"
Bella's mouth literally dropped open. Edward slowly put a finger under her chin and closed it. Bella's eyes were as wide as saucers. She had never seen this in all her life.
My Dad talking to a woman. A woman actually touched him! And he's blushing! Bella's mind was racing, as fast it could, this was ….is… so adorable! This wasn't him talking to my Mom over a tense dinner when he would visit; this was like, like a real woman. She shook her head, knocking loose all preconceived notions that were changing at the sight of what was in front of her. My father is a man. She was aghast.
Then a realization began to creep into her thoughts, slow and hopeful,now maybe, he can understand . . . me.
I've got to call Renée.
"I've got a phone in the car. You can have your fun while we head home."
Bella looked at him with raised eyebrow. "Sometimes I think you just tell me you can't read my thoughts. Your not holding out on me are you?"
"Never, I'll get your coat and we will go."
Esme said her goodbyes and left first. Charlie held the door for Esme; she walked out and down the brick porch steps. She got just to the edge of the night, turned and looked to see Charlie still there. She gave him a wave. Then she went into the night.
Charlie stood in the doorway for a moment then turned inward. But it was different now. The tension he had expected was draining away.
"You kid's good?"
"I'm fine Chief Swan," Edward said. "I'll get her to see Carlisle and take care of the hand. She will at the least need a splint." He could be generous; he knew Esme had done his work for him. She was revered in his family as the mother, not because she was Carlisle's wife, but because she had earned that title, many times over.
Jacob spoke sincerely. "Sorry Bella, that really must hurt." He got up from the chair, and headed for the door. "I gotta be going too. See you later, Charlie. Bella."
As he got to the threshold, Charlie looked at Edward. "You kids good?"
"Yes, Chief, there is no trouble." Edward spoke, "Come Bella, the swelling is getting monstrous."
They went out onto the drive.
"Wait," Bella jumped, "I forgot something."
She jogged up the steps into the house, into the front room. Her dad was in mid bite of a muffin and Jake perked up.
"He ticked you off so soon? That had to be record time!"
"Jake, you are a moron. But at least you are my moron." Bella went past him to Charlie. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "Bye' Dad. Love you. I'll be back whenever."
He watched her go out to Edward's car. His thoughts were new, but nevertheless wistful.
"Bye, Bells."
The small school bus rumbled to a stop at the corner of a long dirt drive. Various creaks and squeals attested to it's age and hard use on the Quileute reservation. The door opened and a young boy of eight or nine dropped out onto the soft moist dirt. He turned and waved to the driver, who waved back then closed the door. The bus took off and the boy headed home. He walked maybe twenty yards before he could see his house. His father was working in the open garage. A tall man, short cropped black hair with just a trace or two of silver beginning to intrude on his otherwise youthful looks. The waved to each other and called out.
Then the father breathed in a scent he hadn't experienced in decades. Sickly sweet, way too heavy to be natural, disgustingly saccharine, cloying to everything it came in contact with. He shot his eyes toward his son. His stomach spasmed at the recognition, the burn of fear and bile. The boy was walking down the side of the path and from a cluster of trees, a sharply dressed woman had appeared. She was kneeling down talking to his son. He ran around his work table, but it was as if he was screaming in a vacuum; he couldn't hear himself. The woman turned to look at him for a moment and had a growing, satisfied smile crossing her beautiful face. She turned back to the little boy and opened her mouth . . . . .wide.
.