"Bella?"
Rosalie's voice was near, and I opened my eyes to see her standing over me. Her expression showed true fear.
I tried to answer, but instead of words only a wheeze came out. I pressed my hand over my chest.
"You're having trouble breathing?" She rested her fingers against my neck. "Pulse is weak and rapid," she muttered. "Crap."
Emmett was now at her side. "Rose? What is it, babe?" He was bending over me, and I had never seen him look so scared. "Oh shit! Bella?"
"Call Carlisle," she snapped.
Emmett fumbled for an instant to pull his phone from his pocket. The rapid movement of his fingers made me even dizzier, so I closed my eyes.
"Bella—no, stay with me," Rosalie pleaded. I felt her cool hands cup my cheeks.
But I could not respond. I couldn't breathe, and even though I was lying down, I felt as though I would faint. Rosalie's fingers were on my lips now, gently opening my mouth. I was vaguely aware of the coolness of her body as her face drew very near to mine.
"Anaphylaxis," she hissed. "Trachea's closing… airways are constricted… rapid and weak… yes. Hives, all up her arm."
I realized hazily that she was speaking into the phone. I also realized that someone was holding my hand. The massiveness of the fingers and palm told me it was Emmett.
"EpiPen," she nearly spat, and Emmett's hand left mine. "Looks like a pen… yes, that's it."
I opened my eyes half-way to see a blur of hands, then I felt a sharp stab in my thigh.
Emmett took my hand again. His voice was slightly shaky. "Hang on, Bella. Carlisle's on his way. He'll be here in a few minutes."
I could feel tears seeping from my eyes, and the nausea remained, but I realized that my chest wasn't quite as heavy, and my throat didn't feel as painfully tight. I inhaled a tiny breath, desperate to get some air into my lungs. To my surprise, my body seemed to cooperate, at least minimally, and I took another small breath.
"That's it," Rosalie said. "Good." Her hand rested over my chest, and her eyes were fixed upon my face.
Gradually my breathing improved, but my chest didn't feel quite right. It was still hard to inhale more than half a breath, and my dizziness remained. Emmett's and Rosalie's lips moved, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. Usually their too-fast and too-low-for-human-ears conversations annoyed me, but I was beyond caring at the moment.
Their heads turned to the doorway. Abruptly Rosalie vanished, then Carlisle was bending over me. His face was very serious, and I sensed a crack in his usually calm demeanor. However, his voice was steady as he said, "It's all right, Bella. You're going to be fine."
His fingers wrapped around my wrist for a few seconds, then he gently opened my mouth and shone a light inside. He murmured something; I caught a flash of Rosalie's blonde hair as she passed an object to him.
Before I could blink, he had placed a small mask over my face, and I realized he was giving me oxygen. After Rosalie handed him a stethoscope, he spent some time listening to my chest. She helped me to sit up for a few moments so that he could listen at my back, too. Even in my slightly foggy state, I was struck by her gentleness. It wasn't something I expected from her.
Carlisle checked the mask and the small oxygen canister he had set beside me, then he rested his hand against my cheek and smiled down at me.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked.
Since I couldn't speak with the mask, I nodded. Breathing remained more difficult than usual, but at least I could get some air into my lungs now.
"I know your chest and throat still feel tight," he said. "Your air passages are inflamed. I'm going to start an IV with some medicine that will help reduce the inflammation."
My heart sped up a bit with this news. Carlisle's thumb stroked my cheek comfortingly. "It will make you feel much better."
I gave a nod of understanding, and he turned away to prepare whatever he needed. I heard Rose whisper something to Emmett. He touched my forehead tenderly, saying, "I'm gonna step outside for a few minutes… feel better, little sis."
Then he was gone. Rosalie disappeared momentarily too, returning with one of the dining room chairs, which she placed beside the couch. She sat down on it and took my hand in an unexpected gesture of comfort.
"You're going to be fine," she said softly, capturing my gaze.
For a few moments I was mesmerized by her beautiful, golden eyes, and I barely felt the pinch as Carlisle inserted an IV port into my other hand. Her eyes darkened for a few seconds as I caught a whiff of blood. Something cold and damp swept softly over my hand, and the smell vanished, replaced by the tang of alcohol.
Carlisle attached the port to the IV line then hung the bag from the back of the chair. He stepped away, leaving me with Rosalie. She kept my hand in hers but looked away, her gaze fixing on the oxygen canister. Her brow was puckered, and her lips were a thin, tight line. She looked stricken.
I wanted to tell her that it was all right, that this wasn't her fault. I pulled my hand from hers and reached up to remove the mask. "Rose," I rasped.
"What are you doing?" she said sharply. "Leave that on; you need it."
I shook my head, but she replaced the mask quickly. Carlisle returned with a basin in his hands.
"She tried to take off the mask," Rosalie reported.
Carlisle sat on the coffee table, his expression still concerned. "Is it bothering you?" he asked me.
I nodded and managed to mumble, "Have to... talk."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he replied, "but you need to keep that on a little longer. Give the cortisone a chance to work." He cocked his head slightly, and I knew he was listening to my lungs. He murmured, "Perhaps a breathing treatment, too…"
He turned around, and I caught a glimpse of an array of equipment set out on the table. His hands moved quickly, producing a small canister with a flattened tube at the top. It reminded me of an asthma inhaler.
"This is albuterol," he told me, lifting the oxygen mask. "It's going to come out as a mist. I want you to inhale it, in through the mouth, wait a few seconds, then exhale through your nose." He smiled kindly. "All right?"
I nodded to show that I understood. However, before he could place the tube in my mouth, I moved my eyes to Rosalie and said huskily, "Not your fault."
I felt her fingers tighten very slightly around my hand, and a ghost of a smile formed upon her lips. Her features remained taut, though.
Carlisle slipped the inhaler between my lips and activated it. I took a tentative breath as he'd instructed, exhaling through my nose.
He nodded. "Good, Bella."
Rosalie held the inhaler while he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm. Her eyes flicked to the dial; she was reading the results along with him. Carlisle gave a nod as he removed the stethoscope from his ears.
"Just try to relax," he said. "Your breathing should feel easier soon."
Indeed, my lungs were already feeling a little better. Rosalie continued to hold the device while Carlisle carefully bathed my forearm with tepid water and some sort of mild soap, explaining that he needed to be sure all traces of the irritant were gone. My wrist still itched, but not as badly as before, and the hives didn't appear quite as angry. After he had dried the entire area, he applied some cream. His cool fingers felt wonderful against my tender skin.
He left for a few minutes, taking the basin with him. Rosalie remained beside me, her arm and hand motionless as she held the inhaler in place. After a short time, she glanced at the doorway then spoke, her voice very soft.
"I'm sorry, Bella," she said. "I feel horrid about this. I should have realized you were having an allergic reaction—"
I shook my head, displacing the inhaler temporarily. She readjusted it quickly.
"Don't try to talk," she admonished gently. "You have another few minutes with this."
I lifted my hand to touch her wrist. I hoped the gesture would speak as clearly as words could. Her eyes flicked to my fingers, and she gave me a nod. I felt some of the tension in the room ease with the relaxation of her features.
Carlisle returned shortly, listening to my lungs again. "Much better," he reported. "The albuterol helped."
Rosalie removed the device and set it aside. I wanted to speak, but Carlisle preempted my attempts, looking down my throat again.
"The swelling has diminished," he said, "but you need to rest quietly for a while."
Rose spread a blanket over me and made sure I had a comfortable pillow beneath my head. She began to stand, but I reached for her hand, mouthing, "Stay, please."
For a moment she appeared surprised, then she settled on the chair again. Carlisle's lips twitched upward, his eyes twinkling agreeably. He seemed pleased by my request. He turned back to the table to tidy up the supplies. When he shifted around again, I lifted my hand to signal that I wanted his attention.
"What is it, dear?" he asked, quickly checking the IV line and port.
"What happened?" I asked in the slightest whisper.
He took my other hand. "Try not to talk," he said with an apologetic smile.
I nodded in response, vowing to refrain from speaking for a little while.
"Good girl," he complimented. "You had a severe allergic reaction to something—I'm not sure specifically to what. It caused anaphylaxis, which is a reaction that affects the entire body. It causes swelling of the airways, among other things. The epinephrine Rose gave you helped to combat the reaction. The intravenous diphenhydramine and prednisone are working to reduce the inflammation further; your lungs are sounding much better, and the swelling in your throat has diminished significantly."
I was aware of Rosalie's expression changing; she looked dismayed. I wasn't sure why, since it seemed I was improving steadily.
"What now?" I mouthed.
"We'll finish the IV and keep an eye on you," he replied. "Then I want you to rest for the remainder of the day. If any of your symptoms begin to return, we'll treat them similarly."
"Okay," I whispered.
"You're going to be just fine," he finished.
But I had one more question. "Could it happen again?" I rasped.
"I'm going to try to figure out what caused the reaction," he responded. "You don't have any known allergens listed in your medical records, so this is something previously unidentified, something to which you've never been exposed before. Once we know what it is, you'll just need to avoid it. I'll get you several EpiPens, too; you should carry one with you at all times, and I imagine Edward will keep one with him, as well."
Edward… My thoughts had been muddled and focused most closely on my own body. But now I felt a moment of panic when I imagined how he would react to my latest flirtation with death.
"Bella?" Carlisle questioned, his forehead creasing in renewed concern. "What's the matter? Your heart rate just spiked." He lifted my hand to feel my pulse.
"Edward," I whispered. "He's going… to be… really upset."
Rosalie straightened, her posture rigid. "Not with you, Bella," she said.
I shook my head in confusion. She closed her eyes for a moment then looked at Carlisle.
"I think it was the oil of bergamot," she said. "Bella was using it to clean some gears in the garage. It's part of a solvent solution I created…"
He nodded. "It's rare, but there have been reported cases of direct dermal contact with the oil causing cholinergic urticaria anaphylaxis."
If Rose could have paled further, she would have. She looked devastated. "I didn't know…"
I took her hand again, squeezing gently. "It wasn't your fault," I whispered again, my voice sounding like a low wheeze.
"Yes, it was," she replied bluntly. "I gave you the solution, which caused the beginning of the reaction… and then," she paused to take a shaky breath, "I think I made it worse. When you started developing hives, I put cortisone cream on your skin, and I probably had some of the oil lingering on my fingers, which exacerbated the irritation."
Carlisle nodded. "That would explain the slower reaction—why you didn't go into anaphylaxis immediately upon exposure to the bergamot."
"She cut herself," Rose continued, pointing at the scratch now visible on my arm. The hives had receded considerably. "The oil must have gotten into her bloodstream when I applied the cream." She sounded absolutely miserable.
I needed to assuage her guilt. I opened my mouth, but Carlisle rested a finger softly against my lips, reminding me to remain quiet. I gave him a pleading look then moved my eyes to Rosalie and back to him.
He nodded. "She knows, Bella."
"How could I have been so stupid?" Rosalie asked rhetorically. She dropped my hand and shot to her feet, muttering, "I'm sorry," before darting out of the room.
Carlisle could sense my distress at her reaction. He took my hand, saying, "She'll be all right, Bella. Please don't worry about her or about anything else right now. Everything is going to be fine."
His voice was soft and soothing, and I began to feel drowsy. I blinked sleepily at him.
"Just sleep now, sweetheart," he said gently. "Your body needs the rest. Don't fight it."
Despite the turmoil in my mind, I felt myself slipping into slumber. I was so tired…
To be concluded...