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Carlisle and I were sitting alone in the family great room. The rest of the house was empty. Esme was working onsite at the Glensheen mansion and my siblings were enrolled in classes at the University of Minnesota-Duluth; the lack of sound in the house was starting to become oppressive. I raked my mind for something to say; a safe subject that wouldn't be misinterpreted as a crack in my carefully constructed and impenetrable defenses.
"I found your journal."
"My journal?" Carlisle looked up from his newspaper having no idea what I was talking about. That didn't surprise me. He hadn't broached the subject of my adventures away from the family for several days and my unprompted blurb had caught him off guard.
"The journal you kept in Volturi; I found it; I saw it in your memories." It suddenly occurred to me that Carlisle may not appreciate that I'd disturbed a record of his private thoughts; that I displaced the journal hidden in a place of great meaning to him. I felt the first gnawing of panic creep through my body and I hoped he would just let it drop; but when I glanced up at him, I saw to my dismay that he'd put the paper aside and was staring at me flabbergasted.
"My journal? You found it?"
The excitement in his voice was underscored by his thoughts; they were racing with the possibilities of my find. How I found it; why I choose to speak about it now and most alarming, was this the breakthrough that he was looking for.
I wanted to race out of the room, hide from him like I'd done so many times before so he couldn't make me talk about it, but I had opened this can of worms and I knew I had to give him something. Besides, was talking about his journal really so bad? He didn't look upset.
"I saw you hide it, a memory that out of context didn't seem important, but when I was there in the catacombs, all the memories you showed me from that time came back and that one stood out. You had something in your hand and I saw you hide it behind that corpse.
My voice was steady, not a hint of stuttering. The tremors had significantly subsided over the last several weeks just as Carlisle had suggested they would so his theory on the cause had merit. When I didn't feel threatened, I barely noticed them at all and they seldom manifested themselves in my speech anymore.
"It was rather silly really," Carlisle leaned back in his chair, a smile on his face. "We don't need to keep journals with our perfect memories as you know, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted my history documented. I was never sure I really believed in immortality back then, not when I was confronted with so much death at the hands of the Guard and well…I was lonely and bored."
He chuckled softly remembering, his thoughts revealing his sadness at his fate in life, his confusion over his future and his desire to be something more than what the Volturi offered. "I had some enemies in Volterra; I didn't want them to find it so I hid it in the one place only I ever went; amidst the bodies of the dead humans."
His brow furrowed in a frown. "What son?"
I'd stiffened in the chair, Carlisle's words resonating with me.
"Edward, what is it?" He was up and across the room before I had a chance escape him.
"Who…I…y…your enemies?" The tremors, they were back. I clenched my hands into fists.
Carlisle was squatting in front of me, trying to meet my gaze, but I steadfastly avoided his eyes.
"Edward, that was a long time ago and any enemies from that time were only manifested from the jealousies of living with the Volturi. It was a highly charged environment and we shared very close quarters.
"Afton," I said uncertainly, my eyes flickering up to his.
He looked surprised. "Yes Afton was one, how did you know?"
"I've s…seen your memories of C…Chelsea."
He sat back on his heels and surprised me by smiling. "Yes it's true, I had a boyish crush on Chelsea and to some degree she returned my affections, but that was before Afton. Once he joined the Volturi, it was only ever him and Chelsea, but he was always suspicious of me, always jealous. It was that type of pettiness that convinced me I needed to hide my journal. If it fell into the wrong hands it might be exploited by my enemies but it was nothing more than that."
He stood up, patting me on the shoulder reassuringly and sat back in his chair. "So tell me, son, did you read it?"
I was unprepared for the question, still contemplating that Carlisle had enemies in the Volturi, enemies even before he had come and stolen me from under the brothers' nose. I shook my head trying to refocus on the reason I brought up the subject of the journal in the first place. "I…I did. Well, the parts I could read. Most of the writing had faded away."
Carlisle nodded sadly. "I expected as much, but still it's exciting that you found it. How fascinating that you could use my memories, unprompted by me to find something I hid close to three hundred years ago. Tell me son, what else did I show you?"
I looked past him through the large floor to ceiling windows behind him. I opened this door, this avenue into my experiences with the Volturi; could I shut him off, refuse to talk about it as had been my custom over the course of the last few months. But this was safe wasn't it? Talking about his memories, what he showed me, what I experienced because of him; surely it was safe to talk about that? Apparently it was, because I found myself speaking to him, recounting his memories for him, my voice growing steadier with each recollection.
I told him of wandering the lower recesses of the castle, following his memories, retracing the steps of his explorations, revisiting old conversations, reexamining works of art and old books. He listened spellbound, amazed that I was able to pick up so much from memories that were not really conscious efforts to show me of his time in Volturi.
This conversation was safe. I wondered why I withheld this information for so long. Maybe it was for this very reason. So that when I finally did talk, Carlisle didn't push, he didn't ask for more details, more facts, more experiences. He was satisfied with these stories, these safe recollections of my time in Volturi and he felt comfortable that by talking about them freely, I was opening myself up to him in a way that I hadn't since my family brought me home.
After the initial startling reaction to Carlisle's words about enemies in the Volturi, I felt myself relaxing again, the tremors subsiding and gradually I recognized how my words were easing Carlisle's anxieties, something I'd been concerned about and hadn't held the answer to until now. I had found something I could do to help him and when I finally finished telling him about the ancient books that still existed, books from his time, I heard the familiar hum of Esme's car and noticed Carlisle's distracted look for the first time since I started speaking.
"Fascinating son, just fascinating," he said as I made the motion of rising from my seat in anticipation for Esme's arrival. "…and thank you for talking about it with me. I've missed our talks."
I was under no illusions that I completely satisfied Carlisle's concerns over my refusal to speak of my time away from him. I'd told him nothing of my betrayal of his values, the killings of the innocent humans and the murder of the vampire and it would only be a matter of time before he would expect me to divulge additional information, admitting transgressions that up until now I'd systematically avoided talking about.
With Esme home, Carlisle was diverted and I was able to slip away to my room. I knew I didn't have much time before Esme would seek me out; they had a few hours alone together before Carlisle left for his shift and then I would become her priority. It pained me that they felt they needed to tag team me, one or the other always with me, watching over me, worrying about me. It was better when the others were home. Then I could blend into the family, become part of the background and the focus would be redistributed. I knew Carlisle understood what I was doing; he was hard to fool, but he was also patient and as long as I showed some progress towards becoming something akin to the old Edward, he was pacified. And today I had almost given him the jackpot. He would be appeased, at least for a few weeks.
The space above the garage, designed and created just for me was some of Esme's finest work. It encompassed everything that use to be me. The books, the piano, my music, the finest stereo equipment and the privacy; everything that the old Edward would have savored and one treasure for the new Edward, the fireplace. It was smaller than the one in my room in Volterra, smaller than the one that hid the secret passageway, but not so small that I couldn't crawl in it. I hadn't tried yet, knowing I'd lose myself in the confines of the stone and mortar and I couldn't have that, not now. I had to appear like I was trying, like I belonged, if for no other reason than to silence their concerns.
I didn't need my solitude like I had with the Volturi. I enjoyed the company of my family, savored their scent, basked in their thoughts and hungered for their presence whenever we were apart. It was one of the biggest outward changes I observed in my behavior upon my return and I didn't try to hide it. I saw that it relieved them, alleviated some of their pain, squelched their fear that I had turned from them, didn't need their comfort and they were no longer relevant to me. In fact it was quite the opposite.
I desired nothing more than to submerge myself in the scents of my loved ones, hear their thoughts, finding it hard to let go of their minds even at the most inappropriate times. As difficult as it was to think of Bella, it was the only experience I had that could equate to what I felt for my family. It now was almost physically painful for me to be separated from them and the anxiety I felt during their absence made it difficult for me to focus on anything until they were all safely reunited under the same roof.
Still, the fireplace was a draw and I had to actively resist crawling inside and testing it out. So far I'd been successful. I no longer escaped to my space to avoid my family, but I did disappear into it to give them privacy or at least the illusion of privacy. It was what I was giving Carlisle and Esme for the few hours of time they had together. My siblings would be home soon, but they would drift off and engage in their own private moments and unlike my parents, their thoughts would not be preoccupied by me.
After wandering around the familiar confines of my room, touching traces of my former life, depressingly scant of physical reminders of Bella, my eyes were drawn to the corner of the room that served as a library and I was struck with an idea. It had been stupid of me to make the comment about the bed when I'd first been introduced to my room. I knew the moment the words left my mouth that I made a mistake and I quickly tried to cover up my disappointment that the bed in Forks had not been moved with the rest of my belongings.
I didn't need a bed, hadn't needed one for the ninety years before Bella came into my life and certainly not the year after she was gone. The bed itself had been a spontaneous purchase made in anticipation for our future together, but had also served in the more pressing capacity of an immediate place for Bella to sleep after I practically kidnapped her and sequestered her in my home. It was only after her death that I truly appreciated what the bed could offer me; the strappings of a human life I no longer had, a closeness to Bella who was no longer with me, the passivity of lying on my back in the embrace of cushions and pillows. No wonder humans like to reside in bed for so many hours of their lives.
But I couldn't say those things to Carlisle and Esme and when the lack of a bed was immediately evident. I could only offer a fumbling explanation for my concern over its absence. But now, alone in my room with Alice's insight to guide me, I pushed the chair and a lamp out of the way and laid down on the floor surrounded by the bright vivid colors of the changing leaves from the trees that hung over the alcove. Recalling the earth mother blob on the wall in my room back in Forks, I wondered what secrets lay on these walls and the ceiling and in the branches of the trees. I didn't need the piece of furniture to mimic the act of lying in a prone position and I savored the different perspective. The hidden treasures didn't immediately reveal themselves, but I could anticipate spending years in this room and had plenty of time to find them.
The jutting rocks protruding from the frigid waters of Lake Superior offered a perfect perch for me when I sought a respite from my family, namely Carlisle and Esme. Carlisle had always had a curious aversion to water, never embracing our vampire aptitude for it, from swimming endlessly without tiring to not needing air underwater. Esme avoided the rocky cliff bordering our home for an entirely different reason. She didn't speak of it to anyone, but in her thoughts I could see her memories, her human memories, faded and dreamlike, her last conscious moments of human life staring out over the turbulent churning waters of an entirely different lake, before she stepped out over the rocky shoreline, assuming it was her last thoughts as a living breathing human. And it was.
I felt only slightly guilty as I made my way along the rocks in the nonexistent light of the new moon, knowing that my movements were anything but human-like but unconcerned, no human could see me from the lake or the land. There were several ledges jutting from the sheer sandstone cliffs, allowing me plenty of places to curl up and hide, if hiding could be possible from a family full of vampires. They usually left me alone when I crawled along the wet boulders and spraying water, understanding that it was here, close to the house, still within the range of my family's thoughts that I came when I wanted to be alone, but not completely cut off from them. Occasionally Emmett might toss stones at me from somewhere above me or Alice would emerge from the watery depths, her giggles more gurgles as she tried to conceal her approach until she was almost upon me. But for the most part, they left me alone.
The winds were particularly strong and the water crashed against the rocks with endless fury until I was completely drenched. But I didn't have the aversion to water that Carlisle did and I adeptly leapt from one stone to another moving along the base of the cliffs until I was right below our neighbor's home. I wasn't consciously drawn to them. The wind and the water masked any fresh human scent and I could not read their dreamless thoughts; still I lingered, listening to the sounds of deep breathing and slow heartbeats, stronger than they had any right to be given the age of their bodies.
They were an older, married couple, senior citizens clinging to the last remnants of their life, huddled in the confines of their gigantic house, waiting for time to steal them away, the only conclusion of their life's journey that was still in doubt; which one would die first. I wasn't sure why their human life fascinated me so. They never left their house other than the infrequent putterings around the yard and to the mailbox at the end of a long drive; but I was often drawn to their quiet conversations, thoughtful silent contemplations and chaste feelings of love.
I was embarrassed by my fascination with them, couldn't fathom why I lingered in their minds at all, but I felt an odd melancholy when listening to their mundane human existence. Is this what Bella and I would have had if I wasn't vampire? Would we have lived our lives together, aged and died without regrets, perhaps not cherishing every day, every hour and every minute together, but comforted by the likelihood that we would have each other for as long as we both would live. I tried not to dwell on it too much. The only human I'd ever been interested in was dead and I was disturbed by yet another change in my personality that had no obvious connection to Mexico or Volterra.
I climbed up the cliff beneath the house and ran along the perimeter of our property eventually reaching the road. Carlisle would be home soon, relieving Esme of her babysitting duties. They would spend some time together, time I respectfully did not want to disturb and the only way to avoid that was to make sure I was nowhere near home when he arrived.
Edward, where are you going?
Alice. She saw my decision. I didn't answer, there was no need, it was a rhetorical question.
I contemplated running Northeast along the shores of the lake, but given the time of the morning, there would be a fair amount of traffic along Highway 61, a rush hour of sorts that would produce more and more cars on the narrow stretch of highway leading into Duluth. I decided I would run straight north. I did not need to hunt, but the wide expanses of uninhabited woods would give me a chance to stretch my legs and clear my mind until I returned home to Carlisle's endless gentle probing.
Shit…shit…shit…shit.
I froze. I had just been preparing to bolt across the highway when I heard it. The silent cursing of a human. I cocked my head and sniffed the air, the scent of human evaded me but then I heard a cry and an attempt to muffle the sounds. She was close, very close.
The wind shifted, blowing out across the lake. A storm was coming. Not relevant to the current situation other than the shift in the wind allowed me to catch my first whiff of her. A trickle of venom filled my mouth. I swallowed it and felt the burn. I'd been exposed to plenty of human scents since my return, Carlisle made sure of that. The older couple next door, the humans in their cars as they whizzed along the highway, the random group of college students hiking their way along the Gunflint Trail. But this was the first time I was stationary, standing only miles from my home, the human only yards away from me now. I had moved closer.
What was she doing out here? The hour was barely past four a.m. The hum of traffic hadn't even started yet; there was no one else around, no other people, no other…
Edward.
Alice again.
The shame burned through me. I saw her thoughts, caught a glimpse of the vision; me advancing on the human. She knew, she saw; saw in her own way what I was thinking, what I was planning on doing. She saw the monster buried within me. No matter how I tried to hide it, she knew I was drawn to the human's scent. I wasn't truly in control. She would tell Carlisle and he, Esme and they would all know my secrets, my lies.
My phone was ringing. Not loud enough for the human to hear even though it sounded deafening to me. It was Alice. Soon they would come; Jasper and Emmett would silently burst through the trees and tackle me, stopping me from taking an innocent human life. My fingers closed around the ringing phone, but shame stopped me from answering it.
Edward, you won't hurt her.
I scoffed to myself. What did Alice know? I checked her mind again. The vision hadn't proceeded beyond me standing behind the women, but hardly corroboration that I didn't intend on harming her. She hadn't seen me just a few months before, snuffing out the life of innocent humans to feed the beast, she couldn't know.
You will help her Edward.
Help her? I wanted to run. Run away from Alice, our house the human that I could see now, standing on the side of the road, looking at the askew nature of her car tilting awkwardly in the middle of the road, hung up on something.
As in Alice's vision, she had her back to me, her long brown hair whipping in the wind, her hands around her body, trying to protect herself against the cold and she wasn't alone. I could hear the distinct, tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump of a second human. The thoughts of that one still in the car were nonexistent. The human was sleeping, but the girl, the women was frantically considering her options and none of them appeared promising.
Alice said I wouldn't hurt her, but would I hurt the other one. Again the urge to run was strong. But then she turned and her mouth widened in a little O. She saw me and through her eyes, I understood the intensity of her fear. I looked wild, wet and disheveled. I'd just been crawling along the rocks of the lake, after all.
"Hi," I said, waving my hand. "You didn't happen to see a dog around here did you?"
Her eyes widened. I didn't have to see her thoughts to understand. How many killers had used that line before?
"No…no…" she whispered, backing up until she bumped into her car door, her hands fumbling with the door handle. The pungent odor of her fear started the venom flowing again. It was an instinctual response, just like the burn in my throat. Predators drew strength from their prey's fear.
He's lying.
I cautiously emerged from the trees and onto the road. "I know it looks bad, but seriously, we lost our dog. A lab…a yellow lab. Her name is D…Darma."
She looked unconvinced. I didn't blame her. The only experience I had with dogs was feeding on some strays years ago. We didn't kill dogs anymore. Humans were too attached to the stinky beasts and mourned them like children. "My name is Edward Cullen, my family just moved in down the road; the old Johnson mansion."
She sucked in a tentative breath. She knew of the mansion that I spoke of. I saw her memory of an old man and a similarly featured women, father and daughter. She was picturing the Johnson's.
"I'm Jenna…Jenna Lambert. I live…" She had raised her hand to point, but then let it fall to her side.
She was thinking how it wasn't wise to tell a stranger where she lived, but I knew the house she referred to. A decrepit little rambler set back in the woods well off the lake.
"Do you need help…Jenna." My lips could hardly form the words to speak to her. It had been over a year since I talked to a human, other than those that served the Volturi. I was out of practice. I blinked, cleared my throat and swallowed, all human traits to convey uneasiness, embarrassment, shyness, or any number of other emotions and tics; all better than that absolute stillness of a vampire.
"The wind blew a tree down. I didn't see it. The branch on the road…I'm hung up on it. I'm going to have to call a tow truck."
It sounded like a good sound plan, one that wouldn't involve me. But I was startled to hear a broken sob before she covered her mouth with her hand.
I have no money for this. How much is this going to cost? What am I going to do?
Ahhh. I understood. She was pretty, I decided. She looked like Bella. When I gasped at the train of my thoughts she looked at me peculiarly.
"You…you remind me of someone," I glanced in the back seat of her car and saw a young toddler asleep on the seat.
A sharp hiss escaped her lips. A warning. She was protecting her son from me, this odd looking stranger. She had no idea how dangerous I truly was.
Diverting my eyes from the boy, I bent down to look at the tree limb sticking out from under the car.
"I don't think you are too hung up on it. I think I can push you off."
I turned to meet her eyes, her golden brown eyes, familiar eyes, but no not familiar. In those eyes I saw fear and Bella was never afraid of me.
"Why don't you get in your car and when I tell you to, step on the gas."
She nodded eagerly, seeing the logic, not in freeing herself from the tree, but escaping from me to the safety of the car. Quickly she slid into the driver's seat.
Why don't I have a cell phone? I need a cell phone. And who would I call?
I saw her loneliness, her feelings of isolation; she had no one; no one to help her, no one to miss her, her or that boy. I was startled by the sound of locking of the car doors. She was peering at me through the glass, she understood what I was. I turned my head away in shame and slid my hands along the side of the car, creating the illusion that I was looking for a place to grip.
"Start the car." I saw her eyes through her side mirror. She was terrified but she did as she was told. What choice did she have?
I was behind the car now. I would free her from the tree and send her on her way. Alice was right. I wouldn't hurt her, not again. Not again?
"Give it a little gas," the engine revved. It didn't matter, but I had to create the illusion that it did. "Not so much." She eased up on the gas pedal and tapped it and as she did I lifted the car, ever so slightly and pushed it forward making sure that the tires appeared to get hung up on the tree branch before finally, with a lurch, clearing it and finding the security of the pavement.
I gave her the thumbs up seeing her depthless brown eyes staring back at me through the rear view mirror. I refrained from smiling, realizing that my grin would look more like a grimace or worse, an animal bearing its teeth.
I thought it appropriate that I should try to speak with her one last time before she sped away and she appeared, however reluctantly, willing to allow this courtesy. A deadly mistake if I'd been a human killer. As a vampire, if she were my prey, nothing she did could save her and perhaps she understood that, for even as her eyes still betrayed her mistrust, they seemed resigned to accepting whatever fate, awaited her. The venom pooled in my mouth again. The surrender of prey was appealing in its own right.
Edward?
My head snapped around at the sound of my name. I tried to ignore the approaching hum of the powerful Mercedes engine, familiar as the voice that called my name. The headlights were still a mile away, but it was too late to run. Not only would I arouse the suspicions of the human, whose eyes followed me now through the side view mirror, but Carlisle had already spotted me. She wouldn't know that, however remotely it had been, her life was no longer in jeopardy from me, not with his approach.
I waited until the black car pulled up alongside of us. The women, Jenna had rolled down her window, taking solace from the second vehicle, a witness to her life and her potential death.
And so the charade began for the human's sake.
"Is there a problem here, do you need help?" He was speaking to me for the benefit of her
"No Carlisle, it's been taken care of. It seems the strong winds last night blew down a tree. Hard to see out here with no lights. She was hung up on a tree branch."
"Jenna, this is my father…my adoptive father, Dr. Cullen. " I leaned back so Carlisle was looking directly at the startled women behind the wheel. She was noting the resemblance, our paleness, the color of our eyes, and yes, our startling ethereal beauty.
He nodded and smiled without teeth, and she in turn smiled back. "Your son has been very helpful. I'm lucky he was out here…looking for his dog."
Carlisle's face didn't even twitch, but his thoughts revealed his amusement at the rather lame excuse for my presence on the side of the road in the hours just before dawn.
"I'm glad he was able to help. You live just up the road, don't you?"
She nodded reluctantly. I'm sorry to be rude but I'm late for work." I saw a small quant café in her thoughts. She was taking her son to her mother's. "I hope you find your dog."
As she drove away, I stood with my hands on my hips watching the taillights fade, seeing myself through her eyes as she watched me disappear behind the curve of the road. Reluctantly I looked at Carlisle who was eyeing me curiously.
"What was that about?" he said when I didn't offer him an explanation.
I didn't answer. He would know that what I'd just done was highly out of character for me and would want to discuss it further. Instead I shrugged my shoulders and hopped in his car. The ride home was a few short miles, but I didn't want to run across any more humans in distress.
Esme's wistful longings to hear me play the piano again were in her thoughts only infrequently now. I had not indulged her once since they brought me home. I could no longer pretend to be that dutiful son, quick to act on whatever whims of my family that would make them think I was on the road to recovery. It was an abrupt departure from my attitude right after Bella's death when I did everything in my power to convince them I was fine. But that was before I ran away, before I deceived them, before I betrayed Carlisle and murdered both humans and a vampire. Now when I even attempted to participate in a conversation or nodded in agreement when one of my siblings suggested I join them in a game, I saw the doubts of the others, the suspicions I was faking it, which in truth I was. But it pained me that I could no longer hoodwink them into believing I was something more than this shell I'd become. I was no longer to be trusted and I provided them plenty of proof of that.
So I rebelled against the silent wishes of my family and refused to concede to their desires that I show progress towards their perception of what a recovery should look like. I refused to smile when I heard the silent plea to see me smile again and couldn't laugh when the rest of the family was in dryless tears with laughter from Emmett's latest escapade. I was indifferent to the world around me and couldn't take the time to pretend I cared when the latest human catastrophe was played and replayed on the national news. How ironic that I thought to punish my family's lack of trust by refusing do anything that might make them believe I was healing.
But the pain of doing nothing to ease their suffering, suffering I was responsible for became too much and eventually I did return to my deceitful ways. There were some things I couldn't hide particularly not the tremors which continued to plague me, though nowhere near the intensity from months earlier. I was able to identify triggers that might set the violent spasms into motion and avoided or hid from my family whenever I felt an episode coming on. The act of distancing myself from my family in itself could send me into a panic particularly if I couldn't rejoin them at my whim usually only an issue when they were engaged in more intimate acts and wouldn't appreciate a third party in the room. I reacted strongly to any perceived threats or signs of danger that might put a family member in jeopardy and became alarmed when Esme was late in returning home or Alice was gone a little too long shopping alone without the accompaniment of a shopped out family member. These reactions were difficult to hide and hadn't gone unnoticed by Carlisle who understood that my overreaction and subsequent violent shuddering was a symptom of all that ailed me.
It frustrated him more than any of the rest, his inability to help me cope. He was a doctor after all, helping others was what he did, but he couldn't help me and truth be told, I seldom gave him the chance. It was too humiliating to admit my failures to him. I could hardly look him in the eye now and he had none of the specifics of all my transgressions. My shame was so great that I feared a time when I could no longer stand to be around him which meant that as the pillar of the family; I wouldn't be able to be around any of them. Then what would I do? I wasn't so delusional as to think that he would cast me from his home. He knew that I murdered humans, he had to suspect that I served the brothers in some capacity and carried out their immoral requests and then there was Mexico. The very idea that by deciding to run to Mexico, I had put them all in jeopardy, threatened all their lives, not with death but something much worse; existing for all time as part of Cameron's macabre collection.
I tried to become more calculating, more clever, less obvious and it started with Esme's desire to have me play for her. I deduced that it had been over a week since she even thought about me playing the piano and perhaps longer that she imagined me composing again. I could no longer trust my memories, could no longer rely on my internal vampire timepiece to accurately keep seconds, minutes, hours and even days. I lost time more often than I liked to admit, but I was reasonably sure that Esme had not thought once about it in the last few days.
It was early evening. Carlisle had a meeting at the hospital and had left early for his shift. The rest of my siblings were hunting. Esme was thinking of nothing in particular, certainly not of me which was unusual as she planted bulbs in the soil around the gazebo humming softly to herself. She worked in human speed, unbearably slow and would no doubt spend the next several hours working on the garden. What a perfect time to play for her.
I'd been staring at my piano since Carlisle left, undecided if I should even introduce this part of me back into the family again. It was completely contrived, my desire to play, certainly nothing I showed any interest in since after Bella's death other than as a distraction, first from the horrors in Mexico when I played on my imaginary piano and later in Volterra when I played for the brothers' wives. This time I would play for Esme and I would fulfill her wish; a new composition; something simple that I'd written and played in my mind during the week after watching Michael burn. The composition was done, but for Esme, it would be a new beginning.
I was the great pretender in all things, except how to imitate the act of writing a new composition. As my fingers trailed over the keys of my new piano in a few practice runs, I heard the internal gasp from Esme. She was listening. And so slowly, very slowly, recalling other compositions I'd written, the struggles to find the right notes and the replaying of the basic melody over and over, attempting to get it just write, I pretended to compose a song I'd already written.
The overall composition was three minutes in length. I managed to stretch the entire act of composing it into just under an hour. By the time I played it from beginning to end with no breaks and no attempts to rearrange the cords yet again, having already had them assembled exactly the way I wanted before I even started this charade, I was aware that Esme had moved from the small garden near the lake to a branch of a large oak tree between the house and my room. She was watching me through the window and there was no suspicion in her thoughts. In fact, I could only hear the tranquility of her mind, completely at peace and filled with relief. It had worked. She did not suspect I was reacting to days old wishes in her mind. She thought I played spontaneously, an original composition, a mark of my progress. I gave her true happiness without any lingering doubts of my sincerity and pushing aside a small little pulse of guilt that threatened to spoil the moment for me, I bowed my head over the piano keys and smiled.
My more elaborate attempts to mislead my family were not always so readily accepted. Carlisle for one was having none of it. When Esme conveyed to him my renewed interest in playing and composing Carlisle nodded encouragingly, suggesting it was a sign of my recovery, but secretly he was skeptical of my sudden artistic inspirations and I did not attempt to persuade him with further dalliances at the piano.
Alice was too eager to have me back to be overtly suspicious when I agreed to let her buy me some more appropriate winter clothing and was delighted when I spent the better part of an afternoon in Duluth with her, subjecting myself to endless rounds of trying on clothing, parading in front of her for her approval, then removing the offending garments to try on something else. In the end, eight hours of shopping netted me dozens of outfits and Alice's delight that I was back to being her brooding brother again, the pre-Bella brother that though caustic and gloomy was much preferably to the tortured damaged one that had ignored her company for over a year.
My brothers were as easy as Alice, though their needs were harder to meet. They wanted a companion, someone to roughhouse with, a younger brother they could pick on and torment, but they were cautious and concerned about my mental stability. My tremors worried them, especially when the shudders became more noticeable during a particularly aggressive session of teasing. I tried to open myself up to their assaults, tried to appear the happy victim of their endless banter and absurd bullying, but they were afraid, not wanting to be responsible for the slipup that would send me spiraling back into my brooding melancholy. Carlisle watched my reaction to my brother's antics curiously, but as was usually the case when he was cognizant of my scrutiny, he slipped into his medical terms before I could read if he had any doubts.
Besides Carlisle, only Rosalie remained watchful and suspicious of any behavior that appeared normal. Perhaps it was because she more than anyone understood the depth of my grief and the extent of my flawed character. She was not inclined to accept that I had emerged from my experiences of murder and servitude, largely unscathed. She understood the wretchedness of my soul and was suspicious of my attempts to conform. I did not try to convince her otherwise, understanding that unlike Carlisle, she knew how traitorous I could be, how selfish, how evil. But she also had one thing Carlisle didn't have and that was an endless amount of indifference towards me, which left her and I blissfully at a stalemate and consequently all my defenses could be directed at Carlisle.
He usually tried to corner me when Esme was out of the house understanding that the moment I found her arms she would protect me from his verbal and not so verbal inquiries into my well being and the persistent need to talk about those things which remained unmentionable. He broached me on these taboo subjects with the utmost concern, this I could clearly see in his thoughts, but if anything, that made it worse. My inability, my outright refusal to answer any of his questions, added to my guilt and made it difficult for me to deny that I truly was abhorrent and was a burden to all those that loved me.
He was becoming more aggressive now, he seldom let things drop, not spurned by my silence and even the increased intensity of my tremors did not distract him from his line of questioning. I would have preferred to be interrogated to the point of death rather than suffer through Carlisle's tender inquiries about my time spent away from him, particularly with the Volturi. The revelation about his journal had satisfied his curiosity but only for a week or two and then he wanted more. I suspected with each new piece of information, it would only feed his desire to learn more and more, so I backpedaled on his notion of progress and refused to open my mouth to answer even the most basic of questions.
Finally, disheartened by our strained relationship, Esme intervened and as usual, she was completely reasonable and entirely without malicious intentions.
"Edward, sweetheart, you must understand what motivates your father. By shutting him out you are denying him the chance to help you." She was stroking my hair in the manner I found comforting and I marveled again at the difference in sentiment I felt when it was her fingers verses Mary whose similar displays of affection had repulsed me.
"He...he can't help me, no one can help me," I whispered surprising myself with my honesty.
"Oh sweetie, please, I wish I could convince you otherwise." She sighed and to my dismay stopped her pettings. "Understand that he loves you always and forever and nothing you could say to him could ever turn him against you, nothing."
"I'm not worried about that." But I was, I was worried, not that I would be asked to leave, but that he would look at me differently, that I would feel his disappointment and hear his silent wishes that he'd never changed me in the first place.
"Then what son, what is it that you are so afraid of?" Esme resumed her caresses of my hair and I snuggled into her, wishing I had a human's ability to sleep.
I didn't answer. Everything I said was a lie and my irrational fears were hardly something I could share with Esme.
But I did heed some of Esme's words. Carlisle's need to help me; it was second nature to him, helping the weak and sick was what he did. So the next time he asked me, rather dispiritedly when he thought my tremors were the least troublesome, I answered honestly; when I played the piano and when I wrote. He already knew about the piano. I couldn't very well compose music with my hands jerking and spasming uncontrollably, but the comment about writing had caught him off guard.
"When you write, son?"
I nodded. It was mid morning; the next few hours would be just him and I. It was always dangerous one on one and Carlisle never missed the chance to try and talk with me during our time alone. "My penmanship isn't affected by the tremors. I never thought about it, but I guess that means I don't shake at all when I write."
He nodded thoughtfully, appeased and I sighed with relief. That simple admission saved me from any additional inquires for the day.
But the following afternoon, he tracked me down in my room and before I could jump from a window that was conveniently hinged on one side; he was thrusting a leather bound book in my hand.
"Here son, I got you something,"
I studied the distressed leather cover of the book feeling the first inkling of trepidation. "Wh…what is it."
"It's a journal." He was looking at me expectantly.
"Who's journal?"
"If you choose to write in it, it would be yours."
Despite the withered look of the exterior cover, the book was new; the pages crisp and unblemished, completely blank of words. I felt a tightening in my abdomen. The book began to shake in my hand.
"Edward what is it?" Carlisle was immediately reaching for me but I avoided his grasp and pressed against a far wall, unable to validate my reaction but understanding that I was missing something, something important.
"I'm…f…fine." I concentrated, trying to quell the ridiculous trembling in my limbs. I was doing nothing to alleviate Carlisle's concerns over my mental health. What was wrong with me, it was just a book.
"Son, you said writing helped you stop the tremors, but you don't have to write in it, it was just an idea."
I pitied Carlisle. He was trying to help me but everything he did if not deliberately sabotaged by me was met with disaster through my absurd overreactions. It was a book, a journal; it didn't even look like Marcus'. Why did it upset me so? Or was I missing the point. Did this journal signal some departure from my relationship with my family? Was I to fill this book with my secrets and leave it behind for Carlisle to read? I searched his mind but found no clue as to his reasons behind the unexpected gift.
"Thank you," I offered the most logical response.
He nodded but I could see I'd created a new conundrum. He was agitated by my reaction. I needed to find a reasonable explanation for my behavior, one that didn't allude to my silent irrational fears.
"Will you want to read it?" My fear of being found out apparently was a rational fear.
He looked surprised, than thoughtful. "To be honest, I hadn't thought about that. I remember during my time in Volturi I found great comfort in recording my thoughts, even understanding the risks of it being discovered. I guess I assumed you might find similar comfort in recording yours, but Edward…" he covered the space between us until he stood directly in front of me, closer than what I normally was comfortable with. "…I would never read it without your permission and I will make sure that goes for the entire family."
I met his gaze and slowly nodded, but his acknowledgement didn't reduce the tremors. Something was bothering me about this journal, but I couldn't put my finger on the source of my anxiety and until I did, I wouldn't write a word in it, not a single word.
As with Esme and the piano, Carlisle's secret passion for me was school and continuing my education. Silly really, given that I had two medical degrees, had graduated from high school dozens of times and had several bachelor and master's degrees. My siblings had forgone high school this time using the school records from Forks to gain admittance into college. I was not enrolled, wouldn't have been capable of attending if I had been enrolled, but now I could see Carlisle's desire that I try to conform to a human life again and I could start that by attending a few classes.
It was easy to resist such thoughts through the summer. My mental condition, the tremors, my inability to function beyond the arms of Esme's embrace didn't require any more proof, but as summer progressed to fall and fall to winter, Carlisle's thoughts had turned in that direction. I ignored them, as I had with Esme's desire to hear me play, refusing to even acknowledge the possibility, but when thoughts of taking classes failed to materialize in Carlisle's thoughts for several days in a row, I thought it the perfect time to do the unexpected and pursue it.
With Alice's help, I arranged to meet with a school counselor and take a tour of the campus. I knew Carlisle had some inroads for admission in the middle of a school year so I wasn't concerned about getting accepted. The school offered a respectable music program which was less prestigious than a medical degree, but perhaps a more likely choice given my recent past and I suspected any interest in school regardless of the subject would be welcomed by Carlisle.
Carlisle and Esme were delighted when they heard of my pursuits though I sensed their suspicions and tried not to appear too enthusiastic or over eager. I even went so far as to express my concern over my tremors and was told by Carlisle that I could use any number of human abnormalities to explain them to school officials assuming they would even noticed by human eyes.
I returned home from my campus visit in good spirits, proud of my control around so many humans and my ability to appear human myself without much practice. It was a gorgeous November afternoon and I heard my family's chatter behind the house. The breeze was blowing hard from the lake and clouds were gathering to the North, but for now my family was enjoying the beautiful weather.
It was obvious that Alice had clothed the family for this afternoon outing. Everyone was dressed in bright white from the hats on their heads to the shoes on their feet. It reminded me of a time when Alice had taken to dressing us up in the fashions straight from a magazine spread, with all the trappings staged in the pictures including human food, creating the allusion of a picnic. The food went to waste and was tossed, but the sentiment was there. Fortunately that phase in Alice's fashion career had passed and we were no longer subject to make believe human pastimes of picnics, barbeques, clam bakes all dressed in our finest Ralph Lauren casual wear.
I stood hidden in the shadows of the house. In my hands I held the proof of my attempts to enroll though not necessarily the evidence of my desire to go and literature from a school was something I'd use in the past, but it was important to at least present the documentation to further the charade. But standing there listening to the sounds of my family's joy in the company of each other, laughing in delight when Alice amused them with a charming story, giggling as Emmett and Jasper engaged in an impromptu arm wrestling match, hearing the thoughts of love that passed between each of them, I was filled with a sadness so deep, so penetrating, all thoughts of sharing my news of enrolling in classes was drowned out by it.
Bella and I should have been part of that group out on the back patio, enjoying the companionship of the others, while taking solace in knowing we would always be together, always have each other. What I could feel between my family members, I should have been feeling with Bella right now, right at this very moment. Briefly I imagined myself walking towards my family, pretending Bella was on my arm Could I manage it. Could I pull it off? Had all my attempts at recovery brought me back to the one place that I couldn't escape from, my imaginary Bella to keep me company. From sadness to anger, I felt it in an instant. It wasn't fair. Bella was gone, gone forever, and no amount of yearning could bring her back. The only thing I had was her memories and I could remember her perfectly, the benefit and curse of a vampire mind. I could remember everything about her, so in theory, I could recreate her in my mind to the last detail. The only thing I couldn't recreate was new memories, but I could be satisfied with that, with the time we had, with the memories I had.
And that led me to thoughs of Marcus and his endless memories of Didyme. Marcus had been mated with her for over one thousand years. His memories were endless and bountiful and he thrived in those remembrances, existed despite her loss and was allowed that passive existence by those closest to him. Why wasn't I given that luxury? Even in the brief time I had to mourn Bella after her death they were always pestering me, insisting that I move on. Months? What was months when I had eternity? Surely I should be allowed to grieve her for longer than mere months.
But as much as I wanted to blame my family for separating me from my Bella memories, I couldn't. I understood their need to encourage me forward. They knew me only too well, my ability to wallow in hopelessness and they were fearful I would slip away. No I couldn't blame them. They loved me. I had no allusions that Aro and Caius held the same such affections for Marcus. He was a tool to them; just another means to manipulate and control the guard. His value was more by reputation and Volturi lore than what he actually did as part of the trio. They could afford to let him lose himself in those memories as long as he presented himself occasionally to visitors and the condemned and utilized his gift when requested.
The delighted laughter of Esme drew my attention. Her head was thrown back, her eyes filled with love and happiness as she watched Emmett in some weird form of shadow boxing that elicited a chorus of chuckles from the rest of the family and an eye roll and smirk from Rosalie. My family, three perfectly matched pairs, an enigma that had haunted me for decades and as I watched them enjoying this beautiful afternoon, I felt the profoundness of the moment.
At first just it was just a sensation, an inkling, an understanding that there was truth in this picture I saw before me, that the answers to the questions I didn't know to ask were right in front of me, taunting me. I watched Carlisle slide his hand along Esme's arm, saw her turn to him and smile shyly, even after all of this time, the moments they shared were like special treasures to be remembered and cherished. I saw as Alice climbed into Jasper's lap, flourishing in his tender embrace and his wonderment over his luck at having found her, his thoughts briefly touching on his horror of his past, something I could completely relate too. Emmett continued his goofy antics and Rosalie appeared annoyed with it, but her thoughts were of something else entirely. She adored the big goof of a husband, her mate, treasuring his ability to entertain and unite her family around her and Emmett delighted in amusing her, understanding that he was the bridge that connected her to them.
Then oddly, I considered Marcus and Didyme, recognizing that even after her death they could have a life of sorts, could share and love much as the couples did before me. I found comfort in this thought, but it wasn't what troubled me, wasn't what perplexed me about the scene before me; no that revelation was only just being revealed to me as I drifted from one mind to the other, watching the doting love clearly on display between my family members. There were no thoughts of me; they hadn't absorbed my presence, my smell hidden by the strong West blowing winds, the sounds of my approach masked by the crashing of waves against the rocks. It was a rare opportunity to delve in the minds of my family without their conscious attempts to block or edit their thoughts only to learn that during my absence they weren't thinking about me at all.
When the epiphany came it was as if I'd been hit by the force of a hundred vampires all charging me at once. I was overcome with the knowledge that had evaded me from the moment of my change. Countless talks with Carlisle and thousands of hours of solitary reflection had not brought me this truth that I was suddenly confronted with. The momentous force of this moment gripped me like a vise expelling all the air from my lungs and I gasped finally drawing the attention of my family.
Edward?
My name was suddenly in everyone thoughts, but I was running before they had a chance to really absorb my presence. I ran as fast as I could dropping the literature from the college as I ran. It was still daylight; cars whizzed back and forth on the highway, but I was too fast for anyone to see and I took no notice of them or the assortment of human scents that filled my nostrils as I sprinted away. My mind was blank, I thought of nothing, I only needed to get way, assimilate what I learned and I couldn't risk being confronted by my family now. I needed to understand, to process and to accept, most of all to accept.
I only stopped running when the sky darkened and twilight approached. I was well into Canada now, far enough away that I could expect to be left alone. They would be understandably worried, Alice's visions would be unremarkable, but my sudden departure would be troubling for them. I would make it right soon enough, for now I needed my space. I needed to grieve in solitude, accept my loss and recognize the cataclysmic change that would be part of my life for all time.
When the sobs came, I didn't try to stop them. There was no one to hear me here alone in the middle of the vast wilderness of south central Canada; the dry heaving rasps that echoed through trees would go unnoticed. They were wails more than sobs, almost painful in their intensity, I gasped for air I didn't need, sunk to my knees holding my ribs as they constricted with each breath, clenching my abused hair, pulling at it, the agony of my loss culminating in this moment. I cursed the God I didn't believe in, Carlisle for his ignorance when he created me, myself for my obliviousness to my true purpose and Aro for inadvertently showing me the truth. The despondency I felt was insufferable, when for the first time I recognized what I was foreordained to do from the beginning and it had little to do with discarding my own goals and dreams. For a change, it wasn't about me and my selfish behavior.
The need to escape from the anguish that burned through me was overpowering and I found myself reverting to a habitual idiosyncrasy from my newborn days. The soil beneath my body was rich and fertile and was easily displaced, but even if it had been solid granite, my desire to disappear beneath it was all consuming. I began clawing at the ground, throwing rocks and roots aside, my hands moving the earth in a rapid succession of frantic pawings. If I had better tools I would have disappeared in a blink of an eye, but with only my hands to aid me it took several seconds for a depression big enough to accommodate my body formed in the soil. I continued digging, making little effort to push the fruits of my labor aside and as the hole deepened, I buried myself with the dirt I just removed. Eventually my entire body was covered, but I didn't stop. I burrowed further, surrounding myself in the earthy loam, feeling the temperature around me drop as I disappeared further underground.
Eventually I stopped, if only to clear my face and mouth of the grime that had accumulated there. With the weight of tons of earth covering my body, I curled myself up in a fetal position, burying my face in my knees and tried to forget what brought me here in the first place. I concentrated on the sounds around me and ironically there was none. No internal thoughts of humans or vampires, no external noise of modern society, not even the blowing of wind or rustling of leaves or crashing of waves or the call of birds or the noise of animals invaded my mind. Even the inner workings of my body were soundless; no heartbeat, no breathing, nothing that would point to a living breathing creature, of which I was not, but still I existed. This oxymoron alone would have had me in a quandary, analyzing the point of a vampire's existence in God's plan, but in my currently state, I barely gave it a thought.
Yet my soundless world was not comforting and as with all respites, I could not ignore the torment of my loss for long and eventually my dirt filled tomb became claustrophobic and inhibiting. And so I reversed my direction and crawled through the mud and the dirt until I broke the surface of the terrain once more.
I remained half buried, unable to gather the will to pull myself out completely and thus admit that I could not disappear from life. Even if I were to lie here in this shallow grave, I would remain alive for all time, the memories of the bodiless heads convinced me of that. We could not die of our own hand, and so there was no point in a passive suicide attempt. Besides, they would come, eventually they would come and take me back and I did not need them to see me in this current pathetic condition. The time for that self pitying nonsense was over.
And so I lay waiting for the breaking dawn and only then did I pull myself completely free of the mother earth, shaking myself like a wet dog and wiping at what remained of my clothes as if I could clean myself of the evidence of a night spent underground. I looked around me with new awareness, my eyes seeing my surrounding from a new perspective. I'd been reborn during the course of the night, through the agony of my sobs and torturous understanding of what I was; reborn as surely as I had been when Carlisle bit me and I'd awakened from a three day burn. The world around me was differently somehow. My senses weren't enhanced, I had no new physical abilities or gifts, yet I felt powerful beyond words.
I was filled with a new purpose a new appreciation for what I was and perceiving my true destiny for the first time released me from the burden of justifying my existence to myself. I mourned my former life, but for the first time that I could remember, I felt at peace.
The clouds threatening to bring a torrential downpour were moving to the east and the sun was just starting to poke through the trees. It was a new day, a new life and I felt calmed by the certainty of my future so much so that for the first time in several months and without the benefit of a piano or a pen my body was free of twitching, the tremors had stopped.
Author Notes:
Don't worry, you aren't suppose to understand what just happened. But I'll give you a hint at the end of these author notes and it might be a big enough hint to help you figure it out, so don't read it if you don't want to know. There is one more chapter coming and the epilogue.
A couple of things…
If you are wondering about Edward's reference to his newborn days and his comments about burrowing underground, no that never happened in SM's version, but I've considered writing a prequel to this story and there is a significant event that Edward experiences as a newborn that shaped his behavior and would explain why he is such a tormented soul. In fact, I made a very vague reference to this in the second chapter when Carlisle kept him from digging underground to escape him.
Now for the hint…..Edward's epiphany has to do with the title of this story. Nuff said.