Chapter 24 - Naughty Whitlocks
Charlotte spent her special time with Bella teaching her to control her strength in every day life experiences. She helped her with the fine motor skills needed to manipulate small, fragile items, like buttons, zippers, pens, pencils, scissors, etc. She helped Bella learn to dress herself without destroying her clothes and worked on fun craft projects with her, involving glue, scissors, paint, pens, and pencils.
Bella learned how to express herself artistically, through drawing and painting, and her work was proudly showcased throughout the house, showing a rapid progression of talent in a relatively short period of time. Char did her best to encourage the childlike creativity of Bella's young mind, not wanting her to grow up so quickly that she missed out on quality formative experiences.
Char, of course, took advantage of our unwillingness to deny Bella anything or hurt her feelings, for her own amusement. This was apparent the day we were all gifted with 'delightful' macaroni necklaces Bella had made for us. We gracefully accepted our homemade jewelry and wore them all day, though I doubt any of us breathed more than absolutely necessary that day. The paint and shellac Bella and Char had used on the macaroni to protect it from decay was unpleasantly odoriferous, to put it mildly, even after drying, and having it in such close proximity to our sensitive noses was pure torture.
Char had convinced Bella to make ankle bracelets for the two of them, so Bella remained happily oblivious to Char's sly amusement at our strained smiles and stiff discomfort. After a sufficient number of hours had passed to satisfy Bella's innocent pride, we all quickly deposited our necklaces behind the heavy glass doors of Esme's antique china closet. The furniture effectively blocked the scent, allowing us to admire her handiwork from a safe distance. Thankfully, Bella was perfectly content to leave the jewelry there in the display case to be admired by all. Esme had thoughtfully explained that the necklaces would be safer stored there for the rest of eternity, because it would be so easy for them to get damaged if the family continued to wear them. She promised they could be taken out and used for special occasions, which satisfied Bella, though the rest of us all secretly hoped she'd outgrow them before any such special occasion could occur.
We also all vowed revenge on Char for using Bella against us. After the interior of her car became the new home for a startled skunk, with the back seat full of her favorite outfits, purses, and shoes, she promised not to deliberately use our affection for Bella to make us suffer again.
Bella looked so proud of herself as she called us all into the living room. The wall beside the large, plate glass window had been covered by a sheet, and Char had kept the family out of the room all morning while she and Bella worked diligently on their latest project. We waited patiently for the unveiling, enjoying Bella's excitement as she wriggled in place beside Char. As the last person took their seat, Char nodded to Bella with an indulgent smile, and Bella squealed, spontaneously clapping her hands.
Bella grabbed the sheet and yanked it down, accidentally tearing it in the process. "Oops," she pouted, distracted by the ragged pieces of cloth in her hands. I opened my mouth to comfort her by pointing out that it was no big deal, that I would buy her a hundred more if she wanted, when I was suddenly bowled over by the surprise, awe, and reverence of my family members. Caught up in their emotions, my eyes flew to the mural that had been revealed and stayed there.
The culmination of Char's art lessons had resulted in a large depiction of our family, the figures somewhat simplistic in their lines, yet still easily recognizable, with the level of detail enhanced on the figures' faces. She had drawn each of the couples together, doing some of their favorite activities (nothing inappropriate, of course, so it didn't cover Emmett's and Peter's number one favorite activity).
In the painting, Rose was working on Emmett's jeep, with him sitting on a stool beside her, acting as her jack. She was concentrating, dressed in her overall's, with smudges on her hands and face and her hair up in a messy ponytail, while Emmett watched her, his face a picture of love and adoration, along with a glint of male appreciation.
Charlotte was chasing Peter, his expression one of mischievous glee as he watched her over his shoulder, her expression one of amused exasperation, as she wielded a frying pan in a playfully threatening manner. Shining from both sets of eyes was love for one another, along with acceptance, desire, and a certain hint of mutual knowing. To the adult viewer, it was obvious that hint represented the shared knowledge that this was their version of foreplay and would end in the physical expression of their love for one another. It was a look we all knew well, as we saw it on a daily basis between the two of them.
Carlisle and Esme were curled up on the loveseat together, each caught up in their own magazines. Carlisle was reading the latest medical journal, while Esme was flipping through a seed catalog and making a list of which flowers she wanted to add to her new greenhouse. He had his magazine resting on his left knee, flipping pages with his left hand, while she had hers on her right knee, marking her selections with the pencil in her right hand. Their bodies were touching, foot to shoulder, with their free hands intertwined. Even though they were each engaged in their own reading material, they were clearly in tune with one another, and their faces bore identical expressions of love, peace, and contentment, simply enjoying one another's presence.
Last, but not least were Bella and I, engaged in a game of chess. I had been teaching her how to play while the others engaged in some of their more publicly acceptable couple time, just as the mural depicted. We were sitting on the living room floor, with the board on a low table beside us. My legs were stretched out long ways, with Bella comfortably ensconced between them, her back to my chest. My left arm was wrapped around her waist, her left arm resting gently on top of mine, the fingers of our left hands entwined. Her right hand was splayed on my lower thigh, just above my knee, and my right hand was reaching toward the chess pieces. I was clearly concentrating on the board and talking, no doubt explaining my options to her like I had been doing in real life, while she was staring up at me, something akin to hero worship shining in her eyes. I was struck by the intimacy of our situation in the picture and forced my brain to remember Bella was still just a child, when I found my mind trying to conjure up less innocent situations for us.
As incredible and amazing as the painting was, capturing our essences even better than a photograph ever could, it held a hidden depth not yet seen, even by our enhanced vision. The sun moved out from behind the heavy gray cloud cover for the first time that day, and we all gasped as the figures in the picture began to sparkle in the sunlight.
"What, how, but," Emmett stuttered, pointing at the mural that was glittering just as brightly as we were in the light now pouring through the window.
Bella giggled and clapped her hands again, "See! It's us!"
She waved her arms in the light, loving the way the light reflected off her skin and cast rainbows around the room. Rose had moved to examine the painting more closely.
"It's glitter," she announced to the rest of us. "She used glitter to make us all sparkle in the light!"
I soaked up Bella's blissful emotions as she was showered with praise from each of our family members for the beautiful artwork she had shared with us. Unlike the human Bella, this Bella loved all the attention she received from her doting family. She adored the gifts we gave her - new clothes, technology, hair accessories, jewelry, shoes, art supplies, books - and she had no concern about money at all. I wasn't sure she even knew what money was.
I thought about the difference and realized human Bella had grown up her entire life learning to be independent, responsible, and self-sufficient, an island unto herself. Renee's incapability of fulfilling the role of responsibility taught Bella at a very young age not to rely on anyone other than herself to provide for her needs. She learned not to crave the attention or companionship of others, as it wasn't forthcoming when she needed or wanted it. She learned to be content with solitary pursuits, finding her happiness while lurking in the background, hidden in the shadows. No doubt Renee's forays into dating and rapidly changing friendships taught her to be wary of unexpected gifts. Whether they were offered as bribes or pleas for forgiveness, they likely always had strings attached.
She learned to value money for her very survival, each carefully hoarded dime being the difference between having enough to eat or not, having electricity and running water or not. Upon meeting us, she hadn't been able to grasp the concept of money being so plentiful it was hardly more than paper. She hadn't been able to understand or relate to our attitude that money was relatively unimportant as we had more than we could spend without calling attention to ourselves. She had felt threatened by people spending money so freely it was like water slipping through their hands, as her survival instincts had taught her for years that such spending habits would result in devastation, eviction, and starvation.
Vampire Bella had lost all these fears and inhibitions along with her human memories. She was finally free to have the kind of playful, protected, safe, loving, and affectionate childhood every child would have in a perfect world, even though her childhood was going to be remarkably brief. She had come so far in a mere week of existence, much farther than any of the other head injury victims I had encountered in the past. With seven adult vampires at her beck and call, all eager to teach her as much as possible, all willing to shower her with time, attention, and affection, without any fear of discovery or impending execution, it probably shouldn't have been surprising she grew the way she did. Any quiet fears we might have harbored in the recesses of our minds that she would forever carry the mind of a child, that she wouldn't be able to ever mature enough to defend her existence to the Volturi, who might well have likened her to an immortal child, had been laid to rest by her rapid progress.
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Peter decided his role would be teaching her to appreciate humor. We tried to point out he was unqualified for the position, but he insisted anyway. Thus, we were forced to endure countless hours of pathetic knock-knock jokes, bad puns, puerile jokes, and stories that would only be amusing in the minds of preschoolers and prepubescent boys. Not that Bella made it easy for him.
"Knock, Knock."
"Who's there?"
"Ivan."
"Ivan who?"
"I van to suck your blood!"
"I don't have any blood, Papa."
"No, no, it's like for a human, if a human was behind the door."
"But we don't drink from humans, Papa."
"Speak for yourself," he muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"Um, never mind. Well, then, what if it was a deer behind the door?"
"Deer don't speak English, Papa. They wouldn't answer a knock in the first place."
"Right. Silly me."
Bella giggled. "You are silly, Papa."
"Well, at least I made you laugh," he pointed out petulantly.
She giggled again and nodded. "Silly Papa!"
Luckily for us, she had no concept of potty humor whatsoever. Having no memory of ever using a toilet, burping, or farting, she would just stare at Peter blankly if he made reference to any of those things. If he pursued it, he'd get so frustrated trying to explain to her why it was funny, that she'd just end up laughing at him, still unimpressed with his joke. It didn't take long for him to give up on that genre of comedy altogether, a fact which only brightened the spirits of the rest of the household.
Unfortunately, as her skills and understanding increased, and her rapid wit began to outshine his own, he moved on to initiating pranks, using her as his lackey. He played hide and seek with her, under the guise of teaching her tracking, and when she had gotten the hang of it, he engaged her in their first prank.
Convincing her it was a normal part of training, he had her gather every single female left shoe in the house and leave a confusing trail all through the woods, before finally finding an appropriate hiding place for the shoes. He ended up having her bury them under the bed of a small stream, in the muck and mire. By the time Esme, Rosalie, and Charlotte had uncovered all the missing shoes, their wrath had built to a point even my Major persona in the height of the Southern wars would have been reluctant to face. I let Peter get a taste of their emotions and left him cowering under a rock, praying they wouldn't find him. I grabbed hold of Bella and carried her to safety, lest any of their vengeance accidentally be directed her way. She was blissfully ignorant of the shitstorm we left Peter to face on his own.
It took Peter three full days and nights to locate all the little pieces of himself the ladies had removed and hidden, after they decided he could benefit from perfecting his own tracking skills, while he reconsidered the wisdom of enraging all the women in his life at the same time. Not one of us guys dared try and help him either, as all of us highly valued keeping our own pieces attached to our bodies where they belonged. In fact, we all walked on eggshells around the women for a little while after that, at least until they were able to engage in a shopping marathon and replace the damaged shoes. Personally, I thought Peter was lucky they decided not to shove every single one of the muddy ones where the sun don't shine, like they originally considered. I'd take partial dismemberment over that any day.
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AN: *sighing and shaking head* Those naughty Whitlocks . . . at least they keep things from getting too routine or boring, right? Anybody getting tired of the fluff? Ready for some drama?
PS, if you think Carlisle was bad, my husband is a family doctor, and he balked at giving any kind of 'sex' talk to our sons, much less our daughters. Heaven forbid he should have to mention the 'p' word or talk about the boys touching themselves, and they haven't even reached the puberty stage yet. Though he has no problem volunteering his services teaching a sex ed seminar at the local high school every year, complete with gruesome photos of diseased genitalia in various stages of STDs. *rolls eyes* Go figure.