Author's Notes (November 1, 2010): Whew, okay, so I pretty well failed at replying to reviews. Some of you I didn't get back to at all, while others I managed to reply to, just today. Sorry, guys. I'm definitely more of a writer than a review replier, but I always read what you write! It keeps me going!
Special thanks to the ladies that whipped this chapter into shape: duskwatcher2153, Aleeab4u and GreatChemistry.
Chapter pic: sadly none this time. :( I was super sick, and it wasn't so super.
Chapter music: bit(dot)ly/sotpm13-music
"SINS OF THE PIANO MAN"
CHAPTER 13: INTERSPECIES RELATIONS
One day I'll be wondering how
I got so old just wondering how
I never was cold wearing nothing in the snow.
"Caring is Creepy" by The Shins
EDWARD MASEN
Halfway to Forks, Bella received a call from Carlisle to say he, Esme and Alice would be joining us at Charlie's for the evening. I let up on the accelerator then, suddenly a little less eager to go with Bella to Forks, even if I did want to be there to protect her from potential disaster. I'd been avoiding contact with the Cullens since last Sunday. I hadn't planned on changing that any time soon, but it seemed I no longer had a choice in the matter.
On Wednesday night, when Bella had fallen asleep, I'd returned to Forks to see what I could learn of the coven from a distance, knowing they'd returned from Canada by then. I knew they would scent me in the forest later, but I'd thought I could learn something from their thoughts. They knew so much about me already. At this point, I was blindly grasping for any sort of advantage.
Of course, things hadn't gone according to plan. Again.
I was beginning to note a pattern in my existence.
I'd been two miles from their house, listening in, hoping to learn something, but the only thoughts I could read were abnormally focused ones and Alice's nauseating tour of imagery. I heard the soft tenor of what could only be Esme Cullen's thoughts as she focused on a blueprint, and there was Carlisle, diligently reciting something—in a language I didn't know—Russian, I thought. It took me a while to figure out what was happening, but eventually I realized that Alice had foreseen my clandestine visit and had instructed Carlisle and Esme. That was all the proof I needed. Clearly the Cullens were hiding something from me, but what was it?
Alice was such a thorn in my side.
Should anything go awry from here, I would be in a vulnerable position. In the past, my tactic for survival among my own kind, when I'd chanced upon them, had been to avoid all potential conflict. That was precisely why I'd not remained with the one coven I'd spent any length of time with. I didn't know how to fight, and I figured my chances of survival would always be higher if I didn't get involved. Period. It was simple, really.
I couldn't avoid the Cullens, though, no matter how much I might desire to; I couldn't even oppose them, really. I had no ground to stand on, and whether I liked or understood it at all, they were a part of Bella and Charlie's lives. They had been, long before I'd ever come to town to stalk the woman who was now in the car with me. I was fortunate, in that they weren't traditional vampires trying to stake a claim on their territory, because a solitary vampire such as I was no match against a united coven.
No, were I to willfully disrupt the peace they'd kept by acting out against them, I would be the one at fault, the one at their mercy, and Bella would most certainly not view me in a favorable light, either. Since my revelation last Sunday night, that was what mattered most to me in the end. It was probably a little suicidal of me to care so much, but I was ironically eaten up by my feelings for her.
"Edward?"
I glanced at Bella. "Hmm?"
"Are you okay? You're really quiet." Her eyes were worried as they darted to the speedometer. She'd noticed we were going slower. There were times when she seemed to notice everything.
"I'm all right," I lied, as I often did, because what could I possibly tell her? Not the truth—never the truth.
I became more anxious as we arrived in Forks. In time, I managed to grab hold of the Cullens' thoughts in the sea of mental voices, but they weren't focused on anything worthwhile. Charlie's muted thoughts were impossible to find until his house came into view.
I parked behind a black Mercedes. "Carlisle's?" I guessed.
Bella nodded.
"Do the Cullens have a penchant for ostentatious vehicles?" I asked. They should be more careful, I thought. In a coven their size, they didn't need additional reasons to draw attention to themselves if our only rule was to keep the secret of our kind.
"You're one to talk," she teased me. "But, yes, they all drive fancy cars. They're loaded."
At her words, I felt an echo of my past, of her past, of how her mother had said the same thing of me twenty-one years earlier. "Money's not everything," I said. "And it's poor company."
"Only when you have it."
I frowned, but opted not to say anything further, because I knew in her human world with human needs, she wasn't entirely incorrect. I felt we were going to have to do something about her financial situation if she and Charlie were to have the time together that they deserved. Unfortunately, I knew she'd be reluctant to receive help, perhaps especially from me, when I was so busy keeping secrets from her, as she'd well learned today. I was still trying to figure out what the repercussions of her visit to my home would be.
There was a light mist on the breeze, and it was as if I were blanketed in her scent as I helped her out of the car. She smelled so good, and I leaned in quickly and brushed her lips with mine. I craved her—blood and body and soul. I lingered until her breathing was unsteady, because I loved to see her relax and come undone. It made me lose my mind, perhaps, but I was masochistic enough to enjoy that.
Would I ever be able to touch her, have her as I so deeply desired?
Would I ever be able to tell her how I felt?
I still burned when around her—in more ways than one—but I was coping, hanging on by a thin hair of a thread. I wasn't sneaking into her bedroom anymore. I was invited. Her bed smelled like me now, too. But I was selfish, and this was not enough for me where Bella was concerned.
"Hey, you guys!" Alice sang as she popped out of Charlie's like a vampire-in-a-box, immediately annihilating the mood by my car. She bounced on her toes at the edge of the porch. Yay! I'm glad you're here, she thought to me. I scowled at her.
Ooh, that's not pretty at all. Don't let your face get stuck that way. You already have to look like you do for the rest of eternity. With that, she skipped back into the house.
What was wrong with the way I looked?
I stayed close to Bella's side as we entered the house. I wasn't as on edge as when I'd first met Alice, but I was still very much aware that Bella was walking into a house with three vampires, not including me. This seemed like a terrible idea, and while Bella kicked off her shoes and chatted with Alice, I contemplated throwing Bella over my shoulder and making a run for Canada.
There was laughter in the kitchen—pure and sweet and unnaturallymusical, as was always the case with a vampire's vocal range. Esme had brought dinner tonight to relieve Bella of cooking duties, and Charlie was rather eager to get started. He'd been stealing little bites of what Esme was calling quiches, and she was popping him gently with a dishtowel when we entered the kitchen—an oddly domestic and familial sight for predator and prey to be entertaining. Alice joined Carlisle where he was seated beside Charlie, just to complete the odd scene.
"Hey, Dad," Bella said. I held my breath as she moved away from me to go hug her father. My whole body was stiff as she walked right into the thick of the vampire-filled room, but they didn't seem to note her presence as out of the ordinary, as a potential meal. I relaxed as she squeezed her father's frail, bony body and kissed the cap on his bald head.
"Hey, Bells. You're looking good." Charlie looked at her closely. Looks happier. He glanced at me, and through his memory of Bella from just a week before, I realized that she did actually look happier, as though the lines around her eyes had smoothed out. She was maybe getting more rest. Maybe…all right for her, he thought.
I wanted him to be right, but deep down, I knew he wasn't. How could a vampire ever be right for a human?
I finally allowed myself to acknowledge the coven leader beside Charlie, the vampire from my own human life. Carlisle's thoughts were calm, erring on the provocative side as he watched his mate bend down to retrieve something from a cabinet. I nearly laughed at the extreme normality of it all, but then he caught my smirk, and I was suddenly treated with something that sounded a lot like Latin, though I couldn't be sure.
How old was he to know Latin?
Of course, no matter his true age, he looked exactly the same as he had in the photograph from his office, the same as he had in my human life. As he stared at me, a small smile on his face, I wondered if beneath that layer of Latin, he was thinking the same sort of things about me.
What were the odds of this perverse reunion that cheated time and death? Astronomical, surely.
"Carlisle, Esme, this is Edward," Bella announced from her father's side, pulling me from my thoughts. She smiled broadly at me, and I felt my own lips lift. Not much could get to me when she was smiling.
Esme moved away from the dish she was preparing and came to stand before me. Her thoughts were gentle as she looked at my face. I hope we aren't overwhelming you. We wanted to meet you, she thought. Aloud, she said something similar, but less revealing. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Edward."
Instead of shaking my hand, as I thought she would, she reached up and patted my cheek. The gesture felt familiar somehow, as if perhaps my own, human mother had done this. Esme glanced at Bella. "I'm happy our Bella has met someone."
Our Bella.
I frowned as she turned back to her human food, and I was left wondering whether she was happy that their Bella had met a vampire or happy that she'd met someone who cared for her. I didn't know which concept I preferred, really, though I knew which was more appropriate for Bella.
Bella, for her part, blushed crimson. "Esme…"
Charlie cleared his throat. "Well, not to interrupt all the introductions, but everybody's here. Can we get started now?"
Esme laughed, and it seemed to please Bella that her father had a good appetite. She went to help prepare plates of food while Charlie, Alice and Carlisle talked amongst themselves. I remained in the doorway of the kitchen, fretting, watching, learning—feeling a hair out of place. It was as if I were intruding upon a family dinner—an odd notion when three of the family members couldn't even digest human food. Did they even understand the notion of family?
More importantly, did I? Could I?
All I knew was I loved her.
The interaction between Esme and Bella was puzzling, but through it I came to accept Esme a lot more easily than I expected I would. Ignoring all interspecies concerns, and the fact that she'd clearly been only a few years older than Bella when she was turned, Esme viewed Bella as a daughter. Judging by Bella's reactions, she might even think of Esme as a mother. On the one hand, this seemed right, as Renée, no matter any number of good or bad or indifferent intentions, had obviously turned out to be an utterly clueless parent. It was right that Bella should have a surrogate mother of sorts, but… She was a vampire. I couldn't quite get past that.
Of course, I was throwing stones from a glass house when I judged Esme. I was the one in Bella's bed every night, trying to keep my hands and teeth off her.
We had dinner—well, Charlie and Bella did—and as I again observed the interactions at the table, Carlisle silently instructed me on how to pretend to eat food in a believable manner. At least something good was coming out of this. I could get used to not coughing up venom-coated slime in the middle of the night.
Just as I'd concluded when Alice had visited by herself, I decided there was no denying the Cullens' devotion to the Swans or their peacefulness toward me, even if it did go against all my understanding of my kind. Regardless of my past with him, Carlisle was clearly a secondary father figure for Bella, a friend to Charlie, and a caretaker who looked over their physical, human well-being. Esme showered Bella with sweetness, and Alice made them laugh with her vivacious personality.
They weren't like a family. They were a family.
It was one of the strangest things I'd seen in a hundred years.
The Cullens continued to hide things from me. Their thoughts remained abnormally focused or at least purposefully preoccupied, often in languages that I didn't know. Earlier in the day, when I'd driven Bella to my home, I'd felt so clever, knowing French, but French and Spanish were the only languages I'd picked up over the years, and I was being easily outwitted by the better educated now. I tried to peel back the layers of their minds, but that could be a difficult task, if not altogether impossible with vampires. It was even worse when they were aware of my ability and taking full advantage of it.
Human minds were usually capable of only two or three flimsy layers of simultaneous thought. Vampire minds weren't like this. We possessed the capacity to think of many things at once, and these thought processes were deeply and complexly layered. Each thought of a vampire mind contained much more information, due to our perfect recall, and so juggling the data was more difficult for me, particularly with several of us in the room.
Where humans and vampires did find common ground was in the fact that there were always one or two thoughts that took up primary focus, and this was how the Cullens were brilliantly locking me out. Humans were easily distracted, and so primary focus shifted often or could be easily directed with prompting; truly, all humans suffered from attention problems.
A vampire, however, could focus at will, locking me into a single, louder "top" layer of thought, while other things might be going on beneath the surface. Humans would be hopeless trying this, but vampires could devote a whole layer of "sub-thought" to keeping that one main point in focus. I'd had this happen only one other time in my existence, the time I'd been foolish enough to reveal the secrets of my ability. I'd vowed never to do that again. And yet, here I was, caught in the same situation—and at no fault of my own.
What incredibly bad luck.
Alice's brain was the worst, though, I decided. She had more layers than an onion and had somehow learned how to give nearly-primary focus to several at a time. Her tactic wasn't to lock me onto one thought, but to overwhelm me so I had no desire to look any deeper than my ability forced me to do so. For the most part, it worked, too; the information overload was uncomfortable, disquieting in the same way crowds could be.
When everyone had finished eating, or at least pretended to do so, Charlie rose from the table and began reaching for plates. "I'll go clean these," he said.
Beside me, Bella got up as well, her brow furrowed with worry. "Dad? Don't worry about it. I can get it."
He stacked Carlisle's plate on top of the two he was already balancing. "Nonsense. Esme fixed dinner. You helped serve it. I don't mind cleaning, Bells." His lips set in a familiar, stubborn line.
Bella shook her head. "It's the end of the day. I know you're tired. You shouldn't be straining yourself." She reached to take the plates out of his hands, but he jerked them away.
"I can do this myself," he grunted, his face turning red. His thoughts were tangled. He was angry at Bella for making him appear weak, but the root of his anger went deeper. He did feel weak.
His breathing was shallow as he reached for the plate I hesitantly held out to him, and then a coughing fit came. It started out simply enough, but then it turned deeper, ragged, and his thoughts homed in on that final human need: to keep breathing. He dropped the plates down onto the table, where they smacked together, and braced himself against the tabletop.
"Dad!" Bella grabbed him around his shoulders. Alice, Esme and I stood up and looked at each other, all uncomfortable with the tense situation and unsure of what to do.
Carlisle was in motion, however. He was confident as he went to the kitchen, a cough syrup bottle in mind. He returned with it a moment later, just as Charlie's wheezing was beginning to quiet. "It's all right, Bella," Carlisle assured her with a pat on her back. "Give him some space. He just needs to take this." He spoke to Charlie, "You forgot to take your morning dose?"
Charlie shrugged and didn't say anything. Get it together...can't let…see me like this.
"What is that?" Bella asked, wringing her hands together as Carlisle poured dark green liquid into a spoon.
"Only cough syrup," he answered, while steadying the spoon in Charlie's thin hand as he took the medicine. "It only relieves symptoms, but that's all we need now." His words were delivered in that calm, authoritative voice all competent doctors used on patients and their families. They were a reminder that Charlie had made his decision, and that any medicines administered now were taken for reasons of comfort.
Bella watched her father closely, her eyes flickering between the spoon, his hands, the gaunt and hairless features of his face. Her own face was twisted in pain, her eyes filled with unshed tears. As I got up to go to her, I wondered how her human body could handle these emotions, how it didn't crumble beneath the weight and stress.
"Don't," she hissed at me when I reached out to her.
She doesn't mean anything by that, Esme thought. She's just upset.
"Bella?" I whispered, my hand lifted in between us, stretched toward her face, but frozen in midair by rejection. I dropped it back to my side after several long seconds.
She ignored me and asked Charlie, "Are you okay now, Dad?"
He nodded and cleared his throat. "Right as rain."
Bella's frown deepened as she picked up the plates that Charlie had dropped and took them into the kitchen. They crashed and clattered again, this time in the sink. The back door slammed a moment later, banging twice against the frame.
She stood outside, yet close enough to the house that I was still able to hear her heartbeat as it raced away. I was so attuned to the rhythm now that I understood some of its finer nuances. This was a beat in double time, a running sound—a wanting to run away sound.
Unfortunately for Bella—unfortunately for me—I'd never figured out how to completely run away from death. It was an inevitable force in the universe, one that affected even my immortal existence. Perhaps Bella understood this, in the depths of herself; perhaps that was why she stayed in place, even as her heart didn't.
I made to follow her outside, but Alice stopped me. Let Esme, she thought. Esme was already headed toward the kitchen and back door. Her thoughts were warm and sad, focused on helping Bella. No matter her compassionate thinking, it wasn't easy letting a vampire trail behind Bella. At least, not one that wasn't me.
You can be assured that Esme loves Bella, Carlisle thought, even as he spoke to Charlie about the importance of taking his medicine. She has very good control and has decades of living a vegetarian lifestyle.
Vegetarian? Ah. Very funny—and very morbid for the good doctor.
Alice smiled at me and gave her own reassurance. It's okay, you know. We'd never hurt her.
I tried to believe them, but when it came to Bella, my head was rarely capable of rational thought. Yet fearful of what might happen, I stared off and kept my mind closely focused on Esme's as the rest of us continued to sit and talk in the dining room, as if everything were normal.
"That was hard to witness, wasn't it?" Esme asked. Through her eyes, I saw Bella's back, hunched as she held her arms around her middle, as though she were keeping herself from falling apart. She was facing the woods that ran along the back of Charlie's house when a westerly wind flipped her brown hair out behind her. Without even seeing her face, Esme and I both thought she looked incredibly tired for one so young.
"I just wish he was well," Bella said. She didn't turn around as she began to ramble. "Sometimes I get my hopes up. I thought, what with him and Carlisle… I thought today was a good thing, a good sign, even though that's really stupid. And then when he's stubborn, and he won't let me help him… If he'd just let me clean up, he never would have strained himself. I see how bad he is, and I know it's only going to get worse. And still I hope. And then things like this happen." She groaned in frustration. "It's so stupid. All of it's just stupid."
"Feelings aren't always rational," Esme replied. I held my breath as she walked toward Bella and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, her thoughts calculating the exact strength to use on my fragile human. "Have I ever told you about my little baby?"
Bella glanced sideways at her. "No…"
"Carlisle and I can't have children now, which is why we've chosen to adopt, but I did have a little boy before we came to Forks." Her memory was a faded, grainy human one, of course, of a baby boy she'd lost to a lung infection. I saw the small headstone; she lost him in 1921, the year that it appeared we were both turned into vampires.
She remembered singing lullabies as she cradled the little boy and walked around the hospital. Walking with him, singing to him, those were the only ways he'd ever fallen asleep. He'd only lived a few days, but the memory of his face she'd kept with her always. It was this cherished memory of a human child that allowed me to relax in the here and now. I had no doubt that Esme knew I was listening to her thoughts, to their conversation. She was sharing this with Bella and with me.
This woman, vampire or not, would not harm Bella. It wasn't in her to do so. She'd retained too much of her human self to do that. Still, I listened, even as another part of my brain discussed the weather with Alice.
"He was the most beautiful thing in the world," she said. "I know I'm biased, but he really was." She chuckled. "I loved him so much, and when he got sick, there were moments when I told myself he looked better, when he really didn't, or cried less, when he maybe cried even more. It was hard to lose him—the hardest thing I've ever been through." She was telling the truth. In her mind, not even the painful fire of the transformation could compare to the loss of her child. Human loss burned more brightly, because it burned forever, especially for those of us who had the potential to exist for that long.
"I'm so sorry," Bella said.
Esme squeezed her, and I didn't tense up; I was glad she was offering comfort. "It was a long time ago now. My point is that any time we love someone so dearly, we'll find reason to hope, even in the face of the most disheartening truths. It's not a bad thing, you know, if it helps you or them get through a day."
"But what happens when he's gone? Won't I be even more disappointed? I feel like I should be realistic." She sucked in a shaky breath. "Prepare myself."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it—and it will be a matter for all of us, Bella. You aren't alone in this. I only wish you'd let us do more for you." We're covering the funeral costs, whether you want us to or not, she thought, and if the scenario weren't such a sad one, I would have laughed at Esme's determination.
"You already do too much."
"Nonsense. A family takes care of its own." Esme brushed Bella's hair with her hand, while I sat in silent awe in the dining room. Family. There was that word again.
A moment of silence passed between them before Bella asked, "Dad and Carlisle didn't just spend the day together, did they?"
"No." Esme's voice became a whisper. "Do you want to know what they did?"
"I— Yeah, I think so."
Esme didn't sugarcoat anything. "They saw our lawyer and finalized your father's will."
"They what?" Bella nearly shouted, and I watched through Esme's vision as she pulled away, as her face turned red, just as Charlie's had a while earlier.
"It was time, and Charlie wanted to make sure everything was clear and valid, so you won't have to deal with much when the time comes."
"When he's dead, you mean," Bella deadpanned. "I should have been there—not Carlisle."
Esme didn't disagree. "I knew you'd want to be there, but Charlie wanted it this way. It's his way of protecting you while he can."
Bella snorted. "Protecting me? He only feels that way because he thinks I'm still in college, living in a happy bubble."
For a moment, Esme felt frustrated by both Charlie and Bella's stubbornness. She didn't see why Bella should shoulder so much responsibility or why Charlie should try to shelter his daughter. She voiced none of this. "You need to be with him. Why don't you let us help you? We will, you know. You can pay us back if you want, but you certainly don't have to. We love you like you're one of our own. I hate to see you so stressed and overworked. At least consider cutting back your hours."
Bella's eyes turned cold, despite their warm brown hue. "I told you before, I can handle things on my own. I'll be fine," she replied, a stubborn edge to her voice, and then turned away. She entered the house again.
Though I couldn't read Bella's mind, I knew she'd break this night. She hid it as she returned to the dining room, smiling as she passed Charlie and patted his back, but I knew if no one else did. I grabbed her hand and willed myself to be her lifeline. She didn't reject me this time. She drew nearer.
Charlie had once spent his free time watching sports, but he had given that up in recent months, in favor of spending more quality time with loved ones. This had resulted in Sunday night card games, when he felt well enough for them. So it was that I found myself at the dining room table with the vampire Cullens and human Swans, a questionable set of cards in my left hand and a few grimy pennies beside me for play betting.
With the exception of one round of poker, we played old games that Esme and Carlisle had taught Charlie and Bella—500 Rum, Pitch, Crazy Eights, Hearts. From Carlisle's memory, I learned that card games had been one of the ways he'd taught Esme to regulate her newborn strength. If she could shuffle a deck without ripping the cards, she had mastered the strength of her hands. Indeed, Esme shuffled like the dealers in Vegas and egged us on just as much. Carlisle almost always tried to bluff, no matter what his cards were like, and Charlie spent so much time trying to figure everyone else's cards out that his own hand was almost always poor.
I wasn't sure I'd ever played these games in my human life, but I caught on quickly and—admittedly—cheated, right alongside of Alice, who sneaked peeks into the future when she could get away with it. She didn't hide her ability from me during the card games, and I learned how she navigated the future as she chattered away to me mentally. For the moment, I could genuinely say I didn't mind her. I maybe even appreciated her ability, since cheating was the only way Bella hadn't personally nabbed all my pennies after a few short games. Somehow, Bella had no idea how she was winning half of the time, but she was thoroughly pleased that she could best me. She once stuck her tongue out at me while grabbing two pennies I'd bet.
I may have let her win a few times, just in hopes of seeing that again.
The entertainment of the games came second to the reality of what took place in the small dining room. Charlie was happy, and Bella glowed as a result. The Cullens had relaxed their thoughts a little, since they were primarily focused on the game, and I found them to be good…people through the night. They didn't feel superior to the humans in the room, though their minds certainly might be, and their feelings toward me were strangely accepting. There was warmth and laughter here.
And I laughed, perhaps more than I ever had. I laughed when Carlisle, who seemed so straight-laced, let out a curse over his mate's trickery. I laughed at Alice's sour expression when Bella's indecision over her cards caused one of her visions to be wrong. I laughed when Bella did an awkward victory dance in her chair after beating Charlie, who turned out to be a rather sore loser, at least when it came to Crazy Eights.
We played into the night, until the old clock in the dining room chimed twelve times. Charlie looked at it in surprise, though his eyes were red with exhaustion. "Bells, you two better get on back to Port Angeles. Don't your classes start early?"
Bella wouldn't meet his gaze as she nodded. "Early enough."
"Good game!" Alice said, cleverly redirecting everyone's attention as she began picking up the cards a little too fast.
Charlie was staring at the pennies, counting. "Esme, you won again. By two pennies." He looked at Bella. "You almost had her, kid."
"Maybe next time," Esme said with a self-satisfied smile as she shuffled the two decks of cards Alice handed her before putting them back in their boxes.
Just as it had been the week before, parting from Charlie wasn't easy for Bella. The Cullens and I went out onto the front porch to give them some modicum of privacy, though we could still hear their shy interactions. Charlie and Bella seemed to find emotional interaction with each other difficult.
"So you said you wanted to go fishing last week," Charlie said in his gruff, raspy voice. Hope…okay. "Carlisle and I thought we'd go next Sunday. Why don't you and, uh, Edward come along?" …all right boy.
He approved of me?
"I'd love that." I saw her smile through Charlie's thoughts, and he felt at peace.
They hugged, whispered their love, and then Bella came out onto the porch with the rest of us. Her face was mottled red, her cheeks damp and glowing under the glare of the porch floodlight. I pulled her to me and kissed her forehead.
"Bella?" Carlisle said as he looked at us, his tone gentle and sad. "I know it's late, but would you and Edward be willing to come to our house for a while? There are things I feel I should discuss with you, regarding Charlie's health. I didn't want to do this over the phone, and you're only here this one night." His smile was apologetic and surprisingly genuine.
"You could stay at our place, so you don't have to come back and disturb Charlie. We've got a guestroom and everything," Alice offered, chipper as ever.
I stiffened a little at the thought, but I looked at Bella, waiting for her to decide. I would go wherever she did—especially into vampire dens. She looked back at me, tired but determined. "You drove us here. Is it okay if…"
"Of course, if you're not too tired. We can stay here tonight or drive back, whichever you prefer." But I was hoping she didn't want to sleep in a vampire house, even if they did seem saintly.
Bella nodded at me and then turned a watery smile onto the Cullens. "All right. Well, let's just get the hard stuff over and done with, and we'll see how we are."
When Bella and I arrived at the Cullens' mansion, Carlisle immediately led us to his office on the second floor, while Alice and Esme remained downstairs. Knowing what to expect here, my head was clearer this time, so I could more fully take in my surroundings. Though I wasn't at an angle to see the photograph, a new picture frame was on Carlisle's work desk, one undoubtedly purchased to replace the one I'd damaged in my fear and frustration the last time I'd been in this room.
I noticed this time that the wall beside his desk had several discolorations—signs that other frames of varying sizes were no longer there. I wondered where they'd been moved. He caught me staring as he sat behind his desk, and his mind returned to the general mystery that was the Latin language. I narrowed my eyes at him, confused and disconcerted.
"Please, sit," he said to Bella and me, nodding toward a set of chairs.
I glanced at her. "Do you want me here?" I pled with my eyes. I wasn't ready to leave her with Carlisle—Esme, perhaps, and maybe even Alice, but not Carlisle. Not while I still thought of him as the strange creature from my human past.
"Of course I want you with me." She said it, as if any other idea was absurd. Relieved, I pulled two of the chairs up to Carlisle's desk and grabbed Bella's hand as we sat.
"You're going to tell me what to expect, right?" Bella asked him. "I've already read some of the brochures you gave me and stuff online."
Carlisle nodded once. "There's that, yes, but it's also time to discuss hospice and palliative care."
"He's not that sick yet," she protested.
"No, but it's best to make some of these more difficult decisions while he still feels well enough to make them. I've already discussed this with Charlie, but it's important for you to have a say as well, given the circumstances. It will be less overwhelming for both of you if we handle this now."
I knew the unspoken truth, though Carlisle's thoughts were veiled. Charlie's scent was fading fast, becoming masked by the bitter sourness of illness. I didn't have to taste his blood to know that he wouldn't taste quite right. The blood would be wrong, sickly. The cancer was spreading, reaching out its claw-like tendrils to other organs and vessels. I doubted humans tests were advanced enough to note its day to day travels, but I could smell it. It had progressed.
It occurred to me that this was human death—this pain, this finality that I would never experience for myself. I'd seen it a thousand times, even delivered it like some bizarre Grim Reaper, but I was only now beginning to understand it. I gripped Bella's hand a little tighter. How long did I have with her? How long until she knew too much, until I was forced to watch her from afar? How long…how long until she, too, withered and passed, went in just one final direction of so many directions I could not follow?
Bella stretched her fingers in my restraining hand, and I released them at once, afraid I was hurting her. I watched the blood rush back to her pale skin and licked my lips, loathing my disgusting hunger, myself. Tonight, of all nights, I needed to hunt, of course.
"Okay," Bella said with a sigh, pulling me from the darkness with her voice. "I want him to be cared for at his house. He's most comfortable there, and then we won't have to deal with…people in the community." She frowned. "You know how they've been. Either he's not been their concern since he had to retire or they're busy trying to make sure his soul's saved." She scoffed and rolled her eyes.
"People sometimes don't know how to handle death, particularly of an important figure in the community, such as your father." It was a diplomatic statement.
"Well, they could at least try."
His lips quirked. "I seem to remember you running off the last group."
I cocked my head at Bella. She shrugged. "They wanted to pray in tongues over him, to heal him," she said, using air quotes. "As far as religious people go, I've only allowed Pastor Weber around since then."
"All right," Carlisle said. "In-home care can be arranged. Charlie seemed most interested in that as well." As if he didn't possess perfect recall, he made notes on a legal pad; it was a to-do list. How very human. He put his pen down and stared at Bella, as if trying to read her. I knew the look well, as it was one I was always finding myself in around her. "How are you financially?"
Bella stiffened. "Esme already asked. We'll be fine." She bit her lip, and that 'V' appeared between her brows, the one that said she was thinking about things that I desperately wanted to know. "How much is it going to be?"
"Some of it will be covered, and there is your father's pension from his years in the police force—"
"How much, Carlisle?"
"You'll probably have around two thousand that isn't covered, depending on how long your father lives, and when we need to initially begin care."
Bella swallowed hard, and I carefully took her hand again. Don't hold her too tightly. Light. Stay light. It wasn't easy to cradle her fingers like a rose petal, when all I wanted to do was hold her tightly, crush her to me.
"Okay," she said with a nod. "I'm guessing you know who provides the best care." Carlisle nodded. "That's who I want, then. I don't care how much it costs. I just don't want him to—to feel anything in the end…" Tears sprang to her eyes. "I just don't want it to hurt him, and I know he's already in pain. He tries to hide it, but I know." The tears spilled over.
"I give you my word," Carlisle said. "Anything I can do to prevent or alleviate his pain: it will be done."
She sniffed and took the tissue he extended. I stared at the tissue box in confusion. Alice saw we'd need them, he explained silently.
Of course she did.
"Thanks," Bella murmured as she wiped at her face. "I'm sorry." She shook her head and laughed hollowly. "You'd think I'd have gotten all this out by now."
I edged my chair closer to hers and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "No one thinks that, Bella." After all, one death could affect so much, so many. My dead heart ached with hers—for her, for Charlie, for all the families I'd destroyed in my existence. I wanted to fix this for her, but the simple truth was there was no fixing death, not even when one cheated it as I did. Death was always this way. The ones left living were its victims, too.
Carlisle went on to explain what would happen to Charlie in the weeks—and, with any luck, months—to come. For now, he was experiencing a temporary burst of energy, having come off the chemotherapy drugs, but this would soon pass, to be replaced with more tiredness. There would be more fluid build-up around his lungs, which would in turn cause greater shortness of breath. He would cough up more blood as the tumors in his airways worsened and became irritated. The bones in his upper body, around his chest, would ache as they were eaten away by the spreading cancer.
If the lung cancer didn't take him any sooner, it would spread to his brain, leaving him confused, riddled with headaches, and possibly make communication difficult. And finally, he'd enter a stage known as active dying, where his body would slowly cool and stop craving food, where his breathing would alternate between hitching slowness and rapid pants, where his heartbeat would change—speed up, then slow down—until everything, every amazing human mechanism shut down.
"He'll pass, then, Bella," Carlisle was saying.
It was this last thing, this confirmation from the doctor she trusted, that broke her. With shuddering gasps, the tears came, and nothing Carlisle and I said seemed to stop them. Her whole body shook, and Carlisle decided she was suffering from a mild panic attack. He was pulling out a sample of some drug from his desk drawer when Esme came into the room. She looked at him disapprovingly, as if to say his idea that he could drug this problem was absurd.
She knelt before Bella's chair. "Come sit with Alice and me for a while?" she asked, her voice tender. She reached up and held Bella's face and whispered comforting words. I knew her hands would be cold, just as mine were, and yet there was no revulsion in Bella's eyes, no flinching away. She looked grateful.
I wanted to help, but I realized then that Bella didn't need her date or even her doctor. She needed her mother, and her mother was not Renée Swan. It was this compassionate vampire woman who I'd decided I would trust.
Esme gripped my shoulder as she passed with Bella, who was quietly apologizing to me from Esme's side. I felt helpless, but I told Bella everything was fine—would be fine. What else could I say?
They left the room, and then I was alone with the leader of the Cullen coven.
Closing Notes: Nothing SotPM-related, but I'm one of the judges in the Original Character Awards and would like to bring it to your attention. It's basically a set of awards that celebrate original, well-written characters in "Twilight" fan fiction. Judges validate for basic quality (grammar), and then everything goes to a fair, public vote. There are a number of categories in which you can nominate stories, and nominations end on the 5th of November. Voting begins in December. Please nominate and get the word out!
Visit originalcharacterawards(dot)blogspot(dot)com for more information.