15 Places of Origin

The week started rough for Edward. He wanted badly to make progress on the graphic novel, but Alice was so fucking needy. She was always there, asking him to see something or do something or help her with something. He changed diapers, cleaned up messes, and spent interminable hours feeding her when he wanted to be drawing. He longed for the days when he could shut everyone out of his apartment, turn on C-SPAN, and get lost in a haze of politics.

On the other hand, there were some things he really enjoyed. Taking Alice to swimming lessons was a treat because it made her superlatively happy. She was so delighted with the mermaid swimming trunks that he wore that she clapped for him, and that day at the pool she was all giggles. Edward had a great time, and he took the opportunity to get to know some of the pool moms. He did a little light flirting, but as most of them would be going home to husbands, it was all just fun and games.

Still, he really wanted to get some quality work in, and there always seemed to be something keeping him from it. The kid was just incessantly demanding.

But he had a responsibility to her, and he recognized that there was nothing in his life that was more important than that. So while he was loath to surrender yet more time out of his day, he went ahead and made the phone call that he wasn't looking forward to. He sat down at his drafting table the next time he sent Alice off to daycare and dialed the number that Morgan had given him. A woman picked up, and Edward took a deep breath.

"Hi—uh." Morgan had given Edward her name, but he didn't feel comfortable calling her Linda. "Mrs. Fernall?"

"Yes?"

"My name is Edward Masen. I'm Ted Masen's son. Did you . . . did you know him?"

"No? I don't think so."

Damn. He'd been hoping he wouldn't be the one springing the surprise on her. "Right, well, he knew your daughter. Morgan."

There was no response on the other end of the phone.

"And the two of them had a child together."

There was still no answer, but Edward waited. He didn't exactly know how to move forward without a response.

"I'm sorry, I think you must be mistaken."

He let out a hard laugh. "Believe me, I know how you feel. Dad didn't tell me either. But I ran into Morgan at his funeral and she gave me your number, so . . ."

She was silent once again, so he decided to give her some room to breathe. "Look, I know this is a lot, and you probably need a minute to think things through. Can I call you again? Maybe in an hour or so?"

"Yes. Well . . . yes, I suppose so."

"All right. Talk to you in a little while."

Edward hung up, hoping that this would be a little gentler on her. He remembered how overwhelmed he'd been the night his dad had died, how the blows had just kept coming and he hadn't had the capacity to take everything in. He hoped that giving Mrs. Fernall some time to deal with the shock would make the news easier to handle.

She didn't take an hour, though. Fifteen minutes later, she was calling him.

"You saw my daughter?" she asked when he answered.

"Yeah. On Saturday."

"How did she look?"

He hesitated. "I wish I had a better answer for you."

"Tell me." Her voice sounded small but firm.

He sighed. "Like she's done a lot of drugs."

"It was those pills. The doctor gave her those pills, and then she never . . ."

Edward winced. "That's awful. I'm sorry."

"She was a good girl." Her voice pleaded for him to believe her. "Before the drugs. She was sweet. It was only after them that she started stealing things. Everyone was mad at her, but she was a nice girl before."

Edward swallowed hard. He could only imagine how tough things had been for Morgan and her family.

"I'm sure she was. Those pills . . ." he was pretty sure he knew which ones, "they've hurt a lot of people."

"She was a good girl."

"Honestly, I think she still is. She's struggling, but she got clean while she was pregnant. She stayed off the drugs long enough to protect Alice."

"Alice is . . . her daughter?"

"Yeah. My sister." He smiled to himself. "She's cute as hell. If you're okay with it, I think it would be a really good thing for her to know her Quileute family."

"Oh. Her father isn't?"

"Nah, we're WASPs, through and through."

"And you're raising her?"

"Yeah. Dad passed away a couple of weeks ago, so I've taken custody."

Her tone turned grim. "I suppose you need help?"

"No. I mean, any advice you've got would be welcome, but we're good financially or whatever. I just thought she ought to have a chance to know what family she's got. If you're interested. I'd guess that things with Morgan can be a little . . . sensitive."

"Yes, well . . . yes."

"If you're up for it, I could take her to see you. Or we could have you over here. Whatever's more comfortable for you."

"I guess you could come to La Push. If it's not too far."

"Not at all, we're in Forks. Is there a good day?"

"Tomorrow, maybe."

"Afternoon? I could call you when she wakes up from her nap."

"Yes, okay."

Edward took her address and promised to let her know when they were on their way. And with that chore completed, he was able to focus on the graphic novel for a while.

The next morning, as he got Alice dressed, Edward tried to prepare her for what her day would look like.

"First we're going to go to the library," he told her.

"Yiboey!" Alice tried to squirm off of the changing table. "Ditta boots!"

"Hold your horses," he said, catching her and setting her back on the table. "We can get your books after you've got clothes on. Which dress do you want?"

"Um." She scanned the closet. "Waimbo wun!"

He grabbed the multi-colored pastel gown she was pointing at and proceeded to dress her. "Then, after the library, we're going to come home and have lunch and a nap—"

"No nap!" She shook her head vehemently.

"We'll discuss that later," he said, hoping to head off an argument. "But then, in the afternoon, we're going to go meet your grandma."

"Wammaw?"

"Yep. She lives in La Push."

"Ya Push?"

"Yep, so we're going to go for a drive."

"Dit inna taw?" She was trying to climb off the changing table again, and he had to hold her back.

"Not yet. You want tights?"

"Uh-huh. Ween wuns."

Edward searched through the drawer. "I don't see any green ones. How about yellow ones with green polka dots?"

"Um. Yes."

Edward helped her into the tights, feeling very grateful to Carlisle for teaching him how to put them on.

"What shoes do you want?"

"Um. Um. Sobo wuns."

"These?" Edward pointed to the new pair that Carlisle had bought her for the memorial service.

"Yes!"

"Silver shoes, here we go." He strapped them onto her feet. "And which crown are we wearing today? Diamonds or pearls?"

"Um. Pose."

"Pearls it is. Let's go to the bathroom and do your hair."

Once she was all dressed, he helped her load her library books into her canvas library bag, and then he carried the book bag while she dragged her pendy puss out from under her bed.

"Mon, Muzzmay!" Alice called as Edward steered her through the house to the garage. "Doh-a yiboey!"

"You want to come with us to story time?" Edward asked.

She shook her head. "I think I'll stay here and submit some resumes. Eventually I have to stop mooching off of you."

Edward shrugged. "If you must. Come on, runt."

"Mon, wunt," Alice repeated, following after him.

Once they reached the library, Alice made a production of pushing each of her books through the return slot, then she ran joyfully to the shelves to start selecting more. Edward kept one eye on her, but he also went looking for the shelver that he'd met the previous week. He found her returning a handful of cookbooks to their rightful places.

"Hey, Ava." He produced the sketch he'd promised her and she squealed as she took it from him.

"It's perfect! That's exactly what I wanted!" She surprised him by grabbing him and hugging him, but she let go right away. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm just so excited!"

"I can't wait to see the finished product." He chatted with her for a minute or two about finding a tattoo artist, then he left her to her shelving and went to hover near Alice.

"A-diss?" she asked, running over to him as soon as she saw him. She shoved a book into his hands and he read the title.

"Dragons Love Tacos."

"Tah-toes?"

"Yep. You want to get this one?"

"Oh, yes!" She left the book with him and ran to the shelves, returning again with another. "A-diss?"

"Just Another Ordinary Day."

"A-noey day?"

"Yep. This one too?"

"Yes!" And she was off to the shelves again.

She brought him several more books before Bella interrupted her explorations by asking her to help set up for story time. Alice tossed the little plastic circles around on the floor, and Bella went along behind her, moving them into a ring. Then Edward stepped in to help Ava set chairs around behind the circles.

Edward recognized a few more of the moms this time around. He'd been flirting with some of them just a couple of days ago, after all. He helped Jessica Stanley wrangle her five-year-old twins onto a pair of adjacent circles, and he took the chair beside Jessica when Bella called everyone over for story time. Alice scrambled onto the yellow circle in front of Edward and settled in to listen.

"Today," Bella said, "we're going to read a book about starting school. Some of you are going to start school in a couple of months, aren't you?"

Jessica's twins nearly jumped out of their skins letting her know that they'd be going to kindergarten. A couple of other kids in the circle did as well.

"Well. When you start school, you're going to learn a lot of new rules, like listening to your teacher, doing your work, and how to treat the other people. Today's book is all about how you should behave with the other kids at school. It's called . . ." She lifted up the book so they could all see the little dinosaur on the cover. "We Don't Eat Our Classmates!"

The kids erupted into a chorus of giggles and Bella opened the book.

Edward only paid half attention to the book and Alice's delight with it. He kept glancing around, looking for the guest that he'd asked to come meet him here today. Asked . . . ha. Bribed, was more like it. Paul hadn't been super specific about what time he'd be able to get away, but Edward hoped it wouldn't be too much longer. He didn't want to have to linger and make Alice's nap late. As it was, the book was finished and the chairs were put away before Paul breezed through the door. He stopped at the desk to drop a book in the return slot and Bella smiled at him.

"Hi, Paul. How are you?"

Paul looked for Edward, and when he spotted him, he pressed the back of his hand dramatically against his forehead. "I'm . . . I'm not so good, Bella."

She frowned and glanced between Paul and Edward, obviously smelling a rat. "What's wrong?"

"It's business. It's so slow. In this economy, no one wants to pay for construction projects, and I'm afraid I might have to start laying off some of my guys."

She arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"If only there were more people in the market for home remodels," he said, giving her a pointed look. "That's our bread and butter you know."

Bella laughed and shook her head. "Honestly, Edward? You sent Paul in here to guilt me?"

Edward drifted over to the desk to join them. "Thanks a lot, Paul. That was really organic."

"You got it, buddy." Paul flashed him a wide grin and two thumbs up. "Is that all you need? I gotta get back out to the site."

"Yeah, sure." Fifty bucks obviously not-so-well spent.

"Later, Bella!" Paul called over his shoulder. "Let us remodel your house, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." She shot Edward a look.

"Okay, he was a little obvious about it, but what he said was true. Business is down, and he's looking at lay-offs before long if he can't get more work."

"How would you know?"

He shrugged. "Alice owns shares in his business. I looked over his books."

"I'm sure Paul and his crew will be fine."

"They could be better."

"You know it's not even my house, right? It's Charlie who would have to say yes. Why aren't you asking him?"

"Dad apparently already did."

"And he said no?"

Edward shrugged.

"There's your answer."

"But you could get him to change his mind. You know this would be better for him. If you tell him that you need the help, he might accept."

Bella put down the book that she'd been checking in and fixed her gaze on him. "You're asking me to help you manipulate my dad?"

"Sure." He gave her his best rakish grin. "Is that a problem?"

Her laugh was reluctant, but it wasn't without good humor. "You're ridiculous."

"Yes, but I'm also rich and super generous. There's no good reason not to take advantage of that."

She pointed behind him. "Go deal with your kid before she hurts herself."

Edward turned to find Alice attempting to climb a bookshelf, and he hurried over to stop her.

He gave up the argument for the time being, though while he was checking out Alice's books, he couldn't help commenting, "Think of the children, Bella. The families of Paul's poor, laid-off construction workers."

She rapped his knuckles with The Monster at the End of This Book.

Edward took Alice home for lunch and then read from her new books with her until she drifted off to sleep. He got some more drawing in while she slept, but once she woke up, he set his pens aside and called Mrs. Fernall. She was still up for a visit, so he loaded up the car with Alice, her diaper bag, her pendy puss full of plastic dinosaurs, eight books, a stuffed octopus that she absolutely could not live without, and a DVD of one of the Toy Story sequels. As an afterthought, he went to the bookcase and pulled out Alice's baby book. He only had the one photo of Morgan, but the book had made his connection to Alice feel real, and he thought Mrs. Fernall might need that as much as he had.

Twenty minutes and only one wrong turn later, he was pulling up in front of a modular home not far from First Beach.

"A-diss?" Alice asked.

"This is your grandma's house."

"Wammaw?"

"Remember? I told you we were going to meet her."

Alice looked around, but she didn't seem to really understand the concept of a grandma, so she focused instead on making sure that all of her necessities were collected and carried to the house.

Edward knocked on the door and waited while Alice crouched down to inspect a snail creeping along in the wild grass beside the porch.

"A-diss?"

"It's a snail."

"Pity!"

"Uh, sure—no, don't touch it."

"Why?"

"It's dirty." And probably germy, but he really didn't know. And why would he? What kind of person would even want to go around touching snails? Gross.

"Doody?"

"Yeah. And it'll make your dress all slimy."

Alice recoiled, so problem solved.

The door was opened then by a short, plump woman who glanced at Edward and then gazed down at Alice curiously.

"Hi, I'm Edward," he said, though he decided to forego offering a handshake because she seemed a lot more interested in the kid. "And this is Alice. She thinks that snail is pretty."

The woman broke into a smile. "I think they're pretty, too."

"A-tuchitt," Alice said, shaking her head.

"No, we shouldn't touch them. The salt and oils on our hands can hurt them."

"Hoo dem?"

Sure. Whatever. Dirty dress, harming the snail—whatever kept Alice's hands off of the various unpalatables was fine with Edward.

"Do you want to come in? I made cookies."

Alice popped up. "Tooties? Hassum?"

Mrs. Fernall laughed and stepped aside to allow them inside.

"Take a seat anywhere," she said, waving toward the living room. There was a worn loveseat and a couple of ottomans, and Edward settled down at one end of the loveseat. He dragged an ottoman over for Alice so that there would still be a comfortable place for Mrs. Fernall, but Alice chose to climb into his lap instead.

"Hassum tooties?"

"She's getting some. We have to be patient. Here, hold your octopus."

Mrs. Fernall came back in a moment with a plate of cookies, from which Alice gleefully helped herself.

"Say thank you," Edward prompted.

"Deenchoo!"

"You're welcome," she said, settling down next to Edward. "Now. Tell me how all this happened."

Edward gave her what information he knew and showed her the picture of Ted and Morgan in the front of Alice's baby book. Mrs. Fernall took it, and after a moment of gazing sadly at the photograph, she started looking through the pictures and information about Alice.

"She sure doesn't look much like Morgan," she commented.

"I think my Dad is to blame for that. He has pushy genes."

She chuckled. "Sure enough. You both look just like him."

"She's got the coloring, though," he said, tugging at one of Alice's little black curls. "There's no question that she's Quileute."

"You Po-oat?" Alice asked Mrs. Fernall.

She looked surprised. "I sure am. Who taught you that word?"

"Hoey Po-oat," Alice told her.

"Harry Clearwater," Edward clarified. "You know him?"

"Of course. We all know Harry. He works harder than anyone to preserve our culture."

"Yeah, that tracks," Edward said, trying not to sound sulky. He was still annoyed with Harry.

"Does Morgan visit Alice?" Mrs. Fernall asked hesitantly.

"No. She seemed pretty adamant about not being involved."

Mrs. Fernall sighed, and Edward got the impression that she could stand to talk about her daughter to a sympathetic listener.

"Do you have any pictures? From when she was younger, maybe?"

"Plenty." She smiled as she stood and disappeared down a little hallway. When she returned, there was a box of photos in her hands.

"Wow, physical photos? Impressive."

"I had some printed up after she left home," she said with a sad smile.

"Makes sense. I'd love to see what you chose."

She sat down beside Edward and started showing him pictures of Morgan and her sister at various points throughout their lives. Edward pointed to one of a four- or five-year-old Morgan showing a scrunch-nose grin to the camera, dimples on full display.

"This," he said. "Alice smiles just like this sometimes. That definitely came from Morgan."

"That was her happiest smile," Mrs. Fernall said, smiling fondly down at the photograph.

They went through dozens of pictures, which got dull quickly, but Edward tried not to let on. Alice, though, wasn't so patient. After a while, she heaved a sigh and asked Mrs. Fernall, "You hassum tids?"

"Kids?" Edward asked her. "Why? Are the grown-ups boring you?"

"Uh-huh." Her frank annoyance made Edward laugh.

"I don't have little kids anymore," Mrs. Fernall said, "but I could call the dogs in. Would you like that?"

Alice straightened up eagerly. "Doddies?"

"Hang on," Edward said. "We don't have your medicine." But it was too late. Alice was practically bouncing in her eagerness to see the dogs.

"Alice, child, you are allergic."

"That comes from Morgan too," Mrs. Fernall said. "But don't worry, I have Yorkies. They're hypoallergenic."

Edward was dubious. He'd heard about dogs that were less triggering for allergies, but he doubted that there were really any dogs that were completely allergen free. And he didn't know how severe Alice's reactions could be.

"Pease," Alice said, begging. "Doddies! Uh-wud! Pease!"

"Hang on." He pulled out his phone.

Alice started whining. "Wanna doddie!"

"Hey." He turned her chin toward him and looked into her eyes to demand her attention. "I'm going to find out if it's okay. Wait a minute while I call Carlisle."

Surprisingly, she did, at least until she heard Carlisle's voice on the phone. Then she snatched it from Edward and begged, "Tah-why! Doddies! Pease!"

Edward reclaimed the phone and put it to his ear.

"Sorry. How are you?"

"Just fine. Is Alice playing with dogs?"

"She wants to be, but I don't have any Benadryl. How severe is her allergy?"

"Not terribly. She gets itchy and congested, and it makes her irritable."

"It's not going to land her in the hospital or anything?"

"No, it's not that bad. But it is uncomfortable for her."

This was looking good. He really didn't want to deal with the tantrum that would ensue from telling Alice that she couldn't play with dogs. "Has she ever been around Yorkies? Or any other low-allergy kinds of dogs?"

"Not that I know of. It might be worth trying it to see how she handles them."

"I think I will. If I have to take her to the ER, though, I'm blaming you."

Carlisle chuckled. "I think she'll be fine. But look for redness or inflammation, and if she's rubbing her eyes it's probably time for her to stop playing with them."

"Got it. Thanks." He held the phone up to Alice's ear. "Say thank you to Carlise."

"Payf doddies?" she asked into the phone.

Edward heard Carlisle's voice reply and Alice lit up. "Oh! Deenchoo!"

He laughed and put his phone away. "Okay, kiddo. Let's see how you do with the dogs."

Mrs. Fernall stood and headed into the kitchen again, and after a moment, Edward heard a door open. The jingle of collars and the click of claws on linoleum followed, and Alice nearly came unglued. She scrambled off of his lap as two eager, wriggly lap dogs hurried out of the kitchen and rushed to sniff at her. Her delighted laugh verged on manic as they pawed and snuffled at her skirts.

"Be gentle," Edward warned, worried that her excitement would make her reckless. "These dogs are smaller than Circe."

"SO CHYOOT!" She squealed, and he wasn't even sure that she'd noticed he was talking. But she wasn't being rough with the dogs, so he left her alone to pet them—or rather, try to occasionally get in a pat as they darted around her poofy dress.

"That one is Georgie, and the darker colored one is Pepper," Mrs. Fernall told her.

Alice didn't take in any of that either. She'd have to calm down a little before she was ready to notice to such insignificances as other people in the room.

Edward kept one eye on her, but he turned most of his attention back on Mrs. Fernall and the box of photos. They chatted about the girls when they were younger, while Alice ran all over the living room with the dogs. She threw their balls for them to fetch and played tug-of-war with a well-gnawed rope, and at one point she was definitely rolling around on the floor with them. Edward kept looking for signs of irritation, but she was just fine. Even after hugging them and burying her face in their fur, she didn't seem to be at all uncomfortable.

"Well, crap," he muttered to himself.

"What's wrong?"

He sighed. "I'm going to have to get her a dog."

Mrs. Fernall laughed. "She'll love that, won't she?"

"Oh, absolutely. The kid is nuts about dogs."

"That's only natural. She's Quileute."

Edward wanted to ask her what she meant, but she was standing and calling the dogs over. "Alice, would you like to help me give them some treats?"

"Chweats?" Alice got up from the floor and followed Mrs. Fernall and the dogs to the kitchen.

"Oh, yes, they love broccoli. Let's chop some up for them."

Edward followed them in and grinned at Alice's delight over hand-feeding the dogs chunks of broccoli stalk.

"And these ones are for us," Mrs. Fernall said, taking a floret for herself and holding one out to Alice. She grabbed it and put it into her mouth, and Edward cringed. Little dog tongues had been all over her hands, and she'd just taken that broccoli and put it into her mouth . . . So gross. For her part, Alice didn't seem to mind the dog spit, but she didn't much care for the broccoli. She made a face and opened her mouth, letting the broccoli fall out onto the floor. Georgia hurried to gobble it up.

"Alice!" Edward chided, but Mrs. Fernall was laughing.

"Maybe you're a little too young to enjoy broccoli."

"Iss yuh-tee," Alice grumbled.

"You think so now, but one of these days you're going to love it. Broccoli is one of the very best vegetables." She handed Alice a couple more chunks for the dogs and then wrapped up the remaining broccoli and put it in the refrigerator.

"Was that fun?" Edward asked her.

"Oh, yes!" she replied, fully recovered from her close encounter with eating vegetables. "Feed-a doddies!"

"You lucky kid!"

They moved back to the living room, where the dogs hopped up onto the love seat next to Mrs. Fernall. Alice followed them up, so Edward perched himself on an ottoman.

"Are you two planning on going to the drum circle tonight?" Mrs. Fernall asked.

"Drum circle?" Edward asked, and Alice said, "A-jwums?"

"Yes, there's a drum circle every Wednesday night at the Akalat Center. Tonight there's even a craft fair beforehand."

"Hassum jwums?" Alice asked Edward.

"She likes to pull pots out of the cabinet and drum on them," he explained to Mrs. Fernall.

"Pots? Oh, no. We can do better than that." She stood, and the dogs jumped off of the loveseat to follow her. Which obviously meant that Alice scrambled after them. "Alice, come with me and see what you think of my drums."

She needed no encouragement. Where the dogs went, Alice went, and Edward trailed after. Mrs. Fernall took them into a bedroom that might have been her daughters' at one point, and from a bureau drawer she pulled a little circular drum that was a couple of inches thick and about a foot in diameter. Edward inspected the hide—or something like hide—that was stretched over a wooden ring and tied at the back. The front was decorated with paintings of two killer whales.

Mrs. Fernall found a mallet in the drawer and tapped it on the drum a couple of times. "How does that sound?"

"Oh!" Alice was so excited that she was dancing from foot to foot. "A-jwum! Habbit!" She made grabby hands at it, and Mrs. Fernall handed it to her.

"Deenchoo!" Alice took the mallet and started striking the drum with enthusiasm.

"That's how it's done! Good job!"

"Now you've done it," Edward said with a shake of his head. "I'm not sure you'll ever get it back from her now."

"It's a gift. I have others."

"That's really sweet of you. So, what's this drum circle like?"

"Just a bunch of us getting together and enjoying one of our traditions. Some of the people get up and lead us in their families' rhythms and we all play along."

Edward shot Alice a skeptical look. "I'm not sure she'd be so good at following rhythms."

"We're not worried about that," she said with a wave of her hand. "There are always some little ones who just bang on the drums as they please. Nobody minds."

"You're sure? I think she'd have a good time with it, but I don't want to be disruptive."

"How else is she going to learn? Come with me. I'll buy you some of Joy Ateara's spiced nuts at the fair."

He grinned. "I know better than to say no to spiced nuts. Alice, you want to go check out the craft fair?"

"A-fayo?"

"Yeah, come on. Let's get your stuff loaded into the car."

"Inna taw? Doddies tummeen?"

"No, I don't think the doggies are coming."

"We'll have to leave the dogs at home," Mrs. Fernall agreed. "But there will be lots and lots of drums."

Edward was prepared for a revolt, but the drums must have been pretty interesting to Alice, because she simply answered, "Um. Tay."

Edward got Alice and all of her stuff loaded up in the car, and Mrs. Fernall gave him directions to the Akalat Center. Edward expected Alice to demand to take some of her toys with her when they got out, but the bustle of a craft fair caught her attention, and she looked around curiously.

The fair was bigger than Edward would have predicted. He had thought there would be a few tables with little knick-knacks, but there was a surprising number of stalls that had racks of clothing and stacks of baskets, among various other products. Rows of canopies were set up to protect the goods and their sellers from the intermittent drizzle.

Alice headed straight for a rack holding brown ponchos with native art on them. "Funnoobood! Uh-wud! See it! Diss funnoobood!"

"That's right!" Mrs. Fernall said. "That's a Thunderbird! Do you know the stories?"

"So BID!" Alice said, throwing her arms wide.

"Yes, it's very, very big."

Edward caught the eye of the woman at the nearest table. "Do you have these in kids' sizes?"

"Right over here," she said, showing him to a rack on the other side of the table with a handful of smaller ponchos.

He found one that looked about Alice's size and called her over.

"This is a cedar bark poncho, made in the traditional way," the woman said to him. "It's great for staying dry in the rain."

"Around here, that's precious," Edward said. He glanced at the tag and saw that it was an eye-popping $500, which made him hesitate for a minute. Alice was a kid, after all, and she was pretty much guaranteed to wreck it. But, then . . . maybe that wasn't a deal-breaker. She ran around with a five-thousand-dollar purse that she'd beat all to hell, and he didn't have a problem with that. She should have traditional things around her—and Carlisle had wanted him paying money into the local economy. What better way was there than to buy crafts from Quileutes? "Is this something she would be okay wearing all the time? Or is it supposed to be saved for special occasions or something?"

"This is fine for everyday use," she said. She pointed to another table with some capes made of red and black fabric. "Those ones should be worn with a little more discretion."

"Got it. What do you think, Alice? Would this fit you?"

"Uh-huh! A-fit!"

In actuality it was a little roomy, but as kids were notorious for growing, he figured that would be all right. "Can you take a credit card?"

She accepted it and swiped it through an attachment on her phone.

They headed off to browse the other stalls, and when Alice squealed in delight over a wolf painting, Edward decided that it should be hung in her room. Then, at a stall selling baskets, he learned that basket-weaving was one of the major traditional arts of the Quileutes, and he bought bunches of them. The little ones he would put on their desks to hold their pens. The medium-sized ones would help him organize cabinets and drawers. Bigger ones could be used for hampers, and he bought one enormous front-loading one that he thought could replace Alice's toy box.

"You really want all these baskets?" Mrs. Fernall asked dubiously as she helped him carry them to his car.

"I do. There's nothing in our house that reflects this part of Alice's heritage. I think she ought to have some of these things around her."

"It's an awful lot of money," she said, shaking her head.

"Yeah." It was. The basket prices were roughly on par with the ponchos, and he'd spent thousands of dollars at the weavers' stalls. "Here," He said as he loaded the last of the baskets into the hatch. He pulled out his phone and Googled his dad, then turned the results to her. She read through a couple of headlines and he saw her lips form the words "venture capitalist" and "Forbes." Her eyes went wide.

"We're okay on money," he said. He hesitated to add the next part, because he wasn't a stranger to people trying to take advantage of him, but after all, she was family. "And if you need anything, I want you to know you can come to me."

"Oh, I'm all right," she said. "I've got my home and my dogs." Her eyes turned sad. "And all the money in the world can't bring my girl back."

"She's taken care of, though," Edward said gently. "Dad left her some money and property."

Mrs. Fernall looked worried, but she forced a smile. "That's something, I guess."

It had crossed Morgan's mind too, Edward knew, what addiction could drive a person to do when money was abundant. She had even tried to protect herself from it by rejecting the inheritance. Edward hoped that the fund he had set up for her would keep her safe in the way that she needed.

Mrs. Fernall headed off to the craft fair again, and this time they stopped at a booth full of bell-shaped hats with flat tops. They looked like they were also woven from cedar bark.

"A-diss?" Alice asked.

"Those are hats."

"Hassum?"

Edward found a smaller one and lifted it down for her. Alice tried to put it on, but it snagged on her tiara.

"Off," she said, pulling at the tiara. "Uh-wud. Hope."

He crouched down and unbraided her hair so her tiara would come free. Alice replaced it with the hat and grinned at him.

"Hey, that's pretty stylish!" he said. "It goes great with your new poncho."

"Habbit! Deenchoo!"

"Getting a little presumptuous, aren't we?" he asked her. But, yeah, he bought her the hat, and he tucked her crown away in the diaper bag.

"Doddy!" Alice cried, and ran to the table next to them that displayed a variety of leather items. She had found a watch band that had a wolf on it, and she was starting to squeal.

"Kid, you don't need a watch band. You don't even have a watch."

"They fit standard smart watches," the man at the table said, gesturing to the one on Edward's wrist.

"Yeah?" He lifted Alice onto his hip. "Should I get one?"

"Oh, yes! Habbit!"

"I mean for me," he said. "You know that, right?"

"Awiss habbit."

"Got any bracelets?" Edward asked the man.

"Sure. Or you could buy her a watch." He tapped a plastic display case at the back corner of the table.

"You sell smart watches too?" He was starting to wonder if word was getting around about the amount of money he was spending.

"You don't think Indians have iPhones?"

Edward wanted to scoff, but it actually wasn't a terrible idea. "You have any of those kids' watches that have trackable GPS?"

"You're gonna spy on your kid?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "There will come a time when tracking my kid's location will start to get into gray moral territory. But right now she's two, and if I don't know where she is, it's a big fucking problem."

"Sure, I get you." He grinned. "I don't have any today, but I could order you one."

"Yeah, I think I'd like one. And do any of these bands fit the kids' watches?"

"I could do a special order," he said, and a crafty smile crossed his lips. "For an extra fee, you know. Uh . . . hundred bucks . . . plus the price of the band."

Edward smirked at him. Yes, word had gotten around. He looked at the band with the wolf on it again. "It's not, like, cultural appropriation if I wear this, is it?"

"Only if you claim that it came from your great-grandfather and you're one-sixteenth Indian."

He barked out a laugh. "Okay, I'll take one of these, and the watch and band for Alice." He paid the man's extra fees and arranged to have Alice's goods mailed to the house in Forks. Then he had to convince Alice that she really was getting her very own doggy watchband, and to distract her from the fact that she didn't have it in her hands right now, he started explaining that the image on the band was a special kind of dog.

"Pesho?"

"That's right. It's called a wolf."

"Wofe?"

"One of these days," Mrs. Fernall said as they headed to a booth selling blankets. "I'll tell you all about how the Po-oke descended from wolves."

"Awiss Po-oat," she said earnestly.

"Yes, you are."

Edward ran his fingers over one of the blankets, noting the texture.

"It's wool," the woman at the table said. "Our ancestors used to use dog hair, but those dogs have died out."

"Really? Dog-hair?"

"Yep. They had a special breed that they sheared just like sheep."

"Huh. Well, I can't say I'm disappointed there's no dog hair in these. Alice, you want to pick a blanket?"

"Um. Um." She wandered among the dozen or so blankets and finally pointed to a red one with black designs. "Wed wun!"

"Looks like that's the winner," Edward said, and the woman took it down and started folding it up.

Alice grinned her scrunch-nosed grin, and Mrs. Fernall put a hand to her heart. "You're right. I can see Morgan in her when she does that."

"Is this Morgan's little girl?" the woman asked. "Is she here?"

"Morgan is . . . not involved," Mrs. Fernall said delicately. "But Edward is raising her, and he wants her to know about her people."

"That's wonderful," the woman said to Edward. "It's so important for the kids to learn about their heritage, especially in a small tribe like this. There aren't that many of us to carry on the traditions."

It was like Harry had put them up to this.

"Yeah, well. I'll do what I can."

"Are you coming to the drum circle? It's almost time for me to start packing this away so I can join in."

Alice gasped. "Uh-wud! Habba jwum!"

"Don't worry, it's in the car," he told her. "We'll go put your blanket away and pick up your drum."

The woman was giving Alice an adoring look. "It seems like she's excited."

"Oh, yeah. The kid loves drums."

"Of course. She's Po-oke."

Mrs. Fernall bought herself a pair of shell earrings, and when pressed, allowed Edward to buy her a leather purse that she had admired. They got dinner from a booth selling shrimp cakes and roasted corn, and then Mrs. Fernall bought them the warm, generously seasoned spiced nuts that she'd promised them. Alice gnawed on a couple of them, but she didn't enjoy them half as much as Edward did.

Then, when the crafters started packing away their goods, the trio dropped their purchases at the car and retrieved the drums that Mrs. Fernall had brought for them. They headed into the Akalat Center, which offered a gymnasium-style room ringed with folding chairs. A couple dozen people were already inside, some wearing the cedar bark hats, and a couple sporting the red and black capes that the vendor had indicated should be worn with discretion. Edward spotted Harry Clearwater talking to a pair of men he didn't know, and not far away, Sue and Seth were settling themselves onto some chairs.

Edward didn't intend to say hello, but Alice had other ideas. "Hoey!" she yelled, running off to greet him. "Habba funnoobood! See it!" She craned her neck, trying to see the back of her poncho. She turned and turned and turned, but she couldn't seem to catch a good look at it.

Harry chuckled, but he responded with appropriate enthusiasm. "What a fine thunderbird! Did you get a new poncho?"

"Uh-huh. Anna basset!"

"A basket too?" He crouched down to talk to her on her level. "And it looks like you got a new hat."

Alice put her hands up to clutch it. "Oh, yes! A hat!"

Edward figured he'd better head over to join them so as not to be too blatantly unfriendly to Harry. The man looked up as he approached and smiled.

"Edward! I didn't expect to see you tonight."

"Yeah, Alice's grandma invited us," he said, gesturing to Mrs. Fernall.

Harry stood, a surprised look on his face. "Linda? I had no idea . . ."

"Neither did I," she said with a laugh.

"Yeah," Edward agreed. "Seems like I wasn't the only one who got left out of the loop."

"Morgan's girl?" Harry asked.

Mrs. Fernall nodded, and for a moment they shared a silent commiseration.

"Blessings come from unexpected places," Mrs. Fernall said, rallying. "I think I'm going to like being Gramma Linda."

"Wamma Yinda?" Alice parroted.

She beamed down at Alice.

Edward suddenly felt guilty for not telling her that he didn't intend to stay in Forks. Maybe that was a warning she ought to have had up front. He almost did then, but something held him back. After all, moving back to Olympia didn't mean there wouldn't be visits. It wasn't like he was taking Alice so far away. And there were better times and places for that kind of conversation.

Harry was inviting them to take seats beside his family, and Mrs. Fernall seemed more than happy to be led by him. Edward, sensitive to any kind of disapproval, was less thrilled initially. But Harry seemed pleased enough by their presence at the drum circle—and possibly by Alice's fancy new tribalwear—to obliterate the admonishing vibe he'd been putting off the other day. Alice was engaging with her culture and traditions, and for now at least, Harry was getting what he wanted. Edward found that it wasn't so difficult to take a seat next to Seth and chat with the family about the craft fair.

Eventually the room filled up, and then Billy Black wheeled himself to the center of the room. Edward hadn't even noticed him there, but he welcomed everyone to the drum circle and invited another man to begin the evening by leading them in his family's rhythms. The man gave a little instruction, but mostly Edward followed the lead of Mrs. Fernall and the Clearwaters, tapping out the rhythms that they were tapping.

Alice whacked enthusiastically at her drum, and at first she did it with no discernible skill. But several minutes into the drumming, Edward realized that her mallet was striking a fairly regular beat. The rhythms were too complicated for her, but she had managed to fall into pace with the basic pulse of the drums around her.

"Good job, Alice!" he whispered. "You're doing so well!"

She grinned. "Awiss djwum!"

Her voice had been a little bit loud, but as Mrs. Fernall had predicted, there were several children running around and the assembly wasn't exactly free from noise and distraction. A couple of grade-school kids got up and started dancing in the middle of the circle, and Alice straightened.

"A-dance! Mon!"

Edward looked to Harry, and he gave Alice an indulgent smile.

"Go ahead."

"Mon, Uh-wud!"

He shook his head. "This dance isn't for me, kid. You go."

After a moment of indecision, she pushed her drum into Edward's hands and ran out onto the floor to start bobbing to the beat. Or, sort of to the beat. Her coordination really could stand some improvement. But she was having fun, and one of the older boys showed her a little foot-stomping move that she really enjoyed mimicking with her silver-sparkled foot. It was one of the cutest damn things Edward had ever seen.

It was terrible to have to choose between dancing and drumming, though, and a few minutes later she was back on the chair beside Edward, banging away on her drum. She went back and forth for the next hour or so, until the activity eventually tired her out and she climbed into Edward's lap. He put his drum aside to hold her, and before long she was asleep.

He considered taking her home then, but he couldn't help but feel how short her time was here. And maybe it was ridiculous. Maybe a sleeping girl was oblivious to the goings-on around her. But maybe there was a part of her brain that was still acknowledging the drumming, still absorbing the atmosphere, and he didn't want to shortchange that experience for her. So he stayed while several different people led the group in various rhythms, until Billy finally returned to the center of the circle and thanked them all for their participation.

"This was really great," Edward said to Mrs. Fernall. "Thank you for having us out tonight."

"It's been my pleasure," she said, stroking Alice's dark curls. "You're welcome to come to the drum circle again next week. And maybe to dinner at my house beforehand?"

"We'd love that. I think Alice would be really excited to come again."

"I'll see you next week, then."

"Would you like a lift back home?" he asked her when she collected her drums and started to walk away.

She waved him off and shook her head. "I like the walk."

Alice's carseat was already overtaxed by Alice's poofy dresses, and the poncho was just a step too far. He wasn't going to be able to strap her in while wearing the thing. So there was an awkward few minutes while he tried to ease it off of her with one hand while holding her in the other arm, all the while trying not to disturb her sleep too much. He eventually managed it, and he piled her hat, her poncho, and her drum on the seat next to her before buckling her into her seat.

All the while, his thoughts lingered on Morgan and her mother. It was painful, seeing Mrs. Fernall mourn her daughter even while she was alive. They could absolutely reconcile and have a little bit more time together if only Morgan were willing—or so it seemed from his limited perspective. It may have been more complicated than that in reality . . . but his own situation wasn't. It suddenly seemed unjustifiable for him to still be fighting with his mother, especially when he knew exactly what to do to bring her around. His mom could be proud, stubborn, difficult, and petty, and Edward had inherited every single one of those traits from her. But he also had a lifetime of experience managing her moods, and he knew how to win her over, especially now that they weren't in the middle of a tense situation. Their fight could be over the moment he decided to pick up his phone.

So he did.

And it rang to voicemail, so maybe it couldn't be over the moment he decided to pick up his phone, but it would be soon. He left a simple "I love you" on her voicemail and then hung up, certain that he'd hear from her within a day or two. She couldn't stay mad at him. He was too adorable.

Alice slept all the way home, and only stirred when he parked the car in the garage.

"A-home?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Yep. We're here." He hoisted her into his arms and grabbed her drum and poncho, but left the rest in the car for now. It would take several trips to get all their gear inside, but he could load it in after he got Alice tucked into bed.

"Hammye pendy puss," she mumbled, head lolling on his shoulder.

"Okay." He dropped his armful of stuff on the seat and grabbed her purse instead. He straightened again, but Alice mumbled, "Habba jwum."

"Um . . . okay, here. You take the drum." He hitched her higher on his hip and set down the purse so he could hand her the drum. Then he picked up the purse again and straightened.

"Habba funnoobood."

"I'll get it in a few minutes." He closed the car door, but Alice started to fuss and insist on having her thunderbird poncho.

He sighed. "Fine." He set her down—which made her whine louder—just long enough to put the poncho on her. Then, with the purse, the drum, and the poncho all in their possession, they managed to get inside the house.

Edward stopped short in the kitchen. There were voices. He couldn't see into the living room from where he was, but he could hear several familiar voices in there, and one in particular sent him into a mini-panic. James was in his house, mere yards from where Edward had been depicting his grandfather's shady dealings in pen and ink earlier that day. Had he cleaned it all up? They were in the habit of turning off computers and locking drawers when they finished for the day, but Edward often futzed around with an image or two in the evening, and he wasn't 100% sure that he hadn't left something out.

He was suddenly being pulled in three directions. He wanted to greet his friends, and he wanted to rush into the office and make sure all of his work was locked up, and he wanted to put his very tired kid to bed.

Esme swung into the kitchen on her crutches and smiled at him, though it didn't entirely mask some discomfort. "Edward! There you are! Some friends dropped by to see you." She approached him and leaned in close. "All the graphic novel stuff is locked up. I double-checked."

"Thank you," he breathed.

She eased back on her crutches. "I was thinking of dropping in on Carlisle and seeing what he's up to. Do you think Alice would like to go with me?"

"Tah-why?" Alice asked, raising a sleepy head from his shoulders.

There was Esme, just solving all his problems for him.

"You want to visit Carlisle?" Edward asked Alice. "Maybe show him your new drum?"

"Oh, yes!" She rubbed her eyes, but her sleepiness didn't much dampen her enthusiasm.

"Do me a favor, though?" Edward asked Esme. "Use the wheelchair?" He nodded to the dining room, where the wheelchair that he'd ordered for her had been sitting unused for the last couple of days because she insisted that it was unnecessary. "Since you can't hold Alice's hand on the walk over? Let her ride on your lap so she can't run out into the street?"

Esme arched an eyebrow at him. It was a cheap trick to use Alice's safety as a ploy to get her to use the wheelchair, but she just laughed and nodded. "Fine." She hobbled over to the chair and sat down in it, flipping the switch on the arm to turn it on.

"A-diss?" Alice asked, pointing to the chair as Esme tested the hand controls.

"That's a wheelchair. Do you want to ride on it with Esme?"

"Yes! A-wide!" She reached for Esme, and Edward settled her onto Esme's good leg.

"Hold on tight to your drum," he told her. "Esme's going to drive you next door."

Alice giggled as Esme scooted them into the living room, though upon seeing the crowd gathered there, she turned her head and buried her face in Esme's shirt.

Edward opened the door for them. "Thanks a lot," he said to Esme as she left, and she mouthed "good luck" in return.

Which was ridiculous, because these were his friends. He turned a wide grin on them, taking in the room. Tori was there, obviously, along with James, Laurent, Alec, and Jane.

"I can't believe you're all here! Did you seriously drive all this way?" He moved to where Tori sat on the sofa and pulled her to her feet and into a hug. "Thank you. It's so good to see you." He released her and turned to James, next to her, so happy to see them all that it was easy to let bygones be bygones. He clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "It's so good to see you."

James just pursed his lips.

And . . . Tori hadn't said anything. And nobody was smiling.

"I'm really sorry I wasn't here when you got in. I was out at a drum circle, but if I'd known you were coming I'd have ducked out early."

Jane snorted. "A drum circle? What, are you a hippie now?"

Edward cocked his head. "My kid is Native American."

She rolled her eyes.

Edward was tempted to challenge her on whatever it was she was thinking, but he knew very well that it would ultimately be unproductive, and he still didn't know what all of his friends from Olympia were doing in his house.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?"

Tori drew in a breath. "Edward, have a seat." She gestured to one of a few folding chairs that someone had set out.

For one ugly moment, he worried that they had found out about the graphic novel. He knew James was connected to it, but it wasn't terribly unlikely that the others were as well. They all had prominent Washington pedigree, with the exception of Tori, and there were probably a good handful of politicians in their extended families. Even Tori had friends in high places in the state, though she was a recent transplant to Washington. But when he sat down, Tori's declaration didn't have anything to do with politics.

"This is an intervention."

He blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I know that you've been under a lot of pressure lately," she said, folding her hands in her lap. "With your dad's death and all. And we're all very sorry for your loss."

There was a murmured echo of agreement from the others.

"But we're worried that some people have been taking advantage of your vulnerable state to push you into doing things that you wouldn't otherwise do."

"Like what?" he asked, and once again, he worried that they'd found out about the book.

"Like having a kid," James grumbled.

Edward gaped at him. "Are you kidding me? This is about Alice?"

"You never wanted to be a father," Laurent said, lolling carelessly in Ted's recliner.

"I never said that." He probably hadn't said that. "It was never a goal, but I didn't actually rule it out."

"Don't you think that means something?" Tori asked. "Kids aren't an afterthought. If it wasn't a goal, maybe you shouldn't be a parent."

"You can't exactly return it to the Humane Society if it doesn't work out," Jane said with a smirk.

Edward hated Jane. It hadn't actually occurred to him before, but he did. He hated her, and he kind of always had.

"We're getting off track," Victoria said. "Edward, we want you to know that we love you. We're not here to criticize or condemn you. You have our full support, and we all want to see you get to a better place. But for that to happen, you have to confront what's going on."

"And you think what's going on is that I've been manipulated into adopting my sister."

"Exactly." She was obviously choosing to ignore the scorn in his voice. "I'd like us all to take a turn and tell you how we're feeling about what's happening with you right now."

It was ridiculous. It was so far beyond ridiculous. But Edward realized that Tori had maneuvered him into a position where, if he protested at all, he would play directly into the stereotype that she was trying to force on him. So he simply sat silently and gestured for her to go on.

"I miss you, Edward. I know that you're trying to do the responsible thing, and I respect that. But I need you. We all need you. You and I used to be best friends, and nothing was supposed to be able to come between us. In fact, I always thought that . . . maybe someday . . . you and I might end up together. But now this kid is completely destroying our relationship."

She stopped and looked to James to continue.

"Same," he said. "We were friends. But the moment that kid showed up, you started trying to sabotage me. I don't get why you're so mad at me. You're the one who changed things, not me." He crossed his arms over his chest, and Edward had to bite his lip to keep from setting him straight right that moment.

"I thought you were pro-choice," Jane said acidly. "Pro. Choice. What kind of message are you sending when you let people force you to keep a baby you don't want? Do you expect all women to become baby factories now?"

"Jesus, Jane," Tori muttered, which was good, because Edward didn't know if he'd be able to let that utter nonsense pass unchallenged. Still, that was all Tori said, and it wasn't nearly enough. He badly wanted to rebut, but Alec was already speaking and he actually surprised Edward a little.

"I don't give a flying fuck how you mess up your life."

"Alec," Tori said sharply.

He heaved a sigh. "Fine." He addressed Edward. "Tori's a raging bitch when you're not around and it's getting tedious." He turned back to Tori. "Happy?"

She shot him a glare. "Laurent?"

"You said there'd be wine," he complained.

"Laurent!"

"Having babies makes you boring," Laurent said. "You won't go out, you won't see your friends, you won't do anything you used to do because everything has to be about the whiny little baby. You really want to spend the next twenty years disappearing behind someone else?"

Edward had to admit that there were tiny little seeds of truth scattered among the piles of manure they were spreading. He'd walked out on them all a couple of weeks ago and didn't have plans to see them again for a few months. And yes, parenthood was taking over his life. His time, his work, his preferences, even his bed had been sacrificed on the altar of Alice. For a minute he allowed himself to take them seriously and think about walking away from it all. A part of him would be so relieved. She was so much work. The kid just took and took and took. There were constant requests, outbursts, demands, tantrums . . . and so much poop. There was so very, very much poop. It was impossible to reason with her, irresponsible to ignore her, and probably illegal to lock her in the basement so he could have just a few damn minutes of peace.

Suppose he gave her up after all? Carlisle would always be there for her. Edward knew that he would take her the moment Edward asked. Alice had an enormous trust fund and a whole crowd of people who loved her, and Edward was pretty sure that there was no reality in which Carlisle wouldn't be a better parent than he would. Edward could go back to Olympia, to the apartment he loved that was within walking distance of at least eight really good restaurants with all different kinds of cuisine. He could get his car back from his Mom. He could write in peace and go clubbing without worrying about babysitters. Just the thought of having his bed all to himself again . . .

And yet, Edward was coming off of a pretty good day with Alice. She'd been so cute when she played with the dogs and got excited over the presents he'd bought her. She was utterly absurd, but in ways that he was starting to like. He was more and more amused by her preference for fancy dresses, for instance, and he found he'd gotten accustomed to having a little ruffled princess running around the house. He was even a tiny bit disappointed on daycare days when she had to wear more practical clothes. Now that he was learning to understand her better, he even found her language endearing instead of frustrating.

And then there was the memory of Bella demanding to know how he thought Alice would feel when she found out that no one in her family wanted her. And that's when he knew he was in too deep. There was no going back now. There was no way he could do anything to dim the gleam in those bossy, irrational, fashion-challenged eyes.

He'd been over all of these arguments before, and he was coming to the same conclusion now that he had then. Alice was his and he was Alice's, and that's all there was to it.

"I see." He finally said. "So. Is it my turn?"

Tori regarded him suspiciously. "Sure."

"I think you're all acting like petty, self-absorbed children. A tragedy occurred, and I had to make a choice that I hadn't planned for. No, I never really figured on having a kid, but sometimes unexpected things happen." He was thinking about Bella coming home to take care of her injured father and disabled friend. "You don't always get to decide the way your life goes. Mine went this way and I chose Alice. I'm sorry that it's hard for you to accept that you're less important to me than my family, but that's just the way it is. I'm confident that you can learn to live with it." He stood. "You're all in Alice's house right now. If you're not her friends, there's no reason for you to stay."

"Edward—" Tori began in a placating voice.

"No. You're the worst of them. We've already had this discussion, and you promised to support me."

"I am supporting you."

"We're not doing this. Take your pathetic little minions and get out."

Jane was the first to stand. She flounced past Edward and out the door, her nose in the air. The others followed, and James shoulder-checked him as he passed.

Tori lingered behind. "You've changed," she said accusingly. "I can't even talk to you anymore. Everything you say, every text you send, is always about her."

"And it's going to stay that way for a while yet. If that's not something you can handle, it's probably time you found yourself a new best friend."

She shook her head bitterly. "We had a future together."

"Since when? We're not a couple. We never have been."

"But someday . . ."

He snorted. "Where did you get the idea that I was ever going to settle for you?"

It was too harsh, and she flinched from the blow. And yet, Edward meant it. If she'd been harboring notions of a future with him, she hadn't bothered to share them. And he wasn't on board. He loved the woman, but she was not the person he wanted to come home to.

Tori stalked past him and out the door, slamming it behind her.

Edward groaned and flopped down onto the sofa. He stretched out as far as he could, hanging his knees over one end and stretching his hands up toward the other. He was exhausted, and now he was wounded. Because yes, there was a part of him that really, really wanted to walk away and go back to his life, and he was deeply ashamed of that part. What kind of person harbored secret fantasies of giving away their kids?

He was fucking scum.

And he was needy. He wanted to talk to someone so they would tell him he was special and make him feel better. His mom would normally do that. Or Tori.

Esme and Carlisle were both next door. They would brace him up. But even as he thought that, he knew it wasn't them that he wanted. They'd do in a pinch, but . . .

He fished his phone out of his pocket and typed out a message.

So a bunch of my friends came up from Olympia tonight to hold an intervention for me.

He sent the message, but there was no response for the next couple of minutes. Edward was about to toss his phone aside when it rang. He smiled when he saw Bella's name on the screen.

"Hello?"

"This doesn't seem like a text conversation."

He chuckled.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It was just some bullshit. I'm fine."

"But . . . are they right? Have you been dipping into Daddy's wine cellar a little too frequently?"

"Nah, it wasn't about drinking." He sighed. "It was about Alice, actually. They . . . want me to give up custody."

There was a pause, and when she spoke her voice was hard and flat. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I know. It was stupid."

"They seriously drove three hours to tell you to be a less responsible person?"

Edward scooted to the center of the sofa and rolled onto his side, getting comfortable for the conversation. "They were concerned that I was being railroaded into making decisions that weren't right for me. Like, maybe there were some people here who yelled at me for waffling about whether I was ready to raise a kid . . ."

He heard Bella's quiet laugh over the line. "Right. Sorry again for the yelling."

"Nah, it's good. I needed the reality check. But . . ." Edward hesitated. He wasn't painting himself in the best light with the next part, but he craved a sympathetic ear and she was offering one. He sighed. "I wanted it. Raising Alice is just so much work, and they were reminding me of what it's like to get up whenever I want and have a meal without monitoring every damn bite the kid takes. I know it probably makes me a terrible person, but I really, really miss it. A part of me honestly wants to pass Alice off to Carlisle and go back to my real life."

"I hear you. If that makes you a terrible person, I'm right there with you."

That surprised him. "What do you mean?"

"I have this fantasy," she said, speaking a little more quietly. "When Charlie's being a whiny little bitch about me taking over the things he can't do anymore, I like to imagine telling him to go ahead and figure it out for himself. And then I just walk out of there and go get my own apartment."

Edward gave an exaggerated gasp. "Bella Swan! How could you? After all the lectures you gave me about taking responsibility!"

"I know," she said, sounding resigned. "I'm pretty awful."

"Is it just us? Are we a couple of loathsome misfits marring the purity of this wholesome community?"

"Hold that thought," Bella said, and Edward could hear the smile in her voice before the line clicked and went silent. A moment later it clicked again.

"Hey, Grace, I've got Edward on the line, and he's feeling a little bad for fantasizing about giving up custody of Alice. What do you think of that?"

"I can't even imagine such a ghastly thing," Grace said sweetly. "As I have two precious angels whom I love with the perfect devotion of a mother, I am, of course, appalled by such a shocking sentiment."

"Tell him about the song," Bella said, that smile still in her voice.

"I, of course, don't know what you're talking about. But I understand that there's an old song about a couple of people who just pack up their car and drive away from their children and their lives without bothering to deal with the repercussions. And, like any person of quality, I'm repulsed by this song and I definitely did not play it on repeat any time Jacob left the house for a full three weeks after the birth of my son."

Edward laughed out loud, and he could hear Bella giggling on the other end of the line.

"My darling, cherished son," Grace went on, her voice turning severe "whose puddle of urine I'm definitely not cleaning off the kitchen floor as we speak."

"Awww," Bella said, still laughing, but with genuine sympathy. "Did he have an accident?"

"Accident? Ha! There was nothing accidental about it. He got up to get a drink and then very deliberately whipped out his penis and started peeing on the floor."

Edward laughed so hard that he nearly fell off the couch. "Red card! Not okay!"

"We do not lock children in the dog kennel," Grace muttered angrily to herself. "We do not lock children in the dog kennel. We do not lock children in the dog kennel."

"Thank you, Grace," Bella said, clearly stifling the laughter that was trying to get out. "We'll leave you to it."

"Have a nice night!" she said brightly, and then disconnected from the call.

Edward shook his head, letting his laughter taper off. "That was healing in a way I couldn't have predicted."

"Poor Grace."

He took a deep breath and stretched. "It's really not just me, huh?"

"I think it's got to be most parents, if not all of them. Like you said, it's a hard job, and most of us really like sleeping in."

"Alone. With no kids in the bed. Especially not ones with leaky diapers."

That got Bella laughing again.

"I'm not going to give away my kid," Edward said, and it might not have been entirely incorrect to call his tone grudging. "But it does feel good to know that I'm not the only one who has secret escapist fantasies."

"Not by a long shot." She yawned. "Where was Alice in all this? Did she have to endure the intervention?"

"Nah, Esme took her next door to visit Carlisle. I should probably go over and let them know they can come back now."

"Yeah, I should go too. But, uh . . . sorry you have shitty friends?"

He barked out another laugh. "Thanks. Have a good night, Bella."

"Good night."

Edward lay there for another couple of minutes, taking advantage of a rare moment of solitude, before hauling himself off the couch and heading to Carlisle's house. He tapped at the door, and when he heard "Come in!" from the other side, he pushed it open.

Carlisle was seated on the sofa beside Esme, cradling Alice in his lap. She wasn't asleep, but she was definitely drooping, and Edward suspected that she would drift off given another five minutes.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, "are you getting tired?"

She shook her head irritably.

"No? Okay. You want to go home and put your new things away?"

"Uh-huh."

Edward took her from Carlisle and tucked her against his chest. "Thanks for giving me some time alone to deal with all that," Edward told Esme and Carlisle.

"Is everything okay?" Esme asked.

"Yeah, they're just . . . I don't know. Maybe we're growing apart."

Carlisle smiled sympathetically, and Edward knew that he understood that Alice was the catalyst.

"It's hard when your lives veer in different directions."

"Yeah."

"Bet-tine sonn," Alice mumbled.

"You want to sing the bedtime song?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay. Let's go home."

Edward honestly expected Esme to linger behind. He kept watching her and Carlisle, and he wouldn't have been at all surprised to walk in and see the two of them much closer together on the sofa. But Esme just thanked Carlisle for his hospitality and followed after Edward in her wheelchair. So. Apparently they weren't making any progress on the romance front.

Edward didn't even try to put Alice into her own bed that night. He was still feeling a little guilty about finding so much appeal in the idea of giving her up, and that made him reluctant to upset her. He skipped the bath and Alice's toothbrushing, given how tired she was, and he tucked her into his own bed while he brushed his teeth and changed into pajamas. Then he crawled into bed beside her and didn't complain when she snuggled up against him and requested the bedtime song one more time.

I have to confess that I have no idea whether I've accurately represented a Quileute drum circle. I tried and tried to find information on it, but I failed hard. I've put in details that I've learned about the culture, but I really don't know what a Wednesday night in La Push looks like. Are vocal elements added to the drums? Maybe. Is there more dancing? Less? I've seen a photo or two that makes it seem like the kids do a little bit but that it's not a crowd thing. But I don't honestly know.

I'm pretty sure the attendance on this particular night is large. I figure it's a special day, with a craft fair beforehand, and that would bring more people out. The drum circles seem like small affairs from what I've managed to dig up—but I could be wrong about that too.

If anyone has ever been to one and wants to share details, I'll happily rewrite the chapter to suit.