As always, thanks go out to all my readers, and all those who favorited or are following the story. To the awesome peeps who left reviews on the last chapter (Ruiniel, UnderlinedSmile, Guest, leelee202, Goldielover, and Eris Moonsong) thank you! I appreciate your reviews like you wouldn't believe.
For those who like to listen to music while reading, I recommend the song "Heaven Up there" by Palace. The words and melody inspired me greatly as I wrote this chapter. I must have listened to it a hundred times.
From the song…
When the night is gone
And the shadows clear
When I hear my song
Will the grave be near?
See what you want
...
But I'm the rising tide
I'm no force of God
I'm a thousand lies
I take what I want
Cause I'm the frightening sky
I'm a selfish man
Designed to die
...
But is it heaven up there?
Is it heaven up there?
Is it heaven up there?
Cause it's hell down here
...
Believe in existence spent
To separate us from them
To know that your blood runs thin
Is to live with the truth within
So scrape up the bruise I wear
...
Eradicate all my fears
Prepare me to walk these stairs
I don't know what my future is
I don't know what my future is
CHAPTER 6
A BREAK IN THE SHADOWS
He returned from his hunt just as the sun broke over the horizon, spilling warm light between the property's towering cedars.
Because the clouds had cleared shortly after midnight, and the wind had finally died down, the temperature had reached its dewpoint, and the undergrowth was now covered in sparkling dew.
Approaching the ancient oak that grew near the back of the house, Carlisle scaled the trunk like a spider would climb a wall. Once he had reached the crown, he stood to full height, and followed a mossy limb toward one of the many balconies overlooking his backyard.
Larger than all the others, the sheltered space held a breakfast table and a few potted shrubs. Because the surrounding evergreens obstructed much of the sun, the patio furniture was currently bathed in both shadow and light.
As he walked along the tree limb, the wood creaked beneath his feet, the sound blending with the gurgling rush of the Calawah River. Going as far as the branch would allow, Carlisle dropped to the balcony with a soft thud, but did not go inside right away.
Despite being satisfied from his recent feeding—well, as satisfied as one could be on a "vegetarian" diet—Carlisle felt oddly restless this morning.
Fingertips drumming on the side of his thigh, he came to stand by the redwood railing, where he drew a heavy breath. Like always, the air was redolent with the many scents of nature, yet today he couldn't help but find it lacking.
Her scent. Carlisle couldn't smell it anymore. Not on his jacket. Not even in the hospital corridor where her room had been located. Like a ship passing in the night, Isabella Swan had already come and gone from his life. And yet here he was, haunted by thoughts of her.
Clearly, he needed a distraction, some way to remove her from his mind. But because this was a sunny morning, he couldn't even go to work today. For even in dappled light, his refractive skin betrayed his otherness, the fact that he was definitely not human. Just looking at his hand, the effect was unmistakable. Soft sparkles, akin to diamond dust.
Though pleasing to look at, the sight would be highly baffling, if not terrifying to humans who had no idea his kind even existed.
It was bad enough that half the townsfolk were already afraid of him—a reaction born out of self-preserving instinct rather than actual knowing. If people were to see him now, they would know he wasn't normal, that he was different. If such a scenario ever came to be, he and Rosalie would have to drop everything and leave. And if, by some dreadful turn of luck, humans ever discovered the full secret—that vampires were real, and he was one of them—he and Rosalie would have to find a really good hiding place indeed. For there were rules about such things, and their lives would be forfeit.
Granted, vampires did not have very many laws, but the law of secrecy was the one rule they all had to abide by.
In an age where human technology posed an actual threat to their kind, the existence of vampires had to remain a secret.
For those who were stupid enough, or reckless enough, to break that law, the price was dreadfully high. The highest they could pay even. If Carlisle were to reveal his true nature—whether by accident or not—and the Volturi somehow found out, the sentence could be death, not only for him, but for Rosalie as well. Maybe even Edward, for though he was not currently living with them, he was still considered part of Carlisle's coven. Unlikely as it seemed, the Volturi could find him guilty by association.
As if that wasn't bad enough, humans who learned the truth could be in danger as well, for the Volturi might consider them a threat. And in their eyes, threats had to be eliminated, no exceptions. For most, this meant a swift death. The rest might be given the option to be changed, but that was a rare thing indeed. Either way, their human lives would end.
With all that in mind, Carlisle exercised caution, always. He avoided town on sunny days. And when he moved among humans, he did his best to blend in. At work, he took care to move at human speeds; he remembered to blink and breathe. There were other things as well. Other precautionary habits, such as fake bathroom breaks, and the occasional meal or drink, that he would have to purge afterward.
But even with all that, chief among all those things was the need to avoid close friendships with those who were not of his kind. As a doctor, Carlisle could treat humans. He could work alongside them. He could walk around town, doing normal human things for appearances' sake, but nothing more than that. Never more than that.
Resigned to this disheartening reality, he was leaning against the railing when another memory flashed in his mind. That of a candy bar and chocolate brown eyes. Of chamomile tea and a grateful, if timid, smile.
Stop, he chastised himself, casting Isabella Swan from his mind for the umpteenth time this week. You can't keep doing this.
It didn't matter that he'd enjoyed talking to her the other night. It didn't matter that he loved the sound of her voice, and how relaxed she had been around him. Isabella was not a vampire. She was a human, and a former patient. He had no business thinking of her in this fashion. Most of all, he shouldn't be yearning to see her again.
Maybe she's still at Charlie's, he mused as a bird flew overhead. Or then maybe she went home to Seattle.
Another breath, another thought, and his chest tightened.
Most likely she was with him. The guy he had seen at her bedside. A love interest for sure.
Why are you even bothered by this? You barely know her!
More importantly, he couldn't seek her out to learn more about her. It would be inappropriate, and most selfish of him. Not to mention risky, for both of them.
Hoping to gather himself before entering his home, Carlisle raked a frustrated hand through his hair.
His lingering fascination puzzled and troubled him. He wasn't usually like this. But then, it wasn't everyday that one stumbled onto his or her singer. And because such encounters usually ended in a fatal feast, it wasn't like he had a reference point, something to compare it to. Isabella Swan might be his singer, but he had resisted.
Only now she lingered in his thoughts. Memories such as the way she had smiled at him, her eyes as soft as her voice when she had said, "Good night, Dr. Cullen."
Carlisle closed his eyes.
It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter.
It shouldn't matter.
Think of something else. Do something else.
To that end, he schooled his features, made for the French doors, and entered the house, where he found his remaining companion.
Though certainly aware of his arrival, Rosalie stood in profile, her unseeing gaze directed at the kitchen window.
Keeping in theme with the home's overall style, the surrounding space was sleek and airy, with a large island in the middle. The wooden cabinets had a cinnamon tone, whereas the granite countertops were dark gray. Unlike most kitchens, the longest counter had no backsplash and no upper cabinets. Instead, the wall behind the work space was made entirely of glass through which they could see the forest. Because the home had been designed with nature in mind, the surrounding evergreens completed the room's color palette, their vibrant needles contrasting beautifully against the room's white or gray walls.
If this had been a human household, breakfast would have undoubtedly been on the island right now—cereal or omelettes. There might have been a bowl of fruit on the counter, or a cup of coffee in Rosalie's hand. But because they were vampires, the space held none of those things. There was no food in the cabinets, no trash in the trash can. The bowls and cooking utensils were mere decorations, and the stainless steel appliances were all for show. Case in point, the dishwasher and gas stove had never been used, and the refrigerator wasn't even plugged in.
As useless as this space was, Rosalie could often be found in this area of the house, absently staring out the window like she was doing now. Though she came from a wealthy family, and had likely never cooked a day in her life, the domestic setting seemed to call to her. Perhaps it reminded her of her former life, or the life she had once dreamed of having. Whatever the reason, Carlisle had grown accustomed to finding her here, staring out in heavy silence.
Unlike his black jacket, charcoal turtleneck and dark pants, Rosalie was wearing light colors today. Her jeans were pale blue, her scoop neck top several shades whiter than her pale skin. As was her wont, the statuesque blond had left her hair unbound. Long, wavy lock that cascaded down her delicate shoulders.
Given her crushed hopes and dreams, he knew she found it difficult on sunny days. Being confined at home while the rest of humanity could walk out in the sun.
While she rarely confided in him, Rosalie had once confessed to her level of envy, how jealous she was of those who could sit at road-side restaurants and cafés, laughing and talking with their friends. "They don't even know how lucky they are." Her tone had been mostly bitter, her eyes even more so. "They take it for granted." Recalling her words, Carlisle knew that her jealousy had little to do with coffee dates, and more to do with mothers who got to push their baby strollers around. Women whose wombs weren't frozen like hers was. Women who could sit out in the sun and watch as their kids played in the park.
"Hi, Rose," he said quietly as the door clicked shut, sealing them from the sunlit world.
His greeting was met with a fleeting glance. "Hey. How was your hunt?"
"It was okay."
Her gaze returning to the forest outside, Rosalie sank into silence, while her elegant fingers toyed with the pendant at her neck, the one Carlisle had gifted to her all those years ago, with the Cullen crest engraved on the front.
"When did you get home?"
Because she wasn't due to hunt just yet, Rosalie had taken her car out for a spin last night.
"About an hour ago," was all she said.
Hoping to lighten her brooding mood, Carlisle searched his mind for something they could do together. A game of chess maybe. Or a game of cards. His eyes flickering to the adjoining living-room, an idea suddenly came to him.
"Hey, you feel like watching a movie today?" Given her current mood, he knew the odds of her saying yes were slim. But a chance was a chance; it was always worth a shot. "Your pick," he added with a small smile.
"Maybe some other time." Her refusal was expected, but disappointing nonetheless.
Rosalie lived in his house, yes, and he loved her like a sister. But the two existed in separate spheres most of the time. While Carlisle devoted his time to medicine and quiet pursuits such as reading, Rosalie spent most of her days in their office, or in the garage, maintaining or upgrading their collection of vehicles.
When they ventured outside the home, their paths rarely intersected. While Carlisle spent the majority of his time at the hospital, Rosalie rarely mingled with the people in Forks. In fact, she seldom went in town at all, preferring instead to go on road trips, to visit car shows, or go on shopping excursions in Port Angeles or Seattle.
That being said, their routines did overlap every once in a while. When Rosalie was in a rare social mood, she would sit with him, to read or watch a movie. Sometimes, she would even join him on a hunt. Additionally, they sometimes battled wits with a game of chess. And then there was their mutual love of two-man baseball, a game they had adapted, that they could only play during thunderstorms.
As she turned from the window, her high heels clicking as she sought a more private corner of the house, Carlisle looked after her retreating form, and couldn't help the pang in his chest.
How he hated to see her like this, wandering about the house like a ghost trapped by the past. Guilt assailed him. It was partly his fault. While Royce King and his drunken friends were responsible for snuffing out her life, Carlisle had condemned her to this limited immortality. And Edward as well. Looking back, he sometimes wondered why he had done such a thing. To help them? To save them? That's what he had told himself at the time.
Noble intentions aside, Carlisle could not deny that he had done it for other reasons as well, that he had changed them out of desperation, because he was a lonely soul who had grown weary of living alone in the world.
Now he was left with the knowledge that neither Rosalie nor Edward were happy. Rosalie because she resented the loss of her humanity. And Edward because he resented what he had become.
Thinking of his sister, Carlisle wondered if Rosalie would ever find peace and happiness. He truly wanted that for her. More than anything. How though? It would take a miracle most likely, a sudden and profound change in their unchanging lives.
At least it wasn't like her newborn years, when she'd hated him with such fiery passion, she'd nearly attacked him once. Now Rosalie tolerated, and sometimes even enjoyed his company. Behind the wall she had built around herself, he knew she had grown to care for him more deeply than she usually let on.
After all, without Edward to round out their coven, they were it. The two of them together in this lonely world. Vampires who couldn't allow themselves to get too close to humans. Vampires whose lifestyle was considered strange or aberrant by most of their kind.
Resigned to another morning alone, Carlisle sought his briefcase, that he had left on the bench by the front door. Retracing his steps, he was passing one of their many sitting-rooms when his gaze landed on the lone piano in the corner.
It didn't matter where they lived, or how many times he and Rosalie moved around the continent, the grand piano always came with them.
Because Edward was a traveller who never stayed in one place for very long, he had chosen to leave the instrument in their keeping. "I'll be back, guys. Take care of my baby for me?" These parting words had become a tradition of sorts, spoken at the end of each of his precious visits.
"We will," Carlisle always replied. "And don't forget. No matter where we live, or how much time has passed, our family's house will always be your home."
"Thanks, Carlisle." Though muted by sadness, Edward's answering smile always sparked a small one of his own.
One of Carlisle's most heartfelt wish was for him to return to them one day, to live alongside them as a brother should. Whether it was due to shame or a misplaced feeling of unworthiness, Edward felt that he couldn't just yet, not until he had better control over his nature. In his heart, he wanted to be a "vegetarian" like Carlisle and Rosalie, but like an addict, found it hard to maintain.
If only he would let me help him.
But Edward was proud. He didn't want to be a burden—as if such a thing was even possible. No matter how many times Carlisle offered to help him, his first companion was fiercely independent. Regardless of how much he suffered, he wanted to do it on his own.
As the morning sun shone through the windows, Carlisle retired to his study to tackle the paperwork he had brought home from the hospital. As the tip of his pen rolled against the pages, he remained keenly aware of the utter silence in the house, of Edward's continued absence, and the fact that Rosalie was having a difficult time today.
Alone at his desk, he couldn't help but feel the weight of it. I did this. I alone decided to change them. I alone forced them into this taxing and never-ending existence. Bowing his head, he stopped writing, and set his pen down. Alone with his sorrowful thoughts, he sighed.
Bella awoke to a warm morning sun whose beams easily pierced the light blue curtains on her window. Normally, the nice weather would have been a welcome surprise. A sunny day in Forks? But today wasn't a normal day, where one rises to see what blessings it might bring. Rather, it felt like a miserable aftermath, filled with uncertainties and the scattered puzzle pieces that was her current life.
With a stretch and grimace, Bella groaned at the brightness, then rolled to face the other way. Note to self. Pull down the roller blinds next time.
Because she had hardly slept at all, her eyes felt scratchy this morning, like there was sand in them. And her temples were pounding, too.
Great.
After several long moments of her just lying there, Bella sat up slowly, and pushed her blankets aside. Her legs dangling off the mattress, she stared at the floor while her hands rubbed the knots from her stiff neck. God, I feel like shit.
Evan had been cheating on her, and now she knew.
Three years. I wasted three years with him. Idiot, she chastised herself.
Now to pick up the pieces. But with so many things to face, so many things to figure out…
"You'll be alright, Bella." Audrey's words, from not that long ago.
While the logical part of her brain recognized the truth in her friend's statement—she was going to be okay—the invisible gash left by Evan's betrayal was too raw and too new.
One day at a time, she reminded herself. One problem at a time.
For now, the most pressing thing was figuring out how she was going to deal with all this. Bella might know the truth, but Evan didn't know that she knew. Though tempted to call and say all that was in her heart and mind, Bella hated the idea of doing it over the phone.
After all the lies, he deserved to see her anger, the hurt that now filled her eyes. He deserved to see what his selfish indulgence had done. But more than that, Bella felt that she had earned the right to see the look on his two-timing face when she told him it was over. That he wouldn't get to choose between her and Amber, because her mind was made up. She didn't need him. She didn't want him.
A man who lies and sneaks around… Who the hell needs that?
Rising to face this weird and daunting day, Bella soon showered and brushed her teeth. She had just dried her hair, and was getting dressed when her cell sounded.
Of course, it'd be him.
Her lips pressed in a line, she swallowed her ire, and let Evan's call go to voicemail.
Because she had a follow up appointment with Dr. Coleman later this afternoon, Bella had opted for jeans instead of leggings. Pulling a navy blue top over her cotton bra, she studied her reflection for a moment. Her face looked tired and drawn, and there were faint circles under her eyes. Having left her makeup at home—makeup she usually only wore to work or on a rare night out—Bella attempted to make herself presentable by styling her hair.
Going the easy route, she raked a bit of product in her wayward locks, and scrunched the ends until her hair fell in messy, textured waves.
By the time she shuffled into the kitchen, her feet ferrying her toward the miracle invention that was the coffee maker, Charlie was already at the stove, making their usual breakfast.
"Hey, I was just about to call you down to eat." Dressed in jeans and one of his signature plaid shirts, he checked on the bacon, and seemed pleased. "That's cooked." He turned off the stove.
"You want coffee?" Bella asked as she filled the glass pot with water.
"Sure."
Once she had poured the water in the machine, and measured out the appropriate amount of coffee grounds, Bella sensed Charlie's sidelong gaze, knew he was assessing her.
"You okay?" he asked. "You look tired."
"Yeah, I'm okay." Bella plugged the coffee maker and pressed the button. "Had a hard time falling asleep is all."
Leaving it at that, she helped her father set the table, then settled down to eat.
Because Charlie was old school, he still got the paper. The Daily Dispatch. His coffee mug in hand, he read and frowned at the front page. When he finally opened the newspaper to read the articles, Bella caught one of the headlines, the one behind her father's troubled expression.
Police baffled. Search for missing continues.
Grateful for the silence, Bella picked at her food, but found she wasn't hungry enough to finish her eggs and toast. The coffee was good, though, the jolt of caffeine being exactly what she needed to feel partly human again.
When her cell rang for the second time, the screen showing it was Evan, Bella turned the ringer to silent.
Brows furrowed in question, her father lowered the paper, and regarded her for a moment.
The phone vibrated two more times, but Bella ignored it.
Charlie being Charlie, he likely knew it was Evan, but for a mercy chose to respect her privacy.
Over the next two hours, she received three texts from the unfaithful jerk. The first read, I tried to reach you, but it kept going to voicemail. Call me back?
The second, that he sent just before ten, was much shorter. You there?
Same for the third one, that simply read, you okay?
Around lunchtime, while Charlie was in the kitchen, talking to his partner on the phone, Bella found herself wandering about the living-room. Coming to stand near the mantel, she reached for a picture of her and Evan, that her father had taken sometime last summer.
She'd been happy then, oblivious to the heartache ahead.
"Yeah, for sure." Charlie's voice carried from the other room. "No, I'll definitely be going in on Wednesday," he was saying to Sean Reed. Having met him a few times, Charlie's work partner seemed like a stand-up guy. From what she had gathered, her father liked working with him.
"She is. Bella's feeling much better. In fact, if I keep hanging around, I think she's gonna get tired of me." Laughter laced his words, and she found herself chuckling, too.
There were a few seconds of silence, then, "Yup. Day shift. Sounds good. See you Wednesday."
Footsteps sounded. Her smile fading, Bella set the picture back on the mantel.
"Oh, hey," Charlie said when he saw her. "Didn't know you were in here. I thought you'd gone upstairs."
"Dad, can I ask you something?"
"Sure. What is it?"
Eyes still fixed on the picture, she said, "What is it about Evan that made you not like him?" Now Bella turned to face him.
While her father had never hidden the fact that he wasn't crazy about Evan, he had never actively meddled in her relationship either. In fact, the farthest he had gone was ask her opinion. "You sure he's good for you, Bella?" To which she had replied, "He's good to me, dad."
But that was then. Now she knew the truth, and felt rather stupid.
Lips pursed in thought, Charlie leveled a look at her, and sighed. "You want the short or long answer?"
"Both."
As he weighed his words, Charlie stood behind the couch, his hands coming to rest on the back of it. "I know you found him charming. The guy could be nice, I'll give you that. But he always struck me as someone who… someone who wants it all, someone who would put his needs ahead of yours."
Since Charlie rarely went on and on, Bella gave a fleeting smile—a half smile that ended in a soft chuckle. "Okay, I gather that's the long answer. What's the short one?"
"I just don't trust him." There. Straight to the point. "Never have. Maybe my line of work makes me overly suspicious, but something about him never sat right with me." He seemed curious all of sudden. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason."
What Charlie made of their conversation, Bella didn't know. Thankfully, with a small encouraging nod, he pushed away from the sofa and let her be.
Since this was a nice day, it wasn't long before Charlie headed outside. Coming to stand by one of the windows that overlooked the backyard, Bella swept her gaze over the lawn and bordering forest. Seeing no sign of her dad, she guessed that he'd gone to chop some wood, down the slanted trail that led to his wood pile.
Looking skyward through the glass, Bella studied the piercing blue sky for a moment. Forks being as rainy as it was, the lack of clouds felt rather out of place. But given her own lack of tears—last night and this morning—the weather seemed oddly fitting. Hoping the clear skies would usher in some much-needed clarity, Bella leaned against the windowsill, and weighed her options.
Evan's betrayal had been a veritable kick in the teeth, and she needed to deal with the situation. But that being said, Bella was sort of stuck for the time being.
As badly as she wanted to look him in the eye and tell him it was over, Seattle was nearly four hours away. Without a functioning car, how would she even get there? Rent a car? Maybe, but Bella had never much cared for car rentals. Charlie or Audrey would certainly drive her if she asked, but relying on people was not something she was used to. No, she would rather drive herself, and just might get to, if Jacob could somehow work his magic and fix her car.
Suddenly, the stillness was severed by a loud, echoing ring—not her cell phone, but Charlie's landline.
Thinking it might be the station, Bella slowly made her way to the kitchen. Damn these aches and pains. "Hold on," she said as the phone rang for a third time. As her hand wrapped around the clunky receiver, plucking it from its cradle, Bella couldn't supress her amusement.
Charlie's phone was a dinosaur. It truly was. Purchased in the early eighties, the wall-mounted touch-tone phone was nearly the size of a toaster. Beige, with a long spiral cord, it was totally vintage.
"Hello," she said upon answering, and regretted just as soon.
"Thank God."
Bella wanted to kick herself.
Fuck.
The caller was none other than mister dirtbag himself.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Shit, Bella, I was worried sick." Evan blew out a breath. "I thought something happened. Why weren't you answering your phone?"
Breathe. Stay calm, she told herself, and cursed her bad luck. This wasn't how she had planned it. But whatever, it was too late now. "I wasn't answering my phone because I didn't want to talk to you."
"I'm sorry. So so sorry, sweetie. Like I said last night, I lost track of time and—" He thought this was about his fictitious dinner with his mother?
Unreal.
"You know what? Cut the crap, Evan. I know you weren't at your mother's last night." Oh wow. She was really doing this, then.
Evan had fallen silent. Maybe her meaning was dawning on him and he was shitting himself.
"How was dinner with Amber?" There. She had said it. And it felt surprisingly good. Might as well get this out of the way.
"Wait, what? Bella I—"
Convinced he was going to deny it, she pushed on, her tone hard and uncompromising when she said, "Maybe you should be more careful when you hang up the phone. You didn't really do a good job of it last night."
Evan was stammering, in shock or shame, she didn't care.
Fuming, Bella said, "I know, okay? I know you've been seeing someone behind my back. That girl you work with."
Bolstered by the sudden fire under her feet, Bella clenched her fist, and continued without pause or forethought. "Pack your shit. I want you gone by the time I get home."
"Bella wait. You can't—"
Bitter laughter rose in her throat. "Oh, I definitely can. That apartment was mine before it was ours. Take your clothes, your sports stuff. Hell, take the furniture for all I care." She knew he wouldn't. She had picked everything out, and the pieces just weren't his style. "Except for the bookcase," she felt the need to add. "That one's mine. And leave my books and laptop." As she thought about all they had in their apartment, Bella's eyes widened in realization. "And don't you dare take Lollipop. She's my cat. In fact, Audrey's picking her up today." Technically, she hadn't asked her yet, but Audrey had her back; she would do it, no question.
"Sweetie, please…" Evan's voice was a quivering whisper now. Was he seriously crying?
"You and me, we're done. You got that? It's over!"
With that, Bella hung up, actually got to slam the phone, 1980s style. So satisfying.
As she stood there, staring at the swaying phone cord, Bella actually laughed. A brief and slightly incredulous laugh, delivered as she dragged her trembling fingers through her hair.
As her mind finally caught up with what had just occurred, how quickly and decisively she had handled the situation, she took a step back, and blinked a few times. "Ha!" Her heart was beating a mile a minute.
I did it.
So what if she didn't get to see the look on his lying face? There would be other chances.
The important thing was that he knew. Evan finally knew and now she was free.
Good frigging riddance.
So here was chapter 6. It was supposed to be longer than this, but as I was working on the following scenes (they're not quite finished yet), I felt it was a bit too long. So I decided to break it up.
To all who have been reading and reviewing, thank you so very much. Your feedback is such a gift.