If your time to you is worth savin'
And you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'
Bob Dylan

Bella

"Is it as you remember?"

Edward was observing the sombre red-brick Georgian house with a tranquil air but he'd been silent for the longest time since we'd arrived in Philadelphia.

It had been his idea to return. Human memories had surfaced for almost all the Cullens as they'd been observing a human more closely and differently than they'd done before. When I described things like the wooden scent of new pencils and how it was tied to the excitement of a new school year; baked pears and autumn wind; cinnamon and Christmas; face powder and nights out. Esme had remembered a few recipes she'd learnt from her mother and we'd made them together, the results varying; both of us laughing when one side of our pie crust was grotesquely bumpier than the other. Rosalie had had a magnificent debutante ball the year Carlisle had found her. Jasper remembered his first Christmas tree that appeared when he was ten years old; the custom adopted quickly and enthusiastically in America from the British royal family. I'd polished the banister of Charlie's staircase and Edward had remembered his father's housemaids using the same oil; a scent of fun since he'd slid rashly down the railing afterwards. We'd gone fishing with Charlie one autumn Saturday and Edward had remembered his father taking him too.

"The exterior looks the same, the grounds don't. We had acres," he replied.

The land had been sold off over the years. The houses on either side of his were also traditional and probably an exciting find for those who liked the Victorian style, but still not the opulence of Edward's former life.

"No one's home. Shall we look inside?" Edward asked, quirking a smile.

I agreed, knowing there was no chance of us being caught. I waited for a minute while Edward checked the burglar alarms, and then the pavement under my feet was replaced with carpet. We were in one of the rooms upstairs.

I trailed behind Edward, letting him explore where he wanted. To my disappointment, the inside of the house had been largely remodelled, utilitarian rather than historic, but the layout seemed familiar to Edward.

"This was my father's library," he said, observing one of the sitting rooms. It had beautiful bay windows and a fireplace big enough to almost stand in. "He used to keep a desk thereabouts."

"Do you remember what he was like?"

"A little. He loved music, especially Rossini. He was strict as well. Many of my memories of mischief have some … disobedience tied to them. I must've thought someone wouldn't approve of what I was doing."

The walls of the house were a lovely pastel pink colour but mostly empty, none of the oil paintings that would've been crammed over them in Edward's day. The carpet too, was all one shade and corner to corner, far from the richly worked rugs of old. Edward explained it had been a practice of some housekeepers to put a coin under the carpet to test new staff; if they didn't find it they would be fired for not cleaning properly and if they did find it and kept it they would be fired for stealing. I wondered if a similar custom still happened in grand houses now.

In another sitting room, the larger one, Edward said his parents used to use it as a ballroom when they had parties. He'd been too young to attend, only listening as the sounds of merriment travelled upstairs, enjoying the music and liveliness. They ended with the death of his mother. His father never spoke of her again, Edward recalled, and he'd never remarried. When he grew older, Edward realised he looked a great deal like her and that his father would've found that unbearable.

The bedrooms were modern as well, and filled with colourful knickknacks. The master was my favourite; Edward said it used to be two separate rooms, the bedroom and dressing room, but it had since had the wall removed to make it a lavish space.

All the other bedrooms were made up. I wondered if whoever lived here now still had a lot of houseguests and parties. They'd also hired an interior designer or had impeccable eye; all the pieces blended together in a charming way, even if not my particular style. I'd probably like the aesthetic more if I didn't know how old the house was.

We went into the attics and basement, hoping for further remnants but there weren't any. Too much time had passed. The basement had a wine cellar that smelt of berries and vinegar; and the other side had been turned into a home gym.

The attic nursery where Edward had spent most of his formative years was small and cold—and piled with seasonal furniture. Whoever lived here now seemed to prefer eccentric winter pieces. When I peeked under a sheet, one of the couches was pistachio-coloured velvet. There was a doorstop styled after a Christmas pudding and a trio of bar stools in the corner had Santa legs instead of a more traditional arrangement.

"Classy," I snorted.

"Matches that," Edward grinned, pointing to a coffee table that had nutcrackers inlaid, painted to look like they were trapped under the glass.

The occupants hadn't changed over the furniture yet, even though Christmas was in two weeks. Perhaps they'd gone away for the holiday instead. Anyone who liked Christmas this much would surely want to display everything for as long as possible.

"I can see why your room looks the way it does," I said lightly. "If I had to sleep in a box as a child I'd want to stretch out too."

"I disliked being up here," he agreed. "It was lonely with no siblings. I was excited when I was sent to school."

"Was it near here?"

He thought about it and then shook his head. "I don't remember."

When Edward had his fill of the house, we materialised outside and strolled casually down the sidewalk as if we'd been doing it all along. Snowflakes floated down, encasing us slowly.

I squeezed his hand. "I hope it wasn't too sad."

"I'm glad it's still here, that another family is enjoying it as we did."

"That's what I like about the past, the whispers of it that remain. Are there things you miss?"

"The pace," he said after a while. "Everything took more time and labour so most was done with care. Craftmanship and suchlike. And there was more of a sense of community than there is now. One relied on connections for almost anything. Things are more individualistic these days."

I wondered what it would feel like to go back to one of my childhood houses but I couldn't picture it. I didn't have enough emotion tied to a building to make it worthwhile, one of the many downsides of a transient lifestyle.

Forks had a few memories … the swings in the playground, the cracked vinyl seats at one of the diners. But Charlie's house had nothing since he'd moved there after Renée and I had left. People had always meant more to me. And Renée disrupted that as much as she could too.

We spent the afternoon at the Liberty Bell and surrounding park, then Edward took me to get dinner; I requested a place with cheesesteaks. Might as well get the full Philadelphia experience.

"Is it any good?"

"I don't think I'd dare disagree in its home city," I replied, grinning. I'd also either made a mistake ordering or they were purposely huge, but I couldn't eat it all.

"Boyfriends are supposed to finish the girlfriend's food. What use are you?"

"I'm more of an elite transport system," he quipped and I nearly inhaled my drink laughing.

It was dark and snowing more heavily by the time we had returned to the hotel. I fetched the ice skates I'd bought last month and Edward took me to a secluded pond, one he'd remembered from his childhood and had been pleased to find it still existed when we'd looked it up before we left.

Even bundled up in a scarf and beanie, I still resembled an icicle by the time Edward had slowed when we reached the pond, snow having crystalised on the ends of my hair.

I'd never been ice skating until I met the Cullens, not that they enjoyed the activity in the conventional way. While I carved my way across the ice, Edward swooshed about like a hockey player, his bare feet gliding easily across the surface. He let me win a race that I'd inanely challenged him to and then pulled me along, skating backwards, his speed delightfully exciting.

"Want to spin?" he asked, grinning roguishly.

"I can barely stand up as it is," I protested.

"I'll catch you."

"You'd better."

He twirled me in fast loops, the blades scratching over the ice and flinging up frost; but then I was airborne as he threw me into the air, my squeal piercing the still night. I was still spinning until I landed in his arms and couldn't kiss him back properly, too dizzy and giggling too hard.

"This place is mostly unchanged," Edward observed after he'd set me on my feet and we'd done another circuit.

"Did you visit with your father?"

"Yes. Fishing, and skating as well. Lots of people did, it was busy."

"It's bizarre to think of people ice skating in those times. When I first read the ice skating scene in Little Women I was totally weirded out. It's always made me think of the Olympics and leotards; I guess because I saw those first."

"You're well on your way to competing," Edward replied, twirling me gracefully again.

"You just want to see me in the leotard," I teased.

"I'd rather see you in nothing at all. Not here," he said, suddenly exasperated as I flung my beanie off laughingly. "Your lips are turning blue."

"My favourite colour."

"It is not. Put your hat back on."

I threw my gloves at him instead and started to skate away but he enveloped me in his coat, trapping my arms by my sides and holding me against him so I couldn't move.

"Urgh, you never play fair."

"Do you really want to walk back naked?"

"Walk? You'd make me walk?"

"For the laugh," he smiled.

"As if, you can't resist me naked. Plus, I bet I'd warm up quicker if we had sex first."

"We won't be finding out if that's true."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I've lost it now your body temperature's dropped one and a half degrees."

"You can make it my Christmas present."

"You can't wait half an hour until we get back to the hotel?"

"Absolutely not. Kiss me. Or at least let me go so I can kiss you."

"No deal."

After we'd changed into our boots, he lifted me onto his back; making me keep his coat and put the rest of my clothing back on before he started toward the city centre.

I lifted his sweater and ran my hand over his torso, tracing his muscles, and he laughed quietly; the sound reverberating in his chest.

"This would be a lot sexier if you'd let me take my gloves off."

"Frostbite is hardly sexy."

Edward held it together well, only allowing himself to smooth small circles over my jeans-clad thighs with his thumbs, but his humour was replaced with desire when I began pressing slow kisses to the back of his neck. I'd buried my jaw into my sleeve for a few long minutes so my mouth was warmer and I could feel his iciness once more.

"You're playing a dangerous game."

"You could solve your problem right here."

Edward's laugh sounded again but his fingers were caressing more sensually as well. Every time I brushed my mouth on his skin, he followed the exact interval and pressure on my thighs with his thumbs.

The dark scenery was soon streaked with strips of white, indicating we were in the urban sprawl; Edward keeping us out of sight expertly.

He let me down and we appeared in a crowd of winter shoppers, sidestepping them as if joining the throng, Edward holding my skates by the blades so he didn't stab someone with them.

Warmth rushed over me as we stepped into the lobby of the hotel, and we tracked snow over the marble floor. Edward maddingly wouldn't touch my skin, only keeping his hand on the fabric of my coat.

There was someone in the elevator when we got on and they smiled at my two coats and in Edward's arms, and him in just his sweater.

"See? She knows I'm not cold," I said to Edward when he was unlocking our door.

"She can't feel your temperature."

As soon as the door shut behind us, we were scrambling to strip off our own clothes and each other's, half in lust and half because I was absolutely freezing and couldn't feel my fingers anymore.

The searing water warmed my cold extremities quickly, Edward's skin was ethereally smooth, and there was a tiled bench in this shower that was the exact right height for Edward to kneel down between my legs.

Edward

"You still look green," Emmett grinned at Bella when the two of us returned after our weekend away. "Scared of the plane again? I thought that was made up until I met you."

"Not all of us would survive plummeting to earth at a thousand miles an hour."

"But a car is fine? That's more likely."

"I'm sorry my irrational fear is behaving irrationally," Bella replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"One day you're going to tease Bella too far and then I'm going to kill you; Rosalie or no Rosalie," I told Emmett later, having crept up behind him and tackled him away from the mountain lion he'd been about to pounce on.

Emmett elbowed me but I hung on and we both landed in the river, crunching through the thin ice. The rapids broke against us when we stood up, churning up the water further.

You're doing my laundry when we get home. And come on, it's too easy. All that human stuff is funny and now I finally have someone to laugh at.

"Laugh with, not poke until you irritate her."

"If you wanna get into a competition of who irritates who's mate the most, you've already won that."

"I always win."

"God, you're annoying." Emmett sat on one of the protruding rocks, deciding to wait and see if any otters would pass by since we'd scared off the mountain lion. "Bella wasn't upset. She says when she is."

"That doesn't mean you get to spend all day seeing what kind of lines you can cross."

"Speaking of lines I'm crossing, are you seriously still against Bella's transformation? She wants it. She's excited for it."

"Right now. She won't be later."

Emmett gestured to the path of destruction we'd left in the wake of our brawl. "Don't you want to stop having to worry about her all the time?"

"That won't go away if she was changed," I pointed out. "I'll just worry about different things."

Emmett made a face of agreement. But … don't you want more with her?

"No. I love what we have."

But you think she wants more. You don't think you're enough for her.

"I'm not. If she wanted to move to Yuma and live on a farm and have babies, I can't give her those things."

Are you on glue? Bella hasn't ever wanted any of that.

"But she might. That's the point."

"And what she wants now doesn't matter to you?" Emmett asked disapprovingly.

"Humans can change. Bella's changed her mind about lots of things."

"Not in fundamentals."

"That's why she needs more time."

"You're going to let yourself be miserable for the rest of your life on the off chance she might, maybe, one day, change her mind?" he asked sarcastically.

"Bella's happiness means more to me."

"You're being ridiculous. You're being stubborn. That'll annoy Bella more."

"I'll take annoyance over regret."

Emmett was trying to imagine our lives after Bella left, this person that had become part of our family so easily. He'd miss her terribly, he adored having another little sister to rile up. Esme and Carlisle were often heard to be talking about her, discussing plans for our future; they already thought of her as their own. Alice and Rosalie liked her and enjoyed having someone they didn't have to hide their natures from. Jasper appreciated his bubble of quiet with her and the happiness that spread through everyone now.

"And us?" Emmett said quietly. "You're going to hurt us all too, you know. And what we'll all go through with you afterwards. Changing her is the only solution."

"It's not a solution; Bella's existence isn't something to solve. I just want her to be happy, and for that she needs to live."

Bella

I'd put in a CD and Alice turned up the music until it was thundering through the house, both of us singing along to the lyrics. Alice watched me daub my lips in plum-coloured lipstick with interest. "I sometimes wish we could wear cosmetics."

"You can't?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't stick to our skin for very long; there's no resistance for it to adhere to."

She patted her finger into my eyeshadow palette and lifted it to show me how almost all the powder immediately sifted down into the sink. "The liquid kinds do a bit better but still, not great."

That was a shame. It was fun getting dolled up now and then, especially when I got to see Edward's admiring expression at the final result. I'd gone for a dramatic makeup look to match one of the shirts Alice had made me. I'd toned it down a little with a pair of jeans but a backless silk chemise was fairly outside my usual style, though Alice's skill was so impeccable that I was happy to experiment.

Edward's outfit was plain at first glance but his manner—developed through decades of having donned more reserved attire—made it so he appeared to be modelling his clothes rather than simply wearing them.

The sun was setting on our drive to Seattle but it made no difference; the February sky dark with torrential rain. The fog was so dense I was glad it was Edward who was driving.

"Is this your first concert?" Alice asked me from the backseat.

"Second. I went to a music festival when I lived in Santa Fe. I don't remember the headliners, all the bands were kinda blurred together by the end. My friend and I got stuck in the mosh pit for a bit; she only ever found one of her shoes at the end," I said, giggling at the remembrance.

"Stuck?" Jasper asked.

"You know, like where you can't move because of how many people there are. You get flung about if you're not careful. I suppose that doesn't happen to you guys," I observed as I considered Jasper's confusion.

"We stay in the seats?" Alice said, puzzled. "The pit looks so uncomfortable for the humans. Surely you lot can't focus on the music like that."

"Not really," I agreed.

"It's not even dancing," Jasper complained. "No one dances in clubs anymore either."

"If you two got up and did the waltz I'm sure everyone else would follow," I snickered.

"Far too indecent," Edward teased. "People hated that when it first became popular. Too much close contact."

"That's funny; it's a posh dance," I replied, thinking of wide crinolines and top hats.

The venue was underwhelming, a boring symmetrical building reminiscent of a butter dish.

"Didn't you say that one of the first concerts you went to was in the Boston Music Hall?" I said to Edward, who nodded. "I wish they'd preserve places like that. They've taken some of the fun out of it." That was why I liked Esme's designs a lot; they were always imaginative and surprising.

The interior ended up being incredible, however. Strobe lights flickered over the violet ceiling and illuminated the multiple chandeliers invisibly suspended about the room, the structures quaking slightly from the house music pounding over the amps.

We found a good table toward the back; Edward and the others could hear just as well from anywhere and I didn't want to be deafened from being much closer.

Jasper had made me a fake ID so I could get in as well but when the waitress came around I ordered a soda, not interested in being the only one who was drinking. The waitress seemed annoyed when the others didn't get anything but her look immediately dissolved into guilt when Edward waved away the change from the twenty he'd given her.

The people at the table next to us were smoking but it only took one fleeting glace from Jasper for them to hastily move away, forgetting their drinks in their panic.

"Thanks," I said, flittering my hand to dispel the unpleasant haze. "Does that smell bad to you too?" I asked as Alice wrinkled her nose.

"Too many chemicals. But your soda also smells bad," she grinned.

"Oh, great. Maybe I will need vodka to get through it now." I took a long sip, unable to taste what Alice was complaining about. "What brand did you use to smoke?" I asked Edward, thinking of old Pall Mall ads I'd seen.

"I didn't bother."

"I thought everyone smoked. Didn't there used to be ashtrays on classroom desks?"

"It doesn't taste like anything, on top of not having any effect. Not really worth it."

"Did people think you guys were weird for not smoking?"

Edward grinned. "That was far from the weirdest thing about us."

I forgot about that occasionally, the aura of strangeness that shrouded the Cullens. The people around us were a step or two further away from our group than with others; nothing blatant, but there once I realised it. When the house lights dimmed for the band, it became a bit more apparent in the uneasiness of darkness—I watched more than one person do an odd skirting motion to avoid encroaching in our space.

The set was good, one of Edward and Alice's favourite bands at the moment. But just yesterday Edward had played me one of the classical pieces he'd composed for me and everything else paled in comparison to that.

Edward had his arm around my shoulders, playing with my fingers and singing along to the music softly in my ear, the romantic lyrics even more so in his velvety voice.

Alice was in Jasper's lap and they were off in their own world as they absorbed the music; Edward had to tap them with his foot a few times to remind them to fidget more.

Jasper had been right about not many people dancing. Everyone near the stage bobbed in time to the music all through the concert but that was about it. I had nothing to compare it to having never been to a club before but liked the fun atmosphere anyway. Edward was relaxed as well, which thankfully meant no one in the huge crowd was thinking anything untoward.

That didn't last long, of course.

Edward's hand in mine stilled and I followed his line of sight. He was watching a couple who were leaning against the wall; they looked like they were cuddling but I knew it was something more sinister when Edward made his way over toward them, Jasper following behind. Surrounded by men, even rescuers, was going to make the girl uncomfortable so I quickly skipped after as well.

Edward didn't say anything but the man suddenly turned white, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head and unable to tear his gaze from Edward's; he looked like he was going to be sick. Edward's back was to me but I figured he was pinning the guy with the full force of a terrifying look, and Jasper was probably drenching him in some nasty feelings.

I scooted around and wedged myself in between the couple. "Hi. Wanna go outside?"

She nodded, tears swimming in her eyes. I linked my arm with hers firmly and steered us toward the exit. Her date cringed away from us so violently that he nearly tripped over.

Outside, we avoided puddles and the drizzle as much as we could until we got to the eaves of the closed restaurant next door. Alice had followed me but was still standing in the entryway of the club, not wanting to freak the girl out with her proximity.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Her shirt was rumpled and her mascara dribbling down her cheeks in sad lines.

I quickly dug into my bag and pulled out my packet of tissues. "Are any of your friends inside? Here, you can call them—shit, I left my cell at home." I made eye contact with Alice who grimaced at me, letting me know she hadn't troubled to bring hers either.

"That's okay, I just came with h-him," she said, mopping her face with the clutch of tissues. "You brought a book to a nightclub?" she said disbelievingly, distracted by the sight of Cloud Atlas visible in my open bag.

I'd actually forgotten to take it out earlier. "Nightclub, book club; I got confused," I smiled, hoping to distract her further and she gave me a watery smile in return. "Did you want me to get you a cab?" I asked, indicating to the rank down the street. "Or our car isn't far from here, we can drive you home."

She shook her head hurriedly. "I'll get a cab," she insisted, her voice wobbling again. Edward hadn't been trying to scare her but she'd seemingly caught some of his or Jasper's air regardless.

I walked with her to the taxi stand and handed the driver some bills through the window when she wasn't looking. I glanced back at Alice again who made a placating gesture, indicating that the cab ride would be fine for her.

"Thank your husband for me," she said quietly. "I'm glad he was there. And you as well."

I smiled. "I'll tell him."

Edward and Jasper were next to Alice when I got back to the club. The set had almost been over; people were milling on the sidewalk now, their numbers growing. Edward threw his jacket around my shoulders and smoothed back my damp hair.

"Are you okay?" I asked, taking his hand.

Edward nodded, calmer. "He'll leave her alone."

"She's going home to her mother," Alice confirmed. "Probably. Someone she's glad to see, anyway."

That was a relief. Poor girl. And I hoped the man had learnt a valuable lesson, even as I wished it didn't have to be that way.

Edward had the heater on in the car but I didn't warm up properly until after my shower; Edward cocooning me into the extra blanket as well, humming ceaselessly all night so the nightmares stayed away.

I was optimistically waiting for Edward to change his mind but I was still excited about the prospect of college next fall. It was hard not to be, especially since Carlisle had every issue of the Lancet and the New England Journal of Medicine so he could keep up with new discoveries and let me pour over them too, and always answered my barrage of questions; even though it would be a few years before I started studying this kind of material.

"What's been the best medical invention?"

"Antibiotics," he replied. "We used to use things like echinacea and elderberry but it the results were far from consistent or successful."

"Not bloodletting?" I grinned.

He chuckled. "No, I was never a proponent of that practice. I could smell that the infection remained afterwards so knew it didn't work. I always tried other things."

"How long did it take to desensitise yourself to blood during surgery?"

"About twenty years. To me it has always been a revulsion more than a craving. At least, my feelings of revulsion were always stronger. Others describe blood as sweet and satisfying. I can't say I enjoy it to that extent. But it did still take me a time to completely quiet the impulse."

"How did you do it?"

"Working towards it slowly. When I first began my education physicians did not perform the practical tasks of medicine. That kind of laborious work was for surgeons and apothecaries, the lower class," he replied, smiling wryly. "I found it to be a ridiculous notion; the divided approach didn't seem right. There was a lot of miscommunication. But it did mean I was able to perfect my theoretical studies before moving to the practical. I held my breath during surgeries in the beginning. I presented myself as someone who had to have silence to work, negating the need for me to speak."

"That's why Edward doesn't practice anymore," I mused.

"Yes. As the roles became amalgamated he did find it more difficult. He worked with me in clinic these last decades but wasn't able to do the hospital rotations."

"Have you always been a doctor? Were you one when you were human?" The Cullens had a few careers they liked but Carlisle and Esme seemed to focus only on the one.

"Not when I was human. I was a priest then. Medicine became my calling a few years after I had been turned. The cross in the hall is mine. It used to hang in the pulpit where I preached," he replied, describing the ageless dark wooden cross that was mounted on the wall in a place of pride.

This new revelation about Carlisle shocked me. A priest, a Puritan priest at that, did not align with what I knew about him. Though he could be described as rigidly moral, it was only in preserving the sanctity of human life that he didn't compromise in himself; he forced no obedience on his family to follow his views on hunting or humans. He also had no qualms about sex or marriage. What did the human concept of marriage mean to immortal pairs that mated for life? Even with their forged marriage certificates, none of the Cullens had worn wedding bands. Carlisle didn't like to wear one because of his work and so never did, not even in charade.

He smiled amusedly, knowing where my thoughts had taken me.

"Puritans didn't have the reputation they do now, not when I was human. We valued love and family and wanted the choice to worship more simply. And these are values I still hold. However, it is true that my father's personal views were very harsh. He hated anyone who was other—religiously, morally … those who weren't human. Though I loved him, I did oppose all these philosophies of his and we argued about them constantly. I hunted witches and vampires as a compromise, desperate to please him in some way. I didn't believe they existed so it was an easy undertaking, at least at first. I simply didn't bring him anyone to prosecute, telling him I'd found none. It was his frustration and ire that led me to begin a real search, a decision that ended up changing my whole existence."

"Did your father ever find out what happened to you?"

"I don't believe so, though he would've known I had died. It pained me to leave him, especially since I knew my death would have stirred in him even more fervour to punish the supernatural for bringing about the end of his only child. He would have killed even more innocent humans. But I knew that if I had returned to beg him to alter his ways, he wouldn't have done so. Nor would he have been able to kill me, though I wished for it. I hadn't known then that fire was the only way a vampire could be slain. If I had, I would have begged a vampire to tear my limbs and gladly stood on the pyre my father would've built for me. Of course, when I learnt how vampires could be killed, I no longer wanted that path for myself."

"Did the other vampires help you?"

"In many ways," he nodded. "I enjoyed their society and I've maintained good friendships with them. But it was a little alienating to be around those who don't have the same ideals."

"They didn't like that you had helped the humans?"

"Yes, some found it odd. It was a surprising notion to them; vampires don't need that kind of physical care so it was hard for them to wrap their head around it, to empathise with it."

"Were any worried you'd expose vampire nature to them?"

"Occasionally. The Volturi have spread the lore to humans in an effort to render us hidden and it doesn't always work, as you know," Carlisle smiled. "A few humans have discovered vampire secrets, with differing results."

"Really? Did you know of any humans who wanted to be vampires?"

"Not exactly," he hesitated. "In that, they knew of vampires but weren't given the opportunity to express their opinion of a transformation before they were changed. Those that were changed."

I frowned. "I gave Edward my opinion. I want this."

"I know. But Edward and Rosalie have struggled a great deal and he doesn't want the same to happen to you."

"What about all the good stories?"

"That isn't a gamble he wants you to make."

But it wasn't a gamble. My yearning for it had only strengthened these last months and that growing certainty would be what convinced Edward that it was what was right for me.