Ready for the angst to really begin? *nervous chuckle*
This will unfortunately most likely be the last weekly update for now, as the next chapter still isn't quite finished. Thank you in advance for your patience in waiting for new chapters going forward, as I said in the prologue AN I will do my best to make sure the waits are not too long.
For now, I hope you like this next chapter!
Glitterb x
Chapter 2: Stitches
Only Carine kept her cool. She immediately shifted into the commanding, authoritative tone that marked her as Carine the leader, not Carine the mother. Yet there was a calm there too, one that made me think this was how she spoke at work, directing nurses around a busy emergency room or giving instructions over an operating table.
"Girls, get Jasper outside."
For once, Eleanor wasn't smiling. "On it. Come on, Jazz."
Jasper was still fighting furiously against her grip, twisting his head to try to break free from Alice's hold, a constant stream of growls and snarls echoing from between his teeth; I realised slightly belatedly that Alice had her fingers spread wide and her thumbs under his chin, holding his jaw closed so he couldn't keep snapping at her. With Rosalie stepping in to help, they managed to muscle him over to the back door, which Earnest held open, his beautiful face twisted in shame as his hand came up to cover his mouth and nose.
"I'm sorry," he choked out as he darted through the door after his children, closing it firmly behind him.
Edward and Edythe had both backed up towards Beau and I, crouched defensively over us in a stance I recognised from the confrontation with the nomads back in March. They were absolutely still in that way I knew meant they weren't breathing, though a low growl continued to rumble up from Edward's throat even after his brother was out of the room.
"Let me through, please." Carine was still absolutely in control, the order clear even as she phrased it as a request.
Edythe relaxed at once, whirling to kneel beside Beau's prone body. "I'm so sorry, my love, that was careless of me. What hurts?"
"Head," Beau groaned, struggling to sit up. "Think I hit the piano. Oh god, Bell…" He had looked up and seen my arm, and his face was rapidly changing from his usual pale to a greenish grey.
Edythe gently guided his face back around towards her. "Hey now, the last thing we need is you passing out. Eyes here, show me exactly where you hit your head." She laid her hand in his and moved both around to the back of his head, probing for the spot he'd hit.
"Edward," Carine said, a note of warning in her voice now; he still hadn't moved. Whether it was in response to her tone or something in her thoughts that I couldn't hear, he finally shifted out of her way, taking several steps back. There was a flat look in his eyes that I didn't like at all.
Carine knelt delicately beside me, avoiding the mess of cake, glass, and water on the floor as she examined my arm.
"Fairly clean," she murmured, shifting to something more soothing. "But there's a lot of glass in there, that will have to come out." She reached out and tore a strip off the tablecloth, binding it tightly around my arm just above the top of the cut to form a tourniquet. There was a ringing in my ears that was getting louder as the smell of the blood affected me more with each passing moment; I knew I was probably a similar shade to my brother, and prayed I wouldn't keel over. I focused on breathing slowly and deeply through my mouth, fixing my attention on the stitching in Carine's shirt and trying to ignore the stinging from my arm.
"Bella," Carine said softly, shifting slightly to catch my eye, a small reassuring smile on her face. "I can take care of this here, or we can go to the hospital. What would you prefer?"
"Here, please," I forced out in a whisper. I knew I wouldn't make it all the way to the hospital without either throwing up or fainting, neither of which I was in the mood for. And anything that happened at the hospital would surely be public knowledge in under twenty-four hours; staying here meant a chance to keep the extent of the disaster from my dad.
Carine nodded, turning to Edward. "Help me get her to the kitchen table, would you, darling? Edythe, I think Beau might benefit from a lie down upstairs, and if you could fetch my bag while you're up there…"
Both siblings were moving almost before she'd finished speaking. Edythe effortlessly hoisted Beau into her arms and disappeared up the stairs with him – it never failed to astonish me how easily she carried his weight on those slender arms – while Edward scooped me carefully off the floor, moving slowly towards the kitchen while Carine kept a grip on my arm to maintain the pressure of her makeshift bandage.
"Doing alright?" she asked me gently as we entered the kitchen.
"I'm fine," I said, proud of how steady I sounded – not even a hint of a wobble in my voice.
A soft breeze brushed past, and Edythe was suddenly ahead of us, plugging in a small desk lamp and setting it on the table so the bright light shone on a spot by one of the chairs, Carine's black leather medical bag waiting nearby. Edward set me delicately into the chair, then took up a protective position behind me as his mother pulled another chair over and went to her work.
Edythe zipped over to the counter, retrieving a dishcloth from a drawer and digging through the freezer until she found a tray of ice cubes.
"Is Beau okay?" I asked her, mostly to distract myself from whatever Carine was doing; a sharp pinch in my arm made me wince, but I refused to look and run the risk of losing the equilibrium I was somehow managing to maintain.
"He'll be fine," Edythe assured me. "No skin broken, just a nasty whack on the head. There might be a lump for a day or two, but no real harm done."
She spared the briefest of glances for her brother before she focused on cracking the ice out of the tray and wrapping it up with the cloth. I followed her gaze and saw his expression still stoic, his shoulders still stiff. Still not breathing. My blood held some sort of special appeal to him, and while this wasn't the first time it had been spilled in front of him – and not even close to as bad as last time – he'd been very open in admitting he had only resisted its allure before because he was more afraid of me dying. As nasty as this cut was, I didn't think that was a worry right now.
"Don't torture yourself," I told him, trying to sound as firm as possible. "Go outside and get some fresh air."
"I'm handling it," he gritted out, but there was a look in his eyes that said otherwise.
His sister could see it too; she stopped with her ice bundle securely tied and gripped in her fist, her other hand on her hip and a disapproving look on her face. "You really aren't."
"I can stay," he insisted.
"Carine will fix me up. I'll be fine," I tried to assure him.
"Yes, I have this well in hand," she agreed, still focused on my arm. "I think you would be best served finding Jasper and helping talk him down. Once he's regained his senses, he is bound to start berating himself, and you may be able to offer him some absolution."
"Yeah, go find Jasper," I chimed in eagerly. "Tell him I'm fine. I'm not mad at him or anything."
"You might as well be doing something useful," Edythe added as she crossed the room and vanished, off to tend to my brother.
I could tell from his expression that Edward didn't appreciate being ganged up on, but at least the weight of so many insistent voices finally seemed to convince him; he swiftly dashed to the kitchen door and disappeared into the night.
The familiar numbness of a local anaesthetic was spreading through my arm, which took away the pain but somehow made me more aware of the wound, so I was still careful not to look at it, returning to studying Carine's hair as she worked and ignoring the slight tugging sensations. The strands were like spun gold, reflecting the bright light; she had it tied up in a French twist, smoothed to perfection and without a single bobby pin visible, a feat I could never accomplish with my own hair on the rare occasions I decided to do something more elaborate than a ponytail.
I sighed as a morose realisation suddenly hit me. "Well, I guess now we know how long it takes me to clear a room."
Carine kindly laughed at my morbid joke. "It was going to happen at some point. Honestly, we're lucky to have made it through almost three years without a similar incident, and I must say, I'm quite proud of how well everyone handled it." She looked up and must have seen the guilty look I could feel creeping onto my face. "This wasn't your fault, Bella."
"I just wish this sort of thing wouldn't always happen to me," I said. "It seems like Beau never has this kind of trouble. I guess I just have really terrible luck."
She hummed but didn't comment, returning her focus to her work. Despite what she'd said about the others handling things well, I couldn't help comparing their reactions to hers; she was so calm, still breathing evenly, not a trace of strain anywhere in her face. For a minute, the only sound was the gentle clink of glass shards hitting the table. I was getting uncomfortable with the number of pieces she was apparently pulling out and was almost tempted to glance down and see how much more there was to go, but quickly thought better of it. I knew even looking at the pile was likely to send me heaving, which would be the opposite of helpful right now.
Instead, I distracted myself by indulging my curiosity. "Why do you think you find it so much easier than the others? Is it just that you've been… holding back for longer?" I cringed. "Sorry, that's not quite the right wording, is it?"
Carine chuckled softly again. "Oh, it isn't too far off. Certainly, the rest of our kind see it that way. And yes, I believe the extra years of practice probably help a lot. I think exposure may be a factor as well. When I was younger, I would force myself to stay in the hospitals where I worked for as long as I could stand, knowing to run from the temptation would only increase its hold on me. These days, I barely even notice the scent."
"But it takes more than just being around humans all the time," I mused. The conversation probably wouldn't be considered very pleasant by anyone else, but it was keeping my mind off what she was doing and holding the queasiness at bay. "I mean, they're all at school every day…"
"Yes, there is a bit more to it than that," she agreed, still smiling softly. "Then again, we always keep a bit of distance, just in case. I believe Edythe finds it a little easier than the others, yet even she struggles with open cuts."
"Edythe finds it easier?" That surprised me; I was sure she hadn't been breathing either, although she had seemed more in control of herself.
"I can only speculate, as we've never actually talked about it. But she spends so much time in such close proximity to Beau, it has almost certainly desensitised her to his scent, and possibly made resisting others less of a strain too. She has time on her side as well - the only one who's been living this life longer than she has is Edward. Usually, he would be almost as well controlled."
I didn't have to ask why it was particularly difficult for Edward to keep his cool when it was me that was bleeding. Instead, I shifted the conversation back a bit. "Do you think it would be harder for her if she wasn't around him all the time? Or if you took a break from the hospital, would you have to start over?"
She shook her head, gently probing around to check whether all the glass was out yet; I could feel a dull tugging sensation that I did my best not to pay too much attention to. "It may be a little prideful of me to say, but I don't think I will ever need to rebuild my control from scratch. Perhaps it would take some extra readjustment if I ever took any kind of extended sabbatical and I lost that daily exposure. But I've never really felt the need for that. Honestly, I don't know what I would do with myself all day." She flashed me a twinkling smile. "I enjoy what I do far too much."
"What is it you enjoy?" I wondered.
She pursed her lips in thought for a moment before she answered. "I think the best part is knowing that there are lives which are better because they crossed my path. That there are people who I have saved because of what I am, not in spite of it. Not only my children and my husband, but all the patients over the years where I felt or saw or even smelt something that everyone else missed. It gives me a good deal of satisfaction to use the senses that were meant to make me a more efficient hunter to instead enhance my skill in diagnosis."
She set down whatever tool she had been using and went into her bag for another. The image of a needle and thread briefly entered my mind, and I quickly banished it in favour of considering what she had said. I was also vaguely remembering the stories of her early days that Edward had told me all those months ago on the day I visited this house for the first time.
"It seems like you work so hard to… be good." I was struggling with phrasing again, now trying desperately not to pay too much attention to the new kind of tugging on the skin of my arm that had started. "I mean, it wasn't exactly your choice. I don't think anyone would blame you for just giving in and taking the easy route."
"I don't really see it that way." There was nothing openly admonishing in her tone, but I felt bad for what I had said all the same. "I was dealt a certain hand, and I decided to do the best with what I had. For me, there was never really a question of the way I wanted to live my life."
"But why even try?" I pressed.
Her smile was turning knowing. "You've heard this story, haven't you?"
"Yes, but I never got it from you. I guess I'm trying to understand what you were thinking."
She was quiet for a long minute, snipping her thread sharply and carefully turning my arm from side to side to check over her work, then wiping something with a syrupy texture and a strong chemical smell across my skin with an oversized Q-Tip and sealing it over with a few long strips of gauze.
"There, all done," she said breezily, before her eyes began scrutinising my face closely. Was she thinking what I was? Trying to imagine how I would react when (when, not if) it was my turn. At last, she turned away, starting to clean the table with a piece of gauze soaked in a sharp-smelling alcohol rub as she began talking again. "Some of it comes down to how I was raised. I always believed there was a right way and a wrong way to do things. My father certainly thought so. You know he was a clergyman?" When I nodded, she went on. "I never entirely agreed with his brand of faith. It didn't make sense to me that the fire and brimstone in the Old Testament and the universal love preached by Christ in the Gospels could all come from the same God. Father always looked at the world as a place full of evil to be fought, and even before I changed, I questioned that outlook. There had to be some goodness somewhere, and surely it was more productive to nurture that than always be lashing out and attacking people."
As she was speaking, she had been sweeping all the bits of blood-spotted glass into an empty bowl; now, she dropped the dirty gauze on top of them and soaked the whole lot in another healthy slosh of disinfectant. I watched perplexed, somehow not putting it together even when she carefully lit a match, obtained from somewhere when I wasn't paying attention. When she dropped the small flame into the bowl, the contents blazed suddenly, making me jump.
"Sorry," she apologised, moving the flaming dish a little further away from me with a delicate hand. "A necessary step in the proceedings, I'm afraid. Where was I? Ah, yes, my faith in contrast to my father's. In the years since his murder and my rebirth, even with all the death, disease, and destruction I have unfortunately borne witness to, I can say with confidence that on balance, there is more good in the world than bad. Each day, I see something that reaffirms my convictions, that assures me there is a God, in whatever form they may take. I am thankful for all I have been given, and I can only try to be worthy of the gifts that God has granted me."
The turn towards religion threw me off a little. I'd never had much in the way of a religious education, beyond the basics that no one could avoid living in what was, for all intents and purposes, a Christian country. Renée had tried out a church from time to time, never sticking with anything for long. Charlie called himself a Lutheran, but only because that was what his parents had been; I wasn't sure he'd been to church even once in his adult life, spending most of his Sundays working or fishing.
"I suppose it probably sounds strange, coming from a vampire," she mused, the tiniest twinkle of amusement in her eyes as I started at her casual naming of her true nature. "Whatever stories you hear, we always seem to be demons and monsters, condemned to eternal hellfire once we are rightfully wiped from the earth. And perhaps it is silly of me, but I do hope that there will be some measure of reward for trying to do better. That if one day I do pass from this plane of existence onto whatever comes next, my maker will judge me fairly by what I have done, not simply what I am."
"I don't think that's silly at all." I couldn't imagine there was anyone who wouldn't recognise how extraordinary Carine was – even God couldn't fail to be impressed. "If anyone deserves to go to Heaven, you do. Of course, I hope you don't," I quickly added, feeling my cheeks go pink. "Since you'd have to die, and that would be awful. But you wouldn't ever need to, right? I mean, to me, what you all have is a kind of Heaven on Earth."
She looked thoughtful. "That is an interesting way to look at it, and one I can't say I've ever heard expressed before. Although it is admittedly rare to come across humans with your particular level of insight into our kind. I'd wager your brother is of much the same opinion." She laughed a little, and I couldn't help smiling in response. "I must say, I wish more of the others felt as we do."
"They don't agree with you?" That surprised me a little; I knew Edward wasn't exactly happy with his life, and he'd made comments that suggested Rosalie wasn't either, but the others all seemed at least content.
She correctly followed my train of thought. "Oh, they're all happy enough. Eleanor had some moments of disorientation in the beginning." She chuckled again. "We were all angels for a little while. But mostly, I think they are simply more realistic about what this life is and what it means for our futures. We are always on the edge of society, unable to truly mix with the human world that we came from, not quite accepted in the vampire world because of our dietary choices. We rely on each other to find some sense of belonging and make the best of what we have. For most of them, what might come after this life isn't something they spend much time worrying about. But Edward…" Her expression was thoughtful again as she got to the point she must have guessed I would be most interested in. "He agrees with me, to an extent. There is a God, and a Heaven… and a Hell. But he believes it is something worse than fire that awaits us after death. He is quite certain that we have no soul at all, nothing left to lift up or cast down, and that the ends of our lives are just that — an end, a gaping nothingness."
I nodded slowly, remembering a similar conversation from months ago, on the night I'd somehow been convinced to go to Prom. "Edythe told me about that. She said he doesn't believe he deserves happiness, and that's why he won't change me. She said he wanted to protect me from his darkness."
Carine was looking out of the wide kitchen window now, as if she could see out into the dark woods all the way to wherever her family had disappeared to. "That is a part of it. I can't claim to have the insight my children are able to gain thanks to their gifts, but after so many years, I like to think I know them almost as well as they know themselves. As much as those of us who love him would wish otherwise, it has always been difficult to get Edward to see his own good qualities – his strength, his loyalty, his devotion, and all that he inspires in others. He is truly good, and it makes me all the more hopeful that I am right, that there must be something more waiting for him." She met my eyes again, something like sympathy there now. "But to look at the situation from his viewpoint… if you believed as he does, could you bear to take away his soul?"
I'd expected her to ask if I would give up my soul for him, to which the answer was an obvious 'yes'. But turning it around like that, asking if I would sacrifice his soul… it made the answer more difficult.
Carine saw the struggle in my face. "You see where the issue arises."
"It's my soul," I insisted, well aware I was being stubborn for the sake of it. "Don't I get to decide what happens to it?"
"You do," she agreed, seeming reluctant; I could hear the qualification coming before it arrived. "But he also has the right to decide if he will have any part in seeing it destroyed."
"He isn't the only one who can do it," I muttered, mostly to myself.
She heard me, of course, a sympathetic smile on her face as she gently patted my hand. "Very true, but I would caution against going behind his back. You don't want to start out eternity in conflict with each other. After all, how we are when we change is how we tend to stay, barring any truly life-altering eventualities." A distant look came across her face. "That's always been the thing I struggle to reconcile myself with. Did I really do the right thing, dragging others into this life the way I did? Every one of them was a stranger to me. None of them had even the chance to make a choice, and I do think it is something of a miracle that I've not had more opposition from them."
I watched as she carefully cleaned and packed away her instruments, dropping more dirty gauze into the burning bowl which made the flames flare and flicker. In my head, I considered the idea of a world where she hadn't chosen to save Edward, where she had continued alone or picked someone else to be her companion… I didn't like it at all. He was always talking about how much better my life would be if he'd passed when he was 'supposed to' and I always made it clear exactly how wrong he was. A world without him would be unbearable.
"Edward's mother was the one who made up my mind," Carine suddenly said, her voice very low and her eyes still far away, lost in memory.
"His mother?" I asked, startled. "You mean his birth mother?" Neither Edward nor Edythe remembered their human parents well; whenever Beau or I had asked about them, we got only the tiny details they were able to recall, or bland facts delivered with no sense of affection or grief for their loss. I realised that the memories Carine had of them would be crystal clear, if less numerous.
"Yes, that's right. She was called Elizabeth." The smallest smile quirked her lips. "And his father was an Edward too, so they were all four E. Masen. But I think you know I never saw Edythe."
I nodded. "You were their night nurse, and she only came to visit in the day."
"Exactly. So, as far as I knew, there were only the three of them. I never got to know Edward Senior, as he came to us having already lost consciousness and died soon after. But Elizabeth held on for longer and was alert until her very last hours. If you can imagine how Edythe might look if she were about twenty years older, you would get a good idea of what their mother was like. Edward resembled her closely too, the same hair, the same green eyes, like emeralds."
"He had green eyes?" An old, imagined picture of human Edward came back to me; his skin warm peach instead of stark white, his hair neatly combed, leaning over a desk in a suit and tie, writing an impassioned love letter with an elegant fountain pen. I'd never thought before about the colour of his eyes, and now making them green seemed to finally complete the image.
Carine hummed in agreement. "Yes, quite striking. I didn't see much of his eyes, it must be said. He suffered far more than she did, to the point I was certain he would go before her. I kept trying to prepare her for the loss, but she wouldn't hear of it. She was forever attempting to nurse him herself when the staff were spread thin, which was most of the time, much to the distress of many of us. I believe she pushed herself too far, sealed her own fate for the sake of caring for her son. He was her everything, and she clearly placed his wellbeing above all else, even her own life." Sadness veiled her expression as she continued. "At least when the end came, it was quick. I can still remember that night as if it were yesterday. I arrived just after sunset to relieve the nurses who had been at work all day. I struggled to keep up appearances in those days – there were so many ill and I knew I could do so much more than even the doctors, without the need for sleep to interrupt my work. Every time I went home, I could be sure that some of my patients would no longer be there when I got back.
"I had got into the habit of going to the Masens first. I knew getting invested in particular humans was not a wise move, but something about that woman's determination just seemed to draw me in. It took no more than a glance to see that she was near the end, that her fever had finally overcome her prodigious strength of will. She lay more still than I had ever seen her, no longer able to fight. Yet there was such a fierce look in her eyes, such conviction in her voice, and such power in the grip of her hand on mine as she spoke, I began to wonder if she might make it after all."
"What did she say?" I whispered, mesmerised by the story. I had completely forgotten about my arm, and the evidence of the impromptu surgery was almost burnt out beside us.
"'Save him!' It was a command, not a request, though she barely had the strength to speak. Then, when I promised to do everything I could, she became even more insistent. 'You must,' she said. 'You must do everything in your power to save him. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward.' I felt as if her eyes were seeing to the very core of me, and for a moment, I was sure she somehow knew the truth of what I was. But in the next second, she had slipped into unconsciousness, and she never woke up. She died less than an hour later, and it looked like Edward wouldn't be too far behind her."
In my mind's eye, I saw the scene as she described it. A dark close little room, the two figures laid out on their beds, burning with fever. Carine in her crisp white uniform, holding Elizabeth's hand as she slipped away and watching Edward get closer with each passing second. A shudder ran through me.
"I'd been thinking about making myself a companion for a long time," Carine went on. "But I could never find the right reason to take a life that way, to do what had been done to me." She shook her head, memories even more ancient clearly crossing her mind now. "I knew I could never be so cruel as my maker. And then, there I was, presented with this young man who would die if I didn't act, who had no other chance of survival and no one else in the world to care for him – at least that was my belief. I wondered again and again how much Elizabeth had known, if she could possibly have wanted this life for her son. But when I looked at him… there was a remarkable beauty in his face, kindness and goodness that seemed to shine out of him even as he suffered. I had thought before, in fleeting, foolish moments, of what my children might have been like if I had ever been blessed to have any. There was something in him that reminded me of that, of the face I had dreamt up for my imagined son.
"In the end, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I took Elizabeth to the morgue first, then came back for Edward. In all the chaos, no one noticed he was still alive, and there was no other living soul to waylay me as I took him out of the back door and carried him back to my home. I knew what had been done to me was unnecessarily cruel, yet I was uncertain exactly what had set my own change in motion, and I'm sure I made it more painful and distressing for him than it needed to be. But that has been my only genuine regret over his change. I have never yet been sorry that I saved him, not in nearly ninety years." Her soft smile had returned, and I was glad to see it; it made it feel like the story had a happy ending, even though I knew Edward didn't necessarily feel that way.
"Then you weren't alone anymore," I finished for her.
"Quite so," she agreed. "I'll admit, I felt guilty when I learned he had a sister. When he brought her to me a year later and asked me to save her…" She chuckled softly. "No, that was a demand, too. Just like Elizabeth. And so, I ended up as guardian to both her children. I can only hope that, wherever she is, she knows how much I love them and feels Earnest and I have cared for them well. I hope that can give her some kind of peace." She shifted just slightly, as if shaking herself back into the present. "Well, shall we go and see how your brother is doing?"
I nodded and took the hand that she offered to help me up, then followed her through the living room towards the stairs. Earnest was back, making some effort to clean up the mess; he'd already moved the table and cleared away the cake and the rest of the broken glass, and was now scrubbing the floor with what smelled distinctly like straight bleach.
"Let me do that, Earnest," I said, feeling something between embarrassment and horrible guilt.
He sat back on his heels and smiled kindly at me. "Not to worry, I'm already done. Are you feeling alright?"
I nodded. "Carine does great work. Fastest stitches I've ever had, and I've had a few."
They both laughed kindly at my terrible joke.
Edythe had taken Beau all the way up to her bedroom on the top floor of the house. Her door was halfway open; Carine tapped on it gently as she entered without waiting for an invitation. I had only been in the room a handful of times, but I always found it a calm, comfortable space. It was painted in shades of white and pale green, with a door leading to her small bathroom and a built-in closet with a mirror-inlaid sliding front. There was a white leather armchair, a white wooden vanity, and two matching light green side tables bracketing the bed, which was a four-poster with a white metal frame, the headboard a weave of vines and roses, soft green net curtains tied back with green silk ribbons and white covers with green satin ribbon detailing. Beau was laid out on top of the comforter, the bundle of ice still pressed to the back of his head, looking up at Edythe as she sat beside him, reading his new book to him out loud; she stopped as we came in.
"How's our other patient doing?" Carine asked playfully.
Beau laughed as he slowly sat up. "Well, my head's stopped throbbing, so that's probably a good sign." He dutifully turned around and lowered the makeshift ice pack so she could inspect the back of his head, giving me a speculative look. "You okay?"
I raised my bandaged arm. "All patched up, and the wreckage downstairs has been cleaned away, too. Almost like it never happened."
"Almost." He was smirking now as he gestured to my shoulder; when I looked, I saw there was a large blob of cake frosting smeared across the fabric of my cardigan. With all my efforts not to acknowledge my arm, I hadn't even noticed it.
Edythe laughed softly. "Oh dear. Here, I think I have a suitable replacement somewhere." She disappeared into her closet and returned a moment later with a black cardigan very similar to the one I was wearing. It was a little longer, and the fabric was much nicer quality, but the sleeves were the same elbow-length, and I knew Charlie wouldn't be able to tell the difference – especially if the game was still on when we made it home. Edythe helped me manoeuvre out of out of my cardigan and into hers, disturbing the bandage on my arm as little as possible; I checked my dress quickly but found it was spotless, and by some miracle I had managed not to get blood on anything.
Carine had finished her inspection of my brother's head. "Well, that's probably going to smart for a while, but no permanent damage done. Take some Tylenol when you get home and go to the hospital if you feel sick or dizzy."
Beau nodded and gave her a mock salute. "Standard head injury protocol, I know the drill, Doc. Thanks."
"You're very welcome, as always." The way she smiled made me think examinations like this might have been a regular occurrence over the last few years. "Now, shall we get you two home?"
"I'll take them," Edythe said, and when Beau opened his mouth to argue, added, "Don't even try it, neither of you is in a fit state to drive right now."
As we walked back through the house, I started to get worried. If Earnest had come back, then the scent of my blood must have been at least manageable, and it was all cleaned up now. Yet we made it to the living room and out onto the front porch and there was no sign of Edward. With how reluctant he had been to leave, I'd expected him to be back as soon as it was safe.
"Don't forget these!" Earnest called, handing Beau a bag that must have our presents in it. "I hope you like the last few whenever you get to open them."
"Thanks, Earnest," Beau said. "I'm sure they're great."
I was too distracted with scanning the treeline to answer, but no one seemed to mind – or they were kindly ignoring my preoccupation. In fact, I was so out of it, I barely registered that the three of us were piling into the truck rather than Edythe's sleek white car. By the time I realised, we were already clear of the Cullen's driveway and rumbling down the highway back towards town. But of course, it was the most logical choice; we couldn't very well leave our only transportation out at their house, and it wasn't like Edythe needed a car to get home. She could probably run back faster than any vehicle, certainly much faster than the beast we were currently riding in.
I was dimly aware that I was obsessing over minor details so that I wouldn't start panicking about Edward's continued absence. But I squashed those thoughts quickly – to acknowledge the feeling was to invite it to take over, and I couldn't do that right now. I suddenly wished I had my phone; I'd left it at home since I didn't want the burden of a bag, and the only person I ever really called was supposed to be by my side all evening. I hadn't imagined there would be anything that would take him away from me, any reason I would need to contact him. Could anyone, even Alice, have predicted the turn that the night would take?
We stopped in the truck's usual place on the curb, but no one moved right away after Edythe killed the engine. Finally, Beau broke the silence.
"What are we telling Dad?" When I frowned, he clarified. "About how you got hurt."
I pursed my lips. "We are hoping that Charlie is too mesmerised by sports to notice anything."
He gave me a look. "You have stitches, Bella. He's going to notice. It's not like they're going to go away overnight."
"Fine," I sighed. "Standard trip and fall, and only if he asks. He'll just be glad there were no stairs or windows involved this time."
Before either of them could comment on my last brush with death, I shoved the door open and clambered awkwardly down from the cab. I heard the creak of the driver's door behind me as I walked up the drive, then the soft murmur of Beau and Edythe's voices, too low for me to catch the words. When I glanced back from the porch, she was giving him a gentle kiss, then disappeared into the night like a ghost. My brother jogged to meet me, the bag of gifts in his hand bouncing lightly.
The sound of the game drifted towards us from the TV as soon as we opened the door. Beau took his time making sure it was securely locked, while I headed for the stairs, intent on getting my phone and internally debating whether a call or a text was more likely to get a response.
"Kiddos?" Charlie called from the living room.
"Hey, Dad," Beau hollered back, locking eyes with me and tilting his head down the hall. A wordless communication passed between us, before I sighed, rolled my eyes, and followed him through to the living room.
Charlie was laid out across the sofa instead of in his usual spot on the recliner, his hair and clothes just a little bit rumpled. I pressed my arm into my side to hide the bandage, which made it sting and burn again; apparently the anaesthetic was wearing off. I did my best not to grimace too openly.
"Good night?" Charlie asked.
Beau shrugged, blasé as always. "Typical Alice bash, totally overboard on the decorations, big cake, lots of presents." He grinned cheekily at me. "Bella hated every minute."
I punched him in the bicep with my good arm. "Shut up, I did not."
Charlie chuckled. "Not so bad then?"
I shrugged. "I guess not. I'll never be a party person, but… honestly, it wasn't as terrible as I was expecting." Right up until I ruined it all.
"Get anything good?" He nodded to the bag in Beau's hand.
"New stereo for the truck," my brother answered, reaching down to dig through the contents of the bag. "Oh, and check out the jersey Edythe got me, it's so cool."
Charlie made all the appropriate impressed noises as Beau showed him the gifts, and I took his preoccupation as a chance to slip away. "Well, I'm heading to bed. Goodnight, boys."
I waved without thinking, and apparently Charlie was paying more attention than I thought; he turned to me and frowned, his eyes locking on the gauze stripe. "What happened to your arm?"
"I tripped." I tried to sound unbothered and shrugged lightly. "Nothing major. Carine fixed me up."
"Took me down with her too," Beau teased. "I'm going to have flashbacks every time I brush my hair for a week." He touched the back of his head, a genuine wince slipping through as he pressed too hard on the bump.
I feigned shock. "You brush your hair?"
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Hey now, be nice. And be careful, please, Bells. I'd like it if you could make it to graduation without any more trips to the hospital."
"I'm really fine," I promised, deciding it was better not to respond to his last comment. "Night, Dad."
"G'night, honey."
I hurried through my bedtime routine as quickly as I could with one arm pretty much out of commission, dressing in the slightly nicer pyjama set I had got to replace my old sleepwear of ratty t-shirt and sweatpants. Then I sat on the edge of my bed, toying with my phone and chewing on my lip while I tried to make up my mind about calling Edward. I scrolled to his number in my contacts, my finger hovering over the call button, then backed out and opened a new text message, only to freeze up again, completely at a loss for what to say. The loop repeated a few times before I finally settled on a text, then I spent a good ten minutes obsessing over the wording until I had a short, to the point and suitably blasé message that hopefully hit the right balance between reassuring him I was alright, showing him I wanted him here, but not putting any kind of expectation or pressure in place.
Patched up and home safe. You okay? x
Before I could convince myself to put the phone down instead of staring at the screen waiting for a reply, one popped up.
Glad you're alright. Sleep well, I'll see you at school tomorrow. I love you.
As reassuring as the last part was, I didn't miss the fact that he'd ignored my question; he had to know that I would notice, so things must be bad for him to even try it. After about two seconds of debate, I was typing again.
Does it have to be tomorrow? I want to spend the rest of my birthday with you x
"In for a penny, in for a pound," I muttered to myself as I hit send.
Once again, the response was almost instantaneous.
Either I'm ignoring your birthday or not. Make up your mind.
I could imagine the terse tone that the words would have been delivered in had we been having the conversation in person; probably something close to the way he had spoken to me after nearly getting squished by Tyler's van last year, when he was deliberately trying to be unpleasant so I would stop pestering him about the supernatural strength and speed he had exhibited in saving me. I wondered if he was trying to push me away again, to protect me from whatever dark thoughts were still running through his mind.
"Nice try, but you should know me better than that by now."
Alright, I don't want you to ignore it. Window's open x
Ever since the night of our first date, we'd had a standing agreement about my bedroom window. If it was open, he was welcome to come in, even if I was still downstairs, in the bathroom, or already asleep; if it was closed, I didn't want him to come in, and he should find somewhere else to be for the night. I could count on one hand the amount of nights I had left it closed – usually when I knew he was away anyway and there was no chance of a visit. He was perfectly capable of opening the window by himself, of course, but after learning that he'd spent more than one night in my room without my knowledge, I appreciated that he'd seen the error of his ways and was now giving me the choice.
There was no answering text this time and I couldn't help the heavy sigh that escaped, or the way my shoulders slumped. I put my phone on the bedside table where I would hear it buzz if he did reply again and lay on my side – uninjured arm down, of course – playing idly with the charms on my new bracelet, which I hadn't even tried to take off, knowing I'd never manage it without help. The window was just visible in my peripheral vision, so I saw when the pale hand appeared over the sill and Edward's shadowed form came into view.
I sat up quickly, relief flooding through me. "You came!"
"You called," he replied, like it was never a question whether he would respond. He crossed the room to kneel beside the bed, sliding his hand gently into mine. "Besides, I wasn't going to squander the opportunity presented by this sudden change of heart." He leaned in, my heart taking off as he closed the distance between us, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Happy birthday."
I had time for one sharp inhale before he kissed me. It lasted only a moment, and I chased his lips as he pulled away, trying to stretch it out. He chuckled, tucking my hair gently back behind my ears as he took hold of my face and shifted it down to press his lips to the middle of my forehead.
"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" I murmured, taking hold of his forearms.
He pulled back abruptly, a frown creasing his forehead and the first hints of anger sparking in his eyes. "Forgiven? What on earth could you possibly need to ask forgiveness for?"
"I chased your whole family out of their house," I pointed out. "Jasper lost control, and don't try to tell me you weren't in pain from the smell. The party was ruined, even Beau got hurt, and all because I was being careless."
"You got a paper cut," he growled sourly. "None of what happened after that is remotely your responsibility."
"But if I hadn't done it, none of the rest of it would have happened," I insisted stubbornly. "Edward, I'm so sor-"
He removed one hand from my cheek to cover my mouth, his voice turning thunderous; apparently I had hit the limit of his patience. "Don't you dare say you're sorry, Bella. You have absolutely nothing to apologise for. If you'd been spending this evening with your other friends, your normal friends, then a paper cut would have a been a complete non-issue. At most, they might have struggled to find you a Band-Aid. You might have gotten dizzy, but you would have laughed it off once you recovered. And if you had tripped and dropped a plate and managed to cut yourself on your own – rather than someone throwing you into a whole pile of the damn things – what's the worst that could have happened? Perhaps you would get some blood on somebody's seats while they drove you to the hospital. Maybe Tyler could have held your hand while you got stitches, and he wouldn't have had to fight back the urge to sink his teeth into you the whole time." He shook his head sharply, a disgusted expression on his face.
I frowned and yanked at his wrist until he moved his hand. "Why in the hell would I let Tyler hold my hand?"
"You'd prefer Jeremy? Either of them would be a great deal better for you to be with."
"I'd prefer a tame gorilla," I snapped. "Actually, I'd prefer to be dead than be with either of them, or anyone else that isn't you."
Edward cringed. "Don't be melodramatic, please."
"Then you stop talking nonsense, or I'm going to get your sister up here to shake some sense into you."
"Ready and waiting." Edythe's voice was soft and unobtrusive, but the suddenness of it still made me jump. When I looked over, she was sitting on the windowsill with her legs hanging outside, her arms crossed and a clearly disapproving look levelled at her brother.
"Get out," Edward growled.
"Technically, I'm not in. And even if I were, this is Bella's room. Only she can tell me to leave," she replied breezily, settling herself more comfortably against the window frame. "Which she might do when she sees I come bearing gifts." Untucking one arm, she revealed the two silver wrapped packages she'd been holding behind her.
Breaking free of Edward's hold – which he let me do, otherwise I never would have accomplished it – I climbed out of bed and crossed the room to take them from her. "Thanks. I'd almost forgotten about these."
"You don't want them," Edward said flatly. "Carine and Earnest spent money on you. A lot of money."
"I'm sure I'll survive." I was proud of how unconcerned I sounded. "And I want to know what you and Alice got me that apparently didn't cost anything."
"I'll leave you to it." Edythe patted my shoulder reassuringly. "Shout if he starts being an idiot again, Bella." She dropped to the ground as casually as if she were walking out of the door, then disappeared around the building towards my brother's bedroom, which jutted out from the back of the house downstairs.
Her interruption had at the very least broken the flow of our argument, and though the tension lingered, it was not as pronounced as before. Edward was sitting back on his heels beside my bed with slumped shoulders and a resigned expression. My heart ached to see him looking so defeated. I went back to him slowly, trying to decide if I should try to apologise again, or convince him to just let the whole thing go. He couldn't be allowed to keep wallowing, that was for sure.
In the end, I settled for changing the subject completely, holding out the gifts to him. "Want to help me open them? Apparently, paper is one of the many evils I need protecting from."
It was a terrible attempt at a joke, and it only barely worked; the corner of his mouth twitched upward just slightly, but he took the presents. I grabbed hold of his wrist while his arm was still extended and pulled gently, and he let me guide him up off the floor to sit on the bed. I climbed quickly into his lap and snuggled in as close as I could get, laying my head on his shoulder. To my relief, he looped his arms around me securely and pressed another soft kiss on my forehead before swiftly whipping the paper off of the long, thin package from his parents, handing me the white box that was inside.
"I think you can handle lifting the lid," he said, his own weak stab at humour. I played along by giving him an exaggerated eye roll before delicately removing the top of the box with just my index finger and thumb pinching on either side, finally getting a genuine chuckle from him.
The contents turned out to be a narrow sheet of paper with an exorbitant amount of fine print that took me a minute to decipher, but once I got the gist, I quickly got excited.
"Plane tickets to Jacksonville?" I asked, looking at him eagerly.
"Vouchers, technically, but yes." He seemed pleased by my reaction. "Beau has the same thing, so all four of us can go together. Carine and Earnest thought you both might like to visit your mother at some point before graduation, perhaps for Christmas or Spring Break?"
"This is amazing!" I enthused. "Renée is going to lose it when I tell her. But are you sure you're okay with coming along?" I frowned a little. "You'll have to stay inside the whole time."
"We'll manage," he assured me. "Now I really wish you'd opened this in front of them. I was worried you'd be upset at the cost. It's good to know you can have a reasonable reaction to a present."
"I'll tell them thank you next time I see them," I promised. "It's way too much, of course, but it's so thoughtful. And we get to go together, I'll never complain about that. Now give me the other one."
"Yes, ma'am," he deadpanned, once again removing the wrapping paper lightning fast and handing me the gift from him and Alice, which turned out to be a blank CD in a clear jewel case. I turned it over a few times, but there was nothing anywhere to show what might be on it.
I gave him a quizzical look. "What is it?"
"Shall we listen?" he offered, and when I nodded, he took the CD back and carefully put it in the little music player I kept on the bedside table. There was a few seconds of silence after he hit play, then the music began.
Gentle piano echoed out of the small speakers. It didn't have the crystal clarity of the stereo set up in his room, but the piece was instantly recognisable – the lullaby he had composed for me around the time when we first got together. Tears sprang into my eyes and I could only listen, unable to speak as the beautiful music wrapped around us.
Of course, he saw the tears, reaching out to gently wipe away the ones that fell with his thumb. "Is your arm bothering you?"
"No, it's fine." Actually, the burning was getting worse, but that wasn't the source of the tears. "It's just so beautiful. Thank you, Edward, this is perfect."
His small smile widened just a little. "Alice helped me record it. It was this or a piano to play it for you live, and I didn't think you'd like that."
"It wouldn't fit in here anyway," I pointed out, which made him laugh again. We sat quietly, listening to the music for another minute before he spoke again.
"Are you sure you aren't in pain? I can go get you some Tylenol."
Only because the pain was starting to get distracting, I relented. "I can manage a trip to the bathroom and back. You don't want to run into Charlie."
He scoffed. "As if he could catch me. Really, love, you know better."
He slid me off his lap, ignoring my weakly offered protests, flashed to the door and then vanished, returning before the door had swung shut and catching it, closing it again with barely a click; no one else in the house, with the possible exception of his sister, would even have known it had been opened. In one hand, he balanced the cup we kept in the bathroom and the bottle of pills. I took them without further argument, popping two of the pills in my mouth, gulping down the water and opening wide to show him I had really swallowed them. He just shook his head at me with an amused smile.
"Time for bed now," he insisted. "It's getting late."
I nodded reluctantly and let him scoop me up so he could pull back the covers, lay me down, then carefully tuck me in before stretching out next to me – above the duvet, of course. I turned to curl into him as much as possible in the limited space; he laid his arm gently over the dip at my waist, his hand settling comfortably on the small of my back. We both lay still, listening to the music for a moment. My lullaby ended and the song I recognised as Earnest's favourite began. I sighed happily, perfectly content, but when I looked up at his face, I saw his expression had turned pensive again.
"What are you thinking?" I asked in a whisper. It was a question he asked me a lot, and I didn't often get the chance to turn it around on him. Right now, the answer felt vitally important, and the moment of hesitation before he finally answered stretched agonisingly long.
"Right and wrong," he finally admitted, his golden eyes distant and full of a thousand emotions I couldn't begin to interpret.
A shudder went up my spine and there was a pit in my stomach. I didn't know if I could find a way to fix this, but I had to try.
Gently, I tugged on his chin until he tilted his head down slightly to look at me, one eyebrow rising in question.
"If the paper cut wasn't my fault," I said, still whispering. "Then all the rest of it isn't your fault." He looked like he was going to argue again, so I forged ahead quickly. "You reacted on instinct because you were trying to protect me. How much worse could it have been if you hadn't done anything?"
"That's the thought that is haunting me," he murmured, moving his hand from my back to cradle my face.
I put my hand over his. "Please don't let it. I'm here, I'll be alright."
"This time." His tone was black.
"Stop, please," I begged, squeezing his fingers. "I know you will always keep me safe, Edward. There isn't anyone in the world that I trust more."
His eyes slid closed, and he leaned his forehead against mine. "I wish I could have at least been there for you afterwards. To know I couldn't even handle that… it makes me feel so weak."
"There's strength in recognising your own limits," I pointed out, running my hand down his cheek in what I hoped was a soothing gesture. "It would have bothered me more to know you were in pain, too. Besides, at least you weren't as bad as Beau." I grinned, trying to shift the mood to something more jovial. "Did you see his face? He looked like he was going to throw up."
"That's hardly a fair comparison," Edward retorted, not precisely amused, but I was sure I saw the tiniest flicker of a smile. "There's a world of difference between a weak stomach and uncontrollable bloodlust."
I shrugged, as blasé as I could manage. "You say uncontrollable, but you seemed to control it pretty well to me. I don't think my brother could have held back if Edythe hadn't got him out of there." Sensing that no amount of downplaying was going to fix this, I changed tack, hoping a distraction might be more effective. "You know how I said I didn't want you to ignore my birthday anymore?"
"Yes…" He looked confused by the sudden subject change.
"Well, since it is still my birthday, I hereby decree you can't obsess over this anymore tonight."
Finally, something like amusement crept into his face. "Oh, you decree, do you?"
"I do." I gave a decisive nod. "And I want you to kiss me again."
He chuckled. "Feeling greedy, are we?"
"Yes, I am. But please, don't let me force you into something you don't want to do."
He sighed, a desperate edge to his tone. "Heaven forbid I do anything that I don't want to do."
Before I could ask what he meant by that, he'd pulled me in for a kiss, closing his lips firmly over mine and effectively preventing any further communication.
It began like every other kiss, careful and cautious, not coming close to any of his lines. My heart was hammering, yet I managed to hold myself back, keeping my hand safely on the side of his face. But then something shifted. The press of his lips became more ardent, the slight movements more urgent, and his hand slid into the hair at the back of my head, his fingers threading into the strands as he held me firmly to him. I responded in kind and he didn't stop me. I pressed against him as tightly as I could with the covers still between us, and he not only let me but also turned us gently so I lay on my back and his weight was settled on top of me, every line of his cold body moulded against mine. His lips parted, his cold, intoxicating breath washing across my face and overwhelming me even further. I was completely lost in the thrills of sensation running through me.
The end came abruptly. One moment he was there, almost crushing me into the mattress; the next, he broke away from my lips with a soft gasp and gently but firmly extracted himself from my hold, rolling to lie on his back beside me as I struggled to catch my breath. Through the wild way my head was spinning, something was niggling at me, a memory wrestling to be recalled but unable to break through the fog.
"Sorry," he said, sounding just as breathless as I was. "That was too much."
"I'm not complaining," I panted. "Can we do it again?"
Edward turned onto his side, leaning up on one elbow so he was looking down at me. "You need to sleep, Bella. Besides, you're vastly overestimating my control."
There was a look in his eyes that I didn't see often, but which was easy to identify. "Which is tempting you more, my blood or my body?"
"It's a tie." His tone was flat with just the tiniest hint of sarcasm. "Now sleep, please."
"Fine," I sighed reluctantly. I found I was getting tired, a combination of the painkillers kicking in and the fact that today had been very long indeed – at least it had felt that way. So much had happened since I'd woken up from my nightmare this morning; it seemed impossible that it could all be contained in a single day. That nagging feeling was still there at the back of my brain, making me uneasy, as if anticipating something else still to come. But what else could there be? What could be worse than today?
I snuggled back into Edward's chest, freeing my injured arm from under the covers and pressing it against his side under the guise of holding him; in reality, the cold of his skin helped ease the burn that was still lingering, yet to be truly touched by the Tylenol.
Right on the edge of unconsciousness, I suddenly realised what the odd sense of foreboding came from. Because in truth, I'd been kissed like that before. Only once, but an experience I would never forget, for all the wrong reasons. Back in March, when we'd had to split up to get James off my trail, Edward had kissed me like that before racing off to lead him away and hunt him along with Carine and Eleanor. We hadn't known when we would see each other again – or if we ever would – and that same desperate fervour had leaked into his kiss. It hadn't been about expressing love, or giving in to passion. It had been saying goodbye.
I slipped into sleep still feeling unsettled and uncomfortable, wondering what it could possibly mean for him to kiss me that way now. Without the energy to puzzle it out consciously, I was sure my subconscious would dredge something up.
Another nightmare was surely coming my way.