Chapter 10 – Kissed Me Back

As the heartbeat under my hand stutters to a stop, I sit back on my heels and wipe my face carelessly on my sleeve. Around me the forest life, frightened to stillness and silence by my savage attack on the herd of deer, begins to move again. Above me a bird trills, and I cock my head and listen. Sometimes I used to think it would be nice to be able to identify them, know them by their songs the same way I could always read tracks and scat and hair left on the trail, but I never bothered to learn. You can't hunt and eat songbirds.

As always, I run my hand over the hide of the deer I've just killed, mentally assessing the age and health and condition, considering the likely flavour of the meat and how many pounds of it I might be able to extract from the carcass. Of course it doesn't matter anymore, there are no hungry mouths I'm working to fill apart from my own, but old habits die hard.

Not for the first time, I think about the waste of it. There's easily sixty pounds of meat on the buck, no damage from bullet or arrow to spoil any of the cuts, and yet it will rot in the ground like all the others. I remember saying something about it once, and Carlisle saying that he understood my feelings but there was no way to get the meat to people who might need it without attracting undue attention. And that's something that has to be avoided at all costs - even if that does seem like a wicked shame sometimes.

Still, not everything has to be wasted. It isn't necessary, and it doesn't even begin to stack up against all the animals I've just buried whole since my new life began, but at least I can feel useful for once. I take a rope from my pocket and toss it over a high branch, tying and hauling the deer high enough that I can work on it. So much easier to do with vampire strength, I think. The knife with the plaited leather wrapped handle, the only thing I have from my human life, feels both strange and familiar in my hands as I begin to harvest the hide.

Back at home I prop open the big doors of the dilapidated old barn and drag the fleshing pole out so I can work in the shade of it. I scrape slowly and methodically, whistling mindlessly.

Edward comes strolling out from the house and leans against the barn, hands in pockets, watching me with evident interest.

"What?" I say eventually, pausing my work. "You've never seen anyone flesh a hide?"

"Actually, no." He wrinkles his nose. "Not a common happening in the city streets of Chicago, and it's not something any of us have ever seen the need to do since."

"That's city folk then. I tanned my first hide when I was four years old – was only a squirrel though. Small enough for a little tacker to work." I run the fleshing blade over the skin again, making sure that there's not even the smallest trace of meat or fat left. When I'm satisfied that it's clean, I fetch one of the drying frames and the bundle of cord from the barn and start to punch holes along the edge of the hide.

"Where did you get all the equipment?"

"Found it in the barn." I lace the cord through the holes and begin tying it to the frame, stretching it carefully as I do so. "Whoever lived here must have done a bit of tanning; the tools were good with a bit of sharpening and oil, and there are a bunch of different sized frames. Could probably do an elk…but I thought I'd start with a deer. I didn't know if I'd be able to control my strength enough not to rip holes in it," I admit. I lean back for a moment, considering the tautly stretched hide. "But it seems to be working out all right."

"What will you do with it?" Edward asks.

"Don't know yet," I shrug. "It takes a while anyway – it's got to dry, and then I'll have to scrape the hair and tan and soak it and work it flexible…plenty of time to see what it wants to be."

I take the head from where I'd left it on the ground and crack the skull so I can get the brain out. I can't help but laugh at Edward's expression of disgust as I drop the slimy pink and grey mess into a large jar. "You didn't know that you can tan a hide with the brain?"

Edward has to laugh too. "No."

"It's one of nature's little miracles," I say. "It's the perfect stuff to soften and condition the leather, and an animal's brain is pretty much just the right size to tan its hide too…funny that."

It's one of those things that had previously made me believe in God. The way the world sometimes seemed so perfectly designed, the ebb and flow and life and death so beautifully balanced.

This far into my new vampire life…I'm not so sure anymore.

I shove an unruly curl of hair back off my face, finding it stiff and sticky with dried blood. My clothes too, have seen better days, and my fingernails are crusted with grime. "I suppose I'd better clean up…Rosalie out of the bathroom yet?"

"She's upstairs with Esme, doing her hair." Edward looks at me. "I thought you might be up there too."

"Primping and preening? Me?" I l snort. "You know I'm not going tonight, and even if I was, that's not anything you'd catch me doing."

Although it occurs to me that perhaps it would be different, if the primping and preening involved Rosalie too. An image flickers into my mind, of her pinning up her hair to show off the elegant lines of her neck and the sculpted perfection of her face, wearing the silk robe that skims and clings to her curves… Suddenly recalling that Edward is right beside me, I hastily push the image away and scramble to my feet. "I'll go wash this muck off."

Edward at least has the tact to pretend he didn't notice anything amiss. "I promised Esme I'd walk down to the mailbox. Would you like me to bring back any more skins for you?"

I grin. "I'll see how I go with this one first."

The bathroom still smells like Rosalie's bath salts and the cleanser she used on her hair. She spends hours in there, soaking in the tub, coming up with different concoctions of soaps and oils, washing and combing and fiddling with her already perfect hair. Not that she needs to. Vampire skin and hair can be scrubbed clean with the basic lye soap Esme keeps in the laundry and it will all come up as soft and shiny and clean as it ever was. But Rosalie clings to being human in all kinds of ways, even when she must know it can never be more than a pretence.

I don't know what to do after I'm washed and dressed again. The others are all getting ready to leave for the hospital benefit dinner and dance they're planning to attend. Since my control around humans is still shaky at best, and I technically don't even exist and so haven't been invited, I'm staying home.

It isn't the kind of event I would have wanted to go to even if I could, but I can't help but feel a little glum about an evening alone. Moodily I flip on the radio in the living room and flop down into an armchair.

"Ah Eleanor." Carlisle comes into the room, fastening his cufflinks. "Edward told me about your plans for tanning the deer skin. Do you have what you need? Salt? Oils? Leatherworking tools? You know you need only ask for anything you would like and I'll do my best to procure it for you."

He sounds almost hopeful, like I might finally ask him to do something for me. Poor Carlisle. He always means well, and I know he likes me, but he doesn't really know what to do with a girl like me.

"There was pretty much everything I need out in the barn," I tell him. "The tools cleaned up real nice with a bit of elbow grease. I kept the brain for the tanning, and with this weather it should dry all right stretched out on the frame even without salt."

"It's something you've done before?"

"My Poppa had me work at it with him since I was just a wee one; you can make a few bob out of a well-tanned hide." I gnaw on a fingernail.

Esme sweeps in, looking like a movie star in her pale grey dress, and twirls in front of Carlisle. "What do you think?" she asks with a shy smile.

"Sweetness, you look magnificent." Carlisle takes her into his arms and kisses her. "I'll be the envy of every other gentleman there when I walk in with you on my arm."

Edward, immaculate in his dinner suit, strolls in after her and takes a seat on the piano bench. "Rosalie's nearly ready," he reports, idly playing a chord.

"Who knew your hair could ever lie so flat?" I say in mocking wonderment. "That must be what, two or three tins of Brylcreem? You're more oil and wax than hair."

Edward glares balefully at Esme. "It wasn't my idea!"

"You look so handsome!" Esme protests, adding apologetically, "And Rosalie has made such an effort. I know she'd appreciate you looking absolutely modern and fashionable too so that the pair of you can really make a sensation."

I think that Rosalie will make a sensation no matter what Edward does – she's eye catching enough in her house clothes, how stunning will she be when she's all dressed up? The thought of it makes my belly curl in anticipation, but then I realise afresh that I'm going to be sitting home alone tonight. It won't be my eyes watching her entrance, and it won't be me asking her to dance. I see it in my head then, the nameless and faceless men who'll be looking at with all the wanting they might feel clear on their faces, who'll be asking her to dance and holding her hands and touching her back…men who'll be doing everything that my heart yearns for. I slump a little further down in the armchair.

"Do you want me to stay home tonight?" Edward asks quietly. "I don't mind. I'm sure Rosalie can get over the horror of walking in without an escort. She'll have no shortage of dance partners anyway - not that she won't find fault with every single one of them!"

I feel the tightness in my chest ease a little, and I grin back at him. "Nah, you go and show her a good time. No one needs to stay home and babysit me – you actually CAN trust me alone you know!"

"Of course we trust you!" Esme says.

"Absolutely," Carlisle agrees, although he immediately undercuts that by adding diffidently, "You…er…will just stay home tonight though? We'll try not to be too late."

I'm saved from having to answer by Rosalie's appearance on the stairs. She's wearing a dress in a dark wine red, fitted and tight over the curves of her waist and hips and flaring out below, shiny and silky. The straps over her shoulders cross behind, leaving most of her back bare, and there's a glitter of precious stones from the necklace lying against her throat. She descends slowly, well aware of the effect she is creating with her dress and hair and the soft backlighting. She's so breathtaking that for a moment I simply stare, forgetting to guard my face.

Rosalie pauses on the lowest stair, her hand on the newel post, no doubt waiting for the attention that she feels is her due. Carlisle and Edward give her what she wants, showering her with genuine and extravagant compliments, and she flirts back, coquettish smiles and teasing compliments of her own.

I don't join in. Rosalie is the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, but so glamorous that the gap between us deepens almost to an abyss. I've never even seen anyone as dressed up as Rosalie is now, and her perfect elegance makes her seem even more remote and untouchable than ever. For a moment I look at the heavy cotton sailor style pants that Esme made for me, and the severely plain cotton shirt I'm wearing with them, and feel a twinge of something that almost reached despair.

You're a fool, Eleanor!

"Eleanor?" Rosalie stops by my chair. "What do you think?"

"Not too shabby– you scrub up pretty good," I say flippantly.

My reaction disappoints her. I can see it right away and I wish I could take the words back. Wish I could say what I really feel, wish I feel free enough to tell her how beautiful she is and what that does to me.

You outshine the stars, angel-girl. I could spend a lifetime searching heaven and earth, but there will never be anything for me that is more beautiful and perfect and wonderful than you.

But I can't say it, and with a tightening of her lips Rosalie lifts her head and turns away. "We should go. You're the key speaker Carlisle, we can't be late."

There's a little flurry of activity, gathering keys and purses and checking appearances again. Esme swoops down on me for one last hug.

"Oh, I hate to leave you home alone!" She gazes anxiously into my face. "Are you sure you don't mind? One of us could stay…"

"No," I say firmly. "You all go and have some fun. I'll be fine!"

Once they're gone though, the house feels almost oppressive in its emptiness. Outside the moonlight shimmers in the trees and a brisk breeze blows my way, heavy with scent, and for a moment I'm tempted to go hunting just for the fun of being out in the night. But I promised I wouldn't, and I reluctantly turn away from the window. I prowl restlessly through the house, eyes skimming over the familiar objects and trying to find something to do, and eventually settle in front of the fire with my whittling knife and the half completed chess set.

It's almost harder to do as a vampire than it was as a human. My superlative vampire eyesight and the superb control I have over my hands on the knife mean that I'm capable of working to a level of detail absolutely undreamed of before. But the super vampire strength also means that the slightest lapse in attention and judgement results in the piece being ruined. Several efforts end up tossed into the fire with muttered oaths. But as the night wears on I find myself humming along with the radio and making some real progress on the pieces.

Even so, I'm glad when I hear the noise of the Cadillac approaching. I hastily sweep all the mess I've made into the fire and bundle everything else back into the cardboard box I keep it in, and am up on my feet when the others all come back into the house. "Hi! Did you have fun?"

"Oh, it's always nice to go out for an evening," Esme says. "Carlisle spoke very well, and the fundraising portion of the evening was very successful."

Carlisle sets down the large, flat parcel he's holding under his arms so that it's leaning against the bookshelf. "We did our part in the silent auction. We bought tickets to the symphony, and then Rosalie suggested this for you, Eleanor."

He strips off the paper to reveal an ornately framed oil painting. I don't know anything about art and couldn't tell a thing about the actual artistic merits of the piece, but I stop dead at the sight of it simply because it's home. The dense forests and majestic mountains of the Great Smoky range, vibrant in their autumn colours, a weathered house with a curl of smoke from the chimney nearly hidden in the foliage of the foreground. The very heartland of my human life caught on canvas in splashes and daubs of paint.

"It's like whoever painted it was sitting on the ridge right up above the house," I say wonderingly. "My Pa could walk right out from behind those trees and I wouldn't even be surprised."

"I thought you'd like it," Rosalie says.

"We'll hang it in your room," Esme says with a smile. "Make it start feeling more like your room, instead of the spare room."

"Perhaps tomorrow," Carlisle says, and stretches out a hand to Esme. "We might just go upstairs and change…this suit does rather smell of the cigar I was forced into holding and pretending to smoke this evening."

He and Esme are definitely giving each other that look, and they abandon the room with almost indecent haste, leaving a slightly uncomfortable silence behind them that I break with a laugh. "Guess they had a good night, and don't want it to end just yet."

Edward half laughs and half grimaces. "Something like that. They really do adore each other…and I'm feeling like a midnight hunt might be the order of the night for me. See you later."

I look across at Rosalie. "What about you, did you have a good night? Break some hearts?"

Rosalie wrinkles her nose. "They were a desperately dull lot, actually. You know things have come to a pretty pass when Edward was the most enjoyable dance partner I had all night." She looks at our reflections in the mirror above the fireplace, and her eyes meet mine. "It would have been more fun if you were there."

"Of course it would have been," I say with a grin, and as the radio begins to play another song I grab her in my arms and start to dance her around the living room. "Sure, I would have been able to show you some great moves…"

For a moment she resists, her body taut, and I think I might have done the wrong thing. Again. I know she doesn't like to be touched. But then she laughs and surrenders, going soft and pliable in my arms as she curls her fingers around mine and slides her other hand onto my shoulder. I laugh too, and waltz her faster, holding her close enough that I can feel all the warmth and smoothness and curves of her moving against me as she lets the dance take her.

For the first time ever, dancing feels right. Before, it has always felt slightly wrong; as though how light on my feet or skilled with the steps I was didn't matter because I was still too big or too awkward or too outsized and graceless. Always too much and yet never quite enough…but as I dance to the strains of the radio with Rosalie in my arms and the firelight flickering around us, for once I feel as though I am exactly right.

I wrap my arm more tightly around her waist so that she's held firmly against me and then I whirl the two of us around. Rosalie's feet don't even touch the floor, and she tips her head back and laughs in exhilaration, her golden eyes gleaming up at me. And then, acting purely on impulse I lower my face and kiss her.

Bliss. Nothing in my human or vampire life has even come close to the glory that is kissing Rosalie for the first time. The pleasure of it engulfs me, and I lose myself in the feel of her in my arms, her body curved against mine, the touch of her lips a wild sweetness and dizzying thrill.

It ends abruptly.

"Eleanor!" Rosalie wrenches herself away from me, her eyes wide and stunned. "What are you…what do you think you're doing?" But she doesn't wait for an answer.

I watch her go without a word, listening for the distant slam of her door. And the world might be falling down around my ears as Rosalie flees from me, but at the same time I can't stop the smile that curves my mouth and the bubble of happiness that makes my phantom heart beat faster.

She kissed me back.