Chapter 9 – Private Spaces

The regular excursions to test and reinforce my ability to resist human blood are frustrating and painful, but as time goes by I start feel like I'm making some progress. My grip on restraint still feels awfully precarious, but I'm starting to hold steady for longer periods and with slightly less effort. Once I'm able to stand quite near a human and still carry on a conversation with the Cullens surrounding me, everyone starts to feel a little more relaxed. No one thinks I'm ready for hitting the town or hunting alone, but they don't insist that there's always at least two of them ready to crash tackle me to the ground at the slightest provocation.

I'm glad for a little more freedom to explore. I've never been one to spend all my time at home, and I miss the hours I spent hunting and fishing and trapping or just wandering through the forest in my human life. The lack of challenge I find in hunting as a vampire rankles.

"It hardly feels sporting," I say to Edward one day, kicking dirt in over the carcass of a deer. "It's so easy it's practically like just buying something at the butcher."

Edward laughs. "Maybe. But look at how much more time you have for other things in your day when it's not taken up by needing to feed a family three times a day."

"But I liked doing those things," I say a little plaintively. "I don't want to complain, you all keep suggesting great books to read and Esme's very happy with my sweater knitting output and Carlisle's buying paint so I can repaint the house for something else to do, but it's all a little bit…domestic."

"I suppose it is. None of the rest of us are particularly outdoorsy," Edward frowns reflectively. "I can't do anything to make the deer any more of a challenge. But if you'd like an alternative – how about the two of us take it in turns to lay a trail and evade, or track and capture, each other? It'll be good practise, and help us both sharpen our skills. I'll try and keep my mind reading out of it, as much as I can."

Edward's idea is brilliant. I've never had so much fun as I do tracking him through the forest or trying to elude capture myself. Being able to use my full strength to run and jump and climb and really working to find the limits of my senses when it comes to following a trail is like a reward for all the tedium and difficulties of learning to restrain myself around humans. So on one sunny morning when he suggests we go out I agree without hesitation, and take off with a five minute head start.

As I race through the forest I'm careful to leave no trace. No footprints in damp soil, no broken twigs as I brush past. I have to sacrifice a little speed, but I think I'm doing all right. Once I hit the river I move through the water to further obscure any scent I'm leaving, travelling upstream until there's an overhanging branch that I can use to swing up into the trees. I can't help but grin as I jump from tree to tree – this should conceal any scent, and damn but it's fun!

Of course all my efforts to evade being tracked won't amount to diddly-squat if Edward just opens up his mind and reads my thoughts – he'll know exactly where I am and how to find me. But it's just a game and he's promised to do his best not to cheat, so I speed up to try and put as much distance between the two of us as I can.

I catch a drift of scent that immediately catches my attention. Rosalie. Without much thought I veer towards it, now as much focused on finding her as I am on evading Edward.

I stop abruptly when I'm close enough to catch a glimpse. Rosalie's in the deep pool at the base of the small waterfall, swimming naked below the water with her hair streaming behind her like some fantasy picture of a mermaid. As I watch she rolls over in the water and floats to the surface, her eyes closed and her face tipped up to the sun.

I know I shouldn't be looking. She thinks she's alone, and it's hardly fair to spy on her in a place she clearly feels is private. But I can't help staring at the long bare legs and fuzz of hair in between them, the smooth belly and high full breasts – I've never seen her naked, and even more I've never seen her out in the full sun. She hates the way her shimmering skin reminds her of what she is and usually keeps to the shadows, and yet here she is with the light reflecting off her skin and throwing rainbows into the water droplets coming off the waterfall. She is utterly exquisite, and for a long moment I stand frozen, unable to tear myself away.

Oh Rosalie, I wish…

Then I hear the faintest rustle behind me and jump, immediately trying to shut down my thoughts but it's too late. Edward's there, and it couldn't be clearer that he's heard every single desperate, desiring thought that's crossed my mind. Without a word he turns and runs.

It cuts me to the quick. That look on his face, a look that I've always been afraid of…it's there. I watch him go and I feel like I've lost him, this boy who has become my best friend and almost-brother in this strange vampire world.

But then, overriding the hurt, I find myself getting angry. How dare he judge me for that? With what we are, what we've all done? We're vampires, already existing far outside the bounds and conventions of ordinary human society, and yet Edward thinks he can impose his standards of Victorian morality and judge me?

I chase him through the forest, using every skill at my disposal to track him and every bit of my newborn strength to run fast enough to catch up to him. And when I do I put on a final burst of speed and pounce, seizing him in my arms and rolling the two of us along the ground until I have him pinned.

"So now you know about me," I say defiantly. "And you can take that look right off your face, because I don't want your sanctimonious judgement."

Edward blinks, looking utterly perplexed. "You think I'm…Eleanor, I'm not judging you because you think like that about a woman. I'm judging you because you think that way about Rosalie!"

For a moment I simply stare at him, nonplussed. You…what? Really?! I give a bellow of laughter and then rub my knuckles across his head and roll away. Stretching out beside him I raise an eyebrow. "So why'd you run like that?"

Edward folds his hands behind his head and gazes up at the sky. "It seemed like a…well, a private moment."

"I shouldn't have been watching. I didn't know she was swimming; I didn't mean to catch her like that…" The images drift across my mind and my belly curls with warmth, even as I feel ashamed of myself for seeing her when she didn't know.

"I wouldn't normally have come upon you like that either," Edward says. "But I was deliberately not listening to your thoughts, trying to track you only by the physical signs you left. Which was difficult by the way, well done. Nice move going from the stream to the trees."

And you're really not disgusted by me? You really don't think that I'm a…a deviant abomination?

Edward gives me a wry smile. "Not for that. The vampirism on the other hand…"

I hug my knees. You looked revolted. And then you ran away, like it was something so offensive that you didn't even want to be near me.

"No." Edward is quick to shake his head. "I was uncomfortable because I knew you felt exposed by my presence, but Eleanor, the truth is I've known this about you from the beginning."

"What?"

Edward grins. "You're far more ineffectual at concealing your thoughts than you believe you are! And of course, you didn't even know to try and control them at the start, before you knew what I could do."

"You never said anything though."

Edward shrugs. "Why would I? You didn't want anyone to know, and it made no difference to me. I'm a little hurt that you thought it might."

"I didn't know if it would…but you're awfully buttoned-up Edward, and I know what kinds of hateful things people think about people like me. I couldn't risk it."

Edward laughs gently. "Maybe I am. And in all honesty, perhaps once I would have been less accepting. You're correct that my upbringing was quite conventional, and as a human I was quite ignorant to the rather vast spectrum of human emotions." He grins at me self-deprecatingly. "But I hear people's thoughts. I've learned a great deal about people's most private thoughts and the way you are, it's not so unusual. It's not so different, at the heart of it, to the way a man and a women might think about each other. Nothing at all deserving of contempt or judgement."

I wish the whole world felt like you.

"Maybe one day it will," Edward says.

"Not that it matters much to me either way," I say a little dismally. "It's not as though my feelings are going to be reciprocated here."

"Do you think Rosalie is even capable of loving anyone the way she loves herself?" Edward mutters.

I give him a shove that sends him skidding twelve feet across the grass, landing up against a tree with a resounding thud.

"Hey!"

"I hate the way you two are always sniping at each other!"

Edward rolls his eyes and brushes dirt off his clothes. "Well, excuse me."

"For a mind reader, you are damned obtuse when it comes to her, you know that?" I frown at him. "Have you ever considered that the reason you don't get along is because you're too alike, and you both hate seeing your own worst qualities out there on full display in each other!"

"I hardly think…"

"Oh, you know it's true," I grin at his affront. "Judgemental, self-obsessed, always convinced that they're right…sound familiar?"

Edward's mouth falls open, but then his mouth quirks up into an unwilling laugh. "You may have something there."

"I know that she's a lot," I say. "But you two bring out the worst in each other." I pick some leaves out from where they're caught in my hair before I say slowly. "Even with that though…I don't understand how you can look at her and not want her."

"I see her beauty, of course I do," Edward says. "You only have to look at her – Helen of Troy and Aphrodite and Katherine Hepburn combined would be overshadowed by Rosalie! But for me, she's like a work of art. Exquisite, admirable…there's pleasure in looking at her, but she's something distant and remote and untouchable at the same time."

I only half understand what he means. Rosalie's beauty might be like some great work of art, the kind that you can stare at forever and yet it never grows any less wondrous, he's right about that. But that doesn't stop me from also wanting to wrap my hands in her hair and kiss her until I can't see straight, or put my head in between her thighs and devour her.

Edward coughs. "Yes, well…that's what I mean. She doesn't make me feel like that!"

"Well, I suppose that's good for me. I mean, unrequited pining is bad enough but watching you and Rosalie have any kind of love affair would be a heck of a lot worse!"

"Not a chance." Edward looks at me curiously. "Have you ever…were there other girls, before Rosalie?"

"There was one, once…sort of." I show him a mental image of Amelia before I ruthlessly suppress it. I don't want to share that particularly excruciating memory. "But I lived in small-town Tennessee, Edward – there's only so far acceptance goes, and I was already pushing the boundaries pretty hard. I got away with always playing with the boys, and with wearing overalls and going hunting instead of homemaking whenever I could, and not being interested in dancing and flirting and courting. My family loved me, and they defended me to others who might criticise, but there were limits. Unspoken, but there all the same."

"So you've always had to hide?" Edward says. "You were never able to share that part of you?"

I shrug. "To what end? My Aunt Mary Grace recognised it in me. We didn't really talk about it, but she knew and that…it made a difference, knowing I wasn't alone. I guess I kind of hoped that one day…but I never really expected anything to change. And I was all right with that – my family were so good, and they always just took me as I was, and it would have been enough."

"You might have found someone. You could now – certainly when it comes to sexuality vampires can be less…ah…conventional?...than humans and…"

"But I have found someone," I say quietly. "Whether she reciprocates or not doesn't really matter, because now that I've found her…there'll never be anyone else."

"What did you buy?" I happily abandon the boring game of Solitaire I've been passing the time with and pounce on the shopping bags as Esme and Carlisle come in from town.

"Mostly yarn and buttons," Esme says. "I want to step up the knitting now that the weather's getting colder. We went to the post office and collected all the packages, but there isn't anything for you I'm afraid. Mostly medical journals and correspondence for Carlisle, and a couple for Rosalie."

Always eager for any excuse to be near her, I take Rosalie's parcels and bound upstairs calling her name. Her room is empty though, and with a stab of disappointment I turn to go back downstairs.

"Did you want me?"

Rosalie's standing in the doorway to the attic stairs, and I smile at her and offer her the packages. "You've got mail…I was going to leave it in your room, but you can take it back to your secret lair."

Rosalie smiles. "Secret lair – much as I like that, it's nothing so interesting. You can come on up…if you want."

"Really?" I'm not blind to the importance of this. The attic is Rosalie's space exclusively. I like to think she considers me a friend by now, but this is the first time that she's ever extended an invitation. "Sure."

I'm not sure what I expect to see. I was joking about the secret lair but, given Rosalie's mechanical aptitude and volatile temperament, I actually wouldn't be surprised to find her building weapons or formulating plans for taking over the world.

But it's almost the opposite of that. The attic, which spans most of the length of the house and is well lit by several dormer windows, looks like it belongs to nothing more than a teenage girl. There's a cabinet with a record player and a big collection of records at the far end, and the sloping walls are decorated with movie posters and photographs of film stars. There's a chaise lounge and deep armchair surrounded by piles of paperback books and magazines, with a fringed and beaded lamp beside them. Nearer to where we're standing there are several low bookcases and baskets crammed with boxes and files and piles of fabric and notions. There's a large, battered pine table that's almost buried under the detritus of sewing projects – pattern pieces and pincushions and fabrics and yarn, with an enormous sack spilling out a pile of fluffy wool roving underneath it. Compared to Rosalie's pristine bedroom on the floor below, the place is a mess.

I step closer to the table to see what she's sewing, realising as I look at all the half-done pieces that she's making toys. Furry jointed bears with friendly faces wearing embroidered waistcoats or knitted sweaters, soft knitted bunnies with fluffy pompom tails, woolly lambs with sweet expressions and satin ribbon bows around their necks. There are dolls too, rag dolls with yarn hair and a rainbow of colours making up their dresses and bonnets.

"These are so good!" I pick up a doll and examine it a little closer, marvelling at how skilfully she's painted and shadowed the face onto calico to make it look almost like porcelain. I lay it down and lift up a bear to feel the soft fur he's made of. "What do you do with them all?" There are at least ten in various stages of completion on the table, and over by the stairs I can see a box containing probably double that, all finished.

"Carlisle takes them to the hospital for me." Rosalie picks up a handful of roving and starts stuffing a tube of fabric that quickly takes on the shape of a doll's arm. "For any child that has to be admitted – it's always lonely and frightening for them, to be away from their parents and not feeling well, and something new and special of their own makes it easier. Carlisle says it does, anyway."

"I bet it does! You should go in and give them out yourself, then you'd see how much they like them. They're really great." I dance a woolly lamb along the table top.

"I wouldn't want to go in," Rosalie says quickly. "The risks of being in a hospital…and I don't know that I'd like to see children in pain and unhappy. But this I can do. Esme knits her sweaters, and I make toys."

"You're just like Santa Claus." I put the lamb down and wander over to her pile of books and magazines. "What are these? Anything good?"

Rosalie makes a face at me. "Movie magazines, and trashy horror and science fiction, mostly. I wouldn't call it good exactly, but I love them. You don't always feel like reading War and Peace."

"Maybe I'll give it a try one day." I look over the lurid covers and then move over to Rosalie's collection of records, which seem to be mostly recently popular dance music. "And your music looks a bit more fun than some of Edward's dirges."

Rosalie grins. "Yes, and he hates most of it. That's why it's up here, and my trashy books – so I can have a place to just be me and enjoy all my shallow, frivolous pastimes without offending anyone else's sensibilities."

I can hear the brittleness underlying her light tone, and I look up. "Is that why you don't let anyone come up here? Because you think it's embarrassing?"

"Maybe a little," Rosalie shrugs. "I know it's all kind of dumb, reading movie magazines and pulp fiction and dancing by myself and pretending that I'm something that I'm not. It's why I never asked you up here before – I thought you might laugh."

"Rose, I spent three hours this morning watching that pair of squirrels that live behind the barn bury their nut hoards for the winter – you think I'm gonna judge you for how you spend your time?" I wait for her to smile, and then lift the needle onto the record already sitting there. "Besides, I think this whole set up is awesome. Sure, I like Edward's symphonies, but you can't dance to them really, can you?"

As the music begins I take to the bare floor Rosalie's evidently left for the purpose, feeling my own answering grin as she laughs.

"I didn't know you could dance!"

"Of course I can! Didn't my sisters make me learn so I could lead them around while they practised?" I hold out a hand, and after a single breathtaking minute Rosalie takes it and I lead her out into the Charleston. "Come on, let's have some fun."

Rosalie's face lights up, and she laughs again as we move in step. I watch her dance, golden hair flying and the moonshine whisky of her eyes glowing, and somehow I fall for her all over again.

Home. Mine.