2005
Bella
As morning shines through linen curtians, Bella wakes up in a sweat. Unfamilliar with the time or day; feeling almost like a moth caught in the trance of a lantern.
Sunny days were her bread and butter, seeing as there weren't many to go around in Forks, Washington.
Little footsteps clambered across the threshold of her new bedroom, and tiny knees bared down into her side. She let out a gasp and winced.
"Jesus Christ!" she groaned loudly. And with that, her haze is lifted.
"G'morning! You're not s'posed to take the Lord's name in vain, Bella. Daddy says it's bad." Donovan scolds, rocking back on his heels as if he's done nothing wrong.
"Your father also tells you not to jump on people, Donovan. Do you listen to that?" Bella reprimands, pinching his nose.
"I didn't mean to; I was aiming for the bed." his voice comes out nasally and muffled from the pinching, making him giggle. She lets go, laughing along.
"No excuses, it hurt. Only monkeys jump on beds. Are you a monkey, Don?"
"No!" he proclaims, giggling; as if it's the most absurd thing he's ever been asked. Bella rubs her eyes soundly.
She had hoped for a few minutes of peace before getting to work, but Donovan was an early riser.
"I'm sorry, Bella," he says, as Bella yawns deeply.
"Is your sister awake yet?" Bella asked through another yawn.
"No, that's why I came to get you. She won't wake up, "
He was already running down the hallway as she stretched out of bed. Sighing, Bella rolled out of bed.
"And I jumped on her and everything!" he yells down the hall.
"No running, Donnie." his steps became tiptoes as he bounced over to his sister's bed.
The first thing Bella noticed about Lydia was her awkward position; her head was rested across the foot of the bed, her hand resting against the window. The second was the book propped against the windowsill.
"Lydia! Lydia, sweetie. It's time to get up." she cooed.
Lydia groaned, rolling over onto her front.
"But I'm so tired." she whined. Bella pulled her up onto her lap, rubbing her back.
"You have to get up, sweetie. Don't you want to go to school and see your friends?" She nodded against Bella's chest.
"Yesh," She mumbled; the sound vibrated against Bella's robe. She rubbed her back for a few more minutes until Lydia could sit up.
"What happened here?" Bella asked, holding her hand and examining her wrist.
"Oh! I- um . . . I don't know." she said, frowning. Bella stared her down, searching her eyes for any hint of dishonesty. She looked . . . scared.
Her wrist was bruised, a straight line across the back, ruddy, almost like rug burn. A deep concern shadowed Bella's face as she studied the girl.
"I know! I know! You hurt yourself shutting the window last night," Donovan interluded, waving a hand in the air, and bouncing up and down.
"Donovan! You weren't supposed to tell!" Lydia growled.
"I never said I wouldn't say nothing. I said I'd stay quiet." Bella sighed, eyeing Donovan warily. It was obviously lost on him that he'd failed abundantly at both of those tasks.
"I told you to keep that window shut, Lydia." Bella frowned disapprovingly at her.
"But I was hot!" she whined, nuzzling Bella's neck; crocodile tears threatened to descend.
"No matter, don't do it again." Bella said sternly.
The little girl frowned again, poking out her lower lip. Bella hated being the bad guy.
" I'll see if we can get your dad to bring a fan in for you. Come on, it's time to get ready for school."
Bella's heart was still unsettled by the thought of Lydia opening her window late at night. She vowed right then to get Emmett to finally put a damned child safety lock on it.
Emmett McCarthy was a well-off man; relatively simple in his way of life. He preferred the children to live life and learn in their own time. He never warned them of anything more than once.
Bella's memory pulls her back to an incident with Donnie and a blistering stovetop. Emmett held his son's hand under a cold faucet, smiling down at him patiently.
"See? It hurts, don't it? That's why we don't play with the stove."
Although Donovan's eyes were glazed over, cloudy with a chance of crocodile tears, Emmett's relaxed demeanor held him together.
It was shocking for Bella to witness, seeing as her father was a strict curmudgeonly old man. Constantly barking orders and telling her exactly what and what not to do, when to do it, and precisely what would happen if she stepped out of line.
Bella learned quickly how important following the rules was in that house.
The McCarthy household was different, but she couldn't say Emmett's more liberal approach to doing things was necessarily careless. Sure, the kids wreaked havoc most days, but they were genuinely sweet, well-mannered children where it counted most.
Donovan vowed to stay out of the kitchen whenever anyone was cooking after that unless invited in.
Still, she was sure whatever happened last night with Lydia would not be a one-time occurrence. Not if she wanted her brother to withhold information about it.
Donovan and Lydia take the bus nearly every day, except on days like this. When the sun is out, Bella utilizes it as her time away from her employer's house. She grabs a book and picnic blanket, stuffing it in the back of her car with the kids, and drives them to school.
A drive full of sing-a-longs and games of I-spy. Lydia looking out the window for red cars, and Donovan talking non-stop.
Once they are out of her car, backpacks in hand, she watched as their teachers ushered them inside along with the others. Lydia always looked happy to walk her little brother into school, guiding him with her hand on his back, and skipping her way up the stairs. Bella waved at them with a smile before pulling off.
She quickly ran to the bank to deposit last week's check. She needed to go on shopping run for basic necessities, but decided to hold off until the weekend. The closest shopping center was in Port Angeles, and she wasn't in much of a mood to drive the hours distance.
Afterward, she headed towards the park for a stroll. When her legs were a little too tired, she laid out on a quilted blanket, basking what little sun there was to go around. The book she tucked away in her purse called to her, and she rolled out on to her stomach to reach it.
There would be at least thirty more minutes of sun, hopefully. Maybe she could lock in a chapter or two.
While she read, the sun shining overhead, words and sentences echoed back to her. She fidgeted around for a while, hoping a more comfortable position would help. It did not.
Concentration lost; she gave up with a loud sigh.
She decided to leave around noon, seeing as any reading she planned was bound not to happen. The sun was growing pale, and the cloud coverage allowed a blueish-grey haze to illuminate the greenery surrounding. Rain was coming.
It was always raining some time of day or another. It seemed an unavoidable misery to her day.
And it would be a long day, she was sure.
Emmett would be home by five, as he was hosting a dinner event for one of his notable clients. He was very wound up about it; which was odd.
Emmett McCarthy was usually pretty unflappable, a fairly decent lawyer.
Yet, Bella caught the tail end of many frustrating conversations he'd had regarding this particular case. Muffled curses and snide remarks could be heard from the little office downstairs on nights like that.
Whatever the matter was, it was undoubtedly taking a significant toll on everyone involved.
Knowing the strain on Emmett, and his housekeeper, Marnie; Bella volunteered to help prepare their meals.
When planning for tonight, though, she'd insisted on staying out of the way after his clients arrived.
The thought of sitting there as the Hale's and Mr. McCarthy talked about whatever pressing matter that led them to seek an attorney in the first place made her nauseated.
She couldn't lie and say she wasn't curious, but she tried not to pry into other people's personal affairs. She had her own to deal with.
And she was sure the Hale's would not want her there, seeing as they perceived Bella as 'Emmett's housekeeper girl.' She remembered when Mrs. Hale said it, glowering at Bella from Emmett's front porch, and then shoving through the door to Emmett's office.
No, they didn't like her. Not even their daughter, Rosalie. The beautiful heiress seemed to have it out for everyone lately, though. So Bella tried not to take offense.
Bella snapped herself from her meanderings, heading back up the trail to her car. She felt pretty low, now; with the sun gone and the children away.
Forks is a beautiful place, she reminded herself, trying to focus on the smell of fresh pine and the mist that clung to the air. Someone waved at her from the distance, an older woman she'd met at a local shop a few times. She couldn't remember her name, but smiled at her graciously.
The rain, and the close-knit nature of the town, weren't what she was used to after Phoenix, but there was a quiet charm to it. And she did love her job.
Things are fine, she told herself.
But as she drove back to the McCarthy's, frowning at the weight that lingered in her chest, a blue, staticky feeling clung to her fingertips. She shook it off before stepping inside, forcing herself to leave it at the door.
As soon as Donnie and Lydia were home, they continuously begged for Bella's undivided attention. Lydia beside her, tugging on her skirt. Donnie waiting in the threshold, constantly whining about licking a batter-covered spoon Bella's already placed in the sink.
Marnie tries to keep them entertained as she dusts, asking them about their day and doing impromptu sing-alongs to songs they'd probably never heard. They always gravitated back to Bella.
With how attached they'd grown; you wouldn't think she'd only been their nanny for six months.
Bella said no to many different questions from them. Many times. But they were too riled up to listen to her. They were always so persistent to siphon all her love and attention when school ended.
Which she honestly didn't mind, usually. They surely deserved all her love, and she needed a good place to put it.
But there was something so intrinsically off about this day. It was just one of those days where everything is good and natural except your own headspace.
Marnie, Mr. McCarthy's maid, bustled into the kitchen, already tying her apron behind her back. She must've noticed Bella's emotional fog.
"I thought I'd give you a hand with the sides!" Marnie chirped, smiling brightly as she grabbed a knife with far too much enthusiasm.
Bella looked in on the kids, they were watching cartoons, Lydia's head on Donnie's shoulder, the glow of the TV illuminating their wide eyes. Marnie gave a wave of her hand, as if to say: they're fine.
Bella hesitated, remembering Marnie's last attempt at "helping" that had ended with burnt potatoes and a kitchen filled with smoke. But how could she say no to the older woman, who looked so eager?
"That's . . . good of you, Marnie," Bella said, offering a weak smile.
"Just be careful with that knife, okay?"
"Oh, don't worry, dear! I've been chopping vegetables longer than you've been alive. So, chop, chop!" Marnie replied, eyes twinkling as she made an exaggerated chopping motion that made Bella flinch.
She didn't doubt Marnie's experience—just her execution.
They worked side by side, the kitchen filled with the rhythmic sound of chopping and the occasional bickering of the kids in the other room.
"So," Marnie said, breaking the silence, "How's life treating you here in Forks? Bet it's a big change from . . . where was it again? New York?"
"Phoenix," Bella corrected gently, suppressing a grin.
"And yeah, it's quieter. A lot more rain, less sand."
Marnie nodded sagely, like she understood completely.
"I could never live somewhere too dry. My plants would hate me! Speaking of plants, did I tell you about the time I tried to grow tomatoes inside? Big mistake."
Bella suppressed a laugh. "I'm sure it was."
By the time she had them settled into doing their homework, the chicken was baking in the oven and all of the sides were prepared. The smell wafted over to the living room, and the children begged for their own dinner.
Which Bella let Marnie prepare. There was no way she could mess up chicken nuggets and French fries.
By the time the kids finished eating, it was close to five, and Emmett McCarthy was barreling into the house, shoes muddied and voice boisterous.
"Where are my gremlins?" He belted out, and the children screamed in return, barreling towards him.
"Daddy, Daddy!" Lydia yelled, burrowing into his burly chest as he held her.
Don just hugged his leg, letting Mr. McCarthy carry him as he walked through the living room into the kitchen.
His suit was skewed, his hair tousled and wet, and the muddy trail on the hardwood floor was already being mopped by a frantic Marnie. She bustled down the stairs in a hurry whenever Mr. McCarthy came in.
Emmett McCarthy was a very big man, and his hulking presence always tore through the home like a hurricane. Marnie and Bella both spent a lot of time picking up after him. It was not from a lack of care from Emmett, he could just be rather unobservant at times.
When they all settled down, Emmett; with vigor and determination in his eyes, shewed Bella and Marnie away. Claiming he could finish everything else on his own.
Not that there was much to be done but set the table.
Marnie, persistent and motherly, insisted more when he declined her offer. Mainly to clean up after him.
Once upstairs, she could hear dishes clanging from below, low murmured conversation as Mr. McCarthy spoke with Marnie. His deep baritone and her high-pitched hymn of a voice carried up the corridor.
After filling their bellies and seeing their father, the kids settled down a little more. She always let them choose their before-bedtime activity. They almost always chose for Bella or Emmett to read to them.
Tonight, it was Peter Pan. One of their favorites. Just enough adventure and whimsy for both of them to be entertained and wind down.
Bella never complained, always agreed with a ceremonious amount of glee.
" 'Wendy' Peter Pan continued in a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, 'Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys' "
Bella crooned softly as Donnie started to fall asleep, hands tucked under his pillow, like always. Lydia was right behind him but still focused on the story, nodding in and out.
"Bella, do you think Peter Pan could take me Neverland?"
Lydia mumbled, asleep before Bella could even reply.
What a wish, she thought.
The tale was much darker, more real to Bella's adult mind. The idea of a boy who never grows up, never learns to love anything more than his lust for fun; playing with the people around him like toys.
Art imitates life.
She thought darkly, remembering a moment distant in time yet so current in memory.