Hello, hello! Here we are, at last.
I won't lie, I wrote the beginning of this chapter quite some time ago, when an earlier part of the story wasn't working for me and I needed something to break the back of my writer's block. So needless to say, it is very good to finally get it out into the world! There were bits that got tweaked, of course, as the story went in a few more unexpected directions in the meantime, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out in the end.
Hope you enjoy it too, and please let me know what you think!
Glitterb x
Chapter 17: Visitor
The door had barely closed behind me when I was enveloped in the warm arms of my brother.
"Thank God, thank God, thank God," he chanted under his breath, swaying me from side to side slightly. I hugged him back, squeezing tightly.
When he finally let me go, there were tears in his eyes, just beginning to fall down his cheeks. They were his angry tears, that much was clear from his expression.
"Where's Charlie?" I asked, hoping to side-track him so he wouldn't start yelling.
It half-worked; he still looked furious, but at least he wasn't shouting when he answered me. "Still at the hospital, doing what he can for Sue. She's a wreck."
I nodded, unable to find anything else to say. Then I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye that made my heart pound, even though I knew we had visitors. But when I turned to look properly, it wasn't Edythe or Carine hovering in the doorway of the living room.
"Alice," I breathed, not sure I could believe my eyes. Then I was running the length of the hall, throwing myself into her arms, not caring if the force gave me bruises.
"Bella," she sighed, her high treble voice fairly dripping with relief. She was holding herself just a little away from me, too stiff and too still; when I pulled back, I noticed belatedly that her eyes were black. I stepped away quickly.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, embarrassed.
"It's alright, Bella," Edythe said, emerging from the dimly lit living room behind her sister. Her eyes were dark, too; something must have interrupted her hunt. "We're very glad to see you, aren't we, Alice?"
"Very," Alice agreed, fervent and relieved. Then her eyes flashed, angry like my brother as she put her hands on her hips. "Now, would you mind telling me how you're alive?"
I stared at her blankly. "What? Alice, I-"
Beau cut me off, blunt and hard and furious beyond words. "She saw you jump off a cliff, Bella. That's why she's here. Alice saw you jump off a cliff and drown. She thought she needed to come and help comfort me and Charlie while we grieved for you."
I whirled to face my brother, and he must have seen the horror in my eyes because his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
"You went under," Alice added, with a sadness I had never heard from her before. "And I watched and waited for you to come up, but you never did."
"Jules pulled me out." I could barely breathe the words; they had no volume.
Alice frowned. "I didn't see anyone else there."
"I was by myself," I admitted, knowing this wasn't going to help but committed to honesty now. "But Jules came by just as I jumped. She must have realised the current had got a hold of me and dived in to get me." I turned back to Beau. "I've been at her house all day, drying off."
He still looked unhappy, but Alice wasn't done.
"How did she manage that?" she asked. "If the current was too strong for you, how did this Jules person swim through it to get to you?"
Edythe answered before I could. "Because Jules is part of the Quileute wolf pack." She looked at Alice, clarity dawning across both their faces. "She had the strength to fight the current. Perhaps that explains your lack of vision, sister. You've always had trouble with seeing La Push – for whatever reason, the werewolves must be invisible to your sight."
The girls were relaxing, mercifully distracted from me by this new revelation. I began to relax too… until I saw the anger still brewing in my twin's eyes.
"Bella," he said, his voice low and cold in a way I had never heard before. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"
Horror swept through me, blanking my mind for a moment. But of course, to an outsider, someone who only had the story second-hand from a flawed vision, my reckless, deliberate jump would very much look like a suicide attempt.
I rushed back to his side, grasping his hands as I desperately tried to reassure him. "No, Beau, no! I wouldn't do that, I swear, I wouldn't do that to you and Charlie. Please, you have to believe me, I wouldn't!"
He freed his hands to pull me into another fierce hug. I wanted to see his face, to see if his anger had cooled, but he held me too tightly and I couldn't move. He said nothing, just held me there, cradled against his chest. For one of the first times in my life, I truly felt like his little sister, like a small, silly child who had to be protected from her own thoughtlessness. I didn't like it.
Abruptly, he pushed me away, holding me at arm's length with a death-grip on my shoulders.
"Then why?" he almost growled, looking as much like a vampire as the two girls who were watching us silently. "Why in the hell would you do something so stupid and reckless and dangerous? Why would you even risk taking yourself away from us? You're smarter than that, Bella, or I thought you were, at least."
"Beau, stop it," Edythe chastised him, but he ignored her.
I couldn't speak, couldn't tell him the truth. This was the limit of my honesty, it seemed. I just shook my head.
"Dammit, Bella, you promised!" My brother exploded, making me jump, the barely contained fury released without warning. "You promised, no more secrets from me!"
To my surprise as much as anyone else's, a laugh burst out of me. It wasn't a cheerful sound; in fact, it verged on hysterical. I tried to push Beau's hands off me, and though he didn't let go, I was able to get my arms up enough to press the heels of my palms hard into my eyes, uncontrolled chuckles that were morphing rapidly into sobs shaking my shoulders.
"Promises," I muttered weakly, my hands dropping again as I looked up at my brother, meeting his shock with what I was sure was exhausted apathy. "That's the problem, really. All these promises I make… all the promises people make to me, and not one gets kept. Do you realise that in the last year, three different people, people I loved and trusted, have all broken promises they made to me? So really, what's the point?" The hysteria was coming back, the volume of my voice rising with every word. "Why should I bother sticking to my word when no one else is going to? When Jules goes MIA right after promising to always be there for me, when you say you won't keep secrets then admit that Edythe's been visiting you on the sly for months, when Edward-" I choked on his name, unable to keep going, unable to give voice to that first and most devastating broken promise – and not sure exactly which one to choose.
I was abruptly aware of how many pairs of eyes were on me, the Cullen girls like statues in the very corner of my peripheral vision, watching me completely lose my mind and unload six months' worth of pent-up frustration on my poor unsuspecting brother. I had well and truly snapped, and they had all born witness to the moment of my final breakdown. Suddenly, I felt the intense need to escape, to be away, to fall to pieces in private so I wouldn't drag any of them further into my darkness. Whether out of shock or fear, Beau's hold on my arms had loosened; I yanked away from him and ran up the stairs, ignoring the threefold cries of alarm from behind me. Tears blurred my vision as I bolted into my room and slammed the door shut, throwing myself down on the bed and burying my face in the pillow. My hands were shaking; I gripped the comforter to try to make them stop, but then all of me started to shake. I turned my head to the side, gasping for air as the ghosts of my lungs tightened and my throat burned. This was not as bad as the pain I had grown almost accustomed to over the last several months, or even the wrenching aches I'd been dealing with all day, but it was close.
I dimly heard the door creak open and tried to moderate my breathing. I made it stop gasping, but I was still inhaling too hard and too fast, on the verge of hyperventilating and wincing with every inhale.
"You're going to have to tell me if you want me to go away." Edythe's voice reached my ears, soft and comforting and completely devoid of censure. "I will if you ask me to. But I don't think you should be alone right now."
I rolled over to look at her, reaching out my hand.
"Help," I gasped between ragged breaths.
She was by my side in an instant, pulling me upright and then gently guiding my head between my knees. She rubbed my back in gentle circles. I felt her touch the tender spot where Jules had beaten against me to force the water out; Edythe's cold hand was the ultimate contrast to those warm wallops, soothing the ache of the bruises no doubt forming there.
"Just breathe, Bella," she crooned, her tone instantly calming. "Everything is okay. You're home and you're safe. You have nothing to fear. Just breathe."
I knew she was wrong about most of that, but I tried to do as she said, tried to slow my thready gasps to a more normal rhythm. It took a long minute, but I did it.
"There now," Edythe said, an oddly proud, almost parental note in her voice. "Much better."
"Thank you," I whispered weakly, sitting up slowly.
"You are most welcome."
We sat in silence for a minute. She kept up the gentle circles on my back. She was so calm, so settled, not a hint of judgement on her porcelain face.
"Are you angry with me, too?" I asked, dreading the answer.
She gave the question careful consideration. "No," she finally decided. "Not angry. Neither is Beau, nor my sister."
She must have seen my incredulous look, because she smiled slightly.
"We're concerned," she insisted, still calm, still eminently reasonable. "Worried, confused, scared… but not angry, not really." She lifted a hand to stroke back my hair from where it had got tangled around my face, taming it into something resembling order. "Beau has been going through a lot since Alice told him what she saw. At first, he refused to believe it, then he just sort of… crumbled." She couldn't hide the deep sadness in her eyes as she recalled this, her pain reflecting that which my brother must surely have been feeling. Guilt stabbed through me again; I just couldn't seem to stop hurting people today.
"He had a panic attack of his own when you didn't pick up your phone earlier," Edythe went on, settling herself once more. "Even after he spoke to Mrs Black, he was pacing over half the house, waiting to see you and check on you with his own eyes. He's lost, Bella, he doesn't know what to do. But he could never be truly angry with you. He loves you too much." She tipped my chin up gently, making me remove my gaze from my nervously twisting hands and meet her dark eyes. "We all do."
Fresh tears welled up as I saw the truth of her words in her eyes. The trust, the love, the clear, honest concern that I saw there made my chest ache with the hollow pain again. I had no notion of what she might be seeing in my face, but she wasn't scared or surprised by whatever it was.
"Tell me about it?" she whispered, a gentle request.
I was torn. I knew if I said no, she would let it go. Part of me didn't want her to know the full extent of my damage, because there was no way I came out of that kind of admission looking anything less than completely insane. Yet I found I wanted to tell her, wanted to reward her, in a way, for her kindness and lack of judgement. Still, I hesitated.
"Will you tell Beau?"
"Probably." She was straightforward, not trying to hide. "I won't if you really don't want me to. But he will know I'm keeping something from him. You both are too perceptive for your own good." She was teasing now, smirking just slightly.
I shook my head and took a deep breath, tucking my chin again so I was nestled in the crook of her neck. Courage, Bella. Where was that celebrated courage that Edward always used to talk about?
"It's okay," I breathed. "You can tell him. I'm… not sure that I can."
She said nothing, waiting patiently. I knew I should pull back, sit up, do this properly. But it felt safer to stay put, to whisper into the depths of her hair, unable to see her face as she held me.
"I hear him," I began, almost no sound to my voice at all. "E… Edward." Pain lanced through my empty chest as I said the name out loud, but I pushed past it, kept going. I had to get this out. "In my head. When I'm… when I'm in danger, I hear his voice speaking to me."
There was a long pause before she asked, "What does he say?"
"He tells me to stop whatever I'm doing and to be safe. He reminds me that I promised him I would take care of myself. Usually he's angry with me." I smiled a weak half-smile. "Like Beau. When I get hurt, he says 'I told you so.'"
Another long pause. No doubt Edythe was calculating just how far past crazy I was, and mentally charting a course to the nearest asylum.
"And so, you went to the cliff," she finally said, slowly, carefully. "To hear him. Because it was dangerous, and you knew he would tell you not to jump."
I nodded, the whole story spilling out now. "The first time was just a fluke, just some guys on a dark street when I was out with McKayla… one of them looked like James." I shuddered at the memory, and I felt Edythe's chest vibrate in a low growl. "Then I found those old motorbikes and got Jules to help me fix them and teach me how to ride. That worked for a while. But then I got too good. I was safe when I rode and I didn't hear him anymore. A few months back, I saw some of the Quileute kids cliff diving, and I knew it would work like I wanted. Jules was supposed to take me this morning, but she was busy, so I went on my own…" I trailed off, abruptly ashamed by my own colossal stupidity. "You know the rest," I finished weakly. I curled in tighter, ready for her to push me away, reject her boyfriend's clearly unstable sister.
Instead, she let me cuddle in close to her and began running her hand down my hair in soothing strokes. "What happened to Julia?"
The question, delivered so casually and so far from where I thought her focus would be, threw me off guard and I answered honestly, without thinking. "Victoria came back again. Sam thought they could pin her down up by the mountains, so Jules went out with him and all the others."
"And did they get her?" Once more, that calm, conversational tone.
"No, she gave them the slip again."
"Well, that's inconvenient," she mused; when I glanced up, she was pursing her lips slightly and looking out of the window.
Abruptly, I remembered my hazy thoughts from just before Bonnie arrived back at the house… about the flame on the water and how impossible it was. Like a lightbulb suddenly flaring to life, the image connected with Jules' words from earlier in the afternoon.
She slipped round us and got to the coast, then went into the water, which meant we were screwed – bloodsuckers swim faster than we can and it's impossible to follow a scent. That's why I was trying to find you, because you spend so much time on the beach and we had no clue where she'd come back onto dry land…
I pulled back, feeling the panic on my face as my breathing picked up again. "Edythe… Victoria, she…"
Edythe took hold of my arms and squeezed gently. "It's alright, Bella, she can't get you. She's gone now, probably scared off by the dogs again-"
"No!" I burst out, interrupting her. "No, I think… I'm sure I saw her."
Now she was frowning, her face deadly serious. "Where?"
"In the bay, down at First Beach," I explained, giving every ounce of my focus to keeping my tone level and not hyperventilating again. "As Jules was taking me away, I saw this flash of colour out on the water. I thought it was a fire, but it didn't make any sense, where it was, how bright it was…" I shuddered. "But now, I'm almost certain it was her, her hair showing over the waves as she swam by."
Edythe was statue-still, a sure sign of stress, and almost didn't seem to hear me.
"She was right there," I said, mostly to myself. "Right there, with me and Jules… if Sam hadn't been there… oh God." My breath hitched, and I felt like I was choking.
"Hey now," came a sharp, high voice from the doorway, and suddenly Alice was there, kneeling beside us and taking hold of my chin, gently forcing me to look at her. "None of that. You're fine, and so is your pet puppy. Victoria was clearly afraid to tangle with two of them at once, and if she's got any sense, then she'll stay far away for a while. And even if she does make another move, we're both here now. She's not getting to you, Bella, trust that."
Tears I hadn't realised were brewing spilled over and poured down my cheeks. I groped awkwardly for her hand where it still held my face; she gently wove our fingers together, cradling my hand between both of hers.
"Will you really stay?" I whispered, hating and yet unable to control how desperate I sounded.
Abruptly, her eyes were cautious. "Maybe for a day or two… but it's going to be difficult to explain why I'm here, and I'm sure your father will have questions."
Before my stomach could sink too far, Edythe cut in. "We can manage Charlie just fine between the two of us. And there's nothing to say you can't pretend to go and just hang around in secret."
Alice gave her a stern look. "You know he's not going to like it when he hears." Her tone made it obvious she wasn't talking about Charlie anymore.
Edythe sniffed imperiously. "After everything he's done, I don't especially care what our brother thinks. Besides, I don't plan on telling him anything, do you?"
Alice hummed. "True. He'd probably take my head off. Alright." She switched to a bright smile. "I suppose I'm joining the slumber party. If you'll have me."
I smiled weakly, looking pointedly around my already cramped room. "We'll make space somehow."
It wasn't at all funny, but both of them laughed, the beauty of the sound somehow heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time. Alice moved up to sit on my other side and I was suddenly enveloped in a cold yet comforting group hug. I revelled in the feeling of safety for a moment, before I realised both of them were still holding their heads a little away from me.
"You need to hunt, though, don't you?" I said, cringing and curling in on myself to give them some space.
Both looked regretful as they pulled away, but Alice nodded. "Yes, we do. I'm afraid I interrupted Edythe in my rush to get her back here and check on you."
"We'll be back as quickly as we can," Edythe added, rubbing my back comfortingly again. "An hour should be enough, shouldn't it, sister?"
Alice closed her eyes, her expression smoothing out as she searched the future. It took only a few seconds before her lids pinged open again and she smiled. "Yes, they'll both manage to stay out of trouble for an hour."
I made a face and stuck my tongue out at her; she stuck hers out right back, looking a lot prettier than I probably did.
A buzzing sound pulled my attention to my desk, where I saw my phone was still sitting; I realised with a sharp sense of chagrin that I'd never taken it with me this morning. Wincing at yet another reminder of how stupid I'd been, I moved as quickly as I could to pick it up.
"Hello?"
"It's me," came Jules' voice, gruff and disgruntled. "You're still alive then."
I frowned. "Of course I am. I said they're not-"
"Yeah, yeah," Jules interrupted sourly. "I went home like you told me to, anyway. Bye."
She hung up before I could stop her. I stared at her number on the screen until it blinked away, leaving behind the home screen that showed I had three missed calls from Beau; the battery indicator was also flashing, so I fished around for the cable to plug it in, moving on autopilot as I tried not to start crying again.
"Well, she seems charming," Alice quipped from behind me.
When I turned around, Edythe was pinching the bridge of her nose, a pained expression on her face that was strangely human. "Oh, the wolves are all going to be difficult to handle with all this. It took enough to convince them to cooperate with me on my own, and now you're here, just as they've lost one of their elders…"
Whether to reassure her sister or because she caught sight of the look on my face, Alice stood up with a determined look on her face. "Well, there's not much we can do about that now. We'll all be clearer headed once we've eaten." She shot me a stern look. "Including you, missy. Make sure you get a proper meal down you while we're gone."
I folded my arms defensively. "I do still know how to take care of myself, Alice."
Her expression clearly said she didn't believe me. "What little I've seen would seem to indicate otherwise. So, I'll say again, eat something. And for the love of God, take a shower, you smell terrible."
With that, she swept out of the room in her typical dramatic fashion.
Edythe shook her head, giving me an apologetic look as she stood. "We'll be as quick as we can."
I fidgeted on the spot, Alice's last comment repeating in my head. "Okay… Hey, Edythe?"
She stopped, having just reached the door, and turned back. "Yes, Bella?"
"Do I really smell?" I wondered awkwardly.
Her smile was a bit embarrassed. "No worse than you usually do when you come back from La Push. Perhaps a little more briny than normal, but you have been in the ocean…" She must have seen the confusion on my face, and hurried to clarify. "Remember I told you the wolves smell like dogs to me? Well, that scent has a tendency to cling to you when you've been around them for a while."
I blanched. "Why didn't you say anything?"
She shrugged delicately. "There wasn't anything you could do about it. Besides, you're probably picking up my scent and bothering them just as much. I'm honestly surprised none of them have mentioned it."
"Still, I wish I'd known," I grumbled. "I'd have been more thorough in the shower if I knew I stank so bad."
"I'll make sure to let you know in future," Edythe promised. "And really, it only affects Alice and I. Beau and Charlie won't even have noticed."
Even after her reassurance, I couldn't help checking for any obvious foul smells as I got undressed in the bathroom. There was nothing but the ocean smell she had mentioned, perhaps a bit of seaweed stink. Still, I washed myself thoroughly and put on fresh clothes, burying the sea-soaked ones at the bottom of my laundry basket before I went downstairs.
Too late, I realised there was still a giant unresolved minefield waiting there for me in the form of my brother, who I found leaning against the counter in the kitchen, the microwave whirring beside him and the smell of last Thursday's casserole just beginning to waft out.
"There's enough in there for all of us," Beau said gruffly by way of greeting. "Charlie's not eaten since breakfast and I figured you hadn't either."
"Thanks," I replied, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Alice is staying for a few days."
He nodded. "Edythe told me. I got some sheets out of the linen closet, I figure we can set up the couch for appearance's sake. I think we've got another air mattress, but there's no way it'll fit in your room."
"Sounds good…" I tried to find something else to say, but nothing came to me at first. For about three seconds, I contemplated escaping to the living room under the guise of making the 'bed', until I realised that would only be delaying the inevitable. I squared my shoulders a little and prepared to open whatever can of worms awaited me.
In one of those moments where Beau seemed to know exactly what I was thinking, he held up a hand to stall me. "Can I start, please? I won't yell, I promise."
"Sure," I agreed easily; I hadn't been entirely sure what I was going to say anyway.
Beau took a minute to find his words too, looking up at the ceiling and huffing out a heavy breath before he finally spoke. "Alright. Well, first things first, I'm sorry." It was the last thing I'd expected to hear from him, and he could obviously tell, because he was quick to explain. "I thought we'd resolved the whole 'keeping Edythe hidden from you' thing. I didn't realise you felt like I'd broken my promise, and I had no idea you were feeling so… betrayed by so many people at the same time. If there's one thing I've never wanted, it's for you to feel that way, and I certainly never wanted to contribute to it. So, I'm sorry."
"It's okay," I mumbled.
He shook his head. "Agree to disagree on that one. Anyway, I'm also sorry for how I reacted over…" He swallowed hard. "Over you jumping off that cliff. It's just… I spent a good chunk of this afternoon thinking you were dead, Bella. Alice was so certain… and then you didn't answer your phone… and my stupid brain was just thinking, how do I tell Dad? How could I be the person who had to break that kind of news to him? It was like I couldn't even face how I felt about it, because that would hurt too much. Then, even after I talked to Bonnie, it was like you weren't real until I saw you with my own eyes."
I was crying yet again; my eyes felt raw from all the tears, and I didn't bother trying to wipe them away. Instead, I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around my twin, burying my face in his chest. He hugged me back just as fiercely as he had when I came through the door earlier, and I could still feel his desperation in his hold. I couldn't summon up any words beyond apologies that felt far too small and trivial for the magnitude of what I'd done.
"The thing is, when I thought you'd… that you were trying to…" Beau seemed to be struggling to find words himself, and eventually gave up and just went on. "Well, let's just say it didn't exactly surprise me to hear that you'd finally had enough and decided to just… get out. With everything that's happened the last few months, everything you've been through… maybe I'd feel different if you weren't okay and here and safe, but I can't escape this feeling that… that I would have understood it, once I had a chance to really think it over." He pulled back and looked down at me, tears of his own overflowing once again. "And then I start thinking, what kind of brother does that make me, that I'd be okay with my sister doing that?"
I looked him square in the eye and made my voice as determined as I could make it. "You are the best brother a girl could ever ask for, Beau. You had to face an impossible situation, one you should never have been in, one I should never have put you in, and whatever reaction you had was – and is – totally valid. Be mad at me, shout and scream and cry, whatever you need. I deserve it. All I can do is promise you I was absolutely not trying to die, and nothing like this is going to happen again."
There was a sceptical look on his face that broke my heart all over again – because what state had I let our relationship get to where he would believe me capable of ending my own life?
"I mean it," I insisted, taking half a step back in the hope that seeing my face more clearly would help convince him. "I already decided, after what nearly happened, and everything with Harry… I'm going to stop. No more crazy recklessness, no more bikes, none of it. I don't want something like this to ever happen again."
If there was anyone in the world who could tell when I was being honest and when I was lying, it was my brother, and I could see he believed me now. The look on his face was jumbled and difficult to define, dancing from one emotion to the next over the course of a few seconds: first startled, then relieved, then deeply, deeply grateful. He pulled me back into another tight hug, one that held until the microwave dinged and we finally pulled apart. There was a sense of comfort that didn't need words in the way we moved around each other, fetching plates and dishing out portions of casserole, setting out the cutlery on the table and grabbing drinks. I went for water, which turned out to be a good plan; as soon as I started drinking, I realised abruptly how thirsty I was and how wonderful the liquid felt on my ruined throat. I had to get up for a refill twice before I was finished eating, which made Beau raise an eyebrow at me.
"You okay there?" he asked.
"I got soaked in salt today," I deadpanned, pleased that all the water seemed to have at least brought my voice back to normal at last. "I need to rehydrate."
He winced but was impressively blasé about the reminder of my insane antics. "Fair enough. You still hungry?"
"No, leave the rest for Charlie." I moved my plate to the sink and rinsed it, glancing reflexively at the clock; it hadn't quite been an hour yet, so I knew there was no need to start getting anxious. Still, I would need some sort of distraction if I was going to make it through the remaining time. Only now did I think of all the things that could happen to the two girls in even just an hour – after all, Alice had only said we would be okay. She'd said nothing about herself and Edythe. I tried to remind myself that they would watch out for each other, that if Victoria was scared to take on two wolves, then she'd never risk two vampires, that the Quileutes were likely all distracted dealing with Harry and wouldn't cause them any trouble.
But of course, the more I tried not to think about such things, the more they invaded my mind.
"I'm going to set the couch up," I said, hurriedly making my way into the living room.
It was a relief more potent than anything to find the Cullen girls already perched on the sofa, their eyes now liquid gold.
Alice grinned and patted the pillow draped over the armrest. "Is this for me?"
"You're early!" I exclaimed, unable to be ashamed of how excited I sounded.
Edythe laughed and beckoned me over. I needed no more encouragement to cross the room and squeeze myself into the space between them, where I was instantly engulfed in another hug. No one else would have found their cold, stony embrace comforting, except perhaps my brother, who pouted as he leaned in the living room entrance.
"Now, my love, don't be jealous," Edythe crooned, getting up and going to wrap her arms around his waist. His petulant expression melted away into a dopey smile, and he leaned down to kiss her, which was the moment I reached my limit and had to look away; I clung tighter to Alice, burying my face in her shoulder.
She patted my arm gently, no longer pulling away but instead drawing me nearer. "Oh, Bella, what are we going to do with you?"
Her tone was teasing, yet there was something serious in it too, an undercurrent that made me cringe.
"I'm trying," I said, hating how weak I sounded. "It's not like there's a manual for all this. I've done the best I could."
"I've heard. And seen." At my confused look, she elaborated. "I haven't been watching, I promise. I told… well, I said I wouldn't. But there are things that come to me when I'm not trying to see, especially when it's someone I care about. Honestly, I'm glad I couldn't see some of it. Young werewolves…" She tutted disapprovingly. "Only you, Bella Swan, would find the one group more dangerous than a bunch of vampires to make friends with."
"Technically, Jules wasn't a werewolf when we started hanging out," I pointed out.
Alice gave me a look that quite clearly said she didn't think the distinction mattered much.
"I'd never admit it to their faces, but the pack have been very helpful," Edythe commented; she'd turned around to face us again, though Beau kept his arms around her. "And at the very least, one of us was here keeping an eye on her."
Alice pouted. "That's not fair, sister. You know staying away wasn't my choice."
"Whose choice was it, then?" My brother's tone and eyes were both like steel as he regarded her, his mood abruptly dour again.
"Beau!" I protested, but Alice patted my hand soothingly.
"It's alright, Bella. He has every right to be angry." She levelled a steady gaze at him, unflinching but not combative; she wasn't fighting him, but she wasn't going to let him run roughshod over her either. "My brother believed it would be in everyone's best interest for us to leave, and to have no further part in Bella's life afterwards. Given what Edythe experienced in those first few days after our departure, that seemed to be an accurate assessment. There was quite a commotion when Edythe told us she'd come for a visit, without considering the whole mess with Laurent and Victoria. Even when I said I was coming here, I got not a little condemnation from the others, and it is only because Edward didn't happen to be present that it didn't turn into a fight. As it is, I'm expecting a disapproving phone call from Carine whenever she and Earnest get back from their hunt." Her head suddenly turned toward the front of the house. "Charlie's home."
The change of subject was so abrupt, it left me reeling, but sure enough, I heard the cruiser pulling onto the driveway seconds later. Pushing aside Alice's revelations as something to be dealt with at another time, I sprang up from the couch and followed Beau as he moved into the hall, leaving the girls in the living room.
Beau had the door open before Charlie was anywhere near it. Our father walked slowly, his feet barely leaving the floor, his eyes fixed on the ground and his face drawn. He didn't even seem to notice we were there until Beau moved to meet him, laying an uncertain hand on his arm. My brother's usually faultless confidence was gone; he seemed suddenly young and scared in the face of this grief.
"Dad… we heard…"
He trailed off, but there was no more that needed to be said. Charlie pulled Beau into a fierce hug, one he returned without hesitation. I hurried forward on instinct, then came up short, not wanting to interrupt the moment. But my dad just opened one arm and beckoned me into the hug, holding us both tightly to him with more than a hint of desperation.
I put my arms around him as securely as I could with Beau partly in the way. "We're so sorry, Dad."
"He was a good man," Charlie mumbled, almost as if he hadn't heard me. "I'm going to miss him."
"How's Sue holding up?" Beau asked, a note of caution in his tone.
Charlie sighed heavily. "I'm not sure she's really grasped what's happened. She's… sort of there in body but not in spirit, you know?" He let go of Beau enough to scrub a hand over his tired face. "Sam's with her, so at least she's not alone, but… yeah."
I squeezed him tighter, unable to find words that could have a hope of comforting him. He kissed the top of my head, sounding more than a little dazed as he went on.
"It's the kids I feel for. Leah's only about a year older than you two, and poor Seth is fourteen… They weren't at the hospital, thank God, but they're going to have a time of it the next few days…"
He began moving towards the house, keeping his arms around both of us but loosening his hold enough that we could walk more comfortably. My brother and I locked eyes, matching looks of trepidation on our faces, and Beau nodded pointedly once.
I understood his message. "Um… Dad…"
"Hmm?" Charlie still sounded concerningly detached.
I forged ahead. "Edythe's back, and… she brought a surprise with her."
Charlie frowned in confusion, his head swivelling slowly to take in the Impala… the black Mercedes… He turned back to the house and stiffened; I followed his gaze and understood why in an instant. The Cullen girls had both come to the door and, though partly silhouetted by the light from the house behind them, Alice's slight form was unmistakable.
Still, he sounded uncertain as he spoke her name. "Alice?"
"Hi Charlie," she replied, her tone uncharacteristically subdued. "I am so sorry for the awful timing."
"She was waiting for me at my apartment," Edythe chimed in. "Apparently she had plans to surprise me and spend the last weekend of the break together."
Charlie had moved us all forward as she spoke, so I could now more clearly see the sheepish smile Alice affected now. "Of course, when she told me she was staying here, I insisted on coming." The smile slipped. "If I'd known…"
Charlie shook his head, the movements still worryingly slow. "No, honey, it's alright. There's no way anyone could have predicted all this. Are you set for someplace to stay?"
"We were getting the couch made up for her," I piped up. "Is that okay, Dad? We can try to squeeze her into my room…"
"No, no, the couch is fine. So long as you're alright with that, Alice."
"Oh yes, I can sleep anywhere," she replied. "I just hate to impose when it's such a difficult time."
Charlie had to release us to get through the door, and now he laid what was obviously supposed to be a comforting hand on Alice's arm. "Honestly, sweetheart, you'd be doing me a favour. I'm going to be in and out a lot the next few days, helping with… everything." He swallowed hard. "So I'm glad the twins will have the two of you here to keep them company."
"Are you hungry, Dad?" Beau asked. "We've eaten, but there's a plate in the microwave for you."
"Thanks, kiddo." Charlie gave Beau's shoulder a grateful squeeze and made his way dazedly into the kitchen.
Beau seemed about to follow him, but Edythe stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. "Let him have a few minutes, my love. He doesn't want you to see him truly fall apart."
I frowned. "Will he be alright?"
It was a stupid question, and I was cursing my own thoughtlessness as soon as I said it.
Alice went blank-faced for a moment, then refocused with a sad smile. "Yes, he will. Not in the next few days, but eventually, it will get better." She reached for my hand. "Come on, let's give him some space."
She led the way back to the living room, pulling me in to resume our previous position on the couch. I went happily, laying my head back on her shoulder.
"Tired?" she asked sympathetically.
"Exhausted," I agreed. "But I did drown today."
Alice huffed; it sounded like she didn't appreciate my careless references to my almost-death as much as my brother. Thankfully, Beau was kind enough to distract her for me.
"Jasper didn't come with you, did he?" he asked as he settled into the seat next to me, Edythe perching on the armrest on his other side.
"No," Alice sighed. "He thinks I'm being foolish and interfering. I only got away because I promised I'd find Edythe and talk to her first."
Edythe snorted delicately. "You make it sound as if Jasper could actually stop you from doing anything."
My eyelids were beginning to feel unbearably heavy; each time I blinked, it was a fight to get my eyes open again. Despite sleeping for most of the day, I was well and truly spent, and no matter how much I wanted to stay awake, to ask Alice more questions, to check on my father again or try to have a conversation with my brother about how nasty he'd been to Alice, there simply wasn't enough energy left in my body. So I closed my eyes, leaning further into Alice and letting their conversation wash over me like a lullaby as I drifted into a blessedly dreamless sleep.
I could tell that it was early when I woke up, but finally, I felt rested, if a little uncomfortable; I'd been laid out on my side on the couch, tucked under the blankets for warmth, with a pillow awkwardly wedged under my head. The indistinct murmur of voices echoed down the hall from the kitchen, along with the clatter of pans and dishes, and I gathered that someone was making breakfast.
"Was it really terrible, Charlie?" Alice asked.
"Yeah," Charlie sighed. He still sounded tired, and I ached for him; the pain of losing his friend had clearly not yet lost its sting. I was almost annoyed with Alice for making him talk about it.
"Will you tell me about it? I heard some from Edythe, but I want to know everything."
My father didn't reply right away; I heard a cupboard door close, the stove click off, the scrape of the spatula against a frying pan as something was served. Alice's words confused me, but I began to think they might not be talking about the Clearwaters.
"Being a parent…" Charlie spoke slowly, haltingly, as if every word was a struggle to find. "It's a cliché, I know, but there's really no manual for it. Someone hands you this tiny little person and says, hey, that's yours now, you make sure it survives for the next few decades. And I got two of them at once." He chuckled humourlessly. "But even the day they were born, I didn't feel as… helpless, as lost, as I did that first week after you all left. Nothing in eighteen years of fatherhood had prepared me for the way Bella was acting, and… well, I just didn't know what to do. She wouldn't… she wouldn't do anything – wouldn't move, wouldn't talk, wouldn't touch any of her food. The only thing she seemed to react to was your sister, and that was… that was something else. I've never seen her so scared."
"I'm sorry," Edythe said. Her voice was quiet, barely loud enough for me to hear, but it startled me all the same; I hadn't realised she was there.
"It wasn't your fault, honey," Charlie assured her, in a tone that made it clear whose fault he did think it was. "But you saw how bad it was. I didn't let Dr Gerandy see her after the first day, just in case that scared her too, but whenever I talked to him, he was bandying about words like 'catatonic' and… I was too much of a coward to put her in the hospital myself. That's why I called Renée to come get her. I thought maybe her mother and a change of scenery would do her good. Beau was against it, and he turned out to be kind of right, but if we hadn't done it… I don't know what would have happened."
"Seeing her mother brought her back." Alice wasn't asking, like she already knew the answer. Which she might well do, if Edythe had really shared what happened. I cringed, feeling a strange sting of betrayal that I forced away as soon as it came; Edythe was well within her right to tell her family whatever she wanted. But it raised the question – if Alice had known everything all the way back in September, and then whatever else her visions had shown her since, why hadn't she done anything about it?
Charlie took the time to take a bite of food before he answered; I heard cutlery scraping on a plate and his mouth still sounded half-full as he spoke. "In a way, yes. At first it was more of the same – she barely even seemed to realise Renée was there. But once we started trying to pack her bags… well, she just lost it. She's always been such a quiet little thing, I honestly didn't know she had it in her to fly off the handle like that. She was screaming and yelling about how we couldn't make her leave, throwing her stuff all over the room, and then… she saw Edythe and she just broke. That's when she finally started crying."
I was doing my best not to squirm (the couch creaked like nobody's business, and I didn't want them to know I was awake yet) but it was harder with every word out of my dad's mouth. That first week had been so fuzzy… I'd realised afterwards how much I'd upset him, of course; that was what had driven me to return to as much normalcy as I could convincingly fake. But it was difficult hearing exactly how bad I'd been before, how much I had hurt him purely from the thoughtlessness of being lost in my own pain.
Charlie cleared his throat before he went on. "She started to improve after that. At least, it looked like she did – she was going to school and work, she ate and slept when she should, she'd answer if you asked her something. But that was… well, that was about all she did. She wouldn't talk unless she was answering a question, she didn't go out or call her friends, and her appetite was completely shot. She was just this… hollow thing, shaped like my daughter, but missing all her life." He sighed, and I could picture the way his head would be shaking sadly. "Honestly, I think poor Beau had it the worst. The two of them have always been so connected, even after being raised apart. He kept acting like everything was normal, trying to give her the space to come back to us with no pressure, I think. But after a month or two, he realised that wasn't working, and he got more… protective, I suppose. Not that he wasn't before, he's always had this thing about taking care of her, only he took it to a new level. It's like he wanted to be the shield between her and everything that could hurt her. He made excuses for her to their friends, he changed the subject when she was getting upset, he stopped listening to music when she was around… he was the one that figured out she was trying to avoid any memories of him, and he'd do anything he could to help her do it."
The misery was sinking in deeper and deeper by the minute. I knew my brother was intuitive enough to understand some of what I was going through, but it was becoming clear that I hadn't fooled him or our father at all. Every effort I'd made to disguise the depths of my brokenness had been completely useless.
"She seems to be a lot better now, though," Alice ventured, sounding oddly hesitant.
"Yes," Edythe agreed. "She's got some life back in her, and she's only had a few nightmares while I've been here. Beau said they were happening every night before."
Charlie grunted. "Yeah, they were… something else. And she is a lot better, mostly from hanging out with Jules Black, I think. She's happier, more alive, she's smiling and laughing again. There's a bit of an age difference, but it's barely a year and honestly, Jules has matured a lot from taking care of her mom. She and Bells have that in common. She's a really good friend for Bella." He sounded almost fierce, like he was trying to convince them. "She really turned a corner when they started hanging out more. They take care of each other, you know?"
"I've certainly heard nothing but good things about her," Edythe replied calmly. "Even when they were fighting, it was because Bella was worried about her."
"Yeah, I'm glad Bella had someone to be there for her like that," Alice chimed in, equally reasonable. "And I think I speak for both of us when I say how sorry we are for everything that happened back in September, Charlie."
I heard my father's breath blow out in a rush, the wind taken out of his sails by their serene acceptance of his not-so-veiled criticism. He sounded contrite when he spoke again. "Like I said, none of it was your fault. There wasn't any way you could keep your mother from taking that job, right?"
"But there were better ways for us to handle our leaving," Alice insisted. "It didn't have to be so difficult."
Something in her tone made me wonder what she might have seen in those last few days before the complete implosion of my world – what different paths had been laid out before us, which ways we could have gone if the right decisions had been made. I chased those thoughts away quickly; those futures were long gone, nothing but distant echoes of possibility now.
Charlie hummed, a distracted sort of agreement in his tone. Then he sighed again. "I just don't know… Even with Jules, she's not back to how she was. There's this… lingering thing in her eyes. I'm not sure exactly what it is. I know what it's like to have the person you love leave without warning like that, but with Bella… it feels like her pain's on a whole other level, like she's… like she's grieving for him."
He almost had it right, I realised with another sharp stab of guilt. Because it wasn't that I was grieving for Edward – I was grieving for myself, for the version of myself that I had been and that I had been preparing to become. He'd taken himself away, which would have been hard enough to survive, but with him had gone his whole family and the life I'd wanted to share with all of them. Having no future was bound to make anyone feel like they'd essentially died already.
My father was miserable as he continued. "The thing about Bella is… she's always been so set in her ways. Once she's put her mind to something, you've got a hell of a job to get her to change it. I'd always thought that was a good thing on balance, gave her a bit of backbone, you know? But now… I'm afraid it's going to stop her from being able to heal and move on. And girls, as glad as I am to see you both, I am worried about what the aftermath of this visit is going to look like for us, how she's going to react once you're gone."
"Perhaps I ought not to have come," Alice murmured, her tone despondent. I couldn't tell without seeing her face whether the sadness was genuine or just for my father's benefit.
Edythe's voice was firm. "There's no sense in regret now, Alice. If there's to be damage from all this, it's very much already done. All we can do now is dedicate ourselves to being better going forward. I, for one, plan to keep in touch much more regularly after we leave."
She clearly meant to be reassuring, to my father at least, but the idea of them leaving again sent an ache through me. So Charlie's concerns were clearly valid, I realised with chagrin.
"I'm sure that will help," Charlie said. "And who knows, maybe she'll surprise us all and keep getting better from this."
"I hope so," Alice said, her voice nearer to its usual cheerful tone.
"Bella has a habit of subverting expectations," Edythe agreed.
There was a moment of quiet, broken only by the scrape of cutlery and the sound of my father chewing. I wondered idly how the girls were hiding the food, or if they'd turned down any offer to cook for them.
"Alice," Charlie began haltingly after he'd swallowed a few more bites. "There's… well, there's something I've got to ask you."
"Of course, Charlie, anything." She was unfailingly calm.
"He isn't coming to visit too, is he?" His anger was barely contained, lacing every word with threads of hostility.
Alice's reply, by contrast, was gentle and placid. "No, there's no risk of that. He doesn't know I'm here – I'm not sure he even knows Edythe came back."
"I gathered he wasn't back with the others yet," Edythe said, just as nonplussed as her sister. "Is he still down in South America?"
"South America?" Charlie practically choked. "I've heard of exotic Spring Break trips, but that's… well, I'm sure he's enjoying himself."
There was a sterner edge to Alice's voice now; I could imagine the dangerous look that would be in her eyes, that tiny step towards vampiric that would drive home her point. "I wouldn't count on that, Charlie."
My dad harrumphed but otherwise took the rebuff without comment.
I felt dizzy, like I'd been abruptly thrown off a merry-go-round that had been spinning too fast. Alice's comment to Beau last night had seemed only to imply that Edward had been out of the house when she had her vision, but this conversation made it clear the distance was far greater. How long had he been apart from his family, and more importantly, why? He was a crucial part of their early warning system, the only one who could see with certainty when someone was getting close to their secret. What could possibly make him leave them unprotected like that?
Before I could get close to figuring out the answers to any of these questions, or hope to overhear more from the girls, my reverie was rudely interrupted by the opening of my brother's bedroom door. Beau emerged mid enormous yawn, still in his pyjamas; like me, he usually slept in old sweatpants and t-shirts, today featuring the faded logo of a barbecue place we'd been to with Renée years ago. It had been huge on him when it was new (the restaurant hadn't carried kids sizes) but now fit quite snugly. He blinked at me dopily a few times, as if surprised to find me there, then his eyes flashed with realisation and he smiled. "Morning, sis. Sleep well?"
I winced at the volume of his voice; even Charlie would have heard it.
"Fine, thanks," I mumbled, giving up on my facade of sleep and sitting up. My voice had got back some salt-forged soreness overnight, which I hoped would make it sound like I'd just woken up myself. I looked around, feigning confusion. "Where's Alice?"
"In here, Bella!" Alice called from the kitchen, no hint in her voice that she knew I'd been listening. Then again, she'd never be so rude as to call me out on something like that.
I untangled myself from the blankets and followed Beau through to the other room. Charlie was rinsing off his plate, while both Cullen girls sat at the table, picking at their own servings of scrambled eggs and bacon.
"Morning, kiddos," he said gruffly, putting the plate down on the sideboard. "I hate to dine and dash, but I promised I'd go over and help Sue start on… getting things organised for Harry." His eyes misted over for a moment, then he cleared his throat and composed himself. "There's more food in the pan if you want any."
"Thanks Dad," Beau said, heading straight for the stove.
I hovered awkwardly in the entryway, my feet rooted to the floor by a sudden fear that I couldn't explain. Charlie gave me a curious look as he moved to go past me and I finally unfroze, grabbing him in a tight hug.
"I love you, Dad," I whispered, surprising myself with how fervent I sounded.
I'd startled him too; it took a few seconds before his arms wrapped around me in return, but when they did, they were firm, warm and full of a sense of security.
"I love you too, Bells," he replied, his voice rough with emotion. He held me for a few seconds, then pulled back, coughing awkwardly. "Well, I'd better get going. You kids have a good day."
There was a chorus of murmured goodbyes from the others, and then he was gone.
I trudged to the table, sitting in one of the empty chairs. Alice slid her plate and cutlery to me with a small, sad smile, and I accepted them gratefully. Edythe had pushed her food to the other empty space too, and Beau brought the frying pan over to top it off with fresh eggs. He raised an eyebrow and offered me some, but I shook my head; what I had was more than enough already.
"That was an intense goodbye," he commented in a way he clearly meant to be casual as he dumped the now empty pan in the sink and ran water over it to rinse off the worst of the cooking residue.
I shrugged one shoulder, my eyes fixed on my breakfast; Alice had cut up half a slice of bacon and moved things around the plate, but there didn't appear to be much, if anything, missing. I scooped a forkful into my mouth and found it still fairly warm.
"Charlie isn't much younger than Harry," I said once I'd swallowed. "And his diet's not much better. We never know what might happen." A lump was forming in my throat as I voiced the fear that had been formless before.
Alice laid her hand over mine, and the icy pressure was comforting. "I don't see any misfortunes or maladies befalling your father anytime soon, Bella. You have nothing to worry about on that front."
Beau nodded, sitting down and tucking into his own breakfast. "And he's healthier than I think you're giving him credit for. Harry's had problems with his heart for years, but Dad's is clean as a whistle. He might like all that greasy crap, but we don't give it to him that often, do we?"
I pursed my lips. "I guess not. But I can't help worrying."
"That's perfectly natural," Edythe assured me. "You care about your family, and that's a beautiful thing. We're only trying to say there might be more productive uses of your time."
"Like getting some food in you," my brother said, not even trying to be subtle now as he gestured to my plate with his fork.
I rolled my eyes but obediently went back to my eggs.
The girls started talking about their family then, a conversation that continued once Beau and I had finished eating and we all migrated back into the living room. They never mentioned the one I was most eager to hear about, but it was still interesting to listen, and I eagerly soaked up every detail.
They'd settled in Ithaca, out in New York, largely for the proximity of the university. Carine was teaching part time at Cornell and working the night shift at a nearby hospital. Jasper was at Cornell too, adding a degree in philosophy to the one he already held in history; he was of course on track to graduate early already, which Alice was clearly proud of him for. They had a nice modern house on the edge of the city that they lived in, but Earnest had also found an old seventeenth century manor a few miles north and was in the process of restoring it, working with a historical society since the place was apparently some kind of local monument. Eleanor and Rosalie had got married again, a small civil ceremony that was apparently remarkably low-key for them, and headed off to Europe for a few months, but they'd returned last week, just in time for the family – minus the two former Masons – to head for their cousins' home in Denali for Cornell's Spring Break.
I was surprised to hear that Alice had also spent some time away from the others. She'd apparently decided to start following the thread that James had left dangling last year, when he'd claimed to know – and indeed be a part of – Alice's mysterious origins, a story she herself had forgotten somehow during her transformation process. Even Edythe leaned in when Alice started her explanation; it seemed she hadn't shared it with her sister yet.
"I went back to where I woke up, and scouted the area for asylums that were still operating in 1920," she began, her tone uncharacteristically subdued. "It wasn't too difficult – there were only about three institutions in the entire state, and only one near enough to be viable. They're closed down now, of course, but all their records got moved into the nearest city archives, and I managed to find my files by claiming I was doing genealogical research. There was only one record of anyone named Alice with an assumed death date at the right time."
There was no strong emotion to the way she spoke; it was almost as if she were talking about someone else, not her own tragic history. Which, I realised, might not be so far from the truth. After all, if you didn't remember a chunk of your life, it was bound to feel like it belonged to a completely different person.
Still, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders slightly before she went on. "My name was Mary Alice Brandon. I was born in 1901, and according to my admission sheet, I was institutionalised in 1919. So I was about eighteen when my family put me in there, and nineteen when my maker took me out."
"So you're only a little younger than me," Edythe commented, and the sisters exchanged small smiles.
"Did you find out anything about your family?" Beau asked, his face grim.
"Or why they… put you away?" I added haltingly, hating my choice of phrasing as soon as I said it. Then again, was there any good way to say something like that? As far as I was concerned, it was horrific that anyone had ever considered locking her up, especially her family, even if they had thought she was crazy for claiming to see the future.
Alice shook her head. "There was some, but not a lot. The main source I found was the microfiche copies of the old newspapers, and even trawling through all of it, there were precious few mentions of any Brandons at all. We mainly showed up in the announcement pages – births, marriages, deaths. I found my parents and me, and my little sister, Cynthia." There was just a moment of hesitation as she said the name, as if she were uncertain about acknowledging the newly discovered sibling. "From the dates, she was about nine years younger than me. Eventually she got married and had her own family – her daughter is still alive in Biloxi."
"Do you think they know what happened to you?" I wondered. "I mean, that you disappeared from… that place."
"I doubt it," she said, still casual and calm. "The paper had an announcement of my death that matched the admissions date from the asylum records. I even found my gravestone, so it looks like they just pretended I died and went on with their lives. Most likely they weren't told I'd gone missing, if the staff even cared enough to notice. They recorded my cause of death as an illness."
I wanted to find some word of comfort, something to say to lighten the mood, but it felt impossible. Nothing I could think of went beyond trite, obvious platitudes like 'that's awful' or 'I'm so sorry'. And really, Alice didn't seem at all bothered by the abandonment.
Thankfully, Edythe was more with it, and she quickly changed the subject, asking about how the Denalis were doing.
It was late again when Charlie got back; we ate without him and saved a plate again, and he looked even more worn out when he stumbled through the door. He excused himself to bed as soon as he'd eaten, since he'd be heading out early in the morning for Harry's funeral. Beau made a few pointed comments about heading for our own beds, but I didn't want to leave Alice; in the end, we moved Edythe's air mattress and my comforter downstairs and all camped out in the living room, leaving Beau's door open so he felt included.
I woke to the creak of footsteps on the stairs, and from my vantage point on the sofa I could just see Charlie in the hallway. He wore a suit I hadn't known he even owned; based on the style, the wear and the snug fit, I guessed he'd had it a long time. He was clearly trying to be quiet so as not to disturb us, so I maintained my feigned sleep and let him go.
Edythe and Alice were pretending to be asleep too, but they dropped the act as soon as the front door clicked shut; it was almost comical how both of them sat bolt upright, pushing back their covers to reveal that they were already fully dressed. Edythe went to check on Beau, and I heard their murmured good mornings.
"Any plans for today?" Alice asked me, her casual tone almost jarring in its contrast to my father's grief.
"Not really," I admitted. "Can you see anything exciting happening?"
She grinned as she shook her head. "Not yet, but there's still plenty of time."
"One or both of us needs to do a patrol run," Edythe chimed in, leading a still bleary-eyed Beau out of his room. "I have no idea how many of the pack will be at the funeral today, and we don't want Victoria trying to slip through any gaps."
Alice nodded, abruptly solemn. "I'll stay here as the last line of defence – you know her scent better than me."
"We've got a pile of chores to be getting on with." Beau rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "There's a lot been neglected with both of us spending so much time out of the house."
I cringed, annoyed with myself for not thinking of it sooner. "You're right. Maybe it will make Charlie feel a little better if he comes home to a clean house."
We made a list and divided responsibility over a quick breakfast, then set to work. Beau took the laundry while I had the bathroom, and I quickly realised he'd completely screwed me over; the bathtub alone clearly hadn't had a deep clean in months, and it was going to take me a few hours just to tick this one item off my list. But I knew complaining about it wouldn't do me any good, so I gathered up the heavy-duty cleaning supplies and got to work.
Thankfully, Alice decided to keep me company while I scrubbed, and chatting to her made the work go faster. She even offered to help with the handling of some of the more corrosive chemicals, though I was loath to let her get close to them in her nice clothes. Plus, it felt wrong to have a guest doing manual labour, and I knew I could be a bit of a control freak when it came to cleaning. So I politely declined, and she instead leaning in the doorway and asked questions about school and how all our friends were doing. I managed to keep my cringing internal when I realised how little I actually knew, but I still detected a clear sense of disapproval from her. Or perhaps it was just leftover guilt from listening in when she was talking to Charlie yesterday.
I was telling her a half-remembered story about one of McKayla's disaster dates while I scrubbed the bottom of the bathtub, submerged up to my elbows in Comet, when I heard the doorbell ring.
"I've got it!" Beau hollered from the direction of the kitchen.
I looked at Alice, and my stomach immediately dropped; she was frowning in concern and confusion, an expression I'd seen her wearing only a handful of times since I'd known her.
"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up and hurriedly drying my hands with a towel.
"Maybe nothing… I don't know." Her hesitation was seriously disconcerting – when Alice didn't know, bad things happened. "But given that I don't see anyone coming to this house now, and extrapolating from what I didn't see the other day, I can make an educated guess and say that one of the Quileutes is at the door." She made a disgruntled face. "And that being the case, I think I ought to make myself scarce."
Now it was my turn to frown. "You don't have to go anywhere. The pack doesn't get to have an opinion about who we let in our own house."
"Bells, you got a minute?" my brother yelled.
"One second!" I shouted back, scrambling to my feet.
Alice leaned in to give me a peck on the cheek. "You're sweet to say so, but truly, it's better if I go. Best not rock the boat, right?"
"You'll come back?" I hated how desperate I sounded, yet I couldn't truly regret it either.
"Of course," she promised, in that tone I couldn't help but believe. Then her smile turned wicked. "Just as soon as you put the dog out."
Before I could even think to scold her for being so confrontational, she was gone, slipping through Charlie's bedroom door and presumably out of his window at the back of the house.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and headed downstairs.