Chapter 7 Melody

I had to wait when I got back to school. The final hour wasn’t out yet. That was good,because I had things to think about and I needed the alone time.

　　Her scent lingered in the car. I kept the windows up, letting it assault me, tryingto get used to the feel of intentionally torching my throat.

　　Attraction.

　　It was a problematic thing to contemplate. So many sides to it, so many differentmeanings and levels. Not the same thing as love, but tied up in it inextricably.

　　I had no idea if Bella was attracted to me. (Would her mental silence somehowcontinue to get more and more frustrating until I went mad? Or was there a limit that Iwould eventually reach?)I tried to compare her physical responses to others, like the secretary and JessicaStanley, but the comparison was inconclusive. The same markers—changes in heart rateand breathing patterns—could just as easily mean fear or shock or anxiety as they didinterest. It seemed unlikely that Bella could be entertaining the same kinds of thoughtsthat Jessica Stanley used to have. After all, Bella knew very well that there wassomething wrong with me, even if she didn’t know what exactly it was. She had touchedmy icy skin, and then yanked her hand away from the chill.

　　And yet…as I remembered those fantasies that used to repulse me, butremembered them with Bella in Jessica’s place…I was breathing more quickly, the fire clawing up and down my throat.

　　What if it had been Bella imagining me with my arms wrapped around her fragilebody? Feeling me pull her tightly against my chest and then cupping my hand under herchin? Brushing the heavy curtain of her hair back from her blushing face? Tracing theshape of her full lips with my fingertips? Leaning my face closer to hers, where I couldfeel the heat of her breath on my mouth? Moving closer still…But then I flinched away from the daydream, knowing, as I had known whenJessica had imagined these things, what would happen if I got that close to her.

　　 Attraction was an impossible dilemma, because I was already too attracted toBella in the worst way.

　　Did I want Bella to be attracted to me, a woman to a man?

　　That was the wrong question. The right question was should I want Bella to beattracted to me that way, and that answer was no. Because I was not a human man, andthat wasn’t fair to her.

　　With every fiber of my being, I ached to be a normal man, so that I could hold herin my arms without risking her life. So that I could be free to spin my own fantasies,fantasies that didn’t end in with her blood on my hands, her blood glowing in my eyes.

　　My pursuit of her was indefensible. What kind of relationship could I offer her,when I couldn’t risk touching her?

　　I hung my head in my hands.

　　It was all the more confusing because I had never felt so human in my wholelife—not even when I was human, as far as I could recall. When I had been human, mythoughts had all been turned to a soldier’s glory. The Great War had raged through mostof my adolescence, and I’d been only nine months away from my eighteenth birthdaywhen the influenza had struck… I had just vague impressions of those human years,murky memories that faded more with every passing decade. I remembered my mothermost clearly, and felt an ancient ache when I thought of her face. I recalled dimly howmuch she had hated the future I’d raced eagerly toward, praying every night when shesaid grace at dinner that the “horrid war” would end… I had no memories of anotherkind of yearning. Besides my mother’s love, there was no other love that had made mewish to stay…This was entirely new to me. I had no parallels to draw, no comparisons to make.

　　The love I felt for Bella had come purely, but now the waters were muddied. Iwanted very much to be able to touch her. Did she feel the same way?

　　That didn’t matter, I tried to convince myself.

　　I stared at my white hands, hating their hardness, their coldness, their inhumanstrength…I jumped when the passenger door opened.

　　 Ha. Caught you by surprise. There’s a first, Emmett thought as he slid into theseat. “I’ll bet Mrs. Goff thinks you’re on drugs, you’ve been so erratic lately. Wherewere you today?”

　　“I was…doing good deeds.”

　　Huh?

　　I chuckled. “Caring for the sick, that kind of thing.”

　　That confused him more, but then he inhaled and caught the scent in the car.

　　“Oh. The girl again?”

　　I grimaced.

　　This is getting weird.

　　“Tell me about it,” I mumbled.

　　He inhaled again. “Hmm, she does have a quite a flavor, doesn’t she?”

　　The snarl broke through my lips before his words had even registered all the way,an automatic response.

　　“Easy, kid, I’m just sayin.’”

　　The others arrived then. Rosalie noticed the scent at once and glowered at me,still not over her irritation. I wondered what her problem was, but all I could hear fromher were insults.

　　I didn’t like Jasper’s reaction, either. Like Emmett, he noticed Bella’s appeal.

　　Not that the scent had, for either of them, a thousandth portion of the draw it had for me.

　　I was still upset me that her blood was sweet to them. Jasper had poor control…Alice skipped to my side of the car and held her hand out for Bella’s truck key.

　　“I only saw that I was,” she said—obscurely, as was her habit. “You’ll have totell me the whys.”

　　“This doesn’t mean—”

　　“I know, I know. I’ll wait. It won’t be long.”

　　I sighed and gave her the key.

　　I followed her to Bella’s house. The rain was pounding down like a million tinyhammers, so loud that maybe Bella’s human ears couldn’t hear the thunder of the truck’sengine. I watched her window, but she didn’t come to look out. Maybe she wasn’t there.

　　There were no thoughts to hear.

　　 It made me sad that I couldn’t hear enough even to check on her—to make sureshe was happy, or safe, at the least.

　　Alice climbed in the back and we sped home. The roads were empty, and so itonly took a few minutes. We trooped into the house, and then went to our variouspastimes.

　　Emmett and Jasper were in the middle of an elaborate game of chess, utilizingeight joined boards—spread out along the glass back wall—and their own complicatedset of rules. They wouldn’t let me play; only Alice would play games with me anymore.

　　Alice went to her computer just around the corner from them and I could hear hermonitors sing to life. Alice was working on a fashion design project for Rosalie’swardrobe, but Rosalie did not join her today, to stand behind her and direct cut and coloras Alice’s hand traced over the touch sensitive screens (Carlisle and I had had to tweakthat system a bit, given that most such screens responded to temperature). Instead, todayRosalie sprawled sullenly on the sofa and started flipping through twenty channels asecond on the flat screen, never pausing. I could hear her trying to decide whether or notto go out to the garage and tune her BMW again.

　　Esme was upstairs, humming over a new set of blue prints.

　　Alice leaned her head around the wall after a moment and started mouthingEmmett’s next moves—Emmett sat on the floor with his back to her—to Jasper, whokept his expression very smooth as he cut off Emmett’s favorite knight.

　　And I, for the first time in so long that I felt ashamed, went to sit at the exquisitegrand piano stationed just off the entryway.

　　I ran my hand gently up the scales, testing the pitch. The tuning was still perfect.

　　Upstairs, Esme paused what she was doing and cocked her head to the side.

　　I began the first line of the tune that had suggested itself to me in the car today,pleased that it sounded even better than I’d imagined.

　　Edward is playing again, Esme thought joyously, a smile breaking across herface. She got up from her desk, and flitted silently to the head of the stairs.

　　I added a harmonizing line, letting the central melody weave through it.

　　Esme sighed with contentment, sat down on the top step, and leaned her headagainst the banister. A new song. It’s been so long. What a lovely tune.

　　 I let the melody lead in a new direction, following it with the bass line.

　　Edward is composing again? Rosalie thought, and her teeth clenched together infierce resentment.

　　In that moment, she slipped, and I could read all her underlying outrage. I sawwhy she was in such a poor temper with me. Why killing Isabella Swan had not botheredher conscience at all.

　　With Rosalie, it was always about vanity.

　　The music came to an abrupt halt, and I laughed before I could help myself, asharp bark of amusement that broke off quickly as I threw my hand over my mouth.

　　Rosalie turned to glare at me, her eyes sparking with chagrined fury.

　　Emmett and Jasper turned to stare, too, and I heard Esme’s confusion. Esme wasdownstairs in a flash, pausing to glance between Rosalie and me.

　　“Don’t stop, Edward,” Esme encouraged after a strained moment.

　　I started playing again, turning my back on Rosalie while trying very hard tocontrol the grin stretching across my face. She got to her feet and stalked out of theroom, more angry than embarrassed. But certainly quite embarrassed.

　　If you say anything I will hunt you like a dog.

　　I smothered another laugh.

　　“What’s wrong, Rose?” Emmett called after her. Rosalie didn’t turn. Shecontinued, back ramrod straight, to the garage and then squirmed under her car as if shecould bury herself there.

　　“What’s that about?” Emmett asked me.

　　“I don’t have the faintest idea,” I lied.

　　Emmett grumbled, frustrated.

　　“Keep playing,” Esme urged. My hands had paused again.

　　I did as she asked, and she came to stand behind me, putting her hands on myshoulders.

　　The song was compelling, but incomplete. I toyed with a bridge, but it didn’tseem right somehow.

　　“It’s charming. Does it have a name?” Esme asked.

　　“Not yet.”

　　 “Is there a story to it?” she asked, a smile in her voice. This gave her very greatpleasure, and I felt guilty for having neglected my music for so long. It had been selfish.

　　“It’s…a lullaby, I suppose.” I got the bridge right then. It led easily to the nextmovement, taking on a life of its own.

　　“A lullaby,” she repeated to herself.

　　There was a story to this melody, and once I saw that, the pieces fell into placeeffortlessly. The story was a sleeping girl in a narrow bed, dark hair thick and wild andtwisted like seaweed across the pillow…Alice left Jasper to his own devices and came to sit next to me on the bench. Inher trilling, wind chime voice, she sketched out a wordless descant two octaves above themelody.

　　“I like it,” I murmured. “But how about this?”

　　I added her line to the harmony—my hands were flying across the keys now towork all the pieces together—modifying it a bit, taking it in a new direction…She caught the mood, and sung along.

　　“Yes. Perfect,” I said.

　　Esme squeezed my shoulder.

　　But I could see the end now, with Alice’s voice rising above the tune and taking itto another place. I could see how the song must end, because the sleeping girl wasperfect just the way she was, and any change at all would be wrong, a sadness. The songdrifted toward that realization, slower and lower now. Alice’s voice lowered, too, andbecame solemn, a tone that belonged under the echoing arches of a candlelit cathedral.

　　I played the last note, and then bowed my head over the keys.

　　Esme stroked my hair. It’s going to be fine, Edward. This is going to work outfor the best. You deserve happiness, my son. Fate owes you that.

　　“Thanks,” I whispered, wishing I could believe it.

　　Love doesn’t always come in convenient packages.

　　I laughed once without humor.

　　You, out of everyone on this planet, are perhaps best equipped to deal with such adifficult quandary. You are the best and the brightest of us all.

　　I sighed. Every mother thought the same of her son.

　　 Esme was still full of joy that my heart had finally been touched after all this time,no matter the potential for tragedy. She’d thought I would always be alone…She’ll have to love you back, she thought suddenly, catching me by surprise withthe direction of her thoughts. If she’s a bright girl. She smiled. But I can’t imagineanyone being so slow they wouldn’t see the catch you are.

　　“Stop it, Mom, you’re making me blush,” I teased. Her words, thoughimprobable, did cheer me.

　　Alice laughed and picked out the top hand of “Heart and Soul.” I grinned andcompleted the simple harmony with her. Then I favored her with a performance of“Chopsticks.”

　　She giggled, then sighed. “So I wish you’d tell me what you were laughing atRose about,” Alice said. “But I can see that you won’t.”

　　“Nope.”

　　She flicked my ear with her finger.

　　“Be nice, Alice,” Esme chided. “Edward is being a gentleman.”

　　“But I want to know.”

　　I laughed at the whining tone she put on. Then I said, “Here, Esme,” and beganplaying her favorite song, an unnamed tribute to the love I’d watched between her andCarlisle for so many years.

　　“Thank you, dear.” She squeezed my shoulder again.

　　I didn’t have to concentrate to play the familiar piece. Instead I thought ofRosalie, still figuratively writhing in mortification in the garage, and I grinned to myself.

　　Having just discovered the potency of jealousy for myself, I had a small amountof pity for her. It was a wretched way to feel. Of course, her jealously was a thousandtimes more petty than mine. Quite the fox in the manger scenario.

　　I wondered how Rosalie’s life and personality would have been different if shehad not always been the most beautiful. Would she have been a happier person if beautyhadn’t at all times been her strongest selling point? Less egocentric? Morecompassionate? Well, I supposed it was useless to wonder, because the past was done,and she always had been the most beautiful. Even when human, she had ever lived in thespotlight of her own loveliness. Not that she’d minded. The opposite—she’d loved admiration above almost anything else. That hadn’t changed with the loss of hermortality.

　　It was no surprise then, taking this need as a given, that she’d been offended whenI had not, from the beginning, worshiped her beauty the way she expected all males toworship. Not that she’d wanted me in any way—far from it. But it had aggravated herthat I did not want her, despite that. She was used to being wanted.

　　It was different with Jasper and Carlisle—they were already both in love. I wascompletely unattached, and yet still remained obstinately unmoved.

　　I’d thought that old resentment was buried. That she was long passed it.

　　And she had been…until the day that I finally found someone whose beautytouched me the way hers had not.

　　Rosalie had relied on the belief that if I did not find her beauty worth worshiping,then certainly there was no beauty on earth that would reach me. She’d been furioussince the moment I’d saved Bella’s life, guessing, with her shrewd female intuition, theinterest that I was all but unconscious of myself.

　　Rosalie was mortally offended that I found some insignificant human girl moreappealing than her.

　　I suppressed the urge to laugh again.

　　It bothered me some, though, the way she saw Bella. Rosalie actually thought thegirl was plain. How could she believe that? It seemed incomprehensible to me. Aproduct of the jealousy, no doubt.

　　“Oh!” Alice said abruptly. “Jasper, guess what?”

　　I saw what she’d just seen, and my hands froze on the keys.

　　“What, Alice?” Jasper asked.

　　“Peter and Charlotte are coming to visit next week! They’re going to be in theneighborhood, isn’t that nice?”

　　“What’s wrong, Edward?” Esme asked, feeling the tension in my shoulders.

　　“Peter and Charlotte are coming to Forks?” I hissed at AliceShe rolled her eyes at me. “Calm down, Edward. It’s not their first visit.”

　　My teeth clenched together. It was their first visit since Bella had arrived, and hersweet blood didn’t appeal just to me.

　　 Alice frowned at my expression. “They never hunt here. You know that.”

　　But Jasper’s brother of sorts and the little vampire he loved were not like us; theyhunted the usual way. They could not be trusted around Bella.

　　“When?” I demanded.

　　She pursed her lips unhappily, but told me what I needed to know. Mondaymorning. No one is going to hurt Bella.

　　“No,” I agreed, and then turned away from her. “You ready, Emmett?”

　　“I thought we were leaving in the morning?”

　　“We’re coming back by midnight Sunday. I guess it’s up to you when you wantto leave.”

　　“Okay, fine. Let me say goodbye to Rose first.”

　　“Sure.” With the mood Rosalie was in, it would be a short goodbye.

　　You really have lost it, Edward, he thought as he headed toward the back door.

　　“I suppose I have.”

　　“Play the new song for me, one more time,” Esme asked.

　　“If you’d like that,” I agreed, though I was a little hesitant to follow the tune to itsunavoidable end—the end that had set me aching in unfamiliar ways. I thought for amoment, and then pulled the bottle cap from my pocket and set it on the empty musicstand. That helped a bit—my little memento of her yes.

　　I nodded to myself, and started playing.

　　Esme and Alice exchanged a glance, but neither one asked.

　　“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to play with your food?” I called to Emmett.

　　“Oh, hey Edward!” he shouted back, grinning and waving at me. The bear tookadvantage of his distraction to rake its heavy paw across Emmett’s chest. The sharpclaws shredded through his shirt, and squealed across his skin.

　　The bear bellowed at the high-pitched noise.

　　Aw hell, Rose gave me this shirt!

　　Emmett roared back at the enraged animal.

　　 I sighed and sat down on a convenient boulder. This might take awhile.

　　But Emmett was almost done. He let the bear try to take his head off with anotherswipe of the paw, laughing as the blow bounced off and sent the bear staggering back.

　　The bear roared and Emmett roared again through his laughter. Then he launchedhimself at the animal, who stood a head taller than him on its hind legs, and their bodiesfell to the ground tangled up together, taking a mature spruce tree down with them. Thebear’s growls cut off with a gurgle.

　　A few minutes later, Emmett jogged over to where I was waiting for him. Hisshirt was destroyed, torn and bloodied, sticky with sap and covered in fur. His dark curlyhair wasn’t in much better shape. He had a huge grin on his face.

　　“That was a strong one. I could almost feel it when he clawed me.”

　　“You’re such a child, Emmett.”

　　He eyed my smooth, clean white button-down. “Weren’t you able to track downthat mountain lion, then?”

　　“Of course I was. I just don’t eat like a savage.”

　　Emmett laughed his booming laugh. “I wish they were stronger. It would bemore fun.”

　　“No one said you had to fight your food.”

　　“Yeah, but who else am I going to fight with? You and Alice cheat, Rose neverwants to get her hair messed up, and Esme gets mad if Jasper and I really go at it.”

　　“Life is hard all around, isn’t it?”

　　Emmett grinned at me, shifting his weight a bit so that he was suddenly poised totake a charge.

　　“C’mon Edward. Just turn it off for one minute and fight fair.”

　　“It doesn’t turn off,” I reminded him.

　　“Wonder what that human girl does to keep you out?” Emmett mused. “Maybeshe could give me some pointers.”

　　My good humor vanished. “Stay away from her,” I growled through my teeth.

　　“Touchy, touchy.”

　　I sighed. Emmett came to sit beside me on the rock.

　　 “Sorry. I know you’re going through a tough spot. I really am trying to not betoo much of an insensitive jerk, but, since that’s sort of my natural state…”

　　He waited for me to laugh at his joke, and then made a face.

　　So serious all the time. What’s bugging you now?

　　“Thinking about her. Well, worrying, really.”

　　“What’s there to worry about? You are here.” He laughed loudly.

　　I ignored his joke again, but answered his question. “Have you ever thoughtabout how fragile they all are? How many bad things there are that can happen to amortal?”

　　“Not really. I guess I see what you mean, though. I wasn’t much match for abear that first time around, was I?”

　　“Bears,” I muttered, adding a new fear to the pile. “That would be just her luck,wouldn’t it? Stray bear in town. Of course it would head straight for Bella.”

　　Emmett chuckled. “You sound like a crazy person, do you know that?”

　　“Just imagine for one minute that Rosalie was human, Emmett. And she couldrun into a bear…or get hit by a car…or lightening…or fall down stairs…or get sick—geta disease!” The words burst from me stormily. It was a relief to let them out—they’dbeen festering inside me all weekend. “Fires and earthquakes and tornados! Ugh!

　　When’s the last time you watched the news? Have you seen the kinds of things thathappen to them? Burglaries and homicides…” My teeth clenched together, and I wasabruptly so infuriated by the idea of another human hurting her that I couldn’t breathe.

　　“Whoa, whoa! Hold up, there, kid. She lives in Forks, remember? So she getsrained on.” He shrugged.

　　“I think she has some serious bad luck, Emmett, I really do. Look at the evidence.

　　Of all the places in the world she could go, she ends up in a town where vampires makeup a significant portion of the population.”

　　“Yeah, but we’re vegetarians. So isn’t that good luck, not bad?”

　　“With the way she smells? Definitely bad. And then, more bad luck, the way shesmells to me.” I glowered at my hands, hating them again.

　　“Except that you have more self-control than just about anyone but Carlisle.

　　Good luck again.”

　　 “The van?”

　　“That was just an accident.”

　　“You should have seen it coming for her, Em, again and again. I swear, it waslike she had some kind of magnetic pull.”

　　“But you were there. That was good luck.”

　　“Was it? Isn’t this the worst luck any human could ever possibly have—to have avampire fall in love with them?”

　　Emmett considered that quietly for a moment. He pictured the girl in his head,and found the image uninteresting. Honestly, I can’t really see the draw.

　　“Well, I can’t really see Rosalie’s allure, either,” I said rudely. “Honestly, sheseems like more work than any pretty face is worth.”

　　Emmett chuckled. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me…”

　　“I don’t know what her problem is, Emmett,” I lied with a sudden, wide grin.

　　I saw his intent in time to brace myself. He tried to shove me off the rock, andthere was a loud cracking sound as a fissure opened in the stone between us.

　　“Cheater,” he muttered.

　　I waited for him to try another time, but his thoughts took a different direction.

　　He was picturing Bella’s face again, but imagining it whiter, imagining her eyes brightred…“No,” I said, my voice strangled.

　　“It solves your worries about mortality, doesn’t it? And then you wouldn’t wantto kill her, either. Isn’t that the best way?”

　　“For me? Or for her?”

　　“For you,” he answered easily. His tone added the of course.

　　I laughed humorlessly. “Wrong answer.”

　　“I didn’t mind so much,” he reminded me.

　　“Rosalie did.”

　　He sighed. We both knew that Rosalie would do anything, give up anything, if itmeant she could be human again. Even Emmett.

　　“Yeah, Rose did,” he acquiesced quietly.

　　 “I can’t… I shouldn’t… I’m not going to ruin Bella’s life. Wouldn’t you feel thesame, if it were Rosalie?”

　　Emmett thought about that for a moment. You really…love her?

　　“I can’t even describe it, Emmett. All of a sudden, this girl’s the whole world tome. I don’t see the point of the rest of the world without her anymore.”

　　But you won’t change her? She won’t last forever, Edward.

　　“I know that,” I groaned.

　　And, as you’ve pointed out, she’s sort of breakable.

　　“Trust me—that I know, too.”

　　Emmett was not a tactful person, and delicate discussions were not his forte. Hestruggled now, wanting very much not to be offensive.

　　Can you even touch her? I mean, if you love her…wouldn’t you want to, welltouch her…?

　　Emmett and Rosalie shared an intensely physical love. He had a hard timeunderstanding how one could love, without that aspect.

　　I sighed. “I can’t even think of that, Emmett.”

　　Wow. So what are your options, then?

　　“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I’m trying to figure out a way to…to leave her. Ijust can’t fathom how to make myself stay away…”

　　With a deep sense of gratification, I suddenly realized that it was right for me tostay—at least for now, with Peter and Charlotte on their way. She was safer with mehere, temporarily, than she would be if I were gone. For the moment, I could be herunlikely protector.

　　The thought made me anxious; I itched to be back so that I could fill that role foras long as possible.

　　Emmett noticed the change in my expression. What are you thinking about?

　　“Right now,” I admitted a bit sheepishly, “I’m dying to run back to Forks andcheck on her. I don’t know if I’ll make it till Sunday night.”

　　“Uh-uh! You are not going home early. Let Rosalie cool down a little bit.

　　Please! For my sake.”

　　“I’ll try to stay,” I said doubtfully.

　　 Emmett tapped the phone in my pocket. “Alice would call if there were any basisfor your panic attack. She’s as weird about this girl as you are.”

　　I grimaced at that. “Fine. But I’m not staying past Sunday.”

　　“There’s no point in hurrying back—it’s going to be sunny, anyway. Alice saidwe were free from school until Wednesday.”

　　I shook my head rigidly.

　　“Peter and Charlotte know how to behave themselves.”

　　“I really don’t care, Emmett. With Bella’s luck, she’ll go wandering off into thewoods at exactly the wrong moment and—” I flinched. “Peter isn’t known for his self-control. I’m going back Sunday.”

　　Emmett sighed. Exactly like a crazy person.

　　Bella was sleeping peacefully when I climbed up to her bedroom window early Mondaymorning. I’d remembered oil this time, and the window now moved silently out of myway.

　　I could tell by the way her hair lay smooth across the pillow that she’d had a lessrestless night than the last time I was here. She had her hands folded under her cheek likea small child, and her mouth was slightly open. I could hear her breath moving slowly inand out between her lips.

　　It was an amazing relief to be here, to be able to see her again. I realized that Iwasn’t truly at ease unless that was the case. Nothing was right when I was away fromher.

　　Not that all was right when I was with her, either, though. I sighed, letting thethirst fire rake through my throat. I’d been away from it too long. The time spentwithout pain and temptation made it all the more forceful now. It was bad enough that Iwas afraid to go kneel beside her bed so that I could read the titles of her books. I wantedto know the stories in her head, but I was afraid of more than my thirst, afraid that if I letmyself get that close to her, I would want to be closer still… Her lips looked very soft and warm. I could imagine touching them with the tipof my finger. Just lightly…That was exactly the kind of mistake that I had to avoid.

　　My eyes ran over her face again and again, examining it for changes. Mortalschanged all the time—I was sad at the thought of missing anything…I thought she looked…tired. Like she hadn’t gotten enough sleep this weekend.

　　Had she gone out?

　　I laughed silently and wryly at how much that upset me. So what if she had? Ididn’t own her. She wasn’t mine.

　　No, she wasn’t mine—and I was sad again.

　　One of her hands twitched, and I noticed that there were shallow, barely healedscrapes across the heel of her palm. She’d been hurt? Even though it was obviously nota serious injury, it still disturbed me. I considered the location, and decided she musthave tripped. That seemed a reasonable explanation, all things considered.

　　It was comforting to think that I wouldn’t have to puzzle over either of thesesmall mysteries forever. We were friends now—or, at least, trying to be friends. I couldask her about her weekend—about the beach, and whatever late night activity had madeher look so weary. I could ask what had happened to her hands. And I could laugh alittle when she confirmed my theory about them.

　　I smiled gently as I wondered whether or not she had fallen in the ocean. Iwondered if she’d had a pleasant time on the outing. I wondered if she’d thought aboutme at all. If she’d missed me even the tiniest portion of the amount that I’d missed her.

　　I tried to picture her in the sun on the beach. The picture was incomplete, though,because I’d never been to First Beach myself. I only knew how it looked in pictures…I felt a tiny qualm of unease as I thought about the reason why I’d never oncebeen to the pretty beach located just a few minutes run from my home. Bella had spentthe day at La Push—a place where I was forbidden, by treaty, to go. A place where a fewold men still remembered the stories about the Cullens, remembered and believed them.

　　A place where our secret was known…I shook my head. I had nothing to worry about there. The Quileutes were boundby treaty, too. Even had Bella run into one of those aging sages, they could reveal nothing. And why would the subject ever be broached? Why would Bella think to voiceher curiosity there? No—the Quileutes were perhaps the one thing I did not have toworry about.

　　I was angry with the sun when it began to rise. It reminded me that I could notsatisfy my curiosity for days to come. Why did it choose to shine now?

　　With a sigh, I ducked out her window before it was light enough for anyone to seeme here. I meant to stay in the thick forest by her house and see her off to school, butwhen I got into the trees, I was surprised to find the trace of her scent lingering on thetrail there.

　　I followed it quickly, curiously, becoming more and more worried as it led deeperinto the darkness. What had Bella been doing out here?

　　The trail stopped abruptly, in the middle of nowhere in particular. She’d gone justa few steps off the trail, into the ferns, where she’d touched the trunk of a fallen tree.

　　Perhaps sat there…I sat where she had, and looked around. All she would have been able to see wasferns and forest. It had probably been raining—the scent was washed out, having neverset deeply into the tree.

　　Why would Bella have come to sit here alone—and she had been alone, no doubtabout that—in the middle of the wet, murky forest?

　　It made no sense, and, unlike those other points of curiosity, I could hardly bringthis up in casual conversation.

　　So, Bella, I was following your scent through the woods after I left your roomwhere I’d been watching you sleep… Yes, that would be quite the ice breaker.

　　I would never know what she’d been thinking and doing here, and that had myteeth grinding together in frustration. Worse, this was far too much like the scenario I’dimagined for Emmett—Bella wandering alone in the woods, where her scent would callto anyone who had the senses to track it…I groaned. Not only did she have bad luck, but she courted it.

　　Well, for this moment she had a protector. I would watch over her, keep her fromharm, for as long as I could justify it.

　　 I suddenly found myself wishing that Peter and Charlotte would make anextended stay.