Then there was a movement in the night, right beside me. Edward slid through my open window, his hands colder than the rain.
“Is Jacob out there?” I asked, shivering as Edward pulled me into the circle of his arm.
“Yes . . . somewhere. And Esme’s on her way home.”
I sighed. “It’s so cold and wet. This is silly.” I shivered again.
He chuckled. “It’s only cold to you, Bella.”
It was cold in my dream that night, too, maybe because I slept in Edward’s arms. But I dreamt I was outside in the storm, the wind whipping my hair in my face and blinding my eyes. I stood on the rocky crescent of First Beach, trying to understand the quickly moving shapes I could only dimly see in the darkness at the shore’s edge. At first, there was nothing but a flash of white and black, darting toward each other and dancing away. And then, as if the moon had suddenly broken from the clouds, I could see everything.
Rosalie, her hair swinging wet and golden down to the back of her knees, was lunging at an enormous wolf — its muzzle shot through with silver — that I instinctively recognized as Billy Black.
I broke into a run, but found myself moving in the frustrating slow motion of dreamers. I tried to scream to them, to tell them to stop, but my voice was stolen by the wind, and I could make no sound. I waved my arms, hoping to catch their attention. Something flashed in my hand, and I noticed for the first time that my right hand wasn’t empty.
I held a long, sharp blade, ancient and silver, crusted in dried, blackened blood.
I cringed away from the knife, and my eyes snapped open to the quiet darkness of my bedroom. The first thing I realized was that I was not alone, and I turned to bury my face in Edward’s chest, knowing the sweet scent of his skin would chase the nightmare away more effectively than anything else.
“Did I wake you?” he whispered. There was the sound of paper, the ruffling of pages, and a faint thump as something light fell to the wooden floor.
“No,” I mumbled, sighing in contentment as his arms tightened around me. “I had a bad dream.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
I shook my head. “Too tired. Maybe in the morning, if I remember.”
I felt a silent laugh shake through him.
“In the morning,” he agreed.
“What were you reading?” I muttered, not really awake at all.
“Wuthering Heights,” he said.
I frowned sleepily. “I thought you didn’t like that book.”
“You left it out,” he murmured, his soft voice lulling me toward unconsciousness. “Besides . . . the more time I spend with you, the more human emotions seem comprehensible to me. I’m discovering that I can sympathize with Heathcliff in ways I didn’t think possible before.”
“Mmm,” I sighed.
He said something else, something low, but I was already asleep.
The next morning dawned pearl gray and still. Edward asked me about my dream, but I couldn’t get a handle on it. I only remembered that I was cold, and that I was glad he was there when I woke up. He kissed me, long enough to get my pulse racing, and then headed home to change and get his car.
I dressed quickly, low on options. Whoever had ransacked my hamper had critically impaired my wardrobe. If it wasn’t so frightening, it would be seriously annoying.
As I was about to head down for breakfast, I noticed my battered copy of Wuthering Heights lying open on the floor where Edward had dropped it in the night, holding his place the way the damaged binding always held mine.
I picked it up curiously, trying to remember what he’d said. Something about feeling sympathy for Heathcliff, of all people. That couldn’t be right; I must have dreamed that part.
Three words on the open page caught my eye, and I bent my head to read the paragraph more closely. It was Heathcliff speaking, and I knew the passage well.
And there you see the distinction between our feelings: had he been in my place and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against him. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished him from her society as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out, and drank his blood! But, till then — if you don’t believe me, you don’t know me — till then, I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair of his head!
The three words that had caught my eye were “drank his blood.”
I shuddered.
Yes, surely I must have dreamt that Edward said anything positive about Heathcliff. And this page was probably not the page he’d been reading. The book could have fallen open to any page.
12. TIME
“I HAVE FORESEEN . . . ,” ALICE BEGAN IN AN OMINOUS tone.
Edward threw an elbow toward her ribs, which she neatly dodged.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “Edward is making me do this. But I did foresee that you would be more difficult if I surprised you.”
We were walking to the car after school, and I was completely clueless as to what she was talking about.
“In English?” I requested.
“Don’t be a baby about this. No tantrums.”
“Now I’m scared.”
“So you’re — I mean we’re — having a graduation party. It’s no big thing. Nothing to freak out over. But I saw that you would freak out if I tried to make it a surprise party” — she danced out of the way as Edward reached over to muss her hair — “and Edward said I had to tell you. But it’s nothing. Promise.”
I sighed heavily. “Is there any point in arguing?”
“None at all.”
“Okay, Alice. I’ll be there. And I’ll hate every minute of it. Promise.”
“That’s the spirit! By the way, I love my gift. You shouldn’t have.”
“Alice, I didn’t!”
“Oh, I know that. But you will.”
I racked my brains in panic, trying to remember what I’d ever decided to get her for graduation that she might have seen.
“Amazing,” Edward muttered. “How can someone so tiny be so annoying?”
Alice laughed. “It’s a talent.”
“Couldn’t you have waited a few weeks to tell me about this?” I asked petulantly. “Now I’ll just be stressed that much longer.”
Alice frowned at me.
“Bella,” she said slowly. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Monday?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. It is Monday . . . the fourth.” She grabbed my elbow, spun me halfway around, and pointed toward a big yellow poster taped to the gym door. There, in sharp black letters, was the date of graduation. Exactly one week from today.
“It’s the fourth? Of June? Are you sure?”
Neither one answered. Alice just shook her head sadly, feigning disappointment, and Edward’s eyebrows lifted.
“It can’t be! How did that happen?” I tried to count backwards in my head, but I couldn’t figure out where the days had gone.
I felt like someone had kicked my legs out from under me. The weeks of stress, of worry . . . somehow in the middle of all my obsessing over the time, my time had disappeared. My space for sorting through it all, for making plans, had vanished. I was out of time.
And I wasn’t ready.
I didn’t know how to do this. How to say goodbye to Charlie and Renée . . . to Jacob . . . to being human.
I knew exactly what I wanted, but I was suddenly terrified of getting it.
In theory, I was anxious, even eager to trade mortality for immortality. After all, it was the key to staying with Edward forever. And then there was the fact that I was being hunted by known and unknown parties. I’d rather not sit around, helpless and delicious, waiting for one of them to catch up with me.
In theory, that all made sense.
In practice . . . being human was all I knew. The future beyond that was a big, dark abyss that I couldn’t know until I leaped into it.
This simple knowledge, today’s date — which was so obvious that I must have been subconsciously repressing it — made the deadline I’d been impatiently counting down toward feel like a date with the firing squad.
In a vague way, I was aware of Edward holding the car door for me, of Alice chattering from the backseat, of the rain hammering against the windshield. Edward seemed to realize I was only there in body; he didn’t try to pull me out of my abstraction. Or maybe he did, and I was past noticing.
We ended up at my house, where Edward led me to the sofa and pulled me down next to him. I stared out the window, into the liquid gray haze, and tried to find where my resolve had gone. Why was I panicking now? I’d known the deadline was coming. Why should it frighten me that it was here?
I don’t know how long he let me stare out the window in silence. But the rain was disappearing into darkness when it was finally too much for him.
He put his cold hands on either side of my face and fixed his golden eyes on mine.
“Would you please tell me what you are thinking? Before I go mad?”
What could I say to him? That I was a coward? I searched for words.
“Your lips are white. Talk, Bella.”
I exhaled in a big gust. How long had I been holding my breath?
“The date took me off guard,” I whispered. “That’s all.”
He waited, his face full of worry and skepticism.
I tried to explain. “I’m not sure what to do . . . what to tell Charlie . . . what to say . . . how to . . .” My voice trailed off.
“This isn’t about the party?”
I frowned. “No. But thanks for reminding me.”
The rain was louder as he read my face.
“You’re not ready,” he whispered.
“I am,” I lied immediately, a reflex reaction. I could tell he saw through it, so I took a deep breath, and told the truth. “I have to be.”
“You don’t have to be anything.”
I could feel the panic surfacing in my eyes as I mouthed the reasons. “Victoria, Jane, Caius, whoever was in my room . . . !”
“All the more reason to wait.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Edward!”
He pressed his hands more tightly to my face and spoke with slow deliberation.
“Bella. Not one of us had a choice. You’ve seen what it’s done . . . to Rosalie especially. We’ve all struggled, trying to reconcile ourselves with something we had no control over. I won’t let it be that way for you. You will have a choice.”
“I’ve already made my choice.”
“You aren’t going through with this because a sword is hanging over your head. We will take care of the problems, and I will take care of you,” he vowed. “When we’re through it, and there is nothing forcing your hand, then you can decide to join me, if you still want to. But not because you’re afraid. You won’t be forced into this.”
“Carlisle promised,” I mumbled, contrary out of habit. “After graduation.”
“Not until you’re ready,” he said in a sure voice. “And definitely not while you feel threatened.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have it in me to argue; I couldn’t seem to find my commitment at the moment.
“There.” He kissed my forehead. “Nothing to worry about.”
I laughed a shaky laugh. “Nothing but impending doom.”
“Trust me.”
“I do.”
He was still watching my face, waiting for me to relax.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Anything.”
I hesitated, biting my lip, and then asked a different question than the one I was worried about.
“What am I getting Alice for graduation?”
He snickered. “It looked like you were getting us both concert tickets —”
“That’s right!” I was so relieved, I almost smiled. “The concert in Tacoma. I saw an ad in the paper last week, and I thought it would be something you’d like, since you said it was a good CD.”
“It’s a great idea. Thank you.”
“I hope it’s not sold out.”
“It’s the thought that counts. I ought to know.”
I sighed.
“There’s something else you meant to ask,” he said.
I frowned. “You’re good.”
“I have lots of practice reading your face. Ask me.”
I closed my eyes and leaned into him, hiding my face against his chest. “You don’t want me to be a vampire.”
“No, I don’t,” he said softly, and then he waited for more. “That’s not a question,” he prompted after a moment.
“Well . . . I was worrying about . . . why you feel that way.”
“Worrying?” He picked out the word with surprise.
“Would you tell me why? The whole truth, not sparing my feelings?”
He hesitated for a minute. “If I answer your question, will you then explain your question?”
I nodded, my face still hidden.
He took a deep breath before he answered. “You could do so much better, Bella. I know that you believe I have a soul, but I’m not entirely convinced on that point, and to risk yours . . .” He shook his head slowly. “For me to allow this — to let you become what I am just so that I’ll never have to lose you — is the most selfish act I can imagine. I want it more than anything, for myself. But for you, I want so much more. Giving in — it feels criminal. It’s the most selfish thing I’ll ever do, even if I live forever.
“If there were any way for me to become human for you — no matter what the price was, I would pay it.”
I sat very still, absorbing this.
Edward thought he was being selfish.
I felt the smile slowly spread across my face.
“So . . . it’s not that you’re afraid you won’t . . . like me as much when I’m different — when I’m not soft and warm and I don’t smell the same? You really do want to keep me, no matter how I turn out?”
He exhaled sharply. “You were worried I wouldn’t like you?” he demanded. Then, before I could answer, he was laughing. “Bella, for a fairly intuitive person, you can be so obtuse!”
I knew he would think it silly, but I was relieved. If he really wanted me, I could get through the rest . . . somehow. Selfish suddenly seemed like a beautiful word.
“I don’t think you realize how much easier it will be for me, Bella,” he said, the echo of his humor still there in his voice, “when I don’t have to concentrate all the time on not killing you. Certainly, there are things I’ll miss. This for one . . .”
He stared into my eyes as he stroked my cheek, and I felt the blood rush up to color my skin. He laughed gently.
“And the sound of your heart,” he continued, more serious but still smiling a little. “It’s the most significant sound in my world. I’m so attuned to it now, I swear I could pick it out from miles away. But neither of these things matter. This,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “You. That’s what I’m keeping. You’ll always be my Bella, you’ll just be a little more durable.”
I sighed and let my eyes close in contentment, resting there in his hands.
“Now will you answer a question for me? The whole truth, not sparing my feelings?” he asked.
“Of course,” I answered at once, my eyes opening wide with surprise. What would he want to know?
He spoke the words slowly. “You don’t want to be my wife.”
My heart stopped, and then broke into a sprint. A cold sweat dewed on the back of my neck and my hands turned to ice.
He waited, watching and listening to my reaction.
“That’s not a question,” I finally whispered.
He looked down, his lashes casting long shadows across his cheekbones, and dropped his hands from my face to pick up my frozen left hand. He played with my fingers while he spoke.
“I was worrying about why you felt that way.”
I tried to swallow. �
�That’s not a question, either,” I whispered.
“Please, Bella?”
“The truth?” I asked, only mouthing the words.
“Of course. I can take it, whatever it is.”
I took a deep breath. “You’re going to laugh at me.”
His eyes flashed up to mine, shocked. “Laugh? I cannot imagine that.”
“You’ll see,” I muttered, and then I sighed. My face went from white to scarlet in a sudden blaze of chagrin. “Okay, fine! I’m sure this will sound like some big joke to you, but really! It’s just so . . . so . . . so embarrassing!” I confessed, and I hid my face against his chest again.
There was a brief pause.
“I’m not following you.”
I tilted my head back and glared at him, embarrassment making me lash out, belligerent.
“I’m not that girl, Edward. The one who gets married right out of high school like some small-town hick who got knocked up by her boyfriend! Do you know what people would think? Do you realize what century this is? People don’t just get married at eighteen! Not smart people, not responsible, mature people! I wasn’t going to be that girl! That’s not who I am. . . .” I trailed off, losing steam.
Edward’s face was impossible to read as he thought through my answer.
“That’s all?” he finally asked.
I blinked. “Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s not that you were . . . more eager for immortality itself than for just me?”
And then, though I’d predicted that he would laugh, I was suddenly the one having hysterics.
“Edward!” I gasped out between the paroxysms of giggles. “And here . . . I always . . . thought that . . . you were . . . so much . . . smarter than me!”
He took me in his arms, and I could feel that he was laughing with me.
“Edward,” I said, managing to speak more clearly with a little effort, “there’s no point to forever without you. I wouldn’t want one day without you.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said.
“Still . . . it doesn’t change anything.”
“It’s nice to understand, though. And I do understand your perspective, Bella, truly I do. But I’d like it very much if you’d try to consider mine.”
The Twilight Saga Collection Page 102