The problem with waiting was that it freed up the mind for all kinds of speculation. Obviously the meteorite was just a metaphor for all the unlikely things that could go wrong. But not every danger would streak across the sky with a brilliant splash of fire. I could think of many that would give no warning, hazards that could slink into the dark house silently, that might already be there.
These were ridiculous worries. This street didn’t have a natural gas line, so a carbon monoxide leak was improbable. I doubted they used coal frequently. The Olympic Peninsula had very little in the way of dangerous wildlife. Anything large I would be able to hear now. There were no venomous snakes, scorpions, or centipedes, and just a few spiders, none of them deadly to a healthy adult, and unlikely to be found indoors regardless. Ridiculous. I knew that. I knew I was being irrational.
But I felt anxious, unsettled. I couldn’t push the dark imaginings from my mind. If I could just see her…
I would take a closer look.
In only half a second, I had crossed the yard and scaled the side of the house. This upstairs window would be a bedroom, probably the master. Maybe I should have started in the back. Less conspicuous that way. Dangling from the eave above the window by one hand, I looked through the glass, and my breath stopped.
It was her room. I could see her in the one small bed, her covers on the floor and her sheets twisted around her legs. She was perfectly fine, of course, as the rational part of me had already known. Safe… but not at ease. As I watched, she twitched restlessly and threw one arm over her head. She did not sleep soundly, at least not this night. Did she sense the danger near her?
I was repulsed by myself as I watched her toss again. How was I any better than some sick peeping tom? I wasn’t any better. I was much, much worse.
I relaxed my fingertips, about to let myself drop. But first I allowed myself one long look at her face.
Still not peaceful. The little furrow was there between her eyebrows, the corners of her mouth turned down. Her lips trembled, and then parted.
“Okay, Mom,” she muttered.
Bella talked in her sleep.
Curiosity flared, overpowering self-disgust. So long I’d tried to hear her and failed. The lure of those unprotected, unconsciously spoken thoughts was impossibly tempting.
What were human rules to me, after all? How many did I ignore on a daily basis?
I thought of the multitude of illegal documents my family needed to live as we liked. False names and false histories, driver’s licenses that let us enroll in school and medical credentials that allowed Carlisle to work as a doctor. Papers that made our strange grouping of nearly identically aged adults comprehensible as a family. None of it would be necessary if we didn’t try to have brief periods of permanence, if we didn’t prefer to have a home.
Then, of course, there was the way we funded our lives. Insider trading laws didn’t apply to psychics, but it certainly wasn’t honest, what we did. And the transfer of inheritances from one fabricated name to another wasn’t legal, either.
And then there were all the murders.
We didn’t take them lightly, but obviously none of us had ever been punished by human courts for our crimes. We covered them up—also a crime.
Then why should I feel so guilty over one little misdemeanor? Human laws had never applied to me. And this was hardly my first adventure with breaking and entering.
I knew I could do this safely. The monster was restless but well fettered.
I would keep a careful distance. I would not harm her. She would never know I’d been here. I only wanted to be certain that she was safe.
It was all rationalization, evil arguments from the devil on my left shoulder. I knew that, but I had no angel on the right. I would behave as the nightmarish creature that I was.
I tried the window, and it was not locked, though it stuck due to long disuse. I took a deep breath—my last for however long I was near her—and slid the glass slowly aside, cringing at each faint groan of the metal frame. Finally it was open wide enough for me to ease through.
“Mom, wait…,” she muttered. “Scottsdale Road is faster.…”
Her room was small—disorganized and cluttered, but not unclean. There were books piled on the floor beside her bed, their spines facing away from me, and CDs scattered by her inexpensive CD player—the one on top was just a clear jewel case. Stacks of papers surrounded a computer that looked like it belonged in a museum dedicated to obsolete technologies. Shoes dotted the wooden floor.
I wanted very much to go read the titles of her books and CDs, but I was determined to take no more risks. Instead, I went to sit in an old rocking chair in the far corner of the room. My anxiety eased, the dark thoughts receded, and my mind was clear.
Had I really once believed her average-looking? I thought of that first day, and my disgust for the human boys who were so fascinated by her. But when I remembered her face in their minds then, I could not understand why I had not immediately found her beautiful. It seemed an obvious thing.
Right now—with her dark hair tangled and wild around her pale face, wearing a threadbare t-shirt full of holes with tatty sweatpants, her features relaxed in unconsciousness, her full lips slightly parted—she took my breath away. Or would have, I thought wryly, if I were breathing.
She did not speak. Perhaps her dream had ended.
I stared at her face and tried to think of some way to make the future bearable.
Hurting her was not bearable. Did that mean my only choice was to try to leave again?
The others could not argue with me now. My absence would not put anyone in danger. There would be no suspicion, nothing to link anyone’s thoughts back to the accident.
I wavered as I had this afternoon, and nothing seemed possible.
A small brown spider crawled out from the edge of the closet door. My arrival must have disturbed it. Eratigena agrestis—a hobo spider, from its size a juvenile male. Once considered dangerous, more recent scientific study had proven its venom inconsequential to humans. However, its bite was still painful.… I reached out with one finger and crushed it silently.
Perhaps I should have let the creature be, but the thought of anything hurting her was intolerable.
And then suddenly, all my thoughts were intolerable, too.
Because I could kill every spider in her home, cut the thorns off every rosebush she might one day touch, block every speeding car that got within a mile of her, but there was no task I could perform that would make me something other than what I was. I stared at my white, stone-like hand—so grotesquely inhuman—and despaired.
I could not hope to compete against the human boys, whether these specific boys appealed to her or not. I was the villain, the nightmare. How could she see me as anything else? If she knew the truth about me, it would frighten and repulse her. Like the intended victim in a horror movie, she would run away, shrieking in terror.
I remembered her first day in Biology… and knew that this was exactly the right reaction for her to have.
It was foolishness to imagine that if I had been the one to ask her to the silly dance, she would have canceled her hastily made plans and agreed to go with me.
I was not the one she was destined to say yes to. It was someone else, someone human and warm. And I could not even let myself—someday, when that yes was said—hunt him down and kill him, because she deserved him, whoever he was. She deserved happiness and love with whomever she chose.
I owed it to her to do the right thing now. I could no longer pretend that I was only in danger of loving this girl.
After all, it really didn’t matter if I left, because Bella could never see me the way I wished she would. Never see me as someone worthy of love.
Could a dead, frozen heart break? It felt as though mine would.
“Edward,” Bella said.
I froze, staring at her unopened eyes.
Had she awakened, caught me here? She looked asleep, yet her voice had been so clear.
She sighed a quiet sigh, and then moved restlessly again, rolling to her side—still fast asleep and dreaming.
“Edward,” she mumbled softly.
She was dreaming of me.
Could a dead, frozen heart beat again? It felt as though mine was about to.
“Stay,” she sighed. “Don’t go. Please… don’t go.”
She was dreaming of me, and it wasn’t even a nightmare. She wanted me to stay with her, there in her dream.
I struggled to find words to name the feelings that flooded through me, but I had no words strong enough to hold them. For a long moment, I drowned in them.
When I surfaced, I was not the same man I had been.
My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?
At the time I became a vampire, trading my soul and mortality for immortality in the searing pain of transformation, I had truly been frozen. My body had turned into something more like stone than flesh, enduring and unchanging. My self, also, had frozen as it was—my personality, my likes and dislikes, my moods and desires; all were fixed in place.
It was the same for the rest of them. We were all frozen. Living stone.
When change came for one of us, it was a rare and permanent thing. I had seen it happen with Carlisle, and then a decade later with Rosalie. Love had changed them in an eternal way, a way that would never fade. More than eighty years had passed since Carlisle found Esme, and yet he still looked at her with the incredulous eyes of first love. It would always be so for them.
It would always be so for me, too. I would always love this fragile human girl, for the rest of my limitless existence.
I gazed at her unconscious face, feeling that love for her settle into every portion of my stone body.
She slept more peacefully now, a slight smile on her lips.
I began to plot.
I loved her, and so I would try to be strong enough to leave her. I knew I wasn’t that strong now. I would work on that one. But perhaps I was strong enough to circumvent the future in another way.
Alice had seen only two futures for Bella, and now I understood them both.
Loving her would not keep me from killing her if I let myself make mistakes.
Yet I could not feel the monster now, could not find him anywhere in me. Perhaps love had silenced him forever. If I killed her now, it would not be intentional, only a horrible accident.
I would have to be inordinately careful. I would never, ever be able to let my guard down. I would have to control my every breath. I would have to keep an always cautious distance.
I would not make mistakes.
I finally understood that second future. I’d been baffled by that vision—what could possibly happen to result in Bella becoming a prisoner to this immortal half life? Now—devastated by longing for the girl—I could understand how I might, in unforgivable selfishness, ask my father for that favor. Ask him to take away her life and her soul so that I could keep her forever.
She deserved better.
But I saw one more future, one thin wire that I might be able to walk, if I could keep my balance.
Could I do it? Be with her and leave her human?
Deliberately, I locked my body into perfect stillness, froze it in place, then took a deep breath. Another, then another, letting her scent rip through me like wildfire. The room was thick with her perfume; her fragrance was layered on every surface. My head swam from the pain, but I fought the spinning. I would have to get used to this if I were going to attempt any kind of regular proximity to her. Another deep, burning breath.
I watched her sleeping until the sun rose behind the eastern clouds, plotting and breathing.
I got home just after the others had left for school. I changed quickly, avoiding Esme’s questioning eyes. She saw the feverish light in my face and felt both worry and relief. My long melancholy had pained her greatly, and she was glad that it seemed to be over.
I ran to school, arriving a few seconds after my siblings did. They did not turn, though Alice at least must have known that I stood here in the thick woods that bordered the pavement. I waited until no one was looking and then strolled casually from between the trees into the lot full of parked cars.
I heard Bella’s truck rumbling around the corner, and I paused behind a Suburban, where I could watch without being seen.
She drove into the lot, glaring at my Volvo for a long moment before she parked in one of the most distant spaces, a frown on her face.
It was strange to remember that she was probably still angry with me, and with good reason.
I wanted to laugh at myself—or kick myself. All my plotting and planning was entirely moot if she didn’t care for me, too, wasn’t it? Her dream could have been about something completely random. I was such an arrogant fool.
Well, it was so much the better for her if she didn’t care for me. That wouldn’t stop me from pursuing her, from trying. But I would listen for her no. I owed her that. I owed her more. I owed her the truth I was not allowed to give her. So I would give her as much truth as I could. I would try to warn her. And when she confirmed that I would never be the one she would say yes to, I would leave.
I walked silently forward, wondering how best to approach her.
She made it easy. Her truck key slipped through her fingers as she got out of the cab, and fell into a deep puddle.
She reached down, but I got to it first, retrieving it before she had to put her fingers in the cold water.
I leaned back against her truck as she started and then straightened up.
“How do you do that?” she demanded.
Yes, she was still angry.
I offered her the key. “Do what?”
She held her hand out, and I dropped it into her palm. I took a deep breath, pulling in her scent.
“Appear out of thin air,” she clarified.
“Bella, it’s not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant.” The words were wry, almost a joke. Was there anything she didn’t see?
Did she hear how my voice wrapped around her name like a caress?
She glared at me, not appreciating my humor. Her heartbeat sped—from anger? From fear? After a moment, she looked down.
“Why the traffic jam last night?” she asked without meeting my eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don’t exist, not irritating me to death.”
Still very angry. It was going to take some effort to make things right with her. I remembered my resolve to be truthful.
“That was for Tyler’s sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance.” And then I laughed. I couldn’t help it, thinking of her expression yesterday. Concentrating so hard on keeping her safe, on controlling my physical response to her, left me fewer resources to manage my emotions.
“You—” she gasped, and then broke off, appearing to be too furious to finish. There it was—that same expression. I choked back another laugh. She was mad enough already.
“And I’m not pretending you don’t exist,” I finished. It felt right to make my tone casual, teasing. I didn’t want to frighten her more. I had to hide the depth of my feelings, keep things light.
“So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler’s van didn’t do the job?”
A quick flash of anger pulsed through me. How could she honestly believe that?
It was irrational for me to be so affronted—she didn’t know all the effort I’d expended to keep her alive, she didn’t know that I’d fought with my family for her, she didn’t know of the transformation that had happened in the night. But I was angry all the same. Emotion unmanaged.
“Bella, you are utterly absurd,” I snapped.
Her face flushed, and she turned her back on me. She began to walk away.
Remorse. My anger was unfair.
“Wait,” I pleaded.
She did not stop, so I followed her.
“I’m sorry, that was rude. I’m not saying it isn’t true”—it was absurd to imagine that I wanted her harmed in any way—“but it was rude to say it, anyway.”
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”
Was this my no? Was that what she wanted? Was my name in her dream truly meaningless?
I remembered perfectly the tone of her voice, the expression on her face as she had asked me to stay.
But if she now said no… well, then that would be that. I knew what I would have to do.
Keep it light, I reminded myself. This could be the last time I would see her. If that was the case, I needed to leave her with the right memory. So I would play the normal human boy. Most importantly, I would give her a choice, and then accept her answer.
“I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me.” A course of action had just occurred to me, and I laughed.
“Do you have a multiple personality disorder?” she asked.
It must seem that way. My mood was wildly erratic, so many new emotions coursing through me.
“You’re doing it again,” I pointed out.
She sighed. “Fine then. What do you want to ask?”
“I was wondering if, a week from Saturday…” I watched the shock cross her face, and fought back another laugh. “You know, the day of the spring dance—”
She cut me off, finally returning her eyes to mine. “Are you trying to be funny?”
“Will you please allow me to finish?”
She waited in silence, her teeth pressing into her soft lower lip.
That sight distracted me for a second. Strange, unfamiliar reactions stirred deep in my forgotten human core. I tried to shake them off so I could play my role.
“I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride?” I offered. I’d realized that, better than just learning about her plans, I might share them. If she said yes.
She stared at me blankly. “What?”
“Do you want a ride to Seattle?” Alone in a car with her—my throat burned at the thought. I took a deep breath. Get used to it.
“With who?” she asked, confused.
“Myself, obviously,” I said slowly.
Was it really such a shock that I would want her company? She must have applied the worst possible meaning to my past behavior.
“Well,” I said as casually as possible, “I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and to be honest, I’m not sure if your truck can make it.” It felt safer to tease her than to allow myself to be too serious.
“My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern,” she said in the same surprised voice. She started walking again. I kept pace with her.
Not an explicit rejection, but close. Was she being polite?
“But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?”
“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” she grumbled.
Her heart was beating faster again, her breath coming more quickly. I thought the teasing should put her at ease, but maybe I was frightening her again.
“The wasting of finite resources is everyone’s business.” My response sounded normal and casual to me, but I couldn’t tell if it she heard it the same way. Her silent mind left me always foundering.
“Honestly, Edward, I can’t keep up with you. I thought you didn’t want to be my friend.”
A thrill shot through me when she spoke my name, and I was back in her room, hearing her call out to me, wanting me to stay. I wished I could live in that moment forever.
But on this point, only honesty was acceptable.
“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”
“Oh, thanks, now that’s all cleared up,” she said sarcastically.
She paused, under the edge of the cafeteria’s roof, and met my gaze again. Her heartbeats stuttered. In fear or anger?
I chose my words carefully. She needed to see. To understand that it was in her best interest to tell me to go.
“It would be more… prudent for you not to be my friend.” Staring into the melted chocolate depths of her eyes, I entirely lost my hold on light. “But I’m tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella.” The words felt like they’d burned their way out of my mouth.
Her breathing stopped, and in the second it took for it to restart, I panicked. I’d truly terrified her, hadn’t I?
All the better. I would collect my no and attempt to bear it.
“Will you go to Seattle with me?” I demanded, point-blank.
She nodded, her heart drumming loudly.
Yes. She’d said yes to me.
And then my conscience smote me. What would this cost her?
“You really should stay away from me,” I warned her. Did she hear me? Would she escape the future I was threatening her with? Couldn’t I do anything to save her from me?
Keep it light, I shouted at myself. “I’ll see you in class.”
And instantly remembered that I would not see her in class. She scattered my thoughts so thoroughly.
I had to concentrate to stop myself from running as I fled.