BELLA SLEPT SO SOUNDLY THROUGH THE NIGHT THAT IT WAS UNNERVING.
For what seemed a very long time now, from the first moment I’d caught her scent, I’d been powerless to keep my own state of mind from careening wildly from one extreme to the other every minute of the day. Tonight was worse than usual—the burden of the hazard immediately ahead had pushed me to a peak of mental stress beyond anything I’d known in a hundred years.
And Bella slept on, limbs relaxed, forehead smooth, lips turned up at the corners, her breath flowing softly in and out as evenly as a metronome. In all my nights with her, she’d never been so at peace. What did it mean?
I could only think that it meant she did not understand. Despite all the warnings I’d given her, she still didn’t believe the truth. She trusted me too much. She was wrong to do so.
She didn’t stir when her father peeked into her room. It was still early; the sun had not yet risen. I held my place, certain I was invisible in my shadowed corner. Her father’s shrouded thoughts were tinged with regret, with guilt. Nothing too serious, I thought, simply an acknowledgment that he was leaving her alone again. For a moment he wavered, but a sense of obligation—plans, companions, promised rides—pulled him away. That was my best guess.
Charlie made a great deal of noise gathering his fishing things from the coat closet under the stairs. Bella had no reaction to the commotion. Her lids never so much as fluttered.
Once Charlie was gone, it was my turn to exit, though I was loath to leave the serenity of her room. Despite everything, her peaceful sleep had calmed my spirits. I took one final lungful of fire, and then held it inside my chest, cradling the pain close until it could be replenished.
The tumult resumed as soon as she was awake; whatever calm she had found in her dreams seemed to have vanished in the light. The sound of her movements was hurried, and a few times she tweaked the curtains, looking for me, I thought. It made me impatient to be with her again, but we had agreed on a time and I didn’t want to prematurely interrupt her preparations. Mine were made, but felt incomplete. Could I ever be truly ready for a day such as this?
I wished I could feel the joy of it—an entire day by her side, answers to every question I could ask, her warmth surrounding me. At the same time, I wished I could turn my back on her house this moment and run in the opposite direction—that I could be strong enough to run to the far side of the world and stay there, never to endanger her again. But I remembered Alice’s vision of Bella’s bleak, shadowed face and knew that I could never be that strong.
I’d worked myself into a fine dark mood by the time I dropped from the shadows of the tree and crossed her front lawn. I tried to erase the evidence of my state of mind from my face, but I couldn’t seem to remember how to shape my muscles the right way.
I knocked quietly, knowing she was listening, then heard her feet stumble down the last few stairs to the hall. She ran to the door and fought with the bolt for a long moment, finally yanking the door open so forcefully that it smacked into the wall with a bang.
She looked into my eyes and was abruptly still, the peace of the previous night evident in her smile.
My mood, too, lightened. I drew in a breath, replacing the stale burn with fresh pain, but the pain was so much less than the joy of being with her.
An errant curiosity drew my eyes to her clothes. Which outfit had she decided on? I remembered the ensemble at once—now that I thought about it, this sweater had been laid in the most prominent position, draped over her obsolete computer, with a white button-down underneath and blue jeans just to the side. Light tan, white collar, medium blue denim… I didn’t have to look at myself to know the shades and styles were nearly identical.
I chuckled once. Something in common again.
“Good morning.”
“What’s wrong?” she responded.
There were a thousand answers to that question and I was taken aback for an instant, but then I saw her glance down at herself and inferred it was to search for the reason behind my laugh.
“We match,” I explained.
I laughed again as she took this in, examining my clothes and then her own, with a surprised look on her face. Suddenly, the surprise shifted to a frown. Why? I couldn’t think of a reason to find the coincidence anything more or less than mildly amusing. Was there some deeper reason she’d chosen these clothes, some reason that made her angry when I laughed? How could I ask that without sounding strange? I could only be sure that her reason for choosing thusly had not been the same as mine.
I shuddered internally at the thought of the purpose behind my wardrobe and what it portended. But I shouldn’t shy away from this. I shouldn’t want to hide myself from her. She deserved to know everything.
Her smile returned as she walked with me to her truck—suddenly smug. I wasn’t going to back out of the promise I’d made, but I didn’t particularly like it. I knew it wasn’t rational. She drove herself around in this antique monstrosity daily and nothing bad ever happened to her. Of course, the bad things seemed to wait until I was there to be their horrified witness. My expression must have led her to believe I was upset about the arrangement.
“We made a deal,” she gloated, leaning across the seat to unlock the passenger door.
I could only wish my concerns were that trivial.
The decrepit engine coughed its way to life. The metal frame vibrated so violently I worried something would shake loose.
“Where to?” she half shouted over the cacophony. She wrenched the gearshift into reverse and looked back over her shoulder.
“Put your seat belt on,” I insisted. “I’m nervous already.”
She threw a dark look at me, but snapped her buckle into place, and then sighed.
“Take the one-oh-one north.”
She kept her eyes on the road as she drove slowly through town. I wondered if she would accelerate when we were on the main road, but she continued at three miles per hour below the posted speed limit. The sun was still low in the eastern horizon, shrouded in thin layers of cloud. But according to Alice, it would be sunny by midday. I wondered if—at this rate—we would be safely in the woods before the sunlight could touch me.
“Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?” I asked, knowing she would object to the defamation of her truck. She reacted as expected.
“This truck is old enough to be your car’s grandfather,” she snapped. “Have some respect.” But she goaded the engine slightly faster. Two miles above the speed limit now.
I felt a little relieved when we were finally free of downtown Forks. Soon there was more forest than civilization outside the window. The engine droned on like a jackhammer biting into granite. Her eyes never strayed from the road for a second. I wanted to say something, to ask her what she was thinking about, but I didn’t want to distract her. There was something almost fierce about her concentration.
“Turn right on the one-ten,” I told her.
She nodded to herself, then slowed down to a crawl to take the turn.
“Now we drive till the pavement ends.”
“And what’s there?” she asked. “At the pavement’s end?”
An empty forest. A total lack of witnesses. A monster. “A trail.”
Her voice was higher, tighter, when she responded, still staring only at the road. “We’re hiking?”
The concern in her tone worried me. I hadn’t considered… The distance was very short, and the way was not difficult, not so different from the trail behind her house.
“Is that a problem?” Was there somewhere else to take her? I hadn’t made any backup plans.
“No,” she said quickly, but her voice was still a little strained.
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “It’s only five miles or so, and we’re in no hurry.” Truly—suddenly feeling a wave of panic as I realized how short the distance was indeed—I would love nothing more than a delay.
The furrow was back. After a few empty seconds, she started to chew on her lower lip.
“What are you thinking?”
Did she want to turn around? Had she changed her mind about all of it? Did she wish she’d never answered the door this morning?
“Just wondering where we’re going,” she replied. Her tone aimed for casual, but missed it by a few inches.
“It’s a place I like to go when the weather is nice.” I glanced through the window and she did, too. The clouds were no more than a thin veil now. They would burn off soon.
What did she think she would see when the sun touched my skin? What mental image had she conjured to explain today’s field trip to herself?
“Charlie said it would be warm today.”
I thought of her father, pictured him beside the river, enjoying the pleasant day. He didn’t know he was at a crossroads, a possible life-destroying nightmare waiting, so close, to engulf his entire world.
“And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?” I asked the question without hope.
She smiled, eyes straight ahead. “Nope.”
I wished she didn’t sound so happy about it. Still, I knew there was one witness, one voice to speak for Bella if she didn’t come home.
“But Jessica thinks we’re going to Seattle together?”
“No,” she said, complacent. “I told her you canceled on me—which is true.”
What? I hadn’t heard this. It must have happened while I was hunting with Alice. Bella had covered my tracks for me as if she wanted me to get away with her murder.
“No one knows you’re with me?”
She flinched slightly at my tone, but then her chin came up and she forced a smile. “That depends. I assume you told Alice?”
I had to take a deep breath to keep my voice even. “That’s very helpful, Bella.”
Her smile disappeared, but she gave no other indication that she’d heard me.
“Are you so depressed by Forks that it’s made you suicidal?”
“You said it might cause trouble for you,” she said quietly, all humor gone. “Us being together publicly.”
I remembered the exchange perfectly, and wondered how she had gotten it so backward. I hadn’t told her that so she would try to make herself more vulnerable to me. I’d told her so she would run away from me.
“So you’re worried about the trouble it might cause me,” I asked through my teeth, trying to place the words in exactly the right order so that it would be impossible for her not to hear the inherent ridiculousness of her position. “If you don’t come home?”
Eyes on the road, she nodded once.
“How can you not see how wrong I am?” I hissed, too angry to slow the words down into something comprehensible for her. Telling her never worked. I would have to show her.
She seemed nervous, but in a new way, her eyes almost shifting to look at me, yet never quite breaking away from the road. Frightened by my anger, though not in the way she should be. Just worried that she’d made me unhappy. I didn’t have to read her mind to anticipate the established pattern.
As usual, I wasn’t truly angry with her—only myself. Yes, her responses toward me were always backward. But that was because, in another way, they were right. She was always too kind. She gave me credit I didn’t deserve, worried over my feelings as if they mattered. Her very goodness was what put her in this danger. Her virtue, my vice, the two opposites binding us together.
We’d reached the end of the paved road. Bella pulled the truck onto the loamy shoulder and killed the engine. The sudden quiet was almost shocking after the long auditory assault. She disengaged her seat belt and slid quickly from the truck without looking at me. With her back to me, she pulled her sweater over her head. It took her a few seconds’ struggle, and then she tied the sleeves around her waist. I was surprised to see that her shirt mirrored my own in more than color; it too left her arms bare to the shoulder. This was more of her than I was used to seeing, but despite the fascination that immediately sparked, what I felt most was concern. Anything that interrupted my concentration was a danger.
I sighed. I didn’t want to go through with this. There were many serious reasons, life and death reasons, but in this moment, my greatest dread was the expression on her face, the revulsion in her eyes, when she finally saw me.
I would face it head-on. Pretend to be brave, to be bigger than this selfish fear, even if it was no more than a charade.
I slipped my own sweater off, feeling glaringly conspicuous. I’d never uncovered so much of my skin around anyone but my family.
Jaw clenched, I slid out of the truck—leaving the sweater so I wouldn’t be tempted—and shut the door. I stared into the forest. Maybe if I got off the road and into the trees, I wouldn’t feel so exposed.
I felt her eyes on me, but I was too cowardly to turn. I looked over my shoulder instead.
“This way.” The words came out clipped, too fast. I had to get my anxiety under control. I started to walk slowly forward.
“The trail?” Her voice was an octave higher than usual. I glanced at her again—she looked nervous as she walked around the front end of the truck to meet me. There were so many things that might be frightening her, I couldn’t be sure which it was.