The muted light of yet another cloudy day eventually woke me. I lay with my arm across my eyes, groggy and dazed. Something, a dream trying to be remembered, struggled to break into my consciousness. I moaned and rolled on my side, hoping more sleep would come. And then the previous day flooded back into my memory.
"Oh!" I sat up so fast it made my head spin.
"Your hair looks like a haystack… but I like it." His unruffled voice came from the rocking chair in the corner.
I ran my hands through my hair in a feeble attempt to tame the curls.
"You stayed." It was like I hadn't woken up after all.
"Of course. That's what you wanted, correct?"
I nodded.
He smiled, widely. "It's what I wanted too."
I staggered out of bed towards him; he grinned as he took hold of my hands and pulled me into his lap. I laid my head cautiously against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his skin.
"I was almost sure it was a dream."
"You're not that creative," he scoffed.
"Charlie!" I remembered, jumping up and heading to the door.
"He left an hour ago, with an amazing amount of gear."
I deliberated where I stood, wanting to return to him badly, but afraid I might have morning breath.
"You're not usually this confused in the morning," He noted.
I glared at him, "I'm still not sure I'm okay with the fact that you know that."
He smiled that guilty smile of his, and held his arms open for me to return; a vision of repentance.
"I need another human minute," I admitted.
"I'll wait."
I rushed to the bathroom, my emotions all over the place. I felt like I didn't know myself, inside or out. The face in the mirror was practically a stranger—eyes too bright, hectic spots of red across my cheekbones. After I brushed my teeth I worked to tame the chaos that was my hair. I splashed my face with cold water, and tried to take a few deep breaths. I hurried back to my room.
It still seemed like a dream that he was there, his arms still waiting for me. He reached out to me, and my heartbeat quickened.
"Welcome back," he purred, taking me into his arms.
He held me there for a while in silence, until I noticed that his clothes were changed, and his hair smooth.
"You left?" I touched the collar of his fresh shirt.
"I could hardly leave in the clothes I came in—what would the neighbors think?"
"I didn't even notice you go."
"You were very deeply asleep; I didn't miss anything." His eyes gleamed. "The talking came earlier."
I groaned. I had invited him to stay this time, so this was my own fault. "What did you hear?"
His gold eyes grew very soft, his face looked very vulnerable. "You said you loved me."
I blushed. "Maybe I do." I ducked my head. "Besides, you knew that already."
"It was nice to hear, just the same."
I looked him in the eyes and ran my hands through his bronze hair.
"I love you," I whispered.
"You are my life now," he answered simply.
He leaned forward and rested his forehead carefully against mine and we sat there, saying nothing, as the morning light slowly filled the room.
"Breakfast time," he said eventually, slowly leaning back.
I threw my hand over my jugular, my eyes wild.
He flinched; then his eyes narrowed and he scowled at me.
I laughed. "Come on, you know that was funny."
He was still frowning. "I disagree. Shall I rephrase? Breakfast time for the human."
"Okay. I need one more human minute first, if you don't mind."
"Of course."
"Stay."
"Oh, yes, sir." He smiled.
I brushed my teeth again, and then rushed through my shower. I ripped through my wet hair with a brush, trying to make it look presentable. It ignored me pretty thoroughly. And then I hit a wall. I'd forgotten to bring clothes with me.
I hesitated for a minute, but I was too impatient to panic long. There was no help for it. I tucked the towel securely around my waist and then marched into the hall with my face bright red. I stood hesitantly in the doorway.
"Um…"
He was still in the rocking chair. He raised his eyebrows at my state of undress.
"I… Er…" He looked conflicted, "Shall we meet in the kitchen, then?"
"If you don't mind."
I was sure he muttered something that sounded like "The death of me…" before he rose to his feet. He passed me in a rush of cool air, down the stairs before a second had passed. I was barely able to follow the motion—he was just a streak of pale color, then nothing.
"Thanks," I called after him, then hurried to my dresser.
I decided to wear my nice fitted jeans and the blue shirt Edward had complimented before. I also grabbed a sweater, so he wouldn't worry about me getting cold.
I raked my fingers through my hair to calm it again, then ran down the stairs.
He was leaning against the counter, looking very at home.
"What's for breakfast?" I asked.
That threw him for a minute. His brows furrowed. "I'm not sure… What would you like?"
I laughed. "That's all right, I fend for myself pretty well. You're allowed to watch me hunt."
I got a bowl and a box of cereal. He returned to the chair he'd sat in last night, watching as I poured the milk and grabbed a spoon. I set my food on the table, then paused. The empty space in front of him on the table made me feel rude.
"Um, can I… get you anything?"
He rolled his eyes. "Just eat, Beau."
I sat at the table, watching him as I took a bite. He was gazing at me, studying my every movement. It made me self-conscious. I swallowed so I could speak, wanting to distract him.
"Anything on the agenda today?"
"Perhaps," he said. "That depends on whether or not you like my idea."
"I'm sure I'll like it," I offered as I took a second bite.
He pursed his lips. "Are you open to meeting my family?"
I choked on my cereal.
He jumped up, one hand stretched toward me helplessly, probably thinking about how he could accidentally crush my lungs if he tried to give me the Heimlich. I shook my head and motioned for him to sit while I coughed the milk out of my windpipe.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I said when I could speak.
"Please don't do that to me again, Beau."
"Work on your timing." I countered.
"Perhaps we should have this conversation after your meal."
"Okay." I needed a minute anyway.
He was apparently serious. And I guess I'd already met Alice and it hadn't been that bad. And Dr. Cullen, too. But that had been back before I'd known Dr. Cullen was a vampire, which changed things. And while I had known with Alice, I didn't know if she knew that I knew, and that felt like kind of an important distinction to me. Also, Alice was the most supportive, according to Edward.
There were others who were obviously not as generous.
"I've finally done it," he murmured when I swallowed the last bite and pushed the bowl away.
"What did you do?"
"I scared you."
I shrugged, "I suppose you did."
"I wouldn't let anyone hurt you," he assured me.
But that just made me worry more that someone—Royal—would want to, and Edward would get in between to rescue me.
"No one would try, Beau, that was a joke."
"I just don't want to cause any problems. Do they even know that I know?"
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, they're quite up to date. It's not really possible keep secrets in my family, what with our various parlor tricks. Alice had already seen that your dropping by was a possibility."
I could feel a variety of expressions rippling across my face before I could control it. What all did Alice see? Yesterday… last night… My face got hot.
I saw his eyes narrow the way they did when he was trying to read my mind.
"Just thinking about what Alice might have seen," I explained before he could ask.
He nodded. "It can feel invasive. But she doesn't do it on purpose. And she sees so many different possibilities… She doesn't know which will happen. For example, she saw over a hundred different ways that yesterday could have gone, and you only survived about seventy-five percent of the scenarios." His voice got very hard at the last part, his posture tense. "They'd taken bets, you know, as to whether or not I would kill you."
"Oh."
His expression was still rigid. "Do you want to know who sided for and against?"
"Um, maybe not. Tell me after I meet them. I don't want to go into this prejudiced."
Surprised erased the anger from his face. "Oh, you'll go then?"
"Oh, why not." I threw up my hands. "It's traditional, isn't it?"
He laughed, a long, bell-like peal. I couldn't help but smile.
"If we're being traditional," He asked eagerly, "does that mean I get to meet Charlie, too?"
"He already knows you," I reminded him.
"As your boyfriend, I mean."
"Is that what you are?" I smiled.
"Of course." He seemed confused. "Is it a question?"
"I suppose we've never said the words."
He laughed, "I'm your boyfriend," he said and I could almost hear an edge of excitement in his voice, "And I would like to meet your father."
"Well, okay." I said finally. "You'll have to cut me some slack though, I've never introduced a boy to my dad and we just sort of opened up the conversation about boys. So I want to ease him into him."
"It's a loose interpretation of the word 'boy,' I'll admit." He reached across the table and ran a finger down my jaw, "but we'll spare him all the gory details." He smiled at me, lifting my chin with his finger. "He will need some explanation for why I'm around here so much. I don't want Chief Swan getting a restraining order put on me."
"Will you be here that much?" I asked, eagerly.
"As much as you want me," he assured me.
"I want you a lot." I said softly.
He grinned and rose swiftly, "Are you ready to go?"
"Sure, do I look decent?" I asked, standing and moving towards the door.
He grabbed me by my waist and pulled me close to him.
"Decent?" he murmured in my ear. "You are utterly indecent—no one should look so tempting, it's not fair."
"Tempting?" I asked, "I can change…"
"I wouldn't dream of it." He purred. He pressed his cool lips to my forehead, his sweet-smelling breath causing my head to spin. "Shall I explain how you are tempting me?"
His fingers traced slowly down my spine, his breath coming more quickly against my skin. My hands were limp on his chest, and I felt lightheaded and giddy. He tilted his head slowly and touched his cool lips to mine, very carefully, parting them slightly. I couldn't stop myself from grabbing handfuls of his shirt, his grip on my waist tightened and I felt us stepping backwards until my back was against a wall. Edward growled seductively and his lips moved from my lips, along my jaw, and down my neck. My breath quickened and I felt an electric shiver run through my body.
"Okay, okay," I gasped. "We need to stop."
"Why?" He groaned into my neck, his voice disappointed.
"Because if you keep doing that I'm not going to be able to stop myself from jumping you."
He reluctantly pulled away, grinning widely. "Perhaps that wouldn't be the worst thing…"
"Don't tempt me." I groaned.
He smiled at me, looking me over. "I'm very partial to that color with your skin," he offered unexpectedly. I flushed even redder than I already was.
"We need to get going, or we're never going to leave." I said, breathlessly.
"You're starting to look worried." He noted, softly.
"I am."
"Not because you're headed to meet a houseful of vampires, but because you think those vampires won't approve of you, correct?"
"That's right." I answered immediately, hiding my surprise at his casual use of the word.
He shook his head. "You're incredible."
I realized, as he drove my truck out of the main part of town, that I had no idea where he lived. We passed over the bridge at the Calawah River, the road winding northward, the houses flashing past us growing farther apart, getting bigger. And then we were past the other houses altogether, driving through misty forest. I was trying to decide whether to ask or be patient, when he turned abruptly onto an unpaved road. It was unmarked, barely visible among the ferns. The forest encroached on both sides, leaving the road ahead only discernible for a few meters as it twisted, serpent like, around the ancient trees.
And then, after a few miles, there was some thinning of the woods, and we were suddenly in a small meadow, or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of the forest didn't relent, though, for there were six primordial cedars that shaded an entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. The trees held their protecting shadow right up to the walls of the house that rose among them, making obsolete the deep porch that wrapped around the first story.
I don't know what I had expected, but it definitely wasn't this. The house was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular and well proportioned. The windows and doors were either part of the original structure or a perfect restoration. My truck was the only car in sight. I could hear the river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest.
"Wow."
"You like it?" he smiled.
"It… has a certain charm."
He leaned over and gently kissed my neck. Suddenly, he was out of the car and opening my door before I had even blushed.
"Ready?" He asked, smiling.
"Not even a little bit—let's go." I laughed nervously as my nerves started to get the best of me.
"You look fantastic." He took my hand easily, without thinking about it.
We walked through the deep shade up to the porch. I knew he could feel my mounting tension; his thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of my hand.
He opened the door for me.
The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior. It was very bright, very open, and very large. This must have originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high beamed ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white.
Waiting to greet us, standing just to the left of the door, on a raised portion of the floor by a spectacular grand piano, were Edward's parents.
I'd seen Dr. Cullen before, of course, yet I couldn't help but be struck again by his youth, his outrageous perfection. At his side was Esme, I assumed, the only one of the family I'd never seen before. She had the same pale, beautiful features as the rest of them. Something about her heart-shaped face, her billows of soft, caramel-colored hair, reminded me of the ingénues of the silent-movie era. She was small, slender, yet less angular, more rounded than the others. They were both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside of the house. Their smile were welcoming, but they made no move to approach us. Trying not to frighten me, I guessed.
"Carlisle, Esme," Edward's voice broke the short silence, "this is Beau."
"You're very welcome, Beau." Carlisle's step was measured, careful as he approached me. He raised his hand tentatively, and I stepped forward to shake hands with him.
"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen."
"Please, call me Carlisle."
"Carlisle." I grinned at him, my sudden confidence surprising me. I could feel Edward's relief at my side.
Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for my hand. Her cold, stone grasp was just as I expected.
"It's very nice to know you," she said sincerely.
"Thank you. I'm glad to meet you, too." And I was. It was like meeting a fairy tale—Snow White, in the flesh.
"Where are Alice and Jasper?" Edward asked, but no one answered, as they had just appeared at the top of the wide staircase.
"Hey, Edward!" Alice called enthusiastically. She ran down the stairs, a streak of black hair and white skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop in front of me. Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at her, but I liked it. It was natural—for her, anyway.
"Hi, Beau!" Alice said, and she bounced forward to kiss my cheek. If Carlisle and Esme had looked cautious before, they now looked staggered. There was surprise in my eyes, too, but I was also very pleased that she seemed to approve of me so entirely. I was startled to feel Edward stiffen at my side. I glanced at his face, but his expression was unreadable.
"You do smell nice, I never noticed before," she commented, to my embarrassment.
No one else seemed to know quite what to say, and then Jasper was there—tall and leonine. A feeling of ease spread through me, and I was suddenly comfortable despite where I was. Edward stared at Jasper, raising one eyebrow, and I remembered what Jasper could do.
"Hello, Beau." Jasper said. He kept his distance, not offering to shake my hand. But it was impossible to feel awkward near him.
"Hello, Jasper." I smiled at him shyly, and then at the others. "It's nice to meet you all—you have a very beautiful home," I added conventionally.
"Thank you," Esme said. "We're so glad that you came." She spoke with feeling, and I realized that she thought I was brave.
I also realized that Royal and Emmett were nowhere to be seen, and I remembered Edward's too-innocent denial when I'd asked him if the others didn't like me.
Carlisle's expression distracted me from this train of thought; he was gazing meaningfully at Edward with an intense expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward nod once.
I looked away, trying to be polite. My eyes wandered again to the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. I suddenly remembered my childhood fantasy that, should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my mother. She wasn't really good—she only played for herself on our secondhand upright—but I loved to watch her play. She was happy, absorbed—she seemed like a new, mysterious being to me then, someone outside the "mom" persona I took for granted. She put me through lessons, of course, but I didn't remember much.
Esme noticed my preoccupation.
"Do you play?" she asked, inclining her head toward the piano.
I shook my head. "Not at all. But it's so beautiful. Is it yours?"
"No," she laughed. "Edward didn't tell you he was musical?"
"No." I glared at his suddenly innocent expression with narrowed eyes. "I should have known, I guess."
Esme raised her delicate eyebrows in confusion.
"Is there anything he's not good at?" I asked rhetorically.
Jasper snickered, Alice rolled her eyes, and Esme gave Edward a reproving look.
"I hope you haven't been showing off—it's rude," she scolded.
"Just a bit," he laughed freely. Her face softened at the sound, and they shared a brief look that I didn't understand, though Esme's face seemed almost smug.
"He's been too modest, actually." I corrected.
"Well, play for him," Esme encouraged.
"You just said showing off was rude," he objected.
"There are exceptions to every rule," she replied. She smiled at me. "I'm being selfish. He doesn't play enough, and I love to hear him."
"I'd like to hear you play," I told Edward.
"It's settled then." Esme pushed him toward the piano. He pulled me along, sitting me on the bench beside him.
He gave me a long, exasperated look before he turned to the keys.
And then his fingers flowed swiftly across the ivory, and the room was filled with a composition so complex, so luxuriant, it was impossible to believe only one set of hands played it. I felt my chin drop, my mouth open in astonishment, and heard low chuckles behind me at my reaction.
Edward looked at me casually, the music still surging around us without a break, and winked. "Do you like it?"
"Did you write this?" I asked, understanding.
He nodded. "It's Esme's favorite."
"It's beautiful." I murmured softly, entranced by the sound.
Edward smiled. The music slowed, transforming into something softer, and to my surprise I detected the melody of his lullaby weaving through the profusion of notes.
"You inspired this one," he said softly. "This is your song." The music grew unbearably sweet.
I couldn't speak.
"They like you, you know," he said conversationally. "Esme, especially."
I glanced behind me, but the huge room was empty now.
"Where did they go?"
"Very subtly giving us some privacy, I suppose."
I sighed. "They like me. But Royal and Emmett…" I trailed off, not sure how to express my doubts.
He frowned. "Don't worry about Royal," he said, his eyes wide and persuasive. "He'll come around."
I pursed my lips skeptically. "Emmett?"
"Well, he thinks I'm a lunatic, it's true, but he doesn't have a problem with you. He's trying to reason with Royal."
"What is it that upset Royal?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.
He sighed deeply. "Royal struggles the most with… with what we are. It's hard for him to have someone on the outside know the truth. And he's a little jealous."
"Royal is jealous of me?" I asked, utterly perplexed.
"You're human." He shrugged. "He wishes that he were, too."
"Oh," I muttered, a little stunned. "Even Jasper, though…"
"That's really my fault," he said. "I told you he was the most recent to our way of life. I warned him to keep his distance."
I thought about the reason for that, and shuddered.
"Esme and Carlisle…?" I continued quickly, to keep him from noticing.
"Are happy to see me happy. Actually, Esme wouldn't care if you had a third eye and webbed feet. All this time she's been worried about me, afraid that there was something missing from my essential makeup, that I was too young when Carlisle changed me…. She's ecstatic. Every time I touch you, she just about chokes with satisfaction."
"Alice seems very… enthusiastic."
"Alice has her own way of looking at things," he said through tight lips.
"And you're not going to explain that, are you?"
A moment of wordless communication passed between us. He realized that I knew he was keeping something from me. I realized that he wasn't going to give anything away. Not now.
"So what was Carlisle telling you before?"
His eyebrows furrowed. "You noticed that, did you?"
I shrugged. "Give me some credit."
He looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering.
"He wanted to tell me some news—he didn't know if it was something I would share with you."
"Will you?"
"I have to, because I'm going to be a little… overbearingly protective over the next few days—or weeks—and I wouldn't want you to think I'm naturally a tyrant."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Alice just seems some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious."
"Visitors?"
"Yes… well, they aren't like us, of course—in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they're gone."
I shivered.
"Finally, a rational response!" he murmured. "I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all."
I let that one pass, looking away, my eyes wandering again around the spacious room.
He followed my gaze. "Not what you expected, is it?" he asked, his voice smug.
"No," I admitted.
"No coffins, no piled skulls in the corners; I don't even think we have cobwebs… what a disappointment this must be for you," he continued slyly.
I ignored his teasing. "It's so light… so open."
He was more serious when he answered. "It's the one place we never have to hide."
The song he was still playing, my song, drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a more melancholy key. The last note hovered poignantly in the silence.
"Thank you," I murmured. I realized there were tears in my eyes. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, embarrassed.
He held my face in his hands and gently brushed the tears from the corner of my eyes with his thumbs.
"So human." He said, softly.
I gazed at him questioningly, and he gazed back for a long moment before he finally smiled.
"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"
"Only if there's coffins."
He laughed, loudly, taking my hand, and leading me away from the piano.
"I'll see what I can do." He assured me.
We walked up the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the satin-smooth rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs was paneled with a honey-colored wood, the same as the floorboards.
"Royal and Emmett's room… Carlisle's office… Alice and Jasper's room…" He gestured as he led me past the doors.
He would have continued, but I stopped dead at the end of the hall, staring incredulously at the ornament hanging on the wall above my head. Edward chuckled at my bewildered expression.
"You can laugh," he said. "it is sort of ironic."
I didn't laugh, though. My hand raised automatically, one finger extended as if to touch the large wooden cross, its dark patina contrasting with the lighter tone of the wall. I didn't touch it, though I was curious if the aged wood would feel as silky as it looked.
"It must be very old," I guessed.
He shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less."
I looked away from the cross to stare at him.
"Why do you keep this here?" I wondered.
"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father."
"He collected antiques?" I suggested doubtfully.
"No. He carved this himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached."
I wasn't sure if my face betrayed my shock, but I returned to gazing at the simple, ancient cross, just in case. I quickly did the math in my head; the cross was over three hundred and seventy years old. The silence stretched on as I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept of so many years.
"Are you all right?" He sounded worried.
"How old is Carlisle?" I asked quietly, ignoring his question, still staring up.
"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," Edward said. I looked back at him, a million questions in my eyes.
He watched me carefully as he spoke.
"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though."
I kept my face composed, aware of his scrutiny as I listened.
"He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves… and vampires." I grew very still at the word. I'm sure he noticed, but he went on without pausing.
"They burned a lot of innocent people—of course the real creatures that he sought were not so easy to catch.
"When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of the raids. At first Carlisle was a disappointment; he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist. But he was persistent, and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of the city, only coming out at night to hunt. In those days, when monsters were not just myths and legends, that was the way many lived.
"The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course"—his brief laugh was darker now—"and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."
His voice was very quiet; I strained to catch the words.
"He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle—he was twenty-three and very fast—was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street."
He paused. I could sense he was editing something, keeping something from me.
"Carlisle knew what his father would do. The bodies would be burned—anything infected by the monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted instinctively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He hid in a cellar, buried himself in some rotting potatoes for three days. It's a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered.
"It was then, and he realized what he had become."
I'm not sure what my face was revealing, but he suddenly broke off.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I'm fine." I assured him. And, thought I bit my lip in hesitation, he must have seen the curiosity burning in my eyes.
He smiled. "I expect you have a few more questions for me."
"Just a few."
His smiled widened over his brilliant teeth. He started back down the hall, pulling me along by the hand. "Come on, then," he encouraged. "I'll show you."