Twilight 2 - New Moon (46 page)

"Bella," Edward said disapprovingly. He knew my low tolerance for caffeine. Alice was behind us. I could hear her murmuring to Jasper on the phone. "I don't want to sleep," I reminded him. I gave him an excuse that was believable because it was true. "If I close my eyes now, I'll see things I don't want to see. I'll have nightmares." He didn't argue with me after that.

It would have been a very good time to talk, to get the answers I needed–needed but not really wanted; I was already despairing at the thought of what I might hear. We had an uninterrupted block of tirre ahead of us, and he couldn't escape me on an airplane–well, not easily, at least. No one would hear us except Alice; it was late, and most of the passengers were turning off lights and asking for pillows in muted voices. Talk would help me fight off the exhaustion.

But, perversely, I bit my tongue against the flood of questions. My reasoning was probably flawed by exhaustion, but I hoped that by postponing the discussion, I could buy a few more hours with him at some later time–spin this out for another night, Scheherazade-style.

So I kept drinking soda, and resisting even the urge to blink. Edward seemed perfectly content to hold me in his arms, his fingers tracing my face again and again. I touched his face, too. I couldn't stop myself, though I was afraid it would hurt me later, when I was alone again. He continued to kiss my hair, my forehead, my wrists… but never my lips, and that was good. After all, how many ways can one heart be mangled and still be expected to keep beating? I'd lived through a lot that should have finished me in the last few days, but it didn't make me feel strong. Instead, I felt horribly fragile, like one word could shatter me.

Edward didn't speak. Maybe he was hoping I would sleep. Maybe he had nothing to say.

I won the fight against my heavy lids. I was awake when we reached the airport in Atlanta, and I even watched the sun beginning to rise over Seattle's cloud cover before Edward slid the window shut. I was proud of myself. I hadn't missed one minute.

Neither Alice nor Edward was surprised by the reception that waited for us at Sea-Tac airport, but it caught me off guard. Jasper was the first one I saw–he didn't seem to see me at all. His eyes were only for Alice. She went quickly to his side; they didn't embrace like other couples meeting there. They only stared into each other's faces, yet, somehow, the moment was so private that I still felt the need to look away.

Carlisle and Esme waited in a quiet corner far from the line for the metal detectors, in the shadow of a wide pillar. Esme reached for me, hugging me fiercely, yet awkwardly, because Edward kept his arms around me, too.

"Thank you so much," she said in my ear.
Then she threw her arms around Edward, and she looked like she would be crying if that were possible.

"You will
never
put me through :hat again," she nearly growled.
Edward grinned, repentant. "Sorry, Mom." "Thank you, Bella," Carlisle said. "We owe you."

"Hardly," I mumbled. The sleepless night was suddenly overpowering. My head felt disconnected from my body.
"She's dead on her feet," Esme scolded Edward. "Let's get her home."

Not sure if home was what I wanted at this point, I stumbled, half-blind, through the airport, Edward dragging me on one side and Esme on the other. I didn't know if Alice and Jasper were behind us or not, and I was too exhausted to look.

I think I was mostly asleep, though I was still walking, when we reached their car. The surprise of seeing Emmett and Rosalie leaning against the black sedan under the dim lights of the parking garage revived me some. Edward stiffened.

"Don't," Esme whispered. "She feels awful." "She should," Edward said, making no attempt to keep his voice down. "It's not her fault," I said, my words garbled with exhaustion. "Let her make amends," Esme pleaded. "We'll ride with Alice and Jasper." Edward glowered at the absurdly lovely blond vampire waiting for us.

"Please, Edward," I said. I didn't want to ride with Rosalie any more than he seemed to, but I'd caused more than enough discord in his family.
He sighed, and towed me toward the car.

Emmett and Rosalie got in the front seat without speaking, while Edward pulled me in the back again. I knew I wasn't going to be able to fight my eyelids anymore, and I laid my head against his chest in defeat, letting them close. I felt the car purr to life.

"Edward," Rosalie began. "I know." Edward's brusque tone was not generous. "Bella?" Rosalie asked softly. My eyelids fluttered open in shock. It was the first time she'd ever spoken directly to me. "Yes, Rosalie?" I asked, hesitant.

"I'm so very sorry, Bella. I feel wretched about every part of this, and so grateful that you were brave enough to go save my brother after what I did. Please say you'll forgive me." The words were awkward, stilted because of her embarrassment, but they seemed sincere. "Of course, Rosalie," I mumbled, grasping at any chance to make her hate me a little less. "It's not your fault at all. I'm the one who jumped off the damn cliff. Of course I forgive you."

The words came out like mush. "It doesn't count until she's conscious, Rose," Emmett chuckled. "I'm conscious," I said; it just sounded like a garbled sigh. "Let her sleep," Edward insisted, but his voice was a little warmer.

It was quiet then, except for the gentle thrum of the engine. I must have fallen asleep, because it seemed like seconds later when the door opened and Edward was carrying me from the car. My eyes wouldn't open. At first I thought we were still at the airport.

And then I heard Charlie. "Bella!" he shouted from some distance. "Charlie," I mumbled, trying to shake off the stupor. "Shh," Edward whispered. "It's okay; you're home and safe. Just sleep."

"I can't believe you have the nerve to show your face here." Charlie bellowed at Edward, his voice much closer now.

"Stop it, Dad," I groaned. He didn't hear me. "What's wrong with her?" Charlie demanded. "She's just very tired, Charlie," Edward assured him quietly. "Please let her rest." "Don't tell me what to do!" Charlie yelled. "Give her to me. Get your hands off her!"

Edward tried to pass me to Charlie, but I clung to him with locked, tenacious fingers. I could feel my dad yanking on my arm.
"Cut it out, Dad," I said with more volume. I managed to drag my lids back to stare at Charlie with bleary eyes. "Be mad at
me
."
We were in front of my house. The front door was standing open. The cloud cover overhead was too thick to guess at a time of day.
"You bet I will be," Charlie promised. "Get inside." i'"Kay. Let me down," I sighed.

Edward set me on my feet. I could see that I was upright, but I couldn't feel my legs. I trudged forward anyway, until the sidewalk swirled up toward my face. Edward's arms caught me before I hit the concrete.

"Just let me
get
her upstairs," Edward said. "Then I'll leave." "No," I cried, panicking. I hadn't got my answers yet. He had to stay for at least that much, didn't he?
"I won't be far," Edward promised, whispering so low in my ear that Charlie didn't have a hope of hearing.

I didn't hear Charlie answer, but Edward headed into the house. My open eyes only made it till the stairs. The last thing I felt was Edward's cool hands prying my fingers loose from his shirt.

23. THE TRUTH

I HAD THE SENSE THAT I'D BEEN ASLEEP FOR A VERY long time–my body was stiff, like I hadn't moved once through all that time, either. My mind was dazed and slow; strange, colorful dreams–dreams and nightmares–swirled dizzily around the inside of my head. They were so vivid. The horrible and the heavenly, all mixed together into a bizarre jumble. There was sharp impatience and fear, both part of that frustrating dream where your feet can't move fast enough… And there were plenty of monsters, red-eyed fiends that were all the more ghastly for their genteel civility. The dream was still strong–I could even remember the names. But the strongest, clearest part of the dream was not the horror. It was the angel that was
most
clear.

It was hard to let him go and wake up. This dream did not want to be shoved away into the vault of dreams I refused to revisit. I struggled with it as my mind became more alert, focusing on reality. I couldn't remember what day of the week it was, but I was sure Jacob or school or work or something was waiting for me. I inhaled deeply, wondering how to face another day.

Something cold touched my forehead with the softest pressure.
I squeezed my eyes more tightly shut. I was still dreaming, it seemed, and it felt abnormally real. I was so close to waking… any second now, and it would be gone.

But I realized that it felt too real, too real to be good for me. The stone arms I imagined wrapped around me were far too substantial. If I let this go any further, I'd be sorry for it later. With a resigned sigh, I wrenched back my eyelids to dispel the illusion.

"Oh!" I gasped, and threw my fists over my eyes.

Well, clearly, I'd gone too far; it must have been a mistake to let my imagination get so out of hand. Okay, so "let" was the wrong word. I'd
forced
it to get out of hand–pretty much stalked my hallucinations–and now my mind had snapped.

It took less than half a second for me to realize that, as long as I was truly insane now, I might as well enjoy the delusions while they were pleasant.
I opened my eyes again–and Edward was still there, his perfect face just inches away from mine.

"Did I frighten you?" His low voice was anxious. This was very good, as delusions went. The face, the voice, the scent, everything–it was so much better than drowning. The beautiful figment of my imagination watched my changing expressions, with alarm. His irises were pitch-black, with bruise-like shadows under them. This surprised me; my hallucinatory Edwards were usually better fed.

I blinked twice, desperately trying to remember the last thing that I was sure was real. Alice was part of my dream, and I wondered if she had really come back at all, or if that was just the preamble. I
thought
she'd returned the day I'd nearly drowned…

"Oh,
crap"
I croaked. My throat was thick with sleeping. "What's wrong, Bella?" I frowned at him unhappily. His face was even more anxious than before. "I'm dead, right?" I moaned. "I
did drown
. Crap, crap, crap! This is gonna kill Charlie." Edward frowned, too. "You're not dead." "Then why am I not waking up?" I challenged, raising my eyebrows. "You
are
awake, Bella."

I shook my head. "Sure, sure. That's what you want me to think. And then it will be worse when I do wake up.
If
I wake up, which I won't, because I'm dead. This is awful. Poor Charlie. And Renee and Jake…" I trailed off in horror at what I had done.

"I can see where you might confuse me with a nightmare." His short-lived smile was grim. "But I can't imagine what you could have done to wind up in hell. Did you commit many murders while I was away?"

I grimaced. "Obviously not. If I was in hell, you wouldn't be with me."
He sighed.

My head was getting clearer. My eyes flickered away from his face–unwillingly–for one second, to the dark, open window, and then back to him. I started to remember details… and I felt a faint, unfamiliar blush warm the skin over my cheekbones as I slowly realized that Edward was really, truly here with me, and I was wasting time being an idiot.

"Did all of that really happen, then?" It was almost impossible to reassign my dream as reality. I couldn't wrap my head around the concept.
"That depends." Edward's smile was still hard. "If you're referring to us nearly being massacred in Italy, then, yes."
"How strange," I mused. "I really went to Italy. Did you know I'd never been farther east than Albuquerque?"
He rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should go back to sleep. You're not coherent." "I'm not tired anymore." It was all coming clear now. "What time is it? How long have I been sleeping?"

"It's just after one in the morning. So, about fourteen hours." I stretched as he spoke. I was so stiff. "Charlie?" I asked.

Edward frowned. "Sleeping. You should probably know that I'm breaking the rules right now. Well, not technically, since he said I was never to walk through his door again, and I came in the window… But, still, the intent was clear."

"Charlie banned you from the house?" I asked, disbelief quickly melting into fury. His eyes were sad. "Did you expect anything else?"

My
eyes were mad. I was going to have a few words with my father–perhaps it would be a good time to remind him that I was over the legal age of adulthood. It didn't matter so much, of course, except in principle. All too soon there would be no reason for the prohibition. I turned my thoughts to less painful avenues.

"What's the story?" I asked, genuinely curious, but also trying desperately to keep the conversation casual, to keep a firm grip on myself, so I wouldn't scare him away with the frantic, gnawing craving that was raging inside me.

"What do you mean?" "What am I telling Charlie? What's my excuse for disappearing for… how long was I gone, anyway?" I tried to count the hours in my head.
"Just three days." His eyes tightened, but he smiled more naturally this time. "Actually, I was hoping you might have a good explanation. I've got nothing."

I groaned. "Fabulous." "Well, maybe Alice will come up with something," he offered, trying to comfort me.

And I was comforted. Who cared what I had to deal with later? Every second that he was here–so close, his flawless face glowing in the dim light from the numbers on my alarm clock–was precious and not to be wasted.

"So," I began, picking the least important–though still vitally interesting–question to start with. I was safely delivered home, and he might decide to leave at any moment. I had to keep him talking. Besides, this temporary heaven wasn't entirely complete without the sound of his voice. "What have you been doing, up until three days ago?"

His face turned wary in an instant. "Nothing terribly exciting."
"Of course not," I mumbled.
"Why are you making that face?"

"Well…" I pursed my lips, considering. "If you were, after all, just a dream, that's exactly the kind of thing you would say. My imagination must be used up."
He sighed. "If I tell you, will you finally believe that you're not having a nightmare?" "Nightmare!" I repeated scornfully. He waited for my answer. "Maybe," I said after a second of thought. "If you tell me."