He rose in silence and then stood still, waiting for me. We walked toward the gym in silence, like yesterday. And, also like yesterday, he touched my face wordlessly — this time with the back of his cool hand, stroking once from my temple to my jaw — before he turned and walked away.
Gym passed quickly as I watched Mike’s one-man badminton show. He didn’t speak to me today, either in response to my vacant expression or because he was still angry about our squabble yesterday. Somewhere, in a corner of my mind, I felt bad about that. But I couldn’t concentrate on him.
I hurried to change afterward, ill at ease, knowing the faster I moved, the sooner I would be with Edward. The pressure made me more clumsy than usual, but eventually I made it out the door, feeling the same release when I saw him standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading across my face. He smiled in reaction before launching into more cross-examination.
His questions were different now, though, not as easily answered. He wanted to know what I missed about home, insisting on descriptions of anything he wasn’t familiar with. We sat in front of Charlie’s house for hours, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted around us in a sudden deluge.
I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote — bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant — the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me — to justify a beauty that didn’t depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way they held on to the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe it to him.
His quiet, probing questions kept me talking freely, forgetting, in the dim light of the storm, to be embarrassed for monopolizing the conversation. Finally, when I had finished detailing my cluttered room at home, he paused instead of responding with another question.
“Are you finished?” I asked in relief.
“Not even close — but your father will be home soon.”
“Charlie!” I suddenly recalled his existence, and sighed. I looked out at the rain-darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. “How late is it?” I wondered out loud as I glanced at the clock. I was surprised by the time — Charlie would be driving home now.
“It’s twilight,” Edward murmured, looking at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds. His voice was thoughtful, as if his mind were somewhere far away. I stared at him as he gazed unseeingly out the windshield.
I was still staring when his eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.
“It’s the safest time of day for us,” he said, answering the unspoken question in my eyes. “The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way . . . the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don’t you think?” He smiled wistfully.
“I like the night. Without the dark, we’d never see the stars.” I frowned. “Not that you see them here much.”
He laughed, and the mood abruptly lightened.
“Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him that you’ll be with me Saturday . . .” He raised one eyebrow.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I gathered my books, realizing I was stiff from sitting still so long. “So is it my turn tomorrow, then?”
“Certainly not!” His face was teasingly outraged. “I told you I wasn’t done, didn’t I?”
“What more is there?”
“You’ll find out tomorrow.” He reached across to open my door for me, and his sudden proximity sent my heart into frenzied palpitations.
But his hand froze on the handle.
“Not good,” he muttered.
“What is it?” I was surprised to see that his jaw was clenched, his eyes disturbed.
He glanced at me for a brief second. “Another complication,” he said glumly.
He flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from me.
The flash of headlights through the rain caught my attention as a dark car pulled up to the curb just a few feet away, facing us.
“Charlie’s around the corner,” he warned, staring through the downpour at the other vehicle.
I hopped out at once, despite my confusion and curiosity. The rain was louder as it glanced off my jacket.
I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it was too dark. I could see Edward illuminated in the glare of the new car’s headlights; he was still staring ahead, his gaze locked on something or someone I couldn’t see. His expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance.
Then he revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds.
“Hey, Bella,” called a familiar, husky voice from the driver’s side of the little black car.
“Jacob?” I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Charlie’s cruiser swung around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.
Jacob was already climbing out, his wide grin visible even through the darkness. In the passenger seat was a much older man, a heavyset man with a memorable face — a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running through the russet skin like an old leather jacket. And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. Jacob’s father, Billy Black. I knew him immediately, though in the more than five years since I’d seen him last I’d managed to forget his name when Charlie had spoken of him my first day here. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His eyes were wide, as if in shock or fear, his nostrils flared. My smile faded.
Another complication, Edward had said.
Billy still stared at me with intense, anxious eyes. I groaned internally. Had Billy recognized Edward so easily? Could he really believe the impossible legends his son had scoffed at?
The answer was clear in Billy’s eyes. Yes. Yes, he could.
12. BALANCING
“BILLY!” CHARLIE CALLED AS SOON AS HE GOT OUT OF the car.
I turned toward the house, beckoning to Jacob as I ducked under the porch. I heard Charlie greeting them loudly behind me.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you behind the wheel, Jake,” he said disapprovingly.
“We get permits early on the rez,” Jacob said while I unlocked the door and flicked on the porch light.
“Sure you do,” Charlie laughed.
“I have to get around somehow.” I recognized Billy’s resonant voice easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger, a child.
I went inside, leaving the door open behind me and turning on lights before I hung up my jacket. Then I stood in the door, watching anxiously as Charlie and Jacob helped Billy out of the car and into his wheelchair.
I backed out of the way as the three of them hurried in, shaking off the rain.
“This is a surprise,” Charlie was saying.
“It’s been too long,” Billy answered. “I hope it’s not a bad time.” His dark eyes flashed up to me again, their expression unreadable.
“No, it’s great. I hope you can stay for the game.”
Jacob grinned. “I think that’s the plan — our TV broke last week.”
Billy made a face at his son. “And, of course, Jacob was anxious to see Bella again,” he added. Jacob scowled and ducked his head while I fought back a surge of remorse. Maybe I’d been too convincing on the beach.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, turning toward the kitchen. I was eager to escape Billy’s searching gaze.
“Naw, we ate just before we came,” Jacob answered.
“How about you, Charlie?” I called over my should
er as I fled around the corner.
“Sure,” he replied, his voice moving in the direction of the front room and the TV. I could hear Billy’s chair follow.
The grilled cheese sandwiches were in the frying pan and I was slicing up a tomato when I sensed someone behind me.
“So, how are things?” Jacob asked.
“Pretty good.” I smiled. His enthusiasm was hard to resist. “How about you? Did you finish your car?”
“No.” He frowned. “I still need parts. We borrowed that one.” He pointed with his thumb in the direction of the front yard.
“Sorry. I haven’t seen any . . . what was it you were looking for?”
“Master cylinder.” He grinned. “Is something wrong with the truck?” he added suddenly.
“No.”
“Oh. I just wondered because you weren’t driving it.”
I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to check the bottom side. “I got a ride with a friend.”
“Nice ride.” Jacob’s voice was admiring. “I didn’t recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here.”
I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes down as I flipped sandwiches.
“My dad seemed to know him from somewhere.”
“Jacob, could you hand me some plates? They’re in the cupboard over the sink.”
“Sure.”
He got the plates in silence. I hoped he would let it drop now.
“So who was it?” he asked, setting two plates on the counter next to me.
I sighed in defeat. “Edward Cullen.”
To my surprise, he laughed. I glanced up at him. He looked a little embarrassed.
“Guess that explains it, then,” he said. “I wondered why my dad was acting so strange.”
“That’s right.” I faked an innocent expression. “He doesn’t like the Cullens.”
“Superstitious old man,” Jacob muttered under his breath.
“You don’t think he’d say anything to Charlie?” I couldn’t help asking, the words coming out in a low rush.
Jacob stared at me for a moment, and I couldn’t read the expression in his dark eyes. “I doubt it,” he finally answered. “I think Charlie chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven’t spoken much since — tonight is sort of a reunion, I think. I don’t think he’d bring it up again.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to sound indifferent.
I stayed in the front room after I carried the food out to Charlie, pretending to watch the game while Jacob chattered at me. I was really listening to the men’s conversation, watching for any sign that Billy was about to rat me out, trying to think of ways to stop him if he began.
It was a long night. I had a lot of homework that was going undone, but I was afraid to leave Billy alone with Charlie. Finally, the game ended.
“Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?” Jacob asked as he pushed his father over the lip of the threshold.
“I’m not sure,” I hedged.
“That was fun, Charlie,” Billy said.
“Come up for the next game,” Charlie encouraged.
“Sure, sure,” Billy said. “We’ll be here. Have a good night.” His eyes shifted to mine, and his smile disappeared. “You take care, Bella,” he added seriously.
“Thanks,” I muttered, looking away.
I headed for the stairs while Charlie waved from the doorway.
“Wait, Bella,” he said.
I cringed. Had Billy gotten something in before I’d joined them in the living room?
But Charlie was relaxed, still grinning from the unexpected visit.
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to you tonight. How was your day?”
“Good.” I hesitated with one foot on the first stair, searching for details I could safely share. “My badminton team won all four games.”
“Wow, I didn’t know you could play badminton.”
“Well, actually I can’t, but my partner is really good,” I admitted.
“Who is it?” he asked with token interest.
“Um . . . Mike Newton,” I told him reluctantly.
“Oh yeah — you said you were friends with the Newton kid.” He perked up. “Nice family.” He mused for a minute. “Why didn’t you ask him to the dance this weekend?”
“Dad!” I groaned. “He’s kind of dating my friend Jessica. Besides, you know I can’t dance.”
“Oh yeah,” he muttered. Then he smiled at me apologetically. “So I guess it’s good you’ll be gone Saturday . . . I’ve made plans to go fishing with the guys from the station. The weather’s supposed to be real warm. But if you wanted to put your trip off till someone could go with you, I’d stay home. I know I leave you here alone too much.”
“Dad, you’re doing a great job.” I smiled, hoping my relief didn’t show. “I’ve never minded being alone — I’m too much like you.” I winked at him, and he smiled his crinkly-eyed smile.
I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. When I woke to the pearl gray morning, my mood was blissful. The tense evening with Billy and Jacob seemed harmless enough now; I decided to forget it completely. I caught myself whistling while I was pulling the front part of my hair back into a barrette, and later again as I skipped down the stairs. Charlie noticed.
“You’re cheerful this morning,” he commented over breakfast.
I shrugged. “It’s Friday.”
I hurried so I would be ready to go the second Charlie left. I had my bag ready, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door as soon as I was sure Charlie would be out of sight, Edward was faster. He was waiting in his shiny car, windows down, engine off.
I didn’t hesitate this time, climbing in the passenger side quickly, the sooner to see his face. He grinned his crooked smile at me, stopping my breath and my heart. I couldn’t imagine how an angel could be any more glorious. There was nothing about him that could be improved upon.
“How did you sleep?” he asked. I wondered if he had any idea how appealing his voice was.
“Fine. How was your night?”
“Pleasant.” His smile was amused; I felt like I was missing an inside joke.
“Can I ask what you did?” I asked.
“No.” He grinned. “Today is still mine.”
He wanted to know about people today: more about Renée, her hobbies, what we’d done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I’d known, my few school friends — embarrassing me when he asked about boys I’d dated. I was relieved that I’d never really dated anyone, so that particular conversation couldn’t last long. He seemed as surprised as Jessica and Angela by my lack of romantic history.
“So you never met anyone you wanted?” he asked in a serious tone that made me wonder what he was thinking about.
I was grudgingly honest. “Not in Phoenix.”
His lips pressed together into a hard line.
We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the blur that was rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of his brief pause to take a bite of my bagel.
“I should have let you drive yourself today,” he announced, apropos of nothing, while I chewed.
“Why?” I demanded.
“I’m leaving with Alice after lunch.”
“Oh.” I blinked, bewildered and disappointed. “That’s okay, it’s not that far of a walk.”
He frowned at me impatiently. “I’m not going to make you walk home. We’ll go get your truck and leave it here for you.”
“I don’t have my key with me,” I sighed. “I really don’t mind walking.” What I minded was losing my time with him.
He shook his head. “Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition — unless you’re afraid someone might steal it.” He laughed at the thought.
“All right,” I agreed, pursing my lips. I was pretty sure my key was in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry room. Ev
en if he broke into my house, or whatever he was planning, he’d never find it. He seemed to feel the challenge in my consent. He smirked, overconfident.
“So where are you going?” I asked as casually as I could manage.
“Hunting,” he answered grimly. “If I’m going to be alone with you tomorrow, I’m going to take whatever precautions I can.” His face grew morose . . . and pleading. “You can always cancel, you know.”
I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear him, no matter how real the danger might be. It doesn’t matter, I repeated in my head.
“No,” I whispered, glancing back at his face. “I can’t.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” he murmured bleakly. His eyes seemed to darken in color as I watched.
I changed the subject. “What time will I see you tomorrow?” I asked, already depressed by the thought of him leaving now.
“That depends . . . it’s a Saturday, don’t you want to sleep in?” he offered.
“No,” I answered too fast. He restrained a smile.
“The same time as usual, then,” he decided. “Will Charlie be there?”
“No, he’s fishing tomorrow.” I beamed at the memory of how conveniently things had worked out.
His voice turned sharp. “And if you don’t come home, what will he think?”
“I have no idea,” I answered coolly. “He knows I’ve been meaning to do the laundry. Maybe he’ll think I fell in the washer.”
He scowled at me and I scowled back. His anger was much more impressive than mine.
“What are you hunting tonight?” I asked when I was sure I had lost the glowering contest.
“Whatever we find in the park. We aren’t going far.” He seemed bemused by my casual reference to his secret realities.
The Twilight Saga Collection Page 19
