The Twilight Saga Collection

by Stephenie Meyer

  Finally, Charlie hung up the phone and turned to me.

  “Harry says there’s been some trouble with the phone lines, and that’s why you haven’t been able to get through. Billy took Jake to the doc down there, and it looks like he has mono. He’s real tired, and Billy said no visitors,” he reported.

  “No visitors?” I demanded in disbelief.

  Charlie raised one eyebrow. “Now don’t you go making a pest of yourself, Bells. Billy knows what’s best for Jake. He’ll be up and around soon enough. Be patient.”

  I didn’t push it. Charlie was too worried about Harry. That was clearly the more important issue—it wouldn’t be right to bug him with my lesser concerns. Instead, I went straight upstairs and turned on my computer. I found a medical site online and typed “mononucleosis” into the search box.

  All I knew about mono was that you were supposed to get it from kissing, which was clearly not the case with Jake. I read through the symptoms quickly—the fever he definitely had, but what about the rest of it? No horrible sore throat, no exhaustion, no headaches, at least not before he’d gone home from the movie; he’d said he felt “fit as a fiddle.” Did it really come on so fast? The article made it sound like the sore stuff showed up first.

  I glared at the computer screen and wondered why, exactly, I was doing this. Why did I feel so...so suspicious, like I didn’t believe Billy’s story? Why would Billy lie to Harry?

  I was being silly, probably. I was just worried, and, to be honest, I was afraid of not being allowed to see Jacob—that made me nervous.

  I skimmed through the rest of the article, looking for more information. I stopped when I got to the part about how mono could last more than a month.

  A month? My mouth fell open.

  But Billy couldn’t enforce the no-visitors thing that long. Of course not. Jake would go crazy stuck in bed that long without anyone to talk to.

  What was Billy afraid of, anyway? The article said that a person with mono needed to avoid physical activity, but there was nothing about visitors. The disease wasn’t very infectious.

  I’d give Billy a week, I decided, before I got pushy. A week was generous.

  A week was long. By Wednesday, I was sure I wasn’t going to live till Saturday.

  When I’d decided to leave Billy and Jacob alone for a week, I hadn’t really believed that Jacob would go along with Billy’s rule. Every day when I got home from school, I ran to the phone to check for messages. There never were any.

  I cheated three times by trying to call him, but the phone lines still weren’t working.

  I was in the house much too much, and much too alone. Without Jacob, and my adrenaline and my distractions, everything I’d been repressing started creeping up on me. The dreams got hard again. I could no longer see the end coming. Just the horrible nothingness—half the time in the forest, half the time in the empty fern sea where the white house no longer existed. Sometimes Sam Uley was there in the forest, watching me again. I paid him no attention—there was no comfort in his presence; it made me feel no less alone. It didn’t stop me from screaming myself awake, night after night.

  The hole in my chest was worse than ever. I’d thought that I’d been getting it under control, but I found myself hunched over, day after day, clutching my sides together and gasping for air.

  I wasn’t handling alone well.

  I was relieved beyond measure the morning I woke up—screaming, of course—and remembered that it was Saturday. Today I could call Jacob. And if the phone lines still weren’t working, then I was going to La Push. One way or another, today would be better than the last lonely week.

  I dialed, and then waited without high expectations. It caught me off guard when Billy answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, hey, the phone is working again! Hi, Billy. It’s Bella. I was just calling to see how Jacob is doing. Is he up for visitors yet? I was thinking about dropping by—”

  “I’m sorry, Bella,” Billy interrupted, and I wondered if he were watching TV; he sounded distracted. “He’s not in.”

  “Oh.” It took me a second. “So he’s feeling better then?”

  “Yeah,” Billy hesitated for an instant too long. “Turns out it wasn’t mono after all. Just some other virus.”

  “Oh. So...where is he?”

  “He’s giving some friends a ride up to Port Angeles—I think they were going to catch a double feature or something. He’s gone for the whole day.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. I’ve been so worried. I’m glad he felt good enough to get out.” My voice sounded horribly phony as I babbled on.

  Jacob was better, but not well enough to call me. He was out with friends. I was sitting home, missing him more every hour. I was lonely, worried, bored...perforated—and now also desolate as I realized that the week apart had not had the same effect on him.

  “Is there anything in particular you wanted?” Billy asked politely.

  “No, not really.”

  “Well, I’ll tell him that you called,” Billy promised. “Bye, Bella.”

  “Bye,” I replied, but he’d already hung up.

  I stood for a moment with the phone still in my hand.

  Jacob must have changed his mind, just like I’d feared. He was going to take my advice and not waste any more time on someone who couldn’t return his feelings. I felt the blood run out of my face.

  “Something wrong?” Charlie asked as he came down the stairs.

  “No,” I lied, hanging up the phone. “Billy says Jacob is feeling better. It wasn’t mono. So that’s good.”

  “Is he coming here, or are you going there?” Charlie asked absentmindedly as he started poking through the fridge.

  “Neither,” I admitted. “He’s going out with some other friends.”

  The tone of my voice finally caught Charlie’s attention. He looked up at me with sudden alarm, his hands frozen around a package of cheese slices.

  “Isn’t it a little early for lunch?” I asked as lightly as I could manage, trying to distract him.

  “No, I’m just packing something to take out to the river....”

  “Oh, fishing today?”

  “Well, Harry called...and it’s not raining.” He was creating a stack of food on the counter as he spoke. Suddenly he looked up again as if he’d just realized something. “Say, did you want me to stay with you, since Jake’s out?”

  “That’s okay, Dad,” I said, working to sound indifferent. “The fish bite better when the weather’s nice.”

  He stared at me, indecision clear on his face. I knew that he was worrying, afraid to leave me alone, in case I got “mopey” again.

  “Seriously, Dad. I think I’ll call Jessica,” I fibbed quickly. I’d rather be alone than have him watching me all day. “We have a Calculus test to study for. I could use her help.” That part was true. But I’d have to make do without it.

  “That’s a good idea. You’ve been spending so much time with Jacob, your other friends are going to think you’ve forgotten them.”

  I smiled and nodded as if I cared what my other friends thought.

  Charlie started to turn, but then spun back with a worried expression. “Hey, you’ll study here or at Jess’s, right?”

  “Sure, where else?”

  “Well, it’s just that I want you to be careful to stay out of the woods, like I told you before.”

  It took me a minute to understand, distracted as I was. “More bear trouble?”

  Charlie nodded, frowning. “We’ve got a missing hiker—the rangers found his camp early this morning, but no sign of him. There were some really big animal prints...of course those could have come later, smelling the food....Anyway, they’re setting traps for it now.”

  “Oh,” I said vaguely. I wasn’t really listening to his warnings; I was much more upset by the situation with Jacob than by the possibility of being eaten by a bear.

  I was glad that Charlie was in a hurry. He didn’t wai
t for me to call Jessica, so I didn’t have to put on that charade. I went through the motions of gathering my schoolbooks on the kitchen table to pack them in my bag; that was probably too much, and if he hadn’t been eager to hit the holes, it might have made him suspicious.

  I was so busy looking busy that the ferociously empty day ahead didn’t really crash down on me until after I’d watched him drive away. It only took about two minutes of staring at the silent kitchen phone to decide that I wasn’t staying home today. I considered my options.

  I wasn’t going to call Jessica. As far as I could tell, Jessica had crossed over to the dark side.

  I could drive to La Push and get my motorcycle—an appealing thought but for one minor problem: who was going to drive me to the emergency room if I needed it afterward?

  Or...I already had our map and compass in the truck. I was pretty sure I understood the process well enough by now that I wouldn’t get lost. Maybe I could eliminate two lines today, putting us ahead of schedule for whenever Jacob decided to honor me with his presence again. I refused to think about how long that might be. Or if it was going to be never.

  I felt a brief twinge of guilt as I realized how Charlie would feel about this, but I ignored it. I just couldn’t stay in the house again today.

  A few minutes later I was on the familiar dirt road that led to nowhere in particular. I had the windows rolled down and I drove as fast as was healthy for my truck, trying to enjoy the wind against my face. It was cloudy, but almost dry—a very nice day, for Forks.

  Getting started took me longer than it would have taken Jacob. After I parked in the usual spot, I had to spend a good fifteen minutes studying the little needle on the compass face and the markings on the now worn map. When I was reasonably certain that I was following the right line of the web, I set off into the woods.

  The forest was full of life today, all the little creatures enjoying the momentary dryness. Somehow, though, even with the birds chirping and cawing, the insects buzzing noisily around my head, and the occasional scurry of the field mice through the shrubs, the forest seemed creepier today; it reminded me of my most recent nightmare. I knew it was just because I was alone, missing Jacob’s carefree whistle and the sound of another pair of feet squishing across the damp ground.

  The sense of unease grew stronger the deeper I got into the trees. Breathing started to get more difficult—not because of exertion, but because I was having trouble with the stupid hole in my chest again. I kept my arms tight around my torso and tried to banish the ache from my thoughts. I almost turned around, but I hated to waste the effort I’d already expended.

  The rhythm of my footsteps started to numb my mind and my pain as I trudged on. My breathing evened out eventually, and I was glad I hadn’t quit. I was getting better at this bushwhacking thing; I could tell I was faster.

  I didn’t realize quite how much more efficiently I was moving. I thought I’d covered maybe four miles, and I wasn’t even starting to look around for it yet. And then, with an abruptness that disoriented me, I stepped through a low arch made by two vine maples—pushing past the chest-high ferns—into the meadow.

  It was the same place, of that I was instantly sure. I’d never seen another clearing so symmetrical. It was as perfectly round as if someone had intentionally created the flawless circle, tearing out the trees but leaving no evidence of that violence in the waving grass. To the east, I could hear the stream bubbling quietly.

  The place wasn’t nearly so stunning without the sunlight, but it was still very beautiful and serene. It was the wrong season for wildflowers; the ground was thick with tall grass that swayed in the light breeze like ripples across a lake.

  It was the same place...but it didn’t hold what I had been searching for.

  The disappointment was nearly as instantaneous as the recognition. I sank down right where I was, kneeling there at the edge of the clearing, beginning to gasp.

  What was the point of going any farther? Nothing lingered here. Nothing more than the memories that I could have called back whenever I wanted to, if I was ever willing to endure the corresponding pain—the pain that had me now, had me cold. There was nothing special about this place without him. I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d hoped to feel here, but the meadow was empty of atmosphere, empty of everything, just like everywhere else. Just like my nightmares. My head swirled dizzily.

  At least I’d come alone. I felt a rush of thankfulness as I realized that. If I’d discovered the meadow with Jacob...well, there was no way I could have disguised the abyss I was plunging into now. How could I have explained the way I was fracturing into pieces, the way I had to curl into a ball to keep the empty hole from tearing me apart? It was so much better that I didn’t have an audience.

  And I wouldn’t have to explain to anyone why I was in such a hurry to leave, either. Jacob would have assumed, after going to so much trouble to locate the stupid place, I would want to spend more than a few seconds here. But I was already trying to find the strength to get to my feet again, forcing myself out of the ball so that I could escape. There was too much pain in this empty place to bear—I would crawl away if I had to.

  How lucky that I was alone!

  Alone. I repeated the word with grim satisfaction as I wrenched myself to my feet despite the pain. At precisely that moment, a figure stepped out from the trees to the north, some thirty paces away.

  A dizzying array of emotions shot through me in a second. The first was surprise; I was far from any trail here, and I didn’t expect company. Then, as my eyes focused on the motionless figure, seeing the utter stillness, the pallid skin, a rush of piercing hope rocked through me. I suppressed it viciously, fighting against the equally sharp lash of agony as my eyes continued to the face beneath the black hair, the face that wasn’t the one I wanted to see. Next was fear; this was not the face I grieved for, but it was close enough for me to know that the man facing me was no stray hiker.

  And finally, in the end, recognition.

  “Laurent!” I cried in surprised pleasure.

  It was an irrational response. I probably should have stopped at fear.

  Laurent had been one of James’s coven when we’d first met. He hadn’t been involved with the hunt that followed—the hunt where I was the quarry—but that was only because he was afraid; I was protected by a bigger coven than his own. It would have been different if that wasn’t the case—he’d had no compunctions, at the time, against making a meal of me. Of course, he must have changed, because he’d gone to Alaska to live with the other civilized coven there, the other family that refused to drink human blood for ethical reasons. The other family like...but I couldn’t let myself think the name.

  Yes, fear would have made more sense, but all I felt was an overwhelming satisfaction. The meadow was a magic place again. A darker magic than I’d expected, to be sure, but magic all the same. Here was the connection I’d sought. The proof, however remote, that—somewhere in the same world where I lived—he did exist.

  It was impossible how exactly the same Laurent looked. I suppose it was very silly and human to expect some kind of change in the last year. But there was something...I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

  “Bella?” he asked, looking more astonished than I felt.

  “You remember.” I smiled. It was ridiculous that I should be so elated because a vampire knew my name.

  He grinned. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” He strolled toward me, his expression bemused.

  “Isn’t it the other way around? I do live here. I thought you’d gone to Alaska.”

  He stopped about ten paces away, cocking his head to the side. His face was the most beautiful face I’d seen in what felt like an eternity. I studied his features with a strangely greedy sense of release. Here was someone I didn’t have to pretend for—someone who already knew everything I could never say.

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “I did go to Alaska. Still, I didn’t expect...When I found the Cullen
place empty, I thought they’d moved on.”

  “Oh.” I bit my lip as the name set the raw edges of my wound throbbing. It took me a second to compose myself. Laurent waited with curious eyes.

  “They did move on,” I finally managed to tell him.

  “Hmm,” he murmured. “I’m surprised they left you behind. Weren’t you sort of a pet of theirs?” His eyes were innocent of any intended offense.

  I smiled wryly. “Something like that.”

  “Hmm,” he said, thoughtful again.

  At that precise moment, I realized why he looked the same—too much the same. After Carlisle told us that Laurent had stayed with Tanya’s family, I’d begun to picture him, on the rare occasions that I thought of him at all, with the same golden eyes that the...Cullens—I forced the name out, wincing—had. That all good vampires had.

  I took an involuntary step back, and his curious, dark red eyes followed the movement.

  “Do they visit often?” he asked, still casual, but his weight shifted toward me.

  “Lie,” the beautiful velvet voice whispered anxiously from my memory.

  I started at the sound of his voice, but it should not have surprised me. Was I not in the worst danger imaginable? The motorcycle was safe as kittens next to this.

  I did what the voice said to do.

  “Now and again.” I tried to make my voice light, relaxed. “The time seems longer to me, I imagine. You know how they get distracted....” I was beginning to babble. I had to work to shut myself up.

  “Hmm,” he said again. “The house smelled like it had been vacant for a while....”

  “You must lie better than that, Bella,” the voice urged.

  I tried. “I’ll have to mention to Carlisle that you stopped by. He’ll be sorry they missed your visit.” I pretended to deliberate for a second. “But I probably shouldn’t mention it to...Edward, I suppose—” I barely managed to say his name, and it twisted my expression on the way out, ruining my bluff “—he has such a temper...well, I’m sure you remember. He’s still touchy about the whole James thing.” I rolled my eyes and waved one hand dismissively, like it was all ancient history, but there was an edge of hysteria to my voice. I wondered if he would recognize what it was.