of money, no matter whose it is.”
A pained looked tightened his face. “Bella —”
“Don’t start. I agree that I need to go through the motions for Charlie’s sake, but we both know I’m not
going to be in any condition to go to school next fall. To be anywhere near people.”
My knowledge of those first few years as a new vampire was sketchy. Edward had never gone into details
— it wasn’t his favorite subject — but I knew it wasn’t pretty. Self-control was apparently an acquired skill.
Anything more than correspondence school was out of the question.
“I thought the timing was still undecided,” Edward reminded me softly. “You might enjoy a semester or
two of college. There are a lot of human experiences you’ve never had.”
“I’ll get to those afterward.”
“They won’t be human experiences afterward. You don’t get a second chance at humanity, Bella.”
I sighed. “You’ve got to be reasonable about the timing, Edward. It’s just too dangerous to mess around
with.”
“There’s no danger yet,” he insisted.
I glared at him. No danger? Sure. I only had a sadistic vampire trying to avenge her mate’s death with my
own, preferably through some slow and torturous method. Who was worried about Victoria? And, oh yeah,
the Volturi — the vampire royal family with their small army of vampire warriors — who insisted that my heart
stop beating one way or another in the near future, because humans weren’t allowed to know they existed.
Right. No reason at all to panic.
Even with Alice keeping watch — Edward was relying on her uncannily accurate visions of the future to
give us advance warning — it was insane to take chances.
Besides, I’d already won this argument. The date for my transformation was tentatively set for shortly after
my graduation from high school, only a handful of weeks away.
A sharp jolt of unease pierced my stomach as I realized how short the time really was. Of course this
change was necessary — and the key to what I wanted more than everything else in the world put together —
but I was deeply conscious of Charlie sitting in the other room enjoying his game, just like every other night.
And my mother, Renée, far away in sunny Florida, still pleading with me to spend the summer on the beach
with her and her new husband. And Jacob, who, unlike my parents, would know exactly what was going on
when I disappeared to some distant school. Even if my parents didn’t grow suspicious for a long time, even if I
could put off visits with excuses about travel expenses or study loads or illnesses, Jacob would know the truth.
For a moment, the idea of Jacob’s certain revulsion overshadowed every other pain.
“Bella,” Edward murmured, his face twisting when he read the distress in mine. “There’s no hurry. I won’t
let anyone hurt you. You can take all the time you need.”
“I want to hurry,” I whispered, smiling weakly, trying to make a joke of it. “I want to be a monster, too.”
His teeth clenched; he spoke through them. “You have no idea what you’re saying.” Abruptly, he flung the
damp newspaper onto the table in between us. His finger stabbed the headline on the front page:
DEATH TOLL ON THE RISE, POLICE FEAR GANG ACTIVITY
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Monsters are not a joke, Bella.”
I stared at the headline again, and then up to his hard expression. “A . . . a vampire is doing this?” I
whispered.
He smiled without humor. His voice was low and cold. “You’d be surprised, Bella, at how often my kind
are the source behind the horrors in your human news. It’s easy to recognize, when you know what to look
for. The information here indicates a newborn vampire is loose in Seattle. Bloodthirsty, wild, out of control.
The way we all were.”
I let my gaze drop to the paper again, avoiding his eyes.
“We’ve been monitoring the situation for a few weeks. All the signs are there — the unlikely
disappearances, always in the night, the poorly disposed-of corpses, the lack of other evidence. . . . Yes,
someone brand-new. And no one seems to be taking responsibility for the neophyte. . . .” He took a deep
breath. “Well, it’s not our problem. We wouldn’t even pay attention to the situation if wasn’t going on so close
to home. Like I said, this happens all the time. The existence of monsters results in monstrous consequences.”
I tried not to see the names on the page, but they jumped out from the rest of the print like they were in
bold. The five people whose lives were over, whose families were mourning now. It was different from
considering murder in the abstract, reading those names. Maureen Gardiner, Geoffrey Campbell, Grace Razi,
Michelle O’Connell, Ronald Albrook. People who’d had parents and children and friends and pets and jobs
and hopes and plans and memories and futures. . . .
“It won’t be the same for me,” I whispered, half to myself. “You won’t let me be like that. We’ll live in
Antarctica.”
Edward snorted, breaking the tension. “Penguins. Lovely.”
I laughed a shaky laugh and knocked the paper off the table so I wouldn’t have to see those names; it hit
the linoleum with a thud. Of course Edward would consider the hunting possibilities. He and his “vegetarian”
family — all committed to protecting human life — preferred the flavor of large predators for satisfying their
dietary needs. “Alaska, then, as planned. Only somewhere much more remote than Juneau — somewhere
with grizzlies galore.”
“Better,” he allowed. “There are polar bears, too. Very fierce. And the wolves get quite large.”
My mouth fell open and my breath blew out in a sharp gust.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. Before I could recover, the confusion vanished and his whole body seemed to
harden. “Oh. Never mind the wolves, then, if the idea is offensive to you.” His voice was stiff, formal, his
shoulders rigid.
“He was my best friend, Edward,” I muttered. It stung to use the past tense. “Of course the idea offends
me.”
“Please forgive my thoughtlessness,” he said, still very formal. “I shouldn’t have suggested that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I stared at my hands, clenched into a double fist on the table.
We were both silent for a moment, and then his cool finger was under my chin, coaxing my face up. His
expression was much softer now.
“Sorry. Really.”
“I know. I know it’s not the same thing. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It’s just that . . . well, I was
already thinking about Jacob before you came over.” I hesitated. His tawny eyes seemed to get a little bit
darker whenever I said Jacob’s name. My voice turned pleading in response. “Charlie says Jake is having a
hard time. He’s hurting right now, and . . . it’s my fault.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Bella.”
I took a deep breath. “I need to make it better, Edward. I owe him that. And it’s one of Charlie’s
conditions, anyway —”
His face changed while I spoke, turning hard again, statue-like.
“You know it’s out of the question for you to be around a werewolf unprotected, Bella. And it would
break the treaty if any of us cross over onto their land. Do you want us to start a war?”
“Of course not!”
“Then there’s really no point in discussing the matter further.” He dropped his hand and looked away,
searching for a subject change. His eyes paused on something behind me, and he smiled, though his eyes
stayed wary.
“I’m glad Charlie has decided to let you out — you’re sadly in need of a visit to the bookstore. I can’t
believe you’re reading Wuthering Heights again. Don’t you know it by heart yet?”
“Not all of us have photographic memories,” I said curtly.
“Photographic memory or not, I don’t understand why you like it. The characters are ghastly people who
ruin each others’ lives. I don’t know how Heathcliff and Cathy ended up being ranked with couples like
Romeo and Juliet or Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. It isn’t a love story, it’s a hate story.”
“You have some serious issues with the classics,” I snapped.
“Perhaps it’s because I’m not impressed by antiquity.” He smiled, evidently satisfied that he’d distracted
me. “Honestly, though, why do you read it over and over?” His eyes were vivid with real interest now, trying
— again — to unravel the convoluted workings of my mind. He reached across the table to cradle my face in
his hand. “What is it that appeals to you?”
His sincere curiosity disarmed me. “I’m not sure,” I said, scrambling for coherency while his gaze
unintentionally scattered my thoughts. “I think it’s something about the inevitability. How nothing can keep
them apart — not her selfishness, or his evil, or even death, in the end. . . .”
His face was thoughtful as he considered my words. After a moment he smiled a teasing smile. “I still think
it would be a better story if either of them had one redeeming quality.”
“I think that may be the point,” I disagreed. “Their love is their only redeeming quality.”
“I hope you have better sense than that — to fall in love with someone so . . . malignant.”
“It’s a bit late for me to worry about who I fall in love with,” I pointed out. “But even without the warning,
I seem to have managed fairly well.”
He laughed quietly. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Well, I hope you’re smart enough to stay away from someone so selfish. Catherine is really the source of
all the trouble, not Heathcliff.”
“I’ll be on my guard,” he promised.
I sighed. He was so good at distractions.
I put my hand over his to hold it to my face. “I need to see Jacob.”
His eyes closed. “No.”
“It’s truly not dangerous at all,” I said, pleading again. “I used to spend all day in La Push with the whole
lot of them, and nothing ever happened.”
But I made a slip; my voice faltered at the end because I realized as I was saying the words that they were
a lie. It was not true that nothing had ever happened. A brief flash of memory — an enormous gray wolf
crouched to spring, baring his dagger-like teeth at me — had my palms sweating with an echo of remembered
panic.
Edward heard my heart accelerate and nodded as if I’d acknowledged the lie aloud. “Werewolves are
unstable. Sometimes, the people near them get hurt. Sometimes, they get killed.”
I wanted to deny it, but another image slowed my rebuttal. I saw in my head the once beautiful face of
Emily Young, now marred by a trio of dark scars that dragged down the corner of her right eye and left her
mouth warped forever into a lopsided scowl.
He waited, grimly triumphant, for me to find my voice.
“You don’t know them,” I whispered.
“I know them better than you think, Bella. I was here the last time.”
“The last time?”
“We started crossing paths with the wolves about seventy years ago. . . . We had just settled near
Hoquiam. That was before Alice and Jasper were with us. We outnumbered them, but that wouldn’t have
stopped it from turning into a fight if not for Carlisle. He managed to convince Ephraim Black that coexisting
was possible, and eventually we made the truce.”
Jacob’s great-grandfather’s name startled me.
“We thought the line had died out with Ephraim,” Edward muttered; it sounded like he was talking to
himself now. “That the genetic quirk which allowed the transmutation had been lost. . . .” He broke off and
stared at me accusingly. “Your bad luck seems to get more potent every day. Do you realize that your
insatiable pull for all things deadly was strong enough to recover a pack of mutant canines from extinction? If
we could bottle your luck, we’d have a weapon of mass destruction on our hands.”
I ignored the ribbing, my attention caught by his assumption — was he serious? “But I didn’t bring them
back. Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“My bad luck had nothing to do with it. The werewolves came back because the vampires did.”
Edward stared at me, his body motionless with surprise.
“Jacob told me that your family being here set things in motion. I thought you would already know. . . .”
His eyes narrowed. “Is that what they think?”
“Edward, look at the facts. Seventy years ago, you came here, and the werewolves showed up. You
come back now, and the werewolves show up again. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”
He blinked and his glare relaxed. “Carlisle will be interested in that theory.”
“Theory,” I scoffed.
He was silent for a moment, staring out the window into the rain; I imagined he was contemplating the fact
that his family’s presence was turning the locals into giant dogs.
“Interesting, but not exactly relevant,” he murmured after a moment. “The situation remains the same.”
I could translate that easily enough: no werewolf friends.
I knew I must be patient with Edward. It wasn’t that he was unreasonable, it was just that he didn’t
understand. He had no idea how very much I owed Jacob Black — my life many times over, and possibly
my sanity, too.
I didn’t like to talk about that barren time with anyone, and especially not Edward. He had only been
trying to save me when he’d left, trying to save my soul. I didn’t hold him responsible for all the stupid things
I’d done in his absence, or the pain I had suffered.
He did.
So I would have to word my explanation very carefully.
I got up and walked around the table. He opened his arms for me and I sat on his lap, nestling into his cool
stone embrace. I looked at his hands while I spoke.
“Please just listen for a minute. This is so much more important than some whim to drop in on an old
friend. Jacob is in pain.” My voice distorted around the word. “I can’t not try to help him — I can’t give up
on him now, when he needs me. Just because he’s not human all the time. . . . Well, he was there for me when
I was . . . not so human myself. You don’t know what it was like. . . .” I hesitated. Edward’s arms were rigid
around me; his hands were in fists now, the tendons standing out. “If Jacob hadn’t helped me . . . I’m not sure
what you would have come home to. I owe him better than this, Edward.”
I looked up at his face warily. His eyes were closed, and his jaw was strained.
“I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you,” he whispered. “Not if I live a hundred thousand years.”
I put my hand against his cold face and waited until he sighed and opened his eyes.
“You were just trying to do the right thing. And I’m sure it would have worked with anyone less mental
than me. Besides, you’re here now. That’s the part that matters.”
“If I’d never left, you wouldn’t feel the need to go risk your life to comfort a dog.”
I flinched. I was used to Jacob and all his derogatory slurs — bloodsucker, leech, parasite. . . .
Somehow it sounded harsher in Edward’s velvet voice.
“I don’t know how to phrase this properly,” Edward said, and his tone was bleak. “It’s going to sound
cruel, I suppose. But I’ve come too close to losing you in the past. I know what it feels like to think I have. I
am not going to tolerate anything dangerous.”
“You have to trust me on this. I’ll be fine.”
His face was pained again. “Please, Bella,” he whispered.
I stared into his suddenly burning golden eyes. “Please what?”
“Please, for me. Please make a conscious effort to keep yourself safe. I’ll do everything I can, but I would
appreciate a little help.”
“I’ll work on it,” I murmured.
“Do you really have any idea how important you are to me? Any concept at all of how much I love you?”
He pulled me tighter against his hard chest, tucking my head under his chin.
I pressed my lips against his snow-cold neck. “I know how much I love you,” I answered.
“You compare one small tree to the entire forest.”
I rolled my eyes, but he couldn’t see. “Impossible.”
He kissed the top of my head and sighed.
“No werewolves.”
“I’m not going along with that. I have to see Jacob.”
“Then I’ll have to stop you.”
He sounded utterly confident that this wouldn’t be a problem.
I was sure he was right.
“We’ll see about that,” I bluffed anyway. “He’s still my friend.”
I could feel Jacob’s note in my pocket, like it suddenly weighed ten pounds. I could hear the words in his
voice, and he seemed to be agreeing with Edward — something that would never happen in reality.
Doesn’t change anything. Sorry.
2. EVASION
I FELT ODDLY BUOYANT AS I WALKED FROM SPANISH toward the cafeteria, and it wasn’t just because I was
holding hands with the most perfect person on the planet, though that was certainly part of it.
Maybe it was the knowledge that my sentence was served and I was a free woman again.
Or maybe it wasn’t anything to do with me specifically. Maybe it was the atmosphere of freedom that
hung over the entire campus. School was winding down, and, for the senior class especially, there was a
perceptible thrill in the air.
Freedom was so close it was touchable, taste-able. Signs of it were everywhere. Posters crowded
together on the cafeteria walls, and the trashcans wore a colorful skirt of spilled-over fliers: reminders to buy
yearbooks, class rings, and announcements; deadlines to order graduation gowns, hats, and tassels; neon-
bright sales pitches — the juniors campaigning for class office; ominous, rose-wreathed advertisements for this
year’s prom. The big dance was this coming weekend, but I had an ironclad promise from Edward that I
would not be subjected to that again. After all, I’d already had that human experience.
No, it must be my personal freedom that lightened me today. The ending of the school year did not give
me the pleasure it seemed to give the other students. Actually, I felt nervous to the point of nausea whenever I
thought of it. I tried to not think of it.
But it was hard to escape such an omnipresent topic as graduation.
“Have you sent your announcements, yet?” Angela asked when Edward and I sat down at our table. She
had her light brown hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail instead of her usual smooth hairdo, and there was a
slightly frantic look about her eyes.
Alice and Ben were already there, too, on either side of Angela. Ben was intent over a comic book, his
glasses sliding down his narrow nose. Alice was scrutinizing my boring jeans-and-a-t-shirt outfit in a way that
made me self-conscious. Probably plotting another makeover. I sighed. My indifferent attitude to fashion was
a constant thorn in her side. If I’d allow it, she’d love to dress me every day — perhaps several times a day
— like some oversized three-dimensional paper doll.
“No,” I answered Angela. “There’s no point, really. Renée knows when I’m graduating. Who else is
there?”
“How about you, Alice?”
Alice smiled. “All done.”
“Lucky you.” Angela sighed. “My mother has a thousand cousins and she expects me to hand-address
one to everybody. I’m going to get carpal tunnel. I can’t put it off any longer and I’m just dreading it.”
“I’ll help you,” I volunteered. “If you don’t mind my awful handwriting.”
Charlie would like that. From the corner of my eye, I saw Edward smile. He must like that, too — me
fulfilling Charlie’s conditions without involving werewolves.
Angela looked relieved. “That’s so nice of you. I’ll come over any time you want.”
“Actually, I’d rather go to your house if that’s okay — I’m sick of mine. Charlie un-grounded me last
night.” I grinned as I announced my good news.
“Really?” Angela asked, mild excitement lighting her always-gentle brown eyes. “I thought you said you
were in for life.”
“I’m more surprised than you are. I was sure I would at least have finished high school before he set me
free.”
“Well, this is great, Bella! We’ll have to go out to celebrate.”
“You have no idea how good that sounds.”
“What should we do?” Alice mused, her face lighting up at the possibilities. Alice’s ideas were usually a
little grandiose for me, and I could see it in her eyes now — the tendency to take things too far kicking into
action.
“Whatever you’re thinking, Alice, I doubt I’m that free.”
“Free is free, right?” she insisted.
“I’m sure I still have boundaries — like the continental U.S., for example.”
Angela and Ben laughed, but Alice grimaced in real disappointment.
“So what are we doing tonight?” she persisted.
“Nothing. Look, let’s give it a couple of days to make sure he wasn’t joking. It’s a school night, anyway.”
“We’ll celebrate this weekend, then.” Alice’s enthusiasm was impossible to repress.
“Sure,” I said, hoping to placate her. I knew I wasn’t going to do anything too outlandish; it would be
safer to take it slow with Charlie. Give him a chance to appreciate how trustworthy and mature I was before I
asked for any favors.
Angela and Alice started talking about options; Ben joined the conversation, setting his comics aside. My
attention drifted. I was surprised to find that the subject of my freedom was suddenly not as gratifying as it had
been just a moment ago. While they discussed things to do in Port Angeles or maybe Hoquiam, I began to feel
disgruntled.
It didn’t take long to determine where my restlessness stemmed from.
Ever since I’d said goodbye to Jacob Black in the forest outside my home, I’d been plagued by a
persistent, uncomfortable intrusion of a specific mental picture. It popped into my thoughts at regular intervals
like some annoying alarm clock set to sound every half hour, filling my head with the image of Jacob’s face
crumpled in pain. This was the last memory I had of him.
As the disturbing vision struck again, I knew exactly why I was dissatisfied with my liberty. Because it was
incomplete.
Sure, I was free to go to anywhere I wanted — except La Push; free to do anything I wanted — except
see Jacob. I frowned at the table. There had to be some kind of middle ground.
“Alice? Alice!”
Angela’s voice yanked me from my reverie. She was waving her hand back and forth in front of Alice’s
blank, staring face. Alice’s expression was something I recognized — an expression that sent an automatic
shock of panic through my body. The vacant look in her eyes told me that she was seeing something very
different from the mundane lunchroom scene that surrounded us, but something that was every bit as real in its
own way. Something that was coming, something that would happen soon. I felt the blood slither from my
face.
Then Edward laughed, a very natural, relaxed sound. Angela and Ben looked toward him, but my eyes
were locked on Alice. She jumped suddenly, as if someone had kicked her under the table.
“Is it naptime already, Alice?” Edward teased.
Alice was herself again. “Sorry, I was daydreaming, I guess.”
“Daydreaming’s better than facing two more hours of school,” Ben said.
Alice threw herself back into the conversation with more animation than before — just a little bit too much.
Once I saw her eyes lock with Edward’s, only for a moment, and then she looked back to Angela before
anyone else noticed. Edward was quiet, playing absentmindedly with a strand of my hair.
I waited anxiously for a chance to ask Edward what Alice had seen in her vision, but the afternoon passed
without one minute of alone time.
It felt odd to me, almost deliberate. After lunch, Edward slowed his pace to match Ben’s, talking about
some assignment I knew he’d already finished. Then there was always someone else there between classes,
though we usually had a few minutes to ourselves. When the final bell rang, Edward struck up a conversation
with Mike Newton of all people, falling into step beside him as Mike headed for the parking lot. I trailed
behind, letting Edward tow me along.
I listened, confused, while Mike answered Edward’s unusually friendly queries. It seemed Mike was
having car troubles.
“。 . . but I just replaced the battery,” Mike was saying. His eyes darted ahead and then back to Edward
warily. Mystified, just like I was.
“Perhaps it’s the cables?” Edward offered.
“Maybe. I really don’t know anything about cars,” Mike admitted. “I need to have someone look at it, but
I can’t afford to take it to Dowling’s.”
I opened my mouth to suggest my mechanic, and then snapped it shut again. My mechanic was busy these
days — busy running around as a giant wolf.
“I know a few things — I could take a look, if you like,” Edward offered. “Just let me drop Alice and
Bella at home.”
Mike and I both stared at Edward with our mouths hanging open.
“Er . . . thanks,” Mike mumbled when he recovered. “But I have to get to work. Maybe some other time.”
“Absolutely.”
“See ya.” Mike climbed into his car, shaking his head in disbelief.
Edward’s Volvo, with Alice already inside, was just two cars away.
“What was that about?” I muttered as Edward held the passenger door for me.
“Just being helpful,” Edward answered.
And then Alice, waiting in the backseat, was babbling at top speed.
“You’re really not that good a mechanic, Edward. Maybe you should have Rosalie take a look at it
tonight, just so you look good if Mike decides to let you help, you know. Not that it wouldn’t be fun to watch
his face if Rosalie showed up to help. But since Rosalie is supposed to be across the country attending
college, I guess that’s not the best idea. Too bad. Though I suppose, for Mike’s car, you’ll do. It’s only within
the finer tunings of a good Italian sports car that you’re out of your depth. And speaking of Italy and sports
cars that I stole there, you still owe me a yellow Porsche. I don’t know that I want to wait for Christmas. . . .”
I stopped listening after a minute, letting her quick voice become just a hum in the background as I settled
into my patient mode.
It looked to me like Edward was trying to avoid my questions. Fine. He would have to be alone with me
soon enough. It was only a matter of time.
Edward seemed to realize that, too. He dropped Alice at the mouth of the Cullens’ drive as usual, though
by this point I half expected him to drive her to the door and walk her in.
As she got out, Alice threw a sharp look at his face. Edward seemed completely at ease.
“See you later,” he said. And then, ever so slightly, he nodded.
Alice turned to disappear into the trees.
He was quiet as he turned the car around and headed back to Forks. I waited, wondering if he would
bring it up himself. He didn’t, and this made me tense. What had Alice seen today at lunch? Something he
didn’t want to tell me, and I tried to think of a reason why he would keep secrets. Maybe it would be better to
prepare myself before I asked. I didn’t want to freak out and have him think I couldn’t handle it, whatever it
was.
So we were both silent until we got to back to Charlie’s house.
“Light homework load tonight,” he commented.
“Mmm,” I assented.
“Do you suppose I’m allowed inside again?”
“Charlie didn’t throw a fit when you picked me up for school.”
But I was sure Charlie was going to turn sulky fast when he got home and found Edward here. Maybe I
should make something extra-special for dinner.
Inside, I headed up the stairs, and Edward followed. He lounged on my bed and gazed out the window,
seeming oblivious to my edginess.
I stowed my bag and turned the computer on. There was an unanswered e-mail from my mom to attend
to, and she got panicky when I took too long. I drummed my fingers as I waited for my decrepit computer to
wheeze awake; they snapped against the desk, staccato and anxious.
And then his fingers were on mine, holding them still.
“Are we a little impatient today?” he murmured.
I looked up, intending to make a sarcastic remark, but his face was closer than I’d expected. His golden
eyes were smoldering, just inches away, and his breath was cool against my open lips. I could taste his scent
on my tongue.
I couldn’t remember the witty response I’d been about to make. I couldn’t remember my name.
He didn’t give me a chance to recover.
If I had my way, I would spend the majority of my time kissing Edward. There wasn’t anything I’d
experienced in my life that compared to the feeling of his cool lips, marble hard but always so gentle, moving
with mine.
I didn’t often get my way.
So it surprised me a little when his fingers braided themselves into my hair, securing my face to his. My
arms locked behind his neck, and I wished I was stronger — strong enough to keep him prisoner here. One
hand slid down my back, pressing me tighter against his stone chest. Even through his sweater, his skin was
cold enough to make me shiver — it was a shiver of pleasure, of happiness, but his hands began to loosen in
response.
I knew I had about three seconds before he would sigh and slide me deftly away, saying something about
how we’d risked my life enough for one afternoon. Making the most of my last seconds, I crushed myself
closer, molding myself to the shape of him. The tip of my tongue traced the curve of his lower lip; it was as
flawlessly smooth as if it had been polished, and the taste —
He pulled my face away from his, breaking my hold with ease — he probably didn’t even realize that I
was using all my strength.
He chuckled once, a low, throaty sound. His eyes were bright with the excitement he so rigidly disciplined.
“Ah, Bella.” He sighed.
“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
“And I should feel sorry that you’re not sorry, but I don’t. Maybe I should go sit on the bed.”
I exhaled a little dizzily. “If you think that’s necessary. . . .”
He smiled crookedly and disentangled himself.
I shook my head a few times, trying to clear it, and turned back to my computer. It was all warmed up
and humming now. Well, not as much humming as groaning.
“Tell Renée I said hello.”
“Sure thing.”
I scanned through Renée’s e-mail, shaking my head now and then at some of the dippier things she’d
done. I was just as entertained and horrified as the first time I’d read this. It was so like my mother to forget
exactly how paralyzed she was by heights until she was already strapped to a parachute and a dive instructor.
I felt a little frustrated with Phil, her husband of almost two years, for allowing that one. I would have taken
better care of her. I knew her so much better.
You have to let them go their own way eventually, I reminded myself. You have to let them have their own
life. . . .
I’d spent most of my life taking care of Renée, patiently guiding her away from her craziest plans, good-
naturedly enduring the ones I couldn’t talk her out of. I’d always been indulgent with my mom, amused by her,
even a little condescending to her. I saw her cornucopia of mistakes and laughed privately to myself.
Scatterbrained Renée.
I was a very different person from my mother. Someone thoughtful and cautious. The responsible one, the
grown-up. That’s how I saw myself. That was the person I knew.
With the blood still pounding inmy head from Edward’s kiss, I couldn’t help but think of my mother’s
most life-altering mistake. Silly and romantic, getting married fresh out of high school to a man she barely
knew, then producing me a year later. She’d always promised me that she had no regrets, that I was the best
gift her life had ever given her. And yet she’d drilled it into me over and over — smart people took marriage
seriously. Mature people went to college and started careers before they got deeply involved in a relationship.
She knew I would never be as thoughtless and goofy and small-town as she’d been. . . .
I gritted my teeth and tried to concentrate as I answered her letter.
Then I hit her parting line and remembered why I’d neglected to write sooner.
