Edward flashed a dark look at her.
"Hi, Alice," I murmured shyly.
"Are you ready?" she asked him.
His voice was aloof. "Nearly. I'll meet you at the car."
She left without another word; her walk was so fluid, so sinuous that I
felt a sharp pang of jealousy.
"Should I say 'have fun,' or is that the wrong sentiment?" I asked,
turning back to him.
"No, 'have fun' works as well as anything." He grinned.
"Have fun, then." I worked to sound wholehearted. Of course I didn't fool
him.
"I'll try." He still grinned. "And you try to be safe, please."
"Safe in Forks — what a challenge."
"For you it is a challenge." His jaw hardened. "Promise."
"I promise to try to be safe," I recited. "I'll do the laundry tonight —
that ought to be fraught with peril."
"Don't fall in," he mocked.
"I'll do my best."
He stood then, and I rose, too.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I sighed.
"It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" he mused.
I nodded glumly.
"I'll be there in the morning," he promised, smiling his crooked smile.
He reached across the table to touch my face, lightly brushing along my
cheekbone again. Then he turned and walked away. I stared after him until
he was gone.
I was sorely tempted to ditch the rest of the day, at the very least Gym,
but a warning instinct stopped me. I knew that if I disappeared now, Mike
and others would assume I was with Edward. And Edward was worried about
the time we'd spent together publicly… if things went wrong. I refused to
dwell on the last thought, concentrating instead on making things safer
for him.
I intuitively knew — and sensed he did, too — that tomorrow would be
pivotal. Our relationship couldn't continue to balance, as it did, on the
point of a knife. We would fall off one edge or the other, depending
entirely upon his decision, or his instincts. My decision was made, made
before I'd ever consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing it
through. Because there was nothing more terrifying to me, more
excruciating, than the thought of turning away from him. It was an
impossibility.
I went to class, feeling dutiful. I couldn't honestly say what happened
in Biology; my mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow. In
Gym, Mike was speaking to me again; he wished me a good time in Seattle.
I carefully explained that I'd canceled my trip, worried about my truck.
"Are you going to the dance with Cullen?" he asked, suddenly sulky.
"No, I'm not going to the dance at all."
"What are you doing, then?" he asked, too interested.
My natural urge was to tell him to butt out. Instead, I lied brightly.
"Laundry, and then I have to study for the Trig test or I'm going to
fail."
"Is Cullen helping you study?"
"Edward," I emphasized, "is not going to help me study. He's gone away
somewhere for the weekend." The lies came more naturally than usual, I
noted with surprise.
"Oh." He perked up. "You know, you could come to the dance with our group
anyway — that would be cool. We'd all dance with you," he promised.
The mental image of Jessica's face made my tone sharper than necessary.
"I'm not going to the dance, Mike, okay?"
"Fine." He sulked again. "I was just offering."
When the school day had finally ended, I walked to the parking lot
without enthusiasm. I did not especially want to walk home, but I
couldn't see how he would have retrieved my truck. Then again, I was
starting to believe that nothing was impossible for him. The latter
instinct proved correct — my truck sat in the same space he'd parked his
Volvo in this morning. I shook my head, incredulous, as I opened the
unlocked door and saw the key in the ignition.
There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed
the door before I unfolded it. Two words were written in his elegant
script.
Be safe.
The sound of the truck roaring to life frightened me. I laughed at myself.
When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the dead bolt
unlocked, just as I'd left it this morning. Inside, I went straight to
the laundry room. It looked just the same as I'd left it, too. I dug for
my jeans and, after finding them, checked the pockets. Empty. Maybe I'd
hung my key up after all, I thought, shaking my head.
Following the same instinct that had prompted me to lie to Mike, I called
Jessica on the pretense of wishing her luck at the dance. When she
offered the same wish for my day with Edward, I told her about the
cancellation. She was more disappointed than really necessary for a
third-party observer to be. I said goodbye quickly after that.
Charlie was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I
guessed, or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying
the lasagna — it was hard to tell with Charlie.
"You know, Dad…" I began, breaking into his reverie.
"What's that, Bell?"
"I think you're right about Seattle. I think I'll wait until Jessica or
someone else can go with me."
"Oh," he said, surprised. "Oh, okay. So, do you want me to stay home?"
"No, Dad, don't change your plans. I've got a million things to do…
homework, laundry… I need to go to the library and the grocery store.
I'll be in and out all day… you go and have fun."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely, Dad. Besides, the freezer is getting dangerously low on fish
— we're down to a two, maybe three years' supply."
"You're sure easy to live with, Bella." He smiled.
"I could say the same thing about you," I said, laughing. The sound of my
laughter was off, but he didn't seem to notice. I felt so guilty for
deceiving him that I almost took Edward's advice and told him where I
would be. Almost.
After dinner, I folded clothes and moved another load through the dryer.
Unfortunately it was the kind of job that only keeps hands busy. My mind
definitely had too much free time, and it was getting out of control. I
fluctuated between anticipation so intense that it was very nearly pain,
and an insidious fear that picked at my resolve. I had to keep reminding
myself that I'd made my choice, and I wasn't going back on it. I pulled
his note out of my pocket much more often than necessary to absorb the
two small words he'd written. He wants me to be safe, I told myself again
and again. I would just hold on to the faith that, in the end, that
desire would win out over the others. And what was my other choice — to
cut him out of my life? Intolerable. Besides, since I'd come to Forks, it
really seemed like my life was about him.
But a tiny voice in the back of my mind worried, wondering if it would
hurt very much… if it ended badly.
I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I
knew I was far too stressed to sleep, so I did something I'd never done
before. I deliberately took unnecessary cold medicine — the kind that
knocked me out for a good eight hours. I normally wouldn't condone that
type of behavior in myself, but tomorrow would be complicated enough
without me being loopy from sleep deprivation on top of everything else.
While I waited for the drugs to kick in, I dried my clean hair till it
was impeccably straight, and fussed over what I would wear tomorrow. With
everything ready for the morning, I finally lay in my bed. I felt hyper;
I couldn't stop twitching. I got up and rifled through my shoebox of CDs
until I found a collection of Chopin's nocturnes. I put that on very
quietly and then lay down again, concentrating on relaxing individual
parts of my body. Somewhere in the middle of that exercise, the cold
pills took effect, and I gladly sank into unconsciousness.
I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly thanks to my
gratuitous drug use. Though I was well rested, I slipped right back into
the same hectic frenzy from the night before. I dressed in a rush,
smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the tan sweater till
it hung right over my jeans. I sneaked a swift look out the window to see
that Charlie was already gone. A thin, cottony layer of clouds veiled the
sky. They didn't look very lasting.
I ate breakfast without tasting the food, hurrying to clean up when I was
done. I peeked out the window again, but nothing had changed. I had just
finished brushing my teeth and was heading back downstairs when a quiet
knock sent my heart thudding against my rib cage.
I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple dead bolt, but
I yanked the door open at last, and there he was. All the agitation
dissolved as soon as I looked at his face, calm taking its place. I
breathed a sigh of relief — yesterday's fears seemed very foolish with
him here.
He wasn't smiling at first — his face was somber. But then his expression
lightened as he looked me over, and he laughed.
"Good morning," he chuckled.
"What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything
important, like shoes, or pants.
"We match." He laughed again. I realized he had a long, light tan sweater
on, with a white collar showing underneath, and blue jeans. I laughed
with him, hiding a secret twinge of regret — why did he have to look like
a runway model when I couldn't?
I locked the door behind me while he walked to the truck. He waited by
the passenger door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.
"We made a deal," I reminded him smugly, climbing into the driver's seat,
and reaching over to unlock his door.
"Where to?" I asked.
"Put your seat belt on — I'm nervous already."
I gave him a dirty look as I complied.
"Where to?" I repeated with a sigh.
"Take the one-oh-one north," he ordered.
It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling
his gaze on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual
through the still-sleeping town.
"Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"
"This truck is old enough to be your car's grandfather — have some
respect," I retorted.
We were soon out of the town limits, despite his negativity. Thick
underbrush and green-swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses.
"Turn right on the one-ten," he instructed just as I was about to ask. I
obeyed silently.
"Now we drive until the pavement ends."
I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off
the road and proving him right to look over and be sure.
"And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wondered.
"A trail."
"We're hiking?" Thank goodness I'd worn tennis shoes.
"Is that a problem?" He sounded as if he'd expected as much.
"No." I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if he thought my truck
was slow…
"Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry."
Five miles. I didn't answer, so that he wouldn't hear my voice crack in
panic. Five miles of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist
my ankles or otherwise incapacitate me. This was going to be humiliating.
We drove in silence for a while as I contemplated the coming horror.
"What are you thinking?" he asked impatiently after a few moments.
I lied again. "Just wondering where we're going."
"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced out
the windows at the thinning clouds after he spoke.
"Charlie said it would be warm today."
"And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?" he asked.
"Nope."
"But Jessica thinks we're going to Seattle together?" He seemed cheered
by the idea.
"No, I told her you canceled on me — which is true."
"No one knows you're with me?" Angrily, now.
"That depends… I assume you told Alice?"
"That's very helpful, Bella," he snapped.
I pretended I didn't hear that.
"Are you so depressed by Forks that it's made you suicidal?" he demanded
when I ignored him.
"You said it might cause trouble for you… us being together publicly," I
reminded him.
"So you're worried about the trouble it might cause me— if you don't come
home?" His voice was still angry, and bitingly sarcastic.
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.
He muttered something under his breath, speaking so quickly that I
couldn't understand.
We were silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of
infuriated disapproval rolling off of him, and I could think of nothing
to say.
And then the road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small
wooden marker. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, afraid
because he was angry with me and I didn't have driving as an excuse not
to look at him. It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since
the day I'd arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled off my
sweater and knotted it around my waist, glad that I'd worn the light,
sleeveless shirt — especially if I had five miles of hiking ahead of me.
I heard his door slam, and looked over to see that he'd removed his
sweater, too. He was facing away from me, into the unbroken forest beside
