Eclipse (Twilight Saga #3)(49)

"What are you staring at?" I asked, feeling self-conscious.

He sighed. "Nothing."

Jacob started walking again. Without seeming to think about it, he reached out and took my hand. We paced silently across the rocks.

I thought of how we must look walking hand and hand down the beach-like a couple, certainly-and wondered if I should object. But this was the way it had always been with Jacob . . . No reason to get worked up about it now.

"Why is Quil's imprinting such a scandal?" I asked when it didn't look like he was going to go on. "Is it because he's the newest one?"

"That doesn't have anything to do with it."

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's another one of those legend things. I wonder when we're going to stop being surprised that they're all true?" he muttered to himself.

"Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to guess?"

"You'd never get it right. See, Quil hasn't been hanging out with us, you know, until just recently. So he hadn't been around Emily's place much."

"Quil imprinted on Emily, too?" I gasped.

"No! I told you not to guess. Emily had her two nieces down for a visit . . . and Quil met Claire."

He didn't continue. I thought about that for a moment.

"Emily doesn't want her niece with a werewolf? That's a little hypocritical," I said.

But I could understand why she of all people might feel that way. I thought again of the long scars that marred her face and extended all the way down her right arm. Sam had lost control just once when he was standing too close to her. Once was all it took . . . I'd seen the pain in Sam's eyes when he looked at what he'd done to Emily. I could understand why Emily might want to protect her niece from that.

"Would you please stop guessing? You're way off. Emily doesn't mind that part, it's just, well, a little early."

"What do you mean early?"

Jacob appraised me with narrowed eyes. "Try not to be judgmental, okay?"

I nodded cautiously.

"Claire is two," Jacob told me.

Rain started to fall. I blinked furiously as the drops pelted my face.

Jacob waited in silence. He wore no jacket, as usual; the rain left a spatter of dark spots on his black T-shirt, and dripped through his shaggy hair. His face was expressionless as he watched mine.

"Quil . . . imprinted . . . with a two-year-old?" I was finally able to ask.

"It happens." Jacob shrugged. He bent to grab another rock and sent it flying out into the bay. "Or so the stories say."

"But she's a baby," I protested.

He looked at me with dark amusement. "Quil's not getting any older," he reminded me, a bit of acid in his tone. "He'll just have to be patient for a few decades."

"I . . . don't know what to say."

I was trying my hardest not to be critical, but, in truth, I was horrified. Until now, nothing about the werewolves had bothered me since the day I'd found out they weren't committing the murders I'd suspected them of.

"You're making judgments," he accused. "I can see it on your face."




 

 

"Sorry," I muttered. "But it sounds really creepy."

"It's not like that; you've got it all wrong," Jacob defended his friend, suddenly vehement. "I've seen what it's like, through his eyes. There's nothing romantic about it at all, not for Quil, not now." He took a deep breath, frustrated. "It's so hard to describe. It's not like love at first sight, really. It's more like . . . gravity moves. When you see her, suddenly it's not the earth holding you here anymore. She does. And nothing matters more than her. And you would do anything for her, be anything for her . . . You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend, or a brother.

"Quil will be the best, kindest big brother any kid ever had. There isn't a toddler on the planet that will be more carefully looked after than that little girl will be. And then, when she's older and needs a friend, he'll be more understanding, trustworthy, and reliable than anyone else she knows. And then, when she's grown up, they'll be as happy as Emily and Sam." A strange, bitter edge sharpened his tone at the very end, when he spoke of Sam.

"Doesn't Claire get a choice here?"

"Of course. But why wouldn't she choose him, in the end? He'll be her perfect match. Like he was designed for her alone."

We walked in silence for a moment, till I paused to toss a rock toward the ocean. It fell to the beach several meters short. Jacob laughed at me.

"We can't all be freakishly strong," I muttered.

He sighed.

"When do you think it will happen for you?" I asked quietly.

His answer was flat and immediate. "Never."