The Twilight Saga Collection part 1(259)

He kept his arms tight around me as he started toward the door again.

“Um, Dad?” I figured I’d better warn him. “You’ll never guess who’s here.”

He looked at me blankly. His head swiveled around, and he spied the Mercedes across the street, the porch light reflecting off the glossy black paint. Before he could react, Alice was in the doorway.

“Hi, Charlie,” she said in a subdued voice. “I’m sorry I came at such a bad time.”

“Alice Cullen?” he peered at the slight figure in front of him as if he doubted what his eyes were telling him. “Alice, is that you?”

“It’s me,” she confirmed. “I was in the neighborhood.”

“Is Carlisle . . .?”

“No, I’m alone.”

Both Alice and I knew he wasn’t really asking about Carlisle. His arm tightened over my shoulder.

“She can stay here, can’t she?” I pleaded. “I already asked her.”

“Of course,” Charlie said mechanically. “We’d love to have you, Alice.”

“Thank you, Charlie. I know it’s horrid timing.”

“No, it’s fine, really. I’m going to be really busy doing what I can for Harry’s family; it will be nice for Bella to have some company.”

“There’s dinner for you on the table, Dad,” I told him.

“Thanks, Bell.” He gave me one more squeeze before he shuffled toward the kitchen.

Alice went back to the couch, and I followed her. This time, she was the one to pull me against her shoulder.

“You look tired.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, and shrugged. “Near-death experiences do that to me....So, what does Carlisle think of you being here?”

“He doesn’t know. He and Esme were on a hunting trip. I’ll hear from him in a few days, when he gets back.”

“You won’t tell him, though...when he checks in again?” I asked. She knew I didn’t mean Carlisle now.

“No. He’d bite my head off,” Alice said grimly.

I laughed once, and then sighed.

I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to stay up all night talking to Alice. And it didn’t make sense for me to be tired, what with crashing on Jacob’s couch all day. But drowning really had taken a lot out of me, and my eyes wouldn’t stay open. I rested my head on her stone shoulder, and drifted into a more peaceful oblivion than I had any hope of.

I woke early, from a deep and dreamless sleep, feeling well-rested, but stiff. I was on the couch tucked under the blankets I’d laid out for Alice, and I could hear her and Charlie talking in the kitchen. It sounded like Charlie was fixing her breakfast.

“How bad was it, Charlie?” Alice asked softly, and at first I thought they were talking about the Clearwaters.

Charlie sighed. “Real bad.”

“Tell me about it. I want to know exactly what happened when we left.”

There was a pause while a cupboard door was closed and a dial on the stove was clicked off. I waited, cringing.

“I’ve never felt so helpless,” Charlie began slowly. “I didn’t know what to do. That first week—I thought I was going to have to hospitalize her. She wouldn’t eat or drink, she wouldn’t move. Dr. Gerandy was throwing around words like ‘catatonic,’ but I didn’t let him up to see her. I was afraid it would scare her.”

“She snapped out of it though?”

“I had Renée come to take her to Florida. I just didn’t want to be the one...if she had to go to a hospital or something. I hoped being with her mother would help. But when we started packing her clothes, she woke up with a vengeance. I’ve never seen Bella throw a fit like that. She was never one for the tantrums, but, boy, did she fly into a fury. She threw her clothes everywhere and screamed that we couldn’t make her leave—and then she finally started crying. I thought that would be the turning point. I didn’t argue when she insisted on staying here...and she did seem to get better at first....”

Charlie trailed off. It was hard listening to this, knowing how much pain I’d caused him.

“But?” Alice prompted.

“She went back to school and work, she ate and slept and did her homework. She answered when someone asked her a direct question. But she was...empty. Her eyes were blank. There were lots of little things—she wouldn’t listen to music anymore; I found a bunch of CDs broken in the trash. She didn’t read; she wouldn’t be in the same room when the TV was on, not that she watched it so much before. I finally figured it out—she was avoiding everything that might remind her of...him.

“We could hardly talk; I was so worried about saying something that would upset her—the littlest things would make her flinch—and she never volunteered anything. She would just answer if I asked her something.