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Edward
was immediately distracted by the sound of my gasp. His eyes, for
the briefest portion of a second, met mine.
Concern and confusion mingled strangely
in his expression as Victoria took her opportunity and swiftly decapitated
him, tossing his head into the fire with that same motion.
Horror sped into my consciousness
overtaking me like a final act curtain before the murderess could
move her feet in my direction…I remember the blackness that
overtook my senses was soothing. Mercifully numb, I was unable to
think or feel.. I welcomed death and willingly drifted into nothingness.
Slowly, so slowly the smell of fresh
linens and a soft, spring breeze heralded my oncoming conscious
thoughts. I realized I must be lying in a bed, I felt the pillow
beneath my head and I smelled…the remnants of sterile alcohol,
human sweat and a faint odor of gasoline fumes in the air coming
from the window. The window also brought sounds of a city…
distant, but unmistakable. Even more prevalent was the close clatter
of a bustling building full of people.
I lay, unmoving and uncaring, yet
my lungs kept pumping the unwanted oxygen into my system. I must
have lain there for some time, trying to convince myself that it
was a nightmare, hoping beyond hope that it was only another nightmare.
If I didn't’t open my eyes maybe I wouldn't have to face the
possibility that it wasn't. I slowly became certain I wasn't’t
in my room at home. The smells and sounds were wrong, so something
was definitely off with the whole nightmare theory, I didn't’t
really want to know so I didn't’t move.
My body stubbornly refused to sink
back into the black and I finally gave in, cracking open my sticky
eyelids. An old fashioned metal footboard was the first thing that
came into view and overhead a single light bulb hung from an unfamiliar
ceiling, but it wasn't’t on at the moment. To my right a small
window was flung open wide and dark, heavy curtains fluttered slightly
in the cool morning breeze wafting through it. Next to the window
an antique dresser had a large metal bowl sitting on top of it.
Slowly turning my head to the left,
I saw a figure walk through the door of this room, absorbed in the
clipboard chart she was carrying. Her nearly floor length skirt
made a swishing sound with each step she took. She wore a high necked
blouse that was mostly covered with a white apron that all together,
resembled an old fashioned nurse’s uniform, complete with
pert little cap neatly pinned into her coifed hair. The hollow clopping
sound of her footsteps announced the floor must be wooden and bare.
She looked up at me and did a double
take with her chart, then a slow smile overtook her face, “Hello,
Miss. How are you feeling this morning?”
I was still uncertain that I would
be able to move my mouth or make proper sounds with it. I blinked
at her and then attempted to move my lips. She quickly turned to
exchange her clipboard for a glass of water from a metal night stand
that stood next to the doorway. Smiling broadly at me, she approached
with the glass in her hand and offered it to me. When I made no
response, she bent over me and gently lifted my head so that my
lips touched the rim and slowly, she directed the liquid successfully
into my mouth. I really tried my best to swallow it, but I was only
partially successful and much of the stray water dribbled down my
chin.
She was kind enough to retrieve a
towel for me, however and continued to help me swallow for a little
while longer. “Easy, that should be enough for the moment.
We’ll try more later." Her voice was heavily laced with
an obviously Irish brogue, "You’ve been unconscious for
quite a while and the doctor left strict instructions that he be
notified if you should wake, so please do me the kindness of keeping
your eyes open while I go fetch him and I’ll be much obliged.”
With that, she quickly turned and fairly flew out of the door.
In her absence, I resigned myself
to take stock of the tiny room that seemed to be barely large enough
for the three pieces of furniture. Still, I was apparently the only
patient in it. I tried to focus on the room, the bed I lay in and
the window, it all looked so unfamiliar. I’d been in Fork’s
Medical often enough to know that this wasn’t it. It was getting
difficult to concentrate on not thinking when I heard the rapid
approach of hollow footsteps on the barren wood flooring.
When the familiar movie star smile
on that handsome blonde doctor finally appeared in the doorway,
tears of grief, guilt and relief instantly welled up in my eyes.
My arms felt like lead as they attempted to reach for him, the kindest,
most compassionate person, man or vampire, I'd ever known. Involuntary
sobs started wracking my chest… I couldn’t stop them.
I meant to offer Edward's sire, best friend and father an impassioned
plea for forgiveness, but it turned out sounding more like a pathetic,
hoarse whisper, “Carlisle! I’m so sorry! Please forgive
me!”
He hesitated and his smile morphed
into an expression of confusion as he gently took hold of my hands
and pressed me back into the pillows. “Have we met child?”
He gathered my hands into one of his cold, hard palms and grabbed
a stool that had been beyond my field of vision to sit next to the
bed and continued, “Whatever could you possibly have done
that I would need to forgive you for?”
“It’s my fault! It was
all my fault… I only wanted to help him, but Edward…
he’s gone and it’s my fault…” I choked on
the sobs that continued to wrack my body. Carlisle disengaged his
hand from mine and magically produced a syringe. “Shh, now
girl. Nothing is as bad as it seems. I’m just going to give
you a little something to help you relax…”
“NO!” I struggled to
push myself up on my elbows as fast as I could, “Please don’t
put me back to sleep, Carlisle. Please don’t drug me,"
I pleaded with my eyes for a private communication, and taking my
hint, Carlisle promptly waved off the attending nurses.
"Couldn’t you please just
ask Jasper to help me instead?” Carlisle's adopted son, Jasper,
was able to manipulate the emotions of those around him and had
successfully calmed me down on several occasions. The blank expression
on his face confused me though. What had I requested that was so
difficult for Carlisle to comprehend? He should have immediately
understood my logic.
“Who is Jasper and how could
he help?”
For a few minutes the room was silent
and I wasn’t sure who was more confused between the two of
us. “Wh…what? Where am I?”
“You’re in Cook County
Hospital. You came in by stretcher night before last, unconscious.
Apparently, you were found lying in someone’s front yard in
the buff. Any ideas on how you got there that way?”
“Cook County?” I stared
back at him, trying hard to take in the words and understand them.
Failing at that, I then took in the nurses who had returned to assist
the doctor, as though they would decipher the words coming from
Carlisle’s mouth, “As in Chicago… Cook…County?”
Carlisle smiled, “Yes, of course.”
“How did we get here?”
“We?” Carlisle’s
eyes twinkled at some thought he felt more prudent to not share,
“The question, my dear is, how did you get here?”
I could see the hypotheses forming
in his eyes, perhaps he was right and I was delusional. Upon second
thought, that did seem the more likely scenario. At this point,
I couldn’t be certain this was happening, no matter how real
it seemed to me. Maybe I did need drugs.
“I’m sorry. You’ve
obviously been through a lot and you’re understandably distressed.
Please, Miss…” He motioned to the syringe at the ready
in his hand and I acquiesced nodding slowly.
He quickly and adeptly administered
the shot and swabbed the area clean. “There now, just relax
and get some rest. When you wake up later, things will start to
sound much better, OK?” Carlisle stood and watched as my eyelids
began to droop.
“Will you come back to see
me?” I begged drowsily.
“Of course, child.”
And I was once again cloaked in the
blissful black.
When I woke once more, it was Carlisle’s
smile that confronted me. As I struggled to sit up, he gently assisted
me and tucked the pillows behind me to facilitate my efforts. “Hello
again,” he said as he slowly allowed me to shift my weight
back against the bed once more. “How are you feeling Miss?”
“Bella, remember?”
“I’m certain that I would
remember making your acquaintance, should I have ever met you, my
girl. How do you know me…Bella?”
Suddenly, the weight of my isolation
hit me and my traitorous eyes began to water once more. My only
friend in this place was a stranger to me. I shook my head to clear
my thoughts but also to delay the necessity of forming an answer.
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My
tears had the effect of making Carlisle clear his throat, anxious
to calm me before the possibility of yet another outburst, “Shh,
girl. You’ve obviously been through a traumatic experience,
but you’re safe now. I promise no one is going to hurt you
here. Shh, now.” He reached over my lap to lightly squeeze
my hand and reassure me… his cold marble hard hands confirming
his undead state of existence. I realized he must have some measure
of trust in me already to offer that simple gesture.
“How did I get here?”
I managed to squeak out.
Carlisle cleared his throat, “You
were found passed out and disrobed on the front lawn of one of our
prominent citizens. They naturally called the authorities who brought
you here three nights ago. You’ve been in a coma until earlier
this evening. What is the last thing you remember?”
At his question my heart began to
break again and the sobs welled up harder and harder to contain…
“Shh, I’m sorry. This
is obviously too painful for you still.” Carlisle raised his
palm to my forehead, it looked as though he were assessing my temperature,
but his cool hand calmed me and soon made my breathing easier. “Can
you tell me how you know me? The only name tag I own doesn't’t
display my given name.”
I swallowed hard, “Where I
come from, we are friends…very close friends.” I stammered.
“Where do you come from?”
His eyes narrowed, no doubt trying to assess the level of threat
I posed.
“I don’t understand how
it is that you don’t recognize me. Honestly we are dear and
close friends…” I lowered my head and spoke in the smallest
whisper I could manage, knowing he would be able to hear me, “I
would never betray you, Carlisle. Please know that your secret is
safe with me.”
Nodding his head, Carlisle lifted
my left hand and lightly traced the cold scar on my arm, “Who
did this to you and how did you survive?”
I hesitated looking around the room
as if to check for spies.
Carlisle smiled, “It’s
alright, we’re alone for the moment. Please answer me girl,
I must know.”
“A tracker named James…
bit me, you and Edward saved me.”
“Edward? Who is Edward?”
I couldn’t help it, my lower
lip trembled uncontrollably and my eyes turned on the water works
again. I didn’t understand the brief look of anger Carlisle’s
golden eyes displayed, but was quickly replaced by concern. “Shh,
I’m sorry…Miss Bella, too many questions. Please rest
for now. I’ll come back to see you soon. Is there anything
I can have brought for you?”
At first, I couldn’t think
and then a thought occurred, “Something to read, a Newspaper
perhaps?”
He smiled at me and patted my hands,
still in my lap, “Of course.” He rose to retreat, “Rest
now.” And he was gone.
Then, as silently as I could manage,
I gave in to my tears. Finally exhaustion overtook me once again
and I fell into a fitful sleep.
When I next opened my eyes, I was
astonished to see the same plain room around me, it all seemed so
real. A newspaper lay on top of the bed at my feet. I wanted to
snatch it quickly, but was disappointed by my sluggish body. When
I finally managed to sit up and grab it, my head spun for a few
moments before I could focus on the print. Chicago Tribune, Thursday,
September 13th, 1917. I simply stared at the date, unable to comprehend
the possibility. How?
I pushed the covers back and swung
my legs over the bedside, sitting there momentarily to get my bearings.
Then I stood up to test my legs, not moving at first, but my destination
was imperative… the window. I had to see whatever I could.
Slower than I would have liked, I managed to shuffle over to the
window. The view was pretty, mostly a small pond and beautifully
trimmed lawn and trees, but just beyond the corner of the great
building to my left, I could see a city street.
I waited for what seemed like a long
time and then the oldest model car I’d ever seen moved along
the street for the brief span of road that was visible to me. I
listened carefully and managed to make out the whistle of a traffic
cop and the whirring of ancient motors. This was surely an illusion,
but I would take it. It wouldn’t matter if this hallucination
was of my own making or truly 1917, Chicago.. Edward was here, somewhere,
alive. The rustle of a long skirt came up behind me. “You
shouldn’t be out of bed, Miss.”
I turned slowly. “Bella, um…Isabella
Swan.”
“Miss Swan, then.” She
smiled at me sternly directing me back to the bed. “You’ve
had a very rough go of it and you need to rest, Doctor’s orders.”
I allowed her to hustle me back into
the bed, then as if on queue my stomach announced itself as she
put a tray of food in front of me. It was a beautiful display of
toast with jam on the side, a shiny silver pot of hot water and
a small, clean cloth tea bag ready for infusion. Perfect white porcelain
plates and cup all with matching blue CCH monograms. White linen
napkin, real flat ware and, a small but perfect pink tea rose in
a tiny vase, gave me the curious notion that the hospital must be
making love to me. “Thank you.”
“Doctors’ orders!”
The nurse smiled at me cheerily and then turned and winked at me
as she left with a chuckle.
I managed to eat most of the toast
and the tea felt marvelous on my throat. I complemented the nurse
on the tea and more was brought to me within the hour. I sipped
at it, hungrily perusing the newspaper looking for any clue that
might lead me to Edward, but had no luck. As lunch and then dinner
passed in much the same manner, I began to feel stronger but discouraged
and guilty for taking up the sick room. I had a mind to leave, but
without any clothes to speak of, I thought the better of it for
now. Just as dusk began to fall, Carlisle’s smiling face appeared
at my door.
“Miss Isabella Swan.”
“Dr. Carlisle Cullen.”
I responded in the exact same tone with a smile and a nod.
“You seem to be doing much
better.” He chuckled as he pretended to scan the clipboard
in his hands. “How is your balance?”
“Better.”
“Good.” He looked up
from the clipboard and seemed to quickly assess my mood. “Do
you feel strong enough to answer some questions?”
I cleared my throat, “I’ll
do my best if…”
“If?”
“If you’ll give me one
answer for each of mine.”
He smiled, moved to poke his head
out the door. Seeming satisfied, he carefully closed the door and
then turned back to face me. “Seems fair enough.” He
put the clip board down on the stand there and then pulled up the
stool next to the bed. Settling himself down on it, he once again
placed his hand over mine. “Do you have any idea how you came
to be here?”
“No, nothing other than what
you’ve told me.” He took a breath and I quickly waved
a finger at his face to admonish him, “My turn. Whose lawn
was I found on?”
He grinned, nodding at me, “A
prominent Chicago Attorney named Edward Anthony Masen, found you
in his front yard at his private residence.” I gasped and
opened my mouth, but Carlisle admonished me as I had him and continued,
“You know this man?”
“No.”
He raised his eyebrow suspiciously
at my answer, "You spoke earlier of Edward..." his voice
trailed off as I shook my head in a vehemently negative fashion.
"My... our Edward is
not a prominent Chicago attorney." I smiled as he nodded for
me to continue, “As you can see, I have nothing, could you
please help me obtain some suitable clothing?”
“Do you not have a home or
any family here?”
“No, no one that I know, except..
” I looked up at him hopefully but found only curiosity in
his eyes. “No one.” I confirmed.
“Except?”
“Uh uh. My turn.” I smiled
back at him, “As I said, I have nothing, no one. It would
seem that I am in need of a position. Could you use an Assistant?”
His surprise was apparent as he instinctively balked at the idea
so I quickly continued, “I could make myself very useful to
you.” It suddenly occurred to me that my usefulness to Carlisle’s
research would be quite limited, “…if you’d train
me.” I scrunched my eyes at him in the hopeful form of begging
that masqueraded as a question.
Carlisle remained very still while
he quietly considered the possibility, “Yes, I think that
would be an excellent idea… for now. You’ll need an
advance, of course.”
I smiled, “That would be much
appreciated…”
He held up his finger, “Except?”
I blushed and looked into my lap
before I answered, “Except you.”
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