Chapter Text
Happiness was such an elusive emotion. A philosopher said it could never be found by seeking it directly. It is something that surprises you, flourishing in the most unexpected of places. When I walked into a diner in Philadelphia, I expected nothing but the pain of thirst and the struggle of self-denial. Instead, I found the love of my life, the center of my existence, and the person whose own happiness was infinitely more important than my own.
I would do anything for Alice, which is how I found myself here, walking up the steps into the Cullen family home, tossing a baseball in the air and catching it on the way down. After leaving Peter and Charlotte, I never expected to be part of a coven again, nor did I have any wish to be. Living with other vampires meant having to watch your back constantly, or, in the case of friends like Peter and Charlotte, watching other people suffer because of my own black moods.
The first year as a member of this clan was not easy for me. I had arrived so determined to adhere to the vegetarian lifestyle, but with little idea how difficult the self-denial of human blood would be in the long term. After several near misses, I had finally slipped, and the resulting shame and depression had nearly made me give up. Now I was wiser and far more careful, but it was always in the back of my mind that one day I might slip again.
Almost as difficult was negotiating the sometimes volatile emotional climate that Alice and I created with our arrival into this coven. Carlisle and Esme preferred the word family, and I had to admit their lifestyle had nothing in common with any coven I had ever seen. Most of them were ignorant of the way our kind normally lived, and so the implications of the word coven meant nothing to them.
Now, nearly two years after I had first arrived here, I was finding myself feeling happy that I was part of this family. That was almost more surprising to me than my experience when I entered that Philadelphia diner. I should have known better than to doubt Alice—she had seen us both being happy here. I had assumed that she would be the happy one, and she had seen me merely happy by proxy. I was wrong.
I whistled as I walked through the kitchen, and the sound of it surprised me. I couldn't ever recall whistling before. Perhaps I had as a human, but most of those early memories were long gone, replaced with the endless carnage and bloodlust of my years with Maria.
Edward had just driven out in the Ford, car radio blaring out the open window. It was the same catchy tune I was now whistling. I would have to ask Edward about it when he returned.
He, Emmett and I had just been out in the clearing, practicing our baseball in the rainstorm. Alice had seen a cluster of proper thunderstorms arriving later in the week, providing ideal conditions for a family game.
I smiled as I shook the rain from my hair and began tossing the baseball from one hand to the other. It was nice to have the house to myself, with Carlisle at work and the ladies out shopping. There was no emotion here but my own, and I was feeling energetic. I tossed the ball hard towards the staircase. Before it could strike the post, I rushed to catch it, moving so fast as to outrun my own throw. I had to dive, but I landed on my feet, easily regaining my balance.
I threw it again, harder this time, determined to test my limits. I may have been living this quiet life of peace and relaxation, but I had lost none of my old speed, I was sure of it.
This time, things didn't quite go to plan. I hadn't looked where I was throwing it. I had simply extended my arm in the direction of the open living room doorway. The ball ripped through the air, bounced off the corner of a table … and flew straight for the wall. I jumped forward and closed my fingers around the air where the ball should have been. Instead, my hand closed into an empty fist, and I dropped back on my feet. The ball smashed into a painting, tearing the canvas and embedding itself in the wall behind. A second later, it rolled out of the hole and back along the carpet, coming to rest beside me.
I stared in shock. It was a full minute before I realized I was no longer breathing. It was fortunate vampires had no need of air, or I would be unconscious by now.
It wasn't just any old painting. There were no 'any old' paintings in the Cullen house. This one was a gift from Esme to Carlisle for their wedding anniversary, a vibrant watercolor where every brushstroke had been pored over and rendered with loving detail. Carlisle had loved it so much, he insisted on giving it a central place in the lounge, rather than his study or bedroom, so everyone in the family could admire it. The scene was of the sun rising over the water on an island paradise.
I wished I was on that island myself, instead of standing in the living room, seeing the destruction I had caused. A wave of self-hatred ripped through me as full realization settled in. How could I have done this? Esme and Carlisle were the most generous and loving people, human or vampire, I had ever encountered. They had welcomed me into their family and shown me nothing but patience, even when I purposely put distance between us.
It was a mere three months ago that Emmett had destroyed one of Esme's Italian sculptures while playing with a football on the stairwell. If it had been Alice's property that had been destroyed, Emmett would have been nursing bite wounds for days. Instead, Carlisle merely reminded everyone, in the same gentle, kind voice he probably used when reassuring sick patients, that sporting equipment was only to be used outside and away from the house.
I imagined what he would say when I confessed to this.
“It's all right, Jasper. I know you didn't do it on purpose. It's my own fault for putting the painting in the lounge anyway.”
That was the worst thing about Carlisle. If he just lost his temper and ripped my arm off, like any normal vampire would in this situation, then I could handle it. But how could I deal with someone who seemed to be under the delusion that I was as good as any other member of this coven? He knew all about my past life as a ruthless commander of a newborn army, and still he insisted on treating me like I was worth his compassion.
Maybe I should avoid speaking to him entirely and just tell Esme. She would at least get mad. Her temper never lasted long, though, and then she'd probably insist on hugging me. As much as I was slowly learning to trust my new coven, hugging was off limits. I hated having another vampire's arms constraining me, having their teeth perilously close to my throat. It reminded me of some of my closer brushes with death. Carlisle, at least, had some respect for that view. Esme thought it was ridiculous and seemed to have made it her mission in life to cure me of my 'aversion to familial physical affection'.
Or maybe I had this all wrong. Maybe this wasn't something they would overlook with their usual indulgence. I could never grow complacent to the fact that I was not a natural member of this coven, and my lack of control around humans made me a liability. I doubted whether I would ever have been allowed to stay initially, had I not come in a package deal with Alice. Perhaps this incident would be the one finally needed to make them doubt the wisdom of my presence here.
My panic was starting to spin out of control. Emmett would walk in the door any minute now. I couldn't stand to have him discover me like this, standing in shock at the scene of the crime. He would laugh—laugh—and then probably call Carlisle at the hospital to tell him what I had done.
I retrieved the baseball and sprinted out the door, knowing already that running was pointless. I had to come back eventually, by which time someone would have discovered the damage. It wouldn't take them long to connect me to this. Alice had probably seen it already. The honorable thing to do would be to call Carlisle myself and tell him immediately.
I promised myself I would come back and deal with this, but before then I needed to get my emotions under control.
*
It was early evening when I finally returned to the house, still feeling apprehensive, but far more controlled. I hadn't run very far into the forest before picking up the scent of a large buck. Frequent hunting was the only way to keep the thirst at bearable levels, and allowing instinct to take over was one way to restore balance when my emotions were in turmoil. While I was cleaning myself up in the river afterward, I realized I'd lost the baseball during the pursuit. It didn't matter. There was more than enough evidence back at the house to explain what I had done.
I entered the house through the garage, noting who had returned home. Rosalie's car was here, but Carlisle's and Edward's were not. This was ideal. I wanted to get Esme's reaction over with first, before Carlisle returned from work.
I heard voices when I turned the door handle to enter the main house. It was Rosalie and Emmett standing by the base of the stairs. Their emotions were nothing out of the ordinary, making me wonder if they had discovered the painting yet. As I walked across the carpet, I saw Emmett was grinning and juggling three baseballs with one hand. Rosalie was ribbing him about the planned men versus women baseball game. No, they definitely hadn't discovered the painting.
“Where are Alice and Esme?” I asked, becoming aware that I could not hear them upstairs.
“Alice went into the forest, looking for you,” Rosalie said. “Esme needed to hunt, so she went with her.”
“Jazz, my bro, I think the ladies are going down,” Emmett said, tossing one ball to me. The sight of it flying through the air caused me to jump to intercept, worried something else was about to be destroyed. I needn't have bothered. Rosalie stuck out a hand and caught it easily.
“Wanna bet on it?” she asked, turning to walk into the lounge.
I swallowed, knowing what she was about to discover.
“You sure you want to risk it?” Emmett joked. “You know you'll lose, babe.”
“How about if you lose, you clean my Cadillac for a month?”
“Sure, if you're gonna clean my Ford for a month if you lose. Which you will.”
Rosalie stopped in her tracks, becoming as still as a rock. “What the hell?”
“Hey, it's only fair,” Emmett said, following her.
“You idiot!” Rosalie hissed, turning around to glare at Emmett. “What did you do to Esme’s painting?”
I sensed Emmett's thorough confusion. He followed Rosalie into the lounge and stared where she pointed. I slipped in behind him, trying to formulate the words I needed to confess to this crime myself.
Just as I was about to speak, I felt a very familiar emotional signature enter the vicinity.
“Alice is back,” I said, glancing toward the window. “Esme can't be far behind.”
“You're on your own, Em,” Rosalie said, raising her hands. “I'm not going to be here when this goes down.”
“It wasn't me!” Emmett said, walking forward to inspect the damage. “Wow, someone really took a shot at this thing!”
“Wasn't you? You were juggling baseballs when I walked in! You were the only one home … come on!”
“I swear, I didn't. At least, I don't remember doing it.” He frowned.
“Yeah, right, don't remember.” Rosalie tossed the ball straight in the air and caught it. “Exhibit A.”
“Exhibit A has your scent on it,” Emmett said. Rosalie quickly hid it under the couch.
Emmett reached up and unhooked the damaged painting from the wall. Before I could stop him, he ran upstairs with it. He returned seconds later, moving so fast that he brought a rush of air with him, and hastily shifted a lamp across the wall, covering the hole left by the baseball. Finally, a nod of satisfaction at his handiwork.
Rosalie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, like that'll help.”
Alice bounded into the lounge, skipping lightly on her feet. She wrapped her arms around my torso, nestling in close under my arm. I'd usually have bent down to kiss her, but I was frozen solid.
She turned to see what had my attention, and her eyes grew wide. “Where's the anniversary painting? Why is there a hole in the wall?”
She didn't know. Had she not been keeping an eye on my future when it happened? I knew she often missed seeing events that were entirely random, not based on any decision. It seemed this was one of them.
“Where's Esme?” Rosalie asked. “She's not going to be happy.”
“Oh no,” Alice said. “Who destroyed it?”
She really didn't know.
“Who do you think?” Rose gestured in Emmett's general direction.
“It wasn't me!” Emmett insisted.
“She's going to be really mad when she finds out,” Alice said, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Unless … I distract her. Then she doesn't find out until Carlisle tells her later, and he breaks it to her gently. Okay, going to distract her right now.”
She danced away as quickly as she arrived.
I should have said something. The longer I stayed silent, the harder it was going to be when I eventually had to own up. But the mention of Carlisle's inevitable discovery of the situation left me wordless again. I was running out of time if I wanted to tell Esme before him. Now I also needed to tell Alice.
But there was a small part of me, a part I wasn't proud of, that was wondering if it would really be such a bad thing if everyone assumed it was Emmett. Carlisle and Esme would remind him not to play with sports equipment inside, just like last time. He would be annoyed that he was blamed unfairly, but he'd forget about it once something else came along to distract him. He wasn't in any danger of being asked to leave, unlike me.
It was still a bad thing to do. Alice would not approve.
I heard the sound of a car entering the garage downstairs. I swallowed nervously, thinking it was Carlisle, but then I heard pop music from the car radio. Edward.
When I looked up, I found Emmett staring at me intently. I had a brief moment where I thought he somehow knew what I had just been considering.
“Jasper,” he said quietly. “Do you think you could use your power to make Carlisle not walk into the lounge when he gets home? Make him want to find Esme.”
Rose looked aghast. “Ew, gross! No!”
“Okay, make him want to read one of his dusty old books.”
“It's not that specific,” I said. “Besides, I can’t keep that up forever.”
“Damn, I need Edward,” Emmett said, pacing up and down. “Carlisle would believe him if he said it wasn't me. He always believes Edward.”
Rose made a scoffing noise. “Edward won't lie for you.”
“It isn't lies!”
“If it wasn't you, then who was it?” Rosalie was finally feeling a slight suspicion that Emmett could be telling the truth.
Alice reappeared at that moment, giving me something else to focus my thoughts on.
“Mission complete. Esme is busy weeding the rose garden. She'll be a while. I've done my part, so one of you better tell Carlisle.”
Edward wandered into the lounge, humming the song from his radio.
“Last one in has to tell Carlisle,” Emmett said with a grin. “Oh, looks like it's you, Edward!”
Edward took in the situation immediately, reading everyone's thoughts. I kept mine focused carefully on Alice rather than my own guilt. I didn't expect it to work for very long, but Edward was too annoyed over something Rosalie was thinking to bother reading me too closely. Edward had a special brand of annoyance for Rose—one I had learned to recognize after a mere three weeks with this coven. Two years later, and I could even figure out exactly which facet of Rosalie's personality was annoying him.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Rose, but I wasn't party to any art desecration.”
“Who was then?”
Edward shrugged. “You, for all I know.”
“It was not me!”
A fight might have broken out if we hadn't heard Carlisle's car in the garage.
“Tell him it wasn't me,” Emmett said to Edward, leaning over the back of the couch so he could talk quietly.
“I'm not telling him anything,” Edward said. “I wasn't even here. Rose can tell him.”
“I wasn't here either!”
“You were the one who discovered it first!” Emmett suggested. “Come on, someone has to talk. Alice, why don't you tell him?”
“Tell me what?” Carlisle called from the garage door. He came into view in the lounge entranceway, carrying his doctor's bag. “Some good news, I hope.”
No one said anything. I didn't know if I had the physical ability to speak at that moment.
Carlisle made a quick sweep around the faces in the room, his gaze finally coming to rest on the lamp covering the damage. He stared at it for several seconds before finally speaking. “Ah. My anniversary gift.”
He sounded as calm and patient as ever, but I could sense his genuine hurt that he worked so hard to hide. For our benefit. My guilt cut me like a knife.
“How bad is it?” He sounded like he didn't really want to know.
“Pretty bad,” Rose said. She never sugarcoated anything.
“It's a little damaged,” Emmett tried to cover. “Slightly damaged. But it wasn't me. I know it usually is, but this time it wasn't.”
“Well, it definitely wasn't me,” Rosalie said. “I'm not so much of an idiot that I'd be tossing a baseball around in the living room.”
Carlisle crouched down and picked up a baseball lying by a pot plant. It must have been one that Emmett had been juggling earlier. “This is the offending baseball, I take it?”
No one said anything. I wondered why Emmett didn't deny it, considering that one had to have his scent on it. I was glad the real one was somewhere in the forest right now.
Carlisle sighed, and I felt another wave of his distress. “Does Esme know about this?”
Alice spoke up. “You should tell her. She'll take it better if it comes from you.”
He nodded once. “Where's the painting now?”
“In the attic,” Emmett mumbled.
“Very well,” Carlisle said, sounding weary. “After I've spoken to Esme, I will be in my study. Seeing as we are all mature adults here—” Edward snorted in amusement at this. We all knew Carlisle was deluded when it came to the maturity of his decades-old children. “—would the person responsible please come up and have a chat with me about it?”
He turned to leave, taking the baseball with him, but Alice spoke hesitantly before he exited the lounge.
“Um … you should know I don't see anyone owning up.”
“Then I hope someone changes his or her mind,” Carlisle said, allowing some of his disappointment to leak into his voice.
There was silence for a long time after he'd gone. Finally, Emmett spoke.
“Okay. Who was it? I’m serious now. You better go tell him, or he's going to think it's me.”
No one answered him.
“Come on, guys!” Emmett said. “Alice? Jasper?”
I almost flinched when he said my name.
“We weren't even here,” Alice said. “I was shopping and Jasper was hunting.”
Was she covering for me? Or did she really not know it was me?
Emmett groaned in despair. “Edward, you must know.”
“Unless it was him,” Rosalie said, narrowing her eyes.
Edward leaned back on the couch, staring intently at Rosalie. “You're so quick to accuse everyone else, Rose. Sign of a guilty conscience?”
Rosalie made a hissing noise in response.
“Carlisle does think it was you,” Edward said, looking back at Emmett. “Your scent was on the ball. He also just went up to the attic to see how bad the damage was, and your scent was on the frame.”
A wave of distress rolled off Emmett, causing me to cringe.
“He's gonna turn me to ash,” Emmett moaned.
“He won't go that far,” Alice said. “But Esme might. She's going to come inside in five minutes and give us all the lecture to end all lectures.”
“Not if we're not here,” Rosalie said, standing up. “Come on, Emmett.”
“Wait, Rose,” Emmett said, looking at the ceiling. “Maybe I should go talk to them … convince Carlisle it wasn't me.”
“Why should you? Leave that to Edward. Come on, I want to go out to the lake.”
She dragged a somewhat reluctant Emmett out the door.
“We're safe,” Alice said, smiling. “Esme thinks it was Emmett. She won't bother lecturing when she sees it's only us here. Hey Edward, want to play Chinese Checkers with me and Jasper? Yes, you do. Hmm, I can't see the winner yet.”
Edward grinned. “Sure. It's in one of the boxes in the attic. Don't trip on the painting.”
“I won't.”
I came and sat on the couch opposite Edward, clearing off the coffee table in preparation for the game. I couldn't look at him. I didn't even want to know if he knew or—
“I know.”
He spoke softly, so his voice wouldn't be audible from outside or the attic. I sighed.
“Are you going to tell any—”
“No, of course not.”
“Thanks,” I whispered. “I owe you.”
“You have to tell them yourself. They'll understand. There's nothing to worry about, trust me. Carlisle won't punish you.”
I frowned. Edward thought my silence was due to some cowardly fear of being punished. If that's all I had to worry about, then I would have owned up earlier.
Edward continued without addressing my thoughts. “Emmett, however, might not be so lucky, if you're really callous enough to let him take the blame.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “What do you mean?”
He was about to reply, when Alice interrupted us, balancing the game on her head as she ran down the stairs.
“You know, I don't think the damage is that bad,” Alice said, unpacking the game on the coffee table. “The hole in the middle makes it look a little quirky. Abstract.”
“Don't say that to Esme, whatever you do,” Edward said, picking up a yellow piece.
I chose blue, and Alice went with pink. I couldn't concentrate much on the game, though it wouldn't have mattered either way. With Alice and Edward playing, it was a foregone conclusion that I would lose. I wanted to finish the conversation I'd started with Edward, but I didn't want to discuss anything where Alice could hear.
Esme came inside halfway through the game, moving swiftly to inspect the damage to the wall. I had been using Alice's light emotions to stay calm, so I let them flow through to Esme as well. She was touching the torn edge of the wallpaper, probably already planning the repair job.
Her sadness still threatened to slip through, as it would as soon as she was outside my sphere of influence.
“I don't know if I can bear to look at the painting,” Esme said, sitting on the couch beside Edward. “I put so much of myself into that. So many hours of work.”
“I'm sorry, Esme,” Alice said. “I could have prevented it if only I'd seen.”
“Oh, Alice, it's not your fault.” Esme reached over to stroke her shoulder.
Alice was feeling sad, and it became too difficult for me to calm Esme when I no longer had a reserve to draw on. She straightened up, and I felt a wave of annoyance.
“Where is Emmett? The least he could do is take responsibility for this … and after we were so understanding about the sculpture.”
“That's probably why he isn't here right now,” Edward said, giving me a very brief glance. “We know from experience Carlisle is only understanding for so long.”
I stared at him, wondering what he was getting at.
“Your father is always understanding,” Esme said. “He understands young men need motivation to behave, or this family will descend into complete chaos. More so than it already is most days.”
Edward smirked as Esme ruffled his hair affectionately.
After a while, she dropped her hand and sighed. “When Emmett returns, tell him I'm not mad.”
“Only because Jasper's here,” Edward said. “You might be when you go back outside.”
“Emmett doesn't need to know that.” Esme winked at us before leaving the room.
“I still don't see anyone owning up,” Alice said, confusion flowing around her. “I don't see Carlisle punishing Emmett, either.”
“Does Carlisle ever punish any of you?” I asked, deciding my need to know was greater than any fear of making Alice suspicious. We were talking quietly enough that Carlisle and Esme would be unable to hear us from their respective locations.
Edward nodded once.
I wasn't entirely successful at containing my surprise. I was thinking of what the word punishment used to entail in Maria's coven. Somehow, I had a hard time picturing Carlisle doing anything like what I used to do to disobedient newborns.
“He hates having to do it,” Edward said, jumping a peg three holes ahead. “He wouldn't punish Emmett if he had any reason to think he wasn't guilty.”
I was careful to keep my thoughts clear and my voice steady. “If he did think he was guilty, what would he do?”
Edward didn't reply immediately. I could sense a mix of feelings from him … guilt, regret … pain. This was odd. Carlisle and Edward were as close as I'd ever seen two vampires be, besides mates. How could Carlisle ever intentionally cause his treasured firstborn pain?
“He's our father,” Edward said eventually. “He corrects us as a father would a son. How did your human father used to keep you in line?”
I shrugged. I couldn't even remember what my human father looked like. Only the odd bits of conversation here and there.
“He's never unfair,” Edward continued. “I've never felt like I've received any punishment I didn't deserve.”
“Carlisle is such a caring parent,” Alice said, putting her first peg in the home triangle. “You're lucky he's always been there.” She sighed. “I wish it hadn't taken me so long to find all of you.” She reached out to rest her hand on top of mine.
I was watching Edward closely. There was something he wasn't telling me.
Edward didn't meet my gaze. He simply nodded in response to something Alice was thinking. “It hurts more to know you've disappointed him enough to make him feel a serious consequence is necessary.”
The feelings coming off Edward made it clear he was remembering receiving a punishment that had hurt very much, for whatever reason.
“What did he do that time?” I asked. “The time you're remembering?”
“You don't need to know,” Edward said with a touch of weariness. “Trust me.”
I knew he was referring to what he said earlier. My curiosity wouldn't let it rest. Why was he so reluctant to tell me if he was so sure this didn't concern me?
As I jumped a peg over one that Alice had kindly left in place for me, a faded human memory drifted through my head. I was standing by an old willow tree near the schoolhouse … I'd hated that tree. I'd been sent to cut a switch in response to some misbehavior or other, and I was feeling each branch to find one I thought would be soft. I could tell by Edward's immediate emotional reaction that I was on the right track.
“You're kidding?” I asked, unable to hide my surprise. I didn't think Carlisle was capable of hitting anything.
Edward gave a small nod. Alice smirked, finding something amusing.
“You knew about this?” I asked, staring at her.
She shrugged. “I see things. I don't want to see them sometimes, but I still do.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“You'd only get all worried over nothing. As if you'd ever do anything to disappoint Carlisle or Esme.” She ran her hand down my arm. “You're always so mature and responsible.”
“Unlike me and Emmett?” Edward said, raising an eyebrow at Alice.
She must have shown Edward a few examples of future immature behavior in her thoughts because he laughed.
“How does it work?” I asked. I pictured myself pushing through the forest, tree branches snapping easily against my skin, to show Edward what I meant.
“He uses his hand.” He was so quiet now, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Hurts well enough when you have your pants down, believe me.”
I knew then that I was never going to admit to the baseball incident, not in a thousand years. Edward said I didn't need to worry, but he'd been wrong before. I didn't want to know if Carlisle would ever consider doing that to me, or even if he thought destroying his painting deserved that level of punishment—which it most certainly did in my book.
It wasn't the pain I was worried about; I doubted I would even find it painful in comparison to the type of punishment I had experienced and delivered in Maria's coven. It was the idea of willingly placing myself in a vulnerable position beside another vampire—every instinct in my body rejected the idea. Even the thought of being touched—by anyone other than Alice—was still something I was getting used to.
And, as Edward said, there was the pain of knowing I'd disappointed Carlisle so much that he felt it was necessary.
“I bet it doesn't even hurt that much,” Alice added. “Carlisle is so kind-hearted.”
“Why don't you run upstairs and tell him you destroyed the painting on purpose, and you'd do it again given a chance?” Edward suggested. “Then you tell me how much it hurts.”
Alice leaned back and her eyes glazed over. Half a minute later, she blinked and sat up straighter. “He wouldn’t believe me. Even if I said it was an accident. He knows I would have foreseen the baseball hitting the painting before I'd thrown it, and therefore not done it in the first place. He assumes I’ve been bribed to cover for Emmett.” She smiled. “He also doesn’t believe a father should ever use corporal punishment with his daughters.”
Edward rolled his eyes. “Rules like that shouldn’t apply to vampire daughters.” He stared at Alice for a few seconds, and then pushed the game board away. “Fine, fine, you've won.”
“Excellent,” Alice said. “You want to keep playing with Edward, Jazz?”
“I don't need your gift to know I'm going to lose that one,” I said, stroking her hand as I released it. I leaned over to kiss her forehead as I stood up. “I'll be upstairs reading.”
“Rematch,” Edward said, restoring his pegs to his side of the board.
I left them to it, relieved that Edward was going to keep Alice distracted. She was going to notice something was troubling me sooner or later.
I walked quickly past the door to Carlisle's study and shut myself in our bedroom, picking up the Agatha Christie novel I was halfway through. It was soon clear that although I could read the words, I wasn't taking in the meaning. I was too busy listening to everything going on elsewhere in the house. I couldn't remember feeling this tense and alert since being on watch duty during my days in the South.
I was making too big a deal of this. It really didn't matter if Carlisle and Esme knew who had damaged the painting. It was damaged, regardless. Knowing it was me wouldn't change anything. They didn't have enough evidence to say for sure it was Emmett, and Edward said himself that Carlisle wouldn't punish him unless he was sure. It would become just another unsolved household mystery in a few days.
The sound of the front door opening nearly caused me to jump off the bed. This was really getting out of hand.
I listened closely and heard Emmett's footsteps coming up the stairs. He stopped on the second floor and I heard Carlisle telling him to come in.
He wasn't owning up to this, was he? He wasn't so stupid to think he had actually done it?
I shifted closer to the door, determined to hear every word. Carlisle's study was a floor down and across the hall from my bedroom.
“Hey, Carlisle.”
Emmett sounded sheepish.
“Hello, Emmett.”
Carlisle sounded … disappointed. A fresh wave of guilt rose in my chest.
“Listen, I just wanted to say that it really wasn't me. I would never lie to you, right?”
Carlisle didn't say anything, but he must have looked skeptical.
“Okay, so I guess there are some situations where I might theoretically lie to you,” Emmett conceded. “But this isn't one of them.”
“That's reassuring,” Carlisle said with a hint of amusement.
“You believe me, right?”
Carlisle sighed. “I want to believe you, Son. I really do. I don't want to believe that any of you did this. But when this baseball has your recent scent all over it, you'll have to forgive me for wondering.”
I sucked in a quick breath. He did suspect Emmett. Why didn't he just explain why his scent was on the ball? It obviously couldn't be the same baseball that had damaged the painting. Perhaps he just wasn't in a hurry to admit he was juggling baseballs by the stairs, given the ultimatum about sports equipment in the house.
“We were all practicing baseball out in the field,” Emmett said finally. He sounded defensive. “Me, Edward and Jasper. That's why my scent is on that ball.”
“Do you know how this baseball ended up on the lounge floor?” Carlisle asked calmly.
My breathing increased rapidly as I sensed suspicion. If Emmett had intended to absolve himself by this conversation, he was doing a terrible job.
“I guess I accidentally carried it in.” Emmett hadn't been exaggerating when he said he would lie to Carlisle in some situations. “It must have slipped out of my pocket.”
“Then this baseball wasn't the one that damaged the painting,” Carlisle concluded. He must have been inspecting it. “There is no paint or wall plaster.”
“See! I told ya.”
Emmett had somehow turned this around. Carlisle was curious now.
“Did you and your brothers leave to play baseball before the girls left?”
“We left just after them.”
“And the painting hadn't been damaged then?”
“I don't think so. I didn't know about it until I came back. Rose was the one who found it. I just moved it to the attic.”
“Did you all return together?”
“No. Edward and Jasper went back to the house before me, because Edward wanted to drive, and I wanted to run back.”
“Who was in the house when you came back?”
“No one. Edward and Jasper had gone. When the girls drove in, I helped them carry some stuff to their rooms … then Alice and Esme went into the forest.”
“Then it sounds like I should have a talk with Edward and Jasper. If they were the only two at the house before you arrived.”
I sucked in another breath at his words. But the emotions that followed made me realize he had only said it to test Emmett's reaction. He still suspected Emmett. I couldn't help but feel relieved.
“Sure thing, I'll go call them.”
I frowned. Emmett was eager to divert suspicion to us. I realized an instant later that what I was doing was ten times worse.
“Please just call Edward,” Carlisle said. “I'll talk to him alone.”
This was another relief. I didn’t think I could take a joint interrogation with Edward, knowing he knew everything. Being questioned alone was going to be bad enough. What was I going to say to Carlisle? Could I really look him in the eye and lie?
Perhaps I wouldn't have to. Perhaps I could use my gift to convince him not to question me too closely.
I sat with my back against the wall now, hugging my knees. I could hear Edward entering Carlisle's study. Maybe he had been listening to the conversation with Emmett as well.
I was concentrating so hard on listening to Carlisle and Edward that I actually jumped in surprise when Alice burst into our room.
“I won both games,” Alice said happily.
I frowned, trying to concentrate. Carlisle was asking him about his movements after we'd finished practicing baseball.
Alice stood in front of me and clasped her hands around the back of my neck. Her concern filled me, finally drawing my complete attention.
“Are you okay? You're so tense!”
“I'm fine,” I said, forcing a smile.
She raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
I sighed. “There's just … a lot of strong emotions around.”
“Because of the painting?”
I nodded.
“Poor Esme. She worked on that for months. Honestly, if it was my painting … I think I'd throw all of us out of the house for a week.”
I would have smiled if the words hadn't made me feel so guilty.
Alice reached up to rub my cheek. “It's dark outside,” she whispered. “Just the way you like it. Want to go for a walk by the river?”
I was about to reject the idea, but then I saw the benefit. If I wasn't here, perhaps Carlisle wouldn't bother interrogating me. I glanced towards the window, planning on picking up Alice and jumping straight out, but she took me by the hand and led me towards the door.
“Carlisle wants to speak to you first, though.”
“Wait, Alice, no—”
She turned around and stared at me, surprised at my distress.
“He's talking to Edward,” I added.
“Not anymore,” she said, grinning.
We both heard the door to Carlisle's study opening on the level down. Edward stepped out, followed closely by his vampire sire. I wish I'd heard what Carlisle had asked him. I wished even more I knew what he'd said in response. For all I knew, he'd changed his mind about sharing his knowledge. The mood surrounding both of them was calm, but that could mean any number of things. Carlisle turned and looked up the stairs to where I stood with Alice, hand in hand.
I didn't need Alice's gift to know what Carlisle was going to say.
“Do you have a moment, Jasper?”
“I'll meet you downstairs,” Alice said, giving me a light push towards Carlisle. “Edward is about to ask me for another rematch.”