New Moon

He walked slowly, struggling. I wished I could tell him to put me down and let me walk, but I couldn't find my voice.

There were lights everywhere, held by the crowd walking with him. It felt like a parade. Or a funeral procession. I closed my eyes.

'We're almost home now, honey,' Charlie mumbled now and then.

I opened my eyes again when I heard the door unlock. We were on the porch of our house, and the tall dark man named Sam was holding the door for Charlie, one arm extended toward us, as if he was preparing to catch me when Charlie's arms failed.

But Charlie managed to get me through the door and to the couch in the living room.

'Dad, I'm all wet,' I objected feebly.

'That doesn't matter.' His voice was gruff. And then he was talking to someone else. 'Blankets are in the cupboard at the top of the stairs.'

'Bella?' a new voice asked. I looked at the gray-haired man leaning over me, and recognition came after a few slow seconds.

'Dr. Gerandy?' I mumbled.

'That's right, dear,' he said. 'Are you hurt, Bella?'

It took me a minute to think that through. I was confused by the memory of Sam Uley's similar question in the woods. Only Sam had asked something else: Have you been hurt? he'd said. The difference seemed significant somehow.

Dr. Gerandy was waiting. One grizzled eyebrow rose, and the wrinkles on his forehead deepened.

'I'm not hurt,' I lied. The words, were true enough for what he'd asked.

His warm hand touched my forehead, and his fingers pressed against the inside of my wrist. I watched his lips as he counted to himself, his eyes on his watch.

'What happened to you?' he asked casually.

I froze under his hand, tasting panic in the back of my throat.

'Did you get lost in the woods?' he prodded. I was aware of several other people listening. Three tall men with dark faces—from La Push, the Quileute Indian reservation down on the coastline, I guessed—Sam Uley among them, were standing very close together and staring at me. Mr. Newton was there with Mike and Mr. Weber, Angela's father; they all were watching me more surreptitiously than the strangers. Other deep voices rumbled from the kitchen and outside the front door. Half the town must have been looking for me.

Charlie was the closest. He leaned in to hear my answer.

'Yes,' I whispered. 'I got lost.'

The doctor nodded, thoughtful, his fingers probing gently against the glands under my jaw. Charlie's face hardened.

'Do you feel tired?' Dr. Gerandy asked.

I nodded and closed my eyes obediently.

'I don't think there's anything wrong with her,' I heard the doctor mutter to Charlie after a moment. 'Just exhaustion. Let her sleep it off, and I'll come check on her tomorrow,' he paused. He must have looked at his watch, because he added, 'Well, later today actually.'

There was a creaking sound as they both pushed off from the couch to get to their feet.

'Is it true?' Charlie whispered. Their voices were farther away now. I strained to hear. 'Did they leave?'

'Dr. Cullen asked us not to say anything,' Dr. Gerandy answered. 'The offer was very sudden; they had to choose immediately. Carlisle didn't want to make a big production out of leaving.'

'A little warning might have been nice,' Charlie grumbled.

Dr. Gerandy sounded uncomfortable when he replied. 'Yes, well, in this situation, some warning might have been called for.'

I didn't want to listen anymore. I felt around for the edge of the quilt someone had laid on top of me, and pulled it over my ear.

I drifted in and out of alertness. I heard Charlie whisper thanks to the volunteers as, one by one, they left. I felt his fingers on my forehead, and then the weight of another blanket. The phone rang a few times, and he hurried to catch it before it could wake me. He muttered reassurances in a low voice to the callers.

'Yeah, we found her. She's okay. She got lost. She's fine now,' he said again and again.

I heard the springs in the armchair groan when he settled himself in for the night.

A few minutes later, the phone rang again.

Charlie moaned as he struggled to his feet, and then he rushed, stumbling, to the kitchen I pulled my head deeper under the blankets, not wanting to listen to the same conversation again.

'Yeah,' Charlie said, and yawned.

His voice changed, it was much more alert when he spoke again. 'Where?'' There was a pause. 'You're sure it's outside the reservation?' Another short pause. 'But what could be burning out there?' He sounded both worried and mystified. 'Look, I'll call down there and check it out.'

I listened with more interest as he punched in a number.

'Hey, Billy, it's Charlie—sorry I'm calling so early… no, she's fine. She's sleeping… Thanks, but that's not why I called. I just got a call from Mrs. Stanley, and she says that from her second-story window she can see fires out on the sea cliffs, but I didn't really… Oh!' Suddenly there was an edge in his voice—irritation… or anger. 'And why are they doing that? Uh huh. Really?' He said it sarcastically. 'Well, don't apologize to me. Yeah, yeah. Just make sure the flames don't spread… I know, I know, I'm surprised they got them lit at all in this weather.'

Charlie hesitated, and then added grudgingly. 'Thanks for sending Sam and the other boys up. You were right—they do know the forest better than we do. It was Sam who found her, so I owe you one… Yeah, I'll talk to you later,' he agreed, still sour, before hanging up.

Charlie muttered something incoherent as he shuffled back to the living room.

'What's wrong?' I asked.

He hurried to my side.

'I'm sorry I woke you, honey.'

'Is something burning?'

'It's nothing,' he assured me. 'Just some bonfires out on the cliffs.'

'Bonfires?' I asked. My voice didn't sound curious. It sounded dead.

Charlie frowned. 'Some of the kids from the reservation being rowdy,' he explained.

'Why?' I wondered dully.

I could tell he didn't want to answer. He looked at the floor under his knees. 'They're celebrating the news.' His tone was bitter.

There was only one piece of news I could think of, try as I might not to. And then the pieces snapped together. 'Because the Cullens left,' I whispered. 'They don't like the Cullens in La Push—I'd forgotten about that.'

The Quileutes had their superstitions about the 'cold ones,' the blood-drinkers that were enemies to their tribe, just like they had their legends of the great flood and wolf-men ancestors. Just stories, folklore, to most of them. Then there were the few that believed. Charlie's good friend Billy Black believed, though even Jacob, his own son, thought he was full of stupid superstitions. Billy had warned me to stay away from the Cullens…

The name stirred something inside me, something that began to claw its way toward the surface, something I knew I didn't want to face.

'It's ridiculous,' Charlie spluttered.

We sat in silence for a moment. The sky was no longer black outside the window. Somewhere behind the rain, the sun was beginning to rise.

'Bella?' Charlie asked.

I looked at him uneasily.

'He left you alone in the woods?' Charlie guessed.

I deflected his question. 'How did you know where to find me?' My mind shied away from the inevitable awareness that was coming, coming quickly now.