Buck Moon

Chapter 7

Christmas morning, Renesmee and I awoke to find both our parents gone. Rosalie, while braiding my hair next to Esme brushing my sister's, told us that they'd gone to Charlie's house. Renesmee and I shared a glance. It was the second time anyone had ever mentioned our grandfather, the first being an accident. Jacob had told Father that 'Charlie deserves to know his granddaughters'. Father had tried shutting down Renesmee and I's questions, but we were determined. It wasn't until Mother had broken into venomous tears, we officially stopped. Jacob, also, hadn't brought the subject up again.

"Why can't we see him?" Renesmee was the one to ask. Esme's brush strokes stilled, and a few plaits slipped through Rosalie's fingers as the two looked at each other. As the silence lengthened, and my hair loosened completely, Renesmee's face turned crestfallen. I breathed in slowly, readying what little persuasion skills my three month old self had.

"You don't have to tell us anything about him, just why," I tried. Rosalie cursed under her breath when she turned towards me, quickly trying, and failing, to salvage what was left of the braid. Esme did a few quickly strokes of the brush before setting it down on the table.

"He isn't a bad man, is he?" Renesmee asked.

"No, no. Charlie is everything but," Esme said, a soft smile on her lips. "But… it's very complicated."

"They aren't here, Esme." Rosalie said. Esme gave Rosalie a sharp look. She continued to braid my hair. "You know my stance on the subject. I believe they should know their grandfather, but," she injected before Esme could say when she opened her mouth, "I agree, it's not my decision. I'll respect their wishes. Though, the girls do deserve to know why." It was quiet for a long time, the only sounds in the room that of my hair slipping between and around Rosalie's deft fingers.

"According to the Volturi, vampire law-," Esme started, and paused when I hissed. Rosalie's hands had tightened as the mention of the vampires. My hair quickly loosened followed by a hushed 'sorry'. "Vampire law states, that no human is to know about the existence of vampires. Now, your Mother, loves your grandfather Charlie, very much… Usually, in the instance when one is transformed into a vampire, they cut themselves off from any humans they once had any sort of contact with."

"Even family?" Renesmee asked, voice wobbly.

"Even family." Esme said. A tear slipped from my sisters eye.

"You said usually," I said. Esme looked to me, something in her eye. Rosalie snorted, the sound of it mocking.

"Your mother is far from usual," she said.

"Rosalie." Chastised Esme. Rosalie said nothing, and eventually, Esme continued, "Bella decided to stay in contact with your grandfather. We're able to hide her supernatural characteristics, just as Carlisle does when he goes to work at the hospital, but,"

"We grow to fast," I said, cutting her off. Esme's eyes grew sad. Rosalie hid behind her golden locks, but her mouth, pinched, could still be scene.

"Yes," Esme eventually said.

"What would happen if he knew about us?" asked Renesmee. I looked down at my fingers.

"Nothing good, Renesmee," was all Rosalie said, trying to hide the grueling truth I already knew. But Renesmee's gasp of horrible realization proved Rosalie's plans foiled.

"Then why not change him?" she said, desperately, turning around in her chair. I frowned, suddenly irritated by the question for some reason. It was an honest question, one I'd thought myself.

"Renesmee!" Rosalie exclaimed, anger filling her tone. My irritation fled me, as my sister and I jumped in shock.

"No, Rosalie, she didn't mean-" Esme tried, but she continued on.

"I never want to hear you ask such a selfish question ever again, do you understand me?!" She was now standing before my sister, who quaked in her chair, wide eyes glowing. "Do you understand me!?" She shouted. Large hands gripped her shoulders and Emmett's voice tried quieting my aunt. Renesmee quietly said 'sorry' a few times, but that only managed to enrage Rosalie, who was now hissing in furry. Esme had my sister, who was now in confused fearful tears, on her hip and in her arms instantly. Members of the Denali clan flew into the room quickly, standing at the ready, as if expecting a fight.

"Rosalie, that's enough!" Carlisle shouted, standing before Esme and my sister. Rosalie's hissing came to a stop. Realization slowly filled her eyes, and her body started to tremble, but no longer in rage.

"Renesmee, I-"

"Emmett, take her outside, please," Carlisle cut her off. Emmett nodded, and slowly pulled our aunt away, through the crowd of gathered questioning vampires. With one look, Carlisle had them out of the room and scattering about the house. The only one who stayed was Jacob, who rushed to Renesmee's side.

"Elizabeth," Carlisle crouched down before me, voice soft, "are you alright?"

"I-," the shakiness of my voice surprised me. Carlisle took pity, gathering me in his arms and lifting me up. I looked over his shoulder at my sister, who's tear streaked face turned towards me. Asking about Charlie had been a mistake.

. . .

Eventually Renesmee was calmed down. Jacob suggested taking her out for a ride, suggesting she should be out when our parents returned. Carlisle had quickly agreed, and the two instantly left the house. I watched as Jacob's large tail slipped between the trees, and stayed put before the window long after. My eyes scanned over the garden. Esme was flitting between the brush, clearing out more dead leaves and branches. It was getting colder each day, the air drying up.

She soon left, following the others who were headed towards the field. The ground had been evened out, and grass pressed into nonexistence, with the amount of training that happened each day. There were more wolves than usual. It seemed Jacob had gotten what he wanted, though the big wolf himself was nowhere to be scene. The fact that they were heading out meant Father must have returned. It was quiet in the house, though. Eventually, someone came up to me, steps loud enough to announce themselves.

"Is Aunty ok?" I asked, looking up at Mother. Her big soft eyes were sad, sunken in. She was tired, like everyone was lately. No amount of mountain lion would change that. She pulled over a large bean bag, something Jacob had gotten for us awhile ago, and plopped down in it, opening her arms. I walked over and crawled into her lap.

"She's alright," she said into my hair, voice matching her eyes. "Can you tell me what happened?" And so I did. Mother flinched a few times at the mention of Charlie, but she didn't stop me. When I was finished, a low hum was vibrating through mothers chest. It was a calming sound, like a per the wild cats would make when they didn't know we were watching.

"I see," she was hesitating, thinking about what she was going to say. I waited patiently. "Your aunt should not have shouted at Renesmee the way she did, there is no excuse for that, but," again, the hesitation. I patted the hand laying on the makeshift arm rest. She turned her cool palm upwards to capture my little hand. "Turning- Vampirism, is a soft subject for Rosalie," I gave her a questioning look, "No, the reason why, is her story to tell, but know that if given the option, she wouldn't have become one. Now, that doesn't mean she doesn't love you two, or our family, but there is reason behind your Aunty's views. We don't have to like them, but she is allowed her opinion."

Mother told me that Rosalie was sorry, and it was up to me if I accepted that apology or not. It was my forgiveness to give. I said that I already forgave her. Mother told me to be patient, then, with Renesmee.

"Just like you, she has a right to forgive, or not to forgive. Remember that, Elizabeth." Soon enough, Mother was called from the field. She kissed my forehead and was off. I went to go find Rosalie, to tell her I forgave her, but Emmett told me she was out getting things for Carlisle. I went to go pick at something from the study, but the door was locked. That left what little my Father had on his bookshelf to look through. The Princess Bride again, it would seem. But I didn't want to read. Discouraged, and bored, I thought about heading out to the field, but without Renesmee at my side I didn't really feel like it. It was then, I had an idea.

Book in hand, I flitted over to the second set of stairs in the house. Stairs that were more latter than stairs, really, but stairs none the less. Determined, I pushed the attic door up and out and made my way into the barren, dusty, pleasantly occupied space. Ignoring the eyes on me, I set myself up against a slightly less dusty wall, with plenty of light from the one window, and opened my choice of reading up to whatever page it chose.

The scratching of graphite on paper stopped. Alistair set his notebook to his side, and his eyes weighed heavily on me. I did not look up from my book. I followed the words on the page, but didn't take them in. It didn't matter, since I'd read the book five times already.

"What are you doing?" Alistair's voice was rough, like gravel grinding together.

"I'm reading," I stated, turning to the next page. I turned two more before he spoke again.

"Why here, though?" he inquired.

"Renesmee's out with Jacob, and I'm bored. I decided a change of scenery would be nice, and I haven't been to the attic before," I said. I glanced up to find him staring at the floor before my feet with furrowed brows. "Renesmee's my sister. You know, the one who can share her thoughts." His nose wrinkled in distaste.

"And you?" he asked, warily.

"I'm like Mother," I didn't feel the need to tell him about Eleazar's vague description. He nodded, eyes having never left the spot on the floor. The scrunch slowly left his face. I returned to reading. The scratching of graphite on paper didn't start again, but Alistair remained. Soon the sound of something pressing through the trees echoed outside. I glanced out the window to see a smiling Renesmee on the back of a very tired wolf Jacob. Her eyes scanned the clearing, and knowing what she was looking for I waved. Her eyes snapped up towards me and she beckoned with her arm. I set down my book, pages open, and flitted downstairs.

When I returned the next day, my book was still there, closed. A piece of torn parchment marking the last read page.