hen my eyes stopped automatically at my name - the character Edward Ferrars being introduced for the first time - Bella spoke again.

"Mmm. Edward." She sighed.

This time I did not fear that she had awoken. Her voice was just a low, wistful murmur. Not the scream of fear it would have been if she'd seen me now.

Joy warred with self-loathing. She was still dreaming of me, at least.

"Edmund. Ahh. Too....close..."

Edmund?

Ha! She wasn't dreaming of me at all, I realized blackly. The self-loathing returned in force. She was dreaming of fictional characters. So much for my conceit. I replaced her book, and stole back into the cover of the shadows - where I belonged.

The afternoon passed and I watched, feeling helpless again, as the sun slowly sank in the sky and the shadows crawled across the lawn toward her. I wanted to push them back, but the darkness was inevitable; the shadows took her. When the light was gone, her skin looked too pale - ghostly. Her hair was dark again, almost black against her face.

It was a frightening thing to watch - like witnessing Alice's visions come to fruition. Bella's steady, strong heartbeat was the only reassurance, the sound that kept this moment from feeling like a nightmare.

I was relieved when her father arrived home.

I could hear little from him as he drove down the street toward the house. Some vague annoyance...in the past, something from his day at work. Expectation mixed with hunger - I guessed that he was looking forward to dinner. But his thoughts were so quiet and contained that I could not be sure I was right; I only got the gist of them.

I wondered what her mother sounded like - what the genetic combination had been that had formed her so uniquely.

Bella started awake, jerking up to a sitting position when the tires of her father's car hit the brick driveway. She stared around herself, seeming confused by the unexpected darkness. For one brief moment, her eyes touched the shadows where I hid, but they flickered quickly away.

"Charlie?" she asked in a low voice, still peering into the trees surrounding the small yard.

The door of his car slammed shut, and she looked to the sound. She got to her feet quickly and gathered her things, casting one more look back toward the woods. I moved into a tree closer to the back window near the small kitchen, and listened to their evening. It was interesting to compare Charlie's words to his muffled thoughts. His love and concern for his only daughter were nearly overwhelming, and yet his words were always terse and casual. Most of the time, they sat in companionable silence.

I heard her discuss her plans for the following evening in Port Angeles, and I refined my own plans as I listened. Jasper had not warned Peter and Charlotte to stay clear of Port Angeles. Though I knew that they had fed recently and had no intention of hunting any where in the vicinity of our home, I would watch her, just in case. After all, there were always others of my kind out there. And then, all those human dangers that I had never much considered before now.

I heard her worry aloud about leaving her father to prepare dinner alone, and smiled at this proof to my theory - yes, she was a care-taker.

And then I left, knowing I would return when she was asleep.

I would not trespass on her privacy the way the peeping tom would have. I was here for her protection, not to leer at her in the way Mike Newton no doubt would, were he agile enough to move through the treetops the way I could. I would not treat her so crassly.

My house was empty when I returned, which was fine by me. I didn't miss the confused or disparaging thoughts, questioning my sanity. Emmett had left a note stuck to the newel post.

Football at the Rainier field - c'mon! Please?

I found a pen and scrawled the word sorry beneath his plea. The teams were even without me, in any case.

I went for the shortest of hunting trips, contenting myself with the smaller, gentler creatures that did not taste as good as the hunters, and then changed into fresh clothes before I ran back to Forks.

Bella did not sleep as well tonight. She thrashed in her blankets, her face sometimes worried, sometimes sad. I wondered what nightmare haunted her...and then realized that perhaps I really didn't want to know.

When she spoke, she mostly muttered derogatory things about Forks in a glum voice. Only once, when she sighed out the words "Come back" and her hand twitched open - a wordless plea - did I have a chance to hope she might be dreaming of me. The next day of school, the last day the sun would hold me prisoner, was much the same as the day before. Bella seemed even gloomier than yesterday, and I wondered if she would bow out of her plans - she didn't seem in the mood.

But, being Bella, she would probably put her friends' enjoyment above that of her own.

She wore a deep blue blouse today, and the color set her skin off perfectly, making it look like fresh cream.

School ended, and Jessica agreed to pick the other girls up - Angela was going, too, for which I was grateful.

I went home to get my car. When I found that Peter and Charlotte were there, I decided could afford to give the girls an hour or so for a head start. I would never be able to bear following behind them, driving at the speed limit - hideous thought.

I came in through the kitchen, nodding vaguely at Emmett's and Esme's greetings as I passed by everyone in the front room and went straight to the piano. Ugh, he's back. Rosalie, of course.

Ah, Edward. I hate to see him suffering so. Esme's joy was becoming marred by concern. She should be concerned. This love story she envisioned for me was careening toward a tragedy more perceptibly every moment.

Have fun in Port Angeles tonight, Alice thought cheerfully. Let me know when I'm allowed to talk to Bella.

You're pathetic. I can't believe you missed the game last night just to watch somebody sleep, Emmett grumbled.

Jasper paid me no mind, even when the song I played came out a little more stormily than I'd intended. It was an old song, with a familiar theme: impatience. Jasper was saying goodbye to his friends, who eyed me curiously.

What a strange creature, the Alice-sized, white-blond Charlotte was thinking.

And he was so normal and pleasant the last time we met.

Peter's thoughts were in sync with hers, as was usually the case.