New Moon (Twilight #2)(92)

And... what if she loved Paris? Not like Romeo. Nothing like that, of course. But enough that she wanted him to be happy, too?

Jacob's slow, deep breathing was the only sound in the room - like a lullaby hummed to a child, like the

whisper of a rocking chair, like the ticking of an old clock when you had nowhere you needed to go...It was the sound of comfort.

If Romeo was really gone, never coming back, would it have mattered whether or not Juliet had taken Paris up on his offer? Maybe she should have tried to settle into the leftover scraps of life that were left behind. Maybe that would have been as close to happiness as she could get.

I sighed, and then groaned when the sigh scraped my throat. I was reading too much into the story. Romeo wouldn't change his mind. That's why people still remembered his name, always twined with hers: Romeo and Juliet. That's why it was a good story. "Juliet gets dumped and ends up with Paris" would have never been a hit.

I closed my eyes and drifted again, letting my mind wander away from the stupid play I didn't want to think about anymore. I thought about reality instead - about jumping off the cliff and what a brainless mistake that had been. And not just the cliff, but the motorcycles and the whole irresponsible Evel Knievel bit. What if something bad happened to me? What would that do to Charlie? Harry's heart attack had pushed everything suddenly into perspective for me. Perspective that I didn't want to see, because - if I admitted to the truth of it - it would mean that I would have to change my ways. Could I live like that?

Maybe. It wouldn't be easy; in fact, it would be downright miserable to give up my hallucinations and try to be a grown-up. But maybe I should do it. And maybe I could. If I had Jacob.

I couldn't make that decision right now. It hurt too much. I'd think about something else.

Images from my ill-considered afternoon stunt rolled through my head while I tried to come up with something pleasant to think about... the feel of the air as I fell, the blackness of the water, the thrashing of the current... Edward's face... I lingered there for a long time. Jacob's warm hands, trying to beat life back into me... the stinging rain flung down by the purple clouds... the strange fire on the waves...

There was something familiar about that flash of color on top of the water. Of course it couldn't really be fire -

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car squelching through the mud on the road outside. I heard it stop in front of the house, and doors started opening and closing. I thought about sitting up, and then decided against that idea.

Billy's voice was easily identifiable, but he kept it uncharacteristically low, so that it was only a gravelly grumble.

The door opened, and the light flicked on. I blinked, momentarily blind. Jake startled awake, gasping and jumping to his feet.

"Sorry," Billy grunted. "Did we wake you?"

My eyes slowly focused on his face, and then, as I could read his expression, they filled with tears.

"Oh, no, Billy!" I moaned.

He nodded slowly, his expression hard with grief. Jake hurried to his father and took one of his hands. The pain made his face suddenly childlike - it looked odd on top of the man's body.

Sam was right behind Billy, pushing his chair through the door. His normal composure was absent from his agonized face.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

Billy nodded. "It's gonna be hard all around."

"Where's Charlie?"

"Your dad is still at the hospital with Sue. There are a lot of... arrangements to be made."

I swallowed hard.

"I'd better get back there," Sam mumbled, and he ducked hastily out the door.

Billy pulled his hand away from Jacob, and then he rolled himself through the kitchen toward his room.

Jake stared after him for a minute, then came to sit on the floor beside me again. He put his face in his hands. I rubbed his shoulder, wishing I could think of anything to say.

After a long moment, Jacob caught my hand and held it to his face.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? I probably should have taken you to a doctor or something." He sighed.

"Don't worry about me," I croaked.

He twisted his head to look at me. His eyes were rimmed in red. "You don't look so good."

"I don't feel so good, either, I guess."

"I'll go get your truck and then take you home - you probably ought to be there when Charlie gets back."

"Right."

I lay listlessly on the sofa while I waited for him. Billy was silent in the other room. I felt like a peeping torn, peering through the cracks at a private sorrow that wasn't mine.

It didn't take Jake long. The roar of my truck's engine broke the silence before I expected it. He helped me up from the couch without speaking, keeping his arm around my shoulder when the cold air outside made me shiver. He took the driver's seat without asking, and then pulled me next to his side to keep his arm tight around me. I leaned my head against his chest.

"How will you get home?" I asked.

"I'm not going home. We still haven't caught the bloodsucker, remember?"

My next shudder had nothing to do with cold.

It was a quiet ride after that. The cold air had woken me up. My mind was alert, and it was working very hard and very fast.

What if? What was the right thing to do?