emembered


Edward's complaints about my radio this afternoon?all a setup, apparently. "Thanks, Emmett!" I called
more loudly.
I heard his booming laugh from my truck, and I couldn't help laughing, too.
"Open mine and Edward's next," Alice said, so excited her voice was a high-pitched trill. She held 
a


small, flat square in her hand.
I turned to give Edward a basilisk glare. "You promised.
"
Before he could answer, Emmett bounded through the door. "Just in time!" he crowed. He pushed in


behind Jasper, who had also drifted closer than usual to get a good look.


"I didn't spend a dime," Edward assured me. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, leaving my skin
tingling from his touch.
I inhaled deeply and turned to Alice. "Give it to me," I sighed.
Emmett chuckled with delight.
I took the little package, rolling my eyes at Edward while I stuck my finger under the edge of the paper


and jerked it under the tape.


"Shoot," I muttered when the paper sliced my finger; I pulled it out to examine the damage. A single drop
of blood oozed from the tiny cut.
It all happened very quickly then.
"No!" Edward roared.
He threw himself at me, flinging me back across the table. It fell, as I did, scattering the cake and the


presents, the flowers and the plates. I landed in the mess of shattered crystal.
Jasper slammed into Edward, and the sound was like the crash of boulders in a rock slide.
There was another noise, a grisly snarling that seemed to be coming from deep in Jasper's chest. Jasper



tried to shove past Edward, snapping his teeth just inches from Edward's face. 

Emmett grabbed Jasper from behind in the next second, locking him into his massive steel grip, but 
Jasper struggled on, his wild, empty eyes focused only on me. 

Beyond the shock, there was also pain. I'd tumbled down to the floor by the piano, with my arms thrown 
out instinctively to catch my fall, into the jagged shards of glass. Only now did I feel the searing, stinging 
pain that ran from my wrist to the crease inside my elbow. 

Dazed and disoriented, I looked up from the bright red blood pulsing out of my arm?into the fevered 
eyes of the six suddenly ravenous vampires. 

2 STITCHES 

CARLISLE WAS NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO STAYED calm. Centuries of experience in the
emergency room were evident in his quiet, authoritative voice.
"Emmett, Rose, get Jasper outside.
"


Unsmiling for once, Emmett nodded. "Come on, Jasper.
"
Jasper struggled against Emmett's unbreakable grasp, twisting around, reaching toward his brother with
his bared teeth, his eyes still past reason.


Edward's face was whiter than bone as he wheeled to crouch over me, taking a clearly defensive


position. A low warning growl slid from between his clenched teeth. I could tell that he wasn't breathing.
Rosalie, her divine face strangely smug, stepped in front of Jasper?keeping a careful distance from his
teeth?and helped Emmett wrestle him through the glass door that Esme held open, one hand pressed
over her mouth and nose.


Esme's heart-shaped face was ashamed. "I'm so sorry, Bella," she cried as she followed the others into
the yard.
"Let me by, Edward," Carlisle murmured.


A second passed, and then Edward nodded slowly and relaxed his stance.
Carlisle knelt beside me, leaning close to examine my arm. I could feel the shock frozen on my face, and
I tried to compose it.


"Here, Carlisle," Alice said, handing him a towel.
He shook his head. "Too much glass in the wound." He reached over and ripped a long, thin scrap from


the bottom of the white tablecloth. He twisted it around my arm above the elbow to form a tourniquet.
The smell of the blood was making me dizzy. My ears rang.
"Bella," Carlisle said softly. "Do you want me to drive you to the hospital, or would you like me to take


care of it here?
"
"Here, please," I whispered. If he took me to the hospital, there would be no way to keep this from
Charlie.



"I'll get your bag," Alice said.
"Let's take her to the kitchen table," Carlisle said to Edward.
Edward lifted me effortlessly, while Carlisle kept the pressure steady on my arm.
"How are you doing, Bella?" Carlisle asked.
"I'm fine." My voice was reasonably steady, which pleased me.
Edward's face was like stone.
Alice was there. Carlisle's black bag was already on the table, a small but brilliant desk light plugged into


the wall. Edward sat me gently into a chair, and Carlisle pulled up another. He went to work at once.
Edward stood over me, still protective, still not breathing.
"Just go, Edward," I sighed.
"I can handle it," he insisted. But his jaw was rigid; his eyes burned with the intensity of the thirst he


fought, so much worse for him than it was for the others.
"You don't need to be a hero," I said. "Carlisle can fix me up without your help. Get some fresh air.
"
I winced as Carlisle did something to my arm that stung.
"I'll stay," he said.
"Why are you so masochistic?" I mumbled.
Carlisle decided to intercede. "Edward, you may as well go find Jasper before he gets too far. I'm sure


he's upset with himself, and I doubt he'll listen to anyone but you right now.
"
"Yes," I eagerly agreed. "Go find Jasper.
"
"You might as well do something useful," Alice added.
Edward's eyes narrowed as we ganged up on him, but, finally, he nodded once and sprinted smoothly


through the kitchen's back door. I was sure he hadn't taken a breath since I'd sliced my finger.
A numb, dead feeling was spreading through my arm.
Though it erased the sting, it reminded me of the gash, and I watched Carlisle's face carefully to distract


me from what his hands were doing. His hair gleamed gold in the bright light as he bent over my arm. 
I


could feel the faint stirrings of unease in the pit of my stomach, but I was determined not to let my usual


squeamishness get the best of me. There was no pain now, just a gentle tugging sensation that I tried to


ignore. No reason to get sick like a baby. 

If she hadn't been in my line of sight, I wouldn't have noticed Alice give up and steal out of the room.
With a tiny, apologetic smile on her lips, she disappeared through the kitchen doorway.
"Well, that's everyone," I sighed. "I can clear a room, at least.
"
"It's not your fault," Carlisle comforted me with a chuckle. "It could happen to anyone.
"
"Could" I repeated. "But it usually just happens to me.
"



He laughed again. 

His relaxed calm was only more amazing set in direct contrast with everyone else's reaction. I couldn't 
find any trace of anxiety in his face. He worked with quick, sure movements. The only sound besides our 
quiet breathing was the soft plink, plink as the tiny fragments of glass dropped one by one to the table. 

"How can you do this?" I demanded. "Even Alice and Esme?" I trailed off, shaking my head in wonder. 
Though the rest of them had given up the traditional diet of vampires just as absolutely as Carlisle had, he 
was the only one who could bear the smell of my blood without suffering from the intense temptation. 
Clearly, this was much more difficult than he made it seem. 

"Years and years of practice," he told me. "I barely notice the scent anymore." 

"Do you think it would be harder if you took a vacation from the hospital for a long time. And weren't 
around any blood?" 

"Maybe." He shrugged his shoulders, but his hands remained steady. "I've never felt the need for an 
extended holiday." He flashed a brilliant smile in my direction. "I enjoy my work too much." 

Plink, plink, plink. I was surprised at how much glass there seemed to be in my arm. I was tempted to 
glance at the growing pile, just to check the size, but I knew that idea would not be helpful to my 
no-vomiting strategy. 

"What is it that you enjoy?" I wondered. It didn't make sense to me?the years of struggle and self-denial 
he must have spent to get to the point where he could endure this so easily. Besides, I wanted to keep 
him talking; the conversation kept my mind off the queasy feeling in my stomach. 

His dark eyes were calm and thoughtful as he answered. "Hmm. What I enjoy the very most is when 
my? enhanced abilities let me save someone who would otherwise have been lost. It's pleasant knowing 
that, thanks to what I can do, some people's lives are better because I exist. Even the sense of smell is a 
useful diagnostic tool at times." One side of his mouth pulled up in half a smile. 

I mulled that over while he poked around, making sure all the glass splinters were gone. Then he 
rummaged in his bag for new tools, and I tried not to picture a needle and thread. 

"You try very hard to make up for something that was never your fault," I suggested while a new kind of 
tugging started at the edges of my skin. "What I mean is, it's not like you asked for this. You didn't 
choose this kind of life, and yet you have to work so hard to be good." 

"I don't know that I'm making up for anything," he disagreed lightly. "Like everything in life, I just had to 
decide what to do with what I was given." 

"That makes it sound too easy." 

He examined my arm again. "There," he said, snipping a thread. "All done." He wiped an oversized 
Q-tip, dripping with some syrup-colored liquid, thoroughly across the operation site. The smell was 
strange; it made my head spin. The syrup stained my skin. 

"In the beginning, though," I pressed while he taped another long piece of gauze securely in place, sealing 
it to my skin. "Why did you even think to try a different way than the obvious one?" 

His lips turned up in a private smile. "Hasn't Edward told you this story?" 

"Yes. But I'm trying to understand what you were thinking?" 


His face was suddenly serious again, and I wondered if his thoughts had gone to the same place that mine 
had. Wondering what I would be