The First Drop Of Rain

Chapter Twenty Eight

Edward's POV

I held Ara close, hearing her heart slow from the panicked pace it had been at. Her thoughts had been becoming darker in the past week, more often cycling towards anxiety, to which she always had a physical response. I had done my best to combat it, being there for her when I knew she needed me, but with the frustrating way her brain worked I couldn't always catch her in time. Luckily now I had seen the sharp slam from peace to panic her brain had done, going from the almost sweet tasting thoughts that always seemed to have a slight green haze to them, straight to the cold melancholy and physical agony of memory. When I really stopped and focused on her thoughts I saw how each one had a thread that led through it, like a glittering gold strand, it was always connected in the most bizarre way however. Just now I had watched her go from thinking about the beautiful landscape of Denali, to thinking about name meanings, to thinking about names she loved, to the story of Anastasia Romanov, to the song Once Upon a December, to the peppermint and milk drink mentioned in the movie, to interior design. All without even leaving her initial subject in the car about the meanings behind the names. She always did this, leaving me guessing. Some of her thoughts came and went so quickly I questioned if she was even aware of the blinding speed at which they popped up. Even now her mind toyed with dream concepts as she slipped deeper towards her rem cycle.

While I patrolled her mind, ensuring she slept peacefully, I heard the concerned thoughts of Esme. I do hope she's okay, I wouldn't even need Jasper's gift to feel the terror that had built in her. Esme's eyes flashed back towards Ara's curled figure in the back seat, a sympathetic look overtaking the golden pools of her eyes. I do love to see him so happy with her. It's been too long.

I turned my attention away from Esme's thoughts, hoping to give her a semblance of privacy in her mind, though this meant I was automatically attached to Carlisle's thoughts, where he ran through the possibilities of what Ara's ability could mean. Are humans evolving faster than I thought? He mused to himself as he took another turn, now accelerating the car to a speed that would leave Ara in a tailspin. Should she become a vampire, would she- my growl interrupted his train of thought. I had been barely aware of it escaping my mouth until the sound hit my ears. I'm sorry Edward, I didn't mean I would change her, I was merely running through the possibilities of what she could do if it were to be her desire.

"I don't care, Carlisle. Arabella has made it abundantly clear she has no desire to join me in this damned existence." I spoke through clenched teeth, earning a disapproving look from Esme for my tone. No amount of love for my adoptive parents could make me soften it however, and I continued fourth. "I have every intention of honoring that wish, and I will stand in the way of anyone who thinks otherwise."

"Edward, please." Esme spoke in a softened tone, bringing my attention to the volume I had spoken in. "None of us wish to take Ara's choice from her, surely you must know that."

"I promise, Edward, I was only looking at it from a medically curious perspective." Carlisle stared at me through the rear view mirror, his deep honey eyes boring into mine. After a tense few minutes where Carlisle only partially paid attention to the highway he was flying down. Finally I conceded and returned my gaze to Ara, who had begun to snore softly.

Just studying her peaceful face I took in every detail of it. The freckles danced across her cheekbones and under eyes, her eyebrows a delicate red color, eyelashes matching when she didn't place mascara atop them. If her eyes were open I would see the most complex blue I had come across in my many years, flecked with gold and green directly against her pupil before giving way to deep oceanic and cobalt blues. Her cheeks were full, and held asymmetrical dimples at the slightest smile, her smile being infectious the moment it breaks on her face. The most amusing thing about her face, to me, was that while she slept she almost always had the most serious look etched into the way she held her mouth. It made me realize early on that she didn't have a natural smile, but instead her lips had a slight downturn to them that allowed a heart melting pout while she slept. It nearly made my dead heart shutter at the idea. I placed my chin upon her head, allowing her to nestle in further and give a soft sigh. I never had to worry about her becoming frigid while she slept like this, because oftentimes she would get so hot in the middle of the night she threw her blankets off and woke up woozy. As I peered out the window, feeling the soft breath like fire against my collarbone billowing out from her nostrils, I delved into her mind. When I did this, it was almost as if I slept too, watching her dreams play out the way she did.