Descending Star

DR. NILAND

Six days after Ben's showdown with the Goddess Artemis, Edythe gazed pointedly out at the waning afternoon sun and for the second time reminded irrepressible Jacob Black that the medflight from Phoenix had taken a lot out of Ben. He'd been lost in the peaceful oblivion of coma for only three days and change; he had a big day tomorrow with the commencement of physical therapy, and he had more than three dozen bone fractures that would never heal without rest.

Luckily, in the past half hour Charlie had dropped by from work to make sure that Ben was comfortable and settled in, else Jacob might never have left on his own, despite all the hints.

The great thing about Charlie was that the past truly was in the past. He made no mention of Ben's cruel and unfair parting words last Sunday. "Hah," he boomed, "great to have you back, kid! I can hardly believe it. And don't you worry. Carlisle's found you the best P.T. doc in the northwest. Gonna be back on your feet and home where you belong in no time."

Then he looked up at Edythe, and he said, with authentic emotion, "And thanks for being there for him. Made all the difference to Ben, and it meant a lot to Renée and me, too."

"Say nothing of it," Edythe whispered, meek and nonplussed, as though she'd had a choice in the matter.

Ben said, "Say Dad, listen, I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon, and right now I can't keep my eyes open."

"Right, got it. Jake and I'll say goodnight, then," he resolved, with a warm hammy palm on Ben's shoulder.

Jacob through this exchange had been transfixed by Edythe. He glanced up, blinked distractedly, and muttered, "Yeah, right."

His russet complexion took on the hue of a bruise, and he put up his hands. "You're right, you're right, sorry. We should get going."

Charlie had said his goodbyes and was already at the door, waiting for Jacob.

Ben watched Jacob's ill-considered attempt to backpedal toward the door without taking his eyes off Edythe, and he nearly toppled the heart monitor. Jacob laughed at his own clumsiness with abashed self-deprecation.

"Thanks for visiting, Jake," said Edythe. "And also for catching me up on local events."

"No worries," Jacob replied, several inches south of her eyes. "Say, you guys don't mind if I drop by again, right? To deliver the news of the day?"

Ben generously replied, "Yes, that would be great. During visitor hours."

He could not see Jacob's departure, but he listened to the receding footsteps and the closing of the door. His eyes never left Edythe. For the past hour, ever since the nurses had completed their ministrations and opened the curtains, Ben had been watching her bemused silence as Jacob had droned on and on, recounting every intrigue, from the perspective of Forks and La Push, since Ben's near-death encounter at the ballet studio. Now in the blessed silence he took his first proper stock of Edythe, herself.

This room's exterior had a deep overhang which blocked direct sunlight throughout the day. The glass walls were equipped with powered window shades, which Edythe at some point had activated, to drop them from the twelve foot ceiling to the floor. She had also dimmed the interior lights, one of the many hints to oblivious Jacob that his esteemed visit had run long. At no time of day, in this room, did she have to concern herself with the effect of natural sunlight or hot halogen lamps on her skin. Down in Phoenix, in the St. Joseph's recovery ward, she had been on constant high alert due to the incessant visitors and foot traffic. Here, she knew the nurses and interns, and she had understandings with all of them. Visitors' hours had no relevance here, not for Edythe, and she had Ben all to herself, the occasional pesky nag like Jacob notwithstanding.