Edward never came back after he left Bella in New Moon. Bella went to college, married Jacob, had a daughter. When Bella's grandaughter and Edward find each other in Forks, can Edward overcome his memories and devote himself to a new love?
It's a tired old plot, but this is the first time I've ever written Twilight fanfiction, so please indulge me.
1. Chapter 1
Rating 4.5/5 Word Count 2948 Review this Chapter
I’m sure I’m in love with her, and I don’t know why. I didn’t know why I was in love with Bella, either, not really, and it didn’t bother me. All I knew was that after a century of darkness, I had found light, I had found love. Powerful love, obsessive love. But I don’t want this to be Bella all over again, don’t want to lose Izzie the same way. I examine everything about her that is loveable. She’s funny. She’s smart, and beautiful, but not vain. She’s not awed by me, or if she is, she doesn’t let it show. The way I can’t read her mind is infinitely frustrating but charming. The way she tips her head and sends her long curls twirling and shifting. The way she’s Bella’s granddaughter. Izzie.
She walked into the main office of Forks High School while twisting her finger into one of her curls.
"I’m Isabella Nye. Izzie." She smiled at the receptionist. I’m not actually in the office to see all this, but I could hear it in the secretary’s mind from outside. I had tried to look into Izzie’s mind when she got out of her car, but found only silence. Silence, and then, the faintest whiff of scent. A scent that had been burned into my memory for decades. Who was this girl? Only once before had I found someone who’s mind I could not read, and that’s not something I talk about.
I lean against a wall, ignoring the drizzle, and wait for her to come out. There. Jeans, gray sweater, mass of dark brown hair. She doesn’t see me, and that’s good. I don’t want her to. The wind swirls her hair, and I see her face for the first time. A casual glance, an eternity. I don’t need more than a glance to know. Her mind can’t be read, her smell is so familiar – and so delicious – it makes me shiver, her face broke my heart. Her first name is Isabella. Everything is right except the curly hair, but it would be foolish to suppose that genetics can exactly reproduce a person. There is no doubt, no doubt at all, hat this girl is related to Bella.
Bella. Once she was my Bella, but I left her. For good reasons, or so I tell myself during those dark times when all the light is gone and the loneliness of eternity comes crashing down. For good reasons. She was upset, of course. For awhile, almost a year, I was very worried about her. But she recovered. She married Jacob Black. She had a daughter. I have not spoken to her since she was eighteen.
How could this new Bella be here? What impossible, fantastic tale could explain her presence? Bella and Jacob moved to Tucson, and anyway, Izzie Nye is too young to be her daughter. Granddaughter? I have to know – it’s an obsession.
I am distracted all morning, my brain wandering. Bella, Bella, Bella. I have so thoroughly avoided thinking of her all those years that I almost stopped hurting. Today I’ve thought of her so much that the pain – the deep, dark, blood-red misery –returns each time I think her name, each time I picture her walking through these halls. I shouldn’t be here, but I’m drawn to Forks like a magnet, ever since we left I’ve wanted to go back. Two years ago I prevailed, and we returned. Carlisle and the others like Forks too – it’s quiet and we can go out in the day, act like normal humans. They worried that it was painful for me, that I was sick, torturing myself with memories, but they tried to not mention it. Tried not to think of it.
One more class. Then it will be time for lunch, time for me to go to work on Izzie Nye.
I get a shock when I enter AP Chemistry. Izzie Nye is there. She will be my lab partner; I am the only person in the class without one – some things never change.
Her scent hits me like a jackhammer. The first time I smelled Bella…it was all I could do not to rip her throat out. Now it’s all I can do not to flee, crying.
I’m the last person to enter the classroom. I sit down in my usual spot, but all is not usual. I have a lab partner. Déjà vu hits, and I wince. That was AP Biology though, as a junior. But this is so close, so close. It’s like a reenactment of the day I met Bella. Ouch. The more I think her name, the more it hurts.
When I first met Bella, it was like she was a demon; a personal demon sent to tempt me. Now I wonder; is this Izzie Nye a figment of my imagination, conjured up by my admittedly twisted psyche?
If so, Ms. Pruitt shares my hallucination. She asks Izzie a question and receives the correct answer.
It’s time for a lab. I can’t avoid it any longer now.
As an opening line to a girl I’ve been thinking about obsessively all morning, it’s pretty lame.
"Hey," she says. Glances up at me, makes eye contact, glances away. Her eyes are just like Bella’s
"So you’re Izzie?" Stupid question really, but the compulsion to reenact was strong.
"How do you know my name?"
"Everyone knows your name. It’s a small school. Everyone’s quite excited about the new student."
"I mean…Izzie. People have been calling me Isabella all day. Quite annoying, really."
I know she goes by Izzie because I’d been listening to her in people’s thoughts all morning. I decide it would probably be for the best to not answer the question,
"You don’t like Isabella, then?"
"Not really. Sorry, what’s your name?"
"Cullen! Nye! Have you to started the compounding process yet?" Ms. Pruitt thinks we needed to get to work. I begin laying out our materials. There is a moment of silence. I glance at her, just as she glanced at me. She blushes and we both look away. Because I am a glutton for pain, I return to the subject of her name.
"Strange how some people like a name and others find it horrible. Why did your parents choose it, then?"
"Oh, my mother wanted it, to commemorate her mother. It’s especially annoying because the original Isabella didn’t really like the name either. She went as Bella."
I set my tray down opposite Izzie’s in the cafeteria, leaving Alice and
Jasper alone at our usual table. There are a few people sitting with "us" – really with Izzie. People she’d met in her morning classes. They are unsure of me. I ignore them.
"So how did you end up here, anyway?" I ask.
"It’s a long story."
"Try me. I think I can keep up." She gives me a slight smile.
"My parents got divorced last year. My mom’s gone off to France. My dad’s really bummed out about it. He wanted to get out of Dallas – you know, away from all the memories. So he came here, where he grew up. He met my mother here, when her parents brought her to stay with her Grandfather for a summer." Her parents. That means Bella and Jacob. Ouch.
I watch Izzie as she talks. She really is like Bella reborn, except for the wavy hair and the faint tan. Her eyes are especially painful. Wells of rich, deep chocolate.
Alice and Jasper are concerned. When they first saw Izzie, they thought Bella had returned. Impossible, of course, as they know. They conferred about it in quick whispers. They’re worried about me, with reason. For several years after Bella and Jacob got married I was almost catatonic. I want to tell them I’d be fine. Listening to Izzie talk, the pain dims to a bearable level for the first time in years.
"I don’t know how well he’s doing with the breaking away from my mother thing, though, because he bought me great-grandfather’s house, the one she stayed in the summer he met her."
It takes me several seconds to process this. Izzie and her father are living in the same house as Bella and Charlie. Izzie has Bella’s room, I’m sure; it’s the only room available for her. Ouch.
"What about you?" she asks. "They’re your siblings, aren’t they?" she gestures towards Alice and Jasper, watching us anxiously, though covertly.
"Sort of. How could you tell?"
"Isn’t it obvious?" she smiles. "What do you mean – sort of?"
"We’re all adopted. Esme – our ‘mother’ – is my aunt. I’ve been with her since I was very young. Alice and Jasper were adopted later." She studies my face for a minute, and I wonder if she will ask me why I live with my aunt. She doesn’t.
"Have you lived here long?"
"Two years. We moved down from Alaska."
"How very cold."
"Not so bad." I smile, though she doesn’t know what I’m smiling about. "Don’t you like cold weather? I’m afraid you’re in for a nasty year here if you don’t."
"I hate cold, and I don’t like wet either. I’m afraid Forks will not be paradise for me."
"Did you mention this to your father when he wanted to move here?"
"No, of course not. I couldn’t go whining about the cold when he was so unhappy. I do wish he could have waited a year, though. Then I could have gotten in-state tuition to the University of Texas and everything would be much nicer."
"Do you still want to go to college there?"
"Yes. I’ve heard it never snows in Austin at all – even better than Dallas! Although I really think Arizona has the perfect climate."
Arizona. I’ve had a sore spot about the entire state for decades. I wince slightly. Maybe she sees it, because she changes the subject.
"What about you?"
"Oh – I don’t know. Lewis and Clark, maybe. Or Washington University." These are lies, I hadn’t planned on attending college again after this year, but I can’t tell her that. The bell rang, taking me by surprise. Lunch has flown by. We take our trays to the garbage can, and I realize that Izzie did not touch her food. I’m thrown by the rush of worry and concern. Why didn’t she eat? Does she have an eating disorder – she’s thin, but not anorexic-looking. Why?
I didn’t ask her any of these questions, instead I said,
"What class do you have next?"
"Do you know how to find it?"
I walk her to her Algebra II class. We speak only occasionally. We reach the door of her class, and I find myself unhappy at having to leave her.
"Bye Edward," she says, smiling. "See you later." I say goodbye and walk off to my own class, but my thoughts are still with her. Yes, I think, I will certainly see you later. Izzie.
When I was sure that Edward Cullen was really gone, I allowed my forced coolness to drop and a dopey grin to spread over my face. It wasn’t just that he was hot – which he was, majorly – there was something more. I really, really liked him. Watch it, Izz, I cautioned myself, you’ve known him for all of two hours. Don’t get in too deep.
I restored my composure and seated myself. In a way I was relieved to be out of Edward’s presence. He was overpowering. I was constantly aware of myself; how I moved, the way my voice sounded, making sure nothing was unattractive. In one way, it was extremely sexy; in another, disturbing.
I went through the rest of my classes without thinking much about them, which is a difficult trick in a new school. I managed because in each class there was always a boy eager to escort me to the next, and happy to supply most of the conversation. I was too busy dwelling on Edward Cullen to respond to what they said. After three classes, this began to annoy me. What the hell was wrong with me? Edward was just a guy, and I’d been with plenty of guys. Why was I acting like a love-sick twelve-year-old? Why couldn’t I get him out of my head? This was so immature and pathetic!
My last class was PE, and I was pleased to see that we were playing volleyball in the gym. I changed out and threw myself into the game, playing intensely to avoid thinking about anything else – especially him. I spiked the ball over the net with great satisfaction – I was only five-foot-four, and most people expected me to be too short to be much good at sports. I took great pleasure in proving them wrong.
The coach called me over when the class ended.
"Nye," she said. "Welcome to Forks."
I muttered something polite.
"You play volleyball in your old high school."
"Yeah. Varsity," I said. I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
"Well, look, I know it’s October and we’re well into the volleyball season, but the team could really use some help this year. Do think you’d like to come to a practice, see if you like the team?"
"Yeah, I’d like to," I said. "What time?"
"We have practice tomorrow, after school. 3:30 to 5:00."
"See you there," I said politely, and bounded out of the gym. The volleyball team would get me out of the house and away of the gloomy presence of my depressed father guilt-free for the rest of the semester! Please, don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not that I wasn’t sympathetic – but dad was quite depressed, and it was painful for me. We’d been very close throughout my childhood – he’d always taken care of me. Now I was taking care of him, and it made my heart ache, how lost he looked sometimes. I could only take so much before I simply had to get away.
Home again, I stood in the kitchen and considered what to do next. There was some homework in my backpack that needed attention, but my stomach objected. I didn’t normally snack after school, and I wondered what this was about, until I remembered that I hadn’t eaten any lunch today, and had just spent an hour slamming around a volleyball with every ounce of available energy. I tried to keep on thinking about volleyball at this point, but it was no good. I had remembered Edward, and my brain now seized on him with fervor.
My brain thought about Edward the same way people wriggle a loose tooth – it hurts, but it’s compulsive. Thinking about Edward didn’t hurt, precisely, but it was upsetting. I’d had several boyfriends in Dallas, I’d liked them until they got annoying and I dumped them. It was rather sweet, and perhaps a little childish. Maybe I had secretly longed for something stronger. But this – obsession! I spent only two hours in his company this morning, and almost the entire rest of the day thinking about him! No one should have this sort of hold on me, it wasn’t healthy.
And what was so special about him anyway, I thought angrily, rummaging through the pantry. So he was good-looking and intelligent and fun to talk to. Plenty of boys were all of those things; I’d dated several of them. None of them had been so – so…As I struggled to come up with a word for exactly what Edward was, anyway, I realized I was already thinking of him as being in some sort of relationship with me. I yelled aloud and slammed the pantry shut. I stalked up to my room and forced myself to concentrate on my homework, ignoring the rumbling of my stomach.
But even that made me think of him, because it was due to Edward that I hadn’t eaten lunch today. Come to that, why hadn’t I eaten? It hadn’t even occurred to me to eat. I had been so totally focused on Edward. I remembered something: he hadn’t eaten either. So he was pretty focused on me. This soothed my pride somewhat. I hadn’t become obsessed with someone who was unaware of my existence – Edward liked me too. He must, or he wouldn’t have ditched his siblings to sit with me at lunch. Also, I couldn’t remember him speaking to anyone besides me all through lunch. He liked me too. I wasn’t completely pathetic. Relief flooded me.
This thought allowed me to focus on and complete my homework, but it didn’t provide complete freedom from Edward-related cogitation. Trying to sleep that night, some new idea about him would occur to me and I would have to think it all the way through, only for the same thing to happen again. I didn’t manage to fall asleep until the early hours of the morning. When I did, I dreamed of him.
He stood in a clearing, leaning against a tree. I sat on the ground on the opposite side of the meadow. His eyes, which I had barely noticed that morning, were a mesmerizing, golden-butterscotch color. He was calling to me, but for some reason instead of saying "Izzie" he was saying softly, "Bella, Bella…"