Text Size Large SizeMedium SizeSmall Size    Color Scheme Black SchemeWhite SchemeGrey SchemePaper Scheme        

Harvest Moon

Summary:
It seems that danger is as constant as the clouds of Forks, hanging over the Cullens, just waiting to rain. It always seems to come when times seem the happiest. With it now pouring down upon them with full force, driving a wedge in the tight-knit family, will the Cullens be able to maintain their bonds and triumph once again? Renesmee's P.o.V. REVIEWS are greatly appreciated!! =]
Love it or Hate it, just RATE it! **SORRY FOR THE HIATUS EVERYONE...I'M IN MY SECOND TO LAST SEMESTER IN COLLEGE AND IT'S BEEN TAKING UP A LOT OF MY TIME! I WILL UPDATE ASAP.**


Notes:


5. Convert

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1565   Review this Chapter

"Who the hell are you?" Jacob demanded of Gavin before we even had a chance to get out of the truck. He had been standing in front of the house, waiting for my arrival, arms crossed, flexing every muscle in his body as much as possible.

"Your family remain close with the wolves?" Gavin in turn demanded of me in an urgent whisper, eyebrows furrowed.

"What was that, jacka—?" Jacob stalked toward us to close the distance between his fist and Gavin’s face.

"Jacob, back off!" I put my hand to his chest to keep him from charging at Gavin, though I wasn’t sure why I was protecting this stranger.

Gavin broke his stunned gaze from me to stare at Jacob.

"Forgive me, Fido. I am Gavin. I have come to meet the Cullens and the leader of their coven, whom I am certain is not you, so please, kindly step aside."

Jacob was quivering against my palm. I immediately looked to his hands, which were clenched into tight fists. I moved my hand to his face. Jacob, please. Calm down.

He took my hand and squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to force tears out. The shaking stopped and he re-trained his glare upon Gavin. He interlaced our fingers, whether to make a point or to keep him calm, I wasn’t sure. He nearly dragged me through the front door, Gavin close on our heels.

"Carlisle!" Jacob growled.

"Jacob, what is it?" my grandfather appeared at the top of the steps, descending them with waltz-like grace. "Ah, who is your new friend, Renesmee?" He smiled at Gavin then looked back upon me, awaiting my response.

"This is Gavin. Gavin, this is my Grandfather Carlisle," I whipped a finger between the two of them, showing who was whom. I watched closely as Gavin shook Grandfather Carlisle’s hand, waiting for him to appear disarmed in any way, shocked or exhausted the way Gavin’s simple gesture had done to me. But I was perplexed to find that my grandfather’s pleasant smile remained untouched, and he remained steadfast with Gavin’s hand in his own.

My mother came around the corner from the kitchen at the sound of my voice, wearing a wide smile. Once her eyes met Gavin’s however, I imagined that if she could, she would have paled even further than her marble skin already was. Her expression grew gaunt and a sharp intake of breath squeaked in her throat. She fell against the wall dividing the living room from the kitchen.

"Bella?" my dad was at her side in an instant. I didn’t see where he came from. My eyes were trained on my mother’s wide stare.

"Hello," Gavin’s voice ascended as if it were a question—as if answering a telephone—taking in my mother’s strange greeting.

"I, um..." and without completing her thought, she shuffled into the kitchen, my father close behind her, casting a quick curious glance over his shoulder at Gavin.

Gavin’s attention was diverted as the rest of my family gathered into the living room, likely aiming to discover where the foreign scent was coming from. He became engaged in introductions and explanations with my aunts, uncles, and grandparents, but I tuned in to my parents’ hurried whispers behind wall.

"I know his face, Edward. I just don’t understand what it means," my mother’s voice was anxious as if pleading with my father to have an answer.

"How could you possibly know him, love," my father soothed. "It’s probably just an instance of déjà vu."

There was a pause. Grandmother Esme’s trilling laughter registered in the back of my mind, but I kept my attention tuned on my parents’ voices.

"That’s it," she didn’t whisper this time. Her frantic whispers had quickly turned sure and steady. "My dream. Do you remember, when I was pregnant with Renesmee, how sure I was that she was going to be a boy?"

"Yes..." my father urged her on.

"I had this continuous dream of a pale-faced, dark-haired baby boy, sitting atop a mound of vampire limbs. And that boy in the other room—he looks just like him, only older."

She leaned infinitesimally from around the wall, peering at Gavin. My parents rejoined us. My eyes were on my mother the whole time, though Jacob’s hand had tightened around mine the entire few minutes they had been gone.

My mother cleared her throat. The rest of my family and Gavin all ceased their discussions to turn and look at her, anticipating an explanation for her behavior.

"I’m so sorry," she began. "I was just startled earlier. You remind me of someone I used to know," she addressed Gavin meekly.


"It’s no problem, ma’am. I was just explaining to your family, our connected pasts," Gavin began.

"Oh?" she looked to my father, knotting her hand in his for security. She tensed, waiting for Gavin to continue.

"Forgive me, ma’am, but in order for me to explain, I regret that it will make you relive a rather unpleasant time.

"Go on," my mother asked for the answer, but the corners of her mouth turned down, afraid to hear what was to come.

"Perhaps you remember the name Bree?" he eased his way into the story. "She was...my sister. Victoria created us," he finished, perhaps mistaking my mother’s stiffness for strength, but I knew better.

"Mom, it’s okay," I said, though I wasn’t sure it was. My father tried to soothe her as well, drawing soft circles with his thumb on the back of her hand.

I didn’t know what he really wanted from my family and me. Though he wasn’t the first outsider to ever take interest in our ‘vegetarian’ diet, something within me remained curious—cautious—about Gavin. Why hadn’t he effected anyone else when he shook their hands? Why wasn’t anyone else wary of this stranger—except for my mother, for obvious reasons? I felt like he was after more than just nutrition tips.

I slid my hand free from Jacob’s and lifted it to his cheek, making the action look as if I was just brushing the hair out of his face so as to not draw attention to us.

I’m sorry I brought him home with me but he said he would follow me home anyway. I’m scared...I don’t know what he wants.

Jacob looked down at me as I retracted my fingertips and laced them back in his.

"So what is it exactly that you want from us?" Jacob was still looking down at me, but looked sternly at Gavin upon completing his question. I wished he hadn’t been quite as abrupt. His tone sounded as if we should be sitting across a table from Gavin in an interrogation room instead of standing nonchalantly in my family’s home. Yet I waited for Gavin’s response.

"I want nothing from you, fleabag. I have waited a long time to meet the Cullens," Gavin retorted icily. Jacob’s hand trembled in mine.

"Gavin, I’m sorry but you are to expect no help from us if you cannot accept our whole family," Grandfather Carlisle placed a hand on Jacob’s shoulder.

Uncle Emmett crossed his arms across his chest, making his biceps bulge. Aunt Rose straightened beside him, looking suddenly feral despite her unshakable beauty. Aunt Alice’s arm tightened around Uncle Jasper’s waist as he laid his across her shoulders. He looked at me, smiling warmly—I was wrong to ever think Gavin looked like my sweet uncle—and the agitation seemed to melt out of my pores. The curiosity, however, remained. I needed answers. Though I could no longer feel the despair that accompanied it, the thought that I had potentially brought danger home with me settled in the forefront of my awareness.

"I apologize, wolf. I see that you are held in high regards with the Cullen’s. I have no choice but to respect one who has what I want," Gavin’s eyebrows that had been previously furrowed in hostility now softened, but still frowned. His desperation to be part of our world was apparent and unsettling.

Jacob raised his chin in a near-unnoticeable nod. He had the same look in his eyes that he did when he was running as the alpha of his pack—armed and relentless.

"To answer your question, I ask of you the chance that you offered my sister," Gavin made eye contact with each of us before resting his gaze on my Grandfather Carlisle. "I want to live as you do, live as normal as possible. I do not want to be the monster I was made to be." He looked at my mother as he said his last, then looked down at his feet.

"Bull," Jacob mouthed, intending for only me to hear it, though I was sure everyone else had anyway in spite of their lack of reaction.

Grandmother Esme looked up into Grandfather Carlisle’s face. I noticed that we were all looking at him now, awaiting his verdict.

I watched my father’s face as it was the first to turn from curious to knowing. My grandfather had decided.

"It will be difficult to adjust at first. You will need all the support you can get," Grandfather Carlisle smiled at him. He sounded as if he was informing a sick patient of the long but eventually successful road to recovery.

Uncle Emmett came forward, laughing, and slapped Gavin hard on the back. "You’d best man up, shrimp."

My mother appeared calm, probably Uncle Jasper’s doing, but I could still see the hesitation in her eyes. She smiled and nodded at Gavin along with everyone else, but inched behind my father.

I mirrored my mother’s movement, creeping behind Jacob.