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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:


9. Vent

Rating 0/5   Word Count 1476   Review this Chapter

"It’s happening again, Renesmee. I’m having the dreams again," my mother clutched my hands in hers. "I just don’t know what to make of them." She was frantic, but she had quickly shed the frailty that she had donned just moments ago. It still floored me to look at her sometimes. We looked as if we belonged to the same peer group, yet she was the vessel that carried and birthed me—the girl who had loved me enough to nearly die to let me live.

"Mom, what are you talking about? You don’t sleep, how can you possibly be dreaming?" I tried to calm her, resting my hands on her shoulders.

"For lack of a better word...It’s difficult to describe..." She was pacing. "They’re like, flickers—very vivid flickers. They flash before my eyes, so real. I thought I was going crazy..." She stopped abruptly and took my hands as if begging me to believe her.

"Mom, it’s okay, calm down."

I removed one of my hands from hers and touched her face, showing her what I remembered of the stories they had told me of the times before my birth. I played her images of a dark-haired baby boy, sitting atop a mound of stone-white dismembered limbs as a line of hooded figures hovered like vultures over him.

"Yes, just as intense...but the scene is different. This time, I keep seeing Gavin crouched over a burning heap. The Volturi are approaching but he doesn’t run away. Instead, the line of hooded figures envelop him and his eyes glow crimson. And in the mess of the heap, there is one thing I see clearly—my crescent shaped scar." She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all, and clung unnecessarily to the truck for support. It was a gesture done obviously out of habit, since she stood as a straight as an arrow; she should’ve collapsed by this rush of overwhelming emotion, but there she stood, a marble deity with a face of beauteous anguish.

"What could it mean?" I wondered aloud, not completely expecting an answer. From the corner of the garage, I pulled two buckets and turned them over for us to sit on.

"I don’t know. Maybe nothing...Maybe something big," she looked at me. I expected to find the fear that riddled her voice, but instead, there was a glint of determination—she was set on getting to the bottom of this. "I’ve been suspicious of that boy since the first time I saw him."

"I know, me too, Mom. I’m so sorry I brought him here," I moaned, burying my face in my hands.

"No, no, baby, it wasn’t you at all," she soothed, stroking my hair. "If he really wanted to find us, no matter how dim-witted he claims to be, he’d have found us with or without you."

I nodded, still ridden with guilt. "When did this all start?"

"For a couple months now. It comes out of nowhere—I’ll just be sitting there, observing as your grandfather goes through training with Gavin, or even just sitting on the sofa watching television, and my mind is transported. I think it all started..."—a sharp intake of breath—"your first day of school." She stared at me, wide-eyed.

"The day we met Gavin." I concluded, gravely.

"Please, baby, try not to think of this around your father. The last thing I want is to worry him. I just needed to vent, that’s all."

"Sure, Mom, but don’t you think he might’ve heard?" I wondered, staring at the wall of the garage, as if I could see through it to front door of the big white house. I could imagine him, pacing on the porch, wanting to keep his distance, but antsy with the knowledge of everything he might’ve heard in the last few minutes.

"No, your father, Uncle Jasper, and Aunt Alice left on a hunting trip last night. They won’t be back until tonight."

I knew how overbearing my father got when he was worried. Bless him, that was the last thing any of us needed right now. I was stressed out enough, what with Final Exams approaching. I would be doing nothing but studying with Amanda and Evelyn in the coming week, so I knew I could easily have my father wading through my mental index cards, rather than sifting through my mother’s secrets that she had confided in me. So I agreed wholeheartedly to my mother’s request for confidence. I sighed heavily.

"Has the guinea pig made any progress with the whole, control thing?" I asked her, wanting to change the subject.

She nodded. "Carlisle is convinced that Gavin is ready for his first hunting trip, so your grandfather, Aunt Alice, and Uncle Jasper will be taking him to the Southwest tomorrow, when they return."

"Aunt Alice and Uncle Jasper? Don’t you think Uncle Emmett is a little...better armed for the job, like, literally?" I raised my eyebrows at her, remembering how the bands of muscle in his arms had but to twitch to completely disarm a grown man, as when Jacob had stupidly challenged him to an arm wrestling match in spite of my family’s honest but daring warnings.

My mom giggled. "Actually, your Uncle Jasper is the one person, aside from Carlisle, who Gavin truly follows instruction from. He feels like he can relate better to Jasper because they’re both relatively new to the abstinent lifestyle. It probably helps that Jasper can calm him and make him feel comfortable enough to trust him. And Alice has, for some reason, become rather clingy to your uncle—she can’t bear to be too far from him—almost overprotective. Once Carlisle had enlisted Jasper for the trip, Alice couldn’t be swayed not to go." My mother’s gaze grew suddenly distant. Was there something Aunt Alice knew that she was keeping from the rest of us? But before I could ask, she smiled again and stood, taking my hand and lifting me with her.

"We’d best get inside. I can hear Jacob pacing in the foyer."

I scooped up my stack of books and swung my backpack over my shoulder, then followed her out of the garage. As we drew closer up the walk, my mom grew stiff, and threw a startled glance into the forest behind us. Her eyes narrowed, trying to see through the foliage. That was when I heard it too; tires parting with the pavement and rolling across the soil into our yard.

"No, no no no," she shook her head.

"Carlisle!" she spoke hurriedly, but didn’t yell.

"I know, we’re going to have to get Gavin out of here." Grandfather Carlisle pulled us through the front door.

"What’s going on? Who’s coming?" Jacob took my hand and began to answer, but the scene unfolding within the house explained it all. Grandfather Carlisle sped by, a tray of vials clanging in his arms as he ascended the staircase. Grandmother Esme and Aunt Rose were darting around me in blurs, putting up photos and arranging flowers in crystal vases, flipping the television to a replay of Sunday’s game. The ‘human’ façade was assembling before my eyes. Grandpa Charlie was coming.

"I can handle it! You have to trust me. Give me a chance, I can do this," he forced. I was shocked to find that, though he was probably only a third of his size, Gavin was resisting Uncle Emmett’s shoves toward the back door. Uncle Emmett looked just as perplexed as I was.

"Look, kid, this is Bella’s father we’re talking about. We’re can’t take chances this early. We’re not just going to throw you into the ring like that before we’re sure you can put up a good fight." Uncle Emmett had a solid grasp on the back of Gavin’s neck and continued steering him toward the back door, but Gavin was fixed where he stood.

He broke from Uncle Emmett’s hold and turned to face him. "No. I can do this."

Uncle Emmett’s jaw squared as he gritted his teeth. He wasn’t used to people resisting his brute strength.

The doorbell chimed and I looked to the frosted glass of the front door to see the blurred silhouettes of my Grandpa Charlie and Sue.

"You better know what you’re doing, kid." Uncle Emmett flung himself into the white leather sofa in front of the television, his head landing perfectly on Aunt Rose’s lap. Grandfather Carlisle was descending the stairs at a humanly pace, Grandmother Esme fussed in the kitchen, arranging an assortment of refreshments onto a silver tray. Jacob pulled me into the loveseat adjacent to Uncle Emmett and Aunt Rose.

Looking like an out-of-place piece of furniture, Gavin stood in the middle of the room as my mother went to answer the door.

I took a deep breath in as the front door swung open. The sweet warmth caused a mild itch in my throat. But my muscles tensed and I gasped as I watched Gavin stiffen, his black eyes wide with thirst.