Breaking Dawn

But it didn’t feel like how I’d wanted it. Not exactly. I remembered further back, to the fuzzy, weak memories of my human life. Back to the very hardest part to remember—the time without Edward, a time so dark I’d tried to bury it in my head. I couldn’t get the words exactly right; I only remembered wishing that Jacob were my brother so that we could love each other without any confusion or pain. Family. But I’d never factored a daughter into the equation.

I remembered a little later—one of the many times that I’d told Jacob goodbye—wondering aloud who he would end up with, who would make his life right after what I’d done to it. I had said something about how whoever she was, she wouldn’t be good enough for him.

I snorted, and Edward raised one eyebrow questioningly. I just shook my head at him.

But as much as I might miss my friend, I knew there was a bigger problem. Had Sam or Jared or Quil ever gone a whole day without seeing the objects of their fixations, Emily, Kim, and Claire? Could they? What would the separation from Renesmee do to Jacob? Would it cause him pain?

There was still enough petty ire in my system to make me glad, not for his pain, but for the idea of having Renesmee away from him. How was I supposed to deal with having her belong to Jacob when she only barely seemed to belong to me?

The sound of movement on the front porch interrupted my thoughts. I heard them get up, and then they were through the door. At exactly the same time, Carlisle came down the stairs with his hands full of odd things—a measuring tape, a scale. Jasper darted to my side. As if there was some signal I’d missed, even Leah sat down outside and stared through the window with an expression like she was expecting something that was both familiar and also totally uninteresting.

“Must be six,” Edward said.

“So?” I asked, my eyes locked on Rosalie, Jacob, and Renesmee. They stood in the doorway, Renesmee in Rosalie’s arms. Rose looked wary. Jacob looked troubled. Renesmee looked beautiful and impatient.

“Time to measure Ness—er, Renesmee,” Carlisle explained.

“Oh. You do this every day?”

“Four times a day,” Carlisle corrected absently as he motioned the others toward the couch. I thought I saw Renesmee sigh.

“Four times? Every day? Why?”

“She’s still growing quickly,” Edward murmured to me, his voice quiet and strained. He squeezed my hand, and his other arm wrapped securely around my waist, almost as if he needed the support.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Renesmee to check his expression.

She looked perfect, absolutely healthy. Her skin glowed like backlit alabaster; the color in her cheeks was rose petals against it. There couldn’t be anything wrong with such radiant beauty. Surely there could be nothing more dangerous in her life than her mother. Could there?

The difference between the child I’d given birth to and the one I’d met again an hour ago would have been obvious to anyone. The difference between Renesmee an hour ago and Renesmee now was subtler. Human eyes never would have detected it. But it was there.

Her body was slightly longer. Just a little bit slimmer. Her face wasn’t quite as round; it was more oval by one minute degree. Her ringlets hung a sixteenth of an inch lower down her shoulders. She stretched out helpfully in Rosalie’s arms while Carlisle ran the tape measure down the length of her and then used it to circle her head. He took no notes; perfect recall.

I was aware that Jacob’s arms were crossed as tightly over his chest as Edward’s arms were locked around me. His heavy brows were mashed together into one line over his deep-set eyes.

She had matured from a single cell to a normal-sized baby in the course of a few weeks. She looked well on her way to being a toddler just days after her birth. If this rate of growth held…

My vampire mind had no trouble with the math.

“What do we do?” I whispered, horrified.

Edward’s arms tightened. He understood exactly what I was asking. “I don’t know.”

“It’s slowing,” Jacob muttered through his teeth.

“We’ll need several more days of measurements to track the trend, Jacob. I can’t make any promises.”

“Yesterday she grew two inches. Today it’s less.”

“By a thirty-second of an inch, if my measurements are perfect,” Carlisle said quietly.

“Be perfect, Doc,” Jacob said, making the words almost threatening. Rosalie stiffened.

“You know I’ll do my best,” Carlisle assured him.

Jacob sighed. “Guess that’s all I can ask.”

I felt irritated again, like Jacob was stealing my lines—and delivering them all wrong.

Renesmee seemed irritated, too. She started to squirm and then reached her hand imperiously toward Rosalie. Rosalie leaned forward so that Renesmee could touch her face. After a second, Rose sighed.

“What does she want?” Jacob demanded, taking my line again.

“Bella, of course,” Rosalie told him, and her words made my insides feel a little warmer. Then she looked at me. “How are you?”

“Worried,” I admitted, and Edward squeezed me.

“We all are. But that’s not what I meant.”