Edward's Diary

Patience

Dear Diary,

“Don’t hold him like that, Jacob! You don’t hold a baby like that when you feed it!” 

I shook my head and smiled as Jacob desperately tried to hold Abraham straight and in the right position so he could put the bottle in his mouth as Alice breathed down his neck.

“Hold him a little diagonal.” 

“Like this?” 

“No. A little bit straighter.”  

“Like this?” 

“You’re gonna drop him.” 

“What the hell is your problem? I was doing just fine before you came romping about like a petulant pixie know-it-all!” Jacob rustled Abraham in his arms, who looked only too comfortable to be the cynosure.

“Oh, I know how fine you were doing. Any more and the bottle would have been in your mouth instead of his. I don’t know how you’re gonna bring up your kids. Nessie’s gonna have a hard time with you.” Alice clicked her tongue and shook her head. 

Wait, what?

“Okay, I am going to have to intervene here,” I interrupted their banter. 

“We have a long, long, long time before we can even discuss that.”

        I was only too glad Nessie wasn’t home right now. I don’t know how I would have handled that. To my utter surprise and discomfort, Jacob’s russet skin turned a deep shade of red, and I shuddered. I couldn’t imagine the kind of thoughts that must have been going on in his mind. It was only too blissful to have Katherine in the house in that moment.  

        Two weeks after they were born, all of Katherine’s kids were healthy and happy and plump. Abraham (whom people had taken to calling Ian or Abe) and Ewan (no need for a nickname there) were looking almost a year old. They were going to start walking any time now. Lucy (Come on, Beatrice and Cordelia are handfuls) was growing a little slowly compared to her brothers, since she had more human traits than any of her siblings. While Ian and Ewan slept through the night, Lucy got restless. She was theclosest we’d come to having an actual human baby in the house. 

        We were still giving the kids human blood as they were too young to fend for themselves. Also, we were determined to be careful this time. We had never been able to get the stint with the Volturi out of our minds. Most of all, we still mourned the loss of our sister: Irina. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that had cost her her life.

        Katherine and Mark, along with the rest of us, had decided the kids would be allowed to go out only under adult supervision and close to the house. In other news, Bella and I were now First Godparents to Abraham, Carlisle and Esme to Lucy, and Alice and Jasper to Ewan. Rosalie and Emmett were already Godparents to Nessie, and had politely backed out to let the rest of us to take the field.

        Abraham’s second Godparent was Leah, who had formed an instant bond with the boy. Seth was only too delighted to have Ewan, and so was Jacob when he got Lucy. Bella and I had still to divulge our intentions to the family. Surprisingly, it had been Bella who had opted for letting the matter stay under the rug for some time. She wanted to help Katherine and Mark with their kids (getting in practice for the second time, she’d said) and besides, she also knew it was important to talk to Nessie about how she would feel if she had a new brother. No matter how many years you put between siblings, the older one still feels jealous. 

        Nessie was used to being doted on, on being the only child in the family. Lately, though, she had been feeling left out, because someone other than her was the cynosure now. I sit on the chair on my back porch, enjoying a rare, cloud-free sunset from the safety of my cottage. The green leaves are starting to acquire just the tiniest bit of brown in their hue, and I can smell the traces of rain that had barreled its way down last night. I love the smell of rain: musky, wet and fresh. It feels like waking up after a long, dreamless slumber, or maybe learning to see the world all over again. I know this sunset won’t last long, so I settle down more comfortably in my chair and feel the clairvoyant breeze ruffle my hair: wind that is speaking of the coming showers.