Breaking Dawn   ::   Meyer Stephenie

For just an instant, listening to the absolute confidence in his voice, I experienced a rare moment of insight. I could see, fleetingly, the way the world looked to him. For the length of one heartbeat, this news made perfect sense.

And then I caught sight of the expression on Charlie’s face, his eyes now locked on the ring.

I held my breath while his skin changed colors—fair to red, red to purple, purple to blue. I started to get up—I’m not sure what I planned to do; maybe use the Heimlich maneuver to make sure he wasn’t choking—but Edward squeezed my hand and murmured “Give him a minute” so low that only I could hear.

The silence was much longer this time. Then, gradually, shade by shade, Charlie’s color returned to normal. His lips pursed, and his eyebrows furrowed; I recognized his “deep in thought” expression. He studied the two of us for a long moment, and I felt Edward relax at my side.

“Guess I’m not that surprised,” Charlie grumbled. “Knew I’d have to deal with something like this soon enough.”

I exhaled.

“You sure about this?” Charlie demanded, glaring at me.

“I’m one hundred percent sure about Edward,” I told him without missing a beat.

“Getting married, though? What’s the rush?” He eyed me suspiciously again.

The rush was due to the fact that I was getting closer to nineteen every stinking day, while Edward stayed frozen in all his seventeen-year-old perfection, as he had for over ninety years. Not that this fact necessitated marriage in my book, but the wedding was required due to the delicate and tangled compromise Edward and I had made to finally get to this point, the brink of my transformation from mortal to immortal.

These weren’t things I could explain to Charlie.

“We’re going away to Dartmouth together in the fall, Charlie,” Edward reminded him. “I’d like to do that, well, the right way. It’s how I was raised.” He shrugged.

He wasn’t exaggerating; they’d been big on old-fashioned morals during World War I.

Charlie’s mouth twisted to the side. Looking for an angle to argue from. But what could he say? I’d prefer you live in sin first? He was a dad; his hands were tied.

“Knew this was coming,” he muttered to himself, frowning. Then, suddenly, his face went perfectly smooth and blank.

“Dad?” I asked anxiously. I glanced at Edward, but I couldn’t read his face, either, as he watched Charlie.

“Ha!” Charlie exploded. I jumped in my seat. “Ha, ha, ha!”

I stared incredulously as Charlie doubled over in laughter; his whole body shook with it.

I looked at Edward for a translation, but Edward had his lips pressed tightly together, like he was trying to hold back laughter himself.

“Okay, fine,” Charlie choked out. “Get married.” Another roll of laughter shook through him. “But . . .”

“But what?” I demanded.

“But you have to tell your mom! I’m not saying one word to Renée! That’s all yours!” He busted into loud guffaws.

I paused with my hand on the doorknob, smiling. Sure, at the time, Charlie’s words had terrified me. The ultimate doom: telling Renée. Early marriage was higher up on her blacklist than boiling live puppies.

Who could have foreseen her response? Not me. Certainly not Charlie. Maybe Alice, but I hadn’t thought to ask her.

“Well, Bella,” Renée had said after I’d choked and stuttered out the impossible words: Mom, I’m marrying Edward . “I’m a little miffed that you waited so long to tell me. Plane tickets only get more expensive. Oooh,” she’d fretted. “Do you think Phil’s cast will be off by then? It will spoil the pictures if he’s not in a tux—”

“Back up a second, Mom.” I’d gasped. “What do you mean, waited so long? I just got en-en . . .”—I’d been unable to force out the word engaged —“things settled, you know, today.”

“Today? Really? That is a surprise. I assumed . . .”

“What did you assume? When did you assume?”

“Well, when you came to visit me in April, it looked like things were pretty much sewn up, if you know what I mean. You’re not very hard to read, sweetie. But I didn’t say anything because I knew it wouldn’t do any good. You’re exactly like Charlie.” She’d sighed, resigned. “Once you make up your mind, there is no reasoning with you. Of course, exactly like Charlie, you stick by your decisions, too.”

And then she’d said the last thing that I’d ever expected to hear from my mother.

“You’re not making my mistakes, Bella. You sound like you’re scared silly, and I’m guessing it’s because you’re afraid of me .” She’d giggled. “Of what I’m going to think. And I know I’ve said a lot of things about marriage and stupidity—and I’m not taking them back—but you need to realize that those things specifically applied to me . You’re a completely different person than I am. You make your own kinds of mistakes, and I’m sure you’ll have your share of regrets in life. But commitment was never your problem, sweetie. You have a better chance of making this work than most forty-year-olds I know.” Renée had laughed again. “My little middle-aged child. Luckily, you seem to have found another old soul.”

“You’re not… mad? You don’t think I’m making a humongous mistake?”

“Well, sure, I wish you’d wait a few more years. I mean, do I look old enough to be a mother-in-law to you? Don’t answer that. But this isn’t about me. This is about you. Are you happy?”

“I don’t know. I’m having an out-of-body experience right now.”

Renée had chuckled. “Does he make you happy, Bella?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are you ever going to want anyone else?”

“No, but—”

“But what?”

“But aren’t you going to say that I sound exactly like every other infatuated teenager since the dawn of time?”

“You’ve never been a teenager, sweetie. You know what’s best for you .”

For the last few weeks, Renée had unexpectedly immersed herself in wedding plans. She’d spent hours every day on the phone with Edward’s mother, Esme—no worries about the in-laws getting along. Renée adored Esme, but then, I doubted anyone could help responding that way to my lovable almost-mother-in-law.

It let me right off the hook. Edward’s family and my family were taking care of the nuptials together without my having to do or know or think too hard about any of it.

Charlie was furious, of course, but the sweet part was that he wasn’t furious at me . Renée was the traitor. He’d counted on her to play the heavy.