Eclipse - Stephenie Meyer [56]
“Quil . . . imprinted . . . with a two-year-old?” I was finally able to ask.
“It happens.” Jacob shrugged. He bent to grab another rock and sent it flying out into the bay. “Or so the stories say.”
“But she’s a baby,” I protested.
He looked at me with dark amusement. “Quil’s not getting any older,” he reminded me, a bit of acid in his tone. “He’ll just have to be patient for a few decades.”
“I . . . don’t know what to say.”
I was trying my hardest not to be critical, but, in truth, I was horrified. Until now, nothing about the werewolves had bothered me since the day I’d found out they weren’t committing the murders I’d suspected them of.
“You’re making judgments,” he accused. “I can see it on your face.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. “But it sounds really creepy.”
“It’s not like that; you’ve got it all wrong,” Jacob defended his friend, suddenly vehement. “I’ve seen what it’s like, through his eyes. There’s nothing romantic about it at all, not for Quil, not now.” He took a deep breath, frustrated. “It’s so hard to describe. It’s not like love at first sight, really. It’s more like . . . gravity moves. When you see her, suddenly it’s not the earth holding you here anymore. She does. And nothing matters more than her. And you would do anything for her, be anything for her. . . . You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that’s a protector, or a lover, or a friend, or a brother.
“Quil will be the best, kindest big brother any kid ever had. There isn’t a toddler on the planet that will be more carefully looked after than that little girl will be. And then, when she’s older and needs a friend, he’ll be more understanding, trustworthy, and reliable than anyone else she knows. And then, when she’s grown up, they’ll be as happy as Emily and Sam.” A strange, bitter edge sharpened his tone at the very end, when he spoke of Sam.
“Doesn’t Claire get a choice here?”
“Of course. But why wouldn’t she choose him, in the end? He’ll be her perfect match. Like he was designed for her alone.”
We walked in silence for a moment, till I paused to toss a rock toward the ocean. It fell to the beach several meters short. Jacob laughed at me.
“We can’t all be freakishly strong,” I muttered.
He sighed.
“When do you think it will happen for you?” I asked quietly.
His answer was flat and immediate. “Never.”
“It’s not something you can control, is it?”
He was silent for a few minutes. Unconsciously, we both walked slower, barely moving at all.
“It’s not supposed to be,” he admitted. “But you have to see her — the one that’s supposedly meant for you.”
“And you think that if you haven’t seen her yet, then she’s not out there?” I asked skeptically. “Jacob, you haven’t really seen much of the world — less than me, even.”
“No, I haven’t,” he said in a low voice. He looked at my face with suddenly piercing eyes. “But I’ll never see anyone else, Bella. I only see you. Even when I close my eyes and try to see something else. Ask Quil or Embry. It drives them all crazy.”
I dropped my eyes to the rocks.
We weren’t walking anymore. The only sound was of the waves beating against the shore. I couldn’t hear the rain over their roar.
“Maybe I’d better go home,” I whispered.
“No!” he protested, surprised by this conclusion.
I looked up at him again, and his eyes were anxious now.
“You have the whole day off, right? The bloodsucker won’t be home yet.”
I glared at him.
“No offense intended,” he said quickly.
“Yes, I have the whole day. But, Jake . . .”
He held up his hands. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I won’t be like that anymore. I’ll just be Jacob.”
I sighed. “But if that’s what you’re thinking . . .”
“Don’t worry about me,” he insisted, smiling with deliberate cheer, too brightly. “I know what I’m doing. Just tell me if I’m upsetting you.”
“I don’t know. . . .”
“C’mon, Bella. Let’s go back to the house and get our bikes. You’ve got to ride a motorcycle regularly to keep it in tune.”
“I really don’t think I’m allowed.