I crouched beneath the kitchen window, listening, as I so often did, to her heartbeat and the beautifully ordinary sounds of domesticity emanating from her home.  To an extent, they were remembered sounds of my childhood, but now they were so much more important.

These were the sounds of Bella's life, and the kitchen, fraught with peril as it was, was one of the few places she seemed genuinely at ease.  I slipped away into the trees, to perch far enough away that I could watch her from cover of darkness.

Light spilled from the open curtains, a warm yellow glow that illuminated the back yard, the last blooms of Bella's peonies wilting and shedding their shimmering white petals in the heat of the summer night.  As I watched, Bella leaned over the sink, her deep blue blouse dipping low on her slight frame, revealing her slender white neck.  Her pale, delicate arms reached to the window, pushing the stubborn wood up, letting the warm evening air into the kitchen, and allowing her delicious scent to waft on the night breeze.

She turned away from the window then, her hair gleaming in the kitchen light, cascading down her shoulders in rippling chestnut waves.  Her movements were efficient and surpisingly graceful as she pulled ingredients from the cupboards and fridge.  Frozen peas, chicken, lemon, garlic, parsley - I wondered how it would taste.  I knew from Charlie's thoughts that she was a good cook, a fact which had surprised him, but human food held no appeal for me.  Yet, even as I thought it, I knew that if she asked me to, I would eat it.

While I'd been lost in my reverie, Bella had pulled an enormous knife from the drawer and was proceeding to cut up the chicken.  Anxiety washed through me at the thought of her tender, eminently breakable fingers so close to such a sharp instrument.  I couldn't bear to watch, yet I couldn't look away.  I settled for holding my breath instead.  At last, after what seemed like an eternity, she placed the knife in the sink and ran hot water over it.

The chicken and herbs were in the pan, a pot of rice simmered on the back burner, and the peas were measured, ready to go in at the last moment.  With nothing left to do but occasionally stir the chicken, Bella leaned against the counter, her battered copy of "Wuthering Heights" open to some place in the middle.  I couldn't fathom what she loved so much about that tedious study in self-indulgence, and my inability to hear her thoughts only compounded my frustration in this matter.  There was nothing for it but to watch her face, read the expressions that flashed across her features as she read. 

Her brow creased, and she looked up sharply.  I started to lunge for the back door, but caught myself in time.  Bella's frown changed abruptly to a serene smile as Charlie called out from the front door.  She replied cheerfully, her sweet voice ringing out into the darkness like musical chimes.  I took a deep breath to steady myself, reminding myself that she was safe and secure.  I couldn't stand it if something happened to her, but now that Charlie was home, I could relax my guard a little, go hunting.

A swirl of thoughts in the woods behind me caused my spine to stiffen.

"I'm not a stalker, Emmett," I growled, just loud enough for him to hear.  "I'm just watching over Bella."

LOL nice ending