Blood Moon [a Twilight Saga FanFiction]

Ghost in the Art

I AWOKE FROM DREAMING OF DRINKING TEA BY A FIRE WITH MY MOTHER TO IGOR STANDING AT THE END OF THE BED, staring at the painting, wide eyes, and looking terrified.
     "Igor?" I said quietly and carefully. "Is everything alright?" I crawled up to him.
     "Miss Elizabeth... I think I am going crazy..." he muttered.
     "That's ridiculous. You're a vampire-"
     "The painting just spoke to me."
     What? "Um... The painting of my mother?" Maybe vampires could go crazy... he was one of the oldest in existence after all...
     "Yes."
     "What did she say?"
     "She started by..." he seemed to struggle with comprehending... understandable, I'd be pretty confused if a painting spoke to me as well. "By saying that she believes God could not have gifted her daughter a better man..."
     Wow... Thinking about it, I realised that it would have been really nice to hear that for myself. To hear that approval from either parent. All I knew from my Fathers point of view was that initial yell at Igor when he asked for his blessing.
     I wanted to believe him. I wanted so badly for it to be true. But I also wanted him to be lying to me and laugh suddenly, telling me that it was a joke; the fear and confusion is his dark gold eyes gave him away and it broke my heart in the best of ways.
     "Then she said she hopes I am able to protect you and look after you for the rest of eternity."
     "I am sure you will do that task perfectly."
     "Not if you want..."
     He went quiet and looked away from both myself and the painting of Mother.
     "I cannot hold you against what my daughter has wished upon herself."
     I looked suddenly at the painting as the voice spoke... Was I hearing things also? Was that really a disembodied voice I was hearing coming from the still, painted image of my deceased mother?
     "And, my son, remember that bearing a child to a man she loves, is a natural desire for any woman. It helps a woman grow in her heart and teaches both man and woman to love in a way unattainable elsewhere, than that of a child."
     "If you are going crazy, Igor, I am also," I muttered.
     "You are hearing it, too?" Igor asked.
     "Very much so... Is it strange that it only makes me want to take it back to the cottage even more?"
     Igor smirked before returning his eyes to the painting.
     "A little bit. But she's a woman you've never had the chance to meet or talk to. Disembodied voice or not, the thought and idea that you may have even the slightest chance of getting to talk to and know your mother would be almost intoxicating to you and your brother. It would not surprise me that if Carlisle were to hear your mothers voice from the painting, he, too, would want to keep the art out of sentimentality, and a desire to know the mother you never knew."
     I stared at Igor as he watched the painting as if expecting it to suddenly animate. I was just trying to wrap my head around everything that he had just spoken, but staring at him I noticed the slight smirk growing on his lips before it suddenly faded.
     "Lay back down and take deep steady breaths," Igor instructed as he climbed onto the bed with me rather quickly. "Elling is coming."
     I followed his orders obediently. Making sure my breaths were deep and steady. When Elling came into the room, she knocked quietly upon entering. The door creaked as if slowly opened, something it didn't do when Carlisle had opened it earlier, and much quicker than Elling.
     She came in and put something down beside my head.
     "Watch over them, Verity. Protect their love and keep them strong," Elling whispered.
     She bent over, kissed my temple, then quietly walked out of the room.
     "Your acting skills are improving," Igor whispered once she was gone.
     "I am glad."
     I turned to face him, he surprised me with a soft kiss that made my heart feel like it would explode in my chest.
     We spent the day like that, in Father's bed. Occasionally we'd do something other than pretending to sleep like I'd draw or he'd read. At one time, Elling came in to check on us and Igor made me sound like I was cold to touch and asked her for another blanket. She ran off to grab it and when she returned, Igor took it from her before she could rest it on me herself.
     "This is my family, let me look after her," Elling pleaded.
     "My father raised me to look after the women in my life as if they were our Goddesses. I understand you want to care for Miss Elizabeth, Elling, but please let me look after the woman who has my heart."
     Elling made a noise that made me worry about her sanity, but she let Igor take the blanket and left us again.
     "I am cold to touch, am I?" I asked him.
     He shook his head with a chuckle and folded the blanket swiftly before leaving it on the end of the bed.
     His eyes shot back up to the painting of our mother, she hadn't spoken since that morning and as the day came to a close, I found myself wanting to hear her voice again. Perhaps Igor was right about why hearing the voice made me want the picture even more than before... I knew I'd do anything just to hear her speak again.