The voice I'd walk through fire for-or, less dramatically, slosh every day through the cold and endless rain for.Įven though I was always thrilled to see him-conscious or otherwise-and even though I was almost positive that I was dreaming, I panicked as Edward walked toward us through the glaring sunlight. I didn't have to look to know who it was this was a voice I would know anywhere-know, and respond to, whether I was awake or asleep… or even dead, I'd bet.

It wasn't Gran who called my name, and we both turned to see the addition to our small reunion.

She paused, too, and then we both smiled at the little awkwardness. I was about to ask her a question I had so many-What was she doing here in my dream? What had she been up to in the past six years? Was Pop okay, and had they found each other, wherever they were?-but she opened her mouth when I did, so I stopped to let her go first. Apparently, she hadn't been expecting to see me, either. Our mouths-hers a wizened pucker-spread into the same surprised half-smile at just the same time. Like a dried apricot, but with a puff of thick white hair standing out in a cloud around it. The skin was soft and withered, bent into a thousand tiny creases that clung gently to the bone underneath. Gran hadn't changed much her face looked just the same as I remembered it. Gran had been dead for six years now, so that was solid evidence toward the dream theory.

The reasons I was so certain were that, first, I was standing in a bright shaft of sunlight-the kind of blinding clear sun that never shone on my drizzly new hometown in Forks, Washington-and second, I was looking at my Grandma Marie. I WAS NINETY-NINE POINT NINE PERCENT SURE I WAS dreaming.

The twilight saga new moon book