4 breaking dawn破晓- 第2部分

〃Urn；　miss？〃　a　man's　voice　called。　

I　turned；　and　then　wished　I　hadn't。　

Two　men　stood　beside　a　fancy　SUV　with　brandnew　kayaks　tied　to　the　top。　Neither　of　them　was　
looking　at　me；　they　both　were　staring　at　the　car。　

Personally；　I　didn't　get　it。　But　then；　I　was　just　proud　I　could　distinguish　between　the　symbols　for　Toyota；　
Ford；　and　Chevy。　This　car　was　glossy　black；　sleek；　and　pretty；　but　it　was　still　just　a　car　to　me。　

〃I'm　sorry　to　bother　you；　but　could　you　tell　me　what　kind　of　car　you're　driving？〃　the　tall　one　asked。　

〃Urn；　a　Mercedes；　right？〃　

〃Yes；〃　the　man　said　politely　while　his　shorter　friend　rolled　his　eyes　at　my　answer。　〃I　know。　But　I　was　
wondering；　is　that。。。　are　you　driving　a　Mercedes　Guardian？〃　The　man　said　the　name　with　reverence。　I　
had　a　feeling　this　guy　would　get　along　well　with　Edward　Cullen；　my。。。　my　fiance　（there　really　was　no　
getting　around　that　truth　with　the　wedding　just　days　away）。　〃They　aren't　supposed　to　be　available　in　
Europe　yet；〃　the　man　went　on；　〃let　alone　here。〃　

While　his　eyes　traced　the　contours　of　my　car—it　didn't　look　much　different　from　any　other　Mercedes　
sedan　to　me；　but　what　did　I　know？—I　briefly　contemplated　my　issues　with　words　like　fiance；　wedding；　
husband；　etc。　

I　just　couldn't　put　it　together　in　my　head。　



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On　the　one　hand；　I　had　been　raised　to　cringe　at　the　very　thought　of　poofy　white　dresses　and　bouquets。　
But　more　than　that；　I　just　couldn't　reconcile　a　staid；　respectable；　dull　concept　like　husband　with　my　
concept　of　Edward。　It　was　like　casting　an　archangel　as　an　accountant；　I　couldn't　visualize　him　in　any　
monplace　role。　

Like　always；　as　soon　as　I　started　thinking　about　Edward　I　was　caught　up　in　a　dizzy　spin　of　fantasies。　The　
stranger　had　to　clear　his　throat　to　get　my　attention；　he　was　still　waiting　for　an　answer　about　the　car's　make　
and　model。　

〃I　don't　know；〃　I　told　him　honestly。　

〃Do　you　mind　if　I　take　a　picture　with　it？〃　

It　took　me　a　second　to　process　that。　〃Really？　You　want　to　take　a　picture　with　the　car？〃　

〃Sure—nobody　is　going　to　believe　me　if　I　don't　get　proof。〃　

〃Urn。　Okay。　Fine。〃　

I　swiftly　put　away　the　nozzle　and　crept　into　the　front　seat　to　hide　while　the　enthusiast　dug　a　huge　
professionallooking　camera　out　of　his　backpack。　He　and　his　friend　took　turns　posing　by　the　hood；　and　
then　they　went　to　take　pictures　at　the　back　end。　

〃I　miss　my　truck；〃　I　whimpered　to　myself。　

Very；　very　convenient—too　convenient—that　my　truck　would　wheeze　its　last　wheeze　just　weeks　after　
Edward　and　I　had　agreed　to　our　lopsided　promise；　one　detail　of　which　was　that　he　be　allowed　to　
replace　my　truck　when　it　passed　on。　Edward　swore　it　was　only　to　be　expected；　my　truck　had　lived　a　
long；　full　life　and　then　expired　of　natural　causes。　According　to　him。　And；　of　course；　I　had　no　way　to　verify　
his　story　or　to　try　to　raise　my　truck　from　the　dead　on　my　own。　My　favorite　mechanic—　

I　stopped　that　thought　cold；　refusing　to　let　it　e　to　a　conclusion。　Instead；　I　listened　to　the　men's　voices　
outside；　muted　by　the　car　walls。　

〃。。。　went　at　it　with　a　flamethrower　in　the　online　video。　Didn't　even　pucker　the　paint。〃　

〃Of　course　not。　You　could　roll　a　tank　over　this　baby。　Not　much　of　a　market　for　one　over　here。　Designed　
for　Middle　East　diplomats；　arms　dealers；　and　drug　lords　mostly。〃　

〃Think　she's　something？〃　the　short　one　asked　in　a　softer　voice。　I　ducked　my　head；　cheeks　flaming。　

〃Huh；〃　the　tall　one　said。　〃Maybe。　Can't　imagine　what　you'd　need　missileproof　glass　and　four　thousand　
pounds　of　body　armor　for　around　here。　Must　be　headed　somewhere　more　hazardous。〃　

Body　armor。　Four　thousand　pounds　of　body　armor。　And　missileproof　glass？　Nice。　What　had　
happened　to　good　oldfashioned　bulletproof？　

Well；　at　least　this　made　some　sense—if　you　had　a　twisted　sense　of　humor。　

It　wasn't　like　I　hadn't　expected　Edward　to　take　advantage　of　our　deal；　to　weight　it　on　his　side　so　that　he　



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could　give　so　much　more　than　he　would　receive。　I'd　agreed　that　he　could　replace　my　truck　when　it　
needed　replacing；　not　expecting　that　moment　to　e　quite　so　soon；　of　course。　When　I'd　been　forced　to　
admit　that　the　truck　had　bee　no　more　than　a　stilllife　tribute　to　classic　Chevys　on　my　curb；　I　knew　his　
idea　of　a　replacement　was　probably　going　to　embarrass　me。　Make　me　the　focus　of　stares　and　whispers。　
I'd　been　right　about　that　part。　But　even　in　my　darkest　imaginings　I　had　not　foreseen　that　he　would　get　me　
two　cars。　

The　〃before〃　car　and　the　〃after〃　car；　he'd　explained　when　I'd　flipped　out。　

This　was　just　the　〃before〃　car。　He'd　told　me　it　was　a　loaner　and　promised　that　he　was　returning　it　after　
the　wedding。　It　all　had　made　absolutely　no　sense　to　me。　Until　now。　

Ha　ha。　Because　I　was　so　fragilely　human；　so　accidentprone；　so　much　a　victim　to　my　own　dangerous　
bad　luck；　apparently　I　needed　a　tankresistant　car　to　keep　me　safe。　Hilarious。　I　was　sure　he　and　his　
brothers　had　enjoyed　the　

joke　quite　a　bit　behind　my　back。　

Or　maybe；　just　maybe；a　small　voice　whispered　in　my　head；　it's　not　a　joke；　silly。　Maybe　he's　really　that　
worried　about　you。　This　wouldn't　be　the　first　time　he's　gone　a　little　overboard　trying　to　protect　
you。　

I　sighed。　

I　hadn't　seen　the　〃after〃　car　yet。　It　was　hidden　under　a　sheet　in　the　deepest　corner　of　the　Cullens'　garage。　
I　knew　most　people　would　have　peeked　by　now；　but　I　really　didn't　want　to　know。　

Probably　no　body　armor　on　that　car—because　I　wouldn't　need　it　after　the　honeymoon。　Virtual　
indestructibility　was　just　one　of　the　many　perks　I　was　looking　forward　to。　The　best　parts　about　being　a　
Cullen　were　not　expensive　cars　and　impressive　credit　cards。　

〃Hey；〃　the　tall　man　called；　cupping　his　hands　to　the　glass　in　an　effort　to　peer　in。　〃We're　done　now。　
Thanks　a　lot！〃　

〃You're　wele；〃　I　called　back；　and　then　tensed　as　I　started　the　engine　and　eased　the　pedal—ever　so　
gently—down___　

No　matter　how　many　times　I　drove　down　the　familiar　road　home；　I　still　couldn't　make　the　rainfaded　
flyers　fade　into　the　background。　Each　one　of　them；　stapled　to　telephone　poles　and　taped　to　street　signs；　
was　like　a　fresh　slap　in　the　face。　A　welldeserved　slap　in　the　face。　My　mind　was　sucked　back　into　the　
thought　I'd　interrupted　so　immediately　before。　I　couldn't　avoid　it　on　this　road。　Not　with　pictures　of　my　
favorite　mechanic　flashing　past　me　at　regular　intervals。　

My　best　friend。　My　Jacob。　

Thehave　you　SEENthis　boy？　posters　were　not　Jacob's　father's　idea。　It　had　been　my　father；　Charlie；　
who'd　printed　up　the　flyers　and　spread　them　all　over　town。　And　not　just　Forks；　but　Port　Angeles　and　
Sequim　and　Hoquiam　and　Aberdeen　and　every　other　town　in　the　Olympic　Peninsula。　He'd　made　sure　
that　all　the　police　stations　in　the　state　of　Washington　had　the　same　flyer　hanging　on　the　wall；　too。　His　own　
station　had　a　whole　corkboard　dedicated　to　finding　Jacob。　A　corkboard　that　was　mostly　empty；　much　to　
his　disappointment　and　frustration。　



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