Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I just play.

My heart goes to twilightladies1 and GeezerWench.

Chapter 2

The Ash

Later that day, Isabella sat on the sofa analyzing everything that had happened that day. Instead of finding a job like she had originally planned, she had met Esme, a nice older lady that bought her coffee. It was too much excitement for one morning, and Isabella had difficulty processing every thought that had been passing through her mind. "It's impossible," she repeated over and over. "I did it. I talked to someone."

She felt pride and some vague satisfaction as unused muscles in her face allowed her to smile faintly. The feeling didn't last long. Excitement and a guarded joy from the passing day morphed into stabbing and burning guilt once she realized that she had forgotten about her loss, mourning, and despair.

Isabella stood up and went into the small kitchen. Drinking some coffee in the evening wasn't a good idea but she had no need to wake up early.

She shrugged and decided if she were to find a job later then she'd need to sort herself out, and that meant she needed to go to the hairdresser and get a much needed haircut. She didn't want to look like a homeless person so it needed to be done, but later. Someday in the future, but not today or tomorrow.

She wandered back into the living room, plopped onto the sofa, and decided she'd allow herself to do something unhealthy and unreasonable. She took a pack of cigarettes out of the box that sat under the small table next to the sofa. Her husband had hated it when she smoked. He'd never said it out loud, but he used to show his disapproval with his attitude. Since she felt guilty anyway, it didn't make a difference. She decided that another weight on her conscience wouldn't matter much. She lit the cigarette, inhaled the calming smoke deeply, and closed her eyes.

"I'm Bella. Bella Whitlock," she said to the woman.

Not introducing oneself to someone who just said their name is rude. Esme's handshake was confident and tight.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Whitlock," Esme smiled softly. "Can I buy you some coffee to apologize?" she asked.

Isabella bit her lower lip and looked peered up at Esme. The woman was still smiling invitingly. But stubborn Isabella's throat didn't want to let her voice go.

"If you're in a hurry, I'll understand. I just feel stupid that I judged you rashly. I'd like to smooth over that unpleasant impression," Esme added quickly.

Isabella took a deep breath. "I'd love to… But I'd rather do it… outside," she said.

She felt ashamed of her slovenly look suddenly, and she couldn't imagine herself entering some coffee house.

Isabella glanced down at her clothes meaningfully. Esme nodded in understanding, still smiling softly. Although Isabella found the smile partly irritating, she was also curious about this woman.

Isabella grimaced.

"And it's Mrs. Whitlock, not miss. I prefer Bella."

"Let's go then, Bella." Esme's eyes glistened with astonishment and interest. "Latte to go?"

Once they had their drinks, they moved to sit on a nearby park bench. Isabella's hands were wrapped tightly around the cup to try and warm her hands. She was silent because she didn't know what to say, and she wondered how to extricate herself from this… act of socialization. "I'll tell her that I'm in a mad rush," she thought.

"I've noticed that you're feeling uneasy here." Esme's voice, although quiet, still shocked Isabella and she jumped, spilling some of her warm beverage.

When met with silence, Esme continued, "I understand. We don't have to talk, if you don't want to. Let's just enjoy our coffee," she added.

Isabella forgot about being Isabella and looked Esme in the eye.

"No, we can talk … but I don't know… about what.… I'm not used to talking… I haven't done it for so long and…" Isabella muttered and lowered her eyes to her trembling fingers that had a death grip on the thick cardboard cup.

"Done what?" asked Esme.

"This…" Isabella pointed at herself, at Esme and the park. "I haven't talked to someone… for so long."

"How long?" Esme had a different question on the tip of her tongue but she didn't want to scare Bella away. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me."

"It's been a year. More than a year." Isabella said, muttering. She took a sip of coffee. It was too sweet and too hot—it nauseated her.

The conversation was heavy going. Although it was strange, the silence wasn't burdening them even though Esme was scared to ask all of the questions that she wanted to, and Isabella had no idea what to say. Isabella quickly finished her coffee and decided it was time to go home.

Esme followed her movements in a sudden attack of anxiety. It shouldn't end that way. It couldn't be that Isabella was to go her own way, and Esme wouldn't see her again, she couldn't let that happen. Esme saw Alice in Isabella and that thought hurt like a bitch.

"Bella, wait. Please? I know this is going to sound weird, and you'll probably think I'm strange for suggesting it. I can't explain why, but I'd really like to do this again sometime, and I'd really like it if you came to my house for dinner in the future. Please?" She looked at Bella, unease written on her face and she chuckled lightly. "You can even meet my husband and my sons. Then you'll see that I'm not some weird psycho stalker."

Isabella was scared due to the intensity of Esme's speech. She backed away from Esme but she couldn't bring herself to say no. Not because of her innate kindness or politeness. Not because of her manners. There was something desperate in Esme's outburst, something that told Isabella to make a decision immediately.

"Okay," she said shyly.

"How about I take your number and we can organize something?" Esme asked, a relieved expression on her face.

"I don't have a telephone," Isabella said, ashamed yet again. Lack of phone is like a lack of… hand or leg. It was a disability in the 21st century.

"Umm…Okay. Why don't you meet me here the day after tomorrow at six o'clock?" Esme asked quickly, eager to confirm a definite time they could meet. Isabella nodded hesitantly and Esme grinned. "Perfect, I'll be waiting just here for you. See you soon, Isabella."

Esme reached out, looking to shake Isabella's hand, but the abrupt movement seemed to frighten the girl. At the last moment, she primped her hair.

"Sure," said Isabella quietly.

Isabella stubbed out the cigarette and started to brush the ash off of the table. Any delighted feelings Bella had faded as she tidied up. She could admit it felt good being outside and having someone to talk to. But then, alone in her house, the feelings of remorse and shame washed over her. Everything was back to normal. She turned off the lights and went into the bedroom.

If she had unrolled the blinds she would have spotted the silhouette of someone on the outside.

Someone who kept an eye on her house.

Thank you.