Disclaimer: Meyer made the mold but we are all here to break it. I own nothing except this here story's events.
Go Fish
Chapter 02 – Pond
Tossing the tied-off bag containing one bass fish onto the mess of his kitchen counter, he moves back a step, pausing to make sure nothing falls to the dirty floor. Nothing does, even after a muck-covered glass jar full of fuck knows what teeters a bit.
He sighs and scrubs his face.
It's been exactly one week and one day since he's planted himself here. There's been no accomplishment made of any sort, either. Well, except sleep.
That's probably what Ol' Man Weber was doing at the end, too. Sleeping and dreaming his memories and regrets away; poor bastard. He was sort of a crotchety old man, but he was loved by all here in this little off-the-map town of Adam's Ale, Texas. He'd died alone, too. His only family member—his granddaughter, Angela—was not around at the time, and no one else had been there to comfort him in the end. Lung cancer. Denied treatment.
Esme and Carlisle weren't exactly thrilled with their only son's choice of living arrangements at first. Don't get them wrong 'cause it's not like they're living in the lap of luxury themselves. They still live above their variety store, located at the start of Toe Road, just off of the 183. They sell fishing bait and camper's supplies along with food, drink and such, and are mostly known for their candy, though. It's always been Esme's specialty. But Edward was adamant about his choice…sure, even. Without a doubt in his mind he knows this place is where he needs to be.
Where he can heal and grow.
This house-on-the-water of his is perfect. For one, it's not easily accessible so he will be left alone for the most part, what with being surrounded by lake water. There's only one way to get here and that is by boat alone…unless you swim, or Jet Ski, or paddle boat, or canoe. His small, ancient, one-motor boat came with his purchase of the house.
There is also Bella. He's just around the bend from her home, which is itself located next to her five cabins. She's just a handful of minutes away by water or fifteen by land. Their proximity is unintentional on his part, but highly favorable none the less. She has no idea he's that close, yet.
Edward's green eyes look back at the fish. Some things never change.
She'd caught four fish and he'd caught zero, zip…nada.
Granted, she'd driven a hard bargain making him gut and clean all of her prizes, but he can't help but feel like he came out the victor with the morning's events because Bella—as always—runs her show perfectly. He could only stare and admire.
His cell signals from where it lies on his half-hazard bed around back from his wreck of a kitchen. Blinking and scrubbing his face again, he heads back there and picks it up from the rumpled bedding, almost tripping over his clothes from yesterday as he scrolls to find the new text from Jasper.
You been down yet? –J
He snorts at the nosey fucker.
Just now. –E
'Bout fucking time, man. –J
Whatever, dude. We just talked about this last night! –E
i.e. Fifteen hours ago, pussy. What happened? –J
Edward looks out the side window over his bed, staring at nothing but water and more mess through the two broken panes there.
She gave me a fish. –E
You mean she took pity on your lame ass and let you have one of hers. –J
Fuck off, Jasper! –E
Seriously, she gave you a fish, sooooo…you…are in…the pond…again. Don't fuck it up! –J
I know. I won't. –E
Come over later tonight. We'll watch the game. –J
Sure thing. –E
Bring that fish. –J
Shaking his head at his friend, Edward powers off his cell and tosses it to the bed again. Flopping down to lay across his mattress, he stares up at the ceiling, watching as something floats and falls down to his t-shirt covered chest, landing right over his heart. Eyes back up, he takes in the paint curls and cracks and sees that it's about to fall off in parts. The place needs an overhaul of enormous proportion. Ol' Man Weber really let the place go and was sort of a pack rat.
Sitting back up and brushing off the fallen paint chip, he stands and heads back through the kitchen and out the front door into the bright noon sun to find that empty crate. First things first: his bedroom. Shit needs to go if he wants to thrive here, starting with the bed linens and clothes still hanging in the closet.
After a good thirty minutes or so, he's got a large amount piled at one end of his boat, ready to take to the clearing and burn. He's covered in sweat, dust and dirt from head to heel. It feels both good and disgusting at the same time.
"Edward?"
Not stopping, he calls out, "I'm back here, mom." His crate is almost full again. Ol' Man Weber had a lot of shirts.
He can hear her flip-flops moving across the floor, sticking in certain unsavory places as they go, until she comes to a stop at the corner where the kitchen ends and his bedroom begins. He doesn't stop working.
She sighs out, "Edward."
"Esme." It's a mimic.
"I would have thought you'd already have some of this mess cleaned up by now, sweetheart."
"Yeah, well, sleeping tends to get in the way."
"Oh my God, my poor baby! They really wrecked you at that awful place, didn't they?" She rushes to him and wraps her motherly arms around his waist, hugging him despite his continued movements. "I swear if that producer guy—oh what's-his-name—dares to show his face around here his days will be numbered! You should let your father help out. He—"
"It's Felix, and no, Mom." Groaning, he stops throwing stuff into the crate and pats her hands clasped at the front of his stomach. He looks over his should at her worried, light-green eyes. "I need to do this myself. It's just…important that I do this myself, okay? Besides, I've already hired an attorney in L.A. to sue the bastard and his entire production label. They'll all get what's coming to them and regret the day they decided to take credit for my sound work and rip me off."
Sniffling a tiny bit, she says quietly, "Okay. I understand and you are right. I just can't help my instincts and neither can Carlisle." She releases him from her arms and steps back. "I brought you some lunch and don't you dare tell me you won't eat it."
He barks a quick laugh. "Oh, I'll eat it alright. That fridge in there's busted. I've been eating at the diner twice a day most days."
"Well, you could do worse than that, I know. Angela's a wonderful cook and health conscious, too." She waggles her pointer-finger up in the air as she speaks. "You know it's not really a diner anymore, either, what with the menu revamp and all that beer. BarleyPop. It's a good name. I'm glad she made the change, especially now after that write-up in The Lux Chronicle." Moving to the stacks of old newspapers along one wall, she picks one up off of the top and huffs out, "My God, this is dated 1996," and then she drops it back down with a plop, dust flying into the air.
When he doesn't respond, she turns back around to see him still at work. "Come to dinner tonight?"
Edward wipes the sweat from his brow, bending to lift the now-full crate as he answers a blunt, "Can't," and then walks out of his bedroom and back through the kitchen.
She's admonishing as she follows. "Edward. You have barely spent ten minutes with your father and me."
He keeps going, speaking back over his shoulder again as he moves, "That's not exactly true. You know I've been regrouping." He walks through his propped-open front screen door and across the front deck of his floating house to where his boat is tied, dumping the lot on top of the growing pile then tossing the crate aside. He looks around. "How'd you get here, anyway?"
"I flew."
It's a pout. It makes him feel guilty.
Sighing, he wipes his dirty hands on his jeans and goes over to where she's standing beside his weathered, painted-red picnic table under his awning. The tips of his work boots softly tap at the toes of her flip-flops. "I love you guys. I know you want to help me out and I appreciate it. I also know y'all have been missing me these last years. I'm planting my ass here from now on, so please…understand when I say these things and let me do this my way."
Esme looks deep into her only child's green eyes. She can tell he means every word. "Okay."
He moves around her to pick up a fallen over chair and rights it. "Besides, I already told Jasper I'd be over to his place tonight for the game."
She perks up at this information. "Oh, that's fantastic! You two always made a good team."
He smiles and ducks his chin, remembering. "That we did, even when we were up to no good. Bella said she's had a time of it keeping him out of trouble, though. Two words: Embry Young. Jasper's knack for growing herb in his cellar has only improved I'm told, but I'm sure you know nothing about any of that, right?"
"Edward Mason Cullen." It's a warning, however mildly delivered. "What your father and I do in our spare time is no concern of yours." She walks over to where her flower-power canoe waits floating for her at the tie-post, and says, "As for Deputy Young, he can just put his nose in someone else's business for once and keep his distance from us Toe Roaders."
He scoffs out, "Yeah, right. As if he's capable of that feat." Moving to take her hand, Edward helps his mom down into the canoe, making sure it stays balanced. When she settles in he asks, "How 'bout I come for breakfast in the morning? Some corn cakes and ham would surely have me 'round often enough…hint, hint."
Her long skirt flapping in the wind, she takes the paddle and pushes away from the deck, smiling back her answer. "Often enough will never be enough for me, baby boy. But you got it, and I'll even make some honey butter to go along with it, too. Now go eat your lunch. It's muffaletta."
He grins and nods, waving her off and on her way. "See you two stoners in the morning, Mom."
Laughing, she turns the multi-colored canoe around and begins to paddle away. When she's a good twenty feet out, she yells back, "I knew it wouldn't take long for you to search Bella out. Good boy."
He rolls his eyes at that remark and heads back into his crammed kitchen, scratching behind his muck covered ear. The cabinets—which have no doors—are jammed full of various stuff from boxes to pots 'n pans, rope…even a very old and worn yellow rain jacket. He pulls that box out, as it's marked FOUND, and sets it on top of his crusty stove and begins fishing through its content, knocking a stack of clear plastic cups over with his elbow in the process. He curses.
Ignoring the mess, he keeps digging through the items. There's an old camera, a key chain with about twenty keys, a baseball cap which is frayed around the bill, a pocket knife, some sunglasses and other stuff. It seems as if these are all lost items that Ol' Man Weber ran across and saved. When he gets to the bottom he stops. There's something in the corner that is very familiar.
Long fingers reach and grasp to bring it up and out. He lets it hang down from his pointer finger. The shine is gone but it warms his heart instantly.
A heart-shaped golden locket dangles from a delicate gold chain.
He stares and smirks, his heart flying high at his luck. "Well, fuck me..."
a/n: thanks again to PTB for their awesomeness...and to renircx and AkilaM (babykay19) for their fantastic and much appreciated beta efforts...love...now let me hear what you guys think...please...review review review...more love...
xxx jess