I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephanie Meyers. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.
Author's Note: Yes, I know I said to only expect an update every two weeks. However, this story seems to be just flowing right now and I can't help it. So here's another update. I hope you enjoy it. Whether you leave a review or not, thank you for reading.
Chapter 2: On the Mantle
There was no way in hell that the angel making her way toward me could possibly have given birth to the four boisterous boys that were currently gathered around my car. The youngest one was pointing to the windshield and I heard him mutter "…deep shit…" I settled a firm glare on him and he flushed and looked away. I could tell already that his mother wouldn't tolerate that kind of talk. He shot me a worried glance and I have him a slight smile to let him know that I'd keep it between us. This time. He grinned and went back to taunting Emmett. Little brothers…they were all the same.
I was desperate to do anything to draw my attention away from the beauty who was scowling at her boys. Were they her boys? Or was she just a ridiculously attractive friend? I was in so much trouble… My body was reacting in predictable and inconvenient ways. Suddenly I felt as if I was seventeen again and in Miss Porter's English class. Damn, that woman had had some fine legs and I'd spent my senior year hiding the tent I was pitching behind my desk… Not helping.
"Boys," she said softly and all four of them turned toward her. Yep, she was definitely their mother. The oldest one, Emmett, flushed and shifted nervously on his feet.
She came to stand in front of me and I was assaulted by the tantalizing hint of cinnamon and apples. I felt my mouth watering. Apple pie was my favorite dessert. She smelled of sweet confections and another scent that was uniquely feminine and hers alone. She held out her hand and I forced myself to take it without hauling her into my arms and planting a big kiss on her and then grinding myself against her. Deep shit, I reminded myself, echoing the boy's words. Women like Mrs. James were strictly off limits, for many, many reasons.
"I'm Bella James," she said quietly in that husky, sexy voice of hers. Bella. It suited her. She was definitely beautiful. "And I'm terribly sorry about what happened." She scowled at her oldest son. "I can assure you that full reparations will be made." Emmett flushed again and stared at his feet. Maybe there was hope for the boy yet. I had half expected defiance and yelling. Instead there was nothing but shame and apology in the boy's expression. I began to suspect that young Emmett's problem with criminal behavior was a recent one. In which case, something had obviously changed in the boy's life.
But what?
I looked at Bella James more closely and noted the lines of stress, the fatigue in the dark circles under her eyes that did not seem to belong on her lovely face. She was beautiful, but…burdened. Yes, that was it. Something had put a heavy burden on her slender shoulders and I was immediately burning to alleviate her load.
Pump the brakes there, Cullen. You don't do commitment…or burdens. Remember? You're free and answer to no one and you intend to stay that way.
Deep shit indeed. For all I knew, she was a married woman. But if she was, then where was he? And why did I care so much? I had way too much respect for my brothers in arms to ever be a Jody, no matter how tempting this brunette beauty was. I needed to get myself squared away and get my shit together. Now.
"Perhaps we should talk inside?" I asked and was rewarded with a lovely blush. Now I knew where her sons got it. Of course on her it was alluring and sexy.
She gave a jerky nod. "You," she said, pointing to Emmett. "To your room." I turned to watch him, anticipating some sort of argument, but instead he nodded and walked quickly into the house. She looked at her other sons. "And none of you bother him either. He's got some serious thinking to do."
"That could take a while," the youngest one quipped. One of his brothers snickered but I didn't see which one.
Bella turned back to me and started to speak. There was an interruption.
"But that's my room too!" the second oldest one protested.
His mother quirked one eyebrow at him. "Really, Seth?" The boy's expression fell. "Is that how you want this to go?"
"No ma'am," he muttered, kicking at the ground.
Then she settled a look on the youngest. "And don't think I didn't hear what you said earlier, Jacob Joshua James."
"Sorry," the boy mumbled.
"That's what I thought," she said calmly. "Now, the three of you go into Jake's and Sam's room. You can play X-Box, but if I hear any yelling or any fighting, you'll be weeding the flower beds and cleaning out the garage instead. For two days." The boys grimaced at that. I had a feeling that Mrs. James didn't make threats. She made promises. "Understood?"
There was a quick chorus of "Yes ma'ams" and the boys trooped into the house in single file. This was definitely a military family; I recognized the signs easily enough. And it made sense. But where was Dad? Deployed? Divorced? Just didn't give a shit?
"Please, come in," Bella said softly. "Uh…?" And I realized that my manners were terrible; I hadn't even introduced myself.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Edward Cullen." No need for rank, besides I had a feeling she had already figured all of that out with one simple look at my uniform. This lady had the confident air of a woman who was accustomed to dealing with military personnel. Nothing would intimidate her. She might be sad and burdened, but intimidated? Never. I could see her going nose-to-nose with a five star general and not even blink.
She nodded and gestured me toward the house. The inside of the house was as warm and welcoming as the exterior suggested. Signs of the boys were everywhere, from baseballs to X-Box remotes to oversized shoes in the corner. There was an order to the chaos. It wasn't unclean, just lived-in and homey. It reminded me of the house I'd grown up in, when my brother and I had spread our shit all over the house, driving my mom insane.
"Would you like some coffee?" she offered.
"That would be great."
"I'll be right back. Have a seat," she said.
I did. I took a look around and suddenly I knew exactly why Emmett was acting out and why dad wasn't here to take his sons in hand. I knew why Mrs. James looked tired and burdened (and yet still dangerously beautiful). There on the mantle was a flag case - that triangular shaped box that housed the symbol of all that troubled this little family. I had seen too many of those flags in recent years, all of them taken from the coffin of a man or woman who had made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. Next to the flag was a photograph of a man in an Army uniform. He had dark hair, blue eyes, and the thousand yard stare of a lifer. I had seen his features echoed in those four boys in one way or another. I read the small brass nameplate on the flag box.
McCarty E. James
November 17, 1968 – July 4, 2006
He had been older than his wife, of that I was sure. She must have been very young when Emmett was born. I noted the date of death. The anniversary was coming up. I wondered how the family handled being in a military town on the fourth of July, which became a huge, patriotic celebration. Perhaps they left and went somewhere quiet. If they didn't, maybe I could suggest it.
Of course, maybe I could also remember that none of this was my business and keep my mouth shut.
She came into the room bearing two coffee cups and followed my eyes to the mantle. "Uh yeah…" She said. "Emmett's been having some problems adjusting." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and nibbled at her bottom lip for a brief moment.
"It's a hard thing to adjust to," I said quietly.
"It's been almost two years," she replied. "You'd think we'd all be used to it." Bella shook her head. Her eyes strayed once more to the flag…to the picture. Sorrow was etched on her pretty face. "But you don't get used to it, I don't think." Her smile was sad. "Sorry. Not your problem."
Oh but it could be, Bella.
Wait.
Where the hell had that come from?
Taking a sip of her coffee, Bella sighed. "Emmett's a good kid, really." Then she grimaced. "And now I sound like a typical mom, making excuses for her little darling's misbehavior."
"No," I corrected. "You sound like a mother who recognizes the fact that her son misses his father." I shrugged. "It's bound to cause problems."
"Yes, but that doesn't excuse his behavior." She frowned at her cup. "I'll write you a check today and then I'll make Emmett work to pay me back. He won't learn unless there are consequences for his actions."
It was obvious that Bella was an excellent parent; she was just in a difficult situation. I paused. I had a crazy, wild idea and I was honest enough to admit that it wasn't only for Emmett's benefit. But even as I said the words, I was in shock. "Listen, this may sound…crazy."
Her eyes flew up to meet mine, obviously surprised at my words.
"But…what if Emmett worked off the cost of the windshield by doing chores directly for me?" I hesitated, trying to gauge her reaction. "I just think it will have a bigger impact if he can work and pay me, rather than you. He'll see it up close and personal, how his actions have consequences and he's got to live with those consequences. Besides," I added with a grin. "I think he'll be less likely to whine to me than to you when he gets tired of working." And as an added benefit, I'll be seeing lots and lots of you Mrs. James.
She laughed and nodded. "Yes, I suspect you're right about the whining." Then her expression sobered. "Are you sure? He can be…a lot." I was quite sure that Emmett had proven to be very challenging lately. But who could blame him? It was terrible to lose a father at any age, but to do so just as he teetered on the edge of that line between childhood and adolescence…? I could not even begin to imagine how it had impacted young Emmett. I could see, beneath the defiance and bluster and bad behavior, the core of the young man – and he was worth my time. If nothing else, to ease the burden of the mother who loved him so much.
"That can happen when a boy loses his father, especially at Emmett's age." I grimaced. "I train soldiers, ma'am, I think I can handle him."
"Yes, well, I'll warn you in advance that Emmett is his father's son," Bella spoke quietly, affectionate frustration in her voice. "And Mac was a hell raiser, born and bred. Emmett comes from a long line of them, so it's only fair I warn you. All of my boys can find trouble without a map or a compass, but deep down they're good kids. It's just that Emmett…" She blew out a breath. "He's in a class of his own, just like Mac. Even the military didn't cure my husband of that completely." She looked at me over the rim of her coffee cup. I tried to ignore the surge of…animosity that whipped through me when she referred to her husband. I wasn't even sure where that had come from – or why. "Emmett's just like him – rash and reckless." Bella sighed. "And now he's angry too. Angry at his father for not coming home, angry at me for not stopping it. He's angry at the government for sending his father away to die." She shrugged. "I guess I understand angry."
"I'll consider myself forewarned and forearmed," I told her. The coffee was excellent, with just a hint of cinnamon.
"All right," she murmured. "If you're sure." Bella tilted her head and looked at me, a crooked smile tugging at her stunning lips. "When do you want to put the boy to work?"
"Well, no sense in putting it off," I replied with a grin. "I'd say about 0600 tomorrow would be a great time to start." Who really needed to sleep in?
Bella giggled and covered her mouth, as if in disbelief that she'd actually laughed. I wanted to hear the sound again and again. She nodded and rolled her eyes. "He's going to be hating life tomorrow."
"I know," I agreed with a wicked grin.
So, I wouldn't be sleeping in tomorrow. That was all right; I had a feeling it would be worth it.
I got to my feet. "I'll pick him up tomorrow," I said. "And I'll leave my address and phone number and my command information. Just so you know I'm on the up and up."
Bella stood up too. She smiled and shook her head. "Mac taught me to be a pretty good judge of a man's character. I think I can trust you."
I knew the uniform was familiar to her, and hoped that it would inspire trust. I wanted her to trust me. I wanted a lot of things from Bella James. Oh yes. Many, many things.
But I couldn't ask for them. I wouldn't. I would help Emmett pay for the windshield and I'd be done.
I'd walk away.
Sure. I'd walk away. Right.
