A/N: You've meet Bella.. time to meet...
EPOV
Fort Worth, Texas
"Edward, are you sure this is what you want to do? Maybe take some time and think about it?"
The pleading sound in my aunt's voice gave me pause, but not enough to make me turn around. I was still so angry. While none of it was directed toward her, she was getting the full brunt of it. She was the only person I could direct it to. Those that it should be focused on were nowhere to be found, which only compounded my anger.
My shoulders slumped when I felt her gentle hand on my arm. Tears that I was tired of shedding threatened to spill once more. Taking several deep breaths I turned to face her. Soft warm brown eyes looked back at me. The pity I thought I saw earlier was gone and all I saw was love and concern. I pulled her into my arms. I buried my face into her hair, and inhaled. Familiar scents of vanilla and honey filled my nose.
"I have to," I whispered. She pulled away to look at me. Seeing whatever she needed to see, she stepped back.
"Are you sure?" I knew what she left unspoken. There was still so much unknown and she didn't want me to get hurt. But it was the unknown that drove me to leave.
"My whole life has been a lie, Aunt Es. EVERYTHING! From my parents, to Liam, to Liz, everything. There hasn't been one thing that I can truly call my own. I need to figure out who I am. Where did I come from? Can't you see that? Someone out there has the answers to my questions."
I reached for her hand, clasping it in both of mine.
"You and Uncle C have been amazing. I can't thank you enough for telling me the truth. But there are still things missing. Part of me is missing and I need to find it. I'm not asking you to understand, just for your support."
I waited with baited breath as she regarded me.
"You know, you're wrong on one point, Edward." My brow furrowed as I tried to figure out what she was talking about. "Not everything in your life has been a lie. The love that you felt, that was real and true. Maggie and even Liam loved you. They loved you fiercely and that's why they did what they did. Never forget that."
She kissed my cheek. "No matter what happens out there, we love you and you are still a part of us. You'll always be family and be welcomed back. I do support you, Edward. I just worry about you. Keep in touch, please?"
I nodded and kissed her cheek. With a small wave I turned around and walked to my car, getting in without looking back. I felt her gaze on me as I drove away and wondered if I'd be able to come back.
The first hundred miles and countless hours were a blur. All of my concentration was centered on driving. It was all I'd allow myself to think about. But as the anger fizzled away, all I was left with was a deep sadness and gaping hole of loneliness in my chest. It was a feeling I'd had for the last six months. A flash of a memory of that day filled my head; dark room, muted beeping and a shell of a woman dwarfed by a bed filled with pillows and blankets.
I shook my head, not wanting to take a trip down memory lane. But once the memory leaked through, the others came rushing in and I was helpless to keep them at bay. With a shuddering breath I let them come, maybe then they'd stop haunting me.
Six months ago I was sitting in that dark room, holding the hand of my dying mother, Maggie. She was losing her battle against an aggressive form of breast cancer. She'd only been diagnosed about eighteen months prior, but by then it had spread beyond the breast tissue. There were many attempts at chemo and radiation, then eventually a double mastectomy, but there was no slowing down the disease. The hospice nurse had just come in to do her cares and gave me such a sad look. In that moment I knew she wouldn't make it through the night.
My mom must've sensed it too. Because when she woke from one of her many naps, there was a frenzied look in her eyes. In her weakened voice she called to me and began to cry. I didn't know what to do, so I wrapped my arms around her, telling her how much I loved her. Somehow, through the sobs, she found the strength to whisper her confession.
"I love you, Edward. But I'm not you real mom. Read my journal. In the attic." With that she closed her eyes and an hour later she was gone. In the haze of the sorrow, I had forgotten all about her declaration. It was pushed aside by preparations, grief and a feeling of being adrift. Two months after her death I was packing up the house, prepping it for sale. Esme and Carlisle were flying out to help me pack, but I was going through stuff searching for those things I wanted to keep. I was in the attic looking for some family ornaments that I'd wanted to save.
I found what was looking for took in no time, but there were other boxes up there that I had no clue as to what they were. One of them was filled with stuff that looked like it had belonged to my dad. I hadn't seen or spoken to him in over fifteen years, so I was surprised to see it sitting there collecting dust. I would've thought Mom had gotten rid of it all. Not having the mental fortitude to deal with it, I set it aside to send to storage. There was also another box of my things from my childhood. I laughed as I looked a macaroni picture that mom saved. Seeing nothing that I wanted to save beyond a few photos, I put the box in the toss pile.
There was an unlabeled box in with the others and since I was already up there, I figured I'd look through it. At first I thought it was filled with old clothes and knickknacks, but at the very bottom there were three journals. Seeing them made my mom's last words come rushing back. Right there as I stared at the offending journals, I'd had a minor panic attack. I'd vacillated between wanting to burn them, rip them to shreds or just ignoring them all together. In the end, I took them out and brought them downstairs to my old room. I already had boxes filled with mementos I wanted. With a reverence I wasn't sure they deserved, I set them in a box and walked away. When Esme and Carlisle finally arrived, it was on the tip of my tongue to ask them about what my mom had said. But in the end, I was still too emotionally raw and being in the house where she died was taking what little energy I had left.
I didn't give them another thought until I unpacked that box back at my condo. I wasn't sure what made me open them and begin reading, but I did. To this day, I'm still not sure how I feel about the information they contained.
In them, my mother detailed how her best friend, Elizabeth Hale was married to an extremely violent man named James. Elizabeth, or Liz as my mother wrote, had been friends with my mom since they were children back in Fort Worth. Liz and James lived in Dallas and she had been trying to leave him for the last year. When Liz became pregnant, she feared for the safety of her child and convinced my mom to adopt the baby. With Esme's help, they hid Liz from James who was actively looking for her during her pregnancy.
When I was born, Liz named me Edward after her father and Mom gave me the middle name of Anthony after her dad. Mom took me back to New York and Liz took off for Minnesota where she had some family. In the journal, Mom wrote about how she'd heard from Liz when I was a few years old saying that she was still in Minnesota and thanking her for the pictures of me.
If you'd asked me to tell you what I was feeling or thinking back then, I couldn't begin to describe the whirlwind of emotions and questions that was going through me. Just as I got a handle on one thought or emotion, it was gone and quickly replaced with another. I do remember that although I hadn't read all of the journals, I had had my fill of life altering discoveries. Later that night, as I waited for sleep to claim me, I remember thinking that I had hoped my mother's death bed confession would've been nothing more than the delusional ramblings of a very sick woman. To see her looping handwriting as it detailed the elaborate ruse of my birth was nothing short of devastating.
Over the next few weeks I'd read a few snippets here and there. Nothing very earth shattering until I got to what she'd written when I was ten. I read how my parents had a huge fight and it ended with my dad storming out of the house. He never came back. But what was puzzling was what my mom wrote regarding the fight.
I couldn't let him tell, there was too much at stake and he just didn't see that. In that moment I had to choose and I chose to protect Edward. I'd been doing that since the day that Liz came to me crying and begging. And I'd keep doing it until my dying day. Liam just doesn't understand what could happen if he said even one word. I vow to make sure that will never happen.
After that entry, she never mentioned my father again. It was as if he didn't exist anymore. I remembered several times asking her where he was and if I could talk to him. She always deflected until one night, she snapped and told me that he no longer loved me and that we were better off without him. That was the last time I ever asked about my dad.
With the last journal read, I was left with an aching loneliness that I couldn't begin to understand. It could've been that for the first time in my life I felt as if I didn't belong anywhere. The people I had believed to be my parents weren't and I had no idea where my real ones were. All the reasons I'd been given to explain my dad's leaving turned out to be more lies. I was angry at my mother and she wasn't around to yell at. So I did it at her headstone. It was a dreary day and I had no recollection of driving there, just that I was there. So I yelled, screamed, cried and begged for some understanding. For hours I sat there, but nothing happened.
So I tried to get on with my life; go to work, hangout with friends, date, all the normal life stuff, but it all seemed empty, hollow and I hated it. I couldn't concentrate at work and ended up taking a leave of absence. Late one night as I was drowning my sorrows in a bottle of Jack, I spied a picture of me at my aunt and uncle's house down in Texas. I was seated between my aunt and uncle, my parents were in the background, and everyone was smiling as if they didn't have a care in the world. In that moment, I hated my aunt. She knew and she never told me, not even after mom died.
That was how I ended up in Fort Worth a few weeks later, full of anger and sadness and I took it out on the only family I had left. I yelled and cursed at her when she opened her door. I said horrible things to her and she just stood there and took it. When I'd finally collapsed on her porch, she held me as I cried. She filled in the blanks with what she knew about my birth parents as well as with my dad. When it was all said and done, I knew I had to find my birth mother. I needed to find out for myself who she was. I needed to find my missing pieces.
That was how I started on the long journey from Texas to Minnesota. Letting the miles stretch out before me and endless hours alone with only my thoughts and a million what if's. So lost in my thoughts I really wasn't paying attention at a stoplight in Topeka and I ended up kissing the rear end of the car in front of me. Not the beginning I was hoping for.
A/N: Would love to hear your thoughts on all of that *points above* Hope you're all enjoying the other wonderful stories! Check out Again by Blueeyedcherry, How to Be Friends- written by cejsmom for me and TwiAddict Anne's story Grant Me a Smile ~~~ They are FANTASTIC!
