Disclaimer: Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.

In The Clearing - Chapter 4

January 23, 2010

Dear and always forgiving, Bella,

Would you forgive me if I lied my way out of here? I realize that above all it's the way I love you that unsettles them. It's not merely that I love the girl who was raised with me like a sister, but the way I love her. They read my passion as lunacy. I'm the drunk at dinner, making a scene. This love is unseemly. And I've always been proud of it. It doesn't pay to be rational when you're inclined to love against expectation. It requires a kind of insanity. It's true.

Is it time for me to lie? I could tell my mother that I'm convinced. I could lay every doubt I've ever had at her feet. You don't love me anymore. You won't wait for me. I was a fool to have trusted your devotion. I won't love like that again. Not passionately. I could lie. And then, perhaps, I could leave. I could come home. What harm would be done? Plenty of people live with dishonesty; why can't I?

I won't betray you. I won't even admit I have doubts. When I have your arms around me, I'll confess my doubts to you. We'll hold each other on a quiet afternoon and disinfect ourselves of all this poison. I am only human. And what I've learned is that even the strongest faith without constant affirmation will falter. Perhaps I've discovered a personal flaw. I don't know. Each day that passes when I don't hear the gravel in your voice, or feel the reassurance of your hands on me absolutely anywhere, it becomes a little harder to believe that you still love me. I will not, cannot, believe my mother's version of things. But I am no longer certain that you'll wait for me, or that you haven't already given up. How could less than a month's silence shake the solid faith I had in us? It's a personal weakness. I do know.

I will force myself to believe. You wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. In this way I reassure myself. Until you tell me that I should cease, I will continue to wait. They can't keep me in here forever. And when I get out, I will find you. With any luck I'll be out by spring, and in June we'll watch the paintbrush bloom. Or we'll go home to San Francisco and steel ourselves against the summer fog. Faith.

Yours in faith,

Edward

The doctor comes to my room. She's wearing lilac under her hospital coat. I welcome the wink of color above her white collar and at her wrists, where the coat sleeves cut just short. "Good morning," she says.

"Good morning," I say.

"How did you sleep last night?"

"Fine, thank you."

"Did you have any more interesting dreams?" She has taken an interest in my dreams since I told her about the last one. A rated PG version. I can't bear to tell her that I'm struggling with the idea of you. I don't answer. She is patient, and moves on. "Can we talk about Christmas?"

I nod. Please let this nightmare end. I can't re-live this forever.

"Can you tell me what happened on Christmas Day?"

"We opened presents in the morning. I excused myself around 10:30, and went to my room to call Bella. As I was saying, 'I love you,' my mother picked up the phone in the kitchen. She overheard me. She said 'sorry,' quickly, and hung up."

"And how do you think your mother felt about having overheard you?"

"She was upset."

"How do you know?"

"I know because Esme has been upset since I first told her that Bella and I were lovers. She took Bella in as a daughter after Charlie died and believed it was her responsibility to protect Bella. I know because Esme always thought of us as siblings and can't let go of the children we were to her. I know because she would barely speak to me at lunch. I could have let it go, I suppose. I just didn't want to. It seemed like the same old routine, and I was sick of it."

"Tell me what happened at lunch."

"We fought."

"Can you recall the fight exactly?"

"Yes."

I'm so tired of this. I wait. Do I have to tell this to you again? The doctor grabs hold of one lilac cuff and tugs at it, straightening her shirt sleeve beneath the coat. She must be tired of this too. I no longer see signs of the same pity she had for me when I first came here. We commiserate now.

"I picked a fight. I was angry and asked my mother what her problem was. I provoked her."

"Is that how it happened?"

"Yes."

"What did you say to your mother?"

"I told her she had better get over it, or she would lose me. I was furious. I said, 'I fuck Bella, and you're just going to have to deal with that.'"

"How did Esme respond?"

"She cried, naturally. She cried."

"And did she say anything back to you?"

I hate this. I remember what my mother said. I'm so ashamed, and the doctor is waiting. She knows what Esme said to me, but how can I admit that I heard it?

"She was sad. Genuinely sad."

"Did she say she was sad?"

"She said she was sorry, that she had been sorry."

The doctor is still waiting. She knows there's more. "She said she was trying, and that she wanted me to give her a chance. She said she loved us both."

"And how did you respond?"

"I walked out of the room."

How can that be? I walked out of the room. My mother was genuinely sorry, loved us both, and I walked away from her. The doctor is staring at me, contemplating my admission. She must know this; Esme certainly has told her. Perhaps she hasn't been sure who to believe until now.

"Can you tell me what happened next?"

I can't look the doctor in the eye. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"No. I just went up to my room and fell apart. I tried to call Bella, but she was out and not answering her cell. I figured she was out riding her bike, so I left a message. I was enraged when I left the message. I told her I'd had a fight with my mother, and that I was sorry. I was sorry to be ruining her Christmas with my sadness and anger. It's always seemed to me such a waste of time, all of this fighting. Life is short."

"Then what happened?"

"I stayed in my room until it was dark, I'm not sure how long. My father knocked on my door, but I told him to give me some space. And I guess I fell asleep. I heard the phone ring. I didn't even try to answer it. It was already late and my mother answered it from her bedroom."

"And who was it who called?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" The doctor is fidgeting. She realizes I've changed my story again. She is roused from her boredom.

"No, I don't know." She wants to point out that I've always insisted it was you who called, and that I've been sure you and my mother had a fight.

But I don't know anything anymore.

"What happened next?"

"I heard my mother's raised voice from the kitchen, so I came downstairs. I was afraid..."

"What were you afraid of?"

"That Esme would be cruel to Bella, to spite me for how I had behaved."

"And what happened when you came downstairs?"

"Esme had just hung up the phone. She came at me immediately, almost threw herself at me. She was crying again. And I was still angry."

"What did Esme say?"

I cannot say.

"What did your mother say?"

"She said...my mother said that Bella was gone, that she had left me."

"Are those the words your mother used?"

No. Those were not her words.

"Tell me, are those the exact word your mother used?"

"No! No." I cannot say.

"Can you tell me exactly what your mother said?" The doctor's voice is very soft and there is a ring of lilac around her throat and another at her wrist.

"My mother said that Bella was dead."

"And did you believe her?"

"No."

"How do you feel about your mother?"

I love her.

"I hate her."

"Do you believe her now?"

"No. I don't believe her."

A/N Yes, I know, it's sad and getting sadder. This is a story about faith in love. Which is very hard to keep. I'm not sure I have it in real life, but that's why I have Edward and Bella. So, keep the faith and I hope you'll keep reading.