Disclaimer:
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the intellectual property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 6
Edward and Jake finished up with their chores about the same time and made their way back into the house. Both men followed their noses and ended up in the kitchen sniffing appreciatively.
"Wadcha' cook, Bel..., I mean, Marie? I smells de-licious!" Jake pronounced, with enthusiasm.
"It does smell good," Edward agreed.
"Hmmm," she said, turning from the stove to regard them with raised eyebrows and wrinkled nose. "Not sure how you can smell anything over the...'bouquet' coming from the two of you. I believe there is just enough time to take a shower before it's ready," she hinted, hand on hip.
"I believe she's tellin' us we stink, whippersnapper!"
Edward raised his arm to sniff under it. "Maybe you do, but I don't smell!" he denied.
"Yeah, right!" Jake scoffed, "You just keep tellin' yourself that, and I'll have all this food for myself! Be right back," he promised, heading off to the shower.
"What are we having?" Edward asked, trying to peer around her to see what was cooking.
"I'll tell you about it as I serve it. That's how fine dining is done, you know," she told him, putting on fake hauteur, with a smirk and raised pinky.
"OK, fine," he gave in, smirking back at her. "Shall I set the table in the dining room, after I shower?"
"Nope, just have a seat in there. It will be twenty minutes or so," she informed, turning back to the stove.
"Our first course is Creole style shrimp bisque," Bella said, steadying the serving tray on the edge of the table before taking a steaming bowl from it to place in front of Jake first, then Edward. Both men started to rise, objecting strenuously to be served by her in this manner, but she quelled their protestations, silencing them with a glare and compressed lips.
They sniffed the soup and gave in.
"Next," she continued when they were reseated, "we will be having blackened salmon with mango salsa, grilled asparagus with a special sauce of my own creation, and spicy Cajun wild rice. For desert, we have red velvet cake with butter cream frosting."
"Mmmm," Edward hummed, "this smells wonderful, and all of it sounds perfect, but I wish you'd have a seat and let one of us serve you. You need to get off your feet."
"I'm fine, really, never felt better! I hope you like it. Dig in, I'll be right back."
She was on her way back into the dining room with her own bowl when she overheard Jake's low-voiced comment, "I do believe her stubborn streak might put even my Leah's to shame!"
She couldn't help the grin on her face at Jake's observation, but her smile was gone in an instant at Edward's response.
"You're right, it's possible she's even more obstinate. I wonder where she learned to cook like this, though? This is incredible!"
Bella staggered under the weight of the memories suddenly flooding her mind. The burn from the hot soup splashing on to her hand barley registered. Of course they were going to ask that, and other questions she wasn't ready for. Why had she she allowed this, how could she have forgotten?
"What's next?" she'd asked, over her shoulder, to Riley standing behind her.
"Now, fold in the egg whites. Don't stir, fold, gently!"
"Like this?"
"Yes, just like that!" Riley's gentle smile of approval.
Her anguish couldn't be contained, and she groaned audibly. In an instant, Edward was there, taking the bowl from her and leading her to the sink to rinse her hand in cold water.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
"I'm fine," she lied, "just one of those flyin' miseries." She could tell he wasn't buying her story.
"No more of this nonsense!" This from Jake, as he picked up her bowl where Edward had set it on the counter and refilled it. "You go sit down, we'll bring the food in."
She nodded weakly, and leaned into Edward's strong, warm arm as he guided her into the dining room...just for a few minutes...she would indulge this weakness just for a few minutes.
The conversation for the rest of the meal was innocuous, but her joy in cooking was lost once more. She knew the questions were coming, she could see them in Edward's eyes, and she steeled herself for the rest of the memories that they would dredge up.
He found her waiting for him on the porch later that evening, after physically removing her from the kitchen when she tried to clean it, insisting that she go lay down. He shook his head at her obstinacy as he stepped out an saw her sitting in the swing instead, a pale shape against the darkness of the brick.
The night was soft and clear, billions of twinkling stars the only light in the moonless sky. She glanced up when the screen door clicked shut; it was too dark to see anything more than a darker shadow in the blackness, but she knew it was him by the way he moved, and the clean, masculine scent, unique to him, that wafted across her nostrils on the light breeze. Maybe the darkness would make this easier; she wouldn't be able to see the disgust in his eyes when he found out who she really was, what she was. In a way, she was anxious to have this over and done with, not have the hope that he wouldn't reject her hanging out there. She chastised herself for caring; what did it matter what he thought? Yet...it did matter, very much. The thought of his probable reaction had her head hanging in shame, and bitter sorrow.
He cringed at the thought of having her reveal her past, not sure what image of her he was more afraid of. Was it finding out that she was really nothing more than the quickly fading one of a hardened gangster's girlfriend? Or was it that she really was what this image was being replaced by, that of a young girl who had her childhood and innocence stolen?
Not wanting to interfere with the gentle sway she had established, he resisted the nearly irresistible pull to touch and comfort her, and sat in the rocking chair beside the swing.
The silence lay stretched out flat between them, waiting to be filled. She felt he was waiting with bated breath for her words, and wondered if that was arrogant on her part. How could she be that important to him in such a short time? Yet, he was that important to her. She had never felt drawn to anyone the way she did toward him. She wanted him to know her, and she wanted to know him, too. To know all about the past that had gone into making him this person – even though it would only make it harder when it came time for her to leave.
As though reading her mind, he spoke first.
"You know, for me to tell you mine, you have to tell me yours, first."
"Oh, really? Who made up that rule?" She laughed a little, darkly.
He shrugged, and even though she couldn't really see it, she felt it. "I did, of course." There was another short silence, and then he prompted, "So, will you tell me your story?"
"I'll tell you what I can. Some of my story is not mine to tell." She paused, gathering her thoughts, preparing to venture back into the darkness. "I'm not sure where to start."
"You can never go wrong with starting at the beginning."
"Well, see, that's the thing, I don't really know the beginning."
He cocked his head curiously in the darkness. "What does that mean?"
"I have no memories from before 8 years or so old. My memories start with Phil. I don't think he was my father, but I'm not sure. I remember living with him and a woman, but I don't know who she was, or how I came to be alone with Phil, later. She may have been my mother, and I think she died, but again, I only think these things, I don't know them for sure. I only know where I was born, and when, because I was told about it after I came to live with James and his father."
"How'd you get mixed up with them, anyway?"
"I don't even really know that whole story, I don't think. But, apparently Phil..." here she choked on her words, almost unable to reveal this truth, "gave me to them to pay off the money from a drug deal gone bad. Well, not just one. His debt was huge, he was desperate, and James was interested in me. There were a couple of reasons for his interest, part of it had to do with my lineage, although they never told me much about that. Part of it was my age."
"How old were you?"
"Fourteen. James...he was going to marry me when I turned eighteen, he thought I would be good for providing him a heir. He said he wanted someone he knew was pure. But, I talked him into waiting until I finished my college courses. That was last year."
"Did you marry?"
"No, I kept finding ways to put it off."
"So, you just finished college last year, that would make you, what, 24, 25?"
"I finished a little early, I'm 23. I look old, huh?"
"No, no...I just...why did you go back, why did you stay?"
"Ha!" she laughed without humor. "I went back, I stayed...because I had no where else to go, and because I knew that no matter where I went James would find me. He never lets go of what he considers his. Besides, do you really think he let me go off to college without a guardian watching over me? I was never alone. Not for a moment. I never had the chance to run."
"I knew you weren't there by choice!" she heard him mutter.
"What I did to survive it was by choice. I'm not a good person, Edward."
"Why? What did you do that was so bad?"
"Whatever I had to, what ever was needed to survive. I don't want to come off like I'm pure and innocent or something, I did what I needed to so that I would survive. That's what I did. But, I didn't know all the stuff James and his father were into until recently. Until Riley, actually."
"Who is Riley?
"Riley was James' chef, but he was also my friend, and teacher. He taught me to cook, and drive, and fly a plane, and other things...just, how to live. And...he was the FBI agent." She heard Edward inhale sharply at this.
"I didn't know he was FBI then. Neither did James, of course. James sought him out, tracked him down to hire as a chef, that's how skillfully played that game was. James' most trusted confidant recommended him. Jasper, one of his body guards. He was also a friend of mine. Taught me to shoot a gun...how to defend myself. James didn't kill him, I'm not sure why. At least, he was still alive when I escaped. He helped, actually. If James found out about that, I'm sure Jasper is dead, too."
"Were either of them the father of your baby? "
"No, it wasn't that sort of friendship, in either case, although James thought it was with Riley. That was partly why he did it, why he killed him."
He gestured to her belly, "Was this against your will?"
"Depends on how you look at, I guess. I didn't say, no, but then again, it wasn't like 'no' was really an option. When he thought there was something developing between Riley and I, he decided he'd waited long enough, he would have me. He had me checked first, to make sure I was still 'pure', and then he moved me into his quarters. I was pregnant within a month."
He could hear right through the feigned indifference in her tone to the pain underneath; his fists clenched on his thighs and his jaws tensed in anger.
Without warning, gasping sobs tore from her chest and she doubled over, clutching her swollen middle. "It's all my fault that Riley died. In agony. He died in agony and I will never recover. I'm broken and not fit to live!"
Then, Edward was there, holding her, cradling her to his chest, sobbing with her. He didn't try to change her mind, or console her with words, just let her cry it out, stroking her her hair softly and rubbing her back and shoulders in gentle, soothing circles, as tears streamed down both their faces.
The look on his face, had she been able to see in the darkness surrounding them, was completely at odds with his comforting hold on her. His eyes were hard, steely, reflecting the resolve in his heart. No matter what else happened, no matter what other crimes he faced punishment for, James Fontana would pay for what he had done to this precious girl, and at Edward's hand.
He continued rocking her until her sobbing slowed, her tears were finally exhausted. Only then did he speak. "I feel very...protective of you."
She pulled away slightly to wipe her face. "I don't deserve it!"
He pulled her back, unwilling to let her go. Only yesterday, he might have agreed with her, but not now, not after hearing her story.
"You don't know the things I've done," she continued, nearly hysterical in her need to make him see her guilt, "and, I can't tell you..., and you don't know what I'm planning to do. What I will do to make this baby safe."
"Shh," he said, holding her as tightly as her belly would allow. "Think about this. Think about what you would want this little one," he placed his hand gently on her swollen middle, "to think and feel if she, or he, were in your position. An innocent little lamb, taken and held against his or her own will, would you want this child to feel what you're feeling now? What would you tell your baby?"
He was desperately hoping that realizing how innocent her baby would be would open her eyes to her own.
She was quiet, contemplating his words for several moments, and then she placed her hand over his, holding it firmly in place, as silent tears again streaked her cheeks. She couldn't understand how there could be any tears left to cry, but there they were. "Oh, Edward, I wish, I wish," was all she could manage in a strangled voice, before tucking her face against his neck, pressing her lips against his throat, swallowing her words.
Cradling the back of her head, he agreed, "I do, too, precious girl, I do too."
Finally they pulled apart, although he still held her.
"Will you tell me your story?"
"I will, but let's save that for tomorrow, OK? You have to be exhausted, and it's a long story."
"I am tired," she admitted. "I can wait until then, but you will tell me, right? You won't try to weasel your way out of it?"
He chuckled softly as he helped her up. "No weaseling, I promise."
A little while later he tapped on her door. At her soft, "Come," he peeked in carefully, before crossing to set a glass of water on the nightstand.
"Thank you, that's so thoughtful!"
"You're welcome." He stood for a moment, gazing at her, taking in her pale cheeks and reddened eyes. She was still beautiful, even so. "Are you alright? This has been a pretty stressful day."
"I am, actually. It has been stressful, but I'm glad you know about me. Some of it anyway. There is more, but..."
"I know enough. I know that I want to help you, just as Jake does." He leaned down, without even thinking about it and kissed her forehead, and then her cheek.
Suddenly realizing that he might have overstepped his bounds, his cheeks reddened and he started to move away, "Oh, sorry," but she caught his shirt, preventing him from pulling back. She drew him down and left a lingering kiss at the corner of his lips before letting him go.
"Don't be sorry, please?"
He straightened up, reluctantly. "OK, I won't be. Sleep well, I'll see you in the morning," he promised. "If you need anything, just call out, alright?"
"Alright," she smiled.
Her smile stayed with him down the hall into the kitchen, where he found Jake sitting at the table munching on another piece of cake and smirking at him. Jake didn't even need to say "I told you so!" But, he did, anyway.