Lots of love to susayq who makes time for me and my little story.
Disclaimer in chapter 1. Any mistakes you find are mine...
Next update will be Friday, March 4th.
October 2008
Bella closed her laptop with a sigh. She needed to renew her business certification but the automated form on the website had recognized that her driver's license was expired. So that meant she had to head over to the county DMV to renew her driver's license if she wanted to get paid. Never mind that she didn't even have a car to drive to go with a license.
She sighed and rubbed her temples while staring vacantly out the window, hating complications in general. The little life she'd built in Summerside was pretty simple, ordinary, and she liked it that way. Dave Matthews sang about long black veils in the kitchen as she watched the sun dapple through her window, the warmth tinged red from filtering through the towel drying on the porch. Tilting her head, she considered. It was only mid morning and the October days were nice and cool; it would be good to get out for a bit. She hopped up and ran to rattle around in the silverware drawer for a knife, grabbing the bread and peanut butter.
Later, as she stuffed the sandwich in her backpack, she thought of Edward curled up in bed, all warm and soft, his skin both scratchy and smooth at the same time. He wouldn't have minded driving her over there but she didn't want to bother him. Bartenders hardly kept morning hours.
A couple of hours later she was wishing she had dragged Edward out of bed just so he could experience the fascinating train-wreck that was the DMV Lady. Her eye shadow was the same shade of blue Bella had used as a watercolor wash in a painting this morning. And she was a Talker. Bella wondered if her jaw ever got sore. In addition to that, she was annihilating an unfortunate piece of cinnamon gum. Her jaw muscles must be freakishly strong, their endurance built up over years and years of training, if gum chewing were an Olympic sport she definitely would have won the-
"Miss Swan? Honey, where'd you go?"
"Oh! I'm so sorry. Could you repeat-"
"I said," DMV lady cracked her gum, "that you have the same birthday as my son. Isn't that something?"
Bella smiled and shrugged.
She moved her mouse out of the way so she could lean over the desk. "Woo boy, I'll just bet you had a wild night, a pretty thing like you! What I wouldn't give to turn 21 again. Oh my Lord! All I can say is, thank goodness those digital cameras weren't popular back then or I'd have been up on somebody's FaceBlog page in a heartbeat!" DMV gleefully clapped her hands together and held them in front of her nose like they were folded in prayer.
Bella bit her lip. "You mean FaceBook?" She didn't point out that she had actually just turned 22, not 21.
"FaceBook! Isn't that what I said?" She smiled and tapped her lips with her fountain pen. "Well, happy birthday hon. I hope it was wonderful. As cute as you are I'm sure you had plenty of fellas chomping at the bit to buy you a drink."
Bella squirmed and swallowed hard, wanting to tell DMV Lady just how wild her 21st birthday actually was. How it was a crazy night full of frozen pizza, a Pride and Prejudice marathon and nothing in her mailbox but a furniture store flyer. And even that was generic, addressed to 'resident'. But all she did was ask politely, "Am I finished?"
Back on her bike, Bella waited until she had tuned the corner before she allowed everything to crash open, knowing the sheer emotion would threaten to drag her under. She couldn't remember the last time someone had told her 'happy birthday'. The urge to laugh hysterically was strong so she pushed the pedals faster and faster, as if she could leave her feelings behind. She wondered how this had happened to her, this situation, this life. Somehow she'd turned into one of those pathetic Lifetime Movie characters with estranged family members and tragic secrets that always revealed themselves in the worst possible way about halfway through the story.
She knew how. It was her own choices… her own fault. She was closed off, unapproachable and distant. She wasn't like Jessica Newton or sweet Mrs. Cope, or even sweet Angela, quiet in her art gallery. Bella imagined what it would be like to be carefree, to not be afraid to say what she thought… what would they think?
Mrs. Cope, don't feel bad about missing my birthday the last three years but well, it's September 13th and I just wanted you to know. Oh, no reason, my own mother doesn't even acknowledge my birthday so it's really not a big deal. I'm just tired of being in this fucking, never-ending Lifetime Movie. Yes, I know you love that channel but I really, really hate it.
On her 22nd birthday a few weeks ago she'd sat drinking her morning coffee and contemplated telling Edward but she just couldn't think of a good enough reason. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel obligated to do anything; bar life in September was still busy and there was no good reason to add to the stress. That was the official reason in her head. Her heart felt that if no one knew, then she didn't have to be disappointed when no one actually cared.
Still, to have DMV lady be the first person in years to wish her a happy birthday was depressing. So it was only fitting that a sudden rainstorm appeared out of nowhere and soaked her to the skin. Shivering, she kept pedaling and shoving her wet hair out of her face until finally she was home and parking her bike under the breezeway. She toed her wet shoes off on the porch and sneezed. Well, at least the rain was good for something. She wouldn't have to explain her stupid tears over something as trivial as a birthday. She unlocked her door to an empty house. As if there had ever been anyone to explain to.
November 2008
Edward pulled his hair and stared at what felt like a zillion cans of soup. His pleading eyes cut to Shelley Cope as she walked up with hands on her hips and stood beside him.
"I don't know what to choose." Edward pouted.
"There aren't that many choices, hon. We aren't one of those big grocery stores," she said, amused.
"It needs to be homemade." He crossed his arms. "I thought I could find chicken soup halfway done or something, and then I'd add stuff." At her blank look he said, "Add stuff, you know, vegetables and salt and pepper, whatever… to the soup. But maybe they don't make it like that here?"
"Come with me," Mrs. Cope ordered as she marched down the aisle toward the Employees Only door in the back. His mouth fell open at the enormous computer setup tucked away in her little grocery store cubby-hole of an office, walls painted warm and friendly, shelves stuffed with knick-knacks. Faded black and white photographs covered the walls.
"Mrs. Cope!" Edward burst out laughing, "you've been holding out on me!"
"Get with it, honey. I'm old and I can have a big computer if I want to," she sniffed. "Besides, this extra large monitor comes in handy when I play bridge with my internet friends in Belgium." Her wrinkled hands flew over the keyboard and soon Edward was holding a full color print out recipe of homemade chicken soup.
"Awesome," he breathed before his eyes widened in alarm at the long list of ingredients.
"You'd be up the creek without a paddle if I turned you loose with that." Mrs. Cope looked at him over her half-moon glasses. "Come on sweetie. I'll get you started but you're going to need your elbow grease before it's all over." She snatched the recipe out of his hand and Edward blew out an undisguised sigh of relief.
"You tell that sweet girl I hope she feels better," she called out from the spice aisle.
"Who's that?" he teased then winced when he caught her eye. It was amazing how her stare could travel the length of a grocery store, even if it was a small one.
"Edward. You're not too old that I can't pop you."
"Fine." He pulled his cap down to hide the grin that split his face. "I'll tell her."
Bella sat obediently, bundled up on her own couch with a fragrant bowl of chicken soup warming her hands. More than two weeks had passed since she'd been caught in the rain on the way back from the DMV. Unfortunately, riding waterlogged for two hours in rapidly falling temperatures primed her body for a nasty cold, which then turned into pneumonia. While the fever that had accompanied the cold had been bad enough, the pneumonia had knocked her completely on her ass. Even now that the worst of the sickness was over thanks to antibiotics, Bella still found it a sheer effort to move around.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the steam rising from the bowl, still feeling slightly nauseated. The couch cushion dipped as Edward sat on the other end. Her poor dishtowel was being twisted and mangled between his hands as he waited for her to take a bite. She smiled to herself.
"Edward, it smells so good."
He nodded at her, poker-faced, as he clutched the towel. Twist, twist, twist.
She would have laughed out loud, if she weren't afraid of coughing up a lung, at the comical look of relief on his face when she finally put the spoon in her mouth and moaned appreciatively for his benefit.
"Okay?" He laid his head back on the couch.
"More than okay. It's perfect. I can't believe you hoodwinked the whole town into cooking all that food for you when you first moved in." Her voice was weak and raspy so she poked his thigh with a fleecy toe to make her point, smiling when he caught her foot and pulled it into his lap. Surprisingly, her stomach began to settle after the first few spoonfuls and she was able to finish it all.
Edward eased the bowl from her hands when she started to droop, pleased with himself and his newfound culinary skills. Sitting back, he petted her feet and watched her doze. When did it happen, this all-consuming need to be near her all the time? Somehow she had become his first thought in the morning, his last thought at night and starred in all his dreams in-between. The girl had secrets though, secrets buried deep underneath those trust issues of hers, and that shy, self-effacing personality. It was a foregone conclusion that he would wait for her; he'd never been surer of anything else in his life. But he also knew that if he held her too tightly she'd slip right through his hands like water.
She shifted restlessly, and he hoped to God she wouldn't talk in her sleep again. He lifted his hands from her feet as she slowly curled her legs away with a little moan, burying herself in the seam of the couch.
"Shh," he tried in an even tone, waiting for her to settle before tucking the blanket back around her legs. The first time she had mumbled in her sleep more than a week ago he'd been delighted, eager to hear anything forbidden, even if it was only something small so he could tease her later. That was until she went fetal in the night, and her mumbles turned into whimpers and tears that tracked down her flushed cheeks. Her dry heat had scorched his hand when he thumbed her tear streaks away, and he moved up to palm her forehead. She hadn't stirred. He had jumped up to run a washcloth under the tap; that was what they did in the movies, anyway.
"What going on in there?" he'd whispered, dabbing until her hair was damp and curly at the temples before blowing lightly to cool her off. He almost squeaked when her eyes flew open, dark and dilated, and creepy as hell. Her eyes had rolled and then she tensed, fixing on something invisible behind him. When she spoke, his heart had lurched, afraid that she wasn't really dreaming, but remembering.
"Daddy?" Her eyes had searched empty space, voice high and thin. "Daddy?"
He'd stroked her cheek and thought about panicking… maybe calling Mrs. Cope. Bella had looked terrified, eyes darting, never settling. It didn't seem to matter that he'd spoken to her in soothing tones; she hadn't seemed to hear him even though she'd clutched his arm in a death grip.
"Daddy, please, you have to come," she'd sobbed. "Come with me. Daddy?"
Her fever dream had gotten worse before it was better and Edward had to coax her into taking more medicine, holding a glass of ice water as she drank. It'd been too soon according to the label on the bottle but he'd be damned if she hadn't needed something to stop… whatever this was. When she'd finally relaxed into deep sleep Edward had leaned back on the couch, staring, and wondering what he should do.
It happened two more times before her fever broke for good a few days later. Early on he'd told Jake to run the bar without him so he could stay with her through the worst of it, fully expecting her to resist or pitch a fit when he tried to help. But she'd been surprisingly docile, proving that she really was out of it. So he held her when she trembled and cried, knowing she wouldn't remember his arms, or how he hummed an old lullaby when she was restless, or when he covered them both with her quilt when she burned and shivered. When she pushed him away in her sleep he watched her from the chair across the room, every whimper and terrified plea tearing at something inside him until the rage at whatever had hurt her simmered in his gut, waiting.
November 2008
The warm snap was welcome because it was most likely the last one of the year. Bella relished the light breeze that kicked up her hair, not minding in the slightest that she had to keep tucking it behind her ear. She sorted through the mail that had piled up while she was sick, pulling the envelope with her new driver's license from the bottom of the stack.
"When were you going to tell me I missed your birthday?" Edward stood over her shoulder.
Bella caught her breath and flipped the DMV letter over. Unopened. "How did you—"?
"You have that temporary one in your wallet." He came around and leaned against the wooden railing, the bright blue of the ocean behind him. "You were asleep but I had to get your insurance card for the medicine, remember?"
"No," she sighed. Suddenly she sat up straight. "Oh crap, did I snore or anything? Or worse? I'm so embarrassed and I don't even know what I did."
Edward regarded her for a long moment then smiled. "Nah. That medicine totally knocked you out."
She exhaled. "So I didn't say anything weird?"
"Well," he rubbed his chin, "besides professing your undying love to me and promising to have my babies?" When her mouth dropped open he burst out laughing. "Kidding, Swan."
Her face was on fire even as she smiled a little. "You're a jerk. Messing with someone trying to recover from a debilitating illness is low, even for you."
Abruptly he pushed off the rail and swept the mail aside. Hauling her up, he folded her in his arms with a shaky sigh. "Bella," he rumbled in her ear, holding her tight, "what am I going to do with you?" He swayed back and forth and tucked her head under his chin.
She thought about pulling away for a moment, and then relaxed, settling against him, feeling herself go warm and blissful as he pressed his nose to her hairline. Sometimes she wasn't sure if she knew anything anymore, except for him. "I didn't think it was really that important," she murmured, wondering if they were still talking about her birthday. "I never want anyone to feel obligated to… I don't know."
"Everything about you is important to me. Even the unimportant stuff. And I'm not just anyone," he said earnestly, rubbing the back of her shoulder.
"I know you're not. I'm sorry."
He drew back and judged the sincerity in her eyes.
"Okay, fine. You have a reprieve. But only because you missed my birthday too."
The mood lightened but she had a feeling he wouldn't forget this.
"I found out the next day, jerk!" she said, deciding to play along. "And then I made you cupcakes!"
"Right. Those cupcakes saved your ass. I won't go so easy on you next year." He let her go and patted her cheek with a smirk. "So. Birthday dinner. Tonight. You, me, sunset, on the porch. Drinks are on the house." He smirked and vaulted over the rail onto the sand below, blowing her a kiss before he headed back home.
I usually post a teaser at A Different Forest on Mondays. Lots of fun over there! Link in my profile.
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