In the morning, Edward called room service and ordered a light breakfast for two - which equated to a lavish breakfast for one - and fed it to me in bed. There are worse things than lying naked on 800 thread count sheets and being fed French toast and fresh strawberries by a beautiful, equally naked man who finds the sight of you eating deeply arousing. I finished a cup of peppermint tea with wildflower honey, and we reprised the previous night, then washed each other in the multiple-spray walk-in shower. Life was good.
I remembered reading in some magazine about certain men who had trouble reconciling sex and romance with marriage. They would be enchanted with their girlfriends, only to become disinterested once they'd tied the knot. As I gradually learned, Edward was almost the exact opposite. Maybe he was still carrying around an idealized view of marriage from his youth; or maybe that's just how he saw things. Either way, to him marriage was a Promised Land where desire and guilt finally parted ways, leaving only love and delight. I adored married Edward.
Edward was dressed in seconds, and waited patiently as I selected clothing from the suitcase Alice had packed. I was relieved to see she'd taken into account that we were going on a road trip to Alaska, as opposed to a series of Tony Award after-parties, and had chosen items even I couldn't take exception to. Edward watched approvingly as I put on the lacy new underthings Alice had packed, then slipped on a short sleeved cotton knit dress with a pretty beaded belt, and a pair of leather sandals. The dress may have been a designer original that cost thousands, for all I knew, but it was comfortable and functional. I brushed my hair and tied it back in a ponytail.
"You look lovely," Edward said.
He picked up the phone, informed the front desk that we would be checking out in ten minutes, and led me out the door. "They'll take care of the luggage," he informed me.
Sure enough, when we walked out the front exit, our rental car was parked there, the suitcases neatly packed in the trunk. The valet smiled and returned the car keys, and Edward thanked him and handed him a tip. I'd probably never get used to being waited on hand and foot, but hanging around with the Cullens had taught me to adopt a nonchalant manner in these circumstances. I was still a little amused by the way the hotel indulged its guests.
We returned to the highway, continuing north. "Now that we're getting away from the larger cities," Edward said, "we'll probably have to stay in simpler lodgings."
"Like a tent?"
He grinned. "No. Like a mid-range hotel. Possibly a guest cabin."
"Simpler is fine," I said. "I'm pretty low maintenance. Apart from having to be saved from deadly peril every few weeks."
He laughed. "You really are a danger magnet, it's true. It's my pleasure and privilege to protect you from your own extraordinary bad luck, but enough is enough. Let's hope we've put all that behind us."
A short distance up the highway, we drove onto another ferry, this one over a narrow strait, but still taking over an hour to cross. "I just realized," I said, "this is the first time I've been in a foreign country."
"The first of many, I hope," Edward said. "You once told me you looked forward to travelling with me after we were married."
"I do," I said, "but then, even doing ordinary things with you is special." I turned red, but I had no real trouble getting the words out. I was a changed woman.
"It's the same for me, love."
I started to yawn around the time we reached Chilliwack. "You didn't sleep well last night," Edward observed.
"I slept extremely well. I just didn't sleep very long."
He shot me a very suggestive look. "I take full responsibility for that."
"Well, I may share the blame somewhat," I allowed, and he laughed.
"Would you like to try and sleep a little? The seat tilts back."
"If you don't mind, maybe I will."
"Please." He smirked again. "You may have your rest disrupted yet again tonight."
"The things we married women have to put up with!" I murmured, reclining the seat.
He chuckled and turned the radio to a station that played ambient music, and I conked out almost immediately.
The sensation of the car coming to a stop woke me. I looked around and saw that Edward had pulled in at a rest stop and gas station. "Sorry to wake you, love. The gas tank was nearly empty."
"It's okay." I adjusted the seat and sat up. "I feel much better. Where are we?"
"Hope."
"Excuse me?"
"A little town along the Fraser River, called Hope." He gestured to the building beyond the gas tanks. "Do you need to stop?"
"Yes, actually." I got out of the car, stretched, and crossed the parking lot. "Be right back." I used the ladies' room and bought a drink, a little packet of pretzels, and a couple of post cards, using my Cullen Treasury money for the first time. I studied the half English, half French label on the pretzel package with interest.
Edward had finished filling up when I came back. "Can you take my picture?"
He raised an eyebrow. "At the gas station?"
"How about over there?" I pointed across the street, to the scenic, tree-lined river. "I want some snapshots of our trip to email to Mom."
"All right." We crossed the highway and he took two pictures of my standing on the river bank, then I took one of him, and we ran back to the car.
"Pretzels? Don't you want more than that for lunch?" Edward asked as I slid back into the passenger seat. "There's a café right next door."
"No, thanks. I had that big breakfast. I think I'll just hold out until dinner."
"As you prefer. But please let me know if you get hungry along the way."
"I will."
"If we can make 100 Mile House by tonight, there's a fairly good hotel there, and some places where we could get dinner."
"How far is that?"
"About another three hours."
"No problem."
We continued north. I finished my pretzels and dug through my purse to find my lip balm. "Do you always carry a book with you?" Edward asked, noticing the worn copy of The Great Gatsby in my handbag.
"Always. Since I was about ten years old." I shrugged. "I guess you could call it a habit."
"Did you bring a book with you to our wedding?" he teased.
"That was one of the few times I didn't. I was taking a big chance," I said thoughtfully. "What if I'd lost interest in the proceedings, and wanted something to read?"
He laughed long and hard. "I am very much obliged to you," he said formally, "for giving the event your undivided attention."
"Don't mention it."
We discussed The Great Gatsby, and F. Scott Fitzgerald, leading the conversation toward their years in Paris. Edward told me about the times he'd visited Paris, and we talked about going there together some time. I, in turn, made him laugh with stories about my own limited travels, including a day trip with Mom to Tombstone to see the OK Corral. When a song one of us liked came on the radio, we turned it up and sang along, then resumed our conversation. Three hours passed quickly, and before I knew it, Edward was pulling into the parking lot of a large hotel, one from a hotel chain I recognized as medium-high end.
He looked at me a little apologetically. "Is this all right?"
"Of course," I said, surprised. "Why not?"
"It's a bit more basic than last night's accommodations."
"Edward, for goodness' sake! When Mom and I went on vacation, we'd stay in the cheapest budget hotels we could find. The place we stayed at last night was great, but I'm not going to fall apart if I'm not constantly in the lap of luxury."
"I realize that, of course," he said. "I suppose I enjoy providing you with the best of everything, now that I finally have the opportunity."
I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled and hopped out of the car to claim our room key. We carried our own luggage up to the second floor, and found the room simply decorated but large and comfortable. Edward set the suitcases on the luggage stand. "Are you hungry?"
"Starving. Just give me five minutes." I went into the bathroom for a human minute and to wash up a little and tidy my hair, then stepped back out and retrieved my purse. "Let's go."
We returned to the lobby and Edward approached the desk. "Can you recommend a place for dinner?" he asked the clerk. He suggested a diner closer to the centre of town.
"Just follow the highway 'til you pass the propane place," the desk clerk explained. "It's on your left. Doesn't look like much, but the food's really good."
We took his advice. The food was scrumptious, and I ate my own dinner and snuck about a third of Edward's. We had a great time watching the people in the diner, speculating about who they were and where they'd come from, and laughing over the inexplicable decor of the restaurant, which featured large, colourful murals of Greyhound buses, wheelbarrows, and other unromantic subjects. Before we left, Edward asked our waitress to take a picture of both of us in front of the wheelbarrow painting.
Back at the hotel, I borrowed Edward's laptop, and sent Mom a short email describing our trip so far. I attached the photos and hit send. I sent an even shorter message to Charlie, who'd promised to start using email in spite of his technophobe nature, and embedded the snapshots into the message since he'd probably never figure out how to access them otherwise.
After a moment's consideration, I send a third email, to my friend Rachel Black. I asked how she was doing, described the wedding, briefly, and the honeymoon road trip, added some pictures, then wrote, I'm sorry you, your dad and Jacob couldn't be at the wedding, but of course I understand. I hope we're still friends. How are Billy and Jacob doing? I tacked on thanks for her last book recommendation, added one of my own, and sent the message.
I got up and stretched, and Edward looked up from the book he'd picked up. "All done?"
"Yep. I thought I'd take a shower before bed." I walked toward the bathroom, removing clothing as I went. I looked back at Edward, who had put down his book and was watching me intently. "Coming?"
We had another wonderful night together, beginning in the shower and ending in the bed. I slept like a log, woke up at six and sleepily molested Edward with his full and freely given consent, went back to sleep and didn't wake up again until nine. "G'morning," I mumbled, snuggling closer against him.
"Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?"
"I did." I sat up. "I'm sorry you have to wait around for hours every night, while I'm unconscious."
He smiled. "I don't mind in the least. Watching over you while you sleep has always been something I felt privileged to do. Besides," he held up his book, "I can keep myself occupied."
I looked at the book's cover. "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn?" I asked dubiously.
"Someone left it in a dresser drawer."
I nodded. "Sure. I once read a John Grisham novel just because I found a copy in a laundromat."
"How was it?"
"So-so." I climbed out of bed and padded barefoot to the bathroom, returning a minute or two later and repacking my toothbrush. "Do you never have to brush your teeth at all?" I asked out of idle curiosity.
"The venom makes it completely unnecessary. My teeth couldn't possibly be any cleaner than they are."
"I see." I started looking through my suitcase, tossing a blue satin bra and matching boy shorts onto the bed. Edward helped me put those on, and I found a pair of what looked like simple beige cotton pants, but which had an unfamiliar Italian label, and a dark blue knit top whose label was blank except for the hand written notation 'Pour Mlle Céline.' After pulling on socks and a pair of walking shoes, I stood up, ready to go.
"The hotel offers breakfast in the lobby," Edward said, "but probably nothing spectacular." Sure enough, the offerings were limited. I had a glass of orange juice and a little plastic bowl of cornflakes. I dumped my styrofoam breakfast dishes, and we checked out, packed our suitcases in the trunk, and drove on.
"We'll stop for a decent lunch, whenever you feel ready," Edward promised.
We continued our conversation about books as we drove along the highway. We covered favourite characters from literature; favourite heros and villains; disputed most overrated novel; compared notes on funniest, scariest, and most touching novel; disagreed about Wuthering Heights and were of one mind on everything by Eudora Welty; and argued the merits of science fiction, fantasy fiction, murder mysteries, and ghost stories. From there, the discussion wandered freely.
In the early afternoon, we came to another town, a slightly larger one, where we refilled the gas tank and had lunch at a place Edward had looked up in some tour guide. I had a salad and Edward a grilled chicken sandwich - which meant, or course, that I ate both. "It really is beautiful up here," I said, gazing out the window of the restaurant.
"Not too green?" he joked, recalling my objections to Forks.
"It seems a little different here. Or maybe this kind of landscape is growing on me."
He nodded, seeming to hesitate before speaking again. "Are you finding the trip a little dull?"
"Dull? No, not at all," I said in surprise. "Are you?"
"Quite the opposite. But this is your honeymoon as well. I want you to enjoy it."
"I'm great." I wasn't sure where this was coming from.
"You know, you can suggest changes in our itinerary. There's been a great deal of steady driving, maybe too much. We could stop whenever you like. Of course, there aren't many diversions in much of the area we're heading through, especially if you don't care for hunting or fishing."
"No. I like it, actually. I'm glad we decided to drive." I found the slow pace and lack of distraction soothing. Edward and I had practically unlimited private time to talk, and I was learning details about his life, his experiences, his point of view, that I hadn't been aware of before. He asked me questions about my life as well, reminding me a little of when we first knew each other, and he had peppered me with endless questions about my likes and dislikes, my life, my family, my thoughts and feelings. I explained all this to him. "It's a chance to get to know each other better. Back home, there always seemed to be distractions. I'm loving every minute."
He nodded, satisfied. "That's precisely the way I feel. But I was afraid it might be too monotonous for you, or simply too physically tiring to sit still for so long."
"Actually, I would appreciate a short break to get out of the car and stretch my legs, maybe every hour or so."
"Of course, love. You should have said something earlier."
"I was enjoying our talk too much. But I wouldn't mind pulling over from time to time. Other than that, everything is great. This is the perfect honeymoon." I felt momentary sympathy for all the newlyweds who'd opted for a Caribbean resort.
We talked and laughed and sang and flirted our way up the highway, stopping occasionally, as requested, for short breaks at roadside picnic grounds, beside little lakes or streams, or whenever we spotted an odd or interesting or funny tourist attraction. I took pictures of anything I thought would interest or amuse my parents. We made one longer stop in a small town whose public library was having a used book sale. I could never turn those down.
In the early evening, we reached a town called Smithers. "Like the guy in The Simpsons," I noted.
"I doubt there's a connection," Edward said drily.
Smithers was a little larger than Forks but less dreary, more picturesque. "My mom would like this place," I said.
"Would she?"
"Well, for a couple of hours. It's like some stage set of a hinterland small town."
Edward had identified the best lodgings in town, and brought us there directly. We checked into one of the hotel's two suites, with a mountain view and, to my satisfaction, a large whirlpool bath. We gathered bathing suits and took a quick, chilly dip in a crystal-clear lake at a public beach just off the highway, hurried back to the hotel to change, then set out in search of dinner. And then back to the hotel and a hot bath for two.
The following day was sunny, and promised to remain so. "Bad weather," Edward said, looking out the window of our hotel room. "At least for practical purposes." After checking out, he had me go out and bring the car around to the front entrance, which was protected by a sort of drive-through canopy which shielded him from the sun. He looked a little upset as I moved to the passenger side and let him take the wheel.
"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.
"No, of course not. Why?"
"You looked annoyed when I picked you up."
"Not with you, love! No, it just goes against the grain a little, to have you run errands for me. To send you to fetch the car."
I laughed. "Edward, please don't worry about it."
He sighed. "It will be the same throughout the day. I won't be able to leave the car if, for example, we need gas."
"I can manage," I said drily.
He grinned at last. "You've married a very old-fashioned man, I'm afraid."
"Well, it's too late to do anything about that now."
I did, in fact, get out and fill the gas tank, making Edward laugh by pretending to struggle with an unwieldy fuel hose and barely make the long trek from the car to the station attendant and back. He laughed even harder when I tripped for real and had to catch myself on a display of engine oil.
Since Edward couldn't leave the car to accompany me into a restaurant, I proposed another picnic. I bought food to go and we drove into a state park until we'd found the shadiest, most secluded picnic area we could imagine. There we talked as I ate, about everything and nothing; and then took a long walk through the dense, wildflower-strewn forest.
It was still sunny by the time we stopped for the night. Edward avoided the sun by having me drop him off at the hotel's front door and park the car, then join him. We limited our outings to a swim in the hotel's indoor pool, and bypassed the restaurant question by ordering room service, finding ourselves very comfortably settled in for the night.
The rest of our road trip followed much the same routine. There were no exciting recreational activities of the kind honeymooning couples supposedly sought out; no scuba diving, no nightclubs, not even a ride in a hot air balloon. Just beautiful scenery, unhurried travel, undisturbed privacy, unlimited time to talk together and grow closer. The days passed unmarked, as we had no deadlines to meet. I'd always been happy whenever I was with Edward, but, what with one thing and another, had rarely been completely at peace with him, as I was now.
