Bella
My hands were sufficiently caked in mud.
I stood up and grabbed the rag beside the tin bucket that was now thankfully empty of bulbs. I managed to get most of the dirt off but I still had a dark brown tint up to my wrists.
Sighing, I tucked the rag into the front pocket of my jean overalls. I looked down and rolled my eyes before rolling up the hem on my right leg. They belonged to Charlie once upon a time. I still remembered being fifteen and having to roll the pant legs up to just below the knee to get them to fit.
The white tank I wore underneath was damp and when the breeze blew by I felt my slick skin tingle.
When I looked up there was a man standing by the corner of the house. His back was to me and I immediately knew he wasn't from around here nor was he here to fish or hunt. He must be Mr. Cullen.
I walked over to him, my sneakers silent as I stepped over the soft dirt.
"Hi, I'm Bella, can I help you?"
He turned quickly, his eyes widening and I almost blanched when I saw his face.
Dear God he was handsome. In his late twenties or early thirties. He had an air about him that spoke of control. His face, while beautiful, was severe. He looked at me with a blank expression but he couldn't control his eyes. They were surprised. The olive green irises were almost glassy but still bright. He extended his hand and I looked at it for a moment before I gripped it with my own.
"I'm Edward Cullen, or I guess Masen now."
I grinned at him and he looked down at his hand which now had a film of dirt on it.
"Oh, I'm so sorry I was just planting some bulbs and I-"
He looked at his hand oddly for a moment before clenching his jaw and reaching into his pocket for a…a handkerchief.
Never in all my life had I ever seen a man carry a handkerchief. A bandana, a rag, but never a perfectly white and square piece of clothe …and it had an anagram. Oh dear Lord.
He wiped his hand and I watched in fascination. The more he rubbed the dirtier that pristine white became and when he was done he looked over and threw it in the open hefty bag that had trimmings in it. He threw it away; he threw away a silky, anagrammed handkerchief.
That thing must have cost him at least forty dollars and he just threw it away.
"It's quite alright. I apologize for disturbing you. I believe Marshal Waylon is looking for you."
I looked around and rolled my eyes. Marshal Waylon was probably in my kitchen right now going through the fridge and looking for a cold one. I smiled at him and motioned for us to walk toward the front of the apartments.
"You must be exhausted. Let me show you to your apartment."
He nodded and followed me. I was introduced to his body guard Emmett McCarty and I saw Jake digging in his truck for something. My body stiffened when I realized he was here. Of course he was going to be here. He was a Marshal now. It's what he did.
I walked slowly, waiting for Mr. Cul-, Mr. Masen to follow me up the small flight of stairs to the first floor. I hadn't been expecting him to bring someone along. I was under the impression he was alone. They would have to share the apartment until Mr. Hogan left. He was set to leave on Friday, four days left of his rental. He was the only single man who rented out my apartments and he always struck me as a very sad man. From what little he's said to me and the other guests I had gathered that he'd lost his son many years ago.
"I didn't know you'd be bringing Mr. McCarty-"
"Actually lets just drop the sir names shall we? Just call me Em."
I laughed and nodded at him then glanced at Mr. Masen."
"You don't strike me as the type of man who enjoys being called Eddie." I teased.
He glared at me and nodded tightly.
"You would be correct Miss Swan."
I suddenly felt like a scolded child and dropped my eyes. I opened the door and waited until they were inside.
It was strange seeing people in this place again. I felt my blood running cold and my hands become clammy.
This was wrong. This was so wrong. But this was how I was going to let go. It would still be our place. It would still be our apartments. I didn't need the place anymore. I couldn't make a shrine to him and I couldn't kick out another renter because I had to make room. No reason a perfectly good place had to go to waste.
"As I was saying, I didn't know you were bringing anyone so I just have this one place available. When Mr. Hogan leaves on Friday you can move to his room. It's right above this unit."
They nodded as they sized the place up.
"Well the grand tour is going to be somewhat short I'm afraid. It's not a penthouse but it's cozy. The kitchen and dining area are open to each other and we're… standing in the living room. Down the hall is a bedroom and office area and the bathroom is right between them. There's a small futon in the office and it folds out, so does this sofa in here. It's a sleeper. I know it's not much but I've cleaned the place from top to bottom and stocked the fridge. There are towels in the bathroom and sheets in the hall closet. Plenty of space in the bedroom closets. The bed is made up and there are dishes and plates and just about anything you'd need. If there's something you do need then just let me know. I'm right across the hall."
By this point I was ringing my hands and shifting. I was extremely uncomfortable with them being in here. There were too many people, too many people in the middle of too many memories.
"I uh, I make breakfast every Sunday morning for everyone and we eat in the rec room which is through the third door in the hallway, right between your door and mine. The TV in here gets the local channels but nothing else, I'm sorry about that but it's got a DVD player and I've got some movies you can borrow…"
"How often will we be able to go to town?" Mr. Masen's icy voice broke through my rambling.
"Um, I go once a week to get groceries and whatever else the place needs. You can come with me."
He nodded and I could see he was not pleased with the place. I was filled for a moment with irrational anger. How dare he look down on this place, how dare he-
But then again, he was ripped from his life because of something that wasn't his fault. I didn't know the details but anyone in witness protection did choose to be there. He was probably just in shock from the change. He was obviously used to nicer arrangements and this place wasn't the Hilton.
"Um, well I'll let you get settled and all that."
I bolted from the room before I could snatch the keys back from Waylon and demand they leave. This was what he wanted. This was how it was supposed to work. I was doing this for him. I was carrying on his legacy.
I shut the door to my apartment behind me and slid to the floor, silent tears tracking down my face.
