It's Thanksgiving weekend here in Nova Scotia. This year I am thankful for not only my family and friends but for my online community. I am very thankful for Vagabonda, Beachcomberlc, and IpsitaC77.

Chapter 10

Edward declared it time for rest, partly because he was tired from a long day's work and partly to stop any further irritating conversations between his wife and his friend. There was only so much he could take of their instant camaraderie. He called for Emmett to come in for the night.

Carlisle was surprised when Edward showed him to the bed that had been made up for him. He had been moments away from bunking in the barn as usual, and if Isabella hadn't made a little cough and fixed Edward with a pointed look, Carlisle imagined Edward would have been quite content have him bed down in the hay. Carlisle could not hold back his brewing laughter at his friend's actions.

Edward took no pleasure in being a good host to Carlisle, but he didn't want Isabella to think badly of him; she had gone to all that work anyway. He'd had just about enough of Carlisle tonight and didn't give a fig where the man bunked down; he actually found the idea of Carlisle bunking in the pigpen appealing.

Both men watched as she took her small pitcher of water up the steep ladder to the loft. Edward wanted to smack Carlisle again as he had earlier in the day for looking, as Isabella drew the privacy curtain across her little room. He wondered if he would have to keep a closer eye on his friend. At least Carlisle was prudent enough not to say anything about the fact that the married couple slept apart. Edward did not want to explain his reasoning behind that just yet.

Over a long spell in the outhouse, Edward deliberated through everything that had happened that evening and everything he had learned about his bride. By the time he returned to the house, it was fully dark outside with no moon or stars to guide him. Carlisle was fast asleep in the corner. Edward could see a glow coming from the loft. As he stood fixated, the curtain that should have sheltered her privacy threw Isabella's profile into relief; her silhouette highlighted by the light of a lantern set behind her. When she moved, he was shocked to find she was undressed and washing herself. He quickly cast his eyes down and walked to his bedroom. The image of Isabella was burned into his eyes and it took a long time for Edward to fall asleep. He slept poorly, woke often and had vivid dreams.

Edward was in a foul mood all the next day, everyone could see that. He snapped at Emmett, scowled at Carlisle and ignored Isabella over breakfast.

Carlisle joined him in the fields and waited well after lunch had been delivered before trying to engage him in conversation. Even then, Edward would only give single word answers or grunts. Carlisle knew enough of his friend to let it rest a day or two. Edward would work himself out of this funk and be the ever even-keeled, steady man Carlisle knew his friend to be.

When Edward didn't come out of his mood quickly enough, even after the few days grace he was given, Carlisle decided to put some distance between himself and his friend, and told Edward why in no short terms. Carlisle made his goodbyes to the entire household and journeyed off to town for a few days.

Edward was the only one who was pleased to be rid of him. He wondered at the gall of his friend to suggest that either Edward 'piss or get off the pot' when it came to Isabella. That he should either try to take her as his wife properly or let her go. 'Isabella was too good a woman to waste', Carlisle had stated more than a few times, stoking Edward's sour mood.

There was still the matter of Isabella's debt, not that he had any designs toward selling it. Edward wasn't sure if it was proper to consider wooing her while he still held her debt. He felt as though he could be seen by others as taking advantage of her if she still owed him. Edward was more than satisfied with the work she had done and if he were to sell her debt to someone else to free her for courting, he'd only ask maybe thirteen dollars rather than the sixteen he paid. Edward appreciated that he'd been able to expand the farm much more quickly than previously planned due to Isabella's smart industry around the homestead.

Edward could easily remember the look of admiration in his friend's eye whenever he caught him looking at Isabella. Carlisle had never looked at Rachel in that manner and it rankled Edward something fierce. It made him want to fight his friend for Isabella, but he found that notion ridiculous.

First off, Edward already had her, maybe not in all the ways possible, but legally, she was his wife. Second, he wasn't quite sure yet how he felt about her or how she might feel about him. Thirdly, he had said when they'd married, that it was for gossip's sake only. Edward felt he couldn't go about changing all the rules so soon by swooning over her. What if she didn't want him, or worse, laughed at him for trying? It would be a mighty painful four years if she laughed at him.

Perhaps it was best to leave things as they were for now and not think too much. Edward found it easier to keep a level head about things with Carlisle gone and not filling his head with stuff and nonsense. Isabella had agreed to be a servant, not a wife, and Edward had to admit to himself that he'd no clue how to even make her want to be his bride. He'd never swept a woman off her feet; hell, he'd had to write away for his first wife. He didn't know how to even begin to make Isabella fall for him. Unless he was certain she would return his affections, Edward wasn't going to press the matter.

Having spent four distressing days convincing himself to leave life as it was, Edward wasn't too pleased to have Carlisle come back from town in a clean, brand new suit of clothes, looking fancy and well-to-do and whistling a happy tune. What was even more vexing was that Carlisle was toting an injured dog, draped across his saddle, something sure to tug at the heartstrings of not only Edward's boys, but Isabella's as well. It was an unfair advantage that got his back up and itching for the possibility of a fight.

Just after he started building the farm, Edward had a dog as his companion; an ugly mangy mutt he called Rags, who smelled something awful, but was loyal and protective. When Rachel arrived, she made him get rid of it. Rachel hated dogs, cats too, even though she knew they were mighty useful on a farm. His boys, Emmett mostly, asked all the time if they could have one and it broke Edward's heart to say no. Now with Carlisle looking the hero with the boys for bringing back an injured dog, Edward might be losing any tiny chance he had of winning Isabella's affections. That is, if he should decide to try for them.

Edward could see she had a great affection for the boys, Jasper in particular, and the importance of their happiness could make Carlisle seem better than him, in her eyes. Edward reasoned that if Carlisle was the one to bring joy to the boys, then he would be pleasing Isabella, too. Edward had no idea how to even start trying to please Isabella or how to make her the slightest bit happy. In truth, he wasn't even sure what made him happy.

Edward scowled as Carlisle slid down from his saddle and gently lowered the dog safely to the ground. He felt Jasper tug at his pant leg and heard him whisper 'Doggy'. Edward knew there would be no refusal of the mutt. As soon as it was on solid ground, it fell over, whimpering. Emmett ran to it, begging his father to keep the stricken animal. Edward turned to Isabella, fixing her with a look that tried to convey it was up to her.

"I hope you don't mind," Carlisle looked sincere and concerned, "but I found her on the trail back there and she looks hurt. I can take her over the ridge and deal with her if you don't want her."

"You will do no such thing." Isabella stood firm, her eyes flashing. She wasn't going to ask for Edward's permission, he could see that, and he was happy to give her the responsibility. Both boys let out a whoop of joy.

"Take her into the barn and set her a bed. I'll get some food for the poor thing." Bella started to march back into the house when she stopped short and looked at her husband. She waited until Carlisle and the boys left the yard before speaking.

"I'm sorry if I presumed, Mr. Masen. But the creature needs help." She looked as though she wanted to say more but was holding back.

"No, no it's all right. I don't mind and the boys will love it. Rachel never allowed us to have a dog." Edward had started to notice Isabella's brow furrowed ever so slightly whenever he'd mentioned Rachel. He figured it must be a woman thing. He watched as Isabella resumed her march into the house and could hear her foraging for scraps for the dog. Edward followed and eyed her for a moment.

"Isabella?"

She hummed in response but didn't stop what she was doing to engage with him.

"Do you think you could maybe call me Edward instead of Mr. Masen?"

Bella almost dropped what she was doing and turned to gape at him.

"I mean, we were married almost two months ago and it's getting odd to be so formal, and you call Carlisle by his given name and all." Isabella didn't speak and her heavy silence made him want to keep chattering on despite himself.

"I don't mean to offend you, if that is the tradition you were raised with, coming from money and all. But it strikes me a bit strange to call your husband by his last name and title, when you're living side by side in the same house everyday." Edward willed himself to stop talking and sucked in a lungful of air through his teeth. He felt like an idiot and probably looked like one, too. He thought about walking away and pretending this lopsided conversation never happened, when she finally spoke.

"If you wish, Edward. Please, call me Bella; I'd much prefer that."

Relieved, Edward relaxed, running his hand over his face and into his hair while letting out a deep sigh.

"Can I ask why you never said anything before?" He asked before his brain could catch up with his mouth. He kind of feared her answer; he hadn't meant to ask and was more nervous now than before. After all, what if the answer was because she didn't like him? Edward watched Bella's face as she gathered her thoughts. When she spoke, he was taken aback by what she said.

"I wasn't sure how familiar you allowed your employees to be in addressing you. I felt it better to err on the side of caution rather than presume to use your given name. It seemed more prudent to be formal until I was invited." Her tone was a bit haughty and it took him a minute to figure out what she was saying.

"But, you're not my employee, Bella, you're my wife." He didn't understand why she didn't see the distinction. He didn't think he treated her like a servant, really. Not since the first few days, at least.

Bella took the bowl of food she had prepared for the dog and started for the barn. She gave him a single word response that puzzled him and left him thinking for the rest of the afternoon.

"Indeed."

Emmett and Jasper spent the rest of the day in the barn with the dog. Jasper had to be picked up and carried out at dinner time. They named her Leah, and fought over who got to pet and hold her the most. There was nothing wrong with her that a good meal, a long rest and a bath couldn't cure. Edward gave her a once over, just in case, but he was satisfied. She was lousy with burrs and had a deep, but healing, cut on her front paw. Emmett wanted her to sleep in his room and went so far as to ask if Jasper could move out to make room for Leah. For fear of fleas, the dog spent the first few days and nights in the barn. Emmett and Jasper supervised the building of a small house for her, as Bella braided a sturdy mat for Leah to keep her warm. Carlisle and Edward placed the house to one side of the porch and Leah happily moved into her new home. She became a welcome addition to the small family, with it's odd make-up and she fit in perfectly.

Carlisle, not having found a woman to court in town, stayed on to help Edward with the farmwork. Edward tried hard to swallow his jealousy at the way Carlisle engaged with Bella. Their easy friendship bothered him, but he had no clue how to go about becoming friends with Bella. Edward invariably said or did the wrong thing when trying to talk to her. Words felt awkward and foreign in his mouth. The back of his neck would be drenched in sweat whenever he got up the gumption to speak to Bella. Edward found it much easier to sit back and listen, hoping some of Carlisle's effortless banter would rub off on him.

It didn't.

AN: This story is loosely based on the film, Rachel and The Stranger, RKO Radio Pictures c. 1948.

Thank you for reading.