Spirit to Flesh: A Twific by LittleWing, betad by the glorious and triumphant Jessica1971
A/N: I need to acknowledge here that, for this chapter, I have used words or phrases that I got from the movie The Love Letter. No plagiarism intended; they were just too perfect to leave out. Hope you like….
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or The Love Letter. I'm just playin around and havin a ball. No infringement intended. No money made. Viva Le Fan Fiction!
Chapter 10: On the Train to Boston
Charles had insisted that Bella come with him. That was the only reason she was getting on this train. Bella would never have left her desk – her connection to Edward –voluntarily, but she could not think of an excuse that was compelling enough to stop her father from going. For Charles, the other alternative, leaving her in the house alone for two weeks, was simply out of the question.
After her encounter in the woods with Edward and the letter she received from him the very next morning, Bella had summoned Mr. Newton to the house to deliver her refusal. She had felt both exhilarated and sobered by the disappointed look on Michael's face. In his disapproval, she saw the final door to a conventional existence close to her forever. She knew she would never marry. Neither would Edward. They would be alone together and forever alone. The thought made her proud and frightened by the strength of her own will.
Edward and Bella's repeated attempts to recreate their moment in the woods had all failed, much to their deep disappointment. To compensate, they wrote each other constantly, 2-3 letters a day. Their experience in the woods had freed them both. They were determined to be in each others lives in whatever way time allowed.
For Bella, the sole redeeming activity that would result from going to Boston was that she would finally get to take the picture of herself that Edward had been begging her to send. "I want to kiss you before I go to bed each night and wake up to you smiling at me," he'd written. She could not deny him anything. Edward had promised to send his own picture as soon as he received hers as "an incentive not to back out," he'd said. She'd laughed at his words, pleased by how well he knew her.
Her promise and her father's stubbornness were why she boarded the 11 am train to Boston. Edward had tried to be encouraging when she mentioned her fear that their connection would be severed while she was away.
"Don't worry, love," he had written. "I will love you forever. Even if you never receive another letter from me again, always know that I am here, loving you and only you. Never doubt this. We are eternal."
His words only made her more desperate to stay, to not tempt fate. What would I do without him? she wondered.
Bella barely spoke to her father during the first hour of the trip as she stared out the window, watching all that was familiar to her slip away.
Charles knew that she was upset, but could not imagine that she would have been happier at home alone. He had noticed that she wrote almost continuously since she had rejected Mr. Newton, and presumed she must be struggling with doubts.
No, she would not have been better at home alone, Charles told himself. He hoped the change of scenery would lift her spirits.
After an hour of excruciating silence, Charles began to grow restless.
"Bella, would you mind if I retired to the men's lounge for a moment?"
"No," Bella replied. "I think I'll find the dining car and have a cup of tea."
"I could accompany you," Charles offered hopefully.
"No, father. I'll just be reading. You go ahead. I'll be fine."
Charles stared at Bella briefly before nodding once and heading for the nearest porter to instruct him to keep an eye on his daughter. After her father had left, Bella grabbed her book and moved carefully down the aisle. Thankfully, the dining car was not crowded. Bella was in no mood for chatter and noise. The porter showed her to a corner booth, diagonally across from a young man engrossed in his newspaper.
"Good day, miss. What can I get for you this afternoon?"
"Tea, please." Bella's voice met an echo as she and the young man next to her made their identical request at the exact same time.
Their eyes shifted towards the unexpected sound and met.
Green. That was her first thought when she took in the man in front of her. Bella blinked to be sure that in fact his eyes were an impossibly beautiful emerald green, set deep behind thick long lashes. They stared back at her, unwavering.
"Good afternoon," he said. His expression was serious, though not intimidating. Although Bella was fairly certain they were similar in age, his voice rang out deeper, smoother than she expected. He looked as if he was in deep thought as his eyes roamed over her face.
"Good afternoon," she replied. When he didn't speak again immediately, Bella tore her eyes away, pretending to read her book. She didn't want to embarrass herself by staring. She could feel her palms become sweaty inside her gloves and removed them carefully under the table before rubbing her hands conspicuously over her dress.
As she returned her hands to the table, Bella heard him clear his throat before saying, "Are you taking your tea alone?"
Bella slid her bookmark in place and closed her book slowly. She wanted to give her heart rate time to slow down so her face would not flush immediately when she met his gaze again.
"Yes," she answered simply just before meeting his gaze and smiling despite herself. His answering smile was devastating. His whole face seemed to light up from within as his full lips curled up and turned slightly to one side to reveal a hint of his white front teeth. She had never seen a beautiful man before. This was a first. All at once, Bella felt she finally understood the concept of "swooning".
He brought a large, graceful hand up to rake back his disarray of hair and let out a short chuckle. "Obviously...I suppose. So am I. Where are you from?"
"Willoughby." Bella had decided not to tax her shaky voice or breathing with multiple word answers.
"I see," he answered, looking down. He seemed to be searching for something to say in the wood of his table. Bella relaxed as she began to understand that perhaps he was as much at a loss as she.
"And you?" she offered, feeling calmed by his brief moment of awkwardness.
"Chicago. I'm from Chicago. Ah...forgive me, I'm sorry to be so rude. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Anthony Masen," he said, nodding slightly with his hand over his heart.
So this is what the books mean by charm, Bella thought before responding.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Masen. I'm Isabella Swan."
Anthony leaned forward then and asked in a low voice that was a bit too serious for the question, "Ms. Swan, would you mind if I joined you for tea?"
"No, Mr. Masen, not at all."
Bella watched him as he unfolded from his booth, tall and lean, and slid into the seat directly in front of her. His brown wool suit highlighted the bronze of his hair perfectly and he smelled like sandalwood and vanilla.
"Anthony," he said to her as he set his paper on the table. "My father is Mr. Masen. Please, call me Anthony."
"Alright Anthony, but only if you call me Bella," each of them smiling openly at the other.
"What were you reading?" Bella asked while their tea and scones were being served. "You seemed so engrossed."
"I was following the daily accounts from the war. I plan to join as soon as I'm 18," Anthony explained with obvious enthusiasm.
"Oh," Bella replied as she turned her attention to her tea, trying to hide her sudden disappointment. She had grown up with a father who willingly shared his disdain for war, not as one who sat on the sidelines, but one who had seen its horror first hand. "And when do you turn 18?"
"My birthday is in two months," Anthony said, watching her shift in mood. "You don't approve." When Bella met his gaze, she was surprised to see mirth and playfulness there. His lips twitched with the effort he was expending to suppress his smile. Bella decided then to risk saying what she really thought, out loud, for once.
"I confess I have never understood the male propensity for rushing off to war."
"You think it's ridiculous to want to prove ones self?" he countered with the first inklings of a genuine smile breaking through. Bella found herself slightly confused. Was he goading her on, or did he really want to know what she thought?
"Mr. Ma…Anthony, I'm sure when you asked to join me for tea, you did not expect a debate."
"I'm delighted to say that I did not know what to expect when I asked for the pleasure of your company, but I will try my best to be equal to the challenge before me."
Bella laughed at his characterization of her, and in turn, so did he – a soft, deep, satisfied chuckle. The sound pleased and soothed her in a way that felt vaguely familiar, yet completely unexpected.
"Alright then, since you've asked, I do respect the need to prove ones self, but I think thousands of people do that every day without killing each other." She hesitated for a moment before Anthony leaned forward and waved his hands for her to continue. "I think the tendency to equate efficiency in battle with worthiness is uniquely male."
Bella was aware that this was the most honest she'd ever been with another person, outside of Edward. In the back of her mind, she wondered why she was sharing her true opinions with this beautiful stranger and why it didn't feel like a risk at all to do so.
"Spoken like a woman," Anthony said with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, it is true," Bella said, sticking her chin out slightly. "Spoken like a woman who must prove herself every day without the benefit or opportunity to bear arms."
Anthony nestled back into his seat, looking thoroughly impressed. Her smile could not fit into her teacup.
"You are very kind in your articulation of our male shortcomings. My mother just calls my desire to join the war foolhardy. I have this debate with her almost daily, but I dare say she has never put it quite as eloquently as you."
Bella blushed slightly at the thought of his mother and her having this in common.
"I'm sure you can understand her reluctance. Are you her only son?" Bella asked.
"Her only child," Anthony clarified quietly as he dunked his scone in his tea before finally looking up at Bella in silence for several moments.
"Forgive my boldness. I don't mean to stare, it's just….as soon as you walked in, you looked so familiar to me, and yet I'm sure we have never met. As it stands, I can not reconcile the absolute conviction that I know you with the fact that I do not."
Rather than shrinking from his initial gaze, Bella had found herself meeting it, without shyness or fear. His gaze on her felt natural, though she was vaguely aware that it should have felt penetrating. When he finally spoke, it was as if he had read her very thoughts. She knew him, even though he was a complete stranger to her.
"I don't know," she whispered, "but I feel the same."
Though his eyes did not lose their intensity, he seemed to relax at her words. Before they could speak again, Bella felt the train slow down. Anthony quickly glanced at his pocket watch.
"We're here already?" he mused in disbelief. Anthony rose from his seat with confusion and disappointment clearly written on his face, before he refocused his attention on Bella.
"With your permission, Bella, I would very much like to write to you, when I can." Bella noticed he had extended his right hand to her to help her out of the booth. She stared at it for a moment before reaching her hand up to take it, just as she heard the sound of a very angry Charles bursting into the dining car.
"This is what you call keeping an eye on my daughter?" he hissed at the porter before pushing past him and striding purposefully towards Bella. As he walked towards her, Charles took in the sight of his daughter in the middle of some kind of exchange with a strange young man.
Anthony dropped his hand and moved quickly to the side to give Charles full access to his daughter.
"Bella, there you are. I've been looking all over for you!" Charles glanced over her quickly as he spoke. She seemed to be unharmed.
"Please, father, I'm perfectly well. I've just been here chatting with a fellow traveler." Bella waved her hand in Anthony's direction. "Father, allow me to introduce Mr. Anthony Masen from Chicago."
Anthony extended his hand as Charles took in the young man. He seemed respectable.
"A pleasure to meet you, sir. I am sorry to have worried you."
"No. No trouble at all. Charles Swan, pleased to meet you, son." Charles was about to release his hand before he remembered something. "Masen, did you say? I believe I met your father in the lounge. Lively fellow he is."
"Yes, sir. Yes, he is," Anthony said with a smile.
With no need to use his pistol, Charles turned his attention back to his daughter. "Bella, we'll need to gather our things. We'll be coming up on Boston shortly."
As Bella took her father's hand to leave, she remembered Anthony's request.
"Oh, Mr. Masen," she said with a knowing smile, "I would welcome your correspondence. Best of luck to you in your endeavors."
"I wish you the same," Anthony replied before bidding them a good day and quickly exiting the car.
A/N: To my awesome beta, Jessica1971, who pimps the hell out of my story everywhere she can and new reader, beowulfgirl, this performance is dedicated to you...1-2-3-4 - insert visual of gyrating hips in gold sequence pants (muffin-top optional) - "If you want my body AND you think I'm sexy, come on baby - let me know......danga doh danga doh danga doh." Hip thrust left! Hip thrust right! All together now...Huugnh!" Translation: Please review, otherwise I'll never get out of these pants!