Chapter 10

Edward and I walked through the woods not saying much now. I led, he followed. When I slipped in the mud, he touched me, lightly, his hand pulling away slowly, fingers writing on my skin. The water was silver as it dripped on us from the trees overhead, as it slid on our skin and soaked us through so our clothes stuck and outlined our very flesh. I moved in a new awareness, how he might view me, curved, small, and his tall, straight nearness.

I slid the ever-present hair band from my wrist, and while still walking, gathered my heavy wet hair high on my head and twisted it there in a dark shiny mess. I knew he watched me, considered everything about me. I felt his heat on the back of my neck, and all over. For the first time in my life I felt awakened from a long coma existence.

There was also the sadness, my father, my friends, the cats, Jacob Black's audacious behavior. I was seeking my own permission to feel something else, so all of the inner chains were rattling.

But those dark patches weren't the greatest things. The greatest thing was this energy I felt from the weight of Edward's silent gaze, from the sound of his footsteps matching my own, from the occasional low, husky comment, yes the shock of the deep timbre of his voice. And the discovery of his presence. In my world.

Too soon the woods thinned and we reached my yard. When we rounded the oven, there was Cuddles stretched out in all her orange glory, licking her paw. I ran to her and lifted her in my arms, twirling in a circle, just so relieved.

"I'll be damned," Edward said, his hands on his hips. "Maybe the other one will follow soon."

"I hope so," I said, nuzzling my cat, but looking at Edward. "Thank you."

He shook his head, but his eyes. We weren't casual now.

"When will you be speaking to Black?"

"Oh, fifteen minutes or so."

He laughed. "Not one to procrastinate."

I wouldn't go that far, but this couldn't wait.

"Anger is a great motivator."

"Can I go along? I've already spoken to him once today, but it wasn't really a constructive exchange."

"You're welcomed to come, but I can handle Jacob," I said. I didn't go into the history, the brief tragic mistake in thinking we could be more. I was ashamed at how clueless I'd been, working so hard to believe that we were meant to be more than friends. Now we weren't even that. Especially now.

We agreed to change clothes and meet in five minutes at my truck. Edward wanted to drive, but he was honing in on my conversation with Jacob, so I was driving. I suspected he wanted to somehow protect me from Jacob, but that notion was misplaced. I was serious when I told him I could handle Jacob.

How long had I put up with Jacob's sore-headedness. Ever since Dad had passed. Once he got the chief position and didn't have Dad to answer to, his self-importance had outgrown his character.

As predicted, I stood at the front desk at Forks Police Station fifteen minutes later. Edward stood beside me. I knew this would anger Jacob. He'd shown his suspicion of Edward's potential in my life the last time we'd spoken here about the cats, and again at my house during the bar-be-que. That night Jacob had been limited by Leah's presence to pull his usual harassment, but he'd watched me without apology anytime I'd moved around Edward. Or just moved in general. I didn't know why Leah put up with him. She was much younger. But they'd had the longest engagement. There still wasn't a wedding date. I only hoped it would give her more time to think.

Jacob took his time coming to the desk. He was on the phone, so he swiveled his chair so his back was to us. In Forks, the chief's desk was in the open. Dad always liked that. You couldn't stick him in some office away from things. He liked seeing who was coming in the door, if he was there at all. He always thought his job was to be out in the community.

When Jacob finally got off the phone, he took his time sauntering to the front desk. I was glad Angela wasn't around, it would make it easier to speak my mind.

I pretended to be patient, arms folded, waiting. Edward stood with his hands in his pockets.

"I know what this is about," Jacob said, his already dark-skinned face flushing even darker. He'd brought a stack of papers with him holding them like a shield in front of his chest.

"I can't find one of my cats," I said.

"Your cats are fine. We went along the rocks where they breed and the old ladies feed them." He said tiredly.

"This isn't what we spoke about," Edward began.

"You said that yesterday,' Jacob answered intensely, glaring at Edward. "And your lawyer said that. I have the jurisdiction on how to proceed. This county does not have the money, manpower, or time to dote on these cats. I thought I made myself clear. Now you've got her all worked up…."

I reached across the desk and poked his chest, right through the papers. "Don't you put this on him."

"We were fine until he got here. You're the one who came storming in here about him. You're the one who wanted me to stop him." Jacob.

Edward looked at me curiously. I had no time to explain. Some of the fire left me. We needed a solution, not a tantrum from me. I suddenly realized how personal this was for all of us. The cats were lost somewhere in our mutual needs to control what felt like a train-wreck of good intentions.

"Jacob, I want to believe that you did what you did to carry out good, solid police work." 'Good, solid police work,' was Charlie's saying. Jacob recognized it immediately, heard it in Charlie's voice the way I did. He straightened a bit. We were so used to manipulating one another.

"I don't know if it was good, I don't know if it was solid, but it was damn hard work, it tied up four men for nine hours, it addressed the worst of the problem, it's a short-term solution that's going to take the ongoing co-operation of the residents, starting with yourself. Get the word out. Stop feeding them. When they're on your property, take independent action. It's going to cause problems. If you use poison, know innocent animals will be hurt. If you shoot, don't do it inside town limits or you will be ticketed. If one is on your property and it looks sick you can call us and we'll come as soon as we can, but I tell you right now, a sick cat will not be priority if we're short on manpower as we usually are. My advice? Trap them on your own property, and take them to the shelter in Port Angeles. What I think will happen? Nothing. We don't change here, we adapt." Now he spoke directly to Edward, "You want to come in here flashing your money around, fine. We've got thirty families on our Christmas food-basket list that probably won't be able to have much for Christmas. Our fire-truck was purchased in 1965. I have three boys from the reservation wanting to intern with me, and I can't afford to pay them anything for their trouble. I have two full-time deputies and twenty-four hours of protection to provide for a town of five thousand people spread across thirty miles. I've got at least five known pedophiles, and five times that who get liquored up every Friday night and smack the wife around. We need education programs, we need…."

"Cut it out," I said.

Jacob looked at me, barely able to stop himself. It was all right there in his face. His eyes were so easy to read. For me. He was always good with words, he could always make a speech. I'd heard this one.

"You're right," I said, "we adapt. Except for you. You don't adapt, you get even."

"You're not listening…" Jacob.

"I'm listening, alright. I just liked it better when my dad said it. You went into the woods to show us who's boss. Okay, you've got the shiny badge."

He smacked the papers onto the desk. The ruddy color painted his face. His white teeth were clenched, "He's come in here offering hundreds of thousands of dollars to clean up a cat problem, one only he has a problem with."

"Yeah, hardy har. You're having a good time with it around the water cooler," I said.

"So were you last time we talked. What changed?" Jacob.

I could feel Edward's tension. But I was back in touch with my anger now, and realized I'd reached out and put my hand on Edward's arm, like I was telling him to wait.

"Nothing has changed, Jacob. Nothing." We looked at one another for a beat.

"Am I supposed to be getting some kind of message here?" he asked, tired again.

"I hope so."

Edward interrupted, "Look, Chief, I would like to work with you to set traps. Maybe the interns would be the perfect answer to this."

"That's for me to decide," he said, but calling him Chief had seemed to work a miracle. He was actually looking directly at Edward now.

"Of course it is. Just give me an opportunity to work with you. I'm not wanting to do this independently of the police, or the citizens, actually."

"I've heard your spiel, Cullen. What you don't get is, you don't come into an impoverished area flashing hundreds of thousands of dollars to catch cats. It makes you ridiculous."

"And by association it makes you ridiculous?" Edward asked.

"I'm not going to be a part of it. Not your way. My campaign is just what I said. Yes, there's a problem. We can go in every now and then and clean out some of it, but it's the citizens who have to maintain it. They have to care. And frankly, they've got other things on their minds."

"That makes sense," Edward said. "I don't have to be the champion. I'm glad to hear you recognize the problem. I only ask that you not go about it the way you already have. I want to do this as humanely as possible."

"You can be as bleeding heart as you want to be. I'll just play up the parasite angle. No one wants to get hookworms from cat feces left in their kid's sandbox."

"Exactly," Edward said. "But demonizing the animals isn't the best way to go. Then people will lose their pets. You can see how distressed Bella is from that same possibility. This needs to be handled carefully."

"Don't tell me how to do my job."

"This isn't personal, Jake. Don't make it personal," I warned.

"Are you finished? I've spent enough time on this crap."

"It will take the co-operation of the police department to respond to calls." Edward.

"Not if we make each person responsible for what comes in their own yard," Jake held.

"Some of the cats may be injured. They'll trap other things like skunks and coons, opossums." Edward.

"Most can handle that. But it is problematic. Someone could get bitten. If we hand out the traps, it's ours. They have to volunteer. They have to want to do this."

"If we trap in the woods, we can check the traps and handle the catch," Edward again.

"Do you know how many animals we'll have to handle? How relentlessly we'll have to stay on it? I'm telling you I don't have the manpower."

"Then we can hire interns and I'll pay," Edward.

They got re-embroiled in a discussion on the basics which led to thirty minutes of talking in circles. One thing they agreed on, the problem couldn't be solved quickly.

Edward went outside, and I hung back to talk to Jacob. "I think you jumped the gun on this one."

"I broke up with Leah." We stared at one another.

"Why?"

"She threatened to break up with me. I got tired of it."

"I hope you know what you're doing. You put in a lot of years."

"Glad it's over," he snapped.

"Is she alright?"

"Don't know. We broke up. You could call her and ask."

"Don't be a jerk. What am I supposed to say?"

"You always have plenty to say. Looks like you and Cullen are getting cozy. Wearing the same lapel pins and all, getting ready to change the world one feline at a time. You don't even know this guy. Last time I was defending him. Now you've jumped the fence. Now he can do no wrong, and I'm the bad guy."

"You did what I mistakenly thought he would do. You went off half-cocked, not him. He's won me over. He makes sense. You, on the other hand, did the Call of Duty thing. You darn right I'm on his side."

"This isn't about the animals, Bella. This is about you finally finding someone who can lure you out of your castle. He's a fantasy, money, Mr. Movie Star. You don't know him, Bella. He's not what he seems. He's not stable."

I felt sick. Jacob had something—a secret weapon. His excitement was palpable.

Part of me wanted to grab his smug face and yell, "What is it? What do you know?" and part of me wanted to pull his gun and warn him not to say another word.

Jacob couldn't have hit me in my weak spot more accurately if he'd seen it painted over my heart. I took in a deep breath. "Jacob," huge sigh, "I believe that inside of you is a very good man. I saw much evidence of this growing up. Dad knew it. But lately, for a long time, really, you disappoint me."

"You're not going to get the last word today, Bella. I watched you at your house the other night. You were worried. The big redhead, she was a wild one. It had your radar up, I mean all of the antennas, baby. He moved, you moved. And she watched you both. She's a real head case, too. And she hates your guts. You can't blame her. She could care less about McCarty, but don't tell him I said so. I think he'll gladly let her use him. Just remember, she's Cullen's type. They're alike. She's been around long enough to see how it goes. He moves through one thing after another. She knows he's restless. And after he does his damage here, she'll still be with him, and you? You are setting yourself up to be gutted."

I stumbled out of there. Edward waited outside, leaning against my truck. He muttered something when he saw me. He stepped toward me, but I waved him away and went quickly to the driver's side. We climbed into the vehicle at the same time, slamming the doors. "What did he do?" Edward asked, eyes searching.

"Nothing." I started the old rumbling engine.

Edward muttered still, pulling on his hair. "I can see how upset you are," he began.

"Jake and I grew up together. Our fathers were friends. We're like…hateful siblings. We know how to hurt each other."

"I wanted to give you some time to get it out with him. I didn't know you'd get the tail end…"

"You don't have to be all involved in this. It's really between him and me. We're a mess. I mean…we've always clashed."

I could tell Edward wasn't satisfied. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees. He said a few things he'd already said in the office. I really didn't want to talk about it anymore.

We were home soon. I pulled in my driveway and sat there. We were just breathing there, just staring at the garage I couldn't put the truck into because the door quit working a long time ago.

I didn't want to imply that Jacob had something on Edward. I didn't want to encourage a feud of some kind.

"There was a time, few years back when we were kids, that I tried to date Jacob. It was a disaster. It ruined our friendship pretty much. He's never forgiven me. Worse, I really fell in love with the guy I dated after him, so I basically dumped Jacob and abandoned him. He um, hates me, loves me, hates me. It's just always there, eventually…the hate." I was silently bouncing my tense hand on the steering wheel. I felt like a fool for sharing my adolescent angst with Edward, and more the fool that it was still a factor in my adult life.

"I feel like I brought all of this trouble on you," he said.

A slow creeping dread was working on me. Why did Jake call him unstable? He'd been anything but. I saw him as highly organized and driven. If anyone seemed unstable in that office today, it wasn't Edward.

"Edward, you said you got to a troubled place and you needed to start over. I know it's personal. You don't have to…but…what happened?" I had reached for him, settling my hand on his arm.

He looked at me, smiled. "I'd tell you," he said low-voiced, "but there's a certain cat laying underneath your rocking chair."

It was the last of my trio. I bolted from the truck to carry this last friend into my house. Edward came in and closed the door. I let Boots leap to the floor,. Edward motioned toward my couch, and I kicked off my shoes and sat. He sat near me, not like by the river, but closer than he might have.

"I told you about my mother dying. Her loss hit me hard. It still does. Sometimes it is the most outrageous idea, that she's gone. It's like I can't believe it. Then other times it just is. I know it fully, and I'm so angry."

"Sounds about right," I said, relating.

"Yeah, I guess you would know. It's so odd the way our lives parallel on that." His smile was so lovely, but I could easily see the heartbreak in his eyes, hear it in his voice. I wondered what he'd been like without it. Even when he seemed happy to me, I knew there was something fragile in it. I suppose I identified on some subconscious level. I recognized a likeness in him, a mirror of sorts.

"Anyway, I went into this downward slide. I held it all in. It was dark. Everything that had meant something, meant nothing. I couldn't bear any of it. I tried to take a few weeks to rest, but I grew worse. I didn't realize that years of emotional neglect were catching up with me. I felt like I was loosing it." I could feel the revelation coming. I tried to steel myself by practicing a casual posture. I smiled at him to encourage him to continue.

"Bella, I don't want you to pity me when I tell you this. I don't want to worry you, or make you in any way feel responsible for me, or start holding back like you can't tell me what's on your mind. I love that about you, your outspokenness. I fear you'll treat me differently if I tell you the truth. Promise you won't. Promise me."

"I reserve the right to do whatever the hell I want, to feel whatever I want to feel, Edward. So go on."

He laughed a little, but it didn't lift the sadness in his eyes at all. "You know just what to say. My god, that was the perfect response, you have no idea."

"Quit stalling."

He laughed again, grabbing my hand in the process. "But you have to promise me."

"No. Tell me."

He laughed some more. His face was flushed, his eyes were shiny. "I ended up making a serious attempt on my life. I…tried to commit suicide."

I pulled my hand away and slapped him on the arm.

I stared at him, his body hunched over, protecting itself from me.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Say something."

"I so mad at you." Me.

"I know. I told you I'm an ass."

"Stop it. Stop all self-deprecation."

"Not possible. I know myself too well."

"You don't know yourself at all. If you did…you couldn't harm yourself. You don't want to harm a cat, a feral cat that actually disgusts you. And yet…you tried to harm yourself. How long ago?"

"Seven months." He looked ashamed.

"Don't hide from me." I scooted closer. My eyes were incredulous-lazers.

He lifted his head. "I'm not hiding from you. I'm just…not proud."

"I think suicide is ultimate pride."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"And how did you form this conclusion?"

"My mother. My mother killed herself when I was eight years old."

"Holy crap. Bella, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I seem to keep bringing you pain."

"Stop with the sorry, Edward. Telling me is okay. It's okay. Trying to harm yourself, then, or now or ever, ever, ever is not okay. Be sorry that you tried such a thing, be so fucking sorry. But don't you ever, ever apologize for telling me about it."

"Oh god Bella, honey, calm down. It's okay. I am sorry. I am sorry. But not for telling you. Okay. You're right. You're right, honey." And he moved against me, like before, but I was barely aware, yet so aware. We were beyond semantics, what was where, touching what. He'd opened his soul, I'd opened mine, and we crashed into one another feeling all the sharp edges, all the slime, all the surprising solids. I was not confused.

I was crying, but it wasn't anything. It was just real. It was punctuation. Everything I said, everything, was from my guts. I was reading to him what was written there. It was all in my handwriting, but my mother had taught me what to say.

"What do you know, now?" I asked sounding desperate, clutching at his shirt, "What do you know?"

He was shaking his head, running his hands up and down my back, touching my cheek, trying to soothe me.

"Tell me," I was weeping, hating my voice, not caring, looking into him, looking in, my face so close, not close enough.

"I know you're beautiful," he whispered.

I shook my head. "Tell me, tell me," I was strangling.

He was crying, swallowing against it, trying to suck it back in. Then finally, "I want to live, Bella. I want to live. I want to live."

He went down on his knees, put his head in my lap, his arms locking around my waist, and I buried my face in his hair. We sat that way for a long time, damp, shaking, breathing, but every few minutes, I would whisper to him, to us both, one word, "Edward."