Authors note:
So....anybody remember this story..? You know...the one with Edward and Bella meeting in the airport, and Edward doing a project for Tanya Denali, who's married to Charles Masen, who's got cancer and being treated by Bella, who ran away from Chicago to live a quiet life in a small town in Colorado, where she also works as a ski instructor? No..?? Well, I can't blame you...It's been sooo long since the last update, so I've probably lost most of my readers by now.
But if anybody remembers I hope you'll forgive me for my absence and stick with me for a little longer...
Once again I'll have to thank my two lovely beta's - and good friends- Jen (aka pbswimmer) and Elke (aka Martinibaby). You know how long it's taken me to finish chapter. Thanks for you continuous support and encouragment, and for not giving up on me.
I actually thought I finished the chapter a few weeks ago, but Jen came up with a great idea for the storyline, which I just had to include. It only took me about three weeks to do it, and the chapter-lenght was more than doubled... *moaning* So this turned out be a monster-long chapter - my longest yet. But I hope you'll enjoy.
Finally-- as always--Stephenie owns it all. I'm just having a good time.
Here you go.
Chapter 10:
After the ambulance had left, Edward decided to call it a day. His lift pass was valid for a few more hours, but after the disclosure of Bella's identity, his mood had changed dramatically. The skiing had somehow lost its appeal.
He usually considered himself a pretty good judge of character. Of course he couldn't rely completely on his first-hand impressions, but getting closer to someone usually only confirmed to him what he'd already sensed during the first meeting. It was almost as if he could read people's minds. All the way through college he'd used this special gift of his, and he felt pretty sure that he'd avoided more than one disastrous relationship due to this sense of telepathy.
Unfortunately, it had not only been disastrous relationships he'd avoided. The truth was that he'd hardly had any relationships.
But it was obvious that his ability had failed him during the last few encounters. First Tanya, and now apparently Bella too. How could he have been so wrong?
Actually, he wasn't so surprised about Tanya. She had all along appeared to be rather cunning in trying to reach her goals. She probably could have fooled anybody. But with Bella he'd only sensed honesty; modesty even. Could she really have deceived him on purpose? He now knew that she had seen Tanya mauling him at the airport. Why hadn't she told him that she knew Tanya? It would have been the natural thing to do, wouldn't it?
Unless she had something to hide of course . . .
It all added up. It certainly seemed like Bella was having an affair with Tanya's husband. At least he could now understand why she had been so dismissive when he had met her in the café; after she had seen Tanya in the car waiting for him.
It was a bit absurd that he'd almost hooked up with both of Charles Masen's women. As if the situation with Tanya wasn't complicated enough as it was.
As he slid off the skis and loosened the tight boots, his eyes caught sight of a pair of green gloves and a matching scarf lying on the snow. Recognizing them as Bella's, Edward found himself automatically tramping over in his boots to scoop them up. She'd probably lost them as they were loading the little girl into the ambulance. The feel of the soft gloves and the scarf in his grasp pulled his thoughts back to what kind of day they had just spent together.
It had been a good day. Actually a very good day. It had been a long time since he had felt so comfortable around a woman. She had been fun and charming, and she seemed to possess a refreshing sweetness contrasting completely to Tanya's undisguised seduction. He was pretty sure Bella had no clue how attractive she was to men . . . how appealing she was to him.
A smile appeared on his lips and smoothed out the worried wrinkles on his forehead. He'd loved how she'd seen through his little charade, and how she had matched him step-for-step, putting him in his place with a quick-witted turnabout. He almost started laughing again when thinking of that disastrous moment –when he'd realized that he'd been busted; when she had mercilessly lured him into a trap with the moguls. Even though he had probably looked like a clumsy fool, and just about every muscle was now aching –was there really such a pronounced muscle under the curve of both ass-cheeks? –he had loved every second of it.
But without a doubt the highlight of the day had been the magical moment when they, after the crash, had ended up face to face in a heap of snow, their bodies flush to each other, closely entangled. He still remembered the chills running down his spine when their eyes had locked and he'd become lost in her startled chocolate pools, beautiful and exposed.
Once he had careened full-force into her shield, she had finally had lowered it down, seeming to trust him with her vulnerability. And he'd been met by a deep melancholy which intrigued him immensely. He was aching to get to know the secrets behind her sadness. He couldn't remember ever having been so attracted to a woman, and if it wasn't for that damned cell phone which had starting ringing, he probably would have kissed her. The moment had been almost magical.
Slowly lifting the scarf and gloves to his face, he inhaled her lingering scent. He could easily identify her intoxicating fragrance, a bouquet of vanilla and strawberry. He could get high on this scent.
Even though he was upset at her for not coming clean with him straight away, he had to admit that the dominating feeling right now was not anger, but rather . . . disappointment? He had a bereft feeling that he'd lost something precious. All his instincts had initially told him that he could trust this girl. Could there be another explanation for all of this? He so wished there could be. Maybe he should have given her a chance to explain herself? Ending his pensive moment, he grimaced as he lifted his skis to one sore shoulder, and carted them off to his rental car.
Bella's eyes quickly scanned the dimly lit waiting room, searching for the little girl's parents. It was six in the evening and the waning twilight filtered into the room through the darkening windows. Bella was still wearing her scrubs. Coming straight from the operating room, with reddened cheeks and hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her fatigue was obvious.
The nervous couple, who had been waiting impatiently during the last few hours, caught sight of her and quickly approached her.
"The operation was successful. Jane will be fine." Bella sent the young parents a reassuring smile. "We managed to locate the perforation, and stop the bleeding. She's stable now, but still in the ICU, recovering."
"Thank God." The man heaved a sigh of relief, while turning to his wife by his side. The young mother could not suppress a quiet sob, as her husband hugged her tightly.
"She's just about to wake up. You should go see her. Go through the doors, then to the right," she instructed, pointing to the entrance of the ICU. "Dr. Clearwater will come talk to you a little later."
The couple quickly thanked her, before they hastened towards the automatic sliding doors. Bella sighed, looking after them. A content and tired smile lingered on her lips as she watched the parents hurry to their daughter.
This moment was the good part about being a doctor –the days when she really believed she made a difference. That little girl would probably have died today if Bella hadn't been out there in the slope.
Jane's breathing had deteriorated immensely during the trip to the hospital. So fast that Bella'd been forced to start reducing pressure in the lungs en route.
The little girl had turned dangerously pale, her lips increasingly bluish, indicating an extremely low oxygen level in the blood. Fluid had been pooling in the lungs, impairing the function of both heart and lungs, and Bella had had no choice but to insert a syringe into the little girl' thorax to draw out some of the blood while they had sped down snowy roads.
A pleuracentesis was a dangerous procedure under these circumstances, but there had been no other way. The blood draw had helped immediately, but Bella had known the improvement was only temporary, and that the girl would need surgery instantly upon arriving to the clinic. Severe cases like these would usually have been transferred to a larger hospital near by, but Bella realized there wouldn't be time for a transferal. So they would be forced to perform the operation at the clinic. Fortunately Harry Clearwater —their experienced surgeon —was on call at the clinic that day, and Bella had called him during the ambulance ride to make sure he and the rest of the surgery team were standing ready when she arrived with the patient.
Everything had gone smoothly after that. Jane had been brought to the O.R. straight away, and Bella had assisted during the operation. The tear in the pleura wasn't large, but a small artery had been sheared during the fall on the slopes, causing massive bleeding into the lung. Once they had located the source of the bleeding, it had been easy to stabilize the little girl's condition.
A melancholic mood swept over Bella. It had been a while since she'd assisted with acute operations like the one finished moments ago. Coming to think about it, she hadn't scrubbed in since her residency at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago more than two years ago.
Even though she hated admitting it, she couldn't deny that she missed working in a hospital. She missed the adrenaline rush flowing from the action and suspense formerly filling her days in the emergency room. She and her colleagues used to joke about how none of them needed bungee jumping, sky diving or other action-filled activities during their leisure time; they had plenty of adrenaline-kicks just getting through their shifts in the ER. She had loved it —and hated it at the same time.
She loved the thrill of holding a patient's life in her trembling hands; she craved the excitement of really making a difference. After all these years in med school, it just felt so rewarding and fulfilling finally to be out there actually helping people.
But the frenetic pace was rough. And the price had been high. Much too high. Constantly sleep-deprived, exhausted, and with non-stop demands from everyone around her about being sharp, effective, and precise, she had repeatedly questioned herself. She had begun to doubt whether she had what it took to do this career. She still felt shameful and weak when thinking about how she had let herself believe the lies that the amphetamine would help her—could give her an edge—and make her fast and observant.
Well . . . the drug actually did help in the beginning. She still remembered the fantastic feeling of being strong and on top of things, believing that the nurses could bring her anything on that gurney, and she would still be in control.
Maybe it would have stayed like that if it hadn't been for that particular shift when there had been a major car-crash on the highway. In less than twenty minutes the shift had turned from a lazy, quiet evening to the worst nightmare she'd ever endured, with thirteen compound trauma victims arriving at the same time. The ER had been chaos. They were understaffed as it was, but the ambulances had just kept coming It had been awful. She'd doubled the amphetamine dose that evening, just to get through the shift. But the increase in dose backfired on her, causing her already trembling hands to start shaking violently.
She really should have gone home right there and then. She was in no condition to work. But how could she leave when seriously injured patients just kept coming, and there was no-one to step in for her? Of course she couldn't! So instead she did what she had to do. The only thing she could do. She had injected a small dose of morphine to calm her down. Just a small dose to soothe her nerves. But it had worked perfectly; resulting in a fantastic feeling of being both sharp and calm at the same time.
She got through the shift. But she soon realized the the nightmarish shift wasn't a one-time occasion. This was just how it was being a resident in an ER. The traumas, the patients, and the shifts just kept coming and coming, only serving to increase her need for the drugs. But hey . . . she wasn't an addict! She could stop any time! But why should she? She had let herself believe these lies for much to long. Actually right until that dreadful day . . .
She silently shivered, closing her eyes. No! She couldn't let her thoughts go back there again. The shame and regret had almost killed her once already. She couldn't allow herself to sucked back into the shadows again.
Forcefully, she managed to push the dark thoughts away, bringing herself back to present time again.
This had been a good day! She'd been out skiing with the most gorgeous man—who's way out of your league, Bella! she reminded herself—ut she had enjoyed every minute of it, and couldn't help hoping that by some miracle, he still wanted to see her.
As she turned to mind back to the charting she needed to take care of after the surgery, she was surprised by the sight of a familiar figure sitting in the farthest corner of the otherwise empty waiting room. Recognizing the tall, well-shaped man with the characteristic messy, bronze-coloured hair, and the piercing green eyes, her heart skipped a beat. Speak of the devil! Or angel, in his case.
She had been sorry to leave him prematurely this afternoon. The sight of him there stirred something inside of her; something good. Observing his long eyelashes feathering below closed eyelids, his serene facial expression, and his slumped body position, she discerned that he was obviously sleeping. Bella couldn't help wonder how long he'd been resting there.
She slowly made her way over to him.
"Hey," she greeted with a shy smile, wondering if he was merely cat-napping.
No reaction.
She noticed her gloves and scarf lying in his lap, and she realized that she must have dropped them before climbing into the ambulance. His ski jacket was lying on the chair next to him, but he was still wearing his blue ski pants and a grey turtle-neck sweater, which fit him snugly, emphasizing his muscular and well-proportioned chest.
As he was slouched there sleeping, with his head resting against the wall behind him, he most of all reminded her of a sleeping Greek statue. His skin was pale and flawless. Someone else would probably have been snoring or dribbling in their sleep, but not Edward. He was perfect. It should be illegal to be that beautiful! She had to muster all of her strength not to reach out and touch his ivory-coloured chin.
Instead she tried again a little louder: "Edward . . . ?"
He finally stirred, eyes flickering open. For a moment he looked a little confused, obviously taken back by her sudden appearance right in front of him. He quickly rubbed his eyes with his long, slender fingers, composing himself after his nap.
She sent him a cautious smile. "Sorry I woke you up."
"No, it's fine. It wasn't very comfortable anyway." His voice was hoarse after being asleep. He massaged his neck, sending her a crooked smile.
"Looks like you've had a rough day. I hope that cruel ski instructor of yours didn't give you a hard time?" She couldn't suppress a little smirk. "As a beginner you gotta remember to take it easy."
"Well . . . it seemed like this particular ski instructor believed in other methods . . ."He grimaced in pain as he straightened up in the seat, feeling a radiating ache from his back muscles in particular. "It's okay . . . I'l probably be fine again in two or three months," he grunted.
"Hm . . . you should have been more careful when picking your instructor."
Edward snorted: "Yeah, maybe I should have been. I thought I couldn't go wrong choosing the prettiest one."
Bella sent him a gleeful glance. "Yeah . . . right. Well . . . appearances can be deceptive, you know."
"Apparently . . . " Remembering his discovery about her identity, he nodded. Had he been deceived by this beautiful woman?
She grinned smugly. "I recall from our very first conversation in the airport that you thought I would probably find it most entertaining watching a clumsy fool like yourself stumble down the slopes. I must say you delivered well!"
"I'm happy my stumbling entertained you." He sent her a wry smile, but before Bella managed to come up with a witty reply, he eagerly continued.
"How did it go with the girl? Is she okay? They told me you were operating when I got here."
"She's fine now. We had some complications, but she pulled through just fine."
"Good –the parents have been waiting impatiently. They seemed pretty upset."
"Yeah. I really can't blame them. I would have been a mess too. I just sent them in to be with their daughter."
Edward looked down, and caught sight of her gloves and scarf in his lap. "You dropped these on the ski run." He handed them over to her. "I thought I'd bring them over."
"Ah . . . thanks. That was kind of you. I hadn't even realized I'd lost them yet." She carefully folded the scarf, and put the gloves on top. "You could have just left them at the front desk, you know. Would have saved you the wait."
"That's no problem. I didn't have any other plans anyway . . . " Edward hesitated a moment, before he decided to take the plunge."So I guess this is where to find you, when you're not on the slopes, Doctor Swan?"
To Bella's surprise the question came out a bit harsh, his eyes suddenly . . . fierce? The lightness of the conversation had abruptly changed.
"Yeah . . . this is my side job. Wages are pretty bad at the ski resort, so I had to find myself a night job to pay the rent." She knew the joke was lame, but she didn't understand his sudden change of demeanour, and tried to hold on to the easy banter for a bit longer.
"No seriously, Bella. Why didn't you tell me who you are?"
"What do you mean; who I am?"
"Well, considering everything, I wonder why you didn't tell me that you knew Tanya Denali."
Bella frowned. "Tanya Denali? Of course I know her. Everybody knows her here. Her husband practically owns the town."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"I . . . I don't know" she shrugged evasively. "It just didn't come up, I guess."
"So you only know Tanya and her husband from afar?"
Bella sent him a scrutinizing gaze. Why did it all of a sudden feel like he was somehow interrogating her?
"I don't know Tanya very well. But Charles Masen is my employer, and he's also a good friend to me." And my patient dying of cancer! she silently reminded herself, crying inside.
Edward sensed she was withholding something, and he silently urged her to continue.
"Charles has been amazing to me, actually. I'd been through some rough times before coming here, and
Charles helped me out immensely. I was . . . um . . . I was kind of a mess at that point. Charles saw it, and he took care of me."
Edward sensed some of the shadows he'd gotten a glimpse of earlier that day returning to her eyes, darkening their lovely brown color.
"So he's only your friend?" he asked, emphasizing the last word carefully.
"Of course." She looked at him uncomprehendingly. "What do you mean?" Bella was growing increasingly annoyed with his cross examination. Why did he appear so abruptly suspicious?
"I, um, I heard that you two were . . . pretty close."
"Yes, we've become quite close. Charles has sort of been the father I've always missed. I love that man."
Her statement was heartfelt and sincere. If she wasn' telling the truth, then she certainly was a brilliant actor. Edward was studying her incredulously, contemplating her her, there was no doubt; she was definitely telling the truth. He actually couldn't believe he'd ever questioned her integrity.
Bella's eyes suddenly widened in disbelief. "Are you implying that Charles and I are more than friends?"
Shock shot through her like a current. What kind of accusation was this? Her delicate facial features reflected a sense of betrayal. How could he believe she' been involved with a married man?
Edward shrinked under her appalled gaze. "Erm . . . well . . ." But Bella interrupted before he'd even decided how to answer her pointed question.
"So when you asked who I was, you were actually implying that I was Charles' mistress?" Her cheeks were now aflame with righteous indignation. How could anyone think this lowly of Charles? Or of her for that matter? Bella looked truly aghast from the allegations.
Edward wished the earth could somehow swallow him up.
"Where does this come from, Edward? Those are pretty serious accusations."
"Um . . . well . . . I'm sorry. Somebody, uh, might have suggested that something was going on between you and Charles." He couldn't remember having blushed this much since . . . well . . . ever! How could he have ever doubted her? Because of something Tanya had said? Jeez . . . he couldn't believe his own stupidity.
"Somebody who? Oh . . . "Bella's face fell. "Of course." She quickly discerned the source of this accusation. "Tanya told you this, didn't she? Wow . . ."
She abruptly sat down, looking stunned. Suddenly realizing that she was in a public setting, the doctor stole a glance around the waiting room. Fortunately no one else was there.
"Well I knew she had something against me, but I had never imagined that it was this bad. So she's accusing me of sleeping with her husband? Christ . . . this is kinda overwhelming."
She couldn't believe it. So this was why Tanya had been so dismissive of her all of this time. She had believed she was her husband' mistress! Or, had Tanya knowingly made a false accusation, in order to lure Edward in closer; to get into his pants? Or perhaps Tanya had spun a tale in order to justify her own adultery? It was so difficult knowing what was going on in Tanya's twisted mind. This could very well just be another brick in the wall of games she built around her.
Bella was overwhelmed by contradictory feelings. Anger was probably most prominent, but she also felt sad, betrayed, and maybe there was a little . . . guilt? She knew she'd become close to Charles, and that there was a special bond between them. Thinking about it, Bella had to admit that it wasn't that difficult understanding how her close relationship with Charles could create jealousy in the man' wife. She could have slapped herself for not realizing that potential sooner.
Her eyes drifted around the room while processing the new information until a quiet moan brought her attention back to Edward.
To her surprise she found him attempting to stand, fixed in a awkward stooped position, with his right hand pressed to his lower back and the other hand supporting his weight against the rim of the closest chair. His face was distorted with pain, and another groan escaped his lips. He'd tried to get up from the chair, but had been stopped half way up by a sudden sharp pain in his lower back.
Bella rushed over to him, all dark thoughts about Tanya and Charles momentarily vanished.
"What's wrong?"
"I . . . agh . . . I'm sorry . . . my back!" he managed to choke out. "It appears I can't straighten it up . . . "
He slowly tried erecting himself again, but soon had to give up. "Oh . . . that hurts."
"Easy . . ." she coaxed, while resting her hand on top of his on his back. "This is where it hurts?"
"Yeah . . ." Small drops of sweat were forming on his forehead. He was still standing halfway bent over, unable to move neither up nor down.
"Let me have a look, Edward." she cautiously instructed, once again turning on her doctor-mode.
He grudgingly removed his hand, giving her access to the area. Bella carefully lifted the grey sweater a few inches, exposing the lower part of his lean, muscular back. His skin was ice cold. The muscles were cramped and extremely tight over the sacroiliac joint.
"Any radiation of the pain down the leg or anywhere else?"
"No. It's only there."
"Did you hurt your back while skiing?" Despite the excruciating pain he couldn't help but be pleased by the concern in her voice.
"Only about a dozen times," he sarcastically choked out, sending her a wry smile.
"Jeez . . . This my fault, Edward. I'm so sorry." The guilt was plastered all over her face. "I can't believe I took you on that moguls run."
Now it was his turn feeling guilty. "Bella . . . " He groped behind him to rest a hand on her arm. "I was only kidding. I was fine after the skiing today. I was actually fine until just now. I think I must have been sitting in a awkward position while sleeping or something." His piercing green eyes locked with hers, refusing her to look away, once again disarming her completely. It really wasn't fair using these kind of tricks against her.
"Erm . . . I don't know . . . " She looked at him dubiously, and finally managed to tear away her gaze. "Anyway . . . we need to get you into an exam room, so that I can properly check out your back. Will you let me do that?"
"Of course."
She looked around the waiting room, obviously searching for something. "Can you hold it there for a minute, Edward? I need to find a wheelchair."
"Actually I don't think I can do anything else," he chuckled. "My back is sort of locked up." He was still halfway standing, stooped over, like an old man leaning over his cane. Despite the pain he couldn't help find the situation a bit comical. "I won' be going anywhere, I promise."
She sent him a soothing smile before she ran off. When she returned a minute later, he hadn't moved an inch. She quickly placed the wheelchair right behind him, and carefully locked it.
"Okay Edward. I want you to try and sit down now. Do you think you can manage that? I know it hurts . . ."
"I'll try . . . I usually have a high threshold for pain, so . . ." He took a deep breath, and then carefully lowered down his athletic body into the chair, clenching his teeth. He let out a sigh of relief as he finally leaned back against the wheelchair' seat.
"Thanks."
"Good. Okay, an exam room is just down the hall." She quickly wheeled him through the waiting area.
"Have you experienced anything like this before?"
"Just once. A few years ago. After helping my brother and his wife moving into their new house. It only took two days in bed and almost a whole bottle of ibuprofen" he added with a self-pitying groan.
"Hm . . . let' hope it' not that bad this time then."
They entered the exam room, and she wheeled him over to the examination table in the middle of room. With some grunting and groaning, Edward managed to extricate himself from the wheelchair and relocate onto the table, sitting in a hunched-over position.
Bella stood by the table. Wearing her scrubs she looked very doctor-like and professional. "Your shirt," she said, pointing to his grey sweater."It has to come off."
"Right . . . " He cautiously started removing his sweater. For some reason he all of a sudden felt self-conscious about undressing in front of Bella. Not that he hadn't fantasized about her removing his shirt in his dreams. Actually she had usually removed much more than just his shirt . . . He felt himself blush recalling glimpses of the last daydream.
Her delicate hands roamed over his chest, palpating his pectorals and his nibbles. Her fingers, warm and sensitive, carefully explored every inch of his torso, and slowly made their way down his stomach. Her touch instinctively caused his body to redirect the circulation of the blood towards more southern parts of his anatomy. He felt charges of electricity running down his spine, making him tremble with excitement . . . he closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure, as her hands unbuckled his pants and . . .
"Is it cold in here, Edward? You're shivering."
"Uh . . . no . . . sorry. It's fine." He felt himself redden with embarrassment. Focus, Cullen! It's just a medical examination! Get your head out of the gutter!
"Do you need help with the shirt?"
"No! I can manage. Thanks." He finally slid off the shirt, and was annoyed to see his skin all goosey after his little diversion.
Bella had placed herself on the other side of the table, behind his back.
"Okay. Let me have a look first."
Having examined hundreds, or maybe even thousands of patients, this really shouldn't have been much of a deal.
A back is a back, right?
But for some reason Bella found it quite difficult keeping her habitual professional attitude, when surveying the man in front of her. His skin was pale and flawless like ivory marble. She couldn't help but admire his broad shoulders, the V-shaped chest and slim waist, which more than anything looked like a professional swimmer' body. The back muscles were distinct and well-formed. Not too beefy, but athletic and well-proportioned.
Forcing herself onward with the examination, she systematically palpated his back, checking out the muscles, ligaments and the countless joints along the spinal column. He felt just as smooth and firm as she'd expected. Nice . . .
But as she continued her examination, she finally found was she had been seeking. The lowest parts of the right longissimus muscle felt like a cramped, taught rope. There was no doubt this had to be the source of the pain. The skin was ice cold over the place, and Bella suspected that he'd been sitting in a draft, when he'd been sleeping in the waiting room.
"This is were it hurts, right?" she asked, massaging the area gently with her right thumb. Her left hand was resting on his left shoulder.
"Agh . . . uh . . . ouch . . . yeah, right there," he whimpered, struggling to stay still. It didn't make Bella stop though, and he almost jumped off the table from her probing touch. "Agh . . . I thought you were done with the torture for the day, ma'am?"
A giggle formed on Bella's lips and she leaned down towards his left ear.
"Sorry, Edward. But I'm definitely not done with you yet. You need a cross-friction massage. And it's Doctor by the way," she added with a smirk. Standing behind him without being able to see his face she suddenly felt bolder and cheekier.
"Sorry, Doctor," he grinned. "But did you say a massage?"
"Um-hmm . . . Would that be okay with you?"
"Well, I guess that depends on your intentions, Doctor!"
"Oh, I can assure you that my intentions are strictly professional, Mr. Cullen."
"Oh . . . only professional? What a shame," he sulked. "But if your 'strictly professional' massage can put me on my feet again, I guess I'm in for it."
"Clever boy. But then you need to lie down. On your stomach, please."
Together they cautiously turned him over. He still had trouble straightening out his hips, but with Bella's help he finally managed to lower himself down on his stomach. She tucked a blanket around him, making sure to keep him warm. The only exposed skin was the lower part of his back over the sacroiliac joint, the location of the cramped muscle.
Standing beside the table Bella carefully started massaging the sore muscle. Initially she was only stroking the skin, warming it up. Edward released a soft moan, clearly enjoying the feeling of her soft, gentle hands on his back. Gradually she increased the pressure as she thoroughly worked her way through the tense tissue. Edward's moans of pleasure was gradually replaced by groans of pain.
"Wow. That muscle is just one big knot."
Edward's only response was another plaintive groan.
"Sorry, Edward . . . I think you must have been sitting in a draft when sleeping in the waiting room.
Coldness can cause the muscles to seize up like that, especially after a tough day on the slopes."
"I thought that only happened to old people. Though I feel pretty old right now . . ."
"Nope, it can happen to anyone. Even professional athletes." Or men with professional athlete bodies.
"How come you know how to do this? Massage isn't part of the regular training at med-school, is it?"
"No . . . no, it's not. But we have a lot of sports injuries here, so I've had some special training in physical rehabilitation. Comes in handy once in a while."
"Apparently."
Trying to divert his attention away from her merciless hands she went on.
"So tell me about your brother?"
"My brother? Well . . . Emmett is a few years older than me. He's a mechanic; got his own business. He hated school and had some pretty wild years during high school, but he eventually calmed down, and is doing really well now. Especially since he met Rosalie—that's his wife."
He held brief pause, while Bella moved unto the other side of the table to get a better angle on the left part of the muscle. The tension was slowly releasing.
"Do they have any kids?"
"Yes. Three boys. One eight-year-old and four-year-old twins. Good kids. Well actually, sometimes it seems like Rosalie's got four boys; Emmett being the fourth one!" Edward chuckled. "He can be a little childlike . . . in a good way. Everybody likes Emmett. He's really outgoing and easy to get along with. Not complicated at all. "
"Sounds like a good brother."
"He is! I love him to bits. Even though we're quite different. I've always been the quiet and nerdy type, while he's much louder and more direct. What you see is what you get."
"So you're the quiet, nerdy guy?" she replied with a smirk and lift of the eyebrows. "Really?"
"Aagghh . . . ," he winced, as her hands found a particular sore knot. "Well . . . yeah . . . sort of . . . "
"Hmm . . . I somehow find that hard to believe."
"God, you're killing me there," he cried. She was relentlessly kneading the hard muscle knot; not giving into his whimpering.
"Didn't you say you have a high threshold for pain?"
"Well I did—ntil you came around!"
"Aw . . . poor boy. You'll be happy to hear that the worst part is almost over then."
"Thank God."
Having worked her way through all of the hard muscle knots, loosening them up, she ended the massage as she started, with long, soft strokes all up and down his back.
"Aww . . . hmm . . . now that feels good." Edward's skin was going all goosey again, as the blissful feeling pervaded his body.
Bella chuckled. "Well, good to know I've not been torturing you the whole time."
"No. . . Not the whole time," he grinned.
"There you go. We're finished. Now try see if you can get up."
Edward carefully slid over on his side, and surprisingly easily succeeded in hoisting himself up into a sitting position on the table. He cautiously bent forward, and then backwards, followed by similar movements to the sides. Surprise was plastered all over his face.
"Wow! That was amazing! I'm still a bit sore, but I can move freely again now. You've got magical hands, Bella! Thank you!"
"My pleasure!" Bella replied with a content smile. It had definitely been a pleasure! She was now sitting on a swivel chair beside the table. "It was the least I could do after that outrageous lesson today."
Edward looked at her with a mischievous smile. "Well considering everything, I actually think I picked the perfect ski instructor. I could get used to this."
"Don't get your hopes up. I can assure you this is not part of the usual ski instructor services." Bella suppressed a chuckle, and sent him a reproving glance. "But I'm happy you've forgiven me. I still can't believe I took you to the moguls! I'm usually a nice person!"
"Yeah, I think so too," he replied, all of a sudden completely serious. "Listen, Bella. I'm so sorry about the mess with Tanya, and her allegations. That was not right of me."
Bella hesitated a moment, biting her lower lip. Edward couldn't help think how gorgeous she looked.
"Okay. . . But what about you, Edward? What do you think? You believe her?" The melancholic look had returned to her beautiful face, but he also noticed a fiery anger, telling him she wouldn't forgive him easily for the accusation. "Do you think I'm an adulterer?"
"No, Bella." He calmly shook his head, and looked straight into her eyes. "I don't. I got confused for a while there. I'm so sorry." He took a deep breath before he went on. "But please tell me: why didn't you let on about knowing Tanya in the first place? It felt a bit like you were hiding your connection with Masen."
Bella realized he was right. Why hadn't she told him? She really didn't know. It had just turned out like that. Maybe she had been hiding it, trying to find out what was going on. Maybe she was afraid to reveal her function as his doctor. Maybe she just liked the idea of just being Bella the ski instructor, and not for once?
"Honestly I'm not really sure, Edward. I was so confused by the whole situation. It was quite disturbing seeing Tanya with you, and I didn't really know what to do. You know . . . with Charles being my friend, and Tanya apparently messing around with another man; a man who simultaneously invited me out and everything. It was such a mess. Thought I'd just keep the whole thing on the down low until I decided what to do about it."
Edward suddenly burst out in laughter. Bella looked at him with surprise. She had no idea what could be funny right now.
"What?"
"We're some couple aren't we? Both of us believing the other one is playing around with a married person."
His laughter was contagious, and he was so right. The whole situation was kind of hilarious and Bella found herself giggling along. But she'd also noticed that he'd said 'couple'. Of course she was very well aware that he didn't mean couple as in 'couple' . . . but still . . . she liked the sound of it.
Edward aimed his beseeching gaze in her direction. "You think there's a chance we could start all over? Just forget about Tanya and Charles, and take it from square one?"
She looked at him for a long moment, pondering his pleas for a fresh start. It was definitely tempting. Despite his accusations she really liked this guy. And, she had to admit that she'd been accusing him of exactly the same thing.
Sensing her inner deliberations, he sent her another one of these dazzling, irresistible smiles. It was really unfair. A girl doesn't stand a chance against that smile!
Acknowledging her defeat she finally replied "Okay, Edward. We can start all over. On one condition though."
"And that being . . . ?"
"That you'll do the moguls with me again sometime."
Edward burst out in laughter. "Whoa! Those are rough terms."He tapped one long finger to his chin. "And if my back locks up again after the moguls? Do I get another massage from the doctor?"
Pleased by his comeback, she arched one eyebrow. "That would be doctor's orders, yes."
He grinned. "Then I'm in. Deal."
tbc . . .
Chapter end notes:
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