Thanks again to my wonderful beta and friend Saluki168. I Flove her!

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Chapter 11

I stirred the creamy sauce on the stove; the spicy aroma of nutmeg filled the air. As the sauce simmered, I melted the butter, heated the olive oil, and began to prepare the portabella mushrooms. The lasagna wasn't anything I could attribute to personal invention, it was a recipe from the Barefoot Contessa , but it never failed to please a crowd.

I flipped on the Bose radio in the kitchen; it was already set to the station that my dad and I had compromised on. To my surprise Bing Crosby was belting out his classic version of "White Christmas." In the madness of my life, I had forgotten Christmas was right around the corner. I hadn't even considered shopping, and I was left in state of disbelief that I had been completely unaware of the signs that must have been everywhere. I hadn't done a lick of decorating, nor had I thought about a tree. No wonder my dad was feeling down; we generally decorated the house the weekend following Thanksgiving. It was almost as if I had repressed it as a result of all the recent stress.

I returned to my preparations as I mentally made a list of everything I had to do before the day arrived. Three weeks was plenty of time to pull it off successfully. I'll have to leave dad in Edward's care. That's fine though. Fine.

As I set the table, they finally came out of the bedroom. The color had returned to my dad's cheeks, and Edward had helped him into a clean t-shirt and flannel. He looked better and my mood followed suit.

"Wow, honey, it smells great in here."

"Thanks, dad. Are you excited to see the boys?

"Sure am. I'm pretty starved too."

"I'm putting the lasagna in now. And Edward decided to stay."

"Yeah, I know."

"Bella," Edward cut in. "You should be warned that after Thanksgiving I will find it difficult to turn down any future invitations for dinner."

I smiled. Cooking was one thing I had confidence in. "Noted," I replied.

They both sat down at the kitchen table looking like patrons waiting to be served.

"Do you know I had nearly forgotten about Christmas?"

"Honey, that's a clear sign you need to get out more," my dad said cheekily.

"Now I won't have a choice! I'll be out there scrambling with all the other last minute shoppers."

"You know there's an amazing invention known as the internet that could help you avoid the crowds," Edward offered.

I turned around and glared at him. "You know, if you take into account that I completely forgot about the holiday, I think you could cut me some slack."

"I was hardly being serious."

I wasn't mad, just feeling out of whack. Would life ever feel normal again? Was there any going back to normal once it had been left behind? My dad turned and whispered something to Edward that elicited a chuckle.

"What was that?" I demanded.

"Nothing," Charlie answered, feigning innocence.

I just shook my head disapprovingly at both of them, though I thought their camaraderie was endearing. The phone rang, saving them both from further scrutiny.

"Hello?" I answered.

"May I please speak with Ms. Isabella Swan?"

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested."

"No, Ms. Swan, please wait. I'm calling from the delivery service for the Quantum 6000z wheelchair. We're prepared to deliver it on Friday between noon and five o'clock. Will you be available during that time?"

"Um, sure. Friday works," I said.

"Thank you Ms. Swan. We'll be there on Friday then."

I hung up the phone and hurried back to the stove.

"Who was that, honey?" Damn.

"It was the delivery service for the wheelchair. It's coming on Friday."

"Well Merry Christmas to me!" he said in a facetious yet jovial tone.

"That was hardly the response I anticipated."

"I'm just rolling with it now. Get it, rolling?" He started laughing at his own bad joke.

"Ha, ha."

"I'll plan to be here on Friday," Edward interjected.

"Maybe you can take Saturday off, have a real weekend," Charlie suggested.

"We'll see how it goes," Edward said, staring in my direction.

Before the conversation could continue any further, there was resounding knock at the door.

"Come in!" I yelled, remaining at my post in the kitchen.

I heard the door open and then the ruckus the guys made as they came through the door. "Ho Ho Ho!" Billy's voice barreled into the kitchen, making my dad smile.

Soon the scent of pine assaulted my senses and I turned around as Edward helped Charlie up from his seated position. The guys had arrived with a Christmas tree.

"We thought you could use one of these; we'd love to help you decorate it, or at least get the lights on it tonight," Sam offered.

Charlie laughed heartily; so much so, he started choking.

"Whoa there," Edward said, placing a steadying hand on my dad's back.

"I'm alright, thanks," he replied, recovering.

"Smells amazing, as always," Josh said, heading in my direction with arms extended.

"Thanks, Josh. And thanks to all of you for bringing the tree! I hate to say it, but I have no idea where our stand is."

"We got it covered," Paul said as he single handedly begin retreating to the living room with the tree. "Where do you want it?"

I followed him into the living room, my dad doing his best to keep pace. "We usually put it right here," I said, indicating the spot in front of one of the windows.

"Perfect," Paul answered, all business.

"Josh, Sam, Paul, this is Edward," I introduced.

"So you're the man," Sam answered, extending his hand.

"I would have to say 'the man' is actually Charlie here."

"Truer words have never been spoken," Billy remarked.

"That's enough of that," Charlie said, slashing through the air with his hand, begging them off.

The kitchen timer sounded, reminding me to remove the lasagna from the oven. It had to rest for about ten minutes, so I set it on the stove top to cool. With everyone gathered in the living room, I was alone until Sam walked into the kitchen.

"Can I do anything to help? Emily usually keeps me away from the kitchen, but I can generally chop vegetables or grate cheese without any casualties."

"No, everything's done, but thanks. Actually, there's something else I wanted to ask you."

"Of course, what can I do?"

"Would you mind coming here for a few hours tomorrow night? I have a friend coming to town and I was thinking about going out to dinner."

"Yeah, I'll come over. Maybe I'll even bring Emily with me. What time?"

"Six?"

"I'll plan on it. I have the night off and I never get sick of your old man. He's been a mentor to me, you know."

"I know he feels comfortable that the station is in such good hands. You're a good man, Sam."

"I pale in comparison to your father, but it gives me greatness to strive for."

"You will make us all proud, I'm sure." I smiled in his direction.

"Thanks. It helps to know I have the Chief's daughter's endorsement."

"I think we're ready to eat here; want to grab everyone for me?"

He nodded, turned, and walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

I carefully cut one of the two pans of lasagna into manageable squares and placed it on the table, which was soon encircled by hungry men.

"Looks delicious, Bella. Just one thing, where's everyone else's?" Billy commented, pretending to reach for the entire pan.

"Don't worry, I'm a policeman's daughter. I'm prepared with back-up."

"And quick. Mighty quick," he said, shaking his head at me.

Everyone dug in and after filling my own plate, I headed back into the living room to let them have their "guy time." Just as I put the first bite in my mouth, Edward appeared holding his own plate.

"Is it alright if I eat with you?"

"Sure," I said, swallowing a hot mouthful. "But don't feel obligated. You can hang out with the guys if you want."

"Nah. Let him have his time. He sees me plenty."

I was curled up on the couch with my legs tucked underneath me and my plate in my lap; Edward sat down at the other end of the couch. I hated that the thought crossed my mind that he was sitting even further away from me than he had the previous time. The line had been drawn in the sand and across it in clearly written, bold lettering was one word: friend.

It should have thrilled me to the gills to have a friend in him, instead I felt utterly dismal. It was clear and undeniable what had happened. I had developed a crush on Edward. It had crept up from behind and caught me completely off guard. There was no denying it, but I would not act on it. It could result in catastrophe, and I had enough going on without throwing that in on top of it all.

"Bella." His voice pulled me out of myself.

"What's going on? Something on your mind?" His tone was lightly laced with concern.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about things."

"What things?" he asked, quirking a seductive eyebrow.

Think fast.

My dad's healthy laugh along with those of his friends lent me a helping hand.

"He was so down today. And then you show up and an hour later he's coming out of his room all smiles. How do you do that?" It was a question I had been meaning to ask for a while but for some reason it always slipped my mind.

He took a bite of lasagna and chewed thoughtfully, his jaw moving in a fluid motion. He even made eating sexy.

Stop it; you are not helping yourself right now.

"Before I answer that I just have to tell you that I never want to stop eating this. You've outdone yourself."

I smiled at him, acknowledging my gratefulness.

"To answer your question, all I really do is listen to him. I'm patient with him when he's talking - I know you are too – and I let him speak freely."

"I feel a bit frustrated that he won't talk to me. I feel like you're becoming my translator."

I took a bite. The lasagna had come out as close to perfection as it could probably get. It would be hard to repeat it the exact result again, even following a recipe. I wish I could somehow catalog my random innovations in the kitchen.

"There are things your dad is more comfortable sharing with me, things a daughter shouldn't have to be subjected to."

"Oh," I replied. "Is there anything else?"

His expression screamed reluctance and I knew he was holding back. I braced myself to hear something unpleasant

"I think your dad knows you well enough to understand how you handle stress; he worries about talking to you because he knows you internalize things. He doesn't want to watch you destroy yourself."

In a screaming whisper I said, "Why does everyone treat me like I'm fifteen years old? I know I don't always deal with things in the best way but I'm an adult, and I need to know what's going on!"

"Bella," he started, in an even tone. "You need to talk to him about this. I'm here for you, but I can't allow myself to come between the two of you. I don't want to be a part of your communication breakdown."

I was stumped for a response. Edward looked down. He had spoken to me in tone that had an heir of smugness to it. I was slightly crestfallen.

We continued to stare at our individual plates, a barricade of silence suddenly cemented between us.

The effects of the crush heightened, my heart was aching for things to be better, especially since laughter continued to echo from the kitchen.

"I'm sorry for how that came out, truly," he said, breaking the ice.

I sighed knowingly. "Don't be sorry. It's hard for me to admit it but it's true; I internalize things. Except around you, of course. Around you the emotions tumble out of me in tidal waves."

He frowned before saying, "That definitely can't be a good thing. I like to make people feel better."

I laughed. My answer was crystal clear in my head. "But don't you see? You help me expel all the internal turmoil, so in truth you do make me feel better."

"Why didn't I think about that?" he asked before chuckling. "I'm going for seconds. Do you need anything?"

"No. I'm going to see if I can grab the ornaments out of the garage."

"Do you need any help?"

"I've got it. Go get your seconds."

I dropped my plate off in the kitchen and proceeded to enter the garage. Thankfully my dad had kept it neat as a pin and logically organized. I found the Christmas stuff easily and grabbed two boxes marked "ornaments." They were not too heavy but completely cumbersome. Through some crafty balancing, I managed to open the door back up. As I walked past the kitchen, one of the guys who turned out to be Paul, said, "Whoa, Bella. Let me help you with that." He got up and was at my side in an instant, taking the box off the top.

"Thanks."

"Let's decorate the tree everyone," Paul instructed. He was easily confident; I liked that.

For the next hour, lights were strung and ornaments were placed on the delicate branches of the beautiful blue spruce. Everyone took part, Charlie delegating the location of ornaments as he saw fit. Josh bent the top of the tree down, careful not to disturb the ornaments, so that my dad could place the star on top of the tree. It looked incredible when it was done. It felt festive and warm thoughts of Christmas past led to conversation among us all. We shared some decaf and personal memories. No one seemed in rush to leave, in fact, Edward ended up leaving before everyone else.

"I'll see the two of you on Friday."

"Thanks for everything, Edward!" my dad exclaimed, looking as happy as a clam.

"Oh wait," I said, stopping him. I quickly went to the kitchen and retrieved a Tupperware container.

"I thought you might want some left overs"

Our fingers brushed for an all too brief moment as the container passed between us. He examined it before looking up and saying, "Thanks, hopefully it makes it home."

I laughed. "See you Friday."

"Goodnight, Bella."

And with that we went our separate ways for the night.

The guys lingered for another thirty minutes, and I cleaned up while they continued their banter.

Josh offered to help with the dishes, as he always did. And, per usual, I declined.

After finishing up, I picked up the phone and dialed Emmett. He answered before the first ring had finished. "Iz! What's the word?"

"That depends on where you're taking me."

"So you can get away tomorrow night?" His voice was laced with pure excitement.

"Yep."

"I don't know where I'm going to take you. Fortunately the choices are extremely limited, so it shouldn't be too much of a challenge. I can pick you up around five-thirty?"

"Uh...how about we meet there? Just call me a half an hour beforehand and I'll be wherever you decide."

"Okay. But I really don't mind driving."

"Let's just keep it simple, kay?"

"Whatever you want, Izzy. I'll call you tomorrow. Night."

"Night," I replied before hanging up the phone.

After helping my dad settle into bed, I quickly washed my face, threw on some pajamas, and headed to bed.

We had made it through another day. And it had been a good one.

Thoughts, questions, concerns about Emmett's reappearance and Edward's "line in the sand"? As me your questions in the reviews - I promise to answer!