Wow, I continue to get so many people putting my humble story on their favourite stories lists, and me on their favourite author's lists everyday! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!! It is an awesome feeling!
Again, thanks to Meghan for beta'ing!
PS. I'm not Stephenie Meyer...otherwise wouldn't be writing for fanfiction sites (^_^)...
August came to an end too quickly, it seemed. I felt as if I were just beginning to enjoy my summer because of Edward's presence in my life. Sure, we were friendly before, but once he had admitted his feelings for me, and I had agreed to let him into my world, our relationship seemed to progress slowly but steadily. We saw each other almost every day, depending upon his work schedule. I never invited him into my home, but I began feeling entirely more comfortable in his. He cooked dinner for me a few more times, and our evenings even ended with us curled upon his leather sofa, watching a DVD. In actuality, watching movies together quickly became our favourite thing to do. We hadn't yet ventured out beyond dinner and a movie at his house, though I was starting to think that just maybe, I'd survive his presence in my house.
Before I knew it, the beginning of the school year was suddenly upon us. I had to admit that starting off with a brand new class in September was a much easier transistion than my abrupt start in the middle of the school year when I arrived in Forks.
I was still finding it difficult to have the students call me Ms. Swan. I had begun my teaching career back in Boston under the name of Mrs. Huntington, so it was a weird feeling to have the kids call me by anything else. It worked, however. I responded to it, and actually liked the sound of it, in much the same way I had when Carlisle and Esme had first called me Bella.
By the end of the first week of school, I was tired but happy and proud of myself. As with most kids, my students seemed to have forgotten a lot over the summer. I was happy to remind them about everything. This was the part of my job that I enjoyed the most. While the transition between summer and the fall always came with a small bit of resentment, most of my students were genuinely excited about learning new things and seeing each other once again. Plus, the glimmer of knowledge in a student's eye when they finally understood something or something finally made sense to them was such a high for me that most of the time, it didn't feel like work at all.
The only frustrating thing about September was that my birthday was coming up. Though I didn't want to draw attention to it, it still seemed to nag at the back of my mind. It wasn't that I detested September 13 because I was getting older, like other women my age did. Growing up, I had actually enjoyed celebrating my birthday with close friends and family. But it no longer stood for getting together with my nearest and dearest; it now reminded me that I had once been under the power of someone more sinister than I had ever dreamed. It reminded me of the day James hit me for the first time...
"Your dad and I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, baby. How was your day?" Mom asked over the phone.
"It was good, thanks. The kids sang to me at school. It had to be the cutest thing I've ever heard in a classroom." I smiled at the memory.
"Yet," Renee added. "Remember, this is only your first year of teaching."
"I know," I replied, unable to prevent the smile from widening across my face.
"I'm starting off well enough, then, huh?"
"Hmm," Renee replied, suddenly sounding distant.
"What, Mom?"
"Nothing, honey," she said, pausing. "Just thinking about how you're starting..." she trailed off.
"Mom," I began in an accusing tone. I knew that she was thinking about something that had completely no relevance to teaching. Something had made her train of thought veer off into another direction. She did that from time to time, so I was used to it. "What does that mean?"
"Well, your dad and I were talking about you and James--"
"Mom, I don't want to hear what Dad thinks about James. I've heard it already," I fumed, becoming irritated that she had to bring up Charlie's disapproval of James on my birthday.
"It's not just your dad, hon. I agree with him. We're worried about you."
"Why?!" I burst.
"He's isolated you from your family, sweetie," she reasoned, making me furious.
"I was already isolated, Mom. I moved to Boston four years ago, and only came back on holidays and during the summers. James didn't do that."
"Honey," Renee said quietly, trying to calm me down, "We miss you, that's all. We were expecting you to move back to Toronto when your degree was done, and now you're stuck over there."
"I'm not stuck, Mom," I sighed, returning my voice down to normal levels. It was the same conversation over and over since I told her we were engaged. "I can come for a visit whenever I want. The only problem now is that the school year just started. We'd have to wait until Christmas break to take the trip."
"What about if we visit you?" Renee asked. I could hear the suspicion lacing her tone, as if she was expecting me to dispute her request.
"That would be great, Mom," I replied, genuinely happy at the potential of seeing my parents again after only two months. "You can have one of the three extra bedrooms while you're here."
Just then, I heard the front door open and close, signalling that James was home.
"Marie?" James called out.
I covered the receiver and said, "In the living room, babe," to him.
"Mom," I said, getting up from the sofa where I was sitting. "James is home, so we'll talk about this later. Thanks for calling. Bye," I said, hanging up the phone.
James stepped into the room at that moment, smiling at me tiredly. It looked like he had had a stressful day.
"Who was that?" he asked before placing a kiss upon my cheek. "And what are you going to talk about later?"
"Oh, my mom. She's thinking of visiting some time soon."
James froze. "Why?"
My eyebrows scrunched together. "What do you mean, why? She's my mom, and she misses me. She doesn't need a better reason than that, does she?" I asked, confused by the question. I shouldn't have to explain why my parents want to visit us.
"When she and your father outwardly show their dislike towards me, yes, she does. We just saw them for the wedding."
I became slightly indignified by his reasoning. "And? What's your point? I don't see a problem with them staying with us while they visit. We have the room."
"Who said anything about letting your parents to stay with us, if I allow them to visit?!" his voice suddenly rose with annoyance.
"'IF' you allowed them? You wouldn't have to allow them to do anything because this is as much my house as it is yours," I paused as I watched James' features contort into fury in a matter of seconds. I had never seen this sort of anger from him. His nostrils flared almost unnoticeably, he appeared slightly flushed, and I could see his fists balled up at his sides.
I was terrified instantly at the sight.
But I couldn't stop the following words from leaving my mouth:
"If your parents were still alive, I wouldn't have a problem with them staying with us."
I knew his parents were a touchy subject with him. He told me once that they had been killed when he was a teenager during a home invasion. He was the only witness to their brutal slayings because he hid in the closet before the break-in. Their deaths were the main reason why he had originally wanted to study law.
I had known better than to even bring them up. He warned me early in our relationship never to talk about them because their deaths brought up horrible memories for him. I had willingly obliged--until now.
"Don't you talk about my parents!" James snapped back. At that moment, I saw his hand rise and turn, but I didn't flinch. I had never had a reason to be physically scared of him. Until now.
The back of his hand landed quickly upon my right cheek, turning my head slightly with the force of the slap. When I registered that I had been hit, which was almost instantly, I gasped and my hands flew to my face.
The pain was immediate. I then understood that line from Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts likened being slapped to the feeling of her eye exploding. It was a pretty accurate description, except it stung worse because James had inflicted that pain upon me, not some old horny guy trying to mark his territory with his client, like in the movie. The man I had pledged to love forever had hit me, and that hurt more than any physical pain I had ever endured.
Within a few moments, tears were falling from my eyes due to equal amounts of shock and pain.
I hadn't even looked at James since he delivered the blow. When I did look at him, I saw that his body was hunched over ever so slightly in what I read was shame, with his eyes firmly shut. His face was covered with remourse.
He finally opened his eyes before he spoke next.
"Marie," he choked out. "I'm so sorry. I...I can't believe I just did that." His voice sounded tortured, as if he were going to cry at any minute. He never did. That look remained on his face, though--shameful, guilt-ridden, scared.
"I..." he stuttered. "I'm such an asshole. Oh my God," he continued with awe in his voice, like he had witnessed someone else slapping his wife and couldn't prevent it. "Marie, I don't know what came over me. I can't believe I just did that," he repeated with no emotion in his voice, taking a step towards me. Still in shock, I allowed him to step closer to me. He reached out and stroked the side of my face that he hit.
He took my hand in his at that moment and led me to the kitchen. Once there, he opened the freezer and took out a bag of frozen carrots. He raised them and placed them slowly upon my cheek, causing me to flinch at the sudden cold against my skin.
"Baby," he begged as he held the carrots against my cheek. "Say something, please. Call me an asshole. Call me anything you want. God, I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have talked about my parents, though. I told you never to do that, baby," he explained.
He was right. I had caused him to snap because of my mention of his parents. He wouldn't have hit me had I not said anything about them. This was my fault.
"James," I began, taking the bag of frozen carrots out of his hand and placing it on the kitchen table. I took his hand in mine and laced our fingers. That simple action gave me comfort. It must have given him comfort, too, because the corners of his mouth upturned just a bit. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. I know they are difficult for you to talk about." My tears were still falling-- though James had already apologised, though I was apologising, and though my voice was steady.
"They are. Everything happened so fast, and I didn't have a moment to calm myself before I reacted." I didn't know if he was talking about the situation we now found ourselves in, or something else, because his eyes were distant, detatched, as he said those words.
"James, I'm fine." I grabbed the carrots again and placed them back upon my cheek, wincing slightly at the pressure I placed there inadvertantly. He seemed to return back to the moment then, and looked down at me, smiling apologetically.
"Marie, forgive me? I love you. I will never do that again. Please, baby? Forgive me?"
"Only if you forgive me, too," I said, taking responsibility for my words and the catalyst for his physical aggression toward me.
He reached out and pulled me into a tight hug. All the while as he held me, he murmured, "I'll never do that again, baby. Never. I swear I'll never do that again," over and over until we finaly parted and I went to take a shower.
After I took my shower, I saw that the cheek that James had slapped had begun to swell slightly. Anyone who knew me would see the difference in my face, especially because of the reddness, but luckily I knew the reddness could easily be concealed, so it didn't bother me as much.
I didn't bother wrapping my hair in a towel, opting instead to let it hang around my shoulders and dry naturally.
I stepped out of our bathroom, tying the belt of my thin silk bathrobe around my waist, and found James standing in front of the bed, holding a long velvet box in his hand, closed. He smiled at me apologetically.
"Marie, I haven't forgotten that it's your birthday. I actually got you a little something in commemoration of this day, before we had that fight. Take it?"
Hesitantly, I took the box from his hands and opened it. Inside there was a very expensive-looking tennis bracelet with square-cut diamonds covering the entire width of it. I must have looked surprised, because James chuckled and said, "yes, it's worth a lot. Put it on."
Obediently, I took the bracelet out of its box and slipped it on. Its relative weight was substantial, driving the point home that he had spent a small fortune on it.
"Gorgeous," James said roughly as he pulled me by the wrist towards him. I recognised that particular tone; it was filled with raw and unbridled lust. I didn't necessarily object to it, though. We were still in our honeymoon phase, and except for the smack, my birthday had been pretty good. I decided to forget about his outburst and concentrate on the man I loved.
It was then that his lips found mine and practically devoured me with them. He brought his hand up behind my head to drive his fingers through my damp hair as his lips continued their assault on mine. He was mindful of my swollen cheek, kissing around the painful area. When his lips reached my ear, they whispered, "happy birthday, Marie," before he made short work of my bathrobe and his clothing and buried himself in me.
Looking back, I knew I wasn't nearly as upset then as I should have been. The more I look back, the more I hate myself for taking almost as much responsibility as he did for the slap. Apology after apology, I found myself believing that, had I not mentioned his parents, had I not pushed his buttons, he wouldn't have hit me.
Now I know that, regardless of how the fight began, his true nature would have come out in some way or another and the first slap, the first bruise, the first shove, and all subsequent slaps, bruises and shoves would have happened anyway.
I was reminded of my weakness, of my misplaced trust, of my misjudgement, on my birthday. It was the day that everything changed between me and James in our marriage. It was the day that I first allowed James to fully assert his power over me.
This year would be different.
I would make a conscious effort to erase the emotional scars the memories of that birthday had bestowed upon me.
The week of my birthday, I was unable to visit with Edward the whole week because of our conflicting schedules. His residency was nearly done, and it was crunch time--at least that's what he had told me the last time we had dinner together.
The morning of my birthday, which fell on a Sunday, found me sleeping in, something that I loved to do when I could, until about 11am, when a swift and persistent knocking at my door woke me up. Grudgingly, I got up and made my way to the front door. I peered through the side window first, unsure of who it could possibly be since I wasn't expecting anyone. Through the window, I saw someone wearing a baseball cap and holding a rather large looking bouquet of flowers. I sighed in relief and opened the door.
"Good morning!" the chipper delivery man greeted. "Ms. Swan?" I nodded.
"These are for you, then. I take it that it's your birthday." I nodded again.
"Well, then, happy birthday, Ms. Swan! All the best!" he said enthusiastically, bringing a smile to my face. He must have loved his job. He extended the large vase filled with red, white, and pink roses towards me.
I took it carefully in my arms, thanked him and shut the door behind me with my hip. I placed the vase on the kitchen counter and searched briefly for the card amidst what looked like more than a dozen roses. My fingers grazed the small card and I pulled it up to eye level. The inscription made me smile:
We hope that this is the first of many, many more
happy birthdays for you in Forks.
We cannot wait to see you again!
Our flight is booked! We'll be in Forks before you know it!
With love,
Carlisle and Esme
I beamed at reading that they were coming soon. I had to call them to thank them for the roses, and ask when exactly they were coming. It wasn't as if I wasn't already more than ready to host them, but knowing how to plan out my time while they were in Forks would be helpful.
I ran up the stairs and grabbed the cell phone Esme had hooked up for me, which was always in my purse unless it was charging. I hit the speed dial number for Carlisle and Esme's home and waited.
It rang and rang.
Finally, the answering machine picked up. I did the calculation of the hour difference quickly. It was about 2 o'clock in the afternoon in Boston. Perhaps they were out, enjoying a typical September day in Boston. The brief image of my house back in Boston with the front lawn covered with red and orange and yellow leaves sent small pangs of homesickness through me.
It then occurred to me in that moment after the homesickness subsided that, even though I felt a certain kind of affection towards Carlisle and Esme as I would to my own parents, I knew next to nothing about them, except that Carlisle and Esme were married, and the parents of three children. I didn't know any of their interests, if they went to church on Sundays, or for that matter, if they were even religious people or not. I had a feeling that I had a lot to learn about them, and that when they arrived, I'd make it my mission to learn as much as I could about them in the weeks they were going to stay with me.
I decided against calling Esme's cell, opting instead to leave them a sweet voicemail at home, thanking them heartily for the flowers, for thinking of me today, and asking them to call me when they got in.
I took a moment to nearly bury my nose in the many roses' petals and inhale the light fragrance the roses were releasing into the kitchen. When I emerged from smelling the flowers, I heard another knock at the door, only I knew exactly whose knock that was.
Edward always knocked three times, with a small pause between the first and second knock. I grinned at my realization, since I had never acknowledged that I recognized something so miniscule as that.
I returned to the front door and opened it, seeing Edward looking as handsome as ever, wearing pressed khaki pants and a light blue La Coste polo shirt. His hair was untamed, as usual, but it appeared slightly less than normal. Both of Edward's arms were behind his back, and he looked almost bashful.
"Good morning, beautiful," he said, smiling brightly. He leaned over the threshold and placed a sweet kiss upon my lips, and then another on my forehead. "Happy birthday," he stated quietly.
"Thanks," I replied, nodding toward him with a sugar-sweet smile on my face. "Whatcha got there behind your back?"
"Well, that depends. This can either be your first birthday present, or just something that a guy would give his girlfriend just to say he cares. You choose." He returned my smile and waited for my answer.
"Girlfriend?" I asked with a slight air of surprise and a grin. It wasn't a bad word to use, but we hadn't used it yet, and I wanted to make sure I wasn't hearing things.
"Well, I mean, I'd like to call you that, because I think that's what you are to me." He looked almost embarrassed. Wanting to end his embarrassment, I grinned wider and nodded.
"You're right. I am your girlfriend. I just never thought of us in that way. But it sounds right."
He visibly relaxed once those words slipped from my mouth.
He breathed in quickly, his resolve obviously returning. "So, then, what have you chosen?"
I giggled. "Um, how about an everyday boyfriend-type gift?"
"Sounds good," he replied, bringing his concealed arms out in front him, presenting a small envelope to me. Confused, I reached for it and opened it.
Inside, there was a small piece of paper, with the words, "Have lunch with me, birthday girl" written on it. Behind the paper, there was a folded map with several locations circled and starred.
"Of course I'll have lunch with you," I said with a smile, then motioned to the map in my hand. "What's the map for?" I asked him curiously.
"Well, I know you haven't really seen much of the peninsula since you moved, so I'd like to take you to see some of it. More specifically, the wineries in the Port Angeles area," he flipped the map to the back and it showed a detailed list of seven different wineries, their addresses, and the time we were expected to be there. I didn't miss that, along the bottom, there was a stamp saying PAID.
"This is an open-ended itinerary for a wine region tour," he continued, pointing along the list. "I haven't chosen a date because I don't want to force you to go if you aren't comfortable with the idea of a day trip with me. Besides, we would need to..." he trailed off a moment, looking just the tiniest bit ill at ease.
"What?" I asked, trying to coax the answer out of him.
"Uh, spend the night there," he said, then rushed to say, "we'll get two separate rooms. I'm not suggesting that we'll be sleeping together, I just thought for safety's sake, we'd stay the night because it's an all-day trip, and we'll probably be too tired to drive home after that and--" I cut him off at that moment by putting my hand up and smiling at him.
I knew his intentions were honourable. The thought of spending the night with him both terrified and thrilled me. Prior to James' usage of sex as a weapon against me and my sensibilities, I had only ever been with one man before, and that was my husband. I still shuddered when I thought about sex because of how it had been a device to impose fear and power upon me. I knew that, if and when the time came, things would Edward would be entirely different. If his personality and understanding nature was any indication, we wouldn't be having sex at all. It would be infinitely more dear, more loving. I knew this for a fact.
"I understand. And thank you for leaving it open-ended. I really appreciate the gesture. And you're right; I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of staying somewhere overnight, but it would have nothing to do with who I was with," I reassured, reaching for his hand. He grinned at my words. He obviously had no idea what his presence did to me and for me.
"Being with you soothes me, Edward," I confessed, feeling my cheeks becoming red from my normal blush. "So when we decide to take the winery tour, I would have to stay in the same room with you, simply for the fact that you could help me relax while in a strange place." I ended my sentence with a smile, confirming to him that I was happy about the idea.
"We wouldn't have to do anything you don't want--"
"Edward," I stopped him once again. "I know. Thank you."
I became bold, leaned in, and kissed him sweetly on his lips. Instead of the kiss ending quickly, I lingered on his lips longer than usual. I felt Edward creep his hand up to my cheek, as he had the night he confessed that he had feelings for me, and rub it gently with the soft pads of his fingers.
After a few minutes, I felt him pull away and groan. Our lips weren't touching, but Edward leaned back toward me and before I knew it, our foreheads were touching.
"Sorry, Bella," he began, still caressing my face. "I got carried away there," he sighed then. "But sometimes I can't help myself. I love kissing you."
His admission made my blush return, and my own sigh to escape my lips.
"I love kissing you, too," I replied quietly. "It's one of my favourite things to do with you, actually."
He let his hands drop to his sides and then took my hands in his and took one step backwards to look me in the eye.
"There are so many things I want to do with you, for you. I just don't want to rush you into any of those things unless you're ready."
I knew this particular topic of conversation was going to come up eventually. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself and replied.
"The pace we're going at is great, but the closeness between us is even better. I know you won't hurt me, so if you feel like kissing me, please do," I added with a smile, rubbing the back of his hand slowly with my thumb.
"Ok, I think I'll be taking you up on your offer more often than not," he laughed, placing a small kiss on my nose. "Thank you."
"No, no," I teased, smiling widely. "Thank you. For the winery tour, which I am definitely looking forward to when we decide on a date, and for lunch."
"How do you know that you'll enjoy lunch?" Edward asked, an eyebrow raised slightly, mockingly.
"I haven't had a meal with you yet that I haven't enjoyed. I'm willing to bet that I'll enjoy this one, too."
"Well then, birthday girl," he looked me up and down briefly. "You go get dressed, and meet me at my house as soon as you're ready. Say twenty minutes?"
I nodded. It would take me ten if it meant I would be seeing Edward sooner.
"See you then," I said as Edward leaned in and kissed my lips once more before leaving. I shut the door and ran up the stairs, eager to get ready for lunch with my boyfriend.
Nine minutes later, I stood at Edward's door wearing a long denim skirt with flip flops and a dark blue tank top under a white blouse. Edward answered the door, and it boggled my mind that he appeared to have gotten more handsome since I had seen him nine minutes earlier.
"Come on in, love," he said as he stepped aside to let me in.
As always, he had the table set impeccably, and the meal was delectable.
He had made four small calzones, and stuffed them with cheese, bacon, and lots of mushrooms, since he quickly learned that they were my favourite.
After I insisted on helping with the dishes, and the dining room was put back to normal, Edward took my hand.
"Thank you for lunch, Edward," I murmured as he pulled me toward him to embrace me. He swept a lock of hair behind my ear and kissed my temple.
"It was my pleasure," he replied. We stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, relishing in our closeness. Always the gentleman, he kept his kisses tender and his touches gentle. I couldn't believe my luck.
"What do you want to do today, since you're the birthday girl," he asked, motioning to me to sit on one of his modern, yet comfortable chairs in the sitting room just beyond the front foyer of his home.
Taking my seat, I sighed. I was stuffed from lunch, and content to spend my entire day with Edward, trying to forget the reason my birthday caused my breathing to become shallow and my palms to become clammy.
"Can we just walk Bolt and go from there?"
Edward nodded and smiled his breathtaking smile.
"I like the way you think," he said. He whistled, calling Bolt to us. Within an instant, the beautiful Husky came bounding towards us and licked Edward's hand.
"Good boy," he cooed, patting the dog's head.
"You know, I've never been a fan of pets, but Bolt is making me change my opinion," I commented, using my nails and scratching the dog's back gently. Bolt seemed to like that because he turned and began nudging my hand and attempting to lick my hand.
"I'm glad one of us is changing the way you think," Edward mused, raising his gaze from Bolt to my eyes. I felt a blush rising in my cheeks.
"You both are," I admitted timidly, reaching out and grazing his shoulder with my fingertips.
"I hope so, Bella." His voice held so much sincerity within it. I looked down and saw Bolt sitting at Edward's and my feet, awaiting his next command. Edward looked down at him and then back at me.
"Since you made me promise not to get you a cake or anything birthday-related, I hope you'll settle for a little something in commemoration of your twenty-seventh year," he said, looking mischevious.
"What? No, Edward, please don't tell me you bought me another present! The winery tour was more than enough..." I whined, shaking my head miserably.
"I know you don't like surprises, but I know you'll like this. Besides, I didn't buy you anything else," he replied, taking my hand in his and kissing it sweetly once. I was melting in his hands as we spoke.
I let out a breath, feeling my resolve crack. "Alright. After we walk Bolt," I reasoned. He nodded.
"Perfect," he replied with a smile. "Let's go now, then." He stood up and started walking towards the front door, Bolt happily wagging his tail behind him. I was about to follow when I realised that he hadn't yet gotten Bolt's leash.
"You go on ahead, Edward. I'll get Bolt's leash."
I heard Edward say his thanks as I turned back into the kitchen and looked for the leash. I had seen it only a half hour before, hanging on a hook above Bolt's food and water bowls. I walked swiftly towards the kitchen, finding the leash and pulling it from its spot on the hook.
I walked back towards the front door casually, but stopped when I heard Edward talking outside to someone and Bolt barking excitedly.
I picked up my pace and opened the door, scanning the front yard quickly before spotting two very familiar people with Edward.