I want to thank all the women on the Harvestward Team - Ipsita, Nic, and VampyreGirl86. This chapter almost didn't happen when the sky dumped a foot of snow on South Dakota this weekend. Power restored, SarcasticBimbo soldiered on with her beta magic to bring this to you.

Reviews: Everyone wants a friend like Angela it seems. Lord knows Bella needed her. The story about the bear is coming - just not yet, okay?


Chapter 11

Billings: the only city in Montana with a population over 100,000. It sprung up on the banks of the Yellowstone River and spread over a canyon formed by a much bigger river millions of years before, leaving the sandstone cliffs that surround the town. Billings survived because of a railroad (similar to Forks' early history). It grew with the discovery of the biggest oilfield in U.S. history near the border with North Dakota, and is still home to an Exxon Mobil oil refinery. These days, it's the trading and retail center for most of eastern Montana.

It's actually farther south than I thought, close to Wyoming and Yellowstone National Park. The surrounding towns have names like Comanche, Indian Arrow, Bull Mountain, and Roundup. I bet they are nothing like they sound.

To the southeast is the Crow Reservation, the site of the Little Bighorn battle and memorial to those who died, including Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer. Further east is the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation. They actually use the word "Indian" in the name on the map. Jake's father would have a fit.

I've been trying to get a sense of the place where Edward lives. With another layover in Salt Lake City, I had to do something to stop myself from howling. Being back in this airport a second night running just goes to show what an idiot I've been—a practice that is about to cease.

With eyes wide open, I am going to investigate Edward Cullen's potential as someone I can have a relationship with. What that relationship will be is the outcome of stage one. Stage two is working out how to achieve it.

That's the pep talk Angela gave me on the way to Sea Tac, and she's never steered me wrong yet. Gotta love that woman.


From my limited vision, sandwiched between two people who aren't one bit interested in seeing Billings from the air, it looks like we're touching down on top of the city. Not that I'm necessarily entertaining the idea of living here, but if I was to move from Seattle, I'd want to be close to an airport with good connections. How close would depend on my new home.

I've had dreams of living in a spectacular location most of my life, and I know it's not the proximity to the best coffee in town that fills my soul. Seattle's great cuisine and artistic endeavors are very attractive, but they pale in comparison to a blanket of pristine snow.

Getting through the airport is quick, and it doesn't take long for my bag to appear. I don't have to look far for Edward, who's outside, leaning against a silver SUV, and I'm kinda disappointed he didn't bring the Mustang. When he sees me, he waves and walks over. The automatic doors part to let him through, and I take in every inch of him.

Wearing boots, his soft blue jeans, and a t-shirt that says, "HARVARD," the way he moves sucks me instantly into his spell. As he comes closer, I chuckle at the small print below that reads, "just kidding."

"Thank you for this," I say sincerely.

"It wasn't a problem pickin' you up." He leans over to take my bag.

Touching his arm, I explain, "No, I mean for giving me another chance."

"You'll talk to me? You'll answer my questions?"

"I will." I smile at the newly groomed version of the beard I've grown to love, and now I can't believe I'm here. "You trimmed the beard."

"Ah, yeah," he responds, rubbing his fingers over his jaw. "Come on, let's go."

"Shouldn't you be wearing a jacket?" I ask, remembering how sick he was only twenty-four hours ago.

"There's one in the car." It's a mild night in Billings, much nicer than the chill I left in Seattle, and there are a trillion stars in the sky above me. When I stop to admire them, Edward asks, "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm enjoying a sky full of stars."

"Like the Coldplay song?" he asks, placing my back in the back.

I'm pleased he made that connection. It would be nice if he prefers music genres other than those that end in the word "metal." Jake said I would grow to love it, but I didn't. The more he played, the more it sounded like a violent battle between screeching instruments and screaming lyrics.

"You like Coldplay?" I ask.

"Yeah, doesn't everyone?" I suppose that doesn't tell me much. They are one of the biggest bands in the world. "Did you see James Corden drive Chris Martin to the Super Bowl?"

Laughing, I remember Chris Martin's impression of Mick Jagger. "I did! It was hilarious. I love those carpool karaokes. Did you see Michelle Obama? She was so cool."

He groans. "Can't they just stay where they are until we get two decent candidates?" With a snort, he adds, "The guy from 'The Apprentice' is running for President. You know Montana is a Republican state?"

"Washington votes Democrat."

He starts the car and pulls out without commenting further, and I don't encourage a discussion on this hideous election. It's too depressing.

Staring out the window, I notice we're up high, looking down on the lights of the city. Billings is a big sprawling town—nothing like either Forks or Seattle. The descent is quick and before long, he says, "This is it," pulling into the driveway of a clapboard house. When the garage door rises, we park alongside the Mustang.

It might have a double garage, but Edward's house is tiny. His furniture is nice, but there's not much of it.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he offers.

"No, you won't. You're too sick."

"Look, Bella, I figured out why you wanted to get away from me. I've been reading how the virus is spread and I could have passed it on to you."

I rub his arm, wondering if this is why he hasn't touched me. "Hey, you don't know you have Zika yet and, honestly, if I've caught it, I have no one else to blame but myself. Maybe it's a good thing if I catch it now, before I want children."

"Fuck," he says, grabbing a handful of his hair. "If Rose is pregnant…"

"Oh, Edward." I hug him as tightly as I can, but there is nothing I can say to make him feel better. We may all be devastated tomorrow if the worst happens and she is pregnant and carrying the virus, but the likelihood of that happening has to be slim. Rose and Emmett are intelligent people who chose to join him in Mexico while they were trying to conceive, and Edward blaming himself doesn't help the situation. "I think we should go to bed—together."

He takes my bag and I turn on my phone to follow him. The phone pings and I sit on his bed, reading several messages from Garrett. He's worked himself into a state, unable to contact me when James Hunter asked to see all the photos from the harvest shoot for a magazine article. The Hunter Agency is looking after the Masen's Whiskey campaign, and poor Garrett is torn, not knowing what to do without my approval.

In the last message, he's desperate, saying he's ready to take the repercussions if he screws up, so I call him, worried he's already gone ahead. He has shared photos before when instructed, and the folder still contains every shot I took, most of them revealing my infatuation with the client's son. The photos of us kissing near the edge of the cliffs are there too, so I'm anxious to speak to him immediately.

"Oh, thank God!" he blurts out. "Have you seen my messages?"

"You didn't share the photos yet, did you?"

"No, but that man is intimidating."

I close my eyes and lower my head with relief. "I'm proud of you, Garrett. No one gets to see our photos without my consent."

"That's right, Bella." With a deep sigh, he adds, "ShitI need a drink."

"Have one for me. You did good."

"So you'll call him?"

"Yes, I'll call him right away."

I hang up and find the number for James. When he answers, I don't waste any time on a greeting.

"What makes you think you have the right to bully my assistant?"

"The client needs the photos and you're currently out of the country." I consider correcting him, but choose not to waste my time.

"What's the raging urgency?" Edward leans down, placing a glass with a couple of fingers of whiskey next to me, and I hold onto his arm, thanking him.

"I need them on Monday. Anyway, what's your problem? The images are now our property."

It's hard not to snort at his bullshit. "I don't work for you, James, so they are certainly not your property."

Taking a sip of whiskey, I wait. James is still pissed that they chose me over his own photographer. He hates not being in control, and he knows he has no jurisdiction over my photos, so I'm angry he tried to bluff Garrett.

"We need those images."

"Then I'll deal directly with Esme Cullen. Does she have the article?"

"Not yet."

That sounds like James. "Well, when you send it to her, I'll provide a selection for the magazine."

He's such a prick. After I turned down his sexual advances, he spread the word that I was a pain in the ass to work with. Little did he know he did me a favor, forcing me to go back to the type of photography I love.

"I'd love to chat, but it's late where I am, James."

"Monday."

"Yes, Monday. Good night." I hang up and take a swig of the whiskey. It feels very satisfying, knowing his destructive ego no longer has any control over me.

"Who was that?" Edward comes from the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel.

"The Hunter Agency. The son, James, tried to muscle Garrett into handing over my images from the shoot."

He frowns. "He's not allowed to see all the photos?"

"He's not my client, so only your mother gets access to the photos I decide to submit. Not every shot I took relates to the harvest, Edward." I stare at him, wondering if he'll put two and two together.

His eyes widen and he asks, "Not the photos of you and I...?"

"God, no." I'm surprised he leapt to the worst possible conclusion. "Those shots are safe, but I took hundreds of photos your mother hasn't seen." Running my hand down his arm, I say, "I'll show them to you tomorrow, handsome, and you'll understand."

Edward is already in bed when I come out of the bathroom and curl myself around him since I'll end up that way before morning. As I relax in the warmth of his arms, my mind drifts to tomorrow and Rose, wondering if she can sleep. It seems like they were getting so close to conceiving when this had to happen.

I have no idea how I would get through the night.


We arrive at the pathology lab, finding Rose and Emmett sitting in their Jeep. He gets out and comes around to open her door. I see him speak to her tenderly and she nods, getting down slowly as if she's injured or exhausted. For a second, I'm worried she's ill, but she straightens up and takes his hand firmly as if she's readying herself for the worst.

She greets us with the tiniest smile, saying she's pleased I changed my mind, and I can only try to comfort her by saying I have a feeling everything will be okay.

Carlisle's friend, Doctor Gerandy, is not actually there to meet us. He has arranged for someone else to help us fill in the forms. We have to give them urine samples as well as blood, and we leave the lab without a set time to return.

Edward offers to take us for a drive around Billings, and we agree when the big sky of Montana is blue. The weather is great.

Downtown Billings has a surprisingly metropolitan feel where architectural elements draw my eyes up from the restaurants and bars to well-preserved buildings that hint at an elegant past.

The people I'm seeing look just like inhabitants of Seattle, out walking their dogs or chatting and drinking coffee. I only spot an occasional cowboy hat. A food truck parked on the edge of a plaza is doing great business near a team of people dismantling a sound stage.

Billings has a vibrancy I was not expecting, without the crush of the Seattle traffic.

Edward proudly declares there are now seven beer distilleries here as he takes the road north and points out the town's sporting arena, Dehler Park, home to the Billings Mustangs baseball team. I don't tell him I've never heard of them before. We pass by the University of Montana as the road climbs the ridge toward the airport, and then we turn right.

In just a few minutes, he pulls in and we get out for the view of the Yellowstone River with its sandy islands and people kayaking down below. Two mountain bike riders whizz past, singing out a good morning we return.

Edward shows us the most popular spots for rock climbing on the vertical face of the ridges, called the "Rimrocks," explaining how they depict the ancient level of the sea. I ask him if he's ever tried climbing here and he shakes his head, saying there are large sections that have broken away and fallen. He believes it's too unstable.

Next, we drive to Lake Elmo State Park. While Rose and Emmett remain in the car, Edward and I get out and he tells me the area is packed in summer. There are people enjoying the good weather, but only a few are in the lake. I can imagine it with crowds of families, picnicking while their kids squeal in the water, and I'm sorry I didn't bring my camera now, but I wasn't expecting this tour. Maybe if I'm nice to him, he'll bring me back in the Mustang.

Looking back at the pair still in the car, I ask, "Do you think they're okay?"

"Maybe lunch will take their minds off it for a while. How about the Bull Mountain Grill? It's not far from here."

It seems like nothing is far away in Billings. "Sure, that sounds great."


While we wait for our food, I ask Emmett if he knows anything about the magazine article and the urgent request for photos. He tells me hasn't spoken to his mother, having left the day after the harvest to join his wife. I ask where Rose is currently living, but Emmett answers, describing her transient lifestyle and how proud he is of the work she is doing.

"She's a natural with kids."

Rose looks away, caught up in her thoughts again, and I glance at Edward. Thankfully, the food arrives, and I watch Emmett's eyebrows waggling as he surveys his chicken fried steak.

"When the waitress asked if you'd like the lighter portion, the look on your face was priceless," I announce and Emmett laughs, slicing into his beef.

"Wanna bite?" Edward offers, and I moan when I taste the bacon and smoked brisket in his Bunkhouse burger. "Delicious," he adds, staring at my lips.

I'm about to admit that my Bull Mountain fish fry is every bit as good as my Dad's when I notice Rose pushing her food around the plate.

"Is your chicken all right?" I ask.

"Yeah." She shrugs. "I'm not really hungry."

The three of us try to keep Rose in the conversation, recalling the fun we had in Tulum. She finally perks up when I admit I saw her with Edward and assumed they were together. She glares at him and snorts. "I'm so glad we found you, Bella. No offence, but we didn't go to Mexico to listen to him talk about you all day."

Looking at Edward, I see him narrow his eyes at her. She pokes her tongue out at him and laughs.

I tell them the photos of the whale sharks turned out so well that I plan to sell them as a collection, and ask if they'll approve the shots in which they appear. "I would love to see them," Rose answers with a smile.

"Sure," Emmett responds. "Anyone for dessert?"

When the call finally comes to say our test results are ready, we leave immediately and no one says a word on the drive back to the lab.

Doctor Gerandy introduces himself and Rose thanks him for taking time out of his Sunday. He chuckles, saying he doesn't actually do the tests himself. He's been playing eighteen holes of golf.

"Okay, let's get right to it." He shuffles through the papers, reading them first. "Rose Cullen and Isabella Black are both negative for hCG."

I look at Rose for an explanation, and instead of her standing and dancing, she's downcast. "It means we're not pregnant, Bella." There were a lot of forms, but I didn't know they were testing me for pregnancy.

"Rose and Emmett Cullen are serum negative for Zika, Dengue and Chikungunya viruses. Serologic tests are negative for IgM antibodies." Rose's happy sounding squeal as she throws her arms around her husband is all I need to understand.

"Edward Cullen is RNA NAT serum positive for Zika virus with IgM antibodies detected. Negative for Dengue and Chikungunya. Urine tests confirmed." Now I hear Rose gasp.

"So, does that mean I have it?" Edward asks, anxiously. When Rose nods, he looks at the ceiling, trying to come to terms with the news.

Rose asks the doctor, "Can we catch it from him?"

I'm ready to chip in with what I read on the internet when the doctor holds up a finger. "Just a second. Let me finish. Isabella Black is serum positive for Zika virus with IgG antibodies but negative for Dengue and Chikungunya. Urine tests show identical results."

I'm actually not as devastated as I thought I would be. I knew there was a chance I was infected, but I have to look on the bright side—I'm not feeling sick and there's no need to worry about catching it from Edward now.

"Did you say IgG?" Rose asks.

"Yes," he answers, studying the results. "The antibodies indicate a previous exposure to the virus."

Rose shakes her head and smiles as she looks at me. "Bella, you were already immune."

I look at Edward while I puzzle over where I could have caught Zika before.

The doctor continues. "I'm not a contagious disease expert, but viruses tend to spread between humans the same way. Have Carlisle refer you to someone for a definitive answer."

We all leave the lab in our own little worlds and Rose says, "I'm sorry, you two, but I want to go home."

Edward responds. "Sure, Rose, I understand." She climbs up into the Jeep and we wave them off without any physical contact.

Blowing out a big breath, Edward looks miserable. "I think I should go home, too. I don't want to spread this around." I understand his need for the news to settle in, but I don't feel he should worry.

We climb into the car and I take his hand. "You know, on that website it says only a specific type of mosquito spreads the virus and they don't live this far north. There have been no reported cases occurring in Montana. In fact..."

I've been pondering for several seconds when he asks, "In fact what?"

"Florida and Texas have had reported cases. My grandma lived Florida, and Mom and I spent two weeks with her last year when she was dying. Then we stayed to clear out her home when she died."

He just nods, driving home in silence, obviously deep in thought. As soon as we're back at his place, I try to change the subject. "I want you to see all the photos from the harvest shoot. Then we need to call your mother."

"I won't be long," he responds, walking down the hallway. After a few minutes, I go looking and find him hunched over the computer in a spare room he obviously uses as an office. He has a timber drafting table near the window holding sheets of paper covered in hand-drawn ideas, arrows, measurements, and notations. Rolled up plans lean against boxes of things he's yet to unpack and I smile, admiring sketches stuck haphazardly to the walls, showing his artistic talent and appreciation for terrain.

Coming up behind him, I see he's researching the mosquitoes that carry the virus, his two enormous monitors full of web pages and maps of the world. The desk is free of clutter, the only thing of interest being some kind of trophy. It's quite beautiful, made of pale stone and timber, and when I read it, I see he's won an award for sustainability.

"You won an award?" I ask, pointing at the trophy.

"Yeah, I designed a net zero home here in Billings."

"Net zero?"

"The building itself generates enough energy to equal the power consumed on site."

I snort. "I was using a solar panel in Mexico and you never thought to mention this?"

When he doesn't answer, I wrap my arms around his shoulders. His hand comes up to hold my forearm and I kiss his cheek, noting it's the first time I've done so since I found out he was sick. I've missed the feel of that beard. He spins his chair sideways and pulls me into his lap.

Moving my hair over my shoulder, he says, "I didn't want you to think I was tryin' to emulate you. We are alike, Bella." After a sigh, he adds, "I just knew we had a connection. The only woman I'm interested in can't catch this virus from me. Don't you think that's incredible?"

It is incredible that with anyone else, he'd have to be very careful having sex for another six months and I nod, agreeing it is a good omen for us. He kisses me sweetly, then smiles.

"Okay, gorgeous, where are these photos? Do we download them?"

"No, that would take forever. I have copies on my laptop." When I try to stand, he resists me going and pouts a little.

"You said hundreds, right?" he asks as he follows me into the bedroom. "We should probably find somewhere—comfortable." For a few seconds, the air is full of tension as our eyes flick between the bed and each other. "The couch or in here?"

"Uh…should we...?" All of a sudden, my brain is muddled. How he can have this effect on me, I'll never know.

"Bring it into the living room, Bella," he directs me, and I almost stumble when I walk in. He's already sitting sideways on the couch with one long leg stretched out in front of him and one bare foot on the floor, patting the spot between his legs. It's impossible not to stare at the area that gave me so much pleasure.

I sit down carefully and he pulls me closer, wrapping his legs around mine. "Comfy?" he asks and I nod, aware the folder of photos I'm about to show him is going to expose things about me. The list of files on the screen is in chronological order and ready to preview—a full record of the day—and I take a breath of courage because there is no turning back after this. He must already know the fact I'm here shows how much I like him, but this will reveal my falling in lust with the way he looks.

"Oh, it's still dark," he observes, seeing the first image of the field before he started the harvester. I remember its lights on, waking the sleeping barley for its haircut, and how quiet it was.

In the shots from the cherry picker, the sky changes from pink to blue while Edward takes the first cut of the field. As he passes by the house, I can clearly see it was him behind the wheel now, playing Guns 'N Roses.

Next is the burst of pictures where he's holding his niece and I lean back against him, seeing the photos in a brand new light. He's no longer my model or Dior Man. He's someone who has declared his intent to pursue a relationship with me, someone who has been open about the fact that he's ready to settle down and have a family. The images show more than just an adored uncle—they reveal his potential to be a gentle and caring father. I could look at them all day, but that would give me away even more.

Oh boy, here we go. I only submitted two images of him looking up at the harvester. The rest, where I asked him to take his shirt off, I kept for myself and now I have to speed through them, embarrassed there are so many they reveal the voyeur in me. As he comes down the hill to kiss me, and gets larger in the frame, I sense Edward becoming uncomfortable, moving his hips and legs.

"Jesus, I'm getting hard reliving this."

Remembering how it felt, I turn and scratch my fingers through his beard. "That first kiss was…"

"Not like a first kiss." He leans down, the perfect combination of masculine roughness and soft lips. With his hand enclosing my neck, our tongues meet and I'm his, ready to abandon the photos, imagining us naked and sweaty with him between my legs.

Wanton thoughts invade my mind when I'm with Edward. Sometimes, he's like a porn movie playing in my head.

His hands squeeze my breasts and I'm moaning in his mouth, loving the sensual way he entices my nipples, when all of a sudden I'm scrambling to stop the laptop hitting the floor.

Someone is knocking on Edward's front door.

"Great timing," he mutters with a long sigh, and I take off to the bedroom. Breathless and blushing is not the way I want to meet someone he knows.

I hear a female say, "I came to see if you needed anything."

"No thanks, I'm fine." Edward's reply is surprisingly blunt.

"Are you ready to come home?" she asks, and now I'm interested in who belongs to the voice.

"This is my home now."

"This house, Edward—is really not fit for an architect's office. You can't possibly bring clients here." The huge exhale shows the man's frustration. He doesn't bother to respond and I don't blame him. "Why are you so suntanned and since when do you grow a beard?"

I poke my head out, ready to defend the man and his scrumptious beard. He's standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the open door like a bouncer, and I have to say, he looks every bit as enticing as he did on that hill at his parents' farm. The woman standing on the porch has silver blonde hair cut very short on one side and swept behind her ear on the other. She's stunning, but overdone in heels and Capri-length pants, heavy makeup, and perfume too rich in the air.

"I've been to Mexico on vacation."

"What? Who with?" She looks shocked and a little jealous if I'm reading her right.

"Emmett, Rose and…"

"Me," I announce loudly as I enter the living room.

Edward turns to me, missing the woman's eyebrows arch as she looks me up and down.

"Tanya, this is Isabella Black."

Thanks for reading xo