A/n: Hello All, it's that time again. I'm posting earlier today as I shall be in the pub this afternoon watching England in the World Cup! Fingers crossed! Hope you enjoy this chapter, I have two wonderful ladies to thank for their amazing beta help this week. The lovely xoEMC who is somewhere in Texas sipping Margaritas and sunning herself...and the wonder Jaustenlover who has worked wonders with the material she was given. Thank you very much both of you for your help!
Chapter 11
I yawn loudly as I clean away the remnants of a continental breakfast. James left at the crack of dawn to be sure he could get on a train that would arrive in London on time. I packed all of his belongings, and waved him off like a dutiful wife. Which is why I now find myself wiping croissant debris from the kitchen work top at 6.00am. I am overjoyed to have a week free of him and I had struggled to conceal the sheer joy I experienced carrying out all of the required tasks that helped to send him on his way.
I fill the stovetop espresso maker with water and finely ground coffee, placing it on the smallest ring. I settle on one of the kitchen chairs. The kick of good strong coffee should be enough to awaken me and get me through the morning. I'm still in excruciating pain from scrubbing the kitchen floor yesterday.
I lift my skirt to look at my knees, my eyes widen at the grisly sight which greets me. My kneecaps are a fiery red and they're swollen. They groan and protest as I stretch and lengthen out my legs. The gurgling of the espresso maker distracts me from my anatomical inspection and I rise slowly from the chair. I make it to the counter breathing through the pain and turn off the gas. There is no way I will be able to help Edward in the orchard today. Disappointment courses through me.
I open the wall-mounted cupboard in front of me and reach around for some ibuprofen. I take two pills without water, as I cannot face staggering to the sink to fill a glass. I retrieve a cup from the cupboard next to the oven and fill it with the freshly brewed espresso. The strong smell of the pungent, dark liquid wafts up towards me. I blow on it gently and take a long draught. It soothes me and warms me from the inside out.
I'll go and see Edward in a couple of hours, and explain to him. At the moment, it's too early. Maybe I should use my spare time to try and read some of his manuscript. Walking slowly to the front room, I settle on the sofa, stretching my legs out in front of me as I recline. The manuscript is on the coffee table, staring at me. I put it there after James left. I'm so afraid to read it.
I pick it up and place it in my lap. The cover stares back at me, 'The Magdalen Saga: The Fritillary Connection'. I peel back the first page and I am presented with a blank page, turning the page again... 'Chapter 1: The Meeting Place'. I fiddle with the top right-hand corner of the page, trying to work up the courage to turn it over. It's Edward's work; I know it will be good. But will I be able to offer a useful critique? I've never analysed his prose before. I just lost myself in it. I never thought about it too deeply.
I rub my hands together and take a deep breath – come on Bella, you can do this! It's just a little work of fiction. I turn the page over and lose myself in the text. I'm one chapter in and making mental notes as I go.
The main protagonist is named Catherine. She is the long-lost daughter of the troubled star-crossed lovers from the previous books. I find that the saga has moved on in years and Catherine is a member of the Magdalen College waiting staff.
The foundations have been set for Catherine to fall in love with a wealthy scholar affiliated with the College. Their love is frowned upon based on their social standings. The language is exquisite and the descriptions of the 1800s are so educational and informative. He's really done his research.
I'm three chapters in and so far no sex, I breathe a sigh of relief. I'm dreading that discussion with Edward. I check the time, it's 8.30am. I feel like I should do something for Edward to say thank you for asking me to be his pre-reader and to apologise for my lack of assistance with the orchard.
The easiest, quickest, tastiest thing I can think of to make is flapjacks. I'm sure I have all the ingredients. I rise from the sofa, my movements reminiscent of an 80 year old woman and I hobble to the kitchen.
X-X-X-X-X
The house is filled with the delicious, sweet smell of golden syrup and toasted oats as the cut flapjacks cool on the worktop. It's finally time for me to go and see Edward. I pull on a pair of Chelsea loafers and smooth my tweed skirt. Grabbing the flapjacks, I walk to the door, rapidly getting more annoyed with how infirm I am becoming.
Clearing the short distance, I walk to Edward's house; a car I don't recognise is parked in the driveway. It's a Mercedes AMG SL55, a Kompressor apparently. I glean this from reading all the badges on the boot. I toy with the idea of turning round and going back home. If Edward has company, I really don't want to interrupt.
As I grapple with my internal dilemma, I hear the front door open and the decision is made for me. I look up to see Edward staring at me.
"Hi Bella, I saw you from the window and wondered if you were ever going to come in." Edward grins cheekily at me and a reactionary blush creeps over my cheeks. I smile bashfully and walk the few short steps to the house.
The smile falls from Edward's face, he must've noticed I am still walking awkwardly. He takes three quick strides towards me and wraps an arm around my waist, supporting my weight. I fall into his side gratefully.
"Bella are you still in pain from yesterday?" Edward's voice is full of concern. I nod my head as he almost carries me into the house. My feet barely graze the floor as I clutch the flapjacks close to me.
Edward deposits me on the sofa in the front room. When he takes a step back, I realise we are not the only two in the room. A middle-aged man sits in the leather wing-back chair, he is wearing a cream Aran jumper; the collar of his cotton shirt poking out of the neck. His brown corduroy trousers are slightly worn at the knee, and they come to rest upon his deck shoes. His hair is a greying blonde and his eyes are crinkly in the corners, giving him a kindly appearance.
Edward interrupts my personal assessment to introduce the man to me. "Bella, this is my father, Dr Carlisle Cullen." I begin to rise, but Dr Cullen, shakes his head to indicate there is no need. He quickly crosses the room and comes to sit beside me, offering me his hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella." He smiles gently at me.
I shake his hand and return the compliment. "And you Dr Cullen." I nod my head politely.
"Oh please, call me Carlisle. There's no need to be so formal." His smile widens and I nod to signify that I understand.
Realising I'm still holding the flapjacks, I thrust the container towards Edward. "Here, I made these for you. They're a sort of apology."
"Apology? What for?" Edward looks perplexed.
"I'm still quite uncomfortable and my knees have become inflamed overnight, so I won't be able to help you in the orchard today." I try to hide the sadness in my voice, but I'm not sure I succeed.
"Bella, don't be silly. You don't have to apologise for being unwell." He takes the container and inspects the contents, his face lighting up.
"Flapjacks, my favourite! I used to eat golden syrup by the spoonful as a kid! It's a wonder I have any teeth left – eh Dad?" Carlisle chuckles at Edward's enthusiasm. Images of a fully grown Edward, licking golden syrup sensuously from a spoon, dance around my head. I almost feel myself salivating.
Edward breaks though my lascivious thoughts. "Right, I'm going to make some coffee to have with these. Dad, you have to taste Bella's baking, it's immense!" Edward leaves the room, whilst Carlisle and I stare at each other awkwardly.
"Edward mentioned to me that you've been experiencing some discomfort with your knees. Would you mind if I take a look?" Carlisle looks concerned. I have a feeling that I may have been set-up as I see an old, almost antique looking well-worn, black leather doctor's bag resting on the coffee table.
I gulp and nod without speaking, lifting my skirt to rest just above my knee. I drop my head so that my hair masks my face. I hate going to the doctors. On the rare occasion that I am unwell I try to just suffer on through. Doctors make me nervous, only once have I been to Accident & Emergency…but I don't want to think about such dark things whilst I'm at Edward's.
Carlisle gently presses the tender area of my kneecap and I wince in pain. His hands are cold, but firm and confident. He smiles apologetically for the pain he has caused me.
"You've got quite a lot of swelling and tenderness on and around your patella on both legs. Is this a recent problem?" Carlisle continues to prod, I nod in answer to his question, unable to find my voice.
Undeterred by my silence Carlisle continues "Have you ever experienced this before Bella?" I shake my head and resign myself to speak.
"No Carlisle, never before." I look up at him and I can see compassion in his eyes. I quickly look down not wanting to hold his gaze. I'm always nervous that people can tell exactly what I'm thinking through my eyes.
Carlisle pulls my skirt back down and pats my hands, which are folded in my lap. The consultation must nearly be over.
"Bella, do you spend a lot of time kneeling? I mean cleaning hardwood or stone floors, or engaging in other activities of a repetitive nature that would be considerably labour intensive on your knees?"
"Umm, I suppose. No more than the average house-wife as far as I'm aware." I tread carefully with my answers. I hope I don't have anything seriously wrong with me, especially not this week whilst James is away. It'd be just my rotten luck.
"I believe you have an acute case of Prepatellar Bursitis."
I raise my eyebrows, that doesn't sound good. The fear must be evident on my face.
"Oh, it sounds much worse than it is. The common name is Housemaid's Knee. It's caused by repetitive minor trauma to a specific area. You will need to keep off your feet for at least the next 48 hours and put an ice pack on the offending area. It would also be a good idea to take some Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs, something like ibuprofen should help to reduce the swelling." Carlisle smiles warmly as my initial fear falls from my face.
Rest up for 48 hours and take painkillers, I can do that.
"Thank you for taking the time to look at me, Carlisle," my voice is meek as I thank him.
"Oh not to worry Bella, it was no trouble. My son has told me quite a lot about you. In fact he's talked about you non-stop since I got here." He chuckles mainly to himself. "You've had quite the positive effect on him, he seems quite taken with you."
Carlisle's statement confuses me, the way he talks, almost implies that Edward is interested in being more than just friends with me.
"Carlisle, can I ask you a question?" I look at him whilst wringing my hands slowly.
"Of course, Bella." He smiles reassuringly and reclines back on the sofa, crossing his legs at the knee and repositioning himself so he is facing me.
"Did Edward ask you to come and check me out?" I don't know what answer I am hoping for, but I need to know the truth.
"Strictly between you and me…" he motions between us with his hand and I nod to indicate that I understand. "Yes, yes he did call me here to offer any assistance I could." It's a comfort to know that Edward cares about me.
"One other thing….has Edward mentioned to you that I live next door with my husband?" Carlisle's eyes widen a little, he opens his mouth to speak, but, before he has a chance to answer me Edward wanders into the room with our elevenses. Everything is clinking on the tray as he places it on the coffee table.
None of the mugs on the tray match and the plate in the centre, holding the flapjacks has a minute chip to the edge. There is a stack of tea plates, as well, although one looks to be a saucer. It occurs to me that money isn't an issue for Edward, he clearly has plenty. However it is becoming apparent that he is a good old-fashioned eccentric at heart. I'm sure the chipped plate has some significance, possibly familial - why else would he still hold onto it? The lack of order and the mismatched items in Edward's house are a comfort to me, a welcome break from the structure and uniformity at my home.
Edward offers me a steaming mug of coffee and a puts a flapjack on a plate for me. He then does the same for Carlisle and has the saucer for himself. "So, what did you discuss while I was gone?" Edward smiles obliviously at us both.
Carlisle is part-way through his flapjack when he experiences a coughing fit as a result of Edward's innocent question He holds up his hand in apology and reaches in his trouser pocket for a hanky, which he uses to cover his mouth and stifle his coughing. Edward simply shrugs at me and takes a huge bite of his flapjack. He moans as he chews slowly, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip, savouring the syrupy, sugary deliciousness…at least that's what I imagine he feels.
As Carlisle's coughs die down, Edward addresses him directly.
"So Dad, what do you think of Bella's exceptional baking?" I blush at his praise and obvious bias.
"I think it is delicious and I'd love to get the recipe sometime for Esme." Carlisle looks at me as he speaks.
"Certainly, I'll write it out for you and leave it with Edward." I take a nibble from the corner of my own flapjack.
"So….Dad…Did you have a chance to look at Bella's knees?" Edward sounds almost sheepish.
"I gave Bella a brief examination. I believe she has Prepatellar Bursitis." Carlisle relays the details matter-of-factly.
"Prepatellar Bursitis? What's that? It sounds serious." Edward's concern is palpable.
"Edward, calm yourself. The common name is Housemaid's knee. Bella just needs to keep off her feet for the next couple of days. Painkillers and cooling the area with ice would be advantageous also." Carlisle looks amused by Edward's unnecessary distress, as he takes another bite.
"Could working in the orchard have caused it? I'm so sorry, Bella, if I pushed you too much." Edward looks distraught.
"Edward-"
"No, of course not!"
Carlisle and I both speak at the same time. I look at him and he nods for me to continue.
"Edward, it wasn't the orchard. It was a result of all the housework I've been doing." His face softens as he digests my words.
"Phew! Worried I was working you too hard there, my little apprentice." Edward grins cheekily at me.
"Pfft, apprentice? I taught you all you know." I retort in mock disgust, returning his grin, looking at him and getting lost in his eyes.
Carlisle clears his throat and we both look away from each other guiltily.
"Excuse me, I just need to use the bathroom." I rise slowly from the sofa and begin to make my way to the toilet in the hallway. Edward rises to help me, but I wave him off.
When I make it into the bathroom I lean back against the closed door and take some deep cleansing breaths. I can still hear Edward and Carlisle's voices although they are somewhat muffled.
"Edward, you never told me she was married." Carlisle's voice sounds exasperated.
"I don't really see what difference it makes, we're friends – it bears no relevance."
"I just don't want to see you getting hurt again, you seem very fond of her."
"Yes, I do care for her, but just as friends!"
"Are you sure about that Edward? Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or yourself?"
I'm not brave enough to wait for his answer, I take the opportunity to flush the toilet and run the taps, splashing cold water on my face, the noise blocking them out. I look at my hands, they're shaking. Carlisle's words have shocked me. Does he really think that Edward is attracted to me?
I finish up and make my way out of the bathroom. Edward and Carlisle are both stood in the hallway, Carlisle has his doctor's bag under one arm and a couple of pieces of flapjack wrapped in kitchen roll in the same hand. They stop speaking and turn to look at me, with forced smiles spread over their faces.
"Bella, it was lovely to meet you and I wish you a speedy recovery." I walk towards Carlisle and offer my thanks.
"Thank you, Carlisle. I really appreciate your help I'll be sure to get plenty of rest." He leans over and squeezes my shoulder with his free hand. He nods at Edward and gives him an awkward one-armed hug before reaching for the door handle and letting himself out.
Edward and I stand in silence as we listen for the sound of Carlisle driving off in his car.
"Will James take care of everything for you? Or do you need anything before he gets home from work?" Edward turns to look at me as he speaks, his voice sounds distant, his hands are stuffed in his jean pockets and his shoulders are hunched.
"Uh J-James is away in London for the next five days – at a work conference." I shrug as I look at Edward. I sense a change in his demeanour and he seems to brighten at my words.
"Well, there's no point both of us rattling around in these houses on our own for the next few days. Let's get you home and settled, then I can cook dinner for us both tonight - if that's ok with you?" Edward's eyes shine and he breaks into a crooked grin; dimples forming in his cheeks.
"Yes, that sounds wonderful." I beam and walk towards him. I manage to take two steps before Edward scoops me up, one arm around my waist and the other supporting my legs. I wrap my arms around his neck and cling on for dear life.
"Edward, please put me down! You'll drop me. I'm far too heavy for you to carry." I protest and try to wriggle, but he holds me flush against his chest, whilst wrestling with the door.
"Bella, you weigh nothing. The only reason I'm likely to drop you is if you keep wriggling." He reprimands me lightly and walks us through the door into the garden, kicking the front door shut behind him.
X-X-X-X-X
I'm nestled on the sofa-bed that Edward has pulled out, my legs outstretched, an ice-pack on each knee. I can hear Edward pottering around my kitchen, he's cooking us dinner. I've no idea what he is whipping up, he went out to the supermarket while I was resting this afternoon. I hear the occasional clang of pans and a knife on the chopping board.
Just as I'm trying to determine what he might be concocting, I hear Edward come into the room. He's wearing my Cath Kidson floral apron, with a tea towel folded over his forearm. He's holding a glass of red wine and there's just the right amount of room in the glass for the liquid to breathe.
"Here, have a glass of wine while you wait madam." Edward offers the wine to me and I take it from him giggling.
"Thank you sir." I take a small sip, it's delicious, just the right temperature. It's a full-bodied rich wine and I can taste the sour cherries and oakiness as it slides down my throat. "Mmmm, it's delicious. Is it a Barolo?" I enquire. Edward nods, a lazy smile spreading across his face. I dread to think what it has cost him.
"How do you like your steak cooked?" Edward asks as he leans on the arm of the sofa.
"That depends, what cut is it?" I smile back at him, enjoying how comfortable he is in this house.
"It's fillet. Only the best for madam."
"Oooh divine, I'll have it on the rare side of medium please." I look at Edward over my glass and take another sip.
"As you wish." Edward doffs an imaginary cap and skips out of the room.
X-X-X-X-X
The steak and chips complete with béarnaise sauce and roasted pomodorino tomatoes on the vine were delicious. I hum with pleasure as I drain the last of my glass of wine. Edward is in the kitchen tending to the dishes. I feel like royalty.
He walks into the room, holding the remainder of the bottle of wine and smirks at me.
"So, what are we going to do now?" He gazes at me expectantly.
I gulp.
"Scrabble?"
It's the first thing that pops into my mind, but it's not an altogether bad idea. Edward tops up my glass first and then his, setting the wine on the table.
"Sure, why not." He smiles at me and it's so comfortable and easy, a relaxing evening in together.
Good food, good wine and great company...it's just a shame it's only for one week.
A/n Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Come and check out the Orchard, I occasionally post picture clues and teasers there: www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=9753&hilit=A+form+of+escapism
If you want to make some flapjacks, this recipe is the best one out there in my humble opinion: http:/ duramecho(dot)com/Food/Flapjack/ and for all my American friends that have no idea what Golden Syrup is : http:/ duramecho(dot)com/Food/Flapjack/#GoldenSyrup
And finally, this is an Aran Jumper www(dot)simplyirish(dot)com/ProdImages/carraig-donn/Mens-Aran-jumper-a825p(dot)jpg
Also check out this interview between me and Quietruby hosted by the one and only Snowqueens Icedragon: www(dot)southernfanfictionreview(dot)com/2010/06/interview-snowqueens-icedragon-meets(dot)html
I am on holiday next weekend, so I don't think I will be posting until after next Sunday as I will probably be up a mountain.