Indelible

A/N: ManyFanficwards have made bad decisions, just like canon Edward. Can they change the past? No. But they can be regretful and learn from their poor decisions.


Chapter 12: Ghost from the Past

"Bella?"

I whirl around at the sound of Angela's voice. She's standing just behind me, peering over my shoulder and out the window to the street in front of Dad's house.

"What?"

"That's the third time you've gone to look out the front window in the past hour," she notes.

I follow her gaze as she looks back at the crowd gathered in the house after the funeral. Many are still finishing up luncheon plates of sandwiches and salads, sipping at waters or sodas. A few have moved on to coffee and cookies. Conversations between groups of friends and acquaintances fill the living room, spill into the kitchen, and out onto the back porch. Through the back window I see someone in the yard tossing a ball for Fitz.

Angela turns to face me and smiles. "I'm pretty sure everyone who is coming is already here. Who are you looking for?"

I shake my head and smile. "No one. Just…you know…looking outside. It's a pretty spring day."

Angela nods but her eyes narrow as she continues looking at me. "What's up, Bella?" she asks in a low voice. "You've been acting weird ever since you fainted at the cemetery."

I roll my eyes at her but she's having none of it. She pulls me aside, away from where Mike Newton and his parents, Karen and Mike Senior, are chatting with Tyler Crowley and his mom, Beth.

"Nice eye-roll, Swan. What are you, thirteen? Tell me what's going on," she says quietly.

I glance back toward the window and sigh. I know she's going to think I'm losing my mind.

"You didn't see," I tell her. "No one did, I'm guessing. Everyone was too busy watching me make a spectacle of myself. By the time Phil quit flapping papers in my face and Mom let me sit up and get my head out from between my knees, it was too late. He was gone."

She frowns. "He? Who's he?" Her eyes widen suddenly. "The boy from the coffee shop? The one you said looked like Edward Cullen?"

"No. Edward. I saw Edward."

Angela's eyes widen and her mouth drops open, saying nothing, which says everything.

"He was at the cemetery," I add, just to be clear.

She blinks and her frown returns. "You saw Edward?"

I nod.

"At the cemetery?"

I nod again.

Her frown deepens, accompanied by a look of real concern in her eyes. "Bella, you've been under a lot of stress. Maybe you just imagined…"

"I know it sounds crazy, Angela, but I know what I saw. Edward Cullen is here…in Forks. And he was at Charlie's funeral…well, at the burial, anyway. I didn't see him in the church."

"Are you sure it wasn't just that same boy?"

"Not unless that boy aged twenty years, got a haircut, and grew a beard in the past two days. No. I saw Edward. It was his tall, lanky body and his hair—though shorter and maybe slightly darker. It was definitely his face…and his features—except for the close beard."

"Where was he?" she asks, more curious than doubtful, finally.

"He was just…standing on the hillside under a tree, beyond the group of mourners, dressed in a black suit and tie. I just turned my head and…there he was…watching me. And then I fainted. When I finally looked back afterward…he was gone."

"Was he…the reason you fainted?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. Like I told you before, I was already overheated and I hadn't eaten anything. And then suddenly…there he was, looking right at me. It was such a shock, you know?"

"Well, of course it was." Her eyes shift away, traveling across the room to land on Mom, listening to something Doctor Gerandy is saying to Shelly and George Cope. "Did you tell your mom?" Angela asks, returning her gaze to me.

I shake my head. "No. I didn't feel up to a barrage of questions I couldn't answer."

She nods in understanding. And then she asks the same question I can't stop asking myself.

"After all these years, why would he would turn up at your father's funeral and then not stick around to talk to you? Or come by the house, like everyone else?"

I shrug because I'm just as baffled. "I don't know. I can't stop wondering the same thing. It just seems…kind of…"

"Rude?" Angela suggests, her brows lift as she awaits my verdict.

I sigh and nod. "Yeah. And now I'm the rude one, ignoring my guests to look out the window for an elusive ghost from the past."

Angela shakes her head, disagreeing like a good friend. "Given the situation, I'd say it's completely understandable. But don't worry, Bella. I'm sure no one is going to judge you on your hostessing skills today. Everything is buffet style anyway."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks. And thanks for listening and not thinking I'm crazy. And thank you, again, for picking everything up at the deli for me this morning."

She waves a hand dismissively. "It was no problem. They had everything ready to go and we had plenty of room in the church kitchen to store it."

I nod. "Well…I guess I should mingle a bit more, before people start getting ready to leave."

She loops her arm through mine and smiles. "I'll mingle with you, Swan. Come on."

As we pass the front window she slows. We look outside for elusive ghosts before moving on to groups of friends and acquaintances.

*I*

Edward's phone vibrated in his hand where he held it against his leg. He turned it over and read the texted response to his earlier texted inquiry.

I'm fine. I biked to that park. You were right about the view from the overlook. I'm going to eat some lunch I picked up and then read for awhile before I head back.

A photo popped up on the screen. He smiled at the attached grinning, thumbs-up selfie, with a view of the Hoh River in the background. The photo was followed by another message.

See you later. Quit worrying.

Easier said than done, Edward thought as he set the phone down on the passenger seat next to him. Worrying was second nature. And he'd done nothing but worry for days. And now, after what happened this morning at the cemetery, he found himself second-guessing his decision to show up at the funeral in the first place.

She'd seen him. He knew that for certain. Her eyes had locked on his and then the next thing he knew, she was slumping in her seat. There was a muffled sound of distress as Renee, sitting to one side of her, reacted—keeping Bella from falling out of her chair. The service stopped as Phil, on her other side, helped to hold her in place, fanning her face with some papers.

Edward had taken a few steps in their direction. But when he saw Renee rubbing Bella's back as she sat forward, head down, it was clear to him she must have just fainted.

He'd retreated a few steps then, as he watched them caring for her.

It wasn't his place.

If anything, it was his fault.

He'd turned and headed up the hill almost immediately, feeling quite the ass for unnecessarily adding to the strain of her already difficult day.

He chastised himself for his stupidity and thoughtlessness. He should have tried to contact her, instead of just showing up out of the blue. But every time he'd thought about it, the words wouldn't come. A card or a note by mail, or a phone call—after all this time—just seemed tremendously inadequate.

When he'd gotten to where he'd parked the truck, he'd looked back again. As he watched, she finally sat back upright, though Phil was still fanning her face and Renee was holding her hair up off her neck. He knew she must have been okay because the service appeared to resume, but he couldn't stop thinking about that look on her face when she'd spotted him. That look of recognition and confusion. And how fragile she'd seemed in the next moment when she collapsed in place.

He'd seen her faint before, though he hadn't been the cause of it back then.

Now, as he sat parked along the street about a dozen cars up from her house, he thought back to that blood typing lab years ago in Biology.

*I*

It was mid-way through spring semester. He already had quite the crush on her by then.

She seemed antsy and nervous right from the start of class that day. And when he asked if something was wrong, she just said she didn't really like blood—the sight of it or the smell of it. He looked at her in disbelief and chuckled, because, who can smell blood?

He should have taken her seriously, he discovered. Instead he just watched her prick her finger, and squeeze a drop of blood out onto the microscope slide. She swayed a little and looked up at him—her face colorless and her eyes so wide and vacant. She told him she didn't feel well. The words were barely out of her mouth when her eyes fluttered closed and she slumped in her chair, luckily falling toward him rather than the floor.

It scared the wits out of him, even as he told himself she had probably just fainted. Calling out to Mr. Banner, he scooted his chair to the side and leaned her limp body forward, holding her in place with her head down as the teacher approached. By that time, she was already coming to, trying to push his hands away and moaning, "Oh my god, how stupid am I?"

He held onto her, despite her objections, and when she finally sat up, he'd pushed her hair away from her face and brushed the backs of his fingers along her forehead and cheeks. She was still so clammy and pale and he saw tears of embarrassment in her eyes. He looked up, glaring at the gaping students around them, daring them to mention what had just happened—as if she wasn't already self-conscious enough. He quietly volunteered to take her up to the nurse and Mr. Banner wrote a hasty hall pass.

Minutes later, and only halfway down the hallway, she darted away from his side and into the girls' restroom, where he heard her ridding herself of the lunch she'd eaten just prior to Bio.

Edward had never entered a girls' restroom before that day. And even though she yelled at him to get out when she heard his voice, he was more worried she might faint again and hit her head, so he ignored her pleas and waited. He handed her a few damp paper towels when she exited the stall, and after she rinsed her mouth at the sink he just picked her up—bodily—and headed off to the nurse's office.

She slapped at his back and shoulders, blushing to the roots of her hair, begging him to put her down.

But he persevered.

And he rather enjoyed that walk.

Even more so after they passed the art classroom, where Jessica Stanley stood at the supplies counter near the window with Lauren Mallory.

Bella caught a glimpse of Jessica's big mouth hanging open, and in the next moment, Bella's head was leaning against his shoulder and she was moaning—nearly into his neck—about how horrible the Spanish Inquisition would be during her last class of the day. She huffed and slapped his back when he chuckled at that, but settled against him a little more, probably figuring he wasn't going to put her down. Which he wasn't. He just focused on getting her to their destination, trying really hard not to think about her soft exhales, fanning across his neck and collarbones.

Bella didn't actually make it to Spanish class that day.

After Edward brought her into the nurse's office, he went back to class, finished their lab, and returned to the office. He managed to quietly and earnestly convince Mrs. Cope to excuse both of them from sixth period, so he could drop Bella off at home before he had to be at baseball practice. Her father was on duty, he explained, and Bella was probably in no condition to drive safely on her own.

Bella was completely stunned when he stepped inside the nurse's office with her backpack slung over his shoulder and told her they were excused from sixth period. He helped her up from the cot where she'd been resting, and taking her by the arm, led her out to the parking lot. He told her he'd get one of the guys to follow him after practice, so he could bring her truck home to her. She just nodded as she climbed into his car.

On the ride home she finally began demanding answers, wanting to know how he'd pulled off their early departure. And why.

They were at her front door when he slipped up, telling her he felt protective of her. Quickly he added that she was his lab partner, after all, so of course he felt responsible for her. She nodded and gave him a little smile, but it seemed forced, like maybe that wasn't the response she was hoping for. He watched her face as she fumbled with her keys before he reached out and took them from her to unlock the door.

A few minutes later he drove off with the key to her truck tucked safely into his chest pocket. He could barely contain his smile as he thought about the very last thing he'd told her before saying goodbye.

She was exactly his type, he'd said, pausing before adding…O negative.

Of course she'd rolled her eyes at him but it was too late—he'd seen the sudden little spark in her eyes and heard the little hitch in her throat. The telltale blush afterward only confirmed it: he wasn't the only one harboring a crush on a lab partner.

*I*

Even as he'd allowed his thoughts to wander into the past, Edward had kept his eyes trained on the house down near the end of the street. He'd watched people leave the white, two-story home, return to their cars, and depart. The street was nearly devoid of cars parked curbside now—only a handful remained.

He watched as a group stood on the front walkway, looking back toward the house. Phil and two others—one of them had to be Sam Uley, because no one else was that huge—slowly descended the front steps with a wheelchair-bound man between them. Billy Black, he knew, his hair gone to salt and pepper now. The third man wasn't Jacob Black, though, and Edward found himself wondering again about him, and why he wasn't here with Bella. As he watched, Phil waved before returning to the house and the group on the walkway dispersed. The man Edward hadn't recognized took the arm of an older woman, helping her to a car across the street. He realized he was looking at Sue Clearwater, and the man escorting her must be her son, Seth, now in his early-thirties.

Moments later, three more couples came out, turning back to wave toward the house. Edward recognized Ben Cheney and Angela, and her parents, the Reverend and Mrs. Weber. He watched as they said their goodbyes to an older couple. It was the Copes, Edward realized, given the woman's red hair and the fact that they headed to the house next door as the Cheneys and the Webers climbed into a van parked out front.

A few minutes after the van had driven off, Edward saw Renee and Phil Dwyer leave the house and head to a small silver car parked in the driveway. Once they left, the street was quiet, the only remaining cars parked on driveways in front of other homes.

Edward reached up, raking a hand through his hair, and then he reached forward, turning the key in the ignition.

*I*

Once Mom and Phil leave, I slip off my shoes and return to the kitchen. Everything is neat and orderly, leftovers wrapped up and put away. The house feels so still after the noise of so much company. I wonder if I should have asked Mom and Phil to stay…but no…I'll see them later for dinner at the Lodge. Maybe I should do as Mom suggested and take a nap.

I'm just thinking about going to the back door to call Fitz inside when the doorbell rings.

Heading out to the living room I shake my head, wondering what my scatterbrained mother left behind that has caused her to return so quickly. I smile as I reach for the doorknob, simultaneously looking through the peephole, out of habit.

I snatch my hand back at what I see.

Who I see.

Right there.

On my doorstep.

After all this time.

I just… I stare. I press my hand against that door and stare through that crazy fish-eye lens of the peephole.

He's there. Older. But still…so extraordinarily handsome. With his green eyes and unfamiliar scruffy beard. In his black pants, white shirt and black tie. With a black Toyota Tacoma parked behind him at the curb. I gasp when I see that truck. But then I look back at him.

He's waiting.

Well, he can damn well wait, I think.

He can wait until hell freezes over, for all I care.

I realize my heart is pounding and I'm not breathing, so I inhale, certain he hears it when I see his green eyes flicker to the peephole. He scratches at the back of his neck, studying the peephole.

Or maybe studying me.

I know that's impossible. But surely he suspects I'm standing here, watching him.

And then I see him raise his hand, to knock, and I hold my breath.

But he doesn't knock.

Instead I hear the softest of sounds, and I realize—though I can't quite see—that he's pressed his hand flat against the solid wood. Against mine. Though surely he has no idea.

He remains that way for a moment and then I see him look down. He shakes his head, just the slightest, and I hear a low oath. It's followed by a soft, slow, scraping sound as his hand slides down the door and then drops to his side.

He looks back up at the peephole for a long moment and then he finally steps back. I hear him exhale heavily and I wonder if he was holding his breath, too. He turns around and pauses, looking up the street and then down, before shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants and finally descending the porch steps.

*I*

Edward withdrew his keys from his pocket as he headed back to the truck, now parked directly in front of the Swan's house.

She was there.

He knew that for certain.

Not just in the house, but there, right there, on the other side of the door.

He'd felt it.

He'd felt her.

Watching him.

And silently refusing him.

Well…he'd wondered. He'd always wondered. And now he knew and he could finally quit wondering.

He was nearly back to the truck when he heard a sound from the front porch of that house.

And then he heard her.

"Edward? Wait."


A/N: So there's that. Maybe we're getting somewhere.