Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to SM. I'm making no profit and my bank account is proof of that. Seriously. You can take a look. It's pathetisad.
A/N: Ghost is my bestie. He is. I swear, we were originally one brain but they separated us because if they didn't we would rule the world.
Lynnlin and vjgm are cool too. b/c they read this, and let me know when it sucks.
WARNING: The following contains so much saccharine you may go into a diabetic coma. Be forewarned.
OOO
Edward was trying very hard to be patient. He had sat on the front porch, in the rocking chair, Pride and Prejudice open, absently fingering the ripped page with one hand while he tried to focus on the words. It was a lost cause. His mind wandered, frequently, and he found that he was turning several pages without registering the events or the dialogue. Instead, his thoughts were wholly centered on Bella.
Had she read his letter? Was she going to send a response?
He tried to calm himself, measured his breathing and he pushed the unhelpful, worrying thoughts away. He opened the book to one of his favorite passages and stared. After re-reading the same sentence three times and still unable to concentrate, he snapped the book shut, frustrated, and leaned forward, looking down the road for movement.
What was taking Alice so long? Was she purposefully trying to irritate him?
He sank back into the chair and pressed his palms into his closed eyes, dropping the book into his lap. Waiting for Alice to return, waiting for some sense of clarity to quell his unreasonable inability to see Bella himself, he sat, forced to endure his own nerves.
It was maddening.
A few minutes later he saw the dust from approaching horses being kicked up along the road to the main house and he stood, eyes squinting against the lowering sun to make out the riders. As he hoped, it was Alice riding her small white horse alongside Rosalie and Emmett.
Instead of abating, his nerves spiked, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to hide their shaking. He found himself growing more annoyed with each slow ambling step of the horses, the excruciatingly sluggish way the riders dismounted and led their steeds to the stable. His jaw clenched in exasperation and pain lanced through his cheek. He debated running to meet them but forced himself to stay on the porch by removing his hands from his pockets and gripping the wooden railing tightly.
The three came to the door and he gave each of them a tight smile. Emmett punched him in the shoulder as he passed causing Edward to stagger back. Rosalie smiled at him and followed Emmett in with a laugh.
Alice stopped short and he could tell her smile wasn't genuine as it didn't reach her eyes.
He looked at her questioningly, eyebrow raised.
She shrugged and presented empty hands.
He sucked in a sharp, shaky breath.
"No response," he said dully.
He took a few steps back and fell heavily into the rocking chair, his head dropping into his hands, fingers weaving into his messy hair.
"I should've known," he whispered.
"Edward," Alice placed her hand on his bowed head. "I gave it to her and she seemed happy. I left to do my errands but when I came back, she was gone. I'm sorry. Maybe, next time…"
"No," he said softly, certain. "It's done." He abruptly stood and went into the house, leaving Alice and the book behind on the porch.
He showed for dinner but wasn't hungry, didn't participate in the discussion and merely moved his food around with his fork, hunched over his plate, despondent. He internally chastised himself for ever getting his hopes up, his earlier irritation turning into an intense grief, infusing him, pulling him down into dark thoughts and remembrances. He didn't deserve her, and he was a fool to ever think that he could have her. Frowning, he tried to not think about the past few days in which he had felt content and instead fixated on the pain of his cheek, pain he did deserve, external bruises that matched the ones on the inside.
"Edward," Carlisle's voice brought him out of his maudlin thoughts. "You're not eating. What's wrong, son? Does your jaw hurt?"
Edward looked up and met his father's concerned gaze. He looked around the table and found all his siblings staring at him. Brow furrowed, he didn't know how to respond or if he really wanted to.
Emmett spoke for him.
"He's in a mood, Pa, because he hasn't seen Bella in a few days. That right, Edward?"
He glowered at Emmett but didn't dignify the statement with a response even if it was close to the truth.
"Is that true, son?" Carlisle asked with a delighted smile. "She is a very nice young woman."
Edward blanched, his turmoil increasing with his father's observations and underlying approval. He felt the stares of his siblings on him and he squirmed. They didn't know that she no longer wanted him, save Alice, and anxiety bubbled into his throat.
"May I be excused?" he asked quickly, his voice a thin rasp.
Carlisle eyed him then sighed. He gave his permission with a slight nod.
Edward stood, eyes downcast, and he strode to the den to ruminate on his rejection in solitude.
"Edward, wait," Rosalie called after him.
Standing in the hallway outside the door, a crumpled piece of paper between her thumb and forefinger, she offered it to him.
"That reminded me," she said. "I didn't think you'd want me to give it to you in front of them," she said, jerking her head toward the dining room. "I figured you'd want to read it privately."
Confused, he stared at the mangled note until he recognized it for the response he had been looking for. She had given it to Rosalie. His heart raced at his name in her familiar scrawl on the front, his depression receding and giving way to a fledgling hope. Tentatively, he plucked it from her fingers.
"Thank you," he breathed.
Rosalie smiled at him and patted his arm. "Be happy, Edward."
He snapped his head up and looked at her, puzzled. "But I thought you didn't…"
She waved the statement away. "She's obviously sweet on you. Instead of waiting to find Alice, she came to me. That takes devotion and guts." She paused then added. "I like her."
Edward's eyes widened but before he could respond, she pointed a long sharp fingernail into his chest. "You tell anyone I said that and I'll blacken your eye. Got it?"
Mouth open, mind still reeling over the fact that Bella wrote him back, he nodded slowly.
Rosalie smiled at him and gave him a friendly shove toward the den. "Go read it."
Turning, he went into the den, surrounded by the comfort of his books and settled himself on the safety of the piano bench. With trembling hands he opened the note and smoothed out the paper across the keys.
It was a short note, his eyes skimming over the words quickly, trying to discern the tone before the actual meaning, but one word immediately jumped out at him.
Love.
He swallowed thickly then blew out a breath, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. She had signed it with love.
He traced the word with his fingertips, needing to touch it, needing tangible evidence of this new reality. A reality in which someone had chosen to love him despite everything that was wrong. She knew what he had done, experienced his brokenness first hand and yet, there it was, in thick black ink.
Love.
His heart beat in a fast staccato rhythm pumping a warm light, through him, starting from his chest and with every breath, every beat, it spread, chasing away the shadows and the darkness cast by his doubts and memories, until it found its way out through a smile. Large, wide, crooked, relieved, albeit painful and even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to rein it in.
He leaned forward, his forehead resting on the piano, closing his eyes and imagining Bella writing the note, her blush, her small hands holding the pen and her steadfast, fearless resolve that enabled her to pen her closing. He offered her nothing, a vague declaration of unnamed feelings and she responded with love.
His lips parted and he laughed, light and giddy. He had the overwhelming urge to see her, to take off on horseback, ride straight to Sheriff Swan's house just to touch her cheek and see her smile
Straightening, he checked the clock on the wall, and some reserved and more rational side of himself told him it was too late in the evening to disturb her and her father.
He picked the note back up from where it rested against the piano keys and read it again to ensure he hadn't hallucinated.
Dearest Edward,
The feelings are mutual. I will wait until you are ready.
Love,
Bella
He needed to respond similarly and quickly. He couldn't bare the thought of making her wait, making her feel the same anxiety he had while longing for a response. She had confessed so much more than he had.
Leaving the den, he sprinted up the stairs to his room. Bent over his writing desk, pen in hand, he stopped to think.
He had been tentative, relying on Bella to be courageous while he played the coward's hand, protecting himself. It was time he made a bolder step.
Dearest Bella,
Please meet me. Tomorrow. 2 o'clock. At the oak behind the livery.
Love,
Edward
Satisfied, he folded it and wrote her name across the front.
He carefully placed the note in his pocket and ran back down the stairs. Slipping out the back door, he tread quietly until he made it into the stable. He saddled his horse, murmuring soft reassurances to keep the animal as silent as possible as he led it toward the large doors.
He was almost outside when he was suddenly tackled.
Falling backward into the hay with a surprised grunt, he barely noticed the high pitched weeping of the individual that ran into him.
"Please don't run away," Alice sobbed. "Edward, please, you can't leave. I know you're upset but there are other girls. Please, please, don't leave."
Rubbing the back of his skull where it had connected with the barn floor, he gingerly sat up, shaking his head to clear the ensuing spots but Alice stayed latched to his chest, her thin pale arms wrapped tightly around him with a surprising strength. Her tears were soaking his shirt and he could barely make out her unintelligible babbling.
"I know she didn't write back and I'm so sorry but that doesn't mean you have to leave. Please Edward. Don't leave us," Alice continued her hysterical mantra.
"What in the nine hells is going on down there?" Emmett's booming voice shook the rafters of the barn.
Edward looked up, disoriented, confusion rapidly growing, as Emmett peered over the lip of the loft, hay tangled in his hair. Rosalie's face popped up beside him, looking decidedly annoyed.
"What the hell, Edward?" she asked.
There was a fast rustling, and then Emmett stood, one hand holding up his pants, chest and feet bare. He swiftly descended the loft ladder, expression close to murderous over the interruption.
"Alice? What is all the squalling about?"
"Edward is running away," she wailed.
"Why is Edward running away?" Emmett asked, looking as confused as Edward felt.
Absolutely bewildered, Edward didn't mind that his siblings were talking about him like he wasn't present. He was as interested in Alice's response as the rest of them.
"Because tonight at dinner he looked like he did after Ma died," she hiccupped into Edward's neck. She turned just enough to look at Emmett. "You remember how many times he disappeared after that?"
"Shit," Emmett cursed, running one hand through his hair, his trousers falling dangerously low. "Ok, he can't go anywhere with a broken leg. Right?" he asked, seriously, looking his brother over critically as if looking for a good bone to crack.
Edward had decided this had gone on far enough, having trouble just breathing with Alice's death grip on his torso. Her anguish was distressing in of itself but Emmett's nonchalant mention of violence was frankly, disturbing.
"I'm not running away," Edward interjected. "I'm not disappearing and I don't need my legs broken."
Alice pulled back from him, shifting to sitting on his outstretched legs and he winced at her red rimmed puffy eyes. "What?" she asked sniffling. She looked over her shoulder at his saddled horse then back at him questioning. "I don't believe you."
Grumbling, he reached into his pocket and grudgingly took out the note with Bella's name across it.
Alice stared at it, somewhat mollified, wiping the tears from under her eyes and her cheeks.
"She…she wrote you back?" she asked, softly. "When?"
"Today. She gave it to Rose when she couldn't find you," he affirmed.
Sheepish, Alice gave him a watery smile before resuming her zealous hugging fueled by happiness rather than fear and despair.
"Will someone tell me what in the blue blazes is going on?" Emmett demanded.
"Edward and Bella have been exchanging love notes. He was sneaking out to deliver one," Rosalie said, rolling her eyes, clearly aggravated with all of them.
"Wow, bro. Sneaking out to meet a girl? Congratulations on being normal."
Edward scowled.
"Leave him to it then, Alice." Rosalie hissed from the loft. "And let the rest of us get on with our nights."
They dispersed, Emmett back up the loft ladder and Alice out the barn doors after giving Edward an apologetic smile and hug. Edward got to his feet, taking the horse's bridle once again in his hand.
Once outside, he flung himself into the saddle and took off for town at a dead gallop. Each pound of the horse's hooves against the ground matched the beat of Edward's heart as he neared the house of the girl that had demolished the walls and gently cleared away the rubble with each soft smile and tender touch.
OOO
Bella sat at the kitchen table, tired but unable to sleep. A half formed letter to her cousin lay in front of her, the candle at her elbow flickering and casting shadows across the thick lines that held only standard, rehearsed letter etiquette and nothing more. It was an empty page of words and she found it strange and unsettling that the short fragments that Edward had written her were far more intimate than the sheet in front of her.
She had abruptly stopped halfway through uncertain on how to continue. She had already mentioned Alice and Edward in previous letters as the enthusiastic girl and the strange, quiet boy that had befriended her. Now, faced with the opportunity to pour her soul out to her cousin about how the boy had become so special to her, she halted.
It felt wrong to divulge her feelings to Renee before she voiced them to Edward.
She frowned and stared down at the daunting letter. In past letters it had been easy to pen how much she missed San Francisco. It was infinitely harder now because, in actuality, she didn't. She was estranged from that place, removed and distant, her memories like watching scenes through fogged glass. That life, the one where she hid in the crowds and her favorite pastime was to watch others live, wasn't hers anymore. It belonged to a different Bella, a girl that couldn't have ever imagined the depth of emotion she could feel for another person.
Everything she had known and been perfectly comfortable with seemed so inferior, the environment Renee had raised her in was incomplete, lacking. How could she explain that to her?
So, she didn't.
She started writing about the rain and the dust turned mud and Charlie placing second in the quick draw. She wrote about all the inane details that Renee would find charming.
The meticulous description allowed her to focus on everything but the fact that she had indeed already confessed her feelings to Edward, not in person but in a note, and she was still unsure how he would respond.
She sighed, eyes drooping. Charlie had already called it a night and she wasn't too far behind.
Standing, she leaned over to blow out the waning candle when there was a quick rap on the door. Before she could move, before her breath could catch in fear, before her mind could run through the scenarios that would have someone knocking at the late hour; a note slid into the room.
Staring up at her was her name in his familiar handwriting.
Foregoing the paper in the floor, she ran to the door and threw it open, heart pounding, hoping to catch him. Standing on the porch in her bare feet, she peered into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of his tall frame.
"Edward!" she whispered urgently. "Are you out here?"
There was no response save the chirping of crickets. Dejected at not seeing him, she walked back into the house, softly closing the door behind her, grateful that Charlie slept like the dead. Warily, she circled the note in the floor as if it were a coiled snake, suspicious of its contents, knowing full well that she had confessed her delicate but growing love for him in her last correspondence and lying in the floor was his response, one he was unable or unwilling to see her reaction to.
Had he left because of his normal social deficits or did he not return her feelings?
Hesitantly, she lifted the note and went back to her previous spot at the table, the hot glow of the candle her only companion. With awkward tremulous fingers, she opened the letter.
The breath she didn't realize she'd been holding left her in a strangled, relieved giggle.
Love.
He had signed it with love.
She clutched the letter to her chest, a giddy smile spreading over her face. He wanted to meet with her; the urgency coming through in the hastily formed letters and his nighttime excursion to slide it under her door. It was bold, much more forward than he had been thus far, but she could also see the underlying hesitancy with the cautious 'please.'
It occurred to her that he might be waiting outside after all; wanting her to first read his feelings before revealing himself. Quickly standing, she went back to the door, wrenched it open and again stood on her porch, looking for any hint of him in the night. For all she knew, he was gone but she wasn't going to risk the chance that he might be out there.
She cleared her throat.
"Yes, Edward. I'll meet you, tomorrow."
Turning, she went inside, and sat at the table. She laid the paper out in front of her, smoothed it against the wood, then carefully folded it along the original lines and tucked it into the front of the book, nestled safely against his other correspondences.
With a smile, she blew out the candle.
OOO
If Charlie noticed how neurotic Bella was being that day, he didn't say anything. She had dropped his breakfast on the floor. She had barely paid attention to anything he had said that morning even though it pertained to Jacob being released from the jail and his current frustration with both families.
Once he left for work, she tried to lose herself in cleaning, taking out her anxious energy with scrubbing. When she finished and found herself still restless, she prepared Mike's blueberry pie to thank him for the attempted rescue at the dance.
The time passed like cold dripping molasses.
Bella watched the clock with frustration as it chimed for 11 o'clock. She still had three hours left and she decided then she would curl up on the couch and read a book. She hoped it would soothe her frayed nerves and distract her until her rendezvous.
It wasn't long before settling into the cushions that she felt her eyes drooping from the previous night's restless sleep. She didn't remember nodding off and it wasn't until her book slid from her grasp and hit the floor with a soft thud did she rouse. She lazily looked up at the clock through the tangled mess of hair in her face.
She shot straight up with a gasp only to end up falling backwards onto the floor. She had ten minutes.
Scrambling, she made it to her feet, ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to tame it. Looking down at herself, she could see that her simple green dress was covered in flour from baking and she hastily tried to brush it out, debating whether she had time to change. But she knew she couldn't be late, she couldn't keep Edward waiting. He would take it the wrong way and everything would crumble.
Jumping up and down on one leg, she worked to pull up her second boot before wrenching the door open and quickly striding to the livery. Knowing herself and her innate clumsiness, she didn't break into an outright run for fear of tripping but she walked as quickly as possible.
At approximately five minutes past two, she rounded the corner of the livery, and smiled when she saw him. His unmistakable tall, lean frame standing beneath the oak tree, sun glinting off the red of his hair, a bouquet of wildflowers clasped tightly in his hand. His light blue shirt was crisp and new, untucked from his black pants and sleeves rolled ot his elbows, revealing his pale muscular forearms. Bella could see the path in the grass were he undoubtedly had been pacing, the green blades crushed by his long gait.
His gaze snapped up sharply when he heard her approach and a look of relief passed over his features giving way to a breathtaking smile.
Bella's heart beat wildly against her ribcage.
"Hi," she said, as she stopped short a few feet away.
"Hello, Bella," he replied.
She wrung her hands while drinking him in. He obviously had put in some effort regarding his appearance and she looked down at herself with a frown.
"I'm sorry. I fell asleep and I had done some chores," she said, gesturing to the remnants of flour on her dress, embarrassed.
"You're beautiful," he blurted, taking a step forward. Then awkwardly looked away and scratched the back of his head. "You're always beautiful," he murmured.
She blushed vividly. "Are those for me?" she asked, pointing to the flowers.
He nodded and slowly handed them to her. She took them from his hand, his fingers lightly brushing hers and sending a tingling through her arm.
"Thank you. They're very pretty," she said, bringing the flowers to her face and inhaling their fragrance.
"You're welcome."
He shifted, shoving his now free hands into his pockets.
"I didn't know if you'd come," he confessed softly. "But I'm happy you did."
He smiled again, a pink hue tinting his cheeks at his admission.
Bella was taken aback at his continued insecurity. How did he not understand that she wanted him? All of him? She thought she had made her intent clear and she wanted him to take comfort in that and put aside his tainted perception of himself.
Suddenly, the distance between them seemed expansive, more like a canyon than the scant few feet it really was and she felt a pressing need to close it.
"Edward," she hedged, "can I..can I give you a hug?"
He looked at her, head cocked to the side, gaze appraising, studying. He didn't move for a long minute but as if seeing what he was looking for in her smile, he slowly, hesitantly shifted, and opened his arms, welcoming.
Bella darted in, her careful restraint vanishing with his approval. She wrapped her arms around him fiercely, protectively, dropping the bouquet behind him, her hands finding purchase on his back.
He stiffened against the contact, instinctively, under the assault of undeniable affection and attraction. She didn't let go despite sensing his distress, instead choosing to hang on for dear life. She snuggled against him, her forehead resting against the middle of his chest, her nose pushed into the plaid fabric of his shirt, inhaling the scent that was distinctly him. Allowing his presence to envelop her, to calm her, to soothe the frantic thoughts that had worried her the past few days, she turned her head, the rough cotton fabric of his shirt caressing her blushing cheek.
Gradually, she felt him relax into her, his arms loosening from their rigid position at his sides, and wrapping around her frame, his hands splayed across her back, fingers playing with the loose curls at the end of her hair. She delighted at feeling the light touch of his hands. After a few more minutes, she felt him move again, and then his chin rested on top of her head.
A smile bloomed across her face, happy, and though she knew it was likely inappropriate she squeezed.
His grip around her tightened in kind and one hand moved from her back, slid upward until his palm cupped her cheek, his callused thumb lightly stroking her skin, eliciting the reemergence of butterflies in her stomach.
They stayed that way for a long while, holding each other, saying everything that needed to be said through their embrace.
"Can I come see you tomorrow?" she asked breaking the comfortable silence.
He nodded against her cheek. "Yes," he responded.
"Thank you," she answered, smiling, settling against him.
His hand touching her face moved to the back of her neck and he tilted her head so he could look into her eyes. He smiled and her breath caught.
He leaned in and her eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips to her forehead.
Next Time on One Day Out West
Rosalie drew back her balled fist and punched him straight in the nose.
OOO
A/N: Beware. Longest author's note ever. Here goes:
First: Thank you to those who review. It really does mean a lot. Seriously. I have to tell you, I've been pretty bummed this week with the real life, and scrolling back through some of the nice things you guys have said really did help me. That and my Ghost.
Second: I'm thinking on entering the Age of Edward contest. Let me know if you think this is a good idea. There are going to be some fantastic writers entering and I'm a little intimidated. Just know if I do decide to enter, ODOW will have a slower update schedule than the usual once per week and a half while I write the oneshot.
Third: I would like to increase my readership. I think entering the AOE contest will help but also, if you guys like this, then rec it if you please. Tell your friends and all. Suggest on those blog type sites.
Fourth: Thanks to those folks that have told me that they were unsure about reading the western theme but did anyway and liked it! yay. I do hope that the western makes a comeback someday. That would be awesome. (oh how I miss you my fav space western Firefly)
And Lastly: Please review. You never know. It could give me an idea. Like TeamJasper13 did. Totes finding a way to put that in, my friend.
That's all. Thanks.