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Reminder: This story is rated M and may not be appropriate for readers under the age of 18.
Chapter 20
December, 2009
BPOV
I stared up into his intense, golden eyes. His cool fingers held my hand and raised it slowly to his lips, which he grazed gently across my knuckles. "I had a lovely time tonight Bella, can I see you again tomorrow?"
I opened my eyes. It took a few seconds for me to focus on the white tile walls and the cold black bench of the university lab. A collection of Petri dishes was on my right, a microscope in front of me, a tray of slides and forms on my left — and I was alone. I really needed to get some work done, but I was finding it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything besides memories of time that I had recently spent with Edward. I settled my chin back onto my hand, closed my eyes and thought back to the previous weekend . . .
We were playing in the snow at Elk Mountain, Edward tossing snowballs at me while I ducked and ran and tried to hit him with at least one! I was cold and flushed and laughing until my sides hurt, Edward laughing with me as he ran over and grabbed me, flinging both of us down, tumbling and rolling in the snow. I only stopped laughing when he grabbed me tightly and crushed his lips to mine. His kiss grew urgent and my body grew so hot it was a wonder the snow didn't melt around us.
I shivered when I thought about the cold, but rubbed my thighs together when I thought about his kisses.
A quiet Saturday evening in his mother's bookstore, sitting next to him on an overstuffed loveseat in an isolated corner, pressed next to each other sharing a book between us, reading to each other and stopping to discuss what we'd read. Speaking in hushed voices with an occasional kiss — because we couldn't stop kissing. I had never felt so much happiness, never felt so fulfilled.
I found myself laughing out loud at other memories.
One Sunday morning as we were getting ready to leave my apartment, Edward grabbed my blue silk scarf and held it above my head, making me jump and giggle as he spun around keeping it just out of my reach. Stupid tall boyfriend. And then he stopped, and our eyes locked, and he held the scarf to his nose as if he was smelling the most fragrant ambrosia, and gently wrapped it around my neck — leaning down to give me the softest of kisses.
And I sighed and smiled at the best memory, the very best . . .
The quiet evening I took a walk along the river, stopped and leaned on the railing and thought of Edward, thanking whatever had brought him into my life, when I caught his wondrous scent of sun and honey just as I felt his arms encircle my waist. He buried his face into my neck and just held me as I leaned back into him, no words necessary as we felt our lives weaving together.
I surprised myself when I felt a few tears escaping the corners of my eyes. In all my life I had never been filled with such outrageous joy, but I couldn't deny the joy was laced with a small amount of guilt. As incredible as it might seem, there was a part of me that felt like I was betraying my dream lover. I hadn't dreamed of him since my first date with Edward, and although I found myself wondering why, I also couldn't help feeling relieved. I had no idea what I would say to my lover of so many years, no idea how I could tell him another man, a flesh-and-blood man, had entered my life. And I certainly did not want to tell Edward about my dream lover.
A few more tears trickled down my cheek before I could stop them.
"Don't tell me the slime mould died . . . should we schedule the funeral?" came a grave voice from across the lab. Startled, I looked up into a pair of sparkling, golden eyes, and I saw the hint of a grin threatening to overwhelm the serious expression he tried so desperately to hold. All melancholy thoughts disappeared as I jumped up, ran around the table, threw my arms around his waist and laughed. Breaking away, I grabbed a Petri dish and held it out reverently.
"Alas poor Yoric, I knew him Horatio."
Following my lead, Edward cast his eyes down, held his hand to his chest, and quoted the next line from Hamlet. "A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy . . . " And then he started to shake with quiet laughter.
Edward looked at me and said in a teasing tone, "Bella, I never thought I would be so lucky as to find someone who can quote Shakespeare while joking about the death of slime mould. Where have you been all my life?" he could no longer control his delight as he laughed a bit louder and pulled me close.
I swatted at him playfully. "Oh, don't make fun of me. You started it. That puts us both on the geek squad." I smiled and hugged him back, loving the feel of him so close.
"Fine," he said, chuckling. "As long as we're on it together."
My laughter stopped, and I looked up at him, reaching with one of my hands to cup his face. Where had he come from? How could one person change my life so thoroughly? He understood my change in mood and pulled me into him, resting his chin on the top of my head, and with a sigh of contentment rubbed my back, holding the moment for us, letting us feel together, be together.
"So," he broke the comfortable silence, "I have an idea." He leaned back to catch my eyes. "Would you like to come to my house today?" My eyes grew wide. Did he want me to meet his family? Am I ready for that? I tried to conceal my anxiety — this was the first relationship I'd ever had, and it was moving forward at its own pace with no real effort on our part. But meeting his family . . . the simple act of allowing others into this . . . I didn't know if I was ready for it. Could I tell him?
"Edward," I laid my cheek against his chest, praying he'd understand. "Of course I'd love to see where you live." I took a deep breath and asked, "Will your family be there?" I couldn't help it, as hard as I tried my voice shook as the words came out, revealing the painfully shy woman I tried so hard not to be with him.
His response was, as usual, exactly what I needed. Nuzzling the top of my head with his nose, he said, "As much as I would love to show you off, Bella, today is just going to be us, if you don't mind."
And with that, all my tension evaporated — we were just Bella and Edward again, and I had nothing to fear.
And then I remembered . . . Drat. Trying not to sound too whiny, I said, "I can't go. I have to finish these reports." I looked over at the bench and the observations waiting for my categorization. "It's going to take another couple of hours," I lamented.
His face lit up and he sauntered over to the lab computer, sat down and looked over at me expectantly. "You dictate, I'll type, we'll be out of here in an hour." His enthusiasm was infectious, but I was slightly hesitant. We'd never worked on anything together — we barely even discussed my lab work before. I wasn't sure how this would go.
I never should have doubted him. It turned out that we worked together flawlessly. Not only that, but he asked me questions along the way that revealed a knowledge so deep, he rivaled my professors.
"Tell me, Edward," I said after he made a comment that was so advanced I practically had to get out my textbook to follow him. "Is studying the reproductive cycle of slime mould a hobby of yours?"
"No," he tried to be nonchalant. "These days you're my primary hobby." He shot me a mischievous look.
"Then how do you know so much about molecular biochemistry?" I asked. "This stuff is really hard, even for people who devote all their waking hours to studying it, and yet it trips off your tongue like there's nothing to it."
"I don't know, Bella," he said earnestly. "I don't mean to imply that it isn't hard." He shrugged. "It's just not as hard when you've studied it all before."
And then I remembered what he said about having been through grad school a few times. I wondered just how many times "a few" was, and what else he might have studied. I looked over at my handsome, humble genius of a boyfriend as he typed. He looked completely unfazed by what he'd just said to me.
And once again I marveled at the fact that this man was my boyfriend, this man wanted me.
* * *
In less than an hour we were powering down, packing up, and rushing out the door. It was another cloudy day but not too cold for a change — just hovering around freezing. Not bad for these parts. Although there had been a lot of heavy snow, the campus walkways were always kept immaculately clear, and so I was dressed in regular shoes and a light winter coat.
And then I remembered that Edward had said his house was out in the country, in an isolated location. I didn't think my outfit was going to cut it.
"Edward," I asked him, "would you mind if we swing by my apartment so I can get some warmer clothes?" He looked at the high snow banks around campus and turned to me, nodding.
"Of course, Bella," he agreed, "I don't want you to be uncomfortable." As if struck by sudden inspiration, he said, "Hey, get your snow boots, too, okay? I'd love to take you for a walk in the woods."
Internally, I cringed at the thought of trying to walk in snow, knowing my butt would be in danger of hitting the ground more often than my feet, but maybe with Edward there to catch me . . . I nodded in agreement, grabbed his hand and started walking excitedly to our cars. He let me lead and made a playful show of acting like I was dragging him, but I could see the happiness in his eyes.
When we got to my apartment, I ran to my door, shouting over my shoulder for him to wait and that I'd be back out in just a couple of minutes. Once inside I rushed around, changing into heavy jeans, warm socks, and my snow boots. I was grabbing my down jacket and wool gloves when I decided to do something just the tiniest bit sneaky.
All I wanted was to catch a quick glimpse of Edward when he didn't know I was looking. I made my way over to the peephole in my apartment door. It was simple, innocent curiosity. I wanted to see what he was doing, to see if he wore the same goofy grin that was always stuck on my face these days.
Slipping on my gloves I put my eye to the door and froze. For a second I could have sworn I saw his golden eye looking back at me. But then there was nothing but a blur, a streak of out-of-focus motion. I blinked, and when I opened my eye again I saw him standing at his car, not even breathing hard.
There was no way I had seen what I thought I just saw . . .
But before I could think more about it — damn! I was seized with a sudden sharp, stabbing pain right behind my eyes, accompanied by a wave of dizziness. I leaned against the door and held my head in my gloved hands. Then, just as abruptly as it came, the pain was gone.
I looked up, blinking the tears from my eyes. Sinuses, I thought to myself, grabbing my purse and opening the door. Cold, dry air and sinuses — they'll get you every time. I closed the door and locked it, thinking about getting back to Edward, and consciously not thinking about the blur I had just seen and the pain I had just felt.
Put it away — add it to your ever-growing list of hallucinations and mental aberrations. And don't tell Edward. Ever.
* * *
After Edward had told me about his long-lived family, I thought I understood how much they needed privacy. Yet I was still stunned as he drove us through the woods down a 2 mile-long driveway. It was neatly and meticulously plowed but still a dirt road that required careful navigation. There was a tall iron gate about 50 feet in from the road. Edward used a remote to open it without getting out of his car, and it closed automatically after we passed through. With thick woods and thicker undergrowth on both sides of the road, it was easy to see how they kept the ATV and snowmobile riders away.
As he drove us around a final bend in the road, Edward glanced over at me, and when I looked out the windshield again I gasped. Set in a small meadow was a huge Painted Lady Victorian house — restored to pristine condition — complete with more than one round turret. I was still staring while Edward parked the car, walked around and opened my door, offering me his hand.
"Do you like it?" he asked me. Not waiting for my answer, he continued excitedly, "It has been my mother's project for years. She even researched the colors and had them duplicated." I looked up at him, suddenly feeling small, insignificant, and poor. It was an uncomfortable feeling, as if our private bubble had burst and reality seeped in. I hadn't realized how wealthy he and his family were, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it.
Edward saw my discomfort immediately. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me out of the car and wrapped an arm around my waist.
"Bella," he said soothingly. "I was trying to impress you, not intimidate you. It's only a house, a place to live and no more. If it's beautiful, it's a reflection of my mother, who put her heart and soul into the restoration. If it's large, it's because seven adults live here, and that many adults need their space and privacy." He lowered his head and peered into my eyes, willing me to see the meaning behind his words. "Sweetheart, it's just a thing. And it's all ours for the afternoon." He smiled widely and led me towards the front porch.
He was right, of course. It didn't matter that his bank account must be huge and I only had $50 to my name until the next stipend check arrived. As awkward as I felt, I knew what we shared was big enough to overcome just about anything. So I swallowed my self-doubt and put on a brave face. He and his family had lived a long time — it was only to be expected they had accumulated money, and I would do my damnedest not to feel self-conscious about it.
The interior of the house was as traditional and beautiful as the outside. Edward put a hand on the small of my back and guided me into a living room off the central hallway, and then to a smaller parlor on the right, with a dining room behind it. It felt lived in, yet at the same time like a museum as I realized all the furnishings were period pieces. We walked through the rooms, over the rich oriental rugs laid over golden oak flooring, back to the kitchen.
This wasn't just a kitchen. Unlike the rest of the house this kitchen was a marvel in everything modern that a kitchen could be. Entering the space, I felt as if I had walked into the page of a decorating magazine, or a brochure for kitchen cabinetry, or a catalog for high-end appliances. It was perfect — maybe too perfect. Every surface gleamed, not a speck of dirt could be found, not a drop of grease anywhere. It could have been installed yesterday. It was so immaculately clean I wondered if anyone ever cooked in here.
Edward noticed my puzzled expression and grabbed my hand, leading me to the rear of the house. "Come this way, Bella," there was a hint of urgency in his voice, and I let him pull me along. "I want to show you my favorite room, what I hope will be your favorite as well."
We walked through a doorway into a circular room, the lower level of the rear turret, I assumed. The rounded walls were glass from floor to ceiling, and the view was spectacular. In the middle of the room stood a highly polished, baby grand piano.
"You play the piano?" I asked, and he looked down, momentarily shy. I grinned — why was I not surprised?
Reaching for his hand, I walked him over to the instrument. "Will you play for me?"
Wordlessly, he sat down at the piano bench and tugged on my hand until I sat next to him. He turned to look at me, eyes searching mine for a moment, and kissed me lightly on the mouth.
Then he turned back to the piano and started playing, slowly at first, sweetly, caressing the keys and sending the music swirling around us. I was caught in the moment, caught in the beauty as I watched him — his eyes shut tight, sweet emotion on his face as he allowed the music to take him, capture him, draw him in as he gave and it gave back. I was so entranced watching him play I hardly heard the music itself.
But when I did focus on the music, I froze.
I glanced at Edward, thankful he wasn't looking at me because I'm certain I turned as white as a ghost. I knew this song. I had heard it again and again when my dream lover came to me. There was no mistaking it, and although I'd never heard it anywhere else I knew it as well as I knew my own heartbeat. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to do . . . my heart was pounding and it took every ounce of effort to try to calm myself. I needed an answer. Would I get one?
I had tears in my eyes when he finished playing. "That was so beautiful, Edward," I whispered and reached up to run a hand through his hair, hoping he'd mistake my trembling as merely a reaction to the music. "Who wrote that song?"
He looked down at the keys, sitting quietly before turning to me, a heartbreaking look in his eyes. "I wrote it, actually. It's something I've been playing for the last few years. I hoped you would like it."
I looked deeper into his eyes, searching for some way to make sense of this. This was not possible. What was going on here? My chest constricted as my longstanding fear that I was mentally ill threatened to overtake me. Why did everything seem linked, like a path already trod?
Suddenly I thought of the gorge by Cornell, the void, the voice. The memories of my loneliness, my bitterness, and my all-encompassing sorrow came flooding back — the memory of the thing that turned me away from the edge of the abyss. And I thought again about my dream lover and the music in those dreams, and how I hadn't dreamed of him since I met Edward.
Stop it, Bella, this isn't the time! Forcefully, I pushed the thoughts away.
Edward was looking at me patiently, puzzled by my expression, but he didn't press for answers.
I got to my feet. "Let's take that walk now, okay? I could use some fresh air."
Edward simply nodded and stood with me. "Okay." He didn't ask me what was wrong, even though he knew something was off. And with that simple act of giving me my space, he claimed another piece of my heart.
* * *
Outside, we walked along paths that I assumed had been made by some kind of animals. The snow was packed down and fairly easy to traverse. The forest looked like something out of a fairy tale, a quiet, winter landscape with snow-covered majestic trees reaching for the skies. I held Edward's gloved hand and we walked without talking, enjoying the peace and enjoying each other, occasionally glancing at each other and catching ourselves smiling. With each moment, with every hour, with every day, I found myself more drawn to him, closer to him. As an introvert, I had always avoided people and felt content unto myself, but now I knew he was a part of me, a missing piece that was quietly reinserting itself back into my soul — making me whole and complete.
"Edward," I whispered, afraid to disturb the silence of the forest, "do you believe in fate? You know, destiny?"
He stopped and turned to me, surprised at my words. "I was just about to ask you the same thing," he whispered. "Do you realize how unlikely this is?" He gently squeezed my hand. "We met for a brief moment in time six years ago — we didn't speak to each other, never even know each other's names — and by some quirk we both wound up in the same city on the other side of the continent. The odds against that happening are astronomical."
He paused for a moment, appearing deep in thought. "And even more unlikely, we actually found each other here. People live out their entire lives in the same city and never meet — yet we did." He grabbed my other hand and drew me towards him, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close to his chest.
I stood there, cocooned in his arms, and breathing in his sun and honey scent. So many things made no sense at all — too many coincidences, too many circumstances drawing us together.
"Do you sometimes feel as if we've been guided here?" I looked at him, hoping he wouldn't think I was crazy.
He met my gaze, eyes burning into mine while once again all time stopped — it was just Edward and me in our bubble as he leaned down to me and softly brushed his lips against mine.
"Bella," he whispered. "In all the years we were separated, I never stopped thinking about you, wondering where you were. We barely met back in Forks, but you were branded into my mind from the first moment I laid eyes on you."
My eyes grew wide, and before I could say a word, before I could question him, before I could utter a protest and try to tell him this wasn't rational, he leaned down and crushed his lips to mine — urgently, passionately, drawing me closer to him while I grabbed onto him and met passion for passion, caring about nothing more at that moment. I was a single-minded entity wanting, begging, pleading, feeling myself melt into him as the last piece of my heart was offered up for his taking, as I could feel his own offered up to me.
A/N Again, thank you all, so much, for the reviews! You guys are humbling, but we're so glad you're enjoying it.
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Perchance to Dream is one of the many nominated for the Indie TwiFic Awards, and our gracious thank you's to the nominator(s). Our story has been nominated under two categories - Best AU - WIP (work in progress) and Best Collaboration - WIP (work in progress.) The web site explaining the voting rules, timelines, and nominated stories is at www[dot]theindietwificawards[dot]com
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