Indelible

A/N: This story is set in 2013—when the Port Angeles airport still had commercial service to SEA-TAC, and when the WTA did a nice thing in La Push.

Chapter 21: On Familiar Ground

Edward and I return from the back porch to find Masen in the recliner. Fitz is curled up on one end of the couch, leaving the other end free for Edward and me. Which is okay, of course, except I already got the feeling Masen thought he'd caught us canoodling out back on the swing. Now I'm wondering if the current seating arrangement has been carefully orchestrated with that misperception in mind. His eyes aren't on us, though, so unless he's studiously avoiding eye contact by watching the game, I'm probably imagining things. Whatever. I'm sure Edward will set him straight after they leave. So I sit down next to Fitz, figuring it's my turn to sit by the dog-butt, since Edward already had that pleasure earlier.

"So, what did you decide about tomorrow?" Masen asks, finally looking over to Edward and then to me, seated next to each other on the couch.

"It looks like we're going to hit the beach," he tells his son.

"Cool," Masen says with a smug little grin.

"We have three to choose from," I tell him. "First Beach, Second Beach, and Third Beach."

"Those are very creative names," he observes and I laugh because I remember having the same thought once upon a time.

Edward leans toward me abruptly as he reaches into his pocket. "I'd better get busy checking on flights before we get ahead of ourselves," he says, turning his attention to his phone.

Masen starts looking at his phone as well and I wonder if he's doing the same. He looks up after a moment.

"It's supposed to get up to seventy degrees here tomorrow. That's perfect beach weather. It's a good thing we brought bathing suits."

Edward nods distractedly as he continues checking flights on his phone.

I nod distractedly too. Not that I'm checking anything on my phone. It's just that I have to rethink things. It's only mid-April and I was imagining long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans weather at the beach. Seventy degrees is definitely summer weather here in the Pacific Northwest.

Bathing suit weather.

Crap.

I own two bathing suits—a faded red two-piece that's more saggy than stretchy, and a utilitarian black Speedo tank that smashes my boobs flat while shoving them into my armpits.

Awesome.

I don't know where my mind was when I agreed to go to the beach with Edward and his son.

*I*

The baseball game is over a little before ten and the White Sox have won, seven to three. Masen is gloating, though Edward doesn't seem bothered. I think he was more concerned about finding a flight out for the two of them.

When they leave a short while later, the house seems so quiet and still—though of course the TV is off now, so that's part of it. I let Fitz out to do his nightly backyard potty trip and I straighten up in the kitchen. Once Fitz returns, I lock up and shut off the light and we head into the living room to make the trek upstairs.

Across the room, the photo of me and my dad at graduation catches my eye. I smile wistfully back at my smiling father, thinking how much he would have enjoyed this evening, despite the Mariners' loss.

I think Dad would have genuinely liked the man Edward Cullen has become.

*I*

It's eight thirty, Friday morning, and I'm pacing in the living room as I wait for Angela to pick up my call.

"Swan!" she says upon answering. "I didn't expect to hear from you this early! How'd it go last night?"

"Hey, Angela. Last night was really good. Relaxing and fun. And they sure enjoyed dinner. But listen, Angela, the reason I'm calling so early is… Do you think you could come with me to Newton's?"

There's a long pause before she responds. "To…the Newton's…or to Newton's?"

"To Newton's. The store. Why would I go to Jess and Mike's house?"

"Why would you go to a sporting goods store?" she counters.

"Ha-ha-ha. You're such a comedienne," I tell her. But I can't fault her for her comment. I've probably been in Newton's a total of five times in my life. It's definitely out of character.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," she snickers. "But seriously, what do you need so desperately from Newton's this early in the morning?"

"Well…" I sigh. "We're going to the beach…"

"We are?" she asks in confusion.

"No, I don't mean us. I mean I am. With Edward and Masen. And Fitz, too."

"Oh. But I thought Edward and his son were leaving for Chicago today."

"They've decided to stay an extra day and fly back, so they're not leav…"

"They're staying an extra day?! In Forks?!" she interrupts.

"Yes, but try and contain your enthusiasm. It's just because they don't want to have to make the drive. It's a three-day, thirty-hour drive between here and Chicago—and then they'd just have to drive it again in June when Masen starts summer session."

"But, Bella… They're staying an extra day! In Forks!" she repeats excitedly, ignoring the point I just made.

"Yes. They are. Edward found a flight from Port Angeles on Saturday at four, so they can make a six-o'clock flight from Seattle to Chicago."

"So they're staying an extra day and a half!" she exclaims. "In Forks!"

"Okay, Angela, I'm just going to hang up now," I tell her.

"No, Swan, don't hang up!" she laughs. "I promise I'll quit. But that's great they're spending a little more time here. So… you were saying you need to go to Newton's because you're going to the beach?"

"Yes. It's supposed to warm up today and I have two of the most hideous bathing suits known to man…"

"And you want me to channel Alice Brandon and help you pick out a new one?!" she asks excitedly. I laugh, thinking of our high school and college bestie, always so ready to assist in the wardrobe department.

"Exactly. Although if you're truly channeling Alice, you'll be picking out something waaaay beyond my comfort zone."

"So I'll be looking for a thong bathing suit that will show off your best ass-et?" Angela snickers.

"Like hell you will. Does Newton's even sell those?"

"I have no idea—like I'd ever seek one out for my flat butt," she scoffs. "Anyway, I'm happy to assist. What time?"

"Well… They're coming over at eleven and Newton's opens at nine."

"That doesn't give us much time. Why don't I just meet you there, right when they open? That way you won't have to waste time picking me up and bringing me back home."

"Angela, you're completely awesome."

"Just bring me the lasagna you promised, and you're equally as awesome."

"Done. See you shortly."

*I*

As soon as the lasagna deal goes down in Newton's parking lot, Angela and I head to the store's entrance, where we see Jessica unlocking the doors for business—our business, since we're the only customers this early. She's surprised to see us and she's chatty. She's also nosey. That much is clear when she moseys over to check on us in the swimsuit department after about ten minutes.

"So, Bella, are you…going on a vacation or something…now?" she asks, eyeing the handful of potential bathing suits in my arms.

She sounds disapproving and it takes a moment for her meaning to register in my brain. She means now that my father has passed away. My mouth drops open but Angela is quick to jump in, neatly and sweetly squelching any thoughtless comment or potential gossip brewing in Jessica's head.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jess! Why on earth would Bella go on a vacation now, while she's still grieving her father? She's just going to spend a little time at the beach, visiting with an out-of-town friend she didn't get to talk to at the funeral."

I'm so impressed with Angela I'm tempted to clap. She shot down Jessica's insensitive insinuation and called her ridiculous to her face, though she didn't say it meanly. She also managed to satisfy Jessica's curiosity without mentioning the name of my out of town friend. And Angela didn't lie. She just finessed the truth a little—because I didn't get to talk to that out-of-towner at the funeral. I didn't have that opportunity until afterward.

"Oh," Jessica says, seemingly satisfied. She smiles. "Well, just let me know if you need any help," she adds before wandering back to the register at the store's entrance.

*I*

By the time we're done at Newton's, I've tried on about a dozen bathing suits and we've vetoed all but two. I'm leaning toward the dark green one-piece, with the halter-style top and low-cut back, but Angela thinks I should get the royal blue two-piece, with the cleavage-enhancing top. When she tells me I should "flaunt what my mama gave me" I laugh outright, but her comment reminds me I was thinking about visiting my mom later this summer. Two bathing suits, that actually fit, will come in handy on a trip to Florida.

Once I've paid for my purchases, and we're back out in the parking lot, Angela tells me she hopes I'll have the girly-balls to wear the two-piece today.

I roll my eyes and tell her I hope she enjoys her lasagna.

*I*

Edward and Masen arrive a couple minutes before eleven and Fitz and I are both dressed and ready to go. It's warming up, but likely to be breezy on the beach, so I'm wearing a lightweight gray zip hoodie with my black denim shorts. Fitz is sporting a Day-Glo orange bandanna around his neck. It makes him easy to spot from a distance.

Looking out the window, I see Masen climb out of the truck in navy board shorts, a light blue T-shirt, and a White Sox cap. I smile to myself as I pull my short ponytail through the back of my black Mariners cap. Edward rounds the truck, dressed in black board shorts and a gray T-shirt. He's hatless, but he's got sunglasses tucked into the neckline of his shirt.

Opening the front door, I greet them as they come up the walkway. Edward's smile broadens when he notices my hat with the Seattle Mariners "S" logo above the visor.

"Hey, I appreciate the team support," he says to me.

"Your team needs all the support it can get," Masen says without missing a beat, and Edward just chuckles at his merciless son.

"Hey… " Masen grins, looking from his father to me and back. "You two…match," he observes and Edward and I look at each other and down at ourselves. He's right. We do sort of match in our black shorts and gray shirts.

"Well, just so you can tell us apart, I'm the one in the black cap," I tell Masen.

"Uh…actually Dad's Nike cap is in the truck…and…it's black," he adds, looking terribly entertained.

"Seriously?" I ask, turning to Edward.

He smiles and shrugs. "You know what they say, Bella… Great minds think alike."

Masen takes Fitz out to the truck on his leash for me, getting him situated in back and tethered up for safety. Edward takes the bag I packed with towels and I grab my sunglasses, a small backpack, and an old faded quilt, and I pull the door shut behind me. And then I stop.

"Shoot! I meant to bring some snacks and drinks!"

Edward smiles down at me in amusement. "Again…great minds think alike. Because I already picked up lunch for us on the way over."

I blink in surprise. "You did?"

"I did," he affirms, as we head down the steps. "Sandwiches, fruit, drinks, and chips. And I got a bottle of water and package of dog treats for Fitz."

"You did?" I ask again, even more surprised.

"I did," he says with a laugh. "I didn't want him to feel left out."

And now I'm beaming. Because that's really cute. It's so cute I say it out loud by mistake. "That's really cute of you, Edward."

"It was no big deal," he says, shrugging off my comment. But my blurted words must embarrass him as much as they do me, because I'm fairly sure I detect a faint blush as he pulls his sunglasses from the neck of his shirt and slides them on. He clears his throat then and runs his free hand up through his hair.

"I don't know if he'll even like them, but they're supposed to be healthy…all natural ingredients…no fillers…"

Even as I think about how kind his gesture is—and the fact that he apparently took the time to read the packaging—his concern for Fitz' preferences strikes me funny.

"What?" he asks, smiling crookedly when I start giggling.

"Trust me, Fitz isn't picky about taste or nutritional content. He likes anything that's edible. And quite a few things that aren't."

He chuckles but I don't want him to think his thoughtfulness isn't appreciated.

"Just in case Fitz forgets to say it later… Thank you, Edward."

*I*

Edward is at the wheel of Masen's truck, I'm riding shotgun, and for some reason, Masen is sprawled out in the cramped backseat of his own vehicle. I was more than willing to sit back there, but they wouldn't hear of it. Masen doesn't seem bothered, though. He's smiling, looking out the back window at Fitz, who is happily barking his head off in the truckbed.

Edward looks at me and quirks a brow as we get to the end of my street. "Is Fitz going to do that all the way to La Push?"

"No. He's just letting the neighborhood dogs know he's off on an adventure and they should all be jealous. If he doesn't shut up in the next couple miles, you can pull over and I'll take that bandanna off his neck and re-tie it around his muzzle." Edward laughs. He knows I'm joking. I would never put a damper on Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy's joy-ride.

*I*

First Beach is easiest to get to, but it will be crowded with tourists, surfers, and the local spring break crowd on a pretty day like today. Third Beach is more secluded and would be less crowded, but it involves about a mile and a half hike through the forest. We decide to make the shorter hike down to Second Beach. It was always Edward's and my favorite beach anyway.

We park the truck and set out on foot to the trailhead. When we get there, Edward halts, and I think he's stunned at the sight of the path before him. I'm kind of surprised as well, because I haven't been here in a long time either.

"Wow…" Edward exhales. "This is amazing. This trail used to be just dirt…well, mostly mud. It's an actual gravel walkway now."

"Yeah. It's new," I tell him. "They even redid the steps farther down. There was an article in the paper about it a few weeks ago."

I remember Edward saying Masen is outdoorsy—that he likes camping and hiking, so I elaborate, thinking this might appeal to him at some point in the future.

"The Washington Trails Association held a Volunteer Vacation here at the beginning of the month. They make a sort of week-long working vacation out of trail improvement projects. The WTA provides meals, and besides working on the project, participants camp out and have free time to just relax and enjoy the campsite."

"What a cool idea," Masen says.

"Yeah, it is," Edward agrees.

We start down the gravel trail, with the sound of the surf in the distance, and Fitz in the lead. Masen is right behind him, acting as anchor on the other end of the leash, and carrying the beach bag slung over his shoulder. A little ways back, Edward and I follow, both of us wearing backpacks—which don't match, thank goodness. He's got our lunch in a small ice chest they brought on their trip, and I've got the quilt we'll use as our picnic blanket.

"This trail is really well-designed for how simple it is," Edward remarks after we've walked a little ways. "Even if it had rained in the past few days it wouldn't be muddy or slippery like it used to be."

"Yeah," I agree, his words reminding me of another trip to the beach, years ago…

*I*

It was in that first summer before Edward would be leaving for his freshman year at Dartmouth. We'd been together for maybe a month or two at the time and it was the first clear, sunny day we'd had after several days of fog and rain. We'd decided to make the trek to Second Beach to spend the day in the sun together. About halfway down to the beach, we came across a particularly muddy section of the old narrow dirt trail. Since there was no getting around the mud hole, Edward volunteered to carry me piggyback, so I wouldn't get my shoes all mucked up.

It was a gallant gesture.

And a terrible idea.

After a couple careful steps, his foot slid in the thick mud, and with me on his back, he was off-balance instantly. Before either of us could react, he fell backward, landing on top of me in the mud. He was horrified, of course, worried he'd hurt me. But I'd really only had the wind knocked out of me. I was however, covered in mud all the way up to the assorted splatters in my hair. Even my towel fell victim to the muck—literally. Thankfully I had a bathing suit on beneath my shorts and T-shirt, and was able to clean up and rinse out my clothes in the icy surf…

*I*

Edward snorts a quiet laugh at my side, interrupting my recollection. I turn my head to look at him. I can't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but he's smiling as he turns his head.

"Do you remember that time I carried you…?"

"Yesss…" I groan, cutting him off. And then I laugh. "I was actually just thinking about that, too. Because you know what they say…about those great minds thinking alike."

He chuckles, obviously amused at my response. "I felt so terrible about that," he says, shaking his head at the memory.

I nod and smile, thinking about how mad he'd been at himself, and how he'd insisted that I use his towel, once we'd gotten to the beach, sullenly relegating himself to sitting in the sand.

"It was an accident, Edward."

"I was stupid," he says. "Anyone with half a brain knows you shouldn't try to navigate a mud hole with a spider monkey on your back." He shoots me a crooked little smile and I laugh at his metaphor.

"Well, I was a stupid spider monkey, agreeing to go along with that ill-advised piggyback ride. At least I broke your fall and kept you mostly mud-free."

"Thanks. Thanks for making me feel better about that," he chuckles and I smile.

We continue down the path in comfortable silence, following Masen and Fitz up ahead, and my thoughts pick up the thread of that afternoon of sun, surf and my sullen young boyfriend, sitting in the sand.

It took quite a while to convince him to just join me and sit on the towel together that day. It took slightly less time to convince him to lie down next to me. And in a rather short span of time, and with very little convincing involved, Edward Cullen wound up on top of me once again—though in more of a making-out sort of way, than a mud-hole-mishap sort of way.

At the moment, I'm grateful I'm shorter than him, and that my face is mostly hidden from his inspection by my baseball cap and sunglasses. Maybe he's not looking at me, or even thinking about the same thing I am, but you never know…those great minds could be thinking alike, once again.

*I*

After about fifteen minutes, we've arrived, and semi-secluded, mile-long Second Beach is just so beautiful. This expansive yet intimate stretch of beach is lovelier than I'd remembered, and I wonder why I haven't come here in so long.

There's something magical about this place, with its piles of silver-gray driftwood, craggy sea stacks, tide pools, and offshore islets. But maybe it's more than just the seascape and location. Maybe it's the memories I associate with this place. This is where Edward and I always came to get away from the crowds and spend quiet time together.

After Edward's family moved away, I rarely went to Second Beach, and if I did, I went there alone. First Beach was more convenient to get to and had plenty of parking. And for those reasons, it was the usual destination for beach parties, bonfires, and surfing for the Forks and La Push crowds. Jake always preferred that party atmosphere to quieter Second Beach, and maybe I needed those distractions.

We continue walking southward along the beach, passing other sun-seekers, who have staked out spots closer to the trail. At about the midway point, Edward, Masen, and I claim a spot on the sand and set our things down. I turn to check on Fitz—off-leash now and already down by the water, barking and chasing birds, encouraging them to take flight. As I watch him, I rid myself of my sweatshirt, feeling only slightly self-conscious in my new bathing suit. Angela will be disappointed, but I'm glad I wore the one-piece. It's pretty and sleek, enhancing what needs enhancing, and covering a little more of my extremely pale, post-winter skin, than the more revealing two-piece would have covered.

When I turn back around, Edward has his back to me, and he's removing his shirt. His body is even more impressive than I'd imagined, but I remember him saying he works out with Masen. It shows. Given the way they rib each other, I'm willing to bet they're competitive, pushing each other, athletically.

I can see the strength and power in the sinuous muscles of Edward's upper arms, shoulders, and back as he moves. He drops his shirt onto the quilt and turns, and I quickly look away, not wanting to get caught staring. I tell myself I'm not going to ogle him. But I am willing to peek. And so I manage a quick mental snapshot of the defined musculature of his chest and abdomen, and the trail of hair that enhances the former, and points the way past the latter.

Oh, good golly.

I always thought Edward Cullen was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen—head to toe. But this Edward, this manly Edward…with all of that attractive manliness he's got going on... He's just exquisite. Like a good wine that has matured to a really fine wine.

"Bella?"

I turn and look up at Edward's face, reminding myself not to ogle his body. "Yes?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Um…no?"

"I said, the tide seems to still be going out, so maybe we should go check out the tide pools now."

"Oh. Sure. Good idea. Yes. Let's do that."

Masen is completely taken with the scenery. He's never seen a beach like this—so craggy and rugged. And as we climb around at the tide pools and sea stacks, he can't get over all the sea life clinging to the rocks—especially the big brightly-colored starfish, and the more unusual nine-pointed stars.

When we begin feeling hungry sometime later, we start the trek back up the beach toward our picnic lunch.

Fitz has found a particularly wonderful stick and Masen is throwing it for him. He chases after Fitz, egging him on, and then cajoles him to bring it back and part with it, so he can throw it again. Just like last night in the yard, before dinner.

And then I remember something about last night's dinner.

"I'm curious about something," I say as we watch them racing back up the beach.

"About what?" Edward asks, turning to look at me.

"About why you were acting so weird last night, when Masen first mentioned he'd seen photos of me."

He purses his lips and frowns. "I wasn't acting weird," he says.

"Oh, yes you were, Edward. You looked completely caught off guard—panicked, even. Like you were about to jump right out of your skin."

"I seriously wasn't…"

I stop walking and he does too. Then I pull my sunglasses off, so he can see my eyes, and I cock an eyebrow at him. I learned that move from Angela. She uses it when she knows her kids are trying to pull a fast one.

He matches my move, shoving his sunglasses up into his hair. "Okay, fine. I might have been caught off guard," he says, and I'm mentally high-fiving Angela's right eyebrow.

"What were you worried about?" I ask.

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Trust me, I do."

Edward sighs. "When Masen said he'd seen photos of you, I was caught off guard because I have photos of you, and I thought maybe he was talking about my photos of you, and I didn't want him to mention them, if that was the case."

"Why not?" I ask. "I mean, I have photos of you."

He gives me that crooked little grin. "You do?"

Oops.

I roll my eyes—mostly at myself for admitting it to him. "Um... Yes. I do."

His grin broadens and I cross my arms over my chest.

I decide not to elaborate and tell him I probably have two cubic feet of photos, notes, letters, CD's, random clothing items, and miscellaneous gifts and mementos from him, all stuffed into a cardboard box. All readily accessible in my bedroom closet, back at the house.

Instead I ask, "Why? What's wrong with me having photos of you?"

"Nothing. That's fine. I mean, that's… That's great." And I have to look away now, because that mouth is just getting to me with that dazzling smile of his. Sheesh.

"So, what's wrong with the photos you have of me, that you didn't want Masen mentioning them?"

"There's nothing wrong with them," he says, waving a hand emphatically.

He sighs when I just stand there, waiting for more.

"Well, okay… It's not the…what of the photos, it's the…where of the photos that's wrong with them," he says, looking kind of uncomfortable.

It takes me a moment to understand what he's saying. "What do you mean, the where? Where are they?"

Now he looks even more uncomfortable.

"They're…in my study. A few of them are. Others are packed away with…you know, other stuff…"

"Not helping," I tell him, because I still don't get it.

"They're tucked inside a book on a shelf in my study," he says with a resigned little sigh. And then he swallows. "They're in a…novel…with a dark blue cover…and an image of a rose corsage on the front…"

"Oh, no…" I gasp as my stomach does a flip. Now he looks even more uncomfortable, but I'm sure he's nowhere near as uncomfortable as I am.

"A Rite of Passage…?" I whisper. It's my prom story. Our prom story. That I wrote. About us.

"By I. M. Byrd," he says, nodding.

"Oh, no…"

He stands there, watching me. Like he's expecting me to run screaming into the hills. Well, up the trail and then into the hills. I have to admit I'm tempted.

"Shit, Edward!" I finally shriek. "You have my book?! How did you find it?!"

He blinks. And then he frowns. "I didn't find it…I just…stumbled across it. In a bookstore a few years ago. I was in the teen section, looking for something for Masen. The book was in a display of recent paperback releases. The cover design and title caught my eye. I knew it could just be a coincidence, but the cover design matched the color of your dress...and the corsage I'd bought you…"

"So you bought the book," I groan.

"Yes."

"And you read it, I suppose?"

"Well… Yeah. That's why I bought it."

"Oh, no…"

He licks his lips. "I didn't know it was your book, Bella. Parts of it felt familiar. But not all of it. So I didn't really know for sure. But yesterday—when you said you'd written six books…"

"Oh, no…"

He nods.

"Don't tell me you have all six."

He doesn't say anything. He just watches me. And I realize, with a start, that he's responding by not responding, because I told him not to tell me he had them all.

"Oh, my god… You do, don't you?!"

"Uh… Yes. I do. And they all had that same…sort of…quasi-familiarity."

"Oh, no…"

I'm so embarrassed that I decide to share that with him. "I'm so embarrassed!" I wail, covering up my face with my hands.

"Don't be embarrassed. And quit saying, 'Oh, no.' There's no reason to be embarrassed, but that's precisely why I didn't want to tell you in the first place."

I peek at him and he's…smiling!

"How could I not be embarrassed?!" I yell. "Oh my god, Edward! I don't know whether to give you a good hard shove or dig myself a hole in the ground!"

His eyes widen in surprise and then he blinks. And then his mouth twitches. And suddenly he just starts…giggling!

I do an about-face and begin to march away from him.

"Bella, come back!" he calls. "Wait, Bella! Stop!" he says, catching up and grabbing my hand.

"Go ahead," he says, pulling me around to face him. And he's still smiling. "Give me a good hard shove. I deserve it for laughing. But I couldn't help it… You just looked so…pink." His eyes are twinkling and I can see he's trying really hard not to laugh in my face.

So I reach up, my palms connecting with his solid chest, and I give him a good shove. But he hardly even moves. He just laughs—though I can see he's really trying not to. So I throw more weight into it and shove him again. He moves a little and laughs a lot. And then I think about how stupid we must look. And I wonder if Edward's son is watching this spectacle. And I just think… Screw it… Embarrassing the crap out of myself in front of Edward Cullen is nothing new to me, and I just start giggling. And then I'm laughing. Right along with him.

And we don't stop until we're out of breath.

"Good Lord, my stomach hurts," he gasps, bent over but smiling at me, as I wipe away tears of laughter.

"Come on," he says, straightening finally. "Let's go back and have something to eat, before Masen devours it all. Once we've had lunch, I'll help you dig yourself a hole in the ground. And then maybe you can answer a few questions I have."

A/N: So... Now she knows...that he knows...and I'd love to know what you think of their day so far.