Chapter Twenty One
The roads were practically empty that night. The dusty streets were laid bare by the excitement on the television screens and the spectacle taking place way up in the skies. I sat in the backseat of Ben's car and listened to the radio as the presenter described the pictures being broadcast from space, his deep voice lending gravitas to the momentous event.
I felt guilty I'd dragged Ben and Angela away from their homes, that we were sitting in a car on a deserted highway rather than in front of a black and white television screen, watching the grainy pictures as Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin took their first steps on the lunar surface. But my need to see Edward outweighed everything else; history-making space walks included.
When the audio switched over to the astronauts, and we heard Neil Armstrong's stilted, slightly distorted words, I felt a shiver snake its way up my spine, itching at my cells and exploding at my neck. It seemed like everything was changing, and we were powerless to stop it. I felt out of control, unable to grasp on to anything.
Was Edward watching the Eagle landing on the moon, looking on as the astronauts climbed out of the module and onto the surface? Was he thinking of me, as I was thinking of him? I hoped he knew that, despite the troubles we were going through, there was still a vast universe out there that couldn't give a shit about our issues; it went on orbiting and turning just because it always had. In the scheme of things, we were little more than tiny dots on the face of a very big Earth.
It gave me some consolation, to think that way. To know that when we got through this, the sun would still be shining, the moon would still be orbiting. Our hearts would still be beating. It was so easy to think my world was ending, but so much better to know life went on.
We drove through the night, occasionally stopping for comfort or to grab Ben another coffee, the night air still and cool as we walked into small diners and dingy rest stops. We arrived in Washington just after dawn. The sun lay low on the horizon like a huge ball of burning fire, like she knew the moon had been the focus of our attention the previous night, and she wanted to steal it back. She was doing it spectacularly.
We had breakfast in a diner on the outskirts of Seattle. It was a run-down, mom-and-pop type of place, serving burnt coffee and lukewarm eggs. Ben ate his over-easies and links ravenously; stuffing them into his mouth like somebody might steal them away from him if he left them for too long. Angela just stared at the food congealing on her plate, a cigarette dangling from her red lips as though she was a latter-day Marlene Dietrich. I half wanted to snatch it from her lips and drag the smoke into my lungs just to feel the burn. I knew the nicotine chilled Angela out; I wanted to feel the effects, too.
Instead, I guzzled the bitter coffee like it was the essence of life, as if it would lend me the confidence I'd lost somewhere on the Californian highway. We'd agreed that we would head for the Cullens' residence sometime after nine, in the hope they'd all be up by then.
Beyond that, I had no plan at all. I didn't know if we'd still be here tomorrow, or if we'd be driving Edward back to Berkeley. I even considered taking him home to Wentworth with me, though the thought of explaining everything that had happened to my dad put that idea straight out of my mind.
The Cullen house was just outside the city, nestled into rolling hills, the lush, green surrounding trees lending it an aura of seclusion. We drew up to the huge black gate, fastened tightly to the eight-foot high walls, a crest weaving through the iron work, dark and foreboding.
A uniformed guard walked out of a hut next to the gate, pulling at his cap until it just about covered his brow. His expression was solemn, almost grim.
"Can I help you?"
Ben leaned out of the window, resting his arm on the door. An easy smile pulled at his lips. He had the ease of a man who was used to talking to staff, and wasn't willing to take any messing from them. "I'm here to see Edward Cullen."
"Is the family expecting you?" From the tone of his voice, it was clear the guard knew they weren't.
"No, but I'm an old friend. I've been here before."
I leaned forward, wanting to interject, but Ang patted my hand and pushed me back. Her movements rendered me mute.
"Give me your names and I'll call the house."
For the first time, Ben glanced over at the back seat, his eyes sliding until they met mine. He looked uneasy, a frown pulling at his lips, creasing his forehead. "Ben Cheney. This here's my girlfriend, Angela, and back there is her friend."
"I need your full names." The guard was firm. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"Angela Weber." She drawled it out, her voice low and sarcastic.
"And you?" The guard met my eyes.
"Isabella Swan." I didn't know why I used my full name. Maybe it was the formality of the situation, the largeness of the house looming in the far distance. Or perhaps a small part of me was hoping they wouldn't recognize me. They'd think I was just a friend of Ben's and let me in.
"I'll be right back. Stay here."
We waited for five minutes while he called the main house from his cabin by the gate, and I dug my fingers into the hard skin of my palms, knowing Edward was so, so close. I kept looking at the gate, wondering if I could scale it, whether there were dogs on the other side ready to chase me if somehow I made it in. I could hardly breathe; my chest felt congested, my throat tight and rough. Desperation was coloring my thoughts.
The guard walked out, pulling his cap from his head and leaning down to speak to Ben through the open car window.
"Just you, son. The ladies can wait outside." The tone of his voice implied he'd accept no argument. "If you follow me, you can leave your car in that layby." He pointed over at a small concrete patch alongside the cabin.
My heart crashed into my shoes. Tears stung at my eyes, hot and salty. I scrambled until I was leaning through the gap between the front seats, catching the eye of the guard as I moved. "I need to see Edward."
His ice blue eyes slid to meet mine. "I'm sorry, miss. You need to wait out here."
"But—"
"Don't make me turn you all away."
Ben turned to look at me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I'll go in and talk to them, okay?"
I nodded rapidly, my eyes wide and angry. How dare they keep him from me? I couldn't believe we were separated by just a few hundred yards. The gate and wall seemed worse than anything that separated us in the past. Even when he was in Vietnam, I didn't feel so completely impotent.
"All right, but you tell him I'm here, okay? Just tell him." I was almost begging. Ben squeezed my shoulder harder before releasing me.
"I will. I'll tell him."
After Ben moved the car, I climbed into the front seat with Angela while we watched him walk down the driveway, the perspective making him look tiny by the time he reached the front door. I could just about see him go inside before the door was closed, and I realized I was squeezing Ang's hand too tightly.
"I'm sorry." I loosened my hold.
"It's okay. Squeeze away. I'd do the same in your position." She shot me a reassuring smile. "Just save some of that strength for the Cullens."
"If they ever let me see him." I shook my head. "He's twenty-four years old, for God's sake."
She nodded in agreement, then leaned forward and turned on the radio. Zager and Evans were singing about the future, and Ang started laughing hard.
"This song, oh, my God. That bit about if man is still alive, if woman can survive. Of course we can bloody survive. We're the stronger sex."
A smile played at my lips. "I wonder if we'll still be alive." I tried to picture Ang as an old woman, wearing strange metallic clothes like in The Jetsons. Somehow it didn't work.
"I hope not." She sounded appalled. I was about to make a snarky remark about grey hair when there was a rap at the window.
Ang wound it down. Emmett Cullen was standing outside; his hair slicked back, his suit perfectly pressed. He was staring at me with ice-cold eyes, his lips drawn back into an almost-grimace.
"Can I have a word?"
I swallowed hard. There was something about him that was so foreboding. I remembered that awkward drive back from Andrews Air Force Base, his misogynistic taunts, the way he'd scraped his finger across my bare thigh. I'd rather have faced a three-headed hydra in my attempts to get to Edward than have to talk to him.
But there seemed like little choice. If there was a chance—no matter how small—that talking to him would get me to Edward, it was something I had to do. Regardless of how nauseous he made me feel.
I stepped out of the car and walked over to him. In my flat shoes and messy clothes, I felt like a child going to speak to the principal.
"What are you doing here?" He raised a single, blond brow.
"I've come to see Edward."
"You aren't welcome. He doesn't need you." Emmett dragged a hand through his hair. His palm was glistening with hair-grease. "Why don't you just piss off back to California?"
My heart started to hammer against my chest. "He's my boyfriend. I'm not leaving him here."
Emmett laughed, and it chilled me to the bone. "You don't get a choice. He's back where he belongs, with his family. We're going to get him better, get him back to work with us."
"Please …" I was trying not to cry. I couldn't stand the thought I wouldn't see him. It was dragging at my chest, hitching at my lungs. "I just want to see him."
Emmett's eyes narrowed. "Do you know what happened because of you, because he was drinking and smoking and doing God knows what in your apartment? Do you know he almost killed a man? And now you want to see him, to maybe take him back to your permissive life and watch him disintegrate into nothing? You disgust me." He spat the last words out as if they were poison on his tongue.
I shook my head. It wasn't fair; I wanted to shout at him, rail at him, tell him it wasn't my fault. That Edward would have been just as bad if he'd been here all along. But despite my reaction, there was a tiny part of me that knew he wouldn't have drunk himself into a stupor here in Seattle. His family wouldn't have let him. They would have been strong enough for him.
Was I really so weak that I wasn't able to stand up for him? It cut me to the bone to think I might have been a part of this, and my actions played a part in his downfall. My failure to ask for help had led to a man being punched to a pulp, while another suffered a breakdown of catastrophic proportions.
"I just need to know he's okay." Tears were pouring down my face. They ran in fat, salty rivulets down my cheeks. "I just need to see him."
Emmett shook his head. "There's no way you're going in there." He lifted his hand, and a large, black car drew up alongside him. "I'm going to work, now. If I hear you've been anywhere near him, I'll come after you, so help me God."
"I'm not going to give up on him."
"Well, maybe he's given up on you. Did you think of that?" He shot me a withering glance. His lips pulled back into a sneer. I wanted to wipe it right off his face.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I knew you were trouble the moment I met you. He can do so much better than you. He will, if I have anything to do with it."
Nausea started to build in my stomach. I could almost picture it; Edward partnered by a suitable girl from Seattle society. The thought was breaking my heart. "It isn't your choice."
"He's back with his family, now. You aren't needed or wanted. Just turn around, little girl, and go home." He took a step toward me, reaching out a hand to touch my cheek. "As I told you before, you're not the kind of girl a Cullen would marry." He tapped my cheek twice. "Now run along. Go find yourself a farmer, or something. If I see you hanging around here again, I'll be calling the police."
The driver climbed out of the car, walking around to open Emmett's door, then closing it behind him as he sat down. I could still see his profile through the tinted windows, his jaw arrogant and tight, his nose as straight as Edward's. Everything about him made me want to scream, to slap his smug features until he realized what an asshole he was. I couldn't believe he was stopping me from seeing the man I loved.
I kicked the dusty concrete as I watched them pull away, walking over to the car where Angie was leaning against the bonnet, a cigarette burning between her fingers. I snatched it from her hand and placed the filter between my lips, inhaling deeply. When the fumes hit my lungs I started to cough, air escaping from my lips in short, sharp, smoky bursts. I doubled over as the paroxysms wracked my body, my eyes watering, and not just from the smoke.
"Are you okay?" Angela laid a hand on my shoulder. From the tone of her voice I knew she wasn't talking about the coughing.
"I don't know. I don't …" My voice trailed off, as the guard started to walk over to us. I stood up straight, expecting him to shout at us, to tell us to leave. I was clearly making a fool out of myself, shouting at Edward's brother, trying to smoke a cigarette. I wouldn't blame him if he asked us to move on.
"Miss Swan?"
I swallowed down the itch that was still clawing at my throat, willing myself not to cough. "Yes?"
"Mrs. Cullen would like you to join her at the house."
My mouth dropped open. It was the last thing I expected him to say. I'd anticipated a telling-off, maybe even a warning. Not an invitation up to the big house. Suddenly, I felt anxious, afraid I wasn't wearing the right clothes, didn't have the right accent. Because I was going to see Edward's mother.
My legs started to shake. "You want me to go now?"
"Mrs. Cullen will meet you in the house. Please follow me."
I shot a quick glance at Ang, who moved her hand in a shooing motion. My skirt fluttered in the soft breeze, the sun kissing my skin as I walked up the drive. The guard left me halfway, pointing at the steps leading up to the house, leaving me to scale the final distance alone.
True to her word, Edward's mom met me at the door. She was wearing a light, powder-blue suit; her hair twisted into a French knot. Despite her meticulously applied make-up, her face looked tired and drawn, and I wondered what kind of hell she'd been through in the last few hours. Maybe we had more in common than I'd thought.
"Isabella, please come and join me for some coffee." I glanced around the entranceway, noticing the rich, wooden floor and beautiful furniture lining the walls. Following Mrs. Cullen to the morning room, I found myself trailing my fingers along the wooden picture rail, biting my lip so I wouldn't call out for him. Because he was here, somewhere in the house. My feet wanted to run as fast as they could, find him, and throw myself into his arms.
"Take a seat." Mrs. Cullen gestured to a brown sofa and I sat down, bending my legs to one side. "Can I offer you a cup?" She started to pour the dark-brown liquid into china cups without waiting for my response, but I took the proffered drink anyway, pleased to have something to do with my hands.
"Is Edward okay?" I blurted the words out before thinking them through. Mrs. Cullen took a sip of her coffee, then placed her cup on the polished, wooden table in front of her chair.
"He's not well, I'm afraid. The doctor had to sedate him." She bit her lip, as if to stem her tears. "I can't begin to tell you what sort of a state he was in, Isabella."
I leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
She tried to smile, but it came as a grimace. I watched with fascination as a single tear escaped from her right eye and rolled down her cheek in a silvery trail. "He's had a breakdown. The doctor says it's been building for a while, probably since he came back. Last night was what he described as the 'crisis point.'" She stopped talking and took a deep breath, as if she was trying to center herself.
I took a moment to glance around the room, noticing the many photographs of the Cullen brothers, of Edward holding trophies and participating in sport, of Emmett posing with famous politicians. They were such an all-American family, all toothy and tanned. I couldn't equate him to the Edward who could barely drag himself out of my bed.
Mrs. Cullen followed my gaze, her face softening when she looked at the photographs. "Edward was always mine, you know. Emmett was a daddy's boy, always trailing around after Carlisle, talking politics and sport. But Edward, he was sensitive. He'd come with me to charity events and try to raise as much money as he could. Even though it angered Carlisle, I always felt a flash of pride when he stood up for the underdog."
Her eyes lit up with memories. "Even when he told us he was going to Vietnam, I didn't beg him to stay. Not like Carlisle. I knew my son was trying to do his best, trying to be a man. I understood his need to stand up and be counted."
She took another sip of her coffee. "But that shadow, that ghost of a boy lying sedated in a bed upstairs. That's not my son." She shook her head. "The Edward I know wouldn't hit somebody hard enough to shatter four bones in his own hand."
My stomach lurched. "He broke his hand?"
She nodded.
"But his career ... medical school."
Another tear escaped from her eye. "It will never heal well enough. It's too damaged. They've set it as much as they can."
I gasped at the horror of it all, covering my mouth with my right hand. Tears pooled at the place where my fingers met my face. Everything he'd wanted, everything he'd dreamed about, had slipped through his fingers as he curled them into a fist.
"Oh, God." My chest was wracked with the sobs I was trying to swallow.
"He's my son, Isabella. I love him more than I love anything. Please let me heal him."
I caught her eye. "What do you mean?"
Her expression screamed of sympathy, and I hated it. "He needs to concentrate on himself, on getting better. If he spends his energy on you, he'll never recover."
"But I can help him."
"Not right now." She shook her head. "Tell me honestly, do you really think you've helped him since he's been back from Vietnam?"
My lip quivered as I thought back over the last few months. I pictured him sitting out on the fire escape, smoking and drinking until dawn. I remembered his nightmares and the way he shivered whenever a car backfired. His fear when he saw a military vehicle.
"I want to help him." It wasn't an answer. We both knew that. And it was killing me.
"Then let me take care of my son. Please." She sounded like she was begging. "We have the money and the connections to help him. I've already found a place that can help."
My heart shattered into a thousand, tiny pieces, like a crystal glass falling on concrete. I wanted to take him home, to cover his body with my own, and promise it would be okay. But I had tried that already, I'd almost flunked my courses and done all I could to make things okay. It still hadn't been enough.
I looked at her through watery eyes. "Can I see him?"
Her face softened. "Of course. He's in his room; I'll take you to him."
She led the way back to the hall, and I followed her up a flight of stairs, marvelling at the expensive decor and beautiful paintings. We turned left on the landing, heading for a door at the end of the corridor.
"We've put him in a guest suite. The doctor advised against letting him sleep in his own room."
I raised my eyebrows but didn't question.
When we reached the room, she pushed the door open, and I saw Ben sitting by the side of the bed. He turned around to look at us, and his lips split into a grin when he saw me.
"Here she is." Ben stood and motioned over to me. I walked across the room, my legs shaking, my eyes searching out the man I loved.
I gasped when I saw him. His hand was bandaged and splinted, his arm laying straight along the bed cover. There was a puffy bruise just below his eye, and his mouth was busted, a crusty, red split running down his bottom lip. His skin was ashen, colored a milky-grey, shining softly with a layer of perspiration.
"Hi." His voice was croaky. I closed the final distance between us and sat on the chair Ben had vacated. When I looked around, I realized they had all left us alone.
"Hi." I wanted to take his hand, but was too scared to touch it. I didn't want to hurt him any more than I already had.
"I'm so sorry." He glanced down at his hand. "I can't believe I've put you through this."
His words were slurred, like he'd had one too many beers. I assumed it was the sedation that caused it. The same medicine that dulled his eyes, and put out any fire I thought he had.
"It's okay." I reached out and ran my fingers through his damp hair. "It's all going to be okay."
He cleared his throat, a small cough shaking his chest. "It's not okay. What I've done, who I am. It's not okay."
"We can get through this together, Edward." My voice was small. "We can work this out."
"Bella." He turned his head, and I was caught in his gaze. I looked at his face, still beautiful despite his injuries. Still beloved. "I've agreed to undergo treatment for my drinking."
I nodded. "Okay, that's good. I'll visit you as much as I can."
"No." It came out as another cough. "You need to concentrate on school."
"It'll be no different to when you were in Vietnam. I'll write and call. It will be fine." I wasn't sure who I was trying to persuade; him or me. My voice had an edge of desperation to it.
"Baby." There was a flash of something deep inside his dull eyes. "I can't do this unless you let me go."
I started to cry. "No. Please Edward, don't leave me." I reached out and touched his arm, my fingers tentative. "Don't do this. I love you."
His breathing was slowing, and I knew the meds were starting to lull him to sleep. "You nearly failed school because of me. How much worse will it be if you're spending all your time writing and visiting me?"
"I don't give a crap about school." The vehemence of my voice made him tense up. "I just want to be with you."
His lids were drooping, and I watched him fight the exhaustion. "No. I need to do this on my own. I can't get better while we're still together."
I sat and watched his eyes flutter some more, the delays between him opening them again getting longer and longer. I looked at his face, at the bruises and the blood, the way his features softened as he slept. I realized he looked more relaxed at that moment than he had in all the time he'd been staying with me in Berkeley. It might have been the meds, or the fact he'd hit rock bottom and the only way was up, but it was like a kick in the face. I'd been nothing but bad for him.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab hold of every politician that had voted for war, of every General who ordered the boys to fight. I wanted to drag them to Edward's bedroom and shove their faces near his, and ask them if this was what they'd wanted, if they were happy now.
When his eyes stayed shut, I let the dam burst. My lips trembled as the sobs stole my breath, tears running down my cheeks and falling to my chest. I leaned forward and kissed him gently, closing my eyes as I pressed my lips to his unbruised cheek. I stared at him for a while, trying to commit his face to memory, to remember the way he looked when he smiled at me. Because I knew in my heart it would be a long time before I saw him again.
Ben was waiting for me outside the door when I finally walked out, and he caught me as I all but collapsed to the floor. He helped me down the stairs, not stopping to say goodbye, practically carrying me down the long driveway to the gate.
When I climbed into the car, Angela took one look at me then folded me in her arms, holding me tight for the fifteen hours it took to get us home. For the whole time, I slept fitfully, waking with tears in my eyes and recriminations on my lips.
Because, in the end, it wasn't the war that broke us, that tore us apart, limb from limb. It was peace; it was home, it was the fact that boys were abandoned as soon as they stepped off the plane. Now they were expected to fight the war that still waged within them all on their own.
The bitter irony of it all tasted like poison on my tongue.
And I wondered if Edward would ever win his war.
A/N - Hey everybody, we're nearly there. Don't give up on me now. I'll make it worth your while - I have a stash of candy in the kitchen ;)
Oh, and a quick, shameless plug for my original fiction. I'll be publishing a novella on Amazon tomorrow - called Halfway Hidden by Carrie Elks. It's a steamy romantic suspense story, about a girl hiding away in a remote bar in West Virignia, and the guy who finds her there. Fair warning - it is quite smutty!
A few thanks - to Fran, Mid, Sparrow and Pates as always. You girls rock my world. And to all of you who read, review or talk about the story, I really appreciate your support.
See you next week!
Choc xoxo