Heavens! I do love the speculation in your reviews. I wonder who will guess what went down.
Thank you to the Harvestward Gals -Ipsita, Nic, VampyreGirl86, and SarcasticBimbo - for everything.
Chapter 25
Waking up in Edward's arms was a heavenly way to start the day. When we eventually dragged ourselves out of bed, a session of yoga stretched out the tenderness in my muscles while Edward went to the office to work on his design.
I was on a high until I slid open the closet in the spare room and saw the boxes we'd shipped from Florida when my grandmother died. They arrived a few days after we came back, and I shoved them in here, too exhausted to deal with them. At the time, I assumed it was emotional stress, but having seen Edward's symptoms, I now suspect the fatigue was my reaction to the Zika virus.
Grandma's rapid decline and death meant we had to empty her home, trying to decide what to keep from her long life while arranging her funeral.
Mom insisted I take her hand-embroidered tablecloths, all the silver cutlery, lovingly housed in felt-lined boxes, and the china set for twelve place settings. I tried to argue that tea cups and saucers were not my style, but Mom had just lost her mother when she told me my grandmother would have wanted me to have them.
She said, "When you finish the house, you'll be dying to entertain," but we never did entertain. Everything has remained in a state of limbo—the tape on the boxes symbolic of how Jake constrained me.
While unopened boxes of keepsakes weigh heavily against my plan to declutter and make a fresh start, I do want to show off her things one day like Mom said I would. Since my grandparents moved to Florida soon after I was born, they didn't play a big part in my life, so the photos I have and these things are my only tangible connections to them.
I decide not to open them and move to the other side of the closet. Without a second thought, I chuck my wedding dress on the bed, ready for Goodwill, but the amount of discarded clothes Jake left here is infuriating. A pair of expensive shoes I gave him still sit in their box, never worn, dismissed like the Dior cologne, and I hate that he cared so little for my feelings that he left them here for me to find.
Jake has keys to this house, with plenty of opportunity to remove his stuff while I've been away, and now I'm angry enough to take it with me to Forks and throw it on his porch. Let his proud family see what he left me to deal with.
Growling, I'm yanking everything off their hangers and tossing them on the floor when I notice Edward standing in the doorway. "Everything okay in here?" he asks, cautiously.
"Look at the all shit he left behind!" I yell, kicking at the pile of clothes.
"I'll take it out to the car and donate it for you."
"Oh no, this is all going to Forks. Who's gonna want size 16 shoes? He's six foot six, Edward!"
"Okay." He holds up his hands and backs out of the room.
I feel bad carrying on in front of him like this, so I follow him out to the hallway. "I'm sorry, but I'm angry."
He glances at me briefly, and his lips turn up in a smile. "Angry is good," he says, retreating into the office.
I notice the tremor in my hand when I spill coffee on the counter.
After a fitful night, dreaming of dark pools of blood spreading over the ground and the sound of a bear cub crying for its lost mother haunted me, I tiptoed out at dawn, rather than let Edward see my nerves.
I know I've been stupid allowing the fear of returning to Forks to become a full-blown phobia by not facing it sooner. We talked about it last night when we had dinner with Angela and Ben, and I was quite optimistic, knowing Edward would be by my side. At the time, I was riding a wave of achievement, having finished the spare room once we took two big loads to Goodwill and then packed Jake's stuff in my car. Angela cracked up when I told her I intended to hurl Jake's clothes on his porch, asking Edward to take photos.
It was a great night, marred only by Angela's burning curiosity about the person who hired Mike. She gave me the number for Three Forks Tours, urging me to call him right away, and I did so to get her off my back. Mike didn't answer, and I left a message for him to call me when he had a chance. He didn't return the call by the time we left the bistro, and she was disappointed, unsettling me enough to lay awake with all sorts of scenarios playing in my head, none of which I liked, adding to my uneasy feeling this morning.
My boyfriend distracts me by asking for an iron. He wants to dress appropriately to meet my parents, planning on wearing a button down, his dark jeans, and a belt. It makes me search through my wardrobe, choosing a skirt, tights and a brown turtleneck, and he smiles and pulls me to him when I come out with my bag and jacket, wearing my firestone necklace.
We take the car on the ferry to Bainbridge Island, then drive north to Port Gamble, and on to Sequim. There's not a lot to see with the trees lining both sides of the road, and I'm doing fine, having driven this far several times since I left. I want to stop at Port Angeles to show Edward the foreshore where the ferry goes over to Canada, so we decide to stop there for coffee.
Approaching the port and seeing water reminds me of happy days, shopping trips with Angela, and Saturday night movies. While a few more chains have opened up here, most of it remains the same. Turning onto Lincoln Street, I have to slam on the brakes for an older lady who's stepped off the curb, frightening me when she stumbles.
"Careful," Edward warns me. "She's drinking."
I notice the hip flask as she raises it to her lips and hold my hand out the window when someone behind blows their horn. It's not like there is a lot of traffic around, and I want to see she gets safely across the road. We find a parking spot and a coffee stand, and we've ordered when the same woman approaches Edward.
"Gotta smoke, sonny?" she asks, swaying slightly, and I cringe from the smell before I recognize her. She's old, older than she should be, skinny and decrepit in a battered coat, leopard print leggings, dirty boots, and greasy orange hair with three inches of regrowth.
"I don't smoke," he answers, and she looks at me, glassy-eyed, clutching the arm of my jacket to stabilize herself.
For a few seconds, I'm terrified of her, unable to breathe, scanning the street for any sign of the men who tried to intimidate me. Edward takes a step toward me, making her frown and then smile. "I won't hurt you, darlin'. I just want a cigarette."
"Sorry, I don't..."
She snorts, removing her hand without a hint of recognition, and shuffles off down the street. I let out the breath I was holding and lean against Edward, still glued to her as she stops someone else for a smoke.
"What's wrong, Bells?" he asks.
"That's her, Edward. I'm sure of it. She's the wife of the killer."
"Who? The drunk? I thought you said they were middle aged men."
"They were. She would only be in her fifties now."
"Very sad," he says, watching her. "But karma's a bitch."
The vendor calls out our coffees, and my insides are in knots, wondering what she's done to herself that caused her to age so much. Even though we were sure she played a part in the murder, I can't help feeling sympathy for the state she's in today.
We really only walk along the water while we drink our coffee. Shaken, I need the safety of the car, and I admit I'm anxious I'll run into someone who harassed me in Forks. Without telling me I'm worrying unnecessarily, Edward pulls me close and kisses my temple, walking me back to the car, and I hug him, warm in the freedom of his protection.
The trip from here on is spectacular as the road winds between the mountains and then skirts along the edge of Lake Crescent. I feel like I'm getting close when we cross over the Sol Duc River and see the signs for Olympic Campgrounds. We pass a couple of logging trucks going east, and I point out a simple house, painted reddish-brown, a style I associate with this area. For some reason, it makes me happy seeing trees dotted around tiny settlements turning red so early in fall.
Edward mentions the big sign on the left coming up. "The Hungry Bear Cafe, Bella." Then a few miles further, he turns in his seat, calling out, "That building says Beaver Fire Department." He studies the GPS screen and chuckles.
Every single time we drove through here, some clown always had to make a comment. "Yeah, this is Beaver," I answer, holding back a smirk.
He spits out a laugh. "Oh man, we gotta move here. I want to say with a straight face that I live in Beaver, or how about, 'I come from Beaver?'"
"Very funny." I smirk and fall into laughter myself. It's only another ten minutes to Forks now, and I'm feeling like the nerves have left me. We cross over the river again, and I listen out for the familiar sound of running water. We're passing the turnoff to Shuwah when Edward's phone rings.
"How's it goin', Em?" I wait and watch as his face lights up. "Bella is here with me. I'm putting the phone on speaker. Say it again!"
I frown for a moment before Emmett's booming voice fills the car. "We're pregnant!"
"Really?" I ask, hardly believing him.
"Yep, it looks like we did make a baby in Mexico after all. Rose has been throwing up all week. The doctor just confirmed we are definitely pregnant."
"We're only telling the family," Rose joins the conversation.
"Congratulations!" we call out in unison.
"Thanks," she says. "Isn't it amazing? We're finally going to have a baby."
"It's the best news," I add, grinning.
"Have you told Mom and Dad yet?" Edward asks.
"We just got off the phone with Esme and she really seemed thrilled for us."
Edward looks at me and smiles. "Maybe she'll be different now she's gettin' a new grandkid."
"What about the tests we had done in Billings?" I ask.
"It was too early to detect the pregnancy."
"I'm so happy for you!" I really am jumping out of my skin.
"What are you two doing this weekend? Rose and I want to celebrate. Do you feel like coming here and staying for dinner? You can sleep over."
"Actually, we're on the road three hours northwest of Seattle." He squeezes my leg. "I'm just about to meet Bella's parents. Wanna wish me luck?"
"Ah. Well, just be yourself, Ed, and they'll love you."
"Oh, Emmy, remind me to give you a big sloppy kiss when I see you."
"Lookin' forward to it, brother."
"Seriously, you two, I'm so happy for you," he adds.
After a last round of congratulations and thanks, he hangs up and we beam at each other. The news has really made my day.
"Where do they live?" I ask, having never enquired before.
"She's currently based in Livingston, about two hours west of Billings, but she moves around a lot."
"I wonder what will happen now they're starting a family."
He nods, but doesn't comment, as if he's deep in thought.
As we cross the Calawah River and pass the sign welcoming us to Forks, Edward plays with my hair, and I don't feel the fear I was dreading, only how much I missed this place. The tears that well in my eyes are for the years spent away—all the times I felt lost and alone.
"You okay?" Edward rubs my shoulder.
"Yeah." I wipe a tear from my cheek and laugh at the relief washing over me.
Forks is so spread out compared to Red Lodge, it's as if there are restrictions on the number of businesses in each block. The main street is probably longer, but there's really nothing much here—the reason we were forever driving to Port Angeles.
We come to a stop at traffic lights, and I look to my left, seeing Mrs. Cope coming out of Chinook Pharmacy and Variety. She retired the year I graduated from school, but she looks exactly the same. If I sing out to her, she will probably recognize me, but the light goes green before I have a chance.
I notice a police cruiser parked inside True Value Lumber, and I wonder if Jake is working today. I really want him at home when I drop off his clothes.
Showing Edward the First Baptist Church, I prepare him for meeting Angela's parents at the wedding with a description of her pastor father and judgmental mother. We won't be setting foot inside the church anytime this weekend.
Finally, I turn onto my street and see the Mallory's place is gone, a new house under construction where it stood. The Swan residence with its white clapboards is just the same, the last house before the forest, an inviting smell of freshly cut grass in the air as we pull up.
"Bella!" Mom calls out as the screen door opens, and I smile at Edward before I get out and go to her. She grabs me and hugs me like she hasn't seen me in years, and I hug her back, knowing this is just as big a deal for her as it is for me. Dad is not far behind, greeting Edward with a firm handshake, before Mom touches his arm and thanks him for bringing me home. Then Dad rocks me in his arms, and I'm brushing away tears when we're done.
"Come in, come in!" Mom welcomes us, and I note the outside is more well kept than I remember. It looks like Dad has been sprucing the place up for our arrival. Inside, there's a new leather couch and recliner to go with a big TV on the wall. The kitchen hasn't changed since the remodel ten years ago, but they've bought a new dining table and chairs, already set for lunch.
Sadly, the biggest change is the silence. There's no inquisitive bark, no wagging tail thumping on the furniture to greet us. Leo's death broke Mom's heart and she still won't hear of replacing him.
While I offer to help Mom in the kitchen, Dad asks Edward to join him outside, and I keep my eye on Dad's body language for any sign he's about to start an interrogation. Instead, I hear Edward doing the talking after the clink of two bottles of beer.
"We're impressed Edward managed to get you to come home."
"It wasn't anywhere near as bad as I imagined, and I think it's because he was with me. I really like this guy, Mom."
She smooths my hair. "I'm glad to hear that, darling. We've been worried about your future."
"I have to tell you I saw Mrs. Jefferson in Port Angeles this morning. She looks like she's seventy years old, and she was drinking from a hip flask in the street."
"Yes, I heard she wasn't doing well, but this is what happens, and I'm sorry but I can't find the mercy to feel sorry for her. She must reap what she's sewn. Anyway, let's not talk about that this weekend."
Glancing out the back, I see Edward and Dad standing at the vegetable garden, deep in conversation, and I'm filled with sudden happiness. Dad has never classed himself as a handyman, so he'll be thrilled if Edward is asking for advice.
"Have you been on vacation this whole time?" she asks.
"No, I was working in Rainier this week." I almost tell her what happened, but they don't need a new reason to worry about me.
"What time do you plan to serve lunch, love?" Dad asks as he comes inside, followed by Edward.
Mom is pressing a nutty crust onto four pieces of salmon. "Mmm, I thought about one o'clock if that suits everyone."
"Okay, we'll be back soon," Dad announces, taking his car keys off the hook.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
"Hardware. Edward's gonna help me fix that vegetable patch."
"About time," Mom mutters to herself. I look at Edward and his lips curl up. Jeez, we've only been here a short while, and he's already like old pals with my Dad. I just shake my head as they leave.
The oven timer goes off and Mom asks if I'll put the pan on the rack to cool. "Upside-down apple cake?" I confirm, salivating when I already know the answer from the familiar caramelly smell.
Mom gives me the job of peeling boiled eggs and chopping them while she prepares the rest of the potato salad. "I've missed your cooking," I state, wrapping my arms around her shoulders.
"I'm trying to encourage your father to eat better and cut down on the beer."
"How is his health?" I ask, worried there might be something she's been keeping from me.
"Oh, he's fine. It's just his cholesterol is high." She hands me a stick of celery, munching on one herself, and we smile at each other as if it hasn't been years since we last did this together.
I'm showing Mom my necklace when Dad and Edward arrive back, going through the side gate to the backyard. Edward is undoing the buttons of his shirt when I walk out to see what they're up to. He takes it off and hands it to me as I look at the raised garden, no longer square, like it's been skewed into a haphazard diamond shape.
Edward tells us to stand back before picking up a brand new sledgehammer and knocking one of the corners, then proceeds to do the same to each of the others. I'm kinda mesmerized by the intense physicality of his muscles in use like this, eternally grateful he has to go round many times to get the right-angles back.
Once it's square again, he positions, then belts two heavy stakes into the ground up against each wall, not satisfied until they line up perfectly with the top. "That's not gonna move again," he declares with a heavy exhale, handing the sledgehammer to Dad. I'm sorry when the show is over, but I love Dad's grin, amazed Edward has fixed this so quickly.
Looking down at the sheen on his chest, he says, "I'm gonna need another shirt."
"Sure. Let's get our bags." I head inside and drape his good shirt over the back of a chair. He walks through the side gate again, and I wonder if he's uncomfortable wandering around shirtless and sweaty in front of Mom. I still get to ogle his broad shoulders and slim hips as he reaches the car, waiting a little longer than I should to click the remote.
Just as he leans in, I hear a car, then look up and groan, seeing a cruiser pull in with Jake behind the wheel.
"What do you want?" I ask when he gets out.
"I nearly ran off the road when I saw you drive into town."
"Checking my speed, were you?"
He snorts, but his expression changes when he spots Edward pulling a t-shirt over his head.
"So this is him? Didn't take you long."
My mouth drops, amazed Jake knows there's a him. I can't believe my parents would have said something. Until my private conversation with Mom today, I've only painted a picture of friendship, so far.
"In case you forgot, we're divorced, Jake."
He turns his stare on Edward. "Don't waste your time on this chick, man. She's frigid."
Pulling our bags from the car, Edward lifts an eyebrow. "That's funny. I've found her to be the exact opposite. Maybe she just needed a real man."
Jakes nostrils flare and he takes a step toward us. Edward moves forward, putting himself between me and Jake, who rocks on his feet a few times. Whatever he wants to do, he reconsiders, because he gets back in the cruiser, doing a U-turn and roaring off.
"He wanted to hit me," Edward states, keeping his eyes on the cruiser until it goes out of sight.
"He wouldn't have hit you. He's not violent like that. Jake has a temper, but he's been taught since he was a kid to back down because of his size."
Mom is pulling the fish from the oven when we come in. "What was that all about?" she asks nervously.
"Did you tell Jake about Edward?" I ask them together, and they both shake their heads. "You didn't have a phone call he might have overheard at the station?"
"No," Dad replies with conviction.
"Well someone told him. He came here to warn Edward not to waste his time on me."
Dad puts an arm around me and kisses my hair. "Please, don't let Jake ruin our weekend."
He's right, and I don't really care that Jake knows, but I hate another mystery where somebody is talking behind my back. If it wasn't my parents, who else even knows I have a new man in my life?
Thanks for reading xo