Author Note: Thanks for the awesome response to this story! Though once again we prove my theory about lemon chapters…
Just a reminder that lying to Renee about his past is all Edward's idea. Bella is going along with it for him.
Someone with PMs turned off is angry with Bella, saying "she can eat something besides a salad every time they get food." I checked the Word doc, and the chef salad in Chapter 24 is the only one she eats in the entire story, so I'm not quite sure where that came from.
Thanks again to moosals and NKubie for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.
Chapter 26 — The Pet
When I come home after having lunch with Alice one Thursday in mid-November, I find Edward curled up on the couch — despite the gorgeous weather outside — with something colorful on his chest. He holds his finger up to his lips, silently indicating for me to be quiet.
I take a few steps closer, realizing the tiny, colorful ball of fur is a kitten when I see its pointy ears. It's fast asleep, nestled against Edward's large hand. He carefully moves his hand so I can get a better look at the kitten. Its back is a chaotic mix of orange and black, with spots of white near its head, but what I can see of its furry tummy appears to be mostly white.
"Where did you get that?" I whisper.
"I found her on the side of the road, while I was out jogging," he explains quietly. "Her mom had been hit by a car, and I didn't see any other siblings."
"Her?"
He nods. "I remember reading somewhere that calico cats are almost always female."
As if she senses that we're talking about her, the tiny kitten blinks opens her big blue eyes and lifts her head, opening her mouth wide in a yawn.
"Aren't you the cutest little thing?" I coo. What a sweet face she has.
Edward smiles, softly petting the kitten. "Can we keep her, Mom?" he asks, looking up at me in his best five-year-old impersonation.
I chuckle. "Have you had a cat before?" I can't specifically remember if I saw a cat in any of the old photos Edward showed me last summer.
"Yeah, we got one when I was two, and he was definitely my cat. He died a couple of months after I went to prison," he frowns as he remembers. "I always wondered if he died of a broken heart, since he missed me so much."
"Edward, if you got him when you were two, he must've been what, 16 or 17? Maybe he just died of old age."
"Maybe," he allows, stroking the kitten's furry back. He still looks sad though.
"What was his name?" I ask gently.
"Duke."
I can't hold in my laugh. "What kind of cat name is that? Seems like it's more suited to a large dog."
"I named him after my favorite TV show, The Dukes of Hazzard. I was only two, but I loved their orange car, and Duke was orange."
"I've never seen that show," I admit.
"Of course you haven't." He rolls his eyes.
"I think there was a movie by that name several years ago, but I never saw that either."
"So can we keep her?" he asks again. "I checked our lease, and cats or small dogs are allowed."
My brow furrows. "Why do you think you need my permission?"
"I just want to be sure you aren't allergic," he explains.
"My mom is, but I'm not," I assure him. My grandparents had three cats and they never seemed to bother me when Dad and I visited.
The kitten starts licking her left paw and I'm about ready to get my phone out and snap a photo. She is so darn cute. But then it hits me…
"We don't have anything we'll need for a cat. I mean, she needs food, and a litter box…"
"Yeah," he chuckles. "She's already peed on me once."
I giggle, tentatively reaching down to stroke the top of the kitten's head with one finger. "I suppose that means I have to go out to the pet store while you stay with the kitten."
He grins at me. "Keys are on the kitchen table."
An hour later, I'm back from my trip to Petco. It takes me three trips to carry everything upstairs from the car. I've got a plastic carrier for car rides, a soft bed, a litter box, litter, three bowls, kitten food, a scratching post and a handful of fuzzy mice toys.
We decide to set everything up in the spare bathroom for now, including her bed — at least until she's litter box trained. Or maybe she already is; there's only one way to find out.
While Edward fills the litter box, I fill one bowl with water, add dry food to the second and put wet food in the third. Of course she goes straight for the wet food.
"Have you named her yet?" I ask Edward. "And don't say Duchess."
He smiles at me from his place on the floor. "In keeping with my theme, I was thinking of naming her Daisy."
I blink my eyes a few times. "I don't get it."
"Daisy Duke?" he questions. "The other reason boys liked to watch that show."
"You were two!" I giggle. I've never known little boys to start looking at pretty girls that young.
"Not when repeats were on in syndication during the 90s," he grins and I shake my head.
Finished with her meal for now, Daisy walks over to the water bowl and I giggle again at the way her tiny tongue laps at the water. Poor little orphaned kitty… I was afraid she wasn't really old enough to be away from her mother, but she seems to be doing well with eating, so she probably is.
"I need to go do some homework," I moan. I'd really rather stay and watch the kitten. "Are you gonna stay in here with her until she manages to use the litter box?"
"Yeah," he nods.
"Ok, yell if you need something."
I sit down with my laptop at the kitchen table, losing track of time as I work. After a couple of hours, Edward comes out, carrying the tiny furball.
"I need to smoke," he says. "Will you watch her?"
"Sure." I take the kitten from Edward, very glad I'm wearing jeans so her tiny, sharp claws can't dig into my skin. I pet her soft fur and those big blue eyes stare up at me. Her tail is standing straight up, which I know in cat speak means she's happy.
"I hope you like your new home, Daisy. Somehow I think you already have Edward wrapped around your paw." She gives me the teeniest meow in response, and I smile at her.
When Edward comes back in, I get up to start dinner while he takes Daisy into the living room, getting down on the floor with her and teasing her with one of the fuzzy mice. She pounces on it, kicking it a few inches away before pouncing again.
By the time our dinner is ready, Daisy is sound asleep on Edward's lap. I get her bed out of the bathroom and he carefully places her on it, then gets up to eat.
"So you probably need to find a vet tomorrow," I suggest as we eat, hoping Edward can take the lead on this. "I have no idea how old Daisy is, but she probably needs to start getting her shots."
"Ok," he nods. I'm admittedly a little bit shocked that he's agreed so easily. Other than his appointments with his shrink, he really hasn't done much without me around as a buffer. I've tried and failed to get him to go alone the last two times Fernando cut his hair, including just last weekend.
We spend the evening curled up on the couch watching TV together — Edward, me and the kitten. When it's time for bed, he carries Daisy and her bed into the bathroom, getting her set up for the night, then closes the door. Once she's proven to be litter box trained, she can have the run of the apartment at night.
When I get home from class on Friday, it's to an empty apartment. Edward texted me earlier to tell me he'd gotten Daisy an appointment with a vet just 15 minutes after the end of his shrink appointment, so he planned to take her with him to see Dr. Banner. That should be fun.
I lie down on the couch to read, and it's mid-afternoon when they return. He sets the carrier down on the kitchen table, carefully lifting the tiny kitten from her prison and cuddling her close.
"So…?" I ask, sitting up.
He comes to sit beside me and I smile as Daisy places her front paws on his shoulder, snuggling up to him. She clearly adores Edward — of course, who wouldn't?
"The vet thinks she's about 12 weeks old. Everything checked out ok, and she got her first round of vaccinations. She has to go back for boosters in three weeks and he thinks she can be spayed after the first of the year."
"Poor little thing." I pet her soft back, just thinking about what she'll have to go through. "How'd it go at Dr. Banner's?"
"Once I let her out of her carrier, she was fine. She took a nap curled up on me for the whole session. Dr. Banner thinks she'll be good for me," he says quietly.
"I think she will too," I smile. He's so incredibly sweet with this little kitten; I think she's stolen his heart much faster than I did. Daisy can keep him from feeling lonely when I'm in class… and give him the chance to be the caretaker for once.
I realize then that he's given me the perfect opening to ask something that's been on my mind for a while. "What, um, what does Dr. Banner think of me? Is he against you dating anyone the way that Jenks was?"
"No, he's cool with it," he assures me. "He understands that we love each other. Basically he thinks that since I lost 18 years of my life, I should do whatever I want to do with my life now. He wants me to push my limits, but he hasn't set any goals for me."
"Do you think we could ever have a joint session?" I ask cautiously. "Not one where you have to talk about the past, but where we could talk about the present?"
Edward stares at me, biting his lip. Daisy meows for attention and he smiles, turning back to her and scratching under her chin.
"I'll think about it, Bella," he finally answers. "But that's all I can promise."
By Thanksgiving the following week, Daisy is an integrated part of the family. She even spends the night sleeping on our bed now, curled up against Edward's leg or stomach. She isn't big enough to jump up onto the bed on her own yet, but her plaintive meows from the floor always convince him to lift her up there… once he's done with me, of course.
We've packed up a few of Daisy's things so we can take her to Thanksgiving dinner at the Cullens'; Edward didn't want to leave her alone in the apartment for so many hours. He's been keeping his workouts and jogs shorter, too.
Both of his parents go crazy for their new grand-kitty when he lets Daisy out of her carrier. I half expected her to run around like, well, like a kitten, checking out every square inch of their house, but she sticks close to wherever Edward is while I help Esme finish cooking dinner.
When we sit down at the table, we all join hands and Carlisle recites a list of everything he's thankful for over this past year.
"… And finally, I'm most thankful that after 18 long years, we've got our son back at the table with us on this day of giving thanks. He's healthy and he's happy and he's found someone that he loves — that's all we ever could've wanted."
Esme sniffles, squeezing Edward's hand, and I have to try hard to keep from shedding a tear myself. "Did you want to say anything, Edward?" his mother asks.
I turn to look at him, at his bowed head. "I'm thankful that you never gave up on me," he says, sounding choked up. "And that I've got the most loving and patient girlfriend in the world. That's it." He furtively wipes his eye, and I lean over to kiss him as Esme begins passing the dishes around.
As we eat, Daisy nudges against Edward's leg, and he relents, getting up to set a bowl of kitten chow on the floor near his chair. She scarfs it down in record time, then cries for attention.
Once Edward is mostly finished, he picks her up, setting her on his lap. Instead of curling up as she usually does, she rests her paws on the edge of the table, trying to sniff his plate, but he shoves it back a few inches until it's out of her small reach. She meows loudly in displeasure.
"Ok, ok," he laughs, putting a tiny piece of gravy-covered turkey on his palm. He offers it to her and she eats it right up, licking at his palm with her sandpaper tongue. "You like gravy, huh?"
Smiling, he scrapes up the remains of the mashed potatoes on his plate with a spoon, then dumps that on his palm. Daisy happily licks it up then lifts her head, and I giggle as she licks around her mouth to clean up.
Esme just shakes her head with a smile. "No matter how many times I told him to stop feeding Duke table scraps, he wouldn't listen."
"Probably why that cat was always overweight," Carlisle adds with a chuckle.
"He was big boned," Edward protests.
"No, he was fat, dear," Esme laughs.
As Edward gets up from the table, he sets Daisy back on the floor and she immediately starts whining. "Just a minute… I need to wash my hands," he tells her, as if she can understand English.
"That cat may turn out to be the best thing that's ever happened to him," Esme smiles once he's disappeared down the hallway. "Besides you, of course," she adds with a wink.
My last day of classes for the Fall semester is December 9. I spend much of my time for the next several days sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by books as I study for next week's final exams.
Daytime highs are still nice here, in the 60s or 70s, so Edward has started taking Daisy out onto the balcony with him while he smokes. She's big enough now that he's not afraid she'll get too cold. He's hoping that by the time she gets brave enough to think about jumping off the balcony, she'll be too big to fit through the wooden slats. I'm not so sure about that.
The kitten really does seem to be good for him. If nothing else, she seems to be desensitizing him to unexpected touches. She regularly rubs up against his leg while he sits at the table, or she brushes him with her tail. And now that she's able to jump up onto the couch, she's been known to pounce on us while we watch TV together.
Maybe it's just that he subconsciously knows that it's not a human's touch, or maybe he really is starting to become desensitized. I hope it's the latter, for Edward's sake. I can't imagine what he goes through on a daily basis, especially when he's out in public.
Right now, the two of them are taking a nap on the couch while I study. They're so freakin' cute together that I sneak into the living room to snap a photo. Edward is holding Daisy to his chest and the thought strikes me that maybe, just maybe, this tiny calico kitten could convince him to one day change his mind about becoming a father to a human baby.
I mean, I wasn't lying to Edward when I told him I'd never dreamed of having children of my own. Right now, I firmly believe that I'll be ok if we never do. Even if I change my mind one day, faced with a choice between Edward and a baby, I can't see myself ever not choosing Edward. But what if I don't have to make that choice? What if he realizes one day just how much love he has to give?
A/N: Congrats to Duvi, who was the only reviewer to guess that the new character was a pet! Back when they first got to Tucson, three readers suggested a dog for Edward.
This is Daisy: i71 dot photobucket dot com/albums/i135/Thecommitted/Links/Daisy_front dot jpg
i71 dot photobucket dot com/albums/i135/Thecommitted/Links/Daisy_side dot jpg
Aren't Edward and Daisy the cutest pair? Do you think she'll be good for him? And what about Bella's thought that a kitten may help convince him to want children one day?
Next update on Friday.