A/N: Hi, readers! I'm just thrilled with your response to my o/s Back Yard Exposure. So many of you are excited about it, so of course, I have to continue it! I'll post the second chapter in a couple of days. It's going to be a lot of fun, and I'm looking forward to writing some humor again.

I have some beautiful ladies to thank. Thank you to SunflowerFran for her beta skills, eeyorefan12 for all of her input into this chapter, and gabby1017 for pre-reading. They are all so lovely.

And as always, thank you for reading. ;)

TO THE LIGHT

CHAPTER 33

"Thank you for this evening," I say, standing in front of my apartment with Edward. "I learned so many new things. I love your bookstore. I love everything about it. Books are kind of like friends. At least to me."

"You're welcome, and thanks for letting me put you to work. I feel like I need to hand you a paycheck," he says with a chuckle.

"You've already paid me," I say softly.

He ducks his head and nods. He knows my meaning.

I don't worry about asking him inside. I think he knows me well enough now to not expect it. Pushing my hands deeper into my pockets, I shiver and fiddle with my key.

"Hey, I have nothing going on this weekend," he blurts out. "I'd love to see you again."

"Um..." I say as I watch several cars go by. I look back at him, and my hesitation gives him my answer.

"I guess I'll just see you bright and early Monday morning," he says with a false cheerfulness.

I'm torn and I feel like a terrible person. I know it must be written all over my face.

"It's okay, Bella. Besides, I had such a great time tonight that it'll last me until Monday."

His mentioning it reminds me of something. "Oh, I've been feeling guilty about your buying my lunch all week, and I wanted to see if it would be alright if I made you something on Monday. Maybe we could eat in my building. There's a really great place by the fountain."

He grins. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"I guess I am."

"Then I accept," he says just as someone honks at his double-parked Jeep. Edward jumps, and I let out a small shriek.

"Holy shit," bursts out of him as he turns toward the ruckus. The person lays the horn on again, a lot longer this time.

Edward whirls back around, and we both erupt into laughter. "I gotta go," he says, talking fast. "Be safe. Call me if you need me." He reaches out his hand and, without thinking, I pull mine out of my pocket and lay it in his. He raises it to his lips, pressing them briefly against my gloved fingers. "Thank you for tonight, Bella. I can't wait for Monday," he says before the person in the car rolls down the window and starts yelling obscenities.

He's grinning and laughing as he turns and jogs to his Jeep. He says something to the driver, but I can't make it out.

I feel like I float into my living room. As I strip off my gloves, I find myself thinking of the kiss Edward placed on my hand. Laughing, I pick up Oliver and give him a one-armed hug as I try to shrug out of my coat.

I hang it up on the hook by the door before I flop onto the couch, setting him on my chest. "Oliver, I had the most amazing evening. Would you like to hear about it?" I ask. He purrs and I scratch his ears, rub his belly, and begin sharing with him. But halfway through, he jumps off of me and hops up on the trunk.

And he just sits there like an Egyptian statue, staring at me with his yellow eyes.

We have a stare-off and my elation over my evening begins to wane as my eyes drift to the lock on the front of the box.

How am I ever going to open it when the key is at the bottom of the lake at the cabin? Do I want to? Maybe I can just put it in a dumpster. Or toss it off a bridge.

I consider it.

But I realize I can't. There are things in there that I have to deal with, just not today.

Looking away, I remove my hat, loosen my ponytail, and run my fingers through my hair.

Thoughts of that trunk have put a damper on my evening, but I refuse to give in to it. To cheer myself back up, I bring out my flowers from the bedroom and tend to them. I cut the stems, careful to make them each the same length, replace the water, add the flower food, and mourn the brown and curled edges.

Afterward, I set out my ingredients to make Dad a cherry pie for my visit tomorrow.

Like usual, I end up sleeping only a few hours, but this time I have a good reason for it. I can't stop processing the evening, reliving every moment. I think a lot about that book of poems and its inscription. I try to picture Clara and Edward but for some reason, I can't picture Clara at all. All I see is Edward. I see him—his hair trimmed and tidy—in a dark navy suit with a green tie and shiny black shoes, jumping out of a Model T with a handful of daffodils in his hand. He races up the steps of a Craftsman home with a huge front porch and presses the doorbell firmly, so eager to court his love.

And then I picture myself opening that door, watching Edward taking my hand in his and placing a kiss on it...

The next morning, I try to set those thoughts aside and head out to see Dad. I keep my mace in my right hand just in case. She should still be rotting in jail, but I'm not taking any chances.

Thankfully, there's still no sign of her.

When I arrive at Grace Manor, I'm relieved to make it in time to visit the accounting office. They are only open half-days on Saturdays and I need to pay for Dad's incidentals for the month. I don't recognize the clerk on duty, but we make small talk while she looks up his billing.

"Here it is," she says. She studies the computer screen for a moment. "So, the insurance has paid everything except the fees for the field trip and the haircut you requested for him. Is that what you expected?"

I nod, grateful once again for the long-term care plan Dad had paid for all those years ago on the job. Unfortunately, it still had limits. "Can you tell me how much longer the Horizon plan will cover everything?"

"One moment." She turns back to the monitor and clicks a few more keys on the keyboard. "Looks like you're good for another 11 months." Her eyes meet mine, and I see the momentary concern there. "Would you like to set up an appointment to talk about options beyond that?"

I shake my head as I hand her my credit card. "Not now, thanks. I'll figure something out."

How I will continue to pay for the excellent care provided by this premiere facility on my bank teller's salary is a mystery I don't wish to contemplate right now. I will have to eventually, though.

Maggie greets me at the door to the memory unit with her usual exuberance. "Oh child, how are you?" she says, pulling me into one of her hugs I've come to enjoy. She squeezes me extra-long and extra-hard before pulling away and holding me at arm's length. Her eyes flash with alarm. "Oh, my goodness, Bella, what happened to your face?"

I tried hiding it with make-up, but it's still hanging around. It's more of a yellowish-green now.

"I, uh, uh," I fumble because I wasn't prepared for this. "I ... fell on some ... ice. And I ... hit my face on a step."

She gives me an 'I don't believe a single word you just said' expression. "Don't lie to me, child."

And I find that I can't. "It was ... my mother. She's an alcoholic."

"Oh, you sweet little precious thing," she says, pulling me tight against her bosom again. "What can I do to help?"

"Nothing. I'm taking care of it." I'm not sure what I'll do when she shows up again, but I'll think of something.

"You can call me anytime, you know that, right? I'm here for you whenever and however you need me."

"I know. And thank you. For caring about me."

"Of course, I care for you. Why don't you come over to my house tomorrow, sweet girl, and don't be stubborn and say no like you always do. All of my family will be there and their friends, and I'm making my Grandma Nona's world-renowned spaghetti and meatballs. We're a rowdy bunch, but we have so much fun together, and I would so love for you to be a part of it."

I press my lips together, hating the fact that I'm going to disappoint her yet again. "I'll think about it."

"Quit thinking about it, and do it."

"I will some time," I say before I pull in a deep breath. "How's Dad?"

"Very quiet, and he's not eating so good. What did you bring him today?"

"Cherry pie."

"Oh, he'll gobble that right up. Give him lots of love, sweetheart," she says as she lets me into the locked ward. I step into his room and rays of sunshine from the window illuminate his silver hair, making him even more handsome than usual.

"Hi, Dad," I say cheerfully. He turns toward me, and there's no recognition in his eyes, but he smiles, and it's a big, toothy smile beneath his furry gray mustache. Smiles are rare with him, so I treasure every single one. "Look at that grin. Did you know you're more handsome than Tom Selleck?"

I busy myself and talk about work and the sunshine as I try to get him to eat. I'm pleased when he eats two more bites of meatloaf. Pulling out the cherry pie, I put a generous bite on a fork. I get tickled when he groans in appreciation and gets a smudge of the filling on his lips. I study his face for a moment, wishing he was here with me now, wanting so much to share my life with him like I used to.

"I have something to tell you," I whisper. I pause for a second or two, and then a gust of air leaves my lips as I start laughing at myself. I can't believe I'm nervous when I know he won't remember a word I've said.

"I've met someone, Dad," I say softly. "Someone so special. I don't even know how to describe him."

I pull in a slow breath before I continue. "He's beautiful and his heart ... It's even more beautiful. He's a gentleman and so kind, and we met on a bus of all places. He wore this funny hat to get my attention," I say, smiling as I picture him in it. "He owns a little bookstore, and he's going to college, and he asked me out on a date, and we ate at his store by candlelight, and he baked me a chocolate cake and dropped my piece on the tablecloth, and we had another date last night and..." I say all in one breath before I start giggling. Dad turns and smiles, and it's such a good moment between us that my joy overflows.

Lifting his hand, I press it against my cheek. "His name is Edward. I love his name. It's so charming and old fashioned. He's even been to Paris. Can you imagine? He's traveled to so many places..."

I stare off to the side and try to picture Edward as an adventurous teenager with a guitar in his hand, strumming in front of Notre-Dame Cathedral or maybe even in a train station as people drop euros into his open guitar case.

I lean closer to Dad. "He said he wants us to fall in love," I whisper. He's staring out the window again, so I follow his gaze for a moment before I turn back to him. "Dad, I … I think I already have."

Looking down at his hand in mine, I study the brown spots, years of kisses from the sun. "Edward thinks I'm special. I'm not even sure why ... it's something about a scar. But I have a lot of problems, Dad. I'm really messed up, and I'm scared. I don't know what to do," I say as I turn toward him. "I miss you so much, and I wish you could help me."

But Dad continues staring outside. I recognize this moment. It's like I'm no longer here. I wait, hoping for just one more smile from him.

But he's gone again.

I gather my things, kiss his cheek, and tell him I love him.

On the way home, I touch my wrist where Edward did and feel more alone than ever.

On Sunday morning, I think of Maggie and her family eating Sunday dinner together. I remember the barbeques that Jacob and I used to have with all of our friends. We had so many wonderful, close friends that I cut all ties with. A few of them know where I live now because they helped me move here, even though they were flabbergasted at the apartment I chose. They tried their best to talk me out of it, but I refused. I made sure they kept my whereabouts a secret from my mother. They also did their best to stay in touch. They called and texted, but I hid away. How could I bear to spend time with them when they were all couples and I was alone? When I needed to hide, not just from my mother but from the world? When I felt I didn't deserve good things?

I hurt so many people. I left a wake of devastation and alienated myself from everyone. But it was the only choice I had.

I call the home to check on Dad and talk to Vicki. She tells me it's not a good day to visit. Apparently, Dad believes that someone is about to steal all of his possessions, so he's been writing his name on almost every item in his room. But I'm consoled to hear they have one of the aides monitoring him for safety.

When I hang up, I ponder what to do with myself for the rest of the day. I am surprised to realize how much I miss Edward. I've become accustomed to seeing him every day. Seeing his smiles, the way he watches me when he thinks I'm not looking, the way he lifts my spirits. I thought it would be easier, having a break from him, but I find it to be quite difficult.

To keep myself busy, I concentrate on our lunch date for the next day. I've already decided to bring chicken salad sandwiches and chips, but I decide to wow him with my scratch-made pecan pie.

I prepare the crust, then count out exactly fifty pecans, and carefully place them in a circular pattern on top of the pie filling before baking. The warmth from the oven and the delicious aroma fills my small rooms, making it feel cozy when my place is far from it.

I wonder where Edward lives. Does he live in an apartment? A house or a condo? Is it a bachelor pad? He said he was a bit of a slob, which would usually concern me due to my tendencies, but doesn't for some reason. Does he have a wall of books at home even though he's surrounded by them at work?

I smile at my thoughts. There are so many things I don't know about him yet. I want to know more. I just have to figure out how to push through this fear of intimacy I have.

Maybe I'll ask him something tomorrow. Maybe I can muster the courage.

Maybe it's time for a change.