Stolen Dreams

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I know, I was shocked, too. I own this. Let's keep it that way.

A/N: Thank you all for your responses last week! The one common theme was your disgust at Ed—can't really blame you there. This week should be a little wuss-perv friendlier. I hope you enjoy. Thank you to Jenny Cullen for betaing my mess and making it better. You rock, sister!

Chapter 15

It was one fifty-three in the afternoon when Edward and I turned into the long, winding driveway that led to the Cullens' house. I had changed into a summery sun dress, while Edward was in khakis and a polo shirt. It was a far cry from the intimidating look he'd put on for Dr. Gerandy.

I wiped my hands on my dress—again—to hide the evidence of my anxiety.

Edward noticed the movement and reached over, taking my hand in his. "It'll be good," he said, though I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince me or himself.

"But what if—"

Edward cut me off. "No buts, Bella. We're doing this, and it's going to be fine."

I huffed out a breath and nodded. My nerves were still flying around in my stomach like monarchs, but as we were pulling up in front of the house, there was little I could do about it.

The Cullens' home was large. A white, covered porch stretched around the front and one side, supported by square posts looming at intervals like so many sentinels. Empty rocking chairs swayed in the light afternoon breeze. Someone had recently done some landscaping work; when I opened the car door, I could smell the fresh mulch.

Esme Cullen had the door open for us before we even made it to the front steps. "Bella, Edward, welcome to our home," she greeted us politely.

"Thank you for having us," I answered quietly.

Edward squeezed my hand gently in reassurance and gave me a small smile. I could see his nerves in the lines around his eyes, but I found there was strength in us doing this together. She showed us into the foyer and led us into a well appointed living room. A fluffy, off-white couch sat against the long wall to my right, facing a low coffee table, an oversized chair, and a love seat. The flat screen television sat on a low entertainment center in the far corner.

Dr. Cullen sat on the couch, staring out the front window. When we walked up, his gaze shifted to us, but I wasn't certain that he actually saw us.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Mrs. Cullen asked, again as polite as if we were honored dinner guests and not her son's real parents.

I gave her a grateful smile. "Some water would be wonderful, Mrs. Cullen."

"Yes, for me, too, please," Edward said. His voice sounded a little shaky.

"Of course. And please, call me Esme." She turned and walked through another doorway to what I assumed was the kitchen.

"Come on in and have a seat," Dr. Cullen invited us, motioning to the love seat across from the couch.

Edward held out his hand to the other man, and Dr. Cullen took it as the truce it was. "Thank you for having us here today, Dr. Cullen," Edward said, and there could be no denying the real emotion in his voice.

"Please, Major Masen, call me Carlisle. I have a feeling we're going to get to know each other quite well in the coming days." I could tell he wasn't happy about it, but was resigned to the fact that we were to be fixtures of some sort in his son's life.

"Edward, then."

We sat next to each, our legs touching on the edge of the loveseat as Esme returned with two glasses of ice water. She handed them to us and took a seat on the chair at the head of the room.

"Ryan should be down in a minute. He's complaining about the shirt I made him wear." She rolled her eyes, and I chuckled.

"He didn't have to dress up for us," I told her.

"Oh, well, he at least had to get dressed," she clarified. "If I'd let him, he'd stay in his pajamas and play video games on every Saturday he doesn't have practice or a game."

"Speaking of which, can you send us his game schedule?" Edward asked. "We'd like to come to as many as we can."

Esme grimaced. "Next Saturday is the last one for the season. The team didn't do well enough to go to the post season. The game is in Port Angeles, though, if you want to come."

I was getting ready to ask Esme what Ryan knew about this visit, when the boy in question came into the room, tugging at the collar of his polo shirt. He looked around the room with a questioning glance, before his eyes alighted on Carlisle. Carlisle patted the couch next to him, and Ryan sat rather stiffly.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking from Carlisle to Esme, and sneaking peeks at Edward and me in between.

"Do you remember us telling you over dinner last night that some people were coming to see you today?" Esme asked gently, attempting to ease his obvious nerves.

"Yeah . . ."

"Well, they're here. This is Major Edward Masen and Dr. Bella Swan." Esme pointed to us as she did the introductions.

I smiled at him in a way I hoped was reassuring and not scary.

It didn't seem to work. Ryan cringed toward Carlisle. "Major, like in the military? What did I do? I'll clean my room, I promise I will!" he said, panic coloring his tone.

Carlisle laid his hand on Ryan's shoulder and glared at us from behind Ryan's back. I understood what Aron had been trying to tell me about not having an unbiased third party here.

"Major Masen isn't here to take you to military school, Ryan. He's, um, well . . . remember when we talked about your family tree for your genealogy project for school last year?" Carlisle seemed to be trying a different tack.

Ryan gave him a look that clearly said "duh." Carlisle didn't continue, though. He seemed to be having trouble getting the words out of his mouth.

"What your dad's trying to say, Ryan, is that Dr. Swan and I would be the people to ask about your family history," Edward explained.

Ryan's brow furrowed. "You knew my real parents?"

"We are your real parents, Ryan," I answered. I made a supreme effort to keep the excitement out of my voice.

"Oh." Ryan looked at us like we were curious animals in the zoo. "Why are you here?" he asked. "You didn't want me when I was a baby, so why do you want me now?"

My heart pounded in my chest, and it became hard to breathe properly. If he only knew.

Edward looked to Esme and Carlisle for help, but both of them remained silent. It was apparent we were getting no help from that quarter. "Who told you that we didn't want you, Ryan?" Edward finally asked, casting a stiff look at Carlisle.

Ryan shrugged. "That's why people give babies up, isn't it? Because they don't want them? That's what Jimmy said. And I heard Dad talking in his office the other day about you."

Edward's stiff look turned to red hot anger at Carlisle, and he leveled the other man with a glare, before taking a deep breath and returning his gaze to Ryan's face.

"That's not exactly right, Ryan," I answered. "Some parents put their children up for adoption because they can't care for them. In this case, though . . ." I cast about through my mind for how best to put this to a ten year old and decided that the truth was the best solution. "In this case, the doctor that delivered you stole you from us, and put you up for adoption. We wanted you, but he told us you had died."

Esme gave me an incredulous look, as if she couldn't believe that I'd told him the truth.

"They kidnapped me?" Ryan asked, looking at the Cullens.

"Not your parents, no," I assured him. "They thought they were adopting you from a teenage girl that didn't want you. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case."

Ryan took a deep breath and sagged back into the couch cushions. No one in the room spoke while he appeared deep in thought. Finally, when he did speak, it was with a sense of resignation. "Does that mean I have to come live with you now?"

I wasn't going to tell him no, since that was the outcome we were eventually hoping for, but Esme beat me to the answer. "No, honey, of course not," she said. "They want to get to know you, though. Would that be okay with you?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Ryan agreed with a shrug. Now that he had been assured that he wasn't going to be dragged from his home, he seemed more comfortable with us being there. "You wanna see my room?"

Edward and I stood up so fast from the love seat that one would have thought there was an ejector seat in the cushions. "We'd love to," Edward answered.

Ryan heaved himself off the couch and motioned for us to follow him. His room was at the top of the stairs on the second floor. "I wanted to do my room in StarWars, but Mom wouldn't let me," he told us as he opened the door.

A dark blue bedspread covered Ryan's bed. The floors were bare wood, but a rug with varying shades of blue covered much of it.

"I always wanted a StarWars room, too," I heard Edward tell Ryan. "My dad tried to convince my mom that we could make it look like Tatooine, but she wouldn't go for it. I think she was afraid we'd put sand on the floor."

"See!" Ryan exclaimed. "That would be cool, right? She got me the sheets." He pulled back the blue comforter to reveal some sheets with what looked like animated characters.

"Those are awesome! Bella, can I have some of those?" Edward asked, turning to me with a wide smile on his face.

"Sure," I answered. "I won't mind sleeping with Anakin every night."

"On second thought," Edward said, his face pinching with distaste.

Ryan laughed at us. "It's okay, you can borrow mine," he offered. "We could build a fort or go camping or something. I have a sleeping bag, too. I bet you know how to do that stuff."

Edward chuckled. "Yeah, I'm pretty good at that stuff."

"I haven't had time to get everything out yet," Ryan told us. "It's kind of bare in here."

I glanced around and saw a Dodgers poster and what looked like some type of pennant with their logo on it. "You're a Dodgers fan?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Dad used to take me to the games sometimes, but they suck. I like the Mariners better."

"Good choice, kid," Edward approved. His fingers drifted over the few things on Ryan's desk, which was on the wall by the door. An iPod with headphones still attached was haphazardly thrown down. A couple of pictures with Carlisle and Esme were positioned in their frames; I couldn't look at those—they made my heart hurt. A few books by Rick Riordan were stacked on the edge, the top one with a bookmark sticking out.

"Did you guys grow up around here?" Ryan asked as he ran his hand over the empty shelf of the bookcase.

"I did," Edward answered. "Played ball on the same field you do. She moved here when we were in high school."

Ryan's face lit up. "Cool! You'll have to come see me sometime. I play short stop."

"We know," I told him with a grin. "We came to your game a couple of weeks ago. You're really good."

"Thanks! Our last game is next weekend in Port Angeles. I don't know if you live close, but maybe you could come?" He sounded so hopeful.

Edward's expression was wistful and tender when he answered. "We wouldn't miss it, buddy. Not for the world. We live in Seattle, so it's not that far."

That answer seemed to please him, but conversation stalled. Ryan seemed to want to say something else, but he hesitated several times. I was about to ask him about school and his other hobbies, when he finally spoke.

"So, what happened to the guy that stole me?" he asked quietly.

I sat down on the edge of his bed. "He's in jail now."

"He can't take anyone else's kid?" he asked, as if that was his primary concern.

Edward shook his head. "No, he can't. He was the doctor here before your . . . dad. As far as we can tell, you are the only kid he ever took."

"How did you find me?" Ryan asked in a small voice.

"Really good luck?" I answered, trying to sound upbeat. "We were in town for our high school reunion, and I saw you get out of Dr. Cullen's car at the park."

"Do you have any other kids?" Ryan asked. As an only child myself, I knew how much the answer to this question could mean to him.

"Not yet," Edward answered. "We hope to have more someday, though. Would you like to have a brother or sister?"

Ryan pondered that for a minute. "Yeah, I think that would be cool. I tried to convince Mom and Dad to adopt another kid for me to play with after they told me I was adopted, but they never did. I'm the only one they have."

"No matter what, Ryan, they will always be an important part of your life," I promised. Even if we were successful in our bid to get full custody, I didn't think I had it in me to take him away from them. They had loved him for so long, and it was clear that he loved them, too.

"Okay." He seemed satisfied with that for now, but I suspected we'd hear more on the subject. Ryan held up his glove and a ball. "Hey, um . . . what do I call you?"

Edward and I burst out laughing, and Ryan joined in. The emotion and the tension had all built to that one innocent question, and with it, the dam burst. We couldn't have scripted this for Hollywood better if we'd tried.

"Whatever you want to, buddy," Edward said. "For now, you can call us Edward and Bella until you figure it out."

"Okay, cool. So, Edward, you wanna play ball in the back yard?" Ryan asked, waving the glove in front of Edward.

"Absolutely."

The three of us tromped back down the stairs. Ryan went through the kitchen where Esme and Carlisle sat, clearly anxious.

"Hey, Dad, can Edward borrow your glove? He's gonna throw with me," Ryan said, his excitement palpable.

"Sure, Ryan." Carlisle rose from the table and went to a bench near the back door. After digging around in it for a minute, he produced a large ball mitt and handed it over to Edward.

Edward folded the stiff leather a few times to loosen it up and winced slightly as he tugged it on.

"He doesn't use it very often," Ryan informed Edward. "He's not very good. I keep telling him that if would practice with me more, he'd get better, but baseball's not really his sport."

I could see Edward fighting a laugh. "It's not? What is his sport? Maybe we can all do something together?"

Ryan wrinkled his nose. "Doctoring? I don't know. It's not basketball, either. He sucks at that, too."

All four adults started laughing, and Dr. Cullen shook his head. "Well, at least I'm good for something—doctoring."

Ryan shrugged happily and opened the back door. He grabbed Edward's non-gloved hand and dragged him along.

Esme smiled at me. There was a touch of sadness to it, but I understood. "I made lemonade," she said. "Why don't we take it and sit on the porch so we can watch them?"

I nodded and picked up three of the glasses of ice she'd set out. Dr. Cullen's phone rang, and he left the room to answer it, so Esme took the pitcher and the one remaining glass and led me through the house to the front porch.

My boys were standing a few yards apart, lobbing the baseball back and forth. They were close enough to still be able to talk, but far apart enough to make it a challenge. Occasionally, Edward would stop him and make a correction on how and where he held his glove.

"This will be good for him," Esme said wistfully from the seat next to me. "I've been so afraid of losing him that I lost sight of what was best for him. He's happy."

I was about to respond, when Ryan's voice floated up to me on the porch. My mouth snapped shut as I listened to his conversation.

"So, you're in the Army?" Ryan asked Edward.

Edward nodded. "I'm in the Reserves now. I went off active duty about a year ago."

"Did you ever go to war?"

"Three times," Edward answered. "Two in Iraq, and one in Afganistan."

"Cool." Ryan grinned. "And Bella, she's a doctor like Dad, right?"

"Not exactly," Edward hedged. "Bella is . . . like a doctor for feelings. She talks to kids that are having problems and tries to help them get better."

Ryan stared at him for a second and held the ball. "Like my counselor at school?" He finally threw the ball.

"Something like that," Edward agreed.

"Why do you have different names?" Ryan was playing twenty questions.

"What do you mean?" Edward asked, his brow furrowing again.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Like your name is Masen, and hers is Swan, right? Most of the time when people get married, they have the same name."

Edward chuckled. "Well, we aren't married yet."

Ryan gave him a disbelieving look. "You've been together a long time. You need to get on that. Girls like to get married."

Edward laughed. "I'll work on that." He winked at me. "You think she'd say yes?"

"Yeah, I mean, I'm ten, so I know you've known her a long time. What's the hold up?" Ryan badgered.

I snickered. Esme looked like she was about to reprimand Ryan, but I stopped her with my hand on her arm. "No, don't. It's fun to see him squirm."

She giggled and nodded.

Edward tossed the ball in one hand, up and down. "Ah, well, we didn't talk for a long time, Ry. We haven't been together for that long." He tossed the ball high to Ryan, who covered his face with the glove and missed it. "Hang on." Edward moved closer to Ryan and lowered his voice. We could see him showing Ryan how to better hold the glove for pop flies so it didn't take out his teeth or cover his eyes.

"Tia, our attorney, got us a copy of Bob Gerandy's testimony," Esme said to me quietly, her eyes never leaving Ryan and Edward. "I . . . there are no words to express how sorry I am for what he did to you."

"We went to see him this morning," I told her. "He told us everything. There's an account somewhere with money in it in my name. Apparently, he felt guilty enough that he didn't spend it. I think we're going to invest it for Ryan."

"Did he really deny you pain medication?" she asked.

"He said he was giving it to me at the time, but there was nothing in there. That's what he said this morning—that he planned for me to be in so much pain, I wouldn't remember." I took a drink of my lemonade and watched my son and his father interact. Their mannerisms were so similar at times that it took my breath away, even more than just seeing Ryan alive did.

"That's just . . . that's horrible," she said, her voice tight. "When I had the last miscarriage, the baby was too far along, so they induced me. Even with the medication they gave me, it was awful. I cannot imagine doing it without."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll do it that way next time," I admitted with a small laugh. "The more drugs, the better."

"How do we want to do this?" she asked me, her eyes following Ryan as he chased after the ball.

I was momentarily stunned. "Sh-Should we get Carlisle and Edward for this?"

She shook her head. "I figured we could work something out, mother to mother, and tell them later. Carlisle can be a hot head, and well, we don't need that right now." She turned to me. "I know the lawyers have more to say, but if we can work out some sort of visitation schedule without them, I'd rather do it that way."

After thinking about it for a second, I figured that it couldn't hurt. If Aron didn't like what we came up with, it wasn't binding. "There's only one weekend a month that Edward definitely isn't available—it's his Reserve weekend. If we can work around that, that would be good."

"Two weekends a month, maybe in addition to any special events—I'll email you those," she offered. "And for now, I'd still like it to be supervised, or at least here locally. I know your dad is the Chief of Police, so you're not going to kidnap him or anything. It's just . . . he's my son, and I don't know you that well yet."

I wanted to protest, but it was a reasonable request. I wouldn't want to hand him over to people I didn't know, either, and though we were his biological parents, we were still, for all intents and purposes, strangers. "For now," I agreed hesitantly. "I know that we would like it if he came to stay with us in Seattle occasionally."

"Do you live together?" she asked, curious.

I bit my lip. "We're in the process of looking for a place together, but we still have separate apartments. Not that we spend a lot of time apart."

"It's easy to see how much you love each other," she said. "You're very lucky."

"Yes," I mused, "we are."

"How about this," she posited. "Email me your schedules, and we'll work out some visitations around those. With school out for the summer already, at least for Ryan, there won't be anything related to that yet, and baseball ends next weekend. Oh, and his birthday."

For the first time ever, Ryan's birthday filled me with excitement, instead of dread.

"You have to come down for that," she continued. "I think we're going to do a pizza party after the game in Port Angeles for his friends, and then have family come back to the house for a cook-out later."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," I told her. "Is there anything in particular he'd like?" It felt a little weird to be asking, but other than the small glimpse into his room, I had no idea.

She groaned. "StarWars stuff, a new baseball helmet or bat . . . he needs new clothes," she added as an after-thought. "He shot up about three inches right before we left L.A. His shorts still fit, sort of, but his pants are all high waters now. He likes those silly t-shirts, too. You know, the ones that have cartoons and slogans on them. I would get him size twelve to be on the safe side. I know he's going to grow again soon with the way he eats," she laughed.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

She looked at me as if she understood the emotion in my voice, and simply said, "You're welcome."

"Mom, Mom," Ryan shouted as he ran up the stairs and broke the moment. "Can Edward and Bella stay for dinner? I already invited them."

Over his shoulder, Edward held out his hands with a look of "what was I supposed to do?" I just laughed.

"If it's all right with them, of course, darling. They have a long drive back to Seattle," Esme reminded him.

"Oh." He sounded so disappointed.

My eyes shot to Edward's quickly, and he nodded. "It's okay, buddy," I told him. "We aren't leaving until tomorrow."

"Yes!" Ryan shouted, doing a little dance on the porch. "We have time for MarioKart, then. Come on, Bella. I bet I can beat you."

Ryan tugged me behind him into the living room, where he handed me a Wii controller and wheel. Then, for the next forty-five minutes, he proceeded to kick my butt, while Edward laughed at me. I won one race.

"You just need practice," Ryan informed me when I groaned in frustration after losing . . . again.

"Yeah, well, I bet I can beat you at Scrabble," I muttered.

Both Ryan and Edward laughed at me together. "We could try bowling. Is she any good at bowling?" Ryan asked Edward.

Edward chuckled and shook his head. "No, but it's fun to watch."

I hit him on the arm.

"Not now, Ryan," Esme said from the doorway. "Dinner's ready."

I gasped. "Already? You should have told me; I would've helped."

"Nonsense," Esme said sweetly. "Today, you're a guest." She motioned for us to follow her into the dining room, where Carlisle already sat at the head of the table. Ryan took his usual place next to him and tugged me into the chair beside him. Edward sat across from me, leaving the other chair next to Carlisle empty for Esme.

Carlisle was smiling pleasantly, but his shoulders and manner were stiff. I wondered if he felt replaced with Edward here. Esme and I could find common ground, both loving the same boy and doting on him as mothers do, but men were different. I hoped that macho displays and a desire to be the number one man in Ryan's life didn't cause problems later.

Esme brought out a large platter of herb roasted chicken breasts, some wild rice, and a bowl of green beans, before returning a final time with a pitcher of water and one of tea.

"Bon appétit," she said merrily, taking her seat and starting to dish out the food.

For several minutes, the only sound was the clinking of the metal spoons against the ceramic of the Corningware. Then, Ryan decided to fill Carlisle in on what we'd done all afternoon. To his credit, Carlisle listened intently.

"What will Ryan be doing this summer?" I asked Esme during a lull in his narrative. "Will he stay home with you?"

She shook her head. "When we lived in L.A., he had a group of close friends and the kids kind of alternated spending the days at each other's houses during the summer. Since he doesn't know anyone that well here yet, other than the kids on the team, I took the advice of one of the other moms and enrolled him in this day camp program the community center sponsors. Every day, for about six hours, the kids do projects, crafts, and games with other kids their age downtown. I thought it would be a good way for Ryan to meet the other kids that will be in his class."

"Craig Shiffer and Michael Marks are going, too," Ryan said through a mouthful of food. "They're on my team."

"Manners, Ryan," Esme admonished. "Don't talk with food in your mouth." She shot me a look that clearly said "see what you have to look forward to?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said kind of glumly after having been chastised in front of us.

The adults used dinner as an occasion to get to know each other, too. With Ryan in both of our lives, it seemed that we all realized it would be better to know each other and to work together to keep him from getting hurt. By the time, Esme served dessert—individual chocolate lava cakes—we were all talking like old acquaintances.

It was almost nine o'clock when we moved to leave. Ryan had to get ready for bed, and we had our own long day ahead of us the next day.

Before he went upstairs, Ryan ran over and caught me in a huge hug. "When will I see you again?" he mumbled against my shirt.

I held him tightly, closing my eyes at the feeling of having my not-so-little boy in my arms for the first time. "We'll be here next weekend, Ry," I whispered as I tried desperately not to cry.

"Promise?" he asked, pulling back and searching my face.

"I promise."

He gave Edward a hug of his own that practically melted him where he stood, before clomping up the stairs like a herd of elephants.

"I'll email you this week," Esme said. She held the paper I'd written our phone numbers and email addresses on tightly in her hand.

"Thank you . . . for everything," I said sincerely, giving her a hug of my own.

Edward and Carlisle shook hands, and then Edward took my hand and led me to the car. For the first time in almost eleven years, all felt right in my world for that one minute.

I firmly believe that children are a lot stronger and more resilient than we ever give them credit for, but I'd like to hear your thoughts on Ryan's reaction.

As a reminder, I'll be doing an outtake for Fandom Against Juvenile Diabetes. My husband has Type I diabetes, so this cause is close to my heart. Now that we are further along, I'd love to know what kind of outtake you'd like.