A/N for 2019-05-21: Beta'd by Eeyorefan12, whose insights and dedication make working on this story a true joy.
The Mac Shack was a real place, and it served the best Mac and Cheese ever. I lament its passing still.
~ Erin
She'd thought she would get used to the memories of Matt that seemed to surprise her, living in the home they had shared, but each was a fresh shock, just as startling as the last. The unexpected warmth and sun late in April had made her go digging for the sunscreen in the kitchen junk drawer while the kids waited impatiently at the door. She found it wrapped up in a plastic bag, a note snapped to it with a rubber band.
Matt's familiar handwriting spoke to her as clearly as if she could hear him say the words before her: "Hey Peanut: When you finish with the kids, come and lube me up in our bedroom." He'd put a smiley face underneath.
Nestled in memory, Bella was only dimly aware of Meredith's voice.
"Mama, what's wrong?" Meredith asked.
"Nothing," Bella finally managed.
"But you look sad," Mer protested, frowning at her.
Wiping her nose surreptitiously with a tissue, Bella opened the sunscreen and busied herself with smearing it on Josh's legs. He giggled at the sensation.
"Daddy left me a silly note on the sunscreen," she finally said.
"Can I read it?" Mer asked. While she wasn't five yet, her incessant demands for books and stories had been motivation enough for Bella to teach her to read herself.
"Er—"
But Mer had already picked up the scrap of paper.
"What does, lu . . . lub me up, mean?" she asked, struggling with the unfamiliar verb.
There was an unexpected flash of exasperation towards Matt, at being left with this tricky situation. It faded, and a guilty twinge replaced it. It wasn't like he would have known she'd open the note in front of the kids. Then again, Bella had felt sometimes like the "responsible" parent while Matt liked to be the "fun" one. She missed his companionship and felt sorrow over his death and yet . . . she was finding her footing. . She even had to admit that sometimes it was easier with no other adult to consult. She got to make all the decisions.
Of course, that meant she got to make all the decisions.
She made one now, saying, "Daddy was just being silly. It's a way of saying he wanted me to put sunscreen on him." She didn't elaborate on where.
"Well lub me up, then!" Meredith announced.
"It's lube, sweetie." Her correction was reluctant, and she chuckled. "But maybe don't ask other adults to do that."
"Why not?"
Bella thought for a moment. "Because it's a special way that daddy asked me. Other adults might think it's a bit silly."
Bella had reached Joshua's arms with the sunscreen, which he tolerated, but he bolted when she tried to reach his face. He pointed himself into the corner, curling up into a ball. "No!" he said firmly, when she asked if she could put it on his face.
"But you'll get a burn, sweetie. Your face will be hot and ouchy."
Josh turned around, a little smile there. "Man," he said knowingly, like he had a solution to a problem.
Seeing his determination and not wanting to point out that Man would not be joining them in the sun, Bella breathed out in resignation, "Let's get your hat then."
- 0 -
The rhythms of work were smoother now. Her colleagues were helpful with lessons and materials, and she marked papers at work whenever she could. Her neighbour Grant was a regular visitor to her classroom at lunch and had finally convinced her to head outside for lunchtime the week before.
"Come on," he said from her classroom door. "You could eat that . . ." He peered over her shoulder, looking at the soggy sandwich she had shoved into a plastic container. "Whatever that is, or, you can come with me to this awesome little shop that only serves mac and cheese."
"Only mac and cheese? Seriously?"
"Don't spurn it 'til you've tried it. They have a kimchi version."
"Oh, gross," Bella said, shuddering, trying not to imagine that too clearly. There was a wave of nausea that rippled over her midsection.
"You okay?" Grant asked.
"Yeah, just um, morning sickness."
"Oh," he said a little uncertainly, adding a hasty, "Congratulations."
"Thanks," she said. She hadn't told him about Matt, but he did know about her children.
She saw him glance at her left hand, which was ringless. Her extremities had swollen with her last pregnancy, and she had never gotten around to having her wedding ring sized up.
"My husband died in February," she added very quietly.
His hand pressed lightly over hers for just a moment. "I'm so sorry, and for bringing it up, too." He winced a little.
"It's okay, really. It's easier, having people know. Well, sort of, as long as they're not weird about it." She looked hopefully at him. Please don't get weird, she thought. It had been nice to have a friend at work.
He chuckled a little. "No problem. I can do 'not weird' there, but no guarantees on others. Speaking of weird, though, mac and cheese for lunch? They have a nice tomato soup, too, if that suits you better?"
"Actually, tomato soup would be awesome." It was one of her pregnancy staples.
The walk did her good. Their classrooms were housed in an outbuilding that was referred to as 'the bunker'. Its cinder block walls were topped with high windows that provided lots of light, but nothing direct and absolutely no view. She felt like she was emerging from a cocoon every time she left for the day.
Spring had taken firm hold around them, and the sidewalk was peppered with a rain of pink petals from the cherry-blossom trees along their route.
"This is so magical," she said, stopping to watch a tree shed a fresh wave of speckled pink to the ground.
"I know," he said, grinning. "Especially when it starts in February."
She squinted at the sun, enjoying its warmth on her face.
"You like the sun?" he asked.
"Very much," she said. "I can't wait for the summer," though her face fell a bit with her words as she realized she might not be able to venture to as many sunny spots as she normally would with the children. They loved the beach and the outdoor pools but, for the foreseeable future, shade would be about more than just sun protection.
"Something wrong with this sunshine?" he asked.
"No," she smiled back. "Just realizing I'm going to be pregnant through the summer."
"Mm," he said sympathetically. "Yeah, I've seen my sister do that. Not fun. Sorry."
She chuckled and shrugged, and they walked on.
The small restaurant was, as he'd promised, excellent, and when they returned to their classrooms it was with satiated smiles on their faces.
The week wore on, and on Friday Bella bumped into Grant in the photocopy room.
After chatting about the minutiae of their teaching days, Grant asked, very quietly, "So, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner sometime? If you're free, maybe tomorrow?"
She froze.
"Oh." She searched for other words. "I'm not—thank you, it's . . ." She appreciated his friendship. Deeply. But . . . "It's too soon," she said. "I'm sorry." There were tears brimming.
He looked contrite. "No, I'm sorry. It was stupid of me. And I promised you not weird. I get it." He looked down, "But if you change your mind—"
"Thank you," she said as graciously as she could, picking up her photocopying and hurrying away for the start of the day.
The warmer weather seemed to make the day go faster. The students were more active at least, and it felt like she'd just gotten to work when she was staring down the last five minutes of last period on a Friday afternoon.
It was nuts.
The kids were supposedly working on notes for an essay assignment for writing next week, but in reality most had moved onto weekend plans. A few phones had migrated from backpacks, and Bella felt like she was playing a losing game of Whack-a-Mole, trying to keep them working.
She was deep in conversation with one boy, when one of the more studious girls said, "Uh, Ms. Hamilton? I think you've got a visitor."
Bella turned around. Edward was standing in the doorway. Most of the class had quieted down and were staring at him.
Her breath caught in her throat. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong if he was here.
Then he smiled and waved, and Bella had to shake her head, trying to wrap her mind around what had brought him here. She moved slowly, redirecting a few more errant stares back into their notebooks. These happened reluctantly, but by the time she'd reached Edward, the students were distracted enough for her to be free to ask, "What's wrong?" in a low whisper.
He didn't answer. Not with words.
Instead, he pulled her into a kiss, one hand at her head, the other at her elbow, forcing her hand onto his shoulder.
Her eyes wide open, she could see Grant's shocked expression directly across the hall from them. The kiss lasted long enough for his face to flame in embarrassment and then hurt. Pinned in Edward's grip, Bella could only watch as Grant turned and walked back into his classroom.
Somewhere behind her, a drawn-out wolf whistle and then a round of applause broke out from her own students.
As he drew his lips away from hers, Edward raised his hand and gently stroked one finger down her cheek in an intimate gesture before releasing her from his embrace. In her humiliation, Bella couldn't really place the expression in his eyes but it almost appeared apologetic. Then, he turned and smoothly disappeared.
The bell rang.
Bella stood in the middle of the doorway as her students filed out past her, some with snickers, and a few bolder ones with innuendo-laden comments.
She ignored them all, keeping her eyes—and flaming cheeks—focused on the floor.
It was more than her face that was livid.
She was such a fool. She had believed he actually cared. No, she was just as he'd told her: a distraction.
How stupid was she to believe him a second time!
Idiot, she hissed at herself.
Mustering her self-control, she shoved her self-recriminations away. Right now, she needed to control the damage in front of her. Moving towards Grant's classroom, she raised her hand to knock. The door opened before she could make contact and Grant stood there, bag and coat in hand. "I'm leaving, Bella. Is it something quick?" He didn't meet her eyes.
"What you saw, that was not—we're not—"
"You don't have to explain it to me," Grant interrupted. "But I would've appreciated it if you'd just told me the truth." The last words were muttered, and he closed the door behind him, brushing past her as he left through the outer door.
"Grant, please wait—"
But he held up his hand behind him, not stopping.
She went back to her classroom and sat down.
Her hands were shaking, and she knew she'd be useless to work for the rest of the afternoon, so she packed up her things, locked the classroom, and walked towards the parking lot.
The weather had shifted, a layer of clouds suggesting the possibility of rain. Rounding the outer corner of the building, she nearly ran into Edward, who stood with a finger pressed to his lips. His other hand was holding up a small open notepad, on which he'd written out a message in bold black marker: NOT SAFE. WE'RE BEING WATCHED.
Fuck you, Bella thought, her thoughts still jumbled and angry. She started to walk past him.
He flipped the page, holding it up again, almost in her face: MER AND JOSH ARE WITH CARLISLE AND ESME.
Her face flushed. Was this just a game to them? Were her children just pieces of entertainment? Maybe she had been too generous, thinking the rest of the Cullens weren't a part of some charade. She had given them permission to protect the children, not to pick them up any time they wanted.
Now Edward had flipped to a third page and Bella looked in spite of herself: ROSE AND EMMETT ARE WATCHING YOUR DAD.
Suddenly, her thoughts cleared and her stomach sank, heavy with the realization that there was much, much more going on. Her Dad?
Her forehead crinkled in query, "How—?"
Edward put his finger more forcefully to his lips, and then scratched a new note onto a fresh page: VICTORIA HAS HELPERS. WE DON'T KNOW HOW MANY.
They had more than just Victoria to worry about. Now her legs were absorbing the shock of what he was telling her. He wasn't screwing with her. Victoria was.
He wrote again: WE NEED TO GO. NOW.
He tucked the notebook under his arm and pocketed the marker. He held out his hand, face full of urgency.
He'd just humiliated her in front of her students and broken the one friendship she'd managed to form. But he seemed concerned . . . sincere. Could she trust him?
"Please," he mouthed. Then he said the words that made the decision for her: "Josh and Mer are waiting for you."
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.