Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

"You sound glum. What's up?" Charlie asked.

"Oh," she sighed. Where to start? "I had my first run-in with the nutsos around here last week."

"What happened?" He'd made her promise she would tell him, after what had happened in Phoenix.

"They mobbed me in the hospital parking lot. I have some bruises. They were just looking to scare me."

Charlie was silent, save for his heavy breathing. The first few times she'd come clean about the attacks, he'd cursed a blue streak for the rest of the phone call. She'd made him promise to keep future outbursts to himself. In some ways, though, the silence was harder to take. She squirmed guiltily in her seat. He'd seen her through so many things, and she knew it pained him to watch more, but she believed in what she was doing. And someone had to do it.

"You reported it?"

"Yes."

"And you saw a doctor. Not yourself, right?"

"Yes, Dad. And I cleaned my room too."

"Don't, Bella. I'll take a lotta crap, but I won't take you making light of your safety."

"Sorry, you're right. Anyway, I also had a date."

"Yeah, I saw your message."

She'd texted him when she arrived home. Again, he promised not to ask about who and what, but he just wanted her to be safe.

"And I have very poor taste in men. Still."

"Oh," he said. It was a veritable trove of sympathy for a Charlie-ism. "So what're you going to do to get out of your slump?"

What indeed?

She shuffled the papers on her small table, most obscured by the vase of tulips. Esme's address came in to view.

"Well, I think I'll go for dinner with some new friends."

"Excellent."

"Yeah, we'll see," she muttered dubiously. "I'll let you know how it goes."

And because she knew Charlie would check up on her, and because there was no fooling him when it came to stuff like this, she showered and changed after work on Wednesday, putting on a neat set of slacks and her favorite blue silk blouse. She had nothing in the house that was worth sharing foodwise, so she stopped at the store and picked up a box of fresh strawberries, and on a whim, a glass bowl to serve them in.

The turn-off was well hidden, as Esme had warned, but clearly marked with a cheerful yellow letterbox, shaped like a bird house.

When she pulled up to the stately old farm house, there were already several other cars parked in front of it. This relieved Bella a little. Esme had been adamant that she didn't need to call, but should just show up. She didn't want to be the first or only guest, though.

Her knock at the front door was answered promptly. A man with graying blonde hair answered. "Hello and welcome," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Carlisle."

"Bella Swan," she said softly. "Pleased to meet you. Esme invited me from the book club."

"Ah yes, she mentioned you. We're so glad you could make it. Come on through. The kitchen's just this way." He held out his hands for the bowl, "May I?"

"Thank you," she said, slipping off her shoes and following him.

Ahead of them, Bella could hear Esme. It sounded like she was scolding someone.

"What did you expect, darling? Tea and polite conversation on common views? She aborts babies for a living. I mean really, you have better judgment around relationships than that."

Stopping in the kitchen doorway, Bella was presented with the sight of Edward Cullen, standing, she realized, beside his mother. Esme had her back to the door, working away at the counter. Edward's eyes widened, and he straightened, mouth opening a little as he reached a hand out to his mother's shoulder.

Great, Bella thought. Who needs enemies when you can have friends like this?

"I actually don't abort babies for a living," she said, loudly enough to make Esme turn around. "My salary comes from the hospital. My work at the clinic is free."

Esme turned around. "Oh dear," she said, looking at Bella. "I'm so sorry. I thought we were alone."

Evidently. Bella lifted her eyebrows in acknowledgement.

After wiping her hands quickly on a tea towel, Esme marched towards Bella. "I'm so sorry for the offense I just gave. Everyone is welcome in my home, regardless of their beliefs. I didn't realize we'd had a guest arrive, or I wouldn't have aired my prejudices so freely."

When Bella spoke, it was softly. "It's your home, Esme. I think this is the one place you're entitled to air your beliefs freely. I won't impose what are clearly very different ones." With a quick glance at Edward, and a soft squeeze at Esme's hand, she turned around, heading back to the door.

Outside, she fumbled to fit her foot fully into her shoe and didn't hear the footsteps behind her.

"Please stay," Edward blurted out.

"Because this wasn't awkward enough?" She kept her voice down, not wanting to upset Esme, who she genuinely liked. Unhelpful memories of a long-ago dinner flashed before her, the recollection of kind words and then cruel ones accompanied by the subsequent physical humiliation. No, she didn't need to stay.

"Because I like you, and I completely screwed up a chance to get to know you the other day."

He what?

She blinked for a bit. Yes, she'd really heard that.

He said he liked me.

Richard said he liked me.

But Edward had also apologized for what he'd said. Immediately. He'd also helped her after she'd been hurt.

"Please stay," he whispered.

But stay? After Esme had made her own views clear? Richard's face appeared before her mind's eye. She bit her lip. "I don't think your parents want me here now that they know who I am, and what I do."

"My parents started these dinners because they wanted a chance to talk to people with different opinions. People like you."

Now she stared incredulously. "I have a hard time be—"

"You know Dr. Beaufort?"

"The clinic founder?" Bella asked, surprised.

Edward nodded. "Yes. When he opened the clinic here, my dad wanted to meet him, but he wouldn't return any of the calls from the church, so my parents invited him to dinner, with a promise that there would be no talk of religion or politics. He came here every Wednesday, as have many other people in town. We still don't talk about religion or politics, even though Gerard's retired and moved away. So please, you're truly welcome." He ran his hand through his hair, leaving it unintentionally and artfully disheveled. "And before you walked inside, in what has to be the cosmically worst timing ever, my mother was telling me about the nice young woman who'd just started coming to book club." He smirked. "And who scandalized everyone with her daring reading suggestion." A smaller version of his grin spread over his lips.

"Daring," she scoffed. "Virginia Woolf. God, is literature off the list of approved topics, too?"

"It's open season on books. Does that mean you'll stay?" His eyes were bright. All his features had lifted with hope.

"Okay, but—wait," she said, seeing Edward turn, as if moving to go spread the word. She sighed. "I owe you an apology—"

"No, you don't" he said, shaking his head.

"Actually, I do. I was really angry. I get very . . . passionate about the work I do at the clinic, and the many, many issues behind it. I said some things that were not deserved."

"I could tell that you were passionate. And angry," he admitted. "But I also saw it coming, and I kept pushing."

"You're not responsible for what other people say."

"No, but I am responsible for my choices." He looked back at the house. "Do you want to go back inside? Perhaps I could introduce you to my sisters?"

"Sure," Bella exhaled, approaching the house with more trepidation this second time.

Inside, Edward called out, "Bella's staying," to the kitchen.

Esme's "Wonderful!" was enthusiastic, but she didn't pair it with an appearance. Bella was glad. Her evening had already met its quota for awkward exchanges. She hoped the rest of the time went smoothly.

Edward gestured she should follow him. As they approached a set of stairs, Edward paused. "How's your ankle?"

"Fine thanks," she said, biting her lip. "I'll get your crutches back to you this week."

"I wasn't missing them. I'm just glad you're better."

She followed him down the stairs, looking at the several family portraits hung there. The first featured a much younger Carlisle and Esme holding a very young baby.

"That's me," he said.

She blushed, realizing she was being rude, staring and snooping. "Sorry."

"Don't be." He smiled.

"This is when Emmett arrived." In this photo, Edward was older, maybe four, and a much bigger boy stood with him, a heavy arm over the smaller one's shoulders.

He was a cute four year old, his crooked grin made even cuter by crooked teeth.

She took another step down. The poses were the same, but the boys were older. Emmett made a handsome young teen, while Edward had been captured in the unforgiving skinniness of early adolescence. And he'd had braces. And acne.

"I know," Edward said. "I keep threatening to burn this one."

"Oh, I dunno. I like it," Bella said, warming up a bit to this awkward boy. She had a lot of empathy for such creatures.

Next in the progression of photos included two much older boys, almost men, and two young women: one blonde and one dark-haired.

"Alice and Rose arrived when Emmett and I were in our teens. Man, that was awkward."

"Why?" Bella asked, forgetting she was supposed to be feeling awkward with him.

"Because Emmett and Rosalie fell in love. They're married now."

"Whoa."

"Tell me about it."

"Edward," a female voice called. "Are you seriously talking about me?"

"Yes I am. About all the bad things you did when you were younger."

There was an answering snort, and then, "Jerk."

"Every family needs one," he called back.

As the room came into view over the railing, Bella caught sight of a woman who looked like she'd walked off the cover of a . . . maternity magazine. "Hi, I'm Rose," she called, "You must be Bella."

Bella let her gaze flick towards Edward, who coloured a little.

So he'd been talking about her.

"Nice to meet you," Bella said, following Edward into the room. She put out her hand when Rose went to stand up. "Oh please don't, no need."

"What is it with you doctor types, getting all worked up about pregnant women standing?"

Edward was worried enough though, that he moved past Bella and put an arm out to steady Rosalie. "Yep. Something to do with quickly shifting vascular pressure, hard objects, and said pregnant women falling down."

"Uh-huh," Rose said, dismissing Edward and pulling Bella into a surprisingly strong hug. "So nice to meet you. Mom mentioned you, and apparently, Edward did too." She arched her perfect eyebrows at her brother, and by God, if Bella's eyes weren't deceiving her, he blushed.

So he'd been talking about her a lot.

"Where's Emmett?" Edward asked, the blush fading a little, but his jaw working. He was clearly uneasy.

"Work," she said, shrugging. "Sorry Bella. The unique pleasure of meeting the one and only Emmett will have to wait."

It was so quiet, Bella wasn't quite sure if she'd actually heard it, but she thought Edward muttered, "Thank God," under his breath.

"Okay," Edward said, much more clearly. "Let's go find Alice and Jasper, before we strain Rosalie's sense of decency too much."

Rose rolled her eyes. "So nice to meet you Bella. We can chat more at dinner when Edward's not feeling so shy." Then she winked at her.

He held his arm out, indicating that Bella follow him. She had the impression he would have liked to pull her that way, if he could.

His voice was soft and low when he spoke. "Alice doesn't come to many of these dinners. Her time before us was . . . trying. She likes things to be quiet and peaceful. She and Jasper—her husband—are just in the garden right now. She can only really tolerate larger groups for short periods of time."

"Sure," Bella said. "Should I avoid talking to her?"

"Alice?" he snorted. "No. She'll talk your ear off one-on-one, but she gets quieter the more people are around. That's all. We should be hitting the sweet spot with the four of us."

Good to know, Bella thought, not sure what to expect from his sister.

Petite and dark-haired, Alice was sitting on one of the split-wood benches that ringed a fire pit near the lower garden. Her husband, Bella presumed, sat beside her.

"Edward Cullen, did you bring a date?" Alice asked.

"Um . . . " Edward seemed to have gone mute.

"I'm Bella."

"Oh!" Alice said, looking excitedly at Bella.

Yes, Edward was definitely blushing.

"I see my reputation precedes me," Bella observed drily.

Jasper chuckled.

"I just wish I knew what that was." She raised her eyebrows and stared at Edward.

He looked at the ground, like he wanted it to swallow him up.

"Well Ma'am, what your reputation is," Jasper drawled, "is that you put he-who-can-do-no-wrong in his place. That's a mighty fine set of skills to have." He tipped an invisible hat in her direction.

Edward was still studying the grass, when Bella glanced at him.

"Dinner!" Esme's voice called. This was accompanied by the sound of a clanging bell.

"Come on!" Alice chimed, pulling Jasper along behind her. Looking back, she called out, "Come on, Edward. Don't leave your guest out here to get hungry."

"After you," Edward said, finally meeting her gaze, holding out a hand to show the way.

Dinner was delicious. And so was dessert. As promised, there was no talk of religion or politics. When the last plates had been cleared, and Carlisle and Esme had set out the tea and coffee, Edward leaned over to Bella. "Want to see the view?" he asked.

She didn't, but she suspected he didn't either.

"Sure." She followed him to an upper deck, set off from the main part of the house. There was a modest and distant view of the river there, but nothing really worth the effort Edward had made to get her outside.

"I really am so sorry," he began, "for the other day."

"You apologized. It's alright." She didn't like anyone groveling, and she liked people feeling beholden to her even less.

He nodded, seeming to scan the horizon. "Then, perhaps you'd let me make it up to you, and take you out another time?"

"No," she said, thinking for a moment. "But maybe you can let me make it up to you?"

He stared. "Do you really think you need to?"

"I was pretty self-righteous."

"So was I."

"Well, we'll call it a draw then," she chuckled. "But maybe no politics and religion over dinner?"

She liked his smile and the way he spoke. "Sounds like a plan."

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.