A single-chapter gift from me to you for Easter 2022
Bella spends a blissful but frustratingly loveless summer with a woodland god she encountered in her meadow. Years later and after a number of personal traumas, she discovers that he hadn't been totally honest with her.
Supernatural romance and angst = fewer calories than chocolate
These characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. I borrow them to have lots of fun with.
ONE SHOT
'One shot, Bella, that's all you'll get. When it comes, take it. Grab it with both hands and never let go. If you don't; if you walk away, you will never, ever, be truly happy.'
Those words will forever be imprinted on my memory, but long before Mom whispered them during our final conversation, my gran had given me the same advice just a few months before she died.
From her rocking chair on the porch, Gran would give me the benefit of her wisdom while reminiscing about her life. The day Gran spoke about her one shot, or as she preferred to describe this in her older person's vernacular, 'a never to be repeated opportunity for happiness,' her bright but stroke-affected eyes were not looking at me. Instead, they were fixed on the trees that surround the house where she'd raised my mom, Renee. At the time I wondered whether Gran wanted Grandpa's ghost to hear what she said. He had passed away eight years previously so by then Grandpa was a distant but happy memory. Gran always referred to him as Mr. Higginbotham, never by his first name or any terms of endearment. At the time I presumed they'd been happy. Looking back as an adult I guess not.
Gran's determined tone did convince me that she wanted me to grasp the importance of her statement. An almost fourteen-year-old though was not mature enough to take her words too seriously. I'm damned sure now that Gran also gave Renee the same advice, which Renee no doubt ignored. Regret is a destructive entity that eats into your soul. I know. I've lived with the gut-wrenching effects for years.
Not long after that day, Gran succumbed to another stroke which meant I'd lost the chance to ask whether her advice had been given because of personal experience. When events caused me to remember what she'd said, it wasn't hard to work out that Gran had walked away from her own 'opportunity for happiness,' and lamented what could have been for the rest of her days.
Of the seventeen years since Gran departed, the first two were spent back home with Renee in Jacksonville; the following three with my dad, Charlie, in Forks. A week after my nineteenth birthday I moved to Seattle to attend college. Three weeks into my second year, a family tragedy put an end to my studies. On the journey back to Forks, the idea that I would never go back to college to complete my education had not entered my head. For the remainder of those seventeen years, I chose to live as a recluse in Charlie's house until five days ago when a call I took on the kitchen phone blew my world apart.
An unexpected yet foreseeable conversation with a doctor in Jacksonville turned out to be the start of a chain of events I never saw coming. When the doctor's warning about Renee's health hit home, I cried; booked a flight, and cried again, before running to the meadow in the woods behind Charlie's house in the vain hope he would appear. Why would he though? He hadn't shown since the day after my eighteenth birthday. How could he know that the girl he'd made promises to twelve years previously was now an emotional wreck? I needed his arms around me … even though he'd never held me like that before. When I left Forks for the airport, this may seem ridiculous but I genuinely felt that I was the one who was betraying him. There was no alternative though. I had to get to Jacksonville.
Renee's patio clock says 5.30 am. The thermometer shows sixty degrees. I'm tired and alone … and I mean, really alone. Renee has gone. The finality of our parting - accepted. I'm sad in some respects … not in others. What Renee's left behind for me to deal with though is too difficult to comprehend right now. The damning evidence of a past relationship has hardly left my hand since the nurse passed her belongings to me in a nondescript brown envelope, not realizing it contained dynamite. Even worse; there were more revelations in the ornate wooden box on Renee's nightstand that I'd always admired but had never seen inside, and in two metal trunks concealed in her closets. Last night I stopped looking; I couldn't take any more shocks.
Despite the hypnotic rush and drag of tumbling shingle coupled with the villa's peaceful location, deep sleep has been unattainable since I got here. There are too many memories associated with Renee's villa dancing around in my head; very few of them are pleasant. My long-held issues with Renee are immaterial now. New questions that have multiplied over the past five days will never be resolved. Another regret; I shouldn't have stayed away for so long.
Instead of my childhood bed, I've spent the last three nights outdoors, dozing on Renee's Adirondack lounger. Empty wine bottles, unwashed glasses, and crockery from what turned out to be her final party, still litter her sand-covered patio. The army of voracious gulls currently snoozing between the villa and the sea no doubt grabbed the opportunity to cleanse the plates and dishes of anything edible that remained. I'll get around to cleaning up at some point. Mundane tasks are not a priority at the moment.
Choosing Renee's lounger as a place of rest is not to fulfill a need to be close to her. I don't believe in ghosts or spirits although her presence hasn't yet departed the property. Shrill laughter, curse words and Rive Gauche linger in every room. Clothes and personal items are still strewn across chairs, beds, and the floor. Every shelf or window ledge displays images of Renee enjoying good times. I guess the smiles were pretense; a clever act she put on for the benefit of others, including her daughter. There's a picture on the mantle in Forks of me doing the same. I didn't realize until now how similar we are … how similar we were. Damn!
Gran's artwork adorns the villa's walls alongside Renee's own pieces. Alas, the artistic gene bypassed me; I can't draw a thing. Gran painted beautiful landscapes that occasionally included people. Renee's expertise lay with portraits, both human and animal. A landscape of Gran's hangs in Renee's room opposite the bed. The significance of the scene meant nothing to me when I lived here. I recognize it now as my special place in the woods; the wildflower meadow where I met him. I guess the meadow had been a special place for Gran and Renee too.
The patio clock ticks over to 5.45 am. Warmth wafts across the beach ruffling the gulls' feathers. Dawn is imminent. The black, undulating ocean sprinkled with the bobbing lights of fishing boats and marker buoys will soon morph into a tranquil golden pond. A sublime period of magnificence to savor before the traitorous orb rises above the edge of the world, ready to blast the innocent shore and everything beyond with searing, relentless heat.
Jacksonville - or as I prefer to call it, Hell on Earth. A bubbling cauldron of oppressive humidity. Memories of my childhood spent yearning for the cool, dank forests of the Olympic peninsula are still vivid. I would count the days to when I could go back to overcast skies, the smell of damp earth, and unconditional love. My summers in Forks with Charlie and any remaining grandparents were the best. Fifteen years have passed since I permanently left Jacksonville for Forks. Two weeks two days before my thirtieth birthday, I'm mentally counting the days to when I can return again.
The first hint of gold appears on the horizon. Hardly discernible – the finest touch of the thinnest brush is spreading its glistening paint from north to south. Thin as a reed, but enough to delineate between the sky and the sea. The color reminds me of the wildflowers that poked through the long grass on the day he entered my life. Twelve years have passed since then. Each day of the brief season we spent together can be recalled as though it happened yesterday. I'll never forget that blissful summer.
'One shot, Bella, that's all you'll get.
Those seven prophetic words will forever stay in my head.
Twelve years previously
Despite Charlie's warnings not to wander in the woods, most days after school I'd take off for an hour to wind down amongst the trees. A well-trodden path that followed the stream led to a bubbling waterfall where sunbeams that found their way through the dense canopy would dance across the tumbling water creating miniature rainbows in the spray.
On rare afternoons when it hadn't rained, I would head for my meadow where abundant tall grasses and wildflowers provided me with a perfect location to hide from the world. Reading a book in a magical setting became my preferred therapy if the day had been stressful. I had no need to waste the skills of a school counselor if life became too much.
In junior year literature, my class studied the weird Shakespearean comedy, A Midsummer Night's Dream. Reading the text while surrounded by nature made it easy for me to imagine Titania and Oberon and the other enchanted characters, playing out their drama amongst the trees and especially in the meadow. For fun sometimes, I'd recite the prose out loud to entertain any fairies lurking nearby. I'm happy to admit that I'm probably as nuts as Shakespeare definitely was when he sat down to write the play.
The day he came into my life was not one for rainbows. Warm, sultry weather had been hanging around all week. Thin cloud prevented actual sunbeams from breaking through; in other words a typical Washington summer afternoon. I wore an over-washed pale-cream cheesecloth shirt that usually stayed hidden under sweaters, with faded black cut-offs and Converse. To be fair, I wasn't expecting to meet a woodland god or anyone else that afternoon.
Hidden in the grass and resting on my elbows, I'd found the perfect setting and position to study for an imminent literature test. The surreal characters were already overloading my imagination when it became evident my solitude was about to be broken. I didn't see him approach or hear his footfall. Only birdsong and bees broke the absolute silence. I do recall sensing a presence though.
How he spotted me I don't know. To all but the tallest of humans, a body in the grass would have been invisible from five yards away. Wary but intrigued, I rolled over and looked up. A dark shadow against a bright white sky towered over me. Instinctively, I presumed Asshole Mike who'd been pursuing me for weeks had followed me here. I sat up and laid into the shadow big time.
"For eff's sake, just piss off will you."
The shadow's head jerked backward.
"My apologies; I didn't mean to startle you. I'll leave you alone and go."
A polite response spoken in a pleasant voice was enough for me to realize I'd jumped to conclusions.
"Hey!" I called out while rubbing focus into my eyes. "I thought you were someone else. I'm sorry."
He stopped and looked over his shoulder. My eyes needed to be rubbed again. Long, auburn hair, irises that appeared gold from a distance, on a face too symmetrical to be real; my imagined Oberon had sprung from the pages and come to life.
"What are … Who are you?"
Embarrassed now for cursing, my face must have looked as though it had caught fire.
Oberon hesitated, which indicated a reluctance to connect. Intuition isn't a skill of mine but to me, he looked pained. A frown creased his beautiful brow before replying.
"My name is … Edward. I haven't been here for … before. I wasn't expecting …?"
"Are you lost?" I asked. His stumbles intrigued me.
"No. I've got a good sense of direction. I know how to get back. I wander around here some days but not usually this far west. Would you tell me your name? It only seems fair as I told you mine."
He smiled no doubt to put me at my ease. Self-preservation crossed my mind. Alone, far from home, with a young guy who although not obviously buff, looked fit and capable of running faster than me. Defending myself would be a challenge so being polite would at least not antagonize him.
"I'm Bella, Bella Swan. I live on Forest Road. My dad's a cop."
Adding Charlie's status as a sort of warning seems totally ridiculous looking back. Charlie wasn't close by, so how would mentioning him help my situation? Edward's immediate response though surprised me.
"Charlie Swan?"
"Yes, do you know him? Has Charlie arrested you recently?" I forced a laugh so he knew this was meant as a joke.
Edward smiled and shook his head. He took one step closer, hesitating again as though he hadn't made up his mind whether to continue the conversation. Curiosity obviously won. He continued to approach and dropped effortlessly to the ground to sit cross-legged but not too close to be a threat.
"Nothing so exciting, Bella." His voice had no discernible accent. "My father knew … knows Chief Swan. He's a doctor … at the hospital. So you're the Chief's daughter?"
More stumbles. Interesting.
"Yes. I haven't lived with Charlie for long. My mom lives in Florida so I've been there most of my life. How long have you lived in Forks? I've never seen you in the town."
Edward must have noticed I'd been staring at his face like he's some sort of museum exhibit. I've always considered my own skin color to be unusually pale. What little could be seen of Edward's skin resembled the color of milk. His age I estimated as either late teens or early twenties, although his jaw showed no hint of stubble. I couldn't understand either why he wore a wool coat over a long-sleeved button-down and a t-shirt on such a warm day. Maybe he was ill?
Edward leaned forward and plucked a wildflower from the grass. He rubbed the stalk between his palms causing the golden head to spin. Rather than look at me when he replied, he kept his eyes on the flower.
"My family has lived not far from Forks on and off for years, Bella. My father moves around because of his profession so we've only just got back. You know you shouldn't be in the woods on your own. I saw a bear not far from here yesterday and there's evidence of wolves everywhere. Does Charlie know you come here alone?"
"No," I replied feeling like a naughty kid. "He says I shouldn't come to the woods by myself, but this is my happy place. Being here helps me stay sane."
Edward looked up at me then, still frowning as though he couldn't make me out. "Are you unhappy everywhere else then?" he asked.
"No, I'm not unhappy. Unsettled sometimes; bored, occasionally; worried, all the time."
"Worried about what?"
"Everything and nothing."
"Explain … if you can?"
How could I explain without sounding like a naïve juvenile? In contrast to Jacksonville, Forks was Heaven. Family and friends showered me with affection. My everyday living situation was better than most. I craved more though, a lot lot more. Back then, the path to achieving the future I desired couldn't be envisaged. Acquiring wealth did not come into the equation. Stimulation and excitement were the only things I sought from life. Forks and Jacksonville offered me neither.
Edward's face was a picture of concentration. Even then, I knew my every word would be forensically examined and questioned. Could I be honest with him after only being in his company for less than five minutes? I hadn't spoken to anyone about my ambitions. Was I ready to spill my soul to a stranger?
"I can't," I mumbled. "You'd think I'm a jerk."
Edward's lip curled sideways into a half-smile.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Seventeen … I'll be eighteen in September."
He dropped the flower and picked another. "So … you're on the point of deciding what to do with your life, which direction to take, but you believe your options are limited. Is that it?"
My jaw dropped. How the hell had he picked that up in so short a time.
"Can you read my mind?" I asked.
"I wish I could, but no." He snickered before continuing.
"Bella, you're seventeen – you live in the middle of nowhere. What else would you be thinking about? I suspect most of your friends have the same thoughts as you."
I audibly groaned. "That's where you're wrong, Edward. Most of the guys in my year don't have any ambition to travel further than Seattle. They're as boring as f… they're just boring. I'm the only one who's desperate to see the world and experience everything it has to offer. When a plane flies overhead, I so want to be on it, but I don't even own a friggin' passport."
I waited for Edward to laugh at me but he didn't. Instead, he looked up at the sky.
"What do you think is out there that you can't get here?"
"Christ, I don't know; the Sydney Opera House; the Taj Mahal; the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?"
"The Gardens are an Ancient Wonder, Bella. They don't exist anymore."
"Well, you know what I mean."
Edward shook his head. Could he already be despairing of me? I felt ashamed of my ignorance and petulance.
"Those are just man-made structures, Bella. If you'd said you wanted to experience different cultures, or see the light on the sand dunes in Namibia, or witness the sunrise from the summit of Kinabalu, then I'd understand what you're craving."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Have you seen either of those?"
"No, I haven't left North America yet, but there is so much beauty all around you here. You don't need to travel far to experience most of the natural wonders the world has to offer. This peninsula for instance is the most interesting place I've visited so far."
"Here! Why?"
Edward laughed and ran his fingers through his abundant hair making it stick up in peaks. I so wanted to bury my fingers in those locks; the temptation to jump on him even then was overwhelming. Genuinely, for the first time in my life, I was experiencing what being physically attracted to a guy who wasn't on-screen or in a magazine actually felt like.
Before his explanation of why Forks is so awesome in his opinion, he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye … well I think it was his eye. His full-on smile which followed would have brought me to my knees if I'd been standing.
"Where else can a guy stumble across a beautiful girl lying in the grass reading Shakespeare?"
I checked his expression to work out whether he was joking but he looked serious. Before I had a chance to respond to the compliment he sprang to his feet.
"I've got to go, Bella. I hope I'll get to stumble across you once more … very soon."
Again, without waiting for a response he set off for the woods at a sprint. The way he ran fascinated me. His long limbs appeared to move in a different way to normal guys; as though his feet weren't touching the ground. If Edward had taken off and flown away, that wouldn't have surprised me. By the time he reached the trees, the clouds had broken enough to bathe my meadow in glorious sunlight. By then, he had disappeared from view.
For the rest of the summer, I took every opportunity to walk in the woods or hang out in the meadow. We watched the golden wildflowers of early May being replaced by the blue and purple blooms of late summer while Edward and I talked about school, my life in Florida with Renee, and my plans for the future. The decision to take Literature as my college major came about during a talk with him about the books he had read. Edward told me he was considering applying for Medical School. He hadn't decided which one though.
As each month came and went, I fell more in love with Edward Cullen. We walked and we talked, but that's as far as our relationship progressed. Every moment I spent with him the urge to kiss him multiplied exponentially, but he kept his distance. Holding hands would've been a nice start, however an invisible barrier remained between us. I even began to believe he'd taken a vow of chastity at a random church somewhere. I never once considered he could be gay … why, I don't know.
On the day after my eighteenth birthday which I'd had to spend with Charlie and his friends, Edward told me he was going away. We were sitting by the waterfall when he dropped the unexpected bombshell.
"Why?" I asked while trying to hold back tears.
"My father has accepted an offer of a post on the east coast, but don't worry, I will come back. You will see me again."
"Really? Do you promise?"
"Yes, I promise, but I want you to promise something in return, Bella."
"Of course," I whispered. "Anything."
"You don't know what I'm going to ask yet."
My throat had closed up so my response had to be a shoulder shrug. I couldn't look at him. My heart had already begun to disintegrate into shards; every sliver piercing a different part of me.
"I want you to wait for me, Bella. Can you do that?"
Attempts to dry my face with my sleeve proved pointless. "For how long?" I choked.
Edward leaned forward, kissed my forehead gently, and stroked my hair; the only time we made physical contact.
"Just wait for me, Bella," he whispered. When I looked up to ask him whether he meant weeks, months, or years, he had already gone.
I sat by the waterfall for hours. I needed time for what happened to find a home in my head. No sunbeams or rainbows came to brighten my mood. The trees gave me no solace. If birds were singing, I didn't notice. Home had to be faced though before the light faded. Even the most foolhardy hikers feared the forest's night stalkers.
Automatic pilot steered me along the path to my door. After forcing down a sandwich and hot chocolate, I plucked up the courage to ask Charlie what he knew about Doctor Cullen. I hadn't asked before as there was no reason for me to know the doctor. More importantly, I didn't want to lie about sneaking off to meet his son in the woods – doctor's son or not. Charlie's casual reply surprised me.
"Doctor Cullen? That's a blast from the past, Bells. He worked at the hospital years ago – a while before you were born. Great doctor; weird though. Why do you ask?"
'From the past?' Surely not. Maybe Charlie doesn't know he's come back?
"I met his son in town today."
"Which one – he had three, all adopted."
That was a surprise. Edward hadn't mentioned any brothers. Whatever, if Charlie hadn't seen Doctor Cullen for over eighteen years, how would he know he had kids?
"I met Edward."
"Ah! The good-looking one; I'd guess he must be in his fifties by now. What's he doing back in Forks?"
Charlie had sports on TV and hadn't taken his eyes off the screen. Lucky, because I remember grabbing the doorframe to steady myself. I could actually feel blood draining from my face. Fifties? No way. The Edward I knew couldn't be much older than me.
"Just … just visiting, Dad. I've homework to do. See you in the morning."
My legs felt like Jell-O on the stairs. How I made it to my room without breaking my neck is a miracle. Could Charlie be mistaken? Could he be talking about Edward's grandfather? Maybe one of Doctor Cullen's three sons had come back to work at the hospital and this son, who would have remembered Charlie from years ago, also had a son called Edward. That could be a logical explanation. If the Cullens owned property nearby, this would give them a good reason to return here. There was only one way to find out. The wait overnight to make the call though would be torture.
After Charlie left for work, I rang the hospital's number and asked to be put through to Doctor Cullen or his voicemail. After about thirty seconds of silence, the receptionist came back to me.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, we don't seem to have a doctor working here by that name."
"He's a temporary doctor. I guess he started with you in May or June or earlier."
"I'll connect you with HR. They may be able to help you. Hold on."
My heart pounded in my chest and my hands visibly trembled while I waited for HR to answer. When whoever had been tasked to answer my query picked up, she already had the information.
"I've checked our records, Ma'am. We haven't had a Doctor Cullen working here since the eighties. Are you sure you have the right hospital?"
"Obviously not," I replied in a pitch higher than normal. "Thank you for looking."
My head sunk into my hands. I felt sick. Had Edward lied to me? If so, what else had he lied about? When I'd asked a personal question though, he would skilfully steer the conversation back to talking about me. Apart from his declaration that he intended to go to Medical School and the type of books he liked to read, he had given little away about himself. That didn't matter though. He couldn't be the 'Edward' Charlie had known. The only logical explanation was that my Edward must be the original Doctor Cullen's grandson.
An internet search for a family of doctors with the name of Cullen proved fruitless. Interrogating friends and neighbors who were around in the eighties, the same. Anyone that did recall the original Doctor Cullen said the family was private; reclusive even. No one specifically remembered Edward, only that he and the other kids were rarely seen in the town. I did find out that there were two adopted sisters, so Doctor and Mrs. Cullen had five children which increased the possibility that Edward was a grandchild. When I asked where their house was situated, the reply was always; 'somewhere in the woods.'
Fall and winter months passed slowly. Pain dissipated gradually, which helped me to concentrate on my finals. Accepting that Edward had lied to me about his father helped, but the reason why he had been so mysterious played on my mind, especially at night, or when I walked alone in the woods. I got used to being without him. My prediction that I would take a lot longer than a few months to fall out of love with him proved correct.
My next dilemma came when college applications had to be submitted. Initially, I refused to consider leaving Forks because of my promise to Edward. During my more rational moments, I figured he wouldn't count studying in Seattle as breaking my side of the promise. He hadn't asked me to physically remain in Forks? More importantly, I didn't know whether he asked me to wait because he hoped for romance in the future? Despite still loving him, I knew I couldn't put my life on hold indefinitely.
When the college offer arrived, my decision had already been made. Edward knew what my plans were. If he wanted to find me he'd know where to look. I set off for Seattle with a clear conscience and determination to temporarily put Edward Cullen behind me, along with my other teenage crush. Safely stored in the back of my closet was where Edward belonged, along with Justin Timberlake for company.
The call that changed my life came only weeks into my second year. Whether Charlie had crashed his patrol car chasing a criminal, or fallen asleep at the wheel and careened off the road into a tree, neither I nor the investigators would ever know. Charlie never woke up from the coma. Whatever did happen, he died in the line of duty according to his superiors and received the honor of an appropriate funeral. Charlie left the house to me, along with a fat insurance payout and a pension. Overnight I became financially independent. I'd rather have had my dad back though.
Depression set in after Charlie's funeral for which I had counseling. To heal myself as the sessions weren't working, I began to write short stories in the fantasy genre which helped me disconnect from the tragedy. Genuinely, it never entered my head to have my efforts published, but after spotting a competition on the internet I sent two stories off to get the free feedback. I didn't win, but one of the judges contacted me by email. He asked for permission to pass my stories to a friend who worked for a publishing company in Oregon. He wrote that he was sure his friend would 'like my style.' I didn't even think I had a style.
A week later, an email arrived from the publishers requesting more samples of my work. By then I'd written about twenty stories so I zapped off five more and waited. Not long after, a call came asking me to come to their office in Portland to discuss the possibility of a contract. I declined, stating if they wanted a face-to-face meeting they would have to see me in Forks. I kidded myself this would prove whether they were bona-fide or time-wasters when in fact crippling agoraphobia that had sneaked up on me after Charlie's death, prevented me from going out the door most days.
I was genuinely surprised therefore when two men and a woman turned up on my doorstep. By the time they left, I had a tentative publishing deal. It's amazing what being a depressed recluse can do for your career.
From then on, writing took over my life. Charlie's house became my workplace; Forks, the woods, and the meadow - the limit of my world. Thankfully, my agoraphobia improved over time. Occasionally I'd leave Forks to visit Charlie's friends on the reservation, or visit the beach at La Push. However, I actively avoided situations where I could meet new people. Relationships were something I couldn't consider. The only romance in my life happened in my imagination. Edward and I often made love in the meadow, or in the woods, occasionally in my bed, and even on the sofa where I chided him for keeping one eye on the TV when the Mariners were playing.
My novels sold well, a couple making it into the lower echelons of fantasy bestseller lists. Unlike most authors, I didn't need to write for money. Every check I received I considered a bonus for doing something I loved. My publishers never put pressure on me to produce the next novel, so life ticked along, hardly changing year on year. The excitement I'd craved when I spoke to Edward about my hopes for the future had no chance of materializing. I didn't care though. I'd created a safe world and I had no intention of ever leaving my comfort zone.
Renee refused to visit Forks. I didn't dare travel to Florida in case he returned. Consequently, my only contact with Renee over the years has been via Facetime, and only when she was sober. Now Renee is dead. Her liver couldn't cope with her alcohol intake anymore. She hadn't told me of her limited prognosis even though from the age of twelve I guessed she wouldn't make old bones. I've inherited the beachfront villa which I don't want, another fat insurance payout, plus a surprising portfolio of investments that I have no idea when and how she acquired. From what I've learned from her closest neighbors, she literally partied until she dropped. We managed one coherent conversation in the hospital before she slipped into unconsciousness. Her last words are still in my head.
'Remember. One shot, Bella, that's all you'll get.
The villa cleared of everything that can fit in the U-Haul I set off for Forks via the realtor's office who would be handling the sale. Five easy traveling days should be enough to get home even though the journey is allegedly doable in four. Driving this distance is a new experience for me so assessing what physical state I'll be in after the first two of a three and a half thousand-mile journey is impossible.
Escaping from Jacksonville yet keeping under the speed limit proves frustrating. Desperation to leave childhood memories of my drunken mother behind and not flooring the gas pedal is tough. Even though I'd schooled myself to mentally place Renee out of sight and out of mind, when the Florida/Georgia state line fills my rear-view mirror the weight that crippled me as a teenager and remained like a dark shadow, falls from my shoulders. For the first time in my adult life I'm free of obligations, apart from the promise I made to Edward.
The journey is uneventful and boring. On day five, I drive for twelve hours to reach the Kingston ferry before dark, only stopping for gas and bathroom breaks. The northern route looked easiest on the map, so once I'd gotten amongst the northern forests where parts of the highway through Montana and Washington turned into glorious green tunnels, this spurred me to keep going longer than felt safe to be honest. During the journey I've thought about Edward a lot, imagining what I'd say to him about my recent discoveries. Driving with blurred vision though is not exactly responsible.
The final two hours from the ferry to Forks are the worst. I've cried most of the way. The thought of walking into an empty house has really upset me. For the first time in years, I really want someone to be there waiting to hug me.
After twelve hours of sleep in my own bed, the U-Haul contents get emptied into the basement except for some valuable items and my favorite paintings; three of Renee's and one of Gran's. Prior to deciding where to hang them, all four are propped up on the living room furniture. I need time to get used to each one before I choose where they go. Before returning the U-Haul to the local drop-off, the garage gets cleared of all the crap Charlie and I accumulated over the last thirty years. I genuinely haven't worked so physically hard in my entire life.
Two days later, my thirtieth birthday dawns. Charlie's closest friend, Billy Black, invited me to celebrate the day with his family at their home on the reservation. I declined though. Birthdays depress me. The memory of Edward leaving hurts most at this time of year. Instead, the day is spent wallowing in self-pity but not forgetting that he wasn't honest with me.
On the afternoon of the next day, I take my annual pilgrimage to the spot by the waterfall where exactly twelve years previously Edward in so many words, 'dumped me.' On past anniversaries I would sit on a rock and cry about my loss. On this anniversary though, my overriding emotion is anger, not because he'd broken his promise to return, but for the evidence in my possession that he most likely hadn't only been dishonest with me. Renee's locket, which will hang around my neck forever now, contains undeniable proof that the 'Edward' Charlie knew in the eighties, is the same Edward who effectively stole the joy from the past twelve years of my life. It's still a guess, but I have to conclude he stole Renee's joy too, and possibly Gran's.
During the long drive from Florida, the little Edward said to me about himself had been re-visited and analyzed to death. Proof that he'd known my mom and gran had to be the reason why he had given virtually nothing away about his background or his family, over and above his obvious desire for privacy. Getting my head around this mind-blowing fact has proved impossible unless I believe in the supernatural which I don't. I'll admit to being a voracious reader, watcher, and now writer of the genre. I know everything there is to know about vampires and werewolves for instance. Buffy would definitely be my best friend if we ever met. Supernatural and other magical creatures are definitely 'my thing.' But who or what was Edward though?
There had to be a logical explanation for him not aging for possibly eighty years. Since Renee's death I've gone over and over how he could have known three generations of my family and his appearance not change one iota. So far I've failed to come up with one plausible answer that doesn't include miracle face creams, plastic surgery, drug experiments, or alien species.
By day four of my journey, I'd concluded that Edward always planned to leave me and didn't want to be tracked down which by anyone's standards is cruel in the extreme. Somewhere close to the state line of Wyoming and Montana, I finally accepted he wasn't coming back. I also had to accept that his relationships with the female members of my family which I calculated must have commenced in the early 1940s, or maybe even earlier, would remain an unsolvable mystery.
After I've recalled each miserable anniversary on my rock, the momentous and long overdue decision to move on from Edward is declared out loud to any birds and fauna hiding amongst the foliage. Standing up, I shout in the loudest voice I'm able to produce without actually screaming.
"To anyone or anything listening out there, I'm announcing that Bella Swan has waited for Edward Cullen long enough. My one shot has gone … Edward has gone. From this day forth, Bella Swan is getting off her ass to start living again!"
Thirty is the perfect age to 'get off my ass.' I'm young yet mature, reasonably attractive, and I've inherited or earned enough money to give me the freedom to work or not work for the next ten years. I resolve there and then that my first action to celebrate my newly acquired motivation would be to apply for a passport.
Daylight has already begun to fade by the time I'd finished mentally planning a round-the-world trip that will include Namibia and Kinabalu. Sundown in the forest brings danger. Wolves and bears will soon be abroad looking for sustenance. I set off for home but this time with a spring in my step for the first time since Edward abandoned me.
Night shadows have shrouded the path by the time the roof of the house comes into view. The four steps to the stoop by the back door have already disappeared in the darkness. I'm patting the pockets of my jeans and hoodie searching for my key when a familiar tree root that marks the boundary of the forest causes me to stumble onto my knees. Hands and knees end up in the dirt and I curse out loud. I'm cold and tired now but eager to get indoors and start downloading a passport application. Excitement about my decision to get on with my life is actually making me feel high. As I sprint up the steps with the key in my hand, a sharp crack alerts me to a presence.
Oxygen abandons my body. Legs become lead. My heart beats in my throat. Instincts already on fire from spending hours in the woods tell me I'm not alone. Someone or something has followed me, which could mean a stranger or wild animal is preparing to pounce.
Whether to turn to face my stalker, rush inside and bolt the door, or run; these are my only options.
I choose the door.
Fingers become thumbs. The key slips from the lock and disappears in the gloom. Another crack; I can't stop myself shrieking. Hands or claws will be pawing me at any moment.
Frantic, I crouch and begin to search for the key. The more violently my hands shake the more the third option becomes attractive.
'Abandon the door, Bella. Just run for the road.'
Could I outpace what's out there though?
"Bella?"
Key located but still crouched, my chest clenches in pain. Was that his voice? Have I the strength to turn around and check? Could this just be my imagination in overdrive?
"Bella, it's me."
Shock, anger, despair; those three destructive emotions are still raw even after twelve long years. Instead of delight from hearing his voice, fury mushrooms. Does Edward expect me to rush into his arms as though twelve years mean nothing? Is he that callous? There's no way I'll allow Edward Cullen to scurry away to his mysterious house in the woods before he's aware of how much anguish he's put me through.
There are so many questions that demand answers, but only one needs addressing before I dare look at him. Words I imagined I would say at this moment concocted during countless sleepless nights, come out drenched in vitriol.
"Edward … what did I ever do to you to deserve what you've done to me?"
Silence, apart from another crack. Unfolding from my crouched position I feel for the lock.
"Don't come any closer," I spit at the door. "I want an answer first."
Every part of me is shaking. Are my tremors due to cold, or am I experiencing pure rage?
"It's a long story, Bella. I'd rather talk inside."
"Inside!" I shriek. "Why inside now, Edward? You avoided coming anywhere near this house twelve years ago. What's changed since then?"
"Your father's dead. That's what's changed. He would've recognized me and I wouldn't have been able to answer the inevitable question."
"What inevitable question?"
"Why my appearance hadn't altered in the twenty-two-year gap from when he'd last seen me."
Breath leaves my body. My reaction isn't because he's confirmed my suspicions about his lack of aging. What stuns me is Edward's calm, matter-of-fact tone when he all but declares he's some sort of freak. Anyway, I'm not in the mood to take any bullshit. There's no way he's getting away with blaming my dad for abandoning me for this long.
"Charlie died ten years ago, Edward. You could've come back any time after that."
"I know when Charlie died, Bella. Look, there are things you need to know about me. You're cold. I can see you shivering from here. I promise I won't come any closer or follow you into the house unless you invite me in."
I laugh facetiously then.
"Invite you in? What are you, Edward, a fucking vampire? Don't vampires have to be invited in before they attack?"
"There's no need to curse, Bella."
"Curse? You've heard nothing yet. Twelve years I've waited for you. Twelve … fucking … years."
"Do you want me to go?"
"Yes … no … I, I don't know."
"If you want, I'll leave and not come back?"
Internally I scream with frustration. What should I do? I haven't found the courage yet to even look at him. My virtually restored heart would undoubtedly disintegrate again, this time into irretrievable dust. Even worse, those golden eyes and his beautiful face will surely coerce me to forgive everything.
"Bella?"
The key somehow finds the lock. The door falls open. Whether to slam it behind me is the next crucial decision. Feet stumble across the threshold. My head involuntarily shakes in acknowledgment of my weakness.
"Who are you kidding, Bella?" I mutter aloud. Edward follows me in like a cold wind.
The lock clicks. We're alone and he knows it. Trembling hands find the light switch. Blinded from being in the dark too long, I feel my way to the living room where three days ago I put on display evidence of Edward's treachery, not knowing he would soon be here to witness it for himself. Seconds pass. He doesn't speak. Instead, he utters a stifled cry. I let the contents of the paintings settle before launching into a well-rehearsed speech I'd prepared during the long drive back from Jacksonville exactly for this moment.
"My mother is responsible for the three portraits, Edward. My gran, the landscape on the right. That is you in all four? Please don't deny this."
My words come out harsher than intended. Edward's silence … confirmation. Having the upper hand gives me the strength to turn around. Two deep breaths and I spin on my heel. When I see him I choke.
There is my Oberon standing by the door rather than in a meadow of wildflowers. Edward didn't exaggerate about his appearance. He hasn't changed from the day he told me to wait for him. Wool coat, well-worn button-down over a t-shirt, and that thick auburn hair ruffled into peaks, as usual demanding attention from my fingers. Exactly as I remember except for one thing; his irises are black as jet rather than gold. For a moment the change throws me; the color alters his face dramatically. Instead of warm, inquisitive eyes, there's something malevolent, dangerous even, in the way he's looking at me. My body shivers even though the house is warm.
Imperative questions that demand an answer multiply. How has Edward remained untouched by the passing of the years? That would be a vital one, but only after the four paintings have been addressed. I point to the first in line.
"I guess my gran painted that in the forties or early fifties – at least seventy years ago. The meadow hasn't changed much, has it?"
Edward shakes his head.
"That's you among the trees. Different clothes but the hair gives you away, right?"
Edward nods.
"Did Renee produce these from memory? I can't imagine you agreed to have your portrait painted. Jesus! You really haven't changed, have you? The likenesses are good, but not brilliant. I guess her memory faded with time, don't you think?"
"Yes."
"So, let's have your story, Edward? What fantastical tale are you going to spin me to explain these?
Edward walks toward me, clamps his hands on my shoulders, and stares into my eyes.
"Before I answer, why are you so bitter, Bella?"
"Bitter! I hiss, shocked at the accusation.
"Are you serious, Edward? My mother, aged fifty-four, died of cirrhosis of the liver due to alcoholism two weeks ago. I've always wondered why she drank. I wrote a long list of reasons when I was a kid. Regret about giving birth to me figured high on that list, but believe it or not, the broken heart excuse never entered my head."
"I didn't …"
"Take some responsibility, Edward, or should I call you Methuselah from now on? Did you tell her to wait the same as you asked me to? Did you tell Gran to wait as well? I bet you can guess what I'm waiting for now … an explanation."
Edward's expression changes markedly, from contrition to frustration, or could it be anger? His black eyes narrow. He's mad I can tell. Maybe I've gone too far? Should I apologize for being so accusatory before hearing his story? He responds before I have a chance to speak again.
"I didn't ask them to wait, Bella. I only asked you, but I don't expect you to believe that the mood you're in."
I can't stop myself from going on the defensive again.
"Don't blame me for my mood, Edward? Just imagine being me exactly at the moment when I found those portraits in Renee's closet, or when I spotted you in Gran's picture on Renee's bedroom wall? This locket, Renee's locket, contains a tiny drawing of you … not of me, her only child. That discovery cut me to shreds, but there was more. In a box by her bed, I found pressed wildflowers from our meadow and unsent letters to you. She loved you, Edward. Did you know?"
Edward doesn't flinch. While he's thinking about how to respond, his ice-cold grip on my shoulders loosens before his hands drop away.
"Yes, I knew, Bella, which is why I left Forks and didn't return until she'd married Charlie. I was never in love with her, or your grandmother … I only …"
"Only what?"
Edward turns away from me. I believe he's going to walk. My accusations may have been too fierce which shakes me to my core. His head rocks back so he's staring at the ceiling. I notice both his hands are bunched into fists which alarms me. His body language tells me that he's having difficulty controlling himself. My last breath doesn't escape until he speaks.
"Do you want to hear my story, Bella, or are you going to shout at me all night?
I breathe again and make a supreme effort to speak calmly.
"I'm sorry, Edward. Emotions get the better of me sometimes. Twelve years may not seem long to you, but they've felt like a lifetime to me. The first two years were bearable because I wasn't alone. I had Charlie. The last ten … the last ten … were … "
'Hell' catches in my throat. The floodgates open. I double over. A decade of loneliness and despair bursts out in one pitiful wail. Edward rushes forward and takes me in his arms. Effortlessly, he carries me to the sofa where he sits in Charlie's place. My body melts into his chest where I sob into his clothes, soaking his button-down and t-shirt. Cold fingers stroke my hair. Soft lips rest on my forehead. While I cry myself out, he rocks me like a baby, the same as Charlie would when I was a kid.
When my tears have all but subsided, Edward brushes the cheek not soaking his clothes before repositioning me so my head is resting on his shoulder. After another lingering kiss on my forehead, he begins his story.
"I met Marie, your gran, in 1941. She'd just celebrated her sixteenth birthday so I guess sometime around the end of July. Until I met you, I considered Marie to be the most beautiful girl I'd ever encountered. We'd walk in the woods or the meadow where she told me about her life at home and her ambitions to be an artist. When I realized she wanted to take the relationship further I had to end it. I pretended I'd been drafted into the Army and would have to leave immediately which she totally believed. She said she would wait for me, not the other way round. I liked Marie very much, but that's as far as our relationship went, I promise."
"Okay," I say as his explanation sounds believable. "Did you ever see Gran again?"
"Unfortunately, yes. My family came back to the house some years later. Marie spotted me in the town. I guess it was your mother in the pram. Marie presumed I'd been killed in the war. When she saw me she collapsed. I … "
"Did you talk to her?"
"No. I left the scene immediately."
"Then how did you know she thought you were dead?"
"That's a different story, Bella. Let me continue, please."
"Okay." I try not to huff.
"My family left Forks that night. We didn't return until the early eighties when my father took up a position at the hospital. We stayed clear of the town and the woods to prevent any of us from running into Marie again until we found out that she rarely left her home. When Renee and I met for the first time in the meadow, I swear I had no idea she was Marie's daughter until … a few days before I left."
"So what happened?"
"I enjoyed Renee's company very much. She was a free spirit back then – positive, uplifting, joyous. Just being with her made me feel happy, optimistic … normal."
"Normal?"
Edward kisses my forehead and places his fingers under my chin to turn my face so he can look into my eyes.
"You know I'm not normal, Bella. There's no point in me hiding that from you anymore."
"What are …?"
"Not yet. Let me finish the story. I had to abandon Renee without saying goodbye. She'd been working herself up to tell me she loved me and I didn't want to embarrass her by not returning the sentiment. My father had come to the end of his contract so I did the dishonorable thing and left without saying goodbye. I'm sorry, Bella, but I couldn't think of a better alternative."
"Did you come back to Forks after that?"
"Not until the summer I met you."
"So you never saw her again?"
"I didn't say that."
"When then?"
"She managed to track my father down but not until years later. She was married by then and I guess you were about three years old. She followed my father home from the hospital in Detroit and demanded to see me. I spoke to her only briefly. I had to be blunt and tell her I couldn't give her what she wanted from me."
"Was I with her that day?"
"No. You were with Charlie. She'd walked out on him when she found out where we were. From what you told me twelve years ago, she went back to Forks and took you to Florida."
This fitted in with what Charlie told me. Renee left one day without warning. A week later she returned, asked for a divorce, and took me away. I guess her drinking problem started not long after that.
Much as I wanted to stay on Edward's lap, I felt uncomfortably cold, even though I still had my jacket on and the room felt warm. Edward's body seemed not to be generating any heat. I had to ask.
"Edward, why are you so cold?"
"I have an unusual condition, Bella. It goes with the longevity."
"How old are you then?"
"I was born in Chicago in 1901."
I have to push myself away from his chest to examine his eyes. There's no hint of a lie there. His gaze doesn't flinch. My mind works fast.
"That can't be, Edward. There's no way you could be over a hundred years old."
"Bella, when I picked up your scent in the forest and followed you home, I promised myself I would never lie to you or let you down again. Since 1918, I've been trapped in the body of a seventeen-year-old. I won't age. I will never change. This is who I am, Bella. This is how I will always be."
My mouth drops open. Alarm bells clang.
Could he be a … ?
No … surely not.
But that would answer so many questions.
I have to swallow several times before asking my next question which could be the decider on whether I survive the night.
"Why did you ask me to wait, Edward?"
"I fell in love with you twelve years ago, Bella. Even then, I knew I wanted to be with you forever."
My odds of surviving increase dramatically. I'm still confused though.
"You could've told me how you felt before you left. More importantly, why did you leave for so long if you had these feelings back then?"
"I had no option but to wait until you were free."
"Free! Free from what?"
"Free from family and other ties. I had to wait for Charlie and Renee to die before coming back to claim you. I'd done my research. They were your only living relatives. From what I know of you now, the only friends you have are Charlie's friends. If you left Forks, there's no one here now that would go out of their way to keep in touch."
Edward states the truth. There's nothing and no one keeping me here. A sad reflection on my personal life but I have no regrets. It was my choice to become a recluse; to virtually cut myself off from the rest of the world. Forks is still my home though. I can't imagine living anywhere else. Even though I can guess what his answer will be, I have to ask.
"Why would you want me to walk away from Forks, Edward?"
"If you love me and want to be with me, you'll have to. My family and I are not able to stay in one place for long. You do want to be with me forever … don't you … Bella?"
He's deadly serious; I can tell by his expression. The frown is back. His eyes are intense. My head is spinning because I'm damn sure leaving Forks is not the only change he has in mind for me tonight.
"Are you giving me a choice?"
"Yes, but you have to make your mind up now. Time passes differently for my kind, but I'm not prepared to wait any longer."
"If I said no …?"
"Don't ever say that, Bella. I need you to come with me willingly … in every way."
My next question is sooooo loaded … just saying the words makes me internally smile.
"Edward, I can't say I'll come with you unless you tell me more about your condition. Is it catching for instance?"
Edward's expression changes. The frown disappears. He knows that I've guessed what he is. His hold on me relaxes. Relief is in his eyes.
"Yes, Bella, my condition is very contagious. I need every ounce of my willpower to stop myself from infecting you with it right now."
Edward's black eyes bore into mine as though he's trying to read my mind. This time I smile with my mouth. Confirmation of what I'd accused him of being on the doorstep had been given in so many ways.
I've been writing about vampires for years and Edward is exactly how I would describe a specimen. Long-lived. Cold to the touch. Follows scents. Avoids the sun. Most important though, too beautiful to be real. Supernatural. I'd invited a vampire into my home and whether I reject or accept him is immaterial now. Instinctively I know my fate has already been sealed. I'm not leaving Forks still human.
"Are you ready?" Edward asks.
His lips glisten. Excitement sparkles in his eyes. Venom seeps from the corners of his mouth. He shifts to encourage my head to tilt backward exposing my neck. Resistance would be futile. Warm lips rest on my skin. Cold fingers work into my hair. Instead of fear of the unknown, a feeling of pure calm floods my senses.
Twelve years ago I told Edward I craved excitement. He is gifting this to me to go with his declaration of love. Edward's bite is gentle. The sensation of venom entering my bloodstream, very strange. There's no turning back now.
Delicious pain floods my body. My back arches. Eyesight is becoming hazy. My last thoughts before going under are …
'Mom … Gran, I'd sure love you to know that Bella's One Shot is being well and truly taken.'
Hello again,
I really hope you enjoyed this short story.
The idea came to me when I watched New Moon for the hundredth time, specifically when Edward 'met' Bella's gran in a dream, who turned out to be Bella but many years later. I thought, what if Edward had actually known Bella's gran, and Renee? and took it from there. Carlisle and Esme had obviously owned that house in the woods for a while so it's quite possible. You can't blame anyone woman for falling in love with him.
For those of you who read my last Fanfic and know that I'm having a break from writing long stories for a while, I'm delighted to tell you that the reason arrived on March 24th, when my grandson Oliver made a safe entrance to this world. Obviously, I'm smitten. I don't know how busy I'm going to be but I do have another short story in mind so I'll get on with that when I can. Do watch this space later on in the year if you enjoyed this one. The next will be a bit of fun - absolutely no angst - I promise!
Happy Easter, Passover, and Ramadan, to all those who are celebrating these Holy festivals over the weekend. Only once in thirty-three years do all three converge, which is as good a reason as any to celebrate in our troubled world.
Sending Peace and Love to everyone who reads this - no matter where you live or who your leaders are. We all share this precious planet and we all love Fanfiction.
Until next time, best wishes,
Joan xxx