A/N: This one is short. 2 more chaps to complete. It's been extremely fun discussing this, arguing this, taking away the dread of ... times. Thanks for that, and thanks for the support. Bursting heart. xoxo Off to tuck into Midnight Sun again. Ohh, Edward. That one and this one...
Chapter 68 - Adverse Possession
Edward didn't sleep. The woods froze over, and he was reminded of winter. For two years, he didn't have to endure the ice-cold wind against his bones. Even at the farm, he had shelter, a room with a fire. He sat on the wood floors in front of it, and he'd think, staring at flames, hypnotized. He never made a fire all those years out in the woods. Not one night. Not even when a blizzard blanketed; it was one of his rules. Fire created heat, which created light, which meant he would be spotted from anywhere. He could never chance it.
He sat, and he watched his very own fireplace in that room. And he realized how much he did to keep solitaire. He made his body suffer.
Last night was the preview of winter. The synopsis he finds in the back of books. The short paragraph giving the smallest view of what's inside. A Cold, cold, plot.
For the very first time in over ten years, Edward decided he didn't want to live like that. He wanted heat.
The heat of flames. The heat of a woman.
He picks up his things; his bag is larger, things he's bought along the way. There's no money left from the farm. Jostling change is all that's left. Now it's all on his back as he hikes back to Bella's cabin. The sky is still blue as dawn peeks in. It's before the hour he was assigned. Though he wanted to run, she said it with such conviction it made his boots stick to the ground. He didn't get far. Her voice, her scent, her hands were like marks on him. He would never be able to brush them off. And her kiss ...
He sighs.
He arrives at the back of the cabin, where he rounds the bend and stops on his tracks.
The dip of her head makes her long hair fall down her shoulder. Her oversized sweater drowns her where she sits. She waits. Not inside like usual—him standing at the patio waiting for her to let him in—she waits outside.
He's nearly close when a twig cracks under his boot.
Bella's spine straightens. She looks over her shoulder at him as she stands. She begins to walk away. It's robotic. She digs her hands in her pockets and leads.
Edward, confused, follows. He looks back at the cabin, wondering. Sue lets the curtain from the kitchen fall back into place just in time. He only gets a glimpse.
He tries to catch up.
Should he call out to her? He won't. He can't muster speaking. He observes her from where he is, and she's the vivid image of summer days past. She came to him every day, and every day she'd ask him a single question. She'd walk away just as she is now, and he had to follow.
She was reckless; her footfalls were too heavy, too messy. He had rules there too. No traces should lead back to his sacred place. He walked her out every time, leading her to a path back home. Then, when he'd leave her there, he'd do the tedious job of retracing her steps back up and brushing the ground of marks.
Those marks always brushed off easily.
Now he's the reckless one as he follows unceremoniously. Her footfalls are precise. She knows where to go and how. Her back to him, and him catching up.
Those boulders appear out of thin air. Edward blinks as he stalls before them, looking up.
His heart suddenly a thunder.
Bella has disappeared through them, and now he'll have to go after her.
He feels an unease. His breathing is shallow. He starts to walk again, but then he can't. His fists ball up, his jaw clamps up. What is this feeling in him? This was home. This was his.
That's just it. He gave it up. It isn't his anymore.
He feels the suppressed suffocation weighing on him, of rules, worry, and panic of being found. Something in him clicks. This was his very own imprisonment.
Now he's back, and it's like he's facing his own demons. He feels it all wrap around his neck, strangling. Routine, struggle, and torture. Sacred rules wrap around him like a snake.
He turns. He hangs onto a tree trunk, heaving air into his lungs. Eyes closed, a spinning ground beneath his feet. He could fall over.
He can't leave her alone in there. He presses his head against the bark, and he knows he can't leave her.
Dread, more than bravery, gets him to move. One step in front of the other, and he's in.
He's ready to shout, to tell her that they have to leave. All the words jumble up, getting caught.
He looks around in awe.
"Bella," he barely calls.
Bella steps out of a door left open. A glow of warm light spills out. She's shy. She stands there, leaning against the wall of a cabin. Outside is its porch.
It's miniature—a half-scale of a real cabin. The stacked wood making the walls are stained and polished like the full scale of hers. Different pieces, used and new, all coming together to make a cabin in place of where his tent used to be.
Not everything is gone. Some crates and some clothing lines still remain. New Adirondack chairs circle around a fire pit. Whitewash paint on those. String lights box everything in and are tied to trees. The trees are the same, objects hanging off them, tied to them. A hammer he kept safe, that still remains.
His old things.
Once again, Edward is speechless. He turns in circles. He wanders. He walks around it, disappearing from Bella's view, then appearing at the other end.
All the buried trash, the food, is all gone. Just the soft ground remains, grass growing in patches.
He wordlessly steps up onto the miniature porch and walks in past Bella. His eyes trip over all the details. An old tub, still workable, sits by a picture window. His bed, the same one, sits close by it. The sheets are the same. The crate with the lamp on its bedside is intact. He walks over the few feet to the tub and pulls open a closet by it; a commode. Running water in a sink outside.
Farthest in the back is a kitchenette with a new stove in its place. A wide chimney separates the spaces, firewood inside and stacked outside. A simple wooden table, two unmatching chairs tucked by the front window. Even wildflowers sit in a vase in the middle.
He stands back. That's not all he sees. It's the overwhelming sight of books in shelves surrounding the high walls. Every free crevice has a book tucked in, some trinkets that used to be his. He sees vintage devices and games, anything that used to live in this camp. A small stepper leads up to more books above, to the peak of the attic … with a skylight.
Edward silently steps out, past Bella again, and off the ledge of the porch. He turns, does another circle. He finds purchase on an arm of a white-washed chair. He gets one good look at all of it. His pet mushroom is still there close by. Everything is the same yet different.
"The land has always been owned by a resident half a mile away," Bella begins to explain. "We … figured it out."
Edward glances at her, quiet. So, she continues.
"Old Mr. Banner found out his land had been vacated for years. One of his grandsons told us they never knew, never sought this place, never figured there would be someone out here.
"They were surprised when the grandson wandered in one day. I was here with Elliot. I felt fear. The first time ever feeling that way in your tent." She swallows heavily, remembering, admitting her faithful trips even when he wasn't here.
"He came in, and he questioned. I was terrified he'd tell everyone. Elliot was still a baby. Maybe that stirred him, softened him up. And maybe because I was honest." She says, wearily. "I told him everything. I even told him the baby was yours.
"Mr. Banner asked me to visit. So, I did. Sam came with me, and it was like watching family reunite. Well, in a sense, they were. They are cousins far apart after all." Bella grins, as she muses.
"So, imagine all of our surprise. That day felt like a sentence going to his house. I was heartbroken, and I expected the worst. A fine for trespassing at minimum." She shakes her head. "But no. Everything lined up perfectly just for you. You had me in awe every step of the way, even when gone."
Edward looks at her. The wonder in her eyes.
She pulls her weight onto her other hip, where she leans and tries not to look at him straight. "The law allows rights to a person who occupies land for a certain length of time. You lived here, surpassed it by … years, making this land you surrounded yourself in rightfully yours. Did you know that?"
Edward can hear his heartbeat swishing in his ears.
"Mr. Banner, knowing your story, as Sam so poetically told it, didn't fight it. In fact, he opened the doors to his garage for supplies to build this. He owned a mill and had to get rid of things anyway." She chuckles low and shakes her head. "Of course, you weren't here, so Sam pulled strings and favors from friends who owed him and gifted this to you and a growing Elliot as a token of his love and acceptance. Only asking that Elliot calls him grandpa from then on." She laughs, wiping at her eyes.
"The title to the land is in Elliot's name; your next of kin. Though paperwork needs to be reworked, a baby owning land before I ever have was humorous, to say the least." She smiles up at the brightening sky. "And sort of ruined the notion of a guest room I thought would be perfect." She murmurs, almost to herself as she rolls her eyes, hiding a smile. The room was done before this tiny house. Still, she hoped.
She steps off the porch, stands in the space between his knees, and pauses there.
Edward looks up.
This time, her kiss isn't desperate, nor impulsive. She aims to fire—deliberate soft lips on his.
"I really hope we get to see you again," she whispers when she let's go.
Edward is left alone with warmth inside and outside, light pouring from quaint windows carved out from walls standing tall where he once had a tent.
This is when life offers him a path, as open and guided as a trail.
….