Chapter 6

Bella, Boston, November 2010

Edward paused at this point in the story and silence hung in the night air as the only sounds were that of our shoes, softly treading on the earth beneath us. I contemplated all that he had told me so far of the landlord's daughter and her highwayman lover. After a while, I broke the silence.

"It sounds like the landlord's daughter loved her highwayman very much," I stated. Edward quickly glanced at me before he nodded in affirmation.

"Yes, so it seemed. The adoration was mutual. It was said that he practically worshipped the ground she walked on."

Silence once again as I marveled over the love that the landlord's daughter and her highwayman had known. Such was the stuff of fairytales. I myself had never felt such all-consuming love for someone. Even at the height of my relationship with Jake, I hadn't felt it. I loved Jake, that was true. In fact, I still loved him, but in a slightly more platonic way. It was a truth that I hadn't recognized until recently.

The silence wore on as I continued deep in my thoughts about the long-dead couple, until Edward broke it, his voice cutting through my brain-haze.

"What are you thinking, Bella?" he asked softly. I looked up to see his eyes watching me intently, as if trying to read for himself what I was thinking.

"I was just thinking about how wonderful it was that they knew such love in their life. It's always something you hear about in fairy tales, isn't it? But it's never something you often encounter in real life. At least, I never have. I wonder if I ever will." The words were out before I even knew what I was saying, and I blushed at having said them. I hadn't intended on being so uncensored, and I wondered what Edward must think of me now. I bet he found me utterly pathetic. I could feel his eyes on me still, and I was afraid to look into them, afraid of what I would see in there.

"Yes, it's the kind of love that everyone wishes to find in their life, isn't it? I wonder the same thing when I think about it," Edward affirmed. I was sure he was simply trying to placate me until I glanced up at him and his eyes were earnest, sincere as they looked into mine. My heart skipped a beat as the air around us seemed to be getting more charged. I tore my eyes away from him as I felt my heart speeding up, pounding in my chest. Pull it together, Swan, I thought to myself, you just met the guy. You hardly know him. And yet, there was something in him that felt so familiar. Whenever my eyes met his, I felt a pull that was strong and heady and completely foreign to me until tonight. I cleared my throat and quickly changed the subject, trying to steer it into more neutral waters.

"So how do you know so much of this story anyways?" I asked him. "This all sounds completely new to me and I'm the one who actually grew up in that house."

"Esme is the one who told it to me when I was very young. It became a sort of bedtime story for me and she told it to me most nights before I went to sleep," Edward paused hesitantly for a second before continuing, "It's quite a sad story but for some reason, I grew attached to it and I demanded Esme recite it almost every night. Eventually, she grew sick of retelling it, but by then, I had it committed to heart and I would tell it to myself."

He shot a crooked smile in my direction, almost apologetically, "You must think I'm crazy."

"No, not at all," I quickly countered, inwardly smiling at the thought of a tiny little Edward, bronze hair mussed and heavy lids sleepily closing over green eyes as the story was read to him night after night, "there's a draw to this story. I feel it, too."

Edward chuckled, "You can imagine my astonishment when I realized that the new house I'd moved into was a mere four miles away from the old Swan Estate, the epicenter of the whole story."

I looked at him in surprise, "New house? But it looks quite old."

Edward nodded, "It is old. I say new because it was new to me. In reality, it's been in my mother's family for generations. I believe it's almost as old as the Swan Estate. It's been renovated and expanded over the years however, and I made some changes myself when my mother passed it down to me in her will."

"Her will? Esme is—?"

"I'm sorry, I jumped ahead of myself," Edward responded, "Esme is my adoptive mother. My birth mother gave me up shortly after I was born. She passed a few years ago. Breast cancer. I never knew her until then, when I found out that she'd left me this house. In fact, Esme hadn't even revealed to me that I was adopted."

"Oh," I said, "I'm sorry. That must have been a difficult discovery to make."

Edward shrugged, "Don't be. I was angry about it for a while, until I finally read the letter that my mother addressed to me before she died. She'd had me way too young, and she knew there was no way she could properly support me, so she chose to give me up for adoption, hoping to give me a better chance with people who were more prepared to raise a baby. I realized that that, in a way, was its own kind of love. And Esme has been so wonderful to me. She is my mother. I have nothing to complain about. I only wish that my birth mother had revealed herself to me sooner. I would've liked to have gotten to know her. In fact, it's one of the reasons why I chose to accept and move into the old place. I feel like it brings me closer to her. It just felt right."

I nodded, "It takes a lot of courage to recognize your own limitations, especially when it means you have to give up a child."

Edward flashed me a brilliant smile, "I'm glad you understand." I smiled back at him.

"So how did Esme know all this? I don't recall ever hearing it at school or anywhere else for that matter."

Edward paused before answering, his voice puzzled, "I… don't really know. I always assumed that it was a story everyone in this area knew, but if you've never heard it… Esme must have heard it from somewhere. There must be some old documents left over. Diaries and letters, perhaps."

I nodded and the night descended into silence again as our thoughts both returned to the story at hand. I was slightly loathe for him to continue it, because I had a sense that it wasn't about to get much better beyond this point. I desperately thought that maybe, if he never finished it, the lovers would stay the way that they were, happy and in love and safe. Edward seemed to share my thoughts, as he hesitantly asked:

"Would you like me to continue with the story? I have to warn you that this is the happiest it becomes," Edward said quietly.

I looked out into the horizon and I could see the faint glow that signified the front porch lights of my house. We were almost there. Although I dreaded finding out what ultimately happened to the lovers, I knew I had to hear it all the way through. I didn't know why the story had such a hold of me but I knew I had to hear it all the way to the end.

"Please continue," I whispered, bracing myself for what was coming next, "what happened to them?"