Chapter 4

Bella sat up, and Edward felt winded by how the atmosphere of the entire room shifted in an instant.

"Who are you?" Her eyes were wary now.

"My name is Edward Masen," he said, fighting the urge to cower before the power she was emanating. "Esme is my adoptive sister. She's not well. The doctors don't know what's wrong with her."

"How did you know to come to me?"

"She has been calling for you in her sleep. I only found out a few days ago. The doctor said it might help her if she could meet you, maybe…" he trailed off, not quite sure what they had really hoped for. "I found your address, and some of the things she'd written made me think…" he sighed. "I don't really know. I just hoped you could help, that's all."

Silence fell for a spell, and after a while the strange pressure around his lungs eased. She picked up her tea again, so he did too.

"Alright," she said at length. "Tell me everything you can. Anything that stands out over, hmm… the last three or four years."

So he spoke, going back and forth a little, but covering as much as he could remember of Esme's illness. It had only flared up a little over a year ago, shortly after her husband died in a drunken car crash. But that wasn't the first time he had caused Esme to land up in hospital. In fact, at first the doctors had suspected her current condition was an aftereffect of the years of physical abuse she had suffered. But then her state kept worsening with no apparent cause.

At some point during his narrative, Bella started pacing the length of the kitchen, pausing every so often to ask a question. He found himself dredging up memories and incidents that he'd forgotten about. It felt like they'd been talking forever, and he realized he wanted that. He wanted to talk to her, to tell her everything on his mind. He wanted to hear her thoughts. He wanted to know why she seemed so familiar. He wanted to know why he'd dreamt of her.

But he didn't mention his dream again, and she didn't tell him why she'd fainted. It felt like an unspoken understanding… a tenuous awareness that grew with every minute they spent together. Maybe it would snap once he was out of her orbit. Maybe it was nothing but a result of the stress he'd been under, worrying about Esme. Then again, maybe it was more.

"Wait here," she said when he finished telling her everything.

She left the kitchen, leaning a little more noticeably on her cane. She was back in about ten minutes, carrying a small glass vial.

"I will need to see her," she said, placing the vial carefully on the table. "But I can't do what's needed at the hospital. Make sure she drinks this. Every drop, you understand? Then bring her here."

Edward nodded, carefully pocketed the vial, and made to leave.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he said.

"Edward," she said, barely more than a breath.

Once again he was hit with a wave of her emotion, and this time it made him smile. "Yeah," he said. "We should probably talk about that later."

Her smile was shy. "Later."

The next couple of weeks were some of the most emotionally draining of Edward's life. He couldn't even imagine what the entire process must be doing to Esme. Some days, Edward could barely believe any of it was real.

Still, one thing was for sure… Esme was recovering. There was no doubt about it, even though Dr Cullen, who insisted on being updated on her condition daily, said they still needed to be cautious. Bella didn't bother with the doctor's demands at all, merely laughing when he asked her to let him visit and conduct more tests to make sure Esme was alright.

"She doesn't need tests, Dr Cullen," she teased. "Now if there's another reason you want to visit, let me know!"

"Oh great, you're one of those smart-ass love potion kind of witches aren't you!?" Dr Cullen had exclaimed in disgust, which made Bella laugh even louder. Edward thought it was interesting that she didn't react to his witches and potions reference at all. Instead, she and Dr Cullen struck up a regular email correspondence about non-medical therapy and seemed to be getting along very well.

Edward might have been jealous of their easy camaraderie, if it weren't for the fact that unlike Dr Cullen, he did get to visit both Esme and Bella regularly. He went over at least twice a week and spent the entire day talking to Esme, watching Bella in her element, and wondering if he could keep coming back even after Esme was well again.

Not only was Esme getting better with no relapse in sight, Edward found himself being included in activities he'd never thought he was interested in. He helped Bella garden. He pitched in at the café when Alice came over in a rush one day and demanded she needed manpower. He did whatever he needed to, none of it was planned, and he realized that he was happier for it. He didn't even mind when Bella laughed and teased him and said that he needed to get out more. It didn't feel bad to have someone who cared.

He learned a lot about Bella in those weeks. She was funny, thoughtful, and kind. She liked lazing in the sun, got stiff if she didn't stretch at regular intervals, and liked coming up with theories about everything under the sun. Her creativity and imagination made her one of the most popular storytellers at the weekly book club. Edward started attending the sessions at Esme's insistence, and soon found himself drawn into a community of readers, of thinkers, and dreamers. He had never thought he would fit so well in such a place. He'd never thought he'd be so moved by the simple stories they all shared from their lives while discussing a book. Sometimes he found his voice joining in the discussions; sharing parts of himself he'd forgotten about. He'd never realized how much of himself he tended to hide away and set aside. It felt good to just be himself, again.

It was easy to admit that a large part of this change in his life was caused by Bella's presence. To put it simply, he found that he liked her. It felt like he was always aware of her. She got grumpy when her leg hurt, which happened anytime the wind changed direction, or she got lazy about exercising. She wrote a lot, and shared some of it with Edward, but there were some things she refused to read out loud. Alice's smirks and Bella's deep blush gave him some idea of what she might have written, though.

The not-so-great part was that he saw things he didn't really want to. It was nothing as obvious or trite as sparkly fingers and making teapots dance… but sometimes, Bella seemed to know things. Sometimes, she didn't quite need to touch something to move it. Often, she'd get a thoughtful look on her face and disappear for an hour or two, and he hated that he wanted to follow.

He also realized that not everyone could feel the weight of Bella's emotions the way he could. Alice certainly seemed entirely oblivious. Esme was only receptive to the happier feelings Bella gave out. He, on the other hand, spent each visit growing more and more comfortable with the weight of her thoughts and emotions brushing up against his consciousness. In fact, he missed the feeling when he went back home.

He missed Bella when he went back home.

Edward didn't quite know what to feel about any of it. He'd always thought he was a logical man. He'd scoffed at his friend Jasper when he went on a 'spiritual retreat' senior year of college. He hadn't paid much mind to some of his friends' fascination with the supernatural. He thought it was all imagination and wishful thinking. Gullible minds and foolish fantasies.

He'd even chided Esme when they were younger. She loved visiting travelling fairs with the shadiest fortune tellers, never stopped to think twice before clicking on astrological or tarot reading sites, and had collected more than her fair share of worthless trinkets and so called charms. That was one of the reasons he had been so wary of visiting Bella in the first place. How trustworthy was a person who dealt with ephemeral 'magic' to solve real world problems?

But now, he found that his belief in what made up the 'real' world had changed. It wasn't just Bella and the way his reality bent around her so effortlessly. Listening to the stories people swapped in the book club made him think as well. Old Mrs Cheney always shared the same story about her father, no matter what they were discussing. Weirdly enough, it always seemed to fit the theme. No matter how many times she repeated the story, it didn't sound the same. Edward asked Bella about it once.

"It's her reality, you know," she'd replied. "But it isn't just limited to being one thing. It's like… you met me. But it wasn't just that simple, was it? We met in a café. We met and I fainted in your arms. We met to help Esme. We met and I felt like we'd met before. Oh, that's right, we met in a dream," she winked and laughed in delight at whatever expression he had on his face. "We are so much more than we think we are, Edward. It all depends on whether or not we choose to believe it."

Edward found that for the first time in his life, he wanted to believe.