Song Inspiration:
You've Got a Friend by James Taylor
Waves by Dean Lewis
Chapter 3:
EPOV
I pull up in front of the white weatherboard house that I once knew as well as my own.
It looks the same, and yet different. It has had a fresh coat of paint, and I notice it's been landscaped since I was here last. It looks well cared for and well loved; I would expect no less.
One of the large trees in the front has been removed, but the one right outside her bedroom window is still there—its leaves a deep shade of red, orange, and yellow in this early evening light.
I smile wryly, and in that moment, so many memories come fluttering back at me, much like the fallen leaves from the trees. The first time I attempted to climb into her window and landed flat on my ass below with a sprained wrist. Tossing pebbles late at night, then riding off on my bike as fast as I could when the window cracked, and I realised she wasn't even at home. The time we argued over Shakespeare, and she told me I wouldn't know romance if it hit me in the face—so I boombox serenaded her, John Cusack-style, later that night before her father threatened to shoot me if I didn't go home. These memories all warm my heart, and I can only hope they do the same for her too.
I don't recognize any of the cars in the driveway. No cruiser or Beast here as in previous times; I recall how Bella loved that rusty red '53 Chevy pickup with a passion and would defend its honor if anyone dared criticize its age or speed.
I second guess myself for a moment, yet I haven't flown from Chicago to Seattle, then driven almost four hours straight, to sit here just wandering down memory lane, so I open the door and slide out. I stretch, resting my hands behind my head for a moment and attempt to shake out some of the fatigue and nerves.
The air is crisp, and I take a few deep cleansing breaths and attempt to seek some courage before I set foot up the pathway.
There's a gentle light coming from the front window as I approach, and I can hear voices inside as I raise my hand to knock on the front door. Back in the day, I would have just knocked twice then opened the door, calling out that I was here before entering. I know that's not appropriate now, so I knock and wait.
I take another deep breath to bolster myself as I hear an, "I'll get it," called out from inside; moments later, the door is opened, and there's a very shocked face in front of me. Leah Clearwater has answered the door with a small child in her arms who looks so much like her—warm dark skin with jet black hair, and a large strawberry birthmark on the right side of her face. Emily. She was just a baby when I saw her last. She quickly buries her face into her mother's shoulder shyly.
"Well, well. If it isn't Edward Cullen himself."
"Hey, Leah, how's it going?" I stupidly ask. I only have my fatigue to blame for my complete lack of thought.
"I don't think you need too many guesses," is her quick response.
"Sorry, I just …" I tug on my hair nervously and think to myself that maybe I should have stayed overnight in Seattle at my parents house to get a good night's sleep before I tried this.
"Does she know? She didn't say a word to us," Leah questions.
I shake my head. "I wasn't certain, so, ummm …" I stumble over my words. "I just heard the news and got here as soon as I could."
"Mama, who dat?" Emily asks; she's side eyeing me and pointing her little finger in my direction.
"Edward is a friend of Aunt Bella's," Leah replies softly to her daughter, rubbing her back to reassure her.
"Leah, who's there at the door?" A gentle voice asks from inside.
Leah's mother steps into the doorway, and I smile warmly at her. Sue hasn't aged a day since I last saw her, yet I can see the sadness in her eyes and the weight of grief sitting heavily on her. Her sadness is quickly replaced by utter shock at seeing me, her eyes wide and disbelieving.
"Sue, I am so sorry for your loss." The words are sincere, yet they seem so impersonal and don't convey the depth of my own feelings. "I wish I could have been here sooner."
Sue launches herself at me, crushing me in a tight hug. We stand there momentarily, swaying each other back and forth.
"Oh, Edward, I'm so glad you've come. We had no idea, but it's good to see you after all this time," she whispers as we hold on to one another.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat and nod my head in reply.
"Well, we were on our way out," Leah interrupts. "But maybe I should stay a while longer." She shrugs her shoulder and looks at her mother for confirmation or reassurance—I'm not sure which.
"We'll be okay. You need to get home, Leah," Sue reassures as she steps from my arms.
"Okay then, shoes on, short stuff," Leah instructs her daughter as she sets her down, "and we'll head on home now."
"I knows where they am!" Emily giggles, and then little feet are off and racing.
"Umm, is she here?" I look around them both and into the living room where Leah's little Mini Me is now retrieving her shoes from beside the couch.
Sue takes my hand, gives it a gentle squeeze, and nods at me. "She's upstairs in her old room."
"May I?" I almost plead, looking up the stairway.
Sue nods at me. "Just … be gentle with her, Edward."
"Of course," I reassure Sue.
"Gots them!" Emily yells triumphantly from the living room. Her little feet fly back to us as fast as they can, and she launches herself back into her mother's arms.
We all chuckle at her antics. This kid is too damn cute. I can see by the beaming smiles on their faces she's obviously a ray of light for her mother and grandmother.
I move toward the stairway, and as I pass Leah, I give her a one-armed hug, which is the best I can manage with a little person now half-wrapped around her.
A small hand reaches out and pats at my arm. "Aunt Bella is sad, and you has to gib her hugs and kisses to make hers frown turn upside down," Emily instructs firmly, fingers pulling the corners of her mouth up into a smile to demonstrate.
"Thank you for the tip, Emily. I'll remember that." I wink.
Her little face lights up, and she shrugs her shoulders, giggling at me.
"Oh my," Sue says from beside me. "Up you go, boy, before you have us all aflutter down here." She chuckles, then gives me a not so gentle pat on the butt and a push forward.
Emily giggles loudly behind me. "Gwanma, you smackded Edwood's bum!"
"Oh, kid, he deserves that and more," Leah replies quickly.
I think she's probably right.
"Hey, you'll be there tomorrow?" Leah asks me, her voice almost breaking on the last word.
"Of course. My family and I will be there—for all of you." I nod to both Sue and Leah as I reply.
"Okay then, that's good. We'll … she'll … need you."
Not for the first time, the words won't come, and I swallow back the emotion that's clawing at my chest and just nod in her direction. I turn and start up the stairs, remembering all the times I'd taken this walk. I guess it must be muscle memory as I automatically overstep the fourth step from the bottom, the one that creaks loudly.
I hear both Leah and Sue laugh behind me, and I know they know I've learned to overstep this one a long time ago.
"See ya, Edwood," Emily calls out in a singsong voice from the doorway.
"Bye for now, Emily," I call back to her and smile.
I take in the changes as I step forward. The walls are a brighter color, and there are additional photos hanging on them now—new family members. I stop at the last one. A large black and white shot, obviously taken at First Beach, a place I know so well. It's her and him. Bella and her dad—the Chief. Walking side by side at sunset on the beach. Hands almost touching. She's laughing up at him, and he's smiling down at her. I can see the footprints left behind them in the sand, just theirs.
I try to imagine what they may have been saying to each other. It's beautiful and represents the love between father and daughter so well. I know if things had been different, I might have been there with them and not had to wonder about so much that I've missed. I notice there's something in her hand, and when I lean forward for a closer look, I see it's a feather. I take a deep breath and blink heavily to stop the tears the image almost invokes.
I walk on, taking the last few steps to her room. I shake my head at myself as I realize I don't think I've ever knocked on her bedroom door before. I mostly came in through the window or just bounded up the stairs and pushed my way in. I raise my hand and give a tentative two knocks.
"You can come in, Leah. You don't have to knock," her weary voice responds from inside.
That voice, it warms my heart and fuels my soul and reassures me like nothing else could.
I turn the handle and gently push the door open. My first thought is that she's cut her hair since the last time I saw her. Her long wavy brown hair is no more, and it's been cut to her shoulders I would think, as it's noticeably short at her neckline.
She's hunched forward, and it looks like she may be sorting through some boxes as there are items scattered on the floor all around her. I quickly glance around the room, it's remarkably similar to when she was a teenager, except there's a larger bed in the middle of the room, and the walls and desk appear less cluttered. Her bookcase is still full of her favorite books and momentos, but there's a newish-looking Mac sitting where her old computer first sat. Man, that thing was so slow she could have sent a carrier pigeon with her messages rather than emailing or online messaging. We would laugh about it so much. It was a running joke until her mother made Charlie upgrade it for her.
Charlie. The reason I'm here … well, one of the reasons.
"It's not Leah," I finally reply.
I see her shoulders tense, then she twists around and looks directly at me, shock registered on her face.
Like Sue, she looks tired and weary. Her eyes are red rimmed from crying; she looks down, sniffles, and frantically attempts to wipe the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve.
I want to stride across the room and take her into my arms and just hold her tight for now … forever.
"Oh, Birdy," I whisper.
