I apologize for the slight delay in this update. Life has kept me from writing. Thank you to all of you beautiful readers who have rec'd and favorited and followed this story! Kisses to all of you! I can't always respond to it all, but it makes my day to see them in my inbox. Thank you so much!
Thank you, BeLynda Smith, for catching all of my dumb errors!
I do not own Twilight or Edward or Bella. Sad, sad, truth.
The wedding was to be held in Esme's garden, and the flowers wilted in protest. Two rows of low lying flowering bushes created a natural aisle growing into the base of a whitewashed arbor that stood in the back half of the garden: pink, white, and red roses growing up, over, and across both sides of the lattice. Blooms were everywhere in every vivid color imaginable, but the harsh weather had caused more than half of them to shrivel and droop. I pressed my head against the pane of my third-story window and pretended they were my allies sharing in mourning for my lost freedom.
A traditional Irish ceremony had been chosen—as much of one as could be pieced together in under twenty-four hours. Fortunately for Esme, who lived in a beautiful mansion with servants, a giant garden, and crystal and china dishes, it hadn't been an impossible task to accomplish, though she'd fretted and worried over every detail all morning.
With shaky breaths and flowers in hand, I waited and watched. People had begun milling around in the garden below me, some taking seats in the uncomfortable folding chairs that had been placed in perfect rows. There was the small Cullen family in attendance, of course, but also others who I had never seen before. Altogether, the guests totalled around twenty, a small party for a wedding. I wondered if they were neighbors or possibly family that I would have to meet. Four men in fancy zoot suits and fedoras sipping punch from their crystal glassware walked into my view and I jerked away from the window, afraid they'd see me. It was an absurd thought, since they were quite obviously there to see me getting married. They were one man short from the first time I'd seen them in an Italian restaurant, but I knew exactly which family they belonged to—mine. My eyes searched frantically for Aro, and when I couldn't find him, an odd feeling of disappointed relief washed over me.
The unsettling knowledge of my past brought with it a sense of hopelessness, as well as a feeling of acceptance. Finally, I could pinpoint the origins of all the violence and heartbreak and tragic circumstances that had plagued my life. The truth settled a gnawing, gaping hole that had been eating away at my insides for far too long - and at the same time, opened up a fresh, new wound. The knowledge that not one person in my whole life had been honest enough to tell me who I was cut deep. I should have known, been prepared, been told … something.
The bitter feeling of betrayal had overridden the fear after Carlisle had shown me the truth. Not wanting to be alone with Aro's disturbing drawing, or Carlisle's collection, I'd left almost immediately after he had. The wedding photograph, I took with me. I decided I'd deal with whatever consequences befell me later.
And then there was the matter of Edward.
Edward.
I'd spent my entire adult life shying away from any kind of attachment with men. If one spoke to me on the street, or gave me a compliment, I'd pretend I didn't hear him. I'd walk the other way. It was irrational and stupid. It made me look cold and pretentious, but I'd always been afraid that any of them could be the murderer I'd been so fearful of my whole life. And the first time I took the time to respond to a man, the first time I befriended a man, it was one who had no qualms in killing. He'd said he didn't want to hurt people - but he did hurt people.
And I'd been tasked to hurt him. Not physically, but if I went through with the promise I'd made to Carlisle, it would hurt him. I'd be forcing him into a life that he didn't want. He didn't want children. He didn't want me.
I'd developed a strange bond with him, though I barely knew him. I worried about him, which made no sense at all. If anyone could take care of themselves, it was Edward Cullen. He'd proven that several times, and though I knew he'd never hurt me, I feared that I'd have to witness his capacity for violence again. There was potentially a lot of time between now and the rest of our lives. The fact that I'd only witnessed him harm people that were, in turn, trying to harm those in his family was not lost on me.
I wondered what would have happened if I'd just once said hello to someone else on the street.
I turned from the window and stared down at the photograph in my lap, at my parent's happy faces and wondered what emotions they had felt on their own wedding day. It must have been so much easier for them, to marry for love and without impossible complications and demands. I wished that I could have had that, even if only for the brief period of time that they had shared it.
More than anything, I wished I could talk to Charlie. I wished I could find out what kind of man he was before he became a police officer. What was his life like when he was younger, that he'd taken on such a dangerous, abhorrent profession? When and how had their marriage fallen apart? Why did my mother take me with her? Why didn't Charlie tell me who he was, who I was? I had too many questions that I'd never have answers to.
It was a loss made even more profound by the fact that it was my wedding day, and my dad wouldn't be walking me down the aisle. It wasn't something that I'd even wanted before, but with the minutes quickly passing, and nothing to occupy my time other than staring at an old wedding photo, the significance of what was about to happen made me feel nostalgic for my father and the moments we'd never have together. I missed him. I was angry with him.
I felt trapped in my own skin, my anxiety more pronounced at each tick of the clock that obnoxiously marked every minute closer to the wedding march that would soon be playing.
I wasn't ready.
It was too late to feel sorry for myself.
A knock sounded at the door, and I hurriedly hid the photo away in the bottom of the nearest dresser drawer to retrieve later.
"Come in!" I called, breathless, as I stood and quickly checked to see how badly I'd messed up my face. I was expecting Esme to be there to fetch me. Edward's tall frame walked through the door instead, and his sudden, unexpected appearance caused me to be frozen in place. He quickly closed the door before turning toward me.
Dressed in a well-tailored black suit, his auburn hair slicked down with Brylcreem, he looked like a movie star - only in vivid color - his green eyes striking. I'd never seen him looking so polished and smart. He was gorgeous. None of the leading men in the movies looked as handsome as he did.
He seemed to be taken by surprise by my appearance also, and we stood in silence, looking at each other; his eyes settling on my face.
"You're beautiful," he said, softly.
"Thank you. So are you." I answered back, without thinking, wincing at my response.
"I don't have a lot of time," he said, "but I was going over vows with the priest," the word "vows" created a sudden panic in my chest, "It occurred to me that I was about to promise a lot of things … but from now on, I don't want there to be any secrets between us."
My eyes darted over to the dresser drawer of their own accord and the very large secret that it held.
He rocked back and forth on his heels and started to run his hands through his hair, seeming to think better of it at the last moment before shoving them into his pockets. He was so visibly unsure of himself that it was endearing and confusing and a side of him I'd never seen before.
For someone who had professed to having little time, he took a while to speak. Every second that passed made me more anxious. Already on information overload, I wasn't sure how much more I wanted to learn—about anything.
He pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit. I laid the flowers down on the nearest surface—the white coverlet on the bed—and sat, careful to not snag the tiered layers of Rosalie's lace dress.
"Did you know that we're the same age?" he asked suddenly. The question took me by surprise and it took a moment to sink in. I shook my head no.
He hesitated and I watched as uncertainty, and then resolve, washed over his face.
"Once Carlisle took us all on a road trip, just me and Jasper and Emmett. He said he was going to visit a friend. We drove all the way to Forks, Washington."
My eyes widened, and I felt stupid for not catching Emmett's blunder from before: the dinner when he'd grumbled about Washington state. The knowledge that Edward was once in my world, in the only small spot of peace that had been mine for a brief moment in time, made me happy. I wasn't sure why.
"I don't know why we were there. I don't know how your dad was involved with Carlisle. He only said they'd been friends for a long time. I'm sorry that I don't know more."
I know about their friendship; I know about my dad, I wanted to tell him. Instead I quietly said, "I had no idea you were there."
I felt like a traitor.
"He probably didn't tell you. I remember being excited to go anywhere outside of Chicago, especially since it was just the guys. It seemed special for some reason." He laughed sardonically. "It was the only time he took us anywhere. When we got there, though, Charlie wasn't expecting us. He seemed on edge and irritated. He wouldn't let us in the house," his eyes met mine for the first time since he'd begun speaking and his voice became soft, affected, "But I saw you through the open window. Your hair was down and you were at a blackboard, doing some kind of complicated Math problem."
And after the initial embarrassment and startling truth that he'd seen me and thought anything of me at all, it hit me, that all of the visions of numbers on a chalkboard had been real memories and not some trick of my imagination due to head trauma.
"Do you remember what I was writing?" I asked, suddenly more fixated on that one part of his memory more than the rest.
"No." he said distractedly. He dragged a hand through his hair then, messing it up completely. "What I'm trying to tell you is … this is all my fault. The reason I know that we're the same age...it's because Carlisle brought it up to Charlie. He said he'd heard that Charlie had you back and he wanted to meet you. He mentioned that you were twelve and I was also at the time."
He took a deep breath and continued, his words tumbling out, one on top of the next. He seemed vulnerable and weak, and it made my heart stutter inside my chest. The instinct to reach out and touch him—comfort him—was strong, but my hands remained firmly clasped in my lap.
"I was young and impressionable, and we'd just had a long conversation about what's expected of us … how we're all supposed to get married and have children to carry on our traditions, and the business, and I was just thinking about how pretty I thought you looked with your hair down in waves and how you seemed to be really smart." He took a breath. "When he asked me if I thought I might like to marry you one day, I said yes."
I was unable to look away from him, from his guilty expression that seemed more genuine than any reaction I'd ever seen from him. He had told me the gift of the savings account would not be enough of a repayment, and I now knew why. He blamed himself for this path that I'd been placed in, blamed himself that we were being forced together. I desperately wanted to tell him everything in return, to show him the photograph, to let him know that it wasn't his fault; it wasn't anyone's fault. Neither of us had a choice at all, but even though I knew I'd one day regret my action, I said nothing. I feared for what Carlisle would do if I told Edward the truth. I feared for the punishment that Carlisle would dole out if I disobeyed. I selfishly feared for my own safety and if he'd retaliate by throwing me at Aro's feet.
Guilt and anger weighed so heavily on my body, that I felt physically ill, and I hated Carlisle for putting a wedge between us, for making me keep secrets before we'd even had the chance to build any sort of foundation of trust between us, for destroying our tenuous friendship from the inside out.
"I guess he didn't forget that conversation," he continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil, too wrapped up in his own, "and he must have kept tabs on you somehow. He sent me out one day to find a girl matching your description roaming around in the city. It seemed like a ridiculous, impossible task. But sometimes he does that; he sends us out on wild goose chases, waiting to see how badly we'll fail. But that day, I spotted you and I don't know how I knew that you were the same girl. I just knew, and when I saw you, all I could think was, 'Not her.'"
He swallowed hard.
"I almost left you alone. I almost wish I had. You just looked so lost. I was naive enough to think that maybe I could help you. All I've done since then is destroy everything for you even more."
I knew what he was thinking of: the murders that I'd been forced to witness, the fact that I was knee deep in the criminal activity just like the rest of them, the marriage that I was being forced into to ensure my safety. I wondered if it was all Carlisle's plan all along, and Aro's man attacking me had simply been the catalyst to put it all into place. But why me? Just because I was the daughter of Carlisle's friend? He'd even admitted that he didn't think I was a good match for his son.
Edward seemed so genuinely apologetic, and my own guilt felt like an elephant on my chest. I stood and leaned up on my toes to smooth down his wayward hair with shaking fingers and his eyes closed in response. Carlisle's words filtered through my head,
"I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking."
It wasn't true, though. He simply felt guilty.
"It's not your fault," I whispered, wishing that he could see everything that I wanted to say. I realized that to say nothing more was a lie. To tell him the truth might put us both in danger. I hated myself. I hated Carlisle. I hated our circumstances.
"There's something else I need to say. We're going to be expected to say traditional vows, but…" he took a deep breath and looked into my eyes and said, "I won't expect anything from you. I promise you that I'll never raise a hand to you. You'll be safe with me. I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe from harm."
It occurred to me that the words he spoke were his version of wedding vows, and butterflies erupted in my stomach. I was hyper aware of his warm touch and the perfect way my hands rested in his.
"I swear to you, Bella, if there's ever a chance I can make a way for you to escape, I will." he said, his softly spoken words bringing tears to my eyes.
"You could let me go now." I whispered, afraid that someone would hear me.
Always afraid.
"If I do, someone else might find you." he whispered back, and I could tell by the sincerity in his eyes that he believed it. "I know I haven't given you any reason to, but please trust me."
A long moment passed as we looked at each other and I didn't see my boss, or a criminal, or a murderer, but a human being who genuinely wanted to help me.
"I won't let anything happen to you," he said, "This is my fault. I'm going to make things right. I promise you."
"Thank you." I said, looking down at our joined hands. I couldn't think of anything to say in response. It wasn't as though our marriage was going to be of the conventional variety with the normal expectations of love, intimacy, hopes and dreams. I had nothing to offer him, except…
"I promise to never stand in your way. If you ever… if you ever meet someone and want to be with her, I won't stand in your way."
"Bella—"
"I'm not finished," I said quietly, quickly interrupting him. The last thing I wanted was for him to offer senseless platitudes. We were both adults. There was no need to pretend that there was more between us than a friendship based on mutual circumstances and shared suffering. I needed to offer him the only freedom he could possibly have in what would be our sham of a marriage.
"No one deserves to have every choice in their life made for them. I hope that one day you'll be happy. I want that for you," I said.
The truth of my statement resonated within me. No one deserved to have every choice made for them. I decided then and there that I wasn't going to follow through on Carlisle's plan. I wasn't going to let my own fear cause ruin and destruction in Edward's life. I couldn't be deceitful to my only friend.
"I promise to be a friend to you, no matter what," I said. It was all I had to give, and it seemed feeble compared to his promises. I couldn't promise to keep him safe. I could barely keep myself from going under.
"Thank you," he said quietly, also staring down at our joined hands. "I promise the same to you. I won't stand in your way."
He seemed lost in thought for a long moment before he asked, "Is it alright if I kiss you at the wedding?"
A thrill ran up my spine at his innocent request and the thought of his lips on mine again.
"Yes," I replied, too quickly, feeling the heat creeping up in my cheeks. Quiet washed over us as we stood close together.
"Bella, promise me one more thing, please." As our eyes met he said, "Promise me that if you ever get the chance to run, you'll say goodbye first."
I'd given up on the idea of running. My chance was over, my fate sealed the moment I walked into Carlisle's office—no—the moment I was born. He seemed to need to believe that I could, though, so I nodded.
"I will," I said.
We both smiled at my words that were unintentionally more like regular wedding vows than anything else we had said.
In my head and my heart, I vowed to him:
I promise to be good to you. I promise to be a friend and an ally. I promise to not hurt you in the way that I've been asked to do. I promise to protect you as much as I'm able.
I smiled up at him, hoping that it would mask the inexplicable pain that I was suddenly feeling inside. I'd caught small glimpses before, but for the first time I felt like I was truly seeing him, and what I saw made me want something more. For the first time, I wanted more than friendship, and it was frightening and heartbreaking and right and completely wrong.
I told myself that it was only our bizarre shared circumstances that made me suddenly want more than friendship.
It was only because of his incredibly selfless act in trying to keep me safe and giving up his freedom to do so.
It was only because of his admission of finding me pretty so long ago, and some long buried romanticism that I'd once held suddenly coming to the surface.
"There's one more thing," he said. He seemed slightly embarrassed, which was nothing like the confident man that I was used to. "I know our visits to the dress shop downtown were hardly your favorite … but I thought, just in case…" He smiled at me and walked away from me toward the door. My hands felt empty and cold and I clasped them in front of me for comfort as I watched him open the door.
The sales girl from the shop walked in with a large rack overloaded with dresses, all of them some variation of white.
I gasped and stared at him, mouth agape.
"It's all off-the-rack," he said, shrugging, smiling slightly. "You look lovely in Rosalie's dress, but I thought you should have something of your own."
"Thank you," I said, once I was able to speak. I was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude, tears welling in my eyes. It was another thing I hadn't realized I'd wanted. He had somehow known.
"I'll leave you to it," he said as he shoved his hands in his pockets," I'll be waiting outside when you're ready," he said smiling meekly. I caught a glimpse of something that looked like sadness in his eyes, though, before he turned around and left, closing the door behind him.
I'd meant what I'd said: I wanted him to be happy. There were so many things that I was unsure of, but that I knew for certain. I also knew that he'd never be happy with me. Carlisle was right, I wasn't suited for Edward. He needed someone stronger. He'd find someone stronger.
The thought was somehow just as unsettling as all of the other revelations of the day.
I knew the dress that was meant to be mine as soon as I slipped it on over my head and the off-white material cascaded to the floor. The entire dress was made of a single layer of intricate lace that had been created with images of Springtime: trailing roses, baby's breath, leaves, and daffodils. The sleeveless bodice was fitted, and the square neckline showed off my string of pearls that Esme had loaned me and also the rose pendant. A full skirt flared out slightly at the waistline of the dress and fell like a waterfall to the floor, where it draped down around my feet. The wide band at the bottom of the dress was created in a beautiful scallop pattern that added to the delicate beauty of the design and accentuated the rest of the details, making them even more extraordinary. It was a masterpiece.
"Well, you have good taste." the girl, whose name I learned was Emily, said. "I'm sure he won't be able to resist you in this."
Quietly, I laughed and said nothing else.
A veil, with trim that matched the hem of my dress, was pinned into my hair and Emily left with the large clothing rack in tow. I hoped he'd paid her well. I stared at myself in the mirror, at the woman in the reflection. I felt beautiful. For once, I felt like I was worth something. In a moment of spontaneity, I reached beneath the veil and began to rip pins from my hair, leaving long, dark tresses to fall in waves down my back, tradition be damned.
I took several deep breaths and reached for the doorknob, but he beat me to it, pulling it open. Whatever he had been about to say died on his lips as he saw me. I watched as his chest rose and fell suddenly and his green eyes flashed with something I wasn't familiar with, but made my insides alight nonetheless.
"Bella," he said simply, the look in his eyes nothing short of adoration. I wanted to memorize the look in his eyes to replay over and over for the rest of my life.
"It's … the dress is beautiful. Thank you."
Carlisle cleared his throat behind us.
"I believe it's tradition for the groom to not see the bride before the wedding."
In response, Edward wordlessly extended his elbow, a comforting smile on his lips as he offered his arm for me to take. I followed his lead, doing my best to ignore the eyes that were boring into both of us as we walked down the staircase and into the blazing sunlight toward our fates.
"We'll get through this thing together," he said to me softly when he broke tradition and walked me down the short, natural aisle. I was certain he'd done it just to annoy Carlisle: the only bit of resistance he could show in light of our circumstances. I didn't care why he did it, I was grateful that Edward walked it with me, thankful that I didn't have to walk it alone.
Once we reached the altar, he took both my hands in his, causing an inexplicable chill up my spine, despite the stifling heat. Our wrists were tied together with wide blue ribbon, a slightly less offensive material than the traditional rope, to symbolize our unity—our forced unity.
I imagined I could see his reluctance, his own internal struggle, in his troubled green eyes and feel it in the gentle grip of his fingers around mine.
The priest began to speak of marriage and God's plan for it, how we were pledging to belong to one another for the rest of our lives. The entire sermon felt misdirected: borrowed happiness, second-hand dreams.
The wedding lasted much longer than the ten minutes that I'd predicted; the priest seemed to enjoy the sound of his own high-pitched voice. He spoke on the sanctity of marriage as though delivering a monologue in a play. If only he knew the type of wedding he was officiating. I heard Emmett sigh as he stood beside his brother as best man, and I was sure they were melting in their three piece suits.
I had asked Alice to stand with me as my maid-of-honor. It'd made her happy that I'd asked. The radiant smile that, for once, finally reached her eyes was priceless.
I'd been to a couple of weddings. One was a girl's who I lived with in the boarding house and her beau who I'd met in passing, and another was for two co-workers who had fallen in love over their mundane daily tasks at the factory. It was a wholly different experience being the bride. the center of attention. I could feel twenty pairs of eyes on me, but none of them weighed heavier than Edward's. He stood before me, confident, tall, strong, male, his gaze never wavering. I tried to rely on his strength, to soak it in.
It was all I could do to not drop Edward's ring that was handed to me by Alice. The simple silver band seemed to weigh more than it should, and the gesture of slipping it onto his finger felt oddly intimate. My vows were fed to me by the priest, for which I was grateful, and my voice shook as I repeated the words.
"I, Isabella Marie Swan, take you, Edward, to be my husband." My vocal chords nearly failed me completely on the word. "In the presence of God, and before these witnesses, I promise to be a loving, faithful, and loyal wife to you as long as we both shall live."
It felt like a vice was being shackled around my ankles, chaining me to the spot where his hands held mine, until I saw something in his eyes: a shift, a change, a look that resonated so deeply within me that I shuddered and faltered and the last words barely escaped my lips.
The priest had to speak his name twice before he began to say his own vows, this time with no prompting. He'd memorized his lines, apparently.
The air around us seemed to still and I forgot about the eyes that were watching. Everything and everyone else seemed to fall away as I listened. breathless, as he professed his devotion and chained himself with the same invisible bonds.
"I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching."
It wasn't true.
He was only playing the game, following orders.
"I, Edward Masen Cullen, now take you Bella, to be my wife." I hated my formal name, and he'd refused to use it. We both smiled slightly. "In the presence of God, and before these witnesses, I promise to be a loving, faithful, and loyal husband to you as long as we both shall live."
I became lost in the fantasy of it all, that perhaps the beautiful man holding my hands would one day feel something for me. I wanted it. I wanted him.
It was a dangerous game, especially considering who the groom was, who I was, but it was my wedding day—possibly the only one I would ever have—so for that brief point of time I allowed myself to stupidly revel in it.
The ring that he placed on my finger was intricate, much like the necklace he'd given me. Two hands had been formed in the silver band, an emerald heart between them which was surrounded by diamonds. Green, the color I'd told him was my favorite as I had blushed and looked into his green eyes across a table. Above the heart sat a regal looking crown.
I'd never owned any jewelry before, and I now had two pieces that were more beautiful than anything I could have imagined. The pendant symbolized my place in his family, the ring my place by his side. Both were exquisite but tainted, neither of their meanings truly real.
I wanted them to be real.
The priest placed his hands over our bound ones and said words that I didn't hear.
His mouth was on mine then, his hand that wasn't bound to my own placed on my cheek. His warm kiss took my breath away. As quickly as it had begun, it also ended. He moved away from me and I almost imagined a look of regret that he had ended it so quickly. It mirrored my own.
A camera flashed as Edward moved closer to me and whispered in my ear, "Smile, Bella." and the spell was broken. The show was all that was left of my brief fantasy. His hand was still solidly in my own and I now carried his name, but he would never be mine.
I would never be his.
This would never be real.
My chest ached at the thought, as I realized that I cared more than I should.
I told myself that my sudden feelings were simply the reaction of the emotional stress I'd experienced in what had already been a very long, exhausting day. He and I were being thrown together under stressful circumstances, and I was overwhelmed. It was normal to want to form a bond over something so traumatic. To long for anything more than friendship would be a mistake, one that I knew I'd regret.
He kept up the act throughout the rest of the long, tedious afternoon, remaining constantly close. Esme and Alice gushed over our "romantic" wedding. Emmett made horrible jokes, and Rosalie and Jasper stood around looking indifferent, and we all did our best to fan ourselves with our plates and napkins at the elaborate luncheon that Esme had "thrown together" on such short notice. Carlisle seemed to dominate the priest throughout lunch, and I wondered what they could possibly have to talk about: a saint and a devil.
I was introduced to nearly everyone in attendance, and I realized that the four men had gone. They'd seen all that they'd needed to report back to their boss, apparently.
To my grandfather.
Eventually, Edward grabbed my hand, said quick goodbyes, and dragged me away from the small crowd.
"Where are we going?" I asked as he pulled me into the Cullen's darkened garage where his car was parked. "Home," he said. My mind had been so focused on the wedding and everything before it that I hadn't taken a moment to consider after. It hadn't even occurred to me that we would be leaving this place alone … together. He saw my face as we were approaching the car and said, "Not...not...I meant what I said before. I don't expect…"
"Okay," I said, smiling slightly trying to ease his discomfort, and I suddenly realized I'd left my photograph upstairs.
"I can't leave in this!" I said, gesturing toward my dress.
"It's yours, Bella. You can wear it for days if you want."
He walked toward me slowly, and the look in his eye, even in the darkness of the garage, made my knees weak. He stopped just before he was within arm's reach and suddenly turned away. It made me doubt myself and wonder if any of the ceremony had been genuine. It made me wonder if he did want me after all. If that was true—it wasn't—but if it was, we would be playing right into Carlisle's hands. I'd be doing exactly what I'd promised Carlisle I'd do and what I'd silently promised Edward I wouldn't.
Confused and frantic, I forced myself to turn away.
"I forgot something upstairs. I'll just be a minute." I said, running out of the garage and up the steps to the house as fast as my legs would carry me, ignoring Edward's call to "Wait up!"
I closed and locked the door to the third story room before he had reached the top of the staircase and rushed to the dresser. When I opened the drawer, the photo wasn't there.
"No!"
I rummaged through the folded sheets and linens, but it was no use. It was gone. I swallowed back the tears that were building at the back of my throat. He must have taken it back at some point during the day. I closed my eyes, and spent a long moment remembering my parent's faces, their smiles, their love that I would never have. A tear slid down my cheek.
Edward knocked. "Bella, I'm right outside the door if you need me."
I sat down on the floor and brought my knees up to my chest, resting my forehead against my arms, the delicate lace of my dress leaving marks on my skin.
I still loved my father more than I loved any other person on earth. I just wished he'd have confided in me, or left me with something to work with so that I could fight for myself instead of being forced to play by the rules of everyone else's games. He'd left me with a major disadvantage that made me weak.
I had a mind, and a soul, and a body, and a fierce will to live, and some vague memory of numbers. That was it.
The ring on my hand pressed into my arm and I held it out in front of me.
It wasn't a symbol of love or happiness, but it did stand for something; Edward's protection.
I was protected not just from Aro, but possibly also from Carlisle. He'd said it himself that everyone on Aro's side was afraid of Edward. I wondered if Carlisle might be also. Why would he choose me and go to such nefarious lengths to get Edward to obey, to follow his rules? It was because he couldn't make Edward obey him in everything. Rosalie had said he seemed to be different from the others. If the conversation I'd had with Carlisle had shown me anything, it was that he was losing traction with Edward. He was losing his control over his favorite son, his future, his legacy. He was no longer able to order him into obedience. Even Esme, his mother had voiced her doubts on my "choice" of a groom.
To an extent, many people were afraid of him—but I wasn't.
Between his strength and my relentless will to live, maybe we could work together and … do what? I wasn't sure. I wasn't certain if he even wanted to leave this life. He wanted me free of it, but he had power here—and wealth. Those things were very important to some men. I would have to tread carefully, be certain before telling him all of my secrets. After all of the disappointments that had fallen over my head the last few weeks, I knew better than to hope for anything, but the way he'd looked at me made me want to give him everything.
I took a deep breath, and in that moment, I decided that I was going to eventually tell him all of my secrets: the photograph, the truth about my mother, Aro, Charlie, everything. I'd tell him later, when things had settled down and we could truly be alone. When I was certain that there would be no immediate repercussions.
I had no choice in anything in my life, but I could choose to not give in to Carlisle's demands. The thought of what he'd asked me to do made me feel ill. None of this was Edward's fault. I was going to have to be better.
For both of us.