A/N: There's no Previously, because of the change in POV, so there is a slight overlap between the end of the last chapter (starts from their kiss) and the beginning of this one...

Thank you for all the reviews! I think the previous chapter received the most reviews yet... the wonders of a cliffhanger! Sorry for not uploading this chapter yesterday; something you may need to know about me - my immune system is crap (if I could exchange it, I would) so I, as I like to call it, "crash" often. Ah well, enough about that. Please enjoy!

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Forty-one: 'It's my mom' (Bella POV)

Saturday 8 July 2017

I'm the one to break the kiss, and the reason for that is a mixture of a lack of air, and the fact that I want to assure Edward that he is so wrong. I can't believe he thinks I regret it. I've only been trying to keep him from seeing my bruises... but he doesn't know that. And now, in the meantime, I've hurt him. Shit.

Keeping our faces as close together as possible, I gaze into his now dark green eyes - I love the way they change shade due to his arousal - wanting him to see how much I truly mean what I'm about to say. Still slightly breathless, I can only manage a whisper. "Please don't think I don't want to be with you again. Because I do. So much."

I feel his brow furrow against my forehead. "But Thursday..."

Damn. I really have confused him. I close my eyes on a sigh. "I'm sorry about that. And about how I've been lately. I've just..." What I say next isn't planned; it just slips out. "I've been going through some things. At home." I keep my eyes closed, instantly feeling like I've made a mistake. Why did I just say that? Crap! Maybe if I keep my eyes closed and stay completely silent, he won't push for more.

Oh, who am I kidding? This is Edward, the most stubborn person I've ever met.

"Tell me," he whispers, and I feel his hand begin to rub my back soothingly. It feels like he's trying to coerce the words out of me.

I have to open my eyes. I know I do. But I'm scared, because I can feel the sting of tears approaching. If I start to cry, then all will be lost. I won't be able to hold back, and that's bad. Really bad, because though I want to, I cannot tell Edward about what happens at home. I just can't. No one can know. Not even him, the person I trust most of all in this world. No one.

I open my eyes anyway, knowing I need to before he can start soothing me other ways, like start telling me that I can tell him anything. I said that to him earlier, and it's the truth. He can tell me anything. But it's not a two way street. I can't reciprocate... no matter how much I may want to.

I look back into his eyes and the concern that is residing there is palpable. The concern, the tenderness, the pleading. All that I can see in his eyes works like a barrier between my brain and mouth, and what I say next is unintentional. Again, like before, it just slips out.

"It's my mom."

As soon as the words leave my mouth I want to take them back. To inhale them, swallow them whole and pretend like they were never uttered. My eyes grow wide, while Edward's just grow more concerned. His brow furrows once more.

"What about her?" he asks quietly. I pull my head away from his, looking away before the genuine concern he has for me can break me. I can feel it chipping away at my resolve, my resistance, like it's nothing more than an ice block.

"N-nothing. I'm just being silly," I mumble quietly, barely loud enough for him to hear. I begin pulling away completely, lifting up onto one knee to remove myself from his lap.

Getting onto.his lap was a rash decision, something I felt like I had to do in that moment. I could see his defeat, his intention to flee, and I knew that I had to stop him. Somehow. Sitting on him and physically stopping him seemed like the best option at the time.

Though now I'm not so sure. Because, though this position worked in my favour earlier, it's having the opposite affect right now. Edward's hands quickly shift from my back to my thighs. I jump slightly at the feel of his warm hands on my bare legs. There's a slight chill in the air, but it's that summer chill that is so common in Forks. It's almost warm. Having lived here all of my life, this is one of the rare occasions I can dress like we're in California, like the sun is blazing. So I have put one of my rare pairs of denim shorts on today, and a loose-fitted dark blue t-shirt.

He presses down on my thighs with splayed hands, holding me down and stopping me from leaving. I glare at him. "Don't. You didn't let my problems just slip by without an explanation and you can think again if I'm gonna be any different." The conviction he speaks with is enough to squash all my hopes of getting out of this.

Why did I say that?

What is wrong with me?

I definitely can't tell him what is really the matter at home. So what do I say that would satisfy him?

"I told you, it's nothing," I insist, trying to buy myself more time. He doesn't verbally push, but he adds a fraction more pressure to my thighs with his hands and tilts his head, a single eyebrow arched, waiting. I sigh. "It's just my mom," I repeat.

"Yes, you've said that. What about her? Is she sick?"

I shake my head.

"Then what is it?"

I look down. "She's going away," I say quietly.

"Away? Like... to p-prison?" I quickly look up to see his wide eye expression. She would if you knew what really went on at home!

"No! I say she's going away and that's the first thing you think of? That she's going to prison?" I can't help my astonishment. His cheeks burn red, tinting with his embarrassment. "I mean she's going away with a friend."

"Ooh," he briefly looks away. When his eyes meet mine again, his embarrassment is concealed and all I see is confusion. "Why is that an issue?"

I huff and try harder to climb off of him. "See? I knew you wouldn't understand!" I growl in frustration when his hands yet again prevent me from leaving. "Why can't you just let it go! I told you I was being silly."

"No, you're not."

"Well you obviously think so!"

I know I'm being unfair. This isn't the reason I've been acting a bit strange, as Edward put it, recently. But it's the only excuse I could think of that would hopefully placate his incessant need to know what my problem has been. I feel silly using it as an excuse, and it's not his fault that I'm lying, but he's the only one here to take my anger out on.

I try removing myself from his lap a third time. "Edward!" I shout, angered as he once again stops me. "Let me go!"

"No," he says just as firmly as me, but without the anger and rise in volume. He's calm but firm. I just glare at him. "I don't think you're silly, Bella. Just explain to me why you're upset about your mom going away."

I stay stubbornly silent. He sighs.

"Fine. We'll work in baby steps. How long is she going away for?"

"A week," I answer grumpily. He smirks at my sulking but nods at my answer.

"When?"

"What?" I know exactly what.

And he knows that I know. "When is she leaving, Bella?" he asks, his attempt to keep his frustration hidden poor.

"Monday," I answer, my guilt at lying and the fact that I'm causing him to be angry with me forcing the answer from me. "She'll be back Saturday."

"And you'll be all alone?" he asks, no longer sounding confused or frustrated. Just concerned. He's back to being concerned. About me. And I just lied. God, I don't deserve him in my life.

I realise now that this may be easier if I allow him to guess as he just did. He may be able to answer the questions for me. So, with that in mind, I nod at his question nonverbally.

"Is that the problem? That you'll be alone?" he asks and I nod again, wordless. "Oh, Bella," he sighs and pulls me into a hug. I rest my cheek on his shoulder, my face turned away from him. As I gaze out at the trees, folded into the embrace of the only person that truly cares for me, my guilt is like a weight inside me.

"I'm sorry," I murmur quietly, a lone tear rolling down my cheek. Probably hearing the emotion in my voice, Edward pushes me back gently with a hand to my shoulder. When he sees the tear, he's quick to brush it away with his thumb.

"What are you apologising for?" he asks, worried green meeting sorrowful brown. I stare, silent for a few moments.

For lying. I'm so sorry for lying to you, Edward.

"Just for acting strange," I eventually answer, looking down. I feel his hand at my chin and don't resist as he raises my head.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Bella. Just let me know when you have a problem. Let me in." He'll never know how much I want to do as he asks. He'll never know how much I can't do as he asks.

His soft smile is hard to reciprocate but I do. I can only manage it briefly however, and I drag him back toward me for a hug, both because I need to hide my face before the smile falls and simply because I want to.

We stay like that for a while. I don't know how long exactly. With me straddling his lap and our arms around each other. At some point, I turn my head away from the meadow, pressing my face into his neck. In response, he tightens his arms around me. They are completely folded around my midsection, so when he squeezes me tighter, the hand laying on my left side pushes into my ribs, into the edge of the bruising that is the whole reason I've had to lie in the first place. It's all I can do not to cry out in pain, and as a substitute for the fact that I can't audibly express my pain, I tighten my arms which are wrapped around his shoulders.

He loosens his arms again at the ringing of a cell phone, and I've never had such conflicting emotions inside me at one time. I'm both angry at the ringing for disrupting our moment, and thankful for the chance to be released from the pain.

I pull back and we both reach for our phones. Mines in my bag which is to my right, acting as a weight on the edge of the blanket. Edward's is in his pocket, and I have to lift one leg while he gets it out. He's quick to push my leg back down again, throwing me a warning look, daring me to just try and get up again.

We check our phones simultaneously. It's not his, that's easy to see by the way he tosses it down to the blanket beside us. The ringing phone is mine.

It's my mom.

I need to answer before it rings off; she hates it when I don't answer on her first try. But first, I need to put some distance between me and Edward, so he can't hear what could very well be an angry woman shouting at me down the phone.

I should've known he wouldn't let me get off. I try and, identical to all the times before, his hands stop me. I give him a pleading look, and I can see him deciding if he should or not. Unfortunately, I can't wait for that decision to be made. It's about to ring off. I have to answer.

My thumb trembles as it slides the green button across the screen. I quickly bring the phone to my ear before the shouting can begin.

"Isabella?" she asks, though I don't know why she says my name in that questioning tone. She's the one who called me. There's no shouting so far.

"Yes," I reply, hating the dryness of my voice. I clear my throat.

"Where are you?" she asks. This is new.

"I-I'm with Edward," I answer. Edward is pretending to not be listening. He's playing with a lock of my hair, which I've left down today.

"That's not what I asked. I didn't ask who you were with, I asked where you are," she says in a clipped tone. She manages to keep her volume down, which wouldn't have been the case if she thought I were alone I'm sure.

"I'm at his house." At that Edward glances at me. I pull a face as if to say I'll explain, and he goes back to fiddling with my hair.

"How long will you be out?"

"I don't know," I say, pulling the phone away from my ear to quickly check the time on it's display, "a couple hours? Why, do you need me back for something?" I have to be careful about what words I use. I don't want to raise any suspicion in Edward's mind. After all the lying I've just done, this isn't a hard task to accomplish.

"I can't pack my bags for next week. I'm too busy. You'll have to do it," she replies, hypocritically - technically, she didn't answer my question.

"O-okay. Shall I come back now?"

"No no," she answers quickly. "Stay with your boyfriend." I turn my head away from Edward, so my phone is farther from him. I really hope he didn't hear that. "You can do it when you get back."

"Okay." She hangs up. "Bye," I say into the dead phone, pretending to end the call myself. Luckily Edward is still focusing on my hair and doesn't see that the call has already ended and I really just press the back button, not the red one. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," he says, letting go of my hair and placing his hands high up on my thighs, so their resting on the denim instead of my skin. "She was just checking up on you?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah. Sorry I had to lie," I say, mentally apologising for more than the lie I told my mother a moment ago. "She doesn't know about this place."

"It's cool. I understand. If I had a place like this, I wouldn't want to share it with anyone," he says as he looks around. "Apart from you, of course," he adds with a wink in my direction. I smile and join him in his appraisal of what I guess is now 'our' place. "You know who would love it here though..." he wonders aloud thoughtfully. It's worded as a question, but his tone of voice suggests otherwise so I stay silent. "Alan," he finishes after more gandering.

My eyes widen nervously. My silence must grab his attention, because he immediately stops looking around at the scenery and instead looks at me. My terror must be plain to see, because he's quick to placate me.

"I won't bring him here. I promise!" he vows, rubbing his hands up and down my arms from the shoulders to the elbows as he says it. I instantly sag in relief. "I would never show anyone this place. Especially not without your permission. I was just thinking out loud. He'd love it, you know, 'cause of all the plants and flowers."

Now I know he was only speaking figuratively, I can relax and contemplate his verbalised thought. He's right. Alan, who owns his own florist and has been a gardener for most of his life, would love this place. It almost makes me feel bad for keeping it all to myself (and Edward).

I look at the bursts of colour that blanket the dominating green. "I bet he could name all of the flowers here," Edward says, still thinking aloud.

I look to him now. "I can name most of them," I say, not feeling the slight bit embarrassed at the pride I hear in my own voice.

"Yeah right," Edward scoffs. I lean back, putting on my best offended face. He just laughs. "Sorry, Bella, but I don't believe it. There is so much wildlife here. Most? Really?"

"Yes!" I insist. "Well, I don't know their scientific names. Each plant has scientific name that is Latin and usually has two parts. It was too hard to remember all of those, but I know a majority of their common names."

He regards me for a few seconds with a calculative look before narrowing his eyes at me. "I'll still be impressed if you can tell me their common names."

I nod, accepting the challenge, and begin getting up. "Right. Come on th-"

"Uh uh." He shakes his head and surprises me by holding me to him by my hips. I guess my thighs weren't enough leverage this time. "You can tell me from here," he says with a cheeky grin and I roll my eyes, though secretly I'm pleased that he wants me to stay this close. Though I am starting to feel a strain along my inner thigh and my knees are going a bit numb; I have been sat like this for a while now.

"Okay." I look around. "You see the yellow ones that are mostly over there, in the taller grass? The yellow clusters?" I ask, pointing to a large area behind him. He looks over his shoulder and nods. "They're called Lady's bedstraw." Edward turns to give me a questioning look. "They smell of hay," I explain and he nods. "Um," I look about us some more. "The tall-ish white ones you see around, the clusters of flathead white flowers? They're Yarrow. I love them because they remind me of my Nana Swan." Edward smiles gently and waits for me to explain. "She used to have them in her back garden. She grew all sorts but those were some of her favourites. She told me once, that centuries ago, the Yarrow flowers were used as a charm against bad luck and illness. But they were believed to cause nosebleeds if you were to put them up your nose."

"Who would do that?"

I shrug and laugh lightly. "I don't know, it's just something she told me. I wasn't even sure it were true until I read about it myself." He continues to smile at me as I look around. "Oh! You see that small group of pink ones there?"

"Oh yeah, I've noticed them a few times. They look like bright pink droopy daisies." I laugh at his explanation, which is spot on.

"They do! And it's funny you should say that 'cause they're actually part of the daisy family. They're called Coneflowers. Pretty self explanatory with their orangey cone-like centers. They thrive in full sun, which is why there is only a small group of them and why they're almost directly in the center of the meadow. I always avoid putting my blanket down there so I don't cramp their style. On the nicest days here they attract butterflies. It's beautiful to see."

I gaze at them for a while, only breaking my focus on them as Edward begins speaking. "Well, I'm impressed. But there's only one problem." I frown and raise a brow, silently asking what this so called problem is. He smirks wickedly. "How do I know all of this is true?" he asks. I roll my eyes. "You could be making it up. I have no way of knowing." He's teasing me, that's easy to tell.

"Shut up, you ass. It's all true. You can check when you get home if you don't believe me," I say, crossing my arms.

"Yes, but how will I find the correct names if all you've told me is a bunch of made-up gibberish. I can't possibly find the exact-"

I grab his face with both of my hands and shut him up by kissing him. He instantly quietens, wrapping his arms around me. I shift slightly on my knees, and Edward tenses. I know what that means; I would know even if his growing hardness hadn't just brushed up against me. I make sure not to tense - I don't want to hurt his feelings again - but I do slow our kisses and pull away.

I shift on my knees again as I try climbing off of him. He goes to stop me but I don't let him this time, shaking my head. "I've been sat like this for a while; my legs are starting to cramp," I explain, hoping he'll just accept my words and not be too hurt that I've pulled away before this can get any further.

We may have cleared up a lot in our conversation today, but that doesn't change the fact we still can't do more than kiss for the time being. It makes me feel bad for being the one to start it this time.

He let's me move. Actually, he helps me move, guiding me to sit directly beside him, so my front is facing his side. I'm confused by this until he grabs my legs and lifts them until they're resting over his. He remains sat up but pushes at my shoulder until I'm led down across the blanket. Then he begins gently massaging my legs.

I lay my right arm over my closed eyes, just enjoying the peacefulness and the therapeutic feeling of his hands working the cramps out of my legs. I wasn't lying when I gave him that excuse; they really are quite sore.

"How did you know all of that?" he asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence after a while. I remove my arm from my eyes and shield them with that hand as I look up at him.

"I've been coming here for a long time now. Over four years. I got curious about all the flowers and plants and found a book in the school library one day. I came here with it about four months after I first found this place and spent the day learning all that I could." I think back to that day, almost four years ago now. It was actually my thirteenth birthday when I did that, I remember.

Edward's hands stop moving on my legs. I glance at him. He's staring at me, looking appalled. "You didn't spend your thirteenth birthday alone, did you?" he asks, his hatred at the idea of it clear in his voice. I said that out loud?

All I can do is nod dumbly, still shocked with myself for saying that out loud. So much for not arousing suspicion.

"Bella! That's awful! You spent your birthday here? Alone?" His facial expression still hasn't changed from that horrified, gaping one he's had on his face for a full two minutes now.

"It wasn't that bad," I say meekly.

"When is your birthday?" he asks suddenly, like the thought just occurred to him. His look of horror transforms into a rueful one.

"September 13th," I reply.

"Right. On your next birthday, your seventeenth, I'm making it my personal mission to give you the best birthday you've ever had!" he declares like he's one of those guys that stands by the door, announcing guests at a ball.

I have no words for that. I just smile widely at him, and he smiles back.

A/N: I understand this isn't what some of you expected, or maybe not even how you wanted this conversation to go, but there's still time yet, and what you were expecting or wanting this time will come... perhaps soon? ;) I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know in a review!

Quick side note: I am no expert on flowers, plants and nature. All that's said about the meadow in this chapter is information I got off the Internet.