Thank you to 2brown-eyes, ceceprincess1217, gabby1017, and DICATAKADD for pre-reading, and to SunflowerFran for editing. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Song for this chapter, Young Emotions, by Ricky Nelson
**This one might be a little uncomfortable for some to read**
Chapter 5
Bella
With my head under the dryer, I close my eyes and try to block out the rest of the world instead of flipping through a magazine like the other ladies seated nearby. When it's done, I walk back to Irene's chair, and she begins to remove the curlers, all while catching me up on all the local gossip. Seems the scandal of my hasty marriage and pregnancy last year has been forgotten, replaced with new fodder.
She chatters away, but I only halfheartedly listen, my attention on the beautiful blonde across the room, having her nails painted. Rosalie looks my way and smiles, and I offer her a small wave. By the time I'm done, my hair has been brushed into a smooth wave and pinned into place, Rosalie is done too. We walk out onto the sidewalk, holding our coats tightly closed to ward off the chilly but sunny February afternoon.
"So, how is married life treating ya', Bella?" she asks as she reaches into her purse to grab her cigarette case.
"Fine, I guess," I reply, laughing as I watch a boy walking toward us practically trip over his own feet to offer her a light.
Watching him fumble with the match makes me giggle, but Rosalie only smiles, no doubt used to the special treatment. But she thanks him, which I think makes his day.
"Do you get that a lot?" I ask as he scampers away.
"What? The attention?"
"Yeah. I thought he might catch your hair on fire the way he was so jumpy with that match," I say with another laugh.
She waves off my question and grins, knowing I'm only teasing. "I gotta say, I'm surprised to see you back here. You and Eddie come back for a visit?" she asks as she takes a drag from her cigarette.
"Oh, Emmett didn't tell you? It's just me and little EJ here for a few days."
She eyes me speculatively.
"But we're headed back home this afternoon." I try to sound convincing, but judging by the look she's giving me, I'm worried she can see right through my charade.
"Uh huh," she drawls. "Well"—she drops what's left of her smoke to the ground and snuffing it with her high heel—"I'll be visiting some friends in the city next weekend if you want to get together." She pulls a scrap of paper and a fountain pen from her handbag, and she scribbles out two phone numbers.
"This is my home number," she says pointing to the first one. "And this is my friend, Margaret's," she says pointing to the second one. "She's back from Chicago visiting her family, so I'll be staying with her for a few days. Maybe you could join us?"
I smile, happy with being invited, but I also know I have a five-month-old at home who I won't likely be able to find a sitter for. "I'd love to, but we'll see."
She nods before hugging me. "It was good to see you." She releases me. "Don't be a stranger."
"It was good to see you, too, Rosalie."
Mrs. Cullen was right; having my hair done does make me feel better. Even putting on the prettiest dress I brought along adds to my confidence. And I'll need every ounce of it when I walk through the door of my home later that day.
It's early evening by the time I make it back to Pittsburgh, the sun already setting at six o'clock.
"Where the hell have you been?" Edward asks in a low, angry growl from his spot in the darkened living room.
His tone startles me, and I gasp, nearly dropping EJ from my loaded down arms. While Mrs. Cullen was able to bring me home, she couldn't help me bring our things inside.
"You scared me, Edward," I nervously reply as I turn to close the door. He doesn't make a move to get up from his seat as I walk through the room. I lay my increasingly cranky son on a blanket on the floor, removing his bundled blankets and coat, and then walk into to the kitchen to warm a bottle for him.
"Where were you, Bella?" His voice is louder this time, only upsetting the baby more.
"You know where I was. I was at your parents' house for a couple days." I take a deep breath, knowing I'm about to get mouthy with him, but I just can't stop myself. "It wasn't a secret. You called enough times, so you knew where I was. Besides," I say, whirling around to face him. "You took off and didn't tell me where you were going. So what's the big deal?"
"The big deal?" he scoffs, getting up from his seat and stalking toward me. I turn my back to him, my focus now on simmering pot of water on the burner, but I can sense when he's right behind me. His whispered words send a shiver down my spine when his warm breath caresses the skin of my neck, and not in a good way.
"Feed my son and meet me in our room. We need to have a little chat." His anger with me is barely contained, and once again, tears fill my eyes.
His retreating footsteps disappear, and I take my time calming, feeding, and changing EJ, readying him to be put down for the evening.
When I'm finally standing outside our bedroom, nerves threaten to take over, not knowing what I'll find. My trembling hand reaches for the knob, and when the door opens, I find Edward standing at our bedroom window, peering out into the darkness.
"Close the door," he says roughly.
I do as he demands and step lightly toward our dresser, intent on collecting my nightgown to ready myself for bed. My fingers rifle through the meager number of items in the drawer, searching for the more modest blue one. I'm hopeful it will send a clear message; I'm not in the mood for him to find pleasure in my body while I'm still upset with him.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asks as I pull the blue cotton from the drawer.
"Getting ready for bed," I say lowly.
"I thought I told you we needed to talk." While he hasn't stepped closer, I know, judging by the volume and trajectory of his voice, he's turned toward me.
With a deep breath, I close my drawer, a little more forcefully than necessary, and turn to face him.
"So talk," I say, my arms crossed in indignation.
He stalks toward me, his eyes blazing with anger at my attitude. For the first time since I've known him, I'm afraid of him and what he might do.
"Why. Did. You. Leave?" he growls, his jaw tense. I can smell a hint of liquor on his breath.
"You wouldn't talk to me, and I didn't think it was good to stay here if we were only going to argue, or if you were only going to shut me out." My voice breaks under his close scrutiny.
His trembling hand reaches for my face, and I flinch. It gives him pause, but he continues, and his fingers brush lightly against my cheek. "Do you know how that made me look?" he whispers. "To the guys? To Felix? To have my wife ... my wife ... take off with our son? It made me look like a fool in their eyes, Bella." He leans over, so his forehead is resting on mine, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "And I can't afford to look bad ... to lose any respect. It took me too long to earn the little bit I have."
"I wouldn't have left if you had just told me what you knew about my fa—"
"Enough!" His voice is only outmatched by the cacophony of glass crashing to the floor as his arm reaches past me to sweep the contents of the top of our dresser to the floor.
"I only wanted to kn—"
He's so quick, I don't even realize his hand is on me until it's wrapped a little too tightly around my throat.
"Stop, Bella. Please stop," he mumbles, his lips against my forehead. "You have no idea ..." His fingers loosen, if only marginally, but his touch remains as he steps a half-step away, and his eyes meet mine. What I see breaks my heart. His bloodshot eyes are filled with sadness and frustration.
"You've got to stop, baby," he whispers, almost pleading. "You can't ask any more questions about your father, okay? It's done, and he's gone, and I don't know any more about it than you do." His eyes search mine. "And even if I did have something to do with it, you can't ask questions or go around thinking I can tell you. You can't ask me about what I know, or what I do when I walk out the door. There are people out there who ..." He shakes his head as if to rid his mind of his thoughts, his eyes once again closed. "It wouldn't look good, okay?"
I don't speak—I can't—I only nod, my trembling hand reaching to remove his from my neck. His grip tightens infinitesimally as he speaks through gritted teeth.
"They told me to make sure I reminded you who was in charge, Bella. Gave me pointers on where to leave bruises no one would see." His tear-filled eyes pop open. "I would die before I hurt you, but I can't have you making me look bad, or everything I've worked for ... for us ... would be for nothing."
"I understand," I utter in a broken whisper, tears falling freely down my cheeks.
As if only now realizing what he's done, his eyes widen as he releases his hand from my neck, as if his touch has burned us both. He lurches back, collapsing onto our bed. Bringing his elbows to rest on his knees, he cradles his head in his hands asshuddering sobs wrack his body, broken apologies a litany on his tongue.
I clumsily stumble toward the door, fumbling for the knob. With heaving breaths, trying to stifle my own sobs clawing their way out of my throat, I make my way into the bathroom. The door clicks closed, and I turn and slide until I'm a sobbing puddle on the floor. I bring my blue cotton nightgown to my face, smothering my own screams of sadness and frustration as I finally let my anguish wash over me.
I wake, stiff and crumpled, from my spot on the floor to the sounds of my son wailing from his crib. I'm disoriented, but only for a moment. I blink away the fog as memories of last night flood my mind; Edward's angry words, his frustration, his hand wrapped around my neck, and the look in his eyes when he realized what he'd done.
I shake my head and force my body into submission, crawling from my place on the floor to the side of the tub to pull myself to my feet. On wobbly legs, I step to the sink to splash cold water on my face, and I catch a glimpse of the light bruising at my throat. The faint purple marks are a visible sign of what happened last night; a reminder of what my husband did to me.
Fighting my tears, I dry my face, run a brush through my hair, smooth out the unforgiving wrinkles in my dress, and step to the door. I turn the knob and open it just enough to peek into the hallway. It's empty, silent except for EJ's pleading cries. I hesitantly step from the bathroom and into his bedroom, scooping him into my arms to hold him close. With kisses and hushed reassurances, he finally settles, and we make it through our morning routine before walking downstairs to the kitchen.
No trace of my husband is seen other than a dirty glass in the sink. His shoes, coat, and hat are all missing, and I know he's left for the day, likely avoiding me and talking about what happened last night. And just like the many months leading up to where we now are, I am once again alone.
Days pass, and Edward and I circle around each other like ships passing in the night. He's out late, and by the time he walks through the door as the sun rises, I'm up for the day with EJ. It's maddening, but the alternative, to actually face him right now, would be too much. I've even taken to sleeping in the chair in EJ's room just so I can avoid the possibility of sharing a bed with him in the off chance he comes home before daylight.
Today is the first day he's been home while his son and I are awake. It's Sunday, and his family, all nine of them, plus Alice's beau, Jasper, are here for dinner. Seven of us, Carlisle and Esme, Emmett, Alice and Jasper, and Edward and I, are all squeezed in around our table made for six, while the rest of the Cullen children are seated at a folding card table in the other room. I'm seated directly across from my husband, at the opposite end of the table, and his exhaustion is apparent, even from where I'm sitting.
He rushed through the door at about six this morning, looking disheveled and tired. He hurried past me and up to the bathroom, the pipes rattling to life as he showered. Hours passed as I chopped and prepped, doing my best to make our first large family dinner a success, and I didn't see him until moments before his family arrived.
Everyone has been doing their best to hold polite conversation, aside from Jasper and Edward exchanging odd, curious glances every so often. The discussion stays neutral, not mentioning Uncle Tony and what Edward does or does not do for him; that is until Mr. Cullen decides to give the elephant in the room center stage.
"Looks like you're doing pretty well for yourself, Edward. Things must be going good, working for your uncle," Carlisle surmises from his place to my right as he brings a forkful to his lips.
All eyes at the table move between father and son, nervous for the potential for the conversation to erupt in an argument.
Edward nods as he responds. "I am, and they are." There's an almost challenging tone to his voice. "I am doing rather well for myself."
"Must be some good money in ... What did you call it? Debt collection?" Carlisle's tone holds its own challenge, and I can feel the tension in the room becoming an entity all its own.
My gaze goes to the younger children, and they're thankfully unaware of the mounting hostility between the two men seated at the larger table.
A dark expression comes over Edward's face. "You could say that. But, actually"—his eyes flash to mine before going back to his father—"I'm working as a driver for one of Uncle Tony's business partners. Kind of a personal security guard."
"A driver?" I ask, my voice disrupting the silence that has fallen over the room. "When did—"
"Just yesterday." The green of his eyes is intense as he stares at me, even though he's seated so far away. It's the first eye contact we've made in days, and our awkward exchange is on display for his entire family to see.
I pick up my glass and sip at the red wine we're all drinking as I drop my gaze to my plate. Our encounter leaves me feeling like our troubles are on display, and I'm completely out of sorts. This is the kind of discussion we should have already had, and I can tell by Esme's expression, she's disappointed in her son for not first sharing his news with me privately.
Little Jacob and EJ decide it's a good time to fuss, and their cries are a good excuse for Esme and me to tend to them. We both scoop up our sons and take them into EJ's room. Neither of us say much as we work side-by-side, changing diapers and feeding our children. It isn't until the boys are both settled and drifting off to sleep that she decides to question me.
"Are things still ... strained between the two of you?"
"Things are fine," I say as I stare down at the almost sleeping infant in my arms.
"That didn't look fine to me, Bella."
I look up at her. "He's just been busy with work, and we haven't had much time to talk lately." My excuse sounds weak, even to me. I smile, attempting to convey emotion I'm incapable of feeling.
"I just ..." She sighs. "I hate seeing the two of you have problems so early in your marriage." She's silent for a moment, hesitant to say what's obviously on her mind.
"What is it, Esme?" I ask, my impatience shining through the cracks of the thin veneer of composure I've worn all evening.
Her expression is contemplative until she speaks what's on her mind. "Maybe if you tried—"
A humorless laugh escapes me as frustrated tears well in my eyes. "Sure, Ma," I say, shaking my head in disbelief. "I just need to try harder."
She doesn't say any more.
The Boy
"You gotta help me, Uncle Tony!" I flop into the armchair across from his and scrub my hands over my face. I tilt my head back and exhale. "I can't keep doing this," I mutter before looking back at my uncle. "I'm afraid I'm gonna lose my family."
I've found myself in my uncle's home in the early hours of the morning after driving all night wondering what I should do, how to save my crumbling marriage.
Thoughts of ordering away my wife and son, packing my bags and leaving myself, even provoking someone into whacking me had all seemed like good ideas, but I couldn't bring myself to do any of them. I was halfway to West Virginia before I decided making a plea to my uncle seemed like the best option at this point.
He shakes his head as he reaches for the pack of cigarettes on the side table and lights one. "What do you want me to do, Eddie? You're one of my best guys. Besides, Felix only has good things to say about you, says you've got real potential. Even said you're almost ready to take on your own territory for me soon."
I'm shaking my head before the words are out of his mouth. "Unless I get a crew of my own, can pass off some of the dirty work to someone else, I don't want it."
Silence stretches between us, and the look on my uncle's face says it all. "You know I can't do that, Ed."
"But why not? Word is the books haven't been opened in a while, so it's about time a few guys moved up. And I've made my bones. Hell, I whacked my own father in law, so I've proven my loyalty to the organization. You can't say I haven't earned my button." I'm leaning forward in my seat at this point, growing more excited the more I ramble on.
"Eddie," he says his tone placating. "We both know you'll never be a made guy. The blood that runs through your veins is half Cullen, which makes you half a Mick and only half Italian. I'm sorry, but my hands are tied."
I nod a curt nod, already expecting his answer, even if I'd hoped something had changed. "I just can't do this anymore."
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. "Eddie, you know this isn't a job you can just walk away fr—"
"I know!" I say as I jump to my feet. "I'm not asking to leave, to get out, I just need ... I just need ..." I groan, a frustrated, desperate sound, gripping at my hair. "I hurt her, Tony. I put my hands on my wife, and if she hadn't snapped me out of whatever the fuck had my head in a fog, I could've choked the life out of her." I rest my knuckles on the back of my chair and lean forward. "You've got to find something else for me, I'm begging you."
He scowls, obviously unimpressed with my show of weakness in his eyes. "That's shit you need to work out on your own, Eddie, learn how to rein it in," he mumbles around the cigarette in his mouth before pulling it from his lips and snuffing what's left into the ashtray at his side. "And besides, any other place we use you, whoever you work for, you're gonna get your hands dirty. You know this. I told you from the beginning it wouldn't be easy."
I plop into my seat. "I know, and I'm working on it, but there has to be somewhere you can put me where I'm not using my fists every night." I sit up straight. "Maybe a guard or security for one of the guys. I just can't keep going out every night, beating the hell outta people and then go home to my wife and son and pretend I'm not some kind of monster."
He thrums his fingers on his desk, seeming to mull over what I've said before sighing. "I ain't makin' any promises, but I'll see what I can do. Mr. LaRocca's right-hand man, Amato, he's looking for a new driver. I could put in a good word for you. It might not be any more dough, but it would get you away from Felix." He narrows his eyes, pointing his finger straight to my face. "And this conversation doesn't leave this room; it never happened, capisce?"
I nod my head in agreement. "Whatever you ask of me, consider it done."
"The only reason I'm even considering this is because you're my sister's boy. Anyone else ..." he trails off, shaking his head before meeting my eyes. "Anybody else and they wouldn't walk back out that door on their own two feet, asking for special treatment." He huffs a breath. "I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything."
After that, I sneak into our son's room every night, just to breathe the same air as her. This is where I know she's sleeping instead of in our bed. I'm not man enough to face her, face what I've done, but I have to see her. Even in the moonlight, I can see the bruises I've left on her skin. They fade as the days wear on, but my guilt grows like a cancer in my bones.
The remorse I feel about the way I treated Bella is eating away at me. Not only did I lie to her, scream at her for only wanting answers, but I also put my hands on her, left bruises on her pale skin ... skin she used to let me kiss.
And here I sit, telling her in front of my entire family about my new job. It's a conversation I should have had with her before they all arrived, but for days I was too chicken shit to speak to her. Since the night I left her crying and running from me, I've been avoiding her. And I know she's avoiding me, too. I just don't know how to face her, how to make her understand how sorry I am ... for everything.
Glancing at my sister's beau, I know I need to tread lightly around him. He's probably heard or seen things that might be misconstrued if it ever got back to my sister or my wife. No one would understand the position I've found myself in, the situations I've gotten myself into over the last few months. My worries are confirmed when Jasper opens his mouth.
"So, Eddie, my cousin tells me he's seen you around town, spending time with the boys who hang out at the Flamingo Lounge."
I narrow my eyes at him. "Yes, I've been there before for business meetings. What's it to 'ya?" I briefly lock eyes with a wide-eyed Alice, but ignore her for the moment.
"Business?" he scoffs. "Yeah, I've heard all about what kind of business goes on down there."
I quietly seethe, wanting so badly to put him in his place. But before I can say anything, my wife and Ma walk back into the room. The look of determination on her face, to make the best of the evening, is enough to make the words die on my tongue.
A/N: How is everyone? I know it was rough for a little while. These poor kids are in kind of a helpless situation, aren't they? Thoughts? Come chat about it in my FB group, Sunshine Fics. :)
As always, your response always blows me away. Last week I received more than double the reviews from the first week of posting! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me.
Unfortunately, we got hit with an ice storm last Thursday, which led to a power outage for two days. Trying to clean up the damage from the storm and everything else that goes along with it kept me from replying to reviews last week. I've tried to reply to those of you who left direct questions for me, but I couldn't get to the rest of them. This week will probably be the same, unfortunately. With having company this week, I doubt I'll be able to get to them. If you ask me a direct question, I will do my very best to reply. Please know I read each and every one of them, and I really appreciate all the support you've given my story.
For those of you here in the US celebrating turkey day, may your stretchy pants not fail you, your gravy have no lumps, and your loved ones' hugs be warm. Have a happy Thanksgiving!
See you all next Thursday!
Lots of love,
Sunshine