A/N for 2019-01-10: It was lovely to hear your reactions to the last chapter. Clearly, you like seeing bad people get their comeuppance. More on that later in the story.
Many thanks to Eeyorefan12 for their stellar, and speedy pre-reading, and Beta services for this chapter. I tinkered with the text a little afterwards, so all errors are my own.
~ Erin
Page: AT FlamingMapleWrites on FB
FB name: Erin Affleck
"So, um, Seth seems nice." Bella offered.
"Yeah," Sally said, blushing and smiling over her letter tiles. "He is." Her pieces clicked together as she shuffled them.
Downstairs, Emmett's voice boomed out, "I own you, man!"
He and Edward were playing a game together on the TV. Its purpose and means were a happy mystery to Bella. She doubted that Edward wanted to play it either, but she appreciated him giving her and Sally some space and time to be together.
Besides, after several depressing prior attempts to play Scrabble with Edward, Bella had given up.
When he'd last suggested a game, she'd sort of sighed. "Er . . . maybe when I've had a few more years, and I have a vampire brain to work with, we can try again," she had told him.
"You're pretty good. Don't be so down on yourself," he'd encouraged her.
"You've beaten me by almost a hundred points every time," Bella had reminded him.
Sally's voice brought Bella back to the present.
"He asked me if I'd like to see a movie with him in Port Angeles."
"Really?" Bella could barely contain her grin.
"Yup."
They stared at their letter racks for several moments, the clack of wood on wood a comfortable background to their silence.
"How old is Seth?" Bella asked. It was hard to tell with the werewolves. They all looked so much older than they were.
"Fifteen." More blushing.
Shoot. She'd embarrassed her. "Oh. He seems much older. . . an old soul, you know?"
Sally's sweet smile graced her face once more. "Very." Then she chuckled. "His sister's driving us. He's not old enough to drive yet."
Bella tried to simultaneously smile, and not cringe too visibly. Leah could be . . . not so bitter at times. At others . . .
"Think she's worried I might make moves on her little brother," Sally said conspiratorially.
Bella snorted out a laugh. "You cougar, you."
"Gotta watch out for those fallen women and all that."
The smile slid off of Bella's face. "No."
Sally looked up, eyebrows nudged together in question.
"Sorry." Bella said. "I know we used to joke about it and stuff. It helped but—it was never like that, Sally. You know that, right?"
"I know." Her voice was quiet, face solemn.
More silence. This time, it had an uncomfortable edge.
"You, um, still talking to someone?" Sally asked.
"Yeah. You?"
More nodding.
"Does it help . . . so, I mean—" Sally's blush met her eyebrows. "Can you and Edward—?" Her hand waved around as if searching for words.
Bella wasn't exactly sure what Sally was asking, but had an idea where she might be heading. "We haven't, not yet. We want to wait. Until we're married."
"Oh," Sally said, clearly surprised. "I'm, um—wow. You don't want—?"
Bella cleared her throat. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with friends, even one like Sally, and definitely not in range of the several sets of vampiric ears located in the house.
"Sorry." Sally mumbled. "I didn't mean to pry. I'm glad things are better."
"Me too."
Picking up a few tiles from her rack, Sally set them down on the board. "Pixie. For twenty points."
"Nice." Bella said, drumming her fingers on the game box, trying to settle her feelings. She distracted herself with searching for her own move. When she found it, she smiled. "Aerie." She nudged the tiles into place.
"Really?" Sally asked, frowning. "You sure that's a real word?"
"Yup."
"OK, I'm challenging."
It was nice to see her standing up for herself, even in this small way.
"You know you lose your turn when you're wrong, right?" Bella's tone was playful.
Sally didn't miss a beat. "And you lose yours when I'm right."
Bella's grin was wide as she hopped up to get the dictionary. As she moved towards the shelf, her sleeve caught the corner of a file on her desk, knocking it onto the floor, where its contents fluttered outward.
"Shoot," she muttered.
"Graceful as ever, hey Swan?" Sally teased, laughing.
"Clearly." Bella sighed, starting to pick up the paperwork. With a small jolt of worry, she realized it had been the file Jasper had assembled—the one that held what he'd found on David. She hoped Sally couldn't see any of the reports. They'd made her shudder, realizing how much worse things could have been. Sally didn't need more reminders of that kind of ugliness.
"Oh," Sally said, voice cracking. "Oh." She was staring at a piece of paper.
David's picture.
Bella's eyes widened, watching Sally's face collapse in on itself.
The sounds from downstairs seemed to have disappeared. The house was suddenly, and very eerily quiet.
"Sally?" Bella called softly.
Sally dropped the picture back onto Bella's desk, then wiped her fingers absentmindedly on her shirt.
"Why do you have his picture?" Sally stared at it, her breathing rapid and tight in her chest.
"You know him?"
Sally nodded. "From . . . there."
"I'm so sorry." Very tentatively, Bella held out her hand, feeling Sally's small fingers wrap around it.
After a moment, Sally asked her, "Did he—with you?"
"Yes," Bella breathed out. "That first night."
Sally's eyes squeezed shut in a grimace. Then she brought her arms around Bella.
They stayed there, silent except for their strained breaths, throats too tight for words.
When Bella felt like she could talk again, her voice was husky, but low with conviction. "I'm going to make sure he doesn't hurt you, or anyone else again, OK?"
She didn't expect Sally's bitter chuckle beneath her snuffly tears. "Let me know when. I'll give you a hand."
- 0 -
Mr. Newton had offered Bella her job back but, hearing the strained tone in his voice and the sounds in the background of the phone call, Bella had known it would be awkward and uncomfortable to work there. She also didn't want to be a source of division within the Newton family.
Edward had countered her on this. "You're not responsible for their family dynamics, Bella."
"I know," she'd sighed. "But it would only aggravate things. I just—there's not much point, is there?"
"If you want the job, you should take it."
She had hesitated before speaking. She'd thought a lot about what the future might hold for them. She didn't need the job, really, but she wanted to prove her abilities to herself. It didn't need to be at Newton's though. "I think, considering our plans, I probably don't need to—financially anyway."
She had watched as Edward constrained what clearly wanted to be a wide smile. "No."
"I would like to get some experience, though," she'd continued, "and I heard that the library has some volunteer spots with their children's programs."
Edward's eyebrows had lifted in inquiry. "Do you like being around children?" His voice had been soft. She'd wondered if he worried that there wouldn't be any for her.
"I like their willingness to accept what they see."
"Mmm," Edward had said, his chest relaxing in what she'd thought was relief. "They're quite perceptive."
"Does that worry you, Mr. Cullen?" she had teased.
"Worry me? Not at all, because I stay away from them for just that reason."
"Really? Children got you scared?"
That had made him laugh. "Hardly, but if we want to be discreet . . ." He'd shrugged.
Remembering the conversation, Bella smiled to herself while she shelved the books she'd used for the last group of preschoolers. While reading one particular book to them, her voice had trembled as she'd struggled with the words.
"You're sad," a serious little boy had said.
"Yes," she'd conceded, when she had paused before turning to the next page.
"Their momma comes home," he'd whispered. "In the book. It's OK."
"Yes, she does, doesn't she?" She'd choked out.
He'd patted her knee. "S'OK. Keep going."
She had, managing to get to the end of the book without falling apart.
"I prefer Eric Carle myself," a familiar voice cooed behind her.
Owl Babies dropped from her hands, caught neatly by a pale one in front of her. "Sorry," Edward said. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
"I know. I was just . . . lost in my thoughts."
"Yes," he said, looking at the books in her arms. "Ponderous depths." He tapped Owl Babies with a finger.
She chuckled, shaking her head.
Holding the spine of the rescued book with one hand, Edward's other hand made the pages buzz under his thumb.
She realized, watching him put it down and look at her, that he'd actually read it. As in, scooped up the words as the pages zipped by.
Her mind boggled again at what he was capable of.
"I can see why it would leave you thinking." His hand found hers.
God help her if the tears weren't fresh again.
"It's just a kid's book."
His smile was soft, but he didn't offer more words.
She was grateful.
Instead, he picked up more of the books, and began shelving them.
She grabbed another handful and did likewise.
After a moment, he plucked a small board book from one of the low wooden spinners.
It was The Very Hungry Caterpillar.
He began reading it aloud, dropping his voice an octave, nearly singing out the syllables. He kept shelving with his other hand, his perfect rhythm unbroken.
" . . . one piece of cherry pie, one sausage—"
"Okay," she interrupted him, giggling, "what is it with that list of food?"
"What about it?" Edward asked.
"Well, first of all, it just seems like a weird picnic. Why would you have chocolate cake, pie, cupcakes, and ice cream cones at one picnic? That's a lot of dessert for one picnic hamper."
"Perhaps he enjoyed food from several hampers?"
"And the cherry pie . . . and the sausage? Please." She rolled her eyes.
"And what about those things do you find distasteful?"
"I don't. It's more the Freudian undertones I object to in a children's book."
Edward's chuckle was deep, and gratifying to hear. "Do you know what Freud would have said, Bella?"
"No, but I'm sure you'll enlighten me."
"Sometimes, a piece of cherry pie is just a piece of cherry pie."
She snorted. "But a sausage is always—"
Edward resumed his reading, more loudly. Waving his free arm dramatically, he concluded, "And he was a beautiful butterfly!" Then he took a perfect and graceful bow.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Looks a lot more like a beautiful Vampire from where I'm standing," she whispered. .
He put the book down and came closer, sliding his arm around her waist. "Hardly. I don't change, but you do. And your daily metamorphosis is beautiful enough for me."
She rolled her eyes.
"Though your dietary requirements seem much more proscribed, and far less healthy: poptarts and lasagne."
She had been eating lasagne of late, the result of several attempts to recreate a favorite recipe of her grandmother's. There was a small colony of lasagne trays that had taken over the Cullens' freezer. She didn't mind repetitive meals, but Edward actively disapproved.
"Do I change so much?" she asked him seriously. "Every day?"
"Most wondrously and beautifully," he assured her.
"Well then, this caterpillar is finished for the day, and a bit hungry, so perhaps it's time to take her home." She cleared her throat. "And you can tell me all about how cherry pie and sausages are not Freudian references." Then she stood on her tiptoes, and whispered behind his ear. "Better yet, you can show me."
Edward's hand tightened around her waist, but his grin widened, and they left.
Very quickly.
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.