Hey, I am having a great time sharing my story with you guys. I can't believe how fantastic and helpful you all are.
Recap: Yesterday, Bella had just had an amazing dream about Edward's past and a little girl named Annie. She is going to Chicago to try and solve the mystery . . . .
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After packing in a flurry, I was back at Phil and Renee's by mid-morning. I found a flight that would get me to Chicago tomorrow afternoon. Phil came through again. He had contacts that got me a hotel room in Chicago. Some kind of trade for when the guy came to Florida for spring training.
Renee was much more understanding than I thought she'd be. I was extremely distracted and jumpy that day and, not true to form, she attempted to be a responsible and calm mother. She wanted to know why I was going to Chicago and I told her that I had applied to schools in that area and that I needed to visit the campuses of each one before I made my final choice. Just as I'd hoped, she was eager for me to go.
I hated lying to her, but I thought that the real story; the love of my life is a hundred and six-year old vampire and I have find out if he killed a little girl when he was twelve, was a bit much.
That night at Phil and Renee's, I lay there in bed trying to make any more sense of my dream. I had a plan of where to begin looking for clues, but wouldn't Edward have tried to find out all this himself? I wasn't sure I could make a difference. I hugged the pillow next to me. Oh, how I missed him. I wanted his cold marble arms around me. I wanted to rest my head on his stone chest and feel his cold lips on mine. It had been almost two days since I had talked to him. What if he really thought I had decided not to come back?
The next morning I packed quickly. My flight left at 10:00 a.m. As I packed up my laptop, I wanted so much to tell Edward where I was going. I thought that even if he didn't answer me, he would at least know where I would be. I hesitated. I had a feeling that if I told him I was going to Chicago to look into his past he would be very angry. He might try to interfere, or talk me out of it. I put the laptop in my suitcase and left for the airport.
At around 2:00 that afternoon, I stepped out of the airport in Chicago. It was muggy. Once again, I felt all the heat and humidity. The heat had a wetness to it that made my clothes stick to me. I felt that when I exhaled I would be able to see my breath like in the winter, only it would come out as steam.
I got a taxi and gave him the address to the hotel. I hadn't been in a taxi since I was racing to meet James that awful day in Phoenix. On that day, I thought I would never see Edward again, but he had been on his way to save me. Now I was fighting to save him.
The taxi went on Lake Shore Drive past Lake Michigan. I could see people and children standing by the shore. Did Edward play here when he was little? I saw large trees dotting the sides of the road. Were these trees here when Edward was a boy? Thinking of him as a human made him seem so much more vulnerable.
I threw my bags in the room and found a bus that would take me to the city building that dealt with past records. I was sure the offices closed at 5:00. It was already after 3:00, but I wasn't going to waste any time.
After talking with a very business-like but helpful lady, I was staring at a computer filled with data from 1900-1920.
I began with what I knew. I typed in Edward Anthony Masen. Several individuals came on the screen. I began narrowing it down. It took a while, but I found one that had birth and death dates that seemed to fit. Edward Anthony Masen Jr. born June 20, 1901 - died August 15, 1918. I hated to see Edward's death date on that screen. His parents were Elizabeth and Edward Sr. He was the only child listed.
I had no idea how to find out who Annie was. I had the Masen's last address. It was an apartment building. I looked for Annie using that same apartment building's address, but there was nothing. By the time I got this far in my search, the city offices were about to close, which meant I would have to wait until tomorrow to continue.
That night when I went back to the hotel, I wanted so much to talk to Edward. I wondered what he would do if he knew I was here. Alice had to know that I had come to Chicago.
I was staring at an address on my laptop. It was the last known address for Edward and his parents. Five minutes later I was in a cab with the address in my hand. It wasn't very far out of the city. Fifteen minutes later, I was standing in front of what used to be Edward's home.
I stepped onto the curb and looked up. It was now a high rise office building, but as I concentrated harder, I could see the same street that existed so long ago.
I looked around me, this was his same view, same sky. I took a deep breath. This was where he had breathed air as a human boy. This was where his heart was beating. His hopes and dreams had been so different here. He had no idea what lay in his future.
I stared at the sidewalk at about the spot I remembered from my dream and thought of him as a young boy holding Annie. I remembered his tears. I stared at the spot where as a young man he had collapsed.
There could have been such a different ending. He could have died, long forgotten. But instead, his beautiful face pounded in my heart and gave me my reason for everything. Once again I silently thanked Carlisle for saving my angel for me.
I saw people walking down the sidewalk, but I knew that none of them could help me. No one would remember Edward, or Annabelle. No one was alive that would remember, no one.
I had a restless sleep that night. Tomorrow would be three days since I had talked to Edward and the last thing he had done was to basically ask me to leave him. Even though he said that he wouldn't answer my calls or e-mails, I didn't know what I'd say at this point anyway. No matter how much I said I loved him, he would still think he was a monster.
I was at the city offices waiting when they opened the next morning. I was more determined than ever to solve this mystery. I had one idea. There had to be some mention of a little girl's death. Last night I was thinking about my dream and the little boy who was selling newspapers on the corner. I went back to the same helpful lady and she directed me to records of past newspaper articles.
From the dream, I did the math in my head and judged Annie to be about six or seven years old. Edward looked to be about 12, so that would put it between the years of 1912-1913. Good a place as any to start.
The rest of the day was spent clicking through page after page of newsprint. My eyes were going blurry from scanning so much information.
I had about 20 more minutes before they would close and I was very discouraged. I rubbed my tired eyes. I had not found one clue about Annie. I started to doubt that my dream had any bearing on reality. What if it was just a crazy dream?
I had just let out an aggravated sigh when a name caught my eye on the death-birth page. It was just one line.
"Annabelle Ruth Masen, died October 2, 1913. Born January 28, 1906. Seven years old. 749 Pierpont Avenue, Chicago.
This address and Edward's were the same. The article gave her name as Annabelle Masen. Could Annie have been Edward's sister? There was no record of her. Maybe a cousin? It had to be the same Annie. I was confused. I went to the front desk and showed her my conflicting information. She too, was confused.
She gave me a list of four or five leads that I could try the next day, but she was not very hopeful I would find anything.
That night in my hotel room I lay in bed listening to the sounds of an unfamiliar city. I had to find Annie. She had to exist somewhere. I would only be able to stay in Chicago for a few more days. Phil could only give me a week. I did not want to go back to Forks without a resolution. Edward and I didn't have much of a chance of a future if his demons kept him from having peace.
Annie's pretty face and ringlets were the last image I remembered before falling asleep that night.
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I could hear the piano music again. It was so beautiful. The chords seemed to be yearning for me to listen.
I thought I was all alone, but as I turned, I could see someone coming in the distance. It was a woman. As she got closer, I could feel my excitement begin to build.
A beautiful woman with bronze hair and vibrant green eyes was looking at me with so much emotion in her face. She smiled and reached out to me.
"Bella," she said. "Thank you for making my son so happy. He has been waiting for you for so long." She reached out her warm hand to touch my face as only a mother can and said, "You love him a great deal."
All I could do was nod my head and say, "Yes."
She looked so much like Edward. The same goodness. So much love coming from her face.
She took my hand in both of hers and said, "Tell him his soul is not lost." She was looking at me with such fervency that it appeared as if there was fire in her eyes. She was holding on to my hand so tightly. Then she said, "It is never too late to be redeemed."
Her expression changed, and she took her hands and placed them on both sides of my face and said, "Sarah Jane Dutton." I was so surprised by this change of subject that I asked, "What?" She looked into my eyes and repeated, "Sarah Jane Dutton." She backed away from me and she was gone.
I awoke to find tears on my cheek. I blinked in the darkness. It took about 5 seconds for me to realize that I had just "talked" to Edward's mother. I put my hand over my mouth as I began to cry again.
She was beautiful. She was also beautiful on the inside just like her son. I wanted to talk to her again. I had so many questions. She seemed aware of what Edward had been going through. I couldn't wait to tell him. Wait. . .there was more to the dream. A name.
For a moment I thought I'd forgotten, then it came to me, Sarah Jane Dutton. I jumped out of bed. It was about 4:00 a.m. I rubbed my face. These dreams and visitations were wreaking havoc with my sleep.
I leafed through all the information I had gathered on my laptop. There was no mention of any Duttons. After double checking my notes, I had an idea come to me to look in the phone book.
Could it be that easy? The Chicago phone book was huge. It was divided into three sections. I found Duttons in the first two sections, but none with the first name Sarah. If her husband's name was listed instead of hers, I would never find her this way. My finger started down the last section of Duttons.
"Oh my gosh," I said to myself.
There was a Sarah Dutton. I felt a chill run through me. It was 5:15 a.m., still too early to call. I probably couldn't call until 9:00 a.m.. What the heck was I going to say?
Honesty was not going to work in this situation. There was a university close by. I could be a researcher working on a paper. Time crept on while I came up with a plausible explanation for calling this woman. Please let her be the right Sarah Dutton, I kept thinking.
At 7:00 a.m. I took a shower. As I let the hot water run over my tired muscles, I stood there shaking my head. Edward's mother appeared to me. She talked to me and gave me the name of someone who could possibly answer Edward's lifelong questions. Did this happen to everyone who prayed?
The closer it got to 9:00 a.m. the harder my heart began to pound. I could feel it in my ears. Finally at 8:50 a.m. I called. The phone rang twice, three times, "Holy Crow, someone answer the phone!" I thought. Then a tiny older voice answered. "Hello."
"Hello," my voice cracked. "Is this Mrs. Sarah Jane Dutton?" "Yes," she answered warily.
"My name is Isabella Swan and I am a student from Northwestern University. I am a student working on a report about family life in the early 1900's, and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about your family."
"Okay," she was clearly suspicious now. I had her address, if she hung up on me I was prepared to go beat on her door.
I asked the big question, "Do you know an Annabelle Masen, possibly related to an Edward Masen family?"
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"Hello?" I squeaked.
Finally I heard her voice. She was clearly emotional, "I haven't heard those names in so many years."
I collapsed on the bed. I wasn't prepared to get this far. I stammered, "Could. . . could I meet with you to discuss them, possibly today?"
"Yes," she said with much enthusiasm. "Come anytime."
I looked at the clock. "I'll be there in an hour," I said. I grabbed my purse and a notebook and ran out the door.
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