Chapter 2

Five days had passed since I'd landed on British soil – five long days. I'd missed my cousins terribly, and had enjoyed our short time together shopping, eating, reminiscing, and goofing off together, but with each passing day I had grown more impatient to be on my way. Rosalie and Jasper had sweetly offered to accompany me the few hours journey north to the estate that I would now call home, but I had politely declined. After several rounds of hugs and goodbyes, I finally made my get-away. A few hours later and several failed attempts at a nap later, my bus made its stop in the little town I remembered well. I was the only passenger left, so the driver helped me unload my bags. He smiled and waved as he drove away, leaving me standing on the damp brick road, still wet from a recent rain. I looked around me, glancing at the little town at the bottom of the hill, and up the bright green grass covered hill. My breath caught and my heart lept inside my chest as my eyes landed on the beautiful, stately castle on the hill. It overlooked the town and the coast with an air of majesty. As I bent down to collect my bags, I heard someone behind me. I turned and was met by Father Thomas, my grandmother's old coffee buddy.

"Bella, welcome!" He held out his arms to hug me as I set my bag down. He embraced me, and the unmistakable scent of fresh coffee clung tightly to him.

I breathed in the scent, a wave of nostalgia surprising me as tears filled my eyes.

"You smell of coffee, father."

He pulled back to reveal his own damp eyes, smiling.

"Yes, I felt the need for a cup while I waited for you to arrive. Come, I'll walk you up."

We walked up the steep road together, and talked of the goings on of the little town I would now be living above. Winded and worn out, we finally made it up the sharp incline and onto the castle grounds. I set my bag down and bent over to catch my breath.

Father Thomas did the same, resting my luggage against the concrete stairs leading the rest of the way up.

"Well, this is my stop. I would offer to help you the rest of the way, but I'm afraid I'm not as young as I used to be." He smiled apologetically and gave me a parting hug.

"Thanks for your help. I don't want to think about lugging this stuff up here by myself."

He turned and started down the hill towards town again, waving over his shoulder and calling out his goodbyes.

I turned and looked up at what I now would call home. It was breathtaking. It was mine.

I grabbed the handle of my rolling luggage and threw my bag over my shoulder. Dragging the luggage up the concrete steps one at a time, I finally reached the top of the steps and entered the courtyard. It was quiet except for the fierce English wind blowing here and there. Everything was immaculate. The grounds were maintained just as well as the last time I'd been here just a few months ago, even with no one living here any longer.

Rolling my bag along as I passed under the stone archway, I could finally see the massive castle in front of me. Instead of looming menacingly over me, it simply felt as though it was my protection, my guardian. I smiled as the comfort once again washed over me, and felt a peace inside myself I could not place. Gone was the sense of urgency, the pulling; in it's place was now a warm secure sense of comfort. I felt home.

The large wooden doors were heavy as I pushed them open, and stepped inside. Closing the heavy doors, I started down the corridor past the kitchen and towards the main staircase. It was quiet, and strangely, not unsettling. My grandma had always been the only one occupying the property, so I had been used to having the place almost all to myself on my visits. Besides that, I had always felt more at home in this very place than anywhere else I'd ever been. Dragging my bag up the dark wooden stairs, I reached the second floor. Taking off my coat, I threw it over my arm and walked to the stairs that led to the third floor. That was where my room was, and I'd already decided I would keep it.

My energy began to wane as I climbed the last of the stairs and began the walk down the hallway to my room. All the doors were open as I passed, but I only had eyes for my door.

I entered my room and let my bags and coat fall to the floor. I toed off my boots and pulled my hat off my head, tossing it to the floor. I turned on the lamp beside the bed and pulled back the covers, and climbed into my bed. As I laid down and snuggled under the covers, I felt like I was in heaven. My eyes closed, and I drifted.

oooooooooooooo

"Isabella."

I sat bolt upright as I was suddenly woken by his voice, calling my name. Breathing hard, I glanced over at the light on the bedside table. It was off. I clicked it on and looked around, listening for the sound of his voice again.

Nothing.

I could see that it was already dark outside, and as I checked the time on my phone it said 10:30pm. Fabulous. I'd slept all afternoon and evening, and now was wide awake.

I threw back the covers and shivered: time to light a fire.

There was a generous stockpile of wood stacked beside and in front of the fireplace, as usual. After starting the fire, I made my way into the bathroom to take care of my human needs, as grandma used to say.

There were towels folded and placed on the vanity, making a hot shower something I would definitely be doing later.

I unpacked my bags and put away my toiletries before making my way downstairs and into the kitchen for something to eat. Surprisingly, the cupboards were full of pasta, canned vegetables from the garden, and even my favorite raspberry biscuits. I raised my eyebrows at the little package. How the hell was there actually food here that didn't look ancient, and on top of that, my favorite English biscuits?

I grabbed the package, deciding now was not the time to question things, being that I was starving like a hostage and all.

Expecting to find a dark, empty fridge that wasn't even turned on, I opened the door to find fresh milk, orange juice, eggs, bacon, butter, and other various perishables. What the hell?

Whatever. I shook my head and snagged the glass jug of milk, closing the fridge door and plopping into a chair at the table with my unexpected loot. I opened the milk and brought the bottle to my nose and sniffed, hoping it wouldn't be rancid. It was fresh.

I looked at the bottle and looked around the kitchen, wondering what other surprises I would find. Perhaps Father Thomas or someone had surprised me with a stocked kitchen. I would have to express my serious thanks for the delightful bounty I was about to partake in. I opened the crinkly package of delectable flaky goodness, and moaned in pleasure as my mouth watered around the first heavenly bite. I drank the milk right from the bottle, as always, and repeated the process with a few more biscuits. Capping the milk and folding the package closed, I put everything back in its place and headed back upstairs with a happy stomach to enjoy the fire for a while.

It was crackling and happy as I entered my room, blazing along just perfectly. I pulled my chaise lounge from the corner up closer to the fire and stretched out, sighing in contentment.

Tonight I didn't want to do anything but enjoy the fire, maybe a hot shower, and hopefully get some sleep.

As I stared at the flames, I thought of his voice earlier when I'd woken up. He'd said my name, but it was different this time. It didn't sound longing, but pleased instead.

After a while of waiting to feel the first waves of drowsiness that would not yet come, I decided to explore the castle to see if anything had changed since last I'd been here a few months ago.

Grabbing the old lantern from my dresser and the matches in the top right drawer, I lit the wick and replaced the glass globe over the little flame.

One by one I glanced in each room on the third floor, only to see everything exactly the same as it had been before. Deciding to take a look on the second floor, I carefully made my way down the stairs, and began the process again. Each room was immaculate and intact, the beautiful old furniture still in place, the large mirrors above each dresser, the fireplaces stocked with wood – it all held great memories for me.

I could remember playing under the old piano in the study, and the countless hours I'd spent reading and napping in the library, where I now stood.

Tossing some wood in the fire, I hastily started another fire for warmth and placed the heavy metal screen over the hearth. Satisfied with my efforts, I turned to fetch a book from the shelves in the hopes that reading might make me sleepy. As I started towards the bookcases, I stopped when I noticed a dark brown book lying in the chair closest to the fire.

Reaching for it, I carefully picked it up and turned it over, looking for a title. The spine said nothing, so I opened it to the first pages.

There, written in the most beautiful, old penmanship was a note. It read as follows:

"Dearest Isabella, welcome home. I took the liberty of laying out your favorite for you. I hope you sleep well. Love, E."

I felt my brows furrow together as I studied the intricate flowing script on the page, addressed to me, to my full first name. No one called me Isabella but my grandmother. But the book wasn't signed with her initial, nor was the handwriting hers.

Never taking my eyes off the script, I sat down in the chair facing the fire. I turned a couple more pages until I found the title I already knew would be there: Emily Dickinson, 1924, first edition. I had read these poems so often when I was younger that I no longer needed a book for a few of my favorites to recite them.

I flipped to the middle of the book and immediately came upon one of my favorites when I was a little girl. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, and quietly spoke the words I knew by heart:

I hide myself within my flower,

That wearing on your breast,

You, unsuspecting, wear me too -

And angels know the rest.

I hide myself within my flower,

That, fading from your vase,

You, unsuspecting, feel for me

Almost a loneliness.

I smiled to myself and leaned my head back in my chair, hugging the book to my chest. My eyes remained closed as I thought about my many nights over the course of my life. They had been the only time I'd truly felt at home somewhere, and tonight, resting by the fire in my home, I had never felt more at home.

I listened to the soft crackling of the fire in front of me, luxuriating in the warmth of it's heat. As I began to drift peacefully to sleep, my last conscious thoughts were of him.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

EPOV

As her breathing slowed and fell into a steady rhythm, I emerged from the darkness to come near her. She was sleeping peacefully, as I already knew, looking more beautiful than any woman I'd ever seen.

As I stared at her from across the quiet room, I thought back to the many restless years since she first came here, how long I had waited for her.

Time before she came had passed quickly, one year blurring into another: an endless parade of mindless existence. Everything changed the first time I heard her, smelled her, seen her....something had hit me in the chest harder than anything in this world was capable of. According to my wise but nosy sister Alice, the little girl that had blown into my home like the sweetest breeze was the one I had been waiting for.

Alice had insisted that she could see Isabella and I, and that we would be inseparable. I had demanded to know how it was anything but proper that we were even discussing the young girl's future with me, desperately asking for any specifics to placate my conscience. It seemed incomprehensible that a little girl could invoke such new feelings inside of me.

New feelings I'd never felt before, namely a sense of protectiveness over the girl, curiosity, and something else I couldn't put vocabulary behind.

I had no improper feelings towards her; to me, she was simply something I knew I couldn't let go of.

I would wait for her as long as it took.

The first night, after Alice's assurances by phone that I wouldn't hurt her, I had sat in the chair next to her bed and simply observed her.

At some point in the night, I'd remembered, she'd reached out her hand, her fingers on her hand outstretched over the side of the bed. She was having a nightmare, it seemed, as she was terrified sounding.

It was then I made a decision that I have since struggled with. I'd reached out my cold hand, and gently taken her hand in mine.

I was terrified that she would wake and find me next to her bed; her nightmare would have paled in comparison.

As I braced myself for the moment I would need to disappear into the shadows of her room, the most incredible thing happened.

She'd calmed, smiled, and left her hand in mine. I imagined what it must feel like to look over one's own child in sleep, as though she were my child to take care of and protect.

As I was warring with myself over how long to hold onto her hand once she'd calmed, it had happened.

She began to speak in her sleep.

She'd mumbled about being afraid, and I then crossed another line with a human. I brushed my hand along her forehead, barely ghosting across her skin. She'd sighed, and she'd been comforted.

Then, breaking all the rules, I'd began to speak to her to comfort her. I wanted more than anything to give her peace, to allow her to drift back into pleasant dreams.

I spoke quietly, telling her things that amazed me as the words fell from my lips.

I told her things I'd never felt for a human before, or for anyone of my kind.

I'd spoken her name, the one I'd heard her grandmother calling her all evening.

I promised her that she would never be alone again.

She'd grasped my hand tighter, and like the first hit of the best drug, she'd smiled and drifted off into a peaceful sleep. She was forever imprinted on my heart.

Shortly after she seemed deeply under, I released her hand and placed it gently back on the bed beside her. I leaned back in my chair and watched her for a few seconds, and then I ran. I left the grounds and ran through the night.

I was running from myself, from her, from anything that didn't make any sense to me.

After a few minutes and many miles later, I'd stopped and sat on a bluff overlooking the sea. There was hardly any moonlight to illuminate the water below, but I could see perfectly without it.

I watched as seemingly structured waves rolled in, and then became indistinguishable once they reached the rocky shore. I never broke my gaze away from the waves as I battled myself, thought of Alice's words, and even more so, thought of the girl.

By the time the sun was just started to warm the black sky near the horizon, my decision had been made, though nagging thoughts still troubled me.

I wanted to protect her, to comfort her. I didn't understand it, but I would fight to the death to keep her safe.

There was no going back. I hid myself from view when I returned, the one rule I would not break with the girl. She could not see me.

I listened from a distance the next day, hoping she wouldn't have remembered any of my comforting her the night before during her nightmare.

I was floored when she and her grandmother spoke alone upstairs in the study of her dream. She had felt like someone had watched over her, and asked questions about the comforting voice she'd heard.

Instead of admonishing her for an overactive imagination, she asked Isabella questions and wanted to hear all about it. I was beginning to see the remarkable bond between the two of them.

The girl said she couldn't wait to get to sleep tonight to spend more time with her new friend. The cheerful, hopeful tone of her voice made my need to be near her almost insatiable.

I kept my distance the rest of the time Isabella stayed, but each night I was by her bedside, quietly speaking to her.

Each morning she would excitedly tell her grandmother more about her "friend", and how she felt like she had an angel looking out for her.

It had made my skin crawl, and the doubts began to war inside of me again...until I heard her beautiful laughter floating through the hallway.

The night before she was to return home, her summer visit over, I consulted Alice about my turmoil over Isabella leaving.

She reminded me of something I'd forgotten, a way to always be with her. It would thankfully not offer me any influence or control over her, but it would allow Isabella to feel me with her. It would allow me to continue comforting her as she slept.

After a heated whispered debate over the line with Alice, my desire to be able to keep tabs on her and comfort her won out over any last nagging conflicting feelings I'd had.

As I'd kneeled by her bedside the last night, she held out her hand as she'd done each night, and I took it. She sighed as usual and snuggled under her covers, content and deep asleep.

I brought her fingers to my lips and inhaled, briefly cementing her scent in my memory. Without another moment's hesitation, I gently nicked her fingertip and braced myself as I placed my finger to her cut. It had barely bled, as I was careful to just barely graze her skin.

I wiped the small bit of blood that had came to the surface and swiped my finger in my mouth, tasting her. It was exquisite beyond my wildest dreams.

Saying the words Alice had reminded me of, passed down from those before us, I bonded her to me.

I would know her feelings no matter where she was, until she no longer wanted my comfort and presence.

The mere thought that someday she would be with another man, marry...the pain that shot through my chest was great, but the pain of letting her go was greater.

I would always be with her in her sleep, as long as she wanted my comfort. If the day came she no longer wanted it, I would break the bond and let her be happy, even at great cost to myself.

Snapping myself out of the memories of so many years ago, on the night I'd bonded myself to her, I cautiously approached the chair that held the most important thing to me, ever.

She didn't stir, but instead seemed to breath more evenly. I had this effect on her when I spoke to her when she was away, and when I was in the room with her here.

I knelt down beside her and frowned as I noticed goose bumps on her arms. I knew this meant she was cold by paying close attention to her human needs, as she'd always called them.

I stood and retrieved the throw blanket bearing the Cullen Crest from a chair. Gently placing it over her, I tucked it under her chin and knelt down beside her again.

I brushed her hair away from her face, reveling in its softness. The long dark tresses had never changed lengths, as though she'd preferred it long like this. It was the most beautiful head of hair I'd ever seen, belonging to the most beautiful girl, now woman, that I'd ever seen.

A woman. Isabella was a woman now, I had to remind myself. For so long, my feelings for her had been pure, but it was changing these last few months. She'd had thoughts about me before she went to sleep at night that were anything but pure, and it had been getting the best of me.

I had felt things for her since that had been excruciating to deal with alone, but it had been a small price to pay.

And now that she was here, and I knew how she felt about me, I allowed myself for the first time to press my nose to her hair and let her scent wash over me.

She wanted to know me, to see me, and she felt that I was real, and that she would find me here.

I knew this, and much more. Her feelings were laid bare each night as she begged me to come to her, to touch her, to see my face.

As I was preparing to speak to her for our nightly ritual, she stirred suddenly. I could hear her pulse quicken and her breathing change – she was waking.

I quickly left the room and hid myself down the hall from her. Vampire interrupted, it seems.

My eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, and I could see her standing, puzzling over the blanket.

Brilliant, just brilliant.

Now she knew someone had been in the room with her. Would she be frightened?

I listened to her heartbeat and observed her, and noticed she didn't seem to be afraid. Instead, she was curious.

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and carried the book I'd laid out for her down the hall to her room. I'd known she would choose her room to be her permanent bedroom.

I watched as she climbed into bed, setting the book on the table beside her. She turned out the hurricane lantern and clutched the blanket to her I'd laid over her earlier.

Just as I expected her to go to sleep, I heard her inhale deeply, and could see that she was pressing the blanket to her nose. She sighed loudly, contentedly, and murmured two soft words as she settled in for sleep.

"Thank you."

I stood frozen in place as I realized she was speaking to me. Somehow, she felt it was me, and perhaps could smell me on the blanket. I didn't realize I left a scent behind, but it was now obvious that I did indeed.

The corners of my lips turned upward as it sank in that she'd spoken to me, awake, for the first time. It was even more than I imagined it would be.

I ran my hands through my hair in the dark and sighed, knowing there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to resist her for long. She would ask more of me, this much was apparent. She was neither afraid nor disturbed about the blanket; she was happy.

I left her to sleep, knowing she needed it, and slid down the wall outside of her room.

I would stay here until she woke, staring at each line in the dark cherry wood covering the wall, and thinking of the sweet words she'd said to me.

It would be a long night.