Spirit to Flesh A Twific by LittleWing
Chapter 2: The Desk
"There are worse things than shopping, you know," Victoria teased, pulling him from the car as he pretended to look for his shades.
"Name them, in order of severity," Edward replied, giving her a scowl before relenting and giving up the mock search.
"Alright, I'll make a deal with you. You shop with me for 1 hour and I'll take a row boat out with you on Jamaica Pond."
"Deal." Edward perked up immediately. It was a beautiful, unseasonably warm day in Boston, and Victoria couldn't resist the temptation to combine her two loves – wedding shopping and her fiancé. They had been engaged just over three months, with the wedding less than six months away. She still had to find a dress, select the china, send out invitations – to her it was a fantasy come true. To Edward, it was a means to an end. He only had two requirements of their wedding. First, it had to be small (less than one hundred people). Knowing Victoria, she would have filled Fenway Park full of guests and negotiated CNN coverage of the event. Second, the wedding had to take place soon. He didn't want to wait any longer than he already had. Victoria had wanted at least a year to plan; Edward wanted to elope within three months. They compromised on a nine month engagement with a wedding in his parent's backyard.
While Edward let Victoria think that it was lust and romance that drove his desire for speedy nuptials, that was not the case. It had taken Edward 37 years to finally decide to commit to someone; he simply didn't see the need to wait any longer. Victoria was a good person; they were compatible in most ways and they accepted each other for who they were. It was not the love he had once expected and waited for. It was nothing like his parents – Carlisle and Esme. That kind of love had never happened to him. After a while, Edward decided that he needed to stop waiting and hoping and be realistic. A week after his 35th birthday, he finally responded to one of Victoria's thinly veiled advances and asked her out to lunch. They had been together ever since.
His older brother Emmett and brother in-law Jasper jokingly referred to his engagement to Victoria as "the arrangement". He couldn't really blame them. They both had what he never found. Rosalie and Alice were perfect for them. He never had that kind of connection with anyone.
Edward pulled Victoria closer to him, as if to reaffirm his commitment.
"Where to, my dear?"
Victoria looked at him, grinning. "I want to check out a few antique stores for my dress. You think you can handle that?"
"No problem, but isn't it bad luck for me to see the dress before the wedding or something? I can just hit that coffee shop over there and wa…."
Victoria cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Not a chance. It's only bad luck if you see me IN the dress," she continued. "Now, turn right and don't make me hurt you. We've got 59 minutes to go."
The first few stores were filled with old dresses and doilies. He couldn't envision Victoria in anything she chose. To Edward, she was the quintessential modern woman – well educated, career driven, 5'10", and strawberry blonde with a taut and lean gym body. She had no interest in cooking, cleaning, or doing dishes and was well versed in a hundred different ways to take down anyone who opposed her – verbally or physically. Nothing about Victoria said "quiet strength", so the idea that she would walk down the aisle in a demure, early 20th century gown struck him as completely out of character. It let him know that there were still things about her that he didn't know or understand.
Finally, they arrived at a store with a few antique pieces of furniture. Thanks to his mother, Edward knew quite a bit about antiques and was grateful to have something to distract him from the numbing sensation mass shopping always induced. He strolled through the old maps and muskets, just trying to keep from jumping out of his skin while Victoria tried on her 18th dress in 52 minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, Edward caught a glimpse of something large and whisky maple hidden under a tattered white tarp. Curiosity and boredom convinced him to walk over to it, pulling the tarp aside to reveal an exquisitely preserved maple desk that gleamed with a finish that spoke to the quality of its original craftsmanship. Edward took in the intricate carvings that covered the front of the desk drawers that framed the top and sides of the desk. There was an oval inlay design at the center of the desk's surface.
Running his fingers over the grain, he felt immediately possessive. His eyes darted around to catch the attention of the store owner and make sure no one else was eying his property.
As the store owner approached him with the all knowing look of a sale in hand, Victoria slipped her arms around Edward's waist. "Hey babe, what's this?" she asked.
"My new desk."
"You're like a kid with a new toy, I swear." Victoria marveled as she watched Edward ogle his new purchase. "Don't make love to it, okay. It's just a desk – a very old dusty desk."
"Don't be jealous, Vic. I'm marrying you," Edward replied, pulling her to him so that she could admire the desk with him.
"Uh huh. Well, I'm gonna get out of here. My flight leaves at 5 am. Looks like you two need some time alone together with that big tub of wax. Don't hurt yourself now," Victoria smirked. Edward ignored her.
"You sure you don't want me to take you to the airport?"
"No, I've got some work I need to finish up, plus I still need to pack." Victoria pecked him on the cheek before leaving his embrace. Edward followed her to the door, giving her a lingering kiss for her patience. Once he saw her car pull off safely, he returned to his new project.
Edward began pulling out the drawers and dusting them. Stopping briefly to wipe the cobwebs from the legs, he grabbed a chair and sat down. He hadn't been this excited about a purchase in a long time, not since the Vanquish. Edward's home was beautiful, but sparsely furnished. Despite his mother's protests, he had always insisted he didn't need a lot. He had his piano, a bed, a kitchen, clean clothes, a couch, a library for reading, and now a desk.
As he opened and dusted the middle drawer on the upper compartments of the desk, his hand caught on a flat oval shaped piece of metal that protruded from the top part of the drawer compartment. He pulled the drawer out completely to see the obstruction more clearly. Hunching down, Edward could see it, but couldn't imagine why it was there. As he reached in, trying to pull the piece of metal out, the front panel of the desk compartment popped open.
At first he froze, thinking he had broken it somehow, but he quickly realized that the panel was still hinged to the desk. Slowly, he pushed the panel back to reveal a hidden chamber in the desk which held several pieces of stationary and a fountain pen.
Edward paused for a moment, his eyes wide with mischief, as if he had just discovered buried treasure. He was suddenly very glad that he was alone. Victoria would really think he was silly.
Reaching in, Edward handled the papers gently. The pages were blank except for a few that were embossed with the name Isabella M. Swan at the top. As he laid the pages out on his desk, a smaller, folded piece of paper fell out. Unfolding it carefully, he read the letter inside.
My Love,
Where are you? I weep as I write this, knowing that you will not hear me, yet still I am compelled. Today, I have received an invitation to another life, one I do not know or desire – to wear a hollow ring upon my finger and claim a love I do not have.
For I can not give what is already yours, and since I cannot find you, both my love and heart are lost.
But, what of duty now? Must I accept, take my place within the mold that has been made for me, even though I do not fit?
It is a pretty place, no doubt, so sweet the smell sickens me. You are the fresh air I breathe that cuts through this stench, rough and cool against my face.
It is everything I seek.
You are everything I want
But what of today, without you here? I must find my own way in the dark.
- Bella
Edward read the letter over again, even as the words pummeled him with their intensity, their honesty, their desperation. To him, it was the kind of letter you would only write if you were sure no one else would read it. How else could you be so naked?
As a composer, he wrote like this all the time, but it was in code, in musical notes. People never knew what the notes translated to for him, they just knew the emotion the music left behind and assumed because it lay inside them that it had more to do with them than him – a perfect deception.
Even still, he had never put these words to music – even though he felt he could have in so many ways.
"My love, where are you?"
You couldn't play these words without crying, he thought. It would be too much.
He folded the letter back into fourths and stared blankly out the window until dawn.
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