Spirit to Flesh: A Twific by LittleWing, betad by the deliciously talented Jessica1971

I don't own Twilight or The Love Letter. I'm just playin around and havin a ball. No infringement intended. No money made. Viva Le Fan Fiction!

Chapter 5: Miracles

Bella had torn her room apart.

"Where could it be?" she hissed in frustration. How could her letter just disappear along with her stationary and pen? Who could have known about the secret compartment in her desk that she had requested privately? No one, she reasoned. It didn't make sense, but there was simply no other explanation.

"My God!" she heard her father gasp from the doorway. His voice sounded muffled from her vantage point under the bed. "What has happened here?"

It took a lot to surprise Charles Swan. By the tender age of 15, The Civil War had shown him enough blood and treachery to last a lifetime, but seeing his daughter in a fit was a rare sight.

"Nothing, father." Bella emerged from under the bed slightly rumpled. "I ..uh…seem to have misplaced my….earring," Bella stammered unconvincingly. Charles could see that whatever Bella was looking for, she didn't want to share it with him.

"I see," Charles said, leveling his gaze on his daughter in a way that let her know he wasn't fooled. "Dinner is served. Shall we?"

Dinner between Bella and her father was usually a quiet affair. Having lost Bella's mother, Renee, at childbirth, Bella and Charles were accustomed to their quiet life together. At meals, Charles always made an attempt at conversation before settling into his paper, at which point Bella turned to her books or daily correspondence.

As Maggie delivered the paper to her father and a letter to Bella, Charles cleared his throat.

"So, you and Mr. Newton have come to an understanding then?" Charles began. Both he and Bella suddenly became captivated by the designs on their dinner plates.

---------

When Bella returned from the woods four days ago, after her visit with Mr. Newton, Charles had been waiting for her. As soon as she entered the house, Charles noted how drawn and frazzled she looked.

"Bella, did he upset you?" Charles' voice was thick with confusion and concern. "I had hoped his proposal would be a joy to you," he offered feebly, but Bella was in no mood for games.

"Come now, father, how could you know me as you do and expect such a thing?"

Charles sighed in resignation. He could not deny the truth of her words. He knew he should have at least given Bella a hint of the direction his conversations with Mr. Newton had taken the last few visits, but he feared that she would have condemned the idea without even considering it first. While Charles was not overjoyed with the choice, he felt confident in Mr. Newton's character, having spent a great deal of time with Mr. Newton and those who knew him well. He knew that Mr. Newton could offer his daughter a secure life of comfort, perhaps even contentment. While Charles was not a man of modest means, he was not wealthy, either. A match with Mr. Newton would ensure that his daughter always had more than she needed.

The night after the proposal, Bella had gone upstairs almost immediately after their exchange and did not come down until morning. When she finally did emerge, she seemed refreshed and calm. He thought perhaps she had started to see his proposal as an idea worth merit.

He had been wrong. Charles had seen it in her eyes as she turned to run into the woods behind their house, and again when Mr. Newton's carriage arrived this afternoon unexpectedly. But he had still hoped. Today's visit had been brief, but Charles noted Newton's smile on his way to the carriage. Bella had not seemed upset by his visit.

He hoped…

----------

"No, father, I am still considering his offer."

"He is a good man, Bella," Charles offered, hoping he sounded convincing. "He will be a good provider for you."

"I know. I know what you say is true. I just…" Bella lifted her eyes from her plate then, fighting the feeling of inexplicable loss that she had been trying to push back all day. Tears pricked her eyes as she finally let herself feel the growing doubt in her mind. What if she was wrong to want more? What is she was sealing for herself a fate of unhappiness?

"Is he what you want for me?" Bella asked. Her voice was a whisper, small and unsure.

Charles put down his fork. He could feel Bella's eyes on him, could hear in her voice the hollow sound of surrender. It broke him. This was not what he wanted for his daughter. Charles wanted whatever match she made to be one made in at least anticipation and hope, if not love. He wanted Bella to feel that she was embarking on an exciting new adventure, not kneeling in submission to a burden thrust upon her. But she doubted herself and now turned to him for reassurance, for guidance. If he said yes, he knew it was likely that she would marry Newton. If he said no, she would retreat and perhaps miss her chance at a good match.

Charles stared at his hands placed flat on the table, searching for the courage or the cowardice to lie to his daughter, to tip her in a direction that even he could see had only a tenuous chance at success. He met Bella's gaze undecided and that was a mistake. He could never lie to his only child, his beloved daughter whose brown eyes reflected the quiet strength of his own.

"I want you to be happy, darling. That is all I have ever wanted for you. I don't know whether or not you will find what you are looking for in Mr. Newton, but I do know that you will make the right decision. You always do, Bells." He smiled as he saw the effect his words had on her. He saw her resolve return. "I will stand with you, Bells, no matter what you decide."

Bella wiped a tear from her eyes and smiled back at her father, nodding her head unconsciously at his words. They were like a balm to her restless mind, buying her the space she needed to think things through in her own way.

They fell into a comfortable silence, each reaching for their distraction of choice. Bella opened her letter carefully with her butter knife, forgoing the ivory letter opener that Maggie had placed on the tray. The script on the envelope was unfamiliar to her, which made Bella especially curious. Bella corresponded regularly, but only with a few close friends and she knew their handwriting on sight.

After opening the carefully folded letter, Bella froze upon reading the first line.

Dear Ms. Swan,

Please try not to panic as you read this. I mean you no harm. I have read the letter that you placed in your desk and I wanted, beyond sense and logic, to respond.

Her mind ran immediately to her missing letter. Her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment then red with anger as she thought of someone stealing her private thoughts. Bella's hand flew to the discarded envelope and turned it over in her hand.

E. Cullen

The audacity… she seethed, to sign your name so boldly to the very evidence of the crime! Did he not know her father was best friends with the town sheriff?

She looked up to see her father engrossed in his paper, chewing absently on a carrot. Bella opened her mouth to report the offense, only to close it abruptly. What exactly would she tell him? Father, someone has stolen my letter to my imaginary love. Could you please get it back for me? The image of her even saying the words made her cringe.

Bella sank back in her chair before pushing off from the table. She needed to go into her room and read this letter in a place where she could safely display her outrage, then think of what to do next.

"Father, I'd like to retire for the evening," Bella murmured, slipping the letter into the pocket of her skirt.

"Of course, dear," Charles replied without looking up.

Bella flew up the stairs and locked the door behind her. Normally she would have taken her dishes to the sink and helped with the washing, but not tonight. Sliding down the edge of her bed so she could face the low flames of the fireplace, Bella pulled the letter from her pocket and began reading again.

I don't really know where to begin. I actually can't believe that I am writing you, but I guess I just need to accept it and move on. Three days ago, on the exact day that you wrote your letter, I bought a desk that now I must assume was yours. In it, I found your letter. I have never read anything so painfully beautiful in my life. It mesmerized me. It mesmerizes me still.

I can't stop thinking about your words and all the possible things they could mean. You have given a name to all the silent searching I have felt my entire life. But I must admit, even if I knew the words, I would not have had the courage to put them down on paper as you did.

I think I should stop here and offer you an apology. If you ever receive this, please know I had no intention of violating your privacy. When I found the letter in my desk, I thought it was odd and curious. How could I have known what it was and the effect it would have on me? How could I have foreseen that it would drive me to the craziest of things - writing you back? I'm still shaking my head in disbelief.

I wish I had something wise and magical to say to your predicament. To be completely honest, (and how could I be anything less given what you have unwittingly shared with me), I am as lost as you describe. I am engaged to be married even though I am not in love. It is as you said, as if my heart and love are somewhere else. I have never found them. Though I am not in love with her, I care deeply for her and I am committed to building a life with her, to make it the most that it can be, but I have no illusions. My ring, though hollow, will bind me to the promises I make.

But I am a man in my time and you are a woman in yours. I could hardly tell you to wait for your dream when I have long since given up on mine. But I am older, perhaps you are young enough that you have time to wait. I don't know what is expected of you in 1918, but in 2010, 37 is a bit late to just be settling down.

Yes – you read that correctly. I've been dancing around it for 3 pages now, thinking that I don't really need to explain because you're never going to read this, but just in case miracles do happen – what makes this letter so damn crazy is that I am writing to you from a future in which I own the desk where you are probably sitting right now reading this (I hope you haven't fallen off your chair by now.) In my time, it is March 6, 2010.

I don't think I can say anything more after that. I hope you find your way through the dark.

Very Truly,

Edward Cullen

Bella let the pages slip from her hands as she tried to grasp the full meaning of his words. Could they be true? Rather than panic, she felt warmth. Rage was replaced with curiosity and a strange energy she could not name.

Her gaze flickered to her desk, trying to imagine what it would look like 92 years from now. The carpenter had remarked once that the desk was designed more for a man than a woman; Bella smiled at the irony.

Taking a seat at her desk, Bella traced the inlay she had designed with her fingers. Slowly, she took a new piece of paper from her stationary drawer and dipped her pen in the inkwell. She could think of only one thing to say to him, this man from the future. She wrote her message quickly, folded it carefully and placed it in the secret compartment that they now shared. Afterwards, Bella fell into a deep sleep in front of the fire.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but is two thousand words worth a review from you? I sincerely hope so. Go on. It won't hurt.