Spirit to Flesh: A Twific by LittleWing, betad by the simply awesome Jessica1971
A/N: This is the final chapter with 1 Epilogue to go. I hope it makes you happy. But before you jump in, I wanted to take a moment to thank EVERY SINGLE PERSON who has read, rec'd, reviewed, lurked and enjoyed this story. When I first started writing this, I didn't really think that anyone would read it. I just planned to put it out there. I didn't know anyone in the fandom besides 2 people that I PM'd occasionally, Jessica1971 and Elizabethan. Writing this story was pure joy, but I could not anticipate what it felt like to get your reviews and support. It has been so deeply, truly wonderful for me. To Jessica1971, there really are no words to thank you. You have opened every door for me, without any reason beyond your immeasurable generosity. I am so proud that you chose to be my beta. Liz – because of you I have a place to talk with the people who love this story as much as I do. Thank you for starting the StF thread and being excited for me from the very first word of this story. To Cullen 312, thank you for my banner, blinky and rec'ing the hell out of my story, not once, but TWICE. It is a pleasure to be in your fine company. Bellasunderstudy1, kstabb100, and Jen328, with each kind word you wrote, you made me feel like a writer - thank you. And last, but not least, to my husband, who was so excited for me even though he doesn't give a damn about Twilight and slept alone without complaint so that I could get this story to you. You make me a believer everyday.
I know that was long, but it was necessary. :-) Each person I mentioned made this journey so sweet. I thank all of you for being a part of this little dream come true.
Disclaimer: 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 15: Forever Longing
It was even better than he'd imagined. The piano was dream like, while still being grounded in their truth. The woodwinds section was a soft beckoning, like her thick hair in the breeze. But it was the violins that made him turn around before his students could see his tears. They were playing his thoughts, hands reaching but never grasping the object of their desire.
"That was… better than not bad," he managed to tease after the student orchestra had finished the first movement. "Did you guys even leave the building last night?" He hoped his voice sounded light and joking.
His students beamed back at him, joking amongst themselves. "Barely," Jacob laughed. "Hell, we only have like three weeks left 'til the concert."
------
The students had surprised him by selecting his new symphony for the closing number of the Mid-Summer Nights benefit concert. A week ago, Jacob and a few other students from the orchestra had snuck into the practice room while Edward was playing the final movement alone. Since he had not heard them enter, the sudden applause when he finished startled him.
"What the hell was that?" Jacob Black had asked. Edward smiled and shook his head. Jacob looked like he belonged to a biker gang rather than a school of music, but he was the best oboe player Edward had ever heard; that, combined with his natural irreverence towards everything, made Jacob one of Edward's favorite students.
"Just something I wrote….recently."
"Dude, we need to add that to the list for the summer concert. That kicks ass."
"Jacob, you guys already have enough music for the concert that you aren't playing very well. I'd hate to see you fall any farther from grace," Edward replied with a smirk.
"Whatever, man, you know we're up to this. Besides, that other stuff is tired. Everyone does Beethoven."
"Yes, but not everyone does Beethoven well. Besides, you guys voted on what pieces you wanted to play."
"Ah… I didn't vote for any of that shit we're playing. Personally, I thought we should have done a Prince retrospective, but anyway…. Hey, you don't get a vote, right? So all I need to do is round up the troops and we can play what you just did. Have you finished it yet? I mean, is it ready?"
Edward wasn't sure how he felt about sharing this piece of himself with the world. He had recorded and conducted a number of his compositions around the world, but nothing like this, nothing this personal.
"It's ready. I'm just not sure that I am," he answered honestly.
Angela stepped out from behind Jacob, "It's really beautiful, Dr. Cullen. You can trust us with it. We won't let you down."
Edward looked between the faces of his students, reading their expressions of confusion and growing concern. They had never seen him express doubt before.
"It's not that, Angela." Edward paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Fearless, he thought.
"Alright, I'll make you a deal. If you guys select it, you can have it. But I'm warning you now, she's brand new, so I'm going to make sure you guys give her the introduction she deserves." He rose from the piano bench and gave each student his patented 'I'm not kidding' stare. Everyone but Jacob looked appropriately sobered. Jacob just grinned, rubbing his hands together before heading out the door. Just before he cleared the doorway, Jacob turned back abruptly.
"Hey, what's it called?" he asked.
Edward swallowed loudly before answering.
"Forever Longing."
Jacob's grin only widened as he ran down the hall.
-------
Listening to them now, Edward was glad he had opened up and taken the risk.
We sound beautiful, Bella. I wish you could hear this.
When they had finished the 2nd movement, Edward decided to send them home. "Alright guys, let's clear out. Go home. Rest up. It's starting to smell a little ripe in here, even for you, Mr. Black."
Jacob raised his right arm, put his nose to his armpit, and then inhaled loudly. Edward could hear several members of the class gag in mock disgust.
"Ah, yeah," he pronounced proudly while slinging his oboe case over his shoulder. "Ripe isn't even the half of it." He winked at the girl blushing furiously in front of him before sauntering out of class.
Sylvia caught up with Edward just as he was locking the practice room for the night. "It's sounding pretty good already," she said a little too enthusiastically.
"Alright, Sylvia. I know when I'm being buttered up. Just tell me so I can say no."
"Well, you can't say no, so just suck it up. I've scheduled your annual pow-wow with the Globe's art section for tomorrow at 3pm, so – don't give me that look – you can enjoy most of your birthday before the interview."
Edward deepened his scowl before leaning in and giving Sylvia a hug. Nothing could ruin the first good day he'd had in a long time.
-------
Jasper shook his head as he got a good look at his brother-in-law's untamed head walking across the university common.
"Well, Happy Birthday! You look like you're channeling Beethoven, but in a bad way."
"Thanks. I feel like a crazy bastard, so I might as well look the part. I brought Agnes along to be the bite to my bark. I've got an interview with the Globe today, and I'm hoping Agnes here will scare them off." Edward chuckled to himself, only half joking.
"Well, good luck with that," Jasper nodded before turning his attention to the tawny colored dog nudging his leg.
"Tell me again why you named this beautiful animal Agnes?"
"It's in honor of my favorite writer," Edward replied, smiling down at his 2 month old Ridgeback/German Sheppard mix pound puppy.
"Whose name is…?"
"Not Agnes," Edward finished.
"Right," Jasper sighed in acknowledgement of yet another failed attempt to get Edward to talk about his 'mystery woman'. "Now it all makes sense to me.
"Well, again, good luck with the intimidation. I don't think you'll need Agnes, though. I hear you're pretty awful all on your own," Jasper said, jabbing Edward in the arm before heading off to teach his first class.
On Tuesdays, Edward had classes all morning and loved it. The time passed quickly and he found the students who took classes over the summer to be surprisingly engaged and focused.
The afternoon practice session for the summer concert was going particularly well. Edward felt so grateful for all the effort he could hear in every note. They could not know the gift they were giving him or how much it healed him to hear them tell his story – their story.
"One more time, from the top, just so I know I'm not dreaming here. This is almost too good to be true," Edward said.
"Aaah…Edward," Sylvia interrupted. "Your 3 o'clock appointment has been waiting for 30 minutes now."
"They can wait or cancel," Edward said with his back to the door. "I can't interrupt genius for anyone. This may be as good as it gets for me."
And he meant it, though it didn't hurt as much as he thought it might to admit it out loud. Edward smiled at the realization. Yeah, he thought. It'll be fine. She did it for me. I can do this for her.
"It's alright. I can wait," a small voice said from behind him. He barely made out the words, but was disappointed that they seemed agreeable.
He nodded and the orchestra began again, ringing clear and strong, passion and precision filling the room and resuscitating an echo of his heart with each note. Closing his eyes, he whispered, "I hope you can hear this, love. I wrote it for you."
Edward was lost in the music, in her. Unconsciously, he reached for his wallet, fingering the leather that held his most precious thing - the one and only picture of her he had.
As the ending came to a crescendo, he felt lighter and strangely warmed by the outward expression of their love. For some reason, it didn't make him sad today. I've got to bring Agnes to work with me more often, he thought.
As the last notes played, he dropped his hands and smiled at his students, bowing towards them with his hands over his heart. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you."
The students grinned as they filed out silently, basking in their instructor's rare approval. Even Jacob was silent, choosing instead to nod his thanks to Edward before quietly slipping out of the room.
As the room cleared, Edward was lost in his own thoughts as he gathered up his notes. He was looking forward to the walk home.
"That was breathtaking," a quiet voice uttered from behind him. He vaguely remembered the voice from 40 minutes ago. Irritation crept in as he felt the perfect ending to only the second good day he'd had in months slip away. He dug into his briefcase, ignoring her.
"Do you play an instrument?" he asked finally, while keeping the 'otherwise, how the hell would you know?' to himself.
"No, but I love classical music, and I listened to some of your recordings on the way over. I mean, it doesn't do it justice. You really have to hear it live."
Okay, maybe you're not an idiot, Edward conceded silently.
"Well, I'm glad you found it worth your time; I know you've been waiting awhile."
Edward was beginning to feel like an ass so he ducked down behind the piano with his briefcase to hide his remorse. He needed to keep up his grouchy persona in hopes of warding off next year's interview. He'd worked hard to avoid interviews with people who wanted to know his opinion on Britney Spears as a musician.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm a patient person, plus I was prepared for you to avoid me." He could hear the smirk in her voice and tried not to laugh as he dug deeper in his bag for nothing in particular.
"But I've come a long way for you, so I'm not leaving until you see me."
Her tone stopped him cold before her words even registered. It was quiet, but confident, deep and ancient. It was dead serious. The same, but completely different from the voice he'd been hearing. He rose slowly from his crouch behind the piano.
That voice. What was it that made his hands tremble? Hadn't he been holding a notebook in his right hand? Why were his notes scattered all over the floor in front of him? Why, he wondered, was he frozen in place?
Edward began to turn his head towards the sounds that were coming again from behind him.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry. I don't know why I said that. I…I…"
She was moving now, turned around and obstructing his view of her face behind a curtain of deep mahogany. From the beautiful shade of pink that was rising from her neck, he could tell that she was flushed, apparently embarrassed by her outburst. Delicate hands moved quickly from her face to the sides of her skirt, then finally to her belongings on the chair beside her.
What had stopped time for him had apparently set her in motion as she grabbed her coat only to drop her bag, spilling its contents onto the floor.
Her hand flew up to her face, pushing the curtain aside briefly to reveal her profile.
Cream, he thought. Cream and roses. His breath caught in his throat.
His feet moved forward, carrying him to her. He needed no effort. His body, his heart, his spirit knew who she was. His mind just didn't know how.
She continued to flutter around, alternately grabbing the loose contents of her purse from the floor, pushing her hair out of her face with one hand, and then shifting to cover it with the other.
She doesn't know, he thought. She isn't sure. How can I make her stop moving before our time has passed?
He was close enough now to where she was hunched over to hear her muttering insults to herself softly. His hand reached out to hover over her right shoulder.
It can't be, he thought, in a vain effort to hold on to the small peace he had found these past few days. This can not be. But his heart did not believe his thoughts. His body would not cooperate with reason. He closed the distance between them just as he found his voice.
"Bella," he whispered. It was not a question. It was a gamble. If he was wrong, all that was left of him would be lost.
Her movements ceased, finally bringing her into his time, his world. As she rose and turned, their eyes met for the first time again.
His eyes were a fiery emerald green.
Her eyes were a wet chocolate brown.
Their lips mirrored each others as a slow smile crept across both of their faces.
When he heard her voice again, a tear streaked down his face.
"How did you know to call me Bella?" she asked simply. There was no suspicion in her voice, only a mild curiosity, as if she was asking for the time with no particular place to be.
He swallowed loudly, not out of anxiety, but out of overwhelming emotion. He wasn't sure if he could speak loud enough for her to hear him.
"I don't know," he whispered. It was true. He didn't know how he recognized a voice he had never heard before.
"Everyone calls me Izzy, but I prefer Bella," she answered slowly, staring at him in wonder.
"I'm Edward," he said, reaching out his open hand to her.
"I know," she replied, her smile growing as she looked down to see her hand being enclosed in his.
A/N: Lemonade...that cool, refreshing drink! Want some? I know you do. It's coming up next… I hope it's worth the wait. Thanks for reading ;-)