A/N: Thanks to LadyRip for allowing me to come along for the ride and the EchoesofTwilight for beta'ing. This chapter follows the same timeline as Ch1, but don't expect that in the future.
This one's my chapter. To anyone who is reading along on Twi'd: as of right now I cannot respond to reviews over there. Review here. We're still working out the kinks.
Music:
"I'll Be" Edwin McCain
"I Could Not Ask for More" Edwin McCain
Some mornings you wake up and things automatically go your way. On other days it's a struggle to get out of bed. The day that I first saw her started as a struggle. I rolled myself out of bed and barely made it to meet with my advisor on time. Rosalie and I had had a late night at Savannah Smiles because Emmett had a cold and had been unable to work, and the other bouncer, Felix, was disinterested in keeping the more inebriated clientele away from her. I'd had to stay while she spoke to the police regarding the fact that she assaulted one of the customers who crossed the line. Fortunately, Rosalie had a way with the local PD and talked herself out of trouble.
Emmett was furious when we got home. I decided that bringing Rose to our place would be best since the big guy would want to check on her and he was stuck at home. We'd talked for another hour after we got in, leaving me a mere 4 hours to sleep.
Needless to say, my lesson didn't go well. I was unfocused and sloppy, and for some stupid reason, a love song kept playing on loop in my head and threatened to come out through my fingers on the piano. That would not have gone over well.
I caught myself humming it in the hallway on my way to hit the vending machine. A wall of gray jersey knit stopped me in my tracks as it stepped in front of me. I looked up from my feet to see Tyrone Jackson. He played the trombone in the marching band at Savannah State and was always trying to get me to agree to play in the rhythm section, regardless of the fact that marching band had never been my thing.
"E-man, are you seriously walkin' all up in here hummin' Edwin McCain?" he half-shrieked. "Come on, old man. You have got to stop listenin' to that white-girl crap if you're gonna get a fine piece of Savannah State lovin'."
We'd been over the fact that I wasn't interested in "hooking up" with any of the "hoochies" on campus before. Tyrone wasn't giving up. He'd come up with a new girl every week for the past three years to throw at me, and I'd never found any of them particularly interesting. They were all very nice, intelligent young ladies. However, they were all between the ages of eighteen and twenty and acted like it. Tyrone felt that I should keep a couple on hand for an occasional "booty call," but I tended to respect women a bit more than that.
"Good morning, Tyrone," I grumbled and pushed past him to the vending machine. "If Edwin McCain is 'white girl music,' then how do you know who he is?"
"I dated a white girl once or twice," he admitted.
"You secretly have an album or two, don't you?" I cocked an eyebrow at him and waited. I could almost hear a cheesy record-rip sound effect as my question sunk in.
Just like that the conversation was over and steered toward sports. I laughed to myself. Tyrone thought way too much about maintaining a tough guy image. He'd grow out of it eventually, and that was something that I wanted to be around to see. The coffee machine dropped my paper cup into the tray and filled it with some noxious liquid that was supposed to resemble French Roast; it didn't. It did contain caffeine, which was my only requirement. I downed the cup in one gulp and filled it with water from the fountain several times to wash it down. I settled into a chair at one of the study tables to work on some advanced theory homework that was due in a few hours. Tyrone took the seat opposite from mine and kept up his monologue. I responded where appropriate.
I knew when Shatika walked into the room that the burning issue was going to come up again. Tyrone had tried several times to set us up. She was a sweet girl, and possibly the most mature out of the group.
"Yo, Shatika, come here, girl. I wanna ask you 'bout somethin'," he called.
"Tyrone," I chided.
"Oh, come on, E-man, you are not getting off that easy."
"What Tyrone?" Shatika sighed and plopped down at the table. Her hair was pulled back in an intricate braid that was impossible to trace around her head. She smelled sweet, like vanilla and cocoa butter.
"What do you think about Edwin McCain?" he baited.
She scrunched up her nose delicately and asked, "Who?"
"You know, Rain falls angry on the tin roof as we lie awake in my be-ed…." Tyrone's vocal chords should have been removed at puberty; his voice broke at least three times in one phrase.
"Oh, yeah, that one. I kind of like him."
"See, not white girl music." I smirked.
"It's still girl music. You are a man, you need man music, brother." He shrieked again.
"I think that E can listen to whatever he wants," Shatika shot back.
"He is never gonna get a woman that way…."
"Oh, I don't think E would ever have a problem with that. Look at him, he's just pretty …."
I suddenly felt the desperate need to be elsewhere.
"I'm gonna go hit the computer lab down the hall," I excused myself.
"Oh, bye, Pretty E-man!" Tyrone called after me. I flicked him the bird over my shoulder.
I hid out in the lab for a couple of hours and did my work. I just had to make it through theory and then I could head home for a nap before driving out to my other job on Tybee.
/*/*/*/
"Ready to go?" Peter asked as he slid behind the bar. I'd worked the dinner shift that afternoon, and he was coming in to take over the evening. Dinner shift was notoriously easy as few people ordered anything mixed with dinner. I spent most of the evening fetching bottles of beer and wine. I briefly noticed a pair of ladies near the window; both had ordered Chardonnay by the glass. I set the bottle aside for Peter; the brunette looked like she'd probably want another glass or two.
"Table twelve's been working on this bottle. See ya later, man," I said and stepped out from behind the bar.
The beach and my guitar were calling me. I'd had the same Edwin McCain song playing in the back of my mind all evening and couldn't get rid of it, and the beach looked inviting through the large windows on the other side of the room. The sand and surf had mocked me all evening. I could almost feel the grainy texture of sand and hear the sound of my guitar mixing with the ocean waves in the background, as I walked just a little faster to get to the service entrance.
Hotels are interesting places. The upscale ones in particular put a lot of money into the furnishings that the guests could see, but the staff areas of almost every hotel were the same. They were sparse, industrial, and lacked character. The contrast of moving from one area to another was always a shock. I went from the soft ambient lighting of the hotel bar to the bright, sterile kitchen. I waved to Tony, the chef, and collected the napkin-covered plate that he'd set out for me minutes before.
Tony was amazing. He was one of those people who took care of everyone in his life. Hotel employees could always find some form of food laid out for them on lunch break or at the end of their shift. The man never seemed to stop cooking, but he also knew the intimate details of every staff member at the hotel. There were many nights when we'd all gather 'round as he and the rest of the kitchen staff would clean up for the night and unwind.
I grabbed my plate and stuffed a bottle of water into my back pocket before heading out the back to grab my guitar and sit on the beach. Dinner and music on the beach was my favorite way to end the day. I got a few looks as my guitar, Veronica, and I slid out the back entrance. I'd named my acoustic guitar Veronica as a teenager. It was a joke having to do with the fact that she was so high maintenance, or at least I'd thought so as a new guitar owner.
I made my way down the dune walkover and onto the quiet beach. It was a beautiful evening. I found a spot down the beach from the hotel to sit in peace without the light from the windows spilling directly on the sand. The entire beach was bathed in the last faint strands of sunlight filtering between the buildings from the other side of the island. It was gorgeous.
My stomach growled, so I decided to eat dinner. I dug into my plate of food and discovered that Tony had pulled out all the stops and was trying a new recipe. I'd never been great with food, but this was amazing. I think I actually moaned over the second bite. He had updated the standard southern fare of seafood and grits. I doubted that management would put it on the menu, but I loved it.
With a full stomach, I turned to Veronica and freed her from her case. She wasn't my only guitar, but she was my favorite. Taking only a moment to tune her, I started playing the song that had haunted me all day. I played for a few minutes before a few members of the day staff at the hotel found me. They lurked far enough behind me, closer to the dune, so that I wouldn't feel the need to stop and socialize. They wanted me to keep playing while they wound down. I smiled and felt an inexplicable pang of something akin to longing when I hit the chorus.
And I'll be your cryin' shoulder
I'll be love's suicide
And I'll be better when I'm older
I'll be the greatest fan of your life
I continued into the verse and poured more emotion into it. As much as I avoided Tyrone's set-ups, I really did want to meet someone special. I just didn't enjoy the college dating scene. I wanted someone to hold and to love. I'd had my fair share of merely scratching an itch with a woman during my days between high school and college when I toured with the band.
And I'd dropped out, I burned up
I fought my way back from the dead
Turned in, turned on
Remembered the thing that you said…
Leaving the band had been the best thing for me. I didn't want to get into the rock scene anymore. My band-mates had started doing drugs and behaving like we were rock stars even though we were still playing college towns. I guess I just outgrew it. College and settling down a bit suddenly started to sound like a better option.
I had been accepted to several schools based on my audition, but I had to admit that I missed Georgia. I wanted to come back to my family on Tybee on the weekends. Savannah seemed like the best option. I could enjoy the rich heritage and nightlife that the city offered and still be home every week for Esme's peach cobbler on Sundays.
When Savannah State accepted me, I'd jumped at the chance. My experience there would be musically rich and culturally unique. I was ready for a change. I'd had to prove myself to the other students from the beginning, but I loved every second of it.
I suddenly found myself out of notes. I'd played through the entire song. The soft clapping of three or four people could be heard behind me. I figured that whoever my audience happened to be liked Edwin McCain, so I moved onto another love song. I followed my fingers as they seemed to pick out another one.
Lyin' here with you
Listening to the rain.
Smiling just to see,
The smile upon your face.
These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive
These are the moments I'll remember all my life
I've got all I've waited for
And I could not ask for more
I heard a small sound to my right, too close to be one of my regular audience. I looked up to see a mythical creature. She was bathed in the moonlight, and looked like a sea nymph. Her skin was shining like a pale blue beacon, calling to me. Her hair framed her face in a mass of dark waves. I noticed that she was crying. In that moment she seemed like the most tragic creature I'd ever seen. Beautiful women should never be so sad. I stopped playing.
"Are you okay?" I asked gently. I was ready to abandon Veronica and go to her. She didn't answer.
"It's okay; that song just brings back a lot of memories for her," a small, authoritative voice from behind her spoke up. I peered around and saw a petite pixie of a woman. Did all mythical creatures travel in pairs?
"I could play something else," I said. I didn't want the nymph to cry. If I could make her feel better, perhaps make her smile, then it felt like my life would have some sort of profound meaning.
"Thanks … It's okay, really." The pixie was gathering her friend to remove her from the beach. My heart lurched at the thought. Reluctantly, the taller woman turned and stumbled several feet away with the support of her friend before collapsing into a heap. She was too much for the pixie to carry.
She let out the most heartbreaking of wails. I felt it resonate deep in my chest. Not a nymph, then. She was Viola mourning for her brother on the shore. Her sadness was all encompassing and deep. It hurt just to hear it, but I could see her, beating her fists fruitlessly at the sand. Her sobs and writhing pain would never bring back whatever she'd lost. She rocked like a child seeking comfort.
I had to do something. I set Veronica back in her case and turned to see who was behind me. There was a girl from the waitstaff whom I recognized. I asked her to take my things back to the hotel for me, and she agreed. She and the rest had already sensed that my little impromptu concert was over. I could tell that they felt like intruders on the woman's grief. I felt attached to Viola, even though I didn't know her real name.
I ran the few steps between the hunched female form and my spot on the beach. The pixie was crouched over her, speaking softly, trying to get her to her feet, but her friend was too far gone. She needed to cry until it was over. It was like an infection; it had to be drawn out. I placed a hand on the smaller woman's shoulder to get her attention.
"She won't get up," the pixie cried.
"I know." I knelt down next to her and removed her hands. "You need to let her finish," I whispered.
"I'm losing her." She looked at me with tears in her eyes. "Her husband died, and now I'm losing her, too. It's just too much. I thought that she'd be better here, away from everything that they had together, but she's still barely able to function."
I was correct in my assumption that her story was tragic. However, it was worse than I'd thought: Viola had lost her love. The pixie and I hovered over her until she finally quieted, too overcome and exhausted to stir. She seemed smaller, sadder, more delicate.
"Great, now how am I going to get her to our room?" the pixie sighed.
"Would you like me to carry her for you?" I asked. Then, I thought about it. These women weren't local. I'd detected a slight northern twinge to the pixie's voice. She probably wouldn't feel comfortable trusting me. "I'm a bartender at The Dolphin Reef Restaurant; you ordered the Round Hill Chardonnay with dinner."
That last bit probably didn't inspire much confidence. I mentally kicked myself for sounding like a stalker. However, the pixie's face softened. Perhaps she'd accept my help after all.
"I'm Alice." She stuck out her hand.
"Edward." I took it and shook hands with her. "So, do you want me to..."
"That'd be great, thank you." She smiled weakly.
I bent down and lifted her beautiful friend from the sand. With my arms supporting her, she nestled easily into my chest, stirring slightly to get more comfortable. She smelled like flowers and the sea. I wanted to know about her for some reason.
We trudged back toward the hotel. When we reached the path, I decided to just to ask. I took a deep breath and looked down at Alice.
"What happened?" I sighed.
"With Bella?" she asked, indicating the sleeping woman in my arms. I repeated the name in my head a few times. Viola's name is Bella.
"Yeah, you said that her husband died?" I prompted, as we continued to make our way up the ramp to the hotel's back entrance.
"Jacob was an architect. He and Bella have been-well, were-together for as long as I've known her. She called him her personal sun." Alice smiled wistfully. "They were trying to start a family. Then, one day it all ended. He was in an accident at work. He'd gone out to the job site ... a steel girder fell on him. Jacob died instantly."
Alice stopped talking when she opened the door. The light and ambient noise from the hallway struck us full force. It seemed artificial in comparison to the quiet sanctuary of the beach. We were quiet until we got to the elevator. My heart was still aching for the woman in my arms. When the doors slid closed, I couldn't help but ask for more details.
"Y'all are from New York?"
"I am, Bella and Jake are..." She sighed. "Bella is from Washington state."
"I'm truly sorry, Alice," I said.
"It's okay; I'm just still not used to it. The two really were inseparable." She leaned back in the elevator and let her head rest on the wall. "I just don't want to lose her," she added quietly.
"You won't," I tried to reassure her.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened on their floor.
"No offense, Edward, but I don't have much faith in that. She's capable of healing, but it won't happen if she doesn't allow it." Alice pushed off from the wall and led the way down the corridor to their room. She swiped the card key and swung the door inward, holding it open for me to follow.
"Bedroom?" I asked, and following her nod I walked back and laid the tragic beauty on the bed.
As Alice was walking me to the door I turned to her. "Just give Bella some time; she'll want to pick up the pieces eventually."
The small woman nodded and let me out. I went home on autopilot that night, still thinking about her. I shuffled through the hotel, somehow remembering to pick up Veronica. My Volvo drove itself back to Savannah. I dreamt of mourning mythical creatures and sad Shakespearean heroines until dawn.
/*/*/*/
The next morning, I groggily walked into the kitchen feeling like I hadn't slept at all. It was rare for anything to get under my skin like the situation with Bella had. I padded over to the cupboard with the intent of grabbing some form of cardboard-like fiber-rich cereal. I hadn't been grocery shopping, and Emmett was a bit of a health nut. I felt something pelt me in the back of the head and turned to find the lovely Rosalie Hale sitting in my breakfast nook.
"We need to talk about the set list," she whispered.
"Could you speak up? I'm still half asleep."
"I can't; I think I've got Emmett's cold," she croaked a little more loudly. I grimaced at the sound and turned away from the cabinet, all thoughts of cereal forgotten.
"You're kidding me?" I groaned. This was most decidedly bad. If Rose couldn't talk, then she couldn't sing. How were we going to work our act around that? "We've got another day; maybe your voice will come back?"
"Emmett just started to feel better last night," she informed me.
"That's three days," I sighed. "We're just going to have to cancel. Jane and Alec can do another shift this week."
"No," Rose tried to shout but only managed a strangled cry. She banged her fist on the table.
"Listen, I know that you and Jane don't get along ..." I stopped talking at Rose's glare. She and Jane had a long-standing mutual hatred, which started long before the two began working at Savannah Smiles. Anyone caught standing between the two of them would probably turn into a block of ice from the chill the two of them seemed to create. Her twin, Alec, wasn't much better. The only word to describe him was slimy. He continuously engaged in dialogue - including sexual innuendo - with his sister as part of their act. He also seemed to admire her breasts a little too much for comfort. It was unsettling to say the least.
I stared at Rose for a solid minute trying to formulate an alternate solution since she didn't plan on letting the "incest twins" have our night. There was no way to perform without her at least speaking. Most of what people came in for was the off-color banter between the two pianists. It wouldn't work if she was mute.
"I don't see a way to do this, Rose." I intentionally looked away from the blond whose stare could have rivalled Medusa's and hid behind the cabinet door.
I was shocked to see that Emmett had actually purchased Raisin Bran. Mmmmm... cardboard with chewy non-cardboard... I needed to go shopping. When I closed the cabinet, Rosalie was standing directly behind the door.
"Fine, come up with an alternative set list without singing, but if you can't talk at all, we're going to have to call Jane," I threatened. She was still standing there. "There's no way to do the show in pantomime. You need your hands to play."
She finally nodded and walked back to the table. Rose was a great partner, but she always seemed to get her way. I chalked that up to the fact that she seemed to be descended from some form of exceedingly scary Norwegian-Amazon bloodline of women who ate people for breakfast. I liked her.
Emmett chose that moment to emerge from hibernation and join us for breakfast. He lumbered in and shot me a pointed glance. I was eating his cereal - again.
"I'll buy more," I responded to the unspoken challenge.
"Not the cheap stuff with added sugar." He pointed a spoon at me. I suppressed a laugh at his choice of weapon. "You came in later than usual. Rough night at the bar?" he asked.
"Kind of." I didn't elaborate, instead opting to find something rather interesting in my bowl to play with. A raisin would do.
Rosalie made a noise. I glared at her. If she really wanted to perform, she was going to have to keep quiet. She wasn't looking at me but was focused on participating in some sort of semi-silent communication with Emmett. I shook my head and went back to my cereal.
Emmett plopped down across the table from me, sparing a moment to kiss Rose. I didn't look back up again until I realized that there had been no movement from their side of the table.
"What?"
"You're just... pensive... It's kind of disturbing, dude," Emmett said. He was studying me. "Did something happen last night?"
"Not much, regular shift, hauled Veronica down to the beach..." watched a Shakespearean tragedy unfold... "played a bit for the rest of the staff - typical night."
"You sure about that?" he pressed. Emmett should have been a detective. He always seemed to know when something was up.
"There were these women on the beach..." I started.
"Now we're talkin'..."
"Not like that, Emmett. One of them lost her husband recently. Something I played upset her, and she broke down right there on the sand. It was heartbreaking," I explained.
"Oh," he responded, and we went back to breakfast. I shoveled my bran flakes and raisins down as quickly as I could. Sick or not, Rosalie was leaning in toward Emmett in a way that said I needed to disappear if I didn't want to see them naked.
"No talking!" I ordered Rosalie as I rushed to get dressed and out the door. I heard something strike the frame as I closed it and laughed to myself. Emmett had a very long day ahead of him keeping her quiet. I really didn't want to know what that would entail.
I went to campus to work on a composition in the computer lab. I still lacked a copy of Finale even though I'd invested in the midi keyboard to plug into my laptop. I knew that I could just ask Carlisle and Esme and they'd give me a copy, but I was far too old to be asking my parents for money. I would find a way to afford it on my own.
There was a new TA in the computer lab named Tanya, according to her necklace. Much like me, she stood out on campus. Her strawberry blond hair and lightly tanned skin would make her easy to find in a crowd at Savannah State. Chances were that she was very good at whatever instrument she played. Savannah State was a Historically Black College, and students with fair skin were few and far between. I waved at her and decided to introduce myself later, since my composition was due on Monday and time was running out. She was gone when I finished.
I went to work at the hotel bar that night, with no sign of Viola or the pixie. I wondered if Alice had given up and taken Bella home or if the two were holed up in their room. I could have asked Charlotte, the night desk clerk on duty, if they'd checked out, but that probably would have crossed the line from "concerned nice guy" back into "stalker who remembers what wine you drink" territory. The wine comment wasn't really my fault. As a bartender, it often - literally - paid to know what people were drinking.
I'd just have to wait and see if they showed up. It was entirely possible that I might never see either of them again. That was a strangely sad thought. I didn't have any real investment in the pair, but I wanted to know if they were alright. I really was bordering on being a stalker.
Determined not to be "that guy," I resisted the urge to check on the ladies. I considered heading down to the beach to play just in case they were taking another walk but decided that after closing would be too late for them to be out, anyway. I also needed to check on Rosalie. Jane and Alec would need notice before performing. I kept my path back to my car as far wide of the elevators and the front desk as I possibly could.
Rosalie was asleep when I returned home. Emmett sat on the couch with a game controller in his hand, focused on the screen. I flopped into the matching armchair and waited for him to finish the level.
"Did the Princess behave today?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes. Yes, she did." He smirked at me, and I tossed the nearest throw pillow at him.
"She's supposed to be resting," I said.
"Just messin' with ya... She slept most of the day, and I fed her soft foods - no dairy," he said. "I threatened to gag her if she talked."
"I bet that went over well." I rolled my eyes. There was no way that Emmett would ever make good on that particular threat.
"She stayed quiet." He turned off the game console and headed for the kitchen. "Drink?" he asked.
"Yeah, grab me a beer," I called over my shoulder.
Emmett returned with two bottles. I held out my hand, and he practically dropped mine into it as he walked past. Once he was resituated on the sofa, he looked back up at me.
"Dude, you look ill. Am I going to have to call Jane and Alec myself?"
"No, I'm fine." I took a swig of my beer to avoid conversation.
"Either you're sick or something's bugging you."
I glared at him.
"We never talk anymore," he whined.
"You are such a girl," I laughed. "That and I only stopped talking to you because all you talk about is Rose and her various body parts."
"I do not!" he protested.
I raised an eyebrow, and he let it go.
"In all fairness, you haven't looked like you needed to spill your guts until today." He leveled his eyes with mine. "Did you see anymore crying widows this evening?"
"No." My voice must have betrayed some type of emotion because recognition crossed Emmett's features before he wiped it away. Death was a touchy subject for me, and he knew it - which was mildly amusing since we lived in Savannah, possibly the most haunted city in the US.
"Are you coming to dinner at Carlisle and Esme's tomorrow?" I asked.
"Can we play it by ear? Rose may need the rest if she's going to insist on playing tomorrow night," he responded with a shrug.
"I'm going to bed." I got up, downed the rest of my beer in one gulp, and tossed it over the counter into the trashcan on my way back to my bedroom.
/*/*/*/
"Good morning, sailor." A sultry voice pulled me from a deep sleep.
I was quite puzzled as I hadn't had a woman in my bed for years. A hand ruffled my hair and scratched my scalp. My eyes popped open and searched for the woman attached to the hand and the voice.
Rosalie sat perched on the edge of my bed. I narrowed my eyes at her before rolling over and putting my pillow over my face. She tried to pry it off my face.
"Come on, big boy, it's time to wake up?"
Why is Rosalie using the porn star voice?
I pulled my head out from under the pillow to stare at her. Raising one eyebrow, I pulled myself to a seated position.
"What's up with the porn star voice?" I asked.
"Don't you like it? My voice isn't completely back yet, so I sound kind of hot," she said and smoothed a hand across my blanket in a manner that was supposed to be sexy but fell just shy due to the fact that she couldn't keep a straight face.
"No more talking," I chided. "Where's the set list?"
She dropped a piece of paper in my lap with a list of songs we could feasibly depend on the audience to sing, or go without vocals, and dirty jokes to accompany it. I was familiar with the list. I just needed a little time this morning to familiarize myself with the script she wrote.
"I see you plan on using that husky voice of yours to your advantage this evening," I commented. The fact that it was Sunday night and few of the regulars would be around was going to work out to our benefit.
"Are you and Emmett coming to dinner on Tybee?" I asked.
Rosalie shook her head, 'no.'
"Good, but don't go using that newfound voice of yours to woo my best friend. Get some rest, and save it for tonight." I pointed a finger at her as she sauntered out the door.
Rosalie brandished an entirely different finger back at me over her shoulder.
/*/*/*/
"Edward!" Esme called from the front porch as soon as I exited the car. I squinted in the midday sun even from behind my sunglasses. Sometimes the continuous heat and sunshine of South Georgia could melt a man, even with Fall approaching. A bead of sweat slid down my back as if the sun was trying to prove that fact.
I waved at my godmother and looked over at the house next door. There was a scaffolding reaching up to the second floor and a large pile of building supplies haphazardly piled on the lawn. Someone had been working on it again.
I walked to the door and gave Esme a hug. She placed a kiss on my cheek and pulled me into the house. The smell of roasted chicken and peach cobbler assaulted me. I hummed in approval and felt my mouth water.
"I've made your favorite," Esme said and handed me a glass of sweet tea. I took the condensation-coated glass from her hand and took a drink.
"Thank you," I said and followed her into the kitchen where we joined Carlisle. She'd put my godfather on salad duty. He stood at the counter meticulously chopping vegetables with precision that one only saw exhibited by a surgeon. I almost expected him to be holding a scalpel instead of a chef's knife.
"Ah! Edward, how are you, my boy?" Carlisle asked, barely looking up from the bell pepper he was dissecting.
"Things are good. I finished my composition this morning," I said.
"Can we hear it?" Esme asked. She was excited, so I nodded and made my way to the piano in the great room. Esme followed me. I had been smart and brought my notebook with my printed music into the house with me.
I found that I didn't have to think about the music as I played. I glanced at the sheet music twice. The song was sad, soft, and heartbreaking. I thought about Bella on the beach. I couldn't imagine being with someone for as long as she had only to have it all ripped away. I knew a couple of things about her.
The first was that she loved deeply. I'd seen loss before. She wasn't bouncing back from it. Perhaps her friend, Alice, was right; she needed a change of scenery. I worried about what would happen when it came time for Alice to leave. Surely Bella shouldn't be by herself.
The second thing that I had gleaned from our brief encounter was that her friend must love her. Alice had cared enough to pull her out of her rut and bring her to Tybee. I hoped that Alice's plan worked. Bella was too young to die of a broken heart.
The song spiralled to a close. I could feel it hanging in the air after I played the last note. When I turned to Esme, she had tears in her eyes, and her hand was resting on her chest. Carlisle stood behind her, having just come from the kitchen. He seemed to be affected by the music, too. I almost felt guilty for bringing down the mood in the house, but my godparents smiled, and Esme clapped her hands together.
"That was sad; beautiful, but sad," Esme said.
"I hate to interrupt, but I pulled the chicken out of the oven; dinner's ready," Carlisle murmured.
We moved into the dining room and ate dinner. It was relatively quiet. Esme even forgot to ask me whether or not I was dating anyone, which was her usual line of questioning.
/*/*/*/
That evening, I was pleasantly surprised at work. Rosalie and I finished our set at the bar. I thought that I saw the pixie in the audience. When we finished for the evening, I made my way out to mingle with the crowd, but I really wanted to see if it was indeed Alice I saw. My suspicions were confirmed when I caught sight of the pair. Bella was scanning the crowd for someone.
I called out to Alice, and she waved me over. We made a bit of small talk. I let her officially introduce me to Bella. The poor, shipwrecked brunette still looked miserable, and somewhat embarrassed. However, she did give me her full name, Bella Black. Alice invited me to join them, but Bella was tense. I offered to get drinks to allow them some alone time. If the lady Viola needed an escape, I wasn't going to prevent it. She could easily tell her friend while I was gone.
We made a bit more small talk when I returned. Bella didn't open up. Instead, she made an excuse to leave before they finished their drinks. It stung a bit, but I couldn't blame her. It came from a place inside of her that was overtly hurting. I understood that.
/*/*/*/
"Edward, my man." Emmett clapped a hand on my shoulder, and I knew that I was in trouble. He'd seen me talking to Bella and Alice on Sunday night. I successfully avoided him for nearly three days, which is hard to do when you share an apartment and work together. "You'll never believe what I thought I saw on Sunday night..."
"A unicorn," I suggested.
"No, but just as rare. I'm pretty sure I saw you talking to a pair of lovely ladies," he said.
"Don't go there, Emmett; that was the dear widow and her friend," I responded.
Emmett raised an eyebrow before opening his mouth again. "When you said widow, before, I was thinking about someone much, much older. Man, how did the guy die," he mused.
"Accident on a construction site," I muttered. For some reason, talking about Bella's deceased husband hurt.
"Ew. Well, they were both attractive - maybe you should consider -"
"Walk away, Emmett," I warned him, "she needs a friend, not some guy trying to get her into bed."
With that, Emmett left the subject of Bella Black alone.
I didn't see her again. Time passed with agonizing slowness as I continued my regular schedule. By the following Monday I needed a distraction. Worrying about a woman whom I had no real connection to was wearing me down. She didn't want my help, and I didn't know her well enough to just show up and check on her.
Tanya - the tall, tan, blonde - bumped into me on campus. We were both reaching for the last blueberry muffin at the coffee cart in the student center. I let her have it.
"Hi, I'm Edward Cullen. I don't believe that we've met," I introduced myself.
"Tanya Denali." She stuck out her hand. "I've seen you around the music department. You're kind of old to be an undergrad, aren't you?"
Tanya was a very direct person.
"Yeah, I took a few years off." I ducked my head a bit. I had never been embarrassed by the fact that I was a nontraditional student before. "I was in a marginally successful band for a while."
"Really, what band?" She took a seat and indicated for me to join her.
"Banana Sidecar, you've probably never heard of it." I absently ran a hand through my hair.
"Actually..." She paused to pull out her iPod and spun her finger along the click wheel before passing it to me. On the screen was a tiny picture of our last album. "You were pretty good. This last CD wasn't your best, but I really liked the rest of your work." She smiled.
The rest of the conversation went pretty well. Tanya liked indie rock music and played the violin as well as bass guitar. We decided to get together and jam on the following Wednesday. I had to admit that Tanya was the kind of laid-back girl with whom I could spend a lot of time. She was just cool.
The rest of the week passed by a little more quickly. Rose got her voice back, so we tweaked our set list a couple more times. I added some new songs. Thoughts of Bella Black still crept in, but I had other things with which to occupy myself. Tanya and I spoke in the hallway a few times between classes.
Then came Saturday.
/*/*/*/
I hardly expected to find Bella Black at a Kroger in Savannah staring at the cartons of Haagen Dazs and grumbling like a crazy person. She'd picked up a tan during the past couple of weeks and looked a little less depressed but slightly insane. Fortunately, she was in Savannah, so no one stared because everyone had a crazy relative of some sort who got into the occasional tiff with a rack of dessert items. I, on the other hand, knew that this wasn't normal behavior for her.
"Bella?" I called to her, causing her to violently whip around and nearly lose her balance in the frozen foods section. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," I apologized.
"Hi," she said sweetly.
"Hey." I had to grin at her. The instant change in her demeanor was too cute; she blushed bright pink like a teenage girl. "What brings you here?"
In response she merely pointed to the offending ice cream. I ascertained that Alice must have left, otherwise she wouldn't be so angry at a dairy product.
"Yeah, some things are hard to find on the island," I said.
"And in Savannah," she said, folding her arms across her chest and scowling.
I raised an eyebrow. What couldn't she find in Savannah? It was a major city after all.
"No White Chocolate Raspberry Truffle."
Internally, I laughed as she told me her ice cream issue. Women were an interesting contribution to the human race. Apparently it was "her flavor," and she couldn't decide between two others. My suggestion of the perfectly logical "buy both" was not met with much enthusiasm. She was alone, and grieving, and irrational, so I did what any gentleman would do: I invited her over.
By the look on her face, she took it wrong. I could see the wheels turning. She thought ...
"I'm not trying to… I didn't mean anything by that, Bella. I just thought… um… this way you could, you know, have both flavors. Right away," I back-peddled.
"That's really sweet of you, Edward." She sounded like she was leading into a rejection but stopped.
"So… uh… what do you think?" I prompted. This situation had become too awkward for words. I felt like I was asking her out, even though I had no intention of doing so.
"Well, I guess, we could… uh… share them…" Her cheeks turned pink again.
I bought her ice cream after a bit of a protest on her part; she definitely wasn't a southern girl. If she was going to hang around, she was going to have to get used to people, men in particular, doing things for her. I wondered how she'd react if I opened the door for her.
I drove uncharacteristically slowly back to my place so that Bella wouldn't get lost in the maze that is Savannah. She seemed to relax a bit over ice cream. I steered her into a conversation about parts of herself that most likely weren't linked to Jacob, the husband, and finally got to see her for who she really was.
The afternoon wore on, and our ice cream was long gone. However, I didn't want to send her back to the hotel to eat on her own. I didn't know how long she'd been doing that, as she hadn't been down to the restaurant in a while. The woman needed this. She needed a friend.
"I'm off work; do you want to stay for dinner?" I asked.
"Well..." She seemed to debate the simple question of dinner a bit too long.
"Come on, you're probably sick of take-out and hotel food. When was the last time you ate a home-cooked meal?" I asked.
"I don't remember." She turned that pretty shade of pink again.
"Stay," I implored her.
She smiled and announced, "Okay, but I'm going to help."
I led her to the kitchen and scared up some steaks and potatoes. Bella found some salad fixings in the refrigerator and set to work on that. I had to admit that it was nice having company in the kitchen and seeing her smile. We laughed and talked over dinner. I decided not to fight her on the dishes. She insisted on helping clean up. I felt a bit guilty about that since she was a guest, but it kept her at the house a bit longer, and she didn't have anything waiting for her at the hotel except for reality TV and solitude, neither of which could be good for her.
Emmett breezed through as we were wrapping up and shot me a pointed glance. Chances were that I'd have to deal with him acting like a nosy old woman when she left. I coaxed her into staying just a bit longer, but she did eventually need to go back. Navigating the roads from my house to the hotel could be difficult in the dark.
She looked alive when she got into her car and drove off. Perhaps I didn't have to worry so much about her. Bella seemed to be finding her way ever so slowly back into civilization.