Author's Note: So, needless to say that I didn't get the number of reviews that I was hoping for. Ten less actually. But the reviews that I am getting are awesome! It means so much that you like this story and you are taking the time to review! I believe that this will be my last update until the release of...BREAKING DAWN! I have a lot I have to do prior to the release but I fully intend on continuing this after it's over. However, if I get some amazing reviews, I may just be tempted to pop out another chapter. Just a hint...

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. It all belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I could never claim the world and characters she has created. I am just having a little bit of fun with them. However, should she like to hand over Edward and his silver Volvo, I would certainly not object.


Chapter IX: Her Talent

Isabella and Edward met inside the school by the door at the end of the day. They walked out to his car in silence, not noticing the stares that they received from their classmates as they passed. Mary Alice had already managed to find her way into the car, something that puzzled Edward endlessly since she did not have key. She was bouncing in the back seat, her eyes bright as she took their books from them and set them on the seat beside her.

"How was archery today, Mary Alice?" Edward asked, doing his best to get the crazy look off her small sprite face. Archery was her elective that semester for her physical education class. The mere thought of Mary Alice equipped with a bow and arrow frightened him to no end and made him rejoice in the fact that he was stuck in Stoker's dreadful music program. She was more inclined to try to be a Cupid of sorts than work with the actual hay bale targets that were provided. Though she denied that it was done on purpose, she had managed to strike Daniel Roberts in the rear last week. (Eloise Doner, who had an unfortunate case of acne and happened to be in the class as well, had taken a liking to the pompous Daniel. Mary Alice thought it was her job to be matchmaker.) Lucky for him and Mary Alice, he suffered no permanent damage.

She shrugged, obviously disinterested with the subject. "It was rather dull to be honest. I'm not allowed to have actual arrows anymore. Mr. Collins has me on these child-proof ones that don't stick to anything until I've been deemed 'mature enough to handle them the way a proper young lady should.'" She had lowered her normally high-pitched voice considerably in the attempt to sound like Mr. Collins. Isabella laughed as Mary Alice snorted and shook her head in disgust. "Him and my father would get along quite well," she quipped, giving Edward a significant look through the mirror.

Isabella perked at the mention of her father. "Why would your father agree, if you don't mind me asking?" The blush that seemed to accompany Isabella everywhere was present on her cheeks once again. Though he could not know for sure, he figured Isabella was thinking back on what Jessica surely had told her about Mary Alice's father.

Mary Alice laughed at the question. "First of all, my father is rarely around so he shouldn't be too critical about the way I turned out." She paused for a moment, realizing how bitter her comment sounded. "Don't get me wrong, Is. I love my father dearly…he is my father after all. It's just…," she broke off. Edward could hear the different ways to phrase her father's attitude of her. "Well, he's always working and always has been. I mean, he was out of state when I was born." She laughed. "My mother has raised me by herself. I had more…freedom 

with just her around than I would have if my father would have been present. It would have been all gowns, flowers, and books with him. He always envisioned a little daddy's girl. However, I guess you could say I became more rambunctious and…."

"Out-of-the-box," Edward supplied, a smile on his face as he carefully watched the road.

Mary Alice laughed. "Yes, out-of-the-box is perfect. I prefer not live or dress or behave the girls in Naperville were taught to. I wasn't really taught that from the start. Then, I met Edward and he only helped to lead me off the beaten path so…." She broke off into laughter where she was shortly joined by Edward.

"Oh, good times, good times," Edward said. "I never was a person to follow others."

Mary Alice sighed as they pulled out in front of her house. She smiled up at the two of them as they both turned around to say goodbye. "'Bye, Is. I'll talk to you later, Junior." Then, with a knowing and piercing look in Edward's direction, she hopped gracefully out of the car and skipped to her house, stopping for a moment to pick a daffodil.

Isabella laughed lightly as Edward pulled out onto the road again. "I like Mary Alice. She's too amusing."

Edward laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose. But you haven't had to deal with that much hyperactivity since you were six," he said, thinking back to the day where they met over a jar of clay.

"You've been friends since you were six?" Isabella asked, obviously surprised.

Edward nodded. "Yes. First day of first grade. She hasn't left me alone since."

Isabella laughed brightly as they pulled up to her house. Edward parked on the side of road, not wanting to block the drive way. If they were lucky enough to have Mr. Swan arrive while he was still there, he did not want to further complicate the situation by parking in his spot. Unfortunately, Isabella debunked his hope that they would be caught once again.

"He doesn't get home until around five when we have dinner," she said as she grabbed her books out of the back of the car.

Edward opened her door for her and helped her out without so much as a slip or a bump. They walked to her house slowly as Edward admired the gardening and the neatness of her yard. Flowers were starting to bud off the stone walkway that led to the front door. Rose bushes lined the entire way around the iron fence. A perfectly shaped apple tree was on the right side of her yard with green leaves basking in the glow of the afternoon sun.

Isabella opened the door and ushered him inside. She hung her coat in the closet off the door and took Edward's to hang it up as well. She led him into the immaculate living room 

where he first laid eyes on her. It appeared to Edward to be even larger due void of people. All that stood in the room was two couches and a few chairs and they seemed dwarfed due to the size of the room. The white interior was alight with the spring sun shining through the windows facing the yard.

Isabella turned to him. "Make yourself at home. I'm going to run my books upstairs and grab something." She smiled at him and moved to the staircase. She started to run up it, something Edward knew would only lead to disaster. Within a few seconds, he heard a thump that sounded an awful lot like someone falling on the middle of the steps. "I'm okay!" she yelled down weakly, pain evident in her voice.

Edward suppressed a chuckle as he continued to look around the room. He walked over to the beautiful piano that he had the pleasure of playing so many weeks ago. It was even more stunning in the daytime; the light danced off the polished ivory keys and colors were mixed of the top of the instrument. He ran a finger over the keys gently as he followed a ray of light with his eyes. It landed on the painting over the mantle that Edward saw during the party like a spotlight.

He walked over to it, finding that it was different from what he first thought it to be. It was a mountain range in autumn with the most vivid colors imaginable. From a distance, it looked as though it could be a snapshot of the scene. The trees seemed to be so distinct. However, up close all the colors blended together in way that was so artistic that it was more beautiful than the real thing. He was mesmerized by the way the artist represented their sight. It was amazing that anyone could do that with a paintbrush. Words could begin to describe.

As he continued his examination of the painting, Isabella walked carefully down the stairs. In arms was a large leather portfolio. Edward stared at her for a moment before realization fully dawned. He could not believe it. The artist that had created a vision so faultless was none other than his Isabella. Her eyes had seen it, her mind had transcribed it, and her hands had painted it. He was amazed.

"You painted this." It was not a question for he knew without a doubt that it was hers. Now that he knew and he looked at the work again, it had Isabella written all over it. Literally and figuratively, for once he looked closely, he saw that in the right hand corner was a 'IS' scrawled in black paint.

She nodded and sat down on one of the couches facing the fireplace. "Yes, I did. I was about fifteen, I believe. I was on a camping trip in northern Pennsylvania."

"At first, by the blending of colors, I thought it resembled a Monet," he said, looking between her and the picture.

"You know Monet?" she asked though she did not sound in the least bit surprised.

"Yes. My mother has an original in her room." He turned back to the painting. "Anyway, there is a quality so…unique about it that I knew it couldn't be his. It's like…reality meets…perfection. It's almost unearthly and strikingly beautiful." He looked back into her eyes as he said the last sentence.

She blushed at his complements, her head bowed down to look at her knees. Her portfolio was sitting in front of her on the glass coffee table. He slowly came and sat down next to her. She was silent for a while before she pulled the portfolio closer to them. With a deep breath that sounded hesitated, she flipped the cover open to reveal the most inner part of her soul.

Edward was blown away. She had a gift from God. It was like seeing through her eyes and if she saw life in these fantastic colors and textures, then he envied her to be so lucky. They were mostly of landscapes; mountains, trees, gardens, valleys bursting with life. There was a painting of a town that seemed to have been painted on top of hill overlooking it. There was a beautiful cottage situated in the middle of a clearing. It was painted white with soft pink shutters. There was a white porch in the front with a wicker couch sitting under a large window. Oak trees surrounded it to the back with a garden on either side of the dirt path leading up to the house. There were roses, daisies, mums, every flower that you could imagine in every color. It was breathtaking.

"I don't know how you do it," Edward finally said after staring transfixed at the cottage for some time. "How you can see something and put it down on paper without losing the spirit of it."

Isabella shrugged as if to seem nonchalant but her blush gave her away like it always did. "Well, you do it as well."

Edward looked down at her questioningly. "I don't paint, Isabella. And I certainly never could…like this."

She laughed lightly as she took looked at the painting. "I meant with your music. You play these beautiful pieces that take you over. You have such passion for them. It's art…it's the way you express yourself. It might not be with paint and a brush but it's all the same…all interrelated."

Edward shook his head. "But I don't create that music that I play. It was from someone else's mind. I just learn it."

"And I didn't create that house or that village or those mountains." She sighed, a small smile on her face and a distant look in her eyes. "God did. I merely paint what I see. You play what you know." She lapsed into silence, deep in thought. She broke out after a minute before turning to look back up at Edward. "Besides, are you telling me that you have never written a piece of your own?" She smiled knowingly.

Edward shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Yeah, maybe one piece."

"See?" she asked, patting his hand. "All the same."

Edward continued to look through the portfolio but the paintings were over. All that was left were black and white photographs. These were of people. He could tell that they were of friends. There was even a few more of her mother who was smiling brilliantly at the camera, her beauty shinning through the ink.

"Can I ask you something?" Edward asked when he reached the end of the photos.

"Certainly," Isabella said, turning to look at him.

"I noticed there are no people in your paintings," he said as he flipped back through them. "Why have you never done a human figure?"

She sighed, her fingers twitching in her lap. "I thought about it…many times. But I guess I was afraid. The human figure is so incredibly difficult. It is so complex; it isn't just a body; it's a personality, a soul. I was afraid I wouldn't manage to quite capture the entire essence of the subject. I wanted to do it justice when the time came." She sighed. "And I believe that I never quite ran into someone that inspired me to paint when I did."

She looked him dead in the eyes. They were bright and deep. Edward felt as though she was trying to tell him something but he could not quite grasp it. As usual, she was silent in his mind, making it even more difficult for him to handle.

"I also noticed that you tend to talk in past tense when you refer to painting," he observed carefully, hoping that he did not upset her. "Any reason for that or is it a frequent slip of the tongue?"

She laughed faintly as she looked back at the paintings that her own hand had brought into being. She smiled a ghost of a smile as though she was saddened by them. "I haven't painted since my mother died…since I arrived in Naperville. I can't seem to find inspiration."

Edward wanted to laugh. Her situation was so similar to his that it was almost ironic. While he did not believe in fate, he was beginning to believe that they had found each other for a reason. She had brought him inspiration as well as love. She had opened his ears and given him a new sense of music, one that he had never experienced before. He was so grateful for that. Now, he knew that it was time to repay her for something that she was not even aware of. It was time for him to open her eyes and give her inspiration as well. He knew just how to do it.

"I know exactly how you feel," he said, a smiled on his face. She peered back at him questioningly. "Are you free this Saturday?" he asked. He knew that he was bold but he could not help it. It was in this now and he was going to give her what she had been looking for.

She smiled brightly, all the sadness gone from her eyes. "Yes, I am."

"Well," Edward said, knowing full well that he was going to sound incredibly full of himself. "I'm going to take you to a place that will make your fingers ache to pick up a paint brush again. Just you wait."

As she looked up at him with a smile, he could see both hesitation and excitement in her eyes. She nodded after a moment as her fingers continued to twitch in her lap. "I can't."


Yeah, I know it is really short, especially compared to other chapters but that is just the way it came out. I guess it is kind of a filler even though it will be important later on.

So, on that note, I hope that BREAKING DAWN totally exceeds your expectations! I hope that it makes you smile, frown, laugh, and cry (but it that good "that's so beautiful, it's sad" kind of way) because that's what great books do! Read it, take your time, and love it! Once you have come to grips with the ending, whatever it may be, and your ready to plunge into fanfiction again, come on back and be prepared for an awesome new chapter!

Oh, and by the way, TEAM EDWARD!

Pumpkin.