January 11, 2005

"Hey, on your right!"

A bicycle whizzed past me; I jumped back as if scalded. The rider turned back to scowl. It was dangerous to daydream on the street. Distraction could turn deadly.

It had been seven days since my last trip through time. Seven long days.

In the present, my suspension was over. I went back to school like nothing happened. My teachers seemed surprised to see me back. I knew Renee was making plans for my transfer behind the scenes. Word of my little closet appearance must have spread through the faculty. They were puzzled by me, like the others before them, but with a pressing lesson plan, they had to move on.

With my heart still pumping from the brush with the bicycle, I dropped my bag off and went for a run. My homework was minimal this week and in all honesty it wouldn't matter if I did it anyway. I was too distracted. The bookish side of me was dying to complete it, but I knew I was in no mood.

There was a lot of work to be done with the move, anyway. My room was a mess. There was a plane ticket to buy and the late Christmas present for my dad. I had to give Phil our tax information because I wouldn't be doing it this year. The list went on and on.

I was passing by the playground when I spotted Bobby. His mother, Pam, waved me over. I pushed the gate open and went inside to say hello.

"Your mother told me about the move," Pam said when I met them at the swing set.

"Oh, yeah. I'm looking to move in with my dad."

"We'll miss you around here," she offered, gesturing to Bobby. He was thoroughly invested in swinging back and forth. When he saw us looking, he carefully disengaged one hand from the chain to wave.

Smiling at Pam, I went over to the swing beside him and pumped my legs. He went faster, trying to beat me. We continued in this way for ten minutes until he was breathless with giggles.

"Bobby, it's time to go!"

"I wanna stay with Bella!"

I laughed. "Go ahead, pal. It's dinner time."

Reluctantly, he hopped off the swing and followed his mother to the car. I watched them go, dragging my soles through the dirt. The car drove off and left me feeling quite alone.

I watched the sky darken. I knew I should head home. My mom and Phil would be expecting me for dinner. Now that I was moving, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with them. But I sat there, quietly watching my shadow lengthen.

Then abruptly, it vanished.

When I looked up, I was in a different playground.

The sun had already set here. I stood up and scanned the parking lot. The cars had . . . changed. Gone were the minivans and shiny sports cars. They had been replaced with those of an older style. Tailfins and chrome lined the lot.

I felt a smile growing on my face. There was no one around, but it was clear to me that I was no longer in 2005.

The thought alone sent a jolt through my veins. I was starting to feel a bit like Marty McFly. Time travel was just so . . . heavy. Unfortunately for me, I didn't have the DeLorean.

It was time to start walking. If the Cullens were in this town, I'd find them.

This place was colder than Phoenix. My running gear was perfect for a dry heat, but in the twilight, I felt myself beginning to shiver. I refused to let that bother me; I was too excited to be back.

I walked toward town and found a sleepy little diner. They seemed to be my safe havens the trips to the past.

I shouldered past an older couple and went to the phone book. It told me I landed in Rutland, Vermont. Another town for the collection, I supposed.

The book looked a few years old, but I was pleased to find that the Cullens had a listing. I tore the page away and tucked into my sports bra. No one was going to look there. With a furtive glance over my shoulder, I closed the door to the telephone booth. The cashier frowned at me as I passed. I wasn't sure if was my outfit or my manic expression. I nodded to him as I hurried out the door.

The downtown scene was starting to get crowded. I had no way of knowing what day it was, though I suspected it was a weekend; there was a decent amount of kids my age on the streets. I took a breath and went up to a group of them. The tallest boy was kind enough to point me in the right direction.

One of his friends unsettled me. I could not figure out why.

There was nothing remarkable about him. The other boys were better looking, but they softer than him, and less focused. He had a girl on either side, but his dark eyes were fixed on me. The cold temperature didn't seem to bother him. He made no introduction like the others, who said their names through chattering teeth.

I thanked the group for their help and took off. Soon the noise and bustle of the town were behind me.

The area took a turn for the rural. Exactly according to the pattern. They sure did like their privacy.

I felt the excitement mounting as I reached the house, but I peeked into the mailbox just to be sure. Two letters were addressed to a Doctor Carlisle Cullen. I resisted the urge to do a jig. It was really happening.

I could hear "Mona Lisa" coming from inside the house. I decided against sneaking in and marched through the front door with as much nonchalance as I could muster.

Edward was standing in front of the table. His sketchbook was on the floor. Despite my attempt at blasé, the mail slipped through my fingers.

He was more beautiful than I remembered. The last time I saw him was in Scotland, when we . . . kissed.

His hair, bronze in the day, seemed redder in the dim light. The jaw was the same, and the smooth, full lips. His skin was as white as ever, the cheekbones just a sharp. And his eyes. The eyes were bright and gold. They made my knees wobble.

"You have mail," I managed to say before he had me in his arms. His lips pressed to mine. It was far from the sweet, tender kiss from my last visit. This was sexy. My fingers clutched at his shirt, trying to keep him there. It had been so long.

"I missed you," he said at last, pulling away.

"I missed you," I agreed, when I could breathe again. It was easy to play with the levels of my feelings when alone, but when I was with him, I realized how deep they actually ran. The days without him dragged. But he had years to contend with. I almost didn't want to know.

Edward seemed to guess what I was thinking. "May 7, 1955."

"Three years," I moaned, twining my arms around his neck. With my cheek pressed against his, I felt the smile growing on his face.

"It's shorter than last time, Bella."

He was right. Seventeen years, nine, one, ten, seven, and now three. The time between trips was beginning to average out. I pulled away, thinking. There had to be a reason for it.

Edward bent his head until we were nose-to-nose. "What year are you from?"

"I can't say."

"Tell me," he breathed, his hand on the nape of my neck. "Please?"

It took everything I had to shake my head. "I wish I could."

"Someday I get it out of you," he chuckled, hoisting me off the ground. I admired him from my new height and ran my fingers through his hair. Happiness welled up in me like a spring. There seemed to be no limit for it. No ceiling to stop the rise.

"I'm so happy."

His arms around me loosened until I slid down him. My feet hit the floor and I grinned.

"Hey, do you still have the files Carlisle started on me?"

He nodded and disappeared up the stairs. I felt his absence almost immediately. It seemed like eons but I knew only seconds had gone by. Hoping to distract myself, I wandered to his discarded sketchbook.

Edward was a wonderful artist. Each page held a greater sketch than before. His work was as carefully executed as his photographs. I flipped through the pages, recognizing some of the places and faces I saw there. There was a profile of Esme tending to her garden, another of Carlisle in his study. A landscape of New York City. Another of our loch in Scotland.

With a start, I realized the latest sketch was of me in that loch. My arms were spread wide, my face tilted upward to the sun. A set of white wings were extended behind my arms. Stray feathers were drawn across the page.

He had taken a painful parting and turned it into something beautiful.

A cold arm snaked around my waist. "Find something interesting?"

It was a very different response from the last time he caught me snooping. I turned my head. The boyish look had returned. I could tell this meant a lot to him. That I meant a lot to him. It was hard to find the words to express the depth of my own feelings.

"It's . . . lovely. It really is. Thank you."

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will."

"Jane Eyre," I burst out. "I've been meaning to talk about that with you. And other books. And everything! Just . . . talking. About everything."

"This picture is the opposite of the quote, I believe," Edward told me, closing the sketchbook. "But the way you come in and out of my life . . . it's like flying, is it not?"

"It can feel that way," I nodded. "Though I heard swans can get vicious."

"I know one who can be," he grinned, stealing another kiss. My heart raced. I wish I had his camera, so I could capture this moment for eternity. Despite the length of time between us, it was like it never passed at all.

We sat down at the table and began to pull apart the files. He laid them out in order of creation, starting from Carlisle's report of my little hospital escape. I couldn't help but laugh at that one.

"What?"

"I'm imagining the look on Carlisle's face," I said between giggles. "When he came back and I wasn't there!"

"I remember that look. He was still scratching his head about it that morning."

"You were coming to meet him?"

Edward nodded. "I was planning on going inside, but hospitals weren't a great place for me at the time."

But that wasn't what struck me.

It was that Edward, in some way, was present each time I traveled back to the Cullens. That trip stood out because he wasn't there. But the truth was that if I stayed perhaps an hour later, I might have met him, rather than in 1934.

"What's wrong?"

I shook my head and reached for a pencil. My timeline grew across the page, curved and jagged against the straight arrow of his own. I made notes of the dates and locations, mindful of other similarities.

But it seemed the common denominator was Edward.

"See?" I asked when it was finished. "It seemed random at first, but it isn't. It's a pattern."

For someone so educated, he was mystified. "What's the commonality?"

"It's you. You're the common denominator," I explained. "I'm the variable. You're the constant. Every journey backwards that wasn't to my own past was to your . . . present."

"The second journey didn't fit the pattern," he whispered. "You ruled it out until now."

"It's almost like you're the anchor. I'm tied to your timeline now."

Edward's smile lit up the room. "Penelope and Odysseus."

"That's right," I laughed, sliding into his lap. His arms came around me at once.

"The times between the trips are getting shorter," he realized. "Soon they'll run parallel."

I let my hair slide between us to hide my face. Not only had we determined the pattern, we recognized a connection that surpassed time itself. It was almost too much to take in. I felt him brush the hair back. His eyes were bright like the sun.

His voice was a low murmur, like a lullaby. "I'm honored and humbled that fate has tied us this way."

"Back at you," I said weakly. I was dazzled by him; there was simply no other word for it. When my brain started functioning again, I let my gaze fall to his shirt. Then I snorted.

"Is that a uniform?"

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "I started drawing after school yesterday and I never changed my clothes."

"You go to school?"

Edward mussed up my hair. "Of course. The younger we start in one place the longer we can stay there."

I tugged at his tie. "I like it."

"If you're here long enough, we can get you enrolled as well."

"Ew, no. I'm in enough school trouble in my time as it is."

"Why?"

I rose to my feet and went to get a glass of water. "I miss a lot of days and fall behind. Then we move to a new place and I start all over. Rinse and repeat."

"That's a shame. You're very intelligent."

I shrugged. "I guess."

"No, you are," he insisted. "Carlisle and I pored over these files dozens of times. We've never figured out the link between your trips. You did that."

"Yeah, but—"

"And you're still alive," he went on, ignoring my protests. "You have to be incredibly smart to survive the unexpected trips, especially those not of your own timeline."

"Okay, okay. I'm smart. No, I'm a genius."

It was his turn to snort. "Almost a genius. If you were one, you'd stay away from vampires."

"You weren't a vampire when I met you," I pointed out. He grinned.

"All right, you have me on that one."

I set down my glass of water. "So, are we alone in the house?"

"Yes, Carlisle's at work. Esme went to see him. She volunteers there sometimes."

"What about Emmett and Rosalie?"

"They live in New Hampshire."

"Not with you all?"

"They wanted time away from the rest of the family. To be a couple. It can be, um, difficult to live with them sometimes."

"How come?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Well, I can read their minds, and everyone else can hear . . . things. In the house."

Oh. It seemed so obvious now. I blushed. "Right, of course."

Underneath the embarrassment, I was pleased because . . . I couldn't even follow the thought to its conclusion. But when it came to Edward Cullen, that was definitely on my mind.

"Ugh," he complained. "It's so irritating, not knowing what you're thinking."

I felt shy. "I don't want to say."

Edward joined me at the sink. He leaned forward, eliminating the little space I had there. The counter pressed into my spine, but I barely noticed it. The honey gold eyes were hypnotic. "Please?"

I would have jumped off a bridge if he asked me like that. "It's just . . . um . . . I was wondering if it was possible . . . if we could . . ."

My voice faltered at the sudden seriousness on his face. Blood rushed to my cheeks and I heard myself begin to stammer.

"I'm sorry, that was s-so forward . . . I forget sometimes, it's different here—"

His kiss silenced me. When he pulled away, he pressed a hand to my cheek.

"It was not forward," Edward assured me. "I just don't know if it's possible. Every moment is a battle, Bella. Every time I kiss you, I fight against all of my instincts. I don't ever want to put you in harm's way; you face enough of that already."

We were so close our foreheads were touching. "Are you scared?"

"No, I'm not. I guess I just thought . . . that one day . . . it could happen."

His sigh was long and wistful. "I may not be human, but I am a man. I wonder the very same thing."

My cheeks reddened again. "Good to hear, I guess."

He smiled faintly. "Have you ever . . . ?"

"No, no. Never."

We lapsed into silence. I moved until I my arms were around him, my head pressed against his chest. Listening for a heartbeat that was not there. But it didn't bother me. I already heard what was in his heart.

"I missed you," he told me again, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"I missed you, too." Saying it a thousand times wouldn't be enough.

"I have a question for you, though."

"What? Anything."

He pulled away and looked down. "Does everyone in the future dress like this?"

I burst out laughing. My running gear! I had completely forgotten about it. I was sure all of my outfits were puzzling to the Cullens. They were in for a big surprise when the eighties rolled around.

"Oh, you're so cute," I said at last, when my giggles had subsided. "With so much to learn."

He laughed, taking my arm. Together we walked up the stairs, and my smile couldn't get bigger. I was with Edward. There was no place I'd rather be.

A/N: Two chapters in one week! I hope you all enjoyed them. We'll go back to Wednesdays from now on.

A few of you have asked about Alice and Jasper. I assure you they'll both appear in the story, just not yet. I'm playing with the traditional Twilight timeline.

Let me know what you think, and I'll see you all next week!