This picks up right after the conversation between Edward and Bella, in the pharmacy.
Bella, Chapter 5
After speaking with Larry for a bit, Edward left the pharmacy, walking out as gracefully as the last time I'd seen him. He didn't look at me again; he just stared down at the floor in what I thought was an intentional manner.
Now I was more confused than ever. In a lot of ways, it would have been easier if he'd reacted to me as he had on my first day of work. At least that would be consistent. This unpredictability could drive me crazy. Today, he seemed friendly and genuinely interested in my thoughts. Plus, he'd said several things about me with such conviction – things that shouldn't be readily apparent, considering we were having our first in-depth conversation. They were perceptive observations.
And then there was that brief but intense exchange about some very significant events in my life: my relocation to Forks, and what I missed about where I'd left. I tried to explain New Jersey to him, and it seemed like he got it. That could be the most puzzling part of the entire conversation.
I'd definitely killed the mood by asking about the contact lenses, but the difference was so obvious, I couldn't stop myself. I knew I wasn't crazy. There was no way I could forget his eyes the first time I'd seen them, because they were so black and menacing. Today, they were much softer and pleasant. How is that possible?
Maybe his eyes changed color with his moods, like one of those rings from the 1970s that my mom's cousin still had.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. Rick looked up, questioning, but I smiled and shook my head. Time to focus on work.
I noticed my travel mug of coffee on my desk, untouched. Few things could make me forget to have my morning coffee. I held the mug between my hands and drank. The day was likely to be busy, and it was crucial that I devote all my attention to my responsibilities. You can't make mistakes on this job; someone could become seriously ill or even die. I had to wait until later to sort out today's interaction with Edward, if indeed it could be sorted out.
Many doctors came in to see patients after the weekend, and it seemed like every one of them chose to change each prescription, so we were quite occupied as the day went on. I was relieved to have no need to speak with Janice; I completed my orders without help. She sat with her back to me all day, occasionally moving to the counter to finish her assignments and enter the information in the logs. When she needed to leave the office, she told Rick or Larry instead of me.
Late in the afternoon, I was still fighting the distraction of my conversation with Edward. When a voice boomed "Hey Bella!," I didn't recognize it at first. I was deep in thought, and I frowned as I looked up. It was John Blackhorse from the ER. His eyes widened as he took in my expression.
I laughed and shrugged my shoulders. "Sorry. I was in the middle of something. How are you, John?" Reluctantly, I left my desk to approach him at the dropoff.
"I'm good," he said cheerfully. "I just came by to see, you know, how you're doing."
"I'm doing okay. Settling in just fine."
"That's good! That's great. Um..." he hesitated, drumming his fingers against the shelf. With his voice and his eyes lowered, he said, "Would you like to go to the movies with me this weekend?" His gaze slowly moved up to meet mine.
I was, as the expression goes, taken aback. He was asking me on a date. I didn't want to say yes, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Neither did I want to be vague in turning him down so as to encourage him to ask again in the future. He saw my hesitation and his face fell.
"John, I'm really sorry, but I can't do that."
He looked at me again. "Why not?"
"Well..." I hesitated again. Anything I said that might accurately explain my reluctance to date could become gossip. "I'm not ready to do that. I mean," I amended, "I don't think I'd be a good...date for you. For personal reasons. I had a bad breakup and I'm still giving myself room to breathe." I hoped that made it clear without giving too much away.
John looked hopeful. "I wouldn't rush you or anything! It's just a movie, really."
"I know," I said gently. "But I have to say no. Please don't take offense." This was hard. He seemed really sweet, but I sensed he wasn't someone I would want. And anyway, what I'd said was true.
He looked down at his hands, which were hanging over the edge of the shelf. "Okay. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he mumbled.
"Yeah, I should say the same to you," said, and at least he smiled.
He straightened up. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
I grinned. "Not at all. It's very flattering, really." I hoped I was letting him down as easily as possible without leaving any doors open too wide.
He backed away and pointed his fingers at me like six-shooters. "You'll tell me if you change your mind, right?"
"If I do, yes." I gave him a sad smile, hoping to communicate that there was practically no chance of that happening.
I walked back to my desk and put my head down on it. I blew out a hearty breath and asked Rick, "You're not laughing, are you?"
"Well, now I am," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "But while that conversation was going on, no, I wasn't."
"So you did hear it." At least Janice had stepped out before John came by.
"Some. Enough. Can I ask?..." Rick said, his voice trailing.
"I'll save you the effort. I can't go out with him right now. Maybe not ever. Bad timing." I picked my head up off my desk and looked at him.
"Okay, but why? John's a good guy. He hung out with my brother a lot when they were in high school. Nice kid, solid family," Rick said, looking at me quizzically.
"I can see that." I said slowly. "I just..." I shrugged my shoulders helplessly. "I can't explain it. It's another one of those instinct things. I wouldn't want to go out with him only to find it's not right, and he's become involved." I struggled to explain it.
"Hey, you don't have to justify anything," Rick said sympathetically "I can see that whatever happened in New Jersey, it was bad, and I'm sure you've earned the time you need to get through it. Just don't let some jerk from your past turn you off every guy around."
"I know," I said, closing my eyes briefly. "To tell you the truth, I don't think he's really someone I'd be interested in." I scrunched up my face. "I hope that doesn't make me sound too snobby. I really don't mean to be."
"Again, your business." Now Rick shrugged his shoulders. "You deserve to be happy."
"Thanks," I replied. He generously dropped the subject.
The day ended with me mulling over the sudden presence of men in my life. Not that it was all that significant, I told myself hurriedly. I'd turned down a date with John and had a conversation with Edward that was merely a polite discussion. I couldn't help but think, though, that if the situation was reversed and it was Edward who asked me to go to the movies, I would have said yes without hesitating.
Wearily, I wished I could live my life – for now, at least – without thinking about any of this. Couldn't I adjust to Forks and explore my new home minus the drama? Of course, if I hadn't made an impression at all on anyone here, I would worry about that, too. It would confirm my self-opinion that I was a nobody who barely made a ripple on anyone's radar screen, fading into the background as soon as she entered a room.
I couldn't win, even with myself.
The next day literally started off with a bang. My coffeemaker noisily took its last breath. I had just put the filter in with the ground coffee and turned it on when a small explosion burst out of the cord. Well, it was about ten years old, and a hand-me down from my sister. I guess I'd have to get my java fix from the cafeteria until I could shop for another one.
Between that and the strange dreams I was occasionally having, I arrived at work quite tired and grumpy. After hanging up my coat, I announced that I needed coffee and offered to pick some up for anyone else in the office, looking straight at Janice as I said it. She finally glanced at me and shook her head, then returned to the paperwork in front of her. That answered that question: status unchanged.
It was unpleasant, the frigid atmosphere between her and I, but at least there was no constant arguing. I could live with that as long as I reminded myself that I'd done the right thing in defending Pete, who continued to give Janice a wide berth each time he had to come near the pharmacy.
After work on Thursday, I went home and ate a quick dinner before heading down to La Push. Jacob was waiting on the stairs of the store. He gave me that big, sunny grin the moment he saw me and stood up to brush off the back of his pants. I pulled around the front and unlocked the passenger door.
"Hey Bella! How's it going?"
"Going fine, Jacob. How are you?" I had been nervous about this appointment because spending time in confined quarters with someone I barely know is always stressful for me. But Jacob's smile and cheerful manner put me at ease.
"So, let's see what Mooney's got waiting for us. What kind of car did you look at?" he asked.
"A Subaru Forester. I took a test drive and it ran great, but of course I can't be sure of what's really under the hood," I said.
"They're good cars. You're looking for a hatchback?" he asked.
"Right. I want something I can use to get my bike around to places I can't ride into," I explained.
He looked at me, startled. "Carry a bike around? In a Subaru? You ride a bike?"
Puzzled, I said, "Yes, why?"
He chuckled a little self-consciously and said, "Well, don't get insulted, but you don't exactly look the type."
I frowned. "Well, I'm no Lance Armstrong, but..."
Now he laughed harder, a roar that was somehow playful. "Oh, you mean bicycle! I thought you were talking about a motorcycle!"
I giggled. "Not hardly, no. I'm pretty sure there's legislation in New Jersey that says I am completely forbidden to ever ride a motorcycle, for fear of killing myself and everyone else on the road. Washington should just go ahead and pass the same law."
Still grinning, Jacob asked, "That bad?"
I smiled. "Yeah, I can be pretty klutzy. I manage okay on a bicycle" -- I stretched out the word as he'd done – "but a motorcycle has way more gears and stuff, and I think it'd be a disaster."
"Aw, it's not that bad. Maybe you should try it in a safe environment," he teased.
"That would have to be nothing bigger than a driveway. " He laughed again.
"Seriously, I've just learned a stick shift. I'm not pushing my luck," I added.
"So, how's your balance on your bicycle?" Jacob asked.
"Good, actually." I stopped and then grinned. "I almost said, 'good when there's no rain,' but that won't inspire confidence here in Forks."
He nodded his head vigorously. "No, it won't. I guess you haven't been riding much since you've been here, then."
"No. I had to get better gear – like a good rain jacket – but I'm still kind of nervous about taking it out in the rain. It's not just my own lack of coordination; I'm concerned about finding my way around here and figuring out which roads are best for biking. I haven't seen many bike lanes."
Jacob smiled. "That's city talk. You'd have to go to Seattle to find that."
"I'd rather ride here. I guess I'll just have to drive around and check out some routes. I hope this car works out," I said, since we were pulling into Mooney's.
I parked the rental and we walked to the office. Steve Mooney's son, Steve Jr., and Jacob seemed to know each other fairly well; instead of shaking hands, they fist-bumped and joked about how each was looking old. Steve Jr. turned to me. "You trust this guy to tell you whether the car's okay? He can't even get that old Rabbit hoppin'," he said, grinning.
"Exactly how much do I have to worry about that, anyway?" I joked. He laughed and handed me the keys.
I started the car and Jacob checked under the hood. We drove along Route 110, almost down to the reservation, with him at the wheel.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"The alignment is good. There's no shimmy. Brakes are solid; he probably put new pads on, but that's also good because you won't have to worry about that for awhile. Doesn't seem like this car's ever been in an accident. The engine looks and sounds fine, too," Jacob said.
"Great! I like it. And I'll be so glad to turn in the rental car," I said, relieved.
"Do you want to drive back?" he asked me.
"Yeah. Just as well start getting used to it."
When we returned to Mooney's, Steve and I haggled a bit over the price, but finally arrived at one we could agree on. I wrote him a check for $500 and promised to return with a certified check for the balance.
At first, Jacob didn't want to accept any payment for his "consulting services," but I convinced him by threatening to ride my bike in front of his store, in the rain. I had a feeling he could use the money, although I said nothing about that. As we drove back to LaPush, I explained to him that I had to go to the recreation center to meet with Ellen. "That's cool. You can just drop me off there," he said.
I asked him whether he repaired cars full time or helped his dad in the store. He replied, "I do both, plus I go to the county college part time."
"That's great," I said encouragingly. "What are you studying?"
"Auto mechanics," he said with a wry grin. "Maybe some day I'll get enough credits to graduate."
"How long have you been going?"
"Almost four years."
"Is it hard to find time to go to classes?" I assumed that since the deli was his family's means of support, working there had to be the priority.
"Pretty much. My dad wants me to get the education, but he needs me at the store. So, it's a kind of …" and he made a circling motion with his index finger.
"Like a Catch-22?"
"Yeah, that's the saying I was looking for." He was quiet for a bit after that.
"Sounds like it's hard for you," I said softly.
"Yeah, well, life is hard, right?" he said with forced cheer. It must have been a sore spot because he changed the topic pretty quickly. "Anyway, what're you going to see Ellen for?"
"I want to tutor with the literacy program here, and she's the coordinator," I explained.
"Oh, yeah, right. Teach the poor Indians how to read," he said, with some bitterness.
I was shocked. "That's – what? What did you say?" I glared at him. Even though I'd known Jacob a short time, a harsh comment like that seemed uncharacteristic of him.
"Sorry," he said, without sounding like he was. "Indians don't always have a good relationship with people who think they know what's best for us."
"Illiteracy doesn't have anything to do with nationality or race," I said indignantly. "People all over the world can't read, and most of them are very intelligent." He was silent.
"Besides, I do it because I love to read and I'd like others to be able to enjoy it, too. I didn't move to Forks with some misguided 'save the Native Americans' agenda," I added sarcastically. "I taught in a literacy program in New Jersey for three years. My student was a white guy." I was really ticked off at him. Those comments were completely off base. And I was annoyed that he suddenly turned so obnoxious.
He looked at me quickly. "Okay, okay. I was rude. I'm sorry. Really." This time, he sounded sincere.
I gave him a sidelong glance. "You're a pretty angry guy."
"Sometimes."
By now, we were on the street where the rec center was located. Jacob pointed it out to me and we turned into the parking lot. Both of us got out of the car and walked to the building in silence.
"Wait, wait," Jacob said. He suddenly seemed eager to explain himself. "I shouldn't have said that back in the car. It wasn't fair. We just see people all the time who think they can come in and tell us how to 'improve our lives,' " he said, using his fingers to make quotes around those last few words. "Don't be mad, okay? I don't want you to be mad." He flashed that huge smile at me.
I gave an exaggerated sigh. "Okay. You know," I said as we walked through the door, "here I thought everyone would have all these stupid ideas about me just because I'm from New Jersey. I have to hand it to you. I never expected someone to have a stupid idea about me because occasionally I do something good."
He laughed. "I think I've said enough for tonight. I'm going to check out the gym and see if anyone wants to play basketball."
"Okay." As he walked away, I said, "Jacob?"
He turned around. "Thank you. I really appreciate the help you gave me with the car. I could have bought myself a real problem if you weren't there," I said truthfully.
"You're welcome." He grinned and started walking backward. "We cool?"
"Totally," I answered, smiling. He waved and jogged through the gym doors.
Ellen had directed me to meet her in the multi-purpose room used for tutoring. I found it without much trouble and looked around for her. I realized I had no idea what she looked like, yet once I rested my gaze on a young woman talking to a teenager in a corner, I knew right away she had to be Rick's fiancee. She had the most serene expression on her face, a kind of infectious joy that I'm sure buoyed everyone in her presence. I could tell she was a perfect match for him; she had to be as good as he was.
I walked over and asked, "Ellen?"
She turned her bright gaze upon me. "Yes! Bella?"
I recognized her voice from our phone conversation. "That's me," I said.
She hugged me tightly. "It's so nice to meet you! Rick's said such great things about you. Sounds like you're a wonderful addition to the hospital."
"He's done so much to help me settle in and make me feel at home. Rick's the best," I replied.
"I agree with you on that. I'm a little bit biased though," she said teasingly. She had glistening thick black hair just past her shoulders, cut at a layered angle close to her chin. A lovely smile and dancing black eyes complemented her beautiful face. I was beginning to think there was no such thing as an average-looking American Indian.
We started to talk about the students. Ellen said she'd been running the tutoring program for the past two years, after teaching for five. "The people here are good, and I mean the students as well as the teachers. They come from all around the region," she explained.
I nodded my head. "In the program I volunteered with in New Jersey, everyone was just fantastic. I think I learned more from my student than he learned from me."
Ellen regarded me appreciatively. "That's a great attitude to have. It's very hard for the students, as adults, to admit they can't read and to come here for help. Most of them have children, and it's gotten to the point where they don't want their kids to be embarrassed. They often go on to get their GED. They all deserve credit for overcoming the shame and wanting to better themselves," she noted.
She told me a little bit about Wendell Thatch, the student she wanted me to work with. He was a 30 year-old man who had dropped out of high school and was employed as a groundskeeper in the cemetery outside of Forks. "Because his children's education is about to surpass his own, he's decided to come here and start improving his skills. He reads at about a second-grade level," she explained. We settled on Thursday evenings at 7:30 as the regular session time.
By this time, Ellen had poured me some coffee and invited me to sit at one of the tables. She loaded me up with books, study guides and teacher preparation materials. "I have homework again!" I joked.
"Yes, I always stress to the teachers that it's so important to prepare. The students will feel you don't care about them if you arrive for tutoring without having gone through the material ahead of time. They definitely pick up on your level of commitment," she warned.
"No problem. I completely agree."
"So, how do you like Forks?" she said, her hands encircling her coffee mug.
"There's a lot I like, but it's all so different. I'm getting used to it."
She took a sip of her coffee. "Rick told me you put Janice in her place, so I'd say you're already used to it," she said, grinning.
I laughed. "You heard about that, huh?"
"I think everyone in the hospital has heard about that," she responded.
I grimaced. "I really don't want a reputation as a troublemaker."
Ellen looked at me, bemused. "Not at all. People have wanted to stand up to her for years, but for whatever reason, they don't. You're kind of a hero."
I blushed. "No, please. Someone else would have said something."
"They never have until now." She shook her head. "Whatever it is that makes her miserable, she has no right to take it out on everyone else. I'd feel sorry for her if she wasn't so nasty."
We talked for awhile about more pleasant topics, such as her impending nuptials. Her face, already so exquisite, lit up even more when she talked about Rick. They were planning to wed in early May, about six weeks away. I couldn't completely envy her, she was too kind and genuine; but I was mournfully jealous of the wonderful relationship the two of them shared. At the same time, it gave me hope that I might find something, someone, equally extraordinary – maybe even here, in rainforest central.
I headed home around 9 p.m., and remembered with a start that tomorrow was Friday and Edward would be working the day shift with Larry, Rick and I. Which Edward would show up in the morning? I hoped it was the one I'd met on Monday. I liked that one so much better.
Day broke damp and foggy, but not rainy. It was very chilly so I dug out my winter coat and gloves. I wished I had hot coffee to drink on my way to work, but I hadn't even had the chance to pick up a new coffeemaker. Tonight, I promised myself. After work, I'd go to Port Angeles to find one if necessary, so I could be sure I'd start the weekend off right with my favorite java.
Arriving at work with five minutes to spare, I walked from the garage and felt my heart pounding. My nerves were alive and hyper at the thought that I'd be spending the next eight hours with Edward. I was already feeling self-conscious. What would we talk about? Would we talk at all?
The pharmacy door always stays locked; you need to punch in a code to gain access or have someone from inside let you in. I was so nervous that I hit the wrong keys and entered the incorrect code. Twice. Jeez, did I have to make an idiot of myself first thing in the morning? I walked into the door, chuckling.
Edward was already at his desk, sorting through orders. He looked up when I entered; I could feel his eyes on me. I don't know how else to explain it but his look didn't feel harsh, like the first time we were in this room. It seemed he was again in a better frame of mind. Thank goodness.
I met his gaze and was immediately so distracted that I stumbled. I'd thought of him a great deal in the time between our last conversation and today but it could not compare with his presence, as strikingly out of place in this drab room as a Matisse painting at a garage sale. Although his physical perfection was undeniable, there was something else there, too. Some people wear their heart on their sleeve; Edward seemed to wear his soul outward, where you could see it if you cared enough to pay attention. He appeared intelligent, thoughtful, and solemn, as if the weight of many years rested on his tall frame. What went on in that head, underneath the beautiful shock of bronze hair? "Good morning. It's nice to see you're starting off laughing," he said, looking amused.
"It took several tries before I could get the door code to work." I rolled my eyes. "I really need some coffee."
He resumed thumbing through the prescriptions, a mysterious smile playing around his extraordinary lips. "Don't you usually bring some in with you?" he asked.
"My coffeemaker waited until I moved to the rainiest place in the universe to take its last gasp," I replied. "I haven't had the chance to find another one. I'm going to run to the cafeteria before I get started. Can I get you anything?" I asked casually.
He looked at me, still smiling. "No, thank you."
Rick entered at that moment. "Hey," I said in greeting. "I'm heading to the cafeteria. Do you want something?"
"Yes. Please. Coffee. Please." Rick grunted as he shrugged off his jacket.
I headed out the door and down the hall, not particularly paying attention to anything around me because I was counting money in my hand. Suddenly, I heard "Good morning, Miss Swan." It was Tom Boylan. If only I'd been watching where I was going, I could have ducked into the women's room.
"Oh, hi Tom," I said, trying to smile.
"Sorry I haven't had the chance to stop by the pharmacy," he said. As if I would miss him in the week since our last meeting.
"Just as well; I've been pretty busy," I said, not wishing to be impolite but also wishing completely that I could somehow get away.
"Yes. Well." He cleared his throat. "I wanted to talk to you about our previous conversation."
I was immediately wary. "What about it?"
"I'm sorry if I offended you in any way," he said in a definite attempt to look sincere. "You understand, we always feature new employees in our newsletter. I was only trying to make you feel welcome."
By now, we were at the entrance to the cafeteria. It seemed the entire staff had chosen the same time to come here because the line was huge. I groaned inwardly; this could take awhile, which gave Tom more time to aggravate me.
"I appreciate your clarification, Tom. No offense taken," I said, trying to slide away.
He followed me, looking relieved. "I'm glad to hear you say that. Obviously, I've cancelled the article. We'll find something else to put on our front page," he said, apparently trying to assuage what he thought was my guilty conscience over all of this.
"I'm sure you'll come up with a subject that's far more worthy," I said, turning away from him, desperate to connect with a coffee urn.
"Right. Um…Bella…"
I was getting impatient. "Yes?"
"There was something else I wanted to ask you."
No, I will not be the newsletter's centerfold instead of your banner headline, I thought sardonically. "Okay. What is it?"
"Would you like to go to dinner with me?"
I stood there, shocked. People behind us looked on in annoyance because we had stopped moving.
"Gee, Tom, thanks, but no." Why are you making me go through this? I thought. I dislike you enough as it is.
He tried to turn on the persuasive charm again. "We could go into Seattle – bet you haven't seen it yet, have you?"
"No, but…no…"
"I know an excellent restaurant. And afterward, I'll take you to this great club. Outstanding drinks and dancing." Tom was looking at me expectantly. Although my decision was made, the idea of clubbing put me off even more. I am not a club person.
"No thank you, Tom. I'm afraid that's not for me."
"Oh." He looked confused. "We could do something else, then. No problem." I was again trying to get away from him but he didn't seem to notice. All I wanted was a stupid cup of coffee!
"No, really. I have to decline."
"What – what do you mean, you have to decline?" he said, laughing a little arrogantly. "I just asked you on a date!"
"And I just turned you down." I put my hand out as if to stop him from coming any closer as I moved backwards. "Thank you, but no," I said firmly, then turned and walked away, my face as red as a clown's nose.
Furious, I grabbed the biggest Styrofoam cup they had and poured a river of coffee. I'd made it all the way down to the register when I remembered that Rick wanted some too. The others in line weren't too happy when I had to go back and get it.
Returning to the pharmacy, I plunked down Rick's cup next to him on the counter and sat at my desk, not moving for a few seconds. Edward cleared his throat and I turned to look at him. He had a definite smirk on his face.
"Something funny about Dilantin?" I asked, but I tempered my tone with a grin.
He looked up at me in surprise, then realized I was teasing him. I thought he might get angry, but he quickly smiled in a charmingly lopsided way. I considered how wonderful it would be if I could bring out that smile again and again.
"No, just thinking of something funny that I heard," he replied, shrugging.
The morning wore on as more orders were dropped off, creating a bottomless stack that would keep us going all day. I was preparing to inject antibiotics into several bags of intravenous fluids when I realized there were no plastic syringes at the counter. Edward had just returned to his desk after meting out pills, and I was standing near Rick.
Walking to the supply cabinet, I grabbed a carton with one gross of syringes and returned to where I was working, trying to open the lid. It was a fairly thick cardboard box with heavy-duty tape around it. As often happens when I get into a physical struggle with anything, aggravation sets in and reason leaps out the window. Rather than take a pair of scissors and cut the tape, I continued to fight with it. Suddenly the tape ripped, the lid came open, and 144 syringes in individual plastic wrap went sailing through the air across the counter, hitting the floor, my desk, and Edward's back.
Flustered, I scrambled from behind the counter to clean up the mess. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I have this ongoing war with inanimate objects. Today's just another day in the foxhole." Edward and I moved down to the floor, picking up all the syringes we could find.
He was having a hard time holding back his laughter. "It's okay."
I said ruefully, "You must really miss the peace and quiet of nights." At least I'd made the fortunate choice to wear pants today, since I was now crawling around the floor near my chair. We both spied a couple of remaining syringes that landed near the front of Janice's desk. Each of us moved to grab them, our hands touching briefly.
I inhaled sharply at the contact with Edward's skin, which was as cold and smooth as anything I've ever touched. It was like quickly stroking marble, with one enormous difference: a sensation like an electrical current passed between us for a fraction of a second. Perceptible and sharp, it left me stunned. I looked at him, and his gaze shifted to the floor. He appeared upset, and I thought that he must have been offended at the contact. Despite the shock, I found it pleasurable; apparently, he didn't.
"Sorry," I mumbled, apologizing again. He put the syringes on the counter behind us, and I walked back there to resume filling my medication assignments.
"I had no idea you were so...maladroit," Rick said somberly, trying to kid me out of my embarrassment.
"Nice use of a ten-dollar word." I responded, smiling. "When I finally start up my rock group, I'm going to call it The Maladroit Drugstore."
" 'Maladroit Drugstore Cowboy' will be the movie that finally wins me an Academy Award," Rick added.
"If that acting thing doesn't work out, you can join my band," I offered.
"Okay, but I want to name it something else or people will think I'm riding on my thespian credentials," Rick intoned.
"Thessalonian Thespians has a nice ring to it."
"I like The Union Suits. Or The Brain Crutches."
"Those are good. Hmmmm," I said, looking out the window, "how about Excessively Moist? Or, better yet, Perverse Precipitation."
Edward turned around suddenly. "I'm partial to Frumious Bandersnatch myself," he said.
Rick and I were so surprised to hear him say something patently humorous that we stood there, staring at him silently. Edward's smile faltered a little, and I recovered hastily. "Lewis Carroll – well played!" I said.
"You lost me," Rick said.
"Is that another band name, or a question?" Edward said, still grinning.
Rick laughed. "Could be either. I've never heard of that term, though."
"It's from the Lewis Carroll poem 'Jabberwocky,' " I explained. Edward regarded me approvingly.
"Oh, 'Alice in Wonderland'?" Rick asked.
"Yes, same author. Hey, how about this one?" I scribbled on a pad and held it up in front of them: "The PharmaCysts."
Both Rick and Edward laughed. Edward also suggested "The Flying Syringes," which earned him a mock-indignant glare from me.
Larry came out of his office at that point. "Laughter? In the pharmacy? During the day?" He was grinning. "It's been a long time since I've heard that." He seemed pleased about it, too.
"I have to go to a meeting in the administrative conference room. I should be back in a couple of hours. Think you guys can hold down the fort?" he added.
"We can stop joking long around enough to get some work done," I promised.
"Hmmmm...Hold Down the Fort. Is that too long?" Rick asked after Larry left.
"Nope. I got another one, though, inspired by all this laughter," I said thoughtfully. "How about Janice On Xanax?" Rick gave me a high-five for that.
The mood in the office was so relaxed. It was already far less tense than when Janice was there, but after kidding around with Edward and Rick, I felt quite comfortable. I tried to forget about Edward's reaction when our hands connected, and if he thought about it the rest of the day, it wasn't obvious.
Around noon, Edward left to go to lunch, leaving Rick and I in the pharmacy. I asked Rick if he could give me a ride to the branch of the rental car agency in Beaver, just north of Forks, when work was over. The agency said I could bring it there instead of driving all the way back to SeaTac. Mooney's had offered to drop off the Subaru at home. That was unusual, but I thought perhaps my idea of customer service was outmoded compared to Washington State's.
"I probably should have asked you earlier. I'm really sorry. I forgot that I had all this going on in one night," I said apologetically.
"It's no problem," Rick responded. "It'll only take about 15 minutes to get there. I can bring you home, then head down to Ellen's. So, you're getting your new car tonight?"
I was at my desk, turned around in my chair to face Rick at the counter. I heard the door buzz and noted that Edward had returned. "Yes," I enthused. "No more paying the rental fees! Now I'll have my own car to mess up and potentially wreck."
Rick chuckled. "That's optimistic. What kind of car did you get?"
"I bought a Subaru Forester. It's a couple of years old, with pretty low mileage. It's a hatchback, so I can throw my bike in the back and take it out where I can ride it."
Edward was at his desk, putting his book away. I wished I could see what the title was before he stuck it in his drawer.
"What kind of bike do you have?" Rick asked.
"You realize I'm talking about a bicycle, right?"
Rick looked at me, surprised. "Well, I didn't think you rode a motorcycle."
"Jacob Black did."
He laughed. "What? However did he get that impression?
I relayed my conversation with Jacob from the previous night, and Rick shook his head. "Well, at least he agreed you aren't the motorcycle type."
I grumbled, "What, do I look like a nun?"
Rick raised his eyebrows. "No, but you don't exactly look like a biker chick, either. I doubt you've got tattoos."
I scoffed. "None that you can see."
"You might be from Jersey, but you don't scare me. So, where are you thinking about riding around here?"
"I'm not sure. I might take off down 110, or even 101, if they're fairly safe."
Edward turned to me at that point. "You may want to consider going to Bogachiel State Park. The roads are safe for biking, and they have a wide shoulder. My family often goes hiking there when we want to stick close to home. As far as the local highways -- the roads are paved well, but they are quite winding. I think they'd be dangerous for you, Bella." His voice carried my name softly. It took my stomach about half a minute to recover.
"That's a really good idea," said Rick, oblivious to the way Edward and I were staring at each other.
"Thank you...Edward." Ridiculous, how even saying his name made every one of my nerves vibrate. "I'll definitely take a look there. I was hoping to ride this weekend, if the rain holds off."
"What kind of bike did you say you have?" Edward asked.
"It's a Miyata. I've had it for about 10 years. It's a hybrid, although I tend to stick to pavement." I was babbling but I couldn't seem to stop. "Do you enjoy bike riding? Or motorcycle riding, for that matter," I added lamely.
He smiled. "No, I don't think I've been on a bike in many years. We like hiking and camping." Rick asked him how often they went to Bogachiel, and they got into a conversation about the park's features and wildlife, and what was available there compared to the two national parks, Mount Rainier and Olympic, that are close. I listened to both of them, my glance going back and forth but lingering on Edward.
It would have been nice to take a walk during my lunch break, but of course it was drizzling outside. As I signed my initials over and over again on the prescription requests I'd filled, my imagination cruised past the boring repetition and I wondered what it would be like to take a walk with Edward anywhere, though preferably somewhere dry. I was annoyed with myself for daydreaming about him when we'd only had a few good interactions (plus one bad one that I still didn't understand) and he was so obviously out of my league. Maybe I would be better off accepting that date with John. (But not Tom.) Edward would never be interested in me; I was about as plain and average as they come, and he most certainly was not.
I sighed and began sorting the copies of the prescriptions for filing. Edward looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and I saw his fists tighten and his facial muscles tense. As he had several others times that day, he excused himself and said he'd be back in a few minutes. Was he sick?
Once Edward was out of earshot, Rick commented, "You know, I've worked with him a number of times when he's subbed for someone during the day, but I don't think I've ever heard him talk so much."
"He does seem pretty quiet," I agreed. I hoped Rick would say more.
"Yeah, definitely. I mean, he's good to work with – he knows what he's doing and he'll take as many assignments as you throw at him – but he just doesn't say much. And today, he was actually cracking jokes." He smiled at me. "Maybe it's all because of you."
"What? What do you mean?" I stared at him, shocked.
"You're a lot easier to be around than Janice. The work atmosphere is much better than other times he's had to work days. He filled in quite a bit before you started here."
"Oh." For one absurd second, I thought Rick meant I cheered Edward up or somehow made him feel better about whatever was bothering him a few short weeks ago. Naturally, that was impossible. "His father seems like a very good man. Do you know anyone else from the rest of his family?" I asked.
"Not really. I've met the mother, Esme. She's a very kind, sweet woman, and absolutely beautiful." Of course she is, I thought. "Oh, and I've met one of the daughters, Rosalie. She's also gorgeous" – he laughed self-consciously – "but she seems a little high-maintenance."
"How so?"
He pursed his lips in concentration. "Ever meet someone and right off the bat, you get the impression they're only tolerating you? As if you're somewhat beneath them, but they don't want you to think they're impolite so they kind of go through the motions with you?"
"Absolutely, I have. That doesn't seem at all like Edward, though," I said thoughtfully.
"No, he's definitely got a better personality. It's just low-key. They're adopted, so that's not unusual. The one thing all of them seem to have in common is, they're among the most attractive people Forks has ever seen," he replied.
When Edward returned, I thought again how entirely believable that was. I felt encouraged that he and I were actually compatible coworkers. It's likely that's all we ever would be. But I couldn't deny the electricity that I still felt every time I thought about our hands touching. I reminded myself that he looked unhappy when that occurred. Yet he'd also made it a point to talk to me, joined in my conversation with Rick (and according to Rick, that wasn't his usual behavior), and several times appeared as if he was going to say more to me, only to change his mind. I didn't know what to make of it all.
We were near the end of the day. I had several orders I hadn't filled yet because of questions I had on their suitability. An eight year-old was prescribed a chemotherapy drug typically given to adults, and I talked to the nurse to ensure that the doctor understood the possible implications. Another medication, requested for a 50 year-old woman, was ordered in pill form though it was known to be more effective by injection. It was often dicey to question the physicians' orders, but I considered it a part of the job, though thankfully an occasional one. I'd found that nurses were the best place to start with those questions, however. They knew their patients and could give me an educated opinion on whether I should pursue it further and contact the doctor.
The evening staff arrived shortly before 4 p.m. to catch up on any outstanding problems or issues before we left for the day. I'd finished all my orders and saw Edward organizing some belongings in a backpack. A gentle but authoritative voice said, "Are you ready, Edward?" Dr. Cullen was at the dropoff waiting to leave for the day. Viewing them in such close proximity, I saw first-hand the similarities in the cast of their skin, the paleness and the contrasting dark circles under their eyes. All this did nothing to diminish their beauty, of course; it only made it more unearthly.
"Hello, Bella. How are you?" Dr. Cullen said, smiling.
"I'm doing well, Doctor. And yourself?"
"Fine as always. Is the rain getting to you yet?"
"I think I'm growing used to it more each day. It's not as if I have a choice," I said, grinning.
"True." He watched as Edward headed out the door. "Goodnight, everyone."
I was in a cheerful mood as Rick and I left. We chatted about the wedding on the drive to Beaver. Ellen was certainly on top of a lot more details than Rick. He knew where and when, and that he had to rent a tuxedo, but other than that he seemed mystified by all the arrangements and the amount of work needed to pull off the ceremony and reception. At least he was aware they were honeymooning in Hawaii. I laughed and shook my head.
Rick dropped me off and I saw my new car in the back of the driveway. They'd left the key in the entrance at the back of the house. The outside door opened into a small hallway where another door led to Mrs. Farrelly's first-floor residence. To the left, there was a landing by a flight of stairs going up to my apartment.
I was eager to change my clothes so I could take the Subaru on its maiden voyage. Little or big Steve had registered the car and taped on temporary tags so I was able to drive it. I'd just have to head over to the Motor Vehicle agency in Port Angeles to pick up my license plates before a month was over.
As I jangled through my ring of keys to find the one that would open the upstairs door, I finally noticed a large box, nearly two cubic feet, on the landing. Mrs. Farrelly had taped a note to it:
Hello, dear! This came for you today. I put it here so you'd be sure to see it. Mrs. F.
There was no writing on the box except for the mailing label. My name and address were printed in large, bold letters. The return address said Meilleur Cafe, Switzerland. Puzzled because I hadn't ordered anything and it wasn't my birthday, I raced up the stairs to unload everything from my arms and return for the box.
The name Meilleur Cafe sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't recall exactly where I'd heard it. I grabbed a pair of scissors and slowly cut through the postal tape, taking much greater care than I had earlier in the day with the box of syringes. Until I knew what this was, I was going to treat it gently.
I pulled open the flaps and saw a lot of bubble packing, arranged carefully so whatever was inside wouldn't shift during shipping. Tossing aside the debris, I pulled out a glossy second box and saw text in French. I had no idea what it said, but next to the words was a large picture of a very elegant, very high-end coffee maker.
I turned this box over and saw product information in English on the other side. Now I remembered where I'd heard the name. I'd salivated over a display of Meilleur Cafe products in an expensive small appliance store in New York City. The box I held in my hand didn't contain just any old coffee maker; it was a premium machine from the company's Swiss manufacturer. They sold excellent products in America, but the merchandise available in Switzerland was known to be superior.
Something else at the bottom of the shipping box caught my eye, and I put down the coffeemaker to take a look. I stuck my hand in and pulled out an equally high-end coffee bean grinder.
Where had all of this come from? More importantly, who had sent it? I looked through the entire shipping box. There wasn't any other documentation, not even a packing slip. The individual boxes with the appliances were sealed, so they couldn't contain any kind of card. Had someone from my family picked out this housewarming present for me? Not likely. These two machines probably cost around $400. My family didn't love me that much.
It was clear from the mailing label that it was intended for me. But from who? And why? Whoever sent it knows I'm a coffee hound – that was also unmistakable. I was uncomfortable taking a present this expensive, particularly when I didn't know who purchased it. But I was also touched that someone thought to give it to me, particularly since I needed one.
"Wait – who knew I needed a new coffeemaker?" I mumbled as I sat down at my kitchen table, carefully placing the machine on top of it. Rick knew because I mentioned it to him earlier in the week. I figured I could safely eliminate him as a suspect. Tom Boylan saw me buying coffee in the cafeteria; he might have thought I couldn't make it at home. Or perhaps he thought I didn't have time that morning. More likely, he hadn't thought about it at all. I couldn't see him making this gesture.
Edward also knew. "Don't you usually bring some in with you?" he'd asked me, with an odd little smile playing around those lips.
Could this be from him? Even though he wasn't looking me in the eye – because he wasn't looking me in the eye – I'd detected mischief in his expression.
My intuition clicked. I was suddenly certain he'd sent me this.
Reality check: why would someone as perfect and unattainable as Edward buy me an outrageously expensive coffee maker when I've known him only a couple of weeks, the two of us are barely friends, and the first time we met he'd looked like he wanted to boil me in oil?
Because. Because he did. I know it, somehow. I was absolutely confident it was from him.
I put the machine on the counter in the same spot where my old coffeemaker died, and the contrast was pretty funny. There was no thin plastic frame or glass carafe; this was made of sleek steel and quality synthetic material. The thermal carafe held up to 12 cups of liquid, and would keep it hot and fresh for hours. It had a built-in clock/timer and a steel mesh basket for the ground coffee so I didn't have to keep buying paper liners. I couldn't even call it a coffeemaker; the product information brochure solemnly informed me it was a "home-brewing coffee system." Specifically, the Lamborghini of home-brewing coffee systems, I mused
I felt giddy. And torn. I'd wanted a great model like this for a long time. Somewhere within the depth of my nagging insecurities, I worried about accepting a present like this from someone I barely knew, even if I could hardly refuse it under the circumstances. And I hated anyone giving me something because they thought I couldn't manage to buy it for myself. But this gift was sharp, and fun, and really, really cool.
Plus, if Edward sent it, he'd made a lot of effort to get it here. That indicated something significant about what he thought of me.
Before I went to bed, I set the timer and ground the coffee beans so the machine would start before I awoke. The weather was supposed to be good enough for a bike ride on Saturday, and so long as it didn't rain, I was going for a ride. And I was going to have a big fat steaming mug of java before I left, no matter how much I'd regret it when I was riding and desperately needed a bathroom.
I got up right around 9 to an incredibly rich aroma that infused every room. The coffee couldn't have tasted any better if someone else had made it for me and handed me a full cup just as I sat up in bed. I wished I did have confirmation of my hunch that Edward gave it to me. I wanted to thank him, among other things.
My bike was stored in a large shed in the back yard. I'd worried that the dampness would cause a lot of corrosion, so I periodically checked it since I'd been in Washington. It held up fine, fortunately, and I only had to do some routine maintenance. I examined my brakes, oiled the gears, made sure I had a spare tire and repair kit in my bike pack, and stuck a full bottle of water in the holder. One more run upstairs to get my rain jacket and I was off.
Despite Rick's and Edward's recommendation to ride in Boguchiel State Park, I decided to cruise south on Route 101 for awhile. I wanted to see some local roads, plus it would take me past the park so the next time I'd know exactly where to go. I zipped out of the driveway and started off at a good clip.
It's amazing, the things you notice when you're traveling any way except by car. I had to keep my eyes on the road, of course, but I was still able to see so much: the American foursquare houses at the end of Main Street in Forks, the wooden planks and steel cables of the bridge that transversed the rushing Sol Duc River, and then the cemetery that was laid out placidly along a small hill on the edge of town. I wondered if this was where Wendell, my student, worked; a sign there said "Forks Cemetery," and I couldn't believe there would be two in a town this size.
The forest grew more dense as I continued down the road. Edward and Rick weren't exaggerating about the curves; I had to be very cautious, and I was grateful that I was wearing a bright yellow jacket that stood out against the green foliage. The air smelled sensational, thick with the scent of the trees, brush and constant wetness. This was a place that could harbor a million secrets, I thought. The leaves, branches and bushes provided a constant cover with few gaps. Even the ground was hidden by a cushion of bright green moss, damp and springy to the touch.
I rode on for several miles, grinning the whole way and reveling in the solitude. What a relief to exercise, to work my body and push it after all the emotional stresses of the past weeks. I could feel tensions fading with each press of the pedal. It was cool, but I worked up a sweat and maintained a comfortable temperature once I reached my cruising speed.
After about five miles, I noticed something across the road, lying along the edge that straddled the asphalt and the forest. It was white, and for a second I thought it might be a glove or a hat. Curious, I checked for traffic and did a u-turn.
As I grew closer, I heard some faint noises. It was a cat, and it was crying but not otherwise moving much. I set my bike up against a tree and scooted down to take a closer look.
It was either a young cat or a teenage kitten, and it was laying there with its eyes closed. Thankfully, it didn't appear to be bleeding, but I could see it was very thin and possibly dying. "Oh, no," I said tearfully. I touched it and it meowed again but made no move to bite or scratch me. It was probably too weak.
I touched it again gently along its legs and ribs, trying to determine if any bones were broken. The cat didn't bite or hiss at me, so I thought perhaps its limbs were intact. I moved my hands along its fur gently, but I couldn't see any wounds. The eyes were clear and there was no foam or excessive saliva at its mouth. It just looked weak, thin and dehydrated.
Now what? I wasn't going to let this poor animal stay here with no help. Maybe I could walk back while carrying the cat in one hand and holding my bike with the other. I was fairly certain there was a veterinarian somewhere in or near Forks, and if I couldn't find one quickly, I'd stop at the police station to ask. I'd bring the cat home and drive to a vet if I had to. Very gently, I lifted it and wrapped it in the bottom of my jersey, holding the material with my left hand so the animal was more or less cradled in it. I steadied my bike with my right, walking carefully back to Forks. This was going to take forever. At least I had no other plans for the day.
The cat was a female, and even in her weakened condition, she responded to my touch by purring. Encouraged, I hoped we would both make it back to Forks before she got any worse. I had slowly traveled about a half-mile when I heard a car driving up behind me. Judging by the sound, it was going pretty fast.
Annoyed, I glanced to my left to see a silver Volvo pull ahead of me along the shoulder and stop. Almost simultaneously, the driver's door flung open and Edward stepped out.
"Bella? Are you all right?" He quickly walked over to me.
Startled, I asked, "Edward? What are you doing here?"
"I was driving up 101 when I thought I saw you. Why are you here? Are you hurt?" he asked with deep concern.
"No, I'm okay. I have a passenger, though, and I have to get her to a doctor," I said, nodding toward the cat in my jersey.
His eyes widened slightly. "I see. Did you find that here?"
"Yes, I was riding along the opposite side and her white fur got my attention. I couldn't just walk away."
Edward smiled indulgently. "Well, the both of you need to get out of the road. At the rate you're walking, you'll get hit." He motioned to take my bike. "I can put this in my car. I know where there's a vet in Forks. I'll take you there."
"That's really kind, but you don't have to put yourself to all that trouble," I protested. "This is sort of my problem now."
"Not at all. I'm worried about your safety on this road. Here, you can get in the car," he said, since we were standing behind the Volvo. He opened the passenger door for me.
I climbed in gingerly, trying not to jostle the cat. I heard the hatchback open, and in one swift, polished movement, Edward carefully put my bike in the car. He had already folded down one of the rear seats to make room for the bicycle. It was as if he was expecting to load something large in the back. I frowned a little at all these coincidences.
Quickly – did he ever move slowly? – Edward was back in the driver's seat, shifting into gear. Without even glancing for oncoming traffic, he pulled out onto Route 101, accelerating to the speed limit in less than a minute.
"So you didn't answer my question," he said.
"What's that?"
"Why are you riding here?"
"The weather is finally good enough to take my bike out. I wasn't going to waste the day, " I said, still stroking the cat.
He sighed, exasperated. "No, I mean, why are you riding on the highway? Didn't we talk yesterday about the park?"
"I was riding to it."
"Why didn't you bring your bike there in your car? You have one now, and it's a hatchback, correct?" He sounded frustrated.
I was puzzled by his tone even as I realized he remembered a lot of details. "I wanted to ride there. That's kind of the purpose of the bike, you know?" I was trying to be light about it, since he seemed upset.
He didn't respond right away. Looking up, I saw that his knuckles were pressed against his mouth, and he looked uncomfortable. To my sudden embarrassment, I remembered I was quite ripe, since I'd been riding all morning in humid weather. I blushed, and he blinked several times.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I've been cycling for a few hours. Please go ahead and open a window. I won't be offended." I smiled at him, hoping to show it was okay.
He looked at me quickly and smiled back. "I thought it was the cat. No, really," he said, when he saw my look of disbelief. But he opened the window about halfway, and I saw him draw a deep breath. I felt so self-conscious. He probably wished he'd never stopped for me.
Suddenly, I looked around. "Is this your car?"
"Yes."
Somewhat skeptical, I asked, "You drive a Volvo?"
"Yes. Why?"
I laughed. I couldn't help it. "What are you, about a hundred years old?"
He stared at me for an unsafe amount of time, considering he was driving.
"I'm sorry," I apologized yet again. "I'm kidding. Sometimes my sense of humor gets ahead of me."
"No, that's okay." I was relieved when he also laughed. "Actually, I think your sense of humor is very witty."
I blushed again, and I heard him inhale deeply. "What do you have against Volvos? They're very safe, reliable cars," he said curiously.
"Nothing. I guess I associate them with…an older demographic," I replied.
Again he looked at me, his expression amused. "Perhaps they need to rethink their advertising campaign."
I smiled and looked down at the cat while scratching its head. She laid there, eyes closed, and resumed purring at my touch. I hadn't noticed before, but although she was mostly white, she also had large blotches of grey and black tabby stripes.
"How's the cat doing?" he asked.
"She seems about the same. She's purring."
"We're very close to the vet. The office is on the north side of town."
The car was now crossing the bridge and heading toward downtown Forks. We were silent as the tires pounded the wooden beams.
"Where did you go to school?" I asked.
"Chicago," he answered cautiously.
"The university?"
"Yes."
"Good school."
"Yes, it is."
This conversation was going nowhere fast. I started to ask about his interest in Lewis Carroll, at the same time he questioned where I had gone to school.
"Rutgers, and it's also a good school," I said, grinning. "Do you like Lewis Carroll very much?"
He smiled, his eyes looking straight out on the road. "I believe I like his actual writing less than I admire his ability to write while ingesting what had to be numerous hallucinogenic substances," he said wryly.
I laughed. "I think I tried to read 'Alice in Wonderland' years ago. I was a kid, and I became very confused at how different it was from watching the Disney cartoon. I like 'Jabberwocky,' though. Even though the words don't make sense, it has a great rhythm."
Edward looked at me appreciatively. Heart, do not melt; stay in one piece. You cannot afford this, no matter how much you're starting to want it.
"I also like the flow of that poem. It's one of the few nonsensical pieces of literature that I enjoy," he said.
I nodded in agreement. "I prefer any kind of writing that's more –well, traditional isn't the right word. It doesn't always have to be traditional. I like things that are descriptive and less obtuse. Otherwise, it's..." I trailed off, trying to figure out what I wanted to say next.
"Unsatisfying to read?" He finished my sentence.
I turned to him. "Yes, exactly."
We had arrived at the vet's, and Edward parked near the entrance. "I'll wait for you here."
"You really don't have to," I insisted. "You've been very generous, and I don't want to inconvenience you any more than I have. I can get back from here."
"Nonsense. I'm not going to have you walk home. If they treat the cat and let her leave, how are you going to carry her? I still don't know how you managed on the highway."
I scowled. "I managed by walking slowly, which I would do to get home now."
He didn't reply right away. "You know, you're a bit defensive sometimes," he finally said, smiling.
"No matter how I respond to that, you're going to say I've proven you're right."
He laughed, sounding delighted. "That's true. Anyway, please don't argue with me. I'll wait here for you. I can't go in with you because...of, uh, allergies," he said.
"Fine. I hope I'm not too long."
I got out of the car carefully and brought the cat inside. The receptionist looked at me quizzically, since I was walking a bit crookedly while trying not to drop the animal. I explained what happened and rolled my shirt open. She took one look at the cat, said "Oh, my. Wait just a second," and ran into the back.
There was only one other patient in the waiting room, and it appeared to also be a cat – thank goodness, since a dog might have jumped on me after smelling a feline. I was just explaining the situation to the other pet owner when the receptionist came out and said, "Right this way."
She led me to an examination room, where I laid the sickly animal down on a table. A vet who introduced herself as Dr. Calandriello immediately began asking questions about where I'd found the cat and the condition she was in when I spotted her. I answered as best as I could while the doctor examined it, gently pressing its limbs, ribs, back and stomach.
"Well, I think you're right. She doesn't seem to be hurt, just very dehydrated. We'll need to keep her here and start an IV. We'll also want to do some bloodwork on her to see if she has feline HIV," the vet said.
"How long will she need to stay?" I asked.
"It depends on how she does. If we find anything else wrong with her, it may be a few days. But if she responds to the hydration, it'll probably only be a day or two. We're closed tomorrow, but there are doctors who come to check on the animals. If you leave your name and number, someone will call you to let you know how she is," she promised.
"Thank you. I'd appreciate it. I'm pretty concerned about her," I said.
The vet smiled. "She's lucky you found her. Plenty of people would have never stopped."
I left the information with the receptionist and went back to the car, where Edward was listening to classical music.
"What happened?"
"They want to keep her overnight, maybe longer. She's probably just dehydrated, but they need to run tests on her to be sure. They're going to call me tomorrow."
Edward was backing the car out of the parking space. I looked out the window and frowned. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
I glanced in my now-empty lap. Though I was loathe to discuss my finances with Edward, I immediately answered him honestly, as I always seemed to do. "I hope this is not too expensive. My new car took a lot out of me. Maybe they'll have a payment plan." My stomach flipped as I thought about how the bill would probably run hundreds of dollars.
He regarded me carefully. "I'm sure it'll work out. You did a great kindness. It's bound to be rewarded somehow." Out came that slightly crooked, heartwarming smile.
I directed him to my apartment and he pulled into the driveway. I was tempted to invite him upstairs, but I had to shower and expecting him to wait through that seemed awkward. And honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to take the chance of being turned down. I wished I could prolong our time in the car, but I didn't want to be rude, or an idiot.
I turned toward him. "How can I thank you for your help today?" Without even thinking, I laid my hand on his arm, which was covered by his jacket. Stunned and wide-eyed, he looked at me and then we both looked at my hand. I jerked it back.
"I'm sorry." Why did I apologize so much when I was around him? Quite possibly because I said or did some pretty dumb things when he was near. "In addition to making thoughtless wisecracks, I often forget to respect personal space."
"It's okay," he said quietly.
Wanting to overcome this embarrassment even though I knew I couldn't, I said, "Again, how can I thank you? You really helped me today."
"Your gratitude is more than enough. I helped you do a good deed; that's my reward."
I opened the door and got out.
"Bella?" he called.
"Yes?" I leaned in the window hopefully.
"Your bike."
"Oh! Right."
He got out of the car in one seamless movement, flipped open the hatchback and picked up my bike as if it was made of feathers.
I took it from him and said, a little wistfully, "Goodbye."
Edward looked at me seriously, staring into my eyes almost passionately. I heard my breath catch; my heartbeat raced ahead unevenly.
"Goodbye. I'll see you on Monday."