"Frustration, although quite painful at times,
is a very positive and essential part of success."
Bo Bennett

CHAPTER 4: FRUSTRATION

Thank God. I thought to myself. I'm almost there. I'd always disliked driving in America. It was so different from England. I laughed at myself. Different? It was completely opposite.

Why Gran wouldn't come and live with my mother and father in London was a mystery to me. She was very stubborn. I understood THAT all too well. So different… My mother and Gran. But Gran and myself? Oh, we were 'cut from the same cloth' as she would say.

As I drove up the gravel road to her sprawling home I could admit that it wasn't a complete mystery to me why she stayed. It was beautiful. It was her home. She had built it with her own two hands with my grandfather. They were both pretty amazing people. Of course, my grandfather had passed away almost ten years previously…

I also knew that she stayed because she was very, very independent, she had help from the villagers and from George, her handyman/caretaker, and of course my parents and sister with her family would visit at least twice a year.

Ah yes. Heel that I am… I, however, hadn't been to visit her for almost three years. I shook my head. And now you come crawling back to get, what? Her advice? Yes. That's exactly why I was here. That and Alice, my sister, had gotten a call from her doctor saying that she'd been quite ill but was now so much better that he worried about his staff at the hospital. I shook my head at the memory. So much for Gran getting less bossy as she's gotten older.

Since I'd decided that I needed some time to think away from my family, I was the perfect person to come and visit with her, to make sure she was o.k.

As I parked my rental car at the north end of the property, next to the house, I felt a little nervous. I of course wouldn't show up without some kind of warning. I'd spoken to George to make sure everything would be o.k. for me to give a surprise visit to my Gran. He was very happy I was making the trip. But…

Now, here I was, ready to barge into her home and demand—being honest with myself, beg was more appropriate—for her to forgive my absence and hope she'd help me out with…

Wow. I didn't even know how I was going to even talk to her about my recent decisions. I knew she'd completely support my decision to break up with my long-time girlfriend. But the other decision? Well, I'd just have to wait a few moments and I'd find out what she thought about all of it. I sighed and shook my head at myself as I knocked on her door. Well, here goes everything.

I heard footsteps coming down the long hallway towards the foyer and then stop at the front door. I heard a familiar gasp and then the doors were thrown wide open.

"Oh my! It's so wonderful to see you, dear!" Gran exclaimed.

I smiled down at her and marveled at how truly well she looked. I was relieved and so, so thankful. Then I noticed a young woman step into the hall from the library.

I'm sure my eyes grew wide but Gran didn't seem to notice. The girl was beautiful. Slender build but graceful… Yes, very graceful. She had the richest chestnut-colored hair I had ever seen, with just a little bit of red highlighting. From where I stood in the foyer, it looked like it went down to the middle of her back; not curly but not completely straight either. Very natural but very fetching. Her face was slightly heart shaped and part of her bottom lip was now between her teeth… Fascinating… She had porcelain skin, like a fragile china doll, it was almost translucent. I imagined running my fingers gently down her cheekbone… I smiled involuntarily. I'm sure Gran thought I was smiling at her but… God. She was so beautiful… Her eyes were… Amazing. The deepest brown I'd ever looked into, almost like pools of deep, dark chocolate. They were shining… I couldn't take my eyes off her.

Who was she? Why was she here with my Gran? She was saying something but I wasn't catching what it was exactly… I was mesmerized by her voice. Even though she was slight, her voice didn't exactly match her body type. If pressed, I would guess she was a contralto. She was… Breathtaking.

When Gran introduced her to me she had an amazing deep blush on her checks. Was she shy? Embarrassed? I wondered how to decipher her blush, her little smile… The way she'd barely gnaw on her bottom lip… Was she nervous or anxious? I kept rolling her name around in my head like I'd never heard the name Isabella before. It certainly was a perfect name for her. Isabella… I could get used to saying that name…

I came out of my reverie when I heard something about 'hobby' and Gran 'writing, being an author.' What? I was dumbfounded. I thought Gran had stopped all that nonsense about telling perfect strangers private stories about our family! I was livid. I narrowed my eyes at the beautiful creature that stood in front of me. Why did my Gran trust her? Who was this person she was telling these 'stories' too? I said as much.

I should have thought a little more about what I was saying and how it would sound before I spoke to someone I didn't even know like that. I thought Gran was going to go look for her belt! I'm 29 years old! She can't yell at me like that!

Then I remembered who I was dealing with. Yes, yes she could talk to me like that. I'd been rude to a very beautiful girl. Not a good start to my stay.

Gran left us to go and talk to George about dinner. I really felt awful. Just because I'd recently come out of a bad relationship didn't mean I could judge all young women like that. I needed to get a grip. This was one of the main reasons I needed my grandmother's advice.

I seemed to be looking at everyone suspiciously, as if everyone was 'out to get me.' Which was of course ridiculous.

I had a wonderful family and fantastic friends at home. I just didn't have anyone… Go on, say it you git. I didn't have anyone in my life that wasn't family or close friends that treated me like anything other than an object, something to possess, to own. I wasn't stupid. I knew I wasn't exactly ugly. But it seemed to be its own curse.

I was never completely sure if a woman was interested in me or just wanted to use me to show off to her friends. If they were only interested in me because of my family's wealth. Dating seemed somewhat tedious to me, especially when what I really wanted was to find someone down to earth, someone to sort-of 'hang-out' with. Of course, I'd thought that Lauren was that person. I had been quite wrong about her…

I looked down at this beautiful angel in front of me. Could you see me for who I am? Who I really am, inside? I shook my head slightly. Lauren really had scarred me. I hadn't realized how deeply until now.

I did my best to apologize, to act as if I'd only been concerned for my Gran's welfare. Which was part of it, of course. I also tried to make a joke out of my rudeness. She gave me a smile that almost took my breath away.

Gran was calling us in for dinner and I hadn't seen George yet. As I was getting the latest local gossip from him I noticed that my Gran and Isabella had disappeared into the library. I wonder what Gran's telling her…

They were actually only gone for about five minutes but when my Gran and Isabella came back into the kitchen, I was stunned. When Isabella laughed it was as if the whole room lit up. I was in awe. And, from what I'd witnessed so far, so was my grandmother.

That got me thinking again—well, more like worrying—Why does Gran trust her so completely? I would have to keep an eye on this situation whether my Gran liked it or not. The last thing I wanted was to see my grandmother hurt.

Though the thought of Isabella hurting anyone seemed a rather remote possibility to me.

~~:::~~

Edward went into the kitchen assuming like I did that Lizzie was going straight back in there too. She didn't.

She let him go first then tapped me on the arm. "Follow me." She said with a grim smile. I looked back at where Edward had walked through into the kitchen, and as I turned and followed Lizzie into her library, he was talking animatedly with George.

"Now look," she closed the door behind her and began a little nervously. "Edward has never been exactly…" she looked up at the ceiling, "excited 'bout my writing." She looked back down, not at me, but at the floor. "I've never completely understood why. He tried to explain once, of course." She looked at me then, straight in the eye, the way she would when she wanted to make a point that wouldn't be forgotten.

"You see, he's a very giving person but doesn't like giving away… Well, secrets, family secrets, I guess you could say. And he feels that my stories are sometimes a little too close to home. Too personal. He… Well, he doesn't really like to dwell on the past."

I looked at her a little stunned. "Are you trying to tell me," I could hear the surprise in my own voice, "that your stories are based on reality?" I was dumbfounded. They seemed so surreal… So beautiful yet haunting.

"Yes." Was all she said in reply.

The wheels starting turning in my head. Edward must be the reason why she always called it her "hobby," as though what she was doing wasn't that important. I couldn't believe it. She was one of the best author's our little company had. She was almost as good as Bronte when she wrote her Gothic horror short stories, as good as Austen when she wrote romance. I told her as much.

"No!" She gave a sad little smile. "It really is just a hobby." She suddenly brightened. "But I do love it. And I love having you here."

"I'm glad. Because I love being here and helping you. You really are an excellent author, no matter what your grandson thinks." I said it as a statement, no room for argument. She seemed to agree.

"He doesn't mean to be an ass." She shook her head as we started back to the kitchen together. I laughed out loud. She'd said it in the same tone Edward had just moments before.

This was why I loved Lizzie, why I'd stayed to help her, why I'd stay with her until it was finished. No matter how her grandson acted towards me or whether or not he approved of her 'hobby.'

She leaned in conspiratorially towards me as we came into the kitchen but didn't bother to lower her voice. "Not all my stories are true. Just the really juicy ones." She winked. I laughed again.

She had said it loud enough that Edward was sure to have heard her.

~~:::~~

Late the next morning I was reading in the library when Edward came in. He casually walked over and bent down to see what I was reading. I saw a little shake of his head as he stood back up. I don't know what he expected me to be reading but apparently 'The Art of War' wasn't it.

"Wow. I didn't even know that book was still in print." He tried to look indifferent but I knew he was really amazed by my choice of reading material.

I put the book down, spine up, in my lap. I was sitting in my favorite chair in Lizzie's library. It was one of those traditional, big, leather ones, the ones that you expect to find Sherlock Holmes sitting in while smoking a pipe.

"It's one of those books that you think you've read, but in reality, you really haven't." I stated matter-of-factly.

"I see." He had a little smile playing around his lips as he said this. He was gorgeous, no doubts there. But he seemed so smug, so sure of himself. Out of nowhere I got annoyed. Not something that's good for me. I usually end up saying things that I regret later but I just couldn't help myself.

"Why in the world do you have a problem with your grandmother writing?" I was a little exasperated. "I mean, so what if some of the things she writes are true? It's not like anyone reads her stories and novels and thinks 'oh, hey, this must be one of those Masen family secrets'!" I crossed my arms again, like I had the night before but didn't uncross them this time.

He stared at me as if I were from another planet. "You just don't get it, do you?" He started pacing. "I don't want her to get all caught up reliving some of the things that she writes about—or getting depressed about the subject of some of those things—that, yes, are true."

He had me there. I hadn't thought about that. But he'd really ticked me off so I continued my little rant anyway. "Look. She's the most level-headed person I've ever met. I don't think she'd get depressed just by remembering experiences that were, and probably still are, important to her." I replied curtly.

He stopped pacing and turned to look at me. I couldn't quite read his expression… He almost looked mad. But he looked mad at himself, for not thinking of something like that, of thinking her less strong than she actually was.

He simply stated "You're right, Isabella." And abruptly left the room.

After a few moments I absentmindedly picked the book back up from my lap. He'd been gone for… Well, honestly, I'd lost track of time by that point.

I didn't know exactly how long I had continued sitting there after he'd walked away, playing our conversation over and over in my head.

He cared deeply for his grandmother, that was obvious. He seemed to want her to be happy. Why was it that he seemed… Distrustful was the word that came to my mind. What had Gran said to me yesterday?

He wasn't thrilled about her writing… He was a giving person but… Didn't like giving away… Giving away what?

It came to me then. It dawned on me what her words and his actions added up to. He didn't like giving pieces of himself away. I realized suddenly that I'd been given a small glimpse into who Edward really, truly was.

Why did I care?

It hurt to even think that. I did care. Too much… I'd be leaving to go 'home' at some point. I needed to get over my sudden infatuation with Edward Cullen before it got out of hand.

I sighed. Leaving and never seeing his deep, dark-green, appealing eyes ever again… My heart raced a little bit and I was surprised to find that I was feeling anxious about never seeing him again.

Ridiculous. I got resettled back into my comfortable chair and to reading the book I'd picked out.

I needed to stay and help Lizzie finish her lovely novel. That was the thing I needed to concentrate on now. I tried to block Edward out of my thoughts.

Yeah, right… I sighed again, shook my head and attempted to get back to my reading.

~~:::~~

God I'm tired... Maybe I'm getting too old to be a member of the jet-set.

Flying from London Heathrow Airport to Hartford, Connecticut via First Class was great but there was nothing that could be done to make the trip take any less than twelve hours, because there was always a stopover in Chicago or New York. It was, simply put, a rather tedious journey. Perhaps if they'd still had the Concorde flying… But of course, British Airways no longer flew it across the 'Pond.' Ah yes—my Gran was fond of calling the great expanse of ocean between her and the rest of her family as the 'Pond.' I smiled when I remembered the scolding Gran had given me earlier that evening.

I'd deserved it, especially the part about treating her guest with more respect. Even though I know very little about her... I thought petulantly, and then rolled my eyes at myself, punching my pillow once again to try and get more comfortable. I really needed to get some sleep; my mind just wouldn't shut off, however. If only I could stop thinking about her face, her hair, her eyes. I might be able to fall asleep... I shook off those thoughts. I must really be overly tired—I'm just not thinking clearly. I tried once again to reach a state of slumber.

Gran's guest… I had no idea that anyone was staying with Gran after her illness. Not someone from the local village of Old Lyme, certainly. Wait… Gran had said something about… San Francisco? Her publisher? I guess I'd find out more once I was awake again in the morning.

I ended up sleeping in late—no surprise there—and it was almost 10:30 a.m. when I finally woke up the next morning. I was usually always up before 6:00 a.m., without fail. I shrugged. Jetlag. That was inconvenient. I'd been hoping to go for a run along the beach at six. I sighed. Oh well. I guess I'll go see if I can find Gran to talk to her. It was one of the main reasons I'd come after all. Guess I'd better clean myself up and get going.

I hit the library first assuming I'd find Gran there. As I walked in, the first thing I saw was Isabella sitting in my favorite chair. It had always been my favorite. It smelled of old leather and my grandfather's cigars. I smiled, remembering him sitting comfortably and quizzing me endlessly about some of the more obscure books he had in his and Gran's library. Speaking of obscure… I was sure I recognized the cover of the book she was reading.

I went to her and bent over slightly to read the title. "Wow. I didn't even know that book was still in print." I became thoughtful. Who is this strange creature? Why does she intrigue me so, with her beauty, her obvious sincerity and openness? I smiled a little at her interesting answer, it was almost as intriguing as her eyes.

Something about my manner seemed to spark something in her.

I stood up awkwardly after her tirade. The way she'd crossed her arms across her chest... As if I'd personally affronted her in some way. I answered her question with a question of my own.

"You just don't get it, do you?" I became irritated. Who was this girl to question my advocacy of my grandmother? I started pacing and explained my concern over my grandmother's writing aspirations.

It wasn't her writing I particularly objected to. It was the possibility of her becoming depressed, or sad, or… Missing my grandfather too much. Or her remembering how much she had lost over the years... Honestly there was a part, admittedly a rather small part, regarding her writing about her and our family's past that I just didn't think were… Appropriate. The Cullen's were very private people. My Gran however, wasn't. 'I wear my heart on my sleeve, son.' She'd told me that often enough.

Isabella's tone changed. She sounded thoughtful instead of angry. "Look. She's the most level-headed person I've ever met." That simple statement brought me up short. She was right.

My Gran wasn't just an independent spirit. She was a strong individual. Something that I'd forgotten how to be.

How could Isabella know my grandmother better than me? She got right to the heart of it, without even realizing that my grandmother's strengths had become my weaknesses. I had to find and speak with my Gran right away. I needed her to help me rediscover my true self. What I'd become after being with Lauren for so long… I knew now that I certainly hadn't been true to myself in that relationship.

My mind suddenly shifted back to Isabella. I abruptly looked over at her and told her that she was right and immediately left the room. How could she possibly be able to hold a mirror up to my soul? It was as if there were some sort of sudden and irrevocable connection between us. It was disconcerting. She makes me want to believe in love at first sight.

I came to a sudden stop in the hall outside the library. WHAT? Ridiculous. Ludicrous. I snorted. Where had that absurd thought come from?

~~:::~~