Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Dodge and Burn.
Much love and thanks to Editor Azucena , Pre-readers BtwntheStacks and Lemonmartinis and Beta-MsKathy
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This is the part where I remind you of the angst warning...
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Dodge and Burn / Chapter Twelve / The Future
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"So, we'll leave on the twenty-first," Edward says. "You're sure that works for you? Have you been able to move your shoots around?"
Bella almost drops the phone, she's so excited. "I can't believe this is really going to happen. That's less than three weeks away!"
"It sure is, and I just wanted to be sure before I book it and pay for the tickets. I've got them up online right now, I just have to hit the purchase button."
"And don't forget that I insist on paying for the villa," she says with determination.
"We're talking about the plane tickets right now," he deflects. "Did you confirm with Leonard?" His tone when he says "Leonard" is less than flattering. Edward makes him sound like an insurance salesman.
"It's pronounced Leo-nard-o, Mr. C. Yes, we've been emailing and he's confirmed he'll be in town and he's very much looking forward to seeing me."
"I bet he is."
"Are you sure you're okay with this? Ever since I tracked him down you've been this way whenever he comes up."
"Not every time," he replies defensively.
"Pretty much. Have you forgotten that this is why we're going to Italy? I mean we'll do some sightseeing and stuff, but there is an underlying agenda."
"Yes, I know," he huffs.
"I could go alone. That was always the plan until you came along," she teases.
"No. I don't want you going alone. You may never come back."
"I was joking when I first said that."
"Maybe, but I'm not willing to risk it. I'm going with you."
She sighs contentedly. "I'm glad. I really want you to go with me. I want to kiss you on a balcony overlooking the hills of Tuscany."
"Guess what?" he asks playfully.
"What?"
"I just hit 'purchase tickets'. We're going to Italy."
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..~*~..
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"You're having sex, aren't you?" Leah asks in between count-downs of squats. "From the looks of it, lots of sex."
Bella arches her brow. "What do you mean 'from the looks of it'?"
"I don't know…the high color in your cheeks and you even look a little firmer. Your ass is looking really tight. Sex is great exercise, you know."
"Yes, I know." Bella smiles. "Are you going to give me grief about it?"
"Maybe not. You sure look happy. Well, you're always happy but you look extra happy. This Edward seems to agree with you."
"Oh my God!" Bella exclaims.
"What?"
"You didn't call him the man whore. You remembered his name."
"Yeah, I've decided to be supportive. But if he messes up…"
Bella shakes her head. "I'm a big girl, Leah. I can handle whatever's to come. And meanwhile, I'm having the best time I've had in years."
"All right, just promise me when you're in Italy you're going to take care of yourself…keep up your routine," Leah instructs. "Watch your food and don't forget your supplements-your multi, Ginkgo biloba, and your Omega-3s . I know you'll be walking a lot and having lots of sex, so that should cover the exercise."
Bella rolls her eyes. "Do you always have to be so thorough?"
"That's what you pay me for," she teases before getting a serious look on her face. "Speaking of being thorough and the trip to Italy, have you figured out yet how you'll present things to Jake's dad when you finally meet? I mean you can't just say, hey…guess what?"
"Yes, I've written it out like a speech to organize my thoughts. And I'm bringing a little photo book of pictures of Jacob through the years. Honestly though, I'm afraid I'll become completely unglued and say everything wrong. It's shocking news. How in the world will he take it?"
"It's anyone's guess," Leah admits. "That's not the sort of thing one can ever be prepared to hear, even if he's eventually happy about it."
"Even if he hates me for it and doesn't want to know anything about his son, I still need to do this. I have to make this right. He should know."
Leah smiles.
"What?" asks Bella.
"You're bravely going to Italy to see your Italian lover to tell him about the son he never knew he had. I know I give you a lot of shit, but I really do love you, woman. It's just never a dull moment when you're around."
Bella grins. "I love you, too."
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..~*~..
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"Guess what? The accountant and lawyer had kept up the non-profit status for the music program so if we want to reopen it under a new name, it can be a division of the original."
"That's great. Do you have an idea what you want to call it?"
"Yeah, I was thinking Esme's Place."
"That's lovely. Such a fitting tribute to your mom."
"I think she'd be so happy about this. Matter of fact, I kind of feel like she is."
"I'm sure she knows, Edward."
There's a quiet moment between them.
"So, are you still up for a movie tonight?" he asks, glancing at his watch.
"Yeah, I'm just heading into the lab to finally make prints for that Irish couple I photographed a while back. Their fortieth anniversary is coming and the husband contacted me because he wanted to surprise her with a framed print. Isn't that sweet?"
"Wow…fortieth. You don't hear about marriages that last that long anymore."
"I know, so I have to get this done right away. I can be ready around seven."
"That works. I'll pick you up then."
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He's almost ready to leave to get Isabella when he notices there's a message on his cell phone. It must have rung while he was in the shower.
He punches in his passcode to retrieve the message and as it starts to play at first he doesn't even recognize the woman's voice.
Hey, it's me. Listen, I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm up for a movie tonight after all. Can we do it another night? I'm just…
There's a pause and she sounds choked up when she starts talking again.
I can't…I mean… I've got to go. I'll call you later. Sorry.
The phone goes silent and he realizes that was the end of the message.
What the hell is going on? He's never heard Isabella sound anything like this and she was in a great mood earlier. He grabs his car keys and hurries out the door.
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He's completely wound up by the time he arrives at her house. He rings the doorbell over and over to no avail. Remembering where she told him she hides a key in the backyard watering can, he rushes through the side yard. By the time he's into the garden, he notices that the light is on in the studio. Could she still be printing in her lab?
He approaches the studio, moves quickly through the meeting room and down the hall to the lab. When he pushes open the door he stops in his tracks. Still wearing her apron and gloves she looks like she's slid down the wall and ended up sitting on the floor. Her head is buried in her arms, which are wrapped tightly around her knees.
"Isabella," he calls out.
She shudders, but doesn't look up.
He rushes over to her and kneels down. "Isabella, what's wrong?"
She turns her face sideways so that she can speak yet still not face him. "Didn't you get my message?"
"Yes, that's why I'm here."
She sighs. "Please, Edward. I need to be alone. Please just leave."
Frustrated, he watches her carefully trying to figure out what could be going on.
"You're freaking me out. What the hell happened? What can I do?"
"It's just me and my stuff. It's not you. Let me work it out."
"Your stuff can be my stuff too, Isabella. Let me help you."
She looks up at him and he's taken aback. Her eyes are rimmed in red, her face streaked with tears. Something clearly has devastated her.
"No, I assure you, this stuff is all mine." She sinks her head back down until her forehead is resting on her knees.
"What caused this? You were fine earlier…happy. Was someone in here?"
She looks up confused and looks side to side. "What? Oh no, it's nothing like that. I just had some trouble printing." Her tone is completely unconvincing.
You had trouble printing? What the hell?
He rises up and walks over to the viewing area and wash basin for the prints. There are a series of portraits still clinging to the stainless backsplash. The prints are of an older couple holding onto each other, smiling and laughing. Each one is better than the last. Their love and adoration for each other leaps right off the paper.
Edward studies them closer, looking for a clue as to what could have possibly happened. He's baffled. These are some of the most moving portraits he's ever seen.
He looks back over to Isabella and notices that her shoulders are shaking and her head is back down. She must be crying again.
"I don't understand. These images are amazing. Can't you see how great they are? Why in the world would you be upset?"
"I can't talk about it," she says in between sobs.
"You have to talk about it. I'm not leaving until you do," he states stubbornly. He loops his hands under her arms and pulls her up. Once she's standing and leaning against the wall, he peels off her gloves and unties her apron. She just stands there like a rag doll being undressed.
He wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her down the hall until they reach the meeting room. Leading her to the couch, they sink down onto the cushions, and she curls up against him.
"Baby, what is it?"
With the gentle sound of his voice she starts to cry again.
"You won't understand," she whispers.
"Try me."
She twists her fingers together as she tries to find the words. He never thought he would see his happy Isabella in this kind of a state. It's shaken him, but he has to figure out a way to help her.
She takes a deep breath. "There was just something about them, their love…the life and years they had spent together. When I moved each print through the developer, to the stop bath, then to be fixed, the prints just started to talk to me."
"What did they say?"
She lets out a sob and he pulls her closer. "That I will never, ever have that."
"Have what?"
She wipes her forearm across her cheeks. "You know those sweet old couples walking hand in hand in the park. There is always something so special about them because they've shared so many years together...there's such a sweetness. I just will never have that."
"Why can't you have that? Absolutely, you could have that."
"I don't think it's in my cards," she says with a deep sigh.
"Hey, why would you say that? Look at me. You never know. With your help, I could end up being a sweet old man. I could be your sweet old man."
"Oh God," she sobs.
He tries not to be offended at her slight. She's not herself, after all.
"Well, if I won't do, I'm sure there's plenty of other sweet old men that will be happy to hold your hand."
"You don't understand, Edward. It's just not going to happen for me, I know it. And I realized this afternoon how much I want it, how desperately I want it. To grow old with someone you love profoundly, with your whole heart."
He strokes her hair softly and rocks her gently. "I can't believe my bright light Isabella is so full of doom. This is so unlike you."
"There are things I'm afraid of, Edward."
"We're all afraid of something. That's our challenge isn't it, to learn to overcome our fears."
"But…"
"No buts. Overcome your fear. I can help you. Besides, it's my turn. Look how much you've helped me."
He pulls her onto his lap. "I know we're just starting to figure out what's between us, but I really think I could be a good old man for you."
The edges of her lips turn up just a bit.
"And I'd hold your hand and walk in the park every day if you wanted."
"Oh, Edward."
"And I'd take care of you."
She pushes back. "No. No taking care of me. Not that. Never that."
"Okay, I wouldn't take care of you…you're on your own with that." He rolls his eyes playfully. "I hope you don't mind me asking this, but did those chemicals get to you or something? You aren't thinking with a right mind."
She shakes her head. "I'm thinking with a very clear mind. That's the problem."
He's frustrated he doesn't seem to be getting anywhere. He decides to try another tactic. "Hey, why don't I pick up dinner and we'll just eat in tonight? We'll do the movie another night. I'll get you whatever you like."
"Anything?"
"Yes, anything."
"Can I have chocolate cake for dinner?"
"Chocolate cake? Uh, Oh-kay then, chocolate cake it is. But do you mind if I grill something?"
She smiles and shakes her head. "I don't mind."
"I'll get extra and maybe you can have some real food for dessert."
"Oh, Edward." She smiles softly at him.
"But before I go, I want you in the house and away from all this."
"I have to dry those prints though. I just left them up on the viewing panel."
He gets off the couch and pulls her with him. "Come on, you can show me what to do."
They slowly walk hand in hand to the back and she instructs him to peel the prints off and lay them in the water bath again. Once they are fully immersed for a minute, she has him pull them out, smooth them against the stainless and then carefully squeegee the water drops off their surface. She smiles as she watches him work so meticulously.
She goes over to the printer and turns it on, setting the automatic timer so it shuts off later. He gingerly holds the wet print by the corners and then lays it on the printer's fabric belt.
"Like this?" he asks her.
"Just like that," she assures him.
He follows through with the next few prints showing just as much care. Her heart aches watching him, knowing how deeply she feels about him. He said he wanted to grow old with her. She can't even process yet what that means. Everything between them is still so new.
When the last print is lying on the belt, he turns to her proudly.
"All done."
"Thank you." She goes up and kisses him, then gives him a smile. "You're wonderful, Edward."
He hugs her tight and together they walk out of the lab and away from all the darkness that haunted her.
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He gets her a glass of wine and sets her up in the den watching House Hunters International on HGTV.
"This is really what you want to watch?" he asks as he watches a couple talk to a realtor. What is the appeal in that?
"I love this show. Look, they're shopping for a beach house in Fiji. Can you imagine?"
"Not really. I don't get it. How does one just traipse back and forth to Fiji?"
She ignores him, too caught up in the fantasy. "Oh my God, this house has an outdoor shower. I've always wanted a tropical outdoor shower."
He watches her settle in. Frankly, he doesn't care if the show's stupid or not; he's relieved that her mood's lifted.
"So chocolate cake for dinner…really?" he asks as he pulls out his car keys.
"Absolutely," she answers.
He kisses her on her head and heads out the door.
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Once in his car, Edward leans back into his seat and reflects on everything that just happened. He's still freaked out. It was such atypical behavior for Bella that he doesn't know what to make of it.
He puts his key into the ignition and is halfway to the store when his mind starts going weird places. What is she hiding? What if something's wrong with Isabella? She seems healthy, but that would explain why she's convinced she'll not have that type of relationship when she's old. Maybe she doesn't think she'll be around that long.
He starts to panic and he pulls over to try to calm himself down. The more he flips it over in his mind, the more sense the possibility makes. Then he remembers there's someone he can talk to about this…someone who would know.
He scrolls through his contact list until he finds Jacob Swan. He presses the send button, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Jacob picks up on the second ring.
"Edward? Is Mom all right?" He sounds nervous, Edward realizes that he better assure him first that she's safe.
"She's fine right now, but if you have a minute can I ask you about something that happened today?"
"Okay," Jacob responds tentatively.
"I found her completely distraught a while ago and it unnerved me. When I tried to find out what was going on, she actually cried over the idea that she won't grow old with someone. It just didn't make any sense to me."
Jacob is silent on the other end and it doesn't assuage any of Edward's fears, so he continues.
"Anyway, it got me thinking. Does Isabella have something wrong with her that I should know about? I'm taking her to Italy in three weeks, I should know if she's dealing with something I don't know about."
Jacob is still silent.
"Jacob are you still there?" Edward asks.
He lets out a sigh. "Yeah, still here."
"Listen, I didn't want to push her for the truth because she's too upset, but is she sick or something?"
"Not that I'm aware of," Jacob answers cautiously. All of Edward's red flags go up.
A little voice inside his head suggests something unthinkable. He has to know.
"Wait a minute. I'm feeling really anxious. Can I ask you something? I know I can research this myself, but I'd rather hear it from you."
"What?"
"That early kind of Alzheimer's that your grandma had, didn't you say it was Early Onset or something like that? Is there a genetic component to that?"
There's a long pause.
"I really wish you'd talk to mom about this," Jacob says with a weak voice.
"Maybe this would be better to hear coming from you, Jacob."
"What if I don't answer?"
"I can go home and look it up on the internet, but I'm anxious to get back to Bella."
He groans, frustrated. "Yes, there's a genetic component."
"Okay." Edward takes a deep breath. "And what are the odds of the gene being passed on?"
"I'd really rather…"
"The odds, Jacob," Edward demands.
"Fifty-fifty."
"Fuck."
Jacob stays quiet.
"And if you have the gene, what are the odds of getting the disease?"
"Edward…" Jacob pleads. He sounds broken and Edward realizes this very question has tortured the young man.
"Tell me," Edward demands, his stomach churning.
"One hundred percent."
"Oh God, no…No. Not Isabella. She has more life in her than anyone I've ever known."
Jacob says so quietly it's almost a whisper, "Yes, she does."
"But does she have the gene, has she been tested? After seeing her today what else can I think?"
He flings open his car door, feeling like he's going to lose it. He tries to take deep breaths and find his focus.
"Do you really want to know about this, Edward?" Jacob asks, exasperated. "You haven't even been friends that long."
"We're more than friends, Jacob."
"So what does that mean exactly?"
Edward surprises himself with what he answers. "I'm falling in love with her. I can imagine a future with her, but apparently she doesn't see one with me."
"But she told me that you may work things out with your ex."
"That's her interpretation of current events, not mine. Isabella's the woman I'm spending time with. She's the one always on my mind."
Jacob clears his throat. "Look, I don't know what to tell you exactly. Only mom knows the absolute truth. You see, after Grandma passed on, I insisted that mom get extended care health insurance just in case. I had done plenty of research and knew that if she got FAD…"
"FAD? What does that stand for?"
"Familial Alzheimer's disease. Anyway, I knew that if she got it, I wouldn't have the resources to pay for her care properly even working full time in research. I'd need to move her to a nearby facility so I could oversee her care, but it would need to be at a decent place. Some of them…"
Edward's stomach lurches as he cuts Jacob off. "I know. I've seen them. I had a good friend go through this with his dad who'd had a severe stroke."
"So you understand."
"Unfortunately, yes. Did you get the insurance?"
"Well, they wouldn't insure her unless she did the genetic testing. The cost risk is way too high for them."
Edward's heart is pounding. "Did she take the test?"
"She took the test but she refused to tell me the results."
Edward feels his throat constrict. "Why?"
"Well, honestly I don't think she looked at them. I know they're locked in her safe deposit box. We had many discussions about it and she was really torn about it. She felt if it was positive she wouldn't be able to handle it…to keep going. So I'm pretty sure she decided to lock it away for now.
"As for the insurance, she pays those bills through her accountant's office so I can't find out if she got the insurance or not. There's a blind account that either pays for the insurance or invests the payments and neither she nor Michael know which it is. If she got the insurance we would have our answer. Of course, she may not even need that insurance in that case."
"Jesus." Edward remembers Michael chiding Isabella for forgetting their meeting.
"But I'm sure the bigger reason she won't tell me is the familial factor, not only knowing I'll watch her disintegrate, but…"
Edward gasps. "That means you…"
"Yes," agrees Jacob stoically. "That means I would have a fifty-fifty chance of getting it, too."
"Oh God, Jacob. I'm so sorry."
"Don't feel sorry for me," Jacob says firmly. "'Cause we are going to cure the fucker before it takes me down."
"Yes," Edward agrees. He wants to believe in this kid and that he will fight the odds, or live long enough healthy until they find a cure.
Is there time for Bella?
"What age would it start if Isabella was to get it?"
"The range is thirty to sixty, so for all we know she already has it."
Edward's heart is pounding so hard he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He can't even speak he's so shocked.
"Edward? Are you there?"
As the seconds go by, Jacob realizes he went too far.
"Shit! I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean to sound so cold and technical. We get so matter of fact in my work. She doesn't have it, Edward. I really don't think she does."
"How would you know?" Edward almost doesn't recognize his own voice.
"I don't," Jacob admits. "But I know all the signs to look for."
"That ex-boyfriend, accountant friend of hers, Michael, accused her of forgetting things."
"Michael can be an ass. Remember that forgetfulness is a natural process of aging. Women especially struggle with it at mom's age because of the hormonal shift."
"What do I do?" Edward asks himself out loud.
Jacob sighs, sounding defeated. "I wish I hadn't talked to you about this. I understand if you can't take the uncertainty, but mom seems crazy about you Edward. I can't think of what it will do to her if you just abandon her now."
"Abandon her?"
"…and I know she's kinda out there at times," he continues. "But can't you see, after Grandma died, Mom seemed to make up her mind to live every day exactly how she wanted to. She's one of the coolest people I know…and I'm not just saying that cause she's my mom."
"I know she is, Jacob."
"So can you promise me just to think about it before you make any big decisions?"
"Yeah, I'll think about it. But I'm not abandoning her. I couldn't, even if that's what my head was telling me to do, not with the way I feel about her."
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When Edward parks back at Isabella's after shopping, he pauses in the car for a moment trying to pull himself together. He feels painfully hollowed out, but he knows he has to push it all inside so that she doesn't sense his agony. She's going through enough right now.
As he warily opens his car door, he wishes he were an actor. He's going to have to pull off an Academy Award worthy performance for her tonight.
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As Edward carries the groceries in, he's relieved to see that Isabella's still in the den, but now she's on the floor doing something with a small structure resting on the coffee table.
"What's that?" he asks.
"One of my dollhouses." She grins widely at him and motions him over. "Come see."
He kneels down next to her until he's on the floor. "That's some dollhouse."
"Yeah," she replies. "It's a little eclectic for some tastes, but it's just right for me."
Every room is painted a different bright color and there are tiny paintings hanging everywhere.
"Watch this," she says as she reaches into the living room and presses a little button. When she pulls her hand back out, the fireplace starts to flicker.
Edward also notices that every tiny lamp in the house is lit. "Wow, where did you get this stuff? It's pretty amazing with all the detail."
"Oh here and there…eBay, swap meets, dollhouse sites. Fun stuff."
He grins at her. "It looks like you've had a lot of fun."
She studies him and the way his green eyes scan every feature. She wants to kiss him for feigning interest and allowing her this moment without ridicule.
"If you and I were tiny and lived here, what would be your favorite room?" she asks as she adjusts some of the flowers in the window box.
He leans in closer and scans each room again. When he sits back up he looks over at her. "The master bedroom, because that Magritte painting over the bed is one of my favorites, and…" He grins. "Think of all the miniature fun we could have in that fancy bed."
"I'm sure that would be my favorite, too," she agrees happily.
"So, I'm going to fire up the grill. Don't get into any tiny trouble while I'm gone."
"I won't."
As she waits for him she sits and sips her wine, pressing the fireplace button every time the dollhouse fire stops flickering. She can't believe this man and the care he's showing her. How can she possibly not fall in love with him?
Even with her heart still heavy from her meltdown in the darkroom, he's made her feel like there's something worth believing in for the future.
She gave up dreams of the future a long time ago. Now there's chocolate cake for dinner and kissing in the swimming pool. Is it possible that years from now she and a gray-haired Edward could stroll down the beach hand in hand?
What if Edward is her future?
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trust me...
xoxo
abbie
For those of you that read Work of Art (and the author's notes) you know of my connection to Alzheimer's. I'm going to address that on the Abstract Way Facebook page. The link is on my bio.