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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Dodge and Burn / Chapter Fifteen / Smudging
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Edward opens the door slowly, and the moment he steps inside he's flooded with memories. Even though his mom set up the music center during his busy high school years, he visited often and the place left a lasting impression on him.
His mom had all the walls painted a warm yellow with colorful art, but now everything is stark white from the previous business. He realizes as he stands there that he's determined to put color back in this place. Closing his eyes, he can almost hear the music echoing from the practice room walls.
There was always a strange blend of the discordant sound of beginners struggling with their instruments mixed with the smooth notes of the experienced players. Being a musician himself, Edward had an understanding and appreciation of what his mom was trying to do. In his hard times, music became his salvation, the salve for his self-inflicted wounds. He imagines that for the kids, many from difficult circumstances, music was not just an escape but a way to prove they could be more than the low expectations people had of them…perhaps even the low expectations they had of themselves.
He wanders over to the room that was Esme's office and leans against the door jamb. He can picture her sitting behind the old desk that used to be in the middle of this room, talking to a parent about their child, her expression animated and encouraging. Esme knew that if she couldn't get a parent on board, it was a hopeless cause, so she worked them as hard as she did the kids.
Every student was welcome into the program as long as they followed their part of the deal: being respectful to the teachers, being respectful to the equipment, and coming a minimum of three times a week for the lesson and practice sessions.
He remembers thinking his mom was too rigid about those rules, but now he knows she was right. Part of the experience was about building character and part learning that if you didn't make a commitment to your music, it would never come to life inside of you.
As he stands in the worn down, gutted space, he worries how incredibly ambitious and possibly foolhardy he is to think he can recreate his mom's vision. He's barely been able to function the last year, how can he possibly be a leader and role model to a group of kids?
As he falters, a memory comes to him, one of Esme at the final concert from the center. She was so weak at that point that she had to be brought in a wheelchair, and she couldn't even last the entire concert, but before it began she gave a passionate, inspiring speech that made almost everyone attending cry. They knew at that point that she only had months or weeks to live, but she rose to the occasion and everyone who attended that night was struck by her passion and dedication to the kids.
That night stood out particularly vividly because it was such a contrast to the reality at home.
Little did everyone know that Esme was in such misery at that point. Whenever they have those Hallmark specials about someone suffering through a disease and dying-yet being brave and wise about life and their purpose in it, Edward wants to throw a brick through the T.V. screen. That sure wasn't his mom.
Esme couldn't tolerate her loss of dignity, and the hopelessness of her prospects. She became angry at the universe. No one was going to do a documentary on her brave struggle and share it with viewers who are drawn to inspirational stories. Even Dad seemed surprised by her fall from grace. Who would have thought that the woman who had so beautifully taken care of her family would resent having to be cared for?
The experience with his mom taught him that you can never know how you will handle a tragedy until you are in the middle of one.
Just as he shakes himself to get refocused on the task at hand, he hears the front door opening.
"Edward?"
The low voice echoes off the empty walls. Edward pulls himself out of his memories and walks to the entrance to greet his old family friend, their contractor, Rodney. He shakes Rodney's hand.
"Hey, Edward. It's been a long time."
"Good to see you, Rodney. It sure has been."
"Probably since I converted your garage into a studio. You and the missus still on McCadden?"
Edward feels his expression fall. "No, Lauren and I are separated-getting a divorce. I live in a loft right now."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What with Carlisle and Esme both gone now, you've had a rough time."
Edward shakes his head and remembers how much Carlisle and Esme appreciated Rodney's work. "Yeah, it's been a lousy few years but things are getting back on track now."
"Well, it's sure good to hear from you. I'm really glad to hear you're fixing this place up and making a go of it again. Your mom put her heart and soul into her work here. Your parents would be very proud of you for what you're going to do. "
"Thanks, man."
They walk through the space and go over what repairs and alterations need to be made. The kitchen area needs updating and there are a number of electrical issues. The previous tenant had also torn out some of the soundproofing that will need to be replaced. The list goes on and on. Rodney takes notes and promises to have an estimate before the end of the week.
"What about paint?" he asks before closing his notebook. "Are you keeping it white?"
"No," Edward replies. "I have someone who's going to help me with color. She's also friends with a muralist so we're going to meet tomorrow and make a plan."
"Sounds good," Rodney replies before heading out. "Just let me know."
Making plans, Edward thinks, smiling.
He's finally making plans, and it feels good.
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..~*~..
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The next day he's back at the future Esme's Place with Isabella and her friend, Maria. Maria, Leah's girlfriend, is an artist who made a name for herself around town as a talented muralist. She grew up not far from the center, and when she heard of Edward's plans to reopen it she offered her services at a greatly reduced rate.
Bella is bouncing on her toes, her eyes lit up with excitement.
"Wow, Edward! I had no idea this place is so big. It's going to be so grand when we get it fixed up. This is really exciting!"
He smiles at her and steps closer, winding his arm around her waist.
"You really like it?" he asks.
"Oh, yes! Don't you agree, Maria?"
"Yeah, I do. You know my brother used to come here. He learned how to play the bass and was part of a chamber group or something. It was really good for him. Momma said it kept him out of trouble."
Edward smiles. "My mom loved hearing stories like that. Does he still play?"
She shakes her head. "No, but he really got into classical music from that experience. He works at the Walt Disney Concert Hall now and gets to see all the shows. He also got his son into music. He's learning to play the violin."
Bella squeezes Edward, pulling him closer. "Isn't that amazing. Just think, Edward… you're going to be giving that to a new generation of kids."
"I hope so. That's my dream, anyway."
Maria points up to the expansive wall in the large room in the center of the building. "Is this where you want the showpiece mural?"
Edward nods.
"I put some ideas together. Here, let me show you." She opens up a portfolio binder on top of some boxes left behind from the previous tenant. She smoothes the open page and waves her hand over the art with a flourish.
"This one is inspired by a Braque cubist painting." Bella and Edward study the work: a collection of instruments are rendered in black and white and the background behind them is a pattern of various shapes in different colors.
"Oh, I love that!" Bella enthuses.
"Me too," agrees Edward.
Maria lets them study the art for another minute before carefully turning the oversized page. "The second design has a series of silhouettes of kids playing instruments over a swirling background of music notes in every color."
"That's so clever because the kids can imagine that they are the silhouettes, as opposed to the effect if you'd painted actual people."
"Good, that's what I was going for," says Maria.
She flips another page of the portfolio.
"And the final design is a series of long rectangles in different colors that are stacked along side each other. Each one represents a music genre: blues, classical, pop, jazz, country…well, you get the idea."
"I like that from a distance it just looks modern and colorful, but when you get closer, you see all the detail that identifies the genre," observes Bella.
"Exactly. Within each colored rectangle there are monotone outlines of related imagery."
"Oh, wow. They're all great. How will you ever decide, Edward?"
"I like them all, I hate to have to choose. What do you think?"
"Do you have a favorite, Maria?" Bella asks.
"Well, stylistically, I like the first one. But perhaps the second idea is best because like you pointed out it helps the students identify themselves in the art, and it's still expressed in a colorful way."
"I agree," responds Edward. "Maybe that's the best choice. What do you think, Isabella?"
"Yes. I think the second one captures the spirit of the place as you had been describing it to me. This center is about helping young people connect to music in a meaningful way."
"We have a decision," Edward says happily. The best part is that he's reminded that he isn't alone in making this project a reality. He has help and support, most notably with Isabella.
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Maria takes measurements, photos, and makes some notes before heading out for another client meeting in Pasadena.
"Wow!" says Edward to Bella, after they walk Maria out to her car. "You really know the right people."
"She's great, isn't she? She's so talented and easy to work with, too. She did a jungle room for one of my friend's kids and it's still the hit of the neighborhood."
Edward takes a few strides toward the back of the building as he reaches out for her. "Come on, let me show you around some more."
They move through a number of lesson rooms and larger open spaces. "These are going to need new carpet," Edward comments.
"You know, I was also thinking that it would be good to replace the floor in the main room, too. There are some great retro linoleum tiles in cool colors and they're really durable."
"Will you take me where you saw the tile and help me pick it out?" Edward asks.
"Sure. We should do it as soon as we get back from Italy. They may take a while to get once you place your order."
He pulls her into a tight hug and doesn't let go, just gently rocks her. Bella can tell he's overwhelmed.
"What?" she asks gently.
"Your desire to help me is so pure, so selfless. You don't have any agenda. God, I love that about you."
"Well of course, why would I have an agenda? I just want to support you and it's gratifying that it's something so worthwhile."
Edward looks over his shoulder. "Hey, there used to be a sitting area out behind the building. Can we see if it's there still so we can talk for a minute?"
Bella nods and she follows him out back. They find a couple of worn out benches and a picnic table surrounded by overgrowth and weeds.
"It's kind of filthy," Edward comments.
"Oh, I don't care about that." Bella takes some Kleenex out of her bag and brushes off the worst of the mess to clear a place for them to sit. "What's up?"
"Remember how I told you that Lauren followed me out to my car after the meeting with the lawyers a couple of days ago?"
Bella nods, trying to look interested, but not too interested. "You said that you let her know you didn't want to have dinner again to talk about your past…that you were ready to move on."
Edward takes her hand. "And I told her that I was involved with you now."
She smiles at him. "Yeah, that was my favorite part."
"There was one thing I forgot about when I told you about it, but being here today reminded me. Lauren saw some stuff on Facebook about my opening the center again and the fundraiser that's happening, and she offered to help get some of her big music connections involved."
Bella's expression stays fairly neutral, but Edward suspects she must have complicated feelings brewing under her calm exterior.
"Oh, I see," she finally says.
"I told her I didn't think it was a good idea, but then she told me she could work directly with Alice and not deal with me at all."
"Do you believe it would go like that?"
"Honestly, I don't know. Probably yes for the fundraiser event, but if they provide continued support it could get complicated."
Bella twists on a strand of hair as she thinks. "But how can you turn down that kind of potential help? Serious supporters could help sustain the project long term."
"You're right, I can't help but see potential in that," Edward agrees. "You should know also that she provided that same kind of help for mom, and that was before she was as powerfully connected as she is now. Lauren always loved this place."
Bella considers his words. "So she had a history here, too, an emotional investment?"
"Yes." Edward nods.
Bella doesn't even hesitate with her response. "Then I think you should accept her help and let her work with Alice; see how it goes."
"I don't know…"
"Just follow your instincts, Edward," she says encouragingly.
He bristles. "Like those have been so good the last few years."
"Your instincts led you to me. You showed up at my house, after all." She grins.
"That they did." He smiles and leans over to kiss her.
"So what's the next step?"
"I have to meet with the lawyers and accountants again to tighten up the business plan. Also, when we get back, there'll be some rehearsals for the event."
"How do you think it'll be, being up on the stage again?"
"Strange. You know what though? If I get nervous, I'm going to close my eyes and imagine that I'm in your backyard. And when I open my eyes, you'll be all that I see."
She takes his hand in hers. "There you go, making me swoon again."
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As they walk through the building locking up and shutting off lights, Edward shakes his head. "I wish you could have seen the center before, during its heyday when it was alive and buzzing. It was really cool."
He notices one of the doors is broken when he goes to close it and scowls. "It's depressing seeing it like this. It feels all wrong."
Bella perks up. "I have an idea. Have you ever heard of smudging?"
Edward shakes his head. "No, what's that?"
"My friend Cheri is very spiritual and performs an old Native American tradition where she burns a smudge stick. It's when you want to rid a place of lingering negative energy. She smudged my photo studio after that upsetting experience I had with that couple."
"That sounds pretty out there, Isabella. What if this smudging stuff sets fire to the studio? I'm sure the insurance company would love that explanation. Oh, we had to get rid of the negative energy…"
"No, it's not like that." Bella laughs. "You make it sound like she'd set a bonfire in the lobby."
"What does she do then?"
"She has a bundle of dried stuff, herbs like sage and other stuff tied together, and by the time she walks through the place waving it and saying prayers, it's smoking, not burning."
"Does it smell good at least?"
She laughs. "Not really." She looks over just as he makes a face. "Ah come on, Mr. C., open your mind. What's the worst that can happen?"
"A stinky studio?" He grins.
She shakes her head at him with mock indignation.
"You know what?" he asks. "I'm so full of lingering bad energy that maybe you should smudge me, too. I'm hoping once this center is thriving that Esme's Place will help me keep the best part of my memories of my mom alive, not the sad ones that linger from her miserable last months."
Bella's eyes light up. "Huh…smudge you? I think I know just the thing."
"Are you going to set me on fire, Isabella, and then watch me smoke?"
"I believe I've already set you on fire. Maybe cooling you off is what you need," she teases as she leans into him.
He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. "I'm in your capable hands. Go ahead, smudge me, cleanse me, whatever turns you on, as long as you work your magic on me."
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..~*~..
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That evening Bella speeds them down the 405 with all the windows down, her hair whipping around in a crazed frenzy. Edward leans back in his seat, resting his elbow on the open window frame. He loves the feeling of surrendering to Isabella. All the way though their dinner she refused to tell him what she had up her sleeve. From the looks of it, he'll soon find out but he can't resist teasing her first.
"Are we going to Disneyland?"
"Nope."
"Tijuana?" he asks playfully.
"Ha! No."
"Smudges Are Us?"
She reaches over and pushes him in the shoulder. "Enough with the guessing." She steers the car into the off ramp. "Besides, we're almost there."
He hadn't paid too much attention while they were driving, but now he starts getting the sense that he's been around here before. When she pulls up and parks next to the Green Store, it all hits him.
Hermosa Beach…Bella's special place
"Are we going for a swing?" he asks as she shuts off the ignition. "Cause you have a swing in your front yard, just saying. We could've stayed at home."
"Nope, no swinging tonight," she says as she opens her car door.
She gets out and walks to the back of the car and pops the trunk. She takes a pile of beach towels out and closes it again.
Marching forward, she calls out to him without turning back.
"Come on, Mr. Curious, follow me."
He silently follows her across the sand hoping she'll drop the towels at any minute and unpack a bottle of massage oil, or some of her home baked cookies at the very least.
But to his horror, Isabella keeps marching…all the way to the damn shore, where she drops the towels, slides off her sweater and drops it as well.
"Oh no!"
"Oh yes," she says, beckoning him over.
"You mean to tell me that you're going swimming in the ocean…at night…in the dark?"
She curls her index finger up at him and nods. "And you're coming with me."
He shakes his head vehemently. "I don't think so. Who knows what the hell is lurking in these dark, creepy waters at night. Haven't you read mythology about the sea or watched Jaws, woman?"
"Quit being such a baby," she says as she walks up to him and starts to unbutton his shirt.
"You think I'm being a baby because I don't want to become some shark's main course tonight?"
"There are no sharks here. Some mermaids perhaps, but no sharks."
"I think you're the mermaid," he says as she pulls his shirt off his shoulders. She looks past him and scans the deserted beach before undoing his jeans and pushing them down."
"You're serious about this, aren't you?" he asks. "Did you at least bring us swimsuits?"
"No, we won't need those."
"Why does that not surprise me?" he says more to himself than her. "You know there are scary people lingering on the beach at night."
She ignores him.
He watches her pull off her T-shirt and denim skirt. "We're going to freeze, Isabella," he implores.
"We won't freeze. It's such a warm night tonight. Besides, we can always keep each other warm," she says, running her fingertips along his arm.
She turns him until his shoulders are square to the edge of the shore. "Okay, now close your eyes."
"You want to make this even more disturbing than it already is?" he asks, wide-eyed.
"It's not disturbing. It's exhilarating…mysterious. It's you and me being cleansed in the ocean, to emerge from God's swimming pool reborn," she pronounces dramatically.
"Oh, for God's sakes," he grumbles.
"Close your eyes!" she demands.
He snaps them closed. "Yes, Ma'am!"
He feels her walk away but a moment later he senses her in front of him again.
"Edward, repeat after me…I'm letting go of all my old negative memories and disappointments. From this day forward, I'm a new man."
He feels ridiculous while he repeats her words. He's also puzzled when he feels her press her wet fingers on his forehead, his temples, and over his heart.
"What's that?" he whispers. "Why are your fingers wet?"
"Shhh. Ocean water. The cleanse has begun."
He rolls his eyes, but since they're closed she doesn't notice.
"Now say, I have no fear. I trust the universe will take care of me."
He feels her make brushing motions off his shoulders as he repeats the line.
He peeks at her just as she pushes the open palm of her hand against his forehead.
"Bad spirits come out," she pronounces, like one of those TV Evangelical healers. He looks down at her and laughs, and she starts to laugh, too.
But then she focuses and takes his hands. "I am full of positive energy now, and I will move forward knowing that I am powerful and in control of my life."
"Yeah, even if I'm not in control of my woman," he says under his breath at the end of the line.
She throws her hands up in the air. "Okay! Here we go!"
Next thing he knows she's peeling off her bra and panties and rushing into the water. He shakes his head, but pushes his boxers off, and comes in after her.
When he gets close enough, he lunges for her and they both collapse into the water in a tumble of limbs. The water is shocking, a brisk slap in the face as they fight to resurface and take a breath. They both rise out of the water sputtering, laughing.
"Oh my!" she exclaims.
"Oh my is right. Damn, woman, it's cold and friggin dark. How are you sure that some creature isn't going to rise up and come after us any second?"
She splashes him playfully, then dives back under. As much as he appreciates the view as her moonlit-body curves over, then dives into the water, he wishes she would stay by his side. She's under a long time until she pops up and smiles at him.
"So you are a mermaid," he says, smirking.
"You had to find out eventually," she says solemnly.
They tread water around each other until she convinces him to take her hand and go under. The sensation is startling, the weight of silence contrasted with the cry of every nerve awakened by the brisk tide. He finally relaxes into it and allows himself to sink with her into the black water, as they have their magic moment in the undersea world.
After a few minutes and many submerges, he senses that she's satisfied. "So am I cleansed now, or smudged or whatever?" he asks as he pulls her into his arms.
"Yup, you're all cleaned up and ready to go."
"So where you'd learn that ceremony?"
"I made it up, silly, from bits of things I've seen and experienced myself. Did you like it?"
"You made that stuff up?"
"Yeah, I'm amazing aren't I?" she teases.
He shakes his head. "What am I going to do with you?'
He grabs her and kisses her passionately as the water swirls around them. She feels so perfect-wet and slippery in his arms. As he fights the water to hold onto her, he wonders if he had lived at all before he met Isabella. She's his new beginning and in his deepest hope, his always, too.
When a strong undercurrent pulls them apart he takes a step forward and motions dramatically to the star-filled sky.
"As long as we're at this, I think there's something I want to tell the universe."
"Good, good. Go ahead," she encourages. "Just lift your face to the heavens and speak your truth."
He looks up at the moon, as bright and shiny as a new quarter in a child's hand. He thinks of his mom and dad and their dreams for their two children. He thinks about how sometimes dreams do come true.
He looks over at Isabella. His mermaid smiles lovingly at him, her arms slowly gliding back and forth across the water's surface as she waits.
"Are you listening, Universe?" he yells into the darkness, a man inspired.
"I just thought you should know…I'm in love with Isabella Swan!"
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abbie
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