Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Dodge and Burn.
Much love and thanks to Pre-readers BtwntheStacks and Lemonmartinis and Beta-MsKathy
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Dodge and Burn / Chapter Thirty-One / Cherry Pie
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When Edward enters the Fig and Olive restaurant, the hostess immediately leads him into the posh dining room and straight to the center table where Jonathan's holding court. When he sees Edward he waves him over and indicates that he should sit next to him where two seats have been held open. He also notices that Lauren is next to Jonathan, directly across from where he will sit.
"Excellent. You're here, Edward," Jonathan says. "Now where's your Isabella?"
Edward settles down into his chair. "She's on her way. She'll join us shortly."
Sparkling water and an array of appetizers appear at the table while Jonathan asks Edward questions about his mother's early days starting up the music center. He goes on to explain his interest to Edward.
"You see, your mother's passion for kids and music reminded me so much of my late wife, Marissa. She was an accomplished violinist and had an enormous passion for music. She did a lot of work with the Los Angeles Music Center's various programs for children. I always keep an eye out for philanthropies to support in her name that she would've cared about."
"That's wonderful for you to carry on her legacy," Edward responds.
"So when I approached Jonathan about Esme's Place, he was naturally very interested," Lauren adds in.
"I'm so glad," Edward says, addressing Jonathan. "You may be interested to know that Sean Odell, my lead teacher, won the Music Center's BRAVO award for excellence in music education. He had developed a great program in an inner-city school."
"Impressive," Jonathan responds, swirling the wine the steward has poured in his glass, before tasting it. He nods to the steward.
"But as I'm sure you know, Mr. Sanders, the public school programs are all being cut and music is always one of the first programs to go. My mom didn't believe in fighting the L.A Unified Schools and the tax system. She just believed in doing it better."
"My kind of woman," Jonathan says, pressing his hand on the table-top before lifting his glass. "To Esme!"
"To Esme," everyone repeats.
"And call me Jonathan, Edward," he says with a smile. "I think we can do some good work together."
Edward nods, while noticing Lauren as she nods and smiles brightly at Jonathan.
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..~*~..
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Frustrated, Bella slaps her dashboard while she waits at the red light. "Melrose and La Cienega, he said Melrose and La Cienega," she repeats out loud to herself before circling back slowly. As she drives down Melrose she studies the signs and calls them out as she passes each restaurant, "Ago, Lucques, Comme Ca…where's the damn Olive!"
She finds an empty parking space, pulls over, and parks so that she can call information for the exact address.
"Hi, I'm looking for Olive and Fig on Melrose Avenue. It's a restaurant." She taps her fingers waiting for the number.
"I have no listing for Olive and Fig," the operator says dryly before disconnecting.
"Of course you don't," Bella says to the dial tone, a flailing edge to her voice before slamming her phone down on the seat next to her.
Did she get the name wrong? She knows she should just call Edward, but her pride stops her. I mean, how in the hell can you mess up a name such as Olive and Fig? She also knows that he'll worry if he thinks she's can't figure out something so simple.
She calls her friend instead.
"Hey Angela, you didn't happen to overhear the name of that restaurant that I'm supposed to meet Edward and the others at, did you?"
"Sorry, Bella, I didn't. Shouldn't you be there by now?"
Bella sighs. "Yes, but I can't seem to find it. I called information, and I must've remembered the name wrong since they didn't have a listing."
"Well, why don't you just call Edward?" Angela asks, confused.
"I didn't want to bother him. He's already worried about me, but you're right…I'll do that. Thanks anyway." Bella closes her eyes with the shame of guilt because she knows she isn't going to call Edward.
"Sure, Bella. Have fun."
As soon as she hangs up, she feels the cold creep of panic start crawling up her spine. She fights an overwhelming desire to abandon her car and start roaming the streets on foot. How could she already have forgotten the name of the restaurant? What is happening to her?
The longer she sits and stews, the worse she feels. When her text prompt goes off she realizes that she actually feels dizzy. She finally focuses on the screen and sees it's a text from Edward. Her stomach churns as she reads it.
Where are you? I'm getting really worried. Is everything okay?
Bella holds the phone in her hands for a minute and tries to think of what to say.
I'm sorry-I'm heading over, but I'm not feeling good all of a sudden.
What's wrong?
I'm not sure. But I think I need to get home and go to bed.
Where are you? I'll come get you.
No! Please stay and talk to Mr. Moneybags. Please.
Isabella…
Please. I will only feel worse if you leave. Please tell them that I'm sorry I missed the dinner.
She waits a minute for him to respond.
All right, things are looking really promising, but I'm coming to check on you as soon as we're done here.
Thanks, handsome…and good luck. I hope he gives Esme's Place lots of support.
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..~*~..
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Edward slips his phone back in his jacket, just as Jonathan returns to the table from the restroom. The older man recognizes the look of concern on Edward's face.
"Everything okay?" he asks Edward.
"Oh, it's Isabella. She's not feeling well, so she sends her apologies but she won't be joining us."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Jonathan says.
"That's too bad," Lauren says. Edward looks over at her suspiciously.
"If you need to go, I'll understand," Jonathan says with more compassion than Edward would expect.
"Honestly, I wanted to, but Isabella insists that I stay. She's the one who inspired me to reopen the center," Edward shares. "She supports whatever it's going to take for me to make a go of it."
"Good woman," Jonathan says kindly. "I've always attributed much of my success to my dear Marissa," he says.
"She sounds like a good woman too," Edward says.
"The best," Jonathan agrees as he smiles warmly.
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..~*~..
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By the time Bella walks through her front door, her hands are shaking. She considers calling Leah again, but thinks twice about it. All she needs is Leah concerned about her too.
"I'm okay. I'm okay," she says aloud over and over. "I'm just overwhelmed. It's been such a crazy few weeks."
She heads into the kitchen where Edward's balloons are floating along the ceiling as they trail all the way to the family room. She pours herself a glass of wine from the open bottle in the fridge and heads to the backyard.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," she chants as she paces across the grass. "I just need to calm down."
Finally, she settles down a little and decides to light the fire pit and take a seat on the swing. As she sips her wine she gazes at the flickering fire intently, letting her emotions run free. She thinks about driving up and down Melrose Avenue searching for a phantom restaurant, while her love patiently waited for her. As much as she regrets not meeting him, it would've been horrible to show up upset and unhinged to such an important meeting.
Then with a full heart, she remembers the lyrics to Edward's song…
Let's take it all on, this crazy life
You can chose to live long and be my wife
I'll hold your hand as we grow old…
But then…
No matter what has to be
Smile baby, just for me
The words haunt her. They seem prophetic, as if they know her future and the quiet, noble way he accepts it. She tries to hold onto all of the encouragement Angela had inspired her with earlier, but it isn't easy.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," she explains softly to the dancing flames.
She pictures her mother, her bright light extinguished from the hellish disease…her eyes vacant as Bella stroked her cheek.
"You're all right, you're all right," she used to softly chant to her.
If only it were so.
She drinks her wine and remembers it all as if it were yesterday.
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..~*~..
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No check is brought to the table as they start to say their goodbyes and Edward wonders what it must be like to own such a restaurant, to have such financial means at your fingertips. Yet then Edward is reminded of the ugly truth…money doesn't buy everything. This man Jonathan has enormous wealth but even then he was not able to save his adored wife.
He turns to his host. "Thank you, Jonathan, for coming to our fundraiser, for dinner and the chance to discuss the future of Esme's Place."
Jonathan shakes his hand. "I like you, Edward, and I like your project. I want to talk to my people, but I assure you we will be meeting again."
Lauren smiles, knowing that their meeting has been a success.
"I'll look forward to it," Edward says.
By the time he gets to the valet stand, he realizes that Lauren is right behind him.
He turns back to look at her.
"Thank you," he says simply. "He's a great guy and seems genuinely interested in helping us."
"Oh, believe me," Lauren says. "He's more than interested. I had a feeling it could go well, but congratulations, Edward. You made a powerful impression on him."
"Really?" he asks. "Well, that's great. And thanks for getting him interested in the first place."
"You're welcome," she answers as she studies him. She can tell the wine has loosened him up. She senses an opportunity.
"Hey, I know you're anxious to get home, but can we just sit and talk for a bit? I feel really awful about what happened last night."
"Ah, no thanks, Lauren. I'm really not up for more of that conversation."
"I promise it won't be like last night," she assures him. "That was a horrible mistake. There are some things I really need to say to you and it would mean a lot to me if I could have the chance."
Edward studies his ex, and for the first time in a long time, he sees vulnerability in her expression. He can't help but feel curious as to what has changed her demeanor so much-especially after their nasty argument. Although it defies logic, he has a sudden strong gut feeling that he could get her to agree to the divorce.
"I need to check on Isabella," he says.
"But you said she wasn't well. She's probably asleep by now. Why don't you call and see. Really, what is another thirty minutes or so? You know that our place, well…my place is just ten minutes from here."
Edward thinks about Bella waiting at home, and wonders if indeed she's in bed. He thinks about their argument yesterday morning about the divorce stalling, and the papers Emmett left him sitting in the back seat of his car. He thinks about how much of his future doesn't feel open as long as he's tethered to his marriage. He'd already planned to contact Lauren about the divorce in the next day or so, but maybe now is the time.
He looks at Lauren, her eyes bright and strangely kind, her smile reminiscent of earlier times. She heard the song he sang for Isabella and all that implies. Maybe she will finally see reason.
The valet pulls up with her car, but she hesitates, waiting for his decision.
His words come out of his mouth without thought. "Go home, and let me call Isabella. I'll let you know if I can come."
Lauren hesitates, but knowing not to push it, she agrees and steps forward to retrieve her car. "Okay, hopefully I'll see you there."
When Edward's car arrives, he tips the valet and slips inside, then dials Isabella.
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"You're up," he says softly when she answers her phone.
"Yeah," she says.
"How are you feeling?"
"Still kind of shaky. What's happening there?"
"We just finished," Edward says, then hesitates.
"What?" Bella asks.
"Lauren wants to talk to me," he says.
"Really? About what?"
"I'm not really sure, but Isabella, she's remorseful about last night and I sense an opportunity to set her straight about our future."
"I'm thinking she'd probably say the same. She doesn't seem the type to back down," she says with a tired voice. "She's probably still thinking about her future with you."
"Come on. We both know that's not going to happen. I've never been so clear about anything. She knows how I feel about you. She heard your song tonight."
"So what do you want to do, Edward?" Bella asks.
"I'd like a chance to finish things up with her…have the talk that has stalled our divorce. Emmett gave me the paperwork tonight."
"Are you sure? Wouldn't you rather just come home?"
"Of course I would. But then I won't be any closer to being divorced than I was when you got mad yesterday morning."
"Hmmm. True, and you seem very anxious to get it done."
"I am. So what do you think?" he asks.
Bella takes a deep breath and pushes her fear out of her head. "Go talk to her. We all need a resolution. If you think that can happen tonight, then go. Hopefully the talk will end with at least one of you getting what you want. As long as you really, truly know what you want."
"Isabella, I know what I want. How can you say that? Didn't you listen to your song tonight?
Bella pauses.
"Didn't you?" he repeats, getting frustrated.
"Listen to it? Every single moment for the rest of my life I will think of my song, Edward. I will hold it in my heart and hear the lyrics just as surely as my heart beats."
"Okay. That's more like it. So we have an understanding, then?"
"Yes. Go settle things with Lauren, and then tomorrow will be our brand new beautiful day."
"You promise?" he asks.
"Cross my heart," she says, closing her eyes before saying her final goodbye.
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..~*~..
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By the time Edward gets to Lauren's, she's changed into jeans and a sweater. She offers him a glass of wine as he settles on the living room couch. It's unnerving to be back as a stranger in this place that used to be his home. He sets his jacket down with Emmett's envelope just underneath.
She starts the conversation by explaining how she met Jonathan and realized the potential for him to have a major impact on the Esme's Place project. When she takes a break to pour herself more wine, Edward looks at his watch. Fifteen minutes have passed and they haven't gotten anywhere.
He thinks about Bella lying in their bed and he decides to go for broke.
"So, Lauren, about our divorce."
Her gaze snaps to his. "What about our divorce?"
"I want to finish it, but I'm told there are still things you want to talk about."
"Yes, that's true," she agrees.
"Okay then, what do you want to talk about?"
He watches her pour more wine into his glass as she considers what to say.
"I know you're anxious to wrap things up, Edward."
"Yes," he agrees.
"But the thing is…" she starts finally. "I'd like more time."
"But why?"
She settles back into the couch and gives him a long look. "Because I don't believe our time is over."
He feels his face flush with fury, but she holds up her hand.
"Don't get upset. I know you're done and have moved on…" she says.
"Have you forgotten that you moved on first?" he asks angrily.
"I didn't move on," she corrects him. "I reached out for attention when you didn't have it to give. And I made a grave mistake I'm hoping to have a chance to correct."
"Well, I've moved on and I'm in love with Isabella, Lauren. Deeply in love."
She sighs. "Yes, I can see that. And it's all so lovely when life is easy and you can go off to Europe and not worry about getting through each day. But what happens to you two when real life gets ugly?
"We will help each other through it."
"Will you? It's not always that simple, is it? Remember we had a lot of good years, Edward. Or have you forgotten that?"
He tips his head, the discomfort creeping up his spine. "I haven't forgotten," he says softly.
"I was a needy fool and have a lot to make up for. I realize that I need to be patient, Edward. I just have a feeling about your girlfriend. I suspect she isn't as solid as you think."
"Don't say anything about Isabella. You don't know shit about her, Lauren."
"Maybe not. But how long have you known her, Edward? How long have you known me?"
"I've know her long enough. She's the real deal. I know that."
"I hope you're right because I've heard she's all over the place. I sense that one day she's not going to be there for you like you expect, and you know what? You'll realize that there's no magic ticket, no perfect relationship. "
"Is that so?" he asks, his voice edged with sarcasm.
"Yes, it is," Lauren replies confidently.
"Well, we will just have to see, won't we? Besides, what you need to understand is that this isn't about me choosing you or Isabella. This divorce is about the fact that I don't want to be married to you anymore."
She's still for a moment and then takes a sip of wine before turning to him with a defiant look in her eyes.
"I don't want a divorce. I'm going to wait for you, Edward."
"Don't say that, Lauren. Just don't."
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..~*~..
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Bella stirs and opens her eyes, then blinks over and over to make sure she isn't hallucinating. Considering how surreal everything seems, she's surprised how calm she feels.
The swing cushion is scratchy against her bare legs and the night air cooler than she remembers when she first sat by the fire. The moonlight's so bright she sees details in the yard she normally wouldn't. She turns and slowly takes in the woman that has now miraculously joined her on the swing.
Her mother straightens her legs out and smoothes her skirt over her thighs as she looks off into the distance. "You know Bella, I really was surprised you took out the plum tree."
Bella sits up as she rubs her eyes. She's compelled to answer this anomaly that appears to be her mom with astounding clarity. She takes a deep breath as her heart flutters. Renee calmly looks over at her and smiles.
"But it died," Bella answers, as it were just another conversation with her mother.
Renee chuckles. "Actually, it wasn't dead. It just was dormant…took a year off. That happens sometimes you know."
Bella worries that she took a tree down before it's time, but then another thought occurs to her.
"So are you dormant? Is that why you're suddenly here?" Bella asks.
"Nope, I'm dead," Renee answers with excruciating simplicity.
"Then why are you here?" Bella asks, feeling hopeful.
"Oh, I'm always around," answers Renee. "But I thought it would be lovely to have a chat. It's been a while, sweet girl."
Bella feels a curl of warmth wrap around her heart. Her momma often referred to her as 'sweet girl'.
"I'd love to chat, Momma," Bella answers. "It's been a long while since we could."
"Yes," Rene agrees. "Damn disease. I couldn't do anything but babble at the end. How frustrating. Guess I'd used up all my talking in that life of mine," Renee says, laughing and rolling her eyes.
"I've missed you, Momma," Bella says.
"I know, baby girl. I know," her mom says in a soothing voice.
"Are you happy?" Bella asks.
Renee smiles wide, her expression beatific. "It's like cherry pie at every meal, Bella."
Bella's eyes light up remembering how much her mom loved cherry pie.
"Oh, that's good," Bella says happily. "I'd like that."
"Yes, but it's not your time yet, sweet girl. Is it?"
Renee gives her a look and an image appears in her mind. "Edward?" she asks.
"Oh, he's a fine one, he is," Renee says, chuckling. "He's finally finding his legs. Just wait, Bella. Just wait."
Her mom winks at her and smiles, and Bella is filled with the most incredible warmth as if the sun's in her belly burning bright.
Renee gracefully lifts herself off the swing and takes a few steps forward. Her image is a bit less clear and Bella blinks as her mom points to the nearby planters.
"I loved those poppies that you and Edward planted, Bella."
Bella looks over, surprised to know her mom was aware of such a small detail of her life.
"Keep turning your soil, nurturing and watering, sweet girl, and then you'll always have color." Her mom shakes her head and smiles. "Yes, indeed, such color."
"Okay, Momma. We will," Bella answers as Renee gives her one last peaceful look then walks just past the pool and fades away.
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..~*~..
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Edward sits in his car numbly, trying to gather the strength to push the key into the ignition.
He picks up the manila envelope once more and carefully slides out the papers, then slowly runs his fingers over the sections where he and Lauren have each signed their names. Satisfied, he slides the papers back inside and folds the envelope's clasp closed.
Exhausted, he marvels at the journey this night has taken him on. After the small talk, their discussion started out rough with another round of angry accusations before they calmed down enough to hash through things. It feels like he just spent a lifetime with Lauren, recounting and debating the ups and downs of their marriage. Everything from their exuberant late night runs for fish tacos to the time Edward lost their property tax payment resulting in a fight so dramatic that Lauren threw a vase at him.
They even laughed remembering when she found his hidden stash of graham crackers, and the time he threw the scale away because she had gotten so obsessive about her weight, resulting in his being forced to take an angry trip to Target to buy a new scale.
As the minutes turned to an hour then longer, and their bitter-edged moods softened with the wine, the good and the bad was laid before them like a collage of their life together. They lived a life where the good outweighed the bad and Edward acknowledged that. Yet the indisputable truth was that the fork in their road: his parent's deaths, her affair and their separation, changed him and how he sees his future profoundly.
The night ended with her sobbing tucked under his arm, and when she'd calmed, she looked up at him and finally became aware that he had forgiven her and could be kind to her, but she also understood that he was completely done. In sensing the quiet of his heart, she realized that there was no going back, only moving forward, each down their separate paths.
He silently pulled out the documents and she signed them without another word said.
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..~*~..
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Bella wakes with a start, and sits up suddenly, causing the swing to start its graceful gate.
"Momma," Bella whispers, her eyes frantically scanning the yard, desperately hoping for a sign of her.
It was a dream. Bella sighs and rubs her eyes. Just a dream…but it was so real.
She looks down at her abandoned wine glass and shivers as she realizes the swing cushions are damp from the morning dew. The early light is just creeping over the horizon and Bella wonders how she managed to sleep so long outside.
She rises off the swing, turns off the fire pit, and slowly walks towards the house, trying to shake the feeling that she's still in a dream. Every movement is slow and measured. Once in the house she starts up the coffeemaker, ignoring the dozens of balloons that are in various states of freefall all around her kitchen.
She carefully sets herself up on her couch, wrapped in blankets, her laptop in one hand, her mug of coffee in the other. She opens her Mac and iPhoto, then moves the curser along the sidebar until she is at the first images in her photo files.
As she slowly sips her coffee and warms up, she studies each photo one at a time. The first group are images from her twenties, prints that she scanned to store in her digital archives for safekeeping: Jacob as a chubby cheeked baby, crawling across her mother's worn Asian rug, his first Easter, posed on her lap with Bella wearing fuzzy rabbit ears and laughing. Bella shakes her head as she moves from one image to another. It was yesterday and yet a lifetime ago.
Several hours pass, as Bella scans the years captured in photos: Jacob on Halloween, dressed like Pikachu holding his grandma's hand, Bella in her photo studio, proud as a peacock the day she had her first paying client. She smiles, remembering.
She's almost done with her second mug of coffee and the sun is pouring through the windows when she gets to the pictures of her and Edward in Lucca. She stares for a long time at the photo of Edward in the field. Not the sexy one, with his eyes on fire, but the one where he's laughing and trying to wrestle the camera out of her grasp.
His eyes blue and bright, his smile…my god, his smile!
Bella smiles with him as she falls in love all over again. When she gets to the end of the photos she closes her laptop and sets down her coffee. It only takes a moment for her to work out her plan of action in her head, each step crystal clear and perfectly defined. She's never felt more certain of every step in front of her.
She takes a long, hot shower and slowly dresses in a pressed white shirt and navy skirt. She brushes her hair back into a neat ponytail. Back in the kitchen, she opens the middle desk drawer and pulls out her formal stationary, long buried under boxes of greeting cards. She takes out two sheets and two envelopes and proceeds to hand-write her thoughts on each before sealing them up in separate envelopes. On one she writes, Jacob, the other Edward.
She glances at her watch and stands up, gathers up her bank information and purse, and heads out the door.
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Less that an hour later, Bella returns home. She methodically changes out of her bank outfit into a swimsuit and cover-up and lets down her hair. Before she heads out again, she makes a stop in the living room where she slowly pulls an envelope out of her purse.
Due to her shaky hands she has to strike the match three times for it to catch fire. She pulls back the screen then holds the flame under the envelope's corner until it finally starts to burn.
When the rectangle is fully immersed in flames she takes a deep breath and steps back.
No regrets, she says to herself as she pulls herself up to stand tall.
She moves to the door without looking back. With nothing but a bottle of pills in one hand, her car keys in the other and the relief of her decision made, she's never felt lighter.
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..~*~..
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Edward wakes with a start. He remembers entering his loft in the middle of the night, setting down the envelope and collapsing on his couch while trying to summon the strength to change into more comfortable clothes and head over to Bella's. Instead, he must've fallen asleep.
He rubs his eyes and looks at his watch. Damn, it's past nine o'clock. He notices the morning sun already moving across the big painting on the opposite wall. He thinks about calling Bella, but wonders if it would be better if he just shows up on her doorstep with his positive news. They had left their plans for today pretty loose anyway.
He starts up the coffeemaker and then takes a shower, washing away some of the exhaustion from the emotional talk with Lauren just hours before. By the time he pulls on his jeans and T-shirt, he's anxious to get to Bella. He finishes off some coffee, grabs his keys and Emmett's envelope, and hits the road.
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When Edward pulls up to Bella's house he's disappointed not to see her car in the driveway. Did she run an errand? Before getting out of his car he tries to call her, but it goes directly to voicemail and he hangs up. He decides to use his spare key to let himself in and wait for her.
The house feels weirdly hollow without her and it unsettles Edward. He heads into the kitchen to get some water, but the minute he steps inside the bright room he stops, and looks around warily taking in every detail. Balloons of every color float in a kind of shriveled half-mast all through the kitchen and family room. Even their sagging ribbons look sad. He imagines a clown's funeral or a failed birthday party has taken place, but then he notices a banner taped to the nearby wall. The first letters printed on shiny mylar are CONGRA but the rest is unreadable as the right half of the banner has come loose from it's tape. He lifts the fallen corner and reads the covered letters. CONGRATULATIONS! He lets out a long sigh before letting go of the plastic edge.
He turns and notices the bottle of Chianti set out with two glasses, the jar of Nutella, and bowl of strawberries. His heart sinks. She had put this celebration together for him. Why didn't she insist he come over? If he'd only known…
He thinks for a moment and then picks up his phone and calls Angela. It takes a minute for her receptionist to put her through.
"Hi, Angela. I'm sorry to bother you at work but I'm wondering if you've heard from Isabella. I'm worried because she didn't feel well last night?"
"But I thought she was with you," Angela responds.
"No, we didn't end up getting together last night. So you haven't spoken to her?"
"Well, she called me when she got confused and couldn't find the restaurant last night, but she told me that she was going to call you to get the directions."
"Wait a minute …she couldn't find the restaurant? She told me that she wasn't feeling well and wanted to go home. Did she say anything at all to you about not feeling well? Feeling dizzy?" Edward asks.
Angela's concern is evident in her voice. "Dizzy? No. She said she was dizzy? That concerns me. Now that you mention it she was in a very strange mood when we left the fundraiser."
"Strange how?"
"First let me ask something. Did Bella tell you she forgot a client's shoot yesterday? Leah told me that she had to go by the house to calm Bella down."
"Damn! No she didn't tell me. She knew I was busy getting ready and probably didn't want to bother me. I wish she'd told me," Edward says, frustrated.
"Well, I don't want to worry you, Edward. But she was very gloom and doom about her future at the end of the evening last night. It was very strange to me since she was so moved by the song you wrote her."
Edward's mouth suddenly feels very dry. "Gloom and doom about her future? Damn, where is she?" he says.
"Maybe she's working out with Leah, or she just ran out to the store. Please don't worry. I'm sure she's fine now," Angela says, trying to calm him. "It's just been an intense few days."
Edward doesn't respond, his mind reeling.
"Hey, will you call me when you find her and let me know she's okay," Angela asks with an unsteady voice, making Edward panic even more.
"I will. Thanks, Angela," Edward says before hanging up.
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He looks out the window. "Isabella, baby. Where the hell are you?" he asks.
He lifts his phone up and dials her again. But this time as the call rings he can hear it ring, only an echo away from his phone. He approaches her kitchen desk searching for her phone but it isn't there. Instead, just before the phone goes to voicemail, he notices two sealed letters on the desk, one for him and one for Jacob. He sweeps them up and clutches them in his hand as he presses her number again with trembling fingers. It's clear that her phone must still be somewhere in the house. He nervously follows the sound of the ring into the living room.
He's startled when he realizes her purse has been left on the chair right next to the fireplace, her ringing phone perched on the wide arm. Right before his call goes to voicemail again, he looks down at the screen and sees his picture flash before the phone stops ringing and the screen goes dark. Where would she go without her purse and phone?
He takes a deep nervous breath, and before he can exhale, he picks up on a trace of smoke in the back of his throat. He looks down towards the smell's origin and notices that the fireplace screen has been shifted back. He peers onto the grate and sees a pile of ashes surrounding what looks like the corner of an envelope. Yanking back the fireplace screen completely, he drops the letters addressed to him and Jacob to the floor before lifting the burnt remnant between his fingers. It's so consumed that he can't identify its origins. His muscles feel like jelly as he slowly drops the charred fragment back into the fireplace and starts to straighten.
What would she have burned before leaving her house without a word to anyone?
It hits him like a wall of fire, and he reaches up and searches her mantle, frantically pushing the knick knacks and vases across the polished surface, some of them careening to the floor.
Where is it? Where the fuck is it? He gasps, his heart thundering. He moves from one side of the mantle to the other three times before he slams his fists against the elaborate molding and yells out, "Isabella!"
His mind spins, a frantic chaos. He remembers the night he discovered the bottle of pills and her assurance that she would swim off into the horizon like a tragic mermaid, never to resurface again. What if this letter held news that was unbearable to her?
He bends over and gasps for air.
What if she is at the beach right now? What if she took the pills and is walking into the surf without looking back? Can he save her in time if she did? The ocean is so cold and vast; would it take his Isabella from him?
For a moment he's almost blinded by fear. After all they've been through how could he possibly live without her?
.
"No!" he roars as he charges out of her house and sprints down her driveway. The only thing he can think about is getting to her in time.
He barrels into his car, fires the ignition and guns his car down her street, tearing around the corner headed for the Ten freeway.
"Don't you leave me, Isabella!" he yells out, over and over as he drives, slamming his fist on the steering wheel.
His eyes nervously glance at his car's clock before looking back out the windshield as he frantically maneuvers around the cars in his way. Meanwhile, one thought keeps haunting his desperate mind.
When you're so full of life, how much time does it take to die?
.
.
.
Three chapters to go...still with me?
xoxo
abbie
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