Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are, that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplated by men's eyes, because they know, or think they know, some things which other men have told them
Dracula, Bram Stoker
Chapter 19 - Ghosts, Demons and Monsters
The moment I was back in my room, I set down the vase and flipped on the light to study the book Edward had given me.
It was a hard back copy of Rebecca. A piece of paper jutted out from the binding. I tipped open the book, and it fell open to the marked page, as if it had been held open long enough to dent the spine.
I'd recognize the handwriting on the paper anywhere.
I didn't realize how much it fit until I re-read it. Please look with an open mind and believe. If not my words, then hers.
Edward
Sitting cross legged on the bed, I flattened the book in front of me. He'd marked the beginning of Chapter 20, where Maxim confesses his real feelings about Rebecca to the Second Mrs. DeWinter. Two passages had been highlighted in yellow on the opening page:
If your hand is taken from you you don't know, for a few minutes, that your hand is gone. You go on feeling the fingers. You stretch and beat them on the air, one by one and all the time there is nothing there, no hand, no fingers.
At the moment I am nothing, I have no heart, and no mind, and senses.
I flipped the page, reading only the highlighted sections:
"You don't love me," he said, "That's why you did not feel anything. I know. I understand. It's come too late for you, hasn't it?"
'No," I said.
"This ought to have happened four months ago," he said. "I should have known. Women are not like men."
"I want you to kiss me again," I said, "please Maxim."
I couldn't help but laugh at the irony of that passage. We'd said such similar things, albeit innocently. I flipped the page, looking for more highlighted sections, wondering what other parallels he might have called out.
"How could I come to you when you were thinking about Rebecca?"
"Whenever you touched me I thought you were comparing me to Rebecca," I said. "Whenever you spoke to me or looked at me, walked with me in the garden, sat down to dinner, I felt you were saying to yourself, 'This I did with Rebecca, and this and this.'"
"You despise me, don't you? You can't understand my shame, and loathing, and disgust."
Reading the highlights, knowing what had passed between us, I had to laugh. It was as if the names were changed to protect the innocent.
Although innocent was a relative term.
I closed the book and placed it on the night stand. Normally I would have read more, analyzed the content, tried to understand more if Edward's intent. But this was my life, not a book. I needed to stop treating it that way.
In the dark, the room was oddly quiet. No sounds of a house settling, water running, people talking. That, combined with the soft, cold sheets reinforced the fact that I was in fact alone. Only one body would generate warmth in this bed tonight. I curled up on my side and hugged one of the down pillows to my chest, a weak attempt at inferring comfort or companionship.
Instead of providing a sense of security, it simply emphasized the fact that I was by myself when I very much didn't want to be.
The easy assumption would be sexual frustration; that my desire to run back across the hallway and finish what Edward had started drove my inability to relax into sleep. But it was more than that. I wanted him here, with me. And it wasn't for sex or comfort or fear of being alone.
I wanted to feel the weight of his body against my back as he curled around me. To have him talk to me, tell me stories about his childhood, about what he'd been like when he was little. Nothing of consequence, but everything of importance.
After an hour of tossing and turning I threw off the covers and quietly opened my door. The house was silent. There was no light from under Edward's door.
Was he lying there in the dark, unable to sleep too? Or was he happily wrapped up in his bed, dreaming of who knew what?
I slipped down the stairs and made my way towards the library. Earlier I had noticed a section of newer books, where I hoped to find a mindless best seller that could lull me into sleep. I moved ahead quietly, so lost in my own thoughts, I didn't realize someone else was in the room until I had already cleared the threshold.
Not wanting to disturb him, I tried to retreat quietly, but the squeak of a floor board gave away my presence.
Carlisle glanced up, and motioned me into the room. "Please, Bella, come join me."
Not wanting to be rude, I sat down in the chair I had occupied early in the day. His smile was welcoming, and if I didn't know any better, I would have thought he was expecting me.
"I'm really sorry about breaking your glass." It was an inane statement, yet I was at a loss as to how to initiate the conversation I'd like to have.
He laughed and shook his head. "Really, it's not an issue. You don't want to know how many we go through in a year. Alcohol brings out the clumsiness in people."
Something had been eating away at the back of my mind since our conversation earlier. I fidgeted with my t-shirt as I tried to figure out how to broach the subject. This might be my only chance to ask, but I wasn't sure how to proceed.
"Carlisle, do you mind if I ask you something? About Maggie?"
His expression didn't change in the least. He could have just been asked to predict who would win Wimbledon this year.
"I thought you might want to talk about her at some point. What would you like to know?"
There was no easy way to ask what I wanted to know. Better simply to ask than second guess myself continuously. "Did her parents not do anything to help her? I mean, when they found out she was sick?'
The comments about her upbringing and how quickly she died after her diagnosis had always bothered me. Not that I was the walking font of knowledge on leukemia, but there were plenty of people who had lived through it. I couldn't understand how in this day and age, someone could be diagnosed and die so quickly after. It just didn't make sense.
"Uncle Liam was a bit extreme in his views, and believed that life was to be lived based on the hand you were dealt. That meant no medicine, no vaccinations, and no physical changes like braces or glasses. Making that decision as an informed adult is one thing. But to bring a child up under those beliefs is a very different issue altogether."
He took a long breath, as if collecting his thoughts. "Maggie was a very sweet, loving girl. She was very beautiful in her own way, as are you. But she never developed the thick skin necessary to survive the slings and arrows of childhood. She had a fragile, almost ethereal way about her, and never truly adjusted to life here. People are cruel by nature, but children can be inhuman, especially to those they deem different."
It reminded me of something Edward had said in his letter. I was her Lancelot. I had always interpreted the statement in a romantic context. Had he meant it to be simpler? That he had been her protector, her champion?
"She was quite the mess after Edward left for University. I think deep down she knew it wasn't meant to be. They would have grown apart as they got older, they were just too different. When she found out when she was sick, it was easier to push him away than know that he gave up everything to try and help her out of duty. She was too proud to allow that. She wanted his love, not his pity."
"Carlisle, you make it sound like she gave up and died?" I was shocked. I couldn't imagine not fighting. There was too much to experience in life.
"In a manner of speaking, she did. Maggie didn't have the courage or the will that we do. She simply didn't know any other way. Fighting the disease would have meant fighting her parents, who meant the world to her. It would have meant going against what she was raised to believe. If I told you that you had to go against something you believed with every fiber of your being to live, would you?"
To me, the answer was easy; of course I would. But then again, I wasn't Maggie. I never would be, and I finally realized that I didn't want to be.
I had spent so much time hating her, resenting her existence, that I was unprepared for the pity, no, the empathy that I felt for Maggie at the moment. I struggled to reconcile the mental demon I had conjured in my mind with the sheltered little girl who never stood a chance in life. I'd spent so much time resenting Maggie, building her up as a my enemy that I never taken the time to consider that she was just as flawed, if not more so than I was.
Carlisle's voice broke me away from my thoughts.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?"
His smile was gentle. He stood and moved towards the library door.
"I'm turning in, Bella. Is there anything that you'll need?"
Instead of answering, I stood to follow Carlisle out of the room while turning his comments over in my mind.
We parted at the steps. Apparently Carlisle and Esme's rooms were in a separate wing of the house. I impulsively threw my arms around his neck and hugged him hard. Carlisle seemed to be a bit thrown by the contact, but after a moment of awkwardness, returned my hug in kind.
"I'm glad you are here, Bella."
"Me too, Carlisle. Thank you."
I found my way back to my room and climbed into bed.
While the bed was just as cold as it was before, I slipped easily into sleep easily. The alcohol and emotional exhaustion took the edge off restless nights and over thinking. Instead of waking multiple times, I got the first good nights rest in weeks.
That is until the sun came streaming into my eastern facing room, bringing with it the dull throb that comes from too much alcohol consumption. I rolled over and smashed the pillow to my face, incapable of getting up to close the drapes.
Too damn bright.
My head hurt, my eyes were dry, and my mouth felt like I had brushed my teeth in weeks. My body cried for water, but my head insisted that I not move. Unfortunately a knock at the door negated that option.
"Unless you are God, the President, or my mother intent on making my life hell, you had better go away," I called into the pillow as I heard the door swing open and footsteps cross the room.
"What a lovely way to great the person who brings you relief."
I pulled the pillow away from my eyes. Edward stood at the foot of my bed holding a tray.
The dark shadows were gone, and with it, all traces of the haunted man who confronted and infuriated me last night. The smirk, the polish, the devil may care attitude were back in full force.
Pushing up off the pillow, I caught the scent of something heavenly. It erased all irritation at him being here so early in the morning, put together and seemingly unaffected by last night.
"Please tell me you have something revoltingly unhealthy on that tray that is swimming in butter or gravy." I scraped my hair off my neck and struggled free of the covers to sit cross legged on the bed.
"First, this." Edward handed me a glass of orange juice and small blue tablets.
"Heathen. Ibuprofen in hang over application is always chased by alcohol."
"Old wives tale. I'm a doctor, I know better." He pushed my arm a bit. "Drink."
I popped the pills into my mouth and took a tentative sip of orange juice. Edward nudged my arm, pushing me to drink more.
"Stop it or I might up chuck on you," I mumbled as I took another tentative sip. "Your bedside manner sucks."
"Such lovely words for the man who brings you breakfast in bed," he shot back.
I placed the glass back on the tray, and slowly moved to the edge of the bed.
"God, I feel like something died in my mouth." The floor was cold under my feet, and I held onto the end table as I stood hesitantly. "Promise me that you'll never let me drink brandy ever again. Please."
"You know, there are things worse in life than a brandy hangover; like scotch and cigar." Edward's smile was wicked, almost conspiratorial. "I couldn't sleep, and snuck outside after raiding Carlisle's stash. A dead skunk in your mouth tastes better. Now eat, it did wonders for me."
I must have turned green; he spun me around and pushed me in the direction of the bathroom.
The walk did me a world of good. So did a good brushing of the teeth and cold water on my face.
When I returned, I found Edward lounging on the bed as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His long legs stretched out with ankles crossed in front of him, a few pillows propped up behind his head. With the paper in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other he looked like an advertisement in a travel magazine. A gorgeous man in faded jeans and a snug polo shirt relaxing on a slept in bed in a beautiful room. It sure would have gotten my attention.
He looked up to see me frozen in the bathroom door. That infuriating smirk slipped into place.
"Come on, Isabella. I don't bite...I only nibble a bit."
He patted the bed next to him, never losing that arrogant smile. I could see sausage and toast on the tray next to him, calling to me. Grease wins over pride any day. Especially when a hangover is involved.
I climbed back into bed and grabbed a link of the plate. The minute the sausage hit my mouth I closed my eyes and sighed in contentment. Iron and caffeine. Just what the doctor ordered.
"I take it you approve?"
The food had been my sole focus, and I gave Edward a sheepish smile of gratitude while holding one finger in the air to request a second to chew.
"Sorry, that was rude. I do feel more human." I took a quick sip of coffee before continuing. "No one has ever brought me breakfast in bed before. Thank you."
"You know, I should question your taste in men, but that might lump me in with blokes I'd rather not know about. Now finish your breakfast and get a move on. We have places to go."
I had totally forgotten about our 'expedition.' I wonder if we'd go straight to the Abbey, or check some of the other spots first. There was the church and the library and…
"Look at you, lit up like a child on Christmas Eve." Edward moved the tray to the bedside table, and then leaned in towards me. "You'll see first hand all the places you've read about. And I can promise you that while I am intent on proving that you can trust me, don't confuse my actions today with anything platonic or chivalrous. My thoughts about you are no where near that civil or contained."
He raised his hand to skim just underneath my jaw. "Expect to be touched a lot today. I've missed it too much to not take advantage of your proximity."
My mouth literally fell open as Edward stood to leave the room. "Forty Five minutes, Isabella."
Not even an hour into the day and he had me totally off balance already. I could feel the irritation building.
Every instinct was to lash out, and I was scrambling for a smart alec comment, when it hit me. He was doing exactly what he'd always done. I had thought it was pushing my buttons, baiting me. But I was wrong.
He wasn't trying to change me or goad me, and his actions weren't malicious.
He was flirting with me.
Granted, he had a weird way of doing it, but that's what it had been all along. I was the one who had twisted it around into something slightly malevolent or dark in intention. He was simply getting a rise out of me, because I did it to him in turn.
Dropping back on the bed, I pulled a pillow over my face to muffle a scream. It was going to be a ridiculously long day.
After taking a nice cold shower to cool me off and wake me up, I flew through my typical morning ministrations. Blow drying my hair, putting on a tiny bit of makeup, throwing on clothes. One quick look in the mirror made me smile. I might not have paid attention to what I packed, but it's better to be lucky than good, because I had actually thrown things into my bag that could give as good as I got.
At 9 am on the nose, I ran down the stairs to find Edward waiting for me in the foyer. His eyes raked down me quickly, and I pulled in a quick gasp of breath as he flashed that wicked grin. Anticipation hummed through me, and I was half terrified, half giddy at the prospect of a full day together.
He held up my coat, "You'll need this. It gets windy on the hill."
I turned and slipped my arms into the sleeves and shrugged it in place. As soon as the jacket was on, Edward slipped his hand under my hair, pulling it free from the inside of my coat. His thumb ghosting underneath the edge of my sweater as he did, trailing up of the back of my neck before pulling away. The entire gesture was a combination of sweet and provocative at the same time, and I shivered in reaction.
"Are you ready for our ghost and monster extravaganza?" He asked innocently.
I turned around to see him smiling at me, a real smile. No smirk, no sarcasm. Just honestly happy. It made the knot of anticipation tighten a bit. That smile was for me.
"Do I need to pack a cross and some garlic for protection?" I teased, struggling to reign in my reaction. He was trying to prove a point, I needed to respect that.
"All depends on what you need to be protected from." Edward stepped closer, our bodies almost touching. I tried to bite back a smile, but it was no use.
"Why, are you offering your services?"
We were frozen place, grinning like two idiots. I hadn't realized how much I had missed the banter, the laughter, the teasing. I felt so alive.
"You will be the death of me yet, won't you Isabella?" His words were serious, but the smile never faded.
"Would you have it any other way?"
Edward slipped his hand in mine and tugged me towards the door. He didn't answer my question. I didn't expect him to.
Our drive into town was quiet, but not awkward. It gave me an opportunity to regroup, collect myself. It was hard enough to control my thoughts around him, let alone in this car. I couldn't help but think of the last time we were here together. Edward reached
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over and grabbed my hand, placing it on the stick shift. I immediately looked at the window so that he couldn't see my face color at the memory.
I had forgotten how good it felt to step out of safe and predictable, to let myself go and let life happen. I couldn't look at Edward in the driver's seat and not remember every moment of it. He squeezed my hand as he downshifted.
Apparently I wasn't the only one lost in a memory.
We parked close to the water, and Edward was around to my side of the car, door open before I could let myself out. He offered me his hand to steady myself as I climbed out of the car. Once I was standing, he turned my hand over and leaned down to kiss the cut on my hand.
He pulled me forward, leading me through the narrow winding streets, pointing out the local sights. The giant whale bone arch, the Dracula museum.
"Come on, we'll explore the harbor first. Then we can have lunch and take the steps."
The steps. The church and the Abbey ruins. It felt absolutely surreal to be in the place I had all but obsessed over for the past few years. All the things I had read about, visualized, were finally becoming a reality, not something I had to paint with my imagination.
Yet it all faded to the background. My dream paled in comparison; it seemed to be happening a lot these days.
Edward graciously spent the morning playing tour guide. He provided a running commentary on the part of Whitby I didn't know. The whaling industry at the turn of the century, the light houses, the local personalities. It gave me a chance to see a different side of him. He was lighter. He laughed as he told me silly stories. He greeted people he knew with a wave or hello.
It was like seeing another side to him, another facet. I didn't know this Edward who guided me around puddles while laughing at how I said pasta. I was hit with another flash of our day at the zoo. The memories of him laughing, teasing, and cracking jokes. How long would it be before things like this became mundane, expected? Would he ever stop surprising me?
Edward was good to his promise. Every possible chance he was touching me. His hand at the small of my back. An arm around my shoulders. Holding my hand.
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Nothing inappropriate, but constant contact. Every touch was innocent, yet held the inference of something more, and kept me on edge in the best way possible.
Anticipation of what came next. A kiss, a statement, a declaration. I didn't know when or what it would be, but I was confident that at some point it would come, which made the anticipation all that much more enjoyable.
The skies opened up close to noon and sent us running for cover. We sprinted through the streets, dodging people in a quest for shelter. Edward stopped short, opening a door as I crashed into the back of him and bounced of with a grunt. He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside a dark pub.
"You would think, as much as I keep getting caught in the rain, I'd permanently attach an umbrella to my wrist!" I laughed as I shook water out of my hair.
"What, are you used to somewhere that has sunshine and warm weather? Such a Yank." Edward teased as he led me through the dark room. "We can wait it out here. Come on, a little hair of the dog and some more grease should do the trick."
He pulled a chair out for me. "I thought you weren't going to be chivalrous today."
"Actions don't belie thoughts, Isabella." He leaned in closer, and my breath caught. He was so close, and it would be so easy to lean in and kiss him. I'd wanted to desperately since we left this house this morning, but I hadn't worked up the courage. "But if you'd like me to…"
"Edward?"
A man's voice broke our little corner of quiet. Edward's eyes narrowed in irritation as he glared up at the speaker.
"Hello, Ben."
A dark haired man that appeared to be around Edward's age stood a few feet from the table, pint in hand. He smiled as if he'd spotted a long lost friend.
"I didn't realize you were back! How long are you back this time? I thought your parents were on holiday?"
Edward's tone was cool and abrupt, indicating his irritation at the interruption. "Just up visiting Carlisle and Esme. If you'll excuse us…"
But Ben was not put off, and stepped forward, oblivious to the dismissal. "Why are you being such a wank, I haven't seen you in ages. Come on, introduce me to your…."
A look of shock registered on his face. His eyes flickered back and forth between Edward and me, as if searching for an explanation, before quickly backing away.
"I'm sorry to interrupt. I'll leave you two be."
Edward muttered something under his breath about idiots as he rubbed his forehead in irritation.
"What was that all about?"
He stood, not meeting my eyes. "Give me a minute, I am going to take care of something and order lunch."
Edward moved away quickly away from the table after the retreating figure.
I replayed the scene in my head. The greeting; Edward's brusqueness, Ben's reaction.
And it all clicked into place. Ben's reaction wasn't to Edward; it was to me. I was stupid not to even consider it. If they were the same age, they probably grew up together. Which meant that he more than likely knew Maggie.
I can't begin to imagine what we looked like to an outsider.
Maggie dropped back down over me, like a ghost I couldn't escape. Would it always be like this? Would I ever get free of her or of others' memories of her?
I sat at the table, lost in my own ruminations. I wasn't sure how long it was before Edward returned to our table holding two pints.
Gone was the relaxed, happy man from earlier. No smile, no easy laugh. I sat quietly, allowing him time to collect his thoughts. How could I have been so naïve? Of course things would be strange here, of all places. I should have known better than to allow him to do this. It wasn't fair to either of us.
"Edward, I…"
But he cut me off before I could continue.
"I'm sorry about that. I didn't really, well…" It was strange to hear him fumble for words.
"No, I'm the one that should be sorry. I never stopped to think about how people might react to us, or at least what they see of me. It was selfish, and I should have known better. We can leave; it's okay."
He ran his hand through his hair in irritation. "No, it's not okay. We are going to go about our day just like I'd intended. Some small minded village idiot isn't going to ruin this for us."
We sat quietly, drinking and waiting for our food. There was something I felt like I needed to say; to get out on the table so to speak, and now seemed to be as good a time as any.
"I'm always going to live in her shadow, aren't I? In some way, there will always be three of us in this relationship. Even if one is a ghost."
I didn't have the courage to say it more than a whisper. Maybe it was fear of the answer. More likely, my resignation to the fact that this might end everything before it ever started.
Edward laughed quietly, but there was no joy in the sound. He reached up to push a strand of hair away from my eyes.
"No, Isabella. The only way that would happen is if you let it. I don't care what others see or think. I know what you are to me."
"What am I, Edward?"
He'd made his declaration, but I needed to know more. I wanted to understand.
"I don't know if I have that totally figured out yet. But I like what I have figured out so far." He hesitated, smiling, "I know that you are smart and stubborn and incredibly attractive. You talk funny. You don't believe in yourself anywhere near as much as you should. You manage to occupy my every waking moment, even when you shouldn't. And I can't help but feel optimistic that you used the words us and relationship."
I didn't meet his gaze, choosing instead to trace the wood grain patterns in the table to mask the impact of his words. He was holding true to his promise, proving to me that this was real.
The bar maid stepped in before he could say anything more, depositing fish and chips in front of us. We both focused on demolishing the food, not re-engaging in conversation. There were so many things that hung, unspoken between us. Things that I wanted to say, but simply didn't know how to put it into words.
By the time we'd finished eating, the rain had stopped. The skies were still dark, as if threatening to open up again.
"Do you want to drive up? That way if it starts raining…"
"No. I've dreamed about this for too long. Come on."
I grabbed his hand and started forward, but Edward followed. I looked back over my shoulder, and registered a look on his face I'd never seen before.
It looked like…sadness.
"Edward?"
Hearing his name seemed to shake him out of whatever thought he was in. He stepped forward, leading me up the street.
"Since we are being honest, may I ask you something as well?"
"Sure."
Edward walked beside me, quiet for a long time, as if framing out his thoughts.
"What happens when you finish your dissertation?"
"I have to defend it."
"That's not what I meant, Isabella. What happens? Will you stay in the states? Will you come back to London?"
He was asking me the one question that I couldn't answer. Not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't know.
"I'm honestly not sure. I've been so focused on getting my doctorate that I kind of lost sight of what comes after that."
"You've spent so much time chasing the monster, you never stopped to think what happened once you caught him."
There were so many ways to interpret his statement. Dracula, my dissertation, Edward, my own fears, my future. They all fit in some manner or form.
"Something like that."
We climbed the steps in silence. And for once, I could not have cared less that I was in the heart of Whitby, just steps from the Abbey. Because all of a sudden it all seemed so unimportant.
"Come on, the graveyard is over here."
We wandered through the stones, studying the inscriptions. He was silent as I read the messages on the different markers. The humpty dumpty grave; Tom Thumb, the little boy who fell off the harbor wall.
While I tried to focus on his stories, I couldn't help but realize that everywhere we turned we were hit in the face by his past or my future, neither of which would make our relationship easy. If only there was a way that we could lock ourselves in the moment; it would only be us, with nothing else flitting around the edges.
Ghosts, monsters, demons. Call then what you will. I just wanted them all to go away.
The wind began to pick up as we cleared the crest of the hill. The Abbey stood out, empty and foreboding against the dark sky. I ran ahead of Edward, stopping to stare up at the crumbling ruin. The wall was cool to the touch, and I stood quietly, eyes closed as I tried to conjure a mental image of what it might have been like centuries ago. Of the monster that Stoker had written about. But all I could see were three children running and laughing in the summer sun.
A gust of wind tore in off the water. The ancient stones provided little protection from the wind as it whipped in off the ocean.
I dropped my hand and pulled my coat closer, an attempt to shelter myself. Against what, I was unsure. The sadness of the ruins? The legend that had been spun from these ancient walls? Maybe it was the man next to me, whose mere presence challenged everything.
"There are no ghosts here, Isabella. No monsters. No answers." Edward called from behind me. "Chunks of limestone and old stories. Are you happy now? Did you find what you were looking for?"
I didn't know how to answer.
How had my life spun so radically out of control?
I came to London to finish my dissertation, to start the next stage of my life. But finishing it required me to go back to Chicago. Which meant that what I felt, what I wanted wouldn't work.
And that was when it came crashing down on me. I did love him. I was just so busy second guessing and doubting myself that it got lost. I knew what I wanted, what I needed.
I stood at a fork in the road. I had to choose. Indecision was no longer an option. It was unfair to everyone. Especially to me.
"Isabella…Stop questioning, love. Just live."
Just live. It really was that simple. Don't give up, don't settle, don't run away. Live.
I wanted to live. And I needed to start right now.
"I need to go back. Please take me back."
There weren't answers here. They'd been inside me all along. I'd been too busy fighting everything to realize that.
I dropped my hand from the stone, and turned to face Edward. The wind whipped my hair around my face and stung my eyes. I tossed my head in an effort to clear my vision.
"You're right. There are no ghosts. And the monsters are just made up stories. You are real, and you're here. And I am a fool for being afraid. I can't promise to know what happens next. I am sorry for everything I put you through, and my refusal to listen."
I took a long breath and stepped closer to Edward. "I want to go back to the way we were before everything else came crashing in. Before Mike showed up, before I saw the picture of Maggie. Back to when it was just the two of us and nothing else mattered."
I reached out to place my hand on his chest, directly over his heart, and stood up on tip toe. His head was bowed to keep the wind out of his eyes, and it closed the distance enough that I could kiss him gently. I needed to be the one to make the effort. I was the one that had pushed him away, and needed to be the one to make it right.
"Will you take me back?"
A low rumble of thunder in the distance broke the silence that hung between us. I stood quitely, waiting for him to respond, waiting for him to say something, anything.
Edward pushed my hair back away from my face, his hand lingering at the back of my head. "Why would I have to take you back, Isabella? I never let you go.