I believe that first, I should say 'sorry', so, sorry! However, I do have a rather brilliant excuse for missing the usual Wednesday 'update deadline: I was on a flight. I am visiting some people in America and so when I finished the chapter we were about to land and here in America, it was about 5, so I thought I had time. However, after dinner I got jet-lagged and fell asleep until well into Thursday and I meant to post yesterday but I was lazy. So sorry. But, it's here now, the impossible chapter is done and dusted and ready for reading (alliteration, yey)! Anyway, besides all of that, a big thank you to mangochi who is a user here on fanfiction and has been my technical advisor since I first began. Absolutely brilliant person, really, mangochi showed me how to display polls so that people can vote because no one was voting and I thought to myself "WHY?" and it was because nobody saw them which is a rookie mistake but ya.. so, thanks to him, you can vote! And please do, Wednesday awaits us! Anyway, without further ado, the very late chapter is here, please enjoy!

...

I looked at the clock as I put down the 1917 journal; it was only 4:15 in the afternoon on Saturday. I got up and paced my room a couple times as I rose my arms above my head and brought them down to scratch my head. I looked at the nine journals on the floor. Nine years I had been with Cara, nine absolutely perfect years. For about five of those years, I loved her much more than words could describe and I looked forward to reading about it. But the next journal was the one I dreaded most.

The book itself was less preserved than the rest. The spine was well worn and some pages were torn a little or completely torn off and placed back in the book hastily. But it was the content that he wanted so much to avoid. This book was the most frequently thumbed through and for that matter, the most often thrown across the room.

As I sat back on the sofa, I considered just skipping the book all together, but for some reason, I didn't. I had to keep going, despite the pain and torture that I could possibly impose upon myself as I dive into the terrible memories of that year. I took the book and opened it in my lap. The leather was worn and dry, cracking a little at the touch. I read a few entries quickly, stopping at one to stare at the year. 1918. It sends chills down my spine, even now. If it were at all possible, I would give anything in the world to reverse the clocks. I would do anything to keep 1918 from happening. I sighed, again considering putting the books away and never thinking of them again but I chose to read on. I looked at the rest of the written date and nodded as I summoned a vague memory and kept reading.

29 June, 1918

She is the most beautiful girl I may ever lay eyes upon in my life. She charms me every day and shows me something about her that draws me closer to her. She has not yet noticed her own beauty, allowing her to be free of conceit and vanity. She is humorous and when she smiles, I can feel my heart melt in my chest. When I'm with her, other men look at me with envy and tonight will be no exception. As I write, she dresses in the room directly above my own. She will put on a lovely evening gown and brush back her hair a little differently for me. My heart races at the thought of it. Upstairs, she dresses so elegantly to be my date for the evening. There will never be a night I look forward to more than this.

Edward put his pencil down for a second to ponder the last idea. He was only seventeen; surely he might have another night somewhere in his life that will be just as looked forward to. He looked in a small looking-glass as he dipped his comb in a glass of water and ran it through his hair, making it hold closer to his head. He passed over his hair a few times with the comb, accomplishing a far more regal look than usual. He set the comb into the glass and closed the book, deciding that there would be nothing more exciting to him than getting ready to be Cara's date to a fancy gala for his father's work.

The gala was held annually and members of Edward Sr.'s job were rarely invited. It was a widely understood truth that once you were invited and made a good impression, a promotion was nearby. Edward heard of these beautiful blowouts from his father and when the invitation came, he begged and pleaded his father to put four people in attendance instead of three. He wanted Cara by his side.

As the night of the gala neared the eighth hour, Edward began to feel the nerves sink in. He paced his room listening, straining his ears for some sound from upstairs. Nothing. He began to worry if she was going to go or not. He sat on his bed and drummed his fingers on the wooden headboard. He looked from the ceiling to the clock.

Seven thirty-six.

He bounced his knee nervously, and then started picking invisible pieces of lint off his jacket.

Seven forty-two.

Edward sprung up from his bed and crossed the room to look into the looking-glass. He smoothed his hair and grabbed the single, short-stem red rose he got for Cara very early that morning. He stroked the pedals as he continued to pace.

Seven fifty-eight.

Edward breathed deeply in and out as he stared at the clock, willing it to move faster and faster. He walked over to the window, pulling the curtains back a little. People walked around as usual outside. The night was alive and bright with the daily action of Chicago residents and tourists on a Saturday night.

"Eddie!" Elizabeth called from the kitchen. Edward jumped, making the curtain fall in his face and push his hair to the side. He hastily went to the looking-glass again and combed his hair back into place.

"Yes, mother?" He called back mid-comb.

"We are leaving. You are ready, right?"

"Yes!" He said as he finished his last comb and looked at his reflection. He took another deep breath and took a drink of the comb water, immediately spitting it back into the glass.

"Ugh!" He exclaimed as he wiped his mouth with his wrist. He looked at himself again, breathing deeply. "It's just Cara... you have nothing to worry about... it is just Cara..." he nodded and straightened his jacket. "Just Cara." He whispered as opened his door, heading towards the front door. "Just Cara."

Edward waited at the stairway for his parents. They were always well-dressed and always looked proud to be with each other. He smiled as he watched them stride towards the door. They really did glow when they were together. They set the standard for love for Edward, whether they knew it or not. Edward turned to the door, watching his father as he opened the car door for Elizabeth. He did not hear the tiny steps descending down the stairs.

"You have not forgotten me, I hope." Edward smiled and turned around. His mouth dropped a little before he closed it, trying to avoid embarrassment.

Cara stood at the second to last step wearing a steel-blue floor length dress which managed to hug her body around her chest and waist. Her hair was swept up in a beautifully intricate looking up do which was secured by numerous pearl-tipped pins. Her cheeks were a dull pink and as she moved down the stairs, the smell of cinnamon wafted over to him. Edward was speechless.

"I hope you like the dress... I made it yesterday..." she smiled; making Edward's heart beat uncontrollably. He could not summon any words and simply extended his hand to her, offering the rose, almost as if offering a gift to Venus herself. Cara smiled wider and took it. "It's beautiful." She buried her nose into it.

"You're beautiful." Edward said quickly. He paused as she looked up at him.

"Thank you." She took the flower and attempted to secure it on a pin.

"Here..." Edward said taking the flower and putting it in her hair. "Perfect." He said as he stepped back and looked deep in her eyes. "Absolutely perfect."

...

The Gala was as esthetically pleasing as it was grand.

There, it was a sea of people dressed brilliantly. A lot of couples wore matching clothes; some wore all black or all white. And there were a handful of people who wore red (in order to stand out). Edward looked at Cara once more. No one stood out quite like she did. But it was never what she wore that did that for her that was only the flourish. She stood out simply because of the way she carried herself and her smile. She was a stunning person.

"Mr. and Mrs. Edward Masen!" A posh announcer called out to the room as Edward's parents walked in. The man took one look at Edward and Cara as they approached him. He discreetly handed Cara a dance card as he cleared his throat. "Edward Masen Jr. and escort, Cara Vivas." They walked proudly to their table, Edward pulling out Cara's chair for her so she could sit. When they sat a waiter placed a domed silver dish in front of them. Cara wrote feverishly on her dance card.

"What are you doing?" Edward asked as she finished the last line and moved her hand away. In every place, 'Edward Masen' was scribbled in.

"I don't like to meet new people." She said blushing slightly. Edward smiled as the music began to crescendo merrily.

"Well then, Miss Vivas, I believe this is our dance." Edward stood, taking Cara's tiny hand in his large one. For hours, they danced and dined, forgetting everyone else's presence. As the night neared the eleventh hour, Edward and Cara found their way onto a big balcony.

"Wow..." Cara said softly as they walked on. A few rose bushes were placed on the balcony which over looked the grounds of the event hall. The night was warm and clear. The stars glistened in the black sky. "Thank you." Cara said, turning to Edward. "This has been amazing."

"It was amazing because you were here." Edward said as he got closer to her. They both rested their hands on the edge of the railing, hands nearly touching.

…

The event hall was a two-hour drive away from the townhouse. The four of them got into the car, all very content and very tired, except, of course, for Edward Sr., who by the end of the night was positively elated since he was promised to have a 'talk' with his boss the following Monday morning. Edward and Cara sat close in the backseat. Cara groped the fabric of her skirt as Edward went in and out of sleep. Cara looked up at him.

"I'm really going to miss you," she whispered. She focused on her skirt again, thinking of all the past years since she lived in Chicago. Edward always left her for the summer. He always stayed with a friend of his in Michigan. His best friend, rather. They wrote constantly. From time to time, he let her read some of the letters. He seemed like a nice guy, just very promiscuous, "I wish you didn't have to leave." Silently, Edward thought of leaving too. He always hated being away from Cara for three whole months, although the vacation from his parents was nice. He smiled a little, keeping his eyes closed.

"What if you came with me?"

Cara smiled slowly and hugged Edward's arm close, resting her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes thinking of a vacation, basically alone, with Edward. Such a happy thought lulled the both of them to a peaceful sleep.