The next morning, Anne offered to let me stay that night as well. I accepted. The day after that, she again offered me the room to stay in. I accepted.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks rolled into months. Months became two years.
She didn't ask questions. She didn't ask why I only drank cocoa at night (unbeknownst, I would have to choke it up after each of our meetings in front of the fire) and no other food. She didn't ask where I came from or my past. She knew enough. I had told her stories about my father, my harebrained mother and the few stories I could tell about my friends. She would listen and she would smile, and simply add "They sound like lovely people."
For two years I stayed in the small room at the top of the stairs. I would go there at night, and I would lie on the bed, listening to a CD or two. Read a book. I would think about what I would do when I decided to leave Anne's house. I would think about the places I would see.
But I never thought about him.
In the morning I would hunt. This part of Northern Canada was abundant in elk, moose and deer. I became a better hunter, and soon no signs of my dinner appeared on my clothing in the morning when I returned to the house at the end of the dirt lane. Anne would welcome me with a smile as I entered the back door, always a white lily in my hand. She would smile wider and refill the crystal vase. But never, not once, would she ask where I had been.
She was smart, so she knew I was different. I couldn't hide certain aspects of what I was. I often broke dishes by holding them a little too hard, and there were many situations where a normal teenage girl would be hurt, but I wasn't.
During sunny days, I would leave. She wouldn't see me until night had fallen. Sparkly skin, while as fascinating I'm sure she would find it, would probably push her over the edge.
Not to mention the fact I never changed. I was the same exact face that had appeared at the inn two years prior, while each day her face was a little older, each day her back would bend a little more. She was getting older, and I never would.
The days went on, like Anne had said so long ago. I lived each day with a purpose. I worked at the inn with Anne, when she needed the help. She was fair, she paid me far more than I deserved. In exchange for her generosity, I helped out around the house. I cleaned and washed and gardened. The cats had resorted to living in the barn at the back of the property, so I would feed them each morning, laughing as they scattered at my arrival.
More than I'd like to admit, I needed Anne. I loved her like a daughter loved her mother, and she loved me. She had no one else, and as those days passed and she grew older, I knew I couldn't leave her.
One night, as we sat in front of the fire, she surprised me with a sudden fervent conversation.
"Do you remember the first night you came here?" She asked, her old tired eyes twinkling a little, but her face was uncharacteristically drawn into a frown. I nodded, frowning a little.
"Remember when I told you of the choice you had to make?"
Of course I remembered. My keen vampire mind held ever detail of that day, down to what each of us was wearing.
"You told me I had a choice between what path I could go down. Whether it be running from what was haunting me, or if I wanted to continue on living my life." I answered. Where could she be going with this?
"Dear, what I didn't see was a third option. A third option that you have chosen."
I was confused. Hadn't I done what she had said? I lived each day; I didn't crawl into myself like I had done back in Forks. I talked, and laughed. I was a little strange to her, I understood, but I did everything I could to seem like a normal teenage girl. What third option?
"I live here," she started, taking my hand in hers and staring intently into my face, "Because this is where I am meant to be. This is my home. I opened it up to you, because I could see the pain in your eyes all those years ago. I thought a safe harbor would be a good place for you to decide what you wanted. What I didn't want you to do was turn this house into your fortress.
Bella, I love you. You know I would never say these things unless I did. But you can't hide here anymore. You're smart, and strong, and young enough to be able to take anything head on. But you turned this house, this life, into your own personal hiding spot. While it may seem like living, it's not. You're waiting it out; hoping the rest of the world can pass you by. It can and it will. I'm too old to care too much about what's going on past the perimeters of this town, but you have so much you haven't seen, so much you have yet to do. I can't let the fact you feel guilty about leaving me keep you from living your life.
What I wanted to tell her was the amount of time I actually had. I had forever. I could spend years at this house, and the world would still be as new to me as it would be now. I could travel for hundreds of years. But what I wanted right now was to stay here with her.
"I never tell you much about what I am and where I came from," I said slowly. She wouldn't jump to conclusions about anything I said, so I felt safe continuing. "I can see what you mean, don't get me wrong. But what you don't understand is that this is what I need right now: an escape. And yes, I need you. You've taught me more than any teacher has ever taught me. You taught me how to love myself even when I couldn't bear to look too closely at myself, in fear of what I would see. Yes, I stay here for you, but I'm also staying here for myself."
She sat looking at me for the longest time, her eyes staring intently into my eyes.
"There will come a day, when you will have to leave." She said, trying to communicate completely what she meant. "What will you do?"
I had spent the past two years asking myself this. When I left, what would happen? Would I fall into the same spiraling depression? Would I run like I had when I had ended up here? Or would I be as strong as I felt now?
"I'll live each day for someone I love. I'll make my feet move, my heart beat." I said holding her hand very gently, but I gave it a little loving squeeze. "I'll live each day like you would want me to."
Three days later, she found her way to set me free. I returned home after my morning hunt to a disturbingly quiet house. No swishing little footsteps of socked feet, no merry whistling.
No heartbeats.
I was up the stairs in two seconds to her room. There, slumped over the side of the bed was Anne. Her hands grasped together, as if she had been praying. There was the same faint smile she always wore, but her eyes were cold and empty.
My chest felt like it had been ripped open, an entirely new whole ripping in my chest. I ran to her side and hugged her tightly, shaking in tearless sobs. She was as cold as I was. I turned her over and held her in my arms, and let out a loud scream.
Anne has always hated black. She said it was empty. But that was how I felt, so I thought it the perfect color to wear. My dress was cap sleeved and lined in small black lace, and fell to my knee. I wore simple black flats with my hair curly, just the way she liked it.
The funeral was small, just the townsfolk that her knew her best. I sat in place of her family. Everyone knew the story of her taking in a supposed long lost niece, and they had seen me working at the inn and running errands, but that didn't keep them from eyeing me strangely the entire service. As the pastor said his final words, and they lowered Anne into the ground, her casket covered in white lilies, everyone made their way up to shake my hand.
As the last guest had left the cemetery, one man remained behind. He held a briefcase in his hand and wore a black suit. As I walked back to Anne's Sable parked at the edge of the grass, he followed me, stopping when we reached the car.
"I understand you are Anne Roberts's niece?" He asked, his eyes staring appreciatively at my face. He licked his lips once and continued. "Let me extend my dearest condolences. Anne was a wonderful woman. I've known her for several years, and am very sad to see her depart from us."
The lines, while they sounded friendly, also sounded rehearsed. They had probably been used hundreds of times.
"My name is John Ford; I was your aunt's lawyer. Could you meet me back at my office in town? There's some last minute paperwork that we need to settle, although if you would like time to be alone, we can meet again next week."
More time alone to think about all that I had lost. No, thank you.
"No, I'll meet with you now. I'll follow you over." I said, unlocking my car. He drove an exceptionally junky car for being a lawyer, although I supposed that being in such a small town, you didn't get a lot of business.
His office was on the opposite side of town – the side I usually never went to. The outside of the building wasn't all that bad, just a plain brown brick single story. The interior had a very clean, doctor's office smell. There was a moveable partition that separated the waiting room from the receptionists desk, and behind that, there was a door which held another large desk and several stiff looking chairs.
He led me into the back room past a blonde woman at the receptionist's desk who scrutinized me with unkind eyes. He offered me a chair, which I took and then went to sit behind his desk. He opened the suitcase he had with him and pulled out several folders. Out of the first folder he slipped a single piece of official looking paper.
"As you may know, your aunt had a substantial amount of money at the time of her death." These words caught me off guard. She did? Money was not a subject we usually talked about, but not once had she mentioned having a 'substantial amount'. "Not to mention a large acreage of land, the inn and the car. Here is her last will and testament." He held up the official looking paper. "I must add that Anne Roberts did not have a will until you came to stay with her. About a year after of your stay, she came to me, wanting to leave you something when she had passed on."
I was completely frozen in my seat. Anne left me something?
He unfolded the paper, pulled on a pair of ridiculously small reading glasses and started to read.
"I, Anne Roberts, being of sound and disposing mind and memory, hereby leave all of my world possessions to Bella Swan. This includes my property at 415 Oak Lane, the Slumber Pines Inn, the 2001 Mercury Sable, and the remaining funds in all of my following bank accounts…" He rambled off a series of 4 account numbers, "all coming to a total of $547,000."
After that, I stopped listening. Anne had left me everything in the world that she held dear to her. She had left me the house that her Michael had built for her. She had left me her beloved inn. And she had left me all the money she had saved. I was in shock.
"Now, Miss Swan, there is an interested buy who would like to purchase the inn. They're offer is very reasonable and includes 10% of the yearly profit for the next 20 years. Seeing your obvious young age, I must urge you to accept the offer. The house on 415 Oak Lane is completely paid off, as is the Mercury Sable, so they are yours to do with as you wish. Well, Miss Swan?"
I realized I had been frozen for the last several minutes, staring unblinkingly at the wall.
"Yes…yes I agree, I will take the offer on the inn."
He smiled, and pushed a pile of paperwork my way, with a plan Bic pen on top. "Now the next part is easy."
When I returned to the house, the house was devastatingly quiet. And empty. Without Anne, this house was no longer my safe harbor, it was my tomb. I couldn't stay without sinking into the same maniacal depression. Maybe one day I could return, and there would be good memories here, and I would no longer feel like it felt now: cold and empty.
I parked the car in the garage and put the keys in the drawer by the door. I cleaned everything, and folded everything neatly. All the beds were stripped and all the laundry was finished. I entered her room one final time. There on the top of her pillow lay the small golden cross she had worn everyday since I had known her. I placed it carefully around my neck. The chain was long and hung mid-chest and would stay well under my clothes so it couldn't be damaged. I closed the door behind me and grabbed my blue backpack with all of my clothes, and the few other possessions I had. I locked the front French doors behind me, put the key in my pocket and ran away from my safe harbor.