Thanks to my wonderful betas….and thanks to everyone who has not given up on me…I know it's been a while so I'll spoil you and give you yet another update (Blynn is blackmailing me….I have to . haha) Enjoy….if that's what you can do in this chapter.
"It's good to see you son," Carlisle said to me, across the dining room table later that evening. "I assume, however, that you are not here just to visit." My father knew me well.
"I suppose you could say I'm here on business of sorts," I replied, placing my fork down on the edge of my plate and reaching for the water glass on the corner of my place mat.
"Can I ask?" That was Carlisle, never wanting to cause much of a disruption.
"I just need to deal with some things," I told him, staring at my plate. "I need closure." He nodded knowingly and said no more. He was good for that, unlike my mother, Alice or even Emmett, who all liked to pry; my father knew when he'd said enough. "Can I borrow Mom's car tomorrow?"
My father nodded and stood to clear the dishes from the table. He was a man of few words. Brilliant, but silent. "I have to go into the hospital early. I probably won't see you before I go."
"I'll be up early as well," I replied. I had every intention of getting up before the sun was up and doing what I needed to do.
"Keys are on the hook by the door," Carlisle told me as he left the kitchen, probably to retreat to his den for the evening. That was customary for Carlisle. He seemed to spend a lot of time alone. He didn't seem to mind. I guess I got that from him. As long as I could remember, after dinner my father settled himself in the den for the evening, CNN quietly playing on the TV in the background. He would sit at the big oak desk, glasses perched on his nose as he poured over documents, texts or the latest medical journal.
I checked the time and decided I could retire to my room for the evening. I was tired from traveling and I had an early morning ahead of me.
Bella's Point of View
"Hey kid." I turned to see who had come into the kitchen. I was just pulling myself together so I could leave. Emmett was standing next to me and he reached a large hand out and rubbed light circles on my back as I tried to stop the shaking and the tears. "Can I talk to you?" His boyish features were melancholy and there was no playful sparkle to his blue eyes. I nodded, unsure what else to do. "Come on down stairs."
His gigantic form left the room and I hurried to keep up as he headed for the basement. He sat down on the old couch along the back wall and I sat in the recliner facing him. He sighed dramatically and leaned his face into his hands. I'd never seen him look so small before.
"I should not be saying this, so I need to you to be quiet and not ask questions. Can you do that?" He peeked at me over his fingers, blue eyes pleading, mouth twisted almost in pain.
"Yes," I whispered quietly. I leaned forward slightly in the chair, waiting for him to continue.
He took a deep breath and nodded his approval. "I'm going to tell you what I can about Edward. I can't give you the whole story, I don't even know it, and some of it is for Edward to tell himself, but I think you deserve to know. Other people in this family won't agree with me, but I think it would be far worse to not tell you and for him to lose you entirely, than it would be to give you a glimpse into Edward's past to help you understand." I nodded, waiting for him to continue and he took a deep breath once more. "We all have pasts, Bella. Some more colourful than others'. It could be said that Edward has a very colourful past. You know the rumours. You know about the constant streams of women, the partying, the run-ins with the law. Everyone knows thatEdward. But that Edward is not my brother. That Edward is only the shell of the brother I once knew and loved. The brother I still love. This last little while, he has been more the brother I knew before. Before that night. The night that changed everything.
"Edward was seventeen. At that age no one is capable of coping with the things that he was forced to cope with. The loss, the guilt, the anger, the blame." Emmett counted them out on his thick fingers looking thoughtful. "They – my parents- tried to get him help afterwards, but he refused. He didn't want to see anyone, or do anything. I'm honestly not sure how he finished school, he was like a ghost. He spent a lot of time alone, in the dark. He said he was sleeping, but there was no way he was sleeping." Emmett stared off into space as though remembering. "The circles under his eyes were so dark and so pronounced he looked terminally ill. He went to school and he came home. He spent a lot of time out of school too, but he did the work and I think my parents had something to do with his diploma. Don't quote me on that though, no one ever told." I nodded for him to continue and he settled back against the back of the couch to continue his story. "Charlotte," he said and I perked up. "Everything always revolved around Charlotte. When she was no longer there his world fell apart. After that, he swore he'd never get so involved again. He never wanted another person to be his life, his world. He needed to be his own person, only the person that he became wasn't really a person at all. That Edward didn't feel or care. He wanted to be numb, and the only person he cared about was himself. That's how he was until you came along. Suddenly he started to care about someone else. I was sure he was going to screw it up before it even started, but he managed to control the shell Edward, the one that only did and didn't feel. He let himself feel something for someone else. That's a big step for him.
"He told me about the music." I cringed and Emmett nodded a slight grimace on his chiseled features. "Yeah…about that. Edward's music is like his diary. I know that sounds all chick like and lame, but it's true. It's how he gets out what he's feeling and what he's thinking. You looking at it was like reading his diary, you playing it; that was like you reading it out loud to him. If you left your diary or something private out on your desk and left Edward alone in your room, would you expect him to leave it alone? He feels like you just read into his deepest darkest secrets and he feels betrayed. He's a very private person and he feels that there has to be a degree of trust. He wouldn't read your diary, you don't play his compositions." He looked matter of fact and I nodded.
"What happened to Charlotte?" I finally asked. Emmett shot me a warning look.
"You promised not to ask questions." I dropped my eyes. That had definitely been a question. "That is for Edward to tell you. Just know that Edward has some major issues with guilt. He's pretty broken and it's going to take a long time for him to heal. He has to want to heal. Letting himself feel is the first step down a very long, winding road."
Emmett stood up and smiled sadly at me. "I hope that helps. Oh, and Bella," he said as an afterthought "Rosalie was only doing what she thought was best. She says to tell you she is sorry."
I nodded and got up to follow him upstairs. "I guess I'll see you around," I said to Emmett.
"Just give him time. He'll come around. I'm sure of it."
I took my coat from the closet, and pulled my boots on before heading out into the February night, feeling more confused than before, but somehow enlightened at the same time. Now I just needed to wait for Edward to come back to Seattle.
Edward's Point of View
I was in my mother's SUV driving out of town, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. I hadn't driven this particular route in years. I had never wanted to. I still didn't want to, but I knew I needed to.
The snow capped trees loomed on either side of the highway as I sped along, negotiating the turns like I had been there every day of my life. I felt like I could drive the route with my eyes closed. I turned the radio off and listened. The silence was deafening. The last time I'd driven this route she had been chattering away happily beside me. To this day I still remembered what it was about. She was telling me about the new dishes her mother had bought, and how her brother had broken one of the soup bowls into a thousand pieces. I recalled her giggly laugh, the way her hand rested on the console in between the seats as she angled her body towards mine, her beautiful smile. - "Oh Edward, it was too funny. Mom was so angry. Her beautiful new dishes."- My chest tightened and I felt the car swerve. I slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road, breathing hard, trying to catch my breath. I felt like something was crushing me, squeezing me in a vice grip. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on the steering wheel. I hadn't thought of her, of that moment in years. I kept my eyes closed and I saw her dark eyes, squinting in the sun, laughing. Her eyes were always happy. I saw her wide smile. You couldn't help but smile when she smiled. Her happiness was contagious. I saw her lips, full and pink, begging me to kiss them, her body, beautiful and soft, crying for me to touch it. I remembered how her skin felt soft and warm under my finger tips. How well my pale skin contrasted on her darker tones. I remembered the way she used to whisper in my ear, sweet nothings. I remembered our first time, the most beautiful moment of my life. She had looked so nervous, her voice shook, her hands trembled, but her kisses were hot, feverish, demanding. Her body called to me. I remembered the first moment I saw her, all of her. I had been in awe. I thought about the way she had said my name, breathless, softly. What I wouldn't give to hear her say my name just one more time.
I thought about how awkward it had been, how I'd fumbled and how she'd giggled. I loved to hear her giggle, even at my expense. And I remembered sleeping with her, snug in my arms, her steady breathing lulling me to sleep, that night, and so many nights afterwards.
I remembered our first fight, when I'd told her to get out and the hurt look on her face. I remembered how my heart had broken as I watched her leave. I remembered the phone call later, the apology. We were both so volatile; we were both prone to saying things we didn't mean. But that didn't mean I didn't love her. Oh no, I loved her more than anything in the world. I loved her more than life itself. Ironic really.
I wiped the dampness from my eyes and blinked a few times to readjust to the light. I pulled the car back out onto the road and continued on my journey. I wanted to spend some time in the place where I remembered her best, the park outside the city. It was more of a camp ground I supposed, but we had spent a lot of time there. She was a bit of a nature geek, she knew all the trees and the animal tracks and the different kinds of moss. I used to tease her mercilessly about it.
The snow covered everything, but unlike the city it was white and undisturbed, just the way I liked it. I wasn't in the mood for brown slush and wet feet. I tramped through the deep snow toward the hiking trails at the north end of the park and headed into the trees, the same way we always went; for the first time in my life, making the trip alone. I longed for the feel of her smaller hand wrapped in mine. I longed for her giddy chatter and the constant tug on my arm as she would stop and point at something she was excited about.
I started to slow. I wanted to sit on the log we'd always sat on. I wanted to remember her, to think about her, to deal with everything on our log, where we had spent countless hours. It was slightly off the beaten path, but I knew it had to be soon. It had been there as long as I could remember and longer I was sure. It was already covered in a thick coating of moss when we had found it all those years ago. I recognized the trees, slightly larger than they had been the last time I was there, bowing towards each other, showing me the way and I silently thanked them. Not that I would have forgotten. I had walked the path so many times it was engrained in my memory. I could probably come back here when I was eighty and still find it in the dark. I forced my way through the growth and the deep snow, and then I stopped dead. I looked down, and then left and right. I felt the bile rise in my throat. It was gone. The place we had spent so many blissful hours, where I had laughed harder than I'd ever laughed before, the place I had comforted her when she'd been upset, the place we'd shared our first kiss, the place we'd declared our everlasting love for each other was gone. In its place was smooth, undisturbed snow. I closed my eyes, hoping I was hallucinating, and opened them again. Nothing. Gone. It was all gone. It was all I had left and it was gone. "Charlotte," I whispered softly, my voice cracking, and I sunk to my knees, not bothering to hold off the grief now consuming me.
