Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns everything recognizable in the land of Twilight. No copyright infringement is meant.
Black and White
"He idolized it all out of proportion...no, make that: he - he romanticized it all out of proportion. Yes. To him, no matter what the season was, this was still a town that existed in black and white and pulsated to the great tunes of George Gershwin."
― Woody Allen, Manhattan
.~~.
Third Week of September, 1932
The lights of this enchanting city sparkle around me as my aunt and I walk along the less crowded streets. Though it is ten in the night and less people are milling about, it still doesn't take away from the mystic, the glamour of the city. It's quite glorious.
I am not blind to the crime and degradation of the city night, but it seems to have no affect on me now. I'm feeling too sated from the Broadway show Auntie and I have taken in. The acting was superb and the singing sensational.
I can hear Clarence walking slightly behind us as we make our way through the scattering crowd. I'm quite certain they are either heading home, or somewhere else to finish out their evening. Regardless, I know we are quite well protected with Clar nearby.
Chatter fills my ears about the show, and I can't help but agree. I only hear rave reviews amongst the rest of the patrons. The theatre is quite a magical and entertaining place. I often speculate on how I would do in the Entertainment industry. Sometimes it seems anyway as if my entire life is acted out under the hot lights of a stage.
"Wasn't it splendid, Rosalie, darling?" Aunt Jacqueline asks, knocking me from my supposing.
"Yes, quite." I turn to her, smiling. She is a tremendously extraordinary woman.
Though never married, she is independently wealthy. Even after the Stock Market Crash three years previous, she retained most of her wealth. How? . . . it is beyond my knowledge. I can only formulate she is more economic-savvy than anyone could ever know. Perhaps the bulk of her monies are invested in gold. Father does prattle on about the value of gold and how solid of an investment it is. My dear old father can wax poetic about finances.
Like father and myself, she has striking violet eyes. Though her hair is slightly graying, and nearing her early fifties, she can outlast almost everyone else. Robust doesn't even begin to describe Jacqueline Hale. She is outspoken, opinionated, vigorous and rather straightforward. She speaks not in riddles, but clear and uncomplicated. She is immaculate and so beloved by myself.
I smile contentedly being in her presence. Few others have such a genuine affect on myself.
A cool, late summer breeze blows by, causing me to pull my fox fur stole tighter around my arms. It feels incredibly soft against my goose-bumped skin.
"What has you smiling like a loon, girl?" my aunt squawks. I can't help but giggle. She can be terribly indecorous. "People would think I sprung you from the infirmary."
"I was only reflecting on how wonderful it is to be in your presence, auntie," I say as innocently as possible. I try but know my efforts in making her feel guilty are wasted.
"Poppycock, girl. You should be with youngsters your own age and not stuck with someone as feeble as I."
It is my turn to be unladylike as I snort. The day she is feeble is the day mother would allow me to work on cars.
"Such would truly be the day," I rebut. She pats my back rather hard, causing me to stumble a little. Feeble, my eye, I muse darkly where my back is now smarting.
"No need to flatter me, darling. You're already in the will." As is her response to any kind of compliment. At least amongst family.
She cackles loudly and draws the attention of everyone around us. She is one of a kind; caring nothing for stodgy social norms.
"But truly, Rosalie. I would see you interacting with a younger generation. It's unfortunate you don't know anyone here. If Lillian would only allow you from her bony clutches everyone now and then, perhaps you'd have more acquaintances in the Big City.
Auntie's enmity of mother is well-known. When visiting, I know father feels as if he has to run constant interference. I feel utterly sad for him. His wife and sister cannot find any common ground. Even the topic of my upbringing is war between them. Both strong-willed and hardheaded women.
Even when we had first arrived for our end of summer holiday, the first thing Auntie said to mother was, "Honestly, Lillian, can't you find a more out-of-date dress? That material looks like the drapes I had hanging from my windows last season." I had to fake a cough, needing to hide my inappropriate laughter.
"Come now, Aunt Jackie," I allow, smiling widely at the memory from a couple weeks prior, "you know that isn't quite the case. Even if I did visit regularly, where would I find said acquaintances? And who is to say, they'd want to be my long-lost companion?"
My aunt stops abruptly. I all but trip also, needing to stop immediately. If not for Clarence catching me, I would have surely fallen over. The woman has the reflexes of a cat.
Incredulous eyes stare me down, and I have to fight not to shuffle under the scrutiny.
"What," I finally blurt out, not being able to take the heat.
"You're blinder than your own old auntie, girl. My beautifully captivating girl could have the pick of the town. And I defy anyone else to tell me differently." She takes her piercing eyes from me and puts them onto Clarence. I bite my lips because I have to stop myself from laughing. Even he shuffles uncomfortably under her piercing stare.
"Tell her, Clarence, dear," the old bat commands. I know she simply enjoys putting people on the spot. She is quite the instigator.
"Ms. Hale is right, Miss. Rose. It's unbecoming to fish for compliments." My traitor of an aunt starts to cackle even more loudly than before. Even Clar is having a difficult time not grinning.
My jaw drops open at the duplicitous statement from my friend. I knew he would jump ship for Ms. Hale. My cheeks are quite hot from their playful banter and teasing of me. Though I try to look outraged, inside I am glowing brightly. My love overflows. It's quite freeing.
"Why, I never," I say snootily. My nose is high in the air as my arms are crossed over my chest. I can only hope I look terribly put out.
Around us, people are openly staring, probably wondering what is actually happening.
"Oh, poppycock, girl!" Auntie calls my bluff. She is too much. Before I can bite my bottom lip, the mischievous grin appears.
As I go to answer her rebuttal, she surprises me even more.
"You, young man," my aunt calls to a passing patron. Seeing as he is behind me, I can't see his face; I can only testify mine is on absolute fire. Why must she be so infuriating . . . beyond embarrassing . . .?"
"Auntie," I whisper-hiss, but she graciously ignores me. Note the sarcasm.
"Yes, young man . . . you with the ginger top." Not only is she loud, but insulting. I can only imagine the horrified look on the poor lad's face.
As I go to turn around and apologize to the frightened young man, Clarence stops me cold. Why would now be any different? Why should I be the least bit surprised?
"Edward?" Clar asks, aghast.
I feel my breath catch and my heart start to race. My reaction to Edward isn't any different. My body comes on high alert when we are in public and not alone together; although, my heart has been known to race with us alone together. My reaction to him isn't any different than any living, breathing woman still retaining her sight.
My feet find the courage to turn around and face my always-popping-up-in-the-most-peculiar-of-places friend.
"Hello, Edward," I whisper gently. My breathing still hasn't returned to normal.
My shrewd aunt – not missing a single thing (the old bat) – catches on to my breathlessness. A light, happy, knowing smile spreads over her thin lips.
Goodness me, I lament. Why hasn't the earth stopped spinning? Why are the lights to the bright marquee still lit up? Why can't my observant aunt be blind in her infernal age? Even with all these ludicrous thoughts, I still love my meddling aunt.
"My, my, young man . . . it seems as if my enchanting niece is already acquainted with you. Is that why you looked as if I caught you doing something naughty?" she inquires boldly.
In all the time I've known my friend, I've never seen him look so taken aback. He looks as if Jackie has read his mind. If he only knew how actual little gets by her. It doesn't matter if her attention is on something else, she always notices her surroundings.
"Edward," I say hurriedly, coming out of my stupor, "there's no need to answer her. My aunt has a terrible habit of putting people on the spot." I'm still stunned in seeing him in New York City, yet alone outside the same theatre as my little entourage.
"Nonsense, Rosalie, darling. There's no need to speak for the boy. Tell me, are you a mute?"
My head drops into my hand as I try to hide my embarrassment. Even Clar can't face my audacious aunt. The softness of my stole has left and is now irritating my itchy skin. It is the mark of me being the utmost aggrieved.
Beautiful, masculine laughter fills my throbbing ears. It's as if the clouds part and a ray of sun sprinkles down on me. Too cliché, I wince.
My head automatically pops up to see Edward standing directly in front of Aunt Jackie and laughing at her inquisitive nature. She has a delighted smile etched on her thin lips. Will miracles cease to happen? I wonder –over-dramatically.
"No, madam, I am quite vocal. I only choose to speak when required or directly spoken to, instead of constantly prattling on about nothing. There is nothing becoming about a ninny." Once again, Edward shows he has the allure to charm even the hardest of shells. My aunt is no soft sale.
Her boisterous mirth frightens a young couple strolling nearby. It's hard to believe that such a sound could come from such a small (yet sturdy) woman.
"You must join us for tea, young man," she commands, already knowing he will come. It's something I want, yet fear. I can't explain why, but the feelings are still present.
"Why, I was just telling my little Rosalie that youth is meant to be spent on her peers and not on the aged, such as me. It would seem as if you need the same talking to," she continues as she links her arm with him, leading our small party on.
I'm mystified as to how this even happened and if it is even real. My life, even in the most mundane moments seem anything but. However, if Edward is present in my life, I'd welcome the moments whole-heartedly. But a little warning wouldn't be remiss, I tell the cosmos silently.
"My, my, you are quite the strong young man, Edward. May I call you Edward?" she inquires as an afterthought (while feeling his upper arm, mind you) and doesn't even wait for him to answer politely. "I hope you like tea, dear. There's nothing I quite fancy more than a lovely made cup of tea. Well, my dear niece and nephews might be able to compete. Do you hail from a large family, Edward?"
And on she continues as Clar and I walk behind, shaking our heads in disbelief and pity for Edward. It is going to be a long evening.
"Chin up, Miss. Rose. All's well, ends well," he consoles me.
From your lips to someone's ear . . .
.
"And then, young lad, my little Rosalie declares she shan't be wearing a bathing costume and proceeds to prove thus. I daresay she stopped several of the older gentlemen's heart at the pool deck. She had her mother in shambles and my brother in hysterics. I couldn't help but fall terribly in love with my little Rosalie then," my aunt coos sweetly as she looks over to me. I give her an endearing smile. I love her so very much. Embarrassing stories, aside.
I look from her to Edward. He has an indulgent grin spread over his beautiful lips. I blink embarrassingly at him. I only want to hide behind my pinned back hair.
"You see, Edward," I say, wanting him to get that awfully beguiling smile from his handsome face. "My aunt loves anything and anyone who can rile up mother. It's been her life's endeavor," I comment knowingly while giving said aunt a calculatingly look.
"Darn right you are, my love. But you know as well as I, Lillian gives as well as she receives. The difference being, little she does actually works," Auntie declares triumphantly.
I giggle, knowing the truth of what my aunt speaks. I turn to Edward and give him an exasperated eye-roll. He simply winks. I look away hurriedly.
Before anyone else can say anything a movement catches my eye. I sit my tea cup and saucer down. My attention comes to rest on my little Benjamin. He looks adorably rumpled in his silk pajamas. Even though he is ten years of age, I still see him as a baby. I was near seven when he was born. When mother ignored us children if favor of other things, I took it upon myself to coddle and love my brothers unconditionally. They became my life until it was time for them to attend Boarding school in the city. At least Aunt Jackie has them nearby.
"Rosie," my little darling rasps out. My heart melts at the sight of him, and my soul yearns. With him I am in my greatest element. No strenuous practice or sitting in front of my vanity was ever needed. Motherhood came quite naturally to me.
I quickly get up from my seat to kneel in front of him, not minding my expensive dress; they are trifle concerns when my brothers are in need of me. He rubs the sleep from his tired eyes before focusing on his surroundings.
"What are you doing up, darling?" I ask gently. My hands raise as one tenderly strokes his flushed cheeks and the other sooths the hair from his forehead.
He leans into my outstretched arms as his smaller ones wrap around my neck. I fall for him every time. My love knows no limits for him.
"I had a terrible dream, sissy," he confesses quietly as possible in my ear. I know him to be embarrassed.
I take in his fresh scent as I pull him into my body and lift him up. I carry him to my vacant chair and thank the heavens above he's too tired to complain. Though he loves me, too, he's already declared to me, "I'm too old for coddling, Rosie. Ten is quite the distinguished age, you know." He sounded quite important while trying to cue me in. I only felt my heart hurt a little at the pronouncement.
As I situate him in my lap and place his lulling head on my shoulder, I try and whisper sweet and comforting words to him. His rapidly beating heart starts to slow, and I know he is becoming calm under my gentle attention. His eyes droop a little, but I know he isn't sleeping. He's simply taking in his surrounding and my even heartbeat.
"Who is our visitor, sissy?" Benjamin asks, reverting to my childhood nickname both he and Henry called me.
"He's a friend from home," I explain. I expressly use the term "friend" instead of acquaintance. It would be a lie and a disservice to label Edward as anything else. "His name's Edward Cullen and he watches out for me, without you and Henry at home."
I know my words will go a long way in helping my brother to feel better, both with his nightmare and with Edward's presence.
Benjamin's little chest puffs out a little at my slight praise. I tighten my arms around his shoulders as he snuggles back into my embrace.
"Was Henry still sleeping?" I inquire, worrying about my other little love. Well, if one could think thirteen as little, I muse wistfully, playfully.
"Yes, sissy, but his snores were atrocious," he declares, angrily, cutely. His cultured accent sounds funny with the heavy sleep tingeing it.
"Too right you are, my darling," I agree, pulling a contended smile from the young boy in my arms . . . regardless of how old he may declare himself.
"Are you able to say hello to Edward? I know your manners haven't left you in your sleep," I chide delicately in his ear, not wanting to embarrass in front of everyone. He has the good grace to blush slightly.
Benjamin sits up slightly but makes sure not to leave the shelter of my arms. Unlike Henry, he is more outgoing, more talkative. Henry tends towards the shy side; more like our father. He is all but a miniature of our father.
"Hello, Edward. It's nice t-to meet you." I try not to laugh as my little one yawns hugely in the middle. "I hope you look after my sister well. She's quite pretty, you know," he says matter-of-fact. I know he is quoting our father. He tried to train them up to look after their older sister. I think it was wasted with me mothering them too much. Oh, well.
I blush helplessly while trying in vain not to roll my eyes. Leave it to my tired, little brother to embarrass me.
"Yes, well . . . that is neither here nor there." I kiss his forehead to try and hide my pinkening reaction.
"Right you are, Benjy," Aunt Jackie finally chimes in. I'm all but astonished she was able to retain her opinion for this long.
Edward coughs as if he has something stuck in his throat. I turn my attention towards him.
"Are you alright?" I ask concerned, my embarrassment forgotten. He gives me a wobbly grin but his eyes look a little glassy. Hmm, strange. It was almost as if a laugh got stuck in his throat and he was trying in vain to suppress it.
I quickly stand up and secure my snoozing brother in my arms, knowing this will be my only opportunity to escape the room. As much as I adore Edward being here, I cannot take all the attention with my aunt present. Before I know it, she'll be trying to arrange a play date for us . . . as if we are toddlers.
"I really must get him to bed, auntie." She gives me a sympathetic look as I pretend my brother's weight is all but too much for me to handle, when it isn't the issue. One thing is for certain, when push comes to shove, I can still act well under pressure.
"Of course, darling. We shan't keep you." My aunt now tries to hide a yawn behind her hand. It is after midnight.
"Allow me to assist you, Rose," Edward selflessly offers. Goodness me . . .
He gives me a winning smile.
"What a generous offer, young man," Auntie praises. She acts as if Edward created the sky and the waters below. I successfully hide my smile in my brother's warm hair.
After helping my aunt stand and after she gives us warm salutations for the night, Edward comes over and removes my sleeping brother from me.
I can't help as my breath catches quietly in my throat. My stomach is doing odd flips and my hands are sweating as Edward carries my little love tenderly in his arms. He acts as if he might break Benjamin, he is so gentle. If I hadn't adored Edward before, watching him with my brother would have sent me careening over the already precarious edge.
I silently lead my friend down the hall and into my brothers' room. I can scarcely see Henry in the weak light of the hall. I point Edward over to Benjamin's bed before going over to resituate Henry. He was always a wild sleeper.
He's already twisted up in his covers and all but falling from his bed. I suppress my laughter at his sleeping antics as I tuck him in back safely into his bed. I kiss his matted hair and whisper my enduring love to him.
I turn and watch as Edward tucks in the corners of Benjamin's covers. I wonder if he realizes how much of a natural he is. How instinctively right he looks putting a young boy to bed. My heart is all but bleeding over at the beyond tender moment. Three people I love so very much are in this room, near enough for me to watch.
I bend over and press my lips to my little love's flushed cheek. His eyes crack open only slightly, and I wonder if he's even really awake.
"Thanks, sissy," he rasps out before his eyes shut again helplessly. "Tell E-Edward thanks, too. He's very kind and I already l-like him . . ." And then nothing.
I'm surprised he was even coherent enough to realize Edward had carried him into his room, yet alone to declare his acceptance of my friend.
I press my lips to his cheek again and this time he doesn't even flinch. He's down for the count. I utter a quick prayer that his dreams will be only of the happy variety.
My hand ushers Edward out of their bedroom. I don't want to talk and run the risk of waking them up again.
As we leave the hall, leading to the private bedrooms, and past the lounge we sat for tea, I can see the staff has already cleaned up our nightly drinks. The lights are dim, but still enough to guide our path down the marbled hallway.
When we finally reach the grand entrance, I gather my courage and turn to Edward. Seeing him with my brother threw me for a loop. It was even more touching than I could have ever imagined or conjured up. Edward always seems to surpass my seemingly lowly expectations. I wonder if he knows what a limitless potential he seems to have. There are so few people who seem to have that kind of enduring capability . . . as if even the sky isn't the limit.
"As Benjamin told you earlier, thanks. I could have handled him, but your help was appreciated and most welcome." He bows his head in acceptance. I want to reach out to him, to caress his flawless face, but refrain. It would be most inappropriate. My fingers begin to wiggle at my waist.
"What are you doing in New York City," my heart finally asks, bypassing the cool logic of my brain. Again, my traitorous filter seems to have deserted me.
Edward gives me that smile which has the potential to send my knees to the ground. I make sure they are stabilized. My skin is already flushed in enough mortification from my impolite question.
"Same as you, I'd daresay." I study him, trying to see beyond his steady answer. I can count on my hands the number of times I've seen him on shaky ground. My cool-headed, adored friend.
"You daresay?" I question inquisitively, suspiciously.
"Of course, love." With skilled knowledge, he unhinges me. I defy anyone not to fall at such an endearment flowing from this divine man's lips. "You would doubt me?" he challenges amusingly.
"Perhaps," I drawl out, before giggling helplessly. It's late, I'm tired and deliriously happy to be in my good-friend's company. Life couldn't be grander. I even have my beloved brothers under the same roof as me.
"Perhaps," he copies me before continuing, "I should have tucked you in, too. You're quite wobbly on your feet, love." He reaches out to stabilize me. I guess his point is proven. However, my heart beats too happily at his touch. It is as if it wants to abandon me and reside in his chest, next to his own.
"I'll be fine, darling," I reassure him sleepily. "I'm used to taking care of myself. It comes with the territory of being the oldest and a quasi-mother to my younger brothers. But never a burden, Edward," I clarify. I never want anyone to think taking care of my brothers was ever a burden to me. I'd give everything to ensure their safety.
"Never thought otherwise, Rose." His voice is solemn, that I can't help but automatically believe him – not that I think differently.
We stare at each other. He looks gloriously exquisite standing under the dim sparkle of the Grand entrance chandelier. The light seems to bounce off his skin even more beautifully than the dangling crystal. It is as if nothing could compare with his magnificence, his internal radiance.
"I think I should be off, Rose." It's funny how his statement sounds more like a question, as if he doesn't believe it himself. "Sincerely." And yet he still doesn't move. Our eyes refuse to lose the tremulous contact we share.
"Truly," I answer back, for lack of something to do, to say.
Without even being aware, Edward is suddenly in front of me and his fingers are delicately sweeping over my forehead, pushing back the curls which have escaped my hairdo.
I shiver, not from the exquisite coolness of his skin, but from the trembling of my heart from within. It's as if he is genuinely reaching within me and commanding out the emotions he wishes to see. It all sounds terribly idealistic, but I can't seem to help my uncontrollable, tumbling internal soliloquy.
I'm like his piano he plays and conducts so masterfully: helpless to his touch and playing the music he produces skillfully out of me. Edward is indeed the maestro of his subjects.
I lean my head back and slowly close my eyes. It's as if his presence too close to me all but blinds me. He burns so brilliantly before me.
"You are beyond lovely with your brothers, Rose," I feel whispered in my right ear where Edward's hand rests gently on my shoulder.
I want to push myself forward and wrap my arms around his trim waist. I can feel the longing so very deeply in my trembling soul. It's as if my entire being is tingling with the anticipation. But I hold back. There are some thresholds even I cannot exceed.
Not yet . . .
"Just when I think you cannot get any lovelier, you go and surpass my absolute image of you: simply, exceptionally, beautifully . . ."
My breath stutters in my throat, and I wonder if it will ever unclog. I'm rendered immoveable with his unspoiled opinion of me.
I cannot help but now touch him. My hands shakily rise up and become fisted in his tuxedo jacket. I need something to hold onto, afraid without his steady presence I'd fall over stupidly.
Both of his hands come to rest on my respective shoulders. I find myself leaning into him, all but allowing him to hold me up.
We stand there; not speaking, hardly breathing, simply taking in the other. His sweet scent is as warm as his burning presence within me. It all encircles me effortlessly.
And then surely . . . surely, my heart stops. With the gentlest of touches I've ever experienced, I feel Edward's lips touch my cheek, near the very corner of the right side of my lips. More than anything, I want to open my eyes, to be sure this is truly happening, but I cannot; for truly I'd be blinded by his sheer radiance.
With his sweet lips still scarcely touching my flesh with the gentlest of brushes, he whispers, "I shall be taking you and your brothers out tomorrow after next." It sounds more like a command more than anything, but I nod my head obediently. It doesn't even occur me to contest his request.
"I shall ring you and set everything up. No worries, right, Rosalie?"
Again, I nod helplessly at the soft brushes of his lips over my cheek. If I were to move a tiny inch our lips would finally, finally be connected. Like intended. Please!
His lips become dislodged from my cheek and I feel the tears slip unbidden from my eyes. I don't want him to go. I don't want to be without him. It's simply ludicrous, but my heart refuses to listen to logic.
"Sweet dreams, love." And then with one press of his lips to my forehead, he tenderly unclasps my fingers from his jacket, cups them around his cool cheeks momentarily before placing them at my sides.
Still my eyes remain closed at his exquisite kindness. I'm beyond lost.
I hear the front door close quietly behind him. As if given permission, I sigh roughly. I'm happily at a disadvantage where he is concerned. Again, I can't help but think how utterly gone I am in regards to my dear, dear friend.
Sweet dreams, indeed, love . . .
. .
Like my brothers, I'm speechless. Yankee Stadium is big, bright and boisterous laid before of us. Soon, however, the awe wears off from my young charges and their loud voices join in with the rest of the melee.
"Golly, Edward," Benjamin exclaims so happily. His bright smile, to me, is even more brilliant than the lights of the stadium. "Thanks a bunch. You're even more fantastic than Rosie claimed."
I act affronted as I pull my little love into my embrace. Now that he's fully awake, he seems to be embarrassed with my public display of affection. Serves the little scallywag right.
"Way to sell your favorite sister out!" I demand as I kiss his reddened face.
"Rosalie," he whines. I laugh at his agitation but allow him to gently push me away. He automatically wipes his cheeks before running to Edward's other side. It seems as if Edward isn't only my savior.
"You won't allow her to do that again, will you, Edward?" my darling asks so trustingly to my friend. It seems as if Benjamin is on the brink of hero worship.
"I'll keep her otherwise occupied. Gentleman's honor." I'm amazed at how solemn Edward is able to make his voice, as if this is the most sacred promise he'll ever make. I look to his new admirer and can tell he truly appreciates the gesture. He knows, instinctively, Edward isn't simply pandering to him.
"I have to agree with my brother . . . thank you for this," Henry says with more aplomb. He is more reserved than our youngest brother.
Like me – but to a lesser degree – mother has trained Henry on decorum, not embarrassing the family name and how to carry on as heir. Even father expects more from Henry, and he realizes it. But unlike mother, father knows Henry is still young and permits him some allowance.
"It was truly nice of you to go through all this just to make a special evening for us. But it's much appreciated." My brother reaches out his gloved hand and clasps with Edward. I want to cry a little for my brother's lost innocence, but I refrain. He had to grow up sometime. He couldn't stay my little darling forever . . .
"With pleasure, Henry. Both you and Benjamin are extremely important to your sister. You're essential to her," he tells them tenderly.
Both of my darlings stare at me, Benjamin with mother's eyes and Henry with my own.
I love you . . . both, I mouth to them, not wanting to embarrass them saying it aloud.
Benjamin smiles widely in his unspoiled way before chatting wildly with Edward again, hopping up and down occasionally. Henry moves closer to me and casually grabs my hand. My eyes widen a little at the blatant physical display. He gives me a winning smile before mouthing his love back to me. My heart melts from out of my chest.
Thank you, Edward, I think silently. I couldn't have asked for a better surprise or affection from my darlings.
I raise our clasps hands and drape my arm over his shoulders. Our combined hands rest on his healthy beating heart. I can truly feel his hidden excitement in the heavy beating of his heart. Instead of demanding I release him from my hold, he leans into my side, allowing me to hold him for the time being.
I kiss the side of his head before giving my attention over to my other companions. Benjamin is still excitedly talking, not only to Edward, but also the other attendees. He tells anyone listening about Babe Ruth's stats, Lou Gehrig's June 3rd record of hitting four homeruns in one game, and how they're poised to take the pennant this year.
I sneakily reach over with my free hand and link it with Edward's. He quickly turns to me with a startled look. I can't help but smile hugely. It's beyond difficult to surprise him with anything.
"Thanks, darling," I mime to him. I gently squeeze his hand and wish momentarily I wasn't wearing gloves. I love the feel of his seeming always cool skin.
"Not at all, love," he returns.
As I go to dislodge my hand, thinking I've already taken enough liberty, he refuses to let go. He tightens his hold on our entwined fingers as he moves closer to my side.
A playful wink is given to me before his attention is pulled once again from me and given to Benjamin. I can let it go, for I have his hand in mine. I could ask for no greater connection.
"And Joe McCarthy has to be the best manager ever, Edward," my overly excited brother all but shouts. Both Henry and I shake with laughter at his exuberance, used to his over-the-top antics when he's beyond excited. Him and his beloved Yankees.
Edward, playing devil's advocate, starts debating with Benjamin. I can tell he is jesting with him. "Surely you must be wrong, young Ben. What about Miller Huggins? Managed the Yanks for eleven seasons; coached over the Murderers' Row; won six pennants under his management. Oh," he wails dramatically, "How the younger generation forgets."
Benjamin looks at Edward in alarm before he sees a smile starting to split over his lips. An adorable smile overcomes my little love's mouth. If I thought his hero worship of Edward was something before, goodness was I wrong. Benjamin now looks as if Edward himself hung the stars.
"You've just created a disciple for life, Edward," Henry opines jokingly from my loose embrace. But he's probably correct. When it comes to the Yankees, my youngest brother is eternally lost.
"Do you think the Yanks will win the pennant this year, Edward? They must be a shoe-in!" And on and on the two continue.
"Let's play ball," I say to no one in particular, but pull Henry a little closer to me and strengthen my hand around Edward's.
The stadium lights bath us in their happiness, heat and excitement.
. .
After shopping at 'Chock full o' Nuts', and explaining to my poor disillusioned, without-refined-taste friend why this specialty store is wonderful, he leads us to a somewhat secluded bench in Central Park.
Though the park is in somewhat disrepair, it still holds a beautiful splendor of its own. It's no longer the playground of the rich and elite. And though crime happens here periodically, I know with him I'll be safe.
Edward assists me as I become seated and munch happily on my salted treats. Mother doesn't allow me to eat candied nuts often, claiming it does terrible things to my figure. With her not present, I can enjoy them all the more.
In between delicate bites, Edward and I gab. We speak of nothing important, yet it all seems so filling.
"Wasn't it delightful, Clarence's reaction to eating at the Russian Tea Room? I thought his eyes would have fallen out by the end of the night."
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"Auntie shouldn't have made you play the piano for hours, Edward. I thought she had a stroke when she thought your talent grossly underrated. I did try to warn her. However, the old hen's jaw becoming unhinged was beyond comical. Even Stoic Henry couldn't keep his composure."
"Was there really a need to continuously rub it in, love? Your aunt would have to eat crow for the next year for as much as you rubbed it in?"
"Always, darling. When one is right over Auntie, the pleasure must be extended. It's too delightfully funny."
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"You're Aunt Jacqueline and brothers are so wonderfully enchanting, Rosalie. I know and always hope you consider yourself blessed. But they are also blessed, for they have you in their lives."
"And you in mine, Edward."
As we converse about this week and the fun we've had with my Auntie, brothers and occasionally Clarence, Edward turns solemn.
"More than anything, I wanted to thank you, Rose." I tilt my head to the side and study him under my lashes. My friend is so peculiar at times. I give him a gracious smile.
"What for, darling?" He's silent, looking at me and then at his clasped hands resting over his lap.
"For allowing me this time with your family. I know how precious little you are able to have with your younger siblings, yet you allowed me to encroach. It's the greatest gift you could have shared with me. And above all, for allowing me to see your greatest ambition in action."
"Edward?" I interrupt, confused.
"There is never any doubt in my mind at what a sensational mother you'll make, love. But seeing you with Henry and Benjamin, well, if any doubt existed, it would have been beautifully swept away. I can see how natural, almost intrinsic it is the ability you have to mother. It's so effortless. You should never let anything stand in the way of such sensation."
I'm all but at a loss for words, but would anyone expect any differently. It's seems to be our usual course of friendship.
"Effortless, you think?" I say, tying to be amused, but failing terribly. My arms are begging me to all but swallow him up in them.
"Not think . . . know," he refutes. His piercing gaze tells me so eloquently of his truthfulness. I truly need to take things lighter, especially for the sake of my fragile sanity.
"I may have some competition," I tease. "Benjamin seems to have replaced me." I give my wonderful companion my most threatening frown, but it has little to no effect; if the mirth in his eyes is any indication.
"Oh, Rosie, Edward said this . . ." I mimic my youngest brother. "Rosie, did you know that Edward is such and such . . . Edward thinks . . ."
Rich laughter meets my fair interpretation of Benjy. My friend seems to be so alive as laughter falls from his full, parted lips. Oh, my
"And here I thought Benjamin got his squeaky voice from your mother. Who would have imagined it was passed on from his sister?" Edward gives me an appraising look, as if he is inspecting my very core.
"You're lucky I hold you in such high esteem, future Dr. Edward Cullen. Otherwise I may have to simply stop conversing with you. It's quite impolite to make fun at the expense of your close friend," I explain haughtily.
My nose, of course, automatically rises in the air. It is almost a reflex action from too much practice. Edward's smile tells me he knows it's all in jest. Or perhaps (scarily) he knows that my being without him isn't feasible any longer. Either way, the smile remains on his gorgeous lips.
"On my honor, I shall endeavor to do better." He bows his head grandly. And here I thought I was the overly-dramatic of our duo.
"See that you do." He stares at me, surprised, as if he hadn't anticipated my reaction. He is beyond delightful. Suddenly the space between us is filled with our combined laughs. I cherish these moments the most.
"How were you able to get me out on the town without Clarence afoot, anyhow?" I was truly curios. It is most difficult to escape from his over-protective clutches.
"I simply asked him, love," Edward explains quite seriously. "He knows I make your safety, when we are together, the utmost priority. I'd never play fast and loose with your wellbeing." I want to shiver as his cool fingers barely graze over my left cheek, but resolutely refrain. I lean into his hand before he pulls it away.
These tender moments which pass between us are seared into my mind. I keep them in the most sacred place of my heart, directly next to the love of my brothers, father and future children.
"So, you're returning home, tomorrow?" I can only imagine he's asking to relieve some of the immense affection building between us. He must see the longing in my eyes. My handsome friend already knows the answer.
However, I give it to him anyhow. My head nods several times, displacing my cheek from his fingers. Quite sad . . .
"And you, darling. When shall you be returning?" I inquire, realizing I don't know the answer.
"Not for several weeks yet," he all but whispers. An immediate frown mars my lips and forehead. I can all but hear mother's voice reprimanding me about premature wrinkling.
"But why?" I ask helplessly. I sound pathetic, but I can't help the desperate tone of my voice. I can't understand his delay in returning.
Edward's calm face turns into one of almost regret. I wonder if it is in reaction to my hurtful tone. I don't want to make him feel guilty in not returning around the same time as me. It is unfair to put such assumptions on someone who is only a friend, and more-so a lady on a gentleman. It is not proper.
As I go to apologize, his clear voice stops me.
"It has no correlation to you, Rose. I simply have to complete some field work for my major, with the summer term ending. Carlisle was gracious enough to arrange a two week clinic for me. I shall be assisting a highly qualified physician here at Cornell Medical Center. It's newly opened and Carlisle thought it a good idea to study for a little while outside of Rochester."
I nod my head, knowing without having to be told what kind of opportunity and privilege this must be. It still doesn't make the irrational sadness dissipate. I can't quite pinpoint when I've become so silly.
"I know you deserve it, Edward. You're marvelous, darling." Without thought or consequence, I grab his hand sitting in the empty space between us. I clasp it in both of my smaller hands and squeeze ever-so-gently. My eyes meet his over our combined hands. "Always marvelous." A small, meaningful smile graces my lips.
Around us, people are continuing to mill about, going on about their business. Though it seems as if things have slowed around us, it in fact hasn't. The world around me once again seems to have to remind me, I'm not the center of the world; contrary to the popular belief of the Madam, and sometimes even myself. My vanity is too well ingrained.
"I'll return before even missed, love. You'll see." Even with his reassurance, there seems to be doubt in his voice. It's as if he can read my weakness and the level of regard I've come to hold him in.
I know it isn't fair to him, having to live up to my needs and standards. Yet I can't seem to stop putting them onto him; unduly.
"I know, Edward," is all I say.
"Come, love," he bades me, pulling on my hand simultaneously.
With the sweetest relief, I fall willingly into his opened arms. I try and think, but being this close to him is overwhelming. Even with the erratic patterns of thoughts, I can't think of a time I've been this close. Except for our initial meeting . . . The closeness which started me spiraling . . .
My face finds shelter in the crook of his shoulder as his arms rest around my waist. It puts me in mind of when I comforted Benjamin after his night terror. I exhale loudly, and hold on tightly. It's probably a good thing Edward is so solidly built. I hate to have to squish him. A little, silly grin comes to my lips at the thought.
This time I helplessly shiver as his firm lips press into forehead. My lids fall ineffectually closed. The softness of his suit jacket rubs against my skin as I push closer to him. I don't want to be parted from him. It's quite painful . . . dreadful.
"You shall still be missed, Edward," I inform him rebelliously, authoritatively. I don't care what my handsome Edward thinks in his pretty little head.
His light rumbles of laughter vibrate into my warmed skin lying on his shoulder.
"As will you, Rose. As will you." We both sigh, in what . . . well, I can't explain. We just do. We just are. We are just . . . in this moment.
Time slips away, our breaths come and go, the cool breeze of the afternoon becomes colder, the sound of footfalls make their journey home, yet all of it bypasses.
I know without having to be told, I'm warm sheltered in Edward's encircled embrace. I don't need to be told the sky is blue when I can see it for myself. I don't need to be told water is wet for me to feel it myself. It just is . . . Explanations unnecessary.
However, with every good tiding, it comes to an end. Things need to be accomplished and experiences cherished. And this experience: beyond memorable.
Reluctantly I pull away, needing it to be on my terms for some odd reason. I push the peculiar sensation to the side and dislodge my face from Edward's strong shoulder. Though it's a grey day, the brightness temporarily blinds me. As my eyes adjust, I keep them closed and allow my heart to soak in the brilliance of the day. To be remembered.
"Shall we, love?" my copper-haired pillow asks. I giggle thinking of him as a fine, soft, desired goose-down pillow. I'd never want to lift my head from bed if he were to grace it. Oh, my . . . must indeed move on . . .
"Lets," I squeak. Edward laughs at my flushed cheeks, but I give nothing away. I hold my head up high, even though I can now feel the heat flooding my neck.
Before I can even begin to place one foot in front of the other, my silly friend spins me around, to face him. I let out a light peep from the unexpected whirlwind.
"Edw -" I go to say, but am quickly quieted.
Cool fingers encase my cheeks. With my face sandwiched between his hands and his thumbs grazing over my cheekbones, I'm stunned senseless. My head is tilted back so I can look up into his face. I never realized how much taller Edward is then me. It never seemed to matter. Still doesn't.
I go to close my eyes, too overwhelmed with his resplendent presence, but his quiet pleading stops me.
"Thank you again, love," he speaks, clueing me into what is happening in his gorgeous head. I can only search his glorious face with my eyes. "For more than you could ever know. You've delighted me beyond measure, Rosalie. Immeasurable, Rosalie."
Stupid tears prickle my orbs, distorting his visage. Later I could say the tears had obscured my vision beyond sight, but it would have been a lie. I see him coming, descending even closer to my face. Nothing could ever mask the true attractiveness, the true sublimity of his countenance.
His eyes look even more amber, more solemn. They seem to be burning, the color is so immense, so consuming.
Every thought, every breath, every little nuance ceases to matter as my sometimes reoccurring dream comes to fruition. Edward's glorious lips are finally upon mine, and all I can feel is the pressure he exerts.
I know it beyond explanation, but as he moves his lips upon mine and his breathy sighs enter into my parted lips, I can taste his sweetness. Sweet candied apples.
I want nothing more than to lick at his lips forever.
Slowly, superbly and thoroughly Edward kisses me. I don't even fathom one part of my lips or mouth wasn't touched by his. I can only taste his flavor, breathe his shared air, be consumed by him.
Unhurriedly . . . gradually he finally pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. His breathing is just as uneven. A welcome reprieve. I can only hope I was as meticulous as him. If his closed eyes and uneven breaths are anything to measure, I'd say, well done, indeed.
I shiver from so many things as he slides his mouth from my cheek to my ear. "Immeasurable Rosalie," he calls me as his sweet oxygen ghosts over my unadorned shoulder and throat.
"Endless Edward," I counter breathlessly.
Deep, hoarse chuckles meet my words. His arms tighten around my waist as if he's never to let me go. Not that I'd ever complain in the least.
"More than you'll ever realize, love. More than you'll ever realize," he repeats before removing his lips from the shell of my ear, putting them to rest on my forehead. I strengthen my own hold on him and simply luxuriate in our moment.
Immeasurable . . . I think blissfully. To be sure.
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Author's Notes: Well, there you have it, lovely readers. THEY KISSED! Goodness, did I love writing this chapter. It is my favorite thus far. I can't even explain why, simply that I loved each and every segment. Researching the history for this chapter was a blast. Yes, I'm a history nerd.
I hope it was worth reading, even infinitesimally. O-o
Anyhow, thanks to the five people who reviewed. It always means so much. Now I must ask again, because I am that self-conscious, is it worth still continuing with the story? I put a lot into each chapter, but if it isn't capturing more people's attention, I don't want to continue. I sound really whiny, I know, but I love to know your thoughts: good, bad, whatever . . .
Thanks again to everyone. I hope you have a very Happy Christmas (those who celebrate) and wonderful Holiday Season to everyone else. I send so much love in a world where we can always give more! 3
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[1] Joe McCarthy was the manager of the Yankees from 1931 to 1946. Under his tenure the Yankees claimed seven World Series Championships.
His amazing legacy wasn't established yet during 1932 when Edward took the Hale's to see the Yankees play. Until then Miller Huggins had been the definitive manager.
[2] Miller Huggins managed the Yankees from 1918 to 1929. He coached over Murderers' Row in the later part of the 1920's. He won three World Series and six American League pennants while in tenure.
[3] Murderers' Row is a term penned originally in 1918 detailing the batters' lineup. However it gained true prominence with the 1927 first six line up: Earle Combs, Mark Koenig, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Bob Meusel and Tony Lazzeri.
[4] On June 3, 1932, while playing against the Philadelphia Athletics, Lou Gehrig became the first hitter in the 20th century to hit four homeruns in a single game. Barley missing an elusive fifth homer.
[5] Russian Tea Room opened in 1927 and became famous for those in the entrainment industry.
[6] In the early 1930's Chock full o' Nuts (which was a specialty store; specialty stores being very common in at the time) was converted to a coffee shop. Buying specialty nuts during the Depression became an extravagance.
Updated: Sunday, 23 December 2012