Author's Notes (January 31, 2011): Thanks to the fixer-uppers, duskwatcher2153, Aleeab4u and GreatChemistry.
Chapter pic: bit(dot)ly/sotpm18-pic
Chapter music: bit(dot)ly/sotpm18-music
"SINS OF THE PIANO MAN"
CHAPTER 18: LOVE, SECRETS & TIME
If there ever was a threat to me,
If there ever was a hope,
If there ever was an open end,
It was you.
"Patient Lover Be" by Jamie Barnes
EDWARD MASEN
"I don't think you're human," she'd said.
Bella made time stand still with her words. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but what could be said? I listened to her heart's syncopation, watched as her breast moved up and down in compulsory response. My heart remained dormant, but it sympathized with the abnormal drumming of hers. Surely I was falling or collapsing in on myself; I could feel the muscles in my thighs clenching beneath her, readying for brutal impact, a push, a punch that only this woman could deliver.
After what felt like an hour but had really only been perhaps a minute, I realized I had been still for too long. I reached over and switched on my bedside lamp, so that Bella glowed warm and golden above me. She blinked against the onslaught of light, her pupils drawing back into sheltering curtains of brown. A blush lit her cheeks; she wasn't as confident with the light on.
I rested back against the bed's headboard, trying to appear relaxed. "What on earth makes you think that I'm not human?" I finally replied, mustering as much disbelieving arrogance as I could when all I felt was fear.
Most humans would back down under such incredulity, but Bella, of course, was not most humans—and she'd had time to discover my strategies, and think about the statement she'd made. And, of course, Charlie's jacket, which I'd originally stolen to acclimate myself to her scent, had been physical, undeniable truth that something was not quite right about me. Having her go so far as to think I was inhuman, though, was certainly a surprise. What did she think I was?
She fixed me with a gimlet-eyed stare and asked in an equally condescending tone, "Where would you like me to begin?"
"I don't think that'll be necessary," I said dryly. Then I swallowed back venom. Anxiety made me produce it involuntarily, so that my mouth overflowed with slick sweetness.
God, what might she know? I wondered. I considered asking, but ultimately remained silent, for fear of opening any other can of worms.
Glancing to where we were yet intimately connected, I felt a rush of joy, despite the tension in the room. I was astonished that we'd made it through the experience—no broken bones! no blood!—and was now caught between opposing desires of wanting an encore performance and an irrational need to protect my balls in the face of impending, spiraling-out-of-my-control mayhem. Though Bella couldn't actually do anything physically harmful to me, I did not want to have this conversation naked and said as much.
Flushed as Bella's cheeks and breasts were, she made no move to get off me. "I figure you won't go anywhere this way," she said matter-of-factly.
My brows lifted. "Do you mean to say you planned tonight?" I demanded, not sure whether I should feel impressed or offended if she indeed had.
Bella hadn't been scheming, though; her face told me that much. Eyes wide, she shook her head emphatically. "What? No. No, I mean, not all of it. Maybe something similar"—the blush deepened—"but not just before. That definitely wasn't planned. At all." She fidgeted, picking at the corner of one fingernail. "It was great, by the way," she said quietly.
I touched her hip, my thumb skirting along the curve of bone. "It was."
Breathing in shakily, Bella got us back on track—the one she wanted us on, at least—and I was still as naked as when I'd come into the world; we were going to do this her way. "Am I right?" she prompted in a small voice. "I think I might be. I've thought about it a lot."
Clearly.
"You think I'm not human," I confirmed, this time without derision. I disliked the feel of the words on my tongue. They tasted bitter, like sickly blood. I preferred the honeyed lies, the illusion of humanity that I'd constructed for myself, for Bella. Uttering these words made it seem as though everything were crumbling about me. Was it?
Am I losing her?
Bella sighed. "I don't know what's going on with you for sure, but—"
"No one will believe you," I interrupted, sudden panic welling within. "It's a preposterous idea."
"That doesn't matter, anyway," she replied tartly. "I'm not interested in telling anybody. I get that it's a secret—whatever the secret may be. I'd keep it safe."
I studied her, where she so sincerely sat upon me, her porcelain thighs framing my hips; her face pulled tight in earnestness; breasts moving up and down with frequent, shallow breaths. Why couldn't we put on clothes? I smelled her nervousness and heard it in the way her heart spluttered every now and again.
And I knew she was telling the truth. Bella would never betray me.
Yet what good could possibly come from telling her anything? It was against the law in my world, such as it was, and knowledge often sits atop a slippery slope, especially when secrets are involved. In knowing one thing, would she want to know something else, something more; would she want to know everything? What did she want me to say now?
I feared telling her the truth, not only because of what it might mean for her safety, but also because of how she'd then see me. What if she one day found out about my past? What if she found out about my encounter with Renée? I could imagine her face: jaw slackened in horror or disgust, eyes narrowed in fervent anger.
For now, she watched me patiently, but the look of determination hadn't dimmed. I was losing control, and we both knew it. How easily I'd given into her tonight proved that, if nothing else.
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" I asked, already knowing and dreading the answer.
"Definitely not."
"Well," I said, frustration clear in the one word, "I hope you don't mind disappointment, because you and I cannot have this kind of conversation." I touched her knees. "Now, get up."
Bella didn't move as she narrowed her eyes at me. "Do you just like lying to me? Is that it? I don't—"
"No," I snapped, "I don't fucking like lying to you, but I have no choice."
"But I said I wouldn't tell anyone!"
I grasped her shoulders. I wanted to shake her until she understood, but I kept my grip light. "You don't understand," I said quietly, but with force. "You don't even know what you're talking about. Telling you the things you want to know could cost me you, and that's too high a price for me to pay. I won't lose you." I let my hands drop back to the bed, where I balled the sheets up in my fists.
"Fine," Bella hissed.
In one surprisingly graceful move, she then moved off of me, off of the entire bed. The abrupt change was shocking to my senses; anxiety left me limp outside of her body, and, if not cold, then certainly aware of her absent heat. As warped as my relationships of the past had been, I was certain this was not how post-coital bliss was supposed to go, especially with a human. We'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. Several.
Fabric rustled to the right of me, and I jerked to attention, to see Bella's head pop through the neck of the blue t-shirt she'd been wearing earlier in the night. A few strands of her hair lifted upward with late autumn static. They crackled before settling.
"Bella?" I said in alarm.
Wriggling into her jeans and yanking up the zipper, she didn't bother looking at me as she spoke. "Lying to my face doesn't go over well with me, Edward."
"It's midnight," I said as she pulled on a sock and grumbled in annoyance as it went on crookedly. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm thinking you're going to take me home. I'm thinking I've made a mistake—a pretty horrible one tonight—if you can't even answer one damn question." She pulled on the next sock. "And, really, not answering tells me all I need to know."
I threw my legs over the side of the bed and grappled for my underwear and shirt. "Now just wait one minute," I growled, yanking boxers up my legs at a slow, human speed. "Tonight wasn't a mistake. I don't want you to think I'm a mistake."
Part of me thought that I probably was, though, that it should be some other man playing this part in her life—a human casting for a human role. The thought made me feel like taking down a wall of the house, but it was true nonetheless. I couldn't offer her anything normal, and she was beginning to see that.
Was it happening now, then? Was this goodbye? I wasn't ready. I hadn't had enough time with her. I didn't want to let go.
Bella sighed as she ran a hand through her hair, trying to tame the knots and kinks of sleep and lovemaking. "You're not a mistake," she said. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. I'm just…really frustrated. And confused. It's like I'm going crazy."
The pain in my chest lessened a degree, to be replaced by sympathy. Arm outstretched toward her, I took a step forward, but she held up a hand, signaling me to stop. I held back, leaving several feet between us. It felt like a much greater divide.
"You're not a mistake," she went on, "but I can't keep doing this with you, not when everything else in my life is up in the air. If you've got secrets—some that you can't tell me—that's okay. That's normal. But this"—she lifted a hand to indicate me—"I know this isn't real, at least not all of it. I can't live with that. I'm not some stupid teenage girl that you can tell whatever you want to, at my own expense." She straightened up, set her shoulders. "I-I deserve better. I think."
"I know you do," I said, dejected, one hand in my hair. I wanted to tear it out. "Do you honestly think I don't know that? I told you, Bella. I told you I'd only make your life more complicated."
"Edward…" she sighed. "You also make things really good," she protested in a soft voice.
"Do I?" I asked with a bitter laugh.
"Yes, you do. But not knowing any of the truth makes everythingfeel like a lie sometimes. People can't trust lies. I can't." Her heart beat heavily, slowly, and I knew it to be the sound of grief. Grieving her, hurting her, was the last thing I'd ever wanted.
"I'm sorry."
"Me too," she said, not meeting my eyes.
"What can I do to fix this?" A hollow, biting hurt that I'd felt two decades earlier in Renée's company and then later when I'd first seen Bella cry in the dark, writhed in my chest and stomach. The pain was a human feeling, one that let me know I was mostly powerless to what was coming, that the flood would likely swallow us whole, no matter how well I could swim against the current.
Stress rolled off of Bella, her scent spiced with it, her hands shaking. "I just want the one thing," she said. "Just tell me that. Are you human?" She groaned. "God, I sound so stupid."
I stepped closer—Bella didn't stop me this time—until we were only inches apart, so that she was forced to look up at me, as I looked down at her. I found myself once again trying to see into her mind, pushing my ability, willing myself with everything I was to understand what she thought of me, of this, of us.
"You make me feel nervous when you look at me like that," she breathed.
"Sorry," I said again, giving her a half smile. "You're just very hard to figure out at times."
Bella snorted. "Welcome to the club?"
I took a deep breath. "You'll never ask me for more information?"
She gave a small, tired whimper. "That's such an unfair condition."
"I know, but that's my offer."
Lips pressed into a firm line, she watched me for a moment, looking for a weak spot in my will. There was none. I couldn't give her more than this. It was insane to give her this much.
"Fine," she relented. "Okay. I promise I'll…try not to," she answered.
We both knew this was a promise she wasn't likely to keep, but perhaps it'd buy me time with her.
"I don't think there's any going back from this," I warned, knowing these words came eerily close to answering her question. I wasn't sure which one of us I was delivering the warning to.
"Edward, when I said I loved you, I was all in."
I swallowed back a knot in my throat, glad for once that tears were impossible for my kind. "You were about to leave, though," I pointed out, even as I didn't want to. "You still can. I'd never stop you." No matter how much I wanted to keep her.
"Only my body was leaving," she said quietly. "There's a difference."
I touched her hand and watched emotions play out across her face—grief and hope, weariness and love. And fear—of what, I wasn't sure.
What might we have been, in a different time, in a world with different circumstances, where I was a man, where a nomad hadn't found me in a Chicago alley and turned me into a monstrous creature? I'd be dead now, I thought dimly. More proof that Bella and I weren't meant to be.
Bella turned her hand and grasped my fingers with such fierce strength it got my attention. "Are you?" she asked, and I knew this was the last time she'd do so.
Could I tell her this one thing?
Alice's words came back to me. Try not to lie so much. Give her what truth you can…Well, if a psychic had told me to do something, I supposed that was as good of an assurance as I could hope for. Was Alice moving us in the direction she wanted? Were we moving ourselves?
None of it mattered. I only wanted Bella.
"No," I said, "I'm not a human."
Fourteen seconds passed in which Bella was completely silent, her eyes wide, her heart beating fast. And then, as suddenly as she'd panicked, she calmed and breathed out a stream of air between her lips. "Okay," she breathed. "So I'm right… Okay."
My brows shot up in surprise. "Okay?"
She nodded and let go of my fingers. "I just needed to know that at least."
I watched her for a moment, marveling at how she truly seemed to be calm. "Why aren't you running?" I asked, perplexed. "Aren't you the least bit bothered by this?"
To my surprise, she laughed. "You mean, would I prefer it if my boyfriend was normal?" She shook her head. "Normal's not all it's cracked up to be, you know. It doesn't guarantee anything—life or love," she said, shrugging one shoulder. "I've had a normal boyfriend. That didn't go too well."
I didn't think Jacob Black's lupine tendencies qualified as normal, but didn't bother to correct her notion; knowledge of one non-human in her life was more than enough.
Bella reached up a hand and pressed it to the middle of my chest. I worried that she might notice my lack of heartbeat, but hers was pulsing hard enough for the both of us, it seemed; I felt it through her palm. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. "I don't care that you're abnormal… I'm not going to judge you according to that. Wh-whatever you are, you're not going to hurt me. Even if you can. I know that. Tonight proved that."
I glanced away from her. She put too much faith in me.
"I know you hold something back," she continued. Her hand dropped from my chest. "I see that now. I think I knew all along…"
"I'm sorry," I said and wondered how many times I'd say that this night.
"Don't be. I'm sure you'd be different if you could be."
I nodded.
"See?" she said with a firm nod. "I can't hold your nature against you."
I swallowed against another knot in my throat. "You can't say that. You don't know what's different about me."
"No." She smiled wanly. "But I think I'll figure out the rest on my own. Since you won't tell me now."
A prickle of fear ran down the length of my spine.
Hair had fallen into her face. I brushed it away and cupped the side of her face, ran my thumb down the jagged line of her scar. "What did I say about digging for clues, Nancy Drew?"
"Why?" she asked, pulling away from me and ignoring the epithet. "Why would it be so bad for me to know the whole truth? I can't believe it would be as bad as you think. I'm…I'm pretty open-minded, I think, and you are a little prone to exaggeration, Edward."
"Perhaps," I said. "But what if you find out something you don't like?"
"So what if I don't like something!" she shouted suddenly, throwing her hands up in the air. "As if I'm not used to dealing with shit I don't want to!"
I waited for her heart to calm before speaking. "I don't want to be something, someone you have to deal with," I argued gently.
But Bella had moved on, her eyes staring beyond, looking out the large window I stood beside, into the dark November night. "You're really not a human," she said. It wasn't a question.
"No."
"Okay." She nodded, her eyes still distant; perhaps she was in shock. "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep some more."
"Here?" I asked, hopeful.
She nodded.
Trudging to the side of the bed she usually slept on, she slipped beneath the covers, leaving all her clothes on.
I stood on the other side of the bed, tentative. "May I join you?"
She didn't answer for a moment, but then her head bobbed.
As she lay on her side, I rested behind her, pulling her body to mine; she clutched my arm over her chest. It took two hours for Bella to fall asleep again, but in that time neither of us spoke. I held her tightly, as tightly as I could.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Bella woke early, and we proceeded to carry on as if nothing had happened the night before. The problem with that was that it was obvious something had changed. I was shy. Bella was cautious. We danced around each other, rather than together, uncomfortably evading conversations about the previous night. So much had been said, perhaps too much.
"Are you all right?" I asked over breakfast. She was very quiet, very still.
She licked strawberry jam from the corner of her mouth before giving me a faint smile. "I'm fine. Just a small headache from yesterday. Think I had too much to drink."
"Mm." No argument there. "There are painkillers in the bathroom cabinet."
She nodded.
I forced down another swallow of cereal and milk; it was horrible stuff that sat heavily at the bottom of my stomach, but I was determined to keep up the human façade, even if Bella knew I wasn't human. It provided me with cover I still needed, and it gave her some semblance of stability. I hoped.
"You're sure it's just a headache brothering you?"
"I'm sure."
She wasn't. I saw doubt and worry in the lines of her face.
We drove to the Crescent Club to retrieve her car in time for her eleven o'clock shift at Hal's. The windshield of the car was fogged from the cold, and I wiped it clear with my sleeve as she got the heat going. We still weren't talking—not truly. Words were spoken here and there, but nothing of consequence, nothing that might bring up the night before.
Car running, one foot inside the vehicle, she kissed me before leaving—gently, fleetingly, a warm ray of light across my lips. When we parted, she asked, "Mind if we stay at my place tonight?"
"Of course not," I said, thankful that she even wanted to spend time with me. "When should I come by?" I smiled. "I can make you dinner." The internet was proving very helpful on that front.
Shrugging, she sat down in the driver's seat and buckled up. "Doesn't matter. Come whenever you feel like."
I frowned at her brusqueness. "I'll make dinner," I said.
She nodded, seemingly indifferent or perhaps distracted, and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "Edward, I've got to go."
"All right. Have a good day." I leaned in and kissed her temple. "I love you."
"You too," she said. I stood back as she slammed the car door shut. She gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned nearly as white and bloodless as my own.
I watched her drive away; the fear and sense of loss were tangible.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Bella's eyes were wild when we entered my house that evening. She'd wanted us to stay at her place again, but had changed her mind after seeing Charlie; it was quieter here, a place to think and grieve. She needed that. Despite the fact that Charlie was doing relatively well with his caretakers' help—as well as could be expected—he looked ill, very ill, and Bella clearly didn't know what to make of that.
"I'm going for a walk," she announced a few minutes later, opening the door in the kitchen that led out into the backyard. She saw me follow behind her and shook her head. "Alone."
"Bella, it's getting dark out. The woods aren't safe."
She bristled at this, but mostly managed to keep a straight face. "I'll be fine. I just need some time alone."
We stared at each other for a moment, neither giving in, and then I sighed, knowing she'd do damn well whatever she wanted, ultimately. I grabbed Lucky's leash from a nearby hook and thrust it into her hands. "Take Lucky." I didn't know what good the dog would be against wolves and bobcats, but he was something. I gave him a stern look as she clipped the leash to his navy leather collar.
Fifteen minutes and much pacing later, I couldn't handle her absence any longer. Anything could be happening to her in the woods. Even though she was within a mile of the house—I could still hear her heartbeat—it was too far, too potentially dangerous, especially with me unable to hear her thoughts.
My mind flipped through one terrible scenario after another. An animal could attack her. More likely: she could fall and crack her head open on a stone.
I ran out the door.
Soundlessly, I caught up to Bella—who was thankfully not losing blood from any gaping wounds—and followed her through the depths of the moon-washed forest. She never felt my presence, never turned around, and I felt the odd sensation of hunting her; I was, but it wasn't her blood I wanted. This time I knew. I only wanted to be with her, to understand and love her.
If she'd let me. If we weren't irreparably broken.
It was dark enough that human eyes would struggle. Bella tripped on roots every now and again, catching herself on tree trunks and vines, her gasps eating away at me; at least the ferns she traipsed through were soft when she fell. I hated watching her stumble, hated doing nothing when I could. Humans so easily hurt themselves, particularly this human with all her scars—twenty-seven of them—and bruises—three in the last week.
Eventually she stopped walking and dropped down at the base of a large cedar tree. I watched her from the needle-lined arms of a nearby spruce, wanting to go to her, but knowing I shouldn't. Lucky sat down with her and nudged her shoulder with his nose. She scratched his head gently. "Good dog," she whispered, her warm breath fogging above her into the cold night.
He whimpered and licked the arm of her jacket.
She talked to Lucky, then, telling him about Charlie, how she thought he only had a few more weeks, if even that, and I realized that she was telling my dog the things she should be telling me. I felt surprisingly angry—at her, at myself, even at Lucky. But I understood, too. There was a chasm between us that seemed impossible to cross.
"I'm so tired of everything," she said. Then she hugged her arms around Lucky's neck and sobbed into his golden brown hair; he whimpered again and scooted closer—taking and giving heat. I couldn't give her heat. This night, I couldn't even console her.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
I felt her eyes on me. Studying me. Looking for answers.
"Don't," I pled and kissed her to distraction.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
There was a box of condoms on Bella's bedside table. Lifestyles. "The closest thing to wearing nothing!" the box promised. I snorted. Sure. I was still staring at the box when Bella came upstairs after her nightly routine, the pipes in the old rental house groaning after her shower.
She snickered as she passed me on the way to her chest of drawers. "Your face is gonna get stuck that way. Don't look so disappointed."
"What?" I looked up. "I'm not disappointed." My voice gave me away, though.
Steam rose off her skin, and her scent filled the room. I breathed in deeply, licking my lips. I wasn't thirsty after hunting earlier in the day, but there were moments when I sampled her flavor in the air. Her monthly blood was no longer flowing, as it had been days prior, but I of course could smell it pass warm and lively through her veins. Even better.
God, it made me want her.
Her back was turned to me as she rifled through a top drawer. "I know you said we don't, uh, mix that way, because of the whole—well, anyway—but better safe than sorry, right? Last time…wasn't smart, even if you say we can't."
I frowned at the offending box, dreading the thought of latex.
Then I smiled. "So, does this mean you want to…" Perhaps I could deal with condoms, after all. She'd only let me kiss her since our first night. Our divide had so far been a physical one, too, as much as it was emotional.
Things were looking up.
When she turned around, she was grinning and blushing. She shrugged a shoulder, teasingly.
I laughed, feeling suddenly ten times lighter, almost giddy. I pulled her with me to the small bed. "You really shouldn't have bothered putting clothes on. You're most flattering without." She was only wearing soft pants and a t-shirt, but anything obstructing me seemed almost offensive. I wanted to tear them from her body, but I slowed myself, savored her.
Perhaps we'll be all right, I thought as I slid into the heated grip of her body.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Angela and Lauren were out. The house was silent, though I could still hear the thoughts of all of Bella's neighbors. Bella threw her jacket over the back of the couch and gave me a heated glance.
I knew that look. So did my cock.
She grabbed my hand and tugged. Grinning, I followed her; she could lead me wherever she wanted to go. To the stairs, where she kissed me until she was forced to come up for air, against a wall in her attic room, to the small bed that smelled of us.
Were words necessary?
As Bella moved over me, wet and wanting, her hands pulling at my hair as my lips latched onto dark rose peaks, I thought we'd found a new way to converse—a conversation of our own, made of fingers and limbs, mouths and moans; of Bella's heartbeat, of the low-toned growl I held within.
I pushed her onto her back and took her harder, the way she silently begged me to, the way I feared to; it always felt as though I were walking a fine line—performing a balancing act. She wanted me to take more, and I wanted to give more, but it was so frightening at times. I listened closely to the sounds she made, to the way blood rushed up and down in a race to the finish line, and sometimes, when I wasn't completely lost to the pleasure, I prayed to the god who'd kept her alive all the times before. Lord, don't let me hurt her.
She hooked her legs behind me as I slipped a hand between us.
It was when she cried my name that I realized we hadn't spoken at all this day.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
How did humans ingest this? Cream cheese smelled disgusting, like a boy's locker room I'd once killed a man in, and somehow managed to only get worse as I followed the recipe. Skeptical, I looked at the tablespoon of dried oregano, then at the bowl of melted down cream cheese. Surely these don't go together. How was I going to choke this one down?
I'd learned over the last ninety years that having perfect recall didn't mean I doubted myself any less at times; perhaps that was one of those useless, leftover human quirks. And so it was that I raced back upstairs to Bella's laptop to load up the recipe again. I already knew what it said, but I had to see it to believe it. However, I soon became distracted when I accidentally stumbled upon something I most certainly wasn't meant to see.
Bella hadn't cleared her browser history. There were at least twenty different paranormal and conspiracy theory websites she'd recently visited, along with the more suspicious of Wikipedia articles. Citation needed, indeed.
She'd also ended up on a few forums. Her username gave her away immediately.
There was a possibility that I was an angel.
clumsywordnerd: Hi, beachgirl06, can you tell me what the angel you saw looked like? Did you notice the color of his eyes, by any chance?
beachgirl06: They were the most startlingly beautiful blue! Like jewels set in a porcelain face of perfection.
Someone had read too many romance novels.
Or perhaps I was a demon.
clumsywordnerd: For a while my mom went to a Baptist church, and they always preached that demons were really beautiful (so they could lure you in). Can you give me any details on that, on what they might look like or do? Thank you in advance! :)
InChRiStSpOwEr: if u think u've seen one, visit your minister! i'll be praying for u! this is serious!
willingandabel: You can't *see* demons I don't think. Their part of the spiritual realm.
I really hoped Bella wasn't putting stock into anything these tinfoil-hat-wearers were spouting. She'd be ineffectually throwing holy water at me before I knew it.
Drumming my fingers on her desk, I continued to go through her history. I should have felt guilty, but considering I'd had moments where I'd wanted to kill her and had most definitely stalked her, this seemed to be a fairly minor sin in the grand scheme of things. Besides, she'd stuck her nose into my music folders before. I'd let her, but that was beside the point.
Her most recent search history went like this:
angels
angel physiology no wings
hebrews 13:2
demons
alien sightings washington
alien sightings washington STATE –D.C.
edward masen news
hard skin black eyes
hard skin gold eyes
ceiling cat lolcat
laptop noise
edward masen musician
She wasn't anywhere close to finding out the truth, and what I suspected might be frustration seemed to make her abandon her search every now and again. It was strange. As glad as I logically was that she'd not found anything out, I was also somewhat disappointed. It was an irrational emotion; as if Bella would have anything to do with me if she knew the truth—as if she should!
Still, my secret was most uncomfortably wedged between us, and we both knew it. The idea of full disclosure was at times alluring, especially now that she knew that I at least wasn't human. But would the whole truth drive her away or bring her closer? At times now, she seemed so distant, even when we were in the same room, even when I was buried in the depths of her body, conversing in that wordless language that we'd developed.
The oregano did go in the cream cheese.
Friday, November 21, 2008
"What is that smell?" I complained in a muffled voice, while pinching my nose.
Bella sniffed as she locked the front door to her home behind us. "I don't smell anything."
"You can't smell that? It's appalling!" The scent was pungent, and it made me uncomfortable. I touched Bella's wrist. "Wait here."
"What?" she laughed. "Why?"
I held up a finger to her and proceeded to walk through the living room and kitchen, down the narrow hallway that held Angela and Lauren's rooms. The stench was everywhere, but there was seemingly no cause for it. "We have to open windows," I said, upon returning to Bella's side. It was as if something had died in her house.
"No smelly cat burglars hiding anywhere?" she teased.
"No," I relented with a smile, "but I think perhaps Angela or Lauren are keeping a dead body somewhere." I opened a window and inhaled deeply.
"I really don't smell anything," Bella said, scrunching up her nose as she sniffed again. "I think Leah would've said something when she visited Lauren earlier, anyway—to see the room she'll be renting. Leah was never one to keep quiet. If there'd been anything wrong with the house, she would've said so, I think."
"Ah," I said blandly. Leah Clearwater. The Quileute. And she was a werewolf. Carlisle had warned me of their odor, but he'd been far too polite about it. Disgusting. Rotting corpses had nothing on werewolf stench, I decided. There was no way I was having Bella smell like that on a regular basis. Nor did I want her around the wolves and their potential danger…or around Jacob Black. "Imprinting" or no.
I leaned close to Bella and breathed in her scent. She always incited a burn, but dealing with fire seemed quite preferable to smelling the rot at the moment.
"And is Leah moving in soon?"
Bella shrugged. "Once Lauren leaves. She's only staying now…for me," she whispered. "'Cause of Charlie."
"She's a good friend," I said. Nodding, Bella walked into the kitchen, leaving me to trail behind her. "Bella?" I called.
"Hmm?"
"Have you given any more thought to living elsewhere, when Leah moves in?"
Her steps faltered. She knew as well as I that I didn't wish her to live merely anywhere. I wanted her with me.
"Not really," she said a minute later. Her pulse quickened with the lie. It made me smile.
I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching as she cleaned a leftover dinner plate over the sink. I could only see her profile, but I knew her brows were furrowed, pulled down over her eyes, creating that sharp 'V' that frustrated me so.
"Edward," she sighed, "you're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Staring a hole into me," she said, half-laughing.
"Sorry," I sighed. "I can't help it."
She smiled faintly as her shoulders relaxed. "I know."
Did she? After seeing her browser's history, I had to wonder what she did know, or at least what she thought she knew. Would I lose her to theories, to secrecy or to lies? Would she eventually figure out the truth; would I lose her then? Sometimes it felt as though Bella were slipping through my fingers. Our time was limited. And precious.
A greedy and selfish creature by nature, I wanted as much time with her as I could have. I'd marry her, if I thought she'd say yes, if I thought it'd give us more time. But I'd take what I could have. And I'll leave when the time is right, I told myself. But until then… Until then, I'd have her—anything she'd give me.
I went to stand behind her, pressing my body close to hers. I fit one hand to the curve of her waist, the other along her neck, where I felt the rhythmic throbbing of her pulse; my metronome. "Live with me," I breathed into her hair.
Bella dropped a fork in the sink. It clanged and scraped along the stainless steel. "Edward…"
"Do you love me?" I asked.
"Don't do this."
"Do you?" I pressed as I slid my hand up along her ribs. I smiled as her breathing became erratic.
"Probably against my better judgment, but you know I do," she whispered. "But I don't know… I don't know what you are."
"I'm yours," I said easily. "Let that be enough," I begged against the shell of her ear. "Let me be enough, even if I don't deserve such a concession or you."
Bella's hand came up to rest over mine, where I now held her left breast, feeling her heart, feeling her life. "This isn't about my father or helping me out?"
"It never was. Not entirely," I admitted. "I want to help you as much as you'll let me, of course, but more than that, I want you with me." Forever, I thought, but I closed my eyes and willed away the ghost of a scarlet-eyed beauty. "I'll let you pay for half of the groceries if it'll make you feel better."
She snorted. "Maybe I'll figure you out if we're together more," she said.
I feared she might, but it was a risk I was now willing to take, if only we could find our way across the rest of that yawning divide between us, if only I'd know she was safe with me and not entertaining damnable werewolves.
Holding her close, I kissed her neck. "Is that a yes?"
She sighed. "Probably against my better judgment, yeah." She leaned back into me. "I want to be with you. Nothing's changed that."
Late Sunday Night, November 23, 2008
We made no formal arrangements, but small changes took place over the weekend. For the first time since Bella had grieved for Charlie in the woods, we stayed at my place; but even though more of her clothes were in my closet, it wasn't truly our place yet. She'd made no move to rent out her attic room to someone else—hadn't even told Angela or Lauren about the decision to stay with me. I supposed the room was a failsafe, in case things didn't work out between us. It was a smart decision on Bella's part, given all my secrecy, but it was still annoying. I wanted her to trust me, no matter how much I realized that was an irrational desire. Who would trust a liar?
Bella's breath was a steady, warm whisper against my neck now. She had fallen asleep on top of me, exhausted after lovemaking and continued stress. I didn't know how she could possibly stand my cool skin, even with the heat of an electric blanket surrounding us, but she'd molded herself to me as lichen on a branch.
"I love you," I whispered, while running my hands up and down her back, a part of my brain counting the gentle knots of vertebrae over and over again.
She shifted on me slightly, her nipples pebbling against my chest. She snuffled against my neck, blowing a lock of brown hair under my chin. "Love you," she murmured subconsciously. She always replied to that in her sleep.
I smiled and gave her bottom a gentle squeeze as I breathed in her scent. This room smelled of her. I smelled of her. And it burned. But that felt normal now—right, even.
I'd always been a little prone to masochism.
"I want to tell you, you know," I said a moment later, using a tone of voice her human ears couldn't process. "I want you to know who I am." I swallowed hard. "What I am."
I sighed and continued to speak lowly. "But you'll run when the truth comes out—as you well should." I held her tighter, as tightly as I dared. "I want to keep you for as long as I can. It's selfish, I know, but if I could keep you this way—never tell you my secret—I would. You'll run if you find out," I said again. "I won't stop you, I promise. I only want a little longer."
Monday, November 24, 2008
Bella got in from her shift at Hal's around eight that evening. She plopped down onto the sofa beside me. She smelled like steak and fries. "Can we talk?"
I put away the crossword I'd been doing to pass the time. "Of course."
She fidgeted. One leg bounced up and down, while she picked at the hem of her shirt. "I want to quit at Books & News. I want more time with Charlie."
I smiled. "Good. Have you told your boss?"
"Well, no. I figured, well, I needed to talk to you first. I can't really…" She blushed. "I need help." Oh, she hated saying that; her face was so sour with it that it almost made me laugh.
"You have my help, whatever you or Charlie need—financially or otherwise. I've told you that. Quit the job."
"Not until you tell me you'll let me pay you back."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to keep tabs on it. You're staying here now, anyway." I smiled slightly. "As far as I'm concerned, what's mine is yours."
"I'll keep tabs, then." She arched a brow. "I've already marked down the hundred I owe you."
"What hundred?"
"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" she asked, laughing. "Twenty-dollar bills don't just show up in my wallet, especially since I don't use cash. It's like you've been reverse pick-pocketing me."
I sighed. This would have been so much simpler only sixty years ago. She'd have married me, and we'd be sharing finances. Of course, I was rabidly drinking human blood sixty years ago, and she wasn't born yet, and no matter what I was still a vampire…so it was a moot point, I supposed. Still, this all seemed needlessly complicated.
Why couldn't she do things the way I wanted her to?
"If keeping a tally of what you use would make you feel better, then go ahead," I said. I'd only make sure she didn't pay me back. Pulling my wallet out, I handed her the card I'd organized for her weeks earlier.
She stared at it. "You just had that at the ready? That's kind of sexist."
"Sexist?"
"I…think so."
"Well." I shrugged. "Just take it."
"We should make a contract, I think," Bella said.
I laughed. "A contract? I'm not signing anything, Bella."
Eyes narrowed, she looked at me closely, but my expression gave nothing away. "Okay," she said finally, reluctantly taking the card from me, while scrunching her face up in dismay.
Then she hugged me, using all her human strength to hold onto my neck. "Thank you," she whispered. "You were…right." She hated saying that, too. "I need more time with Charlie. I wish I'd listened to you sooner. I am going to pay you back, though."
I smiled, thinking with great sadness that I'd probably be gone before she ever had the chance.
She rested her head on my shoulder as I held her against my side. I knew without asking that we were both thinking of how Charlie had looked the day before—rarely awake, barely coherent when he was. It was for the better. His waking thoughts told me of the considerable pain he was in, even with certain medications. Hospice was caring for him full-time now, in a hospital bed that had been setup in the small living room, the recliner and couch having been maneuvered upstairs for the time being.
"He doesn't have long, does he?" Bella asked, already knowing the answer.
Truly, I was surprised he had made it this long. Sometimes I wondered what he was waiting for; he was hanging by a thread, determined each Sunday we saw him. I didn't reply, opting instead to kiss her forehead. "It'll be all right, Bella. Everything will work out."
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
It wasn't often that I felt vampirism had advantages, but watching the moon rise in the sky while I relaxed on a thin, moss-covered rock ledge was one of them. It didn't matter that nothing but air stretched out for miles beneath my dangling feet. Even should I fall and hurt myself, I wouldn't die—couldn't. Though I could feel the wind was cold and harsh, it didn't bother me, didn't penetrate my skin with its chilly, searching fingers. I was an anomalous creature that defied the laws of nature, but in this moment it didn't matter as much.
Tonight, the moon was merely a sliver, a faint, sweeping stroke of grey-white on a star-speckled canvas awash with the bleeding watercolors of the Milky Way. Even without the moon's brightness, the stars lit the forest that rested below. Out in the Olympic National Park's wilderness, the earth yet seemed young; free from everything, save the most basic signs of humanity. It was comforting—seductive even. I could disappear here. Perhaps one day I would, when Bella was gone, forever asleep in the earth, as she one day would be.
My dead heart ached. Could I actually exist in a world without her?
Carlisle leapt down onto the rock ledge and sat beside me; the earthy smell of elk blood emanated from him, along with the sweet apple scent that belonged solely to Esme, who was still hunting. He stared at me for a long while, thinking.
I didn't mind Carlisle's thoughts. They were quietly-toned, calm and organized, even for our kind. I didn't even mind the one-way conversations with him.
And how are you and Bella? he thought.
I laughed. "Am I that obvious?"
His lips twitched with a smile. New love is always an obvious wonder to behold. It's easy to spot the joy…and the pain that's sometimes there, too.
"I want to change her," I whispered. Even two weeks ago, I wouldn't have confided in a Cullen, but I'd grown close to them, felt tied to them through Bella and Charlie.
Carlisle was silent for a time, his thoughts turning to patients' files from the hospital. When he replied, he spoke. "Alice says you haven't told Bella the truth yet."
"Of course not. How can I?"
Vampires only had one rule: to keep our secret. Revealing ourselves through careless hunting practices, or freely telling humans our secret, could lead to a swift demise for all humans and vampires involved. I didn't know to what extent this rule was enforced, but I knew of the enforcers; the first vampire I'd met had warned me about them, and I'd learned more since then. There were powerful vampires in Italy who called themselves the Volturi; they were, for all intents and purposes, our royalty. By combining physical prowess with powerful mental abilities, they were unstoppable. Crossing them was unwise.
"The Volturi…" I started.
"Wouldn't be a problem if you changed her," he said. "They hardly see ill in turning humans, provided it's done carefully and within reason. Keeping our secret is the only matter they concern themselves with."
I frowned and looked at Carlisle from the corner of my eye. "Changing her would break your treaty with the Quileutes."
"It would, yes."
"Are you telling me you wouldn't mind?" I asked incredulously.
Carlisle sighed. "You would be taking a human life—a healthy life. I can't condone that, regardless of the treaty we share with the Quileutes. And yet, I know Bella is your mate; to leave her, to let her die, would be an agony I wouldn't wish upon you. I understand your conundrum, and I wouldn't be surprised if you gave into the desire."
Smiling faintly, he said, "I do wonder what would have happened if things hadn't gone the way they did for Esme and me. I changed her when she was dying, years after I'd met her as a human. But had I not encountered her on the brink of death, had she been alive and well and prosperous, would I have eventually tracked her down and selfishly turned her, anyway?" He shook his head. "It hardly bears thinking about, but I do wonder nonetheless."
"So you think it's inevitable that I'll tell Bella the truth and change her," I said, feeling both comforted and bleak.
"I believe we have the gift of free will. With it, very little is absolutely inevitable, and even of that which is, we have some control," Carlisle said.
"Tell that to Alice," I joked, and he laughed with me.
"Even Alice will tell you that our most basic choices are what construct our world, no matter if the world itself is complex and full of surprises."
I nodded, though I still didn't always know what to think of Alice's visions and understanding, much less her control over them. "I won't change Bella," I said—firmly, as though to command myself into submission. "I don't want to sentence her to tedious endlessness, to unparalleled thirst."
"But…" Carlisle said.
"But I do sometimes want it," I confessed. It was such a silly desire. The moment she found out the truth—if she found out—she wouldn't want anything to do with me.
He nodded. "Well, should you choose that path—and secure her consent-all I ask is that you give us ample warning. I won't and can't help you in making this kind of a decision, but should it come to that, my family will help you and Bella with the transition." The Quileutes don't have to know.
"Thank you, Carlisle," I said.
We sat in companionable silence, and I stared at the moon again, my head filled with waking dreams of a timeless woman who flickered in and out of focus, existing in one moment, only to disappear in the next.
Thanksgiving Day, Thursday, November 27, 2008
Lifeless or not, Esme Cullen's heart was a soft one, I'd learned. As such, she went to great lengths to organize Thanksgiving dinner around Charlie's hospital bed. It was a bittersweet celebration, with the scents of turkey, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie mixed in with the acridness of attempted sterility.
Charlie refused the strongest of his pain medications, wanting instead to enjoy the day with friends and family. It made him more lucid, certainly, but I knew the pain it caused. The hospice workers had left at Carlisle's suggestion, but they'd return later. Alice knew he would struggle through the night.
He beckoned to me once when the others were in the kitchen. Fixing me with a sharp, brown-eyed stare, he warned, "Carlisle'll be keeping an eye on you when I'm gone. Don't mess it up with her."
"I'd never mean to—"
"That's good. Don't, then," Charlie said. "Understood?" His hair-dusted brows rose high on his forehead.
Swallowing, I nodded and said the only thing I could. "Yes, sir." He patted my shoulder from where I sat beside his hospital bed. All right kid.
Knowing I had his approval meant more than I ever thought it would.
Friday, November 28, 2008
I heard Bella's car long before she parked outside. I knew the steady rumble of its engine almost as well as I knew the beating of her heart. I waited for those sounds during the day, longing to hear them, as I knew they meant she was returning to me. It took everything in me to not rush out after her, to not be waiting at the door as her key slid into place. Did she have any idea how exciting she made my dull existence?
"Samantha was okay with me quitting," Bella said as she entered the house, shrugging off her father's old jacket. "Apparently she wanted to cut back on the number of people she was employing, anyway, so that's good. She won't have to let anyone go now."
"I'm glad you'll be working less," I said, pulling her into an embrace. I had to touch her. "You need more rest." More time with Charlie. More time with me.
Ignoring my words, she kissed me slowly, deeply, allowing me entrance into her soft mouth. When we pulled away, she touched beneath my eyes. "Your eyes are black," she said.
"Sorry." I looked away.
"You don't have to be sorry." She held my face in her hands, creating a frame of fire. "Are you ever going to tell me?"
"You said you wouldn't ask for more," I reminded her.
"I know," she sighed, "but I want to know you so much. I want to know you. No matter what you are. That's gotta count for something, doesn't it?" Her fingers snaked into my hair, to coil, to grip securely. "Tell me. You won't lose me. I swear it." She pled with her eyes.
Shaking my head, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to hers. "Not yet," I breathed against her lips. "Don't make me tell you yet." I ran a hand beneath her shirt. "Come upstairs, Bella."
At least we could share secrets this way.
Closing Notes: I'm participating in Fandoms Fight the Floods, which is seeking to help Queensland's flood victims. Donate $5.00 to the Queensland Government Appeal (it's legit) and send your receipt to the managers at fandomsfightthefloods(dot)blogspot(dot)com. On the first of March, you'll receive a packet of stories from fic authors. I've personally signed up to do a new one-shot and a SotPM outtake.
Regarding the SotPM outtake, please see the poll in my profile to vote for what I'll write. The outtake and one-shot won't show up on FFn until June, so I hope you'll consider supporting a good cause and getting a packet filled with fics.