Thank you to Sunshine for pre-reading, orangeapeal for setting me straight, and of course my Beta, PaintedTeacherLady, for allowing me to constantly pester you.
I hope you enjoy...
Chapter Four
A Little Sensitive
I look away from Carlisle and use this moment for a little pre-emptive prayer. "Dear Lord, before Carlisle brainwashes me into regretting last night—and I know he'll try, it's his job—anyway, you should know exactly what I'm thinking. Last night wasn't wrong. It wasn't. I know you gave us all the playbook, and I didn't follow your game rules, but I felt you more last night than almost any other time in my life. You were there…I hope you didn't watch… but It was holy somehow. I know I'm just some rookie on your team, and Carlisle is…a…third base coach, but I'm hoping you'll root for me. Amen."
Carlisle eyes still ask me for permission, I nod and brace myself as he begins. "Let us pray. Heavenly Father we give thanks for your many blessings—for allowing us to be your instruments of peace and compassion. We thank you for granting us enough patience to watch your eternal light shine through Bella. We ask that you have mercy on Mike's soul and grant him entrance into your heavenly home—to forgive all of our sins and to ease the sorrow of those suffering. Please Lord, bless this bond between Edward and Bella and continue to bless the relationship between Edward, Esme, and me. May Edward always know our love for him. In the name of The Lord, we pray. Amen."
"Amen." Carlisle disarms me with prayer. But a storm is coming; I can feel it.
"Edward, I have something for you." He pulls a manila folder from his case. "Before you say anything, you should know I've been carrying this around for at least a week—never found the right time to give it to you." The folder contains a catalogue and an application for The University of Washington's PhD in Clinical Psychology. This doesn't make sense.
"I don't understand. I know we talked about a Ph.D. after I'm ordained, but you know I'm leaning towards a Theology Ph.D. I guess I could reconsider the Psych degree, but isn't this a little premature?" I look at Carlisle for some clue, but he gives nothing away. What does this have to do with my celibacy? I begin to flip through the catalog, "I have over a year to finish my Masters in Divinity and I want to get ordained before I …" Oh, I understand.
"You're kicking me out of seminary for having sex? Are you serious?" I stand to leave and slap the folder down on the pew. I dared to hope for some sort of acceptance. "And you start this conversation off with prayers for mercy and blessed relationships…terrific." I don't need any of this shit—I'm going to see Bella.
"Edward sit down," he commands before I can exit the pew, I pause and he continues, "Did I not just say I've been carrying that folder around for a week?" I snort; I'm angry, I want to leave, and I definitely do not want to have this conversation. "Do I lie to you Edward?"
"No," I say, the irritation evident in my voice.
"Do you think you could afford me a few minutes of your time?" He's being sarcastic. He too is losing patience. I walk back over and take my seat, propping my elbows on my knees and running my hands through my hair. When Carlisle doesn't say anything, I look at him and find he's in the same position, but his hands are clasped together, he's silently praying.
Well, I can pray too. Okay, Lord, I guess I got your answer on the whole, 'root for Edward' campaign. Don't know if I agree with your answer, but I get it, you need to stay consistent if you want some sort of credibility. I'm taking a shot and throwing out another request…I am really angry right now, on the verge of saying something I might regret, and I don't want to do that—especially not with Carlisle. Please help me keep it together through this. We'll talk about Bella later. Sound good? Amen.
I see Carlisle mouth, "Amen." After a long moment, he looks at me and asks, "Edward, why did you decide to be a minister?"
"Carlisle, you know why," I grumble.
"Humor me."
"Because I want to help people."
"Help them how?"
I lean back and gather my thoughts. "Help them through their difficult times, help them find strength, to sort out their demons…have faith in God." I wonder if I'm making sense, if I'm passing this test.
"And how do you feel about working in the Family Room?"
"Good, very good. I've been able to keep my emotions in check…well, up until yesterday, and I think I could be good in there, in that type of situation."
"You prefer being with people one-on-one and in small groups?"
"Yes."
"As opposed to a large congregation?" Carlisle knows I still struggle with addressing a large group.
"Yes. You know this already." I know where this is going; he's building an argument. I feel ill. I have a crystallized vision of my future that is too good to abandon. I prepare myself for a debate, to fight for my vision.
"Edward, you know the kind of work we do in there is just a small fraction of my job. It's mostly preparing weekly sermons, some teaching, a lot of church politics…"
"I know, but I've thought about that. I wouldn't have to teach. Maybe I could only work at hospitals—be the on-call man of faith at a few places. Maybe I could set up some sort of faith counseling center, make house-calls…I don't need to have a congregation in the traditional sense." The argument is weak; I sound desperate, my head is cloudy from sleep deprivation—my thoughts scatter as my future visions fade with each passing minute I sit here. I'm not ready to say goodbye to that future. I search to find a graceful way to end this conversation.
"Why would you do that? Why would you work so hard to reach a destination you don't really want?" But I do want this; I can be good at this. "Watching you in seminary only confirmed what I've always thought, you should be a psychologist not a minister."
His words come as a blow. I'm wounded, speechless. I'm unworthy of following in Carlisle's footsteps—a fact I always knew, but foolishly believed he did not. Okay God, I'm done here, point well made, let's wrap this up. I close my eyes for a moment waiting to sense some sort of lighting or temperature change that tells me I'm no longer sitting in this chapel, that I've transported myself. It doesn't happen. I'm forced to walk through the fire.
"Because I'm not devout enough?"
"No, no, I'm not saying that at all. This is about your gifts, not your challenges. Can't you see that you're trying to mold the job of a minister into that of a counselor, or therapist, a psychologist of some sort?"
"But what about God and faith and…" My heart is in my throat and it's choking me with emotion that I want to swallow down.
"You know my position on that—you don't need to be a minister to minister."
I nod. I've had enough and want to leave—I need to process this on my own. I pull from every ounce of energy in my body and I say in a composed tone, "Thank you Carlisle, this is good advice. I'll take a look at the application."
"Edward, please tell me why. Why are you so fixed on being a minister?" I see his face twisted in anguish. He's done so much for me; I owe him some sort of response.
"I don't know," I shrug and try to sound nonchalant, "I thought maybe you and I could, I don't know, be sort of colleagues." The look on his face tells me he needs more, urges me to keep taking. "We would have our own congregations, but…you know, we'd still read the same books and talk about them—discuss theology and philosophy. Share stories…keep our Sunday dinners…have a reason to stay in touch. It's a stupid idea, I know."
"Edward, I'm sorry…I've made a big mistake." He has let me get too close to him. I've always tried to keep my distance, but I've crossed the line. I look at his tear-filled eyes and my own tears threaten—I've had enough. God, are you in here at all? Are you listening? I stand again to leave, "Thanks Carlisle, this has been an important conversation and I know it hasn't been easy for you, but I need to check in on Bella right now. I'm sure we'll talk again soon."
I turn my back, but he stops me with his words, "Edward, when your parents died…" Please God, make him stop, "and you came to live with us, Esme and I made a choice to never be your parents, never try to replace them…Edward? Edward, please look at me…" I turn to see him wipe away his tears. My eyes burn as the angry sixteen-year-old inside me warns me not to cry. "Your parents are always alive in your heart and mind. We are not your parents. But Edward, you will always be our son. More than a son, you're my friend. We love you unconditionally—you will always be a daily presence in our lives." I take a step towards him and put my arms around him. I pat his back, enough contact to comfort him but still keep my control. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you this sooner," his voice breaks and I hug him more sincerely.
But he has told me, in so many gestures of love. My mind floods with deeply buried images: Carlisle taking me home from the hospital, Esme decorating my new bedroom to replicate my room at home, my first Christmas without my parents and every one thereafter, trying to be a strong young man during the day, but falling apart in that bedroom at night, silencing my sobs in the pillow while praying for God to save me from my sadness.
Holding back my tears becomes impossible; I let go and cry for the first time in years. I desperately hold onto this man whom I love and need—this man who anchors me. "I love you Carlisle, I love you so much." I have two fathers in heaven and one on this Earth. Carlisle is my father.
Carlisle hugs me tighter and after a few moments, we pull ourselves together, breaking our hug and wiping our tears. Carlisle hands me a handkerchief. My father always carried a handkerchief, and in that moment I decide I too will never leave home without one.
"Well, aren't we two masculine men of the new millennium?" he laughs.
"You know, Carlisle, I read that women really like a man who can cry now and again."
"Good to know, maybe I'll cry for Esme tonight and see if it has any effect. Speaking of women, this Bella Swan is something special isn't she?"
"Yes she is Carlisle." This talk was never going to be about my abstinence, or judgment, or sin. The warm smile on Carlisle's face is that of one friend who is truly hopeful, glad, for another. A friend sent from God. Okay, okay, I get it God…you're still in here.
"That was some display in The Family Room," he says, his respect for her evident.
"I know. Carlisle, when did you know with Esme?"
"Sometime between when I first laid eyes on her and thirty seconds later…you?"
"Something like that."
"Well, we shouldn't make her wait then, should we? Dinner tonight?"
"It is Sunday, isn't it?"
~0~
I meet up with Bella and Charlie in Alice's room in time to catch the tail end of the physician's consultation. Depending on her ability to heal, the doctor estimates another ten days in the hospital. Attempting a little bedside humor, the doctor adds, "If your pelvis doesn't cause any trouble, you might get released early for good behavior." Alice is not amused, nor does she pretend to be for his benefit. Then he adds worse news, "Injuries such as this respond best to intense therapy."
"Therapy?" she says, emphasizing each syllable.
"Yes, physical therapy, residential physical therapy, actually."
"Residential?" she asks, seething. This poor doctor has no idea who he's dealing with. He's a nice guy Alice, maybe a wife and kids, please don't kill him.
"Yes, we have an inpatient rehabilitation program. It won't feel like a hospital, more like a college residence hall."
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary." Alice appears as if she might be smiling, but she's really bearing her teeth.
"We could talk about this another time, maybe when your parents get here. I understand they're arriving today from Europe."
"I am a twenty-four year old, independent woman, what do my parents have to do with my decision to…"
"Doctor, it sounds like we're still in a wait-and-see period. We won't know anything for sure until her pelvis starts to heal, right?" Bella jumps in.
Instead of responding to Bella or Alice, the doctor speaks to Charlie, "Yes, we can wait and see before making any decisions." His dismissal of the two women does not go unnoticed. Bella and Alice exchange annoyed looks as he talks to Charlie about various options for physical therapy. These are two strong women capable of taking care of themselves and each other. I no longer feel bad for the doctor and hope Alice gleans some joy from sparring with him this week.
The good-doctor leaves and the conversation winds-down. Topics float from the weather, to the flight schedule for Alice's parents, and finally, hospital food. We discuss nothing of importance. In fact, Charlie and I don't say anything, we just watch as Alice and Bella avoid their inevitable goodbye. Alice is the brave one who finally says, "Bella, if you don't get out of here soon, I won't get any beauty sleep before my parents get here."
"And you could use it, you're looking a little worn-out," she teases.
"Now I know Forks is a lot more exciting than Seattle, but you're coming back to me soon, right?"
"Right."
"Charlie, if she doesn't, Edward is going to roll me to Forks in this hospital bed and we're going to snatch her away, understand?"
"You got it Alice. I'm sure Bells will be sick of me soon enough."
"Okay, get over here and kiss me good-bye, Bella"
Bella takes Alice's face in her hands and presses her lips to her forehead. Alice can no longer keep up her cheerful act, and tears stream down her face. Bella kisses each eye, her tear-streaked cheeks, the tip of her nose, and then wipes Alice's tears with her thumbs. It is such an intimate scene, I feel I should look away, but I can't.
Bella whispers, "I hope these tears aren't for me, because I'm going to be just fine."
Alice sniffles, "I know you are; I'm really going to miss you though."
"I know, me too." Bella pulls a disposable cloth from a nearby container, and begins to gently wipe Alice's face like a mother would for her sick child, her voice still soft, "Now look what you made me do. You've got my Bella germs all over you."
"I like your germs." They share the kind of look that says a thousand words that only the two of them could ever know. After their long, wordless conversation, Bella says, "I'm going to go now, so I'll see you later."
"Okay Bella, I'll see you later."
~0~
As Bella and I to wait by the hospital entrance, Charlie retrieves the car. She stands a few feet from me and rolls a pebble under her foot in small circles. Her hands buried in her pockets, she's deep in thought. The only sound is the quiet scraping of the pebble across the pavement. Although we've spent this whole day together, I still don't know what she's thinking, how's she's feeling. With the exception of the bathtub this morning, she hasn't even cried. Hell, I've cried today more than she has, so has Alice, and Carlisle. Only a few minutes left before she returns to Forks and I won't see her again for several days. I wish I had something comforting to say. Lord, help me to care for her…help me to find something to say that will provide solace, relief. I wait, but hear nothing, so I keep it simple and ask, "Bella, how are you?"
She doesn't say anything, just gives a quick nod while keeping her eyes on the rolling pebble.
Lord, that didn't work. Do you have anything else? I know…this is a tough one, that's why I 'm calling on you here. You see Bella's one of the best players you have on your team and we want to keep her. It would be bad news if she started looking for another franchise.
Lay your hands on her, Edward.
"Bella…" I step to her and place my hand on her elbow; I hope that's enough. "How are you?" She nods again and bursts out in tears. I pull her to me. My poor, brave girl, how long have you been holding this in? I speak in her ear as I rock her, "I know Bella, I know. Let it go, don't keep this bottled up." She cries uncontrollably. I feel her slide down my body, her legs weak. I pull up and secure one arm tightly around her waist as I move my other hand in long, slow strokes over her back, from her shoulders to her hips. I think I'm getting better at this. Thank you, Lord, thank you.
Twenty-four hours ago she walked down the isle a reluctant bride thinking life couldn't get much worse, and yet it's only spiraled downward since then. I don't want to leave her, especially not like this.
"Let me come to Forks with you," I whisper, but it only spurs more tears.
Lord, let me go to Forks. I'll follow Charlie's car or get the address from Alice. Bella won't even know I'm there. Maybe I could just hang around outside her bedroom window and watch her sleep, make sure she's okay. No? Alright, I should love her, but not stalk her.
Oh my Bella, my love. Do I tell her I love her? No, it's too much, she's already overwhelmed. Over Bella's shoulder, I see Charlie pull up to the curb in his car. He doesn't get out, just waits, watches, and then adverts his eyes. She takes a long shuddering breath, and pulls away wiping away her tears with the back of her hand before I have a chance to. Must buy handkerchiefs.
"You, young man, may not come to Forks with me. You have school tomorrow," she says poking the circle of tears on my chest. She's using the same mocking motherly tone she used with Alice. If this is what she needs right now, I'll play along.
"Yes ma'am."
"Good, because I don't want to get a phone call from the principal…or a bishop or cardinal or anything."
"No ma'am."
"And, you will need to take this shirt to the dry cleaners before it gets ruined," she says as she feels the material between her fingers. "Because this is definitely not The Gap."
"No ma'am."
"And you'll send me the bill?"
"Of course."
"And you'll come to the funeral?"
"Of course, Bella."
"Good…thank you," she breathes.
She takes a step back to gather herself, but I clutch her arms, unwilling to let her go.
"Bella, if you change you mind, if you want me to come…"
"I know."
I give her an innocent kiss, one appropriate for Charlie's watchful eyes.
"Goodbye, Edward."
"I'll see you later, Bella."
When I open the car door to let her in, we hear Paul Simon's, "Father and Daughter" playing on the car stereo:
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
That loved his daughter more than I love you
I lean in the car and say, "Good song, Charlie." He gives me a knowing smile and I'm sure it's not a random choice. Bella and I exchange one final glance, and she wears her counterfeit smile for me. I shut the door and watch them drive away. Bella will be in Charlie's good hands, he might not be a man of many words—but he has is own way of communicating.
As their car turns out of the parking lot, a single thought drums in my head—I need a cigarette, or a drink, or a cigarette and a drink. It's been a long time since I've had one of those tasty nicotine treats, and though quitting was brutal, I could use one right now.
Searching through the hospital gift shop is no help. What, no beer and cigarettes section? A small bouquet of flowers catches my eye—a square, short glass vase housing a cheery crown of daisies, deep pink roses and light pink mini carnations. I purchase the flowers and a box of candy and make my way back upstairs. "For me?" Alice's voice is soft, surprised.
"I thought your room could use a little love." I place the flowers on her bedside table and she eyes the chocolates.
"Is that dark chocolate?"
"Yes, but these are for me," I tease.
"Hand them over, Padre."
"You wouldn't like them; they have a little sea salt mixed it."
"You're taking your life in your own hands."
I laugh and give her the box; she opens them and offers me the first piece. I pop it in my mouth and take the seat next to the bed. The chocolate melts slowly on my tongue—I close my eyes, I don't want to chew, I just want to let the sensation of sweet and bitter and salty, the rich viscosity of cocoa butter engraved with salt crystals fill my mouth and distract me from this day. Thank you, God, for chocolate.
"You should see your face, that's the face of a man who likes his chocolate. I don't suppose you have a single brother lurking somewhere."
I swallow and run my tongue over my teeth, sucking away any remaining chocolate. "Sorry Alice, only child."
"Oh well." She stares at me for a long while and finally asks, "How was she? How was she when she left?" I shrug. I don't know what I should tell her, in part because I don't know how Bella really is, and in part because I think I should protect Alice. Can anyone really hide anything from Alice? Would it do any good?
"Not sure—she cried a little. I asked her if I could come to Forks, but…"
"It's not you. Bella likes her alone time now and then." I nod, feeling slightly comforted. "She likes you Edward, a lot. After all, she sold you her virginity for a bowl of Captain Crunch." Fuck. I run my fingers through my hair. When did they talk? They haven't even been alone together. Alice answers my silent question, "Bella and I are very good at invisible sonic speed texting."
"Are you going to kill me now?"
"Chocolate, flowers, the speakerphone call…no, you're no use to me dead and we have a lot of work to do. Besides, I actually like you. It's strange, I don't even feel the need to give you the 'don't hurt her or else speech.'"
"Good, it's not necessary. And I like you too Alice."
"Plus, you were safe last night…and you got her to eat, that's more than I've been able to do lately."
Safe?
Safe? Good Lord. I didn't use a condom. I didn't have a condom. I didn't think about having a condom. What virgin my age—what celibate, seminarian virgin my age carries around a condom? My sex fantasies never include a condom. Wait, I didn't come inside of her, no…I did. I definitely did. Lord, please, please, please Lord, let me be sterile—not always, just right now, just last night.
"Edward, she told you she's on the pill, right?"
"What?"
"Edward, Bella has been on the pill for months." My cheeks blow out with the force of my exhale. I didn't realize I was holding my breath.
"Why is she on the pill?"
"It was for him. He wanted to…what did he call it…'ride bareback?' as soon as he got the chance."
"Classy." Disgusting, really. There was a time in my life when I would have eaten the likes of Mike Newton for breakfast. Why was she with this guy? But she wasn't…was she? Bella was never with him. Call it religious abstinence or call it a sixth sense, Bella knew-she knew he wasn't worthy. She picked me. Last night, Isabella Swan chose me to be the one. The magnitude of her decision-our decision—is only beginning to sink in. I want to ask Alice about Mike, but I decide to save it for another time, there are more immediate concerns. "Alice, what was the other thing you said, something about eating?"
"Ever since Mike's revelation, she hasn't been able to keep much down. She's trying to eat, but…well…she's lost a lot of weight in a little amount of time. Even Charlie noticed.
"Maybe he can get her to eat at home."
"He's going to try."
I can sit here feeling helpless and angry or try to get something accomplished—I choose the latter. "You say we have a lot to do?"
Alice hands me a wire-bound steno-pad with a list scribed in perfect script on the first page:
To Do:
Call work, out approx three weeks
Call Rose, not moving in
Unpack B
New job for B
Wedding gifts
Cancel Honeymoon hotel
Condo?
To Get:
Clothes
Make-up
Laptop
Cell charger
Stationary
"Who's Rose?"
"An old friend of ours from college. She planned on moving in next month, but she understands that Bella's going to stay."
"You and Bella are roommates."
"Yes, she and Mike were going to move into their condo after the honeymoon. She already has some boxes over there, but I think it would help if we moved them back to my place…and when I say 'we'…" Alice gives me a guilty wince.
"I understand. I can handle it."
"My parents can do most of the list…"
"Really, it's okay. I have a friend I can call." Another good excuse to hang out with Jasper.
"What's this part here about a job? Where does Bella work?"
Alice raises one eyebrow and tells me in a tense voice, "Newton's Olympic Outfitters, the Seattle headquarters."
"You mean they are The Newton family and Bella works for them?"
"The one and only, she's worked for them since high school, their very first store is in Forks." They're abhorrent—nickel and diming Bella when they sit on a small fortune. If I had known this during the meeting, I wouldn't have kept quiet. "I know, sickening isn't it? I nearly went ballistic when I heard the whole wedding gift conversation. I almost turned the mute off."
"I might have let it go. A little strange to have your voice screaming from my pocket…"
"Oh no—I would have insisted you place me in the center of the table." Alice sighs regretfully, "I could have ripped her to shreds."
"I'm sure. I would have liked to witness that."
"We still have Plan B."
"Plan B?"
"Next page." I turn to the next page and we each take another chocolate as I silently read.
Dear _,
Bella is so grateful for your generous gift of _. I am sure your _ would be helpful to Bella as she pieces together her life following her beloved husband's tragic and untimely passing. I write to inform you that she has requested my assistance in selflessly returning all wedding gifts.
If you would like your gift returned, please indicate your request and preferred mailing address at AliceBrandon . com /BellasGrief. If you would like Bella to keep your gift as an expression of your sympathy and love, you may indicate so at the same address.
Sincerely,
Alice Brandon, Maid of Honor
She's good, frightening, but good.
"You like it, don't you? I know it needs a little work and I'll have to see the presents to flesh out the descriptions, but I think it will do the trick."
"I can't imagine who would be heartless enough to request a return."
"We'll see. There are some unopened gifts at the apartment, but they mostly received cards. From the looks of the guests, I've estimated roughly $15,325 in checks and gift cards—but mostly checks. It's the bridge she needs while she hunts for a new job and she could use some to pay back the Newtons' down payment."
"True." That's one thing Bella can take off her plate. I'll get the address when I move the boxes and make the sale soon—no reason to keep Bella worrying.
"Because that would be horrible, you know, waiting to hear about the condo sale."
"True."
"But you have this real estate friend, Esme is her name?"
"Yes." I don't know where she's going with this.
"And you think maybe she'll get the asking price?"
"Yes." I say slowly, suspiciously. What is she trying to say?
"Edward, don't you have something to tell me?"
I'm lost.
"So, looking to expand your real estate holdings?" she asks in a deep voice. What? Fuck!
"You really should be more careful when turning off your phone," she says dolefully.
Damn it! What did she hear? Kissing in the closet? Praying with Carlisle? Crying about my dead parents? Please God, I hope she didn't hear about my parents. Did Bella hear? I have a vision of them giggling—listening to my every word. Fuck! I groan as I try to find the words, "Alice…" but I have nothing.
"Edward, I'm so sorry—I hoped you'd tell me."
"What did you hear?" I snap.
"That was the last thing I heard—I swear—Charlie and Bella were coming down the hall and I turned the phone off, I promise." I close my eyes and try to gather my thoughts.
"Edward, please don't be mad—I'm sorry." I don't even know why I'm so pissed, I just am. They wouldn't laugh at me, would they? I don't want Bella to know about my parents, my money, or the condo—not now, not yet, maybe never.
I lean in and say, "Bella cannot know about the condo." I mean it as a threat, and she takes it as one.
"Of course…I wouldn't…I won't say anything. That's between the two of you. Besides, I want Bella to have her own money. Would I go through all this with the wedding gifts if I thought…if I wanted her to…?" Her tears spillover—I'm the asshole. Christ, please give me the gift of immediate transport so I may send myself to my bed and forget most of this crap day. This is the second time today I've asked for this gift. I think I'm onto something. Think it over.
I hand her a tissue, bitter that the handkerchief idea didn't come to me sooner. "Shhh… Alice, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I lost my temper." What do I tell her? That I don't want to explain my money...my dead parents? That I have an enraged sixteen-year-old living inside of me? "I'm a little…sensitive about some things."
"I only told you because I was afraid you were going to move in, or buy it for her, or something like that." Alice sniffles and wipes away her tears. "She found out Mike took Lauren there—she hates that place. I didn't want you to do something you'd regret."
"I understand, I'm sorry. He is a…he was a…"
"A total prick."
"Yes, yes he was. And you're a very good friend."
"Yes I am." Her tears subside. This good friend—good person—lies in a hospital bed with bolts through her pelvis. And what did I do? I yelled at her until she cried. It's a banner day, Masen. I look down at Alice and see a fierce, but wounded animal. In many ways, she and I are utterly different. But in some deep, fundamental way, we are the same-somehow familial. I should care for Alice as if she was my own, my kin.
"Alice, can you forgive me?"
"Of course, Edward. I'm feeling a little sensitive myself. You're not catching me on my best day." I have to smile at hearing Bella's words.
I hand her a chocolate and take one for myself, raising it to hers like I'm toasting with champagne.
"To better days, Alice."
"To better days, Edward."
A/N: A few short messages:
1-I've been working on a special chapter for the next update. We are going to Forks with Bella through her POV. When it is complete, it will be a bit longer than Chapter One, The Cherry Exchange. I plan on getting it to you in about 2 weeks. I sincerely hope you return for it.
2-I hate waiting for updates. If you get antsy like I do, stop by my profile and I will post Teasers on Tuesdays by 6:00 pm EST.
I know nothing about "pimping" my own fic, but I have a few works from others to pimp out to you.
You might have caught these already, but if not:
Forever and Ever by theladyingrey42
Second Place, Judges Vote/ Third Place, Public Vote, Cherry Exchange Contest
One of my favorite styles of prose—third person narration, omniscience limited to Bella's experience. The most tender and realistic virginity scenes I've ever read.
Bereit by Gothic Temptress
Maraschino Mention, Cherry Exchange Contest
An incredibly original, sensitive, and beautifully written piece set in WWII. This one will stay with you.
And
Reflecting a Loss by PaintedTeacherLady
My lovely Beta has terrific works of her own. Reflecting a Loss is a heartbreaking one-shot from Edward's POV; New Moon gone wrong. This is the story that led me to her.
Last, the site's tracking of She Gives Me Religion has been quite wonky in the last couple of weeks. Many authors are feeling it, and it really helps to know if you are out there reading. If you've been reviewing—thank you, please keep it up. If you haven't yet, I'd love to hear from you.
-Liz