Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, and spreading the word about this story.
A big hello to all of my LTT/LTR (Letters to Twilight/Rob) friends; I appreciate your friendship, support, and patience.
Thanks to Team SGMR: orangeapeal, robsjenn, Sunshine, and my beta, PaintedTeacherLady.
Here we go…
Chapter Six
Grant them Rest
Father in Heaven, this is the big day. It's a hurdle she can overcome and put behind her, or she can stumble and be left scarred. Please help me to find my patience, because I'd really like to kidnap her. Help me to remove my ego today so that I may be for her whatever she needs me to be. Her strength. Her friend.
In the far end of the church parking lot, I sit in my car listening to Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young's Helplessly Hoping.
Wordlessly watching
He waits by the window
And wonders
At the empty place inside
Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams...
I'm done trying to find a song that doesn't make me think of Bella. All songs are about Bella. My fingers slowly drum on the steering wheel as I listen to the soothing harmony that contrasts with the discord that is my mind, jumbled with insecurity and longing. Waiting, wanting. Damn, this song is depressing. I hit 'shuffle,' and my iPod lands on Lady GaGa's, Bad Romance. All songs are about Bella. Some songs, however, are about Bella and Mike.
I repeat the roadmap for the day, the five-inning game: Viewing, Funeral, Burial, Reception—I hope at the Newton's so we won't stay long, and Home. We can do this.
Charlie's police car turns down at the intersection and heads towards the church parking lot. A quick look in the mirror, and the last review of my things to do list:
1—Hotel? Check.
Even Alice agreed I should come here last night.
2—Handkerchiefs? Check.
One in breast pocket, one in pants pocket, seven in glove box.
3—Playlists for ride home? Check
Classic, Classic Rock, Alternative, Folk, Dance Music, but I doubt that one will come into use.
4—Spent a little 'private time' this morning so I wouldn't get hard the minute I laid eyes on her? Check
Charlie pulls into the parking lot and I watch as two women get out of the car. One looks to be about Charlie's age. Is it Bella's mother? No, Alice said Bella's mother is out of the picture. She doesn't look like Bella, but might be a relative of some sort. The second is a younger woman—probably Bella's age—wearing a conservative navy blue dress, a good funeral dress. She instantly goes for Bella's door. I like her. I'm glad she's here for Bella. God, want to be Blue Dress Girl.
There she is.
Bella's feet touch the pavement and she carefully pulls herself from the car with the help of Blue Dress Girl. Blocked by a screen created by Relative Lady, Blue Dress Girl, and now Charlie, I can't quite see Bella yet. She's holding something white, a sweater? A brief glimpse of her hand, as she touches her hair, pulls at her dress, she's self-conscious, and she's fidgeting. Bella, don't worry about how you look.
I've soldered myself to this car, promising not to leap up and attack the minute I see her. She needs time to acclimate, get inside without a bunch of people swarming her. She certainly doesn't need town suspicions about me. Blue Dress Girl puts the white thing, a teddy bear, back in the car. A stuffed animal, of course, why didn't I think of getting her a stuffed animal? Idiot.
As the foursome walk to the church, I can finally see her, all of her. Oh, Bella. Oh, my dear girl. My baby. Her face is confident, chin forward, her head held high, but her body gives her away—so fragile. She's thinner. Much thinner. How is that possible in just a few days? They slow as they approach the door. Atta boy, Charlie, put your arm around her, that's what she needs. Good, Blue Dress Girl, take her hand, yes, just like that, take her hand. I want that to be my arm, my hand.
Right before entering the church, I leap out of the car, fuck the soldering. "Bella!"I call from my car before she disappears. Bella stops and scans the parking lot. She turns and sees me. Her small, shy smile emerges across her gaunt face, and she gives me a tiny wave. Yes, I'm here for you, Bella. I reciprocate by waving a single finger. And then she's gone.
Filled with my concern for her, I vow to convalesce her, protect her, and chase her nightmares away. I will feed her—turn her into my little butterball Bella. I will be anything she wants me to be. Fuck, I'd be a rodeo clown if she asked me.
My cell phone vibrates. No surprise, it's Alice.
E-
You promised you'd call as soon
as you saw her.
Well?
-Alice Brandon
How does she know I've seen her?
I begin my text:
Just saw her.
What do I write? I'm going for the fib. What Alice doesn't know won't hurt her.
I just saw her.
She looks good.
-E
An immediate response:
LIAR!
-Alice Brandon
Before I can figure out my next message, Alice sends another:
Where's my photo?
-Alice Brandon
Damn it.
I told you
NO PHOTOS!
-E
Grrrrrrrr
Call me before the gravesite.
-Alice Brandon
I turn off my phone and head into the church. The lobby is filling with early birds. Fortunately, the church doors are closed. Reverend Weber knows enough to give the family some time alone.
Let's see, we have four women in designer dresses… they are from Seattle. Charlie's colleagues from the station, they are probably coming in shifts. Oh, and those folks over there, gregarious, expressive, those are teachers. The two men are wearing ill-fitting suits in shades of brown, the best they can do on a small town teacher's salary. The woman with the big earrings and flowing print skirt teaches a language, maybe English… no a language.
About ten children, boys and girls, maybe in middle school, scurry in and run up a small staircase in the corner of the lobby that must lead to a balcony. This is bad news. A children's choir is always bad news. They will either be very bad, which will be painful; or very good, which will be more painful. I hope they're bad.
The double doors open to the church and people rush in. Relax folks; there's plenty of funeral for everyone. I see Bella up at the front with her back turned to us. She's with the Newtons, Charlie, and Blue Dress Girl. I see she's holding her hands in front of her, probably twisting that damn ring. I get in line behind the teachers and several more people enter and join the line behind me. This is probably the biggest tragedy this town has ever seen, it even made the Seattle papers. I'm sure this church will be standing room only by the time the service begins.
And oh, what a church it is, beautiful in its simplicity, with an altar designed so people can see better, not to demonstrate power. This is God's house. 'For where two or three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them.' Yes, you are here, God. I might have had a church like this of my own. A congregation of people I could care for. I would have liked that.
The reverend places his hand on Bella's arm, says a few words to Mrs. Newton, and stands aside, allowing people to pay their respects. Most go right to Bella; some first visit the closed casket and look at the framed photographs of Mike. The casket not only cost the price of a small car, with it sleek body and metallic silver coating, it looks like a car—not just any car, my car.
I look over to abundance of flowers that fill this church with spring perfume. Carlisle and Esme's, Alice's, even my own add to this interior meadow, to Bella's wishes. These are for you, Bella, our sympathy for you.
I can't distract myself any longer. I'm getting close to her. My heart is thumping in my chest. I'm sure everyone in line can hear it. My mouth is dry, but my palms wet. Bella wears her counterfeit smile and doesn't hug anyone fully. She doesn't want to be touched. Though I try to catch her eye, she gives her full attention to whomever she's speaking. But I think she knows I'm here. She senses me. I'm next. Lord, help me not screw up.
"Hi," I say as I take her small, cold hands in mine. I want to warm her.
"Hi."
Our conversation is only for us, so I lean down, absorbing her smell, touching my cheek to cheek, and whisper in her ear, "You look pretty, Bella."
Hmmm, I had four days to figure out what to say to her, and that's the best I can do? Brilliant.
Looking down at our hands, her smile grows sad, and after a moment she rises to her toes and quickly whispers, "I know I don't look pretty, but I really, really needed to hear you say that, so thank you." She knocks me off guard, so concealing in one moment and completely revealing in the next.
Bella places her hands on my chest and continues, "You look pretty. I like your haircut and your suit. It's very spiffy." Her hands glide down my lapels and my whole body sings at her touch. I grab her hands as they fall away from me and stoke her knuckles with my thumbs.
"You are pretty, always. Now, tell me how you're holding up." She purses her lips together and gives a confidant nod, and I continue in her ear, "Anyone say anything weird yet?"
"Yes, our Biology teacher, Mr. Banner, said that Mike's reserving me a seat at the big lab table in the sky."
"Priceless. Okay, here's our game: let's track who can say the strangest things. So far, Banner is in the lead. We'll pick the winner later, maybe get them a prize."
"Got it. Any other advice?"
"Yes, there's a reception after the funeral?"
"Reception? That's a much better name for it. I've been calling it a mourning party," she blinks up at me.
Damn, you are cute. I stop myself from kissing her head.
"Where's the mourning party?" I ask, still hopeful it's at the Newtons.
"It's back at my house." Shit
"Great. Okay, when you want to get rid of people, thank them for coming and invite them to the reception. Or the mourning party, your choice."
"Got it."
I could stand here sharing our private conversation all day, but I'm causing a bottleneck and should move on.
"Bella, I'll be sitting right there." I look two rows behind hers and she follows my eyes.
"Say the word, Bella. I can keep my car running through the service so it's ready to go." She looks down at our hands, and for a second I think she'll take me up on my offer.
"It's good to know," she says, then she raises her placid face, "but I'm going to be fine." I give her hands a last squeeze and we lock eyes before I move on.
The Newtons are in a conversation with the women from Seattle, so I skip over them and go to Charlie. He and I shake hands, but there's no need to say anything. We understand each other and there will be more time to talk later. I meet Blue Dress Girl, Angela Weber, and she is as nice as she appeared. As far as she's concerned, as far as everyone is concerned, I'm the nice seminary student who met everyone at the hospital. That's the role I'm willing to play. I can't openly care for Bella, but I'm glad there are people who can.
I settle into my pew and watch. Person after person goes to Bella to say a few words and then crumble in her company. She is their comfort, their strength. Bella even provides the tissues. How about you Bella? How about they comfort you? I regret giving her new ways to remove herself from this experience. Already too adept at disappearing, I should have given her tools for falling apart. No, no, she is falling apart. Charlie's stories, as brief as they were, painted a clear picture of her torment. I'll shepherd her through this day and be there to pick up the pieces later.
Three men enter in suits too shiny for my taste. They're dressed alike, clearly drove in together, they are about the right age… I think we have Mike Newton's best buds here. Well, hello gentlemen. I think I'll have a few words to say to you before this day is through. Do you think it might have been a good idea to tell your buddy he was fucking up? Maybe let Bella know what she was walking into? They were together long enough, you must have befriended her, too. The leader stands almost a full head above the others. Swarthy, broad shoulders, a thick neck—you think you're tough, don't you? I can take you… and your friends. Ah, what am I doing? Damn it.
Lord, I sit in your house without temperance. Help me to stop ripping apart everyone I see. Let me be like Bella, and Angela in the blue dress. Let me make you proud.
Focusing back on Bella, I keep watch, wait, ready for the moment she looks to me for rescuing from the charade we call a funeral. But I know she won't. She's a soldier, stoic. For the next several people to come through, I see Bella quickly thank them and invite them to the reception. She's getting tired. The service is supposed to start soon, but the line for the viewing is still out the door. I catch Charlie's eye as he stands to the side talking to Relative Lady, he looks back to Bella and sees what I see. Good Charlie, make her sit down. Wait, where's he going? Ok, nice work Reverend Weber, bottles of water on hand. Drink a little something, Bella, you'll feel better.
Now is the best time to find a restroom. Though Bella sits with her back to me, as soon as I stand, she twists around and meets my eyes. She sensed my movement. That's right, Bella, we're connected—you feel me holding your hand, don't you? I gesture to her that I'll be right back, which is a very awkward thing to gesture, but she understands and gives me a small, but real, smile. Yes, Bella, I'm here for you.
I find the restroom in the lobby, right outside of the first set of double doors. Discovering I'm alone, I give myself a little mirror pep talk. Charlie, Angela in the blue dress, Relative Lady, me, and God—we're all here today playing for Team Bella. I text Alice:
Viewing hour is almost over,
ending the first inning.
No Rosalie yet.
-E
Rose changed her mind.
'I don't like funerals.'
-Alice Brandon
Well join the club, Rose. My phone buzzes again:
P.S.
As previously discussed,
Your baseball analogies mean
NOTHING to me.
-Alice Brandon
I have a vision of taking Alice and Bella to a Mariner's game. Warm spring, this fall behind us, Bella and I trying to teach Alice the rules of this simple game as Alice mocks us at every turn. I can see Bella; it's lucid—her ponytail cascading through her baseball cap, down her back. Her skin flushed by her fits of guilt-free laughter. I yearn to see Bella pink, to feel her warm, to hear her laugh. I will make this happen.
I exit to find some sort of commotion happening by the other set of doors. There's a woman, loud, drunk—I think, woman who is being ushered out by a man.
"Get your handssoff me," she's slurring her words. She's definitely drunk.
"Come on, let me get you home." The way he's trying to be careful with her, he must be a friend or boyfriend. Clumsily, she tries to push past him and into the church. Oh, this is not good. She wants in and she's going to make a scene. I should help this guy out; Team Bella to the rescue.
Before I can take a step, she sees me and staggers my way. Long straight platinum blonde hair, smeared red lipstick, a short, tight black dress more appropriate for a nightclub than a funeral, this woman is a mess. Her splotchy tanned skin is unnatural for Forks… unnatural for October… just plain unnatural. Teetering on her too high heels, she makes her way to me. She's too close. I'm already suffocating.
"Hi handsome," she says, trying to sound sexy, but smelling of whiskey, cloying perfume, and desperation. She's vile. "So which side are you sitting on, the bride's or the groom's?" I say nothing, just turn my head and take a few steps back. But she pushes forward.
"You must be here for the bride. If you were Mikey's friend, I would have met you by now." Hello there, Lauren Mallory.
Another step back and I'm up against the wall; she leans into me with her rock-solid breasts. "Unless… he was hiding you from me, because you are one good looking man." Her fingers, tipped with scarlet nails, drag over my lapels, sullying the recent memory of Bella's touch. I plunge my hands in my pockets to stop myself from touching her, from pushing her away.
I step to the side, but she moves with me.
"What? Are you here for the bride?" she's still lilting her voice, still trying to sound seductive. The church organ blows the first soft notes of Gabriel Faure's Requiem, and I hope it obscures this conversation from curious ears.
For a moment I look down at her, and for the first time, we meet eyes. Her pouty lips and batting lashes are begging me. Desperate for a reaction, for some attention, Lauren glides her fingertip in an s-curve down my tie. She's someone's daughter, could be someone's sister. At one time, a pretty girl, but something went terribly wrong. She's pathetic, really. I have nothing to say to her. God, remember the request for immediate transport, now would be a good time.
"Oh, I see. Of course, you're here for Bel-la," she mocks her name. "Poor, sweet, Bel-la. Everyone's here for Bel-la." Lauren curses Bella's name with her bitter mouth, and though I've never laid my hands on a women in anger, I'm being pushed to my limit. My disgust for her blends with my anger for Mike, concocting rage that shoots through body. "Aren't you going to say anything? Cat got your tongue?" Transport, please! "Whatssa matter sexy, don't you like me?"
"No. Not particularly."
Lauren Mallory tips over the edge.
"Well, who the FUCK are you?" she yells, pushing off of me with both hands and stumbling back. "You don't know me," she seethes. I give her friend a look to say 'get her the fuck out of here,' but he's already trying, she waves her arms to release from his hold. "Get your hands off of me!" The organ plays louder, I pray, drowning this out.
"He said he loved me! He was going to marry me! Who's here for me?" She points her at her own chest so forcefully with her dagger nail, that she draws a little blood on her last words.
"Come on, Lauren, it's alright," he walks her out as she begins to bawl. Turning back to me he says, "Listen, man… she's not always… she's really…"
I raise my hand and shake my head. I don't need apologizes, or explanations, or any more details about the victims Mike left in his wake.
I take a few cleansing breaths and turn to enter the church. And that's when I see her.
Mrs. Newton stands just a few feet from me. I see her mouth agape, and her round, blue eyes, wide, in her pallid face. She saw. She heard.
Good. I hope you didn't miss a word; that's what you get for treating Bella like shit. I turn away from her and enter the church. Reap what you sow, bitch.
I'm a few steps in when I hear a voice so forceful, it shakes my foundation, 'Edward, stop!' I don't know if it's God, Carlisle, my father, or my own conscience, but the voice freezes me and brings me back to myself, to the Edward I want to be. I return to her and find she's in the same position as I left her, a pillar of salt.
"Mrs. Newton… " What do I say? "Mrs. Newton, can I help you? Can I get Mr. Newton for you?"
Stupefied, she looks up at me. "What's your name, young man?" Good Lord, it's like a Mack truck hit her.
"It's Edward, Mrs. Newton."
"Yes… Edward. I need some air, please."
"Yes, of course." I offer my arm, she takes it, and we walk slowly outside. This boisterous woman who could command a room of men twice her size with one look or sound is transformed into an elderly, feeble lady.
I bring her to the bench a few yards from the entrance and carefully set her down. Kneeling in front of her, my handkerchief at the ready, I ask, "Mrs. Newton can I get you something? A glass of water? Would you like me to find Mr. Newton?"
Mrs. Newton slowly lifts her head to meet my gaze and asks in her quiet voice, "He…?" I take a moment to find the right words. After a week of hoping for this opportunity, that I naively thought would be gratifying, I can't bring myself to tell her.
"He…? Not Bella?" She asks again, imploring me, but her face says she does not want the truth.
I close my eyes protecting her from my hatred for her son. He likely told her the truth, just changed the players, casting Bella as the adulterer. The bitterness she had for Bella mirrors my own for Mike. Mrs. Newton and I are no different. No, that's not true, I had Bella to stop me from inflicting pain.
I nod and quietly say, "Not Bella."
"Good Lord. What have I done?" It's not a rhetorical question or a question for God. She's asking me, and I cannot tell her.
"Margaret? I've been looking everywhere for you. We're about to start." Mr. Newton stills when he takes in the vision of his wife. "Margaret…?"
I stand and leave them in peace, praying God will give them guidance.
Before I reach the door, I hear Mrs. Newton's wail cut through the air.
Angela is in the lobby, awaiting information to give her father. I tell her that we'll need to wait before starting the service. The Newtons need some time.
I return to my seat and wait for Bella to turn to me, but she doesn't.
~0~
"It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. To him that is thirsty I will give without cost from the spring of the water of life."
Good job, Ms. Goff. I always have to stop myself from applauding in church. You read that nicely, and you kept it together even though you almost lost it at the end there.
Alright Bella, we're nearing the end, and so far, we're hanging in there. All we have left is the sacrament, gravesite burial, reception, and home. Reverend Weber begins the Eucharistic Prayer and my pride for Bella swells. This is for her. This is her one small request and it is being granted. I wish I could see her face.
"Take this, all of you, and drink from it: this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven."
Reverend Weber prepares the bread and wine to bring to the family. The music begins and the angelic voice of a young boy floats above us. Oh, no. It would have to be, wouldn't it? Faure's Third Movement, Pie Jesu, accompanies the Holy Sacrament.
How did I miss this during the funeral planning? I could have sworn it would be Amazing Grace. I can do Amazing Grace. I'm fully inoculated against Amazing Grace… but this… this aria haunts me. The boy's voice is clean, innocent, and so young. The familiar crescendo fills the sanctuary. Fuck, I'm sweating, choking. I loosen my tie. Hold it together you pussy—don't cry. My chest is too tight to take a full breath. I need air. I can't leave… this is Bella's moment. Think of Bella, Edward.
Reverend Weber begins to give communion to Mr. Newton. How are you going to play this George? Bread dipped in wine or given separately? You hold the chalice? Give it to them? Fuck, this music… my fingers and toes are tingling. I'm light headed. Mr. Newton finishes the bread and takes the chalice from Reverend Weber. Pie Jesu begins again-this time as a duet, soprano and tenor. Jesus, don't they know any other songs?
Bella suddenly stands. She can't take it either. This is it. It's always the music, isn't it Bella? I move past the people in my pew, and hurry up the far aisle, ready to grab her. I stand at the end of her pew, look to her, and offer my hand. Let's go, Bella. Come on—now, you and me. Let's get out of here. She looks at me, stunned, then to Reverend Weber, to the back of the church and back to me again. With the appearance of a caged, terrified animal, she suddenly drops to her knees in prayer. Fuck, what's happening?
George comes to her with the chalice of wine. Whatever you do, don't hand it to her! Can't you see she's freaking out? Look at her shaking. Lord, God in Heaven, help her… help me. His eyes shift from Angela, to me, and then back to Bella. Oh, thank God, he holds the chalice for her, bringing to her lips. Wait, she refuses, shaking her head. She drops her head to her clasped hands. That's alright, Bella, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Murmurs spreads like a disease throughout the congregation. Fuck 'em, Bella. Don't listen. Angela wraps her arms around her and pulls Bella into her. Fuck, that should be me. I try to take a step towards her, to come into her pew, but my legs, they're so weak. I need to lean against the wall for support. I'm dizzy. Translucent blue dots float in and out of vision. Don't you dare faint—you mother fucking pussy. Pull it together!
God, I don't know why, but this is… this is just too much. I quiet my mind, and it comes to me,Isaiah 41:10, 'Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.'
Yes, Lord, you will uphold me. Please uphold me long enough to get my ass to the lobby. I look back to Bella, buried in Angela's neck, one last time. There's nothing I can do for her. I'm worthless, impotent.
As the members of the congregation stand to line up for communion, I snake my way along the wall to the lobby.
I open the door to the outside and take a few breaths. That's all I needed, a little air. It must have been too warm in there, too many people. I drank too much coffee this morning. Again I open the door letting the cool air hit my face and fill my lungs. The music ends as the last of the mourners return to their seats. Bella's body is still folded in prayer. The reverend says a few words and I hear Fuer's, In Paradisum. Thank God, we're nearing the end. Oh, those children singing with bright, pure voices in minor keys. Those children need to find some other hobbies; they are spending far too much time in choir practice. Yes, that's all I needed, some fresh air.
I watch Mike's friends and two teachers serve as the pallbearers. Mr. Newton stands to join them, but Reverend Weber halts him by putting a firm hand on his shoulder.
Someone should always stop a close family member from jumping into that position, no matter how young, or determined, or stupid they might be.
First the Newtons, then Bella flanked by Charlie and Angela, follow the casket as it is carried down the center aisle. I help a deacon secure the doors open for their exit. At least I can make myself useful somehow. As they approach, I watch Bella's eyes drift to the floor. Using Charlie for support, she wraps both her arms around his one. Please look up, Bella. Please, please give me something. Just then her eyes, her black, lost eyes meet mine and she subtly shakes her head. What does that mean, Bella? I swear I will respond to your message—but I have no fucking idea what your message is. She passes me. I have no response.
I get into my car and guzzle down a bottle of water, preparing myself for what I know to be the most difficult hurdle—the burial. As I watch the Newtons get into a limousine and the others get into Charlie's car, I text Alice to let her know we're headed to the gravesite and start my car. My phone rings, and before I can say, 'hello,', Alice begins:
"Edward, what do you mean you can't go to the gravesite? Who are you now, Rose?"
"What? Alice… no. Wait, what are you talking about?"
"You just sent me a text saying you can't go to the gravesite."
"I did? No, that was a mistake. Of course I'm going."
"Edward, what's wrong?" Her voice is anxious. "Did something happen?" I clear my throat, trying to find my voice again.
"No, nothing is wrong. The service is over and we're heading to the gravesite."
"How bad was it?"
"It was… okay for the most part. I don't know… it…. it was a funeral." I don't know what to tell her. I've been to so many funerals after which I could recount each moment, but this one is already turning into a blur.
"Did she fall apart? Did she cry?" Oh, God. Must you know every detail, Alice?
"Ah… no, I don't think she cried at all."
"Did you?"
"What? No, of course not. Why would I cry?"
"I don't know. You sound… you sound different, Edward." I clear my throat again to kill the frog.
"I'm fine, really. Listen, I have to get into the funeral procession, I'll call later."
"Edward… take care of yourself, okay?"
"Um… ok. I'll talk to you later, Alice. Bye."
"Bye."
~0~
"The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want."
Mike lies in his casket, suspended above his grave. His widow, my love, sits with him in her white folding chair next to his parents. Most people are standing as they listen to Reverend Weber's final words.
"He makes me to lie down in green pastures: he leads me beside the still waters."
I'm leaning against a tree several yards away from the crowd, but still close enough to keep my eye on her.
"He restores my soul: he leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake."
Bella, slumped in her chair and playing with a lock of her hair as she stares at the casket, appears completely bewildered. It's alright, Bella, I'm not really here either.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil:
for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me."
Bella looks over and stares at me for a long while. She cocks her head to the side as if I'm a curious artifact and she doesn't know what to make of me. What are you trying to decide, Bella?
"Thou prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies:
You have anointed my head with oil; my cup runneth over."
I give her a small wave with my finger. Just when I think I see a small smile emerge, the wind blows her chestnut locks across her face concealing my view. When she pulls her hair away, she's looking at her husband again. Are you still in love with him, Bella?
"Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."
Angela passes out red roses to be placed on the casket by the mourners before they depart. The first to approach the casket, Bella, simply hovers her hand about the casket until the rose falls from her fingers. Charlie walks with her away from the gravesite.
When the last mourner is gone, I approach the casket with my flower and silent message. 'Mike, I pray you find a peaceful rest in God's home. I pray God helps me to reconcile the hatred I have for you. May all of those left in your aftermath find serenity. But, you should know, I am irrevocably in love with your widow. I will do whatever I can to remedy the damage you've done to her. And that is my only gift to you.'
Placing the rose carefully so that it doesn't slip off, I cement my promise.
At the bottom of the hill, I see Charlie's parked car. I don't know where everyone is, but Bella must be coming back here, so I'll wait.
"Hey, Edward," Angela calls from down the path of cars, she and Relative Lady approach. "Bella and Charlie are talking to the Newtons," oh, boy, "and Charlie thought you might be able to give us a lift to the house. Folks are going to be there soon, and we have to set up."
"Sure, no problem. My car is right down here." Yes, this is the perfect task for a nice seminary student Bella met at the hospital.
We get back to the house and Team Bella, sans Charlie, work to set out the food and drinks. I learn that Relative Lady isn't a relative at all, but Charlie's friend, Sue.
Where are they? How much could they have to say to one another? Every time the door opens, and there is a lot of door opening, my heart skips a beat. Come back to me, Bella. In just a few hours, we could be back in Seattle.
"Edward, can you help me with this ice?" Sue calls from the kitchen, and I'm pulled away from my door watch.
I pull several ten-pound bags of ice from the freezer. They have semi-melted and refroze into solid pillars. Using an ice pick, I quickly stab at the blocks chipping away cube by cube until they're fractured enough to put in coolers. I need this. I need to be physical right now. Stab. Stab. Stab.
"Watch out, I got this one," Charlie pushes his way past me and grabs a bag. They're home. Where's Bella? He hurls a bag into the kitchen sink with such force it shakes the house. He lifts it again, above his head, and slams it down. Thud! He's beyond fury.
"Charlie?" Sue's shocked. But he doesn't stop. He lifts it again. Thud! The bag breaks sending shards of ice everywhere. Where's Bella?
"Edward," he orders, holding out his hands, and I toss him another bag. Thud! Thud! Shards of ice fly. "Another…"
But Sue stops me, "Charlie, Charlie," and fearlessly approaches him, "what happened? Where's Bella?"
Charlie leans over the sink shaking his head, catching his breath. "Bella went to her room. She wants you to get her in twenty minutes. She's afraid she'll fall asleep." This is a specific request for Sue. Maybe I shouldn't be upstairs with a house full of people. I look at my watch to see the precise time I will be able to see Bella again.
"Charlie, tell us what happened. What did they want to talk to you about?" Sue asks him in a sympathetic, calm tone.
He continues to shake his head, "Later." You hate him too, don't you Charlie? Yeah, let's hate him together.
The longest nineteen minutes of my life ticks by at a torturous pace. Sue and Angela are debating the benefits of percolated coffee over automatic drip, and I decide it's time to make my escape up the steps. If caught, I'll use the upstairs bathroom as an excuse.
I tap on the door and hear Bella yell, "Just a minute, Sue." When the door opens, Bella greets me with surprised eyes.
"Oh… Edward. Hi. Sorry, I was expecting Sue." She pulls at the v-neck of her dress, trying to conceal the small bit of revealed flesh. Her pink tongue slides over the cut on her lip. I think she's disappointed I'm here.
"Yeah, I know you asked for Sue. I thought I'd come up and get you. I hope that's okay."
"Um… sure." Bella looks everywhere but in my eyes and hides her bottom lip under her teeth. With my arm in the doorframe, I'm blocking her exit, but I don't care. I want to talk to her.
"What was that banging I heard?" Bella rubs her hand along her collarbone, covering her chest, curving her shoulders inward. I notice that it is not I who blocks Bella in; it's she who blocks me out. I try to see past her, into the room where she sleeps, dreams.
"Um… Charlie and I put some ice in the cooler."
"Oh." I notice the flowers on her bedside table, and the teddy bear on her bed, but Bella steps in the small opening of the door to block my view.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine. I just got tired there for a few minutes. I think I'm going to make some coffee, that should perk me up." She wraps her arms around herself, one across her chest to her shoulder and the other around her waist. She feels naked.
"I just made a pot."
"Oh, okay. Good."
"You holding up okay?"
"Yeah." I wait for her to say more, but she doesn't.
"For a minute there, during the service, I thought you might want to leave."
"Yeah. I know," she waves her hand dismissively. "I'm not sure what that was about. I guess I sort of got freaked out for a minute."
"Yeah, like I said, funerals can be surreal sometimes."
"Yep." Why? Why is this happening?
"Well… um… if you want to go downstairs…" my voice trails off and I step to the side to let her through the doorway.
She doesn't take a step, but meets my eyes and asks, "Edward, did you talk to… did you talk to the Newtons at the funeral?"
"A little bit."
"Oh. Because they wanted to talk to me about the wedding… the cancellation."
"I thought so."
"You did?" She's surprised, suspicious.
"Yes… um… after the burial… you and Charlie… I thought maybe that's why you were talking to them." Fuck, I sound defensive. What did I do wrong? She nods and plays with her pearl necklace. I'm curious, I shouldn't, but I push just a bit farther.
"How did it go?"
Bella shrugs, and then says definitively, "Fine." I wait, but she gives nothing more away. That's all? That's all you're going to give me? "I should get downstairs now."
"Sure."
I step aside and let her lead the way. When I begin to follow, she stops me by coolly saying, "Stay here for a few minutes. People shouldn't see us coming down together."
"Sure. No problem."
The crowd downstairs comes alive with Bella's entrance.
I sit on the steps and bury my head in my hands. What am I doing here? I met this girl five days ago. FIVE DAYS. I'm just a 'nice seminary student who met her at the hospital' and I somehow got wrapped up in some ridiculous romantic notion of love at first sight. What happened to the two-year plan? I think I'm supposed to be working up to coffee.
Maybe Carlisle had it right that first night at the hospital. I cared for her when she needed it the most and, well, it led to sex. So, we fucked. Big deal. 'Fuck' isn't that what most people call it? If I was a normal guy, if I wasn't a seminarian, I would have forgotten her name my now. That's funny, am I even a seminarian anymore? This is bullshit. I should go.
But I can't. I can't even stand right now. Maybe this all a really is a big mistake… or… no it's just a mistake. Even if she wanted me to, I could not love her in the way she deserves. What would Carlisle do? I wish he were here. Carlisle would tell me to fulfill my promise. When she's ready, when she asks, I'll get her home safely to Seattle.
Dear Lord, I hope you're sticking around, because I have no clue what I am doing.
~0~
Three hours, several bottles of wine, and a couple cases of beer later, the last handful of people—those closest to Mike, sit around the dining room table sharing old memories. Oh, the wonderful memories. Yes, Mike, you were a great guy. Bella is right there with them, laughing and telling stories. I stand in the doorway between the kitchen and dinning room listening, watching, waiting, dying.
"No, no… that's not the best story. The best Mike story is from when he first started grad school," Bella says as she starts laughing. She points to the one with a thick neck who I think was a roommate, "Jared, you know where I'm going with this." Someone slides Bella a glass of white wine and she takes a small sip. Great. That vintage will go well with the carrot stick you ate two hours ago.
Jared starts to laugh, "I know… the wardrobe."
Another jumps in, "Wait, what wardrobe?"
"Ok… so Mike goes to his very first class for his MBA," she takes another sip, "and he has this professor who tells them that he expects the students to behave in class the way they would behave in a business environment. It makes sense, right? And the guy goes on to say that they should even, you know, consider how they dress for class. They don't need to wear a suit everyday, but they should shoot for some sort of business casual."
Jared is now cracking up.
"So right after class," she continues, "Mike decides to go on a shopping spree, and he comes home with eleven… not one, not two, but eleven pairs of khaki pants and blue button down shirts. He must have Googled 'business casual', saw one picture and went with it."
"Eleven?" someone asks. They're all laughing. They're all drunk. It's not that funny.
"Wait, this is the best part, they weren't eleven different pairs of khakis and shirts, he bought eleven of the same exact outfit. I swear to you, for a year I felt like I was dating a Catholic schoolboy who had this as his uniform; every day, the same outfit.
I have some clothes to burn when I get home.
"Bella, didn't he wear it once…" Jared starts.
"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, yes. One Saturday night he shows up to take me out to dinner and he's wearing that damn outfit." They burst out laughing. "On a Saturday. He's like, 'Bella, I know, but I'm really starting to like this outfit." Her imitation makes him sound dopey, but sweet. Is that how she sees him? Saw him.
"No, wait. I have to say," Jared jumps in, "the best Mike story, the nicest Mike story is the night you two got engaged."
There's a collective, "Awww," and I've had enough.
Rolling up my sleeves, I return to my post at the kitchen sink to wash dishes. Dunking a casserole dish into the bath of warm, soapy water, I decide that all baseball games should adhere to little league's 'Mercy Rule.' If one team is down by too many points, the game just ends. There's no need to prolong, to intensify, the humiliation.
"There you are," Sue says as she comes into the kitchen. "I hope Charlie is paying you overtime." She sounds tired. It's been a long day for everyone.
"Hi Sue. I'm just trying to make myself useful. Where is Charlie, anyway?"
"He went out for more ice," she says and opens two bottles of beer.
"Really? We have a ton in the cooler."
"That's Charlie's way of getting out of the house for a few minutes."
"Oh, right. Maybe he can take me next time."
"Enough with the dishes, Edward. Have a beer with me."
I wipe my hands with a dishtowel, and though the beer looks good, I say, "Thanks Sue, but I think I'm going to go pretty soon."
"Edward, from the look of things in there, you aren't leaving for a while. Have a beer." I don't have much tolerance left. I might be leaving sooner than she thinks, but I take the beer and drink down the ice cold, bitter, amber liquid. It's refreshing, and quenching a thirst I didn't know I had.
"You know, Edward, we're real glad you came. Me, Charlie, we're glad." The way she looks at me confirms Sue is in on our secret. "She needs you, Edward."
I shake my head, laugh at the ridiculousness of her statement, and then drink down another long swallow and wipe my mouth on my forearm. "Oh, yeah, Sue. I've been a huge help. She hasn't talked to me. I'm not allowed within five paces of her. She hasn't eaten anything…"
Sue shakes her head. "You know, Edward, it's a damn shame that boy died. Bella knows she's better off, and that's a hard pill for anyone to swallow. I'm allowed to say that, I'm a widow, and l lost a good man. That boy was a good son and a good friend, but he wasn't going to be a good husband, and Bella knows that." Sue walks to the doorway and looks into the dinning room. "Come here, Edward." Reluctantly, I join her and look in. "Now, tell me, what do you see?"
"I don't know… I see Bella and Mike's friends talking about good times."
"Mmm-hmm. What else do you see?" I don't know where she's going. I've been watching Bella all day, and coming up with several different interpretations, all of which conflict with one another.
"Keep watching Bella," Sue whispers. And I do. I watch her pour wine into their empty glasses, pass food to them, and pile up empty plates—she's a hostess, and I noticed that she occasionally, quickly glances our way. "You see that, Edward, she's always keeping tabs on you. She needs to know your still here. You're her weakness."
I snort, "Funny, I wanted to be her strength."
"Same thing."
Sue goes to the sink to wash more dishes, but I stay and watch. When Bella thinks no one is noticing, her smile fades, her shoulders fall, and her blinks grow long. She can't keep this up much longer. At her next glance to me, I catch her eyes and hold her gaze to me. I'm still a strange artifact, aren't I Bella? I raise my finger and wave. Bella tries to suppress her sad smile then looks around to see who's watching. It's only you and me, Bella, no on else sees. What have you decided, Isabella Swan? Are you going to keep me?
Just then, Jared pulls Bella to the corner of the room for a private conversation. There you go, Jared, you're the last of your buddies to do this to Bella. It begins the same way; he can't quite find the words. Looking down, he finally gets it out, the confession. I can only assume what he says: 'Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry. I tried to stop him. I told him to tell you. I'm so sorry, can you ever forgive me?'
You're kidding. This jackass has the audacity to cry. Bella hugs her forgiveness into him. He's holding onto her a little too tightly, a little too long. Bending to put his head on her shoulder, he slides his arms to her waist, and she lets him. Hands off, dick head. I feel my protectiveness, my possessiveness, rise in me like hot lava. I'm not sure if she wants me, but I'm certain she doesn't want you. I go in, but Sue pulls me back by a fistful of my shirt, whispering, "Hold on there cowboy, Bella can take care of herself."
Sue and I watch Bella pull away from his rough grip and shoo him into the living room. Bella tops off her glass of wine, and finishes it down in one long swig. Oh, this is going to be bad. She grabs her purse and storms outside.
Sue nudges my arm, "Edward, what are you waiting for? Go."
I go outside, but don't see her. All of the cars are still here but… I run out to the road and search… but… where did she go? Just then, I smell the familiar scent. It leads me behind the house to where I find Bella, with her back to me, holding a smoldering cigarette.
"I didn't know you smoked."
"What, are you going to lecture me now?" Whoa. So, I get to meet Angry Funeral Bella. I know the species, but not this particular animal. God, grant me patience and a really thick skin.
"No. I was going to ask if I could bum one."
"Oh… " She's surprised by my response. "I don't know if you'll like them, they're minty and girly," she says with a hard edge to her voice as she throws me the pack.
"No worries, I'm pretty secure in my masculinity." I'm managing to keep my voice deep, confidant, unaffected.
She's smoking Virginia Slims Ultra Light Menthol. Smoking is an overstatement; she's puffing, not inhaling. No, Bella, you don't smoke.
"Lighter?" I take a step towards her, but she steps away, keeping her distance. She throws the lighter a little hard, but I catch it, and light up. Hello old friend, glad you could join me for this conversation. I take a deep drag and my buddy greets me with its familiar, orange glowing ember and soothing nicotine. Let's take this slowly.
We stand in silence for a long while, smoking. Knowing she'll attack whatever I say, I want her to begin. I walk around to her side so I can at least see her profile. The light from the full moon reveals Bella's tear streaked cheeks. Wordlessly, I step closer and offer my handkerchief. She steps away, shakes her head, pulls her sleeve into her hand and wipes her face dry.
Bella takes another puff and forcefully ashes her ashless cigarette, "Edward, I'm staying in Forks tonight. It's getting late, you should get on the road soon."
"I'll stay too," I retort. Bella is shaking her head, smiling. That's right, Bella, you aren't getting rid of me that easily.
"I might stay the whole weekend."
"Me too." No, I'm not asking. What else do you have, Bella? I drag. She puffs.
"I saw you talking to Lauren Mallory. She's really pretty, isn't she?"
Oh.
There are a hundred wrong answers to this question and they all flit through my mind in rapid succession. 'She's repulsive,' no that could degrade Bella further. 'She's fine, if you're into that sort of thing.' No, no, no…
"Bella, she's pathetic."
"Pathetic?" Bella scoffs. "Oh, it looks like she's won your sympathies. She could probably use a good friend right now. You should give her a call. I think I have her number inside somewhere…"
"Bella, stop. She revealed herself for what she is. Mrs. Newton overheard, that's how she knew about Mike."
"So, you know what Mike said about me too?"
"Yes."
"And she did this at the church?"
To counter her rising temper, I speak softly, "Yes."
"I see. Good. I'm glad the whole town knows." Bella throws her cigarette down, grinds it out with her pointy shoes, and angrily kicks it way muttering, "I'm done."
I put out my cigarette and grab her arm as she walks past me. "Bella, you are really angry right now, and you have every right to be. But you're not angry at me, not with me, Bella. Don't do this."
Her body goes slack for just a second, before tensing again. She looks into my eyes and says with calm certainty, "I'm staying in Forks. Good bye, Edward." I know she's not talking about staying in Forks for a night or a weekend, she means for good. I hold onto her, I don't want to let her go.
"Bella, please, do not do this."
Bella swallows and repeats with even more fortitude, "Good bye, Edward." She slips through my fingers. I think I've lost her. I can either fold my hand, or play my last card. I chose the latter. Before she disappears, I call, "Don't you want to see Alice?" She freezes and then throws her head back laughing, a dark laugh.
Wearing a sinister smile, Bella turns and walks back to me. "It's so funny you mention Alice. I was just thinking about the two of you." Where are you going with this? She stops in her tracks, bows and shakes her head. When she looks up again, angry Bella is gone. She's transformed back to the sad, doe-eyed Bella who evades my stare. "You know how I feel about Alice. There really isn't a better woman in this world." She's being sincere. "And I think… well, the two of you have really hit it off. She's single…"
"What?" This is going too far. "Alice?"
"Don't tell me she's not good enough for you." Jesus, this is frustrating.
"Really, you two have a lot in common…"
"Enough!" I grab her wrist and start a fast pace to the forest behind her house.
"Edward… Edward… what are you doing?" The right thing, I hope. Oh, Lord, am I? There's no turning back now. I'm walking fast, she's having a hard time keeping up, but I can't slow down. "Edward…?" In one swift motion, I turn, sweep her up over my shoulder and continue my stride. She beats her tiny fists into my back with each word, "Edward, - put- me- down! Where are you taking me?"
"The woods." I hear the deep conviction in my own voice.
"Edward… what… why?"
"So no one can hear you scream."
A/N:
'Oh my gosh,' as Bella would say. Did I just do that? Are you really mad? Um… sorry?
Links for the chapter are on my profile page.
Sooo… I have thoroughly enjoyed the suggestions coming in for an Edward moniker. Among them: Priestward, Pastorward, Griefward, and Seminaryward.
What's your favorite? Would you like to add another to the list? I'll let you know the results.