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Chapter 4 - Solitude

BELLA

I finally found a moment to read the letter Alice had left for me. I was surprised at how it was written. There were blocks of it with the words "stop here" in between. As I read, she explained that I was only to read a section a day and no more. It was important that I didn't read too much at once, or I might change the way things would happen.

Needless to say, I was confused.

She went on to explain that Edward was a mean, lonely man who hated being around people. She said it wouldn't surprise her if he actually started to thrive in the solitude of the island. She told me not to take his not wanting to be touched personally; because that was something he had been conditioned into over time.

To help with his nightmares, I was not to touch him, just sing.

I almost laughed out loud at that part. She wanted me to sing to him? What the hell would I sing?

She surprised me even further, when she told me the little boy's name was really Jacob. He wasn't Edward's son, nor did he even know him before the flight. The little boy was ten months old. His only surviving relative was his grandfather.

She told me not to be afraid to stand up to Edward, and she doubted he would be under such stress that he would ever hurt me physically.

My trunk was filled with kitchen supplies, a hairbrush, feminine products, thank God, and first-aid things. She told me not to use any of the medicines, unless specified in her letter, but I was free to use the tweezers to keep my uni-brow in check. How the hell she knew I had a uni-brow, I had to wonder.

There was a sewing kit with a lot of thread, a large pack of various-sized safety pins, and an assortment of needles, pliers and scissors in it. She told me to do my best not to cut any of the sheets, as I would have to pull the thread and re-sew them into different things. There was also a plastic bag I pulled out that had a deck of playing cards, a thick-bound journal and a mechanical pencil with extra lead. She encouraged me to write about our time on the island, saying that it would come in handy later, whatever that meant.

In the very bottom of the trunk was a recorder. I was to give it to Edward for his birthday, which was tomorrow. He preferred the piano, but she wanted me to tell him that she couldn't fit that into the trunk.

I smiled, thinking of her looking out for him.

She wanted me to build nests for the chickens under the lean-to's Edward had erected outside the house. The hens would lay the eggs in there, making it easier to collect them. I was instructed not to collect them in the spring, however.

I felt panicked.

How long were we going to be here? It was midsummer now. Did she not think we would be rescued for a year? I hadn't even realized I was crying, until Edward squatted down in front of me. He looked at the letter and then my face.

"Can you tell me what she said?" he asked.

"I'm not supposed to collect the eggs in the spring," I sobbed.

He grimaced, nodded, and then walked away.

As he left me, I looked up to see Jacob in the baby carrier on his back. "Jacob," I called after them.

The baby squealed in response, recognizing his name. "The baby's name is Jacob." I held up the letter to indicate where I'd gotten the information.

Edward just nodded and went on his way.

The rest of the week was much of the same. We worked daily for our food, and Edward worked to finish our house. Once he was done, he started planting the seeds, following Alice's instructions. He had yet to tell me who this Alice was.

If Edward hadn't known the child, or the woman he had been sitting beside on the plane, then I knew it wasn't Alice who had died next to him in the crash. Of course, that didn't mean she hadn't been on the plane.

I must've been staring at him again, because he let out an annoyed growl. He didn't like it when I looked at him. Well, that was tough shit; there was no one else to look at.

He was difficult to live with. It seemed more and more like I was actually on the island alone. He did help me care for Jacob and helped with the chores, so we could live and survive, but he never spoke to me. When I spoke to him, I never got more than one-word answers and an annoyed look for bothering him. He always kept his distance from me, like he was uneasy about being around me.

The last time I'd seen him truly smile was when I'd given him his recorder from Alice. I gave it to him, telling him happy birthday and that Alice was sorry she couldn't fit a piano in the trunk.

He smiled in response, whispered, "Crazy little shit," and walked off, not looking back. I hadn't heard or seen that recorder since. I just assumed wherever the hell he disappeared to during the day was where he played and kept it.

I was silently cursing Alice for not sending any books. God help me, if I couldn't have a conversation with someone, I wanted to at least be able to read one.

Needless to say, I spent a lot of time teaching Jacob to talk. So far I'd gotten "Na-Na," which was banana, and "Ip-Ip," which was sippy. I was pretty impressed with myself. I still referred to Edward as his dad. I didn't know why, it just seemed right, but I just couldn't teach him that I was his mom. I hoped on some level that he remembered the dark-haired woman that had cradled him to her before she'd died.

Morbid, I know, but I wasn't his mom, and I couldn't shame her memory like that.

"What?" Edward finally snapped at me.

I rolled my eyes. "Get over yourself, there just isn't anything else to do but look at you. You could strike up a conversation once and a while, so I don't feel like I got marooned alone."

He just scowled at me, let out a huff and then said, "Fine, what do you do?" I raised an eye brow in confusion. "Before this," he said with a wave of his hand, "What did you do?"

"I was a student."

His brow furrowed, as if he didn't like what I'd said.

"Well, what did you do?" I asked in return.

He shook his head at me, refusing to answer.

"Fine, how do you know Alice?"

He looked at me with a stiff scowl, as if answering would cause pain. "We were on the same floor. We passed each other in the hall," he said uncomfortably.

"So, she was a neighbor?" I asked. He looked like he was thinking about it and then nodded yes. "Was she on the plane?" I asked carefully. He raised an annoyed eyebrow at me and shook his head no. "So, there really is someone out there who knows we're here and alive?"

"Don't get too excited about it. It isn't like she can just up and come for us. It's more…complicated than that," he sighed and then got up and moved to the bed. Apparently, our conversation was done.

Great, stupid jerk.

A/N: Thanks for reading and please review!