Author Note: Thank you for the great response so far! Most of you think that Edward is harboring a bit of an attraction for Bella, whether he wants to or not.
Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.
Chapter 11 – Leave a Light On
Despite the way our night ended, I still feel like New Year's Eve was a bit of a breakthrough for Edward and me. He no longer seems to go out of his way to avoid me. He waves if we happen to run into each other in our respective driveways. It's progress, anyway.
In mid-January, the schools have a long weekend due to the Martin Luther King holiday. I take the opportunity to do a little shopping in Port Angeles on Sunday, since I'm getting a bit tired of the winter clothes I've had for several years.
When I arrive home, it almost seems like Edward has been waiting for me, as he quickly appears on his porch, holding Masen, while I'm climbing the steps to my porch.
"Bella!" he calls. "Could I talk to you for a few minutes?"
"Sure." I open the front door with my key, motioning for Edward to follow me. I set my bags down as I start taking off my coat and boots, then lead him into the living room.
Masen is walking now and he takes off as soon as his dad sets him down. "Mase! Stay close, OK? Bella's house isn't baby proof."
The little boy looks up and smiles, then reaches for the remote control on the edge of the couch.
"You learn quick, huh?" I laugh. I hurriedly remove the batteries so he can't do any damage, then hand it to him.
"What did you need, Edward?" I prompt him, taking a seat on my couch.
"Oh, um… I need to go back to Chicago for a while, so I was hoping you could watch the house for me. I've got a couple of those timer things for the lights that make it look like someone's home. And I put a hold on the mail, but you know how sometimes free newspapers or whatever are left on the porch."
"Oh, sure, I could pick those up; I do the same for my dad when he goes out of town. It's no problem," I smile.
"Great," he smiles back. "And if it snows or something and you need to shovel your walk, could you do mine as well?"
"We rarely get more than a trace of snow, but sure," I chuckle. I guess Edward did come from an area that gets a lot more snow and ice than Forks.
"Thanks." He sounds so relieved. Did he think I wouldn't help him?
"So how long will you be gone?" I ask curiously.
"Oh, um, I don't know for sure… A couple weeks maybe."
"I hope everything's OK? I mean, neither of your parents is sick, are they?" I also really hope nothing has gone wrong with Rosalie's pregnancy, but that seems to be a hot button issue for Edward, so I don't bring it up.
"What? Oh no, they're fine. Everyone's fine."
I look at him questioningly.
"I'm sorry, Bella, I can't… I can't talk about it right now. Maybe when I get back."
"All right then," I agree quietly, though I'm disappointed that he won't open up. "If you need anything, you have my number."
"Right."
"When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow," he sighs.
I glance at the clock over the TV. "I need to get started on dinner. You and Masen are welcome to stay. It's not lasagna, but I was planning to make this yummy seven-layer casserole. Everyone always thinks it's lasagna when I bring it to potlucks, until I point out that it has cheddar cheese on top," I laugh.
"I guess we could stay," he agrees. "Though I may need to go home and pick up some toys and things for Masen, probably his high chair, too."
"Oh, of course!" Standing, I pick up the toddler and smile at him. "Masen and I will be in the kitchen when you get back."
While Edward runs next door, I set Masen on the kitchen floor, then grab a couple of old Tupperware mixing bowls out of the cabinet, handing them to him along with a wooden spoon. Hopefully that will be enough to entertain him for a few minutes.
"Wahhh!" he cries when I turn on the faucet.
"That's right — water!"
After preheating the oven, I pop the package of frozen spinach in the microwave to thaw, then add the ground beef to a large skillet to begin browning, all the while keeping an eye on Masen. I have no idea how parents cook with a young child in the house.
"Back!" Edward calls, stepping into the kitchen with a large diaper bag over his shoulder and Masen's high chair in his hands. He sets it down near the table, then picks up a protesting Masen to put him in it before removing the toy laptop I bought from the bag.
"Do you need any help, Bella? I'm not very good in the kitchen, but…"
"Actually, I could use your help since there are a lot of steps to this dish. Can you chop an onion? And drain the spinach once the microwave dings." I add the noodles to the pot of boiling water, giving the meat another stir.
"I think I can do that without cutting my finger off," he chuckles.
Fifteen minutes later, the casserole is assembled and in the oven. "Teamwork!" Edward exclaims, high-fiving me and making me smile widely.
"Forty minutes to bake," I announce, "so we should probably sit down and relax."
Edward lifts his son, who's looking awfully sleepy, out of the high chair and carries him into the living room. "Now he's tired," he laments, rolling his eyes. "He refused to take a nap earlier."
I smile, watching the way he encourages Masen to lay his head on his lap.
"He's so much like his uncle Jasper," Edward says quietly, stroking his son's blond hair.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, besides having Jasper's — and my dad's — hair, Masen just seems to really feel the emotions around him, like Jasper does. I think he can feel that I'm anxious before our trip and it's making him a little anxious, too. I just couldn't get him to settle down earlier."
"Are you sure you don't want to talk about the trip?" I try again.
"I'm sure, but… th-there is something I wanted to talk to you about." He clears his throat. "Um, I want to apologize for way I acted on New Year's Eve. For the way I've acted for the last three months, actually."
"Edward, you don't—"
"My turn to talk," he chides me gently. "I know you apologized for… what happened, but it isn't fair to place 100% of the blame on you. I was drunk, but I remember enough to know that I was the instigator. I know that nothing would've happened if I hadn't made the first move."
"That's true, but… I didn't trust my own instincts that something was wrong. I-I guess… I wanted it to be real," I confess quietly.
Edward looks at me with a pained expression. "I like you, Bella, but… it's too soon—"
"Oh, I know that!" I interrupt. "I didn't know then that Bree had… passed away. I'd assumed you were divorced, or at least separated."
"I know that she's gone, but… it feels like I've betrayed her," he whispers. "Even… even spending New Year's Eve with you feels like a betrayal. Rationally, I know it's not, but… I'm not rational about this yet."
He peeks up at me through his lashes, looking so sad that I just want to reach out and hug him so tightly. I still remember how good it felt to touch him.
"I'm sorry, Bella."
Slowly, I reach out, rubbing his upper arm through his sweater. "I just want to be your friend, Edward. I wish you could let me in, but I do understand that you're not ready."
He gives me a small smile. "I appreciate that. I've always had to do things in my own time. When I get back… maybe then we can talk."
I smile, nodding.
"So what did you buy?" he asks, nodding toward my bags, still on the floor by the entrance to the living room.
And I let him change the subject.
A few days later, I meet the girls at the diner for our weekly dinner date.
"Oh my God! I feel the baby," Alice exclaims, hugging Angela.
"I know, right? Ugh… I had to break out the leggings this week since I can't button any of my work pants anymore. I need to go shopping this weekend for some maternity clothes."
"You haven't bought them yet?" I ask in shock.
"Well, no," she admits sheepishly. "I think I was in denial that I was actually going to get bigger until, like, Spring."
"Good luck shopping," Alice says. "I was talking to Jasper last night, and he related this story about Rosalie and maternity clothes. She was complaining that they're more expensive than regular clothes, but of a much lesser quality. But he did say she's a bit of a fashionista."
"Great," Angela grumbles.
Our waitress stops by then to take our orders. "So… you were talking to Jasper, huh?" I prompt once she's walked away, waggling my eyebrows.
She blushes. Boy-crazy Alice Brandon actually blushes! "We exchanged numbers when he was here, and… yeah, we've texted a bit and we talk on the phone maybe once a week. I really like him," she confesses. "He's, like, the perfect Southern gentleman."
"I thought the Cullens were from Chicago?" Angela asks in confusion.
"They are, but Jasper did his residency in Austin, Texas," Alice explains. "The locals must've rubbed off on him."
"So is it serious?" I ask curiously. "I mean, Jasper lives 2,000 miles away."
"We're just getting to know each other; we haven't talked about the future at all. I-I'm really not sure what could happen. Jasper loves his family and I love mine. I don't know if either one of us would be willing to move. I could maybe see myself living in Seattle, since Cynthia lives there, if he'd be willing to move but would prefer to live in a big city."
"Do you have plans to see each other again?" Angela asks.
"Mayyyybe," she teases. "He floated the idea of me visiting him in Chicago over Spring Break."
"Hey, Alice," I begin, as soon as the idea pops into my head. "Did Jasper say anything about Edward being back in Chicago this week? He left Monday and said it could be for a few weeks, but that's all I know."
Her brow furrows. "No, Jasper didn't mention that. He did make some sort of cryptic comment though about it being a tough time for everyone. But then he changed the subject and I never got around to asking him about it. Sorry."
"Hmmm… it's not the anniversary of Bree's death," Angela muses. "Rosalie said that's not until July. It's close to the six-month anniversary though? Maybe they've just gotten a special headstone for her grave or something. But I don't think they usually take that long," she shrugs.
"I hope their parents aren't sick," Alice says.
"No, I asked Edward that and he said everyone's fine. I think Angela's on the right track and it's related to Bree somehow. Maybe they've set up some sort of memorial or something like that for her."
"That makes sense," Angela nods. "I suppose you could Google her."
"Google Bree?"
"Sure," she shrugs.
I wrinkle my nose. "That just seems… I don't know, like an invasion of privacy or something. Edward said he'd maybe talk to me when he gets back. I can wait a week or two."
"Suit yourself," she grins.
The following Monday, we get a dusting of snow while I'm at school. When I get home, I pull into my driveway, then remember Edward's plea about shoveling his walk if we get snow. It's not nearly deep enough to shovel, but I do back out and pull into his driveway to leave tire tracks, before backing out again and parking in my own drive. Thankful I wore boots today, I climb the steps to his porch to leave footprints, before crossing the two driveways and climbing my own steps.
I survey my work from the porch, pleased with my efforts. I think it's a little silly, honestly, as Forks averages only a couple dozen burglaries annually. I doubt there are people driving around looking for homes that don't appear to be occupied. I understand that Chicago is a different story, however.
Once inside, I pull out my phone to send Edward a quick text, now that he's on my mind. Thinking of you, I write, hoping that sounds friendly enough. I don't necessarily expect an answer.
As I sit down at my computer to check my email, Angela's comment from last week about Googling Bree starts running through my head. Should I? Will it hurt anything if find out whatever it is before Edward tells me? I suppose it will if I'm unable to act surprised — or whatever the appropriate response should be — when I hear it from him.
No, I think I can pretend like I don't know. Before I can change my mind, I hurriedly type "Bree Cullen" into the search bar and hold my breath.
Surprisingly, not much pops up. I see a couple of Twitter profiles, LinkedIn profiles, a Facebook page for a model in Phoenix… a GoFundMe for a woman with cancer. I hurriedly click on that, until I see that it was posted only a couple of months ago — and the woman is from Kansas City. Nothing else seems out of the ordinary, or even worth clicking on. If there was some big story here, I assume it'd be on the first couple of pages of results.
Kicking myself for even checking, I shut down my computer. I'll just have to be patient until Edward is ready to let me in.
A/N: Edward finally apologized, which should make some of you happy! And now he's gone on a mysterious trip back to Chicago. What do you think he's doing there?
Some readers have been calling for Bella to Google Bree, and she finally has, but she didn't find anything! I Googled "Bree Collins" for ideas on what she'd find — the things writers do.
Next update on Thursday.