Author Note: Thank you for the great response to this story so far! Lots of anticipation — and some worry — for this one.
Thanks again to moosals for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.
Chapter 32 – Hold Me
I wake up on Saturday morning dreading the day ahead — it's the one-year anniversary of Bree's death.
As the week went on, I kept expecting Edward to start pulling away from me or something, but he did a great job of holding it together. He was maybe a little quiet, but I wasn't sure if that was due to the upcoming anniversary or the appointment with his therapist mid-week.
Last night, I asked him what he needed from me today and his answer was just… he needed me. He was planning to take Masen over to Alice's mom's house early this morning, saying he'd rather his son not see him like this. I completely understand.
After I've showered and dressed, I figure I'll need a cup of coffee to get through this day. I pour some into a thermos to take over to Edward's house as well. I remember how he takes it from our breakfasts on the book signing tour.
After feeding Sandy, I step outside and lock up. "Here we go," I mutter, making my way over to Edward's porch.
When he opens the door, I'm shocked to see he's actually dressed. He still looks terrible though — red, puffy eyes framed by dark circles, along with a two-day growth of beard. He's steps back to let me in, but doesn't speak.
"I've gotta say, I thought you might still be in your pajamas," I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
"I figured Mrs. Brandon wouldn't want to see that."
"Good point," I chuckle. "Um, I brought you coffee." I hold out the thermos for him to take.
"Thanks." He takes it from me and I follow him into the living room. He sets it down then suddenly pulls me into a hug. "I really needed that," he whispers as I squeeze him tightly.
There's a large plastic tote box on the floor in front of the couch. "What's in there?" I ask, nodding toward it as I take a seat beside him.
"Some of Bree's things," he replies. "They've been in the attic since I moved in."
"Can I look at them with you?" I ask hesitantly.
He nods, picking a large photo album from the box. "These are from our wedding."
I scoot closer so that I can see as he opens the album. The first close-up photo almost looks like a candid shot as Edward and Bree stand at the altar, repeating their vows. Edward looks gorgeous in a black tuxedo, his usually messy hair artfully arranged. And he looks so young. Bree looks radiant in a short-sleeved white gown, her hair in an up-do with wisps falling in her face.
He turns the page, and the next photo is similar, except shot from further away. I smile at Edward's green bowtie and cummerbund. Bree is wearing a gorgeous, white, mermaid-style gown.
"Your bowtie matches your eyes," I smile, looking up at Edward.
"Bree did that on purpose," he answers quietly. "She always said she loved my eyes. You'll see later, but her bridesmaids' dresses were the same color."
"I love her gown," I murmur. Sometimes when you look through old wedding photos, the gowns are hideous, but I suppose that was just the style in the 70s or 80s. Bree's would've only been purchased seven years ago.
"I have it," he whispers. "She had it preserved and it's in another box in the attic. I saw it when I brought this one down. It's all stuff Mom packed up for me, since I refused to ever set foot in our house again, so I had no idea what all was in there."
"Do you… have her rings? Or was she…?"
"She was buried with them on. It seemed wrong to take them off," he says, rubbing his own silver wedding band.
Edward slowly flips through the rest of the pages in his book. The groomsmen — his brothers plus another young man I don't recognize — wear tuxes matching his, while Bree's three bridesmaids look beautiful in satin dresses in that same lovely shade of green.
There's a shot with Edward's entire family, and another of Bree and a couple who must be her parents. "Oh, her parents are older than I expected," I comment, a bit shocked by her father's salt-and-pepper hair.
"Yeah," Edward nods. "They'd had trouble conceiving, so Bree didn't come along until nearly 12 years after they got married. I think her mom was 35 and her dad was around 40. Her mom had some health problems during her pregnancy and was advised by her doctor not to try again."
"That's sad," I frown. "And now they've lost their only child."
He flips through a few more pages and the wedding photos now give way to honeymoon photos of Edward and Bree on a beach somewhere.
"Where is that?" I ask nosily.
"Cancun. Bree's choice since she said she wanted a chance to use those four years of Spanish she took in high school," he chuckles.
"She got so tan!" I'm totally jealous.
"Yeah, meanwhile I had to use half a bottle of SPF 50 sunscreen every time I went outside."
"I would too, believe me." He gives me a small smile. "It looks beautiful there. I'm sorry I never made it to Mexico for Spring Break."
"It was nice," he nods. "We were at an all-inclusive resort."
Once we've reached the end of the album, Edward sets it on the table beside him, then reaches inside for the next item, which looks like a scrapbook of Bree's childhood through high school days.
"Some of this stuff… I feel like maybe Bree's parents should have it. I mean, not our wedding album, but things like this are probably more special to them," he explains. "They probably put it together."
Next, we look at a book documenting Bree's pregnancy with Masen, from the earliest ultrasound photo to his newborn photo in the hospital. "I should keep this for him," Edward says, his voice raspy.
"I think he'd love that one day."
By the time we've looked through everything in the box, it's close to noon. "Did you have breakfast?" I ask.
"Does a piece of toast count?"
"No." I wrinkle my nose. "It's a gorgeous day; do you want to get out of the house? Last night, I made up a picnic lunch for us."
Edward stares at me for a moment, finally breaking into a small smile. "All right," he agrees.
I quickly head back to my house, grabbing our lunch from the fridge and adding it to my picnic basket. "See you tonight, Sandy!" I call on my way out the door.
Edward isn't up for driving, so we take my truck toward LaPush. I decide to take him to Rialto Beach this time, since it's less crowded than First Beach. Picnic basket in tow, we head toward the picnic area, where we're lucky enough to find a table on a Saturday afternoon.
"This is awesome, Bella. Thank you… for everything," he smiles, opening the basket and taking everything out.
"I didn't have time to bake cookies last night, so I got those from the bakery," I apologize.
"Did you make them?" he asks.
"Well, yeah… but they weren't made especially for you."
"I think I'll live," he winks.
Once we've eaten, we take the picnic basket back to my truck and use the restrooms, then head off on the 1.5-mile trek up the beach to a rock formation called Hole-in-the-Wall. When we finally get there, the tide is still falling, giving us a chance to relax before we're able to go through the rock and look around the tide pools.
"So this is what you used to do with Jacob, huh?" Edward asks, crouching down to look at a starfish.
I laugh at the way he says Jacob's name. "Well, not here, since we're separated from First Beach and the town of LaPush by the Quillayute River. But yeah," I shrug, "tide pools were fun when I was a kid. It's so funny the way you're jealous of Jacob."
"He seems to really like you."
"He's just kidding," I assure him. "I mean, he might've had a crush on me at some point when he was a teenager, but he was so much younger than me that I never gave him a moment's consideration."
"He's closer to your age than I am," Edward replies.
"Well, now it's no big deal," I roll my eyes, "but you're the one I want to be with." I step closer to him and twine my arms around his neck, though I keep my kiss brief. I doubt he would feel right doing anything physical with me today.
After a few hours at Hole-in-the-Wall, we start the long journey back to the parking lot. I wish it was easier to walk on sand, but at least I'm giving my legs a workout.
It's after 6pm by the time we make it back to my truck. "Are you ready for dinner? There's a pretty good restaurant up by the fork in the road. They've got awesome burgers and shakes."
"I could definitely eat after all that exercise," he agrees.
After a five-mile drive, I park in the restaurant's lot. We order our food at the counter then take a seat while we wait. Our milkshakes are ready in just a couple of minutes.
"You're right," Edward says after a long sip, "this is really good."
"Told you! Don't ever tell my boss, but I think they're better than the shakes at the bakery."
Edward laughs. "Is that the guy with the brightly colored hair who was blatantly checking me out when I came looking for you at your booth?"
"Yes, that's Eric," I laugh. "He's harmless. And a very talented pastry chef."
Edward goes to pick up our meals when our number is called. Both burgers look delicious.
"Hey, Bella!" Seth calls out, coming up to our table a few minutes later. "I thought that looked like your old truck outside."
"Hi, Seth," I smile. "Um, this is Edward Cullen. Edward, this is Seth Clearwater, my future stepbrother."
"Nice to meet you, Edward," Seth smiles. "What brings you guys to my neck of the woods?"
"We spent the afternoon at Rialto Beach," I explain. "Are you here for dinner or did you just come in because you saw my truck?"
"Dinner," he answers. "Mom is out with your dad, and I can't cook at all unless it requires a microwave."
"Would you like to join us?" I ask, hoping Edward is on board.
"Sure," Seth smiles. "Let me go order."
"I hope that was OK," I say quietly once Seth has stepped away.
"It's fine. He seems like a nice kid. I do think he might be as tall as Jacob. What do they feed these kids around here?" I laugh, taking another bite of my burger.
Once Seth comes back, he pulls out the chair next to me. "What did you get?" I ask.
"Fish and chips," he shrugs. "I don't eat red meat anymore. Oh, hey, look." He pulls out his phone and messes with it for a few seconds before showing it to me. "I think I found Sandy's siblings."
The two kittens in the photo certainly do look like her litter mates. Neither has fur as long as hers, but they're about the same size. One of the two is the same color as Sandy, while the second is a brighter shade of orange.
"Did you find them at First Beach?" I ask. "They do look related to her."
"Yep, right by the parking area," he answers, turning the phone so Edward can see it, too. "Mom finally released me from house arrest last weekend, and I was able to go down to the beach and look for them."
"Did Sue let you keep them?"
"Nah, but Leah has them. The bright orange one is a girl named Lucy, and the other is a boy named Ricky. Leah got naming rights. Once we move to Forks next month, I'll be able to see them all the time, since her apartment isn't all that far from the high school."
I smile. "That's great that Leah was able to take them!"
"Yeah, she pretends like she's all tough and doesn't like anyone, but she's really a softie. She loves animals almost as much as I do."
"Seth wants to be a veterinarian," I explain to Edward.
"Oh, that's cool," he replies with a small smile.
"What do you do for a living, Edward?"
"I'm a writer."
"Edward has published two books," I say proudly. "His second book is currently in the New York Times' Top 20 best sellers."
"That's really cool!" Seth exclaims.
Seth's number is called and he stands to pick up his food. "You guys don't have to wait for me to finish," he says as he sits back down. "You can leave if you have somewhere to be."
"I've seen you eat; you'll be done in less than five minutes." Seth grins, taking a big bite of his fish.
He is indeed done eating in about five minutes, so the three of us walk outside together. "You guys have a good night!" Seth calls, walking over to his car, which is nearly as old as my truck.
Edward is quiet and seems tired as I drive us home. He barely says a word. "Do you want to be alone now?" I ask as I turn onto our street.
"No," he replies quietly.
"OK, I'll just go feed Sandy then come over, all right?"
He nods. "I'll leave the door open for you."
Once I've put a bowl out for Sandy and used the bathroom, I lock my front door and walk over to Edward's house.
"What time do you have to go get Masen?" I ask, sitting down beside him on the couch. Soft music is playing from his stereo.
"Around nine."
"I could pick him up if you're not feeling up to it." It's only just past 7:30 now.
"Thanks," he smiles. "You really are good to me."
"Are you OK?" I ask, reaching out to rub his arm.
He shrugs. "You've done a good job of keeping me distracted, but I'm tired of pretending to be all right, tired of trying not to break down."
"You never have to pretend with me, Edward."
"Doesn't it make you feel bad? To see me upset about my late wife?"
I start to answer, but then close my mouth and really try to think about the question. "I understand that Bree was a big part of your life, and of course, she'll always be Masen's mother. It says a lot about you as a person that you loved her so much. I only feel bad for you and the way you're suffering."
"It's better now," he says quietly. "I mean, six months ago, I wouldn't have been able to look through her things at all. I feel like I'm living now and not just… functioning. But there's still this hole inside me. Something is missing. I just want to not feel like that anymore," he cries, tears forming in his eyes.
"I think… maybe it'll never heal completely. But you're still here, you're alive, and… eventually you need to pick up the pieces and move on with your life. Wouldn't Bree have wanted that for you?"
"I'm trying," he whispers.
"I know you are." I rub his arm in comfort. Edward rests his head on my shoulder, and I wrap one arm around him. His soft sniffles let me know he's quietly crying.
"You make me better," he whispers, taking my hand in his.
As the minutes tick by, we shift so that my back is leaning against the back corner of the couch, and Edward is lying half on top of me, his head resting on my chest. I lightly scratch my nails through his hair.
He turns his head to look up at me, green eyes staring into mine. "Will you stay tonight? Just to hold me?"
A/N: Ooh look, another one of our rare cliffies!
Now that wasn't as bad as some of you were expecting, I imagine. A little reminiscing, a little distracting, and finally some crying and cuddling.
Since there's nothing to do on New Year's Day except for watching parades and football (and sleeping off a hangover, I suppose), I'll go ahead and update Monday.