Chapter 12

~Edward~

She limped out of the truck, and the gentleman in me wanted to swing around the rusty bucket of metal to help.

The guy that resented he was here in this pitiful excuse for a car against his better judgement won and stayed put.

Once I'd determined more medical help than I could offer was needed, I couldn't let her stumble into town herself. I didn't know who that Jasper guy was she mentioned, but he didn't seem like the most reliable person anyway. So even though I had no desire to get further involved with this unwanted neighbor of mine, and I had specific instructions not to operate a car until my sight returned, I did what I had to do.

I did the right thing for once.

Honestly, though, the "right thing" motive wasn't the whole truth. If I had just left well enough alone as I knew I should've and stayed on my side of the field, she'd have never stormed across the rotting porch to yell at me and fall clear through in the first place. Deep down, I needed to make sure she was okay. It was sort of my fault she fell, and I couldn't watch another person suffer as I stood by silently.

The fawn and I watched her go, pulling open the green door to what she said was the only doctor's office in a hundred mile radius, the hospital even farther away. The wood screeched as it was forced from the jam across the concrete step—the marks there dark and arched in a pattern that'd been repeated for what was probably centuries.

I should've made her change her dress. Shaking my head, I thought about her smooth leg in my rough hand as I tended to her. Pictured the way the light would hit it under a desert sun. Soft and pale, just a hint of gooseflesh puckering her skin. "She'll be okay," I said to the animal, feeling its brown fur under my hand as I stroked it, at first to get it to calm down, and then because it was sort of nice. Soft and downy, I felt it soothing me: all the nerves from driving when I knew I shouldn't, and the fear this tin can would blow up. Something else that would be my fault if she died from a car wreck, my handicapped driving the cause, or just from the poor mechanics of the truck alone.

The deer looked back at my words, twitching an ear in either disagreement or thanks. It folded its legs beneath it and sat, propping its head out the open window to stare at the building she entered. I reached over and locked the door for good measure, in case its foot caught the handle or something. All I needed was to be indebted to this girl because I let go of what seemed to be her best friend.

The hardware store was only two blocks away, so I got out, exercising hands that were still a bit achy from the death grip I'd had on the wheel. The truck was tough enough to drive as it was, with no power steering, but not being able to see the road too well and having passengers I was responsible for didn't help at all.

The small street, what someone visiting who didn't have to stay too long might call "quaint," was busy since it was a Saturday. A woman carrying grocery bags, while trying to hold onto an excited toddler, gave me a funny look as I walked past Mr. Thompson's Market—her stare not something I was used to just yet but had gotten enough of during my few trips into town. The look that said "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" that morphed into "What happened to you?" when they saw the eye patch and scarring on the parts of me they could see. I was tempted to whip off my shirt and really show her the extent of my injured flesh.

Instead, I walked around the corner to the back entrance of the hardware store, my mood today not one I wanted to chance on scaring town folk. I wouldn't be able to control the bite of my tongue which was controlled by scars and bruises. The signaling bells in back mirrored the ones in front, and as I stepped over the threshold, the now-familiar scent of sawdust, turpentine, and smoke greeted me along with the friendly hello of the owner.

"Edward! Back for more paint already?" The man with skin too weathered to match his barely middle-aged face smiled at me, the pipe that was also too old for him clenched in his wide smile.

I smiled easily. "Hey, Sam." He instantly put me at ease, shaking off the nervous energy I'd had bottled up in me since this morning. There was something about him that I trusted. Maybe it was just the conversation about paint, instead of my eye, that made me lose the hackles on my back, but deep down, I knew it was because he kind of reminded me of Emmett. The way his one cheek dimpled, eyes dark as midnight but bright nonetheless. But mostly I think it was just his gentle way—the sort of person that just made you feel like he really was happy to know you. Emmett had that in spades.

I hadn't planned on getting more paint yet, but the idea of having the back of the truck to haul cans was more appealing than juggling them on the bike. "Yeah, I'll take another can of each color, and a can of white for trim, I guess."

Sam laughed and let out a plume of sweet-smelling smoke. "That's gonna be some house when you're done. Can't wait to see it." He smiled and set about getting the paint ready. He hadn't blinked when I'd made the first order, asking me if I was sure I didn't mean interior paint, and he looked interested when my answer of what I planned on doing was to the outside of my house. I'm not sure why I confessed it to him, a man I didn't know, but I guess that, too, was the Emmett thing.

Strolling through the surprisingly well-stocked aisles, I fingered a few things I wasn't familiar with, my interest in home improvement growing. I made a mental checklist to ask Sam for the parts I'd need for Deer Girl's porch when he was done with my paint. Getting nearer the open door of the entrance, I heard the voices of two men, something that wouldn't have made me stop dead in my tracks if it hadn't been for the mention of a girl in a weird, white dress.

"...doctor for? I hope that girl's not following her crazy mom's footsteps, dressed like that."

"At least she ain't carrying a doll like it's a real thing."

"Maybe that Whitlock kid knocked her up."

"That wasn't him driving her ma's old jalopy. Maybe she got herself a beau."

"Naw, no one in their right mind would take on that pitiful girl. More than likely she's rentin' rooms, but you couldn't pay me to stay in that ol' house. What with the spooks and the ghosts. No, sir."

"There ain't no such things as ghosts, Lenny."

"'haps not, but you don't need ghosts to scare you away from that one. Poor thing... ain't no telling what she's doing in there all by her lonesome. If I hadn't seen them take her dead mother's body out with my own eyes, I'd bet she was still in there."

I felt my face flame red, my eye pulsing along with the vein in my forehead that was surging with anger and boiling blood for the unkind words I didn't know not to be true but hated anyway.

"Don't listen to them," the smoke-laced voice said right behind me. "Two geezers with nothin' better to do."

After another scowl towards them that went unseen, I followed Sam to the register where my paint cans sat. "Were they talking about—"

"Bella. Out at the Swan house. Pretty young thing—sweet, too. Have you met her yet? She's your closest neighbor."

My first instinct was to deny, say no, and walk out without the tools to fix her porch, but Sam's compliments stayed in my ears. "Yeah, she, uh, I just drove her to the doctor. Fell through the porch and gashed her leg. Besides the paint, I need some stuff to patch it up."

He looked at me a moment, a mix of thoughts playing out on his face. "That's mighty kind of you. She okay?"

"I told her to get a tetanus shot. Don't think she needs stitches." I shrugged. "What they said..." My head inclined towards the two assholes playing checkers outside.

Sam sighed and placed both hands on the counter, his pipe idly going out in the glass ashtray on the wood counter. "Story as sad as that house, but that's all it is... small-town nosiness. She's lucky to have you nearby. That girl deserves someone nice in her life."

"I'm just fixing her porch, and that's it."

Sam smiled slightly, a quick nod to his head. "Okay." Moving around the counter, he led the way to the right section of the store as I told him what needed to be done at what apparently was the "Swan House". He loaded the counter with nails, caulk, wood putty, and a few other things I thought I might need in case something else were to happen, and rung me up. Bella's supplies totaled much less than they should, and at my questioning look as I signed the receipt, he just shrugged and called it a neighborhood discount.

Arms loaded with bags and some spare wood tucked under my armpit, I went out the front and didn't hesitate to let my thigh bump right into that chess board, sending the pieces scattering across the sidewalk.

I replayed their conversation and the strange part about a baby doll. The more-wrinkled bastard of the two had said her ma carried one around like it was real. My thoughts went to the picture I'd looked at not an hour ago, and my mind couldn't decide if it had seen a baby or a doll nestled in the woman's arms.

Half-expecting the deer to be gone when I rounded the corner towards the truck, I breathed a sigh of relief that it was still there, nose out, waiting on its owner. After loading the bed with my supplies, I walked to the side where the animal sat and scratched its head a few times. "She'd better give you a name if you plan on staying." The deer just looked at me and twitched its ear, which either meant it agreed or had plans to move on. I was guessing the first.

Fifteen minutes later, we both looked up when the sound of the door scraped the concrete and Deer Girl came out, bandage on her leg and Band-Aid on her arm. Despite the obvious, I asked if she'd done what I said, and she confirmed that she had gotten the shot.

She looked sort of peaked but said nothing when I told her so, just silence, so I let it go. I said a silent prayer that the ancient thing would start a second time. Rumbling to life with a spit and a cough, we exchanged a small smile and headed our way out of town and back to our solitary existence.

She pet the deer and held one hand out the window, letting the wind catch it as I drove, and I wanted to ask her about what the men had said. About baby dolls and dead mothers, but it wasn't any of my business, and Lord knew I didn't want her rooting around in mine. I did think about that stain though, the one with the invisible barrier that wouldn't let you walk over it, and thought perhaps she and I had a little more in common than I'd first believed.

Parked back in the overgrown grass of what once was a driveway, the silence around us was deafening when I cut the engine. She was looking at the house, an expression on her face I couldn't quite decipher fully but looked a hell of a lot like resentment. I guess I'd be looking that way too if my house decided to bite me.

"You need help?" I nodded towards her leg, hoping she didn't.

"Nope." She climbed out, and the deer followed, so I went around the back to unload all the supplies. The hatch didn't function, so I climbed up on the fender and into the bed to fetch all that had slid to the front. When she asked, it was my turn to deny help, so she stood watching until I was finished.

"How much do I owe you for that?" She was pointing at the tools for her porch I'd laid on the ground. She looked anxious, and I wondered if she had any money.

Her lip was being chewed, worried, by straight, white teeth. I thought of the deep discount Sam gave me and responded she owed me nothing.

As we stood there, I had the strangest urge to pull that lip free.

Mad love to LayAtHomeMom, Hadley Hemingway, and CarrieZM for making us pretty.

Enjoy, and leave us your thoughts!

HB&PB