-:-
My eyelids felt like rusted locks as I strained to open them, only to shut them fiercely as a ray of light nearly blinded me. I rolled over, plunging my face into my pillow and relaxed at the darkness it provided.
Only now I couldn't breathe.
I groaned and rolled toward the opposite wall, blinking as I adjusted my eyes to the sunlight in the room.
Luckily, I wasn't nauseous—my head was pounding like it was being rolled upon by a sumo wrestler, but that was my own damned fault for not eating dinner the night before and sucking down a pound of Sangria (which wasn't the greatest idea after sustaining a concussion), only to have an emotional breakdown in the shower, and forgetting to take a sip of water in between it all. I'd remained in my watery sanctuary for about twnty minutes or so. Not having the strength to stand, I stayed on the floor of the shower, eventually reaching for some shampoo and such to pass the time after my waterlogged blubbering. By the time I finally managed to convince my body to cooperate and carry me to bed, I looked like a giant prune.
I kicked off my comforter and an instantaneous smack on the wall made me flinch and nearly jump out of bed. Then, there was a small clatter, and I realized it wasn't the sort of bang I was used to hearing. I'd actually sent my cell phone flying off my bed, which had been tucked in with me all night, and it had hit the adjacent wall.
Grumbling, I crawled out of bed and retrieved my phone, only to see that half the screen had been cracked, right across the digital clock.
It was ten fifty-four in the morning. Holy shit.
I squinted at the windows, surprised that sunlight was actually streaming in. I supposed the trees had never been blocking it—only the clouds were to blame. Well, what a day for them to finally lift. I glared at the little sunbeams.
"You're either too late or too early, you photon fuck-up."
Ignoring the fact that I was literally cursing the skies, I made my bed slowly, painstakingly folding the sheets and straightening the pillows to waste more time. Even though it was already the middle of the day, I wasn't excited to start yet.
Things were going to be similar to the first day I arrived at the lodge. I was just here for some quiet, alone time to get my act together so that I could try to be happy wherever I went next. Now, if I could only disregard the lingering, hollow pain that was still inside my chest from the memories of what happened after I arrived, I would be just fine.
I brushed my teeth slowly. I brushed my hair slowly. I did, however, wash my face quickly because the water was freezing—hell, I'd probably used up all of the hot water that the lodge had to offer. In fear that I would, in fact, start shedding my own skin from having been immersed for so long earlier that morning, I decided that I'd had enough of the shower scene and pulled on a worn pair of jeans and a white sweater, and spent more time than usual putting makeup on so people would be less likely to notice my washed-out skin and depleted eyes.
After I'd guzzled a bottle of water, retrieved my room key from my purse, stuffed my cell phone into my pocket, and took a deep breath, I walked out the door. It was silent, though I almost felt the need to tiptoe past the now-vacant room beside me—a force of habit.
Still hesitant to get to the lobby, I took one stair at a time at an unhurried pace, concentrating on the ridges in the wooden banister underneath my fingers as I trailed my hand along. Maybe one of the long-buried secrets from the crevasses would speak to me, giving me a distraction. No magical feelings of wonderment came, and I inevitably began wondering what state Edward was in by now. Probably Wyoming or even Nebraska if he had decided to head east. Unless he went north, heading to Canada. Or maybe he was en route to Mexico. He could have been on another planet, for all I knew.
I kept my eyes on the floor all the way down to the last set of stairs that led to the lobby. As I finally lifted my head, I saw Doris looking at a calendar behind her desk. She wouldn't have known that Edward left, would she? Unless he had written her a note or something before he hightailed it out of here.
She was going to interrogate me like a member of the KGB if it came as a surprise. And then probably run to his room to see if it was true, and—
Suddenly, I was on my ass.
I'd missed a step and my foot had shot out from under me, sending me sliding down the last two stairs on my bottom. Doris turned toward me as soon as gravity had completed its task, her mouth forming a complete 'O,' and hurried over.
"Good golly gracious!" she exclaimed, coming over to me and leaning down, offering me her hand. "Are you okay, dear?"
I found the whole situation pretty funny and surprised myself by laughing. At least not everything had changed. "I'm fine," I said, allowing Doris to help me up. "Thank you."
Doris brushed off my shoulders and back. "My goodness, Isabella. We don't need you having another head injury!"
"Sorry," I said. "That's typically the kind of entrance I make. Good morning, by the way. I lost track of time."
I'd lost track of a lot of things this morning.
"Oh, it's good to see you, too, dear," said Doris, chipper as usual, as she brushed my sleeves and shoulders, and I had to smile at her attentiveness. "I've had a slow morning myself, what with planning for the picnic this afternoon."
"Picnic?" I repeated.
"Oh, I'm such a silly old woman, I can't believe I didn't mention it before," said Doris, grinning and waving her hand to door. "I've been bugging Tom for weeks about setting up a good day for an outdoor picnic for everyone. The weather's not exactly the most cooperative here, so I figured it might be nice to take advantage of the sunshine today. It's actually a little warm out."
"Really? Do you think I should change?"
"Oh, warm to us means fifty degrees, dear. It might be a little above that, but there's still a nice breeze, so I think you're set," she said. "Besides, I think you look lovely. Anyway, Tom and I were up all morning preparing food for this afternoon. I'll admit, I snuck in a cat nap when no one was looking," she added, winking at me.
I smiled, but I could tell by the look on her face that it must not have seemed bona fide.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" she asked, giving me a concerned stare. "You don't seem like yourself. You look a little faded."
Crap. Was it that easy to tell? So much for the makeup.
"I'm just tired," I said, running my hand through my hair. "Maybe it's because I skipped dinner last night. I spent the evening with Angela and later, I kind of…"
Played with fire? Made a mess of things?
"Lost track of time?" Doris said, echoing my previous words.
I nodded, attempting another smile. "Yeah." My eyes suddenly felt like anchors, weighted down by a sadness I couldn't ignore, and I found myself studying the carpet, shuffling the toe of my shoe into the russet-colored fibers.
I thought back to what Doris had said, about how people came and went, but left little pieces of themselves behind. It was true, although Edward hadn't seemed to leave anything 'little' or easily forgettable behind. He had left a handprint on my heart, shadows of his silhouette in my bedroom, echoes of thumps on the wall and knocks at my door, and the hardest to forget—phantom feelings of his arms wrapped around me.
This emotional hangover was not going to go away today, that was for sure.
Doris patted my arm. "Well," she continued in a kind voice, gesturing over my shoulder. "Mr. Masen is over by the window if you're looking for him. Maybe he can cheer you up."
My head jerked up and I stared at her. "He—he is?"
Doris looked at me innocently. "Over there, dear, in the café. I just assumed you'd sit together."
I turned toward the café. Unless I was seeing some sort of mirage due to dehydration and Doris was equally hallucinating, she was right. Edward was sitting at a table by the window, facing the front of the lobby. And he was staring at me.
I turned back to Doris, clenching the edge of her desk with my hand, unsure what to do or think.
"Goodness, Isabella, are you all right?" Doris asked, reaching out her hands to steady me.
"I'm a little dizzy," I confessed, creasing my eyebrows in confusion. Of all things, I certainly wasn't expecting this.
"Well, my heavens," said Doris, coming around from her desk and putting her arm around me. "I've seen that look before." She started walking me toward the café before I could think straight, and she was leading me right to Edward. Each footstep forward made my stomach twist as I got closer, and I ended up staring at the floor until we stopped.
"Have a seat before you fall over," said Doris, pulling out the chair opposite from Edward and nudging me into it. "Now, there's still plenty of breakfast left. What can I get you? Eggs? Bacon? Oatmeal? Oh, we had biscuits this morning!"
I looked up at her in bewilderment. "Huh?" I asked stupidly.
"Well, it's no wonder you're feeling faint without dinner last night, and only waiting until now to eat," she said, brushing my hair out of my face with a motherly hand. She glanced at Edward. "Oh, I see you took my advice, Mr. Masen. Chamomile calms the soul, as my mother always said."
Edward was drinking tea? Had I woken up in an alternative universe where he had stayed put and then turned British?
"So, Isabella, what would you like to eat?" Doris continued, apparently mistaking my woozy reaction for hunger. "The picnic's starting at two o'clock, but I want to make sure you get something before then. Tom makes excellent pancakes, you know. Did I mention we have biscuits?"
I was still peculiarly stuck on forming an intelligent answer. I shook myself out of it and looked up at Doris pleadingly, as if she could explain why he was still here and not in Mexico or on Jupiter.
"I'll get you some biscuits," she decided, then turned on her heels toward the kitchen, leaving us alone at the table. I watched her walk away and cautiously turned my eyes to Edward, who was still staring at me as if he was waiting to hear a verdict.
"Hi," he said quietly, cradling his cup in his hands. He waited a few moments before asking, "Are you feeling all right?"
I gaped at him. Honestly, I was torn between feeling anxious, thinking that I was going to have replay the 'leaving' scene with him again, since it appeared that he hadn't actually left, and secretly glad that he hadn't gone yet. This push and pull of emotions belonged in a high school, not between twenty-somethings.
"You're probably wondering what I'm still doing here," he said.
I supposed I shouldn't just sit here and ignore him.
"Well," I finally said, "… yeah."
He let his breath out. "You've got to be tired of this," he said, sweeping his hair back. "I feel terrible about yanking you back and forth."
It felt more like up and down, like a seesaw. Going up was pleasant—less work, defying gravity in a playful way, enjoying his laughter and lips and the electricity between us. But coming down was like falling, a moment of panic, of not knowing if I could catch myself in time. Or in truer words, not knowing if I would see him again.
"You don't have to sit here, you know," he continued. "Doris kind of—well, literally pushed you into that chair."
Yeah, she had. I wish she had stuck around for a bit longer to ease the awkward tension.
"What are you thinking?" he asked after another small period of silence.
I studied his face carefully. His eyes were fairly vibrant, but the half-moon shadows under his lower eyelids screamed exhaustion. If he had slept, it either hadn't been in a comfortable place or it hadn't been for long.
"I'm thinking that you look tired," I said honestly, reaching up to play with the neckline of my sweater. I couldn't seem to stop fidgeting.
Edward looked mildly surprised at my response. He took a quick sip of tea. "I didn't sleep much," he admitted, avoiding my eyes for another moment before speaking up again. "You're angry with me, aren't you?"
I shook my head. "I'm not. Just confused. Like you said, I thought you left. I didn't expect to have to say goodbye again."
He cleared his throat. "I'm…" he began, setting his mug down and slowly spinning it in a slow circle. "I'm here for a reason."
"Out of gas?" I joked. "Dead battery?"
A hint of a smile crossed his face and he shook his head.
"Well, at least tell me if it's a good or bad reason."
He sighed. "I guess it depends on how you look at it."
"You know, for someone who went to law school, you sure don't say things very outright," I said. "Isn't being a circulator a requirement?"
His smile widened. At least he seemed to be feeling better. "There are exceptions," he said, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. He couldn't seem to sit still, either.
"Okay, sweetie, I ended up grabbing you a few things," came Doris's voice from behind Edward. She walked over to our table and placed a basket of biscuits, a massive plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, a plate of butter and jam packets, and a large glass of orange juice in front of me. "Eat up. Be sure to keep an eye on her, Mr. Masen. I don't want to see her passing out any time soon."
"I promise that won't happen," I assured her. "Thank you, Doris, I'm fine."
"I'm sure you are," she said, patting my shoulder. "Just trying to keep my promise to Chief Swan. He'd never admit it to you, I'm sure, but he was worried about you coming here by yourself. I spoke with him this morning, in fact."
"Oh?" I asked wearily, wanting to instead say, 'You're joking, right?' I sipped my OJ, wishing there was vodka in it. "What did he say?"
"Oh, he was just checking in, wanting to know how you were doing," she said with a knowing glint in her eyes. "I told him how you were fitting right in, how you were very cozy with Mr. Masen and a few others."
My throat constricted. "Cozy?" I managed to choke out.
"Oh, don't be embarrassed, dear—I mentioned Angela, too," said Doris, chuckling. Innocent as she seemed, I was certain that, subconsciously, Doris was out to mortify me for life. "I can understand how parents can be. I have two boys, myself. Can't blame him for wanting to keep an eye on his little girl."
Dear Earth… Swallow me. Love, Bella.
"Anyway, enjoy your breakfast. There's enough for both of you. You could stand to eat something, too, Mr. Masen—don't disappoint me!" said Doris over her shoulder as she walked away.
I had to chuckle at her, and then sighed. If my trip so far was rewritten into a movie script, Edward and I would have already been through this dramatic song-and-dance, figured out each others' pasts during the first thirty minutes of screen time, and gotten past the awkward sexual tension, having had multiple rolls in the hay. And my father certainly would have not made an appearance, whether it was by telephone or otherwise.
"Are you okay?" Edward asked, concerned.
I glanced up, exhaling loudly as I looked at him; he had a peculiar look on his face. And no wonder.
"It's not that, it's—" I began. How could I put this without sounding like a complete freak? Honestly, there didn't seem to be any other way around it. "I'm just sorry, you know? You must think I'm insane. You shouldn't have had to deal with all that last night with my dad, with me—any of it. And if you only stayed so you could tell me to go screw myself, then I understand."
Edward stared at me, eyebrows raised. "Well," he said softly, "that's definitely not the reason I stayed."
I was mostly curious because I didn't see what could have really changed overnight. Suddenly he looked sort of guilty, which made me paranoid that he'd heard me crying in the shower. Our walls were thin, after all, and the noise could have carried through the pipes and sang like an opera throughout his room when he went back to get his bags. I really hoped that wasn't the case.
"I'm not unstable," I said quickly, realizing that blurting it out like that made me sound just that. I cleared my throat, trying to sound a little indifferent. "I mean, I was sad, but I would have gotten over it. You know that, right?"
He nodded, his face changing with emotions that I couldn't quite decipher. "Yes, I know that. That's not the reason."
"So, why?" I asked, choosing to take a bite out of a biscuit, deciding to listen instead of dig myself into a larger, more embarrassing hole.
"Well, because—despite arguing with myself," he said, looking me straight in the eyes, "I couldn't find a reason that was strong enough to suppress how I feel about you. And trust me, I was diligent about it. I sat in my car for hours, trying to think of something that would allow me turn on the ignition. But I couldn't."
I chewed slowly, studying him-searching for any sign that he might not be telling the truth.
"You sat out there in your car for hours without the heat running?"
Girl, stop talking. Stop talking forever.
He blinked a few times and chuckled. "I guess I did."
"Sorry, keep going," I said quickly, trying to swallow my mouthful of biscuit. I was surprised there was room for food in my mouth with my foot in there all the time.
"Anyway, you're not alone in your feelings, you know," Edward continued. "I've been attracted to you ever since I opened my door and saw you standing there… even with all the blood," he added, cracking a small grin. "And once I knew you, everything just grew from there. Even in such a short time. I care about you, too."
"Oh," I answered, undoubtedly flushing pink. "I…" A convivial smile crossed my face before I could hope to remain nonchalant about the whole thing. When Edward returned the smile, it was worth not playing it cool.
"I should have said something last night," he said. "Only, I thought it wasn't worth saying if I was just going to walk away."
I nodded, trying not to get too excited about his confession. He'd said things like this before, after all, and I knew I shouldn't let my heart run away with his words like they belonged to me. "It's okay."
"No," he said, frowning a bit, as if he could read my thoughts. "Not really. I'm sorry… I feel horrible that I made you so upset."
I shook my head. "I was all right."
He looked sheepish and hesitated long enough to make me wrinkle my face in insecurity.
"You heard me, didn't you? Crying, right?" When he didn't answer, I slid my hand over my eyes. "Damn these thin walls."
"Don't be embarrassed," he said quietly.
"That's about as effective as asking Lauren to keep her legs closed," I mumbled, taking another sip of orange juice.
He smiled again, laughing a bit. "Do you forgive me?"
"You really have nothing to be sorry for," I said. "I'm not usually so emotional, I promise. It was just a long night. A lot of emotions about a lot of things collided at once. I'm surprised that I didn't chase you off faster, honestly."
He gave me a weary look, so I spoke again before he could reprimand my self-deprecation. "I can't pretend I'm not still curious," I said, putting my glass down. "Why did you feel like you still had to leave?"
Edward rubbed his shoulder, pausing to stare out the window as he faintly said, "Because I knew I was going to disappoint you."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "How would you disappoint me by staying?"
He continued to gaze through the glass and I was suddenly apologetic for feeling so callous about the sun earlier. The beams lit up his face, making his eyes sparkle. I couldn't look away, wondering if he knew how beautiful he really was.
"I haven't told you everything about me," he said, picking up his tea again to take a drink. "I'm not even sure where to start, really."
I didn't really believe that whatever he told me would ever be enough to disappoint me, but if he was willing to tell me anything, I wasn't going to argue with him. He remained quiet for a few moments, lost in thought.
"You could start by telling me why you left home," I suggested. It had been a touchy subject so far, but I had a feeling that it was the root of his burden.
Edward nodded, sighing lightly as he looked down at his hands. "I could," he said, a step away from whispering. He took a deep breath, and neither he nor I missed the quiver that was present in it. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, appearing uncomfortable.
"You don't have to," I said quickly, piecing together the familiar signs of what would inevitably lead to a shutdown on his part.
"No, you deserve an explanation," he said, twisting his mug in his hands again. "See, there was—well, I—"
As each second slowly passed, I could feel the hesitation as if it was radiating off of him in waves. Whatever he was about to say wasn't coming easy—it was making him upset. We were smack in the middle of the lobby, half full of people, too. Maybe he was afraid of someone overhearing. I was about to suggest going somewhere a little quieter when he spoke up.
"This is hard," he admitted. "It feels cruel to tell you, but also to keep from you."
Now I was dying to hear this. My brain was jumping miles ahead, trying to imagine something that might be too awful to talk about. I noticed his hands were shaking—enough so the tea inside his mug was quivering like a pond during a small earthquake. I alternated my gaze between his troubled expression and his unsteady fingers.
"Edward?" I said quietly, giving him a look of concern, glancing back at his hands. Once he realized what I was staring at, he set the mug down quickly and pulled his hands into his lap.
"We really don't have to talk about it," I continued. "I can wait."
Edward looked away, seeming conflicted, so I added, "You're really staying?" I asked, half afraid that he would suddenly change his mind and run to his car. "I mean, not forever, obviously, but for now?"
He ran his hand over his forehead and nodded, looking back at me.
"Well, then there's no reason you have to tell me now, at this moment," I said carefully. "You don't have to tell me at all—not unless you're ready and you want to."
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous. I'm ridiculous."
He was still visibly trembling; seeing him so worked up was making me anxious. Although, my anxiety wasn't making me clam up—it made me more inclined to pull him into my arms and not let go until sunset. "You're not," I said. "Clearly it's not something easy to talk about or you would have said it already."
He took a slow breath and reached for his tea again, looking a bit pale.
I slid the basket of biscuits and plate closer to him. "You heard Doris," I pressed, trying to distract him from whatever was racing through his thoughts. "Help me make a dent in all of this."
With that, I promptly picked up one of the forks and took a bite of eggs. He didn't make a move to take anything; he only sipped his tea, settling for staring out into the sunny parking lot. "You know," I said, after swallowing, "maybe there's something else you can tell me about."
Edward raised his eyebrows. "What's that?"
I couldn't quite keep a straight face. "You could explain those leprechaun boxers of yours. I figure they must have had an interesting past."
That got him. "Oh," he said, setting his mug on the table, the faintest trace of amusement coming out in his eyes. "Those."
"Mm-hmm," I said, almost snorting. "They were kind of hard to miss."
"I'm sure," he answered, leaning his chin on his hand. "They were a Christmas gift, actually. Secret Santa at the law office."
I fought the urge to ask him if the little slogan on said boxers was true. "Underwear. That's… a very sensible gift." I tried to cover my smile by sipping my juice.
"Yes," he said, and his lips formed a peculiar smirk. "It could have been worse. I could have been the guy who got the pair with candy canes that said, 'My holiday stick is thick and quick'."
Orange juice shot down my throat so fast, I almost dropped the glass. I sputtered, half choking and half laughing. Edward calmly handed me a napkin, and despite my state, I was happy to see an authentic smile on his face.
"Finally got you back," he said, looking fairly satisfied with himself.
I wiped my face, feeling that it had turned a furious shade of red.
"Oh God," I muttered, laughing. "Touché."
He chuckled and finally reached for a biscuit and some raspberry jam. I figured talking about lighthearted things was the way to go today; we'd had enough serious talk to last us a while. I certainly wasn't going to take his good mood for granted. I would be there when he wanted to talk about his past, though I imagined it might take some time.
We lingered at the table after we finished eating while other guests started to filter outside the back door for the picnic, even those who had been late-snacking like Edward and me; people tended to get excited when there was food involved (and I couldn't pretend I wouldn't go check it out either.). Edward was beginning to wilt a bit, leaning his head on his hand, rubbing his eyes and yawning, only to stretch or shake his head slightly, as if to snap himself out of it. It was kind of cute in a way, like watching a stubborn child try to stay awake.
I finally suggested getting up to stretch our legs, and Edward agreed, following me to the front of the lobby.
"You're exhausted," I stated, catching him in another yawn when we stopped to let a couple pass us.
He nodded subtly and looked to the side. There was the slightest trace of stubble along his jaw and I got a weird impulse to stroke his cheek. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a nap?" I suggested. "It can't feel great, the way you've been losing sleep."
He laughed halfheartedly. "I suppose not. I'm not dead yet, though."
I rolled my eyes. "Well," I said, walking to the stairs, "if I were you, I wouldn't wait around until death came for me. Don't you think you could use an hour or two?"
"I think I could use ten," he said, managing a smile.
I sighed and glided my hand up his arm, the feel of him giving me goosebumps. "Yeah, you probably could," I said, squeezing gently. I knew I probably should let go before I broke the personal space rule. But I didn't. "I guess I'll wait for you down here?"
Edward combed through my hair with his hand, lightly holding the back of my head. No rules for him, either. My breath always seemed to pick up when that happened. "Well, definitely go outside and enjoy the day," he said, nodding toward the back door. "I'm sure Doris would miss you if you didn't."
I nodded, trying to seem unfazed by the chills that rushed through me as his thumb stroked behind my ear. "Okay."
"Later, can I see you?"
He had to be kidding. "Nah, I think I've had enough of you. Maybe I'll call that Mike guy and see if his antibiotics have kicked in yet."
Edward smiled. "Great. I guess I'll call Jess—no, I can't. Can't even joke about it."
We laughed and he said with a final caress to my cheek, "I'll look for you later." Then, his warm hand left my face as he turned to walk up the stairs. Only then did my heart slowly return to a normal rhythm.
I turned around just in time to see two elderly ladies—the same ones Edward and I had sat near during the movie—staring at me with wide grins.
Mother of God. Days of Our Wilderness Lives.
I gave them a self-conscious wave and booked it to the back door, thinking that for such a small town, and in such a quiet place, I hadn't had a boring moment yet.
-:-
