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Chapter 117
Small Steps
Bella
Thursday morning.
The weekend and the last days had passed without any special incidents. Jake had gotten over that one night when, according to Edward, he had a real panic attack. Becky had quickly regained her composure after the visit from the various lawyers and had been sleeping at home since Sunday night. Becky was again substituted right from the bleachers in the last set of a match on Tuesday, so our girls won the last game for now of the first round. Peter and Stan were back from their honeymoon and had ambushed us with cake and stories on Friday afternoon. Leah and Marcus were in Portland all day Saturday. First with Becky to pick out the dress and matching underwear, then out with Marcus' friends there. On Sunday they were probably with his mother. We saw all four of them again on Sunday for dinner. And all four were beaming all over. Emma had shown up at our house like every Sunday morning. At least this time she had put on shoes and had not walked over in socks again. We would have to work on her jacket now, which Edward and David said was an impossible endeavor. On Sunday evening, Jake, Becky, Leah, and Marcus had babysat the neighbor kids and the four of us had a very cordial evening together here. Everything was beautiful!
Wrapped in my bathrobe, I now lay on top of Edward on the bed.
Well, not quite so wrapped up anymore.
One of his hands had made a beguiling way under the fabric and lay on my back, the other on my cheek and stroked invigoratingly over my skin. We kissed each other.
Actually, we rather smooched.
"Dad, are you finally done?" I heard Jake come quietly through our bedroom door, which was only ajar, and Edward's head landed soberingly back on the covers.
"Good morning!" my son then stood in the doorway and grinned downright boorishly at me.
I had not yet seen my children today. It had gotten late yesterday at Zoey's, so my angel thought he could let me sleep a little longer this morning. But as he came back to the bedroom earlier, I had woken up and gone to take a shower with him.
"Good morning!" Leah was immediately standing in the doorway as well.
Grinning as well. Why did I have two children again?
They silently gave me an answer to that. They came to me and at the same time each pressed a kiss on my cheek.
The embarrassment when my children saw me like this with Edward had quietly and secretly left at some point. I used to chuckle when I thought back to the morning after my birthday. When I wanted to hide in the bedroom because they had seen me like this.
"Dad! We have to go to school!" Jake grumbled.
They drove together today because right after school was Jake's third basketball game, where he would ride the school bus with the rest of the team.
"I was just there yesterday!" Edward said, pulling me back against his lips.
"So were we! Or can we stay at home, too?" Leah complained.
"I already have various university degrees to show for it!" Edward interrupted our kiss anew. "And you?" he looked at her slyly.
"Uh ..." Leah was searching for an appropriate answer, which she did not find.
I smiled.
I had one.
"And when do you want to tell your teachers about your various degrees?" I asked endearingly.
He contorted his face.
"You're stabbing me in the back?" he asked, played incensed.
I shrugged my shoulders and kissed him on the tip of his nose.
He indicated to the kids that he would probably get up after all. Of necessity.
The kids left again, and Edward rose heavily from the bed, tossing the towel he still had wrapped around his hips onto the armchair.
I quickly helped him get dressed.
Without me, he would certainly be faster with it, but with me it was more fun. Especially for me. Whereby undressing was much more interesting.
Then he was fully dressed.
Too bad ...
"What do you actually do all day when we're at school?" he pulled me into his arms.
"If I told you, I would have to kill you!" I replied mysteriously.
He smiled my crooked smile.
"Do you have any idea how annoying it is that I can't hear YOUR thoughts, of all things!" he complained.
"Yes," I said simply. He had asked me that a few times since Peter and Stan's wedding, and each time I refused to answer.
"See you at the game, my heart!" he kissed me goodbye again.
The extended goodbye kiss was unfortunately already interrupted again.
"DAD!" the kids yelled from downstairs.
So, he turned away from me and left.
I sighed in love and let myself fall back onto the bed.
I had breakfast first.
Edward had brought me my breakfast on a lovingly arranged tray in bed. After all, it had not become so late yesterday, and I was not usually a late riser. My two halves of rolls were buttered, the coffee even hotter than I had guessed, a flower lay next to the plate, a glass of orange juice, a boiled egg, and a small card that read 'Good morning, my angel!" in beautiful handwriting.
My life was perfect!
I got dressed, made the bed, packed up my things and rode my motorcycle to Portland.
Yes, I had a secret from Edward. I had for three weeks. I wasn't lazy when my family was sitting in school. Quite the opposite. I was very hardworking. And nobody knew about it. Nobody! So, Edward couldn't find out from anyone. In doing so, I was probably being overly cautious.
I parked my Honda behind a garage so that no one could see my machine if one happened to drive through that street.
I rang the bell, and the housekeeper opened the door for me as usual.
"Good morning, Bella. You're late today though!" the pleasant elderly lady greeted me, which I returned in the same friendly manner. "He's already downstairs!" she was still saying after I hid my jacket and helmet at the coat rack.
I nodded and made my way through the pretty old-fashioned house.
It looked quite gloomy at first sight. Everything was covered with dark wood and heavy curtains hung around the windows. But it was at second glance just coherent and very harmonious. Cozy.
"Bella, good morning," Milton set down his cup of coffee.
"Good morning, Milton. Have you had a chance to look at my work from yesterday?" I asked.
"Of course. Excellent remarks. Just need a little elaboration in expression. As always," he smiled at me.
Professor Doctor Milton Stewart. A man in his seventies. Widower. Held a professorial chair in biology at the Brown University in Boston until a few years ago. After retiring, he had moved back to Portland, the city of his birth. He not only had an impressive little library of reference books, but also a fully equipped laboratory. Mr. Prescott, my boss, had introduced us.
Here I had been working on my dissertation for more than three weeks. In the first few days, we had worked together to find a suitable topic for my dissertation. And found one: 'The Cooperative Mode of Action of Folding Helper Proteins and Proteases in Protein Quality Control in Mitochondria'. In addition, we had created a work plan. The individual topics, a rough outline of what I wanted to address and justify in my work, which investigations and experiments I would have to carry out most expediently, how and when I would obtain the appropriate samples for this purpose, and the like.
At first, I was against Milton's help. I wanted to manage on my own. That's why Edward didn't know about it. Edward had studied biology himself. He would help me right away. Would possibly finish the entire work in just one night.
But I didn't want that. I wanted my doctorate, but all by my own skill!
Milton quickly made it clear to me, however, that I could not completely do without help. A doctorate had to be submitted to a corresponding faculty, and they would only accept it if I had a doctoral advisor with me. Milton took care of the formalities at his former university, submitted the rough plan and acted as my companion from then on. In the end, I got along very well with that. He had worked out the plan with me, but otherwise would only supervise my work, assist me in the lab, and review and revise the results I had put down on paper. He assured me several times that he not only had nothing against it, but that he would be pleased to be able to give assistance in his faculty. His daughter, whom I had got to know at our first meeting, had also expressly confirmed this to me. I was not the first person he accompanied to a doctoral degree since giving up his chair. It would fill him with joy to still be able to pass on his considerable knowledge in this way and not feel useless in his old age.
Well. Despite his advanced age, however, one could not say that he was really 'old'. He was rather spry and mentally even better off than I was - as far as biology was concerned. I had actually forgotten some basics. Simply because I didn't need them at work. I was quite embarrassed when I had to admit that. Milton, however, took it with all kinds of humor and meant that this was quite normal.
So that's how I worked on my dissertation. The doctorate. Awarded by Brown University. That was able to really show itself afterwards. It was a challenge, but it was also fun.
It was noon.
The housekeeper always cooked way too much. Especially, it was too much because I told her every day that she didn't have to prepare food for me. She also ignored me deliberately every day.
Milton retired as usual after lunch while I cleaned up the lab.
I always did the practical/exciting part of the lab work in the morning.
After cleaning up and eating, I strolled around the expansive garden a bit.
Getting fresh air and clearing my head. I never managed the latter, but Milton insisted on the walk. He said it was good for concentration.
In the afternoon, I would sit at a PC, evaluate my results from the morning, and formulate my paper, which Milton would usually proofread by my next visit.
I had not come very far yet. I was only taking small steps at the moment, but Milton said that this was absolutely normal at the beginning. Incidentally, he also forbade me to be here every day. Working too much is counterproductive. One cannot achieve everything at once and a complete work just needs time.
In time, I made my way to Gorham for Jake's game today.
I was already standing in the parking lot waiting when I saw the BMW and Rosalie's Porsche pull into the area.
He parked not far from me, and Leah and Becky jumped out of the car as soon as he stopped. They waved briefly and already disappeared.
I saw my angel get out and walked towards him.
He saw me and looked longingly towards me.
It took a lot of effort for me not to hug him. Not to tousle through his hair. Not to taste his lips. Not to breathe in his smell. Not to feel his cool fingers on my skin. Not ...
"Bella?" some fingers snapped in front of my face.
I blinked.
Rosalie. Gone was the little daydream.
I sighed and Edward smiled happily in frustration.
Through the back window I could just make out a head.
A fuzzy blonde mane.
I smiled.
Edward was already bending into the car on one side, I went to the other.
"Hello, my darling!" I purred and looked at Emma, who, as if she was completely stressed, was fiddling with the many straps of the carseat.
"Who exactly are you referring to?" inquired Edward, coming closer and closer to my face.
"Well, Emma! Who else?" I said firmly.
He chuckled softly and kissed me soulfully.
"And what about me?" complained Emma.
We pressed a kiss to her dimpled cheeks - one on the right, one on the left.
She giggled happily. As soon as she stood on her feet and looked around, she rushed towards everyone else at first.
Away game. Therefore, there were not that many. Only Esmé, Jasper, and Rose. Leah and Becky were already in the gym. And I just saw Lisa and Jason coming into the parking lot.
We waved to them, but were already going into the hall.
Leah and Becky had saved seats for us. Edward and I took Emma between us. She would be our safety distance today.
The game had just been whistled when I saw Cathlyn and Stephen Turner - Brandon's parents.
While Cathlyn was always there for home games and at least tried to set it up for away games like today, Stephen usually only watched for special games. His work schedule simply overlapped with his son's sports. Much to his chagrin. However, he took a few hours off for important games, which his boss frowned upon. So, I was a little surprised that they were both here.
Stephen saw us and pushed Cathlyn in our direction.
She looked reluctant. She had not spoken to me again until now. Her look was quite definite. She was consistently rejecting us. Stephen was quite different.
He greeted the many young people in a relaxed manner, shook hands with Esmé and Edward in a friendly manner and asked me in a good mood if we would move together a bit.
He knew that Edward and I were engaged, and he didn't really care. Because of Edward's youth, it wasn't as natural for him as it was for Brandon or Peter, for example, but basically he wasn't very interested.
"Of course!" I replied just as exuberantly and took Emma onto my lap so that the two of them could still find room.
A fleeting glance to the right. Into golden eyes. Our safety distance was gone, and we touched each other, as we sat so close together.
I swallowed and clung to Emma.
Stephen chatted with us.
Quite casual.
I hadn't seen him since parents' night at my house, so we both had some catching up to do.
How our sons played, that they were in good shape. Marcus, whom Bran had told him about. Who on earth the lovely young lady on my lap was. Whether Edward and I would meet with rejection. Our main topic: Brandon and Lisa!
Cathlyn, by the way, was consistently silent and didn't even dare to look in our direction.
The first two quarters were over, and we were well in the lead when Leah's cell phone beeped.
I was searching for a hand to my right when I realized that something was wrong. Leah looked startled and, as far as I could tell from my place diagonally behind her, even turned a little pale. She immediately dialed, but apparently without success. Edward noticed it faster than I did, probably he had already heard the trigger of this reaction in her mind and put his hands reassuringly on her arms.
I asked what was going on.
"Marcus is in Saco at the hospital and he wants to report back later," Leah said despondently, promptly turning to Edward and looking against him pleadingly.
He pulled out his own cell phone, but did not appear to be talking to Carlisle.
"Carlisle is in the operating room right now and no one else will tell me what happened," he explained, almost cursing after that very brief phone call.
He looked at Leah comfortingly and gently stroked her cheek with his fingers.
"Don't be afraid, little one. He is able to send you a text message. Therefore, it can't be that bad! I'll take you to him," he promised and stood up with her.
"Emma, do you want to continue watching Jake and then drive home with Esmé and Rosie?" I asked the little smooch ball on my legs. Because of course I wanted to go with them. I wanted to stand by my baby, whatever exactly was going on.
She nodded enthusiastically and I passed her to Rose.
Rosalie always liked to take care of our little whirlwind. I gave Jazz my key for the motorcycle.
Stephen had noticed this, of course. He rose to let us pass and put one of his hands on Leah's shoulder.
"Cheer up, Leah. You'll be fine!" he tried to be a little encouraging.
Leah nodded absentmindedly.
Cathlyn reacted.
Wow ...
She too, of course, stood up to let us pass, but gave Leah one quick squeeze.
"Never lose hope!" she told to her.
"Never cling to preconceptions!" muttered Leah back after a moment, however, and pointed at me and Edward with a nod.
Cathlyn's gaze followed the pointed direction to us.
She looked indecisive.
For a moment we paused.
"Dad!" reminded Leah nervously, and continued walking.
We followed her.
We didn't say anything to Jake so that he wouldn't be distracted by the game. Besides, we basically didn't know what had really happened.
Edward drove as fast as he could.
Could, not allowed. He mentally looked out for police and really raced through the streets.
It actually took about forty minutes to cover the distance. We made it in just under twenty.
I was nauseous, by the way.
Edward held me as I almost fell out of the car and supported me on the way to the hospital.
We got to the ER, but Marcus was nowhere to be seen.
Edward concentrated, probably searching for his thoughts.
In the meantime, I got rid of a nurse who immediately wanted to put ME in one of the hospital beds.
The rapid car ride had to be able to be looked at me therefore, but my stomach was already in the process of settling down.
Edward pointed to a door, and we restlessly followed him through some hallways. We turned a corner and saw Marcus sitting on a chair.
Sitting was perhaps not quite appropriate. He tried to lie, his legs stretched far out into the empty hallway, his head leaning against the wall, a bag of ice as a substitute for a pillow, a thick band-aid on his forehead.
"Marcus!" Leah ran up to him and he slid off his seat in shock.
He sat on the floor holding his head. Among other things. Everything seemed to hurt him. His pained face faded away as soon as Leah sat with him, and they looked at each other. He raised his hands ponderously to her face, as if still considering whether she was really there.
"Leah," he whispered, gently touching her lips with his.
"What happened?" inquired Leah.
"My father contacted us, whereupon my ma went berserk. She was raving and screaming around. We ran up to her, I slipped on something and flew down the stairs again ... Halfway there, I carried Jules away," he explained laboriously and guiltily as he toiled himself back to the waiting seat.
Leah and Edward helped him.
"How is Jules?" I wanted to know.
"Just getting patched up," he said, pointing to the treatment room opposite.
He looked at Edward.
"Mild concussion. The scar on her hand is torn open, but nothing worrisome. Other than that, just a few contusions," Edward noted.
"How about you?" asked Leah.
"Wrenched bones, bruises and contusions ... everywhere. I think," he smiled in anguish, placing the ice pack on his head. "Headache," he complemented.
He must have probably blessing in disguise. A fall down the stairs could have ended badly. I had experience there.
Edward's cellphone rang.
Carlisle.
He quickly explained to him that we were here and why.
"After your message, I tried calling. But your cell phone is off," Leah came to mind again.
"Yes. The battery is dead. I was glad I could still write the text message."
Not two minutes passed before Carlisle was with us.
"I'm fine, Doc!" Marcus assured him.
Carlisle nodded and entered the treatment room.
I could still hear him greeting Jules and asking for Marcus' report.
"Where is your mother?" asked Edward then.
Marcus swallowed.
"I don't know exactly. Somewhere here in the hospital. All I know is that Maggie is with her."
Edward concentrated again.
She was lying in a room at the end of the hall. She was physically unharmed, but she had been given a sedative. She rested without sleeping.
Carlisle soon came out of the room with an already again laughing Jules.
Apparently she was excellent.
Marcus toiled himself up from the chair. Every movement seemed to hurt him.
Together we walked to his mother whereby Marcus draped the ice on one of his shoulders.
Edward, Leah, and I waited outside the door, of course, but Carlisle left it open a crack. Edward and Leah would listen anyway and understand every word.
Marcus' mother - under the influence of medication - was on an even keel.
Carlisle introduced himself and skimmed the medical report while Mrs. Carter reassured herself of her children's 'integrity'.
"Sit down, Marcus!" she said solicitously.
"Better not. Otherwise, I won't be able to get back up," he retorted.
I heard the slight smile in his voice.
Carlisle explained to Mrs. Carter the state of health of her children.
According to the report, Jules and Marcus had some hematomas, but there was absolutely no cause for concern. While Jules had only a mild concussion, it would be more pronounced in Marcus. But still not dangerous. They wouldn't have to stay in the hospital and should just rest over the weekend. He would only give Marcus a prescription for painkillers as a precaution.
My angel chuckled.
Upon request, he only meant that we would still see the explanation for this.
"Now about you, Mrs. Carter. You are physically unharmed. But since I know Marcus, I am aware of your present private circumstances. So, I am concerned about your condition," Carlisle said gently.
"What do you know?" she asked, slightly startled.
She hadn't seen any of us except Leah and Jake and didn't know our unusual family. Carlisle had also looked at Jules' hand again since she was temporarily living here in Saco, but he had been with Maggie and Ethan then. They didn't know us yet either. Nor did they know that the doctor belonged to our family. Marcus had already told about us as parents, but had not bothered with the small detail of our age difference. He was not sure what he could and could not tell about us. To what extent it was a secret.
"Well. I know Leah. I'm her grandfather, in a way."
"Leah? ... You can't possibly be a grandfather!" she considered doubtfully.
Edward motioned Leah to go to her.
She knocked softly and entered.
"Oh, Leah. You're here," Mrs. Carter noted delightedly.
"Hello, Mrs. Carter. Maggie," Leah greeted the ladies.
Leah only briefly told how she had come here because of Marcus' very short and ambiguous text message.
"... My parents are here too. My dad drove me here," Leah said, and Mrs. Carter complained why we were still standing outside then.
Edward and I entered cautiously.
I took another deep breath before entering the room.
It was not a real patient room. There was only the bed and at the edge a small table with two chairs. Seemed to be a transition or waiting room. If you had to rest, wait for other people undergoing treatment or something, without that you were also admitted to the hospital.
Mrs. Carter sat on the edge of the bed looking relaxed and rested.
Short curly black hair and gray eyes. Not slim, but not necessarily overweight either.
In front of her, Maggie sat in a chair. On the bed itself, Jules sat cross-legged next to her mother. Marcus had preferred to stand and therefore stood with Leah in front of the bed.
Edward had told me how Marcus' parents dealt with intimacy, which already began with a harmless hug. Therefore, the two touched each other only on the hands. A strange sight, I had to admit.
Mrs. Carter saw me and smiled at me.
I walked up to her, and we reached out our hands.
We introduced ourselves by our first names.
Evelyn. Evelyn Carter.
While she told me, I had a lovely daughter and I truthfully replied that her son was very adorable, said children rolled their eyes in annoyance and groaned a collective, "Mom!"
Then Evelyn's gaze went to the man who had entered the room with me.
"And you are?" inquired Evelyn.
"Good afternoon. I'm Edward Stone," they shook hands.
Evelyn smiled kindly.
"Dr. Stone is my father," he added.
Then he stood closer to me and put an arm around my waist. He left this gesture uncommented.
In Evelyn it seemed to work.
Still smiling, she let her gaze slide a little lower, took note of that half-hug, and the smile was gone.
"Oh ..." she merely said.
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