Author's Note: I appreciate all of you who gave me feedback on my EPOV one-shot/outtake question! It sounds like the general consensus is YES. I have a few plot points I want to get through before I post any but I'm working on a concept that can maybe go up around chapter 8.
This chapter is a bit shorter than what I usually post, so I'm hoping to follow it up quickly with chapter 6. Enjoy!
- Chapter 5: Theoretical -
March 1931
The nasty sleet that marked the first day of what I'd come to think of as the Truce spun itself up into a legitimate winter storm, coating our world in a thick layer of ice that trapped us inside. It took four days for Ben and Angela to make it up the logging road, by which time I was having to get quite creative to keep us fed.
Still, I couldn't deny that I'd enjoyed the brief bubble of solitude. It had allowed me extra time to get to know Edward—the real Edward, not the distant, aloof version I'd originally encountered. And stripped of the façade, I found him more fascinating than ever—disturbingly so.
Luckily—or was it unluckily?—Edward seemed to reciprocate the interest to some small extent, though I didn't flatter myself that his many questions indicated anything more than curiosity.
We fell into something that resembled friendship, and when the ice finally melted enough for Ben's Model T to make it up the drive, he and Angela found a very different dynamic than what they'd left.
"What did you do to Mr. Cullen?" Angela whispered at me after lunch on her first day back.
Edward had sat with us while Nessie finished her meal and had even asked Angela what she'd done with her time off.
Angela, stunned, had blurted out, "Darned my brothers' socks," which made Edward chuckle.
"Nothing," I replied, hiding a grin. "I think we just got to know one another a little better with fewer people around. It helped a bit with the shyness."
"A bit? That's the most I've heard him say since I got here!"
I just shrugged. I wasn't sure why, but I didn't want to give Angela more reason to speculate on the reasons for the shift.
So we went on. Angela cooked and cleaned, Ben worked in the garden, I taught Nessie, who continued charming all of us. Edward joined our lessons from time to time and occasionally popped in on meals.
The best times, though, were our evenings with Nessie by the fire in his study. Sometimes we'd all three talk, but more often we simply sat together with our respective books. Edward invited me now and again to play chess with him. He was a far better player than I, so he invariably won—but I was starting to suspect he purposefully dragged out the games longer than they might otherwise go so we could talk quietly in the corner.
He asked me all kinds of questions about myself—books I liked and hated, my time at the teachers' college, my father's death, my thoughts on politics, my father's life, the mother who'd abandoned us when I was a baby and all the things I'd never know about her. But he was skilled at revealing little about his own background, blocking my attempts to turn the spotlight on him as deftly as he blocked my attacks on the chess board.
As I passed the one month mark at Culwoode, I found that I'd barely discovered anything new about Edward Cullen beyond his literary interests, despite all our conversations. And my list of questions about him had only grown.
It sounded mad—so mad, in fact, that I was genuinely starting to fear for my sanity—but I was beginning to wonder if he were…
If he were what? I couldn't even finish the theory in my own head.
Other. Apart. Different.
On the gray, blustery March day that finally broke our 15-day streak of rain, I went over the evidence in my mind while Nessie gleefully tore around the drive on her bicycle.
Icy, hard skin—but that could be some sort of condition, surely.
Never saw him eat or drink—though who's to say he didn't actually consume the meals delivered to his study?
Strangely attuned senses, which included a propensity to respond aloud to things unsaid—some people, I supposed, were just very perceptive.
The almost painful beauty was another consideration; I'd never seen someone so perfectly formed, yet I'd met three in the last month, including Jasper and Alice.
And then there were the eyes. Ever-changing, darkening from purest gold to rich caramel, so slowly that I didn't notice from one day to the next until suddenly, they were back to gold again. Though I had yet to see a repeat of the shadow-black from that first meeting in the drive.
I could be sure of nothing, of course. There was plausible deniability for each observation. Taken together, though, along with that inexplicable feeling in the back of my mind…
I had come to the tentative conclusion that Edward Cullen was perhaps—and here was where my thinking went from slightly dotty to unequivocally insane—not entirely human.
"So serious today, Miss Swan."
The low voice just beside my ear made me jump out of my skin.
Another point in favor of the deranged part of my brain—his incredible ability to move in silence.
I clutched a hand over my pounding heart. "What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?" I hissed, making Edward grin as he stepped into my view.
"Forgive me," he said, sounding not at all apologetic. "I might make more of an effort to recall if forgetting weren't so very entertaining."
I resisted the urge to make a very juvenile gesture, settling instead for a pointed sniff before walking across the drive to the grassy center where I could see Nessie better.
Edward, of course, followed me, his long legs making it impossible for me to escape him.
Not, of course, that I had any real interest in that.
"So, what were you thinking about?" he asked.
I glanced sidelong at him, my lips pursed.
"Tell me," he urged.
"Well," I began slowly, still not entirely sure if I wanted to lie or not, "I was thinking—"
Nessie spotted him then. "Uncle Edward!" she cried from the opposite side of the circular drive. "Watch me!"
"We're watching!" he called back but I could feel his attention was on me. The response was enough to satisfy Nessie, though, and she began pedaling furiously, giggling in delight at the speed she could now manage.
"She's gotten much steadier," I observed idly.
"I won't be that easily distracted," Edward said. "What were you going to say?"
I sighed; I'd been hoping I'd gotten out of it. "Honestly?" I was still stalling.
"No, lie to me."
I shot him a narrow look. "Funny."
"Bella," he said with a hint of reproach. "I want to know."
"I was thinking about you."
I could feel his eyebrows raise without even looking at him.
"Oh?"
No backing out now, I thought.
"Trying to figure out…what you are."
I couldn't help turning my head to watch his reaction. He was still smiling, but there was a glint in his eyes, today a shade or two darker than his bronze hair.
"And what did you decide?" he asked, affecting a carefree tone.
I cocked my head to the side, considering. "I didn't," I answered finally.
"No theories?"
I shook my head. "Sorry to disappoint."
His smile widened, more a baring of teeth than a friendly gesture.
"Well, if you do come up with one, be sure to let me know."
The now-familiar screech of four-hundred-year-old hinges called both our attention to the front door of the house, where Angela now appeared.
"Mr. Cullen, Mrs. Hale is on the telephone for you," she called.
"Excuse me," he murmured, and then he was gone.
- o - o - o -
Edward was just finishing his call when Nessie and I came back inside some twenty minutes later, fleeing the fine mist that had started to fall outside.
Nessie zipped off to the kitchen, hoping to wheedle Angela into making some hot chocolate. I, however, lingered in the hall as I hung up our coats, surreptitiously watching Edward in the telephone nook tucked under the stairs.
"All right, Alice," he said, voice clipped. "Yes, I understand." Agitated fingers ran through his hair as he listened for a moment. "I'll be there. Goodbye."
He hung up the receiver with a click and stood still for a moment, frowning at the device.
"Everything all right?" I asked tentatively.
Edward looked up at me with a half-smile that didn't quite cover his glum expression. "Oh, more or less," he said. "I think we'll have some excitement around here soon, though."
I quirked a brow at him, silently inviting him to expand.
"Come on," he sighed. "I should talk to Miss Weber and Nessie, too."
We found them in the kitchen along with Ben. Angela was indeed heating up milk on the stovetop, sugar and cocoa powder at the ready. I stifled a grin; Nessie was an excellent wheedler.
Edward sunk into one of the chairs at the table. "Well, I have some news."
"Good or bad?" Nessie asked, perched attentively in the seat across from him.
"A very good question," Edward said. "We're going to have some visitors soon."
"Auntie Alice?" Nessie leaned over the table, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Yes," her uncle replied, "and Jasper, and Carlisle, and Esme, Emmett, Rose…" Edward rubbed at his brow, as though a headache were building. "And Carlisle's cousins will be meeting them here," he finished.
"How many cousins?" Angela asked as she stirred the cocoa and sugar into the warm milk.
Edward looked over to her. "Ah, Miss Weber, you've got the measure of it," he said, mouth quirking upward. "Three cousins," he answered, "and their two friends."
Angela blinked rapidly, clearly doing the same math I was.
"Eleven guests in all," Edward confirmed. "Miss Weber, I certainly don't expect you to handle all that work by yourself. Do you know anyone reliable I might hire to help while they're here?"
"My mother," Angela said quickly. "She's an excellent cook, and she has experience in domestic work."
My gaze fixated on Edward. Angela had confided in me that her family was struggling at the moment—her father, the pastor at St. John Lutheran Church in Forks, had to forgo his normal salary in recent months as his congregation's need grew and monetary contributions plummeted due to the economic crisis. Her wages from her four days a week at Culwoode made up the bulk of the family's living, supplemented by the food and small gifts the Reverend Weber's flock managed to scrounge up for offerings. I knew her mother used to take in mending and laundry, but customers were scarce these days—everyone was economizing. And with two growing boys in school, resources were very tight in the Weber household. An extra week of wages would be a godsend for them.
But Edward, of course, had no reason to know this. Angela would not have told him, and I certainly hadn't repeated it.
Another point in the madness column.
"That would be perfect, Miss Weber. Will you make the arrangements?"
Angela nodded, and I could see the relief etched in her face.
"Thank you," Edward said. "My family will be here early next week, and Tanya, Irina, and Kate should arrive with their companions soon after. They all plan to stay for a week or so, but I imagine you'll need help before and after—I'll leave scheduling to your good judgment."
He gave us all an overview of what was needed—extra days of work, help setting up guest rooms, menus and baggage and all the other little details. In addition, he promised double pay for the extra days he would need us all and additional days off when it was all over.
"So what's the bad news?" I piped up.
Edward gave me a rueful look. "Eleven guests underfoot isn't enough bad news for you?"
I grinned. "Maybe for you it is," I replied, making Angela slap a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.
Edward ignored my comment. "Yes, there is one other thing," he said, glancing back at Nessie. "Alice also informed me of a…minor complication with the business in Canada that I'll need to deal with."
As Nessie's face fell, I felt my own disappointment rising. "You have to go away again?" she asked.
"Yes, for a few days," he replied. His eyes flickered to me for the briefest of seconds. "I'll come back with my family."
"When do you leave?" I asked.
"Today," Edward said. "As soon as possible, really."
Five days. It seemed like an eternity after the constancy of his presence the last few weeks. And with so many people in the house, I had a sinking feeling that it would be a while before we all sat around the fire in his study again.
- o - o - o -
He'd been gone seven and a half hours—not even 500 measly minutes—and I was already cracking.
I'd put Nessie to bed an hour ago and was attempting to do the same for myself. But as I lay on top of the covers, sleep evaded me.
I blamed the disruption in our comfortable, already-familiar evening routine for my restlessness. Maybe, I thought, I could recreate it.
Pulling a robe over my nightgown, I drifted down the silent, dark hall to look in on Nessie.
The sight made me smile; no part of her was visible, just a lump under the covers, and a faint glow emitted through the blanket. I approached the lump and pulled the duvet back to reveal her sweet cherubic face.
She had fallen asleep with her book in one hand and a flashlight in the other—a state I'd found myself in many times as a child.
Gently, I extracted the items from her grasp and turned off the flashlight before placing both on the nightstand. Unable to help myself, I smoothed her beautiful hair, its burnished bronze-gold shine sapped by the nighttime gloom. And then I left her to sleep.
As I climbed the stairs to the third floor, a stirring of unease rose in my belly. Empty and unlit, the house had the same sense of disquiet as I, as though it objected to being abandoned by its master. The creak of the steps under my tread, the groan of the door hinges all sounded like protest to my ears.
Deprived of its customary cheerful fire, the study felt gloomy. I wasn't up for messing about with the hearth, so I simply flicked on the lamp behind the sofa. The electric glow lacked the coziness of the flames, but it chased away most of the ominous feeling. The room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief to have at least some company, though not the presence either of us craved.
A bit of reading would surely help. I had just finished The Conference of the Birds, a rather difficult epic by the Sufi poet Attar, and I was itching for more familiar ground to tread.
Austen, I thought, moving to the shelves I knew held her works—and there was one option in particular I thought might curb some of the more fanciful ideas I'd been having lately.
Northanger Abbey in hand, I curled up on the couch to read. Like Catherine, I rather thought I'd been indulging slightly too much in Romantic, literary notions lately. Without Edward here in front of me, it was easier to convince myself that I'd been caught up in the mood of the house, of the estate, of the dark forest and the dour weather when I imagined he might be anything other than a man.
With all the chances against her of house, hall, place, park, court, and cottage, Northanger turned up an abbey, and she was to be its inhabitant. Its long, damp passages, its narrow cells and ruined chapel, were to be within her daily reach, and she could not entirely subdue the hope of some traditional legends, some awful memorials of an injured and ill-fated nun…
Catherine was delighting in her invitation to the home of the Tilneys when my eyelids started to feel heavy. Maybe just a brief rest before I continued…
I was in the keep of a great, stone castle. The wind blew through the open windows, biting my skin with its chill. Shivers ran up my spine, and I felt a presence behind me.
I was not afraid, though; it was protective, safe. As I turned to catch a glimpse of it, I felt myself lifted up, as secure as when my father would carry me to bed as a little girl.
This being, however, felt nothing like my father; its strong arms were cold, its chest firm and unyielding as it bore me through the halls of the medieval castle. I felt a smile lift the corners of my lips, and I sighed in contentment. I liked the feeling of being held, being shielded by this creature.
The presence laid me down carefully, gently, lovingly on a sumptuous cushioned surface. I reached for it, already missing the shelter of its embrace. Chill hands caressed my cheek, soothing me, and I stilled. Then a breath of cold air, sweetly scented, and the softest brush of smooth lips on my forehead…
The dream changed. No longer was I in the castle, but in the gilded bedroom of a grand palace. And there was Edward above me, dressed in the princely fashions of a Venetian court. He looked at me with naked hunger, and my breath caught as he leaned down, kissing my eyelids, my nose, the corner of my parted mouth, and down, down to my neck—
I woke suddenly, sitting straight up in my bed.
For a moment, I was disoriented—hadn't I been reading in the study? But of course, I'd started to get sleepy, resting my eyes for a moment; I must have come down to my room in a half-stupor and forgotten.
I took deep breaths, trying to dispel the alarming thrill that had consumed me at the image Edward's cool mouth on my throat. I touched the spot just over my pounding pulse with tentative fingers that shook lightly. My mind hadn't been able to even imagine what it would feel like for Edward to kiss me there.
But before the dream changed, when I was being safeguarded by the benevolent being, my imagination had been very realistic. I could still almost smell the fresh aroma of its breath—lilacs in the sun, I thought, and honey—could feel the ghost of its lips on my brow…
It was still dark out, and I thought I had a few hours yet til morning. Slowly, I slipped down into the covers and closed my eyes. I was still remembering the feel of that soft kiss as I was pulled back under into sleep.
- o - o - o -
Author's Note: Oh boy, Bella's really in it now.
Next chapter, we're getting into the meat of it...see you back here soon!