May 2014
Twenty-Four/Twenty-Six
Edward had wanted to go home to propose – to the Swan's old farmhouse. He had imagined filling the porch up with her favorite flowers and proposing in the morning light. To him, it was a place laden with significance. It was where Edward first felt a connection with Bella, where Bella had tethered him back to earth. They had become themselves on that porch, where she'd first cracked past his shell.
Edward had been planning the proposal for months. Edward had called Esme to inquire about the house and the house key. "It's been on sale for years," Esme informed him snippily. "I tried to buy that man's share years ago, but he's been trying to spite me. I refuse to agree to the buyers that man has suggested because I still want full ownership."
"What if I bought it for Bella?"
"With what money?"
"From my trust fund. Her father's half."
Esme's voice was clipped and soft. "If you succeed at buying that man's half, I'll bequeath my half."
Annoyed, Edward had debased himself with a phone call to Charles Swan.
"Why do you want to know?" Charles Swan had demanded.
"I'm interested in purchasing your share of the property," he said quietly, keeping his tone impeccably polite.
"Interested in purchasing it?" Swan scoffed mockingly. "With what money?"
Edward's lips stiffened, and he wondered how somebody so sleazy had fathered the best person he knew. "I've come into some assets through inheritance on my father's side and some smart investing. My attorney will be in touch with an offer." Charlie Swan had snickered before hanging up.
Edward contacted a Seattle-based law firm, who had then contacted his aunt and Charles Swan. Esme had agreed to bequeath her half; Charlie had attempted to play hardball. Edward, who did not want to antagonize his future father-in-law, feared he had overpaid. "By a couple dozen thousand," his attorney warned him nervously.
When Edward asked the law firm to submit a gift deed, transferring ownership to Isabella Marie Swan, the lawyers had whimpered. It's a romantic gesture, but it's stupid from an estate planning perspective, one lawyer had written plainly. "You both need to sign an excise affidavit and a supplemental form," Edward had been informed, once he'd held firm in his decision.
Edward's mother's ring was always in his breast pocket, waiting to be given away. Like an idiot, Edward kept tapping it every five minutes, as though the stitching could come undone. Sometimes, he sighed with relief when his fingers made contact with the tiny box. When he tapped the box, Bella would conceal a smile, trying to suppress her amusement. She probably suspected a real proposal was forthcoming.
After all, Edward had tried no stupid ploy when he measured the circumference of her ring finger. He had measured her ring size casually over pizza one night.
"Bee, love, can I check something?"
"Uh… Yeah. Sure."
Edward had grabbed her hand gently. He had secured a thin strip of paper snugly around her ring finger – like he had been instructed to do at Shreve, Crump & Low. Befuddled, Bella had watched the exchange – and then the hollows of her cheeks had turned pink with something akin to excitement. Edward had kept the marked strip of paper and taken it – along with his mother's ring – to Shreve, Crump & Low, where it had been purchased in the 19th century.
The ring was fitted and perfectly ready to be given away.
They had flown to Seattle for a two-week break, taking advantage of the time between Edward's general surgery internship and his school graduation. Edward's match internship placement – to Bayside Medical Center in Springfield – had hit him like a baseball bat to the stomach. The thought of telling his circle that he was interning in Springfield was mortifying. There was no prestige in interning in rural Massachusetts, and Edward was still battling horror and deep disappointment.
Edward tried to put that behind him that first morning in Seattle. While Bella was still sleeping, Edward ran off to Pike Place to get her pastries from Piroshky Piroshky. They ate their pirozhki them over room-service coffee: facing each other while seated in a small en-suite dining table.
Once again, they had stayed at the Fairmont. Edward's father's place was still too small, his grandfather's was too large, and Esme was still stonewalling Isabella. Later in the week, Edward wanted to take her back to the house he'd all but put in her name.
"Your mom wants to see us," he told her grimly. He'd received a short, snippy phone call from Esme the night before.
"Us? Both of us? Me included?"
"You included," Edward said grimly, unwilling to put her through a whole brunch where Isabella faced stonewalling. "In a couple of days."
"She said that?"
"She said she'd try to call you."
"Really?"
"I think you should tell her to go fuck herself," Edward muttered.
"Edward," she snorted.
"It must be important," she reasoned. "I hope she's OK."
Edward scoffed. "She's fine."
Ruefully, Bella shook her head and took another bite.
"I'm glad to be home for a bit," she said pensively, changing the topic. "Really glad."
Gently, Edward kissed the top of her head. "We're free for three days. What do you want to do today?" he asked her indulgently, eyes full of affection as he tucked hair behind her cheek.
"I'm in the mood to revisit some of the classics," Bella told him, nibbling on an apple cinnamon pastry. "Chihuly Garden and Pike Place. Have some lobster."
The hollows under her cheeks pinkened, and even after all this time, Edward found her so fucking lovely.
"We can do all that," Edward replied indulgently. Some days he was so deeply in love he would walk into a sewage plant if she wanted. "And… I have a surprise. Well. Not a fucking surprise. More like a stop. I did a thing. We can stay there," he sputtered stupidly.
She smiled teasingly. "Just spit it out."
"Um. I – I… Your… Well. I've made good investments over the past years," Edward began. "Very good investments. As a venture investor."
"Oh?" Bella tilted her head sideways, curiously. She set her pastry down. "When?"
"It's been a while," Edward said casually, feeling a knot of pesky guilt in his stomach. His neck reddened with stress. "They turned out particularly well, and I thought it'd be nice for us to have a place here in Seattle, so I bought the old farmhouse – you know, from your parents."
Bella blinked with befuddlement. She repeated each word hesitantly. "You made investments that turned out well?"
Edward nodded with studied, airy nonchalance.
"And you bought my … my childhood home?"
"Well, I bought a share, and Esme bequeathed you her share of the property. And I'd like to put my share in your name."
Realization landed, and Bella began shaking her head. "Edward," she said, and her eyes grew glassy with shock. "I – I can't accept – You shouldn't have –"
Edward took her hand. "Think of it as ours," he said softly. "Wouldn't it be nice to start having things that are ours? Formally. Not just Pancake."
"Edward, I…" A hint of a smile played at the corner of her lips, and Edward prodded it forward.
"We'll get married one day," Edward repeated, and his voice betrayed his urge to propose right that very second.
The neglect to her childhood home was visible as soon as one turned the corner. The grass had turned a pale yellow, growing to the size of corn. The flowerbeds, where Esme had once grown dahlias in the summer, had turned into a battlefield where morning glories fought with vines. On the passenger's seat, Isabella's breath hitched. Edward knew her so well he could tell she had started crying, and he didn't blame her.
Edward had also taken a trip back the house where he had been raised in Lincoln Park. The emotions had overwhelmed him, and he had started to cry because –
"It's so strange," Bella said. "It's like going back in time, knowing the past won't ever really return."
It was exactly how he'd felt at that moment, seeing the door to the Lincoln Park house.
Edward turned on the passenger seat to look her straight in the eye. When she cried, her eyes looked like honey in sunlight. "I know this is hard, Bell. Really, I do. But this house is yours. It was the one thing they agreed on, OK?" Both of your shit parents, he added mentally.
"Really?"
"Yes. They both wanted you to have it," Edward half-lied because Charles Swan had behaved deplorably. "You've been so strong. You just need to be stronger for a little bit longer. Just a little longer, my love."
Steeling herself, she nodded, and Edward kissed her forehead rather forcefully. He got out of the car and opened the trunk. He assembled the wheelchair and left it open for her by the passenger door. Feeling like a valet, he took the suitcases and her crutches up the porch. Moving slowly, Isabella followed suit.
Edward pushed the key in, finding the keyhole was rusty. Grumbling and spitting out obscenities, Edward fought the keyhole for an eternity. When he heaved the door open, the hinges shrieked in protest. A stale, musty odor, thick with the scent of neglect, wafted out. Six years of accumulated dust coated every surface, from the mantlepiece over the chimney to the floors.
The furniture had been draped with sheets. Sunlight filtered wanly through a layer of grime on the windows. Edward heard the wheelchair squeaking on the tiles as Bella wheeled into the house. "Christ, it's so fucking dusty," Edward groaned. As if on cue, Bella's breathing grew wheezy.
"Bee, this was a terrible fucking idea. Your asthma, love," Edward muttered irritably, changing his mind about the whole idea. "It's probably full of mold, too. We don't have to deal with this shit at the Fairmont."
Bella coughed into her fist. "It's our house, no?" she said, steeling her back. Edward almost smiled. That was the Bella that Edward loved best. "I want us to stay here."
Staying was not easy.
The fridge had been cleaned, unplugged, and left ajar. When Bella opened it, she winced. "It smells funny," she complained, pulling away. Her nose wrinkled. Edward took a whiff after her. "Christ, Bee, it doesn't smell like roses, but it doesn't stink, either."
The electricity had been turned off. "Who do we call to get it back on?" Edward groaned.
"You turn on the breaker box," Bella had retorted like Edward was stupid, in her know-it-all voice, and Edward became grumpy. She guided him to the breaker box at a landing by the basement, then called out instructions from the top of the landing.
Seeing her room again was eerie. It was the one corner of the house that had been left pristine in the face of divorce. Every article in the house but for its customized furniture had been at the heart of a fierce battle – but for that bedroom.
On the threshold of her bedroom, Bella cried again. It was clear both mother and daughter had held on tight to traces of childhood even as the daughter approached adulthood. The headboard was carved and intricate. Over the wainscotting, the walls were adorned with soft pink-and-green decals. Bella's ancient desktop computer was still on her desk.
Bella wheeled into her room, and her fingers stroked the spines of dozens of books on a white-ash bookcase, leaving traces with her fingertips. "Look at all this," she said, with a reverent but watery smile. She wheeled to the dresser and squeezed a stuffed Winnie the Pooh.
The week that Edward had envisioned as the most romantic of his life turned into a mundane one. Edward couldn't find any sheets in the linen closet, or cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink – so they had run off to Target. They bought essentials, like instant coffee and toothpaste. When they returned, Bella watched Edward make two beds. Bella watched Edward sweep and mop all 200 feet of property, airing windows out as he went.
"You've never been sexier to me," Bella teased, but her voice sounded husky with genuine lust.
"That's shit timing," Edward griped. "I'm exhausted. I swear to God, I've never been so tired."
"You did such a good job," Bella said indulgently, giggling as he removed rubber cleaning gloves from his hands. She wobbled forward and kissed his shoulder – the highest point she could reach when standing.
"Can you stay with me in my room?" she whispered. She clawed at his t-shirt, fisting it in her hand. Inching closer, she rested her cheek on his stomach, and Edward rubbed her back comfortingly.
"Where the fuck else would I stay?" he asked teasingly. "I'm sure as fuck not sleeping in your Dad's bed."
The day Edward proposed dawned dewy and misty; yellow rays fought battle with thin, gray cloud cover. The air was fresh and scented with petrichor, and there was a biting chill in the air. The air carried birds' morning song and deep hooting.
Bella was sitting outside on the porch, and her hair hung in tresses past her shoulders. She'd picked up his hoodie from the floor and wore it loosely. When he joined her outside, he saw her eyes were closed contentedly. A ray of sunlight fell slantingly across Isabella's face. Across those features that he could have identified blindly because every inch of her face was etched into his fingertips.
Edward watched her. The person who had saved him. The person who had loved him through the darkness.
Gingerly, he pressed his lips to her temple, and she opened her eyes.
It wasn't the scene he'd imagined, but it felt right.
Edward's voice was a murmur, and it shook under the weight of his feelings. The solemnity in his voice was worthy of an oath. "I wanted to ask you here, on this spot because this is where I first realized that I wasn't alone. This exact place is where I realized that I would rather be with you than with anybody else. Here I want to promise you that I'll love you until I'm old and gray and that I'll never leave you. I never want to be parted from you ever again."
With his hand trembling, Edward reached for the little velvet box in his pocket. He pried it open with one hand, and he fell on one knee.
Tears welled up in her eyes. A sunray fell slantingly across her face, making her irises look like honey. She smiled brightly. It warmed Edward from the inside out, and Edward swore he could survive a thousand storms on the feeling that smile sparked. Bella's smile still felt like sunshine touching his skin.
Edward felt his own eyes grow watery, burning. His throat was knotted with emotion.
"Isabella Marie, will you marry me?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Edward's heart clenched with nerves, because maybe it was too soon, and maybe – she did think he was an unworthy prick, and maybe in this porch he'd learned she was worth ten thousand of him, and now she knew it, too –
"Yes. Yes. Yes." The sound she made married a laugh to a sob, and she threw her arms around his neck. All her weight toppled forward, and Edward's back contorted as he held her. "Yes. Of course I'll marry you."
Joy and relief exploded inside him. It felt like winning a marathon thirty times over. The feeling was the most intense, uncomplicated happiness he had ever experienced. Edward echoed the noise she made – a choked-up laugh of relief – and he wrapped his arms around her tighter. He lifted them both from the ground.
"I love you, Edward. I'll always love you."
Edward took her hand, sliding the elegant diamond ring onto her finger. He pressed his forehead against hers, and he told her. That everything good about him was hers for safekeeping. That she was the first thing he thought about after waking and the last thing he thought about before sleeping. That her words could make his heart beat and stop. That she was the reason that he smiled.
That he loved her.