A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.
FYI: I'm hosting a Twilight Saga: Book One, Read-Along on my Facebook page – Stories by PattyRose! We read a chapter a day and post any and all thoughts associated with our chapter reading! Anyone and everyone is welcome! We're currently on Ch. 4, so you haven't missed much if you'd like to catch up! See you there!
Chapter 22 – 'Twas the Text Before Christmas
As soon as Edward disappeared into the kitchen, I nudged Rosalie to my left and Alice to my right. Despite my prodding, calling their names, and the additional help in the form of a pair of fists ready to bang down my door, the pair of women flanking me didn't bat an eye.
"Rosalie. Alice."
I grimaced at the frog-like sound of my voice, squinting against the room's glare, and found that speaking, even squinting, sent a throbbing thump against the base of my temples, making me regret the day I was born. Nevertheless, with a slow, steadying breath, I tried again.
Nothing.
The day shone brilliantly, with another blindingly white snow falling overnight. The landscape gleamed as if embedded with billions of microscopic diamonds. Sunrays sieved the windowpanes like lasers set to 'Obliterate,' aiming straight for my brain. The entire thing threatened to cauterize my irises. So, I couldn't fault the other pair's lack of eagerness to open their eyes and greet the morning, even if, despite my hangover, I was undeniably eager.
A particular ghost and I were due for a much-needed talk. In fact, had it not been for Edward's whispers a few minutes earlier, arising heart-racingly close to my ear and rousing my senses along with every fine hair on my nape and shoulders, I doubted much would've incentivized me into abandoning the soothing black of nothingness. Imbuing more energy into my croaking and poking, I tried once more.
"Rosalie. Alice, come on, wake up."
This graduated my partners to moans, groans, and barely intelligible gibberish.
"…a good girl, Santa…custom pair…with sparkles on the Red Bottoms…ahh…so pretty…"
"Em…love your thick…stuffed…sugar plums…sweet and fit so good in my…"
"Rosalie!" I slapped my palms over my ears because any amount of physical pain was preferable to the torture of hearing the rest of that. Then, using all the strength I could muster, I spiked an elbow into each woman and pulled out the big guns.
"Oh, no, Alice! It looks like you lost a heel on your Red Bottoms! And Rose, your boyfriend is at my antique cherry wood front door, about to punch a hole through it!"
Both women's eyes popped wide open.
"No, not my Red Bottoms!"
"No, not that gorgeously antique door!"
They sat upright, gasping and shrieking. We then discovered that the three of us were twisted into a gnarled configuration of a dozen limbs and thousands of hair strands. Once we unraveled, however, I laughed heartily while watching them rush around anxiously to save their beloved items, all while stumbling and cradling their brains.
"Bella, it's not funny! That's your beautiful antique door he's about to destroy!"
"My Red Bottoms! My precious Red Bottoms!"
"Alice, I was kidding. Your shoes are fine. And Rose…well, get that door before your boyfriend tears it down."
Alice scowled at me while Rosalie opened the door and concurrently tore into Emmett while reassuring him that she was alive.
If I'd thought that resolving those issues, combined with the fact that two out of three of my guests had massive hangovers, meant that my company would be gone within the next five minutes, I would have been wrong. With matters settled, the three casually took a seat. And although I generally enjoyed their company, my leg bounced. I bit my nails. Every few minutes, my eyes strayed to the grandfather clock.
I wondered what Edward was up to at that moment. Was he as anxious as I was for everyone to leave? Was he still waiting for our talk, or had he grown bored and wandered off? Was this sense of impending…something, this resolution that one way or another, all our cards had to be laid on the table this morning all in my head? Was it the leftover liquor in my system making me imagine that when Edward woke me this morning, we'd shared a meaningful look?
Alice laughed at something. Rosalie followed suit. Emmett's booming voice resounded around their voices. Meanwhile, I envisioned a modified scenario to the one around me:
I pictured Edward getting tired of waiting and wandering in from the kitchen. His emerald gaze swiftly sought me out. The next moment, relieved eyes settled over me like a soft, warm breeze amid the winter surrounding us. A heart-stopping grin graced his handsome face, its blinding brightness soothing as opposed to the painful glare of the snow. His long legs briskly cut across the room so that Edward knelt in front of me in less than a handful of strides. Long fingers and sturdy palms flattened over my thighs, squeezing tightly. In turn, I wrapped my hands over his, hard knuckles protruding against my palms as I weaved our fingers together. We grinned at one another like two people who'd suddenly and wholly forgotten the rest of the world's existence. It was…a fantastic daydream, but what added to its illusory quality was that even though Edward and I ignored everyone else in the room, everyone else was completely aware of his presence. Not merely aware of it but accepting of it. There were no shrieks, gasps, shock, or fear. Emmett, Rosalie, and Alice took Edward in with the recognition and affection they took one another in. He was…a friend. They knew him. He belonged with them, with us…with me in the land of the living. In this vision, Edward wasn't a ghost but rather-
"Earth to Bella?"
My breath caught. Rose snapped her fingers, waving a hand in front of my face. I blinked back to the here and now.
"Sorry, what?"
Rose pursed her lips. "Have you heard a word we've said for the past five minutes?"
I offered an apologetic grin. "I guess my mind wandered."
"It must've wandered somewhere amazing based on that smile you were sporting," Alice mused. "Or should I say your mind wandered somewhere Ed-mazin?"
Rosalie and Alice chuckled while Emmett's brow furrowed curiously, and my cheeks burned. My head spun at the rapidity with which I tried to sort through everything I'd said last night. How much had I revealed?
"Em, you should've heard Bella last night going on and on about her resident ghost and how she was in love with him," Rosalie said with a snort. "How he has a temper, but we shouldn't worry because he only ever goes after those who-"
"Those who go after his stash of cash," Emmett finished for Rose, his smiling eyes on me.
"In love with a ghost," Alice chuckled, shaking her head. "Man, were you drunk."
"Yeah, was I," I murmured in agreement. I was relieved that they both assumed everything I'd said last night was part of a drunken rant. Yet, my heart constricted at the fact that my love for Edward was something I had to lie about to conceal from a pair of women I now considered my friends, that is, unless I wanted them to believe me insane.
The pair finally stood and gathered their stuff with the languidness of those who may vomit if they move too quickly. Emmett and I stood, too. My hands raked restlessly through my hair. I then stuffed them in my pockets to resist the urge to speed Rosalie and Alice along by smashing their possessions against their chests and shoving them out the door.
Emmett wandered over to my side before I could act out my impulses.
"They're moving with the languidness of sloths drunk on tree sap this morning, aren't they?"
I laughed. "In their defense, so am I."
Emmett's mouth twitched with amusement while Rose volleyed a series of snarky 'Ha-ha's' over her shoulder, and Alice muttered a curse or two.
"Sorry about the crazed manner I arrived here today," Emmett added as a quiet aside.
I shrugged. "No problem. The door seems to have survived your panic."
He snorted. "The truth is…I was worried when I found out she'd be spending the night here."
"Ahh," I nodded sagely. "The whole 'My girlfriend is sleeping in a haunted house' thing."
"Well…" Emmett smiled sheepishly. "In my panic, I forgot that the only ones who ever have a mishap here are those who try to find the stash of cash. As crazy as these two are," he said, jerking his jaw toward his girlfriend and Alice, "I know they'd never do that."
Angling my head, I studied the brawny electrician guy before me. A few weeks earlier, when I first moved into the Victorian, Emmett was one of the few, if not the only individual, who displayed something more than simple fear for the Dickensian-style legend of the Masen ghost of Christmas past. Even as Mike the Handyman and others like him continuously snuck into the Victorian to search for Edward's hidden stash of cash, and even as Rosalie and Alice and others like them avoided the Victorian out of apprehension, Emmett seemed to respect the house…and its legendary ghost.
"Emmett, do you believe in him, in…Edward?" I whispered.
"Do I believe in the ghost of Ed Masen?" Emmett echoed in a similarly low voice, crossing his burly arms against his chest and taking a moment to truly ponder the question rather than issuing a quick 'yes' or 'no.' "I believe…" he finally said, "in what I've seen throughout the years, a host of greedy people sneaking in here with nefarious plans, only to come to regret them. I believe in a house that's always had to protect itself, to guard itself from greed…and always ended up empty because of it." His keen gaze swept over the room. "Now, it looks like a true caretaker has been found. Not only is the restoration looking good, Bella, but it feels brighter in here. Lighter. More…alive." He nodded. "I'm glad to see that."
Our eyes met, and I swallowed through a dry throat. Emmett smiled, almost as if he understood some of what I wouldn't say. He then changed the subject.
"So, how's the best-seller coming along?"
"It's great, actually," I said, voice still somewhat thick.
"Lots of inspo from the house and its resident ghost, I assume."
I chuckled. Rosalie and Alice then approached with all their stuff in hand. Emmett took their purses, scarves, and gloves and helped them.
"You'll be good by yourself today, Bella?" Rosalie asked.
"We can hang out a bit longer if you'd like," Alice offered.
"Thanks, but…" I bounced on my toes, "I'll be brand new after a shower."
The three of us then hugged tightly.
"From here on in, we are the three amigas!" Rose exclaimed.
"The three musketeers!" Alice amended.
"All for one and one for all!" I shouted while Emmett chuckled heartily at us.
A few minutes later, Emmett's shiny black truck pulled confidently away on snow tires, leaving unswerving tracks in its wake. Shivering in the cold, I leaned against the porch railing and watched the truck recede until it was a black pinpoint set against a cotton backdrop. All the while, I felt pleasure at the memory of the girls' night mixed with relief that almost everyone was gone.
I felt his presence like a physical caress against my skin, momentarily shutting my eyes to savor the sensation. When the warmth of what felt like a throw blanket enveloped me, I pulled each end tightly around me and reopened my eyes. A full glass of water floated in the air in front of me. I laughed as I reached for it.
"Ahh," I said, smacking my lips once I drained the glass. "Thank you."
"No problem, Bella."
Edward stood a few feet behind me from the sound of his voice. My heart raced, but I kept my back to him. Now that we were alone, I wasn't sure where to begin. There was so much to say.
"Isn't it a beautiful sight out here this morning?"
A couple of heartbeats of silence transpired. In the grand scheme, I hadn't considered it a tough question.
"Bella, it's always a beautiful sight from where I'm standing, though I'll admit I've seen it in better shape. Then again, it was a rough night."
Smirking, I looked over my shoulder.
Edward stood leaning against the door, his arms crossed against his chest and one long leg bent so his foot pressed against the doorframe. The amusement I'd heard in his voice was reflected in the sparkle in his eyes, the upward curve of his lips, and his chuckles.
"Ass," I scowled, making the chuckles morph into laughter. "Quite a night you witnessed, huh?"
His laughter stopped, but the humor still dancing in his gaze took any sting from his ensuing words.
"It was a reckless, incautious display of total and complete want of self-preservation. Miss Swan, if there are individuals on this Earth who shouldn't ever get drunk, it's those who already struggle with remaining upright even while sober."
I turned my frame to face him, resting my back against the railing. "Are you referring to me?"
"No," he said with exaggerated sarcasm. "No, not you at all."
"Ah, okay. Because it would be weird to receive a reprimand on the perils of over-imbibing from a bootlegger."
"Correction," he said, quirking an eyebrow, "an ex-bootlegger who experienced a night of unmitigated terror, first wondering whether a certain late-to-get-home brunette was safe, then watching her arrive home three sheets to the wind and slipping and sliding all over the place. If ever I would've commiserated with them politicians who passed the Volstead Act, it was last night."
I shook my head. "Those politicians were all wrong, as politicians usually are. Prohibition did nothing to curb drinking, as you well know," I stressed. But then my voice softened. "Although I am sorry, Edward. We agreed I'd text you if I would be out late, and I forgot."
A beat of silence spread between us, broken when I shivered once again. Edward backed off the wall, taking a half step forward, then pulling back – remembering, I assumed, he shouldn't come too close. The empty glass of water suddenly left my hand and made its way into Edward's hand.
I pursed my lips, but he offered me a playful smirk.
"I can hold a glass without tripping, you know."
"I know. But let's go inside, Bella. It's cold out here for you, and I'd rather you have both hands to balance yourself as you walk inside."
"You're funny, but okay, and only because…there are things we need to talk about…"
He raked his free hand through his hair. "I know."
"But I need a shower first."
Edward's Adam's apple bobbed. He offered me a tight nod. As I pushed off the railing and walked toward the door, he backed away, maintaining our distance to keep the lightheadedness at bay while remaining close enough to catch me if I tripped.
OOOOO
I emerged from the shower to the soft notes of a piano playing a gentle Christmas carol. Although I still felt remnants of last night's drinking, the shower helped clear my head of that cottony feeling. I put on comfy sweats and warm, thick socks and put my damp hair in a quick bun. With a deep breath, I went in search of Edward.
He heard my approach and, still playing, turned to look at me, where I came to a stop at the room's threshold. His mouth spread into a pleased smile as he took me in, his eyes examining me from head to toe.
"You look a lot better."
"Gee, thanks."
He snorted and slowly turned his eyes to the piano, playing as he replied, "You know very well what I mean, Miss Swan." He then completed the last few notes of the song – slowly, perfectly, and singing along in a heart-rending baritone that raised every fine hair on my body:
"Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace."
"That was beautiful," I whispered hoarsely in the ensuing silence.
He merely nodded in reply, keeping his back to me. When he spoke, it wasn't about the music.
"Bella, have you felt any repercussions to…" I heard him swallow, his voice thick, "to the liberties I took in approaching you…in touching you last evening and this morning? I broke our agreement," he added quickly, sounding almost angry, before I could reply. "But I was petrified when you first arrived home last night. I saw your friends dragging you out of the cab, and I thought you were hurt. Then I feared you'd break a leg from the driveway to the house."
I twisted my hands together nervously in front of me. "Actually, no, Edward. I haven't felt any repercussions. I've been completely, unquestioningly, and mundanely one hundred percent hungover flesh-and-blood all morning."
His shoulders rose and fell heavily, and I heard his breath of relief before he turned around on the piano bench. Our eyes met and held.
"I guess I moved away quickly enough each time."
"I guess you did." My brow furrowed as I recalled something. "Edward…did you hear the conversation between the girls and me last night in the house?"
"No, Bella," he smiled, shaking his head. "Once you and your friends were safely in the house, I took myself away. This is your house as much as mine, and that would've been intrusive."
"Oh." I honestly wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed. While in the shower, I'd wracked my brain to recall all that Rosalie, Alice, and I had spoken of last night. We'd talked a bit more about Tony, and…we'd talked about my being in love with the ghost of Edward Masen. Had Edward heard some of the conversation, it would've saved me the difficulty of starting it all from scratch.
I moved over to the couch and sat, seeing in my periphery how Edward's gaze followed me. I set my now sweaty palms on my thighs, then steepled them together only to decide that I looked like a Private School girl in the Principal's office waiting to be punished. So, I shook my hands and set them in fists at my sides, but that felt unnatural, too. I ran them through the hair on my scalp, fisting my hair. With a groan, I set them back at my sides.
Edward watched me with an expression somewhere between curiosity and amusement.
"Are you okay, Bella?"
"Edward…" I swallowed and took a deep breath. "Edward, I want to discuss something with you. But first, we must discuss a couple of things."
He leaned forward on the piano bench, his forearms on his thighs, in a posture of complete, rapt, if somewhat wary, attention.
"Okay."
"I met a man a few days ago, one who left me…bewildered."
Edward suddenly appeared very still, almost like a statue seated at the piano bench. The only thing that moved was his piercing gaze, which swept away from me and landed like a laser on the spot just over my shoulder. Although I knew he didn't have to breathe, I was used to seeing him do so. His chest had a fascinating way of moving up and down at even intervals. Or, maybe nothing was fascinating about it. Maybe it'd always seemed that way to me because he had a great chest or because, knowing that he wasn't human, those small human actions he took for my benefit fascinated me.
His stiff posture disconcerted me, but I continued because Edward had to know about all this.
"He was strikingly good-looking. And well-spoken. And he had a very…very interesting back-"
Edward cut me off, lifting a palm into the vast space between us. He met my eyes again, his gaze hard yet inscrutable. He leaned further forward, creating more space between his legs.
"Bella, before you continue along that vein, I should confess that I know about…him."
He almost spat the last word, and I frowned. Edward knew about Tony's existence. How?
"You know? How long have you known about him? And why haven't you told-"
Again, he cut me off, his words icier in their delivery, his gaze harder in its penetration and rattling my senses.
"If what you want to tell me is that he'll likely become a presence in this house, that's wholly your prerogative. As I just said, this is your house."
"But Edward, might it be his house, too – even if he's a bit of an-"
Edward drew back, and although he didn't cut me off this time, his back hit the piano keys and drew from them a disturbing cacophony of jarring notes that made me gasp and jump. He squared his jaw, inhaling through flared nostrils. Yet, his words were barely more than a gravelly, pained whisper when he spoke.
"Has it progressed that far already? Again, that's your prerogative, though I suppose it was bound to happen to someone so smart, interesting, funny, and yes…" – his Adam's Apple bobbed – "undeniably attractive."
I frowned at the overly complimentary yet strange way he described his descendant. Then again, if Edward knew about Tony, as he'd just confirmed he did, perhaps he knew him better than Rosalie did. She'd described him as a good-looking yet lazy fuck.
But maybe there was more to Tony Whitlock beyond good looks and an asshole's personality. After all, whatever sins Charlotte and Jasper may or may not have committed couldn't be fairly placed on Tony's shoulders.
Could they? I had no idea. I had no idea about anything. Despite all the words he was speaking, Edward was being so tight-lipped right now.
Like literally tight-lipped. His jaw looked ready to crack.
"Not sure how all that plays into it," I shrugged, "but if you say so. If you ask me, it's just basic biology."
His bright green eyes widened and simultaneously darkened – like a storm ready to break over a lush forest. He raked a rough hand through his hair, fisting it hard at the crown, so hard I was sure when he pulled it out, there'd be a few strands of hair tangled around his knuckles.
"I won't ever judge, Bella. Times have changed. I recognize that," he hissed, nodding wildly, his head bobbing almost without direction as if, despite his words, he wasn't sure whether he agreed or disagreed. "Sometimes biology at its most…primal is valid and enough of a reason – not just for men, of course, but equally for women. My only question is whether that's enough of a basis on which to make things so permanent?"
I started. "I'm not sure that's my decision or that I'd even be able to offer him something short-term or occasional. I mean, I guess it's worth discussing," I offered helplessly, "if you believe it has merit. He may not be opposed to sharing or to getting it periodically." I bit my lip, thinking out loud. "Maybe I can offer it to him a few months out of the year? Every other month? Over summer weekends?"
"I don't know at all what's merited or not," Edward growled, each word grating through gritted teeth, "and I don't think it's my decision. Because if it were, I'd be completely opposed." Once again, he leaned forward so quickly and sharply that I backed up in my seat. His hands landed in fists over his knees. "Bella, you deserve better than something relegated to every other month," he spat, "something over summer weekends, when the moon is full, or whatever other temporary arrangements he may want."
"He hasn't asked, and I haven't made the offer yet. I wanted to speak with you first to get your thoughts on it, but you're not being clear with me," I complained.
"I'm not being clear?" he practically shouted, getting to his feet. "You want me to be clearer?"
"Yes!"
He took up a furious pace along the space between us, pulling at his hair with both hands. The furniture around us clattered, handcrafted wooden legs banging against wooden floors. The windowpanes rattled as if abruptly hit with hurricane-level winds. When he began howling a rant at the top of his lungs, I turned my bewildered eyes back to him.
"My thoughts are that this is madness! And that I can't, Bella! I can't stomach the thought…I can't just…sit around and watch you…"
"Watch me, what?" I prompted.
Something blurred in my vision. The next moment, Edward was on his knees before me. I gasped wildly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't- I shouldn't be this close-" He sounded breathless, exhausted as if he'd just run a fifty-mile marathon.
"Edward, I'm not the one who asked for-"
My breath caught when he caged my face between his large, warm hands. And as he held my gaze, I could see every dark color swirling stormily in his eyes.
"But I have to tell you…if sharing this home with this…with Tony is what you want, I will accept that decision, even if it…" he choked, shaking his head. "Just please make sure he earns the privilege and deserves it."
I wrapped my hands over his, keeping to myself the fact that…I was beginning to feel that wonderful lightheadedness that the heat of his proximity engendered.
"How do I do that, Edward?"
"I don't know how these things are done nowadays, Bella." He sounded frustrated. Indignant. "In my day…well, in my day, I did it wrong. I did it with bribes and fancy gifts. Nowadays, knowing what I know now…" he offered me a wistful smile, his thumbs gently stroking my face, close to my lips. And his eyes abruptly fell to my mouth. "I would've given my time. My undivided attention. My very heart and soul." His gaze ran a circuit between my lips and eyes.
Bewildered beyond belief and concurrently caught up in the fiery sensations of having Edward so near, touching me…caressing me, I fought to remain coherent and focused.
"But is it fair of me to expect him to be that invested now? I mean, I am, yes, but that's different."
"Why is that different?"
Did I really need to explain to him why I loved this house so much at this point? Could he not see it in my eyes, feel it how I held his hands and responded to him? He and the house were my heart and soul.
"Because I've had time to immerse myself and know how precious it is."
"Bella, he is the one who should know the treasure he has now."
"How would he know that, though? Have you been in contact with him?"
He pulled his hands away as if my skin suddenly burned him, leaving me cold in their wake.
"How would I have ever been in contact with the man, Bella?" he scowled up at me.
I frowned again. "Wait, you still haven't told me how you found out about him or when."
Edward dropped his gaze. Then he hung his head, kneeling before me now in a position reminiscent of a knight apologizing to his queen for a lost battle.
"I have to confess something, Bella."
I ached to reach out for him again, to curl a hand around his broad shoulder and run my fingers through his hair. Or even to drop to my knees, too. But I resisted.
"I found out about him through your laptop, and I apologize."
"Edward…" I breathed tenderly, waiting for him to meet my eyes again. When he didn't, I continued. "There's no reason to apologize for using my laptop; I've already told you that. However, you've gotten even better at it than I realized. How were you able to dig up more information on him than I was?"
Edward looked up. A deep line marred the space between his brows. "What?"
"I couldn't get much from it. Most of what I know of Tony Whitlock is from him himself or Rosalie since, you know, he worked for her for a short while."
He blinked once, twice. Then, consecutively, like someone waking up from a long nightmare still haunting them, even if they now realize it wasn't real.
"Come again? Tony Whitlock?"
"Yeah?"
His apparent confusion confounded me even more. He should've known Tony's surname if he knew about Tony. Abruptly, Edward sat back, rocking on his bottom. He bent his knees and planted his patent leather shoes firmly on the wooden floors. Curving his hands like claws around his kneecaps, he watched me through narrowed eyes.
"I'm sorry, Bella, but can you please…back up a bit?"
"Edward, can you please back up a bit – metaphorically, I mean, since you've already physically backed away."
He ran a hand roughly up and down his face. "I'm starting to think both of us need to step back."
"Fine, here's my step back," I said, although I physically leaned forward. "I'm getting the feeling that something was lost in the human-to-ghost translation. Tony Whitlock is your descendant, yes?"
He stared back blankly.
I sucked my teeth. "All right, we're going to take a few steps back now, and we're going to clear everything up now, okay? Every. Thing," I stressed, bouncing a pointy finger against my thigh. "Even if we have to sit here and talk through Christmas Day. Because increasingly more, I'm starting to think that you and I have been talking in circles for the past couple of weeks."
All of Edward's fury seemed to leach out of him. Now, he was back to simply staring at me through wary eyes.
"Okay," he breathed in surrender. "Okay, Bella."
"Let's start in 1921."
He quirked a brow. "Why there? I thought I already told you-"
"A few days ago, I heard a different story from what you told me. One that took place a few months later, if I'm correct."
"What's the story?" he asked, but I could tell he knew exactly what I was referring to now.
"A story about this house and a medium who came to the Victorian at the request of the new owner soon after your…your death."
"Ahh," he nodded. "That story." He pulled in a long breath.
"Edward, who was the new owner? Who moved into this house upon your death?" I breathed.
Yet, just as moments earlier, I knew he knew what story I referred to, as I asked this latest question, I knew what he'd answer. It was horrendous, but it was apparent, too.
"It was Jay, Bella. Or rather, it was my cousin, Jasper Whitlock," he sneered, "who moved in."
A/N: Thoughts?
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