Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: As always, many thanks to my wonderful betas Tiffanyanne3 and Aecarlso… they are the best. Also, much love to the WP on Twitter, who encourage me all along the way… love you all!

"Love is the emblem of eternity: it confounds all notion of time, effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end."

- Germaine De Stael

Chapter 11 – Of Making Peace and Meeting the Parents

You didn't have to be a psychiatrist to discern the meaning behind my terrifying dream. Obviously my subconscious was having some issues with my decision to save Edward and keep him for myself. Was I being selfish? Would my actions affect the other Cullens – or even keep them from ever becoming Cullens in the first place?

I would have been lying to say the thought didn't haunt me. What if saving Edward meant condemning Esme… Emmett… Rosalie? As for Alice, I knew her transformation wasn't reliant on Carlisle. But I also knew that when she was changed she lived for the hope that she would one day find Jasper, as well as the Cullen family. Was I taking that hope away from her with my actions? Was that why she was appearing to me – or was she just a manifestation of my own guilt and self-doubt? Was I destroying an entire family in the process of creating one for myself?

I didn't know, but I vowed to do whatever I could to make sure that didn't happen.

Except give up Edward.

Maybe I was being selfish, but now that I'd found him I just couldn't lose him again.

Of course, I also worried about Charlie and Renee… and Jake… and Angela and my other friends. I wondered sometimes what had happened to me in that other time. Was I unconscious somewhere in a hospital bed? Was I dead? Had I simply vanished completely? Did anyone even miss me, or was it as if I'd never existed in the first place?

But like so many questions about this strange and crazy journey I was on, these had no answers. I didn't know what was happening there. More importantly, there was nothing I could do about it. So even though at times, late at night, I indulged in tears and mourning for those I left behind – or those I might be hurting - I felt that I could not let it consume me if I was going to survive.

My greatest fear was one I rarely acknowledged, even to myself. What if I succeeded in my mission? What if I saved Edward, then against my will was swept back to the future. A future with no Edward. A future where I'd never met him and had no memory of him... where to me, he was only a faded photograph of a man long-dead that I came across one day in a history book or newspaper clipping?

The thought filled me with crippling dread. Even though he left me lying on the forest floor alone, with a hole in my chest where my heart once was… even though losing him nearly destroyed me… I couldn't bear the thought of never knowing him at all. I guess that old saying about it being better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all was true.

I couldn't imagine that fate would be that cruel.

Of course, if that happened, I would never know, would I? Ugh. This was why time travel was so tricky in the movies. There was really no way of knowing what effect your actions would have. So I decided that all I could do was follow my instincts and do what I believed I was here to accomplish… and pray to God that I would be able to stay with Edward once I did.

I hoped that didn't mean I was selfish.

I hoped it meant I was strong.

x-x

Edward didn't call on Wednesday and I feared that our argument, and the arrival of Carlisle, had affected him more than I thought. He was pretty angry when I left him standing on the sidewalk and although he confirmed our plans for Easter, I wondered if he'd since had a change of heart.

So Wednesday night, as I sat in Carlisle's office working on the files, I was distracted and tense. I paid little attention to him as he read through newspapers looking for the latest information on the influenza outbreak.

"The back page?" he exclaimed suddenly, causing me to jump in surprise. "Three inches on the back page – that's all there is! Don't these people recognize the seriousness of the situation?" he asked no one in particular.

I answered anyway. "It's just the first wave, Carlisle. I told you. No one will really take this seriously until the second wave hits in the fall."

"But we're talking about hundreds of cases in Kansas alone!" he argued. "Dozens have died already – and more American troops are heading to Europe every week. You know that's only going to cause it to spread overseas."

I stood and walked to the chair in front of Carlisle's desk, watching him rub his eyes in frustration. "You know that and I know that," I told him as I sat down. "But there's nothing we can do about it."

"I know," he said, his fists clenched tightly. "It's just so frustrating! I thought it would help to know more about the disease, but…"

"But," I concluded for him, "it doesn't help at all, does it?"

Carlisle sighed. "It just goes against my nature. I want to help… to save lives… but to know that there's nothing I can do… it's difficult."

"You're doing what you can do," I encouraged him. "You're looking for treatments. You're preparing to fight it when it gets here."

"But it won't be enough," he argued wearily. "People will still die."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "A wise man once told me, 'You can't save the world.'"

The corners of his mouth lifted a little. "What idiot said that?"

I laughed. "Oh, just a doctor I know. He's terribly annoying. Thinks he has all the answers."

"Sounds irritating," Carlisle observed, his grin growing.

"It is," I agreed. "What's even more irritating is that he's usually right."

"What do you mean 'usually'?" he asked playfully.

I was grateful that the tension in the room had lifted slightly. Carlisle had been distracted from his frustration and I from my worries about Edward. After a moment though, Carlisle sobered and eyed me intently.

"So, have you heard from Edward?" he asked.

I looked down. "No."

Carlisle grunted. "I would have thought he'd have called to apologize."

"Carlisle…" I began, exhaling heavily.

"I know, it's none of my business," he interrupted. "I just… worry about you."

I softened. "Carlisle, that's really sweet… but you don't have to worry. I'm fine."

"Just be careful who you choose for friends," he said finally. "This city is filled with unsavory characters just waiting to prey on innocent young women."

I smirked and decided to play with him a little. "You make Edward sound like some kind of predator… waiting to gobble me up."

To his credit, Carlisle didn't crack a smile. "How do you know he isn't?"

"Believe me, I know how to spot a predator," I said with a wry grin.

Carlisle just chuckled and returned to his newspapers.

x-x

Edward finally called shortly after I woke up Thursday afternoon. He did apologize for yelling at me, although he admitted he was still not happy with my decision to go to Springfield.

"I still think it's dangerous, Bella," he said. "I wish I could go with you, but I have a track meet in Elgin on Saturday."

"Edward, you worry too much," I replied. "I'll be fine. It's going to be a peaceful march, and I won't do anything dangerous I promise."

I waited for him to bring up Carlisle, but surprisingly he didn't. It should have made me feel better, but his silence on the subject only served to make me more tense. Edward asked if he could take me out again before Easter and instead, I offered to make him dinner at the boarding house the following evening.

I didn't mention our plans to Carlisle. Even though I thought he'd be happy to hear that Edward had apologized, I doubted he'd be supportive of me spending more time with him.

I found it ironic that in my time, Edward and Carlisle were so close… family actually… but in 1918, they really didn't like each other very much. Of course, if it wasn't for me, they wouldn't have met until Edward got sick. So once again I was left wondering if I'd caused more problems than I'd solved by meddling in the past.

My self-doubt was getting me nowhere, however. I could sit and second-guess myself all day, but in the end I truly believed I was in 1918 for a reason. And everything in me told me that reason was Edward.

I wanted to make dinner myself, but given Maggie's possessiveness when it came to her kitchen, I was nervous approaching her. To my amazement, she welcomed the opportunity to let someone else cook for a change and offered to accompany me on my shopping trip for ingredients.

I had decided to make spaghetti and meatballs, but the choices at the local market were limited, so we made the trip to Little Italy. I smiled, remembering walking down those same streets and munching pizza with Edward.

We found a little market where I was able to buy fresh pasta and olive oil. Down the street, I found a vendor displaying fresh tomatoes, basil, garlic and onions on a wooden cart. Maggie was invaluable, teaching me the fine art of bartering.

"Let me handle this," she had said quietly after pulling me away from the vegetable cart. I shrugged and stood behind her listening. I was ready to pay the twenty-two cents the vendor had asked for, but Maggie insisted she could get a better deal.

Better than twenty-two cents? I had to see that.

Maggie and the vendor went back and forth for a few minutes, giving me a new appreciation for the phrase "drive a hard bargain". The vendor kept insisting he was giving us the best price, and for a moment I thought Maggie was going to fail. She grabbed my arm to pull me away and I protested.

"But I need…" I began before Maggie shushed me.

We took a few steps before the vendor called out to us, telling us to wait for a moment. With a smug smile, Maggie turned to walk back to the cart and I followed her. The vendor went into the building behind him and emerged a few minutes later with a metal container wrapped in a towel, and a small packet.

"Gelato and pizzelles," he explained in his thick accent, unwrapping the packet to reveal a pile of delicate snowflake-shaped cookies. "My wife made them this morning. You take it all for twenty-five cents?"

Gelato? Yes please!

Maggie agreed and I paid the vendor, excited that I now had dessert to serve. We returned home, stopping briefly at a butcher shop on the way to pick up a couple of pounds of ground beef. I was worried that the gelato would melt, so when we got back to the boarding house I placed it in the back of the icebox, right next to the big block of ice.

Dinner was a lot of fun. Tom had invited Samantha, so the four of us, along with Jared, Liza, and Maggie crowded around the dining table. Alistair was out for the evening, doing I don't know what. I had a hard time believing the guy had a social life.

Maybe he had a wild side.

I giggled at the image that jumped into my head of the staid Alistair sitting at a bar picking up girls or playing beer pong. Oh! Maybe he was a cross-dresser.

For some reason, Alistair morphed into Edna Turnblad from Hairspray.

Mama I'm a big girl now…

"What did you say, Bella?" Edward asked, bringing me out of my crazy thoughts.

Crap. Did I just sing that out loud?

"Nothing." I blushed, looking down at my plate. "I just had a song stuck in my head… it's nothing."

The conversation was relaxed and friendly. Everyone loved the spaghetti and meatballs, which I served with garlicky French bread and a green salad with homemade vinaigrette. Jared and Edward each helped themselves to seconds… and thirds… not that I was counting.

Samantha wiped her mouth and turned to me. "So Bella, how is everything going at the hospital? Are you enjoying working with Doctor… what was his name?" I noticed Edward cringing slightly, but ignored it.

"Dr. Cullen," I replied.

"Or Carlisle," Edward muttered.

Samantha's eyes widened at Edward's tone and she looked at me questioningly. I just rolled my eyes and replied. "It's going really well, actually. Dr. Cullen…" I shot Edward an annoyed look. "…is a wonderful boss."

"I bet he is," Edward said under his breath.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" I growled.

Edward glared at me. "It means that your Dr. Cullen," he spat, "has more on his mind than studying germs, or whatever it is he says he's doing."

I started to reply, but Edward cut me off.

"… and why do you call him Carlisle anyway? That's pretty unprofessional, if you ask me."

"Well, I'm not asking you!" I responded hotly. "For your information, Dr. Cullen is an excellent boss and a wonderful man. He asked me to call him Carlisle because we happen to be friends, as well as colleagues… not that it's any of your business!"

Edward reddened. "Not my business? I'm just looking out for you," he argued.

"You know what?" I stood, throwing my napkin on the table and picking up my plate. "I've just about had it with men who feel like they need to look out for me!" I stacked several other plates on top of mine and planted a false smile on my face. "Who wants gelato?" I asked cheerily as I turned to walk into the kitchen.

I put the plates on the kitchen counter, then leaned on it, breathing heavily. Maggie joined me in a moment, bringing with her another stack of plates and silverware. I turned to scrape the plates into the garbage can, angrily pushing scraps of spaghetti with a fork. I could hear a hissed conversation in the dining room, but couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Are you all right?" Maggie asked as she set the plates on the counter next to me.

"Just peachy," I grunted. I felt bad about my bitchiness though and turned to her with a small smile. "I'm fine. Just a little… frustrated."

Maggie scraped a plate thoughtfully. "Well, I can understand that," she admitted quietly.

"I mean, who does he think he is?" I whispered angrily. "Telling me what to do… who I can have as friends."

"Bit cheeky, isn't he?" she agreed, but I could tell she wanted to say more.

"What?" I asked huffily.

"Nothing."

"Maggie, what did you want to say?" I asked impatiently.

She set the stack of plates in the sink. "Men are like dogs, in a way. When they see another dog moving into their territory, their first instinct is to attack."

"And you think Edward sees Carlisle as moving into his territory?" I asked sarcastically.

Great. Now I was Edward's bitch.

"He's striking out because he's feeling threatened, Bella," Maggie explained. "You are not like any other woman Edward knows. You're independent. You have your own mind. And you don't mind giving him a piece of it."

I smirked. That was true.

Maggie continued. "Men may look strong, but really they're quite fragile when it comes to their pride. He just needs reassurance." She started to say something else, but stopped when Edward appeared in the doorway.

"May I have a moment?" he asked quietly. Maggie looked at me and I shrugged.

"I'll get dessert ready and bring it out in a minute," I said to her, moving to the icebox to get the gelato.

Maggie went back into the dining room, and Edward stood awkwardly in the doorway, shifting nervously on his feet.

I began scooping the creamy gelato into bowls and Edward finally cleared his throat to speak.

"Bella… I'm… I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "I didn't mean to suggest that you have behaved… inappropriately with Dr. Cullen." He tried to mask his distaste at Carlisle's name, but didn't quite succeed.

Still, he was making an effort, and I couldn't stay mad at him for long.

I sighed. "Edward, you have to believe me. There is nothing going on with Carlisle. He's a friend and he's my boss."

To his credit, Edward kept his temper in check. "I've seen the way he looks at you," he said quietly, "and it's much more than friendly."

I wanted to argue the point, but I wasn't sure I could. Although my relationship with Carlisle had been innocent, I sometimes wondered if maybe what Edward said was true. I looked at Carlisle as a father figure… a friend. I knew he worried about me and felt protective of me, but I had to admit once in a while I felt there was something… more… to his concern. I just wrote it off as gratitude, more than anything else – for a respite from the loneliness that he'd endured for decades. He felt he could trust me and be himself around me - at least to an extent - and that had to be a relief.

"Even if that were the case, and I'm not saying it is," I told Edward, "I do not feel that way about Carlisle. I'm not interested in him romantically. He is a friend. That's all. You have to trust me, Edward. You can't dictate who my friends are."

Edward's eyes fell and I saw his face redden. "I know," he said slowly. "I guess… I was just…"

"Jealous?" I finished, and his eyes flashed up before a sheepish grin lit his face. He shrugged and looked down again and my heart softened. I approached him, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek.

"Believe me," I said emphatically, "you have no reason to be jealous."

His smile widened and we stood for a moment looking at each other, grinning like idiots.

"Now come on," I ordered, handing him the plate of cookies off the counter, then turning to finish scooping the gelato. "It's time for dessert."

x-x

I was a nervous wreck by the time Sunday rolled around. I couldn't sleep, finally snagging a few hours before my eyes popped open at dawn, refusing to close again.

Despite Edward's reassurances, my stomach churned at the idea of meeting his parents. I didn't remember feeling this fearful the first time he brought me home to meet his family… and that had been in a houseful of vampires.

Evidently I was more concerned about parental disapproval than exsanguination.

What? It means being drained of blood.

So I watched a lot of CSI. Sue me.

Liza had taken pity on me Saturday, dragging me shopping under the pretense that I needed a new Easter hat. I knew everyone was just tired of my anxious pacing and nail-biting, so I gave in and we spent the afternoon at Marshall Field's. Liza bought a beautiful new lavender dress with a matching hat. I chose a pale yellow silk hat with a delicate lace band and bought a length of matching yellow ribbon to wear as a sash with my tea dress.

I took an abnormal amount of time getting ready Sunday morning – both because of my desire to look as nice as possible, and because I had a couple of hours to sit and worry before Edward came to get me. I showered and washed my hair, drying it by the radiator and yearning for the invention of the blow dryer. The house was active by the time I was dressed and ready to go. I guessed everyone went to church on Easter, because they were all wearing their Sunday best, sipping coffee and eating sweet rolls when I came down the stairs.

I didn't eat or drink anything. Butterflies still flitted about my stomach, and I worried about spilling coffee on my dress.

It never failed. Any time I wore white I was destined to spill something on myself. I probably had six white shirts back home that I only wore for painting or working in the yard because each was stained with grape jelly or mustard or soy sauce. Learning my lesson, I usually dressed in darker colors, but on the rare occasion I did wear white, I tried to avoid eating or drinking anything that wasn't.

I hoped we'd be having mashed potatoes for Easter dinner… or rice… or tapioca.

Gross. Actually I hated tapioca.

Jared, Liza, and Maggie were the first to leave, heading for Our Lady of Sorrows, a few blocks south. Tom left a few minutes later, destined for the Presbyterian Church downtown to meet Samantha's family. Edward, I had learned, was Lutheran.

I sat on the couch by the front door, nervously wringing my fingers, then stood quickly, worried I would wrinkle my dress.

God, I was a mess.

I forced myself to take a deep breath and try to get myself under control. Finally, I heard a knock at the door and I braced myself one last time.

All my tension evaporated when I opened the door to see Edward standing on the front stoop, dressed in a crisp white shirt, dark suit and tie, and holding his hat in his hands. He was clean-shaven, and I noticed a small nick on his Adam's apple as he swallowed deeply. He had tried to tame his wild hair, but a few locks broke free, hanging over his forehead. He was flushed, and his nervous smile widened as our eyes met. All I could do was smile back, my earlier worries forgotten.

"Good morning, Bella," he said in a low voice. "You look… beautiful."

"So do you," I said breathily. When he smirked and I realized what I had said, I corrected quickly, "I mean… you look… nice too… very… handsome." I blushed and turned away to get my bag.

"Ready?" he asked.

I nodded. "As I'll ever be."

x-x

It wasn't as bad as I'd expected. The church itself was beautiful with its Romanesque lines, granite stonework and stained glass windows. I stared up at the building in awe as Edward searched for a parking place along the side of the road.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Edward asked proudly as he squeezed between two cars near the end of the block. "It's modeled after the Holy Trinity Chapel in Caen, France."

That meant absolutely nothing to me, but I murmured appreciatively anyway as we got out of the car and walked toward the front entrance.

"Want to hear something scandalous?" he asked playfully as he tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Of course," I replied just as playfully.

Edward bent closer to me, his eyes twinkling as if sharing a secret. "When they built the church they used granite salvaged from a…" He cleared his throat. "…a house of Ill-repute."

"No!" I exclaimed in shocked amusement.

He nodded. "It's true. It was razed by the city and they used the stones here."

"Isn't that like… sinful or something?" I asked.

Edward laughed. "I'm sure some people would think so. It's not a fact the congregation usually brags about."

As we neared the front door, I ran a hand along the granite stones. "Oh, if these walls could talk…" I said to Edward, wiggling my eyebrows.

To my surprise, he blushed and said nothing, simply pulling open the door for me to walk in.

The inside was just as remarkable as the outside, and as we made our way between the crowded rows of pews I took in the rich, dark mouldings and recessed-panel wainscoting throughout the room. The high ceilings arched over the altar, a large circular stained glass window centered in the front wall. Below it, a painting of the Last Supper was surrounded by more intricately-carved wood. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass, creating a dreamy atmosphere in the sanctuary. For some reason it reminded me of the abbey where Maria got married in the Sound of Music.

Pots of Easter lilies and other spring flowers decorated the steps to the altar and an organist played quietly as people found their seats. I spotted Edward's mother about halfway down the aisle, sitting next to a distinguished-looking man I assumed was Edward's father. To my surprise, we didn't sit with them, but Edward led me to an empty spot across the aisle. Elizabeth Masen looked up with a small smile and wave as we sat down.

Once again I was tortured by sitting close enough to Edward to feel the heat radiating off his body – but not being able to touch him. An older couple stood at the far end of the pew, and everyone shifted down toward us to give them a place to sit. Suddenly, Edward's firm thigh was lightly touching mine and I noticed him once again gripping his kneecaps tightly. My heart sped and my breathing shallowed at the electric contact. I wanted to reach out to him so badly that my fingers twitched. Fortunately, my brain still worked well enough to command my hands to grab hold of each other instead of Edward's hard thigh. My intertwined fingers clenched tightly in my lap, but all I could think about was twisting my hand in Edward's tie, dragging him down between the pews and climbing on top of him.

That's right. In church. I was going to hell for sure.

The service was quiet, traditional… and incredibly long. The pastor, unfortunately, was not gifted with brevity, nor wit, and his sermon dragged on as the temperature in the sanctuary escalated.

Edward leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and I gulped as more of him came into view. I noticed beads of sweat glistening on the back of his neck above his starched collar, the tips of his hair dampened by the moisture. What was it about his perspiration that drove me crazy? On most men it would be disgusting, but for some reason, on Edward "hot and sweaty" was the most potent aphrodisiac. I just wanted to run my fingers across his neck collecting the wet drops… then across his back underneath his damp shirt… along the waistband of his pants, dipping down to get a grab of that fine a—

"Sin!" the preacher yelled without warning, interrupting my sweat-induced fantasy. My eyes snapped to the pulpit and his eyes focused in on me.

Crap. Could he read my mind?

Quick. Think about puppies. Or nuns. Wait, nuns are Catholic. Think of something Lutheran-y.

"Stop squirming," Edward said quietly, barely moving his lips.

"What?"

"If you squirm, he thinks you feel guilty," he murmured, his eyes still facing forward.

Okay. I was feeling guilty.

Edward continued quietly, "He'll keep staring at you if he thinks he's making an impact."

Geez. That was kind of manipulative. And mean.

So I had to look not guilty. I consciously relaxed in my seat, willing myself not to squirm. What now? Just in case he could read my mind, I thought innocent thoughts: I'm a nice girl, I repeated mentally, smiling slightly and tucking my hair behind my ear. The reverend's eyes widened and his voice faltered, then he looked away abruptly.

Oh God. Now he thought I was flirting with him. Perfect.

Well, at least he wasn't staring at me anymore.

The rising heat in the church and Edward's proximity were not conducive to innocent thoughts, however, and my eyes flew around the room, searching for a distraction. I noticed several parishioners fanning themselves with their hymnals and shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

An older man in the pew in front of us was nodding, and I realized he was fighting to stay awake. I bit my lip as I watched his head bow forward, then snap up abruptly as he'd blink his eyes frantically. I heard a low chuckle beside me and out of the corner of my eye I saw Edward's smirk. He was watching the same man.

Finally, sleep won out and the man's chin dipped down to his chest and stayed there. A few moments later the unmistakable sounds of snoring drifted back toward us. I stifled a giggle, pressing my hand to my lips and shooting Edward an amused glance. He was fighting laughter too, his head down and his shoulders shaking.

"Shhh…" admonished an older woman behind us. We straightened and tried to ignore the snoring, which was getting steadily louder.

The pastor's voice gained fervency as he tried to make a point – about what I wasn't sure, because I was so not paying attention – and with a final exclamation, he slammed his hand down on the pulpit.

The snoring man sat up suddenly with a loud snort, startled into wakefulness. His wife elbowed him with a sharp look and the man shrugged sheepishly.

Edward and I both hunched over in our seats, hugging our stomachs and trying not to laugh out loud. I noticed Edward's father shooting us a disapproving look.

Great. I hadn't even met the man yet and I'd already irritated him.

At least the whole snoring episode had somewhat lifted the tension between Edward and me. We were both a little more relaxed through the rest of the sermon, even exchanging a small smile as we shared a hymnal for the final song. My calm was short-lived, though, as Edward's parents approached us once the service was over.

"Hello, Bella," Mrs. Masen said with a smile, "I'm so glad you were able to join us today."

"Thank you for inviting me," I replied with a nervous glance toward Edward's father.

Mrs. Masen took the cue, turning toward her husband. "Dear, this is Bella Swan. Bella, my husband, Edward Masen."

I extended my hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Masen."

Thankfully, he didn't mention our inappropriate church giggling and just shook my hand firmly. "The pleasure is mine, Bella," he said formally, but with a warm smile.

We followed the crowd out of the church and walked to separate cars, with plans to meet at Edward's house. The first meeting seemed to go well, but now I had to sit through an entire meal with Edward's parents. I didn't know how I'd manage to eat anything.

"You need to relax," Edward grinned as he held the car door open for me. "There's nothing to be nervous about."

"Who said I was nervous?" I asked with a toss of my hair.

Edward smirked as he took his seat next to me. "Well, you've been biting your lip so much I'm surprised it's not bleeding. You're wringing your hands… and you haven't said a word in the past ten minutes. That alone is cause for alarm."

"Ha ha," I deadpanned. "You're hilarious."

Edward laughed and reached for my hand, stroking his thumb over it softly. "Bella, it's going to be fine. My parents are going to love you," he said encouragingly, tenderness lighting his emerald eyes.

With a last gentle squeeze of my hand, he turned away to start the car. I stared at him for a moment, surprised that even as a human he had the ability to dazzle me.

"It's so unfair…" I murmured to myself.

"What's unfair?" Edward asked.

"Nothing," I said, reddening yet again. "Just talking to myself."

We made it to Edward's house before his parents arrived, most likely due to Edward's fondness for fast driving. Of course, fast in Edward's car was around forty miles an hour… and since I'd ridden with him at near super-sonic speeds in his Volvo, it was nothing to me.

Edward enjoyed it immensely, though. He had taken the top down and the wind ruffled his glorious hair, the sun tinting it with gold and copper highlights. His elbow rested on the door, his hand hanging loosely, and a wide grin split his face as he passed a slower driver easily.

He was just so damn cute he made my heart ache.

A quiet sigh escaped my lips as we parked in front of Edward's house. He turned to me with a curious look, and I suddenly realized I had been staring at him dreamily. I looked away quickly, embarrassed at being caught.

To his credit, Edward didn't say anything about it. He just got out of the car, circling the hood to open my door and help me out. His hand rested lightly on the small of my back as we made our way up the front walk.

"We should probably sit out here until my parents get here," he said quietly, motioning toward the table and chairs where I had sat with his mother drinking lemonade the first time we met. I hadn't noticed it before, but a large swing hung on the other side of the porch.

"Could we sit there instead?" I asked, pointing to the swing.

He nodded and we sat chatting and laughing on the porch swing. Edward was relaxed, his arm resting along the back of the swing, his body turned slightly toward me. I curled one leg under myself, using the other to push the swing every now and then. The warm breeze blew the scent of Edward's cologne through the air, and I inhaled deeply.

It was perfect.

Then his parents arrived.

They pulled up in a large black car, parking behind Edward. We stood as they made their way to the front porch… and I felt the nerves kick in yet again.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Mrs. Masen apologized. "We were stopped by the Bowlings and Muriel just wanted to talk and talk." She rolled her eyes, waving a hand in the air. "Come on, let's go inside. Dinner's in the oven and should be ready any minute… let's hope it's not burnt to a crisp!"

It wasn't. We shared a beautiful meal of roast leg of lamb with mint jelly, roasted potatoes, baby peas and carrots, an asparagus gratin, flaky biscuits, and a molded gelatin salad with bits of apple and grapes. I studied Mr. Masen surreptitiously, searching for pieces of Edward in him. His dark hair and eyes proved Edward's coloring came from his mother, but his height and the sharp cut of his jawline were both from dear old dad. At one point, he and Edward shared a joke and I gasped when I saw Edward's crooked grin on his father's face. All eyes turned to me at my quiet exclamation, and I scrambled for a way to divert the attention.

"This is delicious, Mrs. Masen," I said finally, after swallowing a tender piece of lamb.

"Thank you, Bella, but I'm afraid I can't take all the credit," she demurred. "Marie is the real talent around here."

"Marie?"

"Our cook," Edward explained.

"She's spending Easter with her family, but Marie started everything this morning, and just left me instructions on how to finish it all," Mrs. Masen added. "She would kill me if I destroyed all her hard work."

"So, Bella," Mr. Masen interjected, setting his fork and knife on his plate with a clink. "Edward tells us you're working at County General Hospital?"

I wiped my mouth nervously. "Yes. I'm working with a doctor there, assisting him with his influenza research."

"And you work at night, is that right?" he asked. At my nod he continued, "Isn't that a bit strange?"

I took a sip of my water to soothe my dry mouth. "Well, the doctor I work with works the night shift. Because there are fewer patients that need his attention at night, he is able to spend more time on his research."

"This doctor… is he married?" he asked, his voice taking on the tone I'm sure he used with witnesses on the stand.

"Ummm… no…. no, he's not," I stammered.

"Aren't you worried about your reputation, working with an unmarried man… at all hours of the night?" he pushed.

"Dad," Edward jumped in, a warning tone in his voice.

Mrs. Masen tried to smooth things over. "I'm sure Bella is very careful about her reputation," she admonished her husband.

Yeah. This was going well.

"My reputation isn't in any danger," I said, forcing myself to speak calmly. "Dr. Cullen is the soul of propriety."

Edward harrumphed – not a word I'd ever imagined I'd use, but that's exactly what he did. Unfortunately, it was loud enough so his father could hear it, and he apparently took it as encouragement to continue.

"Still, it doesn't look quite right, does it?" he asked, stabbing his fork in the air to emphasize his point. "A young girl like you has to be careful or people will talk... and that talk in itself can be ruinous. Even if there is no impropriety, the appearance of such can be just as damaging."

I should have laughed it off. I should have agreed with him and promised that I would be extra-careful to protect my oh-so-important reputation.

But me being me, I just got ticked off.

I carefully set my fork down on my plate, ignoring Edward's warning look and Mrs. Masen's panicked one. "I have learned that appearances can be quite deceiving," I said brightly. "For example, appearances might lead one to believe that you are a judgmental and arrogant boor. Of course, we all know that's not true, don't we?"

With a low groan, Edward's head fell to his hands and Mrs. Masen's eyes flew to her husband in dread. The table was completely quiet for several long seconds as Mr. Masen and I locked gazes in challenge. I waited for him to erupt and throw me out of his house in a rage, my muscles instinctively clenching in preparation.

To my surprise, he didn't erupt. Instead, his dark eyes twinkled and his mouth lifted in that crooked grin.

"Good point, Miss Swan," he said on a laugh, before taking a big bite of his biscuit.

x-x

The rest of dinner was relatively peaceful as we avoided any controversial issues and spoke instead about Mr. Masen's law practice and Edward's school achievements. He had told me he was on his school's track team, but his parents were quick to inform me that he was one of the fastest runners in the state and would most likely qualify for the regional championships. Edward flushed under the praise, but I could tell he was pleased at his parents' pride in his accomplishments.

When we were finished eating, Mr. Masen excused himself to his study, saying he had some work to do for a little while. I helped Mrs. Masen clear the table, but she refused to let me help her wash the dishes.

"Bella, you're our guest," she insisted. "It's a beautiful afternoon. Why don't you and Edward go on into the sunroom and I'll let you know when dessert is ready, all right?" She turned to pop a delicious-looking berry cobbler into the oven and I followed Edward down a long hallway to the back of the house.

We emerged into a room of glass, overlooking the meticulous back yard. The gardens were just beginning to color, with daffodils, crocuses, and tulips in various colors nodding in the spring breeze. Beyond that, a vibrant lawn spanned the yard, broken only occasionally by maple trees and one or two fruit trees also beginning to bloom.

"It's so beautiful," I said quietly. "If I lived here I'd spend all my time in this room."

"I do." Edward chuckled. "Would you like to sit down?"

I looked at the comfortable chairs in front of me, but my attention was grabbed by a grand piano in the corner. I walked over, running my fingers over the glossy, black surface.

"Do you play?" he asked.

I laughed. "Me? No. Not at all." I looked up at him shyly. "Would you play me something?

Edward blushed. "Oh, I'm not very good," he said modestly.

Yeah. Right.

"Oh, come on," I encouraged him. "Please?"

He made his way over to the piano reluctantly, sitting on the bench and flipping through some sheet music. "What would you like to hear?"

I sat down next to him excitedly. I loved to hear Edward play. "Oh anything!" I said, then a name on a piece of music caught my eye. "Wait! Is that Debussy?" I asked.

Edward pulled it out. "It's the third movement of Suite bergamasque," he explained. "It's called Clair De Lune."

"Oh, I want to hear that!" I exclaimed, recognizing the familiar piece.

Edward arranged the music on the piano. "I've been practicing it, but it's far from perfect," he warned.

"Edward, I'm sure it will be beautiful," I reassured him. "Just play it, please?"

He flexed his fingers a few times, breathing deeply before touching his fingers to the keys. I closed my eyes in anticipation, waiting for the music to sweep me away.

Finally he began to play, striking the keys tentatively at first, then more firmly as his confidence kicked in.

Edward was so wrong when he said he wasn't very good.

In fact… he was terrible.

My eyes flew open at the first sour note, and I tried not to cringe.

"Sorry," Edward said quietly, biting his lip and bending over the keys in concentration. He continued to pound out the melody, wincing and muttering "sorry" at every wrong note.

He winced and muttered a lot.

Finally… mercifully… the song came to an end and Edward straightened, turning to me with a sheepish look on his face. I arranged my features into what I hoped was an encouraging smile.

"I told you I wasn't very good." He shrugged apologetically.

"No!" I disagreed. "It was… great," I enthused. "I'm sure it will be amazing with just a little more practice."

Yeah. Like a hundred years or so.

"Really?" he asked with a smile. "You think so?"

I nodded emphatically. "Absolutely. You should definitely stick with it."

"All right," he conceded, turning back toward the piano. "I'll keep practicing." He arranged the sheet music, and I realized he was going to play another song. Without thinking, I reached out to touch his arm.

"Maybe… that's enough for now," I said. "You don't want to practice too much."

He stared at me for a moment before his lips lifted in a smirk. "Yeah. We wouldn't want that," he chuckled.

"Bella? Edward? Dessert is ready." Edward's mother poked her head in the room. "That was lovely dear," she added to Edward. "I love it when you play."

"Well at least someone does," Edward said under his breath, but his smile to me was genuine. We stood and walked laughing down the hall before sitting down to enjoy our berry cobbler and the rest of the afternoon.

A/N: Edward's church is Wicker Park Lutheran, a beautiful historic church in Chicago - and yes, it was built with stones from a brothel! Check out my profile if you'd like to see a picture of it - or of some of the other places mentioned in Beyond Time.

There's also a link to the Twilighted Thread for this story on my profile if you'd like to chat about the story or share theories.

Tease for Chapter 12 will be on the Fictionators blog on Monday - www(dot)fictionators(dot)com.