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: Thanks as always to my spectacular betas Aecarlso and Tiffanyanne3. Aecarlso has started a thread for Beyond Time on the Twilighted Forums – link is on my profile.

Did you ever wonder if the person in the puddle is real, and you're just a reflection of him?

~Calvin and Hobbes

Chapter 7 – Of Movies, Lunch, & Samantha's Hunch

"So what's this movie about anyway?" I asked Tom as we spied the streetcar. We quickened our steps to reach it before it sped off - or rather rolled, slowly clacking down the street.

He hopped up, offering a hand to me. I took it and joined him, holding on to the same brass pole. We were on our way to meet Edward and Samantha at the Orpheum Theater – supposedly the nicest theater in Chicago, according to Maggie.

"I don't know why you're going there," she'd huffed when I told her of our plans Thursday afternoon. "Ticket's a dime. You can go down the street to the Castle and only pay a nickel." Maggie had been teaching me how to use her new washing machine, and we were hanging laundry on a clothesline in the back yard.

"It wasn't up to me," I'd replied, still shocked that a movie ticket was only ten cents. "Edward and Samantha told us where to meet."

Maggie eyed me carefully. "Edward, hmm? So you're really going to spend the evening with him and his… young lady?"

"They invited us," I said simply, shaking out a blouse and pinning it up on the line,

"And that's all there is to it?" she asked, eyeing me intently.

I squirmed a little under her unbending scrutiny then turned away abruptly, straightening a clothespin.

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest, saying nothing. Her gaze never wavered.

Geez. The woman was relentless.

"Okay, maybe…" I began uncomfortably. "Maybe… I think Samantha might possibly be interested in Tom… maybe."

"I see," Maggie said, still not blinking her inscrutable eyes.

"And maybe… Tom might be a little interested in her, too."

After a moment, Maggie nodded. "I thought as much."

"What do you mean?"

She picked a skirt out the laundry basket, tucking a clothespin between her lips as she shook it out. "I noticed it at the picnic," she mumbled through the clothespin before using it to hang the skirt. "The two of them love each other, but they're not right for each other."

"You mean Edward and Samantha?" I couldn't help the wave of hope that swept through me.

"Mmm hmm."

I chewed on that for a moment. "So do you think that Tom and Samantha could be right for each other?"

"I'm not a fortune teller, Bella," she said with a smile. "But I suppose anything is possible."

I hesitated before asking her the next question on my mind, in part because I feared her answer.

"Do you think I'm meddling? Do you think it's wrong for me to try and get Tom and Samantha together?"

"Of course you're meddling." Maggie turned to me, her hands on her hips and her brogue thicker than usual. "But do I think you're wrong? That's not for me to judge.

"As my dear Henry, God rest his soul, used to say, 'All's fair in love and war, and soldiers don't fight with toothpicks.'"

"I'm not fighting Samantha," I said miserably. "The fact is, I actually like her."

"I know you do, dear," Maggie said sympathetically. "And I don't have any words of wisdom for you. When it comes to matters of the heart, that's the only thing you can follow… your heart." She patted my cheek and turned back to the laundry.

So Friday evening I dressed in the pale yellow dress I bought at Marshall Field's, added a white hat I borrowed from Liza and left with Tom to see a silent movie.

That's right. A silent movie.

I wasn't trying to be a millennial snob, or whatever you'd call it, but the idea of sitting in a theater to watch actors overact to an organ soundtrack? Well, it left me a little cold.

I mean, just before I left for this trip through time I'd seen Avatar in 3-D, for God's sake.

But I decided to put my best foot forward, because it really wasn't about the movie. It was about seeing Edward again. It was about putting my plan to save him into action. And to do that, I needed to stop jumping down his throat every time he said something that annoyed me.

I would control my temper.

I would control my temper.

I repeated the mantra to myself over and over as we rode the streetcar and Tom filled me in on the film we'd be seeing.

"I don't know much about it, but I asked the reviewer at the Tribune," he began. "I guess Mary Pickford plays an invalid who falls in love with a family friend. He's married to a drunken woman who hires an ugly servant, also played by Mary Pickford. The servant falls in love with the woman's husband too."

"Sounds like a soap opera," I muttered.

"A what?"

"Never mind."

"So, it seems really complicated," Tom said grumpily. "I would rather have seen a Chaplin film… or maybe that new Fatty Arbuckle."

"Yeah," I agreed dryly. "I loves me some Fatty Arbuckle."

Tom shot me a confused glance, then burst into laughter. "You say the strangest things sometimes, Bella."

"I know," I said, rolling my eyes.

We got off the streetcar and decided to walk the few blocks to the theater instead of paying for the "L". The sidewalks were crowded as usual, but we managed to maneuver easily through the masses.

"So, how did you meet Edward and Samantha?" Tom asked casually… almost too casually.

I eyed him, unsure of how to answer. "He gave me directions once when I was lost," I said finally, adding, "I hadn't met Samantha until the other day at the park."

He nodded and was silent for a moment.

"He's an unusual gent… very terse and opinionated."

I smirked. "I'd have to agree with you there."

"Samantha on the other hand, I found remarkably pleasant and friendly," he continued. "Quite the opposite of him."

"Well they say opposites attract."

"They do?" He turned to me, his blue gaze curious. "I hadn't heard that before."

"Mmm… well, regardless, I think it's true sometimes."

"Perhaps. But between you and me, I think they may be ill-suited to each other," he said, turning back to look down the street.

"You think so?"

He shrugged. "Edward just seems to overpower her. When she was away from him, she seemed to… shine."

"Sounds like you've thought a lot about this," I said knowingly.

He blinked. "Oh. No… not really. It's just an observation," he said, reddening slightly.

Tom cleared his throat and changed the subject. "The Orpheum's just around the corner."

A group of people clustered on the corner, waiting for an opportunity to cross the street. We made our way through them carefully and emerged out the other side. I stumbled slightly and Tom caught my arm, steadying me.

Then I Iooked up… and I was speechless.

The Orpheum was no suburban multiplex. It was amazing.

The building itself was five stories tall, but the entryway to the theater was defined by a two-story arch of carved stone and gilt, topped by a sinuous statue of a goddess. Letters spelling out "Orpheum Theater" spanned the arch, illuminated by bright lights and sparkling white stone. Under the arch, a seashell pattern radiated outward from the carving of a peacock in the center. The words "Continuous Vaudeville" were inscribed around the edge of the seashell in gold-painted letters.

"Continuous Vaudeville," I repeated, half to myself.

"Not any more," Tom laughed. "Vaudeville's dead. Haven't you heard?"

I smiled wryly but didn't reply.

"I don't see Edward and Samantha anywhere," he said, stretching his neck to search the crowd in front of the theater. "Maybe we should get in line for our tickets while we wait for them."

We joined the line at the ticket office and I continued to marvel at the extravagance of the movie theater. It was a little sad to think that in my time, most of the theaters like this had been shut down and demolished. Nobody wanted the "experience" any more. The money was in the multiplex.

Tom tried to pay for me but I won that battle, plopping down my dime with a wry smile and taking my ticket. We stood off to the side of the entry doors and in a few minutes saw Edward and Samantha rushing down the street toward us.

"Sorry we're late," Edward said, irritated. "I couldn't find a place to park."

Samantha walked up and threw her arms around my neck. "I'm so glad you came!" she exclaimed. I returned the hug awkwardly.

Why did she have to be so nice?

"I'm glad I came too," I said genuinely. "It's good to see you."

She squeezed me once more before pulling back and nodding at Tom.

"Hello, Tom," she said shyly, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"Miss Swenson," he replied with a smile and a tilt of his head.

Edward cleared his throat and everyone jumped a little.

Geez, Edward. Territorial much?

"Tom already got your tickets," I said, breaking the tension.

"Thanks," Edward pulled out two dimes and gave them to Tom in exchange for the tickets. "Anyone want popcorn before we go in?"

"They don't sell it inside?" I asked.

Edward shot me a curious look. "No, but there's a cart right there." He pointed to a red cart with bright yellow wheels in the street in front of the theater. A red and white striped awning extended from the roof, and I could see a sign advertising popcorn as well as roasted peanuts.

Tom and Edward each bought a bag of popcorn, and we stopped and bought bottles of coke from another vendor.

"It sure would be convenient to have a place where you could buy snacks and drinks inside the theater," I said dryly. "They could call it a snack bar… or maybe a concession stand."

"The theater owners don't like the mess." Edward shrugged. "They don't even like people out here selling it, but there's not much they can do about it."

"Oh, I think they'll come around," I said archly. "After all, they could make a fortune selling snacks."

Edward scoffed, "A fortune? How much do you think people would pay for a bag of popcorn? It would be more trouble than it's worth." He turned away muttering, "Ridiculous!"

I took a deep breath.

I would control my temper.

Edward looped Samantha's hand through his elbow and motioned to the entrance. "Shall we?" He grinned, sweeping her through the heavy doors. Tom and I mockingly mimicked his gesture and followed them.

The inside of the Orpheum was just as impressive as the outside. Tom and I trailed behind Edward and Samantha, and I tried not to gape at the lavish surroundings. We walked across plush red carpet and I noticed curving staircases along either side of the spacious lobby. After passing through another set of doors, we emerged on one of two wide aisles on the main floor. I took in rows of opera-style seats of dark red velvet, then looked up to find brass-railed balconies with several private boxes like you'd expect to see at a Broadway show. It reminded me a little of the Paramount Theater in Seattle. But where the Paramount's glamour was dimmed a little by age and history, the Orpheum still bore the fresh face of youth.

A uniformed usher approached us. "Good evening. May I help you find a seat?"

I glanced at his red, military-style uniform and brimless cap edged with gold braiding, then realized there were at least twenty identical ushers moving up and down the aisles. He led us to four adjacent seats about halfway down the center section. Edward allowed Samantha to precede him and Tom did the same for me. That left Edward and me sitting next to each other.

Okay… now what?

I watched him in my peripheral vision and his jaw clenched. I knew I irritated him. I'd have to work on that. If I was going to save him, I had to at least get him to like me first.

"Do you go to the movies often?" I asked tentatively.

He flashed me a surprised glance. "Oh… yes. Now and then. You?"

"Sure."

He cleared his throat. "What was the last film you saw?"

Uh oh. Don't say Avatar.

I searched my brain and settled on something Tom had said earlier. "Ummm… That one with Charlie Chaplin?"

He smirked. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Telling you. What was the last film you saw?"

"The Adventurer."

"Was it good?"

He looked at me, eyebrows arched. "You tell me. That's Chaplin's most recent film."

I gulped and looked away. "Oh yeah. I forgot the name of it."

"Mmm hmm."

I shot him an irritated glance. "You're really quite aggravating. You know that?"

He bit his cheek to keep from laughing. "You're the only one who seems to think so."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"Well, for some reason, you seem to bring out the worst in me," he admitted.

"I don't know why," I said haughtily. "Most people find me extraordinarily amiable."

"Amiable, huh?" he chuckled.

"Extraordinarily," I emphasized with a pointed look.

"Undoubtedly those are people who agree with your rather radical views on society," he said, his mouth tilting up in a crooked grin. My heart stopped for a beat before starting to thump again slowly in my chest. How could he still do that to me when I was so annoyed with him?

I swallowed, looking away from that grin so I could collect my thoughts. "Edward, my views are not radical. They're logical."

"If you say so."

I started to reply, but the lights dimmed twice, indicating the film was about to start.

"This isn't over," I whispered, and I heard him chuckle again.

Then the lights went down.

I inhaled sharply at the familiar feeling of the strange electricity that seemed to run through me whenever Edward was near. I first experienced it not long after we met, during a movie in Mr. Banner's biology class. The darkness seemed to intensify the current, and I had an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch him. It was shocking that first time, but I had a little more control now – I'd kind of built up a tolerance, I guessed. Or at least after repeated exposure I'd learned enough to brace myself against the attraction.

Still, the tug was powerful and I clutched my arms across my stomach, every muscle tense. I wondered if Edward felt it at all, or if it was only part of the allure I had to him as a vampire. I couldn't see his face without turning my head, but his hands were clenched on top of his knees, the knuckles white. Maybe he did feel something.

I breathed deeply through my nose - trying to maintain control - and turned my attention to the screen, where a grainy newsreel described the latest events in the "Great War". Grainy black and white film footage and photographs interspersed with screens of white lettering on a black background described a recent military offensive in Europe. I glanced around and every eye was riveted on the screen, every face intense and concentrating. The war evidently, was serious business.

Then a black and white cartoon of a cat flying an airplane began, sparking bursts of laughter throughout the auditorium.

"Don't you love Krazy Kat?" Tom asked me through his guffaws.

I just nodded with a smile.

The cartoon was blissfully short, but followed by – wait for it – a sing-a-long.

That's right, a sing-a-long.

God help me.

The crowd loved it though, and strains of "Over There" and "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" rang through the theater, the words glowing on the screen. Tom's off-key belting contrasted harshly with Edward's melodic tones, and over the two of them I could hear Samantha harmonizing in a clear, high soprano.

I knew she could sing.

I mouthed the words and huddled down in my seat.

The one positive note in it all was that it sufficiently distracted me from my desire to climb over the arm of my seat, straddle Edward, and molest him thoroughly.

Okay, I was still thinking about it, but I was controlling myself.

Finally, the main feature began and I tried to concentrate on the action on the screen.

Well, I use the term "action" rather loosely.

I'd never seen a silent movie before, and at first I found the exaggerating acting style and lack of… well… dialogue, a little distracting. But after a while, I was able to follow along. It was kind of like watching those Spanish soap operas when you didn't speak Spanish. You didn't know what they were saying, but you got the gist of it.

Of course the soap operas involved a lot more face-slapping and passionate kissing -sometimes in the same scene - but I had to say Stella Maris wasn't bad. Mary Pickford, a sweet-faced ingénue did in fact play two roles: Stella, the beautiful, paralyzed heiress, and Unity Blake, a homely servant. Stella fell in love with a family friend named John. Unity worked for John's wife, a miserable alcoholic named Louise.

Unity fell in love with John too, but realized she could never have him. So instead, she murdered Louise so Stella could be with John, then killed herself.

Okay, it really was like a soap opera.

The audience burst into applause at the closing credits and as the lights came up, I noticed Edward stretching and flexing his fingers. I guess he'd been white-knuckling his kneecaps through the whole thing.

It was nice to think that perhaps I wasn't the only one affected by our little connection.

Or maybe his knees were just cold.

We walked out of the theater as we discussed the movie.

"Well, I think it was terribly romantic," Samantha said dreamily. "Poor Unity sacrificing herself so John and Stella could be happy together. She was so selfless."

I snorted. Yes, I actually snorted.

All three of them turned to look at me.

"I take it you disagree, Bella?" Edward asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"You don't think it was romantic, Bella?" Samantha persisted.

"Well, no," I said finally. "I mean… I think Stella and Unity were both idiots." I avoided looking at Edward and Tom and focused on Samantha.

"I mean think of it, Samantha - what was so great about John? He went along with Stella's parents when they decided to isolate her in that room and tell her nothing about the outside world. He stayed married to that abusive drunk, Louise. He did nothing to help Unity at all. Yet he's the one who gets the happy ending? And poor Unity commits murder and suicide for a guy like that?" I paused and took in Samantha's pensive gaze.

Hopeful, I continued, "And come on, after all of this, Stella happens to get a miracle surgery and can walk again, just in time to go trotting off into the sunset with that loser John? Please!" I threw up my hands in exasperation.

"So what do you think should have happened, Bella?" Edward asked mockingly. "Please enlighten us."

I shot him an annoyed glare and turned back to Samantha. "Stella should have hired Unity to get her away from Louise. They could have become friends. Stella gets her surgery and Voila! She's walking again. She helps Unity with a makeover, because let's face it, the girl could use a little makeup and a new hairstyle. They go out on the town, find a couple of interesting and handsome men – who respect women as equals…" I glanced at Edward, who rolled his eyes at me. "They fall in love… John's stuck with Louise since they deserve each other… double wedding… credits roll."

Samantha blinked at me, her mouth agape.

I looked at Tom, who wore a similar expression.

And Edward burst out laughing.

"You really don't like John," he observed, clutching his stomach in hysterics.

I suppressed a smile. "No. John is a jerk."

This brought on a whole new round of merriment.

I swallowed a chuckle. "He didn't deserve Stella or Unity."

He gasped. "And Unity needed a… what did you call it? A… makeover?"

I fought the laughter but was losing the battle. "I'm all for equality, but a girl's got to at least make an effort." I finally gave in, giggling hysterically.

Edward couldn't breathe. He held out a hand. "Wait… wait…." he panted. "Voila!" he shouted, throwing both hands into the air like a magician.

We broke into another round of uproarious laughter and I clung to his arm, leaning on him for support.

"Stop… stop," I begged. "My side hurts…"

"Maybe you need miracle surgery!" Edward guffawed.

"Voila!" we shouted together.

Wheezing, we leaned on each other, trying to control our raucous laughter, and turned toward Tom and Samantha…

Who were both looking at us like we'd lost our ever-loving minds.

We both straightened, glancing at each other and stifling our giggles. Edward ran a hand through his hair, then over his face and took a deep breath. I smoothed my skirt and wiped the tears from my eyes.

"Are you all right?" Samantha asked.

"Fine," I answered with a shrug and a broken chuckle.

She looked back and forth between Edward and me. "Maybe we should go find the car," she offered hesitantly, touching Edward's arm.

Edward nodded then added to Tom and me, "We'd be happy to give you a ride to the boarding house."

"Isn't it out of your way?" I asked.

Samantha dismissed my comment with a wave. "Oh, it's nothing," she said, "and Edward's motor car has plenty of room. Come on, you don't want to ride the streetcar at night." She hooked her arm through mine and tugged me down the street.

"We had to park a few blocks away, but it's a warm night. It will be nice to walk," she said with a smile.

We took a few steps away from the guys and she turned to me with a conspiratorial smile. "You know, Bella," she said quietly, "I liked your movie better."

I grinned at her.

"You're different from anyone I know," she added.

"I'll bet," I said sardonically.

"I don't mean that in a bad way," she corrected me. "You just have all these strange ideas, but somehow when you talk about them… they don't seem so… strange."

"Thanks… I think," I said with a smile.

Samantha glanced back at Tom and Edward walking behind us. Convinced they couldn't overhear our conversation, she continued. "I think I might like to go to college," she whispered.

"Really, Samantha? That's wonderful!"

"I haven't decided… and I haven't said anything to my parents… or Edward. I don't know how they would react."

I thought a moment. "A friend of mine recently gave me some advice that I think applies here: 'Just be patient. Say what you want calmly and clearly. They'll come around eventually.'"

"You think so?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes, I do."

"I mentioned it to Tom," she said, coloring slightly. "He thought it was a great idea."

"Tom's a smart guy."

"What are you girls talking about?" Edward asked, as the two of them caught up with us.

"Nothing much," I said airily, and then a flyer posted on the side of a brick building caught my attention. I walked over for a closer look, bringing Samantha with me. I could feel the mental eye roll of Tom and Edward before they followed us reluctantly.

"A suffrage meeting," I read thoughtfully, turning to Samantha with a start. "Women can't vote?"

Samantha regarded me carefully. "Well in some elections, yes, but not in all of them. That's why there's a suffrage movement."

The "duh" seemed implied.

This was amazing. My mind flashed back to the article I had read in the hospital waiting room my first night here. I was so busy trying to figure out what was real and what wasn't that it hadn't even really clicked that I was reading about the suffrage movement – written by someone who'd experienced it first hand. I didn't remember exactly when it happened, but I knew the constitutional amendment guaranteeing women the vote would pass soon… within a year or two. Setting aside my primary reason for traveling to 1918, I found I couldn't resist the temptation to participate in a little history-making of my own.

"We have to go to this meeting," I said to Samantha firmly.

"You're a suffragette too?" Edward asked scornfully.

"You say it like it's a dirty word," I snapped back.

"It just seems like it's never enough for you people," he spat back. "The Illinois legislature already gave women the vote years ago."

"Actually, Edward," Samantha interrupted quietly, "that's only for some elections. Women in this state still aren't allowed to vote for state representatives or the governor. And we still have to use separate ballots and ballot boxes."

"That's ridiculous!" I exclaimed, outraged, only belatedly noticing Edward looking at Samantha in shock. Guess he wasn't used to her speaking up.

"What's ridiculous is the idea of a constitutional amendment – you realize that's what these women want, right? They want to change the Constitution!" Edward seethed. "It's a mob mentality – and now you're dragging Samantha into this madness."

"Now Edward…" Samantha began.

"Dragging Samantha?" I shouted. "I'm not dragging her anywhere! I simply can not believe that anyone would be against the idea of women voting." I stared at him, my eyes wide, and I saw him flick his glance between the two of us before he spoke, a little more quietly.

"It's not that I have anything against it per se," he replied, as if trying to calm a small child. "It's just that I think it's unnecessary."

I gaped at him. "How can you even say that?"

He was trying to maintain his composure, but I saw the muscle in his jaw clench. "A woman's husband represents the entire family. His vote does that as well."

"And what if a woman isn't married… or if she disagrees with her husband?" My heart rate was speeding up again.

"Well, then it's just a waste of two votes." He threw his hands in the air, any façade of calm irrevocably broken. "She and her husband would cancel each other out."

"That is so not the point, Edward!" I argued.

"Well, what is the point, Bella?" He mimicked my tone.

I took a deep breath. Be patient. Stay cool. "Edward, do you think women are less intelligent than men?"

He hesitated briefly. "No…"

"Okay, do you think they have the ability to become as informed on the issues as men? That they can read the newspaper… listen to speeches and absorb the facts?"

He flashed a glance at Tom, who just shrugged in response.

No help there, buddy.

"Yes," he said finally.

"Do you think women have their own opinions on the issues?"

He smirked. "I think you're adequate evidence of that."

"Okay, I'll give you that one." I shrugged then continued. "So given all of that, don't you think that a woman has just as much right to voice her opinion when it comes to politics? I mean, the decisions made by our government affect women just as much as men, don't they?"

Edward thought a moment. "I suppose so," he said slowly, "if she really wanted to."

Victory!

"So, Bella," he continued. "Who are you supporting in the election this fall?"

Crap.

"Um… the Democrat?"

Edward chuckled.

"Hey, I'm new in town. I plan on getting fully acquainted with the candidates and the issues," I said defensively. "And when the time comes, I will be informed and ready."

"Spoken like a true suffragette." Edward grinned.

"Damn straight."

"You have an awfully foul mouth for a lady," he said reproachfully.

"Well, a true gentleman wouldn't point it out… it's rude," I retorted.

"Okay, okay," Tom interrupted. "Can we please go to the car? You both are giving me a headache!"

Edward and I smiled at each other briefly before continuing down the street, and I couldn't help feeling like I had finally made some progress.

x-x

I thought I might be going crazy.

Of course, if I told anyone what I had been through these last couple of weeks they'd undoubtedly agree, but the time-traveling wasn't what I was referring to.

It was the visions… and the voices.

Well, just one voice actually: Alice's.

She continued to invade my dreams, which on its own wouldn't be that disturbing. I mean you can't control your dreams, after all.

But it wasn't just the dreams anymore.

I'd started hearing, and - on two occasions - seeing Alice when I was wide awake.

It's not that the visions were frightening, really. I mean Alice could never be scary. It was just so… unsettling.

She always said the same thing – she'd call my name like she was looking for me, then she'd beg me to come back. I didn't know if she was a product of my subconscious trying to draw me back to my present time… or if fate, or God, or someone else was trying to send me some kind of message. The problem was that I had no idea what to do with that message.

So for the most part, I tried to ignore it.

Sunday morning, Maggie was teaching me how to bake bread. I'd made it before, but with a mix and a bread maker - so it didn't really count. We were kneading dough side by side on the kitchen table when I heard Alice calling to me.

On reflex, I turned toward the voice. Then just as quickly, I tried to pretend that I hadn't.

"Something wrong, dear?" Maggie asked.

"No, nothing," I replied, kneading harder.

The voice continued to call to me and I kneaded… and ignored it.

Then I caught a flash of motion to my right and turned to see Alice's face reflected in the kitchen window. I dropped the dough on the floor and gasped.

"Bella! You have to come back!" she shouted, then the reflection vanished and all I saw were the trees in the back yard.

"Bella!" Maggie had me by the shoulder, shaking me. "Bella! What is it?"

I blinked. "Nothing… it's nothing."

She led me to a chair and I dropped into it.

"That wasn't nothing. You looked like you'd seen a ghost!" she exclaimed.

I laughed humorlessly. "You have no idea."

Maggie wiped her hands on a towel and sat across from me, looking into my eyes intently. I looked away and she sighed.

"All right, you don't have to tell me," she said, bending to pick up my wasted dough and tossing it into the trash can. I could tell she was hurt.

I stood and threw my arms around her. "Maggie, I'm sorry. Really, I just can't talk about it. Believe me, when I can you'll be the first one I come to."

She patted my hand and changed the subject. "So, how did you like the moving picture last night?"

I shrugged. "It was all right. Kind of depressing."

"Yes, I heard about that film. It sounded depressing." She eyed me speculatively. "How was Edward?"

I punched her dough. "Aggravating as always. But I think he's coming around."

She smiled and was about to say something when the doorbell rang.

"I wonder who that could be," she murmured, wiping her hands on her apron as she walked to the door. A moment later she called out to me.

I walked out of the kitchen to find Samantha standing shyly in the living room.

"Hello, Bella, I'm sorry to just come by without calling first. I would have called, but I didn't know the number and I couldn't remember Maggie's last name, so I couldn't find it in the directory. There wasn't a listing for Maggie's Boarding House…" she rambled nervously.

"Samantha, it's fine." I laughed. "I'm glad to see you."

"Oh, good… thank you." She smiled, visibly relieved.

Geez, was I that scary?

"Ummm…. We were just making bread. Do you want to come back in the kitchen?"

"Oh… no… thank you." She seemed flustered again. "Actually, I was wondering if you might be free for lunch?"

Lunch? This was… weird.

"Well, I was helping Maggie…" I hesitated.

"Nonsense!" Maggie interjected. "Go on to lunch with your friend." She shot me a pointed look and I looked away. "I'm sure you have a lot to talk about."

"Ummm… all right." I looked at my floury hands. "Just let me clean up a little and I'll be right back."

Samantha sat on the little couch by the front door, and I pulled off my apron as I ascended the stairs. After washing my hands and splashing some cool water on my face, I surveyed my appearance in the mirror. I straightened my hair and shrugged. It didn't really matter anyway. Nobody would even notice me sitting next to the glory that was Samantha.

We walked downtown and stopped at the little café I'd seen on my first day in Chicago. We bought sandwiches and coffee and sat at a little outside table, watching the crowds rush by.

I glanced at Samantha out of the corner of my eye as I bit into my sandwich. We'd talked about nothing but superficial topics since we left the boarding house, but I had a feeling there was something on her mind. She avoided my gaze as she sipped her coffee, looking out into the street.

"It is a lovely day," she said finally.

I smirked. The weather, huh? I decided I'd play along and see how long it took for her to get to the point.

"Yes, lovely," I agreed.

"The sun is so warm." She stretched her legs out a little and I saw a waiter take notice appreciatively.

"Warm… and bright..." I added.

"Yes, it is bright… but not too bright."

"No," I all but laughed, "definitely just bright enough."

"Yes, it's perfect."

Okay, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Samantha," I said firmly.

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, then she flushed, turning away abruptly.

"You came all the way down here to see me… and we've done nothing but talk about the weather for the past twenty minutes."

"We've talked about more than the weather," she said defensively. "I… said you had a nice… hat."

I laughed. "Oh, I stand corrected."

She smiled back, then looked away and I waited.

"It's just… I wanted to talk to you about something…" she said finally.

"I figured as much."

"But it's a little… personal."

I smiled at her, "Samantha, it's all right. You can talk to me. I consider you a friend."

And I really did. Despite all her radiant perfection, you couldn't help but like the girl.

"Really?" She glowed. "I know we just met, but I think of you as a friend too."

I set my sandwich on my plate and wiped my mouth with my napkin. "So why don't you tell me what all this is about."

She hesitated only briefly before asking, "Bella, how long have you known Tom?"

I smiled. "Not long really, I guess… a few weeks. He was the first person I met in the city. But we just… clicked… I guess you'd say." At her confused look, I added, "…like pieces in a puzzle."

"Oh." She seemed a little disappointed. "So you like him, then."

"Of course, he's a great guy."

"Oh." she looked crushed… like someone had just run over her puppy.

Oh.

Oh.

"Samantha, it's not like that," I corrected quickly. "Tom and I are just friends. There's nothing romantic there at all."

"Really?" She brightened, then blushed. "I mean, not that it's any of my business."

"It's all right if you like him," I said encouragingly. I had decided not to push them together, but if they were already on that track I could help the train along, right?

"I do like him," she admitted. "He's smart and funny… and he likes that I want to go to college. He thinks I'm interesting."

"You are interesting, Samantha."

"I never used to think so," she said sadly, looking out over the street. "I know I'm… pretty."

"You're much more than pretty."

She offered me a small smile. "Thank you, but I wasn't looking for a compliment, and I'm not sure how to say this without sounding conceited. I mean, it's not like I did anything to be pretty. It's just how I look. It's how I was born. It's… nothing really.

"But people look at me and see my face… and my clothes… and my family's money… and they have certain… expectations."

For the first time, I felt a little sorry for Samantha. "What kind of expectations?" I asked quietly.

"Oh, that I'm vain… or pretentious… or stupid," she shrugged. "I'm supposed to be… my mother. I'm supposed to get married, raise a family, do charity work, and decorate my husband's arm at public events."

"I got the impression that was what you wanted."

She shrugged. "I thought it was. I'd never really imagined anything else. But now…" Her voice faded away and she seemed lost in thought.

"Now?"

Samantha turned back to me, "Now I think I want something more… and I'm not exactly sure what to do about it. I can't talk to my family… my mother wouldn't understand. But I thought you would."

I nodded. "I do. Believe me, I do. So what do you want?"

She bit her lip. "I've been thinking I might like… to be a nurse. I want to do something… important. I could join the Red Cross and help with the war effort."

"That sounds dangerous, Samantha," I said, suddenly concerned.

She sat a little straighter. "I'm not fragile, Bella. I can help. I can make a real difference. Not just at fundraising luncheons, but where it really matters."

I nodded again, chagrined, and filled with a newfound respect for Samantha. I knew the war would be over long before Samantha finished nursing school but I admired her bravery nonetheless.

"What do you think?" she asked, uncertainty wrinkling her brow.

"I think… I think it's amazing, Samantha," I said truthfully. "I think you'd make a wonderful nurse."

She smiled brightly and pulled a piece of paper out of her purse. "I already got an application to the Illinois Training School for Nurses," she said, unfolding the paper. "I have to submit the application by the end of the month to be considered for this Fall's entering class."

I skimmed the application she showed me and handed it back to her.

"What about your parents? You have to tell them about this." I hesitated asking the next question, but forged ahead. "What about Edward?"

"Edward," she sighed. "I love Edward. You know that. I always thought we'd be together forever."

"You don't think that now?" I asked, hope swelling in my chest.

She smiled at me. "Edward would be… simple."

I snorted. "I don't think there's anything simple about Edward."

"No, that's not what I mean," she corrected. "Edward is… one of those expectations I was talking about. I told you we've known each other our whole lives. Everybody just expects we'll get married someday. It would be easy to go along with that. It would probably even help my family to accept my decision to go to nursing school if I just went ahead and married Edward."

"Would Edward accept it? It seems like he'd be a little… resistant to the idea."

"Maybe at first." Samantha smiled. "But I think he'd come around eventually, although there's no way he'd ever let me go to war." We shared a sardonic smile and she continued, "I don't know. I've never contradicted Edward."

"Really? I can't seem to do anything else." I laughed.

"I noticed." She grinned, then sobered and said quietly, "I can see our lives together, you know. It would be… pleasant. We'd have children… a beautiful home. We've always gotten along well. We hardly ever disagree. It would be comfortable, but…" Her voice trailed off.

"But what?"

"But since I've met Tom, I'm not sure that's what I want any more," she admitted. "I'm not sure Edward is what I want. And I'm really questioning whether we would even be right for each other." She leaned toward me a little, as if worried we'd be overheard.

"And you think you and Tom might be right for each other?" I asked.

She blushed. "I don't know absolutely, but I think we might. What do you think I should do?"

My inner bitch was chanting, "Dump Edward! Dump Edward! Dump Edward!"

"I can't tell you what to do, Samantha," I said, opting for the high road. "But I do think you need to be honest with everyone involved."

She nodded. "I know. I need to talk to Edward. It's not fair for me to continue to spend time with him when I have these feelings for Tom." She eyed me carefully. "I have a feeling he won't be that disappointed, though."

"Why do you say that?"

Samantha smiled. "I'm not what Edward wants, Bella. Even if he doesn't realize it yet, I'm not what he needs."

"Samantha… you're pretty much perfect."

"Bella, I'm far from perfect, but that's not what I mean." She sat back, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee. "Edward is a… strong personality."

"That's putting it mildly," I scoffed.

Samantha ignored me, continuing, "He needs someone just as strong. He needs someone who challenges him… someone who puts him in his place once in a while." She paused for a moment and then added quietly, "He needs someone like you."

I had reached for my sandwich and paused mid-bite. "Samantha, Edward can barely stand to be in the same room with me. All we do is argue."

"You seemed to enjoy each other last night. You couldn't stop laughing."

"A very uncharacteristic moment in our relationship," I said brusquely. "Trust me. Edward thinks I'm a loud-mouthed radical. We don't agree on anything."

"That's what he needs, Bella," Samantha said passionately. "You stimulate him… he's never met anyone like you before."

I chewed on my sandwich and said nothing for a moment. I had been so frustrated about my progress, or lack thereof, when it came to my relationship with Edward. But could Samantha be right? Could he actually enjoy our verbal sparring?

"Do you really think he likes me?"

Samantha smiled knowingly. "He does… but I don't think he's grasped it just yet." She paused. "You like him, don't you?"

"I don't know that I'd say I like him," I admitted. "He's arrogant and annoying and just about drives me crazy…" I struggled for a way to explain my connection to Edward. "But I have to admit… I'm… drawn to him."

"He's drawn to you too."

"Really?"

"I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching," she revealed. "You confuse him… but you also intrigue him.

"Edward has always had an uncanny ability to read people." Samantha bit her lip, choosing her words carefully. "It's amazing, really. He can almost predict how they will react in certain situations. Most of the time he knows what I'm going to say before I even open my mouth," she admitted wryly.

I smirked a little at this, but didn't interrupt.

"But you test his instincts, Bella. He has no idea what you're thinking. You're unpredictable… a fascinating puzzle he's not sure how to solve… and one I doubt he'll be able to leave alone."

I absorbed this information in silence as Samantha finished her coffee and wiped her mouth.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked.

I nodded and we left the café, strolling quietly back toward the boarding house.

"Oh!" Samantha exclaimed as we neared the front steps. "You have to come to my birthday party next Saturday."

"Your birthday?" I smiled. "Sure, I'd love to come."

Samantha smiled wickedly. "Of course, you should bring Tom."

I returned her grin. "Of course."

"And Edward will be there…" she said, tapping her fingers on her lips

"Samantha, I get the strangest feeling that you're up to something."

Samantha laughed as she turned to walk back down the street.

"I'm becoming a modern woman, Bella," she shouted back at me. "Don't you realize we always have a plan?"

A/N: I hope those of you who were worried about Samantha feel a little better about her now. She's out to help our girl - you can't help but love her!