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 fantabulous betas Tiffanyanne3 and Aecarlso. Thanks to Twi-Fic Promotions for their great review of Beyond Time... and extra-special thanks to those of you who are recommending this story – I am so grateful and humbled by your support!

Link to the Twilighted thread for this story is on my profile… come share your thoughts!

Please see the A/N at the end for some exciting news (at least to me! Lol!)

"Love withers with predictability; its very essence is surprise and amazement. To make love a prisoner of the mundane is to take its passion and lose it forever."

- Leo Buscaglia

Chapter 8 – Of Butting Heads and Birthday Parties

My life, as crazy as it was, had taken on a semblance of normalcy. I'd work at the hospital, Carlisle would walk me home each morning before the sun came up, I'd sleep through most of the day, help Maggie around the house, then go back to work.

In a way, I was growing comfortable in this strange, new world. Or rather, old world.

Whatever.

After my lunch with Samantha, I tortured myself by running our conversation over and over in my head. It was obvious to me, and becoming even more so to her, that she wasn't in love with Edward. Although I couldn't understand it, I could believe it. I had witnessed her with both Edward and Tom – and for some reason, she seemed drawn to my roommate. I'd come to believe that at least from Samantha's viewpoint, Edward was more of a brother-figure.

What I didn't believe though, was that Edward felt the same way. I'd seen the way he watched her, in a protective, loving way. It was obvious he cared deeply for her… and he'd admitted they'd most likely be married someday. They had a bond that I wasn't sure I could break even if I wanted to, which I was pretty sure I didn't.

I didn't really want to break it… just bend it a little… but how Edward felt about that bond, I just didn't know.

Even without the vampire mystique that I had come to expect from him, Edward remained a mystery to me in so many ways. He hid his emotions well, and no matter how hard I looked, I couldn't see beneath his arrogant exterior beyond what he allowed.

Samantha had said I confuse him. I'd buy that.

But she also said I intrigue him.

Of that I wasn't so sure.

I frustrated him. I knew that. Amused him. Obviously. But whether that extended into the realm of attraction or intrigue?

I wasn't convinced.

What I did know, was that I was the only one who could save his life. The arguing and fighting and mocking all had to be set aside in light of that one goal, because despite it all, I still loved him. When I looked at that eyebrow raised in derision or that smirk at my expense… when he said something stupid and chauvinistic that tightened a curl of anger and frustration in my belly… I still loved him.

Go figure.

So I had to move forward. I had to put myself in front of him, gain his trust, build a friendship, and hopefully win his love - because without it, I hadn't a hope in hell of getting him out of Chicago.

I sighed deeply.

"Something wrong, Bella?" Carlisle looked at me quizzically. We were working in his laboratory categorizing slides and I'd let my mind drift again.

Okay, it happened a lot. I didn't know why he put up with me.

I often struggled with how much to tell Carlisle. We had maintained a kind of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" relationship. I hinted that I knew his secret, but he never came out and asked me about it after our first "I know things" conversation in front of the boarding house. He seemed content to believe that I was some kind of psychic, but he didn't press me for information outside of what I'd dubbed "The Great Influenza Interrogation".

Sometimes I really wanted to just disclose everything. I told myself he'd think I was crazy, but deep down I knew he would accept my story eventually and help in any way he could. I mean, he was Carlisle. That's the kind of guy he was.

Yet I couldn't get beyond the whole "crack whore" argument. Who knew how much I was affecting the future just by being there? I had to be careful.

I could step on a butterfly and the polio vaccine would never be invented… or electric cars… or the Ipod.

It was a lot of responsibility.

So I maintained that my best course of action was to fit in as well as I could, keep my crazy story to myself, and make as little an impact as possible. Well, except for the whole Saving Edward plan, of course.

I figured he was off the grid once he turned seventeen anyway. He couldn't have had much of an impact on the invention of the Ipod.

Carlisle was still watching me, a curious smile on his lips. I picked up a stack of slides and began to sort them.

"Sorry," I said. "I was just thinking."

"You want to talk about it?"

I hesitated at first, then realized Carlisle was probably a good person to go to for advice. I mean the guy was two hundred years old. He had a lot of life experience to draw on.

"Well, see… I have this… friend," I began, flashing him a glance. I saw him smirk and knew he was on to me. Still, he maintained the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" and let me continue.

"She's been in love with this guy for a long time, but he's in love with someone else… although the someone else he's in love with says he's not really in love with her… and she's actually falling in love with someone else too…"

"Whoa! Wait a second, Bella," Carlisle interrupted with a laugh. "You're going to have to slow down a little."

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "See, it's my friend Samantha."

"The one you met at the picnic?" I'd mentioned her to Carlisle before.

"Yes, that's her," I nodded. "Everyone expects her to marry her childhood sweetheart… Edward." I gulped a little at the mention of his name. "But she told me she's kind of interested in Tom Jacobsen… my friend from the boarding house?" Carlisle nodded, indicating he remembered Tom.

"So what's the problem?" he asked.

"I'm worried that Edward will be hurt."

"You don't really have any control over that, Bella," he pointed out.

"It's just…" I struggled for the right words. "Do you believe in destiny?"

Carlisle thought for a moment, set down the slides he was holding and walked over to sit down at his desk. I took a seat across from him and waited for his reply.

"I don't know if I believe in destiny per se," he said finally. "The idea that our lives are mapped out in front of us... it just seems too… simple, I suppose. I believe in free will, so in a way that's at odds with a belief in destiny." He paused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his hand absently over his mouth. "But I also believe we each have a purpose… and that people come into our lives for a reason." He looked at me intently, and I squirmed a little under his scrutiny.

He obviously was saying something that had nothing to do with Samantha and Edward, but I couldn't deal with that at the moment.

"If I wasn't here," I began, "Samantha would never have met Tom. Most likely she would have just gone on with her life, married Edward, had babies… yada yada yada," I muttered, waving my hands.

Carlisle chuckled and I rolled my eyes.

"What if that's what was supposed to happen? What if I destroyed something that was destined to be?"

I knew Edward wouldn't have married Samantha - Carlisle would have changed him long before that - but Samantha and Tom… should that happen?

Had I inadvertently created a "crack whore" situation for the two of them?

God, it was giving me a headache.

"You can't keep second-guessing yourself, Bella. You can't take the weight of destiny upon your shoulders." He leaned forward on his desk earnestly. "You came to town. You happened to meet Tom… and Samantha… and Edward. You didn't force any of them to do anything, and you can't take credit or blame for whatever decisions they make. If you try, you'll just drive yourself crazy.

"At the risk of sounding insensitive, I have to say you're just not that important."

"Well, thanks a lot," I muttered.

"You're welcome." Carlisle grinned, then his face grew serious. "I know you have certain… gifts, Bella, and believe me, I understand how that can make you feel like you have some sort of responsibility to everyone around you.

"It can be hard to accept, but take it from me - you can't save the world."

x-x

I tried to take Carlisle's advice to heart and just relax about the whole Tom/Samantha situation. I mean, I really didn't know anything about them as far as the future was concerned. For all I knew, after Edward "died" Samantha and Tom met at the grocery store and fell in love over a pile of cantaloupes. Maybe I just sped up the process a bit.

Hey, it could happen.

But in reality, there was no way for me to know for sure, so I had to just resign myself to dealing with the issue as best as I could.

I figured if I was sent here for a reason, whoever sent me kind of had an idea of what I'd do when I got here. Maybe Maggie had it right and I just had to follow my heart and hope for the best.

The problem was that when it came to Edward, I wasn't sure where my heart was leading me.

On the one hand, I wondered if I should try and become what Edward wanted. Normally I would scoff at the idea, but my time to save him was running short, and I debated whether my deception could be justified in the long run. I could try and become the early twentieth century woman Edward is looking for.

But could I really be sweet and polite? Docile and submissive?

Ummm… probably not.

It wasn't for a lack of trying. I normally had a good handle on my temper and was pretty good about staying calm, even in confrontational circumstances.

I remembered one time when this asshole stole my parking space at the mall. It was two days before Christmas, and I had driven three hours to Olympia in search of a particular fishing reel for Charlie. I sat and waited while a woman with two kids loaded up her purchase in the back of her SUV, tapping my fingers anxiously on the steering wheel of my truck.

When she finally pulled out, my truck stalled and as I moved to start it up again, this guy in a black sports car swept into the parking space. I honked at him as he left his car, pressing his key fob to lock the door, and he promptly flipped me the bird.

I could have rammed my big red truck right into the back of that shiny black Porsche.

I could have, but I didn't.

Instead, I very calmly found another space – ten rows further from the mall entrance. I very calmly walked back to his pretty, pretty car.

And I very calmly let the air out of his left front tire.

I know… I know… and I don't condone vandalism as a general rule. But come on – like you wouldn't have wanted to do the very same thing?

Besides, I figured I was being generous in my choice of tire. At least he would have seen it right away when he returned. If I'd chosen the right rear, he might not have noticed it until he was driving down the road and it could have caused serious damage to his custom rim.

Really, he should have been grateful.

Still, I found it difficult to show such restraint where Edward was concerned. No matter how many times I chided myself to control my temper, just a few words from him and I would lose it. He seemed to know just what buttons to push to trigger Bitchy Bella. And once she got loose, it was difficult to rein her back in.

Maybe I should try yoga.

So although I thought becoming what Edward wanted might be the best option, it seemed a little unfeasible. I was left with Option Number Two: Be myself and hope whatever miracle it was that made him fall in love with me the first time, would repeat itself.

Hey, if I couldn't believe in miracles, who could?

x-x

The meeting of the Chicago Women's Association took place in the basement of the First Presbyterian Church – a large, gothic building just a few blocks from the Orpheum Theater.

I entered the building quietly, clutching the satchel holding my uniform and trying to draw as little attention to myself as possible. Samantha had been unable to go with me, citing a previous charity commitment with her mother. I knew she was trying to work up the courage to talk to her mom about the changes in her life, so I couldn't fault her choice.

The church was enormous – quiet and beautiful – and sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, shedding colored light on the padded benches and illuminating dancing dust motes in its iridescent beams.

I followed a group of women I saw moving off to the side of the main sanctuary down a flight of stairs to a large meeting room. I sat in the last row in a folding wooden chair, my eyes lighting on a large table bearing coffee, tea, and several plates of cookies and other treats.

My stomach rumbled and I stood to examine the refreshments a little more closely.

As I tried to decide between a thumbprint cookie with raspberry jam and some kind of chocolate covered wafer, a quiet voice grabbed my attention.

"It's hard to choose, isn't it?" the voice said. "I'd just take both."

I turned to meet a pair of pale blue eyes, crinkling at the corners with amusement.

"Ummm… yeah," I stifled a giggle. "I guess I could do that. Didn't want to make a pig of myself."

"Dear, if you're going to make it through one of these meetings, you'll need your strength," she said, piling both cookies and several others on a small plate and handing it to me. "I'm Eleanor, by the way," she said, holding out a hand. "Eleanor Donahue."

I fumbled with my plate and cup, finally setting them back on the table and shaking her hand. "Bella Swan. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise, dear." She smiled, pouring herself a cup of coffee, and I took a moment to gather my wits and absorb her rather intense aura. I knew immediately that Eleanor was one of those women who commanded attention when she entered a room. She was statuesque – probably close to six feet tall – and wore a fitted dark gray suit with a bright red blouse. I could tell she was older from the hint of wrinkles on her face, but I couldn't tell how much older. Her brown hair was unmarred by gray and tucked up into a large red hat with a sweeping black ostrich feather.

Not many people could pull off the feather, but she was rocking it.

"So what have you decided?" she asked, turning to face me.

"I'm sorry?" I stammered. "Decided about what?"

"About me." She grinned. "You've been staring at me, obviously trying to make your mind up about something."

I flushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."

"Don't worry about it honey." She laughed. "It happens all the time." She patted my arm and led me back to the row of chairs.

"So, Bella Swan," she began as we sat down and arranged our refreshments. "I haven't seen you at a meeting before. Are you new in town?"

I sipped my coffee and nodded. "Yes, I've only been here a few weeks."

"Have you been active in the movement?"

The movement?

"Oh… the suffrage movement?" She looked at me oddly, so I quickly added. "No. I haven't, but I've recently become quite interested in the idea."

"Well don't get your hopes up that anything important will happen today," she said, before taking a bite of her cookie. "I swear these women are like a bunch of cackling hens who can't agree on anything."

I noticed three women across the room staring at us. They quickly lowered their gazes and I turned away only to notice two other ladies watching us from the other side of the room.

I looked down at my dress, checking for spills and stains.

"What's the matter, honey?" Eleanor asked, noticing my discomfort.

"Ummm… I don't know. People are staring at me. Do I have something on my face?"

"Oh that." She waved a hand. "They're not staring at you, sweetie. They're staring at me. I should warn you, I have a bit of a reputation."

"A reputation? Why?"

"Well, I tend to have a rather… unconventional view on relationships."

"What do you mean?"

She sipped her coffee. "I was married for twenty-three years," she said finally. "My husband died six years ago."

"I'm so sorry," I murmured.

"Thank you." She offered me a small smile and continued, "We had a good marriage compared to many, I suppose, but in truth I hadn't been happy for a long time. I found it… stifling. I loved my husband, but there was no passion there.

"I didn't find passion until Pierre." She sighed dreamily.

"Pierre?" I repeated.

"Hmmmm…" She smiled as if lost in thought. "After the funeral I went on a tour of the Continent. That was the start of the demise of my reputation – many people thought I should have stayed locked in my house draped in sackcloth and ashes." She grimaced and shuddered. "I met Pierre at a little café in Paris. He took me home and came back to Chicago with me a week later. We were together for eight months." Eleanor lowered her voice, "You should have seen the looks I got walking down the street on the arm of a 22-year-old Frenchman."

"I would imagine so," I murmured in awe. "Not that I'm judging… I would never do that," I added quickly.

"Oh, don't worry about it." Eleanor patted my arm comfortingly. "I gave up worrying about what people think of me a long time ago."

I opened my mouth to say something, then snapped it shut abruptly.

"Go ahead," Eleanor encouraged me, "ask me anything."

"What happened to Pierre?"

"Oh, he wanted more," she said sadly. "He wanted to marry me, and that was something I just wasn't prepared to do. He went back to Paris."

"Do you think you'd ever get married again?"

She laughed. "No. I think I've given up on that particular institution."

"Don't you get lonely?"

Eleanor leaned toward me conspiratorially. "Just because I've renounced marriage doesn't mean I've given up men, sweetie."

My eyes widened. "So, you have a boyfriend?"

She giggled. "Several, actually."

I gaped, my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

"So I think you can see why the genteel ladies of Chicago might frown on my presence here," she explained. "A woman of my… advanced years… entertaining younger men…"

"How much younger?" I asked, unable to resist.

Eleanor wiggled her eyebrows. "Young enough."

I laughed. "So you're a…"

"Lady of ill repute? Deviant? Wanton hussy?" she finished with a smirk.

"I was going to say 'free spirit'."

"Free spirit?" she repeated. "I rather like that." She finished her coffee and set her cup under her chair. "And I like you, Bella Swan," she added. "The rest of these biddies tolerate me because I'm filthy rich and contribute generously to their causes. They don't think I notice them looking down their self-righteous noses at me behind my back.

"But enough about me," she said, brushing crumbs off her skirt. "Tell me about you."

I didn't get a chance to answer, because a heavyset, middle-aged woman called the meeting to order.

Eleanor was right about the inability of the women in the room to agree on anything. Every issue brought forth sparked a lively debate with long statements and increasingly raised voices. Eleanor kept me entertained with gossipy tidbits about various people in the group throughout the afternoon.

"That's Marion Jennings," she whispered. "She's president of the Temperance League and acts like she doesn't know her husband spends every Friday night getting drunk on gin down at the Rusty Nickel and enjoying the pleasures of a lady of the evening."

In the middle of an argument over the size of the new suffrage flyers, Eleanor leaned to my ear once again.

"Jane Addison only wants the larger flyers because she's having an illicit affair with the printer. She knows if we spend more on the flyers, he'll reward her with a new trinket," she said in low voice. "And they call me a strumpet," she huffed.

The meeting came to a close without any real decisions being made, and another meeting was scheduled for the following month. As the women filed out of the room and up the stairs, Eleanor turned to me.

"I hope you don't think me a spiteful gossip," she said with a grimace. "I'm afraid I've become a bit jaded of late. I do believe the movement is important. I just can't tolerate hypocrisy… and some of these women are oozing with it."

I reassured her as we walked out of the church that I hadn't been offended by her comments. Actually, I found them amusing. Amidst the staid atmosphere in the room, Eleanor was a breath of fresh air.

The sun had retreated while we'd been in the meeting. I looked up at a gray and angry sky, clouds swirling ominously as winds whipped down the city streets. I was glad I'd finally been able to buy a coat and pulled it tight around me.

"Looks like rain," Eleanor commented, clutching her hat in the chilling wind as the feather flapped wildly. She gestured to a dark car at the curb. A uniformed driver stood holding the door open. "Can I offer you a lift somewhere?"

I thought about refusing, but another freezing blast changed my mind.

"I have to get to work," I said, shifting my satchel from one hand to the other. "Is the County Hospital on your way?"

"Certainly," Eleanor said with a smile. We got into the car and Eleanor turned her attention on me.

"So, Bella," she said conspiratorially. "Do you have a young man?"

"Ummm…" I hesitated. "It's… uhh… complicated."

Eleanor chuckled. "It usually is."

For some reason, I felt I could confide in this woman, so I relaxed back against the seat. "His name is Edward," I began, "and he can be wonderful… but he can also be a huge pain in the…" I flashed her a quick glance and caught her smirk. "He's stubborn and arrogant and he has these old-fashioned ideas and he just about drives me crazy." I flushed and turned to look out the window.

"You're in love with him," she said quietly.

I met her eyes, ready to deny it but unable to.

"Bella, take it from me, most men are annoying creatures," she said with a smile. "They're inflexible and set in their ways and if you try to push them too hard, they'll only push back. It's much easier to pull them along gently."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"If you want a donkey to move, you don't keep shoving on its ass," she said saucily. "You hold a tasty treat in front of its face."

Confused, I muttered, "Edward's not a donkey... and I don't have any treats."

"Oh, yes you do," she said archly.

I blinked at her. She couldn't mean…

"Eleanor," I whispered with a glance at the driver, "are you talking about sex?"

She shrugged but said nothing.

"I can't do that! I wouldn't even know how to!"

"It's not that difficult, Bella," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm not talking about seducing him to get him to agree with you. Think of it this way…" She turned to face me on the seat, looking into my eyes. "Have you ever been so intrigued by someone that you just had to find out more about them?"

I thought about my Edward-induced Google-fest and nodded.

"That's all I'm saying. If he's interested enough, he'll do anything to learn more about what's important to you. Give him time, and he'll eventually come around to your way of thinking."

"You really think so?" I asked doubtfully. "So how do I get him interested?"

She looked out the window. I hadn't even realized that we'd stopped in front of the hospital.

"I'd say you're already halfway there," she said quietly, her gaze over my shoulder. I turned to see what she was looking at and gasped at the sight of Edward pacing back and forth in front of the hospital doors, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the bitter wind.

"That's Edward," I said, surprised.

"I thought as much," Eleanor replied smugly.

"What in the world is he doing here?" I murmured.

"Well, you won't find out sitting in here," she said smartly, giving me a little shove as the driver opened the door. She grabbed my hand, pressing a small piece of paper into it. "My telephone number," she explained. "I'd really like to know how all of this turns out." She grinned. Then the driver closed the door and the car rolled away, as I turned to face Edward.

Once he spotted me, he approached me quickly. "Who was that?" he asked shortly, looking after the car.

"A new friend of mine, Eleanor Donahue," I replied.

Edward's face tightened. Evidently, Eleanor's reputation preceded her. "Figures," he muttered.

I stiffened. "Edward, what are you doing here?"

He ran a hand through his hair, distracting me momentarily.

"I needed to talk to you," he said gruffly.

"About what?"

"About Samantha. What did you say to her?" he asked accusingly.

"Samantha?" I blinked, confused. "What did I say to her about what?"

He threw his hands into the air and began to pace again. "I don't know. All I know is she went to lunch with you," he shot a reproving glance my way, "and the next thing I know she's talking about going to college… and not getting married… and becoming a nurse and going to war, for God's sake!" His voice had gotten steadily louder and I looked around to see that we were drawing attention.

"Edward, control yourself," I said through my teeth, grabbing his arm to pull him into an alley around the corner from the front door. The wind picked up, ruffling his hair, and I felt a few stinging drops of rain hit my cheeks. I took a deep breath and tried to remember Eleanor's advice and use the "honey, not vinegar" method in dealing with Edward's tantrum.

"Samantha did talk to me about all of those things… but they were her ideas, not mine," I explained.

Edward, however, would not be calmed. "She never had any of those ideas until you put them in her head!"

Honey.

Not vinegar.

"I didn't do any such thing, Edward."

"Yes you did," he growled. "You came here spewing nonsense about college and Madame Curie and suffrage and… and you got her all mixed up in the head!"

"Edward, that's not fair," I argued, my teeth grinding and my palms sweating. I fought it, but he was getting to me. "Samantha is capable of making up her own mind about things."

"No… no…" he shot back, raising his voice over the now-howling wind. "She knew what she wanted before you got here. She had plans for the future." He paced back and forth in the small alley, his fists clenched… and it was almost like he was trying to convince himself. "We were going to get married. I would work for my father and we would start a family." He glared at me. "That was what was supposed to happen."

"I'm sorry, Edward," I said quietly.

He continued like he hadn't heard me. "You appear out of nowhere with your radical opinions and your stubborn, self-willed arrogance…"

"Arrogance?" I interrupted loudly, incredulous. "You have the nerve to call me arrogant?"

Who the hell did this guy think he was?

Edward turned and stalked toward me, his hair blowing around his head wildly, his cheeks red with cold and fury. "She's confused because of you! She doesn't know which way is up because of you!" He forced me back against the brick wall and leaned into me, breathing harshly in my face. "You're making her question everything she thought she wanted…"

And suddenly I realized he wasn't talking about Samantha anymore.

As a matter of fact, he wasn't talking at all anymore.

One of his palms rested on the wall behind me, his face close enough that I could see the smoldering heat in his dark green eyes. I gasped and his gaze dipped to my parted lips, a choked sound escaping the back of his throat. He leaned a little closer as the tip of his tongue moistened his chapped lips and my heart pounded in my chest.

"Edward…" I breathed, and my voice seemed to break him out of his trance. He blinked, then stepped back, once again running his hands through his hair in agitation.

"I'm sorry… I shouldn't have…" he stammered, before he turned on his heel and stalked away.

And with a clap of thunder, the skies opened, drenching me with raindrops as I stood in the alley, stunned and confused.

x-x

I tried to put the strange conversation… or confrontation… with Edward out of my mind over the next few days. But on the morning of Samantha's birthday party I had butterflies in my stomach, knowing he'd be there and I still had no idea how to speak to him.

I couldn't help but believe that Edward had been close to kissing me as I stood backed up against the hospital wall… but whether it was due to true attraction – or just a desire to shut me up – I really wasn't sure.

Still, it had to be a step in the right direction. I mean, at least I was getting a reaction other than mockery or disdain.

Tom and Samantha had talked every day on the phone since we went to the movies... and she had joined us for lunch at the boarding house a couple of times. It was obvious they were moving forward in their relationship, even without any help from me. I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Edward, even though Samantha told me he'd taken the news of her interest in Tom pretty well.

"Above all, Edward is my friend," she had assured me. "He wants me to be happy."

I had smiled and nodded, but doubt twisted in my stomach and I wondered if he was disguising heartbreak with stoicism.

Tom and I took the "L" and the familiar streetcar to Lincoln Park and walked the six blocks to Samantha's house, enjoying the bright spring sunshine. He had been visibly nervous that morning, changing his tie three times before settling on a blue one. I assured him he looked very nice and he offered me a shaky smile as he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

"Relax, Tom," I encouraged him as we neared the four-story brick mansion, each of us clutching a small wrapped gift. "She likes you already. You don't have to impress anyone."

Tom grimaced. "That's what you think. I doubt her parents are going to be that thrilled about any suitor other than Edward."

I pondered that for a moment. In the midst of my own romantic challenges, I hadn't really thought about what Tom might have been going through. Based on what Samantha had told me, he was right. Her parents had expected her to marry Edward from the time they were both still in diapers. Most likely, they were not all that happy about Samantha's decision to cut Edward loose… and would probably look on the next guy with something less than enthusiasm.

But Tom really didn't need to hear that right then.

"Tom, you're a great guy," I said instead. "You're kind and smart. You have a great job and a promising future. Samantha already likes you… and her parents will too."

"You really think so?" he asked hopefully.

"I know so," I said with a firm nod, slipping my hand through the crook in his elbow. "Now, can we hurry up and get there already? I don't want to miss the cake!"

Tom chuckled and we picked up the pace.

Music and laughter greeted us as we strolled up the front walkway. We followed the noise down a gravel path leading through beautiful gardens bursting with color and into the vast back yard.

Samantha spotted us as we rounded the back corner of the house and ran lightly to greet us.

"Bella, I'm so glad you came! She smiled, giving me a small hug.

She glanced at my companion. "Hello, Tom."

Tom grinned widely. "Hi Samantha. Happy birthday!"

She blushed and thanked him, taking our proffered gifts and setting them on a cloth-covered table.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone," she said, linking her arms with ours.

We walked across the pristine grass and I took a moment to examine our surroundings. A five-piece band played in the far corner of the yard and a few couples were dancing – others just listening and nodding to the beat. A few tables were scattered across the lawn, decorated with pink tablecloths and centerpieces of white roses floating in large crystal bowls.

We passed a refreshment table laden with tiny sandwiches and other finger foods, as well as another large crystal bowl - this one full of punch – and a three-tier birthday cake with pink frosting. A metal tub filled with ice and Coke bottles peeked out from under the table. My stomach rumbled, garnering a quick look from both Tom and Samantha. I shrugged sheepishly.

"I skipped breakfast," I explained.

I surreptitiously scanned the crowd, but saw no sign of Edward.

"He's not here yet," Samantha whispered.

"What? Who?" I reddened.

Samantha ignored my fake display of innocence. "I asked him to stop for more Coke," she explained. "He should be here any minute."

I didn't have time to respond as we stepped in front of an older couple I assumed were Samantha's parents.

I watched them carefully as Samantha introduced us, but they were the picture of politeness and gave no indication of either judgment or disappointment. Either they didn't know about Samantha's interest in Tom and vice versa – or they really didn't care.

Tom invited Samantha to dance, and I helped myself to some snacks, nibbling on a sandwich while I watched them walk to the makeshift dance floor. I looked up and saw Edward round the corner of the house, a large crate of Coke bottles in his arms. He met my eyes and stopped short, looking away quickly.

Chicken.

He seemed to steel himself before he walked over to the refreshment table, unloading the bottles into the tub filled with ice.

"Hello Edward," I said coolly.

He refused to look up. "Miss Swan."

I watched him, wondering what in the world was going on in that gorgeous head.

"Attention everyone," Samantha called from the bandstand. The crowd quieted and I felt Edward stand and take a step away from me.

"Thank you all for coming," she said with a smile. "We're going to begin the games shortly, but first we need to pick partners."

She held up a large cloth bag and shook it gently. I heard a muted clicking sound coming from inside the bag.

"Each girl will draw a disk from the bag. The name on the disk will be your partner for the games today." She smiled brilliantly. "Who would like to begin?"

The girls lined up and I reluctantly made my way to the back of the line. I was aware of Edward watching me, but each time I turned to look at him, he would turn away abruptly, his cheeks red.

I followed the line of girls as they drew names – some squealing, some shyly blushing as they found their partners. When it was my turn, I approached Samantha and reached for the bag, but was surprised when she stopped me, stretching out to drop a disk into the cloth sack. She winked at me and I reached in to grab it.

What a shock. My disk said 'Edward Masen'.

"My turn," she sang, reaching into the bag, even though I noticed she already held a disk in her palm. "Tom Jacobsen," she announced with a conspiratorial smile in my direction.

"What are you doing?" I hissed at her, but she just blinked wide eyes at me.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"Trade me," I commanded.

"Why?" she asked. "I thought you'd be happy."

"Samantha, you know what happened at the hospital," I said quietly through gritted teeth. "He can't even look at me. This is not a good idea."

Samantha just grinned at me. "On the contrary," she said, "it's an excellent idea! Now, we're about to begin, so I suggest you go get your partner. I'm going to go get mine." She beamed and flounced off in search of Tom.

Reluctantly, I made my way to Edward, who was standing by the back fence, doing his best to become invisible. He noticed the partners pairing off, and I could see his discomfort increase with every match. Obviously he knew Samantha well enough to suspect her little plan. Whether he considered it peacemaking or matchmaking, I wasn't sure.

"Hi," I said quietly as he finally met my eyes, his jaw clenched and face red. I held up the disk with his name on it.

"I guess Samantha wants us to be friends," I explained lamely.

He shrugged. "We can be friends," he said shortly.

"Well, that was convincing," I grumbled.

"I'm sorry," Edward said in a low voice, looking away and running a hand through his hair.

He took a deep breath. "Actually, I'm glad to have the opportunity to speak to you privately," he said formally. "I wanted to apologize for my boorish behavior the other day."

"Edward, it's fine," I interrupted, but he cut me off.

"I had no right to accuse you of coercing Samantha… to confront you like that, especially at your place of employment."

Huh. No mention of the almost-might-have-could-have-been-a-kiss.

"Well, thank you for that," I replied. "I didn't convince her of anything, you know. She's been thinking about all of this for a while. She just didn't feel like she could talk to anyone about it."

Edward nodded slightly. "Yes, that's what she told me…" He looked at me pointedly. "…while she rather stalwartly defended you and demanded that I stop being – quote 'an ass' – unquote."

My eyebrows rose. "Samantha said 'ass'? Maybe I am a bad influence."

Edward smirked. "You said it. Not me."

I shoved him playfully and we turned back toward the bandstand as Samantha's mother called out to the guests.

"All right, everyone. It's time to begin!" Mrs. Swenson held up several lengths of string. "Each couple will take a piece of string. You'll notice a cranberry tied in the middle of each piece." She began handing the strings out to each girl.

"You must stand across from each other, holding the string taut. When I say 'go', place the end of the string in your mouth. Without using your hands, you must bite up the string toward the cranberry. The first team to eat their cranberry wins!"

Great. Just great.

Edward avoided my eyes again as he faced me holding his end of the string between his thumb and forefinger. He shifted nervously from side to side.

"We don't have to do this," I offered, although I was eyeing the ribbons on the prize table with more than a little avarice.

They were pretty. Don't judge.

Edward exhaled heavily through puffed cheeks.

"It's all right. I can do it," he said on a sigh.

Geez, what a martyr. The irritation began to bubble.

"Oh get over it, Edward," I sneered. "It's just a game. I'm not going to take advantage of you."

He bristled. "I just thought you might feel uncomfortable…"

"I'm fine," I snapped, glancing at Samantha's mother as she walked among the guests, making sure everyone was ready. "Now, can you do this or not?"

His eyes narrowed. "I can do it. Just keep the string taut," he grunted.

Mrs. Swenson called out for everyone to get ready. Edward and I glared at each other as we placed the ends of the string between our teeth.

When she yelled out to start the race, Edward and I locked eyes aggressively, using our lips and teeth to gather the string into our mouths. We stepped toward each other slowly. My heart began to pound steadily, increasing its pace with every step toward Edward.

My skin heated as we neared the cranberry. We moved closer along our string and I could see that we were proceeding faster than the other couples.

Then, just as we both came within a bite of the elusive cranberry, Edward stopped.

So did I.

We stood stock still, our faces inches apart, mouths full of string and that stupid cranberry between our lips. Still, our gazes never wavered and we stared at each other. I felt a tingling begin in my stomach, spreading quickly through my body until my fingers twitched.

"We have a winner!" The voice of Samantha's mother broke us from our reverie. We stepped back quickly, pulling the string from our mouths.

"Why didn't you get it?" Edward asked angrily.

"Me?" I spat back. "Why didn't you?"

Edward huffed and turned away without another word.

I rolled my eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

And another one.

Okay, just one more.

"Look, Edward," I said finally, drawing his attention. "I know I get on your nerves, but we're kind of stuck with each other – at least for the afternoon. Can we at least try to get along? We might actually have some fun."

Edward's eyes dropped and he ran his fingers through his hair again. Interesting how that habit had followed him into his vampire life, I thought absently.

"I can do that," he said finally. "I'm sorry… again… I guess I'm just a little tense."

My stomach clenched. I knew it. Samantha broke his heart.

"I know it's hard," I offered quietly. "But you'll get through this. I promise the pain will go away eventually."

He squinted at me. "Pain? What pain?"

"It's okay, Edward." I patted his shoulder in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. "You don't have to pretend with me. I understand."

"Bella, what in the world are you talking about?"

I blinked. "About Samantha."

"What about Samantha?" he asked, mystified.

"She dumped you," I said bluntly.

Smooth, Bella. Rub it in, why don't you?

Edward choked. "What? Samantha didn't… dump me, whatever that means."

"But she's been seeing Tom…" I said, confused.

"Yes." He nodded. "I'm aware of that."

"And you don't mind?"

He shrugged. "Maybe when she first told me. But she was right. We aren't really meant to be together that way."

"Oh," I said, a little deflated. "So she didn't break your heart?"

"Uh… no… my heart is fine, thanks for asking." He chuckled.

"Oh," I repeated, unsure of what to say next.

"So, why are you so tense then?" I asked.

"Bella, I'd really rather not talk about this any more," he said gruffly. "Let's just enjoy the afternoon, all right?"

"Okay," I agreed warily. "Are you sure?"

He stared at me for a moment, then broke out in laughter.

"What's so funny?" I asked defensively.

"I don't even know what we're talking about!"

I watched him for a moment, feeling a smile tickle my lips.

"We're talking about you… and Samantha," I explained. "And how she… didn't break your heart… but you're tense anyway."

He laughed even louder… and our ridiculous conversation got the better of me and I giggled.

"You're a really confusing man," I said between chuckles.

He took a sobering breath, still snickering. "You're one to talk." He grinned.

x-x

The rest of the afternoon was a lot more fun, once Edward and I broke down the barriers and decided to just enjoy ourselves. We won the Knights and Ladies relay, which involved Edward running across the lawn to me so I could feed him a cracker, then he had to get down on one knee and swallow it so he could whistle a tune for me to identify.

Fortunately, he chose one of the songs from the sing-a-long at the Orpheum, so I recognized it quickly.

We came in second in the three-legged race… and tied for first in the egg race.

We killed at Carpenters and Seamstresses – where Edward had to sew buttons on a piece of cloth while I hammered nails into a board. I couldn't resist teasing Edward about his expertise with a needle and thread.

"Sewing? Really, Edward?" I asked airily, waving our first place ribbon at him. "Isn't that women's work?"

"Just because a woman should do it, doesn't mean a man can't," he shot back with a grin.

I rolled my eyes at him and he laughed.

We played a version of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey where I was blindfolded and Edward was allowed to guide me, using only his voice. The other guests shouted over him, trying to drown out his directions.

It turned out, Edward was a little competitive himself. Because instead of giving up, he just stood closer to me, speaking directly in my ear.

"Just a little to the right," he said, his warm breath tickling the hair on my neck. I shivered a little and tried to focus on his words.

"Now reach out… that's right…" his voice took on a husky tone that caused my breath to hitch. He cleared his throat. "Now just straight… right in front of you… there." I pushed the pin into the board and pulled my blindfold off to see I'd hit that donkey right in the ass.

I cheered, raising my hands over my head, and Edward swept me into his arms, picking me up off the ground and spinning me in a circle. He set me down, but didn't release me immediately. Our eyes met, and I was stunned to see the excited smile on his face.

Edward's smile was exuberant… unrepressed… and just full of joy and youth… and life.

He was… magnificent.

I leaned forward a little unconsciously and I felt him do the same, his smile falling a little as his eyes dipped to my lips. His arms tightened almost imperceptibly, and I felt my heart thud heavily in my chest.

"Time for the sack race everyone!" Samantha's mother brought us back to reality – and we stepped back, realizing we were nearly embracing in the middle of a crowded party.

Edward didn't look away, though. He held my eyes, still smiling softly.

"Bella." Samantha approached, linking her arm with mine, her gaze moving from Edward to me knowingly. "Isn't that your event?"

I broke away from Edward's intent stare. "What?"

"The sack race. You're going to do it, aren't you?"

I cleared my throat and tried to focus on what Samantha was saying. "Sack race… how do we do that as a team?"

"You don't," she replied. "It's the only individual race of the day. The winner gets a gold ribbon," she said temptingly.

Oh… a gold ribbon.

She pulled Edward and me over to the starting line, handing us each a burlap sack. I stepped in and tried to dispel the awkward silence that had descended between us since the near-kiss, or what I assumed was a near-kiss.

"Have you ever been in a sack race before, Edward?" I asked saucily.

"Ummm…" he said hesitantly, "once or twice, I suppose."

"Hmm…" I shrugged. "Well don't feel too bad if you lose."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked defensively.

Guess they weren't big on talking smack in 1918.

"I mean," I said with a smug grin, "that you're going down, Mr. Masen."

Samantha's mother walked to the center of the lawn and called out in a loud voice.

"On your mark…"

"Going down, huh?" Edward repeated, "What does that even mean?"

I kept my eyes on Mrs. Swenson, gripping my sack tightly. "It means I'm going to beat you. It means you're going to lose."

"Get set…"

"You think so?" he rejoined with a chuckle. "Well, maybe you'll be the one going down."

I shot him a quick glance. "I don't think so."

My muscles tensed, and I heard Edward draw a deep breath beside me.

"Have dinner with me," he said quietly.

"GO!"

And I turned toward Edward with a start… and fell flat on my face.

A/N: I've entered a contest – Fun With Your Clothes On a.k.a The Dry Hump Contest... LoL! All Aboard is my entry (see it on my profile)... and you can see all the entries at http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/Fun_With_Your_Clothes_On_Contest/79678/ (be sure and change the rating to M so you can see the entries.)

Much love to the Whack Pack on Twitter – Come join us for some crazy fun! (I'm Tkegl if you want to follow me.)

And check out Teaser Monday on the Fictionators blog www(dot)fictionators(dot)com this Monday for a preview of Chapter 9!