|Please Don't Go
Author: LendMeYourHrt PM
Edward was stuck living a lonely life among the dead, until a stormy night brings him the light of his life. Would fate draw them together or would outside forces tear them apart?Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Edward & Bella - Chapters: 8 - Words: 21,769 - Reviews: 43 - Favs: 51 - Follows: 50 - Updated: 09-17-12 - Published: 12-15-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7639978
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Here is a little treat for my readers. A lovely lady named LustLikeTequilla asked me if I would collaborate with her on a O/S angst contest. Here is what we came up with using this pic promp http:/i840(dot)photobucket(dot)com/albums/zz322/katinki/Pic%20Prompts/1(dot)jpg
I had so much fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy!
Oh and song title, many may recognize it but its "Please Don't Go" by Barcelona
This "ward" is very unique and what we wanted when writing the story. We wanted an Edward that no one has ever met for before, so with great pleasure I give you Cemeteryward
BPOV – 1925
New York City, New York
I close my eyes and breathe in as deep as my lungs would allow at this age as I lightly run the veil's fabric in between my fingers. My mind immediately flashes back to my own wedding day and I can't help but smile at the memory. Images flash before my eyes… slipping into my wedding gown, running the bright red lipstick across my lips, seeing him for the first time at the end of the aisle…
My body may be old, but those images are as clear as they were the day they had happened to me. I can almost smell the aroma of flowers that cascaded around me as I walked down the aisle to my love, my soul mate.
Smoothing the veil I stand up and ignore the pain in my knees while locking into place. If it hadn't been for the aches and pains that came with my age, I would have thought without looking into the mirror mind you, that I was in my twenties again and this was my wedding day. But that was certainly not the case. I was nowhere near twenty and today was my granddaughter Elizabeth's wedding.
Oh my little Lizzie.
Well, not so little anymore. Although her mother and I had been close when she was growing up, my relationship with my granddaughter couldn't compare to mine and my daughter's. Hell, she even reminded me of myself when I was her age. Lizzie was strong minded, wanting to get every experience out of life that she possibly could and full heartedly believed in destiny, learning to accept fate. Her fiancé was no exception.
Just as I was thinking of how happy her fiancé Brian made her and how elated I was that they had found each other, the door opened and closed quickly as Lizzie flew into the room.
"Oh Lizzie you look…" I started to say, but as my eyes found hers I stopped.
Instead of smiling and beaming like a bride should on her wedding day, her eyes are bloodshot, her mascara was already smeared.
Walking over to her as quickly as my body would allow, I pull her into my arms carefully as to not wrinkle her dress.
"Sweetheart, what's the matter? Today is not a day for crying."
We sat down on the love seat and I patted her knee as she wiped her eyes with a tissue.
"Lizzie you know you can tell me anything."
Her big eyes locked with mine and she smiled, "I know Grandma. It's just this whole thing…this wedding … it's not going to work out."
Don't over-react Bella, it is just cold feet.
"Honey, everyone gets cold feet, hell, when I was getting ready to walk down the aisle, I was so terrified."
"But it's not cold feet. I am in love with Brian, irrevocably and unconditionally in love with him. He takes my breath away and sometimes I swear my heart hurts with all of the love I have for him. He is my soul mate, the love of my life and I want to be with him forever."
Puzzled, I asked, "Lizzie you can. That is why you are going to marry him today."
I still didn't quite understand the dilemma.
She shook her head and more tears spilled from her big brown eyes, something she had inherited from me.
"I can't marry him Grandma. I can't marry the love of my life because as my mom has put it, it would kill her and my dad. They don't approve of him."
I felt a lump form in my throat as she said those words. Not because I felt sorry for the situation or that I was mad at my daughter for doing this to her own on her wedding day. But because I knew what she was feeling. Her pain was my pain many, many years ago.
"Have you talked to Brian about this yet?"
She nodded, "Not today. Today has been the worst, dad almost didn't show up. He says that Brian is too ordinary and that they want me to experience more than he can offer me."
I shake my head as my hand wrapped around hers. Brian has been a struggling lumberjack, moving from one yard to another. Living in New York City, Lizzie and Brian didn't have many options when it came to his kind of employment. Unlike Lizzie, who was excelling in school, Brian struggled to get his BA in business. With high hopes that he could get into his own company someday, he quickly learned that he would have been better off working at the general store down the road. But Lizzie didn't think about that when it came to their relationship. She knew that to be successful they would probably have to move, and she was okay with that. My daughter and son-in-law thought differently.
"Baby, did I ever tell you about mine and your grandfathers wedding day?" I asked, feeling the memories flood back to me.
It wasn't something that I talked about often, but I knew it would help her in this moment.
"No," she cried.
"Well, our wedding day started off pretty similar to yours actually. It was just your grandpa and I, no one else there, but he was there and that was all I needed. I don't know how to explain it but I knew he was the one shortly after I met him. He gave me a life I had always wanted, free and full of love, but my mother and father had other plans for me."
1864 – EPOV
A shiver runs down my spine, the night air more bitter than usual. Grabbing the sash on my trench coat, I cinch it tighter, hoping my body heat will keep me warm during my last duty for the night. I grip the shovel tight between my hands, plowing it into the soft ground. Pulling up mounds of dirt, I throw them over my shoulder, creating a pile behind me. I've dug a grave more times than I care to think about, but each time it feels like I am doing it for the first time.
Death is something I am used to, something I have been around all my life. My father was an undertaker, my grandfather: a mortician. One would say that I was destined to be here, or forced.
When the hole is the correct width, I turn around, placing my hands into the woven rope handles. The coffin is made of pine, making it incredibly light. I'm glad I don't have to move a mahogany casket by myself. When I get it lowered into the ground, I start to move the dirt back on top, the sound of the mud making a plunking sound on top of the coffin. When I finish, I step on the new mound that I have created, making sure to pack it tight. Before I walk away from the new plot, I make a cross across my chest, giving my last respects to the dead.
My father and grandfather never had any respect for the dead; each body looked upon as just another job and not a human being. You could say they became immune to the notion of death. I grab my lantern off the headstone, throwing the shovel over my shoulder. Walking across the graveyard, the night is eerily quiet except for the low hooting of owls coming from the tree tops.
When I get halfway across the compound, a loud rumble shakes the ground, followed by a loud crack of lightening. The sky illuminates, the cemetery grounds becoming visible for only a short time. Within seconds, large rain drops hit my coat, immediately soaking into it. I pull up the back of my coat so it is over my head and begin running.
But then I remember I must lock the front gates, so I veer off in the opposite direction, hoping to make haste in my duties. When I make it to the main path, my eyes catch a light flicker bouncing in the distance. I squint, knowing that my eyes must be paying tricks on me. But the light does not falter.
Changing my path, I head towards the light. I pass many intricate tombstones and mausoleums, the white limestone glowing in the moonlight. This section of the cemetery is reserved for what you would call important people. Generals, public officials, rich people. The distance between me and the dancing light is closing, but when I reach it halfway, the light disappears.
I remain in my current position, waiting to see if the light will find its way back. There is another loud crack in the sky, the heavens lighting up again. This time I see something, a mass curled in front of a headstone. Moments later, everything falls dark again.
My eyes must be playing tricks on me.
I go to turn around, to make my way to the front gates, but I find myself not moving backwards, but forwards. A greater force telling my body otherwise. When I reach the plot, my eyes can faintly make out the same mass and I stand over it. It does not stir.
My heart quickens, not knowing what I should do.
Perhaps it's a sleeping animal.
Just as I finish my thought, another bolt dances across the sky, and I can tell it is extremely close now.
And that's when I see it.
A pile of brown locks flowing onto the ground. Small delicate arms embracing itself.
It is not an animal, but a woman.
I cannot see her face, her wet hair covering most of it. My heart races as the rain comes down upon us. Kneeling down slowly, I stare into the darkness, wondering what to do.
"Miss," I croak out, hoping she will waken.
"Ma'am," I say a little louder, my voice more stern.
The rain starts to fall even harder, my coat soaked through and through. Being around bodies a lot, one tends to know a lot about death, and the ways one can obtain it. I don't know how long she has been here, but I do know that if we remain out here for much longer we will acquire pneumonia.
My stomach drops, knowing that I must touch her. I must get her out the cold. I set my lantern down on the ground, it no longer a use to me since it was snuffed out by the rain. I reach out into the dark, my fingers immediately recognizing the wool jacket. I feel a sense of relief when I feel her body warmth.
Sliding my arms underneath, I lift her off the ground, her body extremely light compared to what I am use to. I make the walk back to my house at a slow pace, afraid that she will awaken at any time. When I make it back, I slowly open the door, and much to my dismay it creaks loudly. I remain standing in the middle of room, holding her. The glow from the fire I had lit earlier lightens the room somewhat and I take this time to look at her. Her wet hair has fallen from face, exposing her porcelain skin. Her eyes are still closed, her long black lashes touching the tops of her cheeks.
Walking over to my bed, I set her gently on top of the quilt. Standing back up, I notice that her jacket has now fallen open, exposing her dress underneath, more of her porcelain skin becomes visible, my eyes falling upon her chest. I soon become mesmerized by the rhythm of her chest rising and falling, something I am not too familiar with around here.
After a few minutes, I reach down with trembling hands, pulling off the jacket slowly, knowing the damp wool is not good for her body temperature. The strings of her corseted dress wrap around my fingertips, my heart rate quickening.
It would be wrong.
I stand there contemplating as the water from her rain soaked dress seeps into the bed.
I won't look.
I start to undo the strings slowly, sweat on my brow replacing the rain drops. By the time I get to the last hole, my hands are shaking. Turning my head to the side, I slide the dress off, immediately pulling my blanket over the top of her.
Backing away slowly, I walk over to the fireplace, hanging her dress and jacket on the clothesline, hoping that it will dry quickly. Pulling off my coat, I do the same. I settle into a chair at the dining room table, putting my feet up on the table. I find myself looking towards the bed, expecting to wake up from this dream any second. I sit for what seems like hours, listening to the rain bouncing off the roof until I find my eyelids becoming heavy. My body begging for sleep and as much as I fight it, it becomes too powerful.
My eyes snap open.
Was it indeed a dream?
I shift my eyes to my bedside.
It was not.
Panic begins to set in.
The girl is still in my bed, her body shifted so that she is not facing me. Pulling my body from the chair slowly, I notice how cold is in here. Grabbing my coat from the clothesline, I put it on. I pull open the front door slowly, shutting it behind me. Finding a few pieces of firewood, I load them up in my arms before I make my way back. The morning is cold, my breath easily seen before me. I know that snow is not far off. Before I make it back to the house, I find myself walking back in the direction of where I discovered her last night. When I reach the tombstone, I find a lantern that is not mine placed atop it.
The luminous glow.
The grass in front of it is lying down, a sign she had been here for quite some time. Kneeling down, I run my fingers across the letters etched into the headstone.
Major Jasper Whitlock.
I find myself becoming nauseous. The military jacket. The fancy clothes.
Everyone knows the story about Mr. Whitlock and how he died. It was the talk of the town for days. The town was in mourning over losing its youngest major and a beloved citizen. The Whitlock's are a very influential family in town, perhaps the wealthiest in the county.
And she is his fiancé.
I swallow the large lump in my throat. I have Jasper Whitlock's fiancé. In my bed.
Someone must be looking for her.
Clutching the firewood tighter in my arms, I make my way to the house. Placing my hand on the door knob, I hesitate, before pushing it open.
As soon as I round the door, I see a figure standing, brown eyes penetrating me. Her fragile frame is wrapped in my bedding, her now dry hair flowing down her back. I wait for the fear to come to her face, as all people that come across me seem to have. But her face stays soft, a smile even coming across her lips.
"I…..I…..I…." I stutter, my mind and mouth not being able to form words.
I widen my eyes, seeing the white lace of her undergarments poking out the top of the bedding. Rushing over to the clothes line, I take her dress off, then hand it to her.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, my face not facing hers. "You were quite drenched, I was afraid you would develop pneumonia."
"Thank you," I hear her say as the fabric is removed from my grasp.
I remain facing away from her, my heart racing so fast that I can hear it in my ears. After a few minutes, she speaks again.
"I am dressed," she says.
I slowly turn around, the comforter back on the bed, her small frame hidden beneath her dress.
We both remain silent for a moment. My mind races in every direction. She starts to look around the room and I feel this may be the moment she realizes where she is and leaves. But she remains planted.
"Why are you not afraid? Running away from me like so many others do?" I ask, almost annoyed.
She furrows her brow.
"Is there a reason I should be?" she asks.
I don't answer.
She shakes her head.
"I'm sorry, where are my manners, I'm Isabella," she says, taking a step towards me.
I am shocked by her forwardness, something not common for women of her…stature.
She holds her hand out and I remain frozen, my heart racing even faster.
Women never look my way, let alone reach out to me. Her face becomes worried after a while, her hand starting to drop. I quickly reach out before it falls to her waist side, wrapping my fingers around hers. Leaning down, I place my lips ever so lightly on top of her hand, bending over in the process. Her skin is soft against my calloused hands, the feeling sending shockwaves through my body.
After a few seconds, I stand back up.
"Edward Cullen," I say, nodding my head slightly.
We both fall silent again, her eyes taking in the room again. I shift on my feet.
"I'm sorry for taking up your bed last night, I must have fallen asleep in front of my…." She stops abruptly, biting her lips as if to stop the sentence for leaving her mouth.
"It was no problem ma'am," I say quietly.
My heart speeds up.
"I was worried about….you."
I see a small smile come across her lips.
We both fall silent again before I decide to speak.
"Can I walk you home? I am sure your family is worried about you."
Please don't go.
At that moment her shoulders drop in a silent sigh.
"I have nothing to go back to," she says just above a whisper, almost as if she is talking to someone other than me.
Something in my heart wrenches, seeing the hurt apparent in her face.
She bites her lip again, realizing this is a sign that she is holding something back.
"What is it?" I ask, hoping to pull it out of her.
She flutters her eyes up at me and I take in the warm brown hue.
"Do you mind…if…I stay here just a little while longer?" she ask timidly. "I… I just… I can't go home quite yet. I promise I won't be a burden… I just… need a little time."
I instantly become uneasy.
Here? She wants to stay here with me?
Before I have time to answer, she speaks again.
"I can sleep on the floor…I…I…just can't go home. Not yet."
I begin to laugh lightly, an emotion I am not too familiar with.
"It would be my pleasure to have you Miss Swan," I respond.
I shift my eyes around the room, them landing on the kitchen.
"Are you hungry?" I ask her, hoping to change the subject.
"Famished," she says. "But I will only eat if you allow me to help you."
"I don't have much," I say, feeling incredibly inadequate. "I know you are more accustomed to grand meals."
She moves away from the bed, her body flowing towards me. I begin to feel nauseous.
"Whatever you have sounds wonderful," she responds.
I turn around, hoping that she does not catch my uneasiness. Looking around the kitchen, I become frozen, wanting to impress her.
She must have noticed because she is now at my side.
"I am not accustomed to having guests," I admit.
"Do you mind?" she asks, pointing towards the small pantry.
"By all means."
She starts to look through my ingredients, pulling out numerous things, her hands working quickly.
I sit down in one of the chairs, watching her work. Mesmerized by her.
After some time, she sets a plate before me, the smell indescribable. I take a bite of corn bread, it melts in my mouth.
"Is it good?" she asks, a hint of worry in her voice.
I look up at her.
"It is truly the best thing I have ever eaten. Thank you."
"Margaret taught me how to make it," she says, taking a bite of hers. "Thank you for rescuing me."
We both eat in silence.
"Merry Christmas Isabella."
She smiles widely and it is one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen
"Merry Christmas Edward."
The rest of the afternoon is quiet, she takes a liking to my library collection.
I opt out of doing my tasks for the day, knowing that missing one day shall not hurt anything. Or that anyone will notice. Before I know it, the sun is starting to set, the sky consumed by twilight.
I walk silently over to her, staring at her as she seems enamored with the novel she is reading.
I clear my throat.
She jumps, her fist clenching over her heart.
"You scared me," she breathes out.
I shift my eyes to the floor.
"I apologize; I am not accustomed to having people around."
She closes her book, setting it on top of the bed.
I clear my throat again.
"I was wondering if you wanted to take a walk with me."
"I would love to," she says, excitement in her voice.
I return with a smile.
She stands up, and I reach over, grabbing her coat from the clothing line. Looking down at it, I run my fingers over the medals…over the brass buttons.
She looks over at it, the excitement gone from her face.
"I have another if you prefer," I offer.
"If you don't mind," she asks.
Walking over to my small closet, I pull one out, holding it open to her. She smiles at me, walking over to me, sliding her arms in each of the holes. I pick up the strap in my fingers, reaching around to her front, my shaking fingers looping them together. We are so close I can smell her, her hair smelling of peaches. I inhale deeply, my knees becoming weak. I take a step backwards as she turns around. Pulling on my coat, I make my way to the door, letting her exit first.
The night air is cold and crisp, the sun touching the tops of the mountain side. We walk side by side, heading north. We both remain silent as I watch Isabella take in the surroundings.
"Who could have known it was so beautiful," she breathes out.
"Quite," I respond, not talking about the landscape.
She looks up at me, a rosy blush sweeping across her face.
We walk quite a ways, making a loop across the graveyard. When we make it to the far east side of the yard, I can see her shivering. In a moment of bravery, I hold out my arm, inviting her to slide her arm into mine. A soft smile comes across her face as she does.
At this moment she becomes conversational, telling me about her life and her family. Much to my surprise she does not sound like she enjoyed what she had, her family always pressuring her into things. We both get lost in her conversation until I realize what section we are walking through, his headstone not far off.
I stop walking and she stops talking, her eyes following mine.
"We can turn around," I say.
"No, it's ok," she responds.
She pulls slightly forward, our arms still linked. We walk slowly, until we are in front of it. The visions of her last night flash across my eyes, it seeming like an eternity ago. I go to pull away from her, wondering if she wanted to be alone, but I feel her grip on me tightens.
"Please don't go," she begs.
I nod slightly.
Things are quiet for a moment, until she speaks.
"We were supposed to be married."
A spike of jealousy runs through me, something I have never experienced before.
"Our wedding date was set for Christmas Eve; the entire town was invited."
I remain silent.
Last night was Christmas Eve.
"What happened?" I ask, hoping the question was not to forward.
Her face hardens.
"I have upset you, my sincere apologies," I plead.
She wraps her arm tighter in mine.
"He was killed during the war," she simply states, not going into detail.
She doesn't have to. All of the town already knows the story. He was the youngest general in the Confederate army, his death tragic for the town.
"I am sorry," I tell her.
"He was a wonderful man," she breathes out.
I can see a single tear stream down her face. I reach out, catching it on my fingertip, her eyes now looking at me.
We both walk back into the house, it now completely dark out. We spend the rest of the night talking. She insists on cooking us dinner. I feel comfortable around her, and much to my surprise, she seems comfortable with me. A notion I am still getting use to.
It has been 3 days since Isabella came into my life. And at each moment, I am waiting for her to leave, to realize this is not where she belongs. I have neglected my tasks every day since she came.
It is early in the morning, the sun having not risen yet. Pulling on my jacket and hat, I slip out onto the porch. Grabbing my lantern, I strike a match, lighting it. Grabbing my shovel, I make my way to the back where I must start a new plot. My boots slosh through the snow that has fallen last night, making my job that much harder. Setting the lantern down, I drive the head of the shovel into the ground, pulling the first pile out.
I work fast, not knowing if it's because of the cold or my desire to get back to her as soon as possible. When I finish the plot, the sun is rising, a wagon coming up the driveway. Setting the shovel against a headstone, I make my way over to it.
"Morning Felix," I say, wiping the sweat from my brow.
He nods as he climbs down.
"I have the plot ready, so we can just put it in now," I tell him.
He just nods again.
Felix has never been known to say much, typical for an undertaker.
He grabs the casket from the back of the carriage and I reach up, helping him. We set the body in the ground and Felix leaves, my surroundings quiet once again.
I begin to re plot it when I look up, Isabella standing in front of me.
I stop my work. I begin to feel panicked, this not something any woman should have to witness.
I step around the plot, making my way to her.
"Please, go back inside," I plead. "This is no place for you."
"I am not afraid Edward…." she states.
"Please…" I beg, not wanting her to see me like this.
"Death is an integral part of life Edward," she says softly. "You are putting these people to rest."
I swallow hard.
"Why are you not afraid of me?" I ask harshly. "You are the only person who has ever even looked my way. Most walk away from me, their eyes glued to the ground. You should be doing the same. I am not good enough for you."
She takes a step closer to me, the steam from our breaths mixing.
"Because I see the good in you Edward. Other people only see what you do, not who you are. I always noticed when you came to town Edward."
I remember all the times I saw her in town, her arm always linked with Major Whitlock's. She was always smiling and laughing with him.
Another wave of jealousy flows through me.
"You just don't belong in my world Isabella…" I say harshly. "You were meant for a better life…"
She huffs loudly, spinning on her heels, her brown hair flowing in the wind. I stand there, my heart torn into two. I have hurt the only person that I've cared about in a long, long time, but I keep reminding myself that she does not belong to me.
But then something inside me snaps, my feet moving forward, breaking into a fast walk. My heart is racing rapidly now and when I reach the front door, I fling it open. Bella is standing in the middle of the room, his jacket folded in her arms.
I quickly make my way over to her.
"I am so sorry Isabella, please don't go," I beg.
"It's clear that you don't want me here Edward," she starts. "I am sorry for taking up so much of your time."
She takes a step to go around me, but I match her.
"I didn't mean any of it, I promise," I plead. "I am just not use to people being so kind. And believe me, I want you here. I need you here."
I swallow. "That is if you want to be here."
We are both silent, and I feel as though my heart is going to jump out of my chest. Then something over comes me and I bend over, placing my lips on hers. For a second, her lips remain frozen, unresponsive. I go to pull away, fearing that I have made a grave mistake. But moments later, I feel her lips begin to move, her hand finding the back of my neck. Her lips are warm against mine, creating tingling sensation throughout my body. Our kiss lasts only a few seconds, but it is the single greatest thing to happen in my life.
I pull back, trying to gauge her emotions.
"I'm… sorry," I stammer, not knowing what else to say.
She looks up at me.
"That is like nothing I have ever experienced," she breathes out, her fingertips on her lips.
I become confused.
"Did you not…" I begin to say, not being able to finish.
"I had, many of times, but the feeling was never quite matched to that. It was as though electricity was flowing through my veins."
Had she felt it too?
"I thought it was only me…" I say shyly.
She shakes her head slowly.
I reach out, taking the jacket from her arms, setting it back onto the table.
"Stay?" I ask politely.
She smiles again and takes a step forward, resting her head on my chest. I wrap my arms around her, both of us standing in silence.
Tonight is the fifth night that Isabella has spent with me, each moment in total bliss.
"Which one tonight?" I ask as I stand in front of the bookshelf.
She scans over them.
"That one," she points to a book, the binding well worn.
Pulling it out, I go to sit down at one of the chairs, Isabella stopping me.
"Come," she says as she bites her lip, patting the bedside.
I slowly make my way over to her, setting myself at the foot of the bed. I peel open the book, the words on the pages all too familiar.
"Oh hear, will I set up my everlasting rest and shake the yolk of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh…" I say, the words coming from memory, not the page.
"Eyes, look your last. Arms, take your last embrace! And lips, Oh you, the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death," I continue on.
As I continue on, my eyes shift from the pages over to Isabella, noticing her eyes intently gazing back at mine. I put my finger in the book as a marker, setting it on my lap.
Suddenly, I am not so interested in Shakespeare.
We both stare at each other in silence.
"I want to kiss you again," I admit.
I can see Bella blush.
"As do I," she admits, looking up at me from under her eyelashes.
I remove the book from my lap, throwing it on the ground so hard it makes a thump. A soft laughter escapes her throat.
Shifting my weight onto the bed, I lean into her, my heart racing as it does every time I am in her presence. Leaning in closer, I hover in front of her, both of us breathing hard. She closes the distance between us, her lips finding mine softly.
This kiss is much more passionate than the previous and I become lost in the moment, the electricity flowing freely throughout me.
"You're trembling," she says as she pulls her lips from mine.
"I am sorry," I say apologetically. "I fear that this is a new for me."
She smiles softly and instinctively I put my lips back on hers, needing her. Wanting her.
She begins to lean back, her head resting gently on the pillows behind her. My body follows as though there is string between us, her body invisibly pulling mine.
I hover over her, taking in every inch of her. My eyes trail across her face, the soft curves of her cheeks and her jaw. I continue down her neck, her porcelain skin vibrant. When I fall upon her clavicle, I find myself shifting away, not accustomed to being so close to a woman.
She looks up at me, a soft expression on her face.
I swallow the large lump that has formed in my throat, fearing that I might lose consciousness at any moment.
I swallow again.
"I fear I don't know what to do," I admit, not wanting to disappoint her.
She reaches up, taking my hand in hers. She traces our intertwined finger tips across her face, slowly making its way down her throat, gliding across the top of her chest. She then let's goes of my hand, my bodily instincts taking over. My fingers move smoothly down her exposed arms, each spot softer than the previous. When I reach her hand again, I lift it in the air, placing my lips on top of it gently, she smiles in return. I place it gently back onto the bed, my lips finding hers again.
"You have the lips of an angel," I whisper into her ear.
I find my fingers intertwined into the strings of her corseted dress. She wraps her arms around my neck, giving me easier access to remove it. I work methodically, often getting hung up for a moments at a time. When it becomes free, I stop, waiting for her to stop me. Instead, she shimmies herself out of it, exposing her undergarments underneath. My hands begin to tremble even more, having never seen a woman in this state before. Well, before I met her.
She takes over, undoing the rest of it herself, holding the fabric against her chest, a look of hesitation on her face.
I begin to panic.
"Have you changed your mind?" I ask nervously.
"No," she smiles. "My heart is pounding so fast, it is quite incredible."
"Did you not feel this way…with him?" I say, swallowing hard.
"Not quite this…powerful," she admits. "It is like no other feeling."
"I am glad I am not the only one," I confess.
Reaching down, I push a stray strand of hair away that has taken place across her face.
"I need you," she whispers, taking away all my misapprehensions.
She lets go of her undergarment, lifting her hips up. I grab the cotton garment in between my fingers, slowly pulling downward, exposing her fair breasts. What remains in her garter belt, her dark black tights still attached.
I lose myself in the sight before me, her body beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I fear that I may have been caught, a smile enveloping from her.
I notice that her nipples are erect, a trail of goose bumps flowing down her body.
"Are you cold?" I ask.
She shakes her head.
"I fear they are the other kinds of goose bumps," she admits.
Her fingers trail under my shirt, pulling it upwards. I lift it up and over my head, discarding it onto the floor. I do the same with my pants, stopping at my undergarments.
I become overwhelmed, worried at what she might think.
"Edward…" she whispers.
Hearing her name escape from her lips calms my nerves, realizing how much I want her. I slide off my undergarments, exposing myself to her wholly. She reaches up, grazing her fingers across my chest, my breathing becoming more hitched.
We become lost in our kiss, our centers instinctively lining up. I can feel myself hard against her, her legs quivering. Pulling my lips from hers, I look at her once more, fearing I will wake up from this dream at any moment, but I do not.
Isabella lifts her hips up to me, a greater wave of pleasure spikes. My body becomes automatic as I find her opening, sliding into her with ease. A loud gasp leaves her, fearing that I am doing it wrong.
"Is everything alright?" I ask worried.
"Yes," she breathes out. "It is more than alright."
I can't help but smile
We spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, both of us discovering each other until the sun sets again. When we both tire, we remain in bed, her body wrapped around mine, her head on my chest.
"I never want to move from this spot," she whispers over the crackle of the fireplace.
"Neither do I," I say, placing a kiss atop her head.
We both lay with each other until sleep overcomes us.
I awaken, my internal clock bringing me back to reality. I look over, happy at the sight before me. Isabella remains in my bed, her body facing away from me. Her bare back is exposed, the brown of her hair splayed across the bed sheets. I reach out to touch her, but stop, not wanting to disrupt her slumber.
Instead I pull up the sheets, sliding my still naked body out of the bed. Walking over the closet, I pull a new set of clothes out, putting them on quickly. I maintain the fire since it has diminished to glowing embers. Slipping out the door, I begin to wish I had no responsibilities to take care of.
While I am outside, I find myself working hastily, my body not wanting to be anywhere else but with her. When I finish my tasks, I make a detour to the back of the cemetery to where I know a wild rose bush grows. Pulling out my clippers, I cut a few off, making sure to remove the thorns, arranging a small bouquet in my hands.
Making my way back to the house, I break out into a sprint, my heart pounding excitedly. When I reach the porch, I slow my steps, hoping to not wake her in case she is still sleeping. But it is when I reach the porch, I feel a shift in the wind, a small chill creeping up my spine.
It is your imagination.
Placing my hand on the door knob, I push it open quietly. When I reach inside, my heart sinks. Within my room is a tall man, a black top hat adorns his head. His back it to me so I cannot make out his facial features. I take off my hat, setting it and the flowers on top of the kitchen table. As I do so, the man turns to face me. His face is older, a grey beard adorning it. And then I see her, her face red, a result of what seems like much crying. The man has a hold of her wrists, as she is struggling to free herself.
My heart sinks. My worst fear has come true.
"Excuse me sir, but may I help you?" I ask.
He hardens his eyes at me.
"I have got what I came for," he says sharply.
He pulls on her, a squeal leaving her lips.
I jolt forward, but I am stopped when my eyes meet a barrel of a gun.
"I don't know what you think you are doing with my daughter, but it stops here," he says.
Isabella begins to cry again.
"I don't want you coming around here ever again, you hear me?" he says to her harshly.
"But father…" she begins to say.
"This is no place for anyone of any importance, especially not you," he adds.
He pulls her again, both of their bodies moving closer to the door. I take a step backwards, finding my way to my notebook. Isabella is crying, her sobs muffling the sound as I rip a blank page from it. I hastily find a pencil, writing something down quickly. I fold it so that it is small, holding it in my hand.
Her father pulls on her more, Isabella being dragged against her will. My mind shifts in a million different directions, knowing that if I try to fight for her, her father will not hesitate to shoot. As he says, I am no one of any importance; her father would find a way to make my death look like an accident or suicide.
When he reaches the front door, he pulls it open. Isabella is screaming, I can see her nails digging into his arm, blood oozing from the marks, but he does not flinch. I now notice the elaborate carriage on the side of the house.
I begin to feel nauseous as she is dragged farther and farther from me. I find myself looking down at the ground, knowing that all this was simply fantasy. Someone like me doesn't deserve this…deserve her. But moments later I feel something slam into my body, and I instinctively wrap my arms around it, the warmth of her body a comforting notion.
I look into her bloodshot eyes, her pain causing me pain. I press my lips to her, kissing her with all the passion inside me. I then hastily find her hand in mine, sliding the note into her palm, making sure she grasps it. Her lips then pull from mine.
"I love you," she says through a broken voice.
Her body is pulled from mine hastily, her father throwing her over his shoulder.
I remain frozen as the carriage makes its way down the path and out of sight.
I loved him.
I even tried to talk myself out of it, but I was drawn to him. Not only by body, but my mind and soul was as well. It was a feeling I could not describe.
I had loved Jasper, and I still do, but what I feel for Edward in my heart is not the same.
My engagement to Jasper was arranged for quite some time. It was only natural for someone of my stature to marry a commanding officer. I was pleasantly surprised when I found Jasper to be charming and caring, it not being the norm for many military men. I quickly fell in love with him, as did my family. The newspapers called us a match made in heaven. And at the time I tended to agree.
But something was always missing. My spirit always feeling like something was misplaced. My life would have been grand, I would enjoy the luxuries and the lifestyle I'd known since birth.
But my soul craved something different, something unique. I loved Jasper. But I wasn't sure he was my destiny.
The morning I woke up in Edward's bed, I knew that I had found it. It took me a few seconds to gather my surroundings, but once I saw him, I felt safe. A feeling that was new to me.
I had seen him around town numerous times, his eyes always on the ground, as though he was trying to be invisible. Only once did I catch him looking in my direction, his emerald green eyes shifting upward, meeting mine.
I went to smile to him, but his eyes snapped quickly back to the ground.
I knew what people said about him, what they thought of him, it always broke my heart. But I was never afraid him.
As each day passed with Edward, my mourning seemed to lessen more and more, Edward filling the holes that Jasper's death had left in my heart. I will not lie to myself, at times I became fearful how easily I could forget about the tragedy, but my mind was always in another place with Edward.
I now sit in the back of our carriage, my chest rising and falling, my eyes almost swollen shut from crying. I remain silent even though my heart is breaking, knowing that my time with Edward is over.
The ride back to our home is long, the sky now dark, rain falling hard. As soon as we reach the front of the house, I pull the carriage door open, not waiting for the servant to open it for me. Pulling up my dress I run up the front steps, flinging the front door open. Without looking at the surroundings, I run up the stairs, into my room, locking the door behind me.
I have only been gone days, but my room is unfamiliar, as though I am in a stranger's house. I glance over everything, it all exactly how I had left it. I become disgusted at the worthless clutter, none of it having any importance to me anymore. Holding myself, I close my eyes, Edward's face in front of me. I can hear the fire cracking the background; I can even almost smell the smoke.
I am irritated when I reopen them, when all I see is white lace.
I clench my fists tighter, hearing the paper crinkle under the force. My heart begins to race. I am afraid to open it, fearing what it might say.
I listen against the door, glad that no one has yet come to check on me. Pulling off my jacket, I set it on my desk, the wet fabric seeping into the wood. Walking over to the bed, I set myself down upon it. I slowly open my left palm, exposing the small folded piece of paper.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I slide my fingertip between the first fold. When I make it to the last fold, I fear I might fall unconscious. On it is two sentences, scribbled in his handwriting.
Meet me at the black oak. Midnight.
Tears begin to fall freely, my heart aching more than it ever has before. I don't have to second guess what oak he is talking about, everyone in town knows the tree, the oldest in the town.
I quickly fold the note back up, putting it in my undergarment, in fear that someone may find it.
I then hear a loud knock on my door, it making me jump. Fixing my dress, I make sure the note is not visible. The handle on my door turns, but the lock prevents the intruder from entering.
"Go away!" I shout, the loud knocking not stopping.
After a few minutes, I hear whispers in the hallway, the loud knocking replaced by a softer one. I'd know that knock anywhere. I hastily make my way to the door, clicking it open. When I see her face before me, I can't help but smile.
Pulling open the door, I let her in, a silver tray in her hands.
"Your mother insisted I bring this up to you," she says, placing the tray on the desk.
"I'm not hungry," I say crossing my arms.
"Come on Miss Swan, it's my own recipe. Chicken Noodle Soup."
My mouth begins to salivate as I have always loved Margaret's cooking. Walking over to the tray, I inhale, the warm broth smells heavenly. I look back up at her, she winks in return. Picking up the spoon, I ladle some into it, bringing it up to my lips. I take a few more sips, it warms me instantly.
When I finish the bowl, I sink back onto the bed, tears falling again. Margaret sits down beside me, her hand rubbing my back, a gesture that always makes me feel better. Margaret has been with us my whole life. She has been there for everything, even when my own mother was not.
We always had a special bond.
After I ate, I took a bath, the warm water feeling good against my skin. Margaret washes my hair, even after I insist I can do it myself. After the bath, I slip on my nightwear, pulling a robe over the top of it. When it is time for Margaret to leave, she places a kiss on top of my head.
"Good night my child…" she says. "And may God watch over you."
My heart skips a beat.
Does she know?
Once again I am in my room alone, my eyes watching only the clock on the wall. Minutes going by incredibly unhurried. Soon after, I find myself becoming uneasy and I decide to roam the house, knowing my parents have retired to their beds. Clicking open the door, I peek out into the hallway to be sure. It is pitch black, nothing stirring.
Cinching my robe tighter, I start to roam the house. Taking in everything from it. Running my fingers along the wall, feeling the familiar textured surface, the same paintings that have hung since before my birth.
After some time, I reach the living room, hearing the loud dong of the grandfather clock.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven.
My heart races.
I race back upstairs, but remain quiet, not wanting to wake anyone.
When I reach my bedroom, I open my closet, finding my most simple dress. I change out of my robe and gown quickly, tucking the note in my now new dress. Reaching into my desk, I pull out a piece of paper and ink pen. I speedily write a letter to Margaret, thanking her for everything that she has done for me, and that she will truly be missed.
I don't tell her where I am going, fearful that the information can land in the wrong hands. Quickly sliding it into an envelope, I place it into a small chest that she had made for me when I was little, knowing she will get it. I open a compartment in my desk where I have some money saved, knowing we will need some wherever we are headed, tucking it in with Edward's note.
I straighten up, my chest rising and falling fast. I realize that I am not feeling nervous, but more anxious than anything. Just as I am about to exit my room for the last time, a glow of gold catches my eyes. I walk over to the other end of my desk, running my fingers across the wool coat, prying at the brass buttons. I pick up the jacket, taking it with me.
I look at the clock on the wall again, time moving faster than before.
I round the staircase, walking into the living room. I hold out the jacket before me, placing a kiss on top of the fabric.
"I will always love you…" I whisper and then turn around, making my way for the front door. "And I hope that you will be happy for me…."
I squeeze the jacket in my hand one last time before tossing it into the fire.
Pulling the front door open, I feel the cold air hit my face. The snow has somewhat melted, but there is still a great amount of it left on the ground.
It is cold, the slush entering my boots but one vision keeps pushing me forward. The only thing I have to live for.
When I reach the last hill, my heart quickens.
What if he has changed his mind…?
The top of the branches of the oak come into view and I find myself sprinting, not wanting to be lost in my thoughts anymore. As I round the bend, I stop dead in my tracks.
My eyes scan the horizon, Edward nowhere in sight.
Tears begin to prick my eyes, but I fight them back. I continue to make my way to the trunk of the tree slowly, my body collapsing up against it. My head sinks, my body no longer having the energy to hold it up. I sit for a time I cannot determine.
I then hear a loud crack of thunder, the sky lightening up for all to see. I jump, my body now vertical. And then I see something off in the distance, a figure coming my way, a small light emanating from his hand. He is facing down; it covered with a black hat.
My body moves forward, my mind still hesitant.
Perhaps it is an illusion.
But not moments later, his head snaps up to mine, a familiar face staring back at me. My body breaks into a run, the distance between us closing until we slam into each other, his arms wrapping around me.
"I thought I had lost you for forever," I say in between labored breaths.
He pushes the hair away from my face.
"I'm sorry if my delay caused you any doubt, but I had to stay back and make sure you were not followed," he explains.
I press my lips against his, not seeming to be able to get close enough to him.
"I love you Edward," I say passionately.
"I love you Isabella, more than all the stars in the sky," he says in return.
He slides his hand into mine.
"Do you trust me?" he asks.
"With my life," I respond.
We run away from the oak, into the direction of our destiny.
So? Please let me all know what you think!