Chapter 24: In the Arms of an Angel

Chapter 24: In the Arms of an Angel

EPOV

Slowly, I began to wake. Consciousness became thicker, more attainable as the dreaming state diminished. I had had my usual nightmares to begin with, all death and dreariness. My mother in her hospital attire added with my new waking nightmares of Bella being taken. Suddenly, as if the clouds on a rainy day had opened, this warmth of golden sunshine spread of the darkness that was before. An angel swooped down, peppering my face with kisses. The angel had chocolate brown eyes and fire-red streaks through her deep brown hair. My Bella.

Yea, ok, so it sounded like I was some fucking pansy-assed little bitch dreaming about angels. I didn’t give a shit. I couldn’t help what I dreamed anyways, so fuck. It was a strange assortment of dreams, that’s for damn sure.

With my eyes still closed, I rolled over, my face planting into another pillow and breathed in the heavenly lilac and freesia scent that was Bella. She always smelled so fucking good! It took me longer to realize why the pillow was available for smelling in the first place. Once I did, my eyes shot open.

            “Bella!?” I yelled, sitting up in bed. I looked at the bed next to me. Empty.

 I ran to the bathroom. Empty.

Scanned my room. Empty, fucking empty. My stomach dropped as I thought about what could have happened to her. My Bella wouldn’t just leave without a note at the very fucking least. “Sugar?” I called as I pulled open my door. No response.

I took the stairs practically three at a time; I was about to have a god damned heart attack if I didn’t find her within the next five seconds! I ran to the living room. “Sugar?” I again called… no response.

SHIT FUCK DAMN, I mentally cursed. I stood there in the living room, hands raking viciously through my hair, trying to calm myself, to think rationally, but shit… it had only been—what time is it? Ten?—nine hours since learning that Bella could have been kidnapped: rationality was not something I could expect from myself at the moment.

            A noise from the kitchen startled me, bringing me back to the present. “Sugar?” I called, for the umpteenth time. I busted through the door to the kitchen and was greeted by Bella’s backside facing me. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a very messy bun exposing the nape of her pale neck, making me want to just bite it or something. Her hips were swaying to the music she had playing over the radio, as she mixed something in the bowl in front of her.

“Bella! God-damnit, Sugar! You scared the shit out of me when I woke up when you were there! I thought they had gotten you!” I practically yelled at her. It was clear that I startled her because as I first shouted her name, she spun around with her hand over her heart as if to say you scared me! Seeing my unkempt and worried self, Bella came to me in an instant, wrapping one arm around my waist as she wove her other hand through my hair.

            “I’m just making breakfast, Edward,” she attempted and chuckled lightly to herself. “I can tell by the state of your hair that you must have been very worried. But as you can see, I’m just fine.” Her fingers were moving in a calming circular-motion, bringing me back to sanity as they roamed through my hair.

            “I’m sorry I freaked out,” I said after I had calmed down a few minutes later. She leaned up and kissed my cheek by way of accepting my apology. I wasn’t satisfied with such a simple kiss. I grabbed her chin and brought her mouth to my lips, showing her my need for her with my kiss. She tasted like sugar, my Sugar. Reaching down, I palmed her ass, and lifted her hips to mine, making her wrap her legs around my waist. I walked her to a clean counter-space before setting her down, all the while kissing her like the hormonal teenage-fuck I was. One of my hands found its way to one of her boobs, I could barely contain myself. I needed her. In every way.

            “Are those Belley’s famous banana pancakes I smell!?” Emmett boomed as the kitchen door slammed open. “Ew, gross. Edward’s tainting the goodness!” he said when he got an eye-full of us. Stepping away from Bella, I winked before giving her one last chaste kiss.

            “Interrupt much?” I replied, not hiding my irritation one damn bit. After all, this was my fucking house and I should be able to mack my girl in it wherever and whenever I fucking pleased.

            “Yes Emmett, I’m making banana pancakes and blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes. Oh, and hashed browns too,” Bella all but squeaked in an embarrassed rush. She didn’t like being caught by her brother any more than I did, but for different reasons, I’m sure. Satisfied with embarrassing his sister, Emmett dragged Rosalie by the hand to the kitchen table in order to wait for their food to be ready.

            Looking to my Bella, I wondered at why she was going through so much effort. “Why so many varieties?” I questioned. She shrugged before answering.

            “Well, you love blueberry pancakes and Emmett is addicted to my banana pancakes… and I adore chocolate chip pancakes. That way we all win,” she smiled.

She really did look like an angel, even if she had flour all over her face and she was wearing one of my t-shirts and pair of shorts, which dwarfed her in the most amusing way. She still looked edible though. My Sugar, so fucking sexy even in men’s clothing and covered in flour. How did I get so lucky?

            “Do you do this sort of thing often?”

            “Yea, I guess,” she replied sheepishly, half-shrugging. Bella was so thoughtful and selfless. She just wanted all of us to be happy and taken care of. I loved her all the more for it.

            “I’m coming around for breakfast more often,” I smiled and reached over and patted her very pattable ass after she hopped off the counter, making her squeak in surprise. It was so fucking hot, that sexy little sound that came out of her mouth. Her cheeks stained with a slight pink as she got back to her work.

 I sat on the stool at the kitchen island and watched her finish her preparations. Bella flipping pancakes was an amusing sight. Though this wasn’t the first time I watched my Bella in the kitchen, I was still amazed how graceful she looked within it. Not that I was a chauvinistic prick or anything, but it was like Bella was made to be in the kitchen… yea, no matter which way I slice it, it sounds bad, but it’s not like that. She just… comes alive in such an unexpected way while she’s cooking. I could watch her in it for the rest of my life.

 Soon enough we were joined in the kitchen by Jasper and Alice, the wonderful smells no doubt interrupting their wake-up-sex. Ew, I chastised myself, do NOT think about your fucking sister this way… sick! Shortly after their arrival breakfast was ready. The six of us sat around the kitchen table, passing this, passing that, mm-ing and thanking Bella for the delicious food. It was so Brady Bunch, but no one really gave a shit. It was nice to enjoy time with one another in a way that didn’t involve high school cafeterias or pseudo kidnapping-prevention seminars.

.::.

            After everyone ate their fill of breakfast, we sat around the living room watching whatever crap TV-show marathon that was on, talking and shooting the shit. The conversation we had been having the night before was reopened and tensions began to rise once again.

            “So we all agree, then?” Jasper re-capped, “Bella needs to be escorted around town, never left alone or in a vulnerable position?”

            “Right,” we all agreed. Noticeably missing from the collective agreement was Bella herself. She sat there, half on my lap, half on the sofa, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. I knew she would do what needed to be done, but she was being a little fucking petulant about making it easier for everyone else. I understood that she was frustrated that her freedom was yet again being limited, but it was for her own damn good. Naturally, being the fiery gal that she was, she wasn’t going to just take it lying down, nor would I expect her to. I gave her a pointed look anyways, even though I understood.

            “Ugh, fine. Agreed,” Bella huffed in exasperation. I gave her hand an extra squeeze and a kiss on her cheek. Good girl, I thought. That’s my Sugar.

            Thank you, I mouthed. She returned my appreciation with the roll of her eyes, that little troublesome minx… Well fuck me, just listening to myself in my head made me want to inwardly roll my eyes at me. Still, despite sounding more and more pussy-whipped and chick-like, I really couldn’t give a shit. Bella was slowly changing my insides without even the slightest knowledge of doing so. My inner-monologue was interrupted by Emmett’s next thought.

            “I think I should talk to my dad about getting a security system for the house, you know for the times he’s not there and Bella is,” he mused aloud… not that Emmett ever “mused” about anything, but it was deeper than just a thought.

            “You’re right,” I agreed.

            “But how do we get him to do that?” Rose asked the question we were all mulling over.

            “You could appeal to his police-nature as well as his position of power,” suggested Alice. Clever little pixy, though I’d never admit it aloud to her, she really did have the best ideas.

            “Go on,” I nudged.

            “Well, you could say he should set the example for Forks… or maybe even just buy it for him and somehow pretend that it was the company’s idea… yea, like they wanted him to test out the merchandise and somehow endorse it,” She processed out loud. She was onto something, that much was evident. Personally, I wasn’t sure which direction we should take, which one would make the most sense regarding Charlie. He was a simple man, but a very shrewd and exacting one too. Fuck, why did all of these decisions have to be so damn hard to make?

            “The important thing is that we neither make Chief Swan suspicious, nor hurt his pride. It’s a tricky balance,” Jasper cautioned.

            “Knowing my dad, I’m still unsure of which approach to take,” Bella added. She had been so quiet since the conversation had begun. It fucking freaked me out a bit.

            “I’m not sure either Bells,” Emmett agreed. This conversation didn’t feel as though it was being had by a group of teenagers. It was way too fucking serious and way too fucking adult. Security systems? Seriously? I could feel Bella growing tired of it as she tugged on hem of the shorts she was wearing, so when she finally stood I wasn’t at all surprised.

           

            “I think I’m going to get some fresh air,” she said softly. There was an unnamed emotion behind her tone and it broke my heart a little. Fuck. I hate it when she’s upset. As she turned to go, I refused to release her hand from mine.

            “Don’t go far,” I requested, my eyes pleading my case further. She understood and gave a small nod in return. Bella headed to the front porch, taking all of my love and comfort with her. Turning back to the room, I took-in everyone’s pained and sympathetic expressions. None of this was easy on any of us, particularly Emmett. He looked like shit. His king-of-the-fucking-castle demeanor had all but diminished. Our eyes connected and I knew that he was feeling just as fucked up over this as I was.

            “She’s my baby sister,” he sighed, “and I don’t even know how to protect her.” Slumping further into his chair, he looked as vulnerable as his words sounded. Rose tucked her hand into one of his on his lap and leaned her head into his hulking shoulder. I could see her thumb rubbing circles in the back of his to show her love and reassurances instead of words, or some shit like that. We all sat absorbed in our own thoughts for several minutes; mine a storming brew of guilt, heartache, and just fucking helplessness.

            “It’s never going to be the same again, man,” Jasper softly spoke, pulling us out of our day-dreams, “and it can’t ever be.” With his concise words, he summed up the entire mood. Perhaps we were grieving for the easier, fucking-fantastic times of ragers and popularity. I didn’t give a damn about all that, though, and hadn’t since Bella came into town and changed my life without ever meaning to. That shit had been over for me for some time now; the rest of the group was finally catching up.

            The TV volume crept up again sometime after that and Emmett left to sit with Bella on the porch. I’ll admit I was fucking jealous that he did it before I could. After all, he got to live with Sugar and I didn’t. I was a selfish little shit sometimes, it’s true, but it’s only because I loved her and never got enough of her.

            Not being able to sit there any longer like the helpless little fuck I felt, I started to pace around the house: in the entry hall, the dining room, in the music room, all of the front rooms of the house. Through the window I could see the two of them swinging on the porch swing, Bella’s head on Emmett’s shoulder and his arm around hers. From my position, I couldn’t see if they were talking or not. It was fucking dreary outside to say in the least, so I didn’t see the appeal in being out in the pressing fog and cold that was November first, other than to escape the conversation we had all been having.

            I could have acted like the selfish prick that I am and forced my company on them, but I let them be. Instead, I found my way back into the music room, sitting at my baby grand piano. My fingers touched the keys reverently. It seemed like it had been god-damned years since I played, not just the few days it really had been. I felt aged, weary. As I applied more pressure, eliciting sounds, time started to turn back. I played it all out, releasing tension that had been building. At first I started with something classic and familiar like Debussy’s Arabesque and ended in compositions of my own. It just felt fucking right.

.::.

            A short while later Bella and I were lying in my by bed together. Perfection. Each on our sides, facing one another with my arm around her waist, our heads in our hands propped up by our elbows, our eyes held a quiet conversation.

            “I should go visit Victoria in the hospital,” Bella startled me with her abrupt approach.

            “Oh?” Was all I could come up with for a response.

            “Yea, you know, to ask her more about the situation. What we should expect, what we shouldn’t worry about… what we should.” She attempted lightly, but her words fell heavy around us.

            “Ok. I can take you to see her,” I said after thinking through it. It was a good idea, but quite frankly, I didn’t fucking feel like talking about this shit right now. I wanted time alone with my Sugar.

            Bella nodded, understanding that we could talk about this later. Her eyes drifted close and she took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. When she opened her eyes again, so many emotions flickered across them like movie scenes on a projector screen.

            Curiosity. Confusion. Love. Fear. Sadness. Wonder. Love.

            I could read Bella’s face so well and it was better than any fucking book.

Bella cleared her throat softly, preparing to speak. I expected her to say something about this fucked up James/Aro bullshit we had gotten ourselves into, but she didn’t. In fact, she said the last fucking thing I would have expected her to say on this day, in this moment.

“Tell me about your mom,” she half-whispered. Her chocolate-eyes shone bright and pleading. Her words tugged at my heart and stunned me a moment.

“What?” I managed, swallowing thickly.

“Your mom, Elizabeth. Tell me about her,” she asked again, with her free hand running her fingers over the place on my chest where my tattoo resided.

“You really want to hear about her?” I asked after a beat.

“Would you rather talk about this Aro shit?” Bella offered pointedly. Obviously fucking not, I inwardly responded.

“What do you want to know?” I outwardly responded.

“Whatever you want to tell me.” I couldn’t get a grasp as to her motivation behind this, but it didn’t matter, not really. My girl didn’t need a motivation. Love was enough. This shit was important to me and therefore it made it important to her, I got that.

“She was fucking beautiful,” I started and paused. The image of my mother—blurry around the edges now after such time has passed—assaulted my mind. Deep bronzy-red hair blowing around her face, laughing green eyes—my eyes—and a big smile from the equally deep red lips. The way she’d light up when I entered a room. The adoration in her eyes as she looked at my dad. The sound of her humming her favorite songs. It was almost too fucking much, and yet it wasn’t even close to enough.

“She… taught me how to play piano, or at least tried. On her good days, she and I would sit at the piano for hours. I’d watch her play, she’d show me notes; teach me simple tunes like London Bridge… I was only three or so, but I was the best damn piano player a three year old ever could be. On good days, my dad called her Lizzy, Izzy, or his Izzy-girl. She called me Eddie, and my dad Carlisle-Dear. She was a strong woman, a force of nature. An enigma. She was a fucking terrific mother. On good days she liked to bake. The house always smelled like flour and sugar, and on good days she never stopped smiling and the sun always shone.” Remembering hurt at the deepest corners of my heart. Now it was just a dull ache. As time had gone on, it hurt less, but it still fucking hurt.

“She sounds lovely.” Bella smiled and it reached her eyes. She looked happy to learn about the woman who birthed me, who loved me, the first woman who raised me.

“On bad days,” I continued without missing a beat, “she wouldn’t get out of bed. She wouldn’t shower. She wouldn’t tuck me in at night, or sing songs at the piano, or even fucking eat. She didn’t smell like cookies and she didn’t even fucking smile as big when I snuck into her room to give her secret hugs even though my dad told me to let her be. On bad days, she was broken and in pain. On bad days, the trash next to her bed smelled like sour milk and was filled with her sick. My dad would pace around the house looking so fucking helpless and scared, on the phone constantly with doctors and people that were supposed to help her, but never could. On bad days, my dad called her your-mother, and she never called me anything.” The pain beat more intensely now. It wasn’t all-consuming like it once had been, but it came in thicker waves as I remembered the bad times.

I couldn’t look Bella in the eyes anymore because my eyes had become blinded with my tears. I didn’t realize that I had even started crying. I wasn’t even to the worst memories of my mother. Like a little pussy-baby, I was crying. I didn’t even fucking care.  I heard Bella sniffle too, and decided to continue with the truth. She’d be the first person that I told all of it to. Telling Bella didn’t even feel like revealing a secret, to me it felt like talking about memories with the other part of my soul. Natural.

“When she got back from rehab, she was almost empty. She was better than the bad days, but worse than the good ones. Sometimes she’d sit at the piano and stare at it, never fucking touching it. If I pleaded hard enough, she’d bake cookies with me. She’d try try try to smile, but it rarely ever reached her eyes. They were dead eyes. I tried to be the good little boy she’d want me to be, I never got into trouble, I practice practice practiced my piano for her. I helped dad make dinner and I always made my bed. Things started to get better, she started playing the piano again and the sound comforted. Things weren’t as good as before, but they were good again.”

I was getting lost in the memories. My voice was soft and whisper-like and my words came out in a stream-of-conscious manner. At some point, Bella’s hand wove through my hair, twisting and turning her comfort into me. Without pause, I kept re-living these memories in front of Bella, with Bella, for Bella.

“And when she got cancer that was the worst of it. It was so advanced that she spent most of the time in the hospital. So many surgeries, so many treatments. Her smiles were scarce and her pain was frequent. Being hooked up to all of those machines nearly killed her spirit. Her usually glowing skin looked gray and sagged from her frail bones. Her red curls were limp against her sweat-matted face.”

I closed my eyes as the images rocked through me. Shuddering. Crying. Clinging to my Sugar, my sweetness, I continued.

“She looked like fucking death, especially at the end. No matter how hard I cried for dad to take her home, he never would. She would die at home without the life-giving machines, he argued. But she was dying there just the same. She pleaded for it to be over. On the last day of her life, she asked me to grab something out of her bag on the other side of her hospital room and bring it to her,” I paused, measuring my breaths and steeling my nerves.

“It was a bottle of pills. I did like a good boy and brought my mother her pills. She said that they were magic, that they’d make her feel better, and that she wouldn’t suffer any more. As tears streamed down her cheeks she said, ‘I love you sweet boy, be good’ and then she downed the entire fucking bottle and followed it with water. Half an hour later she was dead. Everyone thought it was the cancer because I hid the empty bottle in the bottom of the trash,” my voice cracked and I could no longer continue recounting that day.

I crumbled entirely. I shook the bed with my sobs, pleading for forgiveness, showing Bella my broken pieces because I am so broken, so very broken.

 Bella pulled me tightly, flush against her body and rocked me. Comforted me. Loved me. Soft strokes through my hair and whispered it’s okay’s and I love you’s calming me down. Bella smelled like sugar and lilacs, reminding me faintly of my mother, causing me to cry harder into her shirt.

“Bella,” my voice broke, “I killed my own mother,” I sobbed harder. “She’s fucking dead because of me!”

“No, no, no,” she whispered softly, wiping the tears from my eyes that never ceased to fall, “you didn’t know any better, you were a child. She asked you. You were helping her.” She believed the words she shared and I hurt fractionally less.

But I still hurt so fucking badly. So much pain, so many memories. So much guilt.

I cried and cried and cried, and she held held held me tight. Bella was my Angel. My sugary, sweet Angel with a kick. Time passed, and it felt like hours though it had only been ten minutes of listening to my muffled sobs.

“You are my Angel, Bella. I can’t lose you like I lost her. I won’t be responsible for that shit again.” My words cut, but I couldn’t hold them back. She needed to understand.

“Edward,” she huffed, “You weren’t responsible then and you certainly aren’t now. Life is pain. Life is out of our control. But we have to go on living it. You’re not responsible; you were a fucking child, an innocent. Your mother was your world and you did everything you could to make her happy and at peace.” Bella could be so damn insightful and probably the only person I’d believe when they told me I was wrong.

“You can’t be a martyr to your guilt your entire life. Let it go. She’s at Peace, E. And we will be too. You can’t control the fucked up things that happen around us, ok? I… I can’t see you in pain all of the time,” Bella pleaded. Her tears returned and her words sunk beneath my thick exterior. I’d give her my guilt now, relinquishing it, giving it up for good.

“I have more memories than any four year old ought to, but I can’t ever forget them,” I said once nearly calmed. “They’re imprinted on me; they’re under my fucking skin, in my deepest core.” It was the truth. I couldn’t not remember my mother, everything about her, everything about her last day. I was the secret keeper, I held her in her truest form. Heartbreak is fucking contagious, and I’ve lived with it since I was almost five.

After a moment, Bella spoke.

“That’s funny,” she darkly chuckled. “You can’t seem forget the worst things of your life, when I can’t seem to remember mine.”

Ying and yang. Tit for tat. Pain and pain. We fit and understood each other absolutely.

.::.

            Bella and Emmett left around four, since it was a Sunday, citing the need to make dinner for Charlie and catch up on homework for the upcoming week and all the other bullshit that normal life required.

 Nothing really felt normal any more. Not that life with Bella was ever a true shade of normal, but we were given glimpses of it from time to time. After this weekend though, none of us could go back to living without consequence, partying without regard and treating people as if they were disposable. Not that any of us had ever treated people poorly, but we surely didn’t give a fuck about most of the people we let party with us. A taste of the real world with its problems went down harshly and left a bitter aftertaste.

            Jasper and Rosalie left too and Alice and I were left alone.

            After showering, I found myself in the living room, staring out the window into the fog that still lingered. The sun was setting within the next hour or so, and the diffused light gave my backyard an eerie feeling.

            Soon Alice’s light footsteps, more like tiny, dancing leaps, entered the room with me. I went to her, hugging her petite form in my arms, dwarfing her, and she hugged me back. Alice, freshly showered, smelled like spring and happy birthdays and family.

            “It’ll be ok, Eddie,” she cooed. Her grey eyes wide and knowing, omniscient as always. “Why don’t we make mom and dad dinner? They’ll be home in an hour.”

She just knew. Alice always fucking knew. And right now, she knew that I needed my family.

            “Yea, ok,” I nodded. “But I don’t know how to fucking cook,” I added as an after-thought.

            “They know,” she winked, “but it’s the thought that counts!”

            The kitchen was filled with the smells of food cooking. We weren’t making anything extravagant, just delicious. Mashed potatoes—I did that, turns out it wasn’t that hard—salad, pasta with tomato sauce from a jar, and Alice made brownies for dessert.

            When my dad and Esme came home, they walked straight to the kitchen, following their noses, wearing matching expressions: shock and suspicion. I went to them immediately, Alice not far behind me, and engulfed Esme in a hug first. She smelled like roses and new couches and mom.

Telling Bella about Elizabeth made me realize how much Esme was a mother to me, and for longer. Finally, I appreciated her as such. Esme’s wide smile replaced the suspicion on her face, but only intensified her shock.

I hugged my dad next. He smelled like peppermint, and backyard barbecues with a hint of hospital. He smelled like my dad. I had forgotten what it was like for me to feel connected to anything other than my own secret pain and bullshit pleasure seeking before Bella came into my life.

“What have you done?” My dad demanded. “What trouble have you two gotten into?” Ah, yes. Dr. Carlisle would assume we were trying to atone for bad behavior because we never did shit like this.

“Nothing! We just fucking missed you alright? Jesus,” I bit back. I was still me, after all.

“We wanted to do something nice,” Alice explained next to me. “And we were hungry. We thought you would be too!”

“Smells good,” was all Esme said. I could see the happy tears fighting at the corner of her eyes and it touched me deep in my heart, healing those painful corners I had avoided for nearly thirteen years.

The four of us sat around the dining room table, eating and laughing, actually fucking enjoying one another’s company. It was like some damned after-school special or some shit, and it was perfect. Fucking perfect.

.::.