Chapter 42

Bella stared up at the paint swirls in the ceiling as she lay on the shag rug in Riley Biers’ dorm room. The patterns seemed to be moving - vibrating slightly, rolling into one another like waves in a gentle sea, or puffs of clouds across a pale sky. It reminded her of when she was a kid and she’d lie in the grass, staring into the blue, conjuring up identifiable shapes in the clouds.

“That’s so cool,” she said at last, to no one in particular. Riley, his semi-maybe girlfriend Bree, and Mike Newton were all in the vicinity, but she was aware of them only vaguely in her peripheral vision. To the left she could see Riley’s sneakered feet hanging off the edge of his tiny dorm bed; directly to her right were the spiky blond tips of Mike’s hair. The rest of his body was stretched out on the floor behind her.

“What’s cool?” he asked her.

“The ceiling. It’s . . . shimmering.”

Mike was silent for a full minute. “I don’t see it,” he finally admitted.

“I do,” Riley piped up. “Sorta. Maybe.”

Bree, lying next to him, began giggling.

“Riley, did you lace Bella’s joint with ‘shrooms or something?” Mike accused.

“No, man,” Riley responded with a laugh. “I didn’t want her to get sick like last time. That was brutal.”

“It was,” Bella agreed. She would have shuddered, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. As long as I stay away from the booze, I’m good.” She paused and closed her eyes. She imagined that the carpet beneath her was part of the cloud swirling above her, and she was floating, free and easy, through the atmosphere. “I’m really good, in fact.”

She heard Mike laugh. It sounded further away than just a couple of feet. Must be her cloud cocoon, muffling his voice.

“I’m glad you’re good,” he said. “But you’re also cut off for the rest of the night, just so you know.”

“That’s okay,” she said blithely. “I’m perfect just the way I am, here and now.”

“That you are,” he said softly. She heard shuffling noises next to her. She opened her eyes to find him sitting, cross-legged, in her line of vision now.

“I’m glad you could hang out with us tonight,” he told her. “I know it’s kind of low-key for a Saturday, but sometimes it’s nice to just chill.”

“Yeah. Chill,” she agreed, closing her eyes again.

“I’m surprised you’re not out with Suit Guy, though. Since it’s date night and all.”

The cloud surrounding Bella darkened slightly.

“Edward works a lot of nights. And weekends,” she said quietly. Her voice sounded muffled in the cloud now, too.

“Yeah? That sucks,” Mike said in commiseration, though she couldn’t imagine that he was sincere. “What does he do?”

The cloud began to swirl uneasily around her.

“He’s a musician,” she replied. She could barely hear her own voice now. Mike’s was even more muted.

“Musician,” he echoed in surprise. “Huh. I figured he was a lawyer or something. Showing up in a suit on a Friday night like he did.”

“He’s a classical musician.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, yeah, that makes sense.” He paused, and she let her eyes open a slit to peer sideways at him. He had his knees up now, hands clasped around them. He was studying his thumbs intently. He took a breath, and it felt as though he was sucking in her cloud, pulling her with it.

“So what about next Saturday? Will he be working then?”

The cloud grew turbulent, taking her stomach along for the ride.

“I’m sure he will.”

Mike let out a breath this time, and her cloud spun the other direction, making her stomach lurch again.

“Well, if you’re free, I’d still really love for you to come with me to that All-Greek Cocktail that I mentioned Monday night. Remember?” he added hesitantly.

The cloud engulfed her, dark and roiling, making it difficult for her to breathe.

“Did you ask Jessica? I still think she’d be a better choice. I’ll bet she’d really like to go with you.”

“She’s already going with someone else,” he informed her. “I thought about asking her, since it seemed like you weren’t that interested. But as soon as I brought up the party when I saw her the other day, she went off about this hot guy she was bringing. Said he’d blow everyone out of the water, whatever that means.”

From the corner of her eye, Bella saw him shrug before he continued.

“So anyway, Jess is spoken for. Which is fine by me, because I’d still rather take you. Just as friends, of course. No funny business,” he added, catching her wary glance in his direction. “I mean, if Suit Guy is gonna be busy anyway, why not come out and have some fun?”

Why not? Indeed. Suit Guy would definitely be busy. Until he walked away from escorting for good, he would always be occupied on a Saturday night. And she would always be looking for ways to pass the time, especially when Alice was working or on a date with Jasper. Last night Bella had joined some of the non-partying girls on her dorm floor for movie night in the lounge. Tonight she’d opted to get baked with the guy she’d spilled a drink on the last time she did party.

What about the rest of the nights? There was always her job at the bookstore. Homework. Studying. More movie nights in the dorm. More reefer while she stared at the fucking ceiling, trying to form a coherent thought.

Or, All-Greek Cocktail with Mike Newton.

When she spoke, her voice was as thin as air; light as mist. She wasn’t sure she’d even said the words out loud. They sounded far away, like they were struggling to pierce a thick fog.

“Why not?”

.

.

.

Charlotte Rinehart did not bow her head when she prayed.

Instead, she gazed up at the stained glass window above the church altar. On rainy Sunday mornings such as this, its brilliant colors were muted by the dull gray light filtering through them, but the image of Christ with his arms outstretched was powerful all the same. It strengthened her faith. Reminded her that all things were possible through God.

She found herself praying for Edward again today. He’d been working his fingers to the bone on her Steinway for the past two weeks. She often had to urge him to take a break to get his mind off of the music, or remind him to eat. To her untrained ears, he was now playing his concert piece to perfection on a regular basis. But with five weeks left until the competition, she was afraid the combination of his perfectionism and self-doubt would end up being detrimental rather than beneficial to his performance.

She decided it was time for a professional to weigh in on the matter, so she’d called in a favor with an old friend of Peter’s. A retired symphony pianist, Alistair Brock might be able to give Edward some pointers, as well as keep his focus and self-confidence intact over the coming month. At the very least, he would provide a fresh set of ears to analyze the boy’s work. Her own had grown rather weary of hearing the same piece of music over and over. Surely Edward must be tired of playing it. She had the feeling he would welcome Alistair’s input, even though he protested that he didn’t want her to spend any more money on him. Maybe he’d be satisfied to know that Alistair would not put a price tag on the opportunity to mentor a talent such as Edward’s.

She would find out soon enough. She’d invited the older gentleman to visit the house during the younger’s rehearsal time tomorrow.

Charlotte smiled up at the glass window before her. Surely God would show mercy on a young man trying to remedy his mistakes and choose a different path in life - the path he was meant to take. Sometimes when Edward improvised at the piano, making up his own melodies, she imagined that angels were working through his fingers. The ethereal beauty of the chords he strung together delighted and often surprised her. She didn’t need to wonder what - or whom - was his muse. She was fairly certain she knew the answer. He’d as much as admitted that his turnaround was due to the arrival of Bella Swan in his life. He now had someone to fight for other than his ailing grandmother.

She only prayed that along the way, he would learn to fight for himself.

Pastor Tim’s sermon was uplifting on this gray Seattle morning, and Charlotte found herself in good spirits by the time the final hymn was sung. As much as she adored Edward’s company, she had to admit she was looking forward to a quiet afternoon alone at home. He had opted to take a day off from his rigorous practice schedule and spend it with the only male friend he’d ever mentioned, a young man named Emmett. She’d encouraged him to enjoy himself and give his overworked hands a break. She was afraid his incessant worrying would drive him to an early grave.

Charlotte rose from the pew after the pastor’s final benediction, then chatted with the other parishioners as they made their way down the aisle. The congregation usually gathered in the overflow room for refreshments after the service, and today was no different. But as she headed to the serving table at the back of the room, she spied a familiar-looking young woman reading the church bulletin board near the front entry. Her long, dark hair and uneasy stance reminded her of the girl who’d literally knocked her hat off a couple of weeks ago outside this very church.

The girl Pastor Tim had found out was named “Bella.”

Charlotte took a detour and approached the bulletin board instead. The girl appeared to be reading a notice about an upcoming fundraising event.

“Good morning,” she greeted her warmly. “It’s so nice to see you again. Were you here for the service today?”

The girl looked startled, but then her eyes registered recognition.

“Hi,” she replied. “I did come for the service today, actually. It was nice.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” Charlotte said. “I find Pastor Tim’s sermons to be quite uplifting. Not so preachy, as many ministers can be.”

The girl smiled. “Well, I don’t have much to compare with, but I agree. I like hearing him speak.”

“Well then, I hope to see you again next Sunday as well,” Charlotte said, then wondered if that was a touch pushy. She glanced at the notice the girl had been reading on the bulletin board. “Are you interested in joining us on the CROP Hunger Walk?” she asked.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll have to check my work schedule. But it looks like a good way to pass a Sunday afternoon, walking to raise money for hunger relief.”

“Indeed, I can’t think of better use of one’s time. I have to take the short route these days, and it takes me longer to finish than I’d like to admit. But it’s not a race. People simply sponsor you for the distance walked. If you decide to participate, just put your name on the sign-up sheet. You can get a sponsor sheet from the pastor, or go online and print one off,” Charlotte explained.

“Thanks,” the girl said quietly. Goodness, but she was shy. And attractive in a very natural-looking way, her fair skin and dark eyes adorned with very little make-up. Could this be the same Bella who had captured Edward’s heart? She looked like the type of girl who could win over a man whose life experience had taught him to crave substance over style. Charlotte could see that the girl standing before her was as solid as they come.

“You’re welcome, dear. Would you like to join us for coffee or soda? You’ll find both at the table over there,” Charlotte offered, gesturing toward the refreshment table.

“Oh, no thank you. I can’t stay. I have to get to work. But it was nice to see you again.”

“The pleasure was mine. My name is Charlotte, by the way,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand. “Charlotte Rinehart.”

“I’m Bella,” the girl said, giving her hand a quick but firm shake. “Bella Swan.”

Charlotte felt a small thrill of satisfaction at the confirmation. It was not difficult for her to feign surprise instead.

“Bella Swan?” she repeated. “Do you, by any chance, know a young man by the name of Edward Cullen?”

The girl’s eyes snapped to attention. “Yeah, I do. He’s a good friend of mine.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “How do you know him?”

Charlotte balked, realizing her blunder. She should have known Edward would never reveal the existence of an older woman - a Renaissance Escorts customer, no less - who was his benefactor.

“Oh, I’m an old family friend,” she fibbed breezily. “He sometimes uses my late husband’s piano for practice sessions. Lovely boy, and a genius behind the keys. I do hope he’ll make use of his talent in the professional realm some day soon.”

The girl nodded, her face relaxing a little. “That’s what he’s working toward.” Her cheeks colored slightly. “So . . . He’s mentioned me to you?”

Charlotte smiled warmly. “Yes, several times, only in the best terms. I do believe you might be behind his interest in returning to music. He let his grandmother’s illness deter him for too long.”

“It’s been hard on him,” she said, her brown eyes reflecting a shadow of the pain Charlotte saw in Edward’s eyes when he admitted what had happened.

“Yes, it has. Especially after that awful business the other day, during his last visit with her,” she sympathized. “I’m glad he has someone to help him through the hard times now. That makes all the difference in the world, you know.”

The girl’s cheeks flushed anew. “I hope so,” she said with a soft smile.

“I know so,” Charlotte assured her. Bella’s smile grew as she stared down at her own Keds-clad feet. Before the pause grew awkward, Charlotte bade her good-bye.

“Well, I won’t keep you if you must be getting off to work. It was such a pleasure to meet you, Bella. I do hope to see you again soon.”

She held out her hand and Bella took it, giving it a sold shake.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Rinehart.”

Charlotte tried not to cringe at how positively ancient she felt at Bella’s words.

“Please, call me Charlotte. No need for formality between us.”

“Oh, okay,” the girl said sheepishly. “See you later, Charlotte.” She gave an awkward wave and turned to descend the steps toward the front door of the church.

“Take care, Bella.”

Charlotte felt a strange pang of some unnamed emotion as she watched Bella’s slender form exit the building. The love of Edward’s life now had a face and a figure to match the name. She was glad to discover another piece of the puzzle falling into place for him, painting a more complete picture for her in the process.

But she had to admit, in her heart of hearts, that her place in its periphery was bittersweet.

.

.

.

“How do you like the black cod collar?” Edward asked from across the table. If Bella’s face was any indication, she liked it immensely. The ecstatic noises she made upon first taste were anything but subtle.

“It’s great. Really delicious,” she mumbled between bites. “And I’m not usually that big of a fish fan, but this is so . . .” she paused to find the right words. “Rich. Buttery.”

Edward smiled. “It is. Maneki’s makes the best sablefish in Seattle. I knew you’d like it. And Japanese food, for that matter.”

She eyed his smug face and said, “You know me well.”

“A little better every day. But you still surprise me sometimes.” He paused to take a sip of his sake. “Like the fact that you decided to get high again last night with that pothead and your ex. I was hoping you’d learned your lesson after the last time.”

Fuck. The judgment flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. He sounded like a disapproving older brother again. Or worse yet, her dad.

She eye-rolled him as if he was.

“I think it was the gallon of 190-proof grain alcohol that did me in last time,” she argued. “The pot itself relaxed me before I drank too much. It distracted me from wondering what you were doing that night.”

“Which was nothing, if you recall. And last night was more of the same - another class reunion. Strictly business.”

Bella raised a quizzical eyebrow. “And how did your date like that?”

Edward flinched slightly. She hadn’t liked it much at all, and he’d spent half the evening dodging her increasingly shameless advances. Luckily she was inebriated enough at the end of the night to be half-asleep by the time he deposited her in her hotel room.

“It doesn’t matter what whether or not she liked it. Nothing happened. Nothing ever will,” he reiterated, more firmly this time.

“’Doesn’t matter?’ I’ll bet Rosalie would disagree with that,” Bella said. Not to mention your client, she mentally added. She imagined how humiliated she would have felt that first night if he had rejected her sexual overtures.

“I told you, Rosalie is cutting me some slack until I can find legitimate work. She gets where I’m coming from because of her situation with Emmett. I’m sure that’s the only reason she didn’t fire me on the spot for getting involved with a client. Normally, that would be a deal breaker.”

“Right.” Bella speared another forkful of the delicacy on her plate, then chewed it thoughtfully. “But how much longer can she afford to risk disappointing her customers?”

Edward’s brows knitted. “I don’t know. A few more weeks is all I need, if everything goes well. I hope she can hang on until then. You, too,” he added, giving her a meaningful look.

She returned it with an exasperated sigh. “I really wish you’d tell me what’s happening in a few weeks. Do you have an audition or something?”

Edward hesitated, debating. He didn’t know why it was so hard for him to tell her about the piano competition. She’d just given him the perfect opportunity to admit the full truth, right now. He should bite the bullet and let her support him, no matter the outcome.

But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was, “Yeah. It is an audition, of sorts.”

“Really?” The smile that spread across her face warmed him to the marrow. “What kind of audition? For a little combo, or a big symphony, or what?”

He felt the usual aggravating anxiety gnaw at his gut. He shook his head and turned his attention to his fish, sawing into it with unnecessary vigor. “I don’t really know yet,” he said quietly. “I told you, I don’t want you to get your hopes up in case it doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Too late,” she informed him. “I already have my hopes up. Because I know that whatever you’re auditioning for, you’re doing to do great. There’s no way you won’t make it.”

Edward raised grateful, if slightly baffled, eyes to hers. “I love your faith in me.”

Bella frowned at the disbelief lingering in his voice. “Well, I’d love it if you had as much faith in yourself as I do.”

He gave her a wry smile. “I’m working on it.”

“Well, work harder,” she ordered. “Because even if you don’t succeed at the first audition, I know you will at the second, or third. Or twentieth. Whatever it takes. You’ve got too much talent to give up.” Her voice went from emphatic to pleading. “Besides, I couldn’t take it if you went back to being a full-service escort.”

“I won’t,” he said sharply. “You have my word on that. No matter what happens.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “I believe you, I really do. But it’s still hard for me sometimes. I guess I trust your clients about as much as you trust Mike and Riley.”

They studied each other soberly, eyes locked in another stalemate.

“Well, then, it’s a good thing we trust each other,” he said, and she nodded in agreement.

Neither of them could acknowledge the split-second of uncertainty that flashed between their eyes.

Edward took another long drink of sake while he searched for a more benign topic of conversation.

“So, did you do anything else fun this weekend?”

“Fun? Hmm. Well, I worked this afternoon, and yesterday I wrote a paper for Comparative Greek Literature. So, if you consider that fun, then my weekend was jam packed with it,” she said with a sardonic laugh, and Edward joined her.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” she exclaimed after a gulp of sake. “I went to church this morning, believe it or not, and I ended up meeting a friend of yours there.”

Edward looked up from his plate, startled. “You went to church?”

“Yeah, to the little, tan brick one near the dorms. I stepped inside it a couple of weeks ago to look at this huge, beautiful stained-glass window that’s in the sanctuary. The vibe was so peaceful, I thought I’d check out the service this morning. It was nice. The pastor has been blind since he was a kid, so it’s pretty inspirational to hear him speak. He has such a great attitude, you know? He talks about faith and hope like they come to him as naturally as breathing.”

“Huh. That’s great,” Edward commented awkwardly. Emily used to take him and Alice to Sunday school when they were kids, but he’d gotten out of the habit of attending church while he was in college. And now, considering the sins of his recent past, he knew he’d feel like a leper if he darkened the door of any place of worship.

“So, who did you meet there?” he asked. He couldn’t imagine what friend or acquaintance of his she would have come across.

“An older woman. Charlotte something - I forget her last name,” Bella admitted. “Does that ring a bell?”

Edward stared at her, his mouth slack with surprise. “Charlotte Rinehart?”

“Yeah! That’s it,” Bella said with a smile. “Is she a friend of your grandmother’s?”

He continued staring, numbness creeping through his joints. “Is that what she told you?”

“Well, no. I just assumed, by her age. She said she was a friend of the family.”

Something in Edward’s expression must have given him away, because Bella suddenly froze in place, fork halfway to her mouth. Her face contorted in dismay, then distaste, as the realization hit her.

“She’s not an old family friend, is she?” she whispered, putting her fork down.

“No.” He couldn’t manage to croak out anything else.

Bella slumped back in her chair. “Wow,” she said at last. So Charlotte had hired him, just like she had. She should have figured it out when the woman had called him “Cullen” instead of “Masen.” She tried to wrap her mind around the thought of Edward being with a woman old enough to be his mother. Or grandmother. The fish she’d eaten began to flop violently in her stomach.

Edward’s own supper squirmed at the sight of Bella’s stricken face. “Christ. You don’t think I slept with her, do you?”

“I don’t know. Did you?”

“No,” he insisted, the denial sounding more vehement than he intended. He took a calming breath and lowered his voice. “I was never intimate with her. It’s not like that between us. It never was. She hired me strictly for companionship. That’s all it’s ever been.”

The doubt lingering on Bella’s face made him want to pound his fists on the table in frustration.

“Charlotte and I are friends,” he explained, trying to stay calm. “She’s more like a mother to me than anything else. She’s a great lady.”

“I didn’t mean to imply she wasn’t,” Bella replied, slightly taken aback. “I liked her. She seemed really nice.”

“She is.” Edward grimaced, hating how defensive he sounded.

“She obviously cares about you a lot,” Bella added. She couldn’t help but wonder how much. Just because their relationship had remained platonic didn’t mean that Charlotte hadn’t secretly wished for more. Bella was still amazed at how oblivious Edward could be sometimes. He never quite comprehended how attractive he was to the opposite sex, age appropriate or not.

“She probably feels sorry for me,” he said with a bitter chuckle. “She’s letting me practice on her husband’s old piano until I can get one of my own.”

“She mentioned that, actually. So, is that where you’re rehearsing? For the mystery audition that may or may not be happening soon?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “It’s not a mystery. I’m just trying to get my chops back so someone will hire me. I’m probably making the poor woman deaf in the process.”

Bella was silent for a minute, picking at the last remnants of black cod on her plate. “I’m surprised she wants to help you like that. I mean, since she won’t be able to hire you anymore after you quit the business.”

“You and Alice,” he muttered under his breath, remembering his cousin’s remarks. He gave Bella the same reply he’d given her. “We’re friends. Friends help each other.” He could come up with no other reason why Charlotte would be so selfless.

Bella nodded, but he could see that she wasn’t wholly convinced. The shadow of suspicion lingered, causing her to gaze at her empty plate instead of him. What would it take for her to trust him? Every time he thought he’d earned it, something like this proved him wrong.

“I’m curious, though. What if Charlotte had hired me for more than friendship?” he asked her, playing devil’s advocate. The notion was absurd, and it sounded even more ludicrous when he said it out loud. But he had to know where Bella really stood when it came to dealing with his past misdeeds. “What if I had slept with her at some point, before I ever knew you?”

Bella balked before answering. “I don’t know. I’d like to say it wouldn’t make any difference, but I don’t know if that’s true. It probably would bother me. There would be a different kind of history between the two of you.”

Edward frowned slightly. “I guess I can understand that. But it still worries me a little,” he admitted. “I have an ugly past, Bella. I really want to leave it where it belongs. But if deep down, you resent me for it or hold it against me, then I think we’re going to have a hard time moving forward.”

Bella’s eyes flared in both panic and indignation. “I don’t resent you. How could I possibly hold your past against you? I’m part of it. I hired you, and we both know exactly why. Neither of us was looking for more, but we found it anyway. Or it found us.” Her eyes softened. “All I want to do is concentrate on that, and move forward with you. But yeah, I admit it’ll be a lot easier for me when that part of your past is really over, and you’re truly free.”

He nodded slowly. It always came back to this.

“Remember our discussion the night we met? About freedom?” he asked.

Bella thought back. “You told me that freedom always has a price.”

He nodded. “Well, I was wrong. It’s not a price you pay. It’s a privilege you fight for. And you’ve given me a reason to fight.”

Her smile was bittersweet. “I love that you feel that way about me. But I want you to fight for yourself, too. You need to want it for you, not just for me.”

"I want it for us,” he answered, reaching his hand across the table. “How’s that for a compromise?”

Bella reached out and took his hand, loving the strength she felt in his fingers grasping hers. She grasped back, hoping he’d feel the same strength in her.

“I’ll take it,” she said.