11. Dinner
"Yes, I'm sure, Dad." Bella rolled her eyes. She stood waiting by the door for Edward to arrive. It seemed that Jacob was not the only one who disapproved of the idea of the two of them going out.
Charlie scratched his head. "I don't know, Bells. Things didn't work out so well with you and Edward last time."
"It'll be fine," she insisted, glancing back at the clock. It was still fifteen minutes until six, and Bella was desperately wishing that he would arrive early. She had already heard enough from Jacob - who was sulking on the couch - and did not appreciate the echo of his words from her father's mouth.
For all the power he had as Chief of Police, Charlie felt helpless to protect his daughter. She had always been wise beyond her years, and despite her assurances, he did not like the idea of her seeing Edward Cullen again. Yet, she was not a little girl, and he knew he could do little to stop her. "But, what if you pass out again or get another headache?" he asked.
There was a knock at the door just then, and the moment that he had been dreading since he had arrived home was now here. He stopped her just before she reached the doorknob.
"Bells. You still got that pepper spray?"
"Dad," she snapped, shaking her head. To Bella, Edward had arrived just in time, and she opened the door to find him standing there on her front porch offering her a single yellow rose. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him – which she was finding out to be a very typical reaction. "Hello, Edward," she said, unable to hold back the grin at seeing him again, and coquettishly held the bloom before her nose.
"Hello, Bella," he greeted, handing her the rose. "You look very pretty."
She looked down at the long-sleeved red button up blouse she was wearing and a long denim skirt she had become accustomed to wearing since the bulky cast restricted her from pants. "Thanks."
Charlie peeked over Bella's shoulder, giving Edward a meaningful glare. "Hello, Edward."
"Good evening, Chief Swan."
The Cullen boy was always polite, but Charlie trusted him as far as he could throw him. "Right, so what time will you be back?"
Bella shoved the rose to her father's chest and moved toward the doorway on her crutches. "When we come back," she said impatiently.
Edward spoke up. "I'll have her back at a decent hour."
"You bett..." Bella did not let her father finish that word and closed the door behind her.
"I'm sorry about Charlie," she told Edward, hobbling beside him as they covered the short distance to her driveway.
His golden eyes darted back toward the front porch and Edward smiled. "He means well. Your dad loves you." He took the crutches and set them aside as he helped her into his Volvo. After securing them in the trunk, he joined Bella as he slid into the driver's seat. "He's right to protect you." Edward felt like they had a common goal. The girl obviously needed protecting...
"So, where would you like to eat?"
* * *
It felt like déjà vu.
They sat at a small table in the only Italian restaurant in Forks, and a square candle flickered between them. Edward had requested a private spot with an ocean view. The waitress - a redhead with blue eyes and long eyelashes - barely glanced at Bella as she took her order, keeping her attention focused instead on Bella's absurdly handsome companion.
"I'll have the mushroom ravioli," she told their server. Again, so familiar... The ocean stretched out beside them as far as the eye could see and was indeed breathtaking, but despite the clear glow the moon cast upon the water's waves, Bella could hardly tear her eyes away from Edward. He was too beautiful with his bronze hair combed upward in its typical haphazard style, and his features that may as well been carved from stone.
Edward had eyed the menu, scrutinizing the selections. He knew that he could not get away without ordering food, and chose an entree from the lighter choices. The less food he had to deal with, the better. "I'll have the chicken," he told her, "with a very small side of pasta, please."
"Soup or salad?" the waitress asked, not bothering to write it down on her notepad and twirling her red curly locks entirely too much.
"Neither," Edward replied, but then turned to Bella. "Unless you want it."
"I already have salad with mine," Bella told him, looking at him questioningly.
"Right," he said, and then turned back to the server. "Just the chicken and pasta is fine."
Taking a sip of her soda, Bella watched as the server backed away from their table, never removing her gaze from Edward and nearly crashed into a couple of oncoming patrons.
"So, you don't like salad?" Bella inquired.
"I'm not very hungry."
"Why not?"
"We're kind of on a special diet. And before I left, Esme had prepared this huge meal, and she went through so much trouble...."
Bella nodded understandingly. Edward had seemed just the type of person who did not want to let anyone down...especially his mother. "We didn't have to go out to eat. I could've eaten at home," she told him, although the idea of not going out with Edward might have nearly crushed her. Their date could have been postponed for dinner another night, and she could have fixed Charlie a decent meal. They certainly had enough groceries...
"No," he replied. "This is perfect. I've really been looking forward to this," he admitted with a smile.
The smile nearly took her breath away, and a blush flooded her cheeks. "Me too."
With a sigh, he inwardly celebrated that lovely burst of color that brightened her ivory skin. Since he could not read her mind, Edward was grateful to see that he still affected her. And the way she sat there with her hair cascading down her shoulders, her chocolate brown eyes fixed on his own, he wanted nothing more than to bare his soul right then and there.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?" he asked, puzzled.
She smiled, embarrassed. "For what? For the groceries, for the flowers, for taking me out...."
Edward leaned forward on the table, setting his forearms on the burgundy linen cloth. Her gratitude was extremely unnecessary. He felt like the one who should be thanking her. Thank you, Isabella Swan, for being born. Thank you for being the light of my existence, thank you for completing me. "Thank you, Bella," he replied with a smile, "for granting me the pleasure of your company."
A giggle escaped her lips. "Do all the Cullens talk like you?" His way of speaking was definitely unique...like it was from another time...
"Not Emmett," he replied thoughtfully. He was feeling torn between trying to leave her clues without giving her too much information. There was so much he wanted to tell her... "So, have you had any more interesting dreams?" he probed. He could not help wondering if she had recalled their midnight conversation. Although, if she had, she might have said something by now.
"No," she replied. "Not like the vampire dream."
His heart sunk just a little. "Oh," he responded, trying to hide his disappointment.
The waitress returned and set down a plate of salad in front of Bella, still keeping her eyes on Edward. "Are you sure I can't get you some salad?"
"No, thank you," Edward replied, watching Bella as she moved the cuffs of her sleeves up to her elbows and poked hungrily into the lettuce and tomatoes with her fork. He was not looking forward to the meal that was coming.
Bella chewed her salad thoughtfully. There were so many questions that she had planned to ask him, but now that she was sitting here before him in what turned out to be a very romantic setting, they had disappeared from her mind.
"So, Edward, I was wondering...." she began, trying to force a query - any query to come forward from her mouth. Her eyes darted to the white half moon scar on her right forearm. "I have this weird mark, and I don't know how I got it."
His eyes had, in fact, already picked it up, and he had not been able to get a good look at it until now. In the hospital, it had been covered, and aside from the truth, Edward and Carlisle had not been able to devise a reasonable explanation for it. And the truth of how it happened, to this point, was out of the question. "It could have been from one of the glass pieces lodged in your skin from when you went out the window, the bottom of a vase that was broke in half...." he suggested.
Her brow rose. "Yeah, that's like what Carlisle said, but if you touch the scar, it feels cold." She set her forearm on the table to give him a clear view. "Touch it."
It would not have been a good idea for him to make contact with her skin, he knew, and now he was longing to change the subject, but was not sure how as her gaze demanded an answer. It was perfect timing when the waitress returned with their order, and Bella was forced to move her arm from the table. Never before was Edward so happy to see food being placed down before him.
"Do you have everything you need?" she asked Edward, now setting down Bella's order of mushroom ravioli.
Edward smiled up at her apprehensively, now facing the task ahead of him. He was sorely tempted to request a to-go box. "Yes, thank you," he replied, sliding his gaze toward the fist-sized portion of chicken covered in some sort of white sauce atop an unappetizing bed of noodles.
Bella was already cutting into one of the square pieces of pasta. "This smells good," she told him.
Nodding, Edward lifted his fork and knife and began to cut the large hunk of chicken into four calculated pieces. "Would you like to try some?" he offered hopefully.
"No, thanks." She held up a square of ravioli. "Do you want to try some of mine?"
He shook his head. "No, thank you. You go ahead," he told her. Taking much longer than he should have, he pierced his fork through one of the pieces and lifted it very slowly up to his mouth.
She seemed to be watching every move that he was making as she enjoyed another mouthful of her order, and Edward knew he could not put this off any longer. His neck then craned to the right as he peered past Bella.
"Do they allow pets in restaurants now?" he asked, his features a mask of concern.
Promptly, she turned around in her chair. "Where?"
Meanwhile, Edward took the opportunity to inconspicuously drop the first fourth of his chicken into his cloth napkin, but made a chewing motion with his mouth as she turned to face him. He swallowed. "That's odd. I thought I saw a dog run underneath one of the tables."
"A dog?"
With dread, Edward eyed the three sizable pieces he had left on his plate. He could not even stomach the idea of the noodles... "A small one. Maybe I'm just seeing things."
She turned back again, and Edward seized the opportunity with lightning speed, taking the second piece and adding it to the first inside his napkin. And again when she faced him, he appeared to be chewing.
"That's weird. What kind of dog do you think it was?" she asked, watching as he swallowed.
"A Chihuahua. But, I must be mistaken."
Her brows were knit in confusion, but she shook her head. "How's your chicken?"
"Mmmm good. And your ravioli?"
She smiled. "Delicious."
It was worth the trouble just to see her smile, Edward thought. He, however, still had two chunks left...and plenty of room in his napkin. "Did you know," he began thoughtfully, piercing the third piece of hateful poultry into his fork, "that in the evening if the moon hits the water just right, you might see killer whales?" he asked, gesturing out at the ocean.
Bella turned her gaze to the magnificent ocean view. "Really? From here you could see it?" she asked.
Not really, he thought. He had just made that up. "It's mating season," he told her. "If you look closely, you might be able to catch the tail of the female."
When she turned her whole body toward the glass, Edward seized the opportunity, stuffing the third piece into the napkin on top of his lap.
"Huh. I don't see anything."
"Maybe the moon isn't bright enough tonight," he replied lamely, contemplating the remains of his chicken. "Will you excuse me? I'm going to the men's room."
Her mouth was full and she nodded. "Sure," she replied, her gaze darting from him and back to the sparkly waters and then back to him.
He took an unnecessary breath and shoved the last piece of chicken into his mouth, and smiled as he rose, leaving the napkin in a burgundy pile on his seat. Wishing that he could use his normal speed, Edward made his way at a quick human pace to the lavatory, his features twisted in disgust at the saucy morsel that was like poison on his tongue.
The waitress stopped him. "Is everything okay?"
Edward nodded and smiled, pushing open the door to the men's room.
The waitress returned with two take-out boxes and handed them to Edward and Bella. "Any dessert for you tonight?" she asked, glancing at Bella, but once again lingering on Edward.
"I'm stuffed," Bella replied, gazing down at the half of the remains she was unable to finish. "How about you, Edward?"
Edward shook his head, already determined to empty his plate of noodles into the Styrofoam container. "I can't eat another bite. Thank you," he told the server absently.
As the server set off to retrieve the check, Bella sighed. She felt like she was quickly running out of time.
"What's wrong, Bella?" Edward asked softly, aware of the frustration in her eyes.
She shook her head and laughed. "It's just that there were things I wanted to ask you, and...."
"Like what?" He held his breath and waited in anticipation. He had to wonder how much she knew, or how much she suspected.
His amber gaze pierced hers and she felt another embarrassing blush touch her cheeks. There was one question that sat in the forefront of her mind. It had seemed reasonable enough to ask it before, but now as his affectionate gaze met hers, the idea of it was ridiculous.
"It's just that my dad seems to think...Well...." she paused, not knowing quite how to put it.
"What is it?" he asked, concerned.
"Did you break up with me?" she asked, her expression vulnerable as her eyes darted from the candle between them and back to meet his eyes.
"What?" Edward's face was now incredulous. "No!" He laughed. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Absolutely not."
Bella felt a small measure of relief, but then forced the next question from her lips. "Okay... did I break up with you?" That thought seemed the most unlikely.
Still smiling, he shook his head. "No."
"Then, why did I leave Forks?"
"And you believed him?!" the three males voiced in unison, Charlie and Billy with beer in hand, and Jacob with a soda, their attention now torn away from the flat screen.
Her mouth fell open. "Of course I believed him."
Jacob stood up, his dark eyes piercing into Bella's as she stood there in her living room holding onto her crutches looking more beautiful than she had any right to look. "Then why did you leave Forks?"
"Because I missed my mom...and Phoenix," she told them, faltering under the disbelief in their faces.
After setting down his beer on the table, Charlie ran his fingers through his dark hair. He had remembered the events of that evening very clearly. However, he could not dispute the validity of her response. She truly may have missed Renee... "Well, at least he got you home at a decent hour."
Jacob looked down at Charlie in shock – as though he had given up far too easily, but when Billy set a hand on Jacob's arm, gesturing for him to sit, Jacob plopped back down in defeat.
"I'm going to see him again tomorrow," she announced, now not caring if any of them liked it or not.
Charlie sighed in disapproval, but did not say a word.
"Well, good night. I'm going to bed," she told the trio. Normally, she would have stayed up to hang out with Jacob, but now filled with irritation, she had nothing to say to him.
"Good night." She heard their unenthusiastic voices say as she made her way up the stairs. It was always a struggle to take each step, but it had become easier.
As she lay in her bed that night, more questions began to float around in her head. If she had truly missed Renee, then why did Edward and Carlisle go all the way to Phoenix to try to convince her to go back to Forks? It didn't make sense to her. Had she been too hasty for leaving? Had she and Edward had a fight and that was what prompted her to leave? Still, there was something in Jacob's expression that had shaken her – he definitely knew more than he was telling.
It was something that caused her to question Edward's explanations.