Thanks to mxpi1970 for the beta. As always, I own nothing. Stephenie Meyer owns all.
Next chapter is underway.
And an apology to any Mainers out there - I tried with the accent, I really did.
~o.O.o~
Chapter 6
Four days.
Four days was
a lifetime to the old Carlisle, to be away from the security of home for so
long, to be in a world out of his own control. Now that he has assimilated into
this new existence, this shared life, so warm and right, for the first time the thought of returning to reality holds
its own fears.
The fear of
loneliness.
He has yet to
unburden himself to Edward, he has yet to find the right time, but that moment
is surely approaching – a freight train of honesty bearing down at full speed upon
their future time together.
~o.O.o~
The day after
their breakfast at Kate’s they take a walk to Monroe’s bookstore.
There is a
bell over the door, that little touch old fashioned and so fitting. The store
is lined with shelving, floor to ceiling, a small library stepladder parked at
the far wall for the use of the patrons. Edward takes pleasure in watching
Carlisle’s face, the smile that spreads across it as he takes in the shabby
magnificence all around him. The air is filled with the smell of old books, the
light musty scent that is the perfume of all literature repositories. The main
room leads through to a small ante room, the sign about the entrance
proclaiming ‘Biographies and History’. The light streaming through the dusty,
rain-spotted front window does not reach this small room and a bare overhead bulb
lights the space. Beyond it, Carlisle sees an office, the door ajar, a brass
plated ‘Private’ sign screwed into the wood.
Edward smiles
and turns to the fiction section, looking to see what new titles have hit the
racks, whilst Carlisle heads to the back room, a man on a mission.
It is some
time later that Edward resurfaces, a selection of new material in his hands. He
hears Carlisle and Monroe talking in low tones and against his better judgement
he listens, eager to learn more about his lover, to see deeper within the
enigma.
“This heeah is
the one I think – it best outlines the erah you are lookin’ for.....”
“Good generahl
background history in this one but have you read.....”
“Good choice – what about this for witness
testimony...”
Edward hears
Carlisle’s responses.
“I have that
one, but perhaps this...”
“I cannot
believe you have this one.... been looking for some time...”
“This is
amazing.... I’ll take all of these...”
Edward smiles
to himself, not wanting to interrupt them just yet.
“So, I seeah
you came with Edward. He’s one of my best customahs.”
“So I hear.
He recommended this place to me.”
“I’ve not
seenah you before, although I’ll beah the first to admit I don’t get out a
great deal. Are you new to the arear?”
“I’m staying
with Edward for a few days to catch up and do a little research for my next
book.”
His heart
hurts at the throwaway statement. He hears Monroe’s exclamation.
“You write?
That’s wonderful! Would I have a copy of your work heeah?”
Edward can
almost hear Carlisle’s blush, his response somewhat embarrassed.
“Err... yes, I
did see a copy.”
“Show me,
young man, show me.”
There is the sound
of a book sliding from its home, the crackling of a dust jacket as it is
opened.
“Ah - I’ve
read this. I can see now from the flyleaf photo that you’re Mistah Cullen! I
rarely get any authors in heeah – they prefah to ordah their books in from
suppliahs. May I ask why you don’t? Not that I’m at all ungrateful for your
custom of course!”
His laugh is
dry and rattling, the evidence of a long history of smoking despite the fact he
hasn’t lit up for some years. His speech is heavily accented, a true Mainer.
Carlisle
chats to Monroe, explaining his love for old books and the thrill of discovery
in small, independent stores like this one. Edward chooses this moment to reappear,
clutching his books; both men smile when they see him. There is a telling light
in Carlisle’s eyes that he himself is perhaps unaware of, a brightening that is
visible to those who know to look for it. Edward’s happy smile also speaks
volumes and he catches the subtle glance that Monroe gives them, the small nod
of understanding, eyes twinkling, his kind, age wrinkled face seeing what
stands before him, but passing no comment or judgement.
When they
leave, he calls out to them:
“You boys
come back soon now!”
~o.O.o~
Their last full
day together dawns and Edward suggests a trip to Portland to visit the Museum
of Art. He doesn’t expect Carlisle to agree, but it plants the idea for another
time, for another visit.
They take a
walk along the water’s edge, talking and laughing, and Carlisle feels freer
than he has in years. His heart races whenever he looks at Edward, his hair
tousled by the wind, his cheeks pink, and he wishes he were brave enough to
pull him in for a kiss. Instead, he reaches out with a question.
“So how did
you end up here? You don’t have the accent so I know you don’t originate from
Maine.”
Edward is
quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Carlisle waits, their footfalls
marking time.
“You remember
I told you that my mom died when I was young? I was five and it was a car
accident. My father couldn’t find a way to explain it so he told me that the
angels needed her to go with them. I didn’t understand and thought she was
coming back to get me. I waited each night, expecting her to come or the angels
to come collect me too.” He sighs, the memory bringing pain despite the time
that has passed. “I didn’t dare ask my father until a couple of years later. I
asked him why the angels hadn’t come for me yet to take me to my momma. Only
then did he explain that she wasn’t ever coming back to me. I never knew the
details of what happened – my father never spoke of it. All I know is she’s
buried back in Washington.”
He takes a
deep breath and blows it out. Carlisle’s heart clenches for the small boy who
lost so much.
“I can’t
imagine how hard that must have been; you were so young. Did your father
remarry? Did you have a stepmother?”
He shakes his
head.
“No. My
father threw himself into his work. I was raised by a succession of nannies. As
a teenager, I was closest to our housekeeper, Maria. She was brusque, very
strict in fact. She kept me in check, cleaned my clothes and cooked my meals.
She scolded me too – a lot.” The corner
of his mouth twitches in a crooked smile. “We were fond of each other in our
way.”
“Did you see
much of your father?”
“No; he came
home late and ate after I had gone to bed. Weekends we sat down together for
dinner, but by then it was awkward between us; we had no common ground. I
studied hard, Maria saw to that, and did well in school. I didn’t have any
plans for my future, I was waiting to see what life brought my way, I guess.”
He eyes remain fixed on the sandy ground and Carlisle knows he isn’t done.
“My father
was always tired, not sleeping much, his stress levels through the roof as he
tried to support us. I asked him what was wrong and he brushed it off. Too
busy, he said, no time to rest and eat right. I had no option but to believe
him. A couple of days after I had turned 18, Maria caught me in the kitchen
after school and told me my father was in the hospital, taken ill suddenly. It
turned out his heart...” he stops abruptly before stumbling on. “His heart
wasn’t working right and he needed surgery. I waited with Maria and when it was
over they told us he was critical. It wasn’t long afterward that alarms started
to go off in his room and they closed the blinds so we couldn’t see. A short
time later it all fell quiet and the doctor came to see us.”
He looks to
Carlisle then, so much pain on his face at the memory. “They explained
everything, their trite words of sympathy sounding hollow, but all I understood
was that the angels had taken him to momma and left me all alone. After that, I
gathered my things and ran away as far as I could.”
Tears glimmer
in his eyes and Carlisle reaches for him, folding him into his arms for protection.
He marvels that somehow the roles have reversed, and now he must be strong for
Edward. Holding him tight, feeling him shudder at the painful recollections, he
can’t imagine ever letting go.
That night
when they make love it is a desperate act of passion. Hands and lips meld
together as they both run from their own demons, finding the safety and
salvation they have sought for so long in each other’s arms. They sleep very
little, neither wanting to waste these last hours. This night feels like they
are back in The Dragonfly as they lay waiting for dawn, unable to stop
touching, stroking, loving each other.
~o.O.o~
And so their
brief time together draws to a close.
While he
packs, Edward sits on the bed watching and trying to read his thoughts. For
Edward, four days have passed in the blink of an eye, his world changed beyond
recognition by the presence of this one person in his life. There are issues to
address, he knows that, but he knows that he wants to be there when Carlisle is
set free from his fears and lays his ghosts to rest.
A tentative
part of his mind sees a future with this man, hopes that he may one day feel
the same.
His bag
packed, Carlisle straightens. Neither speaks; words unable to convey how this
parting makes them feel. It is Edward who reaches for him, pulling him in
tightly, moulding their bodies into a whole. Arms wrap around waists and
shoulders, heat blends into heat as they stand and just listen to the other
breathe, drowning men clinging to the rocks lest they get sucked under the
waves.
Four days.
How so much
has changed for both men in so few hours.
The kiss is possessive
and deep, lingering until their lips break apart and their foreheads rest
together. They walk downstairs, feet leaden.
All too soon
it is time to leave, the taxi waiting. Before opening the door, Carlisle pulls
Edward close for one last dizzying farewell kiss. Edward’s brief holiday is
over and he must return to work the following evening. It does not cross his
mind to suggest Carlisle stay longer, that perhaps some time in this welcoming little
town might help him deal with his past. He doesn’t know that Carlisle would
rather stay here, spending his days writing while Edward sleeps, rather than
return to his austere existence.
How can he
know? Carlisle has not admitted as much to himself, much less vocalised it.
They find
themselves in the airport waiting for his flight to be called. The same edgy
feelings fill the air around them, neither sure how to say goodbye, adieu,
until we meet again. The urge to kiss him in front of everyone is so strong for
Edward that every breath hurts his chest. Their last kiss at his front door
seems too long ago. When the time comes to part, the air between them is
brittle, the cracks showing in Edward’s restraint. After one last painful
goodbye, Carlisle turns to leave and it is then that Edward breaks. Reaching
out, he catches his hand, squeezing it tight, the wordless exchange speaking
volumes when their eyes catch and hold. There is no reprimand, only a lingering
look back before their hands slide free and they are again two entities in
separate worlds.
Alone.
Staying until
his lover disappears from sight, Edward heads for home, his step heavier than
before. The taxi drops him off and he pays the driver, distracted, his smile a
muted imitation of the genuine article. Once inside, he heads for the kitchen. Emptying
his pockets, he finds his cell and, smiling like a fool, sends a message for
Carlisle to find when he lands.
*Let’s do this again soon?*
~o.O.o~
He heads back
out, bound for the grocery store, but instead his feet find their way to
Kate’s. Finding an empty table, he orders a coffee and waits for his friend.
The lunch
rush is over, patrons finishing up leaving a few folks sipping lattes and
munching cake, shopping bags at their feet. When Kate appears with his coffee,
she spots him and heads over, beaming.
“Hello,
sweetheart; on your own today?”
“Yeah; back
to work tomorrow night. This was a short first visit to see how things went,
you know?”
He sighs, an
unintentional gesture, but one not missed by Kate. She pulls out the empty
chair and perches on the edge, her hand, warm and comforting, covering his
empty one.
“What is it?
You seem troubled.”
He shakes his
head, more to clear it than to deny the statement.
“These last
few days have been amazing. I just wish...”
“What? What
do you wish?” Her face is anxious; concerned for the boy of
whom she is so
fond.
Edward’s
voice is low, confidential, and he feels traitorous even uttering the words,
but the truth is he trusts Kate. She alone has been there for him, offering
friendship and asking nothing in return.
“He isn’t out
and I don’t know why yet. There’s something holding him back, something in his
past. I don’t want it to come between us.”
Kate looks on
with a steady, non-judgemental gaze.
“I guessed
something was up. New relationships usually mean smiles and hand holding,
little touches that speak louder than words. He seemed reserved to me, a little
distant. Is he always that way?”
“Not when
we’re alone.” He flushes a little, despite his concerns.
“Say no
more.” She pats his hand. “Is he worth the wait until he decides to go public, that’s
if he ever feels ready?”
Edward
flinches, the idea having not occurred to him.
“You think he
might never be ready? He asked me to be patient.”
“Are you
seeing him again? Any firm plans?” He can hear the concern in her tone and in
the gentle squeeze of her fingers.
“Nothing
concrete, but yeah, I hope soon. I have his address and cell number which is a
big step forward for him.” He looks up, begging her to understand.
“He’s gotten
under my skin, Kate. I’d do anything to keep him in my life.”
“Then I guess
you have the answer right there. I hope it works out how you want, Edward; I
hope he doesn’t disappoint you.”
The echoing
of Carlisle’s words causes his shoulders to straighten.
“He won’t.”
~o.O.o~
The plane
lands and Carlisle makes his way through the crowds and outside into the
afternoon air. Hailing a cab, he watches the traffic, heavy and slow at this
hour, and compares it to the quieter pace of the sleepy Maine town by the sea.
For him, the visit has been at times wonderful, awkward, tense and loving.
He has
learned much about himself.
In the cab
his phone bleeps and he checks his messages. The only one that matters is from
Edward and re reads the brief message over and over, feeling the hope in the
words. Letting himself inside his apartment, the cold, clinical space feels
alien after spending time in Edward’s warm, cluttered home, so welcoming to
him. He is wrong footed, this safe space no longer offering the comfort and
security he is used to. Dropping his bags, he stands for a moment trying to
imagine Edward here, his belongings on the shelves, his jacket on the chair,
and finds the images do not mesh in his mind. Try as he might, he cannot see
Edward in these austere surroundings and his life here seems so very bleak. Gazing
out of the tall window, New York seems colder, more impersonal than ever. He
chose to live here for that very reason, the ability to hide here in plain
sight surrounded by thousands of blank faces. But now – now he finds it a lost
world and feels more alone than he thought possible.
With a sigh,
he sets to unpacking.
~o.O.o~
Despite his
cold, formal surroundings, the trip has energised Carlisle and he is inspired,
writing a large portion of his new book, his mind open and unencumbered. His
sleep has improved, but this only reminds him when he wakes that Edward is not
there sleeping alongside him. He wonders how it is possible to miss someone so
much after only four days together, his life irrevocably changed by the warmth
and affection that Edward exudes. He is so comfortable in his own skin, in his
world and Carlisle is envious of that – that freedom of spirit. Edward is at
peace with himself, something that Carlisle longs to be.
He smiles to
himself.
Perhaps the answer is prolonged
exposure to Edward.
He likes that
idea very much.
They
establish a routine, talking on the phone most days, usually around midday
before Edward sleeps. If it’s Edward’s
turn to call and exhaustion claims him before he can dial, then Carlisle has an
anxious wait until he receives an apologetic text later that evening. It is
only then he can relax, knowing everything is okay and his lover is safe and
well.
The
inspiration deteriorates as the high of spending time with Edward wanes, reality
bleeding back, his fantasies no longer sufficient to maintain his writing
equilibrium. Need grows within him, gnawing at his stomach. Edward’s eyes,
those mesmerising pools of green, haunt his dreams, promising so much that he
wakes anticipating a warm body lying over him, alert and readied. The shock of
pain he feels each time reality denies him drives him back to his workaholic
ways, sleeping in short bursts to avoid deep sleep. He runs from his dreams and
desires, hiding from what he craves.
Carlisle’s
fear of the truth is causing his confidence to atrophy, tarnishing any hope he
has for a happy, contented future. He wants Edward, so very much; indeed his
desire for him borders on the insatiable. He cannot see a way forward to
balance his life and keep his ugly secret away from the light of day. The shame
he felt then would surely return if the story were retold, and he fears seeing
the light of desire fade to nothingness in Edward’s eyes, replaced by judgement
and disgust. His heart is in turmoil; he believes that the relationship should
be based on truth, but fears losing all he has found because of it. It feels so
much harder now that Edward has opened his heart to him.
Does he risk
what he has in order to gain everything he has dreamed of? For Carlisle, the
idea of having something to lose is a foreign concept.
~o.O.o~
Edward’s days
are unchanging, work and sleep his usual pattern, the only light in his days
provided by the emails and calls he exchanges with Carlisle. When they don’t
speak for a day his waking hours are a bland grey, no bright beacon to eclipse
the shadows of daily routine. The phone
calls are his secret pleasure, what every day leads up to, the chance to have
Carlisle say goodnight to him. It doesn’t warm the bed, but his heart is light
after they talk, their conversations intimate, trusting, their connection
deepening.
A month
passes, and to each man it feels like six, time dragging its heels yet passing
in the blink of an eye on the calendar. Neither has yet spoken of the next visit,
each afraid of seeming over eager and clinging, but the reality is that four
short days have made such a difference to two ordered, structured lives which
can never be undone.
For Carlisle,
the walls of his safe haven, his private place, are closing in and he paces at
night, chest tight, at times on the edge of panic. One dark night he wakes, rain
hammering on the windows, the clock telling him he has slept for a mere two
hours despite the relaxation his hand had provided earlier; the fantasy dancing
across his mind of a willing Edward had fuelled a climax of some considerable
force. He sighs, his feet landing on the rug before stepping through into the
shower cubicle to rinse away the evidence of his earlier pleasure. His body is
unrepentant, hardening when soapy fingers graze his nipples, his mind hearing
Edward’s moans of joy. With an agonised sob, his hand grasps his hardened
flesh, swiftly finding his release, his knees buckling at the mental picture of
Edward lying before him, eyes darkened, his knees raised.
The craving
is so strong, the draw to him undeniable, irrefutable.
He knows what
he has to do. He towels himself dry and heads for his laptop.
~o.O.o~
That same
night Edward checks his cell during his break – no emails. He doesn’t expect
any during the night, indeed he would rather Carlisle sleep, but he checks for
reassurance. He has their phone call to look forward to when he gets home, the
sound of his voice washing away the stresses of his shift, his problems backing
away until shrouded in shadow, running in fear from the happiness their contact
brings. He smiles, sips his coffee and makes plans that have no grounding in
reality, at least not yet, but which vie for his attention when he dreams.
It is crazy
to want so much and to expect another person to want it too, but he is sure
that at some point in the future, let the cards fall where they may, that he
and Carlisle will be together. He can wait. He is used to waiting for things to
come his way, making plans. This is the first time that those plans have involved
a person, a person so perfect for him that it must be written somewhere that a
young boy all alone in the world would grow up to meet another. He trusts his
belief in fate; it hasn’t led him wrong yet. Checking his watch, he drains his
cooling coffee and heads back to the desk, an irrepressible smile tugging at
his lips. One day those two lonely boys-to-men would be happy together.
One day.
~o.O.o~
Arriving home
that morning, he heads to the kitchen to make his supper. The weather is
miserable, the rain having tailed off to a dull drizzle, and the kitchen is
dark despite the hour. He heats up his pre prepared meal and eats it in front
of the TV, catching a rerun of a favourite comedy show. When the credits roll
he takes his plate to the sink and rinses it off, running a mental list of the
chores he needs to complete in the short hours ahead.
By the time
the laundry is done, dried and folded, the linen changed on the bed and the
entire place vacuumed, midday is approaching and he is ready for bed, to wait
for Carlisle to call to wish him goodnight and maybe torment him in delicious
ways, ensuring some very sweet dreams.
When the
phone stays silent he is both worried and disappointed. Checking the clock, he
resolves to give him another 30 minutes before getting some sleep.
The doorbell
is loud and he drags himself from the warm bed and heads downstairs, knotting
his robe. Opening the door he is expecting a deliveryman or some other door to
door annoyance and is not at all prepared for the sight before him. Carlisle’s
hair is wet from the rain; he stands hunched, his bag over his shoulder. He
looks nervous.
“Is this
okay?”
Edward is
both stunned and overjoyed. All thoughts of sleep forgotten, he brings him
inside before kissing him long and hot, his exuberant greeting betraying his
happiness. Breathless, he pulls back just a fraction, choking out the words.
“This is
very, very okay.”
~o.O.o~
