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A Better Place, A Better Time

Summary:
It’s impossible, this can’t be… 1917. Even time, itself, can’t keep them apart. If this is a dream… I don’t ever want to wake up. Bella finds herself nearly 100 years in the past. Coincidentally in the city of Chicago. (Takes place during New Moon when Edward has left, AU.) Time traveling should be illegal. *COMPLETE* Sequel "All This Time" is posted on my profile.


Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in the story. Warnings: None yet. This takes place during New Moon, when Edward is M.I.A. It does not take the rest of the series into account. Enjoy. *Complete as of 4-25-2008!


6. 6. Kiss

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 1514   Review this Chapter

6. Kiss

I glanced upward to him from my hanging position. His firm arms supported my small frame. “Yes,” I whispered, still afraid to look him in the eye. I didn’t want to see how green they were and how they weren’t my Edward’s.

He helped me back to a standing position. “Maybe we should just get a hold of your parents… They must be worried.” He shifted his eyes away from me.

My mind went blank trying to think of some sort of explanation, a reason that I could stay her with him… “I don’t have a family,” I whispered. It was the best lie I could think of, from there, the words just ran from my mouth like a natural spring. “They died in a, um, fire, just a few months ago. I was suppose to live at a, um…” I thought quickly back to my history class and the early 20th century, “Factory, you know in those dormitories. But I ran away from the men who were going to take me there, and I ended up here.” My story seemed very plausible, and who was he to question it?

He nodded solemnly, his eyes still trained on the wall next to me. “Did you tell my mother this?”

I hadn’t, and I knew I should have. She had been so kind to me, taking care of me while I was incapacitated, buying me clothing… “Not yet.”

“Well, it would be best if you did. Tell her I will pull the car around and be waiting.” He spun on his heels, his jacket tails swirling around like a cape.


”Al-alright,” I stuttered. Such an idiot. I pulled my hands up to cover my reddening cheeks. Making an ass of myself was always too easy. I heard footsteps behind me and turned quickly to find Elizabeth dressed in a midnight blue satin gown. Her eyes sparkled in the low light of the hallway.

“Ready?” Her smile stretched around her sweet features.

I nodded, with a polite smile of my own.

“Did Edward pull the car around?”

I nodded again. “He said he’d be waiting for us.”

The black Studebaker stood out like a sore thumb, from all the Model T look-alikes. Its shiny black top coat and handsome young gentleman in the front seat were like no other. Edward’s eyes sparkled just like Elizabeth’s. The excitement was more than he could bear to cover up. A grin was plastered across his face, revealing a slightly crooked set of teeth that were less than white. In all of his imperfections, I could still see him as my own. It shattered a piece of my heart to realize that at one point, Edward had really looked like this and that I found him almost repulsive was killing me. He wasn’t in the slightest bit repulsive. He was handsome just like any other good looking man. He was gentle and well-mannered. His soul was still the same. In all reality, he was no different, and I had been wrong to think like that.

He hoped down from the canvas-topped car and pulled the passenger side doors open. I allowed Elizabeth to take the front seat and then helped myself into the back. The doors snapped shut as I took my seat. In the flash of a second, Edward had taken the wheel and was pulling out onto the road.

“Slow down, Edward,” Elizabeth teased, lightly patting his arm.

“Yes, mother.” He turned and gave her a loving smile before returning his eyes to the road and lowering his speed.

“Edward is quite the car connoisseur. Right, dear?”

I saw Edward blush from his mother’s compliments, and he gave a modest nod.

“His father bought him a… what’s it called?”

“1916 Speedster.”

“Ah, yes. A Speedster for his 15th birthday last year.” She turned back towards me. “Poor child, he rarely gets to drive it. Seems his father has a monopoly on the driving privileges for that car.”

The restaurant was nearly sweltering even with the side windows open, letting a cool breeze come in off the lake.

Edward’s father, Edward Sr., showed up about an hour late. Elizabeth’s martini’s were refilled every so often to keep her preoccupied from her husband’s tardiness.

The cuisine was extremely pleasurable, a tender rotisserie chicken was served in halves to each of us. Four bottles of wine were passed around the table, filling each cup to the brim, as Elizabeth desired.

At the close of the meal, a sparking cake was brought forth from the kitchen, and the entire capacity of the restaurant “oh’d” and “aw’d” as the candles frittered and flashed, dropping sparks on the tables as they passed by.

“Here,” Edward Sr. threw the keys across the table to Edward. “Why don’t you take the Speedster and Miss Swan home? You’re mother and I have a bit more celebrating we’d like to do.” He smiled gently at Elizabeth and draped his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled in closer to him, a dreamy look in her eyes.

Edward jumped at the chance to take his own car out, but it was obvious, that it was soon stampeded by having to spend time alone with me, again. He nodded graciously. As he stood, he stooped down and kissed his mother’s forehead. “Happy Birthday, Mother,” he whispered. He held his hand out to me in a sudden polite gesture. “Shall we?”


I was astonished by this gesture and the sudden change of attitude towards me. I felt a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I’d eaten a bad piece of chicken. I smiled, sickly and took his hand. The warmth caught me a bit off guard, but I liked it. Even in this sweltering little room, the warmth of his body was a pleasant surprise. He wrapped my arm around his and led me out of the restaurant.

The Speedster was a completely different car than the car he had brought us in. It had to front seats, no doors, no roof and a leather trunk tied behind the seats.

He held out my hand and helped me steady myself as I climbed into the car. I practically had to jump to get in. The corset was restricting the lower half of my torso, making it nearly impossible for me to get a foot up.

As he hopped into the driver seat, he turned around and opened the lid of the large truck. Pulling out a long black scarf, he handed it over to me. “You’ll need this.”

The wind stung at my face like little bee stings. He flew down the city streets and out into the open gravel roads. I knew that he wasn’t taking me home, and another sickening feeling crept up the back of my throat.

He pulled off the road onto a dirt path with two wheel wells and continued into a sparse line of trees. The further we went the closer the trees became. It was a flashback to home, to the Forks… to the trail to the Cullen’s home. I could just imagine it standing there waiting for me at the end of the road, but it never came. Instead the trees opened up and a panoramic view of Lake Michigan came into sight. The sun was setting low just over the lake splashing multitudes of colour across the water’s surface.

He pulled to a stop near a deserted beach. He was silent for a minute as he let the engine hum for a few minutes before allowing it to die quietly.

His silence stretch on and my stomach twisted in knots. It felt like bile was creeping up the back of my throat into my mouth, but instead, my mouth tasted like sandpaper.

“Tell me the truth.” His voice finally breaking the air.

“About what?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“You know what.”

“I told you the truth.” My lie had to stay strong, and I needed to keep my story completely straight.

“You’re lying. The closest mill with a dormitory is in New York.”

“That’s where I was supposed to go, but I ran away… and ended up here.”

“You swear?”

I nodded, turning to face him. He had his eyes trained steadily on mine. “I promise.”

“Bella…” His voice was just a whisper. His eyes were lost in a daze. Reaching out with one hand he brushed back a piece of my loose hair. “Why does this seem so unreal? Like it’s some sort of daydream?”

“Maybe it is.” His hand rested on my cheek. I closed my eyes imagining the touch all over again, over and over. His lips pressed gently against mine, his warm lips suddenly flooding all the memories of his cold kisses and the rush of hormones. I wrapped my hands around behind his head, greedily. My fingers tangled in his bronze locks… His lips pulled back, and his own fingers ripped mine from his hair.

In a hushed voice and his sweet breath on my face, he said, “I don’t believe that for one minute.”