Bella, Edward, and the act of giving the things that matter the most to the ones you love the most. Oneshot.
Written for the No Dialogue challenge, February 14, 2007.
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1959 Review this Chapter
'The greatest gift is a portion of thyself.'
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson
x x x
She was smiling when she realized…
Her legs were carrying her faster than she thought possible, moving in a silent blur beneath her body. The feeling was almost ethereal—vivid blood eyes bright, excited and searching, chocolate brown tendrils slapping her deathly pale cheeks in the strong wind, brilliant white teeth flashing in a beaming smile. She could feel the grainy texture of the damp sand against her hard, cold skin and the shrill cry of seagulls flying over head—exhilarating. Occasionally, her soundless strides were broken when her delicate toes skimmed the surface of the small waves lapping at the shore. A weak streak of pre-sunset light found the smooth surface of her forearm, suddenly turning the sparkling diamonds embedded in her skin into stunning rubies, glowing eerily in the twilight.
A pair of sturdy, cement arms brought her run to an abrupt halt as they spun her around in the air, squealing with delight. He was laughing, too—a musical sound that made her un-beating heart sing every time she heard it. He slowed down gradually before stopping altogether, only to dive for her lips the moment her feet touched the sand. He crushed her to him in an almost desperate manner, memorizing the marble contours of her entire body. He grinned into their kiss when he realized he had all of eternity to do just that—be with her.
It was there; gasping, laughing, hugging and kissing until she was dizzy and nauseated, that someone snapped the photo.
It was a gift to herself; an immortal couple, frozen in time. Her little everyday reminder…
x x x
She was angry when she realized…
That he was giving her a gift. She hated it when he gave her presents, and he knew that all too well. Still he snickered as he manually coiled her long fingers around the parcel, seeing as she refused to simply accept it. She eyed the purple wrapping paper distastefully, grumbling underneath her breath before reluctantly beginning to open it, her thumb slowly making its way under the tape before ripping it free, and he enjoyed her puzzled expression when she realized what it was. It was a copy of Sense and Sensibility—one of her favorite books. But she already had a copy. He knew that. Why was he giving her another one?
Of course she was about to protest but he gently placed a finger against her smooth lips, butterscotch eyes dancing wickedly in amusement. He leaned in; kissing the hollow below her ear and running his nose gently down the side of her neck, inhaling. She forgot all about her stupid book for that one second as she felt herself melting into him, before he stiffened and walked away, throwing a triumphant grin over his shoulder.
In the empty hallway she silently seethed in defeat…she didn’t need his stupid gift…and if this was a practical joke, she wasn’t laughing.
x x xShe was shocked when she realized...
Exactly why he gave her the book; such a flurry of emotions played out through her mind that at first, she didn’t know which one was appropriate. Her chest heaved with tearless sobs and within three seconds of them starting he was there, curling her up against his chest, his anxious gaze boring down on her as held her tighter still. She tried to cling to him with everything she had, hoping that because she couldn’t even begin to show just how happy she was feeling right now, he realized everything she was trying to convey in that one, zealous gesture. He looked over at the open page and understanding relaxed his perturbed state of mind, her favorite crooked smile appearing on his angelic face.
After immortality, it was the only gift he had left to give…and he was pleased that she had changed her mind and accepted.
x x x
She was torn when she realized…
That this was probably the last time she’d ever be standing in her room. All of a sudden, the usually bland yellow and blue of her room seemed vitally important as her eyes scanned the outlay of her bedroom, trying to memorize it quickly before she had to leave. She felt guilty because she knew that people would suffer. It was inevitable. She wanted to cry at least one tear for Charlie; for Renée…but she couldn’t even if she wanted to—she was a vampire now. Her body was dead. Yet still, she felt compelled to try and make someone see that she hadn’t just run away from her family for no reason…someone had to understand that if he left her behind, she wouldn’t be alive, anyway. Charlie knew all too well what happened last time…and so did Jacob. Jacob would always know the truth, but he would never understand. She needed to reach someone that would.
Reaching into the pocket of her jacket, she pulled out a small, thin parcel and wedged it carefully in-between the floorboards. Charlie would probably never notice it and that made her sad, to an extent. Although it was better if he probably didn’t find it—no doubt he’d try to come after her if he thought she was alive. The thought made her laugh—a throaty, hollow sound that seemed to echo off the butter walls with such an intimidating finality, she thought for sure she’d break down right there on the spot. It didn’t matter, she reassured herself…as long as someone eventually found it.
She couldn’t stop the cry that broke through her lips as she pried her fingers away from the parcel. It was her last gift to humans…and although they would probably never get it, she gave it anyway.
x x x
The girl was scared when she realized...
Her family was moving into exactly the same house as that girl who disappeared from the area fifty years ago. Apparently, her father died in this house too just ten years ago—still grief-stricken over the loss of his beloved daughter. She tried to talk her parents out of buying it, but they told her to stop being so ridiculous. She didn’t like ghosts, so she hoped that they would leave her alone…at last until she moved out after finishing high school. The case of the missing Isabella Marie Swan had become famous simply because she literally vanished without a trace…nobody knew what happened…there was no evidence to even suggest kidnapping or murder—there was nothing. She also allegedly had a boyfriend, but he left when she disappeared he was too distressed to stay in the town after that. Some of the much older people in the town knew her—some even professing to be in love with her…that she was the most beautiful girl the town ever knew.
There’s even been a strange rumor coming from the La Push reservation that vampires came and stole her from the Quileute tribe she befriended…
And so she hesitantly went about finding her room, her feet creaking on the stairs. She eventually found it—the small one at the top of the stairs with the pale sky-blue and lemon walls. It definitely was out-dated, but nothing that a lick of paint couldn’t fix. The dark varnish on the wooden floorboards had faded and dusted considerably and the girl couldn’t stop cringing at the damp smell emitting from every corner.
It was almost as if this room was closed up the day Isabella disappeared…and knowing how rarely a house sold in this tiny town, she was sure that she wasn’t too far from the truth, either.
And that’s when she saw it—a small, old little parcel jutting out from in-between a crack in the floor.
Cautiously, she bent down to force it out—the mildew congealed in the wood almost acting like glue. She undid the small fastening carefully as the paper was now fragile with age. She was perplexed at first. It seemed to only be a faded page from a book…a classic actually. Sense and Sensibility. But what on earth was it doing under the floor? Someone obviously put it there on purpose. She could tell from the way it was placed and folded. Someone intended for this to be found. But why…?
Her eyes stopped scanning and widened. A few words were different from all the rest. They were highlighted.
My heart is and forever shall be, yours.
She was still confused.
She stood up from her crouched position on the dusty floor, and another thin, shiny piece of paper fell out of its hiding place within the torn page of the book. She bent down to pick it up, only to discover it was actually a photo…and the way it was captured made it seem as if the people in it were lost in their own little world. It was rather endearing and the young girl couldn’t help but smile. The boy—who didn’t seem much older than she was—was ridiculously good looking, but the girl was plain; pretty in a way, but such a sharp contrast to the boy who’s arms she was locked in. There was no doubt they were lovers—their expressions gave it all away, even if their stance could be considered innocent enough. They were lost in each other, completely oblivious of the beautiful scene around them.
A flash of bright blue ink on the opposite side caught he girls’ eye—an untidy, hurried scrawl that had bled and faded with age.
He gave everything he was to me. I did the same. I became him to be with him and in return, had to forfeit the life that I loved, but no longer belonged to me. While many shall, and have already suffered in the short term; a side affect of my absence I regret, know that I have not suffered at all. I am forever happy with his gift to me and so I leave this: a small piece of my heart…and his…as a gift to my former life and the people in it for so many wonderful memories.
x x x
It was cold and windy where the girl was standing, the looming clouds above showing certainty of more rain. The dark brown leaves of an overshadowing banksias tree swept past her feet and she instinctively tightened her hold on her jacket in order to keep warm. She had re-wrapped the package she had discovered earlier and was holding it carefully in-between her fingers. Isabella Swan was okay. And whilst the whole town…no, the whole country would probably have liked to have known that, the girl felt as though she had been entrusted with a very important task. Something Isabella herself couldn’t carry out herself for whatever reasons.
This gift was meant for one person only.
She bent down carefully on her knees, cringing slightly as a particularly icy breeze slapped her cheeks. Clearing the cemented surface of dirt and leaves, she grabbed the flower jar and placed some freshly cut wildflowers from a nearby meadow. She jammed the note carefully under the vase, leaving a small corner of the package visible.
Slowly, she rose again and stepped away, hoping that she’d done her job properly. After all, he deserved to finally rest in peace after all the pain her had gone through…
Beloved father and friend
1964 – 2041
The girl smiled sadly, eyeing the tombstone with a little pity before she walked away.
There, written in bold, black ink was a simple message on the exposed paper; the last thing the girl could do to ease the poor man’s suffering.
And as far as the girl could tell, Charlie must have accepted it…
…Because it never rained that day.