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Returning to Chicago

Summary:
Following their Honeymoon, Edward and Bella return to Chicago to live in his family's home. Yet Edward and Bella aren't the only ones residing in 254 Cherry Lane--Elizabeth Masen's resides in the home and is not just welcoming Edward home, but a mysterious girl who seems to have captured her sons heart. Sequel to 1918, pre-Breaking Dawn. Now Complete. only adult for profanity when appropriate, and used sparingly.


Notes:
Following their Honeymoon, Edward and Bella move into his former home in Chicago where their are more than vampires wandering the halls, Told from the Point of View of Elizabeth Masen, with Bella in Italics. Chapter Nine, Walking Two Worlds, now updated!


3. Sparkling

Rating 4/5   Word Count 1613   Review this Chapter

The colors that I have had swimming in my mind turn to blackness behind my closed eyes as the swirling melody of yet another one of Edward’s songs comes to an end. “Will I ever be as breathtakingly wonderful as you are?” I ask, his cold hand now stroking my own. “ Isabella, will you ever realize that you are breathtakingly wonderful already?”

Rolling my eyes, I give his shoulder a shove, which does nothing at all to him. “I shouldn’t have bothered asking you, you’re biased.” I could feel the sudden chill as he took my hand that had pathetically tried hitting his shoulder. Watching with wondering awe, he closed his eyes as he held my hand against his face, reveling in the warmth conducting through it, an ice berg trying to absorb from the arctic sun.

“How can it be biased when it’s true?” he mused, opening his eyes to see the blood rush to my cheeks in its traitorous blush. How I can’t wait for that blush to be banished from my existence. “Well for starters your my husband now, aren’t you supposed to be biased against everything for me,” I respond coolly, when I know that an easy defeat is, as always, within his sight.

He dropped my hand and shook his head, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. “You come up with the strangest justifications Bella, but if that makes you happy to believe go right ahead. Bur remember this,” he starts as I snuggle into his side, “You are far better than you think you are.”

I smirked, laying my head down on his chest, the soothing rhythm of his breathing lifting my head and lowering it again. “So if I wanted to justify a kiss—“

Suddenly, his hand lifting my head gently to his own, his cold lips were on mine, slowly answering my question as the blood rushed into my head, pounding it’s above average velocity in my ears that I could only hear Edward’s gentle whispers in my ear. The sensation carried on its rushed consistency that only ended when he pulled away, “For that, all you have to do is ask.”

I smile, and return to my position resting on his chest. The sun was beginning to trickle away behind the skyscrapers as it set, steeling light from the room that was becoming my favorite in the house. “Come on, I still have to show you the gardens,” he motioned, helping me up as the excited glow still behind his eyes continued shining, just as they had been since we boarded the plane to Chicago.

Ideally, I took his hand and followed him blindly up the stairs, only to turn back suddenly as the door to his mother’s study shut quickly. He noticed my halt looking around at me peculiarly “What is it Bella? Don’t tell me you don’t want to see the roses—”

I looked back at the door, the curtains still shaking behind the glass, “Did you pull it closed or did that just happen?”

“It was probably just the wind,” he answered as we continued down the hall to the side staircase leading up to the roof, “ Esme and I had the renevations done years ago, perhaps the construciton crew left a draft—I’ll call someone in the morning if it bothers you.”

I shake my head still looking back at the door, “No that won’t be necessary, it was probably just the wind.”

I take a double glance at the girl who is looking straight through me.

Her familiar dark hair, the almond shaped eyes, it finally clicks in as Edward sings out her name.

Bella—

“Eddie! It’s the girl!” I say, looking at my husband who slammed the door behind our leave from the study, who is currently grumbling about needing to grease the hedges—

“What girl Lizzie? Our daughter in law the hippie-snogger, the girl that’s outside and down the street, how about the girl that broke the window ten years back?...” I turn around to punch his arm, “No, the first one, Edward’s wife, Bella—Oh I should have put two and two together when she first walked in; Eddie has Edward ever sparkled?”

I watch as my husband gives me the same confused smile that Dr. Cullen had given me when I first asked the question ninety years ago when I first met Bella—in the dream of Edward and a meadow...

I was dying when I had the dream, or in the process of.

I had dreamt, in between my bouts of medication, of walking through a foreign forest, as pleasant a hike as the amazon would be in a full gown and corset. The maze of trees, fallen logs and humidity, for all my knowledge it could have been the Amazon. The treacherous hike had ended with me in dirt up to my knees, hair both eschewed and fixed to my face with sweat. It was like dying and finding out that not only did you miss out on Heaven, Hell was hot, it was a humid, sticky, hot.

My less than descent appearance was taken from my mind however as I looked around a meadow of assured beauty. I felt the clear sunlight upon me, the gentle wind rippling through my dress, and hear the bubbling river floating down stream, mixed with the bubbling laughter of two lovers. After what had seemed an eternity in the dying ward of Chicago City Hospital, both sounds made my spirits soar.

I had looked over to discover the laughs coming from a girl caressing Edward’s face as he laid his head in her lap. She loved him. It was easy as that to tell, and my son absolutely adored her entire being. Despite her wearing bloomers and Edward with his shirt fully unbuttoned, I loved the two of them together; I would have loved her regardless because my little son did. Mothers are often accused of being over protective of their sons; That is true, but his happiness as she held him pacified my protective nature.

It wasn’t their romance that led to my asking of the question. Yes, Edward’s eyes were sparkling but that was only because he was in embrace with her. It was when Edward looked at me that I realized that something was amidst, when he introduced me to Bella, I noticed that he was sparkling as my little heart diamond charm, rainbows dancing about his skin.

You don’t exactly learn how to react to seeing your son sparkling like a piece of jewelry in your jewelry box. It simply isn’t natural, nor it is truly thought of.

Edward’s sparkling was startling enough to wake me from my medicated slumber and inspecting him to make sure that he was clear of the dreamt plague. I had decided that when—or if –we survived, we would go on to North Carolina so he could have sea air to fight the sparkling; it seemed more welcoming thought than otherwise.

I did take comfort and inquired after the Bella girl however; When I asked Edward he just blushed horrifically, saying that Bella was probably a girl from the Girls’ Academy that had a fixation for his best friend.

When I asked Dr. Cullen about the Sparkling Side effects of the flu, he appeared uneasy, and rather horrified, as though I had breached upon some great guarded secret.

Now it all came together.

“Edward Sparkle?” Eddie gasped, raising one of his eyebrows. “ Lizzie, did that wind knock out some of your senses? Why would Edward sparkle. He’s a hippie not a—not a member of boy band—“

I snorted with a laugh, “Eddie how do you know about those sort of people—“

It is best to note that, among the other side of Heaven, Eddie likes to greet those coming in. See how times have changed in a way, that’s how I suspect he’s heard of the Young Male Opera singers I incountered on my Death Day Visit during the mid 1990’s.

“I heard some dead musician—that Queen Beatle Boy Beach Backstreet Man, whatever — talking about it a few years back—good thing we died when we did. I could hardly stand your Opera’s. Having to enduring countless hours of colorful boys screeching and dancing in unison would have done me in. Why do you ask? He isn’t wearing make up is he?”

“No, it’s a long story,” I say quietly, remembering Eddie was dead when the dream occurred. “Where have they gone on to anyway?”

“The Gardens. I hope that Edward’s seen to it that our Roses were well tended to, they were our pride and joy after him—“

I rush and take my husband’s hand and begin darting up the floor paths. “Elizabeth Sophia, what has gotten into you? Are you always like this on your death day?”

“The Sun, you have to see this Eddie...” I pant, holding his hand and the hem of my dress up as we race down the hallway and up the stairs. Our thundering pace, had we not been dead, would have been loud enough to call for the inquisitive glances of Edna from the house next door, opening the door I looked to see my son staring into the setting sun.

“Good Lord Elizabeth,” Eddie pants, the wind knocked out of him, “ What’s all the fuss about—“

And then Eddie too focused his eyes on Edward, with the appearance of many diamonds crushed into his skin; smiling as he looked into Bella’s dancing eyes.

“Elizabeth, Edward, He’s He—“ my husband stammers, lifting his hand towards our son.

“He’s sparkling,” I faintly smile, “He’s sparkling.”