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Returning to Chicago

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.

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!

5. Midnight Guest

Rating 3.8/5   Word Count 3239   Review this Chapter

D: I own little; only the Character of Sherrie and the crazy whitikers... all others are prop. of Stephenie Meyer

AN: Alright; As much as I hate updating at the midweek, (if you notice, i try and update on Friday) I figured since I missed last friday's deadline, I should do it now rather then later. I was at a Summer camp, (ooooh, suspense) and it looks like it's going to be that way for the rest of july so updates will be on and off. Thank y'all so much for all the kind words and encouragement in reviews; hope you like Chapter Five!Kait Hobbit

Oh, and once again Lizzie and Bella switch off... italics have just gotten to crazy for even me to put up with. States with LizzieKH

Through the milky moonlight I stare at my century's old foe: the typewriter.

I hate to be wrong. In 1918 when Eddie gave it to me as a Birthday Present, he told me that this typewriter was the gateway to the future: handwriting was from yesterday and typing was our today. I promptly told him that he was a lawyer and to stick to law books and just buy me a book, hat or a scarf. It has come to my knowledge beyond the pearly gates, that indeed Eddie was right.

The Typewriter is alive and well and has even eviler cousins: Apple and Microsoft, complete with worse demons than just the alphabet, but some CPU and a rat that you have to click on little pictures to get your work done. Thank Heavens I died in 1918 rather than 1998.

I pick up a paper that is lying in my desk drawer. It's ivory, the restorers did a good job with Esme's instructions. All is just how it had been. Slowly, careful to not cause ruckus that would cause Edward to come in and investigate, I creep the paper into it's slot making sure that I only have to do this tedious task once...

Slowly but surly. Loosen, then tight-loosen then...

"Good Evening Mrs Masen," A chipper voice starts walking into the room through the closed door. "My, Mr. Masen was right when he said that you were up to no good...I'm workin' on getting some mint tea ready for you, hope you won't think me pes'mistic, but I figure' that you'd be rather frustrated after a go around with yer typemaster again.." Sherrie smiles, sitting down on my day bed that Edward and Bella had been on just a few hours earlier.

"Sherrie," I sigh, hastily tightening the little paper knob, swallowing my suprise, "What in St. Peter's name are you-"

Sherrie just beamed her sweetest smile. She doesn't know it, or perhaps does and chooses to let me live in ignorance, but I always considered her my daughter since she came to work for us as a girl of twelve. Her kind blue eyes, freckled face and curly red hair, made it irresistible to love her, even if her entry did seem off. There she sat, in her blue dress and white apron, her hair pulled up and smiling, just waiting to do what ever we asked-she was more family then hired help; seeing her now made me grateful for whatever caused her to come down.

"Mr. Masen, well, after he checked in he told us all what had happened. He said that you'd seen Mr. Edward-is it true? Is the Master home?" she asked, her eyes bright and excited. "It gets better, he told us all that he's married! Is it true? Young Master Edward has fallen in love?"

"Yes, Edward's married-" I start, relieved. I had always supposed that Sherrie had feelings for my son and since discovering the nuptials, I had supposed she'd be upset at the news. I try stopping her, hoping that we can pass on our information then return to doing my unorthodox communications.

Sherrie, it proved, was not willing to comply with my hopes of doing this quickly. "Oh, I can't believe it. Not that I thought'd he never get married, Lordy no, why the whole Chicago half of heaven knows that Edward be handsome enough, and a gentleman, type of boy-o that any Da would like to see courting his daughter-I just can't believe me ears, dear ol' Edward bless him! And his Lass! I bet she's as fair as ol' Clare Valley, What she like? Does he play for her on his piano? Twas always a gifted musician" she asked still excited, her Irish accent starting to carry on it's roll, "I bet she's a pretty lass, independent, but not too independent that she spaces herself from Edward. I have half the mind to say she's head strong and stubborn, seems be an attractin' trait in the Masen line-"

My hand finally cut her off, "Sherrie Kelley, I'm going to take my hand off and you're not going to say anymore. I promise you that I will tell you everything about Edward and Bella eventually, but right now, we're trying to-make contact with them-you know, trying to-"

My hand slips away, "Trying to give one last bit of motherly insight we are?" Sherrie asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, that's exactly it," I smile, turning back to the typewriter, "Even if I have go through purgatory to do it."

Sherrie smiles, "That's why I'm here Mrs. Masen, as always, you can count on ol' Sherrie Kelley to get the job done right." And as always, she goes through the final steps of completing the preparations for the writing.

"Like I said, I have some Mint Tea I'm preparing downstairs-don't worry, they won't hear or see anything-" she injects, looking at my intervening face, worried what Edward would do if he could hear a shrilling tea pot. "Creme and milk as usual ma'am?"

"Yes, please Sherrie," I call out as she turns to the door, then call again, "Sherrie, how did you know to come?"

She turns around and smiles, "Mr. Masen's time was up before you were done needing his help. I still have till 5 o'clock this afternoon, he asked if I could offer you my services and as you know, I embraced the invitation. If you still need help after I go, Quincy can come down for a few more hours after that."

"Thank you Sherrie," I grin relieved, as she turns around and walks once again through the door and lightly down the stairs to the kitchen. Leavening me prepared to write, words that I have no idea how.

My eyes open in the darkness, the shrilling sound of steam coming from downstairs; No, it can't be-perhaps just something from the street-

"Bella, is everything alright?" Edward asks, raising his head from the pillow. Although he can't sleep, he looks dreamy, his eyes, even in the darkness are smiling, his hair slightly eschewed. "Yes, everything's fine," I answer with a yawn, "I'm just thirsty, I think I'm just going to go down and get something..."

"Let me get it for you," he begins, getting up from his side of the bed, turning over the coverlet and starting to stand up. I beat him to it, getting a pale blue house coat from the dresser. "No, no, I want to get it. Stretch the legs," I yawn again. "Please let me go and get something,' I sigh, as he makes his way for the door.

"Alright," He yields resistant, still holding an arm over the door, blocking my way. "It will cost you a kiss and a promise though," He grins, guarding the door frame. I stretch on my toes to reach his lips, my first attempt failing with kissing his shoulder instead; finally reaching his lips with the help of his guiding hand. It's warm and sweet-just perfect. In my hazy alertness I pull away, remembering I have a mission on my mind.

"Alright, Kiss check. Promise?" I ask, starting to get more awake with the growing agitation of being parted from the door. "Promise me you won't be long, and you won't fall down the stairs, I'm rather fond of holding you without having to work around your casts." I can see smirk in the darkness. He would know about all my casts, I think to myself, "Deal," I mumble and finally walk out the door and down the hallway.

The Masen Manor, as I have thought about it since Edward told me about it days before the wedding, was just as interesting at night as it was during the day. The dark oak paneling served as a guide down the many passageways around the house. Eerie moonlight served as my only guide, leaking out through the Stained-glass window. The sudden gape indicating the stairway was in sight. Gripping the rail I followed the shrilling down each step, a warm aroma filling the first floor of the house-Mint-Renée had loved mint; Why was I smelling my mother's favorite lotion?

The cold oak floors shock my feet, making me wish I had pulled on some gym socks rather than wander barefoot. I was no longer a warm blooded Arizona girl. The two years I had lived in Forks, as well as being in love with a Vampire had caused me to become a rather cold-prone person. Note: Have Edward go and buy gym socks with the groceries tomorrow-I made my final turn into the kitchen, twisting a knob that turned on a dim light within a glass lamp, slowly growing brighter and brighter till it illuminated the kitchen from the midnight darkness.

The Kitchen itself is just as it was before. Or so it seems. The curtains are drawn closed, the glasses are still held in the cabinet for display, the clock swinging back and forth in perfect harmony reading 2:00 in the morning.

However, there is something different. Something quiet unlike the usual Kitchen. The shrilling noise. If I was still at home in Forks, I wouldn't think anything more of it than yet another failed attempt by Charlie to cook but in this Victorian Mansion, nothing is as it seems.

I look to the stove and there sits a red kettle, blowing steam. I rush across the marble to pull it off, putting it on a back burner before turning off the stove. "Who put this on," I asked, trying to think if Edward had got up and boiled water for me while I was sleeping? Was he trying to scare me into believing that silly nonsense-

I turned around, half expecting to see him. Smirking, laughing, with the Scared you! Smile lopsided on his face waiting for me to get angry and then forgive him with a kiss. But he wasn't there. Instead, in a delicate teacup, White China with blue design and gold trimmings, was a cup mint tea. It hadn't been there a minute ago when I had entered the kitchen. "Very Funny Edward," I said to myself, taking the cup in my hands and drinking the tea, sipping it quickly through my irritated pressed lips.

Creme and Sugar, I noted. For a vampire, I thought, he makes a mean cup of tea, and I hate tea. When I was young, Renée had gone through a tea-phase. Black, Green, White, Carmel, Iced, Herbal, Sweetened, unsweetened, by the time the phase ended I was thankful to the Patriots for throwing tea into the harbor; it's exactly what I had wanted to do. Yet this tea was different. It wasn't like anything before, it almost seemed heavenly. I laughed to myself, wondering if Edward can make coffee- my thoughts suddenly interrupted by a series of creaks in the stairs, Edward must becoming down to check on me.

I stand and wait for a while, waiting for him to come in and ask how I like my suprise. Thinkangry I coach myself, trying to conjure my wrath of angry grizzlies, and he doesn't enter. "Edward" I whisper, "Edward Cullen this isn't funny anymore, Edward!"

Something didn't feel right. It didn't feel wrong either. Rather, it felt as though something very odd and very eerie had descended upon the Manor House. Something very eerie indeed.

Dearest Edward and Bella--

I greatly doubt that you, my dear son Edward remember me. And I can easily see dear Bella mildly freaking out at this situation. After all, it's not everyday that you can ‘See Dead People' or rather read them. This is not a charade put on by my son Bella; Edna was half right when she had her hallucinations. Poor soul never did recover from loosing Sam and Quincy. Allow me to explain;

On the ‘Other side' there's this thing known as your ‘Death Day.' It's pretty much your birthday only obviously flipped. You are given three days every year to walk the streets of your former life. Three Days after the anniversary of your death you return back to Heaven and that's the end of it. Sometimes, the three days can be enjoyable, see how things have changed, how society and old friends have evolved, other times the three days are the longest of your existence, walking alone with out friends or loved ones. If that's the case, more often then not, you return early. I tell you this so you may learn, or at least somewhat comprehend of what this is. I'm a good ghost, not a bad one, I guess is what I'm trying to suggest. After all, I'm your mother Edward Anthony, and seeing how well you've turned out, I'm a very good ghost.

I look down at the paper. It's pathetic. My mother-in-law, always ever so dry in her complements, once told me that I was "Very eloquent on paper," always direct and straightforward, yet still composed and compassionate. The Letter I currently have is nothing more than just ramblings of middle-age ghost mother. I blame the typewriter. Technology has erased all means of proper communication.

"Oh Miss, I saw her," Sherrie smiles chipperly entering the room with one of my little white and blue teacups. "Such a small little thing; if I could-mind you it may scare her a wee bit-I'd make her me Mam's pot pie, that'd but something between her skin and bones. Such a beauty though-I can see why Master Edward picked her, just the perfect lass for him. It's so funny, watching her feeling her way around, trying not to get lost," she laughs gaily, as I sip my tea, allowing the calmness to flow through my frazzled mind.

"I wonder if she's a bit clumsy?" Sherrie suggests, sitting again on the couch. " If that's the case, Master Edward may have his work cut out for him. She seems to be the inquisitive one-half expected her to follow me up the stairs when I went up, forgot about the creaky step. First time in my Ninety-five years here-oh well, I hope she likes her tea with Creme and Sugar, left her a cup down there I did..."

My head pops up quickly, "She was out of bed?" I ask looking at Sherrie, my eyes wide. "Well yes, I guess she could hear the water on the boil-doesn't make sense, aren't they not supposed to hear us in our actions while we're, well dead?" Sherrie asks puzzled.

"And yet, she could?" I ask looking at the typewriter and the stupid paper I had begun.

"Well, I had gone down the back stairs to the kitchen and put water on the stove. Poured you a cup and then started dressing when I heard someone coming down the steps. She walked into the kitchen and took the kettle off the stove top. She twas confused, stared at it a while to make sure it was really there, then I set down my cup on the counter, figured I'd make me own later and then I started heading up the front stairs, where I creaked the step," Sherrie ended. "I wonder, if she can see my Kettle, and my cup of tea, do you think she could see me? Or maybe you? Mrs. Masen, what if you don't have to use this typewriter at all, what if you can talk to Bella?"

I shake my head, "That can't be possible, I sat right infront of her when she and Edward were in here."

"Mayhaps she wasn't looking then," Sherrie mutters, "Or mayhaps, something about night-Mrs. Masen, may I go down stairs and clean up?" Standing up from the daybed.

I nod absent-minded, "Yes, go ahead Sherrie, I'm going to try and write again.

She gives a warm, sweet smile, "Mrs. Masen, You were my adoptive Mam for near five years; what ever you write to Master Edward and Mistress Bella will be the words they need to hear. Don't worry." With that, she walked down the door and down the stairs, remembering to mind the creaking step.

"There's no such thing as ghosts, there's no such thing as ghosts," I mutter under my breath, feeling the wooden panels out of the kitchen as I make my way to the foyer. Suddenly, a shadow makes its way down the stairs. It's small and petite. Sort of like Alice's little shadow, but Alice isn't supposed to be here. She's in Prague with Jasper for their Anniversary.

Out of the darkness, a face emerges into the faint moonlight. It's pale, almost Edward pale, but a more natural pale, a human pale. A Curtain of Red curly hair is loosely falling out of a messy bun. I'd half expect this to be Victoria, but her pale blue eyes are kinder, her smile friendly and welcoming. She looks as though she is like the keeper of the house, wearing a blue dress covered by an apron that reminds me of Cinderella. She looks as though she is, forever stuck in 1918...like Edward.

"Mistress Bella, can you see me?" the voice calls. It sounds foreign, or old English, like it belongs in a Jane Austen novel more than it does in Chicago.

"P-Pardon?" I stammer, taking a double look at the smiling girl, that looks to be a little younger then I. She could be a vampire-she's has the same beauty except she looks peaceful and at rest where Edward has circles under his eyes.

Her smile returns larger then it had been at first, "I was right I was, You can see me. I told Mrs. Masen you'd be able to-wait, How did you like you're tea? Did I use a wee bit too much creame? Could I fix you something else?" she asks earnestly, waiting for my reply.

My blood is running chills. "There's no such thing as ghosts, there's no such thing as ghosts-" I declare, trying to exclaim in quietly in fear of my insanity, before abandoning that fear and begin rushing at full force and speed, up the stairs and down the hall to were Edward's waiting for my return.

"Bella-what's wrong?" He chuckles as I dive into the bed and snuggle close, covering my head with the sheets like a child in a thunderstorm running to the protective arms of a parent.

"Bella, what is it?" he jokes, wrapping his arms around me gently, humming my angelic lullaby. "You look like you've seen a ghost.

AN: Oooh, irony, Love it. Right, well thanks for reading now remember to review or spooky ghosts will make you tea! Kait