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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!


7. Moonlight Sonata

Rating 3.6/5   Word Count 2896   Review this Chapter

D: I own a airplane ticket and money for Breakind Dawn. After that, it's a little scary. Characters property of Stephenie Meyer

AN: Thanks to all you loverly people that answered for the Sherrie comment last go around. This is the chapter we've sorta been waiting for. Eat, Drink and Enjoy, yet remember to review...

Sherrie’s eyebrows puckered as she contemplated my sentence. A mix of confusion and unawareness, all wrapped into a single emotion carried her through her thoughts as the seconds of eternity awaited for her answer. “If it’s too personal I understand,” I start quickly, fearing that perhaps I have gone too far. “No Mrs. Masen, it’s a good question, I just have to think a bit for my self, that be all,” Sherrie explains, sitting down on the iron bench, the sun hitting her red hair through the glass making it look like curly fire.

“If me Mam had left me a letter,” Sherrie begins as her eyes fall back to a once upon a time, “I’d have wanted a few words from her offering hope.” She turned to look at me, coming back to the present. “You know somewhat of my life before I came to be your housemaid-friend. When I walked up your front steps at twelve, I had seen more pain than a girl should have to; I only told you that my parents had passed a couple years and dismissed my pass from that point on. Till the days before I got sick, I didn’t think a thing of my past, the memories sometimes hurt a bit too much for liking.

My story began on an island with green hills and charming little towns. Our family were farmers, and had been for as long as the Kelley’s had been in Ireland. I cried hard when we forsook Ireland, My Da had had enough of getting letters from his brother-in-law in America, talking about the beauties and success of being in that country. Ma always knew there was something more to be had, she had been just a little lass when the potato crops failed. She never wanted to hear her children crying for food at night. After another failed crop, it looked like America was a possibility, but it was only after the deaths of my elder siblings Lettice and Tommy we decided there was nothing left of a future in Ireland and we then bought the tickets and prepared to sail to Boston.

When we left, I left me grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and my friends. My whole world consisted of that village of three hundred. We traveled on a small little boat that rocked horribly when the sea stormed. I hated the trip. When we landed in Boston it was still hard to be an Irishman. My Da felt horrible having taken his family to this new found land only to be refused service at a lodge house because he was an Irishman. That’s why we tried our luck in Chicago, it was supposed to be more diverse, more of the America my parents had heard about.

But not even Chicago would be happy for us. Ai, for sometime it seemed as though we might make it yet. We shared a little apartment with another family, Mam and I would work tending Children while Da worked in a Meat packaging factory. It was the factory that killed them I think. They just didn’t clean it right and the workers would get sick something horrible. By the end of that year I was a lass of ten, had emigrated, started fresh and was starting to see the light of being in the land of milk and honey. But. before me next birthday, my parents were dead and I was entrusted into the hands of the Sisters at the orphanage. My uncle couldn’t support another girl, and he ended up passing not long after in a steel accident.

I spent many nights after my ma died wondering why I had left my familiar island for this country. I wished so much that she could assure me everything would work out, that I would have the life that she knew America would bring me. I wished she’d tell me to work hard, to love and allow myself to be loved; she’d have told me that above all else, I was still her Sherrie, and no matter why had happened, or would happen, in the end, I would find happiness.

In the end, even though that end came quicker than thought, I found happiness again in my life. I found a family that took me in as though I was their own daughter. When I got sick both you and Master Edward tended to me diligently. I think the last thing I can remember in life is Edward playing his piano while I fell asleep. I died dreaming of you and Mr. Edward meeting my Mam and Da –in the end, I had both my families and I was happy.”

“Thank you Sherrie,” I respond once she stops weaving her tale. “I’m grateful you shared that with me.”

A smile breaks across her face, a knowing smile. “Mrs. Masen, You are a mother of an extraordinary son. One who had always done that which is good and admirable. You raised him to be that way. He Loves you dearly and forever will, even in the faintest of memories,” taking my hand with her chilled fingers and tightly grasping, she smiles, “Whatever it is you wish to tell him will be the message he will want to hear.”

A lump has formed in my throat and I give a faint nod, “Thank you Sherrie,” I say as I take her into my arms, hugging her like the daughter I see her as.

“You best get started on that letter though Miss. You only have a day and a half left,” Sherrie mumbles into my ear. “I think today Master Edward and Missus Bella will be going to the lake—tis a cloudy day, his skin won’t be a problem. The house is ours for a couple hours more. The time has come to decide how to talk to your son.”

I leaned my head on Edward’s shoulder as we drove down the tiny streets of our Chicago neighborhood. A thin layer of dusk had began to settle on the evening and I was absolutely exhausted. The day had been enjoyable. After consulting with three weather stations, I had convinced Edward that I wanted to go on a boat ride around the Lake he had grew up in as a human. What I had forgotten was how much I had avoided water since my cliff diving experience months earlier. In the end, all that was accomplished by my desired trip was Edward wearing a captains hat and looking like a Greek god of the sea, wind blowing through his hair and the softest glints of sparkles shining around his uncovered skin. As for me, I spent the day watching him at the helm, dressed in a ludicrous orange life-vest praying the day might soon come when I was allowed to walk around merrily by his side, sparkling as well.

“We’re almost home,” he mused, not sure weither or not I was awake. I can feel someone playing with my hair as he continues, “You had a busy day.”

“I had a fun day,” I corrected him, lifting my head and looking up at his warm eyes. “I got to spend all of it with you.”

He gave a warm chuckle. “You love me more then I deserve at times Bella. You almost looked a shade green—it clashed horribly with your vest, I’m afraid you reminded me of a pumpkin on occasion.”

I bump his side and scowl. “When I say one of those goofy romantic lines Edward, that’s not cue for you to tell me that I looked like the great pumpkin.”

“I know,” he grins, taking a firm hold on my hand, “But I promised Emmett that’d I say just one line he would’ve. Now that that’s taken care of, may I sincerely promised that you were the most beautiful Great Pumpkin I’ve ever had the honor of sailing with?”

“Nice save” I answer, rolling my eyes as I feel the faint but familiar feeling of his lips on my head. “Why did you promise Emmett this again?”

“It was a simple request, that’s all,” Edward answered coolly, “After myself, Alice and Esme, I think Emmett has the softest spots for you. As much as Rosalie loathes you at times, Emmett loves you. Humor is his way of saying hello.”

“Ah, I see,” I answered, trying to imagine the look on his face when Edward passed along the Great Pumpkin message. I would only have my revenge after I beat him at a wrestling match which could be only weeks away. . .

“What are you thinking about?” Edward whispers as we parallel park into the front walk of our house. “You know I think you’re a beautiful non-pumpkin right?” he asks, searching my eyes as though he’s convinced that he has caused a crash in the sometimes fragile self-esteem.

“Nothing,” I shoot out all to quickly, “Just thinking about hitting the sack that’s all.”

“You’re sure you will be alright tonight?” Edward inquires opening my door and then taking my hand as we walk the steps up. “Of course I will. You need to hunt after all—and we need to make sure the house in Ashland is ready,” I grin. The stay in Chicago is only meant to be a temporally one. As it would be impossible to stay in one of the most highly populate cities after my transformation, Carlisle had suggested Edward and I staying where Edward had learned abstinence. He wasn’t excited about this part of his hunting but I knew very well it was one step closer to what was necessary for me to be with him forever.

Currently, however I wasn’tquiet wild on Edward leaving. While I knew very well Edward needed to hunt, the faint memory of the midnight maid from last night chilled my insides knowing that I’d be alone in the Masen Manor all the long dark night. “When are you going to go again?”

“I need to head out to soon. It’s not to far from here when you put it into relativity. I’ll be back before sun up,” he kissed my forehead as he opened the door. “Will you stay till I fall asleep?” I ask in a small voice as he lifts me into his arms, answering my question with a whisper in my ear. “I’d stay with you till the end of the world if you’d ask me to.”

“Well, that can easily be arranged,” I smile to my self feeling the cool press of his lips to my face as we enter the bedroom and he gently lays me down. I feel a strong arm wrap itself around me and a lullaby begins to play in my ear as I loose my faint consciousness at the touch of his lips.

********

As though clock work, I wake as the last bell rings for midnight. Turning over to my side I see a small note laying on Edward’s side of the bed and I remember that he is out for a moment. Rising from the covers, I pull on an old housecoat, as well as Edward’s socks at the foot of the bed, and walk down the stairs again.

I had been under the impression that for my sanity’s sake, the best thing to do was to face my fear of the darkness and image of that Sherrie girl was dead and not a ghost haunting Edward and I. There was no reason for her to, even if there was a ghost. From what Edward had told me, she didn’t think of him anymore than a brother, thus it would be impossible to phantom that she was out to get me because I had married him. I entered the kitchen and it was just as though it was when Edward and I left earlier in the day, except my of dishes were now rinsed clean—probably just a chore Edward had attended to when I was getting dressed.

There was no tea cup waiting. There was no bubbly smile. There wasn’t even the slighest inclination that the pretty housemaid had been there. There was nothing but me and the kitchen, yet there was something inside me that stressed that there had to be something going on. Something that was leading me on my search through the house. Edward would complain that I was an inquisitive creature, and that it was my sense of wandering that drove me into situations of Vampires, Werewolves and possibly ghosts.

Casually I filled a glass with water; with the soothing sounds from the tap, I decided that my search would only lead to me getting frightened which would translate into another little story for Edward to tell Alice when we returned from our honeymoon. Shutting the water off, I turned up the stairs, clutching a glass of water in one hand and began heading back to Edward and I’s room when my attention was grabbed by the open door of the former Mrs. Masens study.

The faint lace curtains that normally covered the French windows were blowing, possibly from the wind. We hadn’t opened a window, and it didn’t sound to windy outside—despite the chill inside telling me to return into my bed and wait for Edward, I inched my way forward, my feet creaking on the hardwood floor as I entered the room.

It was vacant. The window was closed. It must have been that draft that Edward had been telling me about the first day. However, my attention was drawn to an old crystal oil-lamp, slightly glowing next to the piano with the faintest flicker of light.

“That’s odd,” I say aloud, hoping that it stops the goosebumps climbing up and down my arms. “Edward said Esme hadn’t kept any oil in the lamps when renovations were done. They’re just meant for display...”

“That’s a pity when you think of it; that lamp sends the most beautiful shades of light when it’s lit. Sherrie must have lit it before she left.” A female voice behind me answers. I whip around, looking at the woman lying on the day bed.

She looks tall, even sitting down. Her brown hair with familiar bronze tints is piled up on her head in such a way I’m convinced I’ve walken into Anne of Green Gables again, only this woman belonged in every way in Anne’s time: it is her past, it was her present, and it has been carried on throughout the centuries. She is wearing a yellow dress with little needlework around the neckline that is finished with lace covering the neck up to her jaw line, bell sleeves are also addressed with lace. On first glance she looks as though she and Esme could’ve been sisters, her mouth set in such a kind expression as though it never had uttered a harsh word against anyone. The woman’s cheek bones were high, complementing her deep emerald eyes that sparkled among the setting of the oil lamp. The profile is what captures me most; it’s strong willed, feminine, and graceful. She reminds me of someone I was once upon a time told about; but this someone is dead, Carlisle and Edward said so... this shouldn’t be happening...this couldn’t be happening.

And yet it was.

Her voice is warm like honey as she lifts herself from the chair and walks towards me, her yellow dress blowing gently as she walks. “Hello Bella,” she says as she takes my hand in her’s. “Please don’t be frightened of me, I don’t mean to scare you.”

My eyes are wide as I feel the sudden chill of her touch and I notice that her skin matches the same pale of the girl I had met the night before. Then I notice her hand, and a ring that lies on one finger distinctly matches my wedding ring. “Who are you? How do you know me?” I stammer out as I trying at walk backwards away from her and her erring presence.

She continues towards me unfazed. “My name is Elizabeth, and I know you because you’re married to my little boy.”

My eyebrows arch and a face of confusion mixes in with my growing fear. “Mrs. Masen?”

Some young brides anticipate meeting their mother-in-law. Other’s dread it. I had never anticipated having to meet one but at the sight of the woman who slowly began to remind me of Esme I did the only thing a new bride would do if they met their undead mother-in law: I fainted.

An: Alright, that may be all for now; I'm sorry if it seems i went over the top with Sherrie... she was one of my favorite little characters ( if I had let her and Quincy surrvive the Influnza, you can bet sure as heck they would've gotten married--that would've taken care of Edna...oh well.) and i felt she needed a little attention. Thanks for reading now remember to review! After all, Lizzie and Bella are going to talk--duh duh duh.Kait Hobbit