The Story Of Sarelle (Twilight)

Chapter 41

The opera was just the start, and I often wondered over the weeks that passed if I should have behaved differently. If maybe I had said something different, been more reserved, or made a definite decision as to how I felt about Edward, would it have turned out differently? Did I want it to turn out differently? I wasn't entirely sure.

Since that night I had spent nearly every day with the Masens, with Edward.

I spent days shopping and talking with Elizabeth and Isabel before retiring for dinner at their home. I indulged in endless conversations with both Edward Senior and Junior about the politics and ways of the world. I buried myself in their family until I found my hotel room to become quite foreign and cold to return to.

I had learnt about them than I had ever imagined, so much so that it was as if our few weeks had been years of close friendship. I had talked with Elizabeth about her hopes and fears for Edward. Her worry that he'll march off on his 18th birthday, to fight a war that has already killed so many, and he may never return. She confided in me the dreams she has for him. A reputable lawyer with his father, or a great pianist who plays for hundreds.

And all the while things between me and Edward changed. Each day brought a new facet to our relationship, or a new twist to how I saw him and his intentions. We were closer than we had ever been but it was always balanced so finely on the border of friendship and something more. I found myself contemplating more and more which side was best to remain in. It seemed Edward had the same thoughts. At times, when we would walk through the park, all together, he made it so we walked alone – his parents in front – and he would ask so many questions. Questions that seemed like he was trying to seep inside and know every part of me. While other times he would walk up front with either is mother or father. It was like he battled with himself just as much as I did. I just wasn't sure which moments were the reflections of his true emotions, or if he didn't even understand what his true emotions were. That was in the beginning, because slowly – ever so slowly – the tides started to change and I found myself accompanied by Edward on more occasions than not. We walked through the town laughing and talking like we hadn't spoken in months. We took carriage rides with warm brandy and blankets to snuggle under as we enjoyed the silence of the winter's night. Then there were the balls, the operas, the concerts each I attended on his arm and wearing a dress I knew he liked. I didn't know why I found myself dressing to please him, but it evolved naturally as all our other quirks had. Like the way Edward always greeted me at the hotel reception with a pink orchid, or how he always shuffled up on the piano bench so I could sit beside him. We had fallen so easily into this could-be relationship and yet neither of us had uttered a word about courtship.

Although all these thoughts and feelings lay heavy and thick I didn't let them interrupt the excitement that came with Christmas. My first proper Christmas since I jumped all those years ago, and it was splendid.

In the weeks leading up to it Elizabeth and I titivated and planned, taking moments to wrap the presents we'd bought without the prying eyes of the men. And the closer the day came the more jovial the atmosphere seemed to be. By the time the first snow fell, the Christmas decorations were lacing the lamp posts and the ice rink was marked with the hundreds of imprints made by the skates. It had been nothing short of magical when Edward had taken me there on Christmas Eve. The way the ice glistened under the dark sky, and the brisk breeze nipped at our noses making our cheeks rosy and our skin icy cold. As I skated with wobbling feet it was easy to imagine that the man holding my hand was not a man at all, but a vampire with cold skin and a steady grasp. As Edward had led me around the rink, holding my body firm to stop me from falling, I closed my eyes for a second and imagined. Just for a moment, I let myself believe that the cold breeze on my face was my vampire's sweet breath fanning my face, and the cold snowflakes touching my cheeks were his gentle fingertips brushing my skin. The difference was when I opened my eyes there wasn't the same disappointment as before because I didn't open my eyes and see nothing there. I opened them a looked straight at Edward, his human self, standing before me with the same crooked smile on his face and his hands reaching towards me. That sight stopped the empty ache from coming, so no matter that I didn't understand how I felt towards the human man, I wasn't going complain.