DaPK Chapter 20 - The Perch

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Chapter 20 - The Perch

BPOV

"She would have loved this," Phil says softly as he lays an arm over my shoulder. His arm is heavy, sturdy, and right now so very needed.

I blink back hot tears, but they fall anyway. It feels like they've been falling forever, but I nod despite the fact that I want to throw myself down on the ground and curl into a little ball.

"She would," I whisper hoarsely.

I don't even know how the words can come out, my throat is so raw, like it's been rubbed with sandpaper. My head hurts, my fingers throb from keeping them curled and clenched for so long - my heart aches.

She's gone.

I take a shuddering breath and Phil squeezes me tighter. I rest my head on his shoulder and we stand there silently, each lost in thought, as we stare out across the Arizona desert. We've been in Phoenix for two days and today we said the final goodbye to Mom. The ceremony was simple, just like she wanted. A few close friends, her family, wishes to rest in peace, and then her ashes scattered in the wind.

Without meaning to, or really wanting to, I smile, and then a quiet laugh slips through my lips. "Could she have planned this any better?" I ask and then shake my head.

Phil chuckles beside me, kisses the side of my head. He leaves his mouth there, and I close my eyes. "You know your mom, always so sure that things happen for a reason," he says after a breath. There's a slight, quiet laugh from him as well. Neither of us really wanting to smile, but the memory of Mom, the pull of her spirit, make it impossible not to.

"Yeah," I say with a sigh.

I have to admit, everything turned out pretty perfect. I mean, if you're going to die and ask that your ashes be spread, you couldn't really pick a better place and time than Arizona at the end of February. Sunny and clear, a brilliant cobalt blue sky full of fluffy white puffs of cotton clouds, the temperature a pleasant seventy degrees and it's like Mom hand-picked the perfect day. Knowing her, she probably did. The woman didn't think about things like medical power of attorney, but her funeral, yeah, she had that planned out to a tee. Go figure.

Even her passing away happened like it'd been scripted for a movie.

Once the new year started, Phil spent a lot more time in Forks. It was as if he were preparing me for the end, and I guess in a way he was. We had dinner together almost every night along with Maggie and Edward. More often than not, Jasper, Alice, Emmett, and Rose would join us as well. When we were really lucky, Carlisle and Esme would come, too. A house full of laughter and people, it was everything I'd always wanted. Esme and Maggie would flit around the kitchen, Phil would hold court for the guys, and Rose, Alice, and I would watch and laugh, occasionally throwing in a comment or two just to mix things up.

It was comfortable and easy … it made me feel like we were all a family.

Each day that passed, with every bump of a hip while Phil and I did the dishes after dinner, and every joke about Phil's horrid taste in television programs - I mean really, how many shows about tow trucks and pawn shops can one man watch - has brought us closer together. Some nights it would be just the two of us, sitting on the sofa, talking - really talking. We talked about Mom and our time in Phoenix. We talked about Edward and about the future. And every day brought me closer to being able to say goodbye to Mom.

There wasn't any one thing. No dream at night where she talked to me, no great epiphany where all of a sudden I knew everything was going to be all right, not even one of those Lifetime moments where time stands still, the clouds part and the sun shines down, and all the answers become clear. No, instead, it was a slow but steady calm that spread through the house, through Phil, and through me until one night, in the wee hours of the morning, the hours that I used to spend outside trying to escape the guilt and the anger and the fear, Mom spared us all and slipped quietly from the here to the someplace else.

It was beautiful in its simplicity.

Peaceful, silent, and without a big fuss … and she was gone.

Within minutes, the house was full. Edward and his parents, our friends, the paramedics that arrived to take Mom away - there was a flurry of activity, showing that even in death, life goes on. Edward worried, Esme fussed, and Carlisle watched over us all, but really, he didn't need to.

It hurt. It was the hardest thing I've ever done to kiss Mom one last time knowing I'd never hold her hand again or be able to lay my head on her chest, but it was time. With Edward on one side of me and Phil on the other, I watched Mom be wheeled away from a house she never saw, never made her own, and one that I wasn't sure I would ever, truly, be able to call home.

At this point, I'm not even sure where home is anymore.

Before that thought has too much time to burrow, I feel, before I see, Edward approach.

"I'll go talk with Carlisle and Esme for a bit," Phil says softly as Edward slides his fingers between mine. Strong and tender, he hasn't been far from my side since it happened. "Love you, sweetheart." Phil kisses my cheek, pats Edward on the shoulder as he walks by, leaving me and Edward alone.

There hasn't been much time for that over the past few days.

I know behind us Maggie is here. Emmett, Jasper, Rose, and Alice, too. Our old neighbor, Mrs. Hinojosa, a few of the wives and players that Mom and Phil were close to from when we lived here. I wonder if I should be sad that there are so few people. I think maybe I should, but my dad and I were my mom's whole life, and then it was me and Phil and I know that's what made her happiest, so instead of being upset, I smile. I was so very lucky. All the love she had to give and it was focused on me. How can I be sad about that?

Phil doesn't often flaunt or use his money to his advantage, but in this case, he went all out. Before I knew it, he'd chartered a private plane to bring all of us to Phoenix, booked suites for us to stay in while we're here, contacted the funeral home and took care of the practical details that I tried not to and didn't want to think about, and in general, was just all-around amazing. From the way he took charge and got everything arranged so quickly and easily, I know he's had a plan in place for some time.

Just another reason why I love him so much.

"It's really something," Edward whispers in my ear as he moves me in front of him. "I can see why you love the desert so much and why your mom wanted this to be her goodbye."

His arms wrap around me and I lean back against him, knowing that he'll hold me up even if it feels like I'll fall. He's been my strength and support, my rock, for days … and really ever since the very beginning.

"I love it here. Mom did, too. She didn't come camping with me and Dad very often, but when she did, we always had the best time," I tell him and take a deep breath at the instant tug in my stomach those memories cause. "I miss her." Tears burn in the corner of my eyes again and my throat tightens. I swallow past the bubble of emotion and take a moment to try to relax against Edward. I really don't feel like crying anymore.

He kisses the side of my neck, his breath warm, his lips soft, and says, "I know."

Neither of say anything for a few minutes. The sun continues to shine, the breeze carries just the slightest bit of cool, and the horizon seems to stretch on and on and on. Not everyone loves the desert. It surprises me that Edward does. He's lived with lush, wet, and green everywhere he looks his whole life; the Arizona desert must seem like another planet to him. Dry and brown, dotted with scrub brush and cactus, hardly any color anywhere to be found, but still, I love it. Not that I don't love the soaring trees and the dense forests of Forks, because I do, but here in the desert, there is beauty, too.

"Tell me something, a story, about coming here with your mom and dad," he whispers against my cheek. He trails kisses up and down, light and gentle, but filled with so much love. "I have a hard time picturing you in this place. Help me see."

My breath catches, my heart swells, then stops, then fills so much it might just keep going out of my chest and up to the sky. For so long I've kept every happy memory, every good thought, locked in a box inside of me, too afraid to open it, almost as if sharing my past, the memories I have of my parents would somehow take them away from me. I've known all along that's not how it works, but letting go, letting Edward all the way in, has always seemed like such a huge step. Standing here together, right now, I can't remember why it felt like it would be so hard. I should have known it would be as easy as everything else has been.

I pull his arms tighter around me and weave my fingers with his. I stare at our joined hands, two big enough to carry so much all the time, the other two wishing for nothing more than to stay entwined forever. I lift our right hands and kiss the back of his once, twice, then a third time. I wish, not for the first time, that I was as good with words as Edward. So many things I want to be able to voice so that he truly understands how profoundly he's changed my life … changed me. Big ways and small ways, sometimes in ways I don't even realize until it hits me. So I think for a moment, going back in time in my mind, to find something I can share to show him the Bella I used to be … and maybe still am but have just forgot about for a little while.

"Okay, well, this isn't about the desert, but it pretty much personifies Mom and Dad," I begin and I have to squeeze Edward's fingers to keep myself from falling apart as the memory from that time starts to bloom clearer and clearer in my mind. "I was almost eight, it was the summer, and we'd just moved into the new house. Dad had been promoted and Mom wanted a house with a bigger yard; she said she needed the space for her workshop." I have to stop for a moment. Remembering Mom as she bounced from new project to new project, never truly finishing one before a new whim would catch her fancy and she'd be off in another direction makes it so I can't speak, the picture of her so vivid in my mind.

When I start again, my voice is lighter, my heart more at peace. "Anyway, they found one they could agree on, which actually meant Mom found exactly what she wanted and Dad gave it to her because that's what he did. At the time, I didn't realize how gorgeous it was, but picturing it now, it was such a great house. Two stories, with a wide front porch. Plants everywhere in pots and baskets. There were so many windows. My dad tried to tell her they'd be a pain to keep clean, that dust would get in the house, but she just waved him off. She loved the natural light."

I get lost in my head for a moment, swept away by the pictures of Mom and Dad moving furniture, arguing about where to put the couch, the television. I can almost smell the sugar cookies Mom used to bake in the wide open kitchen as the ever-present Arizona sunlight streamed through the windows. I can hear my dad laugh as he moved the Christmas tree from place to place around the living room before always, always, winding up in the first spot Mom picked.

"Tell me more," Edward whispers in my ear.

Another deep breath. Calmer now, happier, too, I keep going. "One day after everything was unpacked and we were eating breakfast, Mom looked across the table at me and my dad and announced we were going to the nursery to buy a tree. The neighborhood we'd moved into was brand new, so the landscaping was pretty much non-existent except for grass. Mom said that a house wasn't a home without a tree, and because Dad never argued, at least not about the things that were important to Mom, we spent the day picking out the perfect tree."

I laugh at the memory, seeing it, remembering it clear as anything. "Hours, Edward. It took almost all day for her to pick out that silly tree. Either it was the wrong kind, the leaves were the wrong color, the bark was too dark, too light. Tree after tree after tree she looked at, looking for something only she knew. Finally, after I'd whined all day and Dad was losing his infinite patience, she clapped, pointed, and yelled so loud everyone in the entire city could hear her, 'This one! This is it.'"

Edward chuckles in my ear, his chest rumbles against my back and I can feel it all the way down to my toes. Deep and low, it makes my skin prickle in the best way. I melt against him, and let his warmth seep into my shirt, my skin, all the way inside of me. He presses his cheek against mine. It's smooth because he shaved this morning, and it's soft and smells spicy and clean.

He turns and gives me a quick, sweet kiss then asks, "What kind was it?"

"An Ash. I later learned it was a Raywood Ash, but for the longest time I didn't know the difference. You should have seen it."

"I bet it was something else after she looked for so long."

I shake my head. "No," and a true, full laugh bubbles out of my throat. "It was pathetic, Edward. Think Charlie Brown's Christmas tree. It was misshapen, only had a few branches with these wilted, yellowish brown leaves on it. The thing looked half, if not mostly, dead. I thought Dad was going to have a fit right there in the middle of the nursery. He spluttered and shook his head and Mom just stood there with her hands on her hips and tapped her foot and said over and over, 'Charlie, this is it. I want this one.'My poor dad, he kept looking at my mom like she'd lost her mind, but of course he gave in and bought it. Since it was summer and stayed light outside until late, there was plenty of time to plant it when we got home. We'd picked up pizza on the way and she made us eat it outside on a blanket, with the poor tree in its bucket right next to us.

"She went on and on, talking about what the tree would look like, how it would change colors in the fall and winter. Her words were so emphatic, like she couldn't talk fast enough or say enough of them to get her point across. That happened sometimes, when she was really passionate about something. She used her arms and hands, waving them, spreading them wide to emphasize how big the tree would grow."

"You do that, too, you know, when you go off on one of your wild tangents," Edward tells me and I can feel him smile against my cheek. I want to disagree with him, but I know I can't.

"I love that I'm like my mom that way," I tell him, and hold that thought deep inside to come back to later. "Dad and I couldn't even get a word in, she just kept going on and on. But what I do remember, or well, I'd forgotten but now I remember, is that she talked about roots and the importance of having good, strong ones so that the tree could stand the test of time. Phoenix weather might seem tame, but it's not. It's hot and dry and then the wind and the sand are brutal sometimes. Plus there's hail and even thunderstorms and lightning."

I stop for a second and put my thoughts in order. Everything's swimming around like water going down a drain, swirling and spinning. My heart races, blood sings through my veins as I think about her words that day and how perfect they are to remember, today of all days. "Anyway, she said to me, 'Baby, the tree and it's roots are like my love for you and your dad. It grows and grows, bigger, stronger every day. It might start out small, it might not make sense to anyone else. There might be times that the tree bends, maybe even breaks a little or loses its leaves and some might say it's ugly, but as long as the roots are there, as long as it's watered and cared for and loved, it'll thrive and grow until nothing, not even wind or rain or lightning can tear it down. Kind of like the way I love you and Daddy. Always and forever, no matter what happens, whether Daddy forgets to take his boots off and tromps mud all over my clean floors or if you forget to hang up your towel after your bath or make a bad grade on your math test, I will always love both of you.'"

Warm tears stream down my face, but they're happy ones as I silently remember watching, and helping in the way a seven-almost-eight-year-old could, my dad dig the hole and wrestle the scraggly tree into the ground. Once it was in, crooked but Mom was convinced it was straight, we all stood there, together. Mom on one side of me, Dad on the other, a family, admiring our first tree.

It was a perfect moment and one I haven't thought about since.

"I sat under that tree every day during the summer and when school started, I usually ate my snack there. It grew so fast, just like Mom promised, and by the first fall when the leaves turned, exactly like she said they would, then came back in the spring, it was almost big enough for Dad to put a tire swing on. I watched that tree, every day, until we left and went to Forks."

Silence stretches and with each second that passes, I feel more and more at peace. "We'll plant a tree like that one day, Bella. I promise." Edward's words, so simple and true and they paint a picture of a future I want more than I've ever wanted anything else.

"I can't wait." And, oh God, I can't.

When I finish talking, it's as if not only Mom but Dad, too, is here, all around … everywhere. A gust of wind, this time warm and gentle, almost like a hug, swirls around. The sun's just begun to set, brilliant beams of golden light spread over the ground. Majestic Saguaro cacti sprawl across the landscape like sentinels standing at the ready, guarding the desert, with arms high and wide in the air. The sky is streaked with pink and purple, the clouds almost gray against the pale blue sky. I can hear the low murmur of everyone behind us, but Edward's arms around me, his warm breath against my neck, are the only things I can really concentrate on.

"I wish I could have met them," Edward says as he rests his chin on my shoulder.

I turn and kiss his cheek, rest my nose in the dip between his shoulder and neck. His long-sleeved t-shirt is soft and feels so good against my skin … it smells even better. Like fresh air and warm sun and all him. No one dressed up for today; Mom never would have wanted that. She was definitely more a jeans and bare feet girl. The woman wore a bright red peasant skirt, a loose, flowy white blouse with ruffles and flip-flops when she and Phil got married, so she definitely wouldn't have wanted anyone wearing dresses, heels, or suits and ties for her final hurrah.

"They would have loved you so much. Dad would have tried to be all big and bad, but his bark was always so much worse than his bite. Granted, at ten it's not like he had to try to scare away any boys or anything." I giggle and holy hell does it ever feel good to talk about him and remember and smile and let my heart be happy while doing it. "And Mom," and my voice catches, but it's okay. I turn and face him, raising my arms to wrap them around his neck. My fingers twirl in the ends of his hair. His eyes are so warm, so bright and glittery and most of all filled with love … for me. He's been worried, and I hate knowing that, but he wouldn't be my Creeper if he didn't worry at least a little. "Mom would have loved you almost as much as I do," I tell him.

"Bella," he breathes and now, I need to kiss him.

I stand on my tiptoes and press against him. I pull him closer and tilt my chin, lips ready and waiting. He can tell what I want because he tightens his grip on my hips and tips his head to the side. And then, his mouth in on mine and I don't care that there are people behind us, don't care about anything but him and his lips and the fact that it feels better than anything has in a long time. The kiss is slow and deep and just what I want, what I need. With every twirl of his tongue and every breath that passes between us, I feel my heart get lighter and lighter. It pounds inside my chest, the beat as loud and hard as my bass drum. Edward must feel it as it hammers against his chest, it's beating so hard and so fast, but it's the good kind of hard and fast. It's life and love and letting go … and most of all, moving forward.

"I love you. So, so much," I murmur when I have to take a breath. "Thank you for being here with me."

"Oh, baby," he sort of chuckles. It's a little rough and raspy, there's a lot of emotion brewing inside of him, I can tell. His lips move to my ear, his hands to the small of my back, and says, "I'll always be with you."

And it hits me.

He will be.

Always.

It's not like I didn't know that, but now, standing in the middle of the desert, I truly know. Forks, California, Timbuktu, or anyplace else that we may go, I know it'll be together. The future used to scare the hell out of me. Not knowing where I'd be, where I'd go … who would be there, but now, because of Edward, I don't ever have to worry about any of that ever again.

My spine tingles and I shiver.

"Are you cold?"

I shake my head. I pull back and smile at him, a smile so big his eyes widen and his eyebrows dip. He stares at me and I can tell he's worried I've completely lost my mind.

"Bella?"

Poor boy, he's about three seconds from freaking out.

I giggle a little, and now I know I must sound and look like I've completely lost it, but if anything, I'm more sure of him … of everything, than I've ever been in my whole life.

"We're going to be okay," I say happily.

"Ummmm," he stammers, swallows. His mouth opens, snaps shut, the opens again but he doesn't say anything.

I throw myself at him and wriggle, trying to climb him like I'm a monkey and he's a tree, until he gets with the program and helps me up. My legs wrap around his waist, my arms tight around his neck and all I want to do is laugh and kiss him until he's dizzy. Probably not the best idea seeing as how I'd wind up on the ground with a sticker in my ass, but I throw caution to the wind and kiss him anyway.

He might be wondering what in the hell is going on with me, but that doesn't stop him from kissing me back. We do manage to stop before the dizziness sets in, but the happiness - the completeness - oh yeah, that's more than there.

"I love you." I sigh once again and rest my forehead against his.

"Ah, baby, not that I'm ever one to complain about having you throw yourself at me, but who are you and what the hell have you done with my girlfriend?"

He looks so adorably confused. He wants to smile but he's not sure he should. "Can't you feel it, Edward?" I ask and hold his face in my hands.

"All I feel is you rubbing up against me, which feels fucking good in case you couldn't tell." He lifts and holds me tighter, closer. "What am I supposed to be feeling exactly besides turned the hell on in the middle of a desert?" He's trying so hard to keep up with me, which I know at the moment is impossible.

"I can't describe it," I say breathlessly. There's so much, and I don't know where to start.

He kisses me again, lips first, then each cheek. "Try, please. You're killing me here, baby."

I take a deep breath, and let the calm fill me once more. Regretfully, I unwind and unwrap and put my feet on the ground. Needing his touch, I grab his hand and tangle our fingers together. I glance around, trying to find a place to sit and then pull him toward a big, smooth rock.

"Okay." I huff, once we're situated next to each other on the warm, flat surface. "It's like now, there's nothing holding me back, holding us back. I want to be with you. I want to go to college and travel and have sex in the middle of the afternoon and walk on the beach and someday," I swallow, but it feels like I've swallowed a big ball of sunshine, "someday, we're going to get married and have babies and plant trees and take our kids camping in the desert and to Disney World and maybe our daughter will play the drums like me or soccer like you and our son will look like my dad and smile like my mom and we'll just …" I take a breath because I feel a little lightheaded. "We're going to live happily ever after. Together."

He gasps, or gulps, then he sort of squeaks and kind of moans all at once. "Jesus Christ, I fucking love you." He pulls and I'm in his lap. "Whatever, wherever, it'll always be me and you, Bella. Always."

"Promise?" I don't really need to ask, I just like to hear the answer.

"You bet your sexy ass I promise." He growls, grins, then smashes his lips to mine and kisses me senseless. Once we come up for air, the night has gotten decidedly cooler and I know we need to back to the hotel for dinner. "Are you ready to leave?" he asks, his voice sweeter, softer as if he doesn't want to remind me we have to go.

I stand and pull him up with me, glance over my shoulder at our friends and family still standing and waiting. I look back out over the desert, memorizing it, not that I'll ever forget. Leaving here, leaving Mom will be hard, but it's time. "Yes," I whisper.

"You okay?"

I nod. I am.

"Let's go home," he says as he starts to lead us toward everyone.

I pull him to a stop. "Home is wherever you are," I tell him, meaning it with all I am.

"I swear, one day you're gonna kill me with that sweet stuff, Isabella Marie Swan someday Cullen."

His stomach grumbles loudly and I giggle. "Not if you die of starvation first," I tell him with a grin.

We take a few steps, hands clasped, and I look back, whispering, "Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad."

Edward hears, he squeezes my hand but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. He already knows that the only place I want to be is beside him, always.

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