AMAZING
Disclaimer:
“Twilight” is owned by Stephenie Meyer. “Johnny Lingo and the
Eight-Cow Wife” belongs to Patricia Mc Gerr.
A/N:
This fan fic is a retelling of the short story “Johnny Lingo and
the Eight-Cow Wife” by Patricia McGerr. (Not the movie, 'coz I only
found out about it after I've written this fic.) The original story
is in the first person point of view as narrated by a minor
character, but this lil' fic of mine is written in Bella's point of
view because I was always interested in what Sarita, the heroine, had
to say about the matter. @_@
The
setting is in Ford and Settle, fictional Pacific islands I made up by
changing and omitting certain letters from the names of those places
we are all too familiar with. Heh, pretty original, I know. LOL
Time
period is contemporary, and the story may sound old-school but I
imagine my islands are so small and remote that they are untouched by
modernization and are not much different culturewise from what they
were 40 years ago.
And
just so you know, I was listening to “Just the Way You Are” by
Bruno Mars while writing this, which explains the cheesy, fluffy
conversations. And the title. :)
Thank
you Edwardsfavoritebrunette, TDS88, and PTB mod Remylebeauishot for
the awesome beta work. :))
<O>
<O>
CHAPTER
3
The day after the
party, Alice and Rose showed up on my doorstep bright and early.
“Girls, if you keep
on coming here and neglecting your duties at home, your husbands
might leave you,” I warned them as I weeded my modest garden.
“As if that will ever
happen.” Rose snorted.
“But we just wanted
to see our cousin! Is that such a crime?” Alice pouted.
Alice always had the
power to make me feel guilty even when I knew I shouldn't be.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“Don't worry about
it.” Alice waved her hand. “So how did it go?”
“How did what go?”
I asked as I entered the kitchen. The two of them trailed behind me.
“The walk home!”
Alice cried impatiently. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I
answered, lifting the lid off one of the pots on the stove. While
Alice and Rose unsuccessfully tried to make me talk about Edward, I
quickly prepared a simple vegetable soup, ladled some into bowls, and
set them on the wooden table. My friends were watching me the whole
time, gauging my reaction to their teasing.
“Nothing happened? No
way,” Alice told me disbelievingly. “What did you and Edward talk
about?” She and Rose dug into their food but kept their eyes on me.
“Um, I don't really
remember.” Most of the conversation was about me, anyway. He always
had questions about me. Besides, I was too busy admiring him to pay
attention to what we were saying. “Cut it out, you two. He'll be
going home today and we won't see him ever again,” I admonished.
“Bella, you're wrong.
We will see him again,” Rose declared, looking out the
window.
I followed her gaze and
gasped. Edward stood outside the door, looking around him in
interest.
“Good morning,
Bella,” he said politely when I opened the door. He handed me a
bouquet of flowers. Freesias. Good Lord, he really was paying
attention last night!
“Oh, Bella! Your
favourite!” Alice squealed, ducking under my arm.
“Hi, Edward.” Rose
appeared over my shoulder.
“Hello, Alice, Rose.”
He nodded to them, then turned to me. “Bella, I hope I haven't come
at a bad time.”
Until that moment, I
was tongue-tied. I cleared my throat. “Um, no. I've just finished
my chores.”
“Oh, good!” His
smile was as bright as the sun. “I was wondering whether you could
come join me for a walk?”
“Oh,” I started. My
head was spinning. Why was he here, at my doorstep, asking for my
company? “I-I thought you had gone home,” I stammered.
He shook his head and
gave me one of his intense stares. “I want to see more of—Ford.
Will you be my guide?”
I didn't think anybody
could say no to those eyes. I nodded, waving goodbye to my friends as
I stepped beside him.
I tried to think of a
time when a boy gave me this much attention and came up blank. Boys
were usually mean to me, saying I was too homely for their tastes.
When I thought about it, I realized that no one had ever given me the
time of day except for my family and friends. With my poor background
and unremarkable looks, I was a nobody in a place where physical
beauty was the norm and material wealth was a necessity.
It was in this state of
jumbled thoughts that I walked around town beside him. I dutifully
pointed out places to him and he listened quietly as I explained as
much fact and history as I could remember. Then he asked me more
questions about the place or about myself. He seemed oblivious to the
stares we were getting. Of course people would stare! Even I
thought it bizarre for this handsome single man to spend the day with
the town reject.
He persuaded me to have
dinner with him in a fancy restaurant I had never been into. I was
momentarily fazed by the ornate furnishings and the well-dressed
patrons, but he calmed me with his dazzling smile.
“Why did you bring me
here?” I wondered aloud. He knew I was not used to this kind of
luxury.
“I just want to give
you a new experience,” he explained. “What do you want to eat,
Bella?”
I scanned the menu and
realised the entrees were in a foreign language I couldn't
understand. Italian, maybe? I pointed to the first thing that caught
my eye, hoping it tasted good. He smiled, ordering the same for
himself, so I reckoned it must be.
As we waited for the
food, he sat back and his expression transformed into one I knew all
too well. It was the same expression he had yesterday, when he
questioned me relentlessly. He had asked me so much about myself
already that I didn't think he would have any questions left. Why did
he seem to find me so interesting?
“So, Bella, what do
you see yourself doing, say, a few years from now?”
So it was going to be
one of those questions. “The same I’ve always been doing, I
guess.” I shrugged.
“You mean, stay at
your father's home? Take care of him and the house?” he clarified.
I nodded. “What else
is there to do?”
“Don't you want to
have your own family someday?”
“I'd given up on
marriage a long time ago,” I said, eliciting a frown from him. “If
I were destined to become a wife, it should have happened years ago.
I guess I'm just not wife material.”
He didn't seem happy
with my answer. “You speak too lowly about yourself.”
“That's the general
consensus.”
“You shouldn't put
too much stock into what others think. Most of them are so blinded to
the truth,” he scolded me. “Anyway, there must be something you
want to do.”
I thought about how I
loved to read anything I could get my hands on: an old newspaper that
served as a covering for meat that Father had bought at the market;
the back of a milk bottle; or a discarded magazine. I was often
brought to places I’d never been to whenever I read them. It was an
ideal escape from the dismal reality of my life.
“Travel,” I
decided. “I want to travel. But I don't have any money so I don't
know how that's going to happen.”
“You never know what
could happen in the future.” He winked, then straightened up as our
orders arrived.
Huh. The food with the
fancy name was in fact some sort of mushroom dish. It looked simple
enough, but as I took the first bite, I couldn't help closing my eyes
in pleasure.
We ate in silence,
enjoying the meal and each other's company. I admitted to myself that
I was happy spending the day with him. As he asked more questions and
I revealed more of myself to him, I secretly wished he would not be
turned off by what he learned about me. I really wanted to be his
friend.
When we were finished,
I smiled up at him timidly. “Thank you. That was the best dinner
I’ve ever had,” I told him sincerely. Not just because of the
food, but also because of the person I shared it with, I thought,
but I was too shy to say it to him.
He grinned back at me,
shaking his head. “Honestly, I think your cooking is so much
better.”
I blushed furiously.
What was it with this man and his compliments? It was a bit difficult
to get used to him saying so many nice things about me.
We walked some more
around town before returning home. Before he left, he paused at the
doorway. “Can I come back again tomorrow?”
We'd covered the whole
island in just one day. There was nothing more to see in Ford. I told
him as much, but he still insisted on coming. “B-but I have chores
to do! I'm seriously behind on my sewing,” I stuttered, desperately
looking for a way out as I retreated back into my shell.
“That's all right.
We'll just stay at your house, then. You do whatever you want to do,
I'll just stay and talk, or help you if you want,” he assured me.
I was confused.
“Edward, why are you doing this?”
He frowned. “Bella, I
like you. I want to spend time with you. Is that too hard to
believe?”
It was actually.
But I didn't say that. I knew it would make him frown, which would
mar his perfect face again. Instead, I said, “People will talk.”
“I don't care what
other people think,” he interrupted fervently. “All I care about
is what you think. Do you or do you not want me there
tomorrow?”
Was he joking? Of
course I wanted to see him again, and I told him as much.
He looked strangely
relieved.
<O> <O>
A/N: Unimaginative,
that I am. I couldn't think of any other first “date” food for
Eddie and Bellie aside from that damn mushroom ravioli. It was where
it all started, after all. Besides, it does look scrumptious,
don't ya think? ;P
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