2,947Epilogue 2
...
"Oh, God," Bella groans in pain. Her forehead and neck are glistening. Edward is a bit wide-eyed. He's holding onto her hand in bed, helpless.
Snow is a blanket over the woods. Heavy. This wasn't supposed to go this way.
Dawn is hours from breaking. He looks out the window then stretches an ear out for any noise from Elliot's room. Still fast asleep, as he should be—he'd be a shaking twig under his arm this second if he knew.
The electricity went out hours ago with the blizzard winds.
"It's okay, it's okay," Bella says, squeezing Edward's hand. "It's a false alarm. Sue told me it could happen." She takes a breath. Her neck flexes under the dim lamp by their bedside. He watches the shadows, sweat reflecting in the light. He's never been this afraid.
Sue. Missing in action. She's not in Maine this week; out on an event for physicians. As she should be, the date shouldn't be until four weeks. They were supposed to be safe.
Bella holds back a grunt. She's turned on her side, and she stretches for the night table. She looks at it. She pales a little. The gadget, the brick, the one she calls a phone, is in her hand, but it's not lighting up. "Shit," she whispers.
Edward looks over. He doesn't know how to use that thing, never cared to pick it up. He says, "What?"
Her hand falls to her chest, her eyes move up to the ceiling. "Um …" she trails, thinking. "No, nothing. Nothing. It's fine."
Edward stands and pulls off his sweats. He goes to the closet he built himself for them and pulls on a hanger. A warm, plaid shirt slides over his sturdy shoulders, then a heavy sweater. On any other day, Bella would be staring, enjoying, longingly from bed. Now, her brows knit. "What are you doing?"
He's quiet, pulling on layers of pants.
Bella sits up a bit. "Hey. Everything is fine, all right? Trust me?" The bed bounces when he sits. Socks next. She watches as he pulls on his heftiest snow boots. His forehead vein is full and plump with the rush of blood; focus, worry.
"Babe, look at me," she orders.
So, he does. She asks, and he always listens, but this is the last time he does for the night. He's making decisions from here on out.
"No need to worry. This happens, and then it's …" She takes in a sharp breath and closes her eyes. "... it's over." She's not breathing for a moment, her palm on the side of her large bump.
Even in this midst, she looks beautiful to him. The moon on her cheek. The silky nightdress over her stomach like he imagines the moon to be this second above the heavy clouds; white, gray, indents and marks, but it's the little feet in there. He reaches for her cheek and runs his knuckles there.
"It didn't make the noise it usually makes," he says.
"What noise?"
"The chime that it makes when you plug it every night." He says about her smartphone. If you asked him, he'd tell you the many ways it isn't smart at all. "It never charged, and Elliot used it all up for games."
He's so observant it tears her, but so does this pain she feels right now. It makes her double over, sending her sideways. She whimpers, trying not to make a loud sound.
Edward stands. She grabs his hand frantically. "No, please. It's really bad out. The car is buried, and you can barely see the trees upfront. It's too dangerous." He watches her. "Fine. Maybe you're used to it, but you never had to hike through it! Please. Just let it go. I'll be okay." Then, her face freezes, her eyes water, and she goes red, straining to cover up a sharp pain.
He leans in and kisses her lips. She suddenly holds on with all her might and kisses him like she means it.
"Hurry, Edward. Hurry," she whimpers like she only does when desperate. She lets the tears spill freely, not covering it up anymore. She dissolves, watching him go.
Edward curses himself. This is not how they should live. It wouldn't matter if it were just him, but he's not alone anymore. A child in his home, one quickly on the way, and there's only one means of communication for help? This is ludicrous.
He lifts a leg and muscles a step forward. The snow is to his knees. He's panting, grinding his teeth against the wind. The snow is hard pebbles against his eyes and face.
He falls. It's the fifth time. One push, and he's on his feet again. Maybe the short way to Charlie and Sue's cabin wasn't the smartest way? He's in it now and far too deep. If he goes back, it will tire him too much. Trying to carve out the car was a lost cause. He launched the shovel to the side in anger and barely left the bumper of Bella's car exposed. He was wasting time.
He finds himself in darkness. He turns the flashlight in his hand. He's got it around his neck like old times. Elliot's shoe tie secured around it; a boy scout knot did the job. This is second nature. He's back to work. This time, it's to save someone else's life. His eyes shut with the sinking feeling in his stomach. Two lives.
Edward is used to saving Bella. His rushing heart as he pounded through the lake water to fetch her that one time, or climbing rocks to get to her lifeless body where she tumbled between them the first time she found him. Getting her out of trouble is native.
But this, this one is nearly impossible. He stands still for just a moment, trees to his left, trees to his right. It's all home, but right now, it's a death trap. All the ironic tales in books about moments like these when the protagonist is defeated by something too dear and close to their heart.
Maybe these woods will finally take Edward.
He's heaving air rhythmically through his mouth as he looks around. He finds a branch close by and pulls. It digs him out of the hole he's in, and it immediately rips off. He stabs it into the snow for leverage. A third limb to help. Step by step, he tries, then he rests.
When resting isn't enough, and he's pausing for too long, there's this desperation in him. Dawn is slowly creeping in. The clouds over the blizzard brighten. That's bad. That means he's been out here too long. Edward never felt the urge to roar at the top of his lungs like now.
A loud grunt. That one wasn't Edward. He turns his flashlight toward the noise. A hot, rough snort comes out in a visible cloud from the buck. The antlers are as big as his walking stick. Edward's hope collapses. The flashlight dips away slowly, so as not to disturb. He can still see the mammoth under the blue glow of brightening clouds. It stands between snow-heavy drooping bushes. Both beings are dangerously close.
Edward can't go further. Not that he would've; slow, struggling steps take an eternity. Now he's standing still. The problem; an expert puzzle.
Edward leans back. A reaction when the buck comes closer. The buck is curious. Its strong legs cut through snow without effort. Edward catches that before he must look away. Slowly, he kneels before him. He makes himself small. A ball. An insignificant mass on his path.
Heart hammering, Edward closes his eyes and thinks on the luckless chump in this precarious circumstance. In all the years he's lived off these woods, now is the moment a massive animal crosses his path, or the opposite—this is its land. The buck bumps Edward's head confirming that. The huff of breath is hot over his knit hat. Strong. The presence, tenfold. Edward holds his breath.
It stomps, then it backs away. Like a call, it seems to tell him, "follow me." The buck leads the way down the trail leaving Edward shaken and looking after him. All the dents in the snow are dark and visible from where he kneels. Edward quickly rushes behind him. The buck ahead and kicking away snow like he's tossing him a lifeline. Edward chucks the branch, and he's running now.
The buck speeds up, taking a bend and out of sight, but a bend Edward needs to take. He heaves in utter relief and pumps his legs to full speed through a clear path it made for him.
Charlie is awake. It's rare. He's usually a heavy sleeper, but Sue is gone, and the hum of the heat suddenly quiet woke him. He's staring up at the dark ceiling, hoping it'll come quickly; the dozing off, the peace. But he's listening to his heart pumping, feeling it under his palm where it rests. He decides he'll get up, maybe work the fireplace until the electricity comes back. He looks out at the woods like it'll give hope to a sudden blackout.
He starts. The flame in his hand jerks, trying to light the fire-starter. The pound on the front door is loud. "Jesus,' he mutters. The peephole is dark, so he chances it.
Edward practically tumbles in through the door. "The baby," he says through heavy breaths. "It's coming."
Charlie leaves him at the door to run to the phone. He growls when he remembers—line dead. "Cellphone." He says to himself and rushes to his room. He comes back with it in hand, but the door is vacant. Charlie looks out and sees Edward pulling on the snow in front of the shed to get to its door, then the shovel. He aims right for Charlie's car and begins to carve it out without permission, the one he fixed months ago.
"Of course, he'd know where it is," Charlie scoffs to himself as he dials the ambulance. He dresses as he shouts the problem to the operator. His coat is on in no time, and he's out helping him clear out the car.
"Did you call the young doctor?"
"Who? What?" Charlie yells back, pulling on a large wedge of hard snow over the hood. Wind is going, hail coming with it; he can barely hear him.
"The one who delivered Elliot."
Charlie looks up over the windshield. "Jameson?"
"Call him," Edward confirms without even a look at Charlie. But It's not an ask; it's a firm order. Edward feels it. All of this wasn't supposed to go this way. Everything from here on out needs a backup plan.
Charlie obliges, taken a little. He won't argue and definitely won't dare to stand in the way of this young father.
"Sam has a truck, right?" Edward asks when he helps himself into the passenger seat. Blinders over his eyes; dark and focused. Charlie is a bit speechless.
"Ah, yeah."
"Call him. Tell him we're on our way to help him clear it out."
Charlie does a double take. "We are? What for?"
"He'll wait for Jameson in town. Jameson's car isn't fit for this snow."
Well, damn.
Charlie looks at Edward, then out the windshield, certainly impressed. He clears his throat. "Right." So, he does call Sam, who is more than up for another adventure. Charlie pushes through the path to Sam's cabin, wondering why this is all so exaggerated. But then the car gets stuck twice, and he's swallowing down his unspoken words. This is more serious than he thought. Edward would climb out to push from the back every time. The force of a desperate man does inhuman things.
Sam is already outside, trying to get a head start when they finally arrive. He pats Edward on the shoulder after they've all taken a shovel to the truck. In no time, it's clear and ready to go. "You've done good, son. Damned genius." Charlie's face is a bit pink, but seeing Edward's pale one confirms how shaken he is. Yet, he's an alpha this second, ordering Charlie around and taking charge. It made Sam slack-jawed and hiding a smile. "Go on now. Be with Bella. I've got your back." And he does. Sam makes it through unpaved roads without a hiccup to get to town, where roads are clearer.
The journey back to Bella's cabin is an eternity. Charlie is minutely growing wary. He's quiet as a mouse while Edward shouts orders from the back and murmurs further instructions when he climbs back into the car after getting stuck again. Everything is opposite. Charlie feels inverted.
Bella is just that when they find her. She's on her knees by the kitchen, breathing steadily but hard. Her eyes red, her cheeks the same, and sweat-soaked.
"Of course, your phone would be dead!" Charlie, the frustrated father, chimes in. They run to her to catch her elbows. She was trying and failing to find a backup charger in her work bag, even going as far as using the bit of battery the laptop had.
"You were okay?" She frantically asks Edward when they pull her to her feet. He nods, looking into her eyes as he holds her up. She kisses him, and now Charlie is looking away with a bit of an eye roll.
"We're okay, baby girl," Charlie emphasizes the we.
They seem to ignore him as Edward picks her up in his arms and takes her back to her bed. Charlie lets his hands fall to his sides, left alone in the living room. "All right." He sighs and decides to go to Elliot's room to see if he's still asleep. After that, he's looking around, seeing the new changes. He hasn't stepped into this house since Edward arrived. The cabin never looked as nice. Fresh paint, kitchen cabinets have been redone. He even checks the squeaky door from the hallway he knows he never got around to.
"Fucking guy." Brown nosing him? No, it's all for Bella. He can't even lie to himself. Then, he finds the one thing that tightens his chest. The green room he painted himself is now a nursery. It's the most enchanting space he's seen for a baby. The green remains, but the forest theme in shades of taupe and gray ties it in. The little crib in solid wood, a dresser, and even little toy blocks are already on a carpet with fluffy pillows by the massive bookshelf—those are intact but give warmth.
Charlie will never know Edward built those nursery pieces in Emmett's garage himself. If he did, well, maybe he'd see the man in a new light, not the thief from North Pond. For now, Charlie looks for the brand carved on the crib somewhere, wondering where it's from. It's perfect. This little life in this cabin is damned perfect.
He sighs again. Then a shout from Bella travels down the hall. Her water broke.
"Could you call him? James?" Edward pleads when Charlie gets to the door of their room. He's not stepping in. No way. Not in there, where … things have happened to get to this point. "Ask him what is needed for a home birth," Edward says.
Charlie chuckles and pats his shoulder patronizingly. "There won't be a home birth. The ambulance is on its way. Relax."
Edward looks at him hard. The pause makes for the two to straighten their shoulders.
"Dad!" Bella suddenly shouts for him to quit it. Her voice hoarse and fed up.
"With respect, sir, there's no ambulance outside, nor is it close. It's been an hour since you called."
It has? He checks his watch. Oh. "Shit," he murmurs. "Why in Christ does this always happen in the oddest places but a hospital?!"
Bella rolls her eyes. Her father's not wrong about that. First, it was a tent in the middle of the woods, now this. Charlie dials for James, not waiting for a particular answer to the outburst.
Edward collects all the towels from their bathroom and even dips into the baby's room for mattress protectant spreads, all while Charlie helps him, with the phone wedged between shoulder and ear.
"You there?" He stares at the phone after twenty minutes on the line. "Hello?" Charlie shouts frantically into it against his ear.
"I'm here," says Jameson, but from the door. The wind rushes in, so does Sam with a bag to help him with supplies.
Jameson pauses at the door stripping the layers and his boots. When he straightens, he's eye to eye with Edward.
Sam is like a parrot, looking in all directions at this suspense; Jameson, then back at Edward. "Where's Bella?" He breaks into the tension quickly. There's no time for this.
Edward looks away and leads.
Bella sighs audibly, relieved when she sees Jameson. He drops his things to go to her. Those two hug for a stretched moment, and it grows quiet.
"I'm sorry," he says by her ear; it makes her cry more. The last time he saw her was that day he made a very rash decision. Maybe stupid. Well, definitely stupid. They haven't spoken since, not once, never hashing out what happened.
Edward stands back, barely moving but watching closely, arms crossed. He watches when James rubs her back as they hug, pulling away her hair to kiss her forehead, and how he's taken his place in their bed. The slight awe in Jameson's eyes when he looks at her state. He didn't know she was pregnant this entire time. Well, since that day, no one has butt into Bella's business. No one has dared.
"You look wonderful," she says, petting his cheek. He does. Single life gives him that glow; successful and de-stressed, with built shoulders like only a bachelor would have time to build up.
"You look beautiful." He grins. Bella laughs with sweat, tears, and red all over, and how could she be this second?
Then fresh tears come. "But it's too early," she says. Worry takes over.
He runs a few fingers over her cheek. "It's all right. The baby is just ready. So was Elliot, remember?" He places two fingers on her wrist. He stares at his watch for a minute. Through that comes pain. He makes a mental note as he gets gloves and a stethoscope. He presses on the bulge, listens, then he delves a hand under her nightdress.
Edward looks away. He takes a deep breath to clear his head. Maybe it's the feeling of helplessness, maybe the comment on how beautiful she looks, but something ebbs. He knows his head is a whirl because he realizes he has never told her those words out loud himself.
It takes another man to point out the voids, right on their bed. The lack of affection he should volunteer in this relationship. His negligence.
It was the right thing to do; calling Jameson. He tries to remember that.
"Okay, let's get the baby out. It's eager." James grins at her.
He looks behind him, and the only person who can help is Edward.
"You up for this?" he asks him. Edward walks up to the bed with a look.
"What's next?" he says plainly.
Right. James looks away to get busy. He remembers now, this guy's edges, the rough ones. He, too, takes a deep, mind-clearing breath.
"I've called the hospital again to assure someone is coming. The roads are really bad. Fortunately, Charlie called and had Sam pick me up. Smart of him. For now," he says, grabbing sterilized packets giving Edward some to open. "We'll do this together." He looks up at Bella. He smiles. "Like old times, right?"
Bella is huffing and puffing some, but her smile is visible—just an expression you wouldn't find on Edward. There's a sacred memory shared that doesn't include him. He's that buck with the stomp claiming its territory. That hard huff out its nose in a heavy cloud.
"Let's change you into something better." James comes around the bed referring to her nightdress, not a stretchy material or useful for this event.
Edward tenses a bit. Here? Him watching? He quickly goes to her side and pulls her up before Jameson can.
Jameson stands back, a bit taken. "Of course," he says, waving his gloved hands. "You can, uh … Sure. Put this on her," he stammers, waving a gown to dispose of later.
Edward and Bella are pressed together, him supporting her under her arms, her breath shallow over his shoulder. He's diligently pulling on her gown from her shoulders, down her body, like he would if this were a dizzying passionate night. But this time, it's fidgety as he's keeping her chest covered, tucked to his front, him sweating a little with the effort. Once in a while, he glares from over her shoulder at this guy to make sure he's giving her privacy.
Or, he swears ...
Bella hangs on to his shoulders as he works hard for her. His face so close, his hair stuck to his neck with sweat. He's focused and concerned. He covers her up with the new garment and catches her eyes. She, patiently waiting for him to look at her.
"Thank you. For everything," she whispers with feeling. She runs her fingers over his nape, calming him, a smile just for him.
Before he has to let go, help her back in bed, she steals a soft peck on his lips. The power comes back, revealing their kiss.
She sighs, relieved, looking around at the brightened room. But Edward ... Edward is watching the light that hails from her. And he's in love with Bella. His heart swells that very second, filling up, ready to pop. Just so instant. Another one of those internal switches of his.
Jameson saw the whole thing. He's keeping busy, but the visuals were like a magnet. He stood there like a true chump, rubbing his neck like the helpless one. He has attempted to pull on new gloves twice but couldn't get it right.
It's been tough moving on after that day in the driveway. Many nights he'd lie awake thinking of the harm he did—to Bella, that's really the only regret. He can't say how many times he's run the whole thing in his head, with additives of argument and a good scuffle. He wanted to say so much more. Now? Maybe not so much. He's forgotten. Busy life, rich life, women in it also. Though, the memory and feelings are all coming in like the snowfall tonight.
Heavy.
And that's how both men make it through the birth. Both in their respective foggy brains, on autopilot. Bella is the beacon to help them through.
She struggles, and it's hard. This one is far worse than Elliot's. She has no strength, and it's in Jameson's mantra to keep her trying. "You can, Bella," he says when she pleads the contrary. "Push."
Edward is cloaked in silent nerves, but if you looked at his hands, you'd see a slight tremble. He chances it, desperate. He sees the weakness over her shoulders, he pulls his sweater off, and climbs on the bed behind her. Edward let's her lean on him.
"Come on, baby. Push," he tells her ear. The endearment is a whispered surprise. And that seems to be all Bella needs. She squeezes his hands, and she gives it her all.
The baby cries. "Emily," Edward says with a sigh. In a rushed moment; she's slimy and on Bella's chest. He kisses Bella on her temple and tells her ear, "It's Emily." Bella cries, watching, holding her.
She looks back at Edward. "It was like this. For Elliot," she says. "But now it's better." Her brows knit with the words. He smirks down at the wailing girl, her arm reaching up for him to catch gingerly. He nods, and he sees. He sees through the collecting tears and the stars in his eyes.
He takes the leap. He kisses Bella with all his might despite the watchful eyes. "I love you, Isabella," he whispers for only her to hear.
Bella holds her breath. She looks at him carefully, in awe. She knows, she knows in her heart there's been a switch. Was it earlier? Was it this? She mourns for the moment she missed.
They're quiet for a moment, but for the baby's cry. Even Jameson, who busies himself with more work. The heavy fog of disbelief floats over them. Edward has planted something big.
They watch Emily wiggle around. "You know I've always loved you," Bella says to him. She laughs suddenly. Emily quiets down, and her puffy eyes slit open, staring at her parents. "Even Emily knows." She runs her finger over her cheek. "Everyone knows."
"It's true. We do," Jameson interrupts. He rolls his eyes but smirks. "Now Dad has to finish the job." He holds up the scissors.
….
The paramedics come in like clockwork. While they help James work on Bella, Edward has the job of watching Emily Cullen.
They work on her, cleaning her up enough to get her wrapped. Mother and daughter have to go to the hospital for further checkups. A premature baby is a complication.
Edward gets to clothe her first. Bella watches from her spot, and she knows the obsession is set in the way he looks at her.
Everyone is piled in the living room, waiting. There are more paramedics, Charlie, Sam, and a drowsy Elliot.
Edward emerges in his coat and hat, with the bundle still in his arms, wrapped up warm and ready to go. Bella is rolled out, and Elliot has to be restrained as it's now his turn to wail.
Everyone has to pause and give the new family of four a moment alone before they set off, leaving Elliot with Pop-Pop. He is mad and red as chili when he sees the little face on Daddy's shoulder instead of his.
Charlie is standing by. He and Edward kind of bump into one another. It's … awkward, to say the least. "Exceptional job." Charlie says this. "Thank you for, uh, taking care of her. If you hadn't made me call Jameson, we would've been in big trouble." He laughs slightly, but his ears are pink.
Sam pats Edward on the shoulder and shakes his hand with his other. "Same. As always, smart man. Call again anytime. I'll be more than happy to help."
Edward nods once at both of them and dips his eyes away.
Jameson stands back, listening, a bit slack-jawed at the truth. He thought this was all Charlie's doing. Then, his jaw tenses, getting those tendons flexing.
At that moment, Edward turns to Jameson to give his thanks, but he's already heading toward the door with an EMT, giving all the instructions for the mother and daughter. He's in Sam's truck packing up before the ambulance has left.
This is how the chaotic morning ends.
…..
Months have passed now. An early morning and it's just Edward and Emily awake. He's the sleep-deprived parent. But he insists on doing most of it; letting Bella sleep. He wakes up to feed at night more than she does. Both father and his girl quietly sit in the baby's room together. He doesn't want to miss a thing.
This is a special week. As a family, the Cullen family, they're going to Jen's wedding.
Bella made a case: Edward agrees to go with her, or she'd have to muscle both kids to the reception. If the latter, she'll endure the mortifying tantrums and chaos that comes with a toddler and an infant. Edward saw right through her. He suggested keeping both young ones home, so she's free to be with family and friends.
Well, shit. That would actually be perfect. Bella didn't think of that. Her brain ran through all the possibilities, and the only weak excuse was that Jen wanted to see the baby. He looked at her blankly. Then she rushed to say that everyone had a significant other, a plus one, and she'd be exposed to all the questions. But mostly, she didn't want to be alone.
So, Edward now has a tux.
A tux.
Bella stares at it hanging from their closet and grins triumphantly, ready for tomorrow. When she walks into the living area, he's by the patio holding the baby to the light of morning. His lips pressed to her neck, softly smothering her with kisses. Both are lost, watching the treetops. Bella can't help but rush over to squeeze them both.
"It'll be fine. Quick and painless," she says about the wedding.
He's quiet. She knows he's freaking out. People. Talking. Socializing. All those things will surround him.
"You're worried about something. I can tell."
He turns to her; he looks at Emily. Her blue ocean eyes pinned to the outside still, a bit of drool rolls off her pink lips. He wipes it away with a knuckle.
"It's James, isn't it?" No answer. "Dad, too?" Bella sighs. "I know, but they're at another table. We're sitting with Sam."
Edward finally looks at her. He leans in, Emily between them grabs at their faces when he kisses Bella; a delectable soft linger. He hands her the baby and walks out to the patio. Bella watches him walk right into the woods and disappears.
This is the first time in months he's alone.
"Fuck."
Emily turns her head to look at Mommy, her brows knitted like she sides with Daddy. "I know, I know," Bella whines. She goes about her day with a knot in her throat.
She's messed up.
...
"She's so freaking cute! Oh, my gosh, Bella, how are they so gorgeous? You give birth to gorgeous babies!" Jen is bright eyed. She holds Emily in her arms despite her dress. It's simple and elegant. The dress is beautiful like her heart, open and dipped in the back like her daring side. She practically kneels on the floor to hug Elliot and pinch his cheek a little—to which he sneers. "Oh, God, I've become the annoying aunt," she says, smiling at him.
She looks at Bella. The reception inside is grand and packed with flowers and family. Round tables surround them after an emotional ceremony. Thankfully, it was uninterrupted the moment that question was asked to the congregation. Lauren chewed on her gum and checked her nails, not listening. Bella and Jen were sure nothing would happen, still, they glanced her way. They laugh about it now.
"Where's, uh…" Jen starts.
Bella smiles, but sadly. She waves a hand. "It was stupid of me … I shouldn't have …" she trails off, her throat closing up, silently devastated. Edward was gone all day and all night. No word from him since yesterday. Jen nods, her brows knit.
"Don't be so hard on yourself. You tried. That's what's important." They go quiet and move on. No further comments. But when Jen's mom stops by and dips her head curiously at Bella, Jen snaps. "She's great, the babies are wonderful. Keep your questions!"
Her mouth forms an 'O'. She walks away without uttering a word. Bella is colored pink.
Jen sighs heavily. "Do you have any idea what that woman put me through this month? It's a catered wedding and she insisted on bringing a massive load of potato salad. I should've eloped!"
Bella cackles behind her hand despite her discomfort. She calms. "Aw, but you're her only daughter."
"Which is why I've endured. But it ends here!" She bounces Emily on her hip as Jameson walks up to them. He grabs Emily from Jen's arms. He tosses her up, her dress draping around his forearms, and she's smiling.
"Where's Mr. North Pond? Couldn't step foot out of his safe space again?" He asks as he kisses the daughter of whom he speaks of.
It's the same question Sam asked Bella before the ceremony. Just not as rude as Jameson. Bella hasn't seen Sam since.
Jameson busies himself with the baby, leaving the question up in the air. He's in a light suit, blue tie that brings out his tan and dirty blonde hair. The loafers, sans socks, give him that obnoxious touch, but laid back and handsome.
Unfortunately.
Jen rolls her eyes. Bella is lost thinking about all this mess.
"Oh, go suck a placenta, James," Jen offers.
He makes a face like she's hilarious, but not.
"I mean, maybe you should." Bella smiles, suggesting.
"Sorry," he apologizes quickly, but it's muffled under Emily's pudgy arm he's currently kissing. He rolls his eyes. "Too soon, I guess."
"Don't you have a fake date to entertain?"
Bella perks. "A plus one?"
"Barely managed to get one," Jen jumps in again. "He's too obsessed with work to tell the difference between a dilated vagina from an aroused one."
He sighs. "Fuck off," he says disarmed. Bella is so interested in this development, but really she's trying not to laugh. "Vicky is a nurse and she's kind."
"Vicky?"
"Stop it," James says through his teeth as Vicky slowly approaches the trio.
Jen slumps in laughter, everyone smiles politely, but none knows what the future holds for him. James delivers one of his three children with Vicky—of the three, a pair of twins. Life for Jameson will be interesting as a beloved pediatric surgeon, making him a butt-load of money. Still, he'll keep his summer cabin close and the visits regular. Bella's and Jameson's kids will grow close, like family, somewhat flailing relationships like their parents' beginnings. For now, he's a bit … flustered as a single man. Ignorant of his plus one and the outcome.
The reception will begin with a starter soon, so they all have to scatter. The agenda must begin, dinner, speeches, jokes, dancing, cake, maybe a bouquet toss. Bella will endure it alone.
She finds Elliot under a table, tugs him to her, and heads for her assigned seating. She's muttering her apologies, maneuvering around people sitting, with a baby in her arm and a toddler in tow.
The room seems to go a notch quiet. That odd silence, like a spotlight, is shining on a special subject at the entrance. Bella cringes as the bridal party is probably there, about to be presented at the door, and she's in the middle of the dance floor traversing.
But it isn't the bridal party. Sam is walking in, a wide smile on his face. He looks at Bella and winks before he catches up to their table. Behind him is Edward.
Maybe it's because he's the stranger walking in, or maybe everyone is still curious about this person Bella has … somehow acquired, but they all have something to think about.
There he is!
Oh, the new guy ...
He's the baby's father, too? Or are there two different fathers?
Definitely different fathers.
When did Bella find a man? Damn.
Well, hello again, handsome …
Of course, that last thought was Jen's mother. She, like everyone, watches as Edward steps in, full black tux, combed back hair, looking like Humphrey Bogart himself. Jen's mother thinks he does. She sighs audibly, watching his long legs, bow tie between broad shoulders, entering the room in long strides. Bella, on the other hand, is frozen—so is Jameson and Charlie at the near table watching everything. Their thoughts are never to be spoken audibly. Jameson huffs.
Edward looks around a little, his gaze low, because looks could change, but inside he's still the same. When he spots Bella, he steadily makes his way to her. Bella seems to follow with widened eyes, her neck straightening as he towers over her when he walks up. He grabs the baby from her arms, then the bag from her shoulder, unloading her of all the baggage and the worry.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. He looks into her eyes, sans glasses today, displaying those gorgeous blues of his. Her shoulder-less dress in blush, kissing the pink in her skin tone perfectly. He runs his eyes over her slowly, from her sparkled earring swaying around her slender neck, to the slit of her dress. He nods, a little numb. And maybe it's a relief there's blaring music from a band to muffle the tension. "You didn't have to come. I didn't mean to force you." She's red at the cheeks. "I love you," she says to fix it more.
He's kind of glancing around him, catching a few looks, but when her words are heavy with regret he sees her. She's fearful.
He hates that.
"I should be apologizing," he says. His brows furrow. "I didn't … mean to take long."
Bella is hesitant. "It's … okay. I understand."
"No. I didn't help you," he adds, shaking his head. He refers to their small bundles. One of them hangs onto his leg, kind of looking up at Daddy weird. Daddy looks different.
Thanks to the food arriving at the tables, clinks of silverware get going as everyone minds their business a little. Everyone but James and Charlie. They look up from their seats, straining their heads and ears. Sue is whispering in Charlie's ear not to make a scene.
"Come," Bella says, pulling him out of the spotlight and to their table. Sam smiles where he sits by them. What Bella doesn't know is how Sam went to the Cullen house to talk to Emmett about the circumstance. That's where Edward went to hide. Emmett pointed toward the garage. Without a word, the escapee stood from a crate and waited for Sam by his car. Sam knotted that bowtie for him back home. Not a word spoken but for Sam's soft lecture about doing things we must … for the women we love.
Edward came. For the woman he loves.
Edward catches her hand as Sam is chatting away. He squeezes it, regretfully hoping she'll forgive him. The next chance he gets, he kisses it. She softly runs a few fingers over his cheek, ending on his perfectly fitted tux. They're submerged in this lake-water of emotions they rush into on reserved moments like these. Their lips moving, speaking things only they keep shoulder to shoulder.
That's what Charlie and Jameson see from where they sit.
"You look beautiful." Edward leans in and tells her ear.
Surprised, her worries fade. She smiles, bites her lip with a blush feeling his hand on her bare leg beneath the split of her dress.
"We could leave if you like?" She offers. He looks around. He catches the eyes of her father and Jameson. They quickly look away.
He won't let himself be intimidated anymore by minds he can't change. When has he ever cared what others think? He reminds himself of this. "There's cake. Elliot will miss out." That's his way of saying he can endure the entire event. Bella laughs softly.
He helps feed Elliot while Bella holds a bottle to Emily's suckling lips. The little family is quiet and going through the motions. The strangers at the table watch in awe, soft smiles.
Elliot wants to run, so Bella catches his hand to follow. People on the dance floor already, a loud band playing. Edward watches Bella gracefully dancing with him, talking with friends, while Edward stands at the corner with a sleeping baby on his shoulder.
A throat clears. "Looking sharp." Charlie is suddenly standing by him. Edward instinctively pulls at his collar. "Yeah, that's the worst part," he says, noticing. "The shoes, too." Edward would agree, but he doesn't, wiggling his suffocating toes in his patent leathers instead. He's never worn such squared shoes.
"I knew the suit would fit," Charlie continues. Sam helped. He and Edward went together. Now Charlie pats him on his shoulder a bit. The guy looks better tailored than the older men. Charlie takes back his hand and doesn't elaborate.
The song changes to something slow. They watch the crowd.
"Listen, I … I've been meaning to say …" Charlie gets going. He's sweating a little.
"You don't have to." Edward stops him. "I should mean to say a lot of things."
Charlie blinks over at him. He waits for more. The guy is revving up for words.
"I can't … change what I did. It was a crime, I know. Terrible habit I was good at. I'm just … not good at other certain things," Edward says.
Charlie turns his body toward him more, intrigued at this confession. "And what's that."
"An apology," Edward clarifies. "I suppose." He says nervously.
Charlie hums curtly. His lip quirks. He observes him.
"I'm … trying other alternatives—If I'm allowed," He continues. "But they're involved now," he says about the sleeping baby and the other running circles around the dance floor. "So I dare say I can't ask for your allowance. I'm under hers." He says about Bella.
Fair enough. Charlie nods.
This guy is sharp. Charlie shakes his head slightly after letting this sink in.
"Well then, I won't stand in your way. Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." He waves a hand "… and all that."
Edward's eyes cut toward Charlie and away quickly.
"And for what it's worth, you're good at this." Charlie is honest. "Much more than I was, probably." He says that under his breath. Watching this stranger care for his grandkids has been a sight. He clears his throat like something is lodged in there—it's mortification. This wasn't supposed to go this way. "Excuse me. Gotta …" he points a finger toward Sue.
He slowly leaves that truce behind and decides to move on. From that day on Charlie is calm. Through the years he even seeks the young man for conversation and his opinion. The way he is gives new perspectives to ordinary things. Charlie finds his mind fascinating, and even finds trust.
They become sort of silent partners. A very easy exchange.
Jameson, on the other hand, standing across the room watching that easy exchange, stays in his skepticism for many years to come. He can't help it, nor balling his fist remembering that punch he delivered that day. He won't dare to face that confrontation. He will not go to him like Charlie did. He won't.
He takes a hefty drink from his glass. Then, he downs it.
…
Years later …
"Allie!" Bella shouts out on the lawn, her voice to the woods. "Dammit, Allie." She mutters to herself.
The shiny new truck eases up the path, turning into the garage. Edward locks his eyes with Bella's as he drives up. They know, it just takes one look.
Bella sighs. She waits for the truck door to open and shut. He walks out of the open garage door, his heavy jacket the color of fall leaves. His layers of thermal shirts hug his chest and torso beneath. He's always clean, even after a long day at work. Bella hears his boots walk up behind her and stop. Then she feels his lips on her nape.
"She's gone again?" Edward says over her skin. Their daughter. Not Emily. Allie. She's a handful. Never Emily. Emily is the helper around the house. She mothers. Allie was born years later, planned this time. She was even born in a hospital, by the book. But plans never seem to work for this family. They cross bridges when they need to, as they must. Their lives are unpredictable—Allie makes it this way.
Elliot, Emily, and Allie. Three beautiful kids with beautiful minds. There's just extra beauty in one of theirs.
"Hm." Edward hums when Bella doesn't have to answer. It's always the same.
"She's too vulnerable to be alone," Bella explains. Tears in her eyes. "I thought I had her attention. She almost finished her painting."
"I'll get her," Edward offers. Well, he's the only one who gets her.
They fought so much, father and daughter. Allie first wandered through the woods with her siblings until she began to hide from them. Then, any chance she would get, she'd sneak out of the house in whatever state she was in; bare feet, nightgown, wild hair. They wouldn't find her for hours.
Edward was never as angry when this happened. The first time he found her, he crouched to her level to reprimand her, his teeth showing, his trembling hands holding her firmly, his voice booming. Bella was taken, so was the little girl in filthy, bare feet. Her face scrunched up in fear, and she burst into tears. They hugged it out, but it wasn't the last time.
Bella would watch the two on many occasions yell at one another when she'd try another stunt. Then, she realized how similar they were. They are exactly the same.
This warmed her heart. She knew what she had to do, how to manage Allie, how to care for her. Bella's work studies were in her hands, all the answers. Silly of her to not notice. At night, in bed with Edward, she'd explain it clearly, step by step—the first one being patience. "She's like you, Edward. You know her reasons best. Work with her, don't fight her."
He softened around her after that. His hand would cup the crown of her head as she ate her cereal in the morning, so little. He'd silently stand there behind her chair, watching the woods out the window as he ran his fingers over her locks. Like he was transferring calm, or silently praying.
Bella and Emily smiled at the same table, knowing. Emily leaped from her chair to hug Dad around his middle as she watched the two communicating through touch alone. Emily was relieved. She hated the fights. Edward kissed both his girls on their heads and marched out to work. That gesture seemed to be routine every morning.
Years have passed and Allie is thirteen now. She's become the subject of his careful eye. Everyone's. They all look out for Allie.
How's Allie? What is Allie up to now? Allie and her amazing paintings. Allie will one day never come back.
That is what they all dread.
Still, she's too old for these antics; she knows the rules, he's set them. But age gives more to freedom; she's familiar with the paths. Once, she even stayed out through the night. The next day she was back, hungry. Edward sat in his chair, staring at her eat her breakfast in hurried spoonfuls. Her, clueless to a man who hiked for miles trying to find her the night before, now simmering in anger. Allie looked straight into her father's eyes and said the words he once said to his own mother. "I was fine."
Emily cupped Edward's hand from her seat at the table. She seemed to say, "Just accept." Emily's spirit is like Bella's—a balm to his nerves. Elliot was at the table, too, but in his brain—a teenager fighting for his own privacy. He didn't care what Allie did anymore. He was tired of trying to keep her safe. She could take care of herself.
Bella's pained smile from across the table, watching all of it, helpless.
Edward let it go. Tired. Spent. Chasing lithe young legs with his old ones. He left trust up to fate. He didn't chase her again.
Today feels different, so he thinks a hike could do him good, and look for her while he's at it. He kisses Bella, whistles loudly toward the house, and marches through the woods with some clues to where she could be. Many times she just goes to Grandma's house. Aunt Jane is her beacon. Grandpa, too. Allie once crawled on his lap and fell asleep there. That's where Edward found her the first time she made the longest trip to record as a young child.
So, he'll try searching there first.
Edward takes the path toward the lake. It takes him a while as Edward and Bella moved to a bigger house, farther north, where Sue lives. The cabin-like home has room for a family of five and a dog. The last addition was an insistence from the kids, more like a demand. Edward didn't care for the thing at first; a blonde ball of fluff trotting through the wooden floors he put down himself. Pissing all over it. Creating a fuss. It made him grunt at the sight every time … until it warmed to him. It was the only member of the family who didn't complain, or yell, or talk. He liked that.
The big Golden Retriever follows his master obediently when it hears him whistle. It walks around Edward's legs like goats so many years ago on a farm.
Edward doesn't care much for the details, but Bella lives by proudly giving tours of the house and garden to anyone who visits. She tells them how they built it from ground up, how the kitchen was designed to her liking, or the big garage—a trophy of the fortune it has given them through Edward's steady hands. Edward is the breadwinner now, but he still keeps Bella on a pedestal, still on her borrowed time as he said once. He keeps that to himself. They share this life now. She would say that. He would just nod and march to his garage to tinker, new furry friend in tow.
Edward sees Jameson far beyond the lake when he walks through the campsite. He's yelling, calling out to Lillian.
So many adults calling out to their kids this evening. Kids: the ripe adolescent age of getting into trouble.
Edward instantly knows why he's yelling. He grunts. Then he takes that turn on the bend to that place to catch up.
Edward passes through the boulders in no time. It's exactly as Bella gave it to him. He politely taps a knuckle on the windowpane of the tiny cabin. He walks around it. He clears out the outgrown shrubs, and kicks at fallen leaves to clear out the area neatly. He's killing time. Inside, there's a stampede of shuffling.
Elliot comes running out the door, slamming it shut behind him. He finds Dad. He looks away. "Fuck."
Edward says nothing as he hears the father of Elliot's little secret coming in hot. He pockets his hands and lets this incoming terror seep into his son's bones. Elliot will have to deal with this alone if he wants to act like a man.
Jameson yells again, "Lillian!"
"Yes, Daddy!" Lillian rushes out of the cabin and sits on an Adirondack chair faster than anything Edward has seen move. Jameson appears then, red-faced. He looks at Elliot, at Edward, then at her.
"Where the hell have you been?" he begins; he continues the rant for the next minute. His gray hair is already showing at his temples. Edward's is still the color he was born with, no burdens on him. But this guy, this guy has tameless children. All three girls are firecrackers; the twins worse even. "Get your ass back to your mother this instant. We've been calling you all day."
"I was just hanging out, Dad! I can't hang out?" she yells back. She gestures to the small fire going in the pit. Spring has come, meaning families coming to the campsite for the season. She's entitled to hang out after a long semester and AP classes. Her father disagrees wholeheartedly, and boy, do they argue about it. In the end, she walks off in a huff, everyone still hearing her mouth going down the path, colorful words. It's pure contrast to her sweet, apple-shaped face and terribly-beautiful ebony eyes.
Jameson, ready with a pointed finger at Elliot, stops. He glances Edward's way. Edward takes a visible step back, like, "Go ahead. Permission to rip the boy's head off."
"Oh, God," Elliot says nervously between his teeth.
"I better not know of you sneaking around with my daughter. You're too old for her. I've said this, I'll say it again; stay away from Lillian. You hear me?" James reprimands.
"We're in the same school," Elliot says like he's tired of saying it.
"Elliot." James spits. Years of knowing him simmers down to a single stare.
Elliot is quiet, but his jaw flexes. Mad. His hair is a little rumpled, dark like his mother's. His fit biceps are lean and tense when he crosses his arms. Almost the same age, definitely the spitting image of Edward when he found this place. Edward wonders if he was like this then, as he watches him where he stands—the same spot he kept a stove to warm his meals. Edward can't fault him. Edward wanted freedom, too.
This boy—Jameson saw him grow to a tall, young man. They're close, but since two summers ago, James has kept a closer eye after seeing Elliot's wander sweetly. He knows, deep down, Lillian's the one keeping Elliot around her finger.
Elliot looks at Edward after a long silence. A pleading look. "Please …" he says.
"Go do your chores," Edward says simply. But Elliot knows what's coming to him. This summer, Elliot will tirelessly work with Uncle Emmett, and he'll stay at Grandma and Grandpa's house. But what really tears at Elliot is that this small land Sam and Bella made for Edward but named it after Elliot in his absence, will finally be in Edward's name. A perfect place like this is dangerous for egos at Elliot's age.
He had one last chance.
"Dad, I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't do anything …" Elliot tries to defend, but to Edward, not Jameson. One look at his stoic father, and he walks off silently, grieving.
Jameson sees—that respect. Even parenting, he does better than him. He can barely manage his own. He rolls his eyes, gets ready to leave, but he lags a bit. Both fathers are alone.
Edward speaks to him, and that's something Edward hasn't done directly to Jameson in years.
"Forgive my son. He's good. Better than me," he trails off. No details needed of his blatant past. "Don't punish him for my misdeeds."
Jameson sighs, rubbing his eyes. Well, he's been too obvious. This is embarrassing. Jameson's fight simmers down to this irrational fact: this man still affects his life. A part of Edward is being tightly wound to something that's part of him. This, spitefully angers him.
"It's impossible, you know," Edward continues, clearing his throat. He walks over, fixes the chairs, and dumps sand into the fire pit. It smokes.
"What is?" Jameson side eyes him.
"To change the course of someone's life. Especially when they're so young."
Jameson watches him closely before he can answer. "Bella did," he says, hinting at him. He smirks at the ground. He kicks at a rock.
Edward can see that. Nods. "Then you must know, no one but Lillian could turn him away and change his."
Jameson's smirk fades to something like dread. Edward is right on top of that.
"Yeah—" Yeah. He wants to add that last part petulantly. He's creating a forbidden love story with his antics, making Lillian and Elliot's secret even more enticing. He chuckles, rolling his eyes.
He steps away, tired. He says, "I'll bring Allie home if I find her."
He leaves that exchange where it is. But it didn't escape him; this was a milestone for both. They don't … talk.
Before he finds the crack through the boulders, he stops. "Hey, uh … Vicky wanted to invite you guys to dinner. At the campsite? Start off the summer." He pauses. "Maybe … go fishing that morning with Charlie and Sam? If you're not too busy."
Edward looks up, surprised at the invite from him, not a yearly suggestion from Sam—despite everyone knowing Jameson was grateful for Edward's yearly decline.
He nods once.
Jameson grins and walks out.
An olive branch.
…
The End
A/N: What a ride. That pretty much leaves it where it can spiral into 2 more books, but nah lol. You can imagine their lives in abundance. Not perfect, but wonderful. I think I will try publishing this one.
Thank you a million for sticking through, your reviews seriously brought tears to my eyes. Love you, and even if Edward would never say, he loves you, too! Thanks again to Fran and Patricia for their help. Was great getting reactions from them along the way! xoxo
I'm posting so early as I have surgery in a few hours. I'll see your reviews as a treat after. :-) Hint, hint: Don't disappoint! Snort. You never do. Best readers ever!
Until next time. xoxox