Mother Knows Best

Edward

"Can I help you with anything, Sir? A beverage? Snack?"

"No, I'm fine," I snapped at the stewardess, my tone more hostile than the situation required.

In my defense, however, she was the sixth woman to come up to my in the last hour, asking if I needed anything when I most obviously did not.

I absolutely detested it when women who did not know me—and had no intention of getting to know me either—seemed to find it socially acceptable to invite me for a romp in the bathroom of an airplane.

What kind of man did they think I was?

Did I look like that kind of cad?

I mean, by normally standards, I was somewhat attractive. Hair that stood up on its end, the bronze mop seemed to never lay flat. I had my mother's eyes, my fathers face.

I was alright, I supposed.

I certainly wasn't good enough to be propositioned for sex by a perfect stranger.

And even if I was, this was the completely wrong day for such ridiculous activity.

First off, I was completely worn out from my last flight. My last thirteen hour flight—count it, thirteen—from a small airport in the heart of Angola all the way to JFK was pure hell. Thankfully there, however, I was able to get at least a meager amount of sleep.

During this last trip, the attendants would leave me alone long enough to blink twice let alone actually get some shut eye.

Perhaps I was just bitter.

I hated flying in general, but my situation made it necessary.

I had been in Africa for almost a year, and I was ready to go home. I loved my job—it made me feel useful by helping out people who otherwise wouldn't get any help at all. As cliché as it sounded, I wanted to make a difference in the world, instead of simply existing in it.

But now it was time to go home.

I missed my mother—and her cooking—and my father. I missed my big brother. Hell, I was starting to feel homesick for my self centered sister in law.

Anything other than African desert was home sweet home at this point.

And anything beyond this plane was in my good graces.

Finally, after another hour, our plane landed in Chicago.

The sight of the airport was almost enough to make me cry. It looked so institutionalized—so American. I felt almost out of place here, alone.

As soon as my hand touched the handle of my suitcase, I saw the most brilliant sight my eyes had witnessed in the last eleven months.

My mom, tears of joy falling from her eyes to the floor, a puddle practically forming at her feet. Her hair—a shade lighter than mine—was pulled back into a pony tail, a few strands sticking out, as if she had gotten ready in a hurry.

My dad stood next to her, a wide grin filling his face. His arm encircled my mother's waist. It looked as if tears might start falling from his ice blues eyes any second.

And then my brother and his wife. The former had the biggest, most eager smile I could image. Surprisingly enough, even Rosalie seemed happy to see me.

I am not ashamed to say that my eyes filled at the sight of them.

Before I could even register the movement, my mother's arms were encircling me, her wet face buried into my shoulder. She was sobbing loudly, gasping in between her frantic words. I barely made them out, but they sounded something like, "Can't…missed you…family…apart…sweet…son".

I dropped my duffle bag on the floor, returning my mother's embrace tightly. I patted her back soothingly, pressing my cheek into her thick hair.

This was the worst part about coming home. I just felt so damn guilty to make my mom act like this.

I was the worst son ever.

Why couldn't I be like Emmett and just stay here, make my family happy?

My dad came forward after my mom, gently pulling her away. We smiled at each other, going into a full out hug. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered, pulling away to place his hands on my shoulders.

The smile on my face grew exponentially, a few tears falling out of my eyes.

This was another reason I did what I did.

Making my dad proud. It still brought child-like joy to my soul.

My brother Emmett approached me next. My eyes widened at the sight of him. Had he always been so huge? He could probably pick my two hundred pounds up with one arm.

Why smiled at each other and did the awkward one-armed-guy-hug-thing before punching each other lightly in the shoulder. We didn't say anything. There was no need to. It was simple, uncomplicated brotherly bonding.

I turned to my sister-in-law and pulled her into a quick hug, shocked at what I found. Pressed against my stomach, I felt a small bump that hadn't been there before. Rosalie would rather eat a chunk of Emmett's bicep before gaining weight.

She seemed to understand my confusion.

"I'm pregnant." She grinned happily. It was one of the only times I had ever seen all of her barriers down. Rose and I never really got along—we were civil, most of the time. But the facts were that she annoyed me and I annoyed her.

But still, I couldn't have been happier. I hugged her again, and then another arm punch with Emmett. "I'm going to be an uncle!" I exclaimed happily.

Everyone laughed.

The moment was lovely, serendipitous even.

Emmett picked up my duffle bag, throwing it over his shoulder and began to lead us out of the airport.

"I'm hungry, its breakfast time, and Eddie must be dying for some home-cooked American food."

I ignored the use of his stupid nickname, nodding with mock seriousness. "You have no idea."

Another round of laughter burst from us.

We reached the parking lot. I could clearly see Emmett's massive hummer towering over the other vehicles. For Emmett, bigger was always better.

One good thing about his monstrosity of a truck was that we could all fit. Rose and Em took the front seat, Mom, Dad and I each taking the middle row.

"How was your time there?" My mom asked when we were pulling out of the pick-up lane.

"Fantastic," I told them honestly. "But I'm glad to be home. It was hard being in a place like that."

My brother snorted loudly from his front seat. "No running toilets?"

I shook my head—the primitive accommodations had been the least of my worries. "No. It was the sadness there; in the people's eyes. And knowing, no matter what you do, thousands of innocent people—kids—will be dying. It's draining."

The atmosphere in the car was tense now, solemn. My Dad placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and I closed my eyes. My father was the only person who could really understand how I felt—he was a doctor; he knew how to lose a patient. And, for a good doctor, it doesn't matter if you lose one or a hundred, it still hurts.

Approaching a small dinner just minutes outside the airport, Emmett attempted to lighten the mood again.

"So, little brother, did you meet any hot African chicks while you were there? Get any?" He pulled the hummer into a parking space two-sizes too small.

I snorted loudly. I climbed out of the car, offering my mother hand. She jumped gracefully down and was followed by my father.

"No, Em."

A wide grin of mischief spread over his face. "Really? Good, because Ma' wanted to—"

I saw Rosalie's hand smack the back of Emmett's head—hard. She gave him a look that screamed "shut the hell up".

I was suddenly suspicious. "Mm wanted to what?" I asked, turning to make eye contact with the woman in question.

She wore an expression of pure innocence. A dead giveaway sign.

I knew that look. Hell, I perfected that look.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said with just the right amount of curiosity in her voice. Dad barely managed to hide a grin.

"Hmmm" I hummed in response, raising my eyebrows in incredibility.

A hostess came up to use then, so our conversation was put on hold. I had planned to begin another attack once we reached the table, but as soon as we were all seated, m mother asked Rose about baby names. Oh, she's good.

"So, Edward," Dad asked me, his eyes searching over the sparse menu, "What are planning to do now that you're back?"

The waitress came buy then, taking our drink orders.

"Well, first things first," I answered my father, "I need to get myself situated in with the hospital—make sure my position in still secure."

Carlisle chuckled. "Edward Cullen, the best trauma surgeon the west coast has seen in nearly a decade being turned down? I think you'll be fine."

I laughed lightly too, mostly because I knew he was right. I had built up a bit of reputation. That fact that Carlisle Cullen—famous neurologist—was my father didn't hurt much either, mind you.

"And I just need to get back into my routine."

My father glanced around at mom to make sure her attention was diverted from us before leaning in and whispering, "How long do you think you'll be staying this time?"

I the guilt washed over me because I could see the sadness in his eyes.

I never stayed here for over a year. I couldn't stay put—I had to leave, to help people.

"I'm not sure yet." I answered at last, refusing to meet his hazel eyed gaze.

Thankfully, it was time to place our meal orders.

"So Edward," my mother broached when the waitress had left again. "I wanted to ask if you would do something for you mother? She phrased it as a question. Her bottom lip jutted out, her emerald eyes growing large with begging.

She knew what that look did to people.

"What, mom?" I responded cautiously.

"well, you see…I wanted to have a little get together this Friday. To celebrate your home coming."

"A party?"

"No!" she defended at once. "A small group of us having dinner."

I raised an eyebrow again. "Who is "us", mom?" For my mother A small get together consisted of ten to fifty people. She knew I didn't mingle well.

"The family."

She was planning something. "The family and…"

"Some friends of mine."

She was being too vague.

It was time to cut the crap. "Who mom? Give me numbers and names."

Her expression fell into a perfectly planned defeated frown. "Three." She told me. "Alice and Jasper Whitlock—this absolutely darling couple. I think you'll get along so well. Alice is a bundle of energy and both you and Jasper—"

If she was trying to distract me it wasn't working. "Who else Mom?

She grimaced. Ha. Got her. "My employee." She said at last. Suddenly she was more intense, leaning toward me with a pleading expression on her timeless features. "Her name is Bella. She's so lovely. She's very pretty and has an English degree. I think you tow would be so good toget—"

"No, mom" I interrupted her.

"What?"

"I don't want any blind dates."

"Why not!" she demanded.

"it's not like you get any or your own," Emmett pointed out.

Now they were starting to annoy me. Less than two hours on the continent and they were already trying to set me up. 'Because when you all set me up, it doesn't work out well." I looked at them pointed.

I gestured towards Emmett. "Katie, Sarah, Brittany."

To Carlisle, "Tanya, Mary."

To Rosalie, "Victoria."

Each one of them at least had the thought to look ashamed.

"But I've never set you up before," My mother pointed out. "And I found Rose for Emmett. Bella would be so good for—"

"No mom."

She pouted again.

The waitress returned without food.

"Fine." My mom sighed at last. Then, a dangerous glint in her eye, "But you'll see." Se smiled smugly.

"Mother knows best."