Back at the hotel, the six of us gathered in Edward's and my room for a while. I thanked Jasper for his help, at the hospital and at Phil's house. He nodded gravely.

"Things seem to be under control there for now," I said. "He has a lot of friends and family with him." I smiled a little. "And so do I."

Edward phoned home, and I accepted the family's condolences. Esme asked where they could send flowers, and I gave them the name of the funeral home. We talked for a short while, and promised to call again after the funeral.

I sat without speaking for so long, Edward asked me what I was thinking.

"What a beautiful tragedy being human is."

"Really?"

"They're so much at the mercy of passing time. I almost forgot what that feels like."

The others were quiet a moment before resuming their talk, leaving me a little privacy to pursue my own thoughts. I rested in Edward's arms, and at last he looked down at my face, touching my temple to beg admission. I hid my face against his shoulder and raised my shield, letting him hear the chaos of my thoughts.

Everything whirled through my mind at once. I thought about Renee, and my dim human memories of her from childhood on. I thought about the strange fact that she was gone. I thought about Phil and the terrible loss he was going through.

I thought about the fragility of human beings. So many of them died before they left infancy, never really knowing life. Of those who reached adulthood, happiness was often elusive and fragile. When they did find security, love and fulfillment, their natural tendency to change made it fleeting in many cases. Humans became bored with things that had delighted them. People who loved each other grew apart. And when, as sometimes happened, love lasted an entire lifetime, it ended with one of the pair dying and leaving the other behind. Like Renee and Phil. Human nature made lives like theirs all the more precious, for being uncommon.

I thought about how much the passing of time and the fleeting nature of human life defined everything about them.

I thought of passages from books I'd read:
of tragic deathbed scenes and battlefield death scenes and execution scenes; the deaths of Cathy and Heathcliff, the much-maligned death of Little Nell; the death by consumption of young Helen Burns; the deaths of Hector and of Boromir and Charlotte the Spider; the death of Esme's newborn son and of Edward's human parents; my own last, close brush with death, after giving birth to Nessie.
I thought of Adromache tragically mourning the death of her infant son;
of the old married couple Baucis and Philemon, who were granted by the gods the one thing they most wished: that when one of them would die, the other would die at the same time so they would endure no separation;
of 'Margaret, are you grieving?' and 'Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me;' 'Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come' and 'Life is short but art is long' and 'Alas that they are so - to die even as they to perfection grow' and 'after the first death there is no other.'

I thought of the great people who had died young, before they had the chance to do all that they were capable of. I thought of the way Renee had never seemed to age, always a little childlike in her fascination with every new idea and new occupation, and how lovely that quality was, all in all.

I thought of how I had left all this behind, the beauty and the tragedy of it, and let my mother be washed away by it while I stayed safely on dry land. Not that it was really possible for me to offer her anything else, but I still suffered from a little survivor's guilt.

I thought about the funeral I would have to attend tomorrow.

I thought of Phil, and Charlie, and all the other friends who were growing older and would eventually die while I remained forever young.

Eventually, I realized that conversation in the room had stopped, and the others were watching us. Jasper had a look of realization on his face, and Edward, hearing his thoughts, nodded acknowledgement.

"You can hear Bella?" he asked in amazement.

"I can."

Alice stared. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since soon after our meeting with the Volturi in Forks. Bella discovered she could not only expand her shield, she could voluntarily lift it."

"For short periods, and with some difficulty," I added.

"And you never told us?" Alice looked indignant.

"At the time, it seemed best," Edward explained. "I wanted to be sure Aro could never find out."

Jasper, who was used to thinking in terms of defensive strategy, understood perfectly. The others were a little bit indignant at first, until he convinced them it was a good idea.

"All right, I suppose I understand," Alice said at last. "So what's it like, inside Bella's mind?"

Edward smiled at her. "It's wonderful. Rather sad, at the moment."

"Naturally."

I turned to Nessie and Jacob. "Are you coming to the funeral?"

"Absolutely," Nessie said. "We both are."

I phoned Phil the next morning to ask if he needed me to do anything before the service that afternoon, hoping he'd say no and spare me the difficulty of avoiding the sunlight.

"No, I don't think so." He sounded subdued but under control. "You took care of the flowers and everything?"

"Yes. I've got the music CD here too. I'll go a little early and make sure everything's in order, if you like."

"Thanks, Bella."

I'll see you there."

At 2:00 I finally got the black suit Alice had chosen for me out of the closet. She and Jasper went back to their own room, and Nessie and Jacob went downstairs to have lunch before preparing for the funeral. I put on my black suit and Edward his dark summerweight suit, picked up my tote bag carrying the CD and my camouflaging hat and sunglasses, and we headed out. We drove from one underground parking area to another, finding our way into the funeral home without ever going out into the brilliant sunshine.

We were directed to a large room in which Renee's casket was laid out, the lower half covered by a blanket of flowers. I wandered the room, looking at the flowers and cards set out on side tables, and the arrangement of photographs of Renee displayed on a poster board. I thought that was probably Phil's sister's doing. There was Nessie and Jacob's huge arrangement of yellow roses and lilies accompanied by a card 'in fond remembrance of a dear friend.' There was a lovely bouquet of white flowers from Esme and Carlisle, also from 'dear friends.' There were also flowers from Renee's fellow teachers, from Charlie and Sue, and several from Phil's family, friends, and even his old baseball team. Mom was remembered fondly by a lot of people.

I hesitated before approaching the casket. Renee was there, wearing her wig and made up to look ten years younger. I hardly recognized her, and her scent shocked me. With my eyes closed, I'd never have known she was there.

Miriam arrived an hour before the service and we went over last minute details. I gave the funeral director the CD with instructions to play it until the service began. A few minutes later Renee's favourite music began to play throughout the room. Soon after than Phil and his sister arrived, then Jacob and Nessie, and by 3:30 the room started to fill, and I was put in a position of greeting people, introducing my husband, and making sure Phil was dealing with it all. He seemed to be bearing up. I wondered if Jasper had found a way to hide nearby.

Just after 4:00, Miriam took her place at the lectern next to the coffin, the music was turned down, and everyone took a seat.

Nothing that was said in the eulogy was news to me, but I was impressed at how well this woman knew and understood my mother, and how strongly she'd been affected by Renee. Renee had influenced a lot of people, from her colleagues at school to the children she taught, to Charlie and Phil, to, obviously, me. I stopped paying close attention to the speaker, looking instead at Nessie's solemn face, at Charlie, who had travelled back down for the service and was looking strained and uncomfortable, to Phil, who was sitting in the front row beside me, tears rolling down his face. I handed him some tissues from the table beside me, the only useful thing I could think of.

A curtain was pulled to divide the immediate family from the others for what they called the final viewing, and I trooped obediently past the coffin one last time. It didn't mean much to me; I didn't feel like Renee was there any more. Afterwards, I ducked out to the ladies' room as planned in advance, while Edward waited outside for me, and stayed there until everyone had left for the cemetery. Nessie would explain to Phil and the others that I'd suddenly been taken ill. Unfortunately, the sun was still up, and it was far too sunny to risk attending anything outdoors. We slipped away after everyone was gone, and met up at Phil's house just after sunset, where the mourners and friends were still gathered, eating their way through the mountain of donated food and sharing anecdotes about their memories of Renee.

We stayed on one more day. I helped Phil deal with any loose ends relating to the burial and headstone and, while he was sleeping, cleaned and tidied the house until it was immaculate. His sister would be staying with him a while longer, so I didn't feel as bad telling him I'd be leaving the following day. He was well taken care of.

"Thanks for everything, Bella," he said as I prepared to go, the following evening just after sunset. "I never would have got through all this without you."

"Likewise. Thanks for...well, for being so wonderful to Mom while she was sick."

"That was nothing."

I didn't contradict him; I knew just what he meant. He couldn't have done any differently.

"I guess you'll be going back to Africa?"

"It's not decided. Now that we're here, Edward and I are thinking it might be time to move on and find work at home. The work in Djibouti was never meant to be permanent."

"No, I suppose not."

"We'll let you know," I said, leaving things as vague as possible.

"I wanted to give you this before you went," he said, reaching into his shirt pocket. He handed me a small paper envelope. "I never gave you anything of your mom's, and I thought this was appropriate."

I opened the envelope and spilled the contents out into my hand. It was a pendant I remembered her wearing: a drop-shaped pink pearl on a chain. Charlie had given it to her when I was born. Pink for a girl, and pearl for Renee's birthstone. It had clearly taken Charlie more effort and preparation than he naturally gave to gifts, not to mention more money than he probably had to spare at the time. Either a saleslady had helped him, or the experience of becoming a father had given him a burst of concentration. I studied the pendant.

"Your dad gave it to your mom when you were born."

"I remember her telling me that." I put the little pendant back into the envelope and tucked it into my purse. "Thank you, Phil. That's a perfect memento."

We hugged goodbye, and Edward shook his hand, and we left.