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Renee had come to be present for the birth, and to help take care of Bella and the baby, afterwards. Having missed the first installment of this promise, she was working hard on the second, and by late that evening, Bella had sent her home, feeling the beginnings of exasperation bubbling up through the wear of the day.
"I'll be fine, mom. There are nurses here. Go, sleep. I'll see you tomorrow," Bella said, yawning. She had just set the baby into the bassinet, the awkward angle over the railing hard on her back.
Renee was herself, exhausted, after a long flight, and the thrilling news of Charlie's phone call. "Alright," she agreed reluctantly. "You'll call me, though, if you need anything? I've got my cell, and I can be here if you need anything. Anytime."
Bella nodded, trying to smile, to reassure her. It was hard to make the corners of her mouth move upwards.
It made Renee's heart curl up in anguish, watching her try to be so brave. She kissed her, and disappeared without adding more weight to the strain Bella was carrying.
Once she was gone, Bella sighed, leaning back in the bed. She wished it was fully dark in the room, but the diffuse light from the hall was persistent, along with the noise of nurses, and patients in other rooms. Despite this, though, Bella found her eyelids growing heavy, sliding downwards into the pull of sleep.
Edward stood guard, still, outside. Bella needed to sleep. Everyone whose eyes had seen her acknowledged that, but she'd fought it all day long. Now that her mother had left, he couldn't see Bella in her thoughts, but he could at least hear that she was there.
Finally.
He breathed his own sigh of relief.
She gave too much of herself. And now, now that she was a mother, he shifted uneasily. She would need to learn balance. He wasn't sure she could, not without help.
Who would do that?
Not her parents, certainly. She'd so clearly outgrown the pull of their parental reach long ago. Jacob might have, but he couldn't see Billy trying to tackle that.
He pushed these thoughts back.
It was up to her, not him. He'd left, he reminded himself.
He forced himself to focus on what he was hearing, smelling, seeing from others. All was well, as far as he could see. She was settling into a deep sleep.
He opened his mind to the sounds of Bella's baby. Asleep also. Her dreams were singularly focused. He smiled. She loved and trusted in her mother, already, wordless as it was.
But it was this focus that made the smile fall. The thoughts were becoming erratic, and the heart-rate too.
Was she—?
He didn't wait to hear, but sped in through the cover of the dark, sliding unnoticed down the maternity hallway, and into Bella's room.
The baby's silence made him start, and picking her up gently in one arm, he used two fingers to begin the most minute of chest compressions. Her heart was beating again, the rhythm ticking up to where it should be. Her small cry made him smile in relief.
"Edward?"
He stopped, still holding Bella's baby in his arms. He'd been so focused. He hadn't heard her stir. He wondered briefly, if perhaps she was talking in her sleep. Turning, he saw her eyes were open. Wide. She was sitting stiffly upright, hands partially outstretched.
She looked like she'd seen a ghost.
Felt like she'd seen a ghost.
"Press the blue button," he said softly, bringing over the baby, who was now turning her head side-to-side, and mewling, volume growing. "She stopped breathing," he said.
Bella still didn't move.
"The blue button, Bella. Press it."
She stared at him. She hadn't moved her arms yet.
When he put the baby in her arms, she startled, and cried out, "Oh my God!"
He felt so real.
Edward stiffened, keeping his hands on the baby, until he was sure she was safe in Bella's grip, and because Bella had made no move to, smacked his hand into the blue button beside her bed.
Then he was gone, and the room was suddenly bright, and full of too many people.