Thank you as always to my PTB beta, Thir13enth!
.
.
Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
.
.
.
.
.
WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend I remain, Yours on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for I remain, Yours for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it.
.
Please vote for I remain, Yours!
.
.
.
.
"Hello, may I help you?"
"Yes, my name is Phil Dwyer. My fiancée and I have a meeting with Reverend Harrison." "Have seat please, Mr. Dwyer. The Reverend will be right with you."
Phil walked back over to Renee and Bella, who were looking out the window at a beautiful gazebo surrounded by a small flower garden behind the church. "He'll be right out."
"Oh, Phil, look. Isn't it beautiful. Just picture it at sunset."
Standing behind Renee, Phil wrapped his arms around her and agreed that it was beautiful. The gazebo was square in shape, painted white, ornate but not overly so, and fully open on one side which faced a small grassy area divided by path of flat stones lined on both sides with colorful flowers. The stone walkway fanned out as it approached the gazebo, and two steps led up to the raised floor so that the bridal party was elevated slightly over their guests.
They only waited a few moments before they were joined by the Reverend. "Phil, Renee, it is a pleasure to meet you."
"Reverend, this is my daughter, Bella. She is my maid of honor."
"A pleasure, Bella."
Gesturing with his hand, Reverend Harrison guided them to a door opposite the windows. "There is a small conference room right over here. If you would follow me, we can get started." Renee and Phil had chosen a small non-denominational church near Camelback Mountain for their wedding ceremony. Although not particularly religious, Renee was just old fashioned enough that she wanted to be married in a church, and they both knew that Phil's parents would be very disappointed if he was not married in a church.
"Reverend Harrison, I noticed the gazebo area behind the church, would it be possible to have the ceremony there, instead of inside?"
"Oh, yes. We've had many weddings in the gazebo; it's very popular. We can only seat about twenty-five around it though, and there isn't room in the gazebo itself for a large bridal party, only myself, the bridge and groom, maid of honor, and best man. Often, couples will have pictures taken in the gazebo after the ceremony if their wedding party is too large."
Renee's face lit up, and she looked at Phil and squeezed his hand. "That would be perfect." The Reverend had a calendar planner in front of him and opened it to November. "You said on the phone you were interested in Saturday, November 28th. Correct? What time would you like the ceremony?"
"Yes, November 28th. I believe Renee is interested in having the ceremony at sunset," Phil answered, looking at Renee for confirmation.
She agreed. "Sunset would be wonderful. It must be absolutely beautiful."
After writing their names in the calendar, the Reverend turned to Renee. "Sunset ceremonies are very popular. The sun sets behind Camelback, and it is absolutely stunning. I'm sure you won't be disappointed. Would 5:00 work for you? The service will take about twenty minutes."
"Yes, that would be fine."
"Very good, then. Now, music. We do have an organist, or if you prefer, you can hire your own."
Bella sat quietly, barely listening to her mother and Phil planning their wedding ceremony. It had only been a week since her decision to stop writing to Edward, but it felt like forever. She had never felt so lonely, so empty, and she looked absently around the room wondering for at least the hundredth time if she had made the right decision.
Stop it. You don't have the right to interfere with a life that's already been lived. You don't belong to his world, and he doesn't belong to yours. He has his friends, and he has his plans. Just because you don't have a life, doesn't mean you can risk messing up his. You've given him peace of mind, knowing that the war will end soon, and that is all you can give him. If you're truly his friend, if you truly care about him, you have to let him go, let him live the life he was meant to, that he already has. He falls in love, marries, and has at least one child. Michael is proof of that. You can't risk him losing his wife and child. What kind of friend would you be if you did?
That was the one thought that always got to her the worst, the one that could bring her to her knees. She had met his grandson. Edward would eventually fall in love, marry, and have a child. Or children. With Violet, perhaps?
Whoever he married one day, she knew he would be happy. From his letters, she knew he was a good person. Compassionate. Caring. She could tell he truly cared about the men he spent time with at the hospital. He didn't volunteer his time out of a sense of obligation or to make himself look good or for any other selfish reason. He did it simply because he was good. That, she was sure of. Although she had known him for such a little while, Bella thought she already knew Edward better than she knew anyone else.
Smiling a little to herself, Bella thought of Jane Austen's character Mary Ann Dashwood. She had said that it was not time or opportunity that determined intimacy, that seven years wouldn't be enough for some people to get to really know each other, but that seven days were more than enough for others.
Except, Mary Ann Dashwood could not have been more wrong. The man she thought she knew was nothing like she thought he was.
She wondered what Edward would say if he knew that in the movie version, Mary Ann Dashwood quoted the same sonnet he used to describe Anne Elliot and Captain Dashwood with Mr. Willoughby.
He'd probably go nuts.
She wondered what he thought of Mary Ann Dashwood, and she wished she could ask him. Bella didn't think she would've been one of his favorite characters. Edward had described himself as a realist, but she thought there was a romantic inside him too. Mary Ann Dashwood was too overly romantic though, naively so… ridiculously so really, like a 12-year-old with her first crush would be. No, she was sure Mary Ann Dashwood would not be one of his favorite literary characters.
Bella sighed sadly as she thought about Edward, how very quickly he had become so important to her, how quickly she had come to feel connected to him. Seven years or seven days…
"Or seven letters."
"Bella?"
Bella looked at her mother and saw that she, Phil, and Reverend Harrison were all looking at her, and she panicked as she realized she'd spoken out loud.
"Did you say something, baby?"
"What? Oh, no. No, I... I was just… thinking… about something. I'm sorry."
Reverend Harrison continued on, but Renee and Phil looked at her for a few seconds longer before turning back to the Reverend.
Bella knew she hadn't been herself this week, and both her mom and Phil had been trying to get her talk about what was bothering her. If she was being perfectly honest, she hadn't been herself since she got Edward's first letter. She'd always been quiet. She'd never minded being alone. She was like her dad in that way. Her mom was the social one. Bella had always been perfectly content to sit at home and read. Now though, she couldn't even think about any of her favorite books without thinking about Edward. She couldn't even bring herself to pick them up; now, they only reminded her of the friend she had lost.
There were so many things she wanted to tell him or ask him, but she knew she couldn't. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Was he wondering why she hadn't written yet? Was he angry, or worried, or hurt? Would he ever forgive her? Would he forget her? From Sense and Sensibility and Mary Ann Dashwood, Bella's mind drifted to Pride and Prejudice, and Elizabeth Bennett's voice rang in her head, "I cannot bear to think that he is alive in the world and thinking ill of me."
It was no use even trying to concentrate on anything that didn't involve him. She had rented The Time Machine and had gotten the book. It was the only book she could bring herself to read.
"Bella and Phil's brother, Andrew, are doing the readings."
Hearing her name, Bella groaned to herself. She was doing the first reading. She was so not looking forward to this. She was counting on Phil's brother, Andrew, to get her down the aisle without falling, but she didn't know what her mother was thinking, having her stand up in front of everyone, in heels and a gown no less, and give a reading.
And now, with the gazebo, she'd have stairs to deal with. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
"Very good, and have you looked at any readings?"
Suddenly, Bella got an idea. If she could keep a piece of Edward with her, maybe it wouldn't be as bad. "Actually, Reverend, I don't know if it's allowed, but I was thinking I'd like to read from Shakespeare, if that's OK?"
Her mother smiled at her. No, she wasn't just smiling; she was absolutely beaming at her. "Oh, baby. You thought about that? Oh, that would be beautiful."
Renee turned her glowingly happy smile on the Reverend. "Is that OK, Reverend?"
"Oh, yes, depending on the verse, of course, but we have had couples use a poem or verse with special meaning to them before. What did you have in mind, Bella?"
"A sonnet, I don't know which one it is, or if I have the words right, but it's something like 'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. Oh, no. It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken.' I, I, I heard it... somewhere... and... I don't know, I just, I really liked it. I'm not sure if I got it right."
Bella knew very well she had the right words. She must've read each of Edward's letters fifty times at least. She could probably recite them word for word, beginning to end.
A realist? Please. Realists don't quote Shakespeare to girls living ninety one years in the future, Edward. You are such a hopeless romantic.
"Ah, yes. Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. Is that what you would like then, Renee? Phil?"
Her mother was still smiling that same radiant smile as she answered the Reverend with tears forming in her eyes. "Oh, yes. Bella, that's beautiful. Thank you, baby. It's perfect."
"Phil?"
Great, now Phil was grinning at her like that, too. "I'm good with whatever make the ladies happy."
Making notes of what had been decided, the Reverend continued on. "Next, I will talk about marriage and the solemnity of the vows you are making, then we will proceed onto the second reading."
The Reverend had several print outs of suggested readings, and her mother and Phil chose 1 Corinthians 13:1-13.
They talked about their vows, but Renee and Phil were undecided if they wanted to use standard vows or write their own.
"Next, comes the exchanging of the rings, followed by a short acknowledgment of the vows you have made to each other, and the only thing left is to pronounce you husband and wife, you kiss, I introduce you as Mr. and Mrs. Phil Dwyer, and everyone claps."
.
..ooOoo..
.
Later that evening, Bella was lying on her bed, once again reading The Time Machine, when Phil came and knocked on her door. She knew her mom and Phil were worried that something was bothering her, so she had left her bedroom door open hoping it wouldn't look like she was shutting herself off.
It's not like I'm doing anything special anyway.
"Pizza's here. Watcha reading?"
As she got up, Bella handed him the book, and he looked at it for a minute before laying it down on her desk. "Didn't you just read that a few days ago?"
She forced herself to smile and asked him how many times he had seen the Three Stooges episode he watched last night.
"That's different though, that's the Stooges. They're classics."
Bella walked out of her room shaking her head, but Phil called her back. "Bella, wait a sec." Slowly turning to face him, she braced herself for another round of "What's wrong with Bella?" He must've known what she was thinking, because he put his hands up in surrender. "I know, I know, you're fine, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to tell you how happy you made your mom today. She's so happy you put so much thought into what you wanted to read for the wedding that she hasn't stopped talking about it since we got home."
Bella looked down at the ground, embarrassed, and shrugged her shoulders. She hadn't thought about it at all; the idea just popped into her head. And she'd been thinking about Edward when she suggested it, not her mother.
Thinking she was embarrassed because she was getting emotional about the wedding, Phil laughed, trying to lighten the mood, and put his hand on her shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze as they walked out to the patio. "Right, enough of the emotional stuff, let's go eat."
Renee was already on the patio and called into them, asking them if they could grab the wedding planner Reverend Harrison had given them.
"I'll grab it, mom. Where is it?"
"I think I left it on the kitchen table."
After a few minutes of looking, Bella found it on the end table in the living room.
It really is a good thing all her limbs are securely attached... A new wedding planner really wasn't necessary, she's already got one. Although, this one really is prettier. The other one is just plain white with some calligraphy on it.
The new wedding planner from Reverend Harrison had a definite religious theme to it, hardly surprising, since it was from the church. It had a picture on one corner of a woman's hand resting on top of a man's showing off their new wedding rings, and there was a faint image of a third hand, large, strong, and masculine, beneath picture took up about half of the cover then faded away.
Bella had never been a religious person. It wasn't that she didn't believe, it was more that she just never really thought about it. She supposed if someone were to ask her point blank, she would say that, yes, she believed there was some type of God or supreme being who had created the universe. The alternative, that everything just sort of… BANG, appeared out of nothing… that the countless cells and nerves of the human body, that the entire interdependent ecosystem that was the planet Earth, just happened strictly by chance…. It just didn't feel plausible.
As she looked at the picture on the cover, Bella felt herself genuinely smiling for the first time in a week. There was just something very comforting about it. Just the idea that there really was some kind of creator or protector out there, and that he was on your side, made her feel more at peace than she had since she realized she had to stop writing to Edward. The idea that he would fall in love with someone and marry her someday didn't hurt quite so much as it did before.
Just be happy, Edward. That's all I want. For you to be happy.
The other half of the cover had something written on it, and if the picture had reassured her, what was written above it left her reeling.
"God gifts us with many miracles in our lives. He leaves it to us to chose to accept them or turn away. You have chosen this day to accept the miracle God has gifted you with, the miracle of each other. Cherish, honor, and guard His miracle always. Enter into this marriage knowing that accepting His miracle will not be easy. You will walk a path together, not knowing what lies around the corner, but be not afraid. You have found each other along your path in life by His will, and He will walk it with you, if you ask Him. Respect each other, cherish and love each other, do not hide your fears from each other, be honest and open with each other, and commit to live your lives together for all the days to come."
Bella must've stood there holding the planner longer than she realized, because her mother came looking for her. "Oh good, you found it. Wasn't it on the kitchen table?"
She knew must've answered her mother, because she could hear herself speaking, but it didn't sound like her voice, and she couldn't understand the words. She went through dinner almost in a sort of a trance. She heard her mother and Phil talking, and she heard herself answering them, but she had no idea what was being said. She ate, but she couldn't taste anything. She could've been eating dirt for all she knew. It was like her brain had split in two. One half focused on talking and eating and looking normal, and the other half, the half that felt real, focused solely on what she had just read.
"…God gifts us with many miracles in our lives. He leaves it to us to choose to accept them or turn away… ...You have found each other along your path in life by His will, and He will walk it with you if you ask Him… ...do not hide your fears from each other, be honest and open with each other… ...chose to accept or turn away…"
Afterdinner, Phil and her mother went to the batting cages. When he spoke Baseball, he may as well have been speaking Greek, because neither of them understood a word of it, but her mother was trying to learn.
What is a "K" anyway? When one guy gets one, it's bad, but when another guy gets one, it's good, and sometimes they write the K backwards. What's up with that? I'll have to ask Edward.
Bella was getting The Time Machine DVD out to watch again when she realized what she'd just thought, and she dropped heavily down onto the couch and put her head in her hands.
Crap. I've got to stop doing that.
How had he become such a large part of her so quickly? She still felt like her brain was split in two, but now the two halves had flipped over, and the half that was focused on the words on the planner was the half that didn't feel real. She watched the movie for a while, until the scene when Alexander learns that he can't save Emma. It was her fate to die. He can't prevent it, because it was her death that caused him to build the time machine in the first place.
If he saves her, and she doesn't die... then, he has no reason to build the time machine, because she is alive and well... but if he doesn't build the time machine, he can't be there to save her, and she dies... like she was supposed to... and he builds the time machine again to try to save her. No matter how many times he goes back to save her, she dies some other way, her death can't be prevented, because it was her death that started it.
Bella was starting to feel dizzy. She knew what she was trying to say, or rather to think, but she felt like she was running around in circles, and she couldn't make sense of it. Then, suddenly, she felt like the two halves of her brain slammed back together, and it made perfect sense. She couldn't understand now how she hadn't been able to understand before.
"...God gifts us with many miracles in our lives. He leaves it to us to choose to accept them or turn away…" Michael gave me the desk, and I found Edward's letter. I chose to write to him, and he chose to write back. "…You have found each other along your path in life by His will…" Edward said he felt a strong connection to me, and I know I feel a strong connection to him. I know how well I feel like I know him. "...You will walk a path together, not knowing what lies around the corner, but be not afraid... ...He will walk it with you if you ask Him…" "...do not hide your fears from each other, be honest and open with each other…"
That's exactly what I did. I got scared, and I chose to walk away. I never even told him why. Oh, Edward, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. It'll never happen again. I can't prevent you from living your life as you were meant to any more than Alexander could prevent Emma from dying as she was meant to. If you don't meet your wife one way, you'll meet her another way. You have to, because if you don't, Michael will never be born, because his father would never have been born, and he would not have been there to give me the desk in the first place.
Bella was giddy with laughter and sobbing tears at the same time, and it was the weirdest and best feeling ever. She laughed even harder as she put the DVD away and walked to her room.
It's a good thing Phil isn't here, if he saw me now, I doubt there would be anything I could say to convince him I'm not on drugs.
As she sat down at their desk for the first time in a week, Bella gently ran her fingers over the stained green leather.
I'm back, Edward. I'm here, and I will never leave again.
There were so many things to say, to ask, but first, she had to apologize. She hardly knew how to start.
"...He will walk it with you if you but ask Him..."
Bella couldn't remember every actually, really praying for something before. Sure, she had said prayers at bedtime when she was little, and she remembered saying Grace with her Gramma at dinner when she visited, but this was different. Before, she'd just been going through the motions, saying the words she'd been taught to say; it wasn't something she actually felt. Not like this. This she could feel in her blood.
God, please... Please, all I want is for him to be happy, please.
.
..ooOoo..
.
Edward jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He sat up quickly and looked around, disoriented for a moment, before he remembered where he was.
"I am sorry, Edward. I didn't mean to startle you. I did not realize you were asleep."
After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Edward squinted in the now dark room, looking at the clock on the wall. They'd been at the hospital for over nine hours. Dr. Cullen was standing at the head of his father's bed, bent over examining him.
"Dr. Cullen," Edward stood up, stretched, and looked around the room, "do you know where my mother is?"
"She excused herself for a moment. I am sure she will be right back."
Edward stepped up to his father's bed and stood next to Dr. Cullen. At the sight of his father laying there, he gasped and turned quickly away covering his face with his hand. He was at least glad that his mother hadn't been there to see his reaction. The sight of his father had left Edward feeling sick to his stomach, and he swallowed hard against the nausea, taking a moment to compose himself before slowly turning back.
Dr. Cullen had turned away from his father and was watching him closely, concern written all over his face. "Edward?"
Edward shook his head determinedly and forced himself to look at his father.
How long had I been asleep?
"I'm fine. I apologize. It was… just… the shock."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Edward. I can only imagine what you have been through today."
Dr. Cullen turned back to Edward, Sr. and finished his examination. Edward silently watched him work and felt a growing dread inside him, like his veins were turning to lead. His father was awake and staring blindly away from him across the room. He did not turn toward his son at the sound of his voice or show any indication that he was even aware he and Dr. Cullen were there. He was lying very still, but every once in a while his entire body would shudder, and he moaned in pain. His breathing was wheezy, gasping, as if he had just run up several flights of stairs.
That terrible blue color... it covers his entire face and neck. His cheeks... he looks as if he'd been beaten.
After he completed his examination, Dr. Cullen straightened and took his stethoscope off. Edward spoke without taking his eyes off his father, his voice flat. "Dr. Cullen, please. Tell me the truth."
Dr. Cullen was quiet for a moment before answering reluctantly in a low voice, "Your father has the worst, most vicious case of pneumonia I have ever seen. His lungs are filling with fluid, and his breathing is becoming more and more labored. He is not taking in enough oxygen, which is causing the cyanosis. He has a very rapid, irregular heartbeat, and we have been unable to control his fever. I confess, I have never seen anything like it."
Edward closed his eyes as he tried to swallow past the tightness in his throat. "What can be done? Surely, there must be something that can be done."
Dr. Cullen shook his head slowly. "I am sorry, Edward. We are doing everything humanly possible, but, so far, nothing is helping."
Edward couldn't believe this was happening. Modern medicine was amazing, the things they could do, the discoveries that had been made, and things they now knew... There had to be something that could be done. There had to be.
His father had been fine this morning. This could not be happening. They had had breakfast together this morning. Edward thought back, trying to remember breakfast.
Was there some sign I missed? Did he eat? Did he cough or complain of a sore throat? What did we talk about? Why can I not remember? I… I may… never… have another chance… to talk to him. Why can I not remember what we talked about?
"Edward. Look at me."
Almost against his will, Edward opened his eyes and looked at the other man.
"I know what you are thinking, and you are wrong."
Edward continued to look at the doctor; he didn't think he could turn away if he tried. "I don't… I don't… know… what you mean."
"Listen to me. Believe me. There is absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent this." As if a spell had been broken, Edward wasfinally able to look away. He felt as if all the air had been knocked out of him. Dr. Cullen's words... that was exactly what he had been thinking... but he was wrong.
"No. I should have… I should have noticed… something. There had to have been some sign, some indication." He continued in barely a whisper, "I cannot even remember what we discussed at breakfast."
Dr. Cullen spoke in his comforting, musical voice. "You are suffering from the shock of the suddenness of your father's illness. I am sure you will remember in time."
Edward wiped his hands over his face and shook his head. "Does he even know we are here?" Before Dr. Cullen could answer him, his father began coughing again, and his mother rushed into the room. This time the coughing was even worse, and his whole body jerked and shook with the force of his coughing. Dr. Cullen called loudly for a nurse a moment before Edward, Sr. began coughing up large amounts of blood.
Edward felt like he was trapped in a nightmare that kept getting worse. His mother gripped his arm like a vice as two nurses rushed into the room to assist Dr. Cullen, and he took a few steps back with her to make room for them to work.
Edward's legs began to feel week at the sight of so much blood, and he reached behind himself blindly feeling for something to grab onto to keep himself upright. He heard his mother quietly crying next to him, and he forced himself to focus on taking care of her and not think about anything else. Father would want me to, would expect me to take care of her... for him.
"Mother, come with me. Please... come away."
Although exhausted, Elizabeth fought against him as much as she could. Her body was beginning to tremble, but her gaze was locked firmly on her husband. "No, Edward, no, I cannot leave him. I cannot leave him."
He tried to step back toward the door, lightly tugging on his mother's arm. "Please, Mother, just for a moment. We will not go far, just the hall, but we must let Dr. Cullen and the nurses work. Please, come with me."
Dr. Cullen looked up from his work and spoke in the same authoritative voice which left no room for argument that he had used with Edward few minutes ago, "Elizabeth, go with your son. I give you my word, I will stay with him until you return."
Finally, his mother gave in and stepped back out of the room with him. Together, they sat on a bench in the hallway, and Elizabeth collapsed into her son's arms, her whole body shaking with her tears.
A nurse soon bustled past them carrying a small bundle of white in her arms, and Edward watched her enter the ward with an odd, growing sense of detachment. He felt as if he was watching a scene in a movie that he badly wanted to walk out of but could not, that he was trapped inside the movie with the scene happening around him. He also felt a growing anger that he could not explain. Although Edward knew it was irrational, he was growing angry at everyone and everything. He was angry at Dr. Cullen for not being able to do more to save his father. He was angry at his father for getting sick, for not being able to fight this off. He was angry at his mother for not having prevented this somehow. He was angry at the world for carrying on around him as if nothing was wrong. But more than anything, he was angry at himself for not being able to do something, anything, to help his father, for not having noticed something wrong at breakfast
As he sat there holding his mother, Edward heard his father's coughing finally stop, and after a few more minutes, the same nurse hurried past them again carrying another small bundle, this one soaked with blood.
Coughing. It is too mild a word. There should be a different word for that God awful sound. He sat there in a daze, unblinkingly staring, waiting. Waiting for what, he did not know. Waiting to wake up... Waiting to be told there was something that could be done after all, something that would make everything right again... Waiting to be told it was over...
Eventually, the two nurses who had first come to help Dr. Cullen came to tell them they could go back in, Dr. Cullen was waiting for them. They both had blood on their clothes. Edward did not know how long he and his mother had sat on that bench waiting. It could have been minutes; it could have been hours. He stood and stretched. His body both ached and felt numb at the same time.
He turned and reached his hand down to his mother to help her up. She took his hand and stood but seemed unable to move. She took a deep breath and shook herself, as if coming out of a trance. "Forgive me, Edward. I should not have broken down like that."
Wrapping his arm around her, Edward held her gently and placed a kiss on her forehead. His beautiful, strong mother looked like a shell of her former self. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face was deathly pale, there were lines around her eyes and mouth, and her hair and clothing were in complete disarray. She looked to have become an old woman in a day, and as he offered her his arm, and they slowly walked back into the room, Edward was sure he looked no better.
Dr. Cullen was leaning over his father's bed, carefully adjusting his blankets. His white coat had been flung on an empty bed, and he had rolled up his shirt sleeves. Edward suspected he knew why.
He walked with his mother to his father's bedside, and she resumed her place in the chair next to his bed, reaching for his father's hand, but he whimpered and moaned in pain at her touch, and she dropped it immediately as if she had been burned. She turned wide, frightened eyes to the doctor, who could only shake his head sadly.
"I am afraid his fever has escalated further. It is now 104.8. He is delirious and in tremendous pain. Even the lightest touch causes him pain. I have given him an additional injection of morphine to make him as comfortable as possible, but I am afraid that is all I can do." He paused for a moment before continuing, "His lungs are continuing to fill with fluid, which is making his breathing more and more difficult and painful."
Elizabeth nodded her head and spoke to him without taking her eyes from her husband, resigned. "Thank you for everything you have done, Dr. Cullen." She could not continue and began quietly crying again. Dr. Cullen stepped forward handing her a handkerchief, which she accepted, and wiping her eyes, Elizabeth tried to compose herself. When she was able to speak again, she tore her eyes away from her husband and looked at the doctor. Her eyes held so much pain that both Dr. Cullen and Edward knew what she was going to ask before she spoke. "How long?"
Dr. Cullen shook his head sadly. "I do not know. Not long. A few hours, perhaps. Not longer. Possibly less."
Elizabeth felt as if the world was being ripped out from under her. She could hear her son and Dr. Cullen speaking to her, and she wanted to respond, but she could not make her body obey her wishes. She could see Edward kneel before her and could see him holding her hands, but she could not feel his skin against hers. She tried but could not speak to him. A blackness was creeping all around her, and it was closing in. She heard her son calling her, but his voice seemed to sound as if it was coming from far away and drifting further away every second. The blackness nearly surrounded her now, and she tried to fight it off, but it continued to creep in, and she could feel herself falling.
"Mother!" Edward caught his mother as she fainted, and Dr. Cullen helped him lay her down in the bed next to his father's before leaving briefly and returning with smelling salts. He waved them beneath her nose, and she slowly opened her eyes, looking around the room in momentary confusion before her eyes rested on her husband and immediately filled with tears again. She tried to rise but Dr. Cullen prevented her. "Mrs. Masen, when was the last time you ate?"
Looking at him, bewildered, she tried to rise again. "I… I don't… earlier… the nurses… I have to go to him."
Edward was shaking and struggled force the words through the tightness in his throat. "The nurses were kind enough to bring us some dinner earlier, but she did not touch it."
Dr. Cullen nodded his head. "I thought as much." He helped her stand slowly and walked with her to her husband's bedside before turning to Edward. "And you, did you eat?"
Behind his mother with his hand on her shoulder, Edward had to swallow several times before speaking again. "A little."
"I know it is late, but you may be in for a very long night. You both must eat something. I am going to go and see what I can find for you both."
Neither mother nor son spoke while the doctor was gone, both silently maintaining their vigil at Edward, Sr.'s bedside, watching helplessly as he fought to breathe. He was in a deep sleep now, as a result of the latest injection of morphine, but every breathe he drew was an agonized, desperate gasp for air.
Dr. Cullen returned with some fruit and cheese and instructed them to eat. "You must keep up your strength. I will not have either of you falling ill as well." He stayed only long enough to satisfy himself that they had both at least eaten some of it before instructing them not to hesitate to send for him if there was anything they needed and leaving to give them some privacy.
A short while after he left, the nurses from earlier returned in fresh, clean uniforms and turned down the beds on either side of his father. "Dr. Cullen thought you might be more comfortable if you lie down for a short while, Mrs. Masen."
Elizabeth showed no sign she'd heard them or had even noticed they were there. Edward thanked them, but he knew his mother would not move from her seat until… Until.
The minutes passed and turned into hours as his father slipped further and further away from them. That horrible blue color was darkening as his breathing grew steadily more and more labored, and Edward thought he could actually hear the liquid that was drowning him gurgling in his lungs as he struggled to draw breath.
Dr. Cullen returned at least once an hour to examine his father and check on them. Edward's only consolation was that his father did not wake at all, and there were no more coughing fits. He clung to the hope that at least in his sleep, his father was not in pain.
Finally, hours later, his father's breathing started to grow more and more shallow, weaker. Elizabeth grasped her husband's hand one last time, kissed it, and held it to face as she cried. Edward's eyes were riveted to his father as the time between his breaths grew, and without realizing it, he was holding his own breath, silently counting, waiting for his father's next breath.
...twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight…
Dr. Cullen silently entered the room and bent over his father. Edward's lungs began to protest in earnest, but he did not inhale.
...thirty-four, thirty-five…
Dr. Cullen straightened, and Edward saw him look quickly at the clock on the wall before speaking.
"Mrs. Masen, Edward, I am so terribly sorry."
Not speaking, his mother continued to sit there holding her husband's hand to her cheek and crying. Trying in vain to fight back his tears, Edward closed his eyes tightly and forced out the words to thank Dr. Cullen for everything he had done for them.
At home some time later–it could have been several hours later, Edward really had no idea–he was sitting in his room at his desk, alone, and staring at the green leather. His mother was finally in bed asleep, but she had been unable to bear facing the room she had shared with her husband and was in a guest room. When he'd arrived home with his mother, he'd been unspeakably grateful to find both that Nellie and Maggie had waited up for them. Both women had fallen asleep on the couches in the parlor, but they awoke the moment he and his mother entered the room and quickly took charge of his mother, getting her upstairs and undressed and into bed. Before he and his mother had left the hospital, Dr. Cullen had given him a small envelope containing four Veronal tablets to help them sleep. Edward had given his mother one once she was in bed, and she'd cried herself to sleep a short while later. He had not taken one himself, but Maggie had insisted on leaving one with a glass of water on the table beside his bed.
Once closed in his room for the night, Edward had prepared for bed, but he could not bring himself to lie down. He was utterly exhausted and felt weary to his bones, but he knew he would be unable to sleep. He felt numb and lost and alone, and without thinking about what he was doing, he picked up his pen and opened a pot of ink and wrote only three words on a small slip of paper. The moment he opened the hidden compartment and saw Bella's letter laying there waiting for him, Edward gave in to the tears he had been trying to fight all evening, and he picked up her letter with shaking hands and put the small slip of paper in its place. Laying his forehead down on his desk next to her letter and clasping his hands behind his neck, he let his tears fall as he remembered his father.
He remembered his sixth birthday when he opened up his gift, his very first baseball and mitt... They had spent all day in the yard as his father taught him to throw and to catch, with his mother watching them from the back porch and encouraging him. They'd had yellow cake with chocolate icing and strawberry ice cream, his favorite.
He thought about all the baseball games he and his father had gone to. The best had to be the first game of the World Series last year against New York. The Sox won by a single run. Eddie Cicotte threw a complete game, Edward remembered, and Happy Felsch hit a home run in the forth, which turned out to be the difference in the game. The Giants had a chance in the 8th when Benny Kauff reached on a Fred McMullin error, but there were already two down, and Cicotte picked him off. He and his father had been on their feet cheering wildly with the rest of the crowd.
He remembered all the chess matches and how patiently his father had taught him the game.
He remembered his father teaching him to drive, and he remembered all the Sunday drives and picnics with his parents. His father loved cars and driving, and his new Cadillac Type 57 Touring Car was… had been his most prized possession.
Edward sat, thinking about his father for quite some time before eventually picking Bella's letter back up.
Dear Edward,
I'm sorry I haven't written sooner. I think I've been lost in a fog of my own. It made me very happy to read that you feel a strong connection to me, I feel a strong connection to you, too. But it also scared me. Edward, I know you're only 17, and I know you've got your whole life in front of you, but please understand, from my point of view, you've already lived your life. You've already fallen in love, gotten married, and had children and grandchildren. I got scared. I started to worry that I might somehow unintentionally screw that up for you. It was only just a few minutes ago that I realized I can't, or at least I really don't think I can. I read The Time Machine, and I got the movie. The movie adds quite a bit to the story. It was directed by H. G. Wells' great grandson, by the way. The Time Traveler lives in New York instead of London. In the movie, the Traveler is named Dr. Alexander Hartdegen. He is engaged to a woman named Emma, who is killed by a robber, and he invents the time machine to go back and prevent her murder. He does prevent the murder, but she dies another way. No matter what he does or how many time he tries, he cannot save her, because it was her death that caused him to build the time machine in the first place. If she doesn't die, he will never invent the time machine to go back and prevent her murder. I can't accidentally prevent you from meeting your wife and having your family, because if you don't have your family, I will never meet your grandson and get your desk to be able to write to you in the first place. Am I making any sense? I'm confused and my head is going around in circles, but I think I understand. I'm sorry I didn't at least tell you what I was afraid of. I read something today that said we shouldn't hide our fears from the people we care about, we should be honest and open with them. I'm sorry I didn't do that. I got scared, and I made a decision that affected us both without even telling you, and I'm sorry.
Your family was really going to sail on the Titanic? That's incredible. Thank God you didn't. How did your mother convince your father? I'm so sorry about your aunt and uncle and your cousins. Your poor mother, she must've been devastated. Not just her sister, but the children, too. It's no wonder she hasn't gotten over it. I don't have any brothers or sisters, but I'm sure I would feel the same way.
You're welcome to try to teach me about baseball, but I'm warning you, don't get your hopes up. I still think it's a lot of standing around and waiting. I'm glad your team won, though. Phil plays outfield too. He was all excited the other night because, let me try to get this right, he "snow-coned one as it went over the wall". What does that mean? And what is a "K"? And why is it sometimes written backwards? I was happy to read about your double play; I will remember that one, at least.
I see what you mean about Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth. I liked Persuasion, but I think I like it more now.
I went with my mom and Phil this morning to a meeting with the Reverend about their wedding. I was thinking about you and how you used that sonnet to describe them. I'm going to read it during the ceremony. I feel really guilty, though. My mom is so happy because she thinks I thought of it for her, but I have to admit, I was only thinking about you.
Babysitting is when you watch someone's children for them when they have to go out.
The capitol of Illinois is Chicago.
I will read some of the books you mentioned. Write to me soon.
Your friend,
Bella
As grief stricken as Edward was, he couldn't help but smile at what she wrote. She was worried about him. He didn't like that she was upset, of course, but he was deeply touched that she cared that much about him.
…we shouldn't hide our fears from the people we care about…
She cares about me, too. She feels connected to me, too.
He reread her letter and shook his head.
Honestly, Bella. Chicago?
He yawned deeply as he reached for another piece of paper and sent her another small note. Standing and stretching, Edward yawned again. He was still devastated at his father's death, all of the pain was still there, but the feeling of being lost and alone was easing, and the pain was easier to bear. He knew he would be able to sleep without having to take a Veronal tablet now.
.
..ooOoo..
.
Is everyone happy Bella came to her senses in time to be there for Edward when he needed her?
It's my understanding that Edward's father died in the first wave of the epidemic. There is some conflicting info online about when exactly the first wave was. The symptoms of the Spanish flu were so severe, doctors at the time didn't even classify it as influenza, so deaths could've been attributed to any of a number of things. I saw a chart online that showed a small rise in deaths that were attributed to the flu in July, so that's what I went with for Edward, Sr. I didn't realize until it was too late to change it that it was a chart for the U.K., but by then it was too worked into the time line and I couldn't change it.
Edward and his mother have a temporary reprieve, but their time will come. I don't want to go too much into the flu right now, but much more will come later. I tried to be as accurate as possible with the symptoms of the Spanish flu. The Spanish flu was sometimes called "Purple Death" or "Blue Death" because of the cyanosis caused by a lack of oxygen in the blood. Several websites I read said that sometimes, the blue color became so pronounced it was actually difficult to determine the patient's original skin color. During the worst of it, triaging nurses would check new patients' feet. If the feet were black, the patient was deemed beyond help, and they had no choice but to move on to someone else who they had a hope of saving. It sounds terrible, but you have to remember how desperately short staffed they already were and people were falling sick by the 100's of 1000's.
On a much lighter note, the details Edward remembers the first game of the 1917 World Series are accurate. It was very considerate of the 1917 White Sox to win, don't you think? It fits so well in my story...
