A/N: Wow! I am amazed at all of the reviews that were left for the last chapter. Most of them wanting to kill me, which I expected. I would love to say you are going to get answers today, but I would be lying. You will get some answers, just not the ones you want.

Possible tissue warning for this one. I was fine…but you never know. We cover a lot of ground in this one…hope you can keep up.

September

The first week was the hardest for Isabella. As much as Edward had convinced her otherwise, she had a hard time believing he would be back for her. She knew how much he loved her, she could see it when he looked at her, when he touched her. But in her world, nothing stayed. Her mother had left her with no one and it was hard to trust that he would be back.

She went through her usual tasks everyday, but her heart was not in it. She maintained the garden, but did not bother to harvest the seeds for the following year. She checked the traps, but was not as vigilant as she should have been. She did try and prepare for the winter, just in case he had not retuned by the first snow.

During the day, when she was busy, she was able to distract herself from the thoughts that were ever present. At night though, when she lay in the sheets she and Edward had made love in, wearing his shirt, she could not stop the memories. She would wake with her pillow damp and her throat aching from calling out for him in her sleep.

October

After Edward was gone for a month, Isabella could feel herself getting weaker. She wondered if it was possible to die of a broken heart. Her body would not allow her to complete her usual tasks and she had to stop and rest halfway through the day. She realized she needed to work harder now to make sure she had enough supplies for the winter, since with every passing day her confidence that Edward would return decreased.

November

Isabella sat wrapped in a heavy blanket and watched the first flakes of snow fall. Her tears fell just as heavy and wet as those flakes and her heart ached in her chest. Where was he? She knew what they had was real, she could feel it. Her hands were desperate to wrap themselves around him again. She wanted to curl up with him in their bed and steal his heat. While gathering wood that day she nearly tripped over the grave she had dug for herself so many years ago and realized she had not bled since the summer. What was happening to her? She barely recognized herself anymore.

December

She had not gathered enough wood. She should have noticed that the trees had been producing more acorns than usual, a sign that a hard winter was approaching, but she had been busy daydreaming of her life with Edward. Now she was suffering. She tromped onto the porch, her arms laden with branches she had managed to gather. She stuffed them into the fireplace and curled up onto the couch, trying to thaw her body. She put her head down on the pillow, the one she had taken from Edward's side of the bed, but as hard as she tried, she could no longer smell him. She turned her face into the fabric and screamed as her frozen fists beat against the couch. It was not fair, she wanted him here with her. Where was he?

January

She was not going to survive the winter. All of the branches she had been able to reach were already gone. There was no wood left unless she found the strength to dig out the ax and chop down a tree. She was dangerously low on food and had started rationing herself so she might be able to last till spring, but even then it would be close. She tucked yet another blanket on top of herself and turned her face into the pillow. Her arms wrapped around her belly and she daydreamed that she was with Edward in the warm cabin. He would hold her close as they watched the fire spark and spit. He would read to her from his favorite books and they would make love in front of the flames. Isabella yanked hard on her hair as she tried to rid herself of those foolish dreams. He had left her, just like her mother left her. She suddenly wondered why she kept fighting. No one was fighting for her.

She watched as the last of her kindling snuffed itself out in the fireplace and the room got colder, lit only by the burning embers. The blankets grew stiff with frost and she closed her eyes and relaxed, unable to find it in herself to care whether she lived or died anymore. Her chest hurt from the cold air invading her lungs but she welcomed the fact that she was feeling something other than the heartache. Her eyes closed and she wondered if dying would hurt.

Her eyes flew open and her hands moved over her belly as she felt a flutter deep inside of her. She sat up, the blankets falling off onto the floor as she pulled up Edward's shirt and looked down at her stomach. She had noticed it had gotten bigger but thought it was because she was not working as hard during the day and she was eating more to try and fill the constant emptiness. Her fingertips pressed against her belly and she encountered firm flesh under her touch. The flutter moved again and she gasped. She ran to her mother's bookshelf, her feet freezing against the bare wooden floor. Her mother's old dog-eared copy of Holistic Health lay untouched and dusty on the bottom shelf. Isabella had never opened it ever since it failed to hold the answers that might save her mother. Now she hoped it might help her. She rifled through the pages, using the faint moonlight to guide her, stopping when she saw a picture that took her breath away.

There on the pages of the book was a picture of a tiny baby floating in water. The caption next to the picture identified it as a five month old fetus. She tore her eyes from the picture and read the paragraph below, her hand rubbing her belly as she absorbed the importance of those words. She was carrying life, a life that she and Edward had created. Her eyes filled with tears as she realized if the little one inside of her had not fluttered when it had, they might have both been dead. Swiping her tears away, Isabella brought the book back to the couch and huddled under the covers, anxious for the morning to come so she could start to replenish her supplies.

January

Isabella managed to find the ax and carefully felled a tree. She figured if she was frugal she would be able to make the wood last till spring. She read the entire chapter about pregnancy in the book she had found and discovered that all of the things she had been feeling over the past few months were perfectly normal. She still found herself crying over Edward's absence, but the thought of her little love growing inside of her made her tears come less frequently.

February

The long forgotten dresser tucked in the bedroom held a plethora of baby clothes. When she first opened the bottom drawer she was struck dumb. She never knew her mother had all of those treasures saved in the dresser. She picked up the little white gowns and pants and smiled, rubbing her ever growing belly and imaging her own child dressed in the little clothes. She secretly hoped for a boy, a tiny replica of his father. She could picture him running through the flowers as she chased him, his bright copper hair shimmering in the sun. She wanted so badly to be able to look into another pair of green eyes and see the love shining through.

March

Isabella found she fit into Edward's shirts much better now that her little love was getting bigger. The first signs of spring were all around her and she was relieved that they had made it through the winter. The garden would soon need to be tilled and planted, but her every growing belly made it difficult for her to bend down. She worried she might not be able to have it ready in time to catch the growing season. The book said that it took nine months for the child to grow, and by her count that meant the baby would be ready in May.

Every evening Isabella sat on the couch and talked to her little love. She told the baby of all of the things she would show them. She made sure to tell the baby about Edward as well. Isabella wanted to be angry with Edward that their child would grow up without a father, but she loved him far too much to be angry.

April

The creek was running high due to all of the snow melting in the mountains. Isabella had to make several trips to gather water during the day since she was no longer able to carry the heavy buckets she once had. She managed to get the garden planted after the last frost and although it was not as big as it had been in the past, it would get her by. She found herself craving meat more than her stored vegetables and had to set more traps in order to satisfy her needs. Isabella knew that she needed the extra food for her little love, but it was still hard for her to justify eating so much.

The nights found Isabella standing in front of the wall of pictures. She looked at the one of herself and her mother the most, amazed that in just a few short weeks she would be holding a child of her own. Her eyes slid to the one of her mother and who she knew was her father. Her mother had been hesitant to tell Isabella about her father, but as a child she would not let it go. For days on end little Isabella would beg and plead with her mother to tell her about the handsome man in the picture. Finally, unable to stand the whining anymore, Renee told Isabella that the man was her father, but he had changed and they came out here to the cottage to get away from him. Isabella watched as her mother cried while stroking her finger gently against the picture. Renee disappeared into the trees for hours after that discussion, leaving five year old Isabella to play by herself. When Renee finally returned, Isabella made sure that she would never ask about her father again.

Isabella wished she had a picture of Edward so she would be able to show their child when they got older. She would always be able to close her eyes and see him perfectly, but how could she describe to their child how his eyes shown with love when he looked at her. How he moved his hands wildly when explaining something he found exciting. How his arms were so strong yet gentle as he held her against himself in the middle of the night. Isabella stumbled back to the couch as she realized that with time, she would forget these things. The ever-present pain in her chest exploded and she squeezed her eyes shut tight and wrapped her arms around her belly. As if feeling its mother's distress, the baby kicked against Isabella's hand. She soothed her fingers over the spot, whispering calming words to their child.

May

With every hash mark made on the calendar, Isabella grew more nervous. She knew the time was coming, but was still unclear as how the baby actually came out of her. The book was vague, leaving plenty to the imagination. She wished, for the thousandth time, that Edward was with her. He was going to be a doctor, he would know what to do. But he was gone and she was going to have to do it by herself.

The sun was high in the sky as Isabella made her way to the outhouse for the third time that morning. Her back was aching and she wished she could just lay down for a few minutes, but there was a lot to do before the baby came, and she had no idea how long it would be before she could tackle her chores again. Isabella tugged Edward's shirt up over her belly and moved to sit down, but a rush of fluid came before she was seated, startling her. She looked down at the mess and suddenly realized how the baby would be getting out of her, the same way it got in. She rushed from the outhouse and into the cottage, her hands trembling as the pain in her back got worse. She tried to remember if she had ever seen an animal give birth, but they stayed far away from the cottage. Isabella could do nothing other than pace the room, stopping every few minutes to bend down and breathe through the pains.

Finally, hours later after the sun had set, Isabella found she could no longer stand. She knelt down on her hands and knees in front of the fire. Her belly was hard and her back was in agony as she felt her lower parts flaming with pain. Taking panting breaths, Isabella pulled the shirt up over her head and reached her hand down, trying to feel what was happening. She pulled her hand back up quickly when her fingers encountered something wet. She wished she had a mirror so she would be able to get a better look. The pain increased ten fold and she laid down on her back with her knees bent. The urge to push was overpowering and she put her hands down again as she felt something emerging from her. She was able to lean up enough to see the top of her baby's head before her strength gave out and she collapsed back onto the floor. Her hands cradled the head as she pushed through the pain until it finally stopped. She brought the baby up onto her bare belly and pushed herself up onto her elbow, her other hand holding the baby against her.

The baby was covered in blood and a white sticky film. Its head was covered in dark hair, matted to its skull. Her hands ran over the child, before the most amazing sound in the world erupted from it, a loud angry cry. Isabella pulled it up to her chest, noticing that she was still connected to the child by a thick cord. She grabbed Edward's shirt from the floor next to her and tried to rub some of the mess off of it. She hesitantly looked between the child's legs and started to sob. Cradling her crying daughter against her chest she allowed all of her fears and pain to release from the tenuous hold she had had on them since Edward walked into those woods. She looked down at the now calm child and kissed her head.

"It is just you and me little love. I'm going to call you Hope, since that is the only thing that saved me, the hope that one day your father will return."

A/N: Want to find out what happened to Edward? Want them back together? Send me some love!