Disclaimer: Not mine.

Note: I have an Irish friend who went to the hospital with me (to see this precious little baby boy named Brendan) and he said, "So, are ye goin' to let me hold the babe?" And I couldn't get it out of my head, so here's some Edward with an accent. :) Oh, and Alice and Angela are sisters. Think back ;)

Chapter 10

"I'd like to ask your opinion of this drawing." Edward laid the floor plans out on the table. "It's a house plan."

Drying her hands, Bella said, "I seen many plans in Ladies' Home Journal."

"On the train from New York, everyone shared their magazines. That's where some homes captured my attention. They were George Barber's homes."

She nodded.

"My brothers both think I'm daft for sending away for this, but it seemed to me that since Barber is already known for his homes that we should lean on experience."

"Then why ask me what I think."

"Because you're a woman. Three bachelors are liable to overlook important things that are practical when running a home. When Emmett or Jasper marries, it would be a shame to know we've overlooked something essential."

"What makes you think Mr. Barber had not given thought to such matters?"

"Because he," Edward gave her a rascal's smile, "is a man, too."

She didn't reply but hesitantly moved closer to the table. Edward didn't move an inch. She'd been jumpy, understandably, since the day she met him. Over the last few months, though, he made subtle attempts to show her understanding and make her feel safe.

Manufacturing excuses to be around her was fairly easy. He was passing by the Swan spread while making house calls, he needed to speak with whichever brother was out in the field that day, the Swan mailbox at the mercantile was full. In the churchyard, he made sure to compliment a dessert she'd sent home with his brothers or praise her for her piano accompaniment with the choir. Delivering the babe would be difficult enough; he wanted to get her accustomed to his presence so she wouldn't be overwhelmed when the time came.

"You have two plans," she said.

"I can see why you'd think so since they both have doors and a veranda. The one to the right is upstairs. On the left is downstairs."

"I see." She leaned close, "This is the kitchen?"

"Aye," he glanced at how her kitchen was arranged. "I imagine it would be set up similar to yours."

"No. Grandfather and I regret not having a mudroom. Everything gets tracked in." She pointed toward a room. "What's this?"

"Jasper's shop. We don't need a dining room. He can do his-" he cut off as he saw her shake her head. "What?"

"Don't mistake me. Being a cobbler is an honorable profession, but the leather, that much in a house, would smell bad. Between the smell and the hammer sounds, it would not be pleasant in the house."

"Good point." He tapped his pencil on the edge of the blueprint.

"A workshop just outside of the house would work. That would free up room for a mudroom. You could make the space useful. The pantry under the stairs wouldn't work because you and your brothers are tall. What is you have a mudroom, a washroom, and a pantry here?"

"An indoor washroom? That's progressive. I like it!"

She made a few more suggestions, then went over to the stove and stirred a pot. "When will you build the house?"

"Within a month or so. I'll wire a company in Knoxville, Tennessee. They'll cut the lumber and send it on the railroad."

She dropped the spoon. "You're mail-ordering a house?"

"Aye, I am. It will save time and labor, and the kit is quite thrifty by comparison."

She looked doubtful, "Kit?"

Amused, Edward chuckled. "Indeed." He slipped to a different page in the stack. "This is the exterior view. When I order it, I'll tell them not to send all the spindles."

"Gingerbread." She turned to the table, "Grandfather calls all the lacy scroll work and wooden fancies gingerbread."

"Now, there's a description. But I couldn't care less about how it looks on the outside. 'Tis the inside that counts."

"This is too much, but a little would give charm to the house." She tapped the fan-like piece spanning the peak of the house to the eaves on the sides. "Can you keep some of it?"

"What do you recommend?" Edward felt a spark of hope. For the first time since the tragedy, she was coming out of her shell. He'd hoped the sketches would be a good way to strike up conversation. With a few questions, he'd led her into discussing the plans in detail.

"In a month, the wheat harvest will be done, and the farmers will come to help you."

"Speaking of help," Edward scribbled a note to himself in the corner of the page. "I'd like to hire you to cook for the men who come to work."

She shook her head, "Not one penny have you and your brothers accepted for the care you've given us."

"And you've not accepted a penny for the delicious meals you've cooked." He lifted a brow, "Have you eaten at the diner?"

"Once."

"And only once. That says it. My brothers and I agree. Our cooking is no better than the diner's. And since we're on the subject of food, I'm trying to find a way to invite myself to lunch."

"You know you're always welcome at our table."

"That's so wonderful to hear!" Mrs. Black scurried in from the open door where she had obviously been eavesdropping. Mrs. Black looked from Edward to Bella and back before continuing, "Things work out, don't they? And now my dear Jacob won't be worried about your feelings as he courts Angela."

Color rushed to Bella's face, then bled away rapidly. She shook her head.

Edward took the spoon from her and pushed her into the chair. Keeping a hand on her shoulder, he looked at Jacob's mother. "Mrs. Black, you misunderstand."

"What was a supposed to think?" Her gaze darted from Bella to him. "You're alone together in the house. Decency-"

"I'm sure you didn't mean to question Miss Swan's reputation or my integrity." He stared at her.

"I-um-it, well, of course I didn't." A nervous smile crossed her face.

Edward turned his attention toward Bella. "I'll get you some water."

"Oh, I will." Mrs. Black pumped water and shoved the glass into his hand. "I didn't mean to upset her."

"Drink." He pressed the glass to Bella's mouth. He could feel how she shook under his hand on her shoulder. Bella reached up and took the glass from his hand.

He curled his hand around hers and lifted the glass to her mouth again. At the same time, an odd thought struck him. In his three months in America, he'd been astonished by Texas hospitality. Not only did women offer refreshments and extend an offer for meals, but they always took a gift or food whenever they went calling.

But Mrs. Black came empty-handed.

"Mrs. Black, since Miss Swan isn't feeling her best, I'm sure you'll understand-"

I-we are still neighbors." She started wringing her hands. Edward took in the beads of perspiration on her face and her inability to maintain eye contact. For her, the situation must be uncomfortable, but Edward didn't consider it even a fraction as important as Bella's heartbreak.

"We are still neighbors," Bella said. "Your son was here yesterday. He still plans to borrow the reaper and claim one of Freckle's pups. But me? He said he cannot bear to look at me."

"He scarcely sleeps remembering how he killed that man."

Bella took a sip of the water, "Jacob still needs a helpmate, yet he no longer wants me. Was there any other reason you came today?"

Mrs. Black slumped, "We thought it best that you know before you saw them together. Please, be kind to them."

"You speak to me of kindness? You were the one who went about the town telling of how that man shamed me."

"I didn't want anyone to think badly of Jacob if you were with child! I did it for you, too."

Bella whispered in a raw tone, "Do not tell me this. You did not do it on my behalf. This is the first time since it happened that you have come here. You did not seek to help or comfort me. Today you did not come to ease my burden. What you ask is for me to make things easier on your son. It isn't necessary. Jacob is the man I was to have married. The love I held for him would keep me from wounding him."

Silence filled the house. Edward cupped Bella's elbow. "Go lie down, lass. You need to rest."

"I need to churn butter. You will both go now."

He and Mrs. Black went outside. Stopping by her mare, Edward glared at Jacob's mother. "Am I to understand you haven't sought her out to give her a woman's advice?"

"The situation is strained. I am not the right woman to-"

"No," he agreed abruptly. "You're not."

"You don't see-"

"I see all too clearly. I'll help you onto your horse. You don't belong here." Once she'd left, Edward stared back at the house. Three months. It's been three months. In all this time, I thought she was being comforted and counseled by a woman who could be sensitive. What kind of doctor am I? I've failed an eighteen year old lass who's been facing this on her own. No more.