My relationship with Riley had begun almost without my noticing.

We'd met in the staff room the first week I'd started at the high school. Both being new teachers, it had seemed natural to band together as we learned the ropes. Shared lunches became meetings for coffee before work, a ritual I'd begun to rely on.

The first time he'd suggested dinner, I'd panicked and almost declined.

Could I do this? Did I even want to?

Sensing my hesitation, he'd smiled reassuringly, letting me know in his gentle way that he understood. It was his compassion that finally made me say yes.

After years on my own, it was exhilarating to know there was someone who looked forward to seeing me every day. Someone steady and reliable. Someone who could be exactly what Grace and I needed. I was positive that, given enough time, I could fall in love with him.

On the day he met my daughter, I moved my wedding band from the bottom of my jewelry box to a box in the attic.

I waited to feel free.

I waited to feel…more.

Grace's first weekend away with Edward was my last with Riley.

Jake held me while I cried as my ring sank to the bottom of the ocean.

‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›

I caught myself staring at the Alice in Wonderland tea set with distaste.

In truth, it was exquisite: fine bone china with lovely renderings of the characters. Grace had come home with it when she'd returned from her outing to the tearoom with Edward's mother.

It had been a ridiculously expensive gift, and she loved it. All I saw was a transparent attempt on his mother's part to appear as the doting grandma. Perhaps that was being harsh. Possibly it was not being harsh enough. With the information I now had, I couldn't claim to be unbiased.

I focused on the teacup featuring the Queen of Hearts and imagined she was Esme. Off with her head, indeed.

I'd had twenty-four hours to think about what Edward had said. Nothing he'd told me had lessened my hurt over our shared history, but instead of focusing my resentment exclusively on him, it now had a broader scope.

I wondered if his mother even realized how her misplaced priorities had affected her own son. Somehow I doubted it. But she made an easy target.

By his own admission, Edward bore the ultimate responsibility. She may have loaded the gun, but he'd been the one to pull the trigger.

At least he didn't deny it.

Still, I couldn't imagine my own parents acting as Esme had. Whatever their feelings on the reason for our young marriage, they'd wanted it to be a success.

Perhaps the Cullen's defined success differently.

Edward's father had died the summer before his junior year of high school—two years before we'd met. He'd spoken of his dad on occasion, always with admiration and more than a little wistfulness. My impression was that of a decent man consumed by the demands of his medical practice, leaving little time to spend with his son.

But, as Edward always hastened to point out, Carlisle had provided for them well: a nice house, family vacations, and a private school education. He'd worked hard to make sure his only child lacked for nothing. It was a world away from how I'd been raised. At the time I'd thought he'd led a charmed life.

I was beginning to think I'd been the lucky one.

‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›

My mother attempted to tame Edward's hair into something semi-presentable as he stood patiently in his pressed shirt and slacks. When it was time for the musical interlude, he took Mrs. Soderlund's place at the piano, resting his hands reverently on the keyboard before beginning…

The sound of a scale being carefully executed carried to the kitchen where I washed dishes. The vision it conjured in my mind was bittersweet: Grace and Edward sitting side by side at the piano, his large hands dwarfing her little ones as he showed her what to play. It wasn't hard to imagine this was how many of our evenings would have passed if things had gone differently.

The familiar melody washed over me as it filled the small church, building to a crescendo before dropping again into delicacy. I held my breath, aware I was seeing a part of him I'd not realized existed…

I pictured Edward and myself sitting in the audience with other parents, watching our children at their first recital—Grace in a green velvet dress, her hair loose and wavy down her back. The longing was sudden and sharp. I wanted this life of family dinners and music lessons…the opportunity to watch our daughter grow into the amazing and well-rounded person I knew she could become.

As the last notes of Jesu Joy faded into stillness, he caught my eye, smiling slightly. And in that moment, I fell a little deeper…

A second of inattention and the knife I was washing sliced through my palm, rivulets of red coloring the soapy water.

"Oowww…damn it!"

I rinsed my hand gingerly under the running tap then grabbed a dishtowel to wrap around it. After a brief examination, the cut appeared deep but not enough to require stitches. I just needed to find where Edward kept the first aid kit.

I could still hear them in the music room and decided it wasn't worth interrupting Grace's time with her father to ask. After finding no bandages in the kitchen, I checked the guest bathroom and my own without success.

That left the bathroom off Edward's bedroom. I'd never set foot there—had steadfastly avoided going into his space for any reason. Would it be out of line if I did so now?

He probably wouldn't care.

I opened the door, and the curiosity I'd always refused to acknowledge reared its ugly head.

My attention was initially drawn to the large unmade bed in the center of the room and then to the skylight above it. A floor to ceiling bookcase lined one wall, and a large number of photos were framed and mounted on another. French doors led out to what I assumed was the balcony.

Ignoring the throbbing in my hand, I approached the wall with pictures first.

Many of the photos I remembered seeing years ago. Several were of childhood friends, some were from a high school trip to Greece, and a handful were of him with his parents. One in particular caught my eye—Edward, maybe five years old, smiling widely as he sat on his father's shoulders. It was a happy moment, made more poignant by the knowledge his dad wouldn't live to see him reach adulthood. I'd previously not even considered the full effect of his loss, but remembering Edward basking in his uncle's attention, it suddenly made sense.

And then there was Grace. Photos of her from every age—pictures I knew I hadn't given to him. Apparently Renee had struck again.

A quick perusal of his bookcase surprised me. In addition to the popular novels I would expect, he'd also kept a number of what were presumably college textbooks: volumes on marine biology, history, physics, astronomy—religion?

The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and Theology in a Post-Liberal Age…The Cambridge Companion to Liberation Theology…Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis…

An entire shelf devoted to the subject.

I knew enough to understand these were serious theological readings, not books typically assigned for Philosophy 101 or even a comparative religion class.

What did it mean?

"Did you need something?"

I spun around, mortified to have been caught snooping, and found him leaning in the doorway; arms folded, his expression quizzical. Heat flooded my face.

"I…I just came in here to look for a bandage. I couldn't find anything downstairs or in the other bathrooms and I didn't want to interrupt you…"

He glanced at my wrapped hand and frowned, then to the books, before settling again on me.

A light touch on my arm, and I was being steered toward the bathroom.

"Well, hopefully it's not too bad. Come on. Let's take a look."

I stood with my hand over the sink as he poured hydrogen peroxide into the cut; little fiery pin pricks fizzed and foamed, causing me to squirm. His hold was gentle as he blotted it clean; his once familiar scent made me realize how closely we were standing.

I took a half step back.

Eventually the bleeding stopped, and after covering it with gauze, he began to methodically wind surgical tape around my palm.

"There was a time that much blood would have caused you to hyperventilate."

It was said conversationally, but I was distracted enough by my heightened awareness of him, it took me several seconds to respond.

"I've taken care of my fair share of skinned knees and worse. Grace went through a tree climbing phase a couple of years back."

"Did she?" The idea seemed to please him.

"It very nearly gave me a heart attack. Jake started calling her his little spider monkey. She was not amused."

"I'm sure." His voice suddenly took on a cynical edge. Neither of us said anything for a moment until, with a final turn of the tape, he was done. "You're good to go."

"Thanks."

We stared at each other, and my mind circled back to what I had seen on his bookshelf. Maybe this wasn't a good time to ask—maybe it wasn't even my business.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

I debated how to phrase the question. "Some of the books you have…I don't remember you being interested in religious stuff before…"

"Ah…well…"

"We don't have to…"

"I'm not…no, you're right. We probably should talk about it. It kind of relates to what we discussed yesterday. Why don't we head downstairs?"

I followed him down to the living room, and we settled on opposite sides of the couch. In the background, Grace still noodled on the piano.

Edward shifted around as if suddenly unsure, meeting my eyes before looking away.

With a sigh, he began. "You already know I finished school in North Carolina. I actually lived there for a total of about five years."

"Right."

"I wouldn't have even enrolled at UNC if going to school hadn't been a requirement of Alec's in order for me to live with him. But he insisted, so I did." His voice dropped. "I was in pretty rough shape when I first got there. I wasn't sleeping and…well, it was bad. Alec worked me so hard that by the end of the day, I didn't have the energy to stay awake at night and obsess over things. But when the charter season was over, I was right back where I started."

He glanced back at me then, as though trying to gauge my response.

"I realized what I really needed at that point was to stay as busy as possible. So I made sure my class load was heavy enough that I spent all of my time studying. I figured if I drove myself into the ground with school, I wouldn't have a chance to worry about anything else. And it worked for a while."

I understood the usefulness of exhaustion. Still, my own memories of trying to squeeze in study time hardly made me sympathetic. "How nice for you…"

"No…but it was necessary."

"Because of your own choices!"

He raised a warning hand. "I'm not disputing that. But you wanted to know about the books—I'm trying to give you some context. I know you had it worse, but that doesn't mean I had it easy. I just had the luxury of knowing why I'd left.

"At any rate…I kept up that schedule for about a year but eventually began to burn out—started not being able to sleep again and I kind of started to unravel…"

He grimaced then, and I suspected there was something more, but he didn't elaborate. After a beat he continued.

"It was during this time that I stopped by one of the churches along my drive home. There was nobody in the chapel, so I sat for a while and tried not to think. It was strangely calming, so about a week later I went back.

"I did that a few times, then one day there was a man sitting alone in one of the pews. He looked up and smiled, but left me alone and I didn't think anything of it. I saw him a few more times before he finally approached and introduced himself. He'd always been dressed in regular clothes, so I was surprised to find out he was one of the reverends there."

"He didn't find it strange that you just randomly started showing up?"

Edward shrugged. "If he did, he didn't say anything about it. They kept the doors unlocked during the day, so I'm sure I wasn't the first person to wander in. We ended up talking for a few minutes and he invited me to stop by on a Sunday. I figured—why not? And it was okay. A few people came up and said hi. Nobody asked any invasive questions or tried to put the hard sell on me. I ended up going back the next Sunday. It was nice to have the social contact; I hadn't bothered to make any friends at school. Alec was great, but he was always working on something."

The sounds coming from the music room stopped abruptly, and the door swung open. Grace appeared, looking between us curiously, before wandering over and planting herself in her father's lap.

"I'm ready for a movie now."

Edward smiled down at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Do you know which one you want to watch?"

"The moon shadow one."

"How about we go upstairs and get you all set up?"

"Aren't you going to watch it with me?"

"Can I join you in a few minutes? Your mom and I are talking."

"Is mom in trouble?"

He barked out a laugh. "No, no…well, not this time, anyway."

"Everything's fine, Gracie. If someone were in trouble, it wouldn't be me."

Edward adopted a mock-serious tone. "You mother rarely gets in trouble because she never …well, hardly ever…does anything wrong."

Grace nodded solemnly. "That's what she told me, too."

"I never said that."

She erupted into giggles and Edward threw her playfully over his shoulder.

"Okay, kiddo. Let's cut your mom a break."

They were still laughing as he carried her up to her room.

I remained on the couch, trying to digest everything he'd shared so far. The Edward I'd known had always seemed strong, decisive and resolute—not one to second-guess himself or his decisions. Even after our previous conversation, I'd viewed his actions as deliberate and thought-out, not the result of desperation. That he'd felt driven to seek solace in a church startled me.

I was unused to feeling any sympathy for him, but now I had to consider that maybe I wasn't the only one who'd been devastated by our divorce.

But even if it had been that bad for him, he'd made a choice to stay away.

When he came back downstairs, his expression was once again pensive.

"I'd like to continue if you're still up for it."

I nodded. "I'm curious where this is going."

"Right."

"It turns out the church was involved in a lot of social service-type stuff. They ran a soup kitchen and a homeless shelter, among other things. I was still struggling with my own issues, but the reverend I mentioned—Father Randall—suggested I might try volunteering with one of their programs. He always said that doing something for someone else would be a blessing for both. And he was right. It had been a long time since I hadn't felt totally worthless, but working at the shelter helped.

"It made me wonder if I was wasting my time with what I was studying in school. So I ended up taking a quarter off and volunteering full-time. In retrospect, I think I was looking for a way—some mechanism—that would help me atone for what I'd done to you and Grace. Of course, it doesn't work that way. I could never get out from under the guilt, no matter how much good I tried to do elsewhere."

"You're saying you had all this guilt, yet it still wasn't enough to make you do something about it? Unless you thought sending extra money for Christmas and her birthday counted as doing something."

At my words, he threw up his hands. "Nothing I'm telling you now is intended to minimize what I did. I really thought it was too late for me to come back and fix things. So I tried to find a way to live with it. That doesn't mean I didn't seriously regret my actions or that I wasn't sorry. I was—am—every single day. And I live with the weight of my failure—every single day. I'm sorry if you're not hearing whatever it is you want to hear. We don't have to continue this…"

"No, no. It's…never mind."

"Just bear with me, okay?" He took a moment to gather himself. "So…the books. I ended up talking to Father Randall about everything. He's the one who gave them to me. They were his from seminary school. He knew I wasn't even sure I believed in God, but he thought I might get something out of them anyway. I still don't know what I believe, but making myself think about it—about our place in the world—helped.

"The next quarter I went back to UNC and finally decided on a marine biology major with minor in non-profit management. I made sure my schedule had enough room in it so I could keep volunteering a few days a month. And I still went to church on Sundays and talked regularly with the reverend. It was his encouragement, along with Alec's, that made me realize maybe it wasn't too late—I could come back and try to talk to you. And that it was still possible to salvage some kind of relationship with Grace."

"But you must have been in Seattle a while before you bothered to track us down. You'd already bought this house, right?"

"I bought the house pretty quickly after I came back. I'd already lined up the job at the aquarium before moving, so I was lucky enough to be working right away. And…uh…Alec gave me the down payment as a gift when I finished my masters."

I couldn't help rolling my eyes. "Of course he did."

"I think he figured…and he was probably right…that being able to show I had a stable place for Grace to stay would make it easier for me to approach you. I'm sure he thought of it as helping me 'negotiate from a position of strength'. Once a businessman, always a businessman, I guess."

"I'm curious…what kind of reception were you expecting? What if I'd refused to let you see her?"

"I knew it was a possibility. I was hoping you weren't so bitter that you'd keep her away from me just to be spiteful. It didn't seem like something you would do, but I also didn't know exactly what your…situation…might be."

I thought immediately of how Edward's reappearance had made it impossible for me to continue with Riley. The memory still hurt—and made me angry.

"I had every right to find someone else. Grace and I deserved to have someone who was actually there."

He winced. "Absolutely. I knew that…logically. We were divorced and on opposite sides of the country. It would be unfair on my part to have expected you not to find someone."

"I'm sure you didn't spend all your time in North Carolina in school, on a boat, or doing church stuff." As soon as the words were out, I wanted to take them back. Whatever his response, I did not want to know the details.

"No, you're right. I didn't. Although, that was pretty much my life for a while. But eventually I made friends and tried to have some kind of normal life. Not that there was ever a time I didn't think of you. Maybe even resented the idea of you sometimes, as unfair as I'm sure that sounds. I wanted to be happy—in spite of all the guilt I carried around. But I never quite…it was like you were always, in a sense, there. I never really felt free."

I never felt free, either.

Somehow we were now sitting so closely, all I could hear was the sound of his rapid breathing.

"So…here we are."

"…aren't you coming?" A plaintive voice from upstairs caused me to jump back, ending the moment.

Edward slowly rose and excused himself to join Grace, leaving me alone to make sense of things.

And for the second time in as many days, I had no idea what to think.

‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›‹•›

If I take the blue pill, I'll be eighteen again—young and in love, free from responsibility and sorrow.

If I take the red pill, my heart will shatter into a thousand pieces—but I will have my daughter.

The clock ticks as I frantically weigh my options.

The man in black asks me again— "What do you want? You must choose…"

I peer into my teacup, the murky water making it nearly impossible to see the bottom. Yet something catches my eye, and I dip a tentative finger into the scalding liquid. I know the answer to the question lies somewhere at the bottom of the cup.

"What do you want? I can't see what will happen until you decide…"

It's a woman's voice now, and startled, I look up.

The perfection of her pale skin is a shock against the wildness of her black hair. I wonder if I should be afraid.

"Do I know you?"

"Do you know yourself?"

I jolted awake to find myself in darkness, a blanket wrapped securely around me.


A/N

Sometimes it takes a village…

Thank you to my ever-patient beta, immortal.

Thank you to Alla for being willing to read the drabs and dribbles

Thanks to Xtothey for making me laugh when I wanted to scream

And a great big shout out to Laura and Mac for stepping into the fray when I needed some extra eyes.

I would be toast without all of you—there are no words.