"The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face."

Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

11

In the days following, I was helping Emmett understand the routine Rose had so aptly formed for their baby. Rose always said that it was the routine that was the reason for him being remarkably content and easy. Emmett was a fantastic and involved father, but like most men, he hadn't fully comprehended the small details that were keeping his household operating. He understood pretty quickly that if Ben's routine remained unchanged, he would be less disrupted by the fact his mom wasn't the one doing things for him. Work gave him indefinite paid leave, a plus of being a highly valued part of his company, so with our support he was getting more comfortable being Ben's number one. Fortunately Emmett's mom had stayed in town after the funeral, and gradually Emmett was more willing to have her and other family around the house a bit more. Initially, he had just needed space and didn't want people waiting on him and checking on his every move. I guess it was his way of trying to find some normalcy.

At the time of our sister's death, Alice was pregnant with her first baby, seven weeks along. Only Rose and I knew, and Jasper of course. Her doctor thought it was likely the stress of the loss that caused her to miscarry a week and a half after the funeral. I started questioning everything. Where were fate, luck, and justice in all of this? Had we done something that was causing karma to give us the most severe kick to the guts that it could? Superstition held that bad things happened in threes. This was far worse than just bad, and there was no way that we could handle a third black card being dealt to us. I wondered if I should take up praying, but given what I knew of life and death, I doubted that it would do any good. Surely we'd had our lot.

After Alice called me with the news, I split my time between cradling my nephew and cradling my sister as she wept. I couldn't fathom what she was feeling. I felt useless. Rose would have handled this better. Through her sobs she tried to tell me how empty she was, that so much of her had been taken away all at once. Rose would have known what she needed. We didn't eat; we didn't talk much. We simply lay together and tried to take comfort in the contact. When Ben needed me, Jasper would take my place with Alice. I felt for him, dealing with his own emotions and not knowing quite how to get my sister through hers. I reassured him he was doing all that he could, he knew her well, but there was nothing that would take away her pain.

Alice asked me to accompany her and Jasper to her appointment at the hospital the following Monday. I was growing to considerably dislike hospital waiting rooms. The doctor called them in for the initial consultation and said that she would come out for me if Alice wanted me after the procedure. The change that had unconsciously occurred between my sisters and me over recent years was definitely more present now. I suppose the gap had begun to close once I left high school – the gap that originally had them fill the roles of guardian, advisor and protector had shifted, and our age difference now didn't factor in the way we related to each other. They had become simply sisters, confidants, and friends.

As I sat there mindlessly flicking through a magazine, a smooth familiar voice spoke in my direction.

"Bella?"

I looked up from the blurred pages to see Dr. Cullen. He had shown up to Rose's wake, where I recalled speaking to him briefly, but I had been pretty absent from myself that afternoon. I felt compelled to be here. I hope you don't mind. I hadn't really processed him before; he had been nothing but a blur from a time when I saw the world through puffy eyes and a heavy head. Somehow now, in my defeated emotional state, I was able to recognize that he had incredibly striking features. The greenest eyes I had ever seen were peering back at me.

"Is everything okay? How's the little man doing?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"He's fine. Thanks, Dr. Cullen. I've moved in to Rose's to help out with him for the moment," I said, managing a small smile. He nodded.

"Please, call me Edward," he said, coming in to sit across from me. "What are you doing here? Don't take this the wrong way, but I hoped you wouldn't be back in this place for a long time."

"So did I," I replied.

"Can I help you at all?" he asked.

"No, I'm just waiting for Alice, she has an appointment with Dr. Stanley."

"Oh," he said, recognition evident in his tone.

"She, uh, had a miscarriage," I muttered, looking back to my magazine in an attempt to maintain my composure.

"Gosh, Bella, I'm so sorry you're back here so soon under those circumstances," Edward said softly.

I believed him; he was a very sincere man, and I just wished that people would stop having reasons to be sorry for me at the moment. The word was beginning to lose its effect.

Edward's pager went off, probably a welcome savior from my melancholy. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he performed the stereotypical move of tilting it on his waistband to read the text. I wanted to process him more, to think he looked hot in his scrubs, but I couldn't. My sister had just died. I was pretty sure grieving people didn't notice how nice looking the doctor was. I was glad he was leaving because I hadn't cried yet today, and I could feel tears building.

"Look, I apologize but I have to go…it's my day off tomorrow. Have coffee with me?" he said, studying my face.

I furrowed my brow, bit my lip and made an "err" sound, working out how to say no.

"I know you feel like you shouldn't do things like this right now, but you can. You need time for yourself, or you'll wear down completely."

I didn't know whether to get angry that he was trying to prescribe what I needed, or to concede because he was probably very right. I didn't have the will for anger, so I went with concession.

"Okay," I said softly.

He took my number before leaving me to attend to his patient. What was I doing?

I couldn't find the right emotion. Happiness wasn't okay.