The Quilting Bee. A practice where the women within a Cannabean community get together to encourage and educate the bride-to-be on the more delicate and intimate aspects of marriage. The Quilting Bee is named based upon the passage that 'idle hands are the devil's playthings'. Therefore, though women gather to talk, they keep their hands busy with a project, be it quilting, knitting, or crafting.


Bella was absolutely radiant as she and Edward sat across from her parents at the little table that had seen a lot of activity since the day Edward had been granted an acquaintance meeting with her.

"I know that Cannabean weddings are customarily outdoors, but there's so much rain in Forks, how do you even plan for one?" Renee wondered.

"My parents have huge tents that they use to cover the vines during long stretches of harsh weather. We could plan to use those if we needed them," Edward offered.

Bella had seen the catalog photos of those tents lying on the Cullen's kitchen counter when Jasper had initially approached Esme about ordering them. They were huge, and hardly necessary for the meager wedding that she would most likely have.

Once that thought passed through Bella's mind, she realized that most of the people she would have invited wouldn't travel all the way to Washington from Montana, just to attend her wedding. And Edward had business associates and acquaintances from church, but not many close friends.

And then, of course, there was the issue of family. Estranged or not, they would most likely be at the wedding, but there weren't many of them either.

"Do we…know enough people to warrant the use of that tent?" Bella softly asked Edward.

Edward appeared discomfited for a brief moment. "Yes," he returned just as softly. "We do."

Cannabeans believed marriage to be a true unity between a man and a woman, and one of the first illustrations of this was at the wedding ceremony, where there were no sides delineated to bride or groom. Instead, all guests sat intermingled, his family with hers, and her friends with his, because as husband and wife, it was understood that they would share their friends and family in unity.

And apparently, Edward had quite a bit of friends and family.

"The entire town comes," Edward explained when he saw the confusion on Bella and Renee's faces. "Not just the Cannabeans from church, the entire church; and then my dad's colleagues from the hospital, and my mother's clients…and mine."

As Edward spoke, Bella could feel herself starting to get overwhelmed. How would her parents afford such an event? Cannabean weddings were long, celebratory affairs. How could they feed the entire town for such an extended period? And decorate on such a grand scale? Impossible on the Swan's meager budget.

Bella looked into her mother's eyes, searching for the limitations she was sure she'd see there.

But Renee looked resigned, as if she had given up worrying and was simply taking in information at this point.

"I'd like a simple wedding," Bella stated as she watched her mother. Renee's lips slightly turned upward into a smile; she knew what her daughter was doing.

"Bella, it's okay," Renee nodded at her.

Edward looked over at Bella as if he were trying to decipher the silent conversation happening between mother and daughter.

"What's wrong?" he asked Bella.

Her first inclination was to tell him that nothing was wrong, that she was merely trying to take it all in.

But this man was going to be her husband, and she didn't want to start this new chapter of their lives together by being dishonest.

"Can I see you in the other room for a moment?" Bella whispered.

Edward looked immediately concerned, but he didn't hesitate to grant her request.

"What is it?" Edward asked eagerly once they were alone.

"There are two problems," Bella whispered so that they wouldn't be overheard. "My parents can't afford a wedding that includes the entire town. That's just…unreasonable," she settled. "The last thing I want to be is a burden."

Edward had begun shaking his head after Bella had uttered her first sentence. "I don't expect them to pay for all of it. I'm sure my parents will pay for most of it. It won't be a burden, I promise. Okay?" Edward smiled as if his words settled the issue, but Bella held her hand up to signal that she wasn't finished.

"Which brings us to the second problem," Bella began. "My parents have been preparing for my wedding practically my entire life. To take that out of their hands…it would be a huge insult to my father. And to insinuate that he couldn't afford it would be just as big an insult," Bella stressed. "It's a lose-lose situation."

"Not necessarily," Edward disagreed. "But nothing has to be decided right now. Give me some time to think about it and I'm sure I can come up with something that is acceptable to your parents."

Bella looked skeptical, but she agreed. After all, what else could she do?

Renee and Charlie looked as if they'd been discussing something as well, when Bella and Edward returned to the table.

"Everything alright?" Renee asked, her eyes laced with concern.

"Everything's great," Edward responded with a hearty smile. "We're just realizing how much we still have yet to talk about. Though when it comes to wedding planning, I think it's my job to just grin and nod."

Charlie laughed. "You learn fast."

"Oh, Bella, I almost forgot, I got a call from Marlene Dunnis this morning, and she said that she can do brocade work to the bottom of my wedding dress to lengthen it for you. If we send it out now, she said she can have it back to us in less than a month," Renee stated excitedly.

Bella noticed how her father seemed to be just as pleased about the information as her mother did, and therefore she made quick work of concealing her true feelings.

To say that something was 'old-fashioned' in Cannabean culture was simply an oxy-moron, but that was exactly what Renee Swan's wedding dress was. It was second only to a nun's habit. And Renee was nearly a head shorter than Bella, so that meant that Marlene Dunnis, the go-to dressmaker for all Billings, Montana Cannabeans, would have to add a noticeable amount of brocade to the already heavy dress.

Bella wanted to groan out loud. Her mother's dress was the exact opposite of what she wanted to wear. Renee's dress was stately and coarse; Bella longed for airy and light. And though she knew a modest dress was the only option, Bella couldn't help wanting her groom to see her in her dress and not the boxy outline of unforgiving fabric.

"Oh…really?" Bella did well to keep her voice from faltering. "You're not nervous about sending your wedding dress all the way to Montana through the mail?"

Renee smiled. "Are you kidding? My baby girl is getting married; I'd send that dress to Timbuktu if I needed to."

Oh…great.

If Renee's enthusiasm over the dress wasn't enough, over the next few days, Bella's mother proved that she was fluent in another language: wedding.

"Look at these invitations, Bella," she said as she slid a sample across the kitchen counter to Bella.

"Where did you get these?" Bella asked as she handled the fine linen paper.

"I sent away for them. You can get samples of any invitation you want. Did you know that?" Renee seemed impressed. "It wasn't like that when I married your father."

Bella smiled as she watched her mother's fingers sift through the abundance of invitations spread out in front of her. She was happy that her mother was deriving such pleasure from planning the wedding. Not once had her mother expressed a concern over cost, though Bella had overheard her father tell her mother that he was bidding on extra routes for the post office.

It was then that Bella decided that her parents' sacrifices were worth compromise on her part. Guiltily, she looked over at the wedding dress that was hanging on a hook in the corner where it would stay until it was adequately packaged to be sent to Montana. It was just as unsightly as she'd remembered it to be when she'd seen it in her mother's closet as a little girl. Secretly, Bella hoped the wedding dress was the largest compromise she'd have to make.

In addition to dresses, invitations and guest lists, Renee began to prattle on about photographers, food choices and whether or not the weather would cooperate.

And though Bella thought her mother had gone overboard with wedding details, she soon realized that Renee had nothing on Esme.

Late one Friday afternoon, when Edward and Bella were preparing for their betrothal study, Esme flitted into the den with an assortment of menus. She spoke so rapidly that Bella couldn't follow beyond the second word. When she looked over at Edward to translate, he simply shrugged.

"Just nod," he suggested. "It's what I do."

"Nancy Guiest said her niece could play the harp during dinner if you'd like. Just for ambiance," Esme quickly added, lest Bella think she was implying that there would be dancing.

"Oh, that sounds nice," Bella began.

"And I plan to have the vine tents pressure washed so that they'll be pristine and perfect for the wedding, should we need to use them," Esme continued on.

"That's great, Es-"

"You know, I was thinking," Esme stated with consideration, "you should use the tents either way. Since the feast will most likely run into the night, it'll be nice to have shelter from the cool air. And those tents look beautiful with twinkle lights running through them. I once used them to decorate for a tasting for one of our vendors and, oh!" Esme held her hand to her chest for emphasis. "It was so beautiful. I decided right then and there that we simply must do something like that for our next big event…and guess what? Your wedding is the next big event!"

"Mom," Edward politely prodded as he pointed to his book. "We're going to get started here, so…"

"Oh yes, yes, of course," Esme said as she picked up the menus. "We'll talk more about this tomorrow morning, Bella."

"Okay," Bella smiled. She turned to see Edward looking at her quizzically. "Quilting Bee," she reminded him.

"Oh." Quickly Edward averted his eyes and looked down at his book. Bella watched with intrigue as his neck and ears flourished into a dark shade of pink.

"Edward, are you blushing?" she asked him.

"Uh…no," he insisted as he began flipping through pages. "Since we were going to revisit the chapter on expectations anyway, I thought financial expectations would be a good place to start… you know, with the wedding coming up and everything," Edward swiftly changed the subject.

"Sure," Bella agreed. Unbeknownst to Edward, finances had been weighing heavily on her mind. She was worried about the cost of the wedding, even though Edward had told her she didn't need to be. After all, he was a man, and men rarely understood the detail and cost that went into a wedding.

But it wasn't only the wedding that worried Bella. Cannabean custom mandated that Edward secured a home before he and Bella could marry. And since the real estate transaction Edward had been bound to fell apart, it didn't look like they'd be finding a place to live any time soon.

Because Edward didn't say much on the matter, neither did Bella. She didn't want him to think that she'd lost faith in him, though it was a little unsettling that he was so blasé about financial matters.

In truth, Edward never seemed to place much of an emphasis on money either way. He didn't appear wasteful, yet he also spared no expense on things that he wanted. His car, his shoes, his technology – Bella could tell they were all expensive. Yet she'd also seen him barter over cost and make decisions based upon the lowest price. No, Edward definitely couldn't be defined as frugal or frivolous.

While Bella mused over the state of their financial affairs, she noticed Edward out of the corner of her eye, folding and unfolding a sheet of paper. He held the sheet out as if he were going to give it to her, and then rescinded the gesture.

"What's that?" Bella pointed to the paper.

"It's just a spreadsheet I worked up," Edward relented and gave Bella the paper. "I followed the suggestion in the chapter and wrote down my accounts and obligations. Do you have any?"

"I have a bank account back in Billings. It's joint with my parents, but they've never touched it. I don't even think they remember I've got it," Bella said. "Anyway, it's got a little over-" The remaining words perished in Bella's throat as she focused on the numbers on the spreadsheet Edward had given her.

One, two three, four, five, six… she began to count the places from the decimal point. "You're a millionaire?" she asked Edward in disbelief.

"Well…technically, most of my money is tied up in my company…which, as a corporation, is it's own entity, apart from me. But I suppose if I were to liquidate everything…yes…I guess I am." Edward smiled. "But if I liquidated everything, I'm sure that would mean that I wouldn't have any money for long, as I'd be out of a job."

Bella almost asked him why he'd never told her or even hinted at his wealth, but she knew the answer without him even having to tell her: he wanted to make sure she was attracted to him for all the right reasons.

"Is this a big secret or something?" Bella asked. Though Edward probably wouldn't flaunt his bottom line, meddlesome mothers eager to hitch their daughters' to diamond-crusted wagons surely would have sniffed out Edward's worth.

"Like I said, I don't really consider it all mine. I mean, it is all mine, but there are a lot of expenses involved in running the business, so, it's not like I can spend months at a time vacationing in Europe or something," Edward clarified. "My father always says that a man is rich when his money works for him. Well, I still work pretty hard for my money, so I don't consider myself rich at all."

Bella eyed the spreadsheet again. Edward had broken his holdings out into columns. There were assets, where he'd listed his land and company inventory, there were receivables and then there was cash.

His checking account currently held more money than her father made in an entire year.

She didn't even bother to look at the savings account.

"Well…I guess this explains why you weren't worried about the cost of the wedding," Bella let out a light laugh.

"Cannabean couples don't pay for their own weddings, you know that. Besides, I'm not worried about the wedding because there's nothing to worry about," Edward told her.

"Except maybe the cost of feeding the entire town," Bella exaggerated.

Edward smiled. "It's not going to be as bad as all that. Plus, I think my mother is working on getting the food donated, at least a large portion of it. Anyway, if my mother hosts the dinner through the winery, the expense of it is tax deductible. At least that's how I plan to pitch it to your father so that he doesn't get offended at my parents offering to pay for it."

Bella considered Edward's plan for a moment. "That just may work," she agreed.

Edward placed his book on the table in front of him before putting his arm around Bella and drawing her nearer to him.

"I'm sorry you've been worried all this time. The last thing I want you to be is stressed about marrying me," Edward said as he planted a kiss against Bella's cheekbone.

"I'm not stressed about marrying you," Bella elucidated.

"Good," Edward all but whispered before covering Bella's mouth with his own.

It was hard to get used to – freely kissing and being kissed by Edward openly, in front of his parents and hers. But each time they were together, Edward initiated physical contact more and more, and it was getting easier to succumb to, as her body sought him out.

"I love you," he whispered as his tongue traced the contour of her bottom lip.

"I love you," she returned, and it was a firmer truth each time she uttered it.

As they kissed, Bella became aware of Edward's hands as they moved from her neck, to her shoulder down her arm…and then ever so slightly, he grazed the side of her breast.

In an instant, her eyes were open and she saw that even though their lips were still connected, Edward's eyes were open as well. He was watching her.

Immediately she was embarrassed by her reaction, and even more embarrassed when she looked down and saw her nipples pressing against her top. Bella ducked her head down and pulled her sweater closed across her chest.

"What's the matter?" Edward asked as he leaned down and attempted to look Bella in the eye.

Before she could timidly tell him that he'd simply caught her off guard, they heard a loud crash in the kitchen, and they both jumped up to inspect what the source of the noise was.

"Mom?" Edward hastened over to Esme's side when he found her leaning against the kitchen counter, her eyes shut tight. She was surrounded by the shattered pieces of a crystal salad bowl. "Did you cut yourself?"

After a few moments of deep breathing, Esme opened her eyes and looked at Edward. "Well, did I? I can't bear to look if I did," she said.

Edward and Bella both inspected her for injury and found no visible sign of one.

"I don't see any cuts," Edward said. "What happened?"

"Oh, I'm just clumsy," Esme smiled. Then to Bella she added, "Rosalie called and told me the salad you made for lunch was the best she'd ever tasted. She told me the recipe you gave her over the phone and I was trying to make it. So much for that now."

"I can make it for you if you'd like," Bella looked at the remaining ingredients and saw that she had enough to put together a small salad.

"You and Edward were in the middle of your time together. I don't want to interrupt," Esme said.

"It'll only take a minute," Bella said. "Okay, Edward?"

"Sure," Edward agreed. He pulled a broom out of a side closet and cleaned up the mess of glass as Bella went to work on the side dish.

"I'm just going to…I'll be back," Esme said as she headed up the stairs.

"So…" Edward began.

Bella thought he was waiting until he was sure his mother was out of earshot before he weighed in on what he thought had happened.

So she was again caught off guard when that wasn't at all what he wanted to talk about.

"You had lunch with Rosalie?" he asked.

"Yes," Bella nodded. "Unintentionally, actually."

"Unintentionally? How'd that happen?"

"Well…I went over to the lake to feed the swans-"

"Sweetheart, you don't have to feed the swans. They eat what's in the lake," Edward said. Bella could tell he wanted to make sure she knew that he didn't expect her to take on that responsibility.

"I know, but I like feeding them. I like to watch them swim and play… I like the lake," Bella stole a glance at Edward as she spoke. "It's peaceful there."

"Oh…well, how'd you end up having lunch with Rosalie?" Edward asked after a moment.

"The children had wandered down to the lake to see the swans, and after a little while, she came down to see where they'd gotten off to. We sat and talked for a bit and I gave her some of my salad," Bella said lightly. "I can't believe she walked all the way to the lake. She looks like she's going to have that baby any second."

"Well if she keeps walking around like that, she probably will," Edward added.

"I said the same thing, so she let me give her a ride back to her house," Bella said.

"Next time to go out to have lunch with the swans," Edward said as he walked over to Bella and put his arms around her, "call me, and I'll meet you there."

"Tomorrow?" Bella quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, wait, I can't. I have to go to that quilting bee with my mother and yours."

And for the briefest of moments, Bella saw Edward flinch. It was enough to alert her to the fact that something was awry.

The next day, she got further confirmation of something being remiss when Esme arrived promptly at noon to pick up Bella and Renee – in a two-seater compact car.

As Bella walked to the front door, Renee, who had never really looked ready to leave the house, informed Esme that she really wasn't up for the outing that afternoon.

"Esme, do you think that maybe you and Bella could go to the quilting bee without me? I have a million and one things to do today and there's no way I'd be able to relax enough to enjoy myself," Renee stated.

"Say no more," Esme said quickly. "It'll give me some time to tell Bella all of Edward's deep, dark secrets anyway," Esme laughed. "Like the time when he was three years old and suddenly became terrified of flushing the toilet."

While the two ladies laughed about the antics of young Edward, Bella's mind raced to settle her suspicions. It was now abundantly clear that Renee never had any intention of accompanying her and Esme to the quilting bee, but why she chose to keep it a secret until the last moment was odd.

Bella was just about to let her mother know that she was aware that something was up when Esme paused in her laughter and leaned over and held her side suddenly.

"Esme, dear, what is it?" Renee asked with concern.

After a few deep breaths, Esme shook off all the attention. "It's nothing. Just a stomach cramp. I get them sometimes," she waved it off. "Well, I guess we'd better get going. Wouldn't want to keep the fellow quilters waiting."

The wink that Esme cast Renee was clearly not meant to be seen by Bella, but it was. In addition to that anomaly, was the fact that neither Esme nor Bella took anything remotely related to quilting with them as they made their way toward the church and it's basement.

"So we've hardly had any time to ourselves since you and Edward became betrothed," Esme told Bella as she drove down the quiet road. "I can't begin to express the joy I have over you becoming a part of my family."

"Oh, Esme," Bella voiced, visibly moved by the verbal sentiment. "I feel very blessed to be welcomed into your family…and to be marrying Edward."

"You love him," Esme said with finality.

"I do," Bella reaffirmed.

"I have been a spectator for many Cannabean courtships and marriages, and I must say, they don't always start off with such strong feelings. But, I have been very fortunate to watch all three of my boys find women they are head over heels in love with."

Bella would never tire of hearing how Edward felt about her. Her life was beginning to feel like a comfortable fairytale, where she was very much cherished by her own personal prince.

"Mmmpff."

Thoughts of Prince Charming were interrupted by Esme's obvious discomfort.

"Esme, are you alright?" Bella asked with concern. It was the second time that morning she'd grasped at her abdomen. "Maybe I should call Carlisle."

And again, for the second time that morning, Esme insisted that she was fine. "Carlisle is making rounds in Port Angeles for the next couple days. Anyway, I think I just may have eaten something last night that didn't agree with me. As soon as we get to the church, I'll have a little baking soda in some water and I'll be fine."

Esme didn't utter another word about the issue as she whipped into a parking spot and made her way through the church like a woman on a mission.

The stairway that led into the church basement was narrow and dark. As she descended into the dank and dismal unknown, Bella trailed her fingers along the wall for stability and kept her eyes fixed on Esme's back.

Suddenly the sounds of women laughing and socializing began to fill the atmosphere, and a soft yellow light rebuked the darkness.

"Bella!" A matronly woman with short gray hair greeted with open arms. Bella didn't know the woman personally, but had seen her on many occasions at the Cannabean service in the Cullen's home. "So many people were anxious to meet you. I think this is the largest quilting bee we've ever had in Forks."

There was a slight panic as Bella searched for the politest way possible to let the woman know that she didn't know who she was.

Luckily, Esme rescued her.

"Bev, you did such a great job of putting this together on short notice. I am impressed!" Then to Bella, Esme said, "Bev works in the church office, runs the clothes closet and heads up the prayer chain. She is a Jackie-of-all-trades."

Bev smiled at Esme's introduction. "Well, I can't say that I didn't have a lot of help today. Everyone wanted a better glimpse at the soon-to-be Mrs. Edward Cullen."

Mrs. Edward Cullen. Wow. It sounded so real when someone else said it.

While Bev and Esme continued to chat back and for, many of the other ladies present came up to personally greet Bella. No one made any comment about her lack of quilting equipment, nor did anyone ask her what she was working on.

Bella greeting everyone in return, and was slightly amazed that she hadn't been aware of so many young Cannabean women in the community.

"That's because they're not from around here," Esme whispered in response when Bella asked about it after the women had all shared lunch together.

"Where are they from?" Bella questioned as she took a seat next to Esme at a large oak table that seemed to run the length of the room.

Instead of answer, Esme clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Ladies, before we get started, I think we should each introduce ourselves and state where we're from. Bella hasn't had the opportunity to meet all of you."

Esme's suggestion was instantly adopted, and a round-robin began immediately. Bella smiled and nodded as sixteen women took a turn telling her their name, where they were from, and how they came to be at the quilting bee. Bella's eyes teared up a little at Esme's explanation of how she came to be a participant at the quilting bee: "Bella came into my son's life and took up residence in every aspect of his heart and mind".

While everyone sighed and ahh'd at Esme's words, Bella realized that every woman had not only told her own name, but also the name of her husband. Bella was the only woman present that wasn't married.

And that's when it clicked.

"You've probably realized by now, Bella, that this isn't about quilting at all," Bev said as she hoisted a box of colored paper onto the table and began going through it. She selected a piece of red cardstock before setting the box back down at her feet. A row of rubber stamps lay to her left and she selected one, inked it, and then placed it down firmly on the paper before she spoke again. "The history of the Cannabean Quilting Bee began in the late nineteenth century when a woman realized that her soon-to-wed daughter had very limited knowledge of what to expect from a man."

"And it's rumored that the woman knew her daughter didn't want to hear about the actions of her own mother and father," began another woman named Clara, "so she gathered the other married women together and explained her plight. The women all agreed to come together and speak of their experiences thus far, and what they'd wished they'd known when they got married."

"At first, it was just a group of women getting together and talking, but as the events grew in size, the women knew they had to disguise the reason for their get-togethers, as it was thought improper for women to speak of their husbands behind their backs," Bev went on. "In those days, everyone quilted. So under the guise of making a wedding gift for the bride, they'd set to work with needle and thread, talking all the while."

"Except the quilts rarely got completed," Esme finished, "which is why the practice of actually making a quilt was abandoned. It was an expensive waste of time. Now women just work on whatever they want, just to keep their hands busy, and to take the focus off the bride so that she doesn't feel like she's in the hot seat."

"But even though the quilting part of the tradition has been abandoned," a woman who'd introduced herself as Celeste croaked (she was quite easily the oldest woman there and looked to be in her late eighties or early nineties), "the secrecy surrounding the practice has not. The Cannabean Quilting Bee is only to be spoken of among married women and what is discussed here remains here."

Bella nodded her understanding. After the four women had said their piece, the fog of misunderstanding was lifted and clarity took its place. Bella now understood why her mother bowed out at the last minute; she understood why no one had explained the events of the day in detail to her until that moment and she understood that she would now have to hear, for all intents and purposes, her mother-in-law speak of intimate things.

Oh the joy.

There was a lull of silence in the room as women cast on knitting needles, itemized scrapbooking supplies, organized recipe cards, sorted through photos and braided yarn. Bella watched with fascination as one woman worked on a landscape with pastels.

"I got married when I was seventeen years old," Celeste stated out of the blue. "I met my husband on Monday, didn't see him again until Thursday and then married him on Saturday. I never thought it would happen, but after six years, I finally fell in love with him. And now, not a day goes by that I don't regret the lost expression of those six years."

By the way the other women nodded, Bella could tell that they'd heard that story before.

"Celeste's husband passed peacefully in his sleep two years ago," Esme explained quietly.

"He's with the Lord now," Celeste reiterated. "Bless him."

A dutiful quiet followed.

"I was the only girl of seven children," a young woman named Mallory spoke up. "And when I got married, it took me a while to figure out that my husband wasn't looking for a competitive opponent. But that's the way I was raised. I learned to compete for everything: the last helping of supper, the best seat at the fair, my parent's attention… So when my husband came along, he did not understand why I made such a big deal of having the last word and why I ate, even when I wasn't hungry. It was a big source of contention for us until we both realized what was going on."

"How'd you two work that out?" Bella asked with interest.

"After many tears and silent bouts, one day my husband simply asked me if I wanted more roast. Then, on our way to church, he asked me if I wanted use of the middle console to rest my arm. His questions took the fight off the table. It seems like such a simple solution, but it took us awhile to get there," Mallory concluded.

"A lesson I learned early on in my marriage," Clara smiled as she spoke, "is that I can not run to my parents every time my husband makes a decision I don't like. It was hard learning that there are many paths on the road to success, not just the one my father used to take."

Bella felt relieved that she already knew this and was hopeful that she would not have to re-learn it early on in her marriage.

Again the room was devoid of speech and Bella noticed several women eyeing Esme, as if prompting her to speak.

"One of the first things I learned when I married Carlisle," a devious grin threatened at Esme's lips, "was that sex isn't something that happens only at night."

"That was news to me, too," Mallory laughed as she stopped the project she was working on. "I always thought I'd go about my daily routine, and my husband would go about his, and then we'd come together in the bedroom right before lights out. Boy was I surprised!"

"Oh they'll take it anytime and anywhere they can get it," Bev chuckled.

"And as many times," another woman chimed in.

That seemed to be all that was necessary to get the conversation flowing loosely. Woman after woman began to chime in about the more delicate natures of their marriage.

"My sister-in-law said she took an aspirin a few hours before her wedding night. I wish someone had told me to do that," Kathryn, the knitter, added.

"I'm quite shy," admitted a subdued Bethany, "so the thought of walking out of the bathroom on our wedding night, stark naked, was a daunting one. My mother told me to wear something that made me feel beautiful so I wore a long, light blue silk gown. My husband still says it's his favorite of everything I own."

"I learned that sex organs aren't the only sex organs," Della gleamed.

"Okay, this is really embarrassing," a woman named Annie who looked like she couldn't have been more than sixteen, but obviously was, began, "but when I married Aaron, I had no idea that people had sex…in different positions. And when he wanted to try something new…I cried because I thought it was a sin!"

When Annie laughed, so did everyone else.

"You'd have been in a constant state of tears at my house," said Bev. "I don't think my husband even knows what the missionary position is."

"Listen girls," Celeste's voice rasped with age and authority, "all you have to remember is cook a good meal, keep a clean house and spread your legs often."

"Oh I could think of a thing or two to add to that," said a woman named Donna who had been surreptitiously quiet up until that moment.

"Such as?" Bev asked.

"Yes, don't hold out on Bella," Clara giggled.

"Well, in addition to opening ones legs, opening ones mouth would be just as much appreciated," Donna concluded.

There were a series of groans that lifted up within the room.

"I cannot do that," Mallory stated firmly. "It makes me gag and I feel like I'm going to throw up for hours afterward."

"So you just don't do it?" Annie asked. "My husband gets really upset if I don't."

"Some people really enjoy it," Esme shrugged.

"Correction, some men really enjoy it," Donna said.

"No correction," Esme said airily. "Some people, as in men and woman. I know that I happen to enjoy gratifying my husband orally. It really helps him when he's stressed out, and he responds in a way that I rarely get to see through regular intercourse. I find it very sexy and it really turns me on. Plus, he then gives oral in return, and let's just say he is quite gifted at it."

Bella sat staring at the table in stupefied shock. The last thing she wanted to hear about was the sexual escapades of Carlisle and Esme. How was she supposed to look them in the eye knowing the types of things that went on behind closed doors in their bedroom? Now, during Carlisle's Cannabean sermons, when he says 'love your wife as your own body' she was going to get quite a mental picture to go along with those words…

"Bella?"

Bella looked up into Bev's probing eyes.

"Do you have any questions for us, dear?"

Did she have any questions? Did she have any questions? Of course she had questions! For instance, how often should she expect to have sex? And why did Kathryn's sister-in-law need aspirin, or more importantly, why did Kathryn wish she'd taken it? Did it hurt? Badly? For how long? Della, what did you mean sex organs aren't the only sex organs? Huh? And of Annie, Bella wanted to know what kind of sexual position had her in tears. To Donna, Bella would have asked what she gagged on – the girth or the semen? And what does semen taste like, anyway? And to Esme…well, if she wasn't Esme, Bella wanted to know how she could ever be comfortable with her husband's face between her legs. And what did he do while down there? Did he lick or suck…did she lick or suck…or both?

But like Bethany, Bella was shy. Much too shy to open up to a room full of strangers, even if they'd once sat in the seat she now occupied.

So for the time being, Bella smiled and shook her head, thanking the women for their insight and openness. But internally, she committed to memory the questions the event had awakened and prayed for a more comfortable opportunity by which to get some answers.