Stephanie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I just make them darker.
This chapter is entirely from EPOV. You'll see why.
Thanks to my two squids, Bug and Mouse, for putting up with My Little Hobby over the past four months. There. Done.
And thanks to all you fuckawesome readers and reviewers; the UU girls on Ravelry who never fail to make me laugh and Regan, beta extraordinaire and my partner in crime.
Mr. Wonderful would ride all of you like the fast little fillies you are, if he could. And you know you'd love it.
##
I love cutting.
Especially lemons. I enjoy the feel of the knife as it slices through the citrus fibers; the acidic scent, the sticky sensation of the juice on my hands.
When Sofia and I lived in Chicago, she put me in charge of making fresh lemonade during the summer; said hers didn't compare to mine. I didn't mind. Anything to make her happy, to see that smile of hers when I poured her a glass from the blue glass pitcher while we sat on the back porch, overlooking the small yard behind the building she lived in, the one Father owned.
The one he kept her in, for me. The one neither he nor Mother ever expected would become my second home; my refuge from their lofty expectations of me, their repressed emotions, their denial of my troubled mind.
The place I found forgiveness, acceptance, and love.
##
Which is why I'm standing here at the kitchen counter, watching Sofia as she walks to the guesthouse with a stack of freshly laundered towels for Seth, dodging the sun between the palm trees, humming to herself, some nameless tune she's making up as she goes, skirt of her pale blue sundress floating around her legs in the soft breeze.
So lovely and perfect; but there's something amiss, something I can't put my finger on.
I watch her gait, the swing of her hips, listen to the timbre of her voice; trying to determine what it might be. She hasn't complained of feeling ill, or different, not that we are ever either; it's just the medical training I have: To observe, scrutinize and diagnose.
And her libido has tamped way down, last night being the exception, but then again, we're both like that after we...
She's not pregnant, she's sure about that. "Edward, I haven't ovulated since 1918, why would I start now? Besides, you and Daddy both said that Sebastian was an anomaly. Don't get your hopes up sweetheart; it's just a combination of honeymoon, The Incident finally being behind us, and me just being, you know, horny. That's all." Smiled at me, and then went back to folding the bath towels as I handed them to her in the laundry room; subject closed, as far as she was concerned.
All that knowledge, and I can't figure it out for the life of me. But there's something going on with her.
Let out my breath, shake my head, and go back to slicing the lemons, dropping them in the pitcher of cold water, sitting on the granite counter beside me.
##
Lying in the hammock, ankles crossed, arms behind my head, eyes closed, relaxing and listening as she chatters away on her Crackberry; our jet just arrived at the airport. Puts it on speaker so I can hear the other end of the conversation.
"Hi Mommy!"
"Hi, Princess! How are you? Daddy and I missed you so much SweetPea, where are you?"
"Standing next to Grandma at the airplane. Where are you?"
"Standing in the music room, straightening up Daddy's music on the piano."
"Oh, are you and Daddy coming to get us?"
"No honey, Uncle Jasper is going to drive the boat, we're waiting here for you. Did you have a nice flight?"
Hear Sofia walking towards the kitchen, opens the fridge, takes out the milk and smells it, making sure it hasn't soured.
"Yeah, I played Crazy Eights with Seth and Uncle Emmett and Auntie Rose and I won twice. Uncle Emmett won once. Seth didn't win, but I think he let me win. I love him, do you love Seth, Mommy?"
Hear Sofia's laugh, like the evening breeze through the house, gentle and warm.
"Yes baby, I love Seth too. Is Grandma there?"
"Yeah. I love you Mommy."
'I love you too Princess, see you in a bit."
I can hear Emmett and Jasper as they attempt to round up the luggage and their jibes at each other as they do. Emmett shouts 'Hey Wardo, ya get any?' and then his laugh, followed by Rosalie's exasperated 'Emmett, the baby is standing right next to you' then the sound of her punch as it lands on his arm.
"Yeah Emmett I did, did you?" I yell back at him, rolling my eyes, but glad to have my brother back, giving me endless shit, just like he has since the day Rosalie brought him home.
"Hello Edward."
Crap. Mom. And she sounds none too pleased to have heard that little exchange either.
"Uh, hi Mom, how are you?"
"Fine. Did you have a nice honeymoon?"
"Yes, we did, thank you."
Sofia is standing in the doorway of our bedroom now, dancing up and down on the balls of her feet and pointing her finger at me, mouthing 'you are in so much trouble now' and laughing at me. I shake my head and smile back at her then close my eyes again, listening as she speaks with our mother.
"Hi Esme. Yeah, he got a lot..." pauses "of work done here. Fixed those broken shingles on the guesthouse, got the loose board on the dock repaired." Then laughs along with our mom.
"Oh Missy. You can be such a brat."
"That's why you love me so much."
Hear Esme's sigh; picture her shaking her head and smiling as she does.
"Here's your father. We're headed to the car. See you in an hour."
"Bye Mom."
Carlisle. It's your daughter, come take the phone. No, she sounds fine; I have no idea what Edward...
"Missy. How are you sweetheart?"
What the hell, why is Carlisle interested in my health all of a sudden? I hear Sofia think as she turns back to look at me, her forehead all furrowed and questioning.
"I'm fine Daddy. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason in particular just wondering Missy. How was your honeymoon, was the weather good?" He doesn't give two hoots about the weather Edward Anthony, what is going on here? I'm gonna tell you again: We're Not Pregnant.
"Uh huh. I'm not pregnant Daddy, no matter what somebody over there in the hammock might think."
Carlisle doesn't say a thing; he knows she figured out I contacted him about her. And she's not pleased with me at all now; she's got that lemon-sucking mouth going, and her eyes are narrowed. I'm in the doghouse now. Might as well go bunk up with Seth for a day or two. Shit...
Shrug my shoulders, mouth 'I'm just concerned, that's all' at her, watch as she goes back into the house, shaking her head, pissed off at me. Takes the phone off speaker.
"No, he's been fine, really content and himself...no I haven't seen any signs of...no he hasn't said anything about what, uh, you know what reminds him of to me, that's a good thing..." Discussing me now: My moods, signs of either cycle starting again. How much more stable I am and how happy I've been since we re-married.
She's walking back outside, turns the corner and stands in the sand, digs the toes of her right foot into it's warmth, smiles at me now. Maybe I won't be staying in the guesthouse after all.
"Okay, here he is. See you in a bit. I'll wait on the dock for you. Bye Daddy, love you." Puts the phone back on speaker.
Tosses the phone to me. "Here Big Sexy, it's yer Pa." Laughing turns back around to skip through the house, out to the dock to greet our family.
"Hello Dad."
"Hello, Son. How are you?"
They're all in the car now, I hear the doors slamming shut: Jasper telling the driver in Portuguese what slip the other boat is in; the engine's whine as he hits the accelerator. Alice asking Seth if could scoot over a bit, he's sitting on her skirt, thank you.
The CD changes in the house; Dinah Washington, from that old Dinah Sings Bessie Smith album Sofia loves so much.
"Fine. Actually more than fine, I feel wonderful."
Glance back over at Fia; she's stopped in her tracks. Holds her hand up to her neck, just under her chin, not moving.
At all.
I sit up in the hammock, swing my feet over the edge, not hearing Carlisle; I'm focused on her.
"Kitten? Are you all right? Honey?"
"Edward? Edward. What's going on?" Dad. I don't know Esme, something's...
She turns now, facing me, with the most confused look on her face.
"Eddie? I don't feel so goo..."
In what seems like slow motion, I watch my wife as her head rolls back, her eyes widen, and the most horrible sound I've ever heard escapes from her throat, as she collapses and before I can reach her, hits the warm golden sand face down.
Dead.
##
"NO! FIA, OH GOD NO!"
Throw the phone down, it lands face up on the sand next to her; scoop her up, look at her face; it's a mask, no signs of life at all.
"Oh baby, please don't die, please baby please, oh Kitten" I beg, cradling her in my arms as I kneel in the sand, holding her to my shoulder, the same way she held me that week, so long ago.
Check her wrists for a pulse, then her Carotid, why am I doing this, we don't have a pulse, our hearts don't beat anymore; oh God, please no, not her, not now, everything is going so well for us....
"Edward? Son? Son! What's going on? What's happening?" Carlisle. The chatter in the limo has stopped: Everyone's listening, including Nessie.
"Grandpa? What's happening to Mommy? Why is Daddy yelling?"
Pull her head back, open her jaw, check to see if she's choking on something, start giving her mouth-to-mouth, but nothing happens; her chest rises, but that's it since we don't need to breath; she's gone.
"Edward? WHAT'S GOING ON?" Carlisle, shouting now at the driver: "STEP ON IT DAMMIT MY DAUGHTER IS IN TROUBLE!"
"MOMMY? MOMMY! DADDY, WHY ISN'T MOMMY..."
I can't believe this is happening, oh fuck why her, why not me?
"SHE'S DEAD! OH CHRIST DAD, SHE'S DEAD. SHE DROPPED DEAD RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, OH GOD BABY NO! DON'T LEAVE ME, NO I NEED YOU, NESSIE NEEDS YOU." I'm frantic; all my medical training has gone right out the window; I hear Nessie start to cry, Rosalie trying to comfort her, but they all know something has gone horribly wrong.
I open her eyelids and start keening at what I see.
Her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, so true, so knowing, that have held my heart since I was a boy of fourteen.
Covered by a milky patina.
The one sign she's truly gone.
My Kitten. My lover. My wife. My savior. My Angel.
Gone.
Clutching her to my chest, the sounds of Dinah Washington singing Sofia's favorite song, the one we first heard in 1918, wafts through the air from the outdoor speakers, mocking us:
You know I've loved you for these many years,
Loved you night and day...
Oh! honey baby, can't you see my tears?
Listen while I say:
After you've gone, and left me cryin'
After you've gone, there's no denyin'
You'll feel blue
You'll feel sad
You'll miss the dearest pal that you've ever had.
"Please please please don't leave me, please, Oh God no" I beg her, rocking her back and forth in my arms, trying to bring her back to life; my baby, my Angel, my one true love. Bury my face in her neck, so cold, so still.
"ANNABEL!"
##
A/N: Next chapter - Hope you bring extra tissues.
"After You're Gone", is owned by Henry Creamer and Turner Layton. It was originally recorded by Marion Harris, in 1918. Since then, the song has been recorded by Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Bessie Smith, Judy Garland and Frank Sinatra.
Cause I Wiki'd that shit.
Don't know if this will have an HEA – Edward hasn't returned my txts or emails, and he's not answering his cell phone; and he's usually so prompt.