A/N Stephenie Meyer's owns all Twilight characters
Okay so I lied...this was going to be the epilogue, but when I first wrote it I was in a bad mood...and so it became another chapter...but I promise this is the last chapter, and the epilogue is already written, its just gotta be tweaked to be the best possible ending. And as always, BIG HUGS to my fabulous beta, ShelbySue, who always keeps it real and tells me when something isn't right...this would have been a much, much darker if it wasn't for her awesomeness! And I'm so glad you guys liked the vows...I wrote them like six times before I got those..lol..anyways...one more thing before I turn you loose..my friend Jenn is writing an amazing fic based off The Host..it doesn't have anything to do with the actually storyline of The Host...its kinda like this here fic...totally off the wall...AU stuff...so check out her story and leave her lots of comments...www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net(forward slash)s(forward slash)5358386(forward slash)1(forward slash)Midnight_Encounter
Best song to listen to while reading, the chapter title, Theory of a Deaman's, Heaven (Little by Little)...fits the chappy perfectly...i love you all for reading!!!!
* * *
I started my internship with Interior Design Magazine in September. The months passed quickly and soon it was summer in Seattle again. From my first day on the job I was in love with the work I'd been doing and I learned so much sometimes it felt like my head was going to explode.
As the last days of the internship loomed closer, I waited with baited breath, hoping they were going to offer me a full time position. They didn't and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed.
But I supposed that old adage, about everything that happens, happens for a reason, is true. I missed the last Monday of my internship. I'd gone to the doctor because I'd been exhausted for no reason. I got plenty of rest, drank lots of water and took care of myself. I figured maybe it was a bug that was going around, or the flu, which seemed very unlikely considering the fact that it was June.
I was, as it turned out, two months pregnant. I'd noticed my period was late, but chalked it up to the stress at work. I had switched to that NuvaRing nonsense after the first pregnancy scare, but it was a pain in the ass and I stopped using it shortly after the wedding. Jake and I hadn't had that talk yet but I knew he wanted children, he'd told me so time and time again. As for me, well I was still on the fence. If it happened, if I got pregnant, I - we would, could handle it. We'd already been through so much already and came out on the other side stronger and more in love than ever.
I'd gone home that night and made a special dinner to surprise him. When Jake got in, he'd had a meeting with Jared about his latest show; he spied the candles and the elaborately set table and glanced at his watch.
"Is today an important date that I forgot?" he asked timidly.
"No. sit down I have something I want to tell you." Jake and I sat down. He began putting food on his plate.
"How was your meeting?" I asked taking the bowl of green beans he passed to me.
"It was good. The numbers are good, the art is selling. A gallery in New York has expressed interest in maybe showing a few pieces to see if there's interest. Maybe a full show. Who knows?"
"That's really great!" I exclaimed.
Jake smiled widely. "It is," he agreed.
"Well," I said setting the bowl of beans down. "I have some news good news to add to yours."
Jake eyed me curiously.
"I went to the doctors this morning, and…what do you prefer being called, Daddy or Pop?"
Jake's jaw dropped. "You're…pregnant?" he asked, his brown eyes wide with astonishment.
I nodded my cheeks aching from the wide smile. "Almost two months."
Jake leapt out of the chair and swept me up into a tight hug. "Are you serious?"
"Yes," I laughed.
He set me down and peered into my eyes. "I think you've just made me the happiest man in the world," he said softly.
"I love you," I replied.
Shortly after that night we began making preparations for our baby's arrival. The wrought iron bed that had been set up in the guest room was taken down and put into storage. A crisp white crib took its place and the blue walls were traded in for a creamy yellow that seemed to glow when the setting sun hit the walls. The curtains that Alice and I had scoured the city for were replaced with smiling ducks, a rocking chair sat in one corner. The room left a twinge of happiness in my heart anytime I walked by.
Early one late June morning I was shaken out of my dreams by a ferocious thunderstorm and a stabbing pain in my abdomen. I lay in bed staring out the window thinking it was just an upset stomach from something I ate at dinner, or perhaps that peanut butter and snicker bar sandwich I had before bed was fighting its way through my intestines, bravely going where no other peanut butter and snicker bar sandwich had gone before.
Eventually the pain subsided enough for me to fall back asleep only to be woken a few hours later in worse pain. I cried out as the excruciating hurt washed over my body. I pulled my knees to my chest and heaved ragged breaths. Jake woke up and clicked on the light.
He took one look at me and scooped me up, rushing me to the hospital. I knew it was bad when the ER nurse took me into a private room just beyond the curtained beds of the ER. Jake held my hand as the nurse checked my blood pressure and temperature.
An ultrasound machine was brought in and the doctor stepped in, turning on the device that would detect the baby's heart beat. He squirted some cold goo on my stomach and firmly pressed the device into the soft, pink flesh.
I stared at the monitor as it came to life. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I was pretty sure that a quiet machine was a bad sign. My heart started racing and beads of sweat, comprised of fear and anxiety, popped up on my forehead. Another searing pain sliced through my abdomen.
"Ahh," I gasped tightly clenching Jake's hand. The doctor furiously swept the probe over my stomach, searching for something that was obviously not there.
As the doctor turned the machine off and pulled off his latex gloves, reality started slowly sinking in. My mind violently fought to reject the notion.
"I'm afraid it's not good," the doctor said softly. I could see the regret in his ice blue eyes. This was the hardest and shittiest part of his job, his eyes screamed at me. I glanced away, my gaze landing on the now black screen of the ultrasound machine.
He didn't have to say anything else for me to know what was coming next. "I'm afraid the fetus doesn't have a heartbeat."
"Wait, what's that- I don't understand, everything was, Bella was doing everything the doctor told her to do. She took her vitamins, ate healthy, got lots of rest. I, what, the baby's heart –what does that even mean?" Jake asked. His face was ashen, and shocked.
"It means your wife had a miscarriage. I'm so sorry."
I laid there staring at the ceiling, tears spilled down the side of my face. I felt like someone just punched a hole through my chest and ripped my heart out.
Jake ran his hand through his hair. "I don't understand," he repeated, his voice cracking on the last work.
"Sometimes these things just happened," the doctor replied gently. "There's no rhyme or reason to it, they just…happen. We'll have to schedule a D & C. We can admit your wife and perform the procedure first thing tomorrow afternoon if you'd like."
Jake glanced down at me, then back at the doctor and nodded. He apologized once more before leaving the room. Jake sank down into the chair he'd been sitting in and stared into space. I grabbed Jakes hands and put them on my stomach and put my hands on top of his.
We sat there together, crying, until the nurse came to wheel me away.
The next afternoon they wheeled me away to prep me for the procedure. A Samoan nurse in a neon green scrub cap talked to me as he inserted the IV into my arm. He talked about the wrestler Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson's newest movie. As the anesthesia entered my system I started feeling a little loopy.
The last thing I can remember before going under was shouting, at the top of my lungs, "Can you smell what the rock is cooking?"
Then I woke up feeling like I'd just given birth to an 800 pound gorilla. Jake was sitting by the door and rushed to my side when he saw my eyelids flutter.
He grasped my hand and brushed my hair off my forehead. "I'm so sorry," I cried.
"Aw babe, it wasn't your fault," he whispered, his fingers brushing the side of my face.
They sent me home the next morning. For two weeks I lay in bed and stared at the wall. I didn't eat, I didn't talk. I just laid there. Jake would come in and lay with me and I would cry on his chest. He would rub my back and repeat "it's not your fault," over and over again.
For a while I didn't believe him. I felt guilty, responsible somehow; like I did something to cause this. I felt disgusting and dirty and ashamed. What kind of women was I? I couldn't even carry a baby.
Two weeks turned into three. Three turned into four. Then it was our one year anniversary. And I tried to make it good. I tried to be happy, but no matter how hard I tried I just fell deeper and deeper into that dark pit of despair. Jake had taken me to see Dr. Reid who had given me a generous dose of anti-depressants, which I didn't take.
I didn't feel like I deserved to be happy. I felt like taking those pills was cheating so each morning I would drop it down the sink drain. Jake knew I wasn't taking them, it was obvious. But he didn't say anything. Well at least not anymore. There was one morning, I was curled in bed staring at the wall. He came in and tried to get me out of bed.
I smacked his arms and told him to leave me alone. "Please Bella," he pleaded. "You can't keep lying in bed. You have to get up, do things. You have to try, make some kind of effort."
I sat up slowly and faced him. "I am doing something," I hissed. "Unlike you, prancing around the apartment, painting your pretty little pictures, acting like our baby never existed. Well excuse the shit out of me. It was my fault Jake, my fault," I was screaming now, Jake flinched every time I said 'fault.' "And you don't even care. You don't care that I'm such a bad woman, so unfit that I can't even carry a baby without fucking it up. It's all my fault that our baby is gone. And you don't care!"
He came towards me and wrapped his arms around me in a tight bear hug. "Don't say that," he whispered, "it's not your fault."
"It is too my fault. I made our baby go away and it's all my fault," I screamed hoarsely into his chest.
Jake rubbed my back. "Bella, it's not your fault," he repeated. "It's not your fault."
After that day I think he started to realize that maybe time wasn't enough to heal this. I heard him pacing the apartment late into the night while I lay in bed staring at the wall. He would come in and try to comfort me, lay with me, whisper that it wasn't my fault.
Accepting his comfort was like seeing the shore as you fought against the undertow. The more you fought against it the harder it pulled you back. This grief was the same. The harder I fought to overcome it, the more it pulled me back until I was too exhausted to fight anymore. Submission was easier; so was wallowing in self-pity.
I think something inside of him broke, it was like he conceded to defeat, throwing in the towel and calling for back up. So he did the only thing he could think of. He called Alice.
The first time she came she sat in one of the arm chairs I re-upholstered before this whole mess. I lay on the couch, cocooning myself in a blanket staring blankly at the television.
Alice didn't say a word. She just sat there watching some crusty This Old House re-run with me. It was dark when she left. She grabbed her bag and opened the door. "See you tomorrow," she said as she left.
The next day she faithfully showed up, and the day after that, and the next day. After a week of watching This Old House re-runs and countless hours of that old bearded guy painting infinite seagulls she threw in the towel too, and brought reinforcements.
It was a Saturday, or at least I think it was. Alice had stopped knocking on the door two weeks ago. She came in, set her bag down and sat down in her usual spot. Then the door closed and another bag was set down.
Esme came in and sat down in the chair by my head. She brushed my unkempt hair out of my face and smiled sadly.
"You're not doing too well are you?" she asked softly.
Tears welled up in my eyes. Esme wiped them away softly with her index finger. "Alice, please turn that off, and go make some tea," Esme directed.
"Now you need to sit up, because I have some things you need to hear." She stood and sat me up, unwinding the smelly blanket from my equally smelly body then sat back down.
"My dear, you need help. Your husband, your family, everyone, is worried about you. Jake doesn't know what to do to help you. You went to the doctor, you got medication. Why aren't you taking it?"
I stared blankly at her.
"Bella, I understand you're hurting, but dear, you are not the first woman in the world to go through this and you certainly won't be the last."
Alice brought the tea and set three steaming mugs down on the table. "Thank you Alice," Esme said.
She turned her gaze upon me once more. "I had a miscarriage once." I could see the fierce determination in her eyes and I envied it. I wish I had just a fraction of the strength Esme possessed.
Alice's eyes widened. "You did? When?"
"Before you and your brother were born. I didn't get out of bed for days and didn't talk to anyone for weeks. It was the hardest and most painful thing I've ever experienced."
We sat in silence as Esme let her words sink in. I sat there wishing she hadn't taken my blanket. I felt like I was going to fall apart without it.
"How did you get past it?" I asked my voice raspy from weeks of silence.
Alice's mouth opened, forming a little o of surprise.
"Time, lots and lots of time. And I went to counseling and therapy. It never goes away, but it gets better and eventually you find yourself smiling again, but you have to try. You can't keep sitting here, Bella, day after day staring at the television."
"It hurts too much, Esme," I said softly, tears filling my eyes.
"Of course it does dear, but you have to make an effort. Every day you have to do something more. Tomorrow you take a shower and put on a pair of jeans and a shirt. Then the next day you repeat the routine from the day before and add something new, and you just keep doing that and eventually you realize that it hurts a little bit less than the day before."
So Jake made sure that I took her advice. The following morning he ran the water and gently scrubbed my body while steam filled the bathroom, after the shower I put on some real clothes. Every day he was there, standing right next to me helping me, making sure I showered and got dressed, ate. Each little task brought me out of my catatonic state and back to the land of the living. At first it was hard, and it seemed like I was just going through the motions. But I woke up one morning and felt a little more human and a little less zombified.
By the time September rolled around, I was better. Not the same, but better. I found a job working for an interior design firm, got my first client and got a call from Interior Design magazine offering me a job. I was tempted to take it, but much preferred my new job so I declined.
In late October Jasper and Alice got married. I felt horrible that I hadn't been there for Alice, to help her plan her wedding the way she'd helped me. She wasn't mad, and let me plan her bachelorette party.
The night of the rehearsal dinner Jake and I were talking with a group of people when Edward walked in, alone. He and Monica had gotten divorced shortly after Jake and I got married. I wasn't the least bit surprised, especially after what Alice told me about how he called her my name at dinner.
Jake and I were outside on the terrace sharing a glass of wine when Edward stepped out. "Hello," he said softly.
Jake and I nodded in his direction, offering no other acknowledgement than that. "Um, Jacob, do mind if I speak to Bella privately for a moment?"
Jake handed me the glass of wine we'd been sharing and glanced at me. I shrugged. "I don't mind as long as you're okay with it."
He leaned down and kissed my cheek. "I'll be right inside if you need me."
Edward watched Jake walk back inside the restaurant. "Do you mind if I sit?"
"No, please. How are you?"
"I've been better. Monica and I got divorced. I'm moving out east. How are you and Jake? Alice told me about, well you know. How are you handling it?"
My eyes welled a bit at the mention of the miscarriage. I sucked in a deep breath of crisp autumn air and dug deep for strength. "We are good. It was hard for a while, after, well, after that. I'd really rather not talk about it if you don't mind."
"Of course," Edward said graciously. "I apologize for bringing it up."
I waved my hand. "It's okay. No one, myself included, quite knows how to behave in that situation. How are you dealing with the divorce?" I didn't really care, but I thought it was the polite thing to ask, and from the look of consternation on his face it was obvious he had something on his mind that he needed to say.
Edward sighed. "It is what it is. Things just went from bad to worse after you left me. And I know I didn't treat you right. I was so focused on myself, on my education, on my career that I never took the time to know you. I never took the time to grow with you, if that makes any sense."
I nodded. "It makes sense."
"Good. I'm in counseling right now, because obviously I'm in need of a lot of help. I aged but I never really grew up. I just kept acting childish and really, who wants to act like a teenage boy forever? I mean look at how you handled that whole situation. You were calm and mature about it. If it was me and the roles were reversed I would have thrown a hissy fit and stomped around like a petulant child."
"You know I'm glad, Edward. I'm really glad you decided to get some help." I paused and sipped the wine Jake had left me and took a minute to collect my thoughts. "As for how I handled the whole situation with you. It was either be calm and detached or spend the rest of my life in jail for murdering you. After I found out about your affair, I wanted to kill you. Really I did. But I figured your affair was serving some higher purpose. And it did. It brought me to the one I was supposed to be with. If you believe in that kind of thing."
"You're lucky to have found him," Edward said.
I nodded. "I am."
"I'm sorry, too. I treated you badly, and without respect or regard to your feelings or well being. I doubt you can forgive me, and I'm not asking you to, I just thought you should at least get an apology."
Well that was shocking, I had to admit. If I had another glass of wine running through my system I probably would have asked him if he'd been abducted by aliens or lobotomized. Either way he seemed like a changed man.
"Well, good luck with whatever you do out east," I said rising.
"Thanks. I think I'm gonna just take it easy and find myself, you know."
I suppressed the urge to groan and roll my eyes. Jake must have by standing by the door because the moment I made my way toward it he was walking my way.
"Everything okay?" he murmured, snaking his arm around my waist.
"Yes," I said softly. "Everything is fine."
We started to walk towards the door when Edward called Jake's name. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder at him.
"Thank you," he said. "For taking care of Bella, for being the man she needed when I so obviously wasn't the one for the job. And I'm sorry for causing a scene at Thanksgiving. It was inappropriate and uncalled for. I apologize for my childish behavior." Edward paused, running a hand through his bronze hair. "I hope you two are very happy and have a wonderful life together. You deserve it, so very much so."
I was touched by his little speech and felt, I don't know, vindicated I guess. Now more than ever I felt truly close to Jake. All the past issues between the two of us were let go and now we were finally alone in our relationship. No more elephants hiding in corners here.
Slowly, things went back to normal. Jake finished his third show, which was a great success. And Becca had found an amazing boyfriend in Annapolis. They were supposed to be coming to Seattle for Christmas.
The door to the guest bedroom stayed tightly shut. We didn't go in there, sometimes when I walked by the room I'd feel myself coming undone, like a pulling at the seams of my newly mended heart, but somehow I managed to keep it together.
One afternoon, right after the New Year I walked by the room and noticed the door wasn't shut as tightly as it normally was. I stood a hairsbreadth away, trembling. Jake knew I didn't like this space - too many unfulfilled memories lingered within those four walls. I grabbed the handled and pulled it tightly shut.
During therapy, I'd started going in early September, one lady was really fond of saying that "The Good Lord doesn't give you anything you can't handle. If He sees fit to give it to you, it's because He knows you can handle it."
I wasn't very religious and at first didn't believe that. I told her so one night. "I think this happened because deep down inside someone, somewhere, God, Buddha, Allah, whatever thought I wasn't ready so they took my baby to keep me from hurting it."
It was the first time I ever admitted that out loud. I didn't think that God could be that cruel, but then again what did I know. Look at all the suffering that those around me went through on an everyday basis. What kind of God could allow that?
Shirley, the God lady, scoffed at the notion. "Dear girl," she smiled. "Your baby is in the arms of the Lord now, right where he belongs. And it happened because the Lord knew you could handle it. You're a strong woman. Don't doubt that."
I thought about what she said, about our baby being with God. I didn't know what to feel. If it served a higher purpose it couldn't be that bad. But it still hurt. And as far as the baby's room went I was nowhere near ready to go in there, nor did I think I'd ever be able to go in there again.
One afternoon in late January that changed. I came home from work early. Alice and I had eaten at some new restaurant across town and shortly after I started feeling ill. Alice called as I was on my way home complaining that she was sick too.
I nauseously climbed the stairs, my stomach rolling with each step. I stopped on the landing to catch my breath, hoping the nausea would go away. It didn't. I climbed the last flight of stairs praying that I didn't get sick in the middle of the hallway.
When I entered the apartment the classic rock station was playing. Steven Tyler was screaming at me as I shut the door. I could hear Jake down the hall singing along. If I felt better it would have been funny, hilarious even as he was really, really into it.
I quietly crept toward our room.
"I was crying when I met you," he howled, "Now I'm trying to forget you."
I took three steps down the hall and noticed the open door. The door that wasn't supposed to be open. It was open and Jake was in there doing something. I smelled paint. My stomach rolled and I dumped my lunch right there in the middle of the hallway.
Jake stopped singing as soon as I made that tell tale yakking sound. He rushed to the door way and was clearly stunned to see me hunched over in the hallway, the toes of my shoes covered in regurgitated taco salad, gasping for air.
"What's wrong sweetheart?" he asked sidestepping a puddle and rushing to my side.
"What?" I gasped, "Are you doing in there?"
He avoided the question. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up then I'll go get you some ginger ale and pepto." He guided me down the hall, blocking the nursery from view.
I dug my heels in and fought against him. "What were you doing in there?" I shrieked.
Jake stopped and looked down at me. "I was going to repaint it and turn it into an office for you, so you can work at home if you have to."
Tears flooded my eyes. I was touched and hurt all at the same time. It was the baby's room, and seemed morbid for me to just set up shop in there like our baby had never existed. But on the other hand it was a sweet gesture. The simple fact that he knew I was suffering every time I walked by this room and its hidden reminders and that he changed it just for me, to stop my suffering. There were no words to describe that amount of love and dedication. Then I was crying for a totally different reason.
"Baby, what's wrong?" Jake asked and wrapped his arms around me.
"I don't know," I wailed. "That's the sweetest thing, what you did. But I miss-"
"The baby," he filled in.
I nodded. "Jake how can I miss someone I never knew?"
It was a thought that ran through my mind constantly. I miss you baby. I never knew you baby. I knew you too well.
Jake didn't say anything at first. Tears filled his eyes and soon the chocolate brown orbs were swimming in pools of unshed tears. "I don't know sweetheart. I miss what could have been too. I wanted to, no needed to do this for you. I just couldn't bear to watch you suffer anymore."
We leaned into each other, sobbing. Our tears mixing, two pains became one. Once divided, we were now united in our grief. Too much time had passed, yet it still wasn't nearly enough. The hurt doesn't go away because you want it to. It goes away when you let it go; when you no longer feel the need to hold onto it anymore.
Jake and I let our grief go. It floated up and out into the atmosphere, up to Heaven and away from us. If there was a God, he caught it in a net and held it, appreciating our suffering.
Jake guided me down the hall. "You need to get cleaned up and into bed and I need to go clean up your lunch." He put me in the tub and went to dispatch the mess in the hallway.
I threw up again, showered and put on a cozy pair of fleece pajamas and climbed into bed. A few minutes later Jake came in with a glass of ginger ale and some crackers. He set them down then climbed into bed next to me.
I curled against his chest listening to his heart beat. "Thank you," I whispered before nodding off.
"For what?"
"For loving me."
A/N Reviews are better than a surprise extra chapter!
And thank you Freakiki...I did forget to post the link to Bella's dress...so here that is:
go to Davids Bridal dot Com
-Bridal Gowns
--View All
---page 8
---- top row, second dress (Style T9612)
Chapter title: Heaven (little by little) by theory of a deadman