Thank you to my PTB betas, Thir13enth and SecretlySeverus!
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David update—They're coming home! They're on the road as I type. David is doing so well, so much better than they'd dared hope that he is well enough to come home. He'll have to go back to Minnesota for follow-up, but they're coming hope weeks ahead of what they'd thought. Thank you so very much to everyone who sent prayers and well wishes!
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WOOHOO! I'm so excited! Several months ago one of my lovely readers, Cared, was kind enough to review and recommend I remain, Yours on Rob Attack, and I thank her very much for that! Now, as we are at the end of another year, they are having a poll to vote for your favorite fic reviewed and recommended during 2012, and IrY is in the running for Best WIP of the Year! Now, since I am very definitely not above begging for votes, I am doing just that-so please, PLEASE, PLEASE, vote for I remain, Yours for Best WIP of the Year on Rob Attack! I do have a link, but FFn won't allow links-they delete them automatically-and I'm afraid to try to post it removing the dot com's and risking pissing of the FFn Gods and getting my story pulled. If you google Rob Attack Best of 2012, it'll take you to the site and you can scroll down to the right link, or check out Twilighted or The Writer's Coffee Shop for the link if you have trouble finding it.
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Please vote for I remain, Yours!
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Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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"A complication? You mean the dogs are coming?" Edward nodded his head minutely in response to Jasper, whose military experience was taking over as he planned both defensive and offensive strategies.
Alice said, "They're bluffing. They have no intention of actually coming here, I'd know. All of our futures would've vanished if they'd planned to confront us."
Edward relaxed as he heard more of their thoughts. The fight he'd seen in their minds was one they hoped the Cullens would start, not one they intended to start themselves. "Alice is right. They don't want to attack us. They want us to start something. They want us to go after them so they can prove to Charlie how dangerous we are. They don't like so many of us being here with him and Bella, and they want to make sure we know they're still watching."
Edward didn't add that Jacob Black specifically wanted to make him look bad in front of Bella.
"We don't give them what they want. We ignore them." Jasper's words were spoken with the authority of a commanding officer, and Edward, Alice, and Tanya obeyed them as such. The whole exchange took less than three seconds, and neither Charlie nor Bella noticed anything. By then, Bella had moved to the window and was anxiously looking out, waiting for the movers, and Charlie had returned his attention to the basketball game he'd been watching before Edward and Jasper had arrived.
Edward and Jasper were incredulous. Even though Charlie knew he and his very human daughter were in a room with four vampires, he was perfectly at ease. He truly wasn't afraid of them.
Refusing to think that were Bella to one day know the truth, she may not be afraid either, Edward continued carefully listening to the pack's thoughts as they drove through Forks, paying particular attention to Jacob's—the should-be Alpha of the Quileute pack was mentally planning out a rematch between them.
Jacob really wanted him to start something—he was still seething over how quickly and easily Edward had taken him down in August, and he was chomping at the bit for revenge. But Edward had more important things on his mind, like the excitement and anticipation in his love's eyes as she peered out the window and the way her hair shone in the cloud-muted sunlight.
Her eyes…. That look in her eyes was for him. It would never cease to astonish him that this amazing girl loved him.
No—the boy she loved was Edward Masen. He wasn't Edward Masen anymore. He couldn't even remember the person Bella loved. He was Edward Cullen now, and Edward Cullen was a monster.
WOULD YOU GIVE IT A REST!
Edward cast an apologetic glance at Jasper, knowing his mood swings must be making him dizzy.
Edward was hoping the movers would be late, so he would have longer with his mate, but as always happens when you actually want someone to be late, they arrived ten minutes early. When Bella saw them pull up in front of the house, her face lit up in a radiant smile, and she ran out the door. Edward was sure that smile, combined with the look in her eyes, would've driven him to his knees had Jasper not been standing next to him, smirking and making whip-like cracking and snapping sounds in his mind.
Jasper took him by the elbow and led him out the door while laughing at him. Come on, lover boy.
The delivery men were anxious to finish their last delivery of the day and were opening the back of the truck as Edward followed Bella outside. She was standing on the sidewalk bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. He could feel his own excitement grow. Now that the delivery men were actually here, they couldn't move fast enough, in Edward's opinion. His only memory of seeing their desk being through the eyes of others, he wanted to see it for himself.
Using a large flatbed dolly, the men wheeled their desk onto the hydraulic lift platform at the back of the truck and lowered it to the ground. It was well covered to protect it from damage during the move, and as soon as the men pushed it into the house, Bella began cutting away at the layers of heavy-duty bubble wrap. Her joy at having it back again was contagious, and Edward was soon ripping away at the protective coverings with her.
Between the two of them, they had the desk uncovered in very little time, and they stood together, side by side, looking down at it in awe.
Edward heard Bella's breath catch and shudder, and when he looked over at her, a tear was spilling down her cheek. Without thinking, he lifted his hand and gently wiped it away with the back of his fingers. "Shhh, don't cry. I'm right here," he whispered.
Bella lifted her face to him, and Edward's breath froze in his lungs as an eternity passed in the few seconds they stood looking into each other's eyes. He could hear his family asking him incredulously if he realized what he'd just said, but he tuned them out. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the way the love of his existence was looking at him right now.
Well, that and Alice's meddling. That mattered too. "Hey, Edward, didn't your grandfather, the Major, have a desk just like that?"
Edward was so lost in beautiful deep chocolate brown eyes that he almost missed Alice's question, but when it fully registered in his distracted brain he hissed at his sister. He tore his eyes from Bella's and turned angrily toward his sister but not before he saw Bella's mouth open slightly in surprise. He wished he could just ignore Alice's question, but he knew he couldn't—it would be suspicious if he didn't respond. Edward's mind was flying as he tried to think of the best lie, but he couldn't lie to his mate. There was nothing he could do but answer with the truth, at least part of the truth, and hope Alice would let it go. "I don't remember my grandparents," he said. "Jasper, you get the other side."
Jasper slowly stepped away from Alice and took his position across from Edward. She's only doing what she believes is the best for the both of you.
"Be careful, it's very heav—" Bella's words cut off abruptly as they easily lifted their desk.
Edward groaned as he and Jasper looked at each other. How could they have been so stupid? Two human teenage boys would not have been able to lift the large, solid mahogany desk so easily. There's nothing we can do about it now. Just try to look like you're struggling. They made a very convincing show of struggling with the weight of the desk as they easily moved toward the stairs and maneuvered it up and into Bella's bedroom.
Bella didn't say a word as she followed them, and Edward was growing desperate with the need to know what she was thinking. Two more major slip ups with Alice's question right in the middle. Fantastic. Why don't I just wear some plastic fangs and a cape to school tomorrow? he thought angrily to himself.
Alice walked ahead of them, directing them to Bella's room, and they set the desk down in the spot she indicated. She smirked and arched her eyebrow at him as he passed her. Smooth, Edward. Real smooth. She'll never notice anything. Not a thing.
"You're not helping, Alice."
Her smirk turned into a genuine smile as the vision of Edward and Bella together and happy after her change passed through her mind again, more solid than ever before. Yes, I am. Whether you want to admit it or not. A folding chair was leaning against the closet door, and Alice opened it and set it in front of their desk. "It's not quite the chair a desk like this deserves, but it'll have to do." For now, Alice continued to herself.
Edward repressed another groan as images of leather desk chairs from high-end designer catalogs flashed through Alice's mind.
Bella crossed the room; it looked as if she was gliding, being drawn by an unseen force rather than just walking. As she sat down in front of their desk, her eyes closed slowly and she drew a deep shuddering breath, her hands pressed flat on the green leather.
Pulled toward his mate by that same force, Edward silently knelt down next to her.
With her eyes still closed and a soft smile that would make the Mona Lisa jealous, Bella lifted her hand and trailed her fingertips first across the stained leather before moving them to the top drawer on the right. It was without a doubt the most beautiful sight Edward had ever seen, the most wonderful experience he'd ever had. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, to bury his face in her hair, to press his lips against her skin, to whisper to her how much he loved her. Bella was sitting right where she'd sat when she'd written to him, right where he'd sat when he'd written to her. He didn't need to hear her thoughts to know what she was thinking in that moment. Just as he was, she was reliving each of their letters. Except she had the advantage over him of remembering the letters he wrote to her as well. Not for the first time did Edward wish he could remember his letters to her.
Alice and Jasper were on the other side of the room, and Tanya and Charlie were in the doorway. As his family excused themselves he heard Charlie say Tanya's name, and he heard the question that one word held even if he couldn't hear the thoughts behind it in their entirety. He would have to talk to Charlie, but not right now. Right now, he was enjoying these few moments with his mate. Right now, there was nothing except the two of them. Right now, nothing else mattered.
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..ooOoo.. ..ooOoo..
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"I love you, Bella."
"I love you, too, Edward."
"I am so dreadfully tired, and I ache terribly."
"Edward, I'm so sorry."
"I remain… Yours…." The voice in her dream trailed off.
"Edward!" Bella shouted in her dream.
"Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die."
"Edward…."
"It's going to be alright. I'm here. There's nothing to fear."
Bella had had this dream before over the past weeks. The first time was the night after her desk had been delivered. She ran frantically through a forest, trying to get to the shimmering light ahead of her, but was unable to reach it. But unlike the nightmare of chasing Edward through the hospital as he was being pushed toward the morgue on a gurney, she could feel that she would reach him—if she just kept running, if she didn't give up.
"Don't cry. I'm right here."
"Edward!"
She rolled out of bed, reaching for someone who wasn't there and landed hard on the floor in a tangle of sheets and blankets. As always when she awoke from one of her various Edward dreams, she was disoriented and confused. Which was real? The dream with the voice that seemed to come at her from all directions, reassuring her, telling her everything was alright and not to cry, or Forks, with its clouds and rain and her father and Tanya and her new friends?
As always, eventually the dream faded away no matter how hard she tried to hold onto it, and Forks became more and more solid.
"Bells? You OK in there?"
Bella sat on the floor, leaned against her bed, pulled her knees up to her chest, and rested her elbows on them. She sighed and dropped her head into her hands. "Yeah, Dad, I'm fine. Just… fell out of bed." She ran her hands through her hair before getting up. She'd landed hard on her right shoulder and when she leaned on her hand to stand up it hurt. Pushing her T-shirt sleeve up, Bella was unsurprised to see a nice red mark already forming. Oh, yeah. That's gonna bruise.
She sat down on the edge of her bed and sighed. More and more these past few weeks she'd been dreaming about Edward telling her not to worry, not to cry, everything was fine, he was there. She supposed it was because the anniversary of finding his first letter was coming up in just a few days. Whatever the reason, she wished she could make them stop. They were lies, and they always left her feeling alone. Everything was not fine, and he was not here.
Just once, Bella wished she could see his face in her dreams, but she couldn't. Michael Masen had said he'd been very handsome, but aside from bronze hair and green eyes, she had no idea what Edward had actually looked like.
The alarm clock on her nightstand showed that it was 6:22 A.M. It was just as well that she had to get up in a few minutes anyway, going back to sleep after one of her dreams was never easy, and she shut the alarm off.
Michael had said something else, something she hadn't really thought about before. He'd said his grandmother had told him Edward had been her first love as a young girl, and for the first time, Bella began really thinking again about the family and friends he'd left behind. When Edward had been alive, she had cared about his family and friends as if she'd known them herself, as if they'd been her friends, too. But after he'd died, the pain of losing him was so overpowering, she hadn't been able to think about anything or anyone else.
Now, she could.
Bella supposed this was what people meant when they said, "Time heals all wounds." That wasn't entirely true though—the wound was still there. It would always be there, but she knew she wouldn't bleed to death from it now. Shuddering, Bella thought about just how close she had come to doing just that. But now the wound had scabbed over. It was a scar that ran to her very soul but that only she could see.
Bella played with the shorter strands of hair at the back of her neck. It had been nearly a year since they'd exchanged locks of hair. There was only a difference of about two inches now between the shorter strands and the rest of her hair. The next time she got her hair cut, it would be gone. She was afraid of that. It would be like ripping the scab off the wound. Would it start to bleed again?
Don't think about that. Just… Don't think about it. Think about something else. Think about his family, she told herself.
She knew Tommy Masen had married and had children, but whom did he marry? Whoever his wife was, she had known Edward as a young girl. She was from Chicago, then. Was she a neighbor? Michael had also told her that his grandfather and his brother and sister had tried to write to her. Had they moved back to Chicago soon after Edward died? Why? To help his mother?
His mother. Elizabeth.
Bella lowered her head and closed her eyes in remorse. How had she not thought about his mother before? The poor woman had lost both her husband and her only son in just a few months. She must've been inconsolable. Now that Bella was thinking about his family, she couldn't stop. There were so many questions she had that Michael might be able to answer. Could she call him again? Would he mind? Last time, he had sounded so happy to hear from her until she'd told him why she was calling. She looked at the clock again. 6:26 A.M.—8:26 A.M. in Chicago. Too early to call on a Sunday?
She groaned. It was much too early to be awake on a Sunday, period, but it was important. Fishing. She was out of bed before 6:30 A.M. on a Sunday to go fishing. Her mother hadn't believed her when she'd told her last night.
Bella stood up and stretched before moving to her window. Yup—The yellowish light shining through the window was in fact the sun. It was hard to believe, but she'd already been in Forks for six weeks. In all that time, this was only the fifth time she'd seen the sun. But today, unlike the other times when the sky was only clear for a few short hours, the weatherman promised the sun would be out all day. Her mother hadn't believed her when she'd told her that either. And it was a weekend, too. The weather would still only be in the mid-fifties, but she'd take it. Living in Forks you learned very quickly to take advantage of every sunny day you got, especially if it fell on the weekend. She didn't like fishing, but at least she'd be outside all day.
Bella leaned against the wall, looked out the window toward the forest, and allowed herself a few moments to enjoy the sight of the sun before gathering her things to take a shower. Might as well get moving—it was only early for her; for one of her father and Billy's fishing trips this was late. They'd usually already have been out for an hour by now, but they were taking it easy on her as it was her first time. As she leaned down the stairs and hollered to her father that she was taking a shower, she could smell the chocolate chip muffins Tanya had left for them, and she inhaled deeply. They alone were worth getting up early for.
As she showered, Bella decided she would definitely call Michael Masen again today. Hopefully, she would be able to get reception at wherever they were going.
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"Um… Jake? How are we going to get your dad down that?"
Bella was whispering, tactfully trying not to be overheard by their fathers, but Jacob just smiled at her and tapped the tip of her nose with his finger.
"Don't you worry. I got it covered," he responded.
Bella rubbed her nose and looked very doubtfully back at the path through the trees he had pointed out to her a moment ago, but before she could ask exactly how he had it covered, two of his friends came jogging up the path toward them. She had spent some time on the rez with Jacob over the past several weeks and had met them before. Their names were Quil and Embry, and they were just as tall and as muscled as Jacob. The temperature was still only in the forties, but they were both shirtless and wearing only cut-off jean shorts and sneakers. That seemed to be the standard uniform for Jacob and his friends, regardless of the temperature. Today, however, Jacob was wearing a grey hoodie and black jeans. "I still don't get how you guys aren't cold."
Quil and Embry grinned at each other and elbowed Jacob as they passed him. "We're much too hot to get cold. Ain't that right, Jakie?"
Bella rolled her eyes and laughed, though she thought for a moment there just might be something in that. Where Edward, Alice, and Tanya always felt cold to the touch, Jacob and his friends felt like they had a fever. A really, really high fever.
She watched in amazement as Quil and Embry stood on either side of Billy and easily picked him up, wheelchair and all. Billy Black was not a small man. Bella figured he was at least 180 pounds, plus however much the wheelchair weighed, but Quil and Embry lifted and carried him down the long path through the woods as easily as if he was a toddler on a small plastic chair. The path from the parking lot to the creek where they liked to fish had to be at least a quarter of a mile long, and the uneven, rocky ground was broken in several spots by large tree roots protruding through the soil. This was nothing like the smooth, wheelchair-accessible campsite and fishing area from last summer, but Jake's friends made it look easy. Their footing was sure; they didn't struggle carrying Billy in the least and weren't even the slightest bit winded by the time they arrived.
Bella, on the other hand, had trouble keeping up and stumbled several times, only to be caught each time by Jacob.
There must be something in the air up here, or maybe it's in the water, she thought to herself. First Edward and Jasper had lifted their solid mahogany desk up the stairs as easily if it was nothing more than a plastic TV tray, now this. Bella shook her head. Boys up here are just not normal.
This was the first time their fathers had seen each other since their last fight about Tanya and her family weeks ago, and there was definite tension between them. They barely spoke, and Bella began to fear that this may have been one time too many, that their lifelong friendship might really be over. It seemed so stupid to her. Two grown men who had been such good friends for so long, who had been through so much together—she just couldn't understand it. Her father and Tanya loved each other. How could her father's friends on the reservation not see that? Tanya was everything she could ever have wanted for her father and more, and her family was full of wonderful people. She could not understand why they couldn't just be happy for him.
The stream was much wider and looked deeper than she expected. They'd had so much rain lately, even by Forks standards, that the stream had swollen to more of a small river than what she, personally, would think of as a stream. Bella looked around and inhaled deeply, the air up here was so clean. It really was a beautiful place, especially with the practically-unheard-of-for-the-area-at-this-time-of-year bright blue sky. The sun was shining down on them from that bright blue sky, glistening off the rushing water, and she turned her face up to it, like a flower seeking out the sun's rays.
Since it was only February, a lot of the trees were still bare, but there were at least as many different types of coniferous trees as there were deciduous, and it was still very green. The beauty of the ancient forest was striking, enhanced by all the shades of green contrasted by the bare limbs, limbs which appeared dead but held just as much life inside them as the evergreens.
Again, Bella got the impression of this being almost a magical place. She wouldn't be surprised to look up and see a unicorn or an elf looking back at her. This place had been here, unchanged, for centuries, and it gave the impression that it would always continue to be here. Long before and long after people, this forest, this stream, and these rocks had been and would continue to be here. Bella shook her head and laughed quietly to herself. Magic and unicorns and elves…. What has gotten into you? What's next? Witches and wizards?
Years ago, before Billy had been confined to a wheelchair, he and her father would've worn waders and gone out into the stream, but now they sat along the side. The men quietly got themselves set up, and Bella made herself comfortable in her folding chair with her chenille throw around her legs, her book, and her thermos of Tanya's most incredible hot chocolate.
The woman could seriously sell the stuff under that name: "Tanya's Most Incredible Hot Chocolate."
She offered some to both Billy and Jacob, but not unexpectedly, both refused. At least they were polite about it and didn't turn green or gag.
The sun promised to warm the day, but it was still early, and the air so close to the water was much cooler, causing Bella to shiver.
"You can't possibly be cold," Jacob laughed at her as she adjusted the blanket over her legs, and she stuck her tongue out at him, which only made him laugh harder.
"Not everyone can be a human radiator."
"What can I say, you've either got the blood for it or you don't."
His father looked at him proudly, and her father looked uncomfortably straight ahead. Bella couldn't understand either's reaction.
The hours passed quietly; there was very little talking, but at least, there was no arguing.
Sometime after noon, Bella stood and stretched. She offered, "I'm starved. Anyone want a sandwich?"
Billy and her father agreed, and Jacob went with her to where they had set the cooler a few yards away by some large rocks. Tanya had packed roast beef sandwiches for her father and tuna salad for her, and Billy and Jacob had brought their own.
"What book are you reading?" Jacob asked.
"Persuasion."
By the look on his face, Jacob obviously wasn't familiar with the book, not that Bella would honestly have expected him to be. She looked sadly down at the ground. She wouldn't expect a teenage boy today to be familiar with it, but it had been one of Edward's favorites. "It's from Jane Austen," she explained.
He didn't seem to recognize the author any more than he had the book. "I don't think we have to read her. We had to read A Tale of Two Cities this year."
"Oh, that's a great book. 'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done.' Did you like it?"
But Jacob clearly didn't share Bella's love of reading, and the conversation moved on to their other subjects. Bella said, "At least you don't have to do public speaking. That's what we're doing now. I have to do a reading in front of the class tomorrow. I am so not looking forward to it."
"Public speaking isn't so bad. I don't see why people get so nervous about it. What's the difference between talking in front of twenty or thirty people and talking to me now?"
"Nineteen or twenty nine people."
Jacob laughed.
"You think it's so easy? How about you do my reading tomorrow, and I'll take your test on A Tale of Two Cities."
"No can do. You're about two feet too short and two months too late."
"Crap."
"What do you have to read? Or do you have to give a speech or something?"
"We got to pick for ourselves at least, thank God. It's bad enough having to speak in front of the class. I'm reading one of Shakespeare's sonnets."
Jacob shook his head, smiling and arching his eyebrows in question, and Bella recited the full sonnet.
"You had to memorize the whole thing? That sucks. Can't you at least have notes with you?"
"I already knew it. I read it at my mom's wedding in November."
Bella had known it by heart long before that, but there was no need to tell Jacob that.
"If you've already read it in front of people you should be used to it."
"That was different."
It was very different. That hadn't been in front of twenty teenagers.
They took their fathers their lunches, but instead of sitting back down themselves, Jacob motioned to her to follow him. "Let's leave them alone for a while." As they ate, Bella checked her cell phone. No reception. She'd have to wait until they got home to call Michael. "Waiting for a call?" Jacob asked.
She shook her head and put her phone back in her pocket, "No. I wanted to make one, but I don't have any reception."
"Anyone important?"
Jacob was making an effort to behave; they'd had arguments of their own about her friendship with Alice and Edward Cullen over the past few weeks, but she heard the tension in his voice even though he had clearly tried to restrain it. She appreciated the effort.
She answered, "Cousin of a friend. It can wait."
Jacob opened another can of soda and looked around for a few minutes quietly while Bella finished her sandwich. He'd already had four. "So what's your book about?" he asked as she finished eating.
She gave him the briefest description she could, because it was clear he'd only asked to be polite, but it was difficult to keep it brief since the book meant so much to her. They talked easily for a few minutes about some of the kids on the rez Jacob had introduced her to before their conversation turned to their fathers.
"It's good to see your dad. We've really missed him," Jacob said, trying to sound casual but failing—she could hear the stiffness in his voice.
Bella tensed. This was where things could get difficult. "He's missed you, too."
The silence that followed wasn't exactly uncomfortable but was definitely not as easy as it had been a few minutes ago. Bella was afraid she knew what Jacob was going to say next, and she wished he wouldn't. If they got into an argument about Tanya and her family in front of their fathers, it would not help matters at all.
Her wish was in vain. "So, what are the Cullens doing today? Out enjoying the sun, are they?" Jacob asked. They were perfectly innocent questions. Anyone could've asked them and meant nothing more than just a polite inquiry about her friends, but coming from Jacob and with the animosity between them, they seemed to hold an accusation in spite of his casual tone.
Or perhaps they seemed accusatory because of his casual tone. Out enjoying the sun, are they? It was almost said as if they had no right to enjoy the sun like everyone else.
"They went camping," Bella answered defensively.
Alice and Edward had told her at school on Friday that their father had some time off at the hospital, and they were all, Tanya included, leaving for a cabin they owned farther down the coast that afternoon.
Edward. Bella sighed. Edward Cullen and she had become very good friends over the past few weeks, closer even than she and Alice were. As close as she and her Edward had been, and just like with her Edward, it had happened very easily. At first, she really was afraid that with all the superficial similarities between the two, she was subconsciously using Edward Cullen to try to partially fill the void left behind when her Edward had died, but it wasn't that at all. Although they really were very alike—even some of the expressions Edward Cullen used were more like those her Edward had used than what high school boys used today—they had their differences, too.
Edward Cullen had clearly had a much harder life than Edward Masen had had, and it showed. He always looked not just tired, but as if he carried a horrible burden on his shoulders that even with as close as his family was, he had to carry alone. Her Edward had known heartbreak in the last months of his life; Edward Cullen seemed to have known it his entire life. Bella badly wanted to ask about his biological family and how he had come to be adopted, but he never mentioned them, and she didn't feel it was her place to bring it up. If he didn't want to talk about them, that was clearly his business.
Sometimes when she looked at Edward, she felt like she had no secrets from him, as if he was able to recognize in her a person who had lost someone they loved very much because he had too. Sometimes when she looked at him, she was afraid of how he was looking at her, like he wanted to be more than just friends.
Sometimes, she was afraid she wanted that too.
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"Twelve hours? They were at the hospital almost every day for weeks for twelve hours? We knew they volunteered at the hospital, my grandfather and his family volunteered too, but we had no idea they were there that long. They must've been exhausted."
Bella was talking to Michael Masen. She'd called him after returning from fishing, and they'd been on the phone for a good while already. It was a weight off her shoulders to have someone she could talk to about Edward, and she was thankful that Michael seemed as happy to hear about Edward—having grown up with the story of their desk— as she was to tell him about him.
"They were," she explained, "but they never gave up. Edward told me a friend of theirs at the hospital ordered them to stay home at least once. He wasn't happy about it. And it wasn't only at the hospital. Their friend was one of the doctors, and they went out into the community with him, too. As many people as there were at the hospital, he said there were several times that number sick at home. Whole families sometimes."
Bella told Michael about the Rinaldi family Edward had told her about, and when he spoke, his voice was filled with sympathy. "Watching your children die one by one like that, in such a horrible way. And first his wife. That poor man. I can't even imagine what that time must've been like. I'm ashamed to say we never really even thought about it. We knew it was terrible, of course, but we had no idea just how bad it really was. I think we tended to focus on your and Edward's story. My grandparents seem to have down-played just how bad it really was. They must not have wanted to talk about it."
"It wasn't just them. It seems like everyone who lived through it wanted to forget. October 1918 was the deadliest month in American history—nearly two hundred thousand people died that month. Nearly twice that number died overall, and today hardly anyone has any idea it ever happened."
"I do remember my grandmother saying she wasn't allowed to volunteer at the hospital with her sisters because her father said she was too young, so she helped at the Red Cross instead. I can't say I blame them for wanting to forget. I think I probably would have too."
Bella swallowed hard before she asked the question that had been in the back of her mind. "Do you know… little Charlie…."
"Oh, of course you'd want to know that. He was fine. Both he and his father recovered. My grandfather's family became very close to Elizabeth's family after they moved back to Chicago." Bella thought she heard a distinct smile in his voice, but she was too relieved to know that little Charlie survived to think what it meant, and she let out a breath of relief. Michael continued, "Charlie lived a long life. He married and had seven children. He moved out west somewhere, but I don't know where exactly. He named his first son Edward, that much I do know. My grandfather wanted you to know that." Just like before, Bella heard something in his voice, a slight hesitation this time, but she didn't dwell on it. Edward's family hadn't forgotten him. His little cousin even named his son after him. "Oh! Edward must have loved that. I'm sure he was thrilled about it. I'm so glad no one else in his family died, thank God for that."
If Michael Masen thought it was odd that she spoke of Edward as if he had been there for his cousin's child's birth and knew he'd named the baby after him, he didn't comment. He did, however, have something to tell her. "Bella…." he began.
Bella felt her blood freeze. That tone of voice could hold nothing good. Edward hadn't been the only one from his family to die. She knew it before Michael said another word.
"Bella, honey, I'm so sorry, but I have to tell you."
He hesitated and the pause seemed to drag on and on, and she ran through his family in her head. His cousin, Clara? Please not Clara. He said she was volunteering at the hospital, too. His whole family was, really. But, Clara… she'd just gotten engaged… and her fiancé had already lost his parents and his brother… His Aunt Grace? Her husband and son were both sick, I'm sure she stayed at their bedside nonstop…. It was amazing. People thought time slowed down when bad things happened, but that wasn't true at all. Your mind sped up. Time seemed to pass slower because your mind was working so much faster, processing everything so much faster. I know Tommy, Laura, and Mic all survived… but what about their parents? Did his Aunt Louise move back to Chicago with her children because her husband had died?
When Michael did speak again his words were rushed, like a man who had to tell someone something he desperately wished he didn't and wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. "My grandfather told me the doctor—who was a very good friend of both Edward's and his mother's, the same one you mentioned most likely, but I don't know his name—told his father that she wasn't as sick as Edward was, that he had expected her to recover, at least initially, but she refused to stay in bed. He tried everything. He reasoned with her, he begged her, he ordered her…. I remember my grandfather said the doctor told his father he even threatened to pick her up and carry her bodily into another ward if she got out of bed again, but she insisted on nursing him herself… If she hadn't, if she hadn't, she likely would've recovered."
Bella was confused. It sounded like Michael was talking about Anna taking care of her sister, Lillian, but that didn't make any sense because he was saying "him," and both Anna and Lillian Stevenson had survived. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you mean."
She heard him take a deep breath. "Bella, Elizabeth Masen died a few hours before her son."
Bella couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. She couldn't even move. His mother, Edward's mother. Elizabeth. Elizabeth, who had had to watch her husband die from the epidemic before they even knew it was an epidemic. Elizabeth, who had worked her fingers to the bone nursing victims for so many weeks and watched so many of them succumb. Elizabeth, whose worry for her beloved son wanting to enlist and fight in World War One had been the reason Bella had written that very first letter nearly a year ago in the first place. Elizabeth, who had been the reason she and Edward had the short time together they'd had.
Edward had had to lie there helplessly and watch his mother die, just as Mr. Rinaldi had had to watch four of his six children die. Edward had told her once that he'd wondered if the poor man had only fought long enough to not leave any of his children to suffer alone. Edward died a few hours after his mother. Had he done that same thing? Had he been unable to make her stay in bed, to make her take care of herself? Had fighting for himself only long enough to not leave her alone, to not let her have to see him die, been the only thing he could do for her?
Michael explained, "She collapsed at his bedside. At first, their friend had hoped it was just exhaustion, she had been at Edward's bedside from the moment they brought him in three days earlier, but the moment he touched her, he knew."
Bella spoke through the lump in her throat without realizing her mind had formed a question, "How long were they sick?"
"Edward, six days. Elizabeth, three. They died on October 30th, three hours apart."
Bella wrapped her arm around her stomach and doubled over. Six days? He went through six days of that? All the symptoms of that horrible disease were flashing through her mind like lightening. It was even worse than she'd feared. Six days? Her Edward had suffered through six days of that hell before he'd finally died.
She didn't realize she'd spoken out loud until Michael answered her, "He was delirious or sedated for most of it, Bella. The doctor told my great grandfather that he didn't believe Edward was ever aware his mother was sick too. Between the fever and the drugs he was being given, he was barely conscious most of the time. He gave him morphine, trying to help him rest as comfortably as possible. Their friend was with them both when they died. My grandfather said the man was inconsolable with grief. He said you'd have thought they were his own family by how hard he took their loss."
Bella spoke in a whisper, "I'm glad of that. That they weren't alone, I mean. He said so many people died alone. I'm…. At least they didn't. I'm glad for that. He mentioned…. Edward mentioned their friend to me several times, but he never mentioned him by name. I know he looked up to him a great deal. He was there when Edward took little Charlie into the hospital in the middle of the night, and he was with him when they found his friend, Lillian, sick at her sister's bedside."
Several seconds of silence on the other end followed her words, and for a moment Bella was afraid her phone had dropped the call. "Michael? Are you there? Did I lose you?"
"No. No, I'm sorry. I'm here. Just…. What did you just say? Lillian was found sick at her sister's bedside?"
"Yeah, Lillian was one of Edward's closest friends. Her sister, Anna, got the flu and was in the hospital. Lillian was reading to her when she got sick too. They found her together when the doctor went to check on Anna. She was really very sick. I knew he was afraid she wouldn't make it but he wouldn't admit it. He never gave up hope, though."
"Anna? You do mean Lillian and Anna Stevenson?"
"Yes, did your grandfather know the Stevensons?"
"Oh, yes. Very well. Anna Stevenson was my grandmother. We had no idea she and her sister had been sick. They never told us. I can't believe they never told us."
Bella was too stunned to speak at first, but a slow smile soon spread across her face. Anna had married Tommy Masen. Edward must've been so pleased.
Michael's voice trembled when he continued, "You said she almost didn't make it. Did you mean my grandmother or her sister?"
"It was Lillian. Edward was very worried about her. He said once Anna, your grandmother, learned her sister was sick, they couldn't keep her in bed. She kept getting out of bed to take care of her sister. They finally threatened to move her to a different ward." Bella's voice trailed off, and it was a moment before either spoke again. It was too similar to Edward's mother's refusing to stay in bed after she got sick, but, thankfully, Anna had listened and recovered.
"Yeah, that sounds exactly like my grandmother. Aunt Lillian—jeez, I can't believe it. She lived to be ninety-two, and I don't remember her ever being sick a single day in my life."
Bella's eyes filled with happy tears, genuinely glad to hear that one of Edward's closest friends had had such a long life, and she listened to Michael tell her all he knew about the lives Edward's friends and family had led. Not only had they not forgotten him, but Edward seemed to have taken on the role of Cupid. Michael's grandparents weren't the only couple with connections to Edward to marry. Lillian had married his cousin, Hugh Benson—who, with the financial support he'd received from first Edward's father then Edward himself, had completed his studies and passed the bar. He'd gone on to follow Edward, Sr's. footsteps and entered the District Attorney's Office, and together, he and Lillian had had four daughters.
Edward's house had been left to his Uncle Charles, and the family had moved back to Chicago in early 1919. Edward's friends called on them shortly after they arrived to welcome them, and his friend, Will Collins, and his cousin, Laura, fell in love. They had married and had also named one of their sons Edward.
In all, between all of Edward's cousins and friends, and between first and middle names, there were seven baby boys named after him, and the name continued in the family to this day. Both Michael and his brother had Edward as their middle name, and Michael told her that his nephew and his fiancée were expecting a baby boy, who they intended to name Edward.
Bella was too emotional to speak for several moments. Without ever even really knowing him, they'd kept him as a part of the family to this day. She understood now how Edward had felt when he'd told her that telling his cousins about her felt right—now, it was her turn to tell his cousins about him.
"Would you…. Would you like to see some of his letters?" she asked. She never thought she'd ever share his letters with anyone, but his family deserved to know him, and he deserved it as well.
When Michael spoke, Bella could hear how much he appreciated her offer, but he told her their letters were personal.
Bella insisted, "I want you to have them. Really. I want you to know him." She told Michael how it had taken her hours to find the hidden compartment, and how surprised she had been that there was actually still an old letter in it. In spite of his initial protest that what happened between them was too private, she could tell he was eager to learn as much as possible about the long deceased cousin he'd heard so much about from his grandparents. "I can't explain it. I just felt so badly for his mother worrying so much about him. I wanted her to know it would be OK. I don't know what came over me, but I wrote to him telling him I'd found his letter, and his mother had nothing to worry about. The war would be over in a few months, long before he turned eighteen."
They were both silent again for a few moments. What had once been things to look forward to—the end of the war, his 18th birthday—were things neither Edward nor his mother had lived to see. Who knew then that they'd been facing a danger as great or even greater than the great war itself?
The pain Bella had been living with for so many months now threatened to flare up, but she wouldn't let it. This was not the time to cry because he had died. This was the time to smile because he had lived.
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I know, Edward did mention Carlisle by name twice-in the very first letter to his cousin, Mic, and in the very last letter to Bella right before he told Bella he loved her. Those are two of the letters Bella hasn't reread, and with everything she's experienced, she just doesn't remember it. At least, that's how I see it in my mind. I think it's plausible that with everything she's gone through, a name mentioned only twice over a course of about four months and several dozen letters has completely slipped her mind. She hasn't reread the letter to Mic because she wanted to reread the letters Edward actually wrote to her. And the last letter, where he told her he loved her and unknowingly described the Spanish Flu symptoms he was feeling without realizing what they were is still too painful. I hope that makes sense.
I hope you like it. Drop me a review and let me know!
