Mini Recap: Bella and Edward are on their honeymoon. Remember, she's a vampire; he's human. (Chap 28 has a full plot recap if you need it)
Chapter 30
Bella
Lake Louise, Canada – January 29-February 6, 1921
Isabella Swan/Cullen/Masen's nature is etched in stone, so you must forgive her if, even in her happiest moments, a part of Bella remains rooted in the lessons of her childhood, and the one lesson that remains fixed after all these years is that happiness is fleeting. So, she waits with bated breath for trouble to loom large on the horizon. After all, it always has before. How else can she account for the gut level certainty she feels, even as she lies, counting Edward's sleep-soothed exhalations of breath, that this peace is to be short lived? Try as she may, Bella cannot suppress the certainty that this joy of theirs will be transitory. All she can do is seize each moment granted as a gift, knowing another might not come.
Edward's breathing changes rhythm, indicating that he is soon to wake. Bella watches with fascination as his eyelashes flutter on his pink cheeks, as expressions flit across his face. She smiles as she catches the very instant that he recalls where he is, what they have shared. His heartbeat picks up to double time and his breath stutters for just a moment as his eyes open in wonder. She can't help it – she launches herself through the small space separating them, pressing her lips to his with an answering awe. They've done it: the impossible.
Bella had feared that her body would chill him if she let him sleep too near, but Edward is a remarkable furnace, doing more to change his bride's temperature than she does to change his. Now, that furnace burns hotter as he responds to her kiss, rolls her beneath him, and telegraphs his adoration in every move, every look, every word. Yes, these moments of fullness are precious indeed, and even if God or Fate or Whoever it is that doles them out seems to be rather stingy, Bella is determined to live in the present, not waste them worrying over what might come.
Just how long they can expect to dwell in this newlywed bliss is apparently on Edward's mind as well, for as they lie pressed against one another, satiated for the time being, his husky voice breaks the silence, saying, "I'm rather surprised to still be myself this morning, you know."
He's spooned around her, so he can't see Bella's smile. "A bit boastful, don't you think? The lovemaking was rather transcendent – but did you imagine it would take you to a higher plane of consciousness or something?" He may not witness her smile, but he can feel the laughter fighting its way out, and he responds by trying to tickle her. Bella squirms away, but it's mostly for his pride's sake, as his human fingers aren't likely to achieve much against her granite-like flesh – still, she tries to spare his ego as often as she can. Now the laughter can't be suppressed any longer, by either of them, and they're lying on the bed, just laughing at nothing and everything at once.
When he finally catches his breath, Edward props his head in his hand and says, "You know what I mean, Mrs. Masen." His voice catches a bit on the words, but he perseveres in a tone that is so earnest it cuts, "Why am I still alive, Isabella?"
Bella's eyes ache with phantom tears. She wants to sooth him like a child, but she wants to scream her refusal at him as well. She cannot lose him, doesn't he understand? She will gladly take what they have now, dwell in their love for the next fifty years and give it up afterwards, rather than risk everything for the hope of more. They have had this fight before, shortly after he proposed, and it seems they're to have it at least once more.
"Edward. You know how I feel about this—" his face is frozen in an expression of surprise, betrayal even. It makes Bella's gut ache and freezes the words she had intended to speak.
He jumps from the bed, marches across the room and begins to dress. This is probably best, for the view of his nude form once he sheds the bed linen is far too distracting to allow for any substantial conversation. Abruptly, he rounds towards her, and Bella can see that he's angrier than she has ever known him to be – formidable even – which is rather impressive, given the fact that his wife is immortal.
When he speaks, his voice is tight with emotion: "I thought…it was stupid, I guess," he grips his hair by the roots, tugging it in frustration, "I thought when you agreed to marry me that you were agreeing to forever, Bella. You know that's what I want. I can't be satisfied with only one lifetime with you. Not when I know we could have more. We could have so much more!" His green eyes blaze across the room, willing her to understand and, more than that, to capitulate.
If you haven't noticed, dear reader, our Bella is not very good at capitulating; unfortunately, Edward's tone has rather the opposite effect. She leaps up on the bed, letting the sheets pool around her ankles as she holds her arms out to the side, giving him a rather remarkable view. "Do I look like a praying mantis to you?" He's wise enough not to answer, and she vociferates, "You thought I'd just fuck you silly and then murder you in your sleep? Suck your blood but not quite enough to kill you, and all this without even a 'by your leave'? Are you jesting, Edward? I love you. I cannot lose you, you… IDIOT! How hard is that to understand? One whiff of your blood and it's all I can do not to drain you dry, but you expect me to be able to handle just one bite? It's too big of a risk! Why won't you believe me?"
And Bella can see it: the moment when Edward does, in fact, believe her. It's the moment he looks utterly defeated. It's the moment her hearts breaks just a little bit more. It's the moment she wants to retract every word. Not yet! she thinks, Not us! The world will be waiting, eager to dismantle what we have built – don't let us be the ones to topple this ephemeral happiness. But what can she say to make it better? How can she fight what is real?
They spend a week there in Canada on their honeymoon, and there are, thankfully, other moments of happiness and closeness, but there's a brittleness to their intimacy that hints of new fault lines and fragility too. On the train ride back to Wisconsin, Edward holds Bella's hand, but his mind is clearly elsewhere. She hates the hesitation she feels now, when before she would have interrupted his thoughts without a qualm, drawn him back into the circle of their love, smoothed the worry from his brow. Bella is now under the conviction that she is the source of that worry and wonders whether it will always linger.
"I'm going to have Carlisle change me." His voice is quiet, and Edward does not turn his gaze away from the window. It's a proclamation, not an invitation to dialogue.
Anxiety freezes Bella as it always does, and her stillness sits in counterpoint to the restless movement of Edward's fingers through his hair. Again she wonders, What can she say? He has obviously made up his mind. And, as plans go, it's not a terrible one: Bella has complete faith in Carlisle's self-control, and her objections have always rested in herself. It was never from a lack of desire that she resisted his request that she change him, make them equals.
"Alright."
He has obviously expected more of a fight because Bella's acquiescence spins him back towards her. His expression is amazement. "Alright? That's all? No stripping down and comparing yourself to insects this time?"
She inhales loudly, and it takes all the maturity of her one hundred and three years on this earth not to lose her temper. "First of all, the analogy was apt. Secondly, I've never objected to your being changed. If you'll recall, my argument was simply that it was unreasonable for you to have assumed that I would be changing you, and on our wedding night no less. Without having discussed it first." Her tone may have slipped over into condescension, particularly there at the end. Just recalling his disappointed assumptions has her full of exasperation once more.
"Good." His cheeks are pinking, but she cannot tell whether it is from rising ire or chagrin. Her bet is on the former.
"Good," Bella huffs, now equally incensed with herself. They are discussing Edward's death and, according to some, his certain damnation. Surely they ought not to agree to something so important in a fit of pique. Maturity, Bella Cullen – Bella Masen! she remonstrates with herself. In a gentler tone, she continues, "Please know that I would sacrifice anything to share this life with you, excepting only yourself – I will not wager your life on my self-control. But your life is your own, and if you wish to bet on Carlisle, then I can only say that there is no better man to do the job, and the fact that he would be responsible for your immortal life will place me in his debt even more than I already am, which is no small reckoning."
Bella watches his eyes soften, and it's with a sigh of relief that she feels his arms encircle her waist. "I love you," he breathes, and kisses her forehead gently. "I won't be parted from you. Not if I can help it."
"And I love you," she whispers back. "We'll speak to him together when we return."
But Carlisle is not at home when they return. They wait, puttering about the house in domestic harmony: unpacking, laundering their clothing, Edward cooking a meal for himself while Bella makes faces at the smell filling the house. Eventually, Edward retires to bed, while Bella leaves to hunt, promising him that he'll wake to find her beside him. As she runs through the snowy woods, tracking a small herd of deer, she tries not to be alarmed at Carlisle's absence. After all, they have been home for less than a day, and he's often called away for long periods of time if a patient requires his attendance. And while he ought to have anticipated their return, Bella knows that the lives of his patients take precedent over courtesy, even to someone as scrupulously well-mannered as Carlisle. Still, it's that nagging doubt – the one that keeps expecting the worst – that has her on edge, pushing Bella to rush back to Edward, overwhelmed with a nauseous feeling of dread.
A/N: Ack! I can't believe it - the story is finally written and will be updated weekly until complete. Many many thanks go to my prereaders, CindyWindy and miaokuancha, without whom this tale would be much less than what you find here. Thanks are also owed to any of you who are still reading this after such ridiculously long breaks between updates. As always, I'd love to hear what worked and what didn't. Many blessings, jj