A/N: Disclaimer - Stephenie Meyer owns all the characters, obviously, but I'm the one who makes them do all the weird stuff. This chapter unfortunately has also had to remain un-betad, but I'm hoping that you'll be patient with me! If there are those among you with experiences of losing a child, this might be a little rough to read, so be warned. If you haven't heard Jens Lekman's song "Your arms around me", you should. It's beautiful...
From your mouth speaks your lovely voice
The softest words ever spoken
"What's broken can always be fixed
What's fixed will always be broken"
You put your arms around me
You put your arms around me
Jens Lekman: Your arms around me
Chapter 37
EPOV
I slip out of bed before Bella wakes and return with breakfast. When I walk in, she still lies tangled in the sheets with her dark hair twisted around her head and splayed across the pillow. Her face is soft with sleep. I crank the curtains open just a bit before settling on the bed behind her to wake her with kisses. She grumbles and whines, but smiles and scoots back to press herself further into my arms when I blow on her neck and nudge her cheek playfully with my nose.
"It's after nine o'clock, Bella. It's time to rise and shine. I've got your morning tea right here for you. Do you want to have breakfast in bed?" She nods sleepily, turns and yawns, peering up at me with eyes that are slightly puffy and pillow wrinkles on her cheek. She's adorable like this, and I grin down at her. "Or, you know what, forget breakfast. We'll just stay in bed all day instead." She shakes her head and pouts.
"No, no, no, don't tempt me. I'm up, just give me a little space and I'll be ready to go in no time." I lean back, and she drags the sheet from the bed, making an improvised wrap dress that trails behind her as she stumbles to the bathroom. It's cute that she's still shy in the mornings. At least she slept naked with me last night. I sigh and lie back on the bed, staring up into the ceiling.
Last night was amazing. Bella looked so good in that bathing suit, and when she walked out of the bathroom in the lingerie I bought her my heart almost stopped and I got hard just from watching her. Making love to her in - and without - those flimsy pieces of lace made some of the most exciting moments I've had in bed. She's never been that shameless before. Seeing her face in the golden lamplight as she came beneath me made me feel like the king of the world.
While she's in the bathroom I pick up our stuff and start packing the few things I left lying about yesterday. I smile when I find the black lace nightgown crumpled at the foot of the bed, and I carefully fold it and put it in Bella's bag. That will definitely get a repeat performance. She comes out wrapped in a towel, carrying her bag of toiletries and finds me picking up the blue bra and panty set from the floor where I must have thrown them last night. She blushes as I hand them to her.
"Why don't you put these on? You didn't get much chance to wear them yesterday, after all." I smirk at her, and she takes them, quickly turns around, drops the towel, and scrambles into her panties and bra with her back to me. The sight of her creamy white behind is almost enough to make me pounce on her, but instead I politely turn my back and pat my jeans to make sure I have my wallet with me, then pick up my coffee. When I turn back, Bella is buttoning on the long dress I gave her, and it gives me a strange, proud sense of ownership seeing her in something I bought her. She's mine. Well, at least for all intents and purposes and at least for this trip.
She gratefully accepts her tea, nibbles half a blueberry muffin, then greedily digs into the apple I brought for her.
"We really should get going," she says, as she finishes her breakfast and fishes her toothbrush out of her bag, "the sooner we get to San Francisco, the more time I'll have to show you the town." I follow her into the bathroom, watching her in the mirror while she cleans up.
"As long as we're together, it's fine," I reply. "I don't mind taking my time on the road with you either. Should we bring something for a picnic, in case we find some nice place to stop?" She nods, finding my eyes in the mirror.
"Yes, that's an excellent idea. Let's make a quick stop at a store on the way before we leave town." She turns to me and gives me a minty kiss, but slides out of my grasp before I can deepen the kiss into something more serious, smiling over her shoulder at me and my greedy hands. I take the bags to the car while Bella settles our bill and soon we're on the road again.
It's another pretty summer day, the sun already high in the sky with white wisps of cloud moving quickly to a wind we can't feel down below. The road winds out of town, and soon it's one breathtaking vista after another again. The highway hugs the mountain side and the blue-green swell of the ocean beats against cliffs of black and brown, lacy white foam shooting up into the air where the waves hit the shore. We stop repeatedly to look at the view, and Bella takes pictures with her phone.
A couple of hours later, I suggest we start winding in across the mountain to get a look at one of the national parks before we hit the highway into the Bay area. We're soon surrounded by trees, some redwoods, pine trees, and when the view opens up we see green meadows that remind me of pictures I've seen from Switzerland. There are houses here and there, but mostly it's just us and a car or two that we meet, going down. I try to follow our route on the map, even if the roads are narrow and a bit confusing. Finally, I see the sign I was looking for and tell Bella to turn off. It's almost noon, and the sun is high in the sky.
We park the car in the designated parking lot for visitors and I get the food we bought out of the car, together with a blanket. After looking around we find a trail leading up towards a vista point. High grass is blowing in the wind on the hill, and there are orange poppies growing everywhere, white butterflies fluttering about them here and there. I see a flash of red as a bird streaks past us, disappearing into the trees. The sun is hot, but the wind makes the day pleasant, the bird song a backdrop to the crickets' loud chirping.
I point out the signs on the side of the path to Bella, warning visitors about pumas and marihuana growers guarding their crop, who may or may not be armed. The advice seems to be one and the same: if you meet one, back off slowly and retain eye contact. Although it's unsettling to contemplate meeting armed men or wild animals out here, I still smile to myself. I guess if you did meet with danger you'd be too flustered to remember the advice, and it probably wouldn't do you any good anyway.
The view is incredible. On one side you can see the forested mountain side sloping up away from us, around us is the valley of grassland, surrounded by trees. A small lake glints further down, which is where I guess the recreation area would be.
"Where would you like us to have our picnic, Bella?"
Bella shields her eyes from the sun, and points out a portion of the meadow below us that is closer to the trees, partly shaded by a single tree venturing out into the clearing on its own.
"How about there? If it gets too hot we can retreat to the tree-line to get in the deeper shade?"
I take her hand and walk ahead of her, wading downhill through the pale grass. I vaguely think about snakes, and take care to stomp my feet hard as I walk, since Bella's wearing nothing but sandals on her feet. The flowers are beautiful, and when I look back at her, so is she, smiling at the meadow and the trees, her long, dark skirt tangling in her legs as she makes her way down. Tiny insects rise in iridescent clouds from the grass where we walk, and floating pollen sparkles like specks of gold in the sunshine.
When we get down by the tree, I let go of her hand and together we spread the blanket, pressing the grass down to make a soft mattress to sit on. Bella kicks off her sandals, and I follow suit. It feels like freedom, standing barefoot on the grass, alone under the wide blue sky with the day unfolding in front of us. I love the smell of warm vegetation that is rising out of the ground like a wave of heat. It reminds me of Bella's heat rising against my skin. Distracted by the memory I look down at Bella who is busy unpacking our stash of food; fruit, bread, cheese, water and wine. She insisted that we get half a roast chicken for me, and I didn't object. I sit down and hastily unwrap a chicken leg and start tearing at the meat with my teeth right away, because my stomach is growling. Bella grins at me and I grin right back at her. "What?" I ask, but she just shakes her head at me.
"Nothing. I just love your appetite for life, that's all." I groan, and lie back on the blanket, still chewing and enjoying the crispy salt taste of the chicken skin. Now it's Bella's turn to ask me, "What?" I shake my head, swallowing and peering up at her, sun reflexes almost blinding me.
"Nothing, you just reminded me of all the other things I'm hungry for, darling." Bella raises an eyebrow at me as she pops a grape into her mouth.
"Seriously? Is that another fantasy of yours, then? You want to make love in the freedom of the great outdoors." I wipe my fingers on a paper napkin and help myself to some bread.
"Well, having sex in public is a pretty common fantasy. You've never had it?" I look over to catch her smiling as she assembles some tomatoes, cheese and bread to make a sandwich.
"No, I can't say that I have. If I ever fantasized about having sex in public it was more about being indoors, but where someone walking by could see you, like in front of a window or in the back of a bus."
I close my eyes and chew, thinking of that for a minute. Images of myself, pressing naked Bella up against a picture window, taking her from behind. Bella bouncing on my lap in the back of a Greyhound, her open dress pooling around her waist as I squeeze her tits. Hmm, I could probably get off to those images without problems. I adjust myself slightly, and decide that this isn't where our picnic should be going. Having actual sex outdoors would probably be buggy, uncomfortable and not a good idea, in case we should get interrupted by pumas or armed men. Bella pours me some Cabernet Sauvignon in a plastic cup and passes me a water bottle, and I enjoy the fruity, slightly tart taste of the wine on my tongue before I drain half of the water.
After we've finished eating, we carefully collect the remains of our meal and the garbage and put it in a bag to take with us, so as not to attract animals or spoil this pretty spot with litter. Then we just stretch out on the blanket to rest for a moment, Bella's head resting on my chest and her arm across my stomach as she snuggles into my side. I feel her own flowery scent mixing with the smell of the meadow, and I feel a deep peace settling inside me.
The sun is shining through the leaves and dappling us with shadows, enough to warm us without burning us. When I look down at Bella I start tracing the shadow patterns on her skin lazily with my fingertips. My fingers push at the sleeves of her dress, which are already riding up high, and I feel the slightly different texture of the skin of her upper arms. I shift so that I can put Bella's head down on the blanket, and she looks up at me, confused and a little sleepy.
"Ssshh," I say, "I just want to touch you, okay?" She smiles and throws one arm across her eyes to shield it from the sun that's behind my head now, probably making it hard for her to read the expression on my face, which is all about my devotion for her.
I let my fingers trace all the way up the inside of her arms, and briefly kiss the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of her elbow. Then I trace the long column of her neck, her collarbones and breastbone, and stop at the top button of her dress. "May I?" I ask her, holding the button between my fingers. She looks at me through her lashes, her eyes like slits, gives me a small smile and nods. She trusts me.
I carefully unbutton the first four buttons of her dress, and pull the fabric to the side to reveal the top of her breasts in the lacy blue bra. I draw a shaky breath and softly press my lips to the swell of her breasts, then pause briefly before I slowly unbutton another five buttons. Bella's breath is more shallow now, but she doesn't tell me to stop. I can see her pale stomach, her body bare to me all the way down to her bellybutton. I carefully unbutton a few more buttons until I reach the top of her pretty blue panties, then I skim my fingers over her breasts and her soft skin all the way down, then back up again, and repeat the motion, letting my kisses follow the trail of my fingers. There's nothing urgent or demanding in my actions, just an expression of how I feel about her, how precious she is to me.
Bella is watching me, her lips parted and her breasts lifting visibly with every breath she takes. Carefully, I pull her bra straps down, and push the dress back over her shoulders, and she lifts her back to give me more room to maneuver. As I pull the cups of her bra down, the wire pushes her breasts up and I let my fingertips trace her puckering nipples before I lean down to softly kiss them, then lap at them slowly with my tongue. Bella lets out a little moaning sound that goes straight to my crotch. I pause to look at her face and smile, making sure that she's okay.
"You're so beautiful, Bella. There's nothing more beautiful in the world to me right now." She stares at me, her eyes swimming with some emotion I can't read, but doesn't say anything. I trace her nipples, and see that something is catching the sunlight. It's as if there are shiny, white traces beneath her skin, like scars of something.
"What are these?" I ask, curious. Bella follows my gaze and blushes, making a motion as if to cover herself.
"No, don't," I say, staying her hand. "It's beautiful, like mother-of-pearl. It almost sparkles. What is it? Some kind of scar tissue?" She hesitates, then nods. She takes my hand and moves my fingers low over her abdomen, pushing a little bit on the panties for access to the soft skin there. I move down to look and to feel her skin. Yes, there it is again, the same pale marks.
"They're stretch marks, Edward, and I kind of hate them. It's nice of you to say that they sparkle, though. To me they look more like traces of decay – it's as if small worms had burrowed under my skin and left the marks of their passage engrained there forever."
I frown and look, then kiss the tiny marks, before pulling her dress up a bit to cover her. She pulls the bra cups and straps up again, and shakily buttons a couple of buttons on her dress to hold it together. I sit up and gently pull her into my lap, as I see a tear forming and running down her cheek.
"I thought stretch marks were something you usually get when you're pregnant, Bella," I say, hesitating. "Did you have children?" She's silent for a beat, then wipes at her eyes and nod.
"Yes," she said. "James and I had a daughter, Lily, but she died when she was an infant." I wait for her to tell me more, and when she doesn't, I ask.
"You never tried again? Why?" She shakes her head, and her hair moves against my cheek, rough and soft at the same time.
"Because we were never meant to have children in the first place. And when Lily died, I knew that it was impossible." I hug her tightly against my chest, because I feel her shivering.
"Are you cold, Bella?" She shakes her head no, but nestles closely against my chest, her arms coming up to hug me as she presses her face into my shirt. I wait for a while, stroking her hair while she cries quietly, her tears wetting my shoulder.
"Bella, I don't know if you want to talk about it, but I would really like to know what happened. Will you tell me?" The idea of Bella with a daughter is mind-blowing but also right. I remember how she sat with Summer on her lap and the yearning look in her eyes when she watched me playing with the kids at Jim's house. I'm sure Bella would make a really excellent mother – fuck, look at how she has been mothering me for Christ's sake. I don't see why she would think she wasn't supposed to have kids, unless it was some asshole idea of her ex-husband's. I squeeze her tight, and wiggle out a napkin for her to blow her nose.
"Is there any more water?" Bella's voice is muffled as she wipes at her face, and I manage to find half a bottle of water in one of the bags for her to drink from.
I scoot us up so that my back is against the tree and Bella is in my arms, with her head tucked under my chin and her back against my chest. I figure that maybe it will be easier for her to talk without having to maintain eye contact with me the whole time. I nuzzle her hair, and say quietly, "I'm listening." Bella draws a deep, shaky breath, then begins to talk in a voice that is so low I have to lean down to be sure I'm not missing anything, beneath the blanket of sound that is the crickets and the wind in the trees and the grass rustling.
"I got pregnant when I was 33, and it wasn't a planned pregnancy." She moves a little in my arms, then settles down against my chest again. "I wasn't sure how I felt about having children, and James was very clear on the fact that he didn't have the time or the inclination to be a father. But when I discovered I was pregnant even though I'd been on the pill, I changed my mind. Suddenly it was so real. I could have a child of my own, a child that was ours. Abortion just wasn't an option." She absentmindedly picks at her dress, buttoning the tiny rose buttons slowly one by one.
"I loved being pregnant," she says, her voice small. "I suffered from morning sickness, but not badly, I gained weight and felt bloated, but once the baby started kicking it was just her and me." She briefly touches her stomach. "It was such a wonderful feeling, sharing your body with another person, so intimate. Never being alone." She sighs.
"But the delivery was … difficult, and I was exhausted afterwards, completely drained. We had to stay in the hospital for a week because Lily had trouble feeding and got jaundice so she had to receive a light-treatment for hours every day. My job was just to feed her and try to keep her calm so that she slept or stayed still under the lights, but I had a hard time even managing that." She pulls her knees up, hugging them to her, and I squeeze her reassuringly as if to tell her that I'm here for her.
"When we got home it got worse. I had to give up the idea of just breastfeeding her and give her the bottle because my nipples hurt so badly and I still didn't have enough milk for her. She cried all the time. Probably she had a hard time tolerating the stuff I was feeding her. I slept in her room, because James was working long hours as usual and needed his sleep, and I was up every three hours, feeding her or walking around with her. He wanted us to get a nurse or something for the baby, but I had taken time off from work because I wanted to be with her. I was her mother, for crying out loud!" In spite of the summer heat, there are goose bumps on her arms when she speaks.
"I wasn't doing a good job of being a mother, though, and I could tell James was getting sick of the way our life was disrupted. Lily was fretful and I was a mess because I wasn't getting any sleep. Most days I hardly made it out of the house. It was a blessing that we had people coming in to clean and deliver groceries, or we would have starved or drowned in our own filth. James tried to be supportive, but he simply wasn't there most of the time. It was just Lily and me." She bites down on the back of her hands, that are clasped on her knees, and a small shudder runs through her.
"And the worst part was …" she pauses. "…the worst part was that I didn't love her." Confused, I draw a breath to protest or ask her what she means, but she shuts me up by shaking her head violently.
"Don't say anything, Edward. You don't know. That's the reaction I got from the counselor James made me see. He told me of course I loved her, I was just stressed out and depressed, a completely normal reaction." She pauses, almost as if she's bracing herself for a leap.
"But I was there. I know what it felt like. I looked at Lily, this beautiful, perfect baby, and I felt nothing but emptiness and dread. I knew I was supposed to swoon with tenderness and love, but I didn't. I took care of her, I washed her and fed her, I carried her and talked to her and sang to her, but inside I was as cold as a stone." Now, she's almost curled into a ball in my arms, and it's all I can do to hold her against the tremors I feel running through her body.
"And then, she died." Her voice chokes up again, and she's quiet, slowly breathing in and out for a minute. I catch her hands in mine and squeeze them, and she clutches our entwined hands to her chest where I can feel her breasts slowly heaving.
"I fed her around midnight and then managed to go to sleep. When I woke, I looked at the time and I was surprised when I realized she'd slept for five hours straight. I went to look at her in the cot, to see if she was awake although she was quiet, and she was lying on her stomach, not moving. I touched her, and she felt cool to the touch instead of warm. Then I freaked out, and when I picked her up I could tell she wasn't breathing. I ran out into the hallway and called out for James, and he came stumbling out of bed and called the ambulance while I put her on our bed and tried to give her CPR, although I knew that it's really difficult with an infant. When the ambulance came, I rode with it to the hospital and James followed in his car, but I knew then that it was too late." She stops speaking, and when she resumes, her voice is weak, like the wind through a reed.
"We had to stay in the waiting room while they took her into the intensive care unit, but after maybe thirty minutes they came out and told us that they'd been unable to revive her. She'd stopped breathing spontaneously in her sleep, and had probably been dead for a couple of hours before I found her."
I feel my hands getting wet and I realize that Bella is crying again.
"Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry," is all I can say, a huge lump in my chest choking up my words. "How does such a thing even happen?" She leans her wet cheek against the back of my hand and whispers:
"It's called Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. No one knows exactly why it happens, but it may be more common where the mother is a smoker, or where the baby is wrapped too warm or left sleeping on its stomach." She shakes her head gently. "I don't remember leaving her on her stomach, but I must have, because she hadn't started turning around on her own yet. So it was probably my fault."
I release my hands and pull on Bella's shoulders so that she's turned around sitting across my lap, facing me. Her face is streaked with tears, and her eyes are puffy. I take her head between my hands and look at her, speaking slowly.
"Listen to me, Bella, you can't possibly blame yourself for something that was clearly an accident, something out of your control. Do you understand what I'm saying?" She just stares back at me, a world of grief in her eyes.
"Oh, Edward, don't you think people have been telling me the same thing a hundred times? I've told myself the same thing a hundred times! But don't you see: I was the one responsible for her care and I was the one who put her in danger by not paying attention closely enough. If I hadn't put her down on her stomach or if I hadn't slept through the night, it might not have happened." I look sternly at her, but I feel helpless. It's like hearing my own guilt talking and I understand all too well where she's coming from. Still, I have to try.
"Bella, please listen to yourself. You're an intelligent woman. What happened might not have happened that night, but it might have happened any other night, regardless of who was in that room. If a baby stops breathing spontaneously, it's not somebody's fault. That's like saying it's my fault if you were suddenly to have a brain aneurysm and die here in my arms. Don't you see?"
Bella nods, and wipes at her face with the crumpled napkin. "I'm an intelligent woman, Edward. I understand what you're saying. But somewhere deep inside me I can't help believing that she died because I didn't love her. That somehow she felt that my love wasn't strong enough to hold her here." There's a silence so awful that at first I don't know how to break it. I hesitate, then I ask her the first thing on my mind:
"I don't mean to sound callous, but why didn't you try again? Many people do after losing a child."
Bella shakes her head, sniffing. "I was a mess after Lily died. I was … depressed. James made me go see a counselor. I buried myself in work. Neither of us thought that trying for another child was a good idea. James told me if I really wanted a child, we could look into options for adoption, but I told him no." She shudders. "I already knew James' heart wasn't in it, so it was up to me. And I didn't want to take the risk of putting an orphaned child through it all, only to discover that I was a complete failure as a mother. I just couldn't do it."
We look into each other's eyes, both at a loss for something to say. And then I do the only thing I can do; I kiss her. I kiss her wet eyes and cheeks, I kiss her jaw and I kiss her lovely mouth; soft from crying, it molds under my lips without resistance. I kiss her because there's nothing more I can say to assuage the hurt in her eyes, and because I know how heavy that weight of guilt sits on her chest. I kiss her, and then I hug her close and whisper in her ear something I've wanted to tell her almost since the day I first saw her, but have been too afraid to say out loud.
"I love you." I whisper it over and over again, the way you tell a child that everything will be all right. Because although I can't tell her that everything will be all right, this I can tell her with absolute certainty and from the bottom of my heart.
"I love you, Bella. So much."
And with a deep, shuddering sigh, Bella hugs me harder and whispers back.
"Yes, Edward, yes, I know. I love you, too. I love you."
And in spite of everything, the stone cold shadow of grief between us and the transient summer day teeming with life and light around us, my heart beats harder just to hear those words. Because to me, those words mean that my forever is here, a new beginning.
Suddenly I know that there's something I need to do. I sit up a little bit straighter, and let Bella go enough so that I can move her down to sit on the blanket beside me, close but no longer smothered by my arms. I gently stroke her hair, and hook the flying, dark strands behind her ears while I look at her.
"Bella, I love you, and there's something I need to tell you." I clear my throat, watching those brown eyes I love so much looking at me; tired, but intent. "Bella, I need to tell you about Alice."
A/N: Okay, so that was a really tough chapter to write, and I hope it wasn't too tough to read? I don't know if you have any personal experiences of losing a child - I'm writing this partly based on a friend of mine who lost her first baby to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. She and her husband went on to have two healthy children and started a support group for other parents who went through the same trauma. So, do you think Bella should have tried again. Or is she really a bad mother? Was Edward wrong to drop the l-word at this moment? If you can, let me know your thoughts!