Posted 2019-1-18

She was about to open her mouth when Edward picked up Sarah in her carseat to take her inside, leaving Bella on the porch.

"We wouldn't be here still if it wasn't," Alice added. "You're okay."

Bella nodded, and Alice returned the gesture and disappeared.

Resettling things in her room, Bella went to find her sweater, still feeling a little cold and under the weather. She was sure she'd left it on the rocking chair. Of course, it wouldn't be the first time she'd misplaced something since Sarah's arrival. Then she frowned. No, she was sure she'd left it there. It was one of those odd things that stuck in her memory.

"Did you move anything?" she asked Edward, "when you came in?" looking around the room.

"No," Edward said, smiling at Sarah in her bassinet, letting her grip his finger in her hand.

"Are you sure?" She was looking around with a keener eye. The sleeper she'd changed Sarah out of before going to the hospital was missing too. Would Alice have tidied up?

"What's wrong?" he asked, standing.

"My sweater, her sleeper . . . They're not here. I think some laundry is missing, too."

"Clean or dirty?"

"Dirty."

"Things with your scents," he said.

She nodded, and then swallowed, realizing the implication. They both were quiet for a moment.

"I'll keep you safe."

She dipped her head, but not in agreement. He would try, yes, but she needed to make her own plans too.

"I'm just going to shower," she said, reaching for the bassinet basket.

"I can watch her if you want," he said.

Technically, she reminded herself, he needed to be here. She might as well accept the help. It was the other adage suggested to her by so many other mothers. Say yes when help is offered—always.

"Thank you, I'd . . . appreciate that."

She grabbed her clothes so she could get dressed in the bathroom, feeling a strange twinge of déjà vu. This was what they had done so many years before.

When she returned, Edward was holding Sarah in the rocking chair, talking softly to her. She was still so small, her little body fit comfortably in one of his arms.

Bella ran her hand over Sarah's forehead, still warmer than it should be. Taking her into her own embrace, Sarah began to fuss, the small curl of her wails echoed back by the bay window.

"She's warm," Edward murmured.

"I can tell," Bella said.

"No," Edward said, smiling, "she's too warm in your arms."

What he meant dawned on her. She handed Sarah back, feeling a stab of rejection.

"It's literally about temperature, Bella. She's just hot."

"I know," Bella said, but her voice quavered.

"Why don't Alice and I switch places. You'd be more—"

"No," Bella said, shaking her head, "it's fine."

It was not fine, not by any stretch. It was painful, feeling the pull of her body against her common sense and hurt, knowing how easy it would be to walk back into what they'd had. But . . . the proverbial cliff she'd fallen off when he left was still so vibrant in her memory. She didn't want him to go, but she didn't want to want him, either.

He sat back down with Sarah in the rocking chair.

Bella curled herself up against the headboard, sliding her feet under the covers. To distract herself from the darker thoughts, she let her curiosity have its way. "Edward, what did you do when you were gone?"

"I tried tracking Victoria," he said. "Obviously, not very well."

"Where did you go?"

"Rio, Texas. Here and there."

Bella, though, was remembering where he'd claimed to live, the night before. "And Seattle."

He looked at her, as if he was estimating what she knew and what she was guessing. "Yes, Seattle too," he confirmed.

"How long?" Her breathing was faster.

"Off and on," he answered. An obvious evasion.

Something clicked for her.

"You were in my room!"

It took him a while to answer. "Yes."

Her eyebrows immediately furrowed. "Were you watching—?"

"No," he said quickly, firmly. "I was only there twice."

"You took my pills." It was a statement, a mystery solved.

"Yes."

She'd wondered if one of her friends in residence had played a nasty trick on her. She'd never suspected who it really was and never bothered replacing the pills, either. There'd been no need.

Edward, trying to keep his distance, had hoped she would, that at least then she'd know what was going on, but it hadn't been until reading week, when she was home visiting, that the pieces had come together.

Charlie had looked at her curled up on the couch, tired, vaguely nauseous, arms cradling her chest against the cold, and felt the uneasy sweep of memory. He'd taken a long breath in before he asked anything.

"You been feeling crummy for a while?" he'd asked.

"Just the last week or so," she mumbled, not bothering to move.

He was doing the math in his head. It had been seven weeks since she'd been home. Seven weeks since the last time she'd seen Jacob in person.

He thought a lot of bad words in his head.

"Huh," he said, still thinking. "Well," he started, "think we're out of milk for tomorrow, and I'd like a beer. Gonna run out and grab a few things. Want anything?" he asked.

"I'm fine, but thanks." She was falling asleep. Again.

More bad words.

"Back in a bit."

"'kay."

When he'd returned, he set the bag on the table and then pulled out a small, white and pink, rectangular box. He'd bought two different kinds, wanting to be sure. The cashier had made brief and awkward eye contact, seeing it, then tallied up his order.

Having read the instructions, he'd put both in his coat pocket. Then he'd sat down beside Bella and took in another deep breath, letting it out in a worried sigh. "Hey," he'd murmured softly, waking her, "can we talk?"

She'd nodded, her eyebrows puckering a bit.

"You look," he swallowed, "exactly like your mom did when she was pregnant."

Bella's eyes had gone wide with horror.

Charlie, though, had been a rock when she'd emerged from the bathroom sometime later, breathing unsteadily, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. They hadn't even—

Edward's words interrupted the memory, though. "You didn't know you were pregnant. The pills—they can be harmful." His eyes were apologetic.

She wanted to simultaneously thank him and yell at him for being so insanely interfering. What else had he done? she wondered.

He was at least looking pained, revealing this. "I promised myself that I wouldn't interfere, and I didn't, but it was . . . difficult. You . . . attract danger."

"I don't think birth control pills constitute much of a danger," she said levelly, "even in a pregnancy."

"I wasn't talking about the pills." He looked at Sarah. "Werewolves," he said softly, shaking his head. "Only you would replace vampires with werewolves."

She snorted derisively. "I had no idea when Jacob and I started spending time together," she said, "and they're not dangerous. Not to humans, anyway."

"I think Emily would say differently," Edward countered.

"So would my heart." She kept her voice hard edged. "They saved me." Then her voice softened, "Jacob saved me, and she saves me every day."

"She isn't a wolf."

"Not yet, no. We don't know." She looked at him. "Alice can't see her. That says something."

"Maybe." He was hoping against what he estimated to be significant probabilities.

Edward stood and gently put Sarah down in her bed. "I'll be outside if you need me." He turned, walking towards the door.

She shook her head. "You're so stubborn. That hasn't changed." Her statement didn't invite further conversation.

He didn't disagree.

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.