A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.

In these difficult times which we're all going through together, to one degree or another, I thought it might be heartening to read about another hard time that brought us all together. We'll get through this, my loves. We just have to remember that we're all in this together.

Stay safe.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me and/or to history. All mistakes are mine as well.


Uprising Ch 32 – The Incident in Front of the Courthouse

'Tis a long while before any of us in the east parlor speak.

The entire time, Edward resembles one of the statues I used to see when I lived in New York colony: a hard, bloodless, stone likeness of a man with strong, Romanesque features and a wrathful fury writ in every deep, unmoving crease across his forehead; a hero, whose stoically idiotic ideal of self-sacrifice has been immortalized for the ages in bronze and marble. The only indications that my husband is indeed not one of those ivory sculptures are the manner in which his chest rises and falls…rises and falls, and of course, his vividly green eyes – eyes whose perfect hue has been replicated in our son.

All the while, those eyes remain fixed on our son, on Edward George who feeds peacefully at my breast. His eager suckling is the only sound in the room. His innocence and blissful ignorance of the turmoil roiling in his father's mind…and of the benevolent offer with which his grandfather has presented us is in sharp contrast to the seeds of doubt which have been sown around him.

Concurrently, in my periphery Father stands upright, his spine straight as an arrow, holding one arm folded behind his back and one foot leaned forward before the other. 'Tis the pose of a gentleman. Yet, he shifts his feet to and fro, first resting his weight on the left then on the right. What is more, though I cannot see behind him, I am sure if I could, I would see the hand behind his back opening and shutting ceaselessly.

When my husband does finally prepare to speak, I cut him off before he may utter words we may one day regret hearing him speak even if I, as Edward George's mother and the woman who birthed him, will not abide by them.

"Father, I thank you for your visit. You have met your grandson, and I am satisfied it has been an enjoyable visit for all."

Silence.

My husband swallows hard – another indication that he lives; nonetheless, his eyes stray not from our son nor do my eyes stray from both Edwards. 'Tis again in my periphery that I note how my father is now the statue.

"Is that all you have to say, daughter?"

I say nothing. Instead, I run a finger tenderly across my son's cheek.

"Are you so stubborn, Isabella, that you cannot see how much better off…how much safer Edward George would be in Eng-"

Now, I do force my gaze away from my son and husband.

"Nay, that is not all I have to say to you, Father."

As I speak, I maintain a steady voice, square my shoulders, and hold my chin high – all as Father himself taught me.

"As you have been commanded to hastily remove your regiment to New York Colony, I shall not hesitate to tell you that I shall miss you, Father." Despite my attempts, here my voice quivers and breaks. Yet, I quickly rally and recover. "You and I have been at odds for many months now. Nonetheless, you shall always have the respect and affection due to you despite the current chasm of differences separating us. You have earned my respect and affection, for you have been a good father. Therefore, I wish you Godspeed, and I ask that you write to me, if you can, so that I may read your letters to your grandson."

"Then, you shall not send him-"

"No, Father, I shall not. This is Edward George's home, and this is where he shall remain and grow."

As my husband is now the one in my periphery, I see him squeeze his eyes shut and exhale through narrowed lips. Whether 'tis from relief or unease, I know not.

OOOOO

Afterward, my father's departure is a hasty and joyless affair - for me, at least. He places a kiss on my forehead and on his grandson's. There are no words spoken between him and my husband. As Father's boots resound loudly through the hallways and eventually cease, Mrs. Clearwater appears almost as if she is innately aware of when she is needed.

"Mistress, would you like me to take the babe for a nap?"

Edward George has finished his feeding. He lays in my arms sated and peaceful, green eyes looking upward, perhaps at me, perhaps at his father or at the ceiling.

All the while, Edward does not move.

"Aye, if you please, Mrs. Clearwater."

With a kiss from me and one from his father, our son is handed over. Mrs. Clearwater coos lovingly at him as she takes him away, and Edward and I are left alone.

"Isabella-"

"I do not want our son in the room for this conversation, even if he shall not understand it. Edward, you wrote me a letter while you were returning from Quebec."

Edward frowns momentarily, then pales further as he appears to recollect this particular missive. He rakes a hand through his hair.

"I…I knew not you had received it."

"It arrived after did you." I turn away from him.

"Isabella…Isabella, you must know I was not myself when I wrote that letter. I was bewildered by our failure in Quebec, by Colonel Arnold's injury. I was exhausted by the arduous journey, half-mad with the fear…" – I hear him swallow…the apology thick in his voice as he stands behind me – "with the fear that I would arrive and would find you-"

"You feared I would die in childbirth. And so you made a deal with God and set it to quill and paper."

"Dear Lord," he says in a strangled voice, the sound raising the fine hairs at my neck and tightening my stomach into painful knots. "Isabella-"

"You asked Him if He had to take one of us, to take our son but not me."

"Isabella, you must know I would never…never…both you and he are the most important-"

I spin around and reach up, caging my husband's face in my hands.

"I know. Of course, I know you in your right mind would never, never make such a deal, but you must keep your wits about you, Edward," I hiss, "even when you believe our son or I might be in peril! I burned the letter, Edward. It no longer exists, and after today, we shall never speak of it again, for I will never have our son knowing such a thing even if 'twas written while your spirit was heavy with duress."

He drops his eyes, refusing to meet my gaze.

"I do not deserve such a woman-"

"Cease your nonsense. You cannot allow us to be your weakness, Edward!"

His eyes flash back up to mine, startled, as I continue.

"You knew from the very beginning of this struggle of yours, Edward, that it would be a perilous one. But nay, you had no schemes of a wife or a son; I understand." I speak more softly. "Nevertheless, now that you have us, you must not allow fears for our safety to become your weakness, my husband, Edward…" I say intently, "you have brought me around to your side."

When I offer him a soft smile, he smiles faintly in return.

"Now, take advantage of such. Allow me to be your strength."

"You are my strength," he replies intently, sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me close. "You are."

"And allow our son to be your strength as well. He is small, and he is helpless, aye, but he shall not always be so. What is more, he is the future for which you…for which we all now fight. Now that he does exist, Edward, without him here with us, 'twould be difficult to see the reason for all."

For a long while, he holds my gaze. When he slowly shakes his head, his eyes shine.

"I am in awe of you, Isabella. Truly, you are a wonder. And you are correct." He smiles, and he lifts his hands to my face, cradling mine in the manner I cradle his. "You are correct." He draws in a deep breath and straightens his broad shoulders, and now I see the strong, virile, and determined patriot I married. "And now, there a few items I must get to with haste."

"You must send word to General Washington in Massachusetts and alert him to what Father has told us. The British troops in Massachusetts shall be recalled but only so that they may join General Howe as he lands the entire British fleet in New York Harbor."

"Aye. General Washington must prepare to defend New York Harbor, for if New York Colony falls to the British, our struggle will multiply tenfold."

He exhales heavily, once again focused on the war – as he should be. For though deep in my heart I would want peace…I know 'tis an impossibility until this struggle is resolved.

"I must also alert Father so that he may speak to Congress." His nostrils flare, jaw squared tightly. "With your father and his regiment abandoning Freehold, plans must be made for it as well."

I merely nod, allowing my husband his plotting and planning. 'Tis how I first fell in love with him. 'Tis his purpose, and I accept it as such.

OOOOO

The fortnight that follows is ripe with activity. Letters are dispatched swiftly by post rider, both to General Washington in Massachusetts and to Papa Carlisle in Trenton. Edward delays his departure until replies are received. As we both suspected, both General Washington and Colonel Arnold, who is now in Massachusetts with the General, direct Edward toward New York Colony now rather than to a return to Massachusetts.

Much like Edward when I informed my father that Edward George would not be sailing for England for his safety, I know not whether to feel relief or further unease toward this new directive. At the very least, it has provided my son and me with an additional fortnight with husband and father. Nonetheless, even that time must come to an end. And come to an end it does.

Cullen Hill House

7 March 1776

My dear Alice,

I hope this letter finds you well, though perhaps not as relatively calm as the previous months have been. Though your husband, Lieutenant Andre continues to be imprisoned in Pennsylvania, I know your spirits are rallying against your supposed loneliness as well as can be expected. 'Tis a relief to me that we need not be clandestine any longer on that front, dear friend, for I still abhor the fact you were made to marry him, as I know do you. It grieves me further to know that 'twas my father who advised your father in that direction.

We are well here in New Jersey colony. Edward George is one-month-old today. He grows fat and hale and simply perfect in all ways. I promise you that I am not biased, for Rosalie assures me of such as do all and sundry who come in contact with him.

Well, almost all and sundry. Rosalie's sister-in-law has never had a care for my son, though her care for his father has always been too excessive for my liking. She is lately married, by the by, to one of our tenant farmers and a good friend of Papa Carlisle's (who suggested the match), a man by the name of Garrett Smith. The man is somewhat older – he approaches fifty – yet, he is a decent sort, more than she deserves if one asks me. Nonetheless, my husband tells me that Mr. Smith has been told to keep a close eye on his pretty, new, young wife. Edward now realizes that not only would she have allowed me to perish along with our son on the night I fell in the snow and went into labor, but she has known too much for someone who loathes me so massively that she would go to those who are her supposed enemies and conspire with them to separate us. We shall see.

Back to a more pleasant subject; aye, my son is a ray of sunshine, Alice, amidst times that grow increasingly dark, as you well know, dearest. I do pray for the day you may meet him.

Your letter, received last week, advised us of the rumblings you are hearing regarding the British increasing their presence in New York colony. Unfortunately, my dear friend, we have been made aware of such as well, and I do believe 'tis not meant to be much of a clandestine affair. My husband has been informed that as we speak, the British have begun preparations to evacuate Boston, and Congress tells us that the British Navy moves to Halifax to await further orders. Yesterday, a rider arrived from Freehold to alert us that Father and his regiment have departed and left behind only a very small contingent. We are living in not merely dangerous but alas painful times indeed, Alice.

And so, the departures grow all the more difficult and painful to bear for as a Captain serving under General Washington's Continental Army, my husband is now for New York colony as well. There, he shall meet up with Colonel Arnold, as well as with Jasper Hale and Jacob Black, both Lieutenants in the Continental Army, who shall all serve under General Charles Lee and assist in surveying and planning for the colony's defense. Alice, I am putting this letter in my husband's hand to deliver to you, as he departs today. Despite everything, it is somewhat of a comfort for me to know that you shall soon meet my husband as well as his fellow patriot soldiers.

Stay safe, my dear friend, in the coming months and through the coming trials. With Providence's assistance, we shall someday soon find our way out of this strife, one way or the other.

Your friend,

Isabella Cullen

My husband enters our chambers just as I sign the letter to Alice. Hearing his approach behind me, I set down the quill and turn.

He swallows as he watches me, his bright eyes darkened by the same pain I feel. When his eyes stray, they land on our sleeping son in his cradle, and he smiles softly.

Will my husband see our son grow?

Shall there ever come a time when we must not part?

"All is ready," says he, his voice thick and gravelly as he returns his gaze to me.

I nod and maintain as stoic a voice as possible, for I shall not add to his guilt and misery with my own.

"I have just finished a letter for Alice."

He nods as well. For one long moment, we simply hold one another's gaze. When he kneels before me and rests his head on my lap, I stroke his hair softly while he wraps his hands around my waist.

"I shall miss your ministrations," says he.

"I shall miss administering them," say I, making him chuckle quietly.

"I shall miss you shaving me."

"Do not allow yourself to grow too hairy and woolly or I shall once again fail to recognize you when you return to us."

He chuckles once more then becomes quiet. "Isabella…"

Gripping his hair in my fist, I lift his eyes to mine. "Edward…'tis one month since our son's birth."

He swallows hard. "I…I did not want to push you if you were not-"

"I ache for you so-"

Before I may finish, my husband lifts me off the chair and carrying me in his arms, he sets me on our bed. Eyes focused intently on me, he unbuckles his breeches while I push down my top, having forsaken all undergarments, and when he drops his breeches, my heart races. Slowly, Edward climbs the bed and hovers over me.

"You are so lovely in all ways. Are you sure you are ready?"

"Aye," I murmur. "Fill me, husband."

Lifting my skirts over my hips, my husband enters me languidly yet with such purpose that we both groan quietly in pleasure, for Edward George sleeps peacefully a short distance away.

"Isabella," he breathes. "Lord God, Isabella you are so…so…ahhh…"

"Go slowly at first," I whisper shakily, wrapping my legs and arms around him as he nods erratically and begins a gradual rhythm. "Let me become accustomed again to your…yes…yesss…"

He loves me carefully at first, his thrusts measured and even, the lines of concentration on his forehead deep and intense, eyes dark and full of the lust I've missed these long months without him inside me.

"Faster, Edward," I breathe, as my hips begin rocking with him. "Faster now."

"Are you sure, my love?"

"Yes. Yes."

His hips quicken, the bed under us shaking with our actions.

"I shall miss you so much, my wife. I shall miss your love and your wit, and aye, the sweet warmth of being sheathed within you."

"And I shall miss your strength and your stubbornness and the wonderful hardness of having you deep within me."

We cry out, our pace increasing while Edward George sleeps peacefully, and with a handful of deep, grunting thrusts, my husband pushes me into a bewildering release that leaves me soundless, breathless, and clinging to him as he releases inside me.

Afterward, we share quiet words of love and promises we pretend we know we shall keep. Then, we dress and wake Edward George, and pretend further when I act as if I do not see the tears my husband sheds as he holds our son close one last time until…until only Lord knows when.

OOOOO

8 July 1776

'Tis a varied crowd which has gathered in front of the Freehold Courthouse this morn to hear Papa Carlisle, who is returned to us from the New Jersey Provincial Congress, read aloud this particular broadside sheet. 'Twas sent to our New Jersey Provincial Congress by the Second Continental Congress in Pennsylvania. Papa has already imparted to us some of the information in regards to it, such as that 'tis one of the two-hundred copies printed one week ago, even as the British fleet sails as one for New York Colony, and my husband and the rest of the Continental Army prepare to defend the colony's harbors. 'Tis apparently some form of declaration sent to King George. Other than that, we know very little about the document.

With Father and his regiment's departure to New York Colony, patriots, loyalists, and those disaffected on both sides roam town openly once more, yet so do loyalists, as well as those disaffected on both sides, who remain somewhere between and betwixt in their beliefs. As Rosalie and I stand side by side, and I bounce Edward George in my arms to keep him entertained and relatively quiet, 'tis a most disheartening sight which I see.

More than one year since the first shots were fired in this war between the colonies and the Mother Country, more than one year since my marriage to Edward…more than one year of a marriage where we have been apart more than we have been together, very little has changed in this town…or beyond. Very little has been decided, one way or another.

As Papa Carlisle clears his throat before all, and the crowd falls silent, I wonder how these words he prepares to read, words written by a Mister Thomas Jefferson, he tells us, ratified by the entire Continental Congress and signed by Papa as well as by representatives of all thirteen colonies – heretofore States of America, shall change anything.

With these doubts filling my mind, Papa Carlisle begins:

"When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation."

"'Tis a respectful beginning," Rosalie murmurs, facing forward.

"It is," I agree.

Edward George mumbles the sweet, unintelligible gibberish of a five-month-old, yet his eyes are on his grandfather with true recognition.

"Edward," I whisper, smiling at him and holding his small hand in mine as I point at Papa, "there is Grandpapa. Listen to what he says."

Papa continues:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

The words spear through me, for they are the words…the beliefs which Edward, my husband, has spoken of since the moment I met him. They are the reasons he is not here with us at the moment. They are the truths by which we both desire our son to live openly.

While these new thoughts fill my head, Papa goes on:

"That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.-Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government..."

By the time Papa Carlisle finishes reading this declaration of independence, a hairpin can be heard if it drops among the crowd. When he sets down the broadsheet and draws a breath, most of the crowd erupts in whoops and hollers.

Edward George's large green eyes grow wider, startled by the mayhem. But when he meets my gaze, he chuckles heartily in his childlike manner. His small hand curiously reaches for my tears, unaware that they are tears – tears of joy and understanding, for there it is, in the most perfect, eloquent, and straightforward words possible.

"This, my sweet Edward...and my other sweet love," I say fervently as I rub my womb and the new life Edward and I have created, "this is why your father fights."


A/N: Thoughts?

With all that's going on, I thought it might be good to read those few words that banded us all together once.

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"See" you soon.

Again, stay safe. :)