A/N for 2020-03-24: Many thanks to chaysara for beta-ing this story. As usual, I fiddled with her work after the fact, so all errors are my own.
"Why don't I head downstairs," Edward said again, but Bella shook her head.
"My mother will think what she thinks, no matter what I tell her."
"Yes, I can see that. Still, she's going to think—"
"Yes," Bella said, with an exasperated sigh, "she will. Does it really matter?"
She'd been putting clothes in the dresser, and he pulled her towards him, circling his arms around her back. "Do you want her to think that?" he asked softly.
"No," she breathed out, "I don't, but where you 'sleep,'" she said, curling her fingers around the word, "isn't going to change that."
"Are you okay with me being here?" He nodded towards the general direction of the bed.
"Of course I am," she said, "and I'm glad of the help." She raised her eyebrows, remembering the flight. "Thank you again for taking on so much on the airplane."
They both turned, blowing out large breaths, looking at Sarah, now peacefully asleep. Her current and quiet state belied her performance in the air. Edward had walked her up and down the aisle as much as he could, trying to soothe her when Bella hadn't been able to nurse her any more. Even if he wasn't able to read minds, it would have been apparent how happy everyone on the flight was when the plane landed.
Edward smiled. "It'll get easier," he said, seeing Bella's look.
"If you say so," she said, but she didn't sound convinced.
"Are you going to talk to your mom?" he asked, returning to the topic at hand.
"Yes," Bella said, still in his arms, tracing her finger around the buttons on his shirt, "if the opportunity arises."
"Mmm," Edward said, suspecting her non-committal tone. It was up to her, after all, he told himself. "Ready to sleep?"
"Yes," she said, "I'm looking forward to actually having room for you beside me." She smiled.
"Oh," he said, eyebrows arched, "but my bed at home is too large. Hypocrite."
She giggled. "Okay, your bed is fine."
"You still haven't slept in it," he reminded her.
"Mmm," she said sleepily. "Maybe when we get back."
"I'm holding you to that." He grinned and picked her up, carrying her to the bed.
She tensed when he kissed her, setting her down.
"Shall I lay a sword between us to guarantee your virtue?" he murmured in her ear, kissing her there.
He could feel the laugh bubbling in her chest.
"Or," he said, running his lips down her neck, grinning, "to protect mine."
He didn't expect her to tense at this, but she did, sitting up, a small frown colouring her otherwise relaxed face.
She'd asked as they talked about his time away if there had been anyone. He'd been incredulous but hid it, simply saying "No." He didn't want her to feel badly that she had. He'd been so relieved when she had. But that she could think that he . . . no. Never.
"I've never asked," she said, the frown still there. "Does it bother you that I have, and you haven't?"
His eyebrows were mid-forehead. "No," he said, "not at all. You're here. We're together. That's all that matters."
She nodded, hearing him, but her eyebrows were still pulled together. "It's just . . . I know that it's not . . . " she wasn't sure how to put it.
"Some men are jealous?" he suggested, holding her hands, which she'd been fiddling with.
"No," she said, but then looked sharply at him. "Are you?" she asked.
"I was. Intensely," he admitted. "But that's in the past. And this," he said softly, kissing her hand, "is now."
"It's just," Bella said, "that you're . . . "
"Insanely old fashioned?"
"Sure," she grinned a little, still blushing. "You're sure it doesn't bother you?"
Edward smiled, shaking his head. "Not in the least."
She seemed satisfied by his answer. It made the uneasiness of the last years melt by large swaths, having this piece of her trust. He dared to brush the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, kissing her forehead. "Sleep?" he asked again.
She was trying to stifle a yawn and nodded, lying down, curling into his arms, her back against his chest.
When Sarah woke hours later, he got to her just before she began to cry, picking her up, and slipping out of the room, walking her quietly up and down the hall.
Renée, up for an early morning bathroom break, was silently impressed, seeing them. Definitely a keeper, she thought.
Edward smiled to himself, hearing the bent of her thinking. If only she knew how he felt, holding Bella's child. He knew what parents thought, but their feelings were a mystery to him. He wondered if the magnitude of his own emotions approached their feelings, or their feelings, his.
Holding Sarah was like holding all of Bella's cares and concerns together in one small, fragile body, a small body that trusted him.
When Sarah could no longer be contented with movement, he changed her and brought her back to Bella, who nursed her in bed, body tucked against her own. Edward lay down behind them, hearing Bella slip back into sleep and then Sarah too. His arms wrapped around them both, and he wished his protection of their lives and their loves could be so easy, so simple.
Edward couldn't convince Bella to sleep as long as she clearly needed to. "I'm here to see my mom," she said, when he encouraged her to stay in bed. "I can nap later."
"All right," he said, taking Sarah so Bella could get ready, "let's go see Grandma."
He walked at a deliberately slow pace downstairs, joining Renée at the breakfast table. She cooed in delight when she saw Sarah, holding out her arms hopefully. But when Edward went to pass her to Renée, Sarah began to cry, and he put her back to his chest, murmuring softly to her. He could tell that she wasn't certain of this new person.
"She's a bit young to make strange," Renée said, cocking her head to the side.
"Here," Edward said, and turned Sarah to face Renée, his arms still around her.
Bella found them this way, both babbling happily to Sarah. She smiled, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, enjoying the scene.
"Oh," Renée said sadly, "you are not going to want Grandma if you see Mama."
"Thanks, Mom," Bella said, coming into the room. "Don't worry, she'll get used to you."
"I know. I'm just impatient."
The afternoon found them ensconced comfortably at the beach. Sarah had finally accepted Renée's arms, but Edward could tell where her preferences lay. He tried not to look smug when Sarah gargled happily at him.
"You look like you have capable hands, Edward," Renée said, watching Bella walk towards the water.
Renée's thoughts were fractured things. He could catch pieces of them flitting here and there, but her attention was scattered, childlike, almost. It was hard to get a read on what she was thinking at any given time.
"You could say that," he said, wondering what she was getting at.
She tilted her head to the side, squinting at Bella's back. "Her back is completely out of balance."
He flicked his eyes towards Renée. She was observant. None of Bella's other human friends or family had noticed it. Edward had. All of the Cullens had. He'd told them to leave it. She didn't need them horning in on every aspect of her life.
Excellent. "You think?" he asked, sounding skeptical, trying to sound human.
"Are you blind?" Renée said, frowning at him.
He pretended to squint. "I guess I can see it. I must just be used to it." He shrugged.
"I suppose," Renée said, a bit more gently. "It's not hard to correct. A bit of well placed massage can fix it." Then she turned her head fully to him, lifting her eyebrows meaningfully.
"Gotcha," he smiled, and mock saluted. Sarah gurgled her assent, and they both laughed.
That night, after Bella had put Sarah to bed, she sank gratefully into her own, glad of Edward's cool presence. It wasn't hot, but it was warmer than she'd expected for January.
"I thought," Bella said, later that night, sitting on the bed, "that vampires had perfect recall." She tapped the hardcover of the book he held. It was the one he'd given her before.
"We do," he said, "but experience changes the way you look at things."
She looked over his shoulder at what he was reading and away again quickly. She hadn't come back to the book since that first night. It was too painful. What she'd just seen didn't help.
"What?" he asked, seeing her reaction, glancing at the text again.
"Contemplations on mortality. You have to ask?" She said this with both eyebrows up.
He looked at it again. "You can read it that way, I suppose."
Bella took the book from his hand, holding it in front of her to read. "'Death comes in a day or two,'" she read. "Ya think?"
"So negative," he murmured, taking it back. "'Suffer me to take your hand. Suffer me to cherish you Til the dawn is in the sky,'" he quoted.
Bella stuck a finger on the poem's concluding lines, "'Whether I be false or true, Death comes in a day or two.'"
He wanted to say something light to counter her worry, but it was a real, palpable thing. She would die. He'd made his peace with that and with how he would follow. She hadn't though, and he didn't know if she ever would.
"The finiteness of life is what gives it so much meaning, Bella." He said it softly, but firmly.
"Yes," she said, "it is. It's just . . . I will. And you won't."
He pressed his forehead to hers. "I will follow you, wherever you go, even there."
She snorted out a laugh. "Going to go get some grey hair dye too?"
"Absolutely," he grinned. "Stick-on wrinkles. The whole nine yards."
They rested there a moment, hands together, eyes down. Bella wanted very much not to think about the ultimate outcome of her aging and Edward's very static nature.
"So," Edward said, wanting to bring things back to easier topics, "your mother isn't too happy with me."
Bella looked up at him. "Why?" she asked, a little alarmed. Renée liked everyone. "You didn't talk about marriage or something, did you?" Her voice rose half an octave, alarmed.
He laughed. "No, not even close."
"What then?"
"She noticed your back, that's all. I was chastised for not noticing it earlier."
"What about my back?"
"Well," he said, "it is my fault. When you broke your hand, you started carrying Sarah on your left side. You haven't stopped. Your back is off balance."
"Oh," she said, relief making her relax her shoulders. "Here I was thinking something was really wrong."
"You don't think your body is worth taking care of?" he asked.
"I do, but it's pretty minor," she said.
"Of course," Edward said seriously. "Who needs their back? Totally useless piece of anatomy."
She rolled her eyes. "It's fine."
He was thinking though, watching her grow defensive, tying bits of memory together. "You don't like having your back rubbed, do you?"
Bella felt a small squirm, seeing this identified so precisely. She didn't like to admit it. "No," she said quietly.
He stayed facing her, watching. He didn't say anything, but his features were open.
"Jacob used to rub my back when I was pregnant," she said quietly. "When you rubbed my back that time, it brought back a lot of memories. It was . . . difficult to remember."
Edward nodded slowly. After a moment he said, "And if I rubbed your back now, do you think that would happen again?"
"It might," Bella said.
"And what would you do?"
"I'd probably cry," she said, shifting her weight from one side to the other.
"And what do you think I would do?" he asked.
The thought came, unbidden. Maybe what Jacob did. She wanted to shake it away.
Her silence and the flush on her cheeks spoke eloquently. It was what Edward had suspected.
"I would tell you that I love you and do whatever else you needed me to," he said.
She nodded slowly, a little uncertainly. Then, she cleared her throat and said softly, "Well then, would you rub my back, please?" She turned so that her back was to him.
"Happily," he said. .
She was surprised when the expected flood of memory didn't materialize. They talked, ruminating over their day, Edward laughing at the many childhood reminiscences that had bubbled up to the surface in their trip. When he got her to lie down though, she was assailed by the remembrance that had waited for its timely moment. Edward stopped and picked her up, holding her until the tears were exhausted.
"Suffer me to cherish you," he whispered softly.
She smiled uncertainly through the tears and kissed him, recalling only to herself the responding line of the poem, for 'Death comes in a day or two.'
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.
