Epilogue
Edward POV
In all the excitement surrounding the planetary alignment, we'd overlooked the fact that Quil hadn't told us the final prophecy. When we opened the notebook to the proper page, it was empty.
Alice yanked the book out of my hands, rifling through the pages quickly.
"It's not there," she said. Defeat colored her voice. "Didn't he say it was there?"
I nodded. "Maybe someone in the council knows."
Carlisle and I drove up to La Push and laid out our ideas to the full council. It took them a minute to grasp what our objective was—to use our abilities and resources to bring our neighbors into the 21st century, to offer the Nation the opportunity to learn valuable skills so they could prosper, individually and collectively.
"We'd also like to deposit a sum of money into an account for town use," Carlisle told them. "Our attorney will be in touch."
At the end of our meeting, Carlisle said, "What was the final prophecy? Mr. Ateara passed away before revealing it, and it wasn't written down or drawn in his notebook."
A man named Harold stood up. "I have a sketch of it." He walked over to a large cabinet and pulled out a box. He looked up, handing Carlisle a sheet of drawing paper.
Quil had drawn a woodland scene with trees and a small stream. Across the land was a deep fissure. On one side stood a tall brave. He was shirtless and had a feather in a simple headband. On the other side, a tall white man with untidy hair. He wore only blue.
The figures stood on the edge of the chasm, reaching out to each other, their right hands clasped. All around them was snow of a virginal white. No blood marred it.
The Final Prophecy: BROTHERS REACH ACROSS THE DIVIDE. I believe this to be the Cullens reaching out to the Quileute. This prophecy is only possible if we can avoid 'blood on new snow.'
Carlisle and I slowly looked at each other.
Harold frowned. "We thought that...this was the reason your family had decided to..." His voice faded away as the complexity of the situation occurred to him.
I shook my head. "No. We didn't know, but thank you for sharing this with us."
We left and drove slowly back to Forks. That evening when we'd all gathered in the living room, Carlisle and I shared the final prophecy with the family.
"Ephraim Black drew Edward in that clearing," Carlisle said conversationally.
"Why do you think that?" Jasper sat up straight, suddenly interested.
"It was uncanny, really," Carlisle replied. "Tall white man, all in blue, black shoes, hair standing on end, and he had that leather band on his right wrist that Edward always wears."
The entire family looked over to me as I held up my wrist, but they knew what they'd see. It was the Cullen family crest and I wore it all the time. And everyone knew I only wore blue and preferred black shoes. In fact, I didn't even own a brown pair.
"Was the planetary alignment responsible for the trouble with Alice's visions?" Bella asked.
Alice thought for a moment. "Part of it was the damn-" She bit her lip. "Sorry! The wolves," she continued. "But even after we were in Alaska, the trouble continued, so, yes, probably."
Bella frowned. "Then maybe that's also what happened with you in the forest, Edward. You said that you felt odd, and I don't think under normal circumstances..." She looked at me and nodded slightly.
I hadn't allowed myself the luxury of presuming to blame my fall on the planetary anomaly. It seemed like...an excuse, rather than a reason, but when I thought back to how different I'd felt and how horrified I'd been to have actually harmed Bella, it seemed plausible.
"So...susceptible individuals suffered under the alignment. We saw that some of the wolves fell under its influence much sooner than others. But did any of you feel the effects to the extent that I did?"
"Not 'till right at the end for me," Emmett said. Jasper nodded. Carlisle and Esme were unaffected and Rose actually got nice. I wondered if she'd go back to mean and bitchy now that it was over.
Alice met with the School Board and set up a scholarship program that funded a college education and small stipend for all high school graduates of a specific GPA.
In her spare time (It never looked like she had any, but she managed to squeeze some out) she shopped every yard sale and thrift store, buying every piece of clothing that wasn't worn out, every piece of furniture that was usable and every appliance that still worked. Working with the council, she and Bella arranged to gut the existing Reservation Store, which was an anemic second-hand shop, and redo it completely with materials donated by a huge home-improvement chain in Seattle.
We all pitched in and soon it was open to the public. 'Second Chance' was an instant success. Alice and Bella traveled hundreds of miles to every county seat from Forks to Olympia, as Alice arranged for donation boxes to be placed in parking lots. Soon items flowed in, necessitating the hiring of a manager, his assistant and five full-time employees. Every item was tagged with a modest 'LA PUSH' price and a higher 'PUBLIC' price, to keep prices low for the Quileute but still encouraging shopping, and therefore tourism, from the outside.
Rose went online and discovered a site that offered free computers and with an additional influx of funds, managed to wrangle new laptops for the school, its offices, and the library.
As we sat one night late in front of the fire in the living room, Emmett shared his and Rose's latest endeavor: sponsorship of the poorest families. Upon approval from the council, they had sponsored the little girl with cleft lip and palate. Her name was Nicole and her surgery was arranged immediately. It cheered me to see how Emmett and Rose interacted with the family, which consisted of the mom, dad, and three children under the age of six. The baby was just an infant and Rose's involvement with the family nursed her desire to be a mother, something she had never gotten to experience first-hand.
Our attorney in Seattle arranged for wealthy business owners to sponsor a family as a tax shelter. It consisted of providing funds through an escrowed account set up in the town's name, to supply medical and dental care, food and a small stipend for the sponsored family for a period of one year. Every family living on or below the poverty limit was encouraged to apply, and by Christmas every family that signed up had been paired with a sponsor.
Carlisle closed his private practice at the hospital and instead only worked in the emergency room three nights a week, volunteering four days a week in the newly refurbished clinic. Where before stood a derelict building with fading, peeling paint and dirty plastic chairs, now proudly stood a completely different structure.
The inner walls had been removed, leaving an open space cut in half by a long, curved counter. In front was a nice waiting area and a corner for the children to play in, behind, curtained exam areas and a central counter running down the middle that held paperwork and files, medical supplies and the phone system.
Hanging plants and bright wallpaper gave the place a modern, eclectic look. When I'd gone in to talk to Carlisle one day, I was amazed at the mood of the people that were there waiting to see him.
They were sick but they had hope. For the first time in a long time, they had hope that tomorrow would be better than yesterday. That's powerful medicine.
Initially the council wanted us to all meet every three months to assess the relative benefits of the various programs. At the first meeting with the council, which was just before Christmas, Carlisle reported that he'd noticed a dramatic improvement in the general health of the populace he'd cared for.
Alice reported that the second-hand store was running well in the black, having hired four more full-time employees, and Rose and Emmett's sponsorship program was getting the locals the help that they needed to get on their feet.
We were making a real difference in real people's lives.
The reality was this: I'd made enough money on the sale of a mall in India to have funded the entire operation and given every man, woman and child on the Reservation enough money to last them their entire lives, with plenty left over. But these people didn't want that. Nobody does, really, if they're mature and focused. They want help. They want to learn.
That's what we were doing for the Quileute. And right away we saw that it wouldn't take long until they were doing for themselves and wouldn't need us anymore.
The library was next on the agenda of things to tear down and then rebuild. Esme contacted her associates in salvage and soon we were sorting through flooring, wall board, lighting fixtures and paint, deciding what we could use. I found this more enriching, and lots more fun, than buying it all new. Some of the items came from old factories that were themselves in the process of being modernized. We chose from antique copper fixtures and brass doorknobs, finding as we went the satisfaction that Esme always spoke of as she redid something with reclaimed materials.
In the main foyer, local artists hung or displayed their work, all of which was for sale. Some of it was extraordinarily beautiful and soon the word was out and we had more shoppers than readers. That's when the La Push Art Gallery opened. Before Christmas it was full of oils, pastels, pen and ink drawings, jewelry, weavings and pottery.
Jasper and Emmett oversaw the entire operation, hiring a foreman and two apprentices, teaching them how to do basic wiring, plumbing and carpentry. The place literally went up before our eyes.
They were quite busy, those two. They rounded up a group of boys from high school and hired them to clean up the road into the reservation. The boys were eager for the money and were hard workers.
It took a couple of weeks, as they had to complete the work after school, but they finally got all the vegetation cleared from the roadside and all the trash picked up. Jasper and Emmett bought them dinner each night from their choice of local restaurants.
Charlie convinced someone to repaint the lines in the entire town, which really wasn't very big, and after they were finished you needed to see the sign welcoming you to the Reservation to tell you'd crossed over into Indian land. We'd ordered signage but they wouldn't be in until after the holidays.
Esme had hired some locals to plant wildflowers along the roadside in the spring and with a smile I imagined the splash of color folks would see as they crossed into Quileute country.
By Christmas we began to see more and more tourists on the streets, shopping, eating, and just looking around. A low-cost loan program made possible by the funds we deposited allowed qualified individuals to borrow money to start their own business. Restaurants and small boutiques filled the empty shops on Main Street, luring big-city buyers and their money to the small, quaint reservation town. The repaid money would go directly to the town, to fund new projects such as parks, common areas and community ventures.
About six weeks into our adventures, I was approached by a middle-aged woman named Beth. She spoke the Quileute language and was concerned that it would be lost, as mothers no longer taught it to their children. Over a period of several weeks, I learned grammar and syntax and soon I could speak, read and write. One night a week, Beth and I offered language classes at the library in a program called 'Quileute Cultural Awareness.'
There was a different class every weeknight, teaching a wide range of cultural skills including language, traditional dance and food, weaving and rug making, and pottery. I learned as much as I taught—how to fish with a net, the proper way to tie knots and best of all—the richness and layers of a vibrant and complex society.
Bella and I worked on the Reservation seven days a week in the beginning, paring down to four after the major renovations were complete and we had trained personnel to do the various jobs we'd created. But there was a problem that we hadn't foreseen: lots of humans, tasty ones, interacting in every part of the town. We kept Bella carefully ensconced in the beginning and made sure she was well-fed, but she struggled occasionally. We never had a close call, though, and we thought that the level of work was a distraction.
Carlisle said that the early exposure to humans might have accelerated her tolerance or she may have just been naturally less affected. She'd certainly struggled against me when the hiker passed by in Alaska but she was only a couple of days old then. Whatever the case, we watched her carefully and always knew in advance where work crews or deliveries from the outside would be and had her someplace else.
The cash we'd suffused into the town acted like an accelerant on dry tinder, expanding to areas we'd hardly thought of. A hair boutique and a massage/day spa both opened, and not long after, La Push's first tattoo parlor, a place called Indian Ink, held a grand opening that was visited by a motorcycle gang from Seattle.
Since we weren't acting as 'owners' and none of the money was coming back to us, instead running through the local economy, every business thrived. Soon, due to donations, sponsorships, and a not insubstantial increase in tourism, the town was in the black and able to support its inhabitants in a style that offered each person autonomy, personal health and freedom from poverty.
Right before Christmas we went into the woods and found a small cedar tree, about four feet tall. I borrowed a stand from the family and we purchased the ornaments from one of the artsy stores on Main Street and at a Christmas Bazaar hosted by the local school. We decorated it one cold, gray day, and as we finished, it began to snow.
Bella and I sat for awhile on the striped cushions in the bay window, watching the swirling flakes fall. I'll never forget the magical feeling of making love in the dark as the snow piled up outside, the lights twinkling on our first Christmas tree. I gave thanks for the best gift of all, the gift I had waited decades for, the gift I would kill for and die for: Bella.
Charlie POV
"I'll take it."
After half an hour of haggling, the fellow finally parted company with his best friend—a twelve-foot bass boat in excellent condition. He looked disconsolate as I towed it away but a wad of cash cushioned his fall.
Edward had driven me to Seattle to pick up my new truck—a Toyota 4-runner with a factory hitch. I was itching to put that boat in the water.
Not too long ago I was sitting at home, watching a ball game, trying to choose between frozen pizza and beer for dinner, or just beer. Then, one car chase later, my life was forever changed by a lunatic with a baseball bat and an ancient ritual that gave me a new appreciation for rare steak.
Now, home consisted of a three-room cabin overlooking the ocean. When Barbara had called to tell me the house in Forks had sold on its first day on the market, I knew immediately who had bought it.
Bella claimed no prior knowledge until after the fact, but I couldn't be cross when I thought of all that had transpired in that house. It was funny. Nothing happened there from the time that Renee left until Bella moved back to town sixteen years later. Then, bang! One thing after another.
I'd received a disability from the Police Force and had reluctantly decided to file for early retirement when Edward called me.
"I'm sorry to have intruded into your thoughts," he'd said, like he didn't do it all the time, "but I think you might want to speak to Alice and Jacob before you send in the paperwork to activate your pension."
That afternoon I sat in the Cullen's cavernous living room with a bank book in my hand, gaping like an idiot at the balance. $210,000, apparently found in the car that Kirby Sanchez had stolen. Seth very animatedly reenacted the entire scenario, from spying the bag with the cash to burying it to digging it up again and finally counting it.
I'd protested, of course, when I'd finally found my voice, but it was no use. So I took it gratefully and combined with the cash from the sale of the house, which was paid for, I had a tidy nest egg, even after the major purchases of cabin, truck and boat.
I'd spoken to the Cullens about my guilt at having accepted the money, knowing how destitute most of the Quileute were. Alice just laughed.
"I'll make you a cup of coffee, Charlie, and tell you about our plans."
Thirty minutes later and I sat, stunned, at the bar in the Cullen's immaculate kitchen. Guilt washed over me yet again as I recalled my initial dislike for Edward and my general distrust of the entire family. They really were as good as Bella thought they were. It wasn't her love for Edward that had blinded her.
Not long after I'd moved into the cabin, Bella surprised me with a visit. The sun shone in the little kitchen, throwing prisms of color off of her exposed skin. I still marveled at it.
"This house is perfect!" she exclaimed, as I showed her the three modest rooms and told her of the renovations I'd considered. The real gem wasn't the structure, but the yard, and the view.
We stood in the cool air, watching the surf pound onto the coast. She grabbed my hand, and without looking at me, asked, "Do you miss it? Your real life?"
I frowned and shook my head, turning to face her. "This is my real life, Bells. This is more genuine than anything I've ever experienced. So...no. I've never looked back, Bells. Not once."
I didn't have much reason to go into Forks, so I busied myself fixing up the little cabin, fishing with Billy and trying out the menu at the new diner on Main Street. Bella was quick to point out that while I often ate meals out back in Forks, I was never quite so generous to my waitress with my cash or my attention.
It was true. Her name was Gertrude and I could think of nothing else. What began as a simple infatuation turned quite suddenly into a full-blown obsession. Before long I found myself dreaming about her long black sheet of hair and milk chocolate skin.
When I'd confided in Jake, he laughed. "You've imprinted! Excellent!"
It didn't feel excellent, though, and I was at a loss as how to proceed. I'd never dated in my entire life, having fallen for Renee at first sight. I hadn't slept with a single woman since she left me. I had a lot to catch up on.
"Jeez, Charlie," Jake frowned good naturedly, "you're the White Wolf. You have Status! Go talk to her!"
We were married outside the cabin under a canopy of color. As we said our vows a breeze rushed by, littering a thousand leaves upon us. It felt as magical as it was.
I still phase routinely with the pack. The feeling of freedom and strength eclipses anything I've ever experienced. Running with the wind blowing in my face and my heart thundering in my chest makes me feel more alive than I ever thought possible.
My life is full now in ways that were before, frankly unimaginable. Billy asked me not long ago about the ball game that had been on, but I told him I'd missed it.
Gone were the days when the television was my best friend. Sometimes Gertrude and I curled up to watch a movie, but it was more fun to roll around in bed.
In mid-December we set up a tiny Christmas tree in the main room. Gertrude knitted me a beautiful sweater and a stocking cap. I purchased her some hair jewelry that a shopkeeper told me she'd had her eye on. They were sterling silver, local made.
I can sum up my feelings about my life with a couple of lines from my favorite poem, Invictus, but William Ernest Henley.
...And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me unafraid.
With Gertrude's hand in mine, we'd face the sunset together.
Jacob POV
One of my earliest memories was sitting at the bonfire overlooking the beach and hearing the elders tell stories. We ate, ran around and rough-housed, but when the tales of the White Wolf began, we all found our seats in a hurry, anxious to hear, yet again, the old grandfathers tell of the day when the White Wolf would visit our tribe and bestow upon us his eternal truth—something that each of us interpreted in his or her own way.
We thought a lot about it but we never imagined the circumstances of his arrival and certainly couldn't have dreamt that he'd impart a truth that would break our hearts.
After Charlie had finished his soliloquy, we'd run up the mountain toward home, but it took a while to get there. Several of the pack had collapsed on the way from the rotten food and others lost their heads completely, running wild, foaming at the mouth like mad dogs. I stayed with the sickened animals while Charlie chased down the crazy ones. He'd told me later that as soon as he'd talked them down off the ledge, they'd collapsed in howls of tears.
So, it's a bit of an understatement to say that it had been a long day. Charlie and I escorted each of them home and gave strict orders for them to stay put and sleep. That, at least was easy as they were all exhausted and collapsed for three days and nights.
When we'd all gathered for Quil's funeral they'd at least calmed down. Quil and Brady were aghast at what they'd done, telling me they remembered all of it but that it had seemed like someone else. I'd overheard their choked apologies to the Cullens, especially to Emmett.
He'd drawn his eyebrows together as Brady stumbled through an "I'm...really really, you know, sorry, for what..."
Emmett clapped him on the shoulder. "It's over, man. You were out of your head. I get that. Let's move on."
Brady sighed gratefully and we heard no more about it. After that the Cullens started to feel like the neighbors they were and our lives changed immeasurably.
As the Cullens' cash and ideas started pouring in, the tenor of the Reservation changed. It wasn't just their money that they donated, but their time and their expertise on a wide variety of subjects.
The new health clinic and library were nice and the loan programs for businesses were important, but the sponsorship program was what really turned the hearts and minds of the locals. The little girl Nicole that Emmett had come across on his way to Quil's services was a tragic case. Today she's just like any other five year old, and a faint scar is all that remains of a devastating defect. The mother still cries every time she sees me, telling me how Emmett and Rose have changed their lives.
In the space of a few months, I observed grown men, cowed by circumstance, rejoin the work force; I witnessed bright seniors look forward to college; I saw an entire race, albeit a small one, change long held and deep-seated views not because of words or promises, but because one family had an idea. They pitched it, they peddled it and they sold it, and it worked.
With some of the loan money I opened up a garage. Rose taught me how to tune fine European sports cars and soon the word was out to the community at large: Jake's was the place to go for all your automotive needs.
The money rolled in from the get-go and I bought a little house out in the woods, not far from Quil's place. The Cullens helped me fix it up and soon it was, in the words of my aunt Millie, 'as cute as a button.' Hmm.
One day a few weeks before Christmas, an old yellow car rolled into the parking lot. I didn't know why at the time, but my attention was riveted to it the moment it caught my eye. As it parked, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen hopped out. She looked about my age but was short, about five-foot-two. She was slender and wore blue jeans and a thick fleece jacket that was bright red. A jaunty hat was perched on her head and before she'd even opened the door to the shop, I'd fallen for her.
When she said, "Hi, my name's Patrice, and I have an appointment," I wanted to say, "Will you marry me?" I'm not fooling. I really wanted to say that. Instead, I gaped at her like a moron and she blushed as red as her jacket.
Long story short—it went kind of like this: imprint, fall in love, fix her car, (for free), spend a glorious Christmas with Patrice in my arms, in my heart, in my bed. A small diamond graces her finger, and we sit on our small patio, planning our wedding, which will probably be in the spring.
Bella POV
True terror gripped me when the snarling wolves surrounded Edward on that snowy hill, so many weeks ago. Even Jake was too far gone to help and I'd nearly lost an arm but Jasper sorted them out. He just walked over and grabbed Edward's hand and pulled him to safety.
Everything that happened after that is a bit of a blur. I know that I'm not supposed to say that. I'm supposed to say that every event was perfectly categorized in my brain, which was so much more efficient now, but there you go. I guess that part of my vampire physiology has yet to develop. So in this way I stayed true to character, and was just a little bit different than everybody else.
Everyone in the family knew exactly what to do to help the Quileute except me. Jasper pointed out that I could learn, and I knew that, but it was a little demoralizing to watch my new family make plans as I hovered on the periphery.
In the end I decided to help everyone. Alice and I shopped for the new thrift store we'd planned to open and we both enjoyed sorting and pricing what she brought home. Esme taught me all about refurbishing and I even learned how to change a fuel pump on a 1998 Volkswagen.
I had to be careful, though, as there weren't just Quileute in town with all the renovations and repairs going on. Trucks rolled up and down the streets delivering everything from wall board to plants, like we needed any more of those.
My throat burned like hot oil had scalded it most of the time, as the luscious scent of human wafted over the entire town, but one of the family stayed with me every minute. Alice had arranged the delivery schedule for every project and always had one end of town designated as 'Bella Zone.'
A host of friends. I tell you, I have a host of friends.
Edward and I went over to the house before the movers got there to see if there was anything we wanted before they carried it all to La Push. As I unlocked the door the rush of familiar scent greeted me, taking me back to the months I'd lived there and all that had happened to change my life.
As we walked in, Edward glanced at me. "He didn't take much, did he?"
It was true. Aside from the big screen television, there was nothing noticeably gone. I could imagine looking over and seeing Charlie lying on the couch, as homey as it still felt.
All the furniture was still there. Curtains hung on windows. Alice's coffee maker was already at the cabin, but other small appliances and the dishes were still in the cabinets. I noticed that he'd tagged items that he wanted delivered to his house.
The food in the pantry, a small antique book shelf that had belonged to Grandma Swan and a box all sported the red tag; presumably everything else was up for grabs or would find its way to the second-hand store on the res.
Peeking inside the cardboard box, I was surprised to see, not mementos from his days as Chief or private, special items that had been given to him by his buddies through the years, but all the items that I'd given him and made for him. A hideous Christmas wreath made from painted Popsicle sticks was wrapped reverently in crisp tissue, along with a figure, human presumably, that had been molded from clay.
Every letter I'd ever written, every gift I'd ever given, lay in this simple brown box. Edward crouched down beside me. "I could never hope to make you understand how much Charlie loves you," he whispered, "but of all the things he could've taken, he chose these items," he gestured to the opened box.
My throat was oddly tight. I rewrapped the wreath carefully and closed the box. Edward pulled me up. "Let's go upstairs."
He'd already taken his clothes and personal items, but everything else remained. Bedding, furniture and decorations (what little there were) had been left behind, remnants of an old life, I supposed.
As we walked into my room a rush of emotion hit me as I recalled the first time Edward surprised me there to all the hours he sat in his rocker by the window, watching me as I slept. I thought back to the night, not so long ago, that Edward had hopped in my window covered in blood and mud. He'd fed on the biker and came to me disoriented and confused. Glancing at the bed I remembered the sexual experiences we'd shared afterwards...
"We'll have to have this," Edward smiled, as he took a seat and began to rhythmically rock.
Ever thankful that he couldn't peer inside my head, I swallowed hard and nodded, deciding to take a peek at what I'd left behind. I'd taken what I thought I wanted when Edward and I got married. Knowing it was all slated for the thrift shop made me take a more discerning look.
Edward waited patiently as I went through drawers and looked under the bed. In the end, all that I decided to take was a strand of lights that hung behind the desk and a picture of a wolf that had been on the wall since I was a child.
As Edward carried the rocker to the car, I took one last look around. Of course, the house belonged to us now, but I doubted that I would get the same feelings when it was empty.
I felt him behind me and as I turned, he hugged me gently. "I've always loved this house," he said, as we walked the rooms slowly before we departed. As I locked up I wondered if Edward and I would live in the house, and how many years would need to go by before that might happen.
As we walked around the back, I spied a pile of items next to the full trash can. Among the stuff destined for the dump was a stack of photos of Renee that I'd never seen. Their wedding picture and all the ones of her that had sat on the mantle for the past sixteen years had been tossed in the pile as well, frame and all.
I was stunned. He had finally purged himself of his feelings toward her, which she never deserved in the first place. I hoped he would find someone in his new life. With his rank of White Wolf, I didn't think he'd have much trouble.
Charlie took the money (he didn't have any choice, really, and seemed to grasp that and made it easier for everyone) and bought the things he's always wanted—the things most guys want, I guess: boat, truck, cabin overlooking the shore.
I'd worried about him after his initial change when he'd found out he couldn't work as Chief anymore, but he'd put that part of his life behind him. When I met Gertrude and found out he'd imprinted, I threw a party. I didn't need enhanced vampire senses to see that he'd found what he'd always been looking for.
I'll never forget the holidays of that first year after we were married, the year marred by prophecies and mad dogs on the hillside. As we relaxed on the comfy bed, I finished up some work on my laptop and Edward perused a catalog that had come in the mail.
"Here. Look at this!" He shoved the catalog over to me.
The page was turned to show a brown tee with the caption: First, Monday. Then Tuesday. Then...WTF. See? Even the calendar says so!
I laughed, "You should get that for Emmett for Christmas!"
We both continued to look at the catalog, laughing at the silly shirts and stuff. After a few minutes I asked, "Well, do you know what you want for Christmas, Edward Cullen?"
He threw the catalog over the side of the bed, rolling to face me. Our eyes met and the feeling came over me again that I'd struck gold, that I'd won the lottery and the prize was the Universe itself.
"You know," he growled, as he pulled me into a kiss, "I can't think of a damn thing."
THE END
After twelve years, the Cullens move on. They settle in Alaska until they can return to the Olympic Peninsula, where their hearts lie.
Edward and Bella travel the world by night, but never find the emotional fulfillment that they found helping the Reservation grow to its potential. Seventy-nine years after leaving, they return, with new names and identities, moving into the house they bought from Charlie, which has been on long-term lease to a family for the last forty years.
Bella and Edward stay in the little house for twelve years, until their youthful appearance forces them to move on again.
No matter their surroundings, as long as they're together, they call it home.