A/N: I don't own this, we all know who does. If I did, Rpattz would be finding the battery that my daughter just lost. Seriously, the dang remote control fell on the floor, the battery popped out, and it's GONE! Flippin' ghost in my house. Sometimes I really hate that thing. It still hasn't given back my MP3 player. :(

This is unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes belong to me. I have a sick boy home from school today. I'm sidetracked. :D

This is for my wifey, Mrs. Robward. I sent her lots of songs last night. I think my favorite one was the Ke$ha freak show in the desert one. :D Awesome. :D

Thanks to Luxure & EdwardsBloodType for prereading this. "Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy, grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city..." My party girls... :D

**disclaimer **

This story is a bit taboo. I think that's why most of you are here... :D

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… Chapter Nineteen - Photograph … Bella …

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Days before Christmas I find an envelope in the mailbox. No postage, just my name.

Cautiously I open it, knowing the gossipy women at church have set their sights on me. My destruction.

Inside I find a picture. My breath catches, and I nearly drop it, let it flutter to the ground.

It's us, in the hospital, just after Claire was born. The look in your eyes, it's so beautiful, perfect. I never noticed your hand on my neck, your fingers caressing my collar bone.

Our little family. The only picture I'll ever have of us, I think. At least I'll have something to show Claire if she asks someday. And I'm sure she will.

He's getting suspicious, questioning. He's heard the tales told around town. He sees Claire, how there is nothing of him in her.

It's obvious she's not his child, and he knows.

I know he knows, feels it.

It's just a matter of time until he blows.

At Christmas services, I see you. You never look my way, your face stoic and set.

The pieces of my heart break just a little more.

Afterward, your father finds me, pulls me aside.

I see the bitties spring into action.

He has blonde hair, blue eyes. Their glares quickly grow accusing. If only they knew just how close they were to the truth.

"The baby's growing well. I hope you've been feeling good."

I smile. "Thank you, yes. Things are good. How is Esme? I haven't seen her much lately."

"Busy as ever. Listen Bella, I just wanted to talk to you. I found something...odd. I borrowed Edward's camera and I saw a picture on it."

My world grinds to a halt. Does he know? What picture is he talking about?

"I'm just curious. Why does my son have a photograph with you and Claire?"

He waits for an answer.

I don't have one.

"I thought maybe it was just because you're Leah's mother and he wanted to remember helping you through Claire's birth, but each time I see your baby, I'm reminded of another picture."

He pulls out his wallet, flips open to a tattered photo. Of you, as an infant.

I gasp, my hand shaking over my open mouth.

"I thought so," he says, sadness in his voice. "He doesn't know that I know. Did you tell him?"

"No," I whisper, unable to say anything else.

"You know you can't see him anymore, right? This has to end, whatever was going on here."

"Yes, it's done, I stopped it. I promise." My eyes beg him, plead with him. "Don't tell him, I can't have him know. I won't ruin him."

Your father exhales, wraps his arm around me as I cry.

I can already hear tomorrow's gossip.

Your mother will hate me now. But not for the reason she should.

At least when I look up, I see that I've finally caught your attention.

If only there was something other than hate in your eyes. Hate that burns my skin, leaving me blistered and raw.

You believe the lies.

I guess that's better than you knowing the truth.

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A/N: Edward's POV later today will shed a little more light on things. Hang in there.

Thanks again to all of you who are pimping this out. I'm completely overwhelmed by how kind and supportive you've been to me and this little tale. To say I'm flattered and shocked doesn't even begin to cover it. From the bottom of my heart...thank you. :)

Reviews are better than caressed collar bones.

Leave one.