A/N for 2019/04/24: As always, many thanks to the stellar Eeyorefan12 who has beta'd this chapter and the many more that are written. If there are errors, they are my own.
Happy reading,
Erin
Bella watched Edward work over her hand, both resentful and admiring of his skill. She'd had many casts before and knew the difference between a good one and a bad one. This was a good one.
"It's waterproof," Edward said. "But not for a few hours. Is there anything you need help with, before then?"
She gritted her teeth. She wanted to say no, but there were many, many things that needed doing before bed. The morning would be unforgiving if they weren't accomplished now.
"The cat needs feeding," she said, "and I should get the kids' lunches ready." There was laundry, too, and the litter to clean, and the compost and garbage to be taken out for tomorrow's collection.
"Where's the cat food?" Edward asked.
Bella sat while he got up and followed her directions.
The surreality of Edward Cullen, now divested of his jacket, assembling Joshua and Meredith's lunches, made Bella blink. Repeatedly.
When he'd finished, he stored them in the fridge, closing and then staring at the door. Beside the take-out menus and the garbage collection schedule was one of the small memorial cards with Matt's picture on it. Mer had decorated the border with stars. "Where are you working tomorrow?" he asked.
"I don't know yet," Bella said, wondering just how much he knew about her life. "They usually call by around 5:30."
"It's going to take you a few days before you're able to drive."
Bella closed her eyes, realizing what he was suggesting. "No," she said.
Edward stood, hands on the island, looking down. "I will keep you safe, Bella, from forces natural, and supernatural. I'd prefer not to have to contend with your stubbornness too, but I will. It would be better if I drew less, rather than more attention, in making sure you and your children can live your normal lives."
Her angry defenses flared, but the truth in what he had said stung beneath them all.
"The buses are good here. We'll be fine."
"It would take you forty-five minutes to get the children to daycare on the bus."
His knowledge—and it was correct—irked her. She clenched her good hand.
"And then it would take you about an hour to get to the furthest school in your district. That's if it doesn't snow again and you don't slip and fall."
"You are not part of my life, Edward. You're here to clean up the mess you left. Go deal with that, and leave me alone to deal with my life."
She didn't need his pity, and wanted his help even less. The assistance he'd already provided grated at her dignity.
"You have a broken hand because of me. I'll stay out of your way, but I'll make sure you're not hindered." Picking up his suit jacket, he put it on. "Your cast will be waterproof in an hour. You should follow up with your doctor about it. Take Tylenol—but not ibuprofen for the pain."
She gave him one begrudging nod to acknowledge his instructions and watched him walk out of her house.
Then, overwhelmed, she let the dam of pent-up emotion break, and the tears and sobs pour out of her.
- 0 -
She woke before the alarm and, unusually, before Joshua, blinking at the ceiling. She was just about to consider the realistic but bizarre dream she'd had when she went to move her hand—and flinched at the pain.
Right. Not a dream.
You're not insane, she told herself.
Her stirrings in the bed were matched by those of Josh in his playpen.
"Mama!" he said, hopping up like a jack-in-the-box. "Man!"
She was about to answer when her phone rang. It was the school board, calling with her teaching assignment for the day. She was writing down the details, her left hand making an awkward scrawl, when she heard the doorbell ring.
Crap.
"Just a minute!" she called, knowing it was pointless. Whoever was at the door wouldn't be able to hear her from upstairs. "Coming!" she tried again, louder.
"Who's that?" Meredith called sleepily from her room.
Joshua trailed after Bella as she moved quickly down the stairs.
Wrenching open the door, Bella realized belatedly that she was still in her pajamas.
A woman stood there, looking far too tidy and well-presented for the early hour.
"Good morning. Ms. Hamilton? I'm Marsha Gibbons. The on-call service sent me." She held out a paper and a lanyard with a piece of ID attached to it.
"The what?" Bella asked, glancing at the piece of plastic. It looked real.
"The on-call service," she repeated. "I'm a home support worker." She looked down at the card in her hand. "I believe a . . . Dr. Cullen put in the call?"
Bella blinked, then felt the heat swimming in her cheeks. The interfering, arrogant—
"Woman!" Josh said, pointing.
"Yes, sweetie. She's a woman."
"What would you like me to start with?" Marsha asked, stepping inside, and closing the door behind her.
"Breakfast!" Joshua answered, tugging on Bella's good hand.
"I can do that," Marsha said. "Who are you?" she asked Joshua, smiling widely.
Joshua blinked, looked at Bella, and then ran back to the other end of the house.
"Um, he's not good with strangers," Bella said, feeling the familiar discomfort with her son's odd interactions with others. "His name's Joshua. Josh for short. I'll get him breakfast."
Marsha nodded. "Is there anything you'd like me to take care of? I'm used to handling everything: laundry, cleaning, shopping, driving, tidying. You name it, I do it."
Bella stomped down on the teary relief that wanted to play on her face. She could barely speak. The thought of help—actual help—was overwhelming.
"Oh crud, the garbage and everything needs to go out!" She glanced at her watch. They were past the collection time start.
"No problem. Point the way."
Bella did, and Marsha moved quickly off to gather everything. The sound of the carts rumbling out to the alley actually made her shoulders slump a little. She'd missed the last collection, and the bins were full and beginning to stink.
Bella found Joshua in the kitchen, sitting at the table, a mountain of cereal spilling out of the bowl in front of him and a pool of milk spreading around it.
"Breakfast!" he squeaked through his smile, tucking into his bowl with a large serving spoon.
Normally, this kind of mess would've triggered all sorts of frustrated thoughts and words for Bella, but not today. She had help.
"Good job. You got it yourself!"
"Self!" he said, smiling, wiggling in his seat.
"Maybe next time, put a little bit less in, okay?"
"Self!" Josh reiterated, still smiling.
Bella got herself breakfast and pulled out a bowl for Meredith. Then she sat down and smiled at Josh. He smiled back.
Her son was tentatively fingering Bella's cast when his older sister walked in. Bella watched her daughter's attention follow Joshua's.
"Mama, what happened to your hand?"
"Oh, I had an accident." She shrugged.
"And you put a bandage on it?"
"No, a—" she was about to say friend. "A doctor came and put a cast on it."
"A doctor came to our house?"
"Yes," she said, uncomfortable with the direction of Meredith's questioning. She didn't want to lie. Edward was a doctor. Or, he claimed to be one.
"Why didn't you wake me up?"
"It was after your bedtime. Besides, I didn't think you'd want me to wake you up."
Meredith thought about this for a bit. "Why couldn't a doctor take care of me here, then? When I hurt my foot?"
Bella swore silently. Joshua wouldn't talk about Edward, not in a way anyone would ever recognize, but Meredith might. She didn't explore too carefully the implications of Edward's return. She didn't have the energy or nerves for it at that moment.
"Let's get you some breakfast."
"But—"
"Maybe some special cereal today?"
"But it isn't the weekend!" Mer sounded positively scandalized. And very effectively distracted from the topic she'd been pursuing.
"Why not?" She moved to the cabinet, pulling down what Matt had referred to as, "Daddy's special Cheerios." She couldn't stand the multi-coloured sugary cereal, but they were an indulgence the rest of her family enjoyed.
Joshua clamoured for them too, and as she settled them back down with their bowls, she explained Marsha's presence in the house, too.
Marsha had appeared and was busying herself with emptying the dishwasher, tidying up the counters, and doing all the things Bella wished she had time for.
"Dr. Cullen mentioned you'd need some help with driving?"
"Who's Dr. Cullen?" Mer asked.
Bella ignored her question.
"Yes, I suspect I will."
Meredith continued to chirp her question.
"Why don't you get dressed?" Bella redirected her.
The rest of their brief morning routine sped along. Seemingly stunned by Marsha's presence, Joshua went into the daycare without any of his usual fuss, Meredith following along, oblivious to the difference.
Marsha dropped Bella at the school she was assigned to for the day, just a few minutes shy of the bell.
Bella ran in, gathering a map and keys from the office. Inside the classroom she found a neatly typed set of plans for the day, with handouts and books lined up for student use. Thank God. She'd only been at this school a few times before, and the teachers she'd subbed for had left each class with a 'work period', which in Bella's eyes, was the equivalent to the third circle of hell.
Students were already starting to filter in, and Bella glanced up at the several groups as they seated themselves, smiling at them. Few returned the expression, and several boys were less than quiet with their guffaws and varying utterances of, "Awesome, sub!"
One such creature loped to the front row of seats, slumped into a chair, and then put his feet up on the desk. "Chang's out, huh? Did we scare her away?"
Bella ignored him, continuing to scan the lesson plan.
As expected, the students around him snickered, and he eventually put his feet down.
When the bell rang, Bella counted almost a full roster and read through the attendance.
She made special note of Mr. Feet-on-the-desk when he answered.
It was a grade twelve class, and they'd been left a challenging poem to work through. She wasn't familiar with the poet, who was local, as was his content matter.
The students were slogging through the stanzas in small groups, heads down, while Bella circulated, still trying to wrangle her own way around the tangly metaphors.
It was the middle of the poem that struck her, its words lodging themselves in her chest, tightening around her lungs: "wards of eternity, each pair alone. / They . . . pass through successive names, are newly wed / participants in some recurring dream."
Weren't they just, she thought.
And like an idiot, throat taut with feeling, the air not coming in right, she kept reading: "The sleeping bride / suffers too sudden freedom like a pain. / The dreaming bridegroom severed from her side / singles her out, the old wound aches again."
When the blackness ebbed and she opened her eyes, she couldn't quite place the sounds. Then their significance became clear: they were the utterances of panicked—or worse, overly excited adolescents.
It was an adult voice that reached her next, as she struggled to sit up.
"No, no, just stay put, please. They said you passed out?"
Bella blinked at this new face. A man's. He had reddish-blonde hair. Just like Matt's.
Something wet slid down the side of her head. She braced herself for the scent of her own blood and the inevitable vomiting that would follow. When it didn't manifest, she relaxed a little, tensing again when she realized she was crying.
"You've had quite a turn, hey?" the man went on, voice soft and gentle. "I'm Grant. The kids were a little rattled when you fainted."
"Thanks," Bella muttered, trying to gather her dignity and sit up.
"No, no, really. The first-aid attendant is coming. You shouldn't move yet. Let them do their work."
So Bella was fussed over for a second time in twenty-four hours.
"No way," the principal said, when Bella tried to say she was fine for the rest of the day. "You're not, and you need to go home. Maybe go see a doctor." Then he added, more gently, "I'll make sure you get paid for the day, okay?"
Bella blinked back the relieved tears, mouthing a quiet, "Thank you," to him.
She'd called Marsha, and told her of the change in plans. She was on her way to pick Bella up.
At home, Bella put herself back to bed, counting what felt like an ever-increasing accumulation of aches. On top of a throbbing hand, her back and neck complained, and now her head, which had a painful lump on the side she'd smacked on a desk, when she'd fainted.
When she woke up several hours later, it was to a clean house, with the mountain of laundry several loads smaller. Something with a seductive smell bubbled on the cooktop.
"Do your children like stew?"
"Probably not," Bella answered. "But I love real food. That smells amazing."
"Good, it's for you."
"You don't have to—"
"It's my job to support you. Making lunch falls into that category."
Bella was several spoonfuls into this culinary piece of heaven when her phone rang. Charlie's name blinked on the display.
"Hi, Dad," she answered, reluctantly putting down the spoon.
"Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," she lied.
He snorted into the receiver. "Sure. I'm an hour away. You need anything from the store?"
"Wait, what?"
"The school called this morning. They said you passed out. I'm on my way. Do you need anything from the store?"
Bella's face squished up in frustration. Charlie was the last thing she needed right now. She'd successfully suppressed the knowledge that Edward had shared last night, but now it came swimming up again. Victoria. She was after her. Her children. Did that include Charlie, too?
"Dad, I was just tired and hungry. It was nothing. Why did they call you?"
"I'm your next of kin, Bella. Your emergency contact."
"Right," she whispered. There was a fresh pang of grief at this realization. Of course he was now.
"Do you need anything? From the store?" Charlie asked again.
"Um," Bella said, trying to think remember exactly what they had on hand. Matt had taken care of most of the cooking and shopping, and she didn't quite feel fluent with this set of tasks yet. She stood up to go look in the fridge.
"Groceries?" Marsha asked, clearly having overheard part of the conversation.
"Yeah," Bella said, putting her hand over the receiver.
"Don't worry, I've made a meal plan and a list. I'm going to get it before we pick up the children."
"I think I'm good," Bella told her dad.
"Okay, see you soon."
"See you," Bella said. She returned to her lunch, eating mechanically, trying to remember what it was like to pretend to Charlie that everything was fine, when somewhere, there was an enraged female vampire ready to wreak her vengeance, not just on her, but on the people she loved most.
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.