A/N for 2019-05-05: My beta is a rock-star - and we love watching your reactions to this story.
A guest asked: What is the metaphor referenced in the title? It's addressed in chapter five.
As for this being a happily-ever-after - trust me, we'll get there.
~ Erin
"Your former boyfriend treated you, as a doctor," Jennifer said levelly, looking at Bella.
"Yes."
"Your first boyfriend?"
"Yes."
Bella knew what was coming next and tried not to visibly clench her jaw.
"And has anyone else seen him?"
"Yes. My father. My children." She pulled Edward's card from her pocket, handing it over. "Here. You can call and verify it. I know you need to."
Seeing her psychiatrist wasn't just for her own sake. The doctor who'd initially handled her prenatal care for Josh had taken her history and then immediately called the Ministry for Family and Child development, citing concerns for child safety. The social worker who had conducted the assessment had told her and Matt not to worry, and assured them they were wonderful parents to Meredith. Her involvement, though, had triggered the creation of a file, and such things didn't go away easily.
Now there were annual checks. At the last one, the social worker had been concerned by Josh's apparently-slow development—or at least, that had been Bella's impression at the end of it. She'd been in a total fog the first few weeks after Matt's death. What had stuck, though, was the social worker's explanation that Bella needed to continue psychiatric treatment as a condition of her low-safety-risk status.
"I do," her psychiatrist said. "I know that's upsetting."
"It's fine." It wasn't. But she had greater worries than her psychiatrist talking to Edward.
"I also just found out I'm pregnant."
Jennifer paused before she asked, "Are congratulations in order?"
"I don't know," Bella said. "Matt would've been so happy, but—I don't know—how I feel, or what I'm going to do." Her hands spread out, as if trying to grasp possibilities out of the air.
Bella hadn't realized that there were tears on her cheeks until Jennifer nudged a box of tissues toward her. While she reached for them, Jennifer spoke sympathetically. "I can appreciate that. You do have a choice, Bella. I can refer you to a clinic that offers counselling around that."
The very notion made her nauseous. "No, thank you. I can't—I couldn't make that choice."
Jennifer nodded, continuing to make quiet notes on her pad of paper. After a few minutes of letting Bella breathe, she spoke again. "You said you've started a new job, too. Those are big changes, all in a very short period of time. Have you had a return of any symptoms?"
Yes. No. Maybe? What did you say when you discovered that the world was tilted in a way that everyone else denied? When you learned that you, and your children, were in more danger than you could have imagined . . . danger that no one else could understand, or would even believe? Bella resisted the shudder that ran through her body. Victoria's malevolence was practically palpable.
After a moment, she realized Jennifer was still waiting for an answer.
"No."
Her psychiatrist's long fingers tapped the end of her pencil on the paper in front of her. "It would be completely understandable if they had."
"I'm not seeing things," Bella said.
Jennifer's "Okay," barely concealed her skepticism. "Your medications are still safe during pregnancy."
"No," Bella said quickly. She'd refused before, despite assurances from the doctors treating her. She hadn't taken so much as a Tylenol in her other pregnancies, and she wasn't starting now. "People thought thalidomide was safe, too."
"And vaccines cause Autism," Jennifer quipped. She lifted her eyebrows at Bella.
"My children are vaccinated," Bella spat back.
"I'm not suggesting you're subscribing to a fallacy of the same nature, but I think you're letting an unreasonable fear dictate choices around your mental health. Your very important mental health."
Bella made herself pause before answering. "As you've pointed out, my husband has just died, I've just found out I'm pregnant, and I have a new teaching job. I've also made sure to get help at home, see my psychiatrist, and have my Dad visit when I felt unwell. All good things. Is there anything in my recent behaviour that has given you cause for concern?"
The answering "No," sounded begrudging.
"So perhaps I'm not the only one operating from a little bit of unreasonable fear."
Jennifer's face broke into a rare grin. "Touché, Bella."
Bella allowed herself the same expression. Such a concession was rare.
"You are doing well. I'm sorry if I haven't adequately recognized that." She fingered the card Bella had given her. "Do you mind if we call right now?"
Bella blinked, trying to hide her shock at the suggestion. Psychiatrists never confronted patients about their delusions. Ever. This meant—
"You believe me," she blurted out.
"I think it is quite likely . . ." she glanced at the card, "that Dr. Cullen is real." Her expression became serious. "But if it becomes apparent that things aren't as you've interpreted them, are you willing to take the medication I've prescribed?"
Bella's gut clenched. What if Edward was tight-lipped? What if he didn't want to admit their past? He'd left her, and he'd only come back out of a sense of obligation, for a debt to her safety. A swell of anger made her face flush.
"We don't have to," Jennifer said hesitantly. "I can call later."
"No," Bella made herself say. "It's fine. It's been awkward, that's all. Some rejections still . . . sting."
Jennifer nodded, and then brought her office phone over to the table that sat between them. "I'm going to put him on speaker phone, but I'd ask that you not speak."
"Why?"
"Because I want him to be honest, and people are less inclined to do so when they know the subject of their discussion is listening in."
"Sure," Bella sighed.
His voice was as musical as it always was when he came on the line. She watched Jennifer blink at the sound of it, but she retained her placid expression.
"This is Dr. Jennifer Adelaide calling from Vancouver Coastal Health Psychiatric Services. I'd like to discuss a patient of yours, if you have a moment."
"I do," Edward said.
"Wonderful. Are you able to verify my credentials at this time?"
"Yes," he said, "Just a moment, please."
They exchanged details, and the rustling sounds on the line told Bella that he was making a good show of looking up Jennifer's license number.
Still, her stomach twisted. Please, she begged silently. Please, tell her the truth. The idea of filling her body—and her baby—with medications left her heart racing and a fine sheen of sweat on her face.
Jennifer glanced at her. "Is this still okay?" she mouthed.
Bella nodded, patting her stomach, hoping it suggested the possibility of morning sickness. Those symptoms hadn't manifested yet, but she didn't hold out hope that they wouldn't.
"Thank you, Dr. Adelaide. I've verified your credentials. How can I help you?"
"I'd like to know how you know Ms. Isabella Hamilton."
"I treated her last week, in her home, for . . ." he paused, the sound of paper shuffling again, "for two broken metacarpals in her right hand."
"And is that the only capacity in which you've known her?"
"No."
"Could you elaborate, please?"
Edward was quiet for a moment, then said, "It's personal."
"I understand, Dr. Cullen. I have her consent to ask these questions. I'm attempting to ascertain her soundness at this time. This pertains to her MCFD file."
Did Edward even know what that was code for?
"We had a personal relationship ten years ago, which I ended when my family left the area."
Bella couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief, then stopped herself, mid-exhale. Had he heard?
"Is there anything else?" Edward asked.
Thank God. He probably had heard. And ignored it.
"Yes. Would you mind describing Ms. Hamilton for me?"
"Certainly." His physical description of Bella was precise. Detailed.
"And your impression of her emotional state, when you last treated her?"
Still sitting perfectly still, Bella's hands tightened again over her knees.
"Quite calm, given the circumstances." Edward's voice maintained a professional tone.
"And what were those circumstances?"
"It was the first time we'd seen each other in ten years, which was awkward enough, not including our personal history. I would have expected her to ask me to leave, to ask for another doctor. She didn't. She accepted my help then, and again when I returned."
"Thank you for your time, Dr. Cullen. I think I have all I need."
Bella was sure that had gone well. That had gone well, right? She waited for Jennifer's pronouncement.
"You okay?" Jennifer asked.
Bella nodded, breathing tight and anxious.
"I think you should take the medication, Bella, but I'll leave the choice to you. Your prescription is on file at the pharmacy."
Near home, Bella impulsively pulled over on one of the side-streets near her house, needing a few minutes of calm. This one important obstacle had been cleared for now, and she looked out over the metaphorical landscape of her life, the veritable mountain range of difficulties stretching before her.
She was pregnant. Pregnant. And she was so damn sentimental and emotional she couldn't even contemplate ending the very real complication of another child in her life. Matt's child.
"Oh my God," she said, putting her head in her hands. She let herself shed some tears and then wiped her face, closing her eyes as if she could block out the world in this moment. It didn't work. The litany of issues she needed to face continued as if her thoughts were set on repeat.
She would have to use the life insurance money. With daycare, the mortgage, and groceries, she was just squeaking by. She'd have to let a room, too, or tutor, or figure out how to make the income stretch.
Her phone rang.
It was the physiotherapist.
"Shit!" she muttered, looking at the number. She was supposed to be at her appointment right now. She'd completely forgotten.
"Hello?" she said, picking up the call.
"Hi Bella, it's Annie. I'm so sorry, I know we were supposed to meet right now, but I've been called to an emergent case here. I'm going to have to reschedule."
Edward, Bella realized. He must have known she'd be late.
She struggled with simultaneous feelings of resentment and gratitude towards him.
"Oh," Bella said, "That's okay. I'm actually running late myself."
They scheduled another appointment, and when Bella hung up, she hesitated for a moment, before texting Edward: Thank you.
His response was immediate: You're welcome.
Alone again with her thoughts, she realized that she would also need to add a midwife to her regular round of appointments.
Marsha's time with her would be over at the end of the week. She tried not to think about what that would mean. The physical and emotional relief Marsha's help had provided had given her space to breathe. To think. To do more than dash from one emergency to another.
"How am I going to manage?" she whispered.
A wave of dizziness made her blink quickly, consciousness flickering in and out along with it. There were enough gaps in the darkness to register the familiar voice that said, "You'll do just fine," and the stone-cold hand that brushed by hers, turning off her car's ignition.
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.