A/N for 2019-08-24: Many, many thanks to Eeyorefan12 for the incredible care she takes with every word, line, and character.
And many thanks to you all for leaving your thoughts on and reactions to this tale.
~ Erin
Bella was tempted to stay in the guest room bed with Edward. It would've been easy to succumb to the pull of sleep and push off the remainder of the day's tasks, but she knew she'd rue it come tomorrow—Monday morning.
"I need to get a few things done," she sighed into his chest.
"Do you really need to?" Edward ruffled his nose through her hair, fingers tracing shapes on her body that made her want to purr with pleasure.
Oh, how easy it would be to stay beside him and trade unfinished chores for more of the pleasures they'd already enjoyed. She knew he would offer no resistance to the idea of her giving up all domestic labour, her job, or anything else that required any effort at all on her part.
"Yes, I really do," she said, moving to slide a leg off the bed. She was prevented, his foot hooking around her ankle.
"I can go be useful, if you'd like," he murmured into her ear before placing a kiss there.
She chuckled. "I don't think you can pee for me."
His foot moved, and she was released.
When she finished with the toilet, she fished around in one of the lower cabinets, finding what she needed and taking it to the kitchen. After packing her work bag, and making sure the kids' backpacks were ready to go, she assembled the last few things she needed. Edward walked in just as she was putting the clear plastic bag into the freezer.
She hadn't exactly been hiding what she was doing, but she realized that she hadn't really wanted him to see what she was doing either.
"It's early, isn't it, for those?" he asked, coming up beside her, a hand soft over her hip.
She smiled a little, and blushed too. It was difficult sometimes, reconciling the Edward of now with the Edward she'd known ten years before. Matt hadn't batted an eye at witchhazel-soaked sanitary pads in the freezer. Apparently, neither would Edward. She reminded herself that he would've completed a maternity ward rotation as part of his residency.
The blush faded quickly. "Actually no, I should've made them earlier."
His forehead wrinkled into an expression of concern.. "I hurt you." It was an accusation.
"No," she said, trying to think how to explain this in a way that would let him understand—and more importantly, not freak out.
Edward glanced pointedly at the freezer. "If you need to ice—"
"I always need to ice after sex when I'm pregnant, Edward," she rushed out. "It's normal for me." It was one of the effects of pregnancy that she'd learned to accept, one she had often wished Matt—and here she squirmed guiltily for the uncharitable thought—had been more sensitive to. Sex had been a pleasure they'd mutually enjoyed outside of pregnancy, but her husband had been a little tone-deaf to the increased discomfort that came with it and her changing body, or to her reluctant participation in latter trimesters. He'd always made her feel wanted that way, but sometimes she'd longed not to be quite so desired, at least not physically.
"That is not norm—"
"It's normal for me." The repetition was stern. The conversation was pulling up so many mixed feelings that she couldn't put a finger on them all: an unexpected resentment of Matt, and now a wordless anxiety with regard to Edward.
Focusing her eyes on him, she watched a storm of emotion brewing on his face. Trying to to interpret his reaction in his features, a mounting sense of misgiving and apprehension built in her own chest. If he thought he'd hurt her—
"Please don't leave because of this." The words bubbled out of her before she could stop them.
She lowered her gaze to the countertop, feeling vulnerable and exposed. Edward's arms folding themselves around her was a surprising comfort, as were his words.
"If I live another ten thousand years, I will never forgive myself for what my leaving did to you. And I will keep saying this as long as you need me to: I'm so sorry for leaving. I'm not leaving. I don't want to leave, and I don't think I even could. I want to be with you, Bella, in whatever way you'll have me."
The tears that sprung up tightened her throat as she wrapped her arms around him. "I love you so much, but I need you to stop freaking out every time I feel so much as uncomfortable."
"If it needs an ice pack, it's well beyond uncomfortable," he muttered into her hair.
The pendulum of emotions was running its full swing, and she half-laughed, half-cried into his shirt. She wondered what Edward would say if she told him that it hadn't bothered Matt. She decided against such a disclosure, hiding her unease in humour. "Oh, hello, Dr. Cullen, I didn't realize you would be making a housecall today."
"You shouldn't be hurting," he said, pulling back, his eyebrows drawn together in worry. Trust him to avoid her attempts to redirect him.
Bella closed her eyes, giving herself a moment to think. "Can we just chalk this up to 'not-covered-in-medical-school' and leave it at that?"
"How about we do that, and you talk to your midwife about it?" he countered.
She cocked her head, her tone nudging towards sarcasm. "You want to be there for that conversation?"
"Of course I do."
She'd expected a no, or at best, a reluctant, 'only if you want me to.'
Edward's finger brushed over her cheek. "If you're comfortable with my presence for that."
"Sometimes I think you really can read my thoughts."
She was rewarded with his beautiful grin. "I wish I could sometimes," he said. He tapped her nose, playfully. "Then again, sometimes your face says it all."
"And on that note," she sighed, "I'm going to bed." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly. He returned the gesture just as gently. Eyes closed, she leaned against him, relishing his very tangible love for her.
"You coming up?" she asked.
"Of course, but in a bit. I promised two children some fancy sandwiches for lunch."
Her smile blossomed. Making lunches was one of the first things Edward had taken on when they'd come back together. She didn't miss that chore at all. Nor did she think she could take it back, now that lunch meant things cut and arranged artfully into creatures real or imagined, castles, cars, princess dresses, or any other whim of the moment—some of which hadn't even been voiced out loud.
"You just might be spoiling them," she said as she walked away.
"It's in my job description," he called after her. "Wouldn't want to get fired."
Fat chance, Bella thought to herself, still smiling.
- 0 -
There were a few minutes left before second period began. Unexpectedly hungry, Bella had already eaten her apple during her first class, then powered through the last of the emergency almonds she kept stashed in her desk. Instead of attempting the long, crowded trek to the cafeteria, she had opted to buy a bag of chips from the nearby vending machine. It was the healthiest of the dubious options available. She'd nibbled through half of them, vaguely hoping they didn't trigger any heartburn. This in mind, she had just stood to stretch out her body, lifting her arms high over her head, when one of her junior students, Chelsea, walked into the room early.
"Geez Ms. H, you're gonna keep getting fatter if you eat like that."
She wasn't surprised by the bluntness of Chelsea's remark, but she did struggle to hide her smirk, and ducked her head so that her hair hid most of her face. Unlike her peers, Chelsea could produce a whip-smart literary analysis on sight, but her brain-to-mouth filter had bowling ball-sized holes in it.
Oblivious to Bella's reaction and clearly concerned for either her teacher's health or her reputation, Chelsea continued. "People are gonna think you're pregnant or something."
"That's because I am pregnant, Chelsea," Bella said, sitting back down and taking another chip from the bag, fully in control of her features once again.
"Oh," Chelsea said, frowning. She looked at her desk as she spoke. "I think I'm supposed to say congratulations. Right?" Her hands gripped her binder nervously, like she really wasn't sure.
"Yes, and thank you," Bella said gently, beginning to wonder if there was something more to Chelsea's awkwardness than her age.
Then Chelsea launched into a series of detailed questions, many of which Bella deflected, some which she answered. A few required that she remind Chelsea that she was her teacher, and that it wasn't really appropriate to talk to a student about such personal things.
Chelsea "Humphed," at this last reminder, but settled back into her seat as Bella began writing up the agenda for the period on the board.
When the rest of the students had trickled in, Chelsea announced, loudly, to the room, "Hey, Ms. H is pregnant! Tell her congratulations."
The chalk snapped in half in her hand. Still facing the chalkboard, Bella gave a small prayer of thanks that she wasn't making eye contact with anyone, and kept writing. Up until now, she hadn't had such a prolonged interaction with Chelsea, who only really spoke up during formal discussion times in class. Was the girl just at an awkward age? Lacking a good role model? Or was it something . . . else? Several speculative diagnoses for Chelsea fluttered through her mind.
Lost between the babble of excited squeals in the room and her own thoughts, Bella almost didn't hear the person loudly clearing their throat at the door.
When she turned around, her expression molded back into teacherly neutrality, the chalk in her palm made a bone-like crack as it hit the floor.
There was a police officer standing in her doorway.
She reached back for the lip of the board, her breathing suddenly too quick, terrified of the bad news this man must surely be bringing.
He rapped on the door frame, signalling his request to enter. It was a gesture she'd seen used hundreds of times by other teachers and staff—that polite deference to a colleague's authority.
"Hi, Ms. Hamilton?" he asked.
Bella could only nod, all her words having been swallowed by the fear brewing in her gut. Visions of her children, broken and mangled, or of Charlie dead from some duty gone wrong filled her thoughts. The more recent memory of the officers in her living room, and their life-changing news about Matt returned too.
"I'm Constable Dhaliwal, the school's liaison officer. Can I borrow Perry for a bit?" he asked. It was hard to hear him over the now-pointed babble in the room.
"What?" she managed.
He stepped into the classroom, moving towards her. "Perry—can I borrow him?" He tilted his head towards the back of the room, where one Perry Sandhu slouched, trying to look invisible.
Her sense of relief was so profound, that she actually slumped back against the board.
"You okay?" the constable asked, louder than she would've liked.
"She's pregnant!" Chelsea supplied.
"Thank you, Chelsea," Bella said, mortified by the blush that flooded her cheeks.
The officer smirked a little. "Congrats." Then he lifted an eyebrow and eyed Chelsea, who picked up her book and buried her nose in it.
Bella tried to smile in thanks, but it was an awkward production, hampered by the tension in her jaw.
"So, Perry?" The officer asked again, looking towards the back of the room.
"Sure," Bella said. She wondered what Perry had done to warrant a visit from the school's police liaison officer, but mostly she was just glad that the students were looking at the constable and Perry, instead of her. As the man and boy left, she let a long breath out, and announced, "I think we'll start with silent reading today."
By the time the lunch bell was set to ring, Bella felt like she'd reassembled a smidgen of her dignity and some of her composure. She was trying to act as though she wasn't hoarding these precious commodities, when another body silhouetted itself in the doorway.
The drifting gazes of the students caught her attention before Edward did.
She could understand why they were staring. The last few phrases of her planned instructions disappeared momentarily, replaced by a garbled near-silence. She managed a quick, "The pages are on the board," before the bell sent the class flooding out of the room.
"Good Morning," Edward said, moving towards her and taking her hand.
"Morning yourself," she murmured, taking in his appearance. He'd dressed casually in chinos and a navy blue button down shirt. They did nothing to diminish his beauty or the spine-tingling effect he had on her or anyone else. He looked good enough to—
"Is he the guy who got you pregnant?" Chelsea piped up, standing in the doorway Edward had just vacated.
Bella closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself a moment to compose a reply that wouldn't get herself fired.
"Have a nice lunch, Chelsea," she said.
Chelsea remained, staring at them. Or just at Edward, Bella realized.
Curious, she followed Chelsea's gaze in time to see Edward turn to the girl and smile, baring his teeth the tiniest bit. It was effective. With a sharp intake of air, Chelsea scurried away.
"Really?" Bella asked him, as she listened to the retreating footsteps.
"Really," Edward murmured, kissing her. "Her thoughts were most inappropriate."
It was hard to collect her own thoughts after that, but she managed to scoop up some of the salient ones. "No scaring my students."
"Yes, Ms. Hamilton," he said demurely, affecting the tone of a chastised pupil. He nuzzled her ear in a manner that was completely unrepentant.
She had to stifle a thoroughly un-teacher-like response. God, was there anything the man couldn't make alluring?
"Lunch?" he suggested, nodding toward the clock on the wall.
They didn't have much time. She considered other ways they could spend their time. Not eating. Edward waited for her response, again with that secretive smile she saw occasionally. Finally, he seemed to take pity on her while she struggled with her obvious indecision.
"But perhaps you want to introduce me to your friend?" he asked, looking across the hall, still toying with her fingers.
She'd mentioned having him meet Grant, and now she sighed. "He's away today. Next time."
"I can come every day, if you want." Edward said, sounding much too eager about this idea.
"Ha! I'd get nothing done at work. And as much as I enjoy spending my days being all doe-eyed over you, I do have a job to do." She went to her desk, pulling out her purse. "But we should go. I'm actually hungry today."
When they walked into the parking lot, Edward tugged her towards an unfamiliar car. It was a sleek silver sedan whose very shape spoke of a quality and price that Bella imagined would make her cringe, if quantified.
"Is this new?" she asked.
"No," he said. "And I thought it would attract unwanted attention if I materialized without a vehicle."
She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Only you would think a car like this would not attract attention."
"It's just a car," he said matter-of-factly.
Bella eyed the unfamiliar logo. "Just a car," she muttered, sliding in once he'd opened the passenger side door. Glancing back, she noted two car seats. They smelled new. The brand was one that she had only read about in baby magazines on the table at the pediatrician's office—usually in ads featuring Hollywood moms.
"It's also our car," he said, catching her look.
"Uh—"
"Engaged, remember?" He brushed his hand over hers, before moving it back to the gear shift and reversing out of the parking stall.
Bella closed her mouth. They hadn't spent much time talking about what the practical implications of their engagement or their marriage would be.
Edward had, however, slid the car repair bill across the table at breakfast the previous day, pointing to where he'd written "paid" in his neat script. She'd blushed in chagrin, but when he'd lifted an eyebrow, she found herself nodding in resignation, unable to begrudge him. Any further conversation had been forestalled by a series of shrieking squawks from Josh, who had picked a fight with Meredith in the bathroom.
"Are you okay?" Edward asked now, interrupting her memory.
She smiled at him. "I love you. I'm just getting used to the idea of keeping you—and what that means." This was the truth, but she also still felt the bite of the stubborn worry that something might happen to separate them again.
He's not leaving again, she told herself. Not leaving.
"What is it?" he asked. His touch came and went between shifting gears, and then returned fully as he pulled over to park a few blocks way.
"Old ghosts," she said with a small smile, shaking her head. "They're hard to lose."
"Hmm," he said, watching her. She suspected he knew what was occupying her thoughts.
"Is here alright?" he lifted his chin towards the restaurant they had pulled up to. It was the mac and cheese shop Grant had taken her to in her first weeks at the school.
"Yes," she said, letting her smile have full play over her face. Her worry receded. She knew its absence might be temporary, but she determined that she would enjoy the respite for as long as she had it.
"So, are all your students as interesting as Chelsea?" Edward asked, once they'd settled at one of the small tables. He was wearing her favorite crooked smile—the one that could charm the pants off of . . . well, her, definitely.
"Thank goodness, no." She shook her head, trying to imagine what an entire class of Chelseas would look like.
"I'm not being disingenuous. She is interesting—or, at least her mind is. She actually reminded me a little of your mother."
"Really?" Bella asked, frowning, trying to connect the two.
"Mm-hm, just like Josh reminds me a little of your mother."
Bella blinked, linking these concepts, tilting her head. "You think that's where the Autism comes from? That it's genetic?"
"There's no doubt that it's genetic. Where it comes from—" He shrugged one shoulder. "It's hard to say. I didn't meet Matt or his family."
"Neither did I. He didn't have any to meet." She shifted in her seat. This felt like dangerous territory for a workday lunch. Her hormones were such a stew, she knew she could cry at the slightest provocation. Talking about Matt with Edward could be more than a slight provocation.
He'd already taken one of her hands in his. She recognized the love in the gesture when he took the other one too, a small, rueful smile on his face.
"I haven't told you much about him," she said softly.
"No, and you don't have to, if you don't want to."
"I know, but I think I should. His parents died in a car crash when he was pretty young. He was an only child." She paused, watching him. The horrific similarity to Matt's own ending was not lost on either of them.
Edward only nodded, encouraging her to continue. "His Aunt took him in for a time, but it was pretty short. She died of cancer, and then there was no other family, so he went into the foster system. It wasn't good. He was bounced around a lot, and he learned that there are some really crappy people in the world. He made a conscious choice not to be like them, and to make something of himself. So he did. He got to university on a sports scholarship."
"Football," Edward supplied.
"Yep." She wondered just how much Edward knew.
"How did you meet?" Edward asked.
Bella laughed. "My roommate set up a date for us."
"Hmm," Edward said.
"Hmm, what?" she asked.
"I wish I'd taken you out on more dates when you were younger."
"We had lots of dates then." They had. It had also been one of the most joyful yet emotionally-fraught parts of her life. She really didn't miss being her younger self.
"Hardly," Edward said, shaking his head. "You had some very rigid ideas about what I could and could not do for you. I seem to remember there being a rule about me spending no money on you. At all."
"I did make that rule," Bella admitted, feeling slightly uneasy now. She had an idea of where this conversation was going. She pushed the discomfort into an equally truthful observation. "I seem to remember someone else having their rigid ideas about other things, too."
Edward dipped his head in acknowledgment, but otherwise ignored her attempt to redirect the conversation. "If we're getting married, you know that means we're a joint financial entity." He spoke softly.
Yep. She'd been right. Joint financial entity. It sounded so . . . businesslike.
She sighed.
"But perhaps your views on that haven't changed since then?"
"I'm working on it," she said. It was true. But finding a way to look at their situation where there was any equity in this relational exchange . . . She sighed again. She knew she brought a great deal of need to the marriage.
Edward interrupted her unintended and negative spiral. "I never imagined being able to be a parent, Bella."
She glanced up at him, not realizing her gaze had slid downwards again. "I know. It's a lot to take on—"
"It's a gift I never ever dreamed of. I had no reason to think it would be possible."
A gift. She gave her head a shake. Yes, parenthood was a gift. Her children were what she treasured most, but it was so easy to be swallowed up by the world's very different narrative.
"I love you," Edward continued, his voice gentle. "Getting to be with you is already an indescribable happiness. Being able to be part of your family is even more so."
She believed him. The world hadn't taught her to expect his perspective, but she was beginning to sense by absence of boundary, the depths of his love. Her youth, and probably her human nature as well, had prevented her before from having even an inkling of the scale on which his commitment to her lived. Becoming a mother had dramatically changed her understanding of the nature of love. Only now could she perceive how infinite and all-encompassing it could be—that just when she reached what she thought were her emotional limits, she found herself pushing past them, stretched into new territory by each day's challenges and opportunities.
To love was a choice, and he was choosing her and her children. She'd already chosen for them, and for herself, and she knew now she would make that same choice over and over again if presented with the option.
Returning her thoughts to the present conversation, she hoped her tone made it clear she was was not dismissing Edward's preferences. "Matt and I talked about all our purchases," she said. "I'd like it if we did too."
"All your purchases? Even gifts?" He arched an eyebrow.
Trust him to push on this. "We did, actually. At least, we talked about rough estimations for cost. There are very few surprises in a marriage, Edward."
"I can live with few surprises, as long as there are some allowed." His grin was wide. If it were in his nature, she could have almost pictured him rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
So mature, and yet so boyish too.
He nodded towards her lunch. "Are you hungry?"
"I am. You're just distracting." She smiled as the conversation wound around easier and more mundane subjects, Edward clearly taking the lead in order to give her time to eat.
He had her back to school with five minutes to spare. Her senior classes were in the afternoon, and if past behaviour was any indicator, she expected to see a small group of eager students waiting to come in early.
They held hands as they walked slowly back from the car.
"Wait," Edward said with a smile, before they came to the corner.
"Why?"
"So I can kiss you properly. Unless you want an audience?"
Her chuckle was swallowed by his lips, and she sighed into the touch, his hands feathering over her cheeks. She was laughing by the time it finished. "Oh my God, how am I going to focus this afternoon?"
"Not well, if I did that correctly.," he said in a deadpan voice, still holding her hand as they came around the corner to the courtyard.
As expected, a few pupils slouched by the door, eyes widening when they caught sight of Edward. They exchanged furtive whispers with their neighbours.
"Nice work," Bella said. "The rumour mill will be running full-tilt about us by the afternoon."
He actually laughed out loud. "Oh, the rumour mill never really stopped on us," he said, tapping his temple.
"Well, you may as well walk me to the door and let them get a good look at you," she murmured, leading him in that direction.
Edward smiled and kept pace with her. "I'll take any excuse to have more time with you before these lucky people steal you away for the next few hours."
Bella had just unlocked the classroom door, when Edward's hand was at her waist. "You look really pale," he said too loudly. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
Bella looked back at him quizzically. "I'm—"
"Not well at all. You should take the afternoon off." His voice was insistent and much louder than usual. It was as if he wasn't speaking to her alone.
Then understanding clicked. "You're right," she said, clearing her throat. "I'm not. I'll just get my things—"
"I'll get them," Edward said, pulling on her arm, and keeping her from going further into the room. "You should sit down. What do you need?" He was already at her desk at the front.
Bella closed the door and faced him, but she stayed where she was. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, face somber, nostrils flaring. She had seen the expression before but couldn't quite place it in the urgency of the moment. "What do you need from your desk?"
She frowned. "The two red and blue folders and my work bag. I'll need to leave instructions for the substitute—"
"No. I'll call from the car." His voice was sharp. It frightened her.
She could've sworn she saw him slip a bright and colourful piece of paper from her desktop but his hands had moved so quickly that they were a blur.
He was back then, and pulling her with him out the door.
"Follow my lead," he instructed, putting his arm around her. Then he raised his voice to address the teenagers around them. "Ms. Hamilton's not feeling well. I'm taking her to see her midwife." His voice carried just the right amount of worry, coloured with a tinge of panic. No one would question a pregnant woman feeling ill.
She couldn't make out the content of the hurried whispers, but she knew the students had been convinced by Edward's performance, if not her own.
He walked at a slow pace until they were out of sight, and then hurried her to the car. She pressed a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling the painful twinge of ligaments as she moved a little too quickly. When Edward didn't even seem to notice her discomfort, she became truly worried.
"What's going on?" she asked, putting on her seatbelt.
He only shook his head, reversing and moving out of the lot at a criminal speed. When they were on a side street he pulled out his phone and dialed the school office, speaking quietly in his physician's tone, lying so effectively it took Bella's breath away. Then he made another call but she knew right away that it was to one of the Cullens. His words were barely a hum to her ears.
"Edward, what's going on?" she asked again, when he had ended the call. She was out of patience and even more alarmed.
His expression showed frustration but she knew instinctively it wasn't directed at her. "I'm not exactly sure, but I won't experiment with your safety."
"Edward," she growled. "I am not a piece of luggage to be collected and stowed. What the hell is going on?"
He put his hand on hers, turning his gaze to her as well. His inattention to the road unnerved her as always, despite his continued perfect driving. "Please let me make sure you and the children are safe. Then I'll explain." His look was pleading.
"Okay." She couldn't really argue with safety.
Much as she wanted to.
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infrignment intended.