A/N for 2019-09-22: A note of thanks to The Lemonade Stand for their recommendation of this story. I will argue, until blue in the face, that the quality of this fic would be nowhere near what it is without the work of Eeyorefan12, who betas this thing like it's her full-time job.
Thank you all, also, for sharing your thoughts on this story in your reviews. It really is wonderful to see this story from the perspective of so many other eyes and minds. The more I write, the more I am convinced that good writing is rarely a solo-effort, and requires the input of many readers and editors.
I tinkered with things after my beta was done her final read through, so all errors are my own.
Cheers,
~ Erin
Edward was relieved to find Bella still asleep upon his return to the Cullen home, but with the children fully engrossed in activities with Alice and his brothers, and Rosalie affectionately but firmly telling him to stop hovering, he decided to make himself useful in another way.
Since they didn't have exactly what he needed for Bella, Edward was making do with what would be a fairly good approximation. After folding several strips of gauze into layered rectangles, he seasoned them with witch hazel and aloe. The result of his work sat on a clean tray on the kitchen island.
Emmett wasn't the loudest thinker in the house, but as with any of his family members, Edward recognized the tenor of his larger brother's thoughts as they moved in his direction. While Emmett didn't verbally query or comment on what Edward was doing as he entered the kitchen, he did let his thoughts colourfully wander and wonder. When they clicked into understanding—putting together the sounds from Edward's bedroom—and the realization that a human might need some careful handling, Edward's hard-won, but still-tenuous control momentarily fractured.
He had Emmett on the floor in a tight headlock, a menacing snarl curling from his throat.
Wisely, Emmett did not resist, putting his hands up in surrender.
"Edward," Carlisle called from the doorway. His voice was soft, but full of worried warning.
Edward released Emmett immediately with a mortified, "Sorry." He gave his brother a hand up, not able to even meet his eyes. So much for Jasper's advice not to overreact, he thought ruefully.
Emmett shrugged off the apology. The gesture belied the sober and completely un-Emmett-like tone of his thoughts. The entire family was similarly subdued, all of them keenly aware of what Victoria's vengeance had cost. The constant buzz of their thinking was partly what had driven Edward out into the woods before. The fact that little of it had changed since his return a few minutes ago left him uncomfortably on edge but still determined to ignore it as well as he could. He knew they were doing their best and his talent, a better word for the ability he rarely considered a gift, made it nearly impossible for them to be private.
Turning away, Edward put the pan in the freezer. Then he suddenly found himself snorting out a reluctant laugh upon hearing Emmett's original reason for coming to the kitchen.
"The, uh, kids wanted popsicles." Emmett said as he watched Edward, silently adding, but not that kind. Right?
His lips still twisted with begrudging humour, Edward reached into the freezer and pulled out two of the fruit-only popsicles Esme had bought, handing them to Emmett, who nodded his thanks and left.
Carlisle hadn't said anything else, either aloud or in his mind. He waited for Emmett to leave before making his thoughts clear.
You're doing so well with her right now. With everything. An image of Jasper's face briefly flickered in his thoughts. Edward knew it was Carlisle's way of telling him he'd been filled in on the afternoon's events in the woods; He couldn't fault Jasper for going to his father. He would have done the same.
Edward shook his head, looking at Carlisle and frowning as he saw his own concerned expression through Carlisle's eyes.
You are. You love her. You're listening to her—to everyone. He tried to keep the, not like before, out of his mind.
Edward snorted bitterly. "Thank you for graciously minimizing my past errors—monumental as they were then."
Carlisle's mind was only full of compassion and encouragement. I'm proud of you, son. The strength you display—the control. No matter what came before or what mistakes that you made, you are more than making up for them.
"Still, I'm terrified, Carlisle," Edward admitted. He let his hand curl around the edge of the granite counter, immediately realizing there was too much force in his grip and releasing it slowly. "I don't think Bella will do anything reckless now, not while she's pregnant, but . . ."
"I understand," Carlisle said. He didn't need to hear the statement finished.
Neither of them did.
Memories of the bloody and violent scene at the ballet studio flickered through Carlisle's mind.
"Exactly," Edward agreed.
"We will find Victoria, eventually." There was conviction in both Carlisle's words and thoughts. "Your brothers are going out in a few minutes to look for clues about Bella's friend. Perhaps, if we can locate him . . . " His voice trailed off, but his thoughts continued. He wanted to find Grant and offer him guidance in their lifestyle.
It was a good idea, and Edward wanted to be hopeful, especially for Bella's sake. "But Alice can't see Victoria right now." They all knew this, but it bore repeating.
"For now, yes," Carlisle agreed. Then he lifted his gaze. "But when she can, and we find Victoria, she needs to be destroyed."
The pronouncement was startling, coming from Carlisle's lips. Given his father's past tendency toward pacifism, Edward supposed his plan still needed audible utterance—his commitment in more than thought.
There was relief too, hearing Carlisle's words because, while he craved his sire's good opinion of him above all others, Edward knew he himself would be unyielding on this point. Victoria had to die...and he wanted to be the one to tear her limb from limb and set her ablaze.
Carlisle went on. "Given how brazen she's been, she's very likely to make an error soon. We'll have our opportunity then."
While Edward acknowledged the probable truth in the words, he felt no sense of ease. "If it happens before Bella reaches her breaking point, yes."
Carlisle looked at the floor, dusting away a speck with a sweep of his foot. "Bella's a mother, Edward. And while I think you have an inkling of what that means, I don't think you can understand it completely. She may want to, or even speak of giving herself up to Victoria in order to spare other lives, but it is her own children she will protect first. And that will mean keeping herself alive and well, certainly for the sake of her youngest, and for a considerable time after she gives birth. We will find Victoria long before then."
Edward's gaze flicked to his father's face. He might be able to read the contents of minds, but their emotional gravity was often another thing entirely. He hoped Carlisle was right.
As on cue, a set of little thoughts entered his consciousness as tiny feet smacked along the hardwood towards him.
"Man!" Josh called.
"Hi Josh," he said, crouching down to greet Bella's son. Sometimes there were hugs. Sometimes there weren't. Today there were none.
Josh waved a sticky hand at him. He waved back. Carlisle smiled at the scene and slipped quietly out of the room.
"Yes, that does look yummy," he agreed as Josh took another suck of his bright red popsicle.
"Mama?" Josh asked.
"She's sleeping right now," Edward explained.
Josh bounced on his feet, thoughts becoming agitated.
"No, no, we can go see her if you want, but we should be quiet."
Lifting his hands up hopefully, Josh smiled when Edward picked him up and stuck him on his shoulders. "Bear hunt, or Mama hunt?"
"Mama!" Josh squeaked, bouncing his bum on Edward's shoulders.
"We're going on a mama-hunt!" Edward chanted. Josh copied his intonation exactly with a series of "Uh-uh-uh-uh's", keeping time with little bounces. Marching out the front door, Edward carried Josh around the yard, holding his tiny ankles in his hands and making up new lines to the song. Bella had been asleep for a few hours, according to Rose. Still, he hated to wake her, so he strung out the song as long as he could. Josh was still young enough that his attention could be redirected for a time. When they came across a particularly wide and soft patch of moss at the edge of the yard, Edward set Josh down and let him run his hands over it.
"Soft," Edward said. "Moss is soft."
"Soft," Josh repeated, burying his little fingers in the tiny green fronds. This occupied his attention for a few minutes.
Edward cocked his head, listening to Josh's thoughts. He could hear him reaching for a memory. Ah, there it was. He'd ridden on his father's shoulders too. The moss reminded him of his hair. But now he wasn't sure. He thought of Edward's hair, and it too felt soft. Both were varying shades of the same colour.
"That's right," Edward said, "that was your daddy you're thinking of." Josh looked up at him. "He had red hair. My hair is a little red too, but not as red as yours."
A little sigh escaped Josh's chest. "Man," he concluded, patting the moss. He'd determined that Edward's hair was nicer—softer.
Edward smiled.
Then he heard Bella roll over in bed and her heart rate pick up, sounds that told him her body was waking.
"Ready to go finish our mama-hunt?" he asked Josh.
"Mama!" Josh replied, standing and lifting his hands again. His popsicle dripped heavily in one hand, and Edward felt it ooze against his hair and neck as he jogged them back to the house. It was like fear—viscous and sticky, and like blood—or what he knew his blood would probably feel like to him, were he still human.
There were so many lives, and so much responsibility, and they were all his. And he wasn't sure he could keep them all safe—in addition to protecting everyone else who was important to Bella and her family. Still, he felt a swell of gratitude and affection for his own family members, every one of whom had made it clear he was not in this alone. He allowed himself a glimmer of hope at this thought, wanting to nourish whatever positive feelings he could in the midst of the current darkness.
- 0 -
They had spent the night at the Cullens' house, but returned to Bella's in the morning so they could keep the children on a semblance of their regular schedule. Bella called in a substitute for that school day, and then the next. On Wednesday evening, Edward watched as she picked up her phone and then put it down once, twice, three times, before finally huffing out a frustrated sigh.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I'm afraid—and I can't say I like being a coward." She didn't look at him, instead still staring at her phone on the coffee table.
He almost chewed through his own cheek, keeping himself from telling her she wasn't. Gentle suggestions, he reminded himself. "And why do you think you're being a coward?"
She smiled a little, and he might have called the sound she made a laugh, were it not so bitter. She rubbed her face in her hands. "I'm hiding, Edward. I've barely left the house, and I can't even bring myself to go to work."
He abandoned all subtlety, pulling her close. "It's been a difficult week and...we all need time to regroup. You're not a coward, and you're not hiding."
"No, just not going to work, and avoiding interacting with the world. Cowering at home. All signs of a fearless soul."
"Bella," he breathed into her hair. "Your children haven't so much as registered a difference in your behaviour, and you haven't gone to work because you need to make good on the story you gave them."
She snorted.
He pulled back so he could see her face. "It isn't that much of a story, either."
She shook her head dismissively. "I'm fine."
This was harder to tolerate. She wasn't. He'd heard the uneven whoosh of her blood brimming and receding. Carlisle had too, but kept his thoughts to himself. His father's circumspectness had been reminder enough for Edward to give Bella space. She had already made clear the lines she wanted kept between family and medical care.
"You're not, and . . . " He made himself stop, briefly considering letting it go. He decided against it. She needed to understand just how serious it was. "You are being reckless with your health, and your baby's."
Her pupils dilated, nose flaring. He knew the signs of her anger. He watched it recede just as quickly as she eyed him shrewdly. "How?" There was an edge to her voice, but he suspected she'd listen.
He gave her the least information he could. Better to give less, and let her ask for more. "You need your blood pressure checked."
Her expression was skeptical. Please, he thought. Please just—
"Just my blood pressure?"
"To start. I'm sure your midwife will want to do more."
Her shoulders relaxed a little, and then a lot, like she was letting something go. "Okay." She looked at him, teeth digging into her lip. "I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark here and say that you probably want to do that right now."
Hardly daring to hope for an easy victory on this, he nodded.
"Okay."
He was gone and back with the medical kit from the kitchen in seconds. Bella rolled her eyes, but was smiling when she did so.
Like he suspected, her blood pressure was far too high. When he told her, she asked, "And that means?"
It meant she was stressed, and that her body was stressed, and that was not good for her, or for her baby. It could also mean the start of pre-eclampsia, but he wasn't going to rattle her with the more terrifying what-ifs.
"It means you need to rest, and relax."
She barked out another bitter laugh. "I have been doing nothing but."
"I would hardly call worrying like you have restful, or relaxing."
He watched her forehead pinch with anxiety and could almost imagine what was going through her head. Since he'd had no personal connection to Grant, he had no reason to mourn what he'd become, except for how it would affect Bella. He knew it could not be easy for her to accept what had happened to the man, especially knowing why Grant had been singled out. Adding that misplaced guilt to her already frayed nerves was likely the reason they were having this conversation. Still, he wished he knew how to make her understand the danger she faced if he could not convince her to rest more.
A set of deliberately audible steps announced Esme's arrival. She gave them both an apologetic smile. The Cullens had suggested they start stopping by more overtly to play with the children and be helpful. They'd tried to play it off as purely social for the children's sake. Josh and Mer had accepted the pretense. Bella had not. Each arrival made fresh lines of worry cross Bella's face. He could see her wondering if his family was there to defend or help. His reassurances did little to lessen her concern.
"You've been requested," Esme said. "Mr. Man." Now her smile was wider. Her mind was full of a deep and wordless joy for the relationship she saw blossoming between Josh and Edward.
Edward looked to Bella, who smirked at him. "Up for recitation three hundred?" She teased.
He laughed. "Technically, we're at number eighty-four." Josh enjoyed books in spurts, and mostly, the same book read repeatedly. Edward had his few favourite stories memorized. The currently preferred tale was still Bunnycakes. He'd had to 'read' it to Josh eighteen times the previous night before his small charge fell asleep.
Josh wasn't interested in hearing any stories though; he was simply on the pleasant verge of sleep, and his mind only registered relief at seeing Edward. He wanted the simple comfort of his presence, reaching out a hand and touching Edward's as he came to sit on the bed.
It freed Edward to listen to the conversation blossoming downstairs.
Esme was putting away the medical supplies.
"Playing doctor?" she quipped to Bella, who laughed.
"Well, yes, Esme, although I'm not sure I should admit it to my fiance's mother."
It was Esme's turn to laugh, and Edward smiled. Esme enjoyed this older version of Bella—one who could make and take jokes that would've made Emmett blush. Emmett still tried out his ribald humor occasionally, but his opportunities were limited. He knew better than to toss racy insinuations at Bella when Josh and Mer were around. He was looking at Edward when he claimed one resting bitch face in the house was enough.
"How are you feeling?" Esme asked.
"Oh, you know," Bella said. He could hear the rustle of her shrug as he watched it through Esme's eyes.
Edward sighed. Who did she think she was fooling? Herself?
"Pregnancies tend to get harder with each one."
"So I've heard," Bella said. She lifted her eyebrows at Esme.
"Women didn't have much choice in my time about how many children they had. The toll of multiple pregnancies . . . " Her voice trailed off as she recalled some of those startling and ugly memories.
Through his mother's thoughts, he could see Bella considering this. "Fortunately, this will be my last, and I can't say I'm sad about it." She shifted on the couch. Her hand went to the just-visible swelling at her abdomen.
Esme had sat down beside her, and now she held out a tentative hand. "May I?" she asked.
"Sure," Bella smiled. She had leaned into the cushions, head resting on the sofa back, eyes closed.
"Your little one is busy," Esme said.
Esme watched Bella's head snap up. "You can—right. Of course you can feel that."
Esme's smile was still bright and wide. "Not a lot, but I can definitely feel when they're active."
"They?" There was a note of alarm in her voice.
"Him or her. Just one," Esme said gently, pulling her hand away. She looked at Bella, and Edward was reassured by her thoughts. "And I'll second Edward's opinion. You're not hiding. You're protecting your family by taking care of yourself. I do wish you were less worried about work."
"Ha," Bella said weakly. "Teachers do it well."
"Mm," Esme empathized. "I know. I used to teach."
"You did? I didn't know that."
"It wasn't for long. It was, however, when I was pregnant."
"Ah," Bella said, her shoulders tensing in anticipation of a lecture. Et tu, Esme?
She needn't have worried. Edward grinned to himself, gently rubbing his fingers over Josh's. Josh gave a little yawn and rolled over in his bed, curling an arm around his stuffed pig.
"I enjoyed it," Esme went on. "You won't get any guff from me about working."
Edward watched Bella's shoulders relax as Esme continued. "At that time, they were so desperate for teachers that they let me stay on, even though I was pregnant. It just wasn't done at the time. It was hard leaving, when I finally needed to."
"How far along did you teach?" Bella leaned back into the cushions.
Edward admired his mother's tack. "Pretty late. Almost to my due date. It was another mother who finally gave me the nudge I needed. And help, too. There were a few families who lived close enough to the school to see me. Most children arrived on their own. She brought me some milk of magnesia." There was a flicker of memory, a blurry face, and the distinct shape of the amber bottle in a set of strong hands. "Which I really, really needed." Her hand went to her throat briefly, and Edward stiffened with momentary fear. The memory of a burning sensation similar to her days as a newborn passed, and with it, any possibility for the triggering of temptation. Esme's thoughts returned squarely to the present. "She told me it was time to know what it meant to take care of my own, and to let go of other people's children. She was very kind about it, but I'll be honest, I felt a bit rebuked. I understood what she meant, though. Ultimately, it's your own children you're responsible for."
And there it was. The same comprehension on Bella's face. Just a flicker, but it was there. She nodded slowly.
"That would be hard to hear."
"It was," Esme said.
Josh's hand was a warm and limp weight in his. Very gently, Edward set it on the bed, and slipped away, taking silent steps back to Bella.
Giving Esme a grateful look, he switched places with her, grasping a larger, and even warmer hand than the one he'd just been holding.
"Let's go see my midwife tomorrow," Bella said, sighing as she leaned in to him.
Exhaling in relief, he nodded, catching Esme's silent you're welcome as she left the room
- 0 -
"Your heart-rate is quite elevated," Anita said to Bella, "and your blood-pressure too." Her speculations as to why were varied, and only audible to Edward.
Edward watched Bella smile nervously. "A little," she said.
Anita busied herself with notes, giving herself time to think. She was trying to find a way to suggest what Edward had hoped she would.
Edward shifted in his seat, looking pointedly at the blood-pressure cuff and then at the midwife. The movement was enough. She glanced at him, nodding slightly. She understood his concerns, and he couldn't help feeling grateful that Bella had chosen a midwife who was so perceptive and informed.
Putting her pen down, Anita said, "There are only a few weeks to go in the school year, yes?"
"Mm-hmm ," Bella said, uncrossing her legs.
Anita patted the ottoman in front of her. She'd invited Bella to put her feet up earlier, and now Bella finally did so.
The midwife sighed a little. "I don't like these readings, Bella, and given your medical history, I'd recommend you take leave from work."
Bella's face flinched. Edward assumed she was feeling the frustration of his being proven right about his concerns yesterday. He kept his expression carefully neutral.
"I can't," Bella said.
"Oh, you can," Anita said. "But I understand that you don't want to."
"I have senior-level classes, and they have the provincial exam—"
"They have an exam. You have a baby growing inside of you. Someone else can teach them. No one else can grow your baby." Anita's voice combined her gentle yet firm nature in a way that Edward envied.
"You don't understand. It would be incredibly irresponsible for me to leave at this point in the year, having me—"
"Take leave to take care of your body and your baby?"
Bella looked accusingly at Edward. He raised his eyebrows and turned over his hands in gestures of innocence to make it clear Anita's conclusions were her own. The fact that they matched his was only a positive, in his view.
Sighing, Bella nodded an apology. He reached over and squeezed her hand.
Her voice trembled as she spoke. "I don't want to quit work right now. I feel like I'd be giving up on my students."
Edward wished this was the whole truth. He knew she also didn't want to change her life because of Victoria's threats and actions.
As far as they could tell, the human world didn't yet know of Grant Wilson's absence—or really, what was essentially a death, for all practical purposes. Nor could they tell anyone. It would simply raise too many questions. Each of the Cullens had studied the picture from Bella's desk, trying to puzzle out some clue to the location. Most of them had gone out on searches when possible, using a sweatshirt pilfered from Grant's classroom in their attempts to track his scent. The trail had gone impossibly and frustratingly cold.
Anita's face was sympathetic. "I don't think you're giving up on them, Bella, and I doubt very much they'd think that either. But you do need to rest and get these readings down. I'm concerned that if I ask you to just take a week, you'll spend it worrying about going back to work. I really do think it would be better to simply start your summer early. Surely there are worse fates than having a long summer break?
There were so many worse fates, Edward mused. So many.
Bella's, "Okay," was soft. Deflated. Defeated.
Edward squeezed her hand again, trying to reassure her that everything would be alright. He wanted everything to be alright. Jasper's words from a few days before were still with him. You have to believe, his brother had told him. Hope is a choice. Looking into the sweet brown eyes of the woman he loved, he decided in that moment it was a choice he could make.
- 0 -
Everyone at the school was understanding of her need to take leave. Despite his offer to do so for her, Bella refused to let Edward collect her things, saying she wanted to do it herself. Edward went quietly with her, unwilling to let her out of his sight.
"The job is yours to come back to, if you want it," the principal said, shaking her hand. "Or not, as you need." He glanced towards her midsection and smiled gently. "You've been a marvelous addition to the staff."
"Thank you," Bella said. Her smile was tinged with sadness. Every action seemed so coloured with emotion in the last few days.
The principal meant his praise, and Edward nodded and smiled cursorily at him. He wanted Bella to gather her things and leave. Just being in her classroom, and thus near Grant's, was sending her heart-rate skyrocketing.
He put the cardboard box they'd brought onto her desk, gratified when Bella's principal took the hint.
"But I won't keep you," Barry said, nodding in both their directions and turning to go.
Edward had her things packed in seconds.
"You ready?" he asked.
"Sure," Bella said. Her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper.
In the hall, she paused.
"You don't have to," Edward reminded her, knowing it was futile.
"I do." She went and knocked on what had been Grant's door. It was well after the end of school, but there was still a light on in the room.
A stranger opened it, wearing what Edward could tell was Grant's apron. "Yes?" the man asked, looking at them both. Edward could already sense his impatience even before hearing the thoughts confirming it.
"Oh," Bella said. "I was hoping to say goodbye to Grant."
"Yeah, well. I think everyone would like to know where he is." His tone made it clear he didn't think much of Bella's former colleague.
"He isn't sick?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
"I have no idea. I got called in with no notice. He didn't show up for work, and didn't phone in sick. Who knows? Pretty darn irresponsible, if you ask me."
"That's completely unlike him," Bella countered, anger creeping out at the edges of her voice. "I hope he's alright. If you see him, please tell him Bella came to say 'bye.'"
"Sure." The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.
Edward allowed this to bother him. He narrowed his eyes, and the man stepped back in sudden alarm, closing the door in their faces.
Bella glanced back at him, and he tried to look suitably chastened.
"It's okay. He was an ass," she said. "Can you teach me to do that?"
This made him smile. It was the first sign of real life in her he'd seen in days.
They walked towards the car, hands linked, Edward holding the box of her things under his arm. As he put it in the trunk, Bella looked back at the school.
"Edward?"
He turned back to her, smacking the trunk closed with a flick of his finger. "Yes?"
"Let's go home."
"Of course."
"No, I mean home—to Forks."
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyers owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.