A/N for 2019-11-03: A few of you will wonder about Edward's reference to the meadow in this chapter. There is an outtake that comes between chapter 37 and 38, in which Edward takes Bella and her children to visit the meadow. If you would like to read that part of the story in the near future, you simply need to make a donation to one of the Babies at the Border Charities and send in your receipt (deadline is November 24, 2019). You'll receive a hefty compilation of stories in early December which will include the 'missing' chapter.

~ Erin

It was Josh's shrieking that pulled her back up the final rungs of consciousness.

Edward's voice reached her next. "Mama's fine, see? She's waking up now."

Josh's panicked "Mama!" alternated with a more distressed, "Dada!" He repeated these two key words, the sound punching into her groggy mind.

The world was skewed. She was on her back, tilted to her left side, legs elevated on a stack of patio chair cushions.

"Hey," she tried, lifting a hand toward Josh.

"Mama!" he said, practically throwing himself on top of her.

"I'm okay," she murmured into his shaking form, but her eyes were locked on Edward's face, his concern not carefully concealed. She looked away from his burning gaze.

A few feet away, Charlie was kneeling with Meredith, his hand on her back, as he spoke softly with her, both their glances darting between each other and Bella.

Bella waved at them both, and saw Meredith's shoulders relax a little. Charlie stood up, lifting his chin towards a few party guests who'd ventured outside, signalling that they should stay inside for now.

"Mama needs to rest for a bit," Edward said to Josh, reaching for him.

"It's okay, let him stay," Bella said. Sam's revelations were a tidal wave, flowing over her. She sucked in a breath, holding in a sob.

Edward had told the wolves to say she was insane?

She closed her eyes, burying her face in Josh's hair. It was damp and smelled of cinnamon. His hands were sticky at her neck. The practical part of her mind speculated he was probably going to have a sugar meltdown at any moment. Probably sooner rather than later.

Now another scent reached her—Edward's. It had a sweetness too—spring alders, the resin of warm pine, and the spice of want all wrapped up together.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered, close enough that only she and Josh could hear.

Squeezing her eyes shut against the question, she sought refuge in Josh's curls, but her son, now assured of her well-being, pulled away. Then he was gone, energetic little feet making the paving stones sound hollow with his rapid steps.

She said nothing, keeping her eyes closed, focusing on her breathing. What did Edward expect from her? This was too much. He'd left, and he'd told them to say she was nuts. Hadn't he?

She felt his fingers lightly touch her shoulder but she shrugged them off as she heard him speak again. His voice was still a whisper but more urgent.

"Bella, do you trust me?"

She sucked in another sob but didn't otherwise respond. Trust him? He was asking if she trusted him? She felt lost in her own head, Sam's words playing on an endless loop there. He's the one who gave us the idea.

Hushed voices reached her—the kind that people used when they were arguing but didn't want people to hear. Something ugly was unfolding between Charlie and Sue.

But Edward's voice eclipsed theirs as he tried another tack. "Do you trust Sam?"

The new question slowed her repetitive thoughts.

Sam?

A memory smacked her in the face: Sam at the hospital, his features convincingly sad as he talked with Charlie and the doctors and nurses. They hadn't believed her. They'd believed Sam. Of course they'd believed Sam. She'd talked about werewolves and vampires and her dead friend—

"Do you trust Sam to tell you the truth about what I said to him?" Edward asked.

She risked opening her eyes to meet his.

Where was Sam? He'd been here, and then Edward had come—

"Do you?" There was urgency in his tone again. She could sense someone else approaching.

What had he asked her? Did she trust Sam?

When Sam had arrived at the hospital at Charlie's beckoning, she'd read in his features where she was in his grand set of priorities. His confirmation of the lie everyone wanted to believe wasn't a surprise—just another truth she hadn't wanted to face. She knew Sam would do anything to keep his tribe safe, and if it meant discarding an outsider's life—and heart—to do so, he would do it.

"No," she breathed out.

Edward's hand curled around hers, and his mouth opened again, but it was Charlie's voice that overrode Edward's.

"Bella, let's get you upstairs."

She knew the tone. It was full-on don't-mess-with-me Charlie Swan. The protective fatherly one.

"Dad, I'm—"

"I'm sure your doctor-fiancé here agrees." Charlie said, ignoring her protest and playing his trump card at the same time. "You give me a hand, Edward?"

"I've got her," Edward said, sliding his arms under her.

She started to push him away, not wanting to be further mortified by being carried up the stairs in the middle of this gathering. But Charlie was frowning and Edward's eyes pleaded with her, and she closed her mouth. They were anxious for her, and she wouldn't add to it. Everything was still so confusing and her head was buzzing. What was it they were talking about?

At the door to her former bedroom, Edward paused.

She imagined that he was crossing more than just a physical threshold.

Whatever initially prevented his passage passed, and he stepped into the room and carefully set her on the bed. His silence continued as he rolled and then stuffed a blanket under her feet to elevate them.

No one else had followed them, and Bella felt a bizarre sense of déjà vu, alone with Edward in her adolescent bedroom. There was an ocean of history between then and now, but the location stirred up waves of feeling from that time long past.

And she remembered again why they were up here.

"He said it was your idea," she said. "That you told the pack to say I was . . . that I was—"

"It's not true, Bella."

She nodded at his words, wondering at the sense of relief she felt when she heard them. It felt too easy, somehow. Was he telling her the truth? Or did she just want to believe him? There were just so many questions burning in her mind now that the fog had passed, and she searched his concerned face for the answers.

"Why did he say it? Any of it?" she asked softly.

Edward sat on the edge of the bed. "He's angry that we've returned."

This was the first she'd heard of this from Edward. "You knew that. Before today." It was not a question.

"Yes," he said.

"Why didn't you tell me that?"

To his credit, he held her gaze and didn't look away. "I didn't think you needed to hear it." It was hard to dismiss the sincerity in his tone.

"Why not?"

He actually pulled in a breath. "You already had too much on your plate. Your body is stressed. There was nothing that could be done . . ."

Her face flushed. "You promised you wouldn't keep things from me." He had promised and now it looked like he had gone back on it. She knew her tone was accusatory, and she meant it to be. Waiting for his apologetic response, she was startled to hear him blow out an exasperated breath instead.

"Do you want to know what everyone's thoughts are, Bella? Should I tell you when your Dad thinks your dress is too short or that Sue thinks your couch is an ugly color? How about the fact that your next-door-neighbor has a crush on the UPS driver or one of your co-workers doesn't think it's fair that you have a better parking spot?" Edward seemed to realize that he had raised his voice in frustration and he let out a sigh before continuing more quietly. "I did what I thought was right. I really didn't think it mattered. It wasn't like he'd made any plans—"

"He's angry that we're here. That involves me." She said this with less heat, recognizing that he had a point and that she needed to acknowledge it. It was easy to forget the fact that he could hear everything. She wondered, not for the first time, how difficult it must be to sort through it all . . . or ever have a moment's peace.

He closed his eyes briefly, frustration creasing his forehead. "I agree that it does now. There was no need to to distress you before. Now..." His voice trailed off.

Bella sighed softly. "What did he mean by what he said? Was any of it true?"

His lips pressed together tightly as he shook his head. "He twisted everything, and he did it deliberately. He sees Sue as a traitor for supporting Charlie in supporting us. He wants my family—us, gone."

She realized that Sam's resentment of the Cullens wasn't new information, but the depth to which the feeling ran was. She'd chalked up the hostility from him and the pack to their natures, but there was a whole new spin to it now. While Sam hadn't engaged in physical conflict, he was walking a fine line in the war of words he was stirring up. Suddenly, she was grateful that Edward could follow all of this.

"Charlie and Sue?" she asked.

"Your father's asked her to leave."

There was a spasm of pain in her chest for Charlie, and she closed her eyes. "Did she really know how to reach you? And what did Sam mean that he'd talked to you?"

Edward shook his head. "Sue didn't know about the contact information. Only Sam did. Carlisle left it in case they needed our help."

Bella tried to keep her expression steady, but this additional betrayal at Sam's hands made her features twist. He'd known. Sam had known how to reach the Cullens. But Charlie had asked him, she knew he had. When her illness was at its worst,her psychiatrists had asked Charlie to find Edward, or at least one of the Cullens so that they could help Bella confront what they considered her delusions. But Charlie had been unsuccessful, and she remembered his frustration when he told her doctors of his fruitless inquiries. And now he believed Sue had known and kept it from him . . . because of Sam.

She tried to remind herself that Sam was only trying to protect his people . . . but Sue was one of his people, and the sentiment rang hollow. How different might her life have been if Sam had shared the information? All of their lives?

"How are you feeling?" Edward asked, squeezing her hand. "Do you want me to keep talking about this?"

She nodded, swallowing back the tears.

"Carlisle left the contact information hidden inside a tribe member's hospital file. Sam asked Sue to get to the file, but she didn't know what was in it, just that it was important. Sam spoke to Carlisle very briefly, asking one question and saying that you'd not taken our leaving well. Then he hung up. Carlisle told me when I returned to them, but even he didn't know the extent of what you went through. Still, when I heard you were in distress, I came so close, I almost . . . " His voice trailed off as he shook his head.

"You almost what?" she asked.

"I almost came back to you."

"When?"

"Christmas, 2008."

She nodded, swallowing. She'd just met Matt then. "Why didn't you?"

"Alice saw the Volturi coming. When I decided to go to you—it made the outcome even worse than what you were going through."

"Worse, how?"

She was sure she actually heard him swallow. "They'd have killed you, and anyone else they thought might know about us. Your father, the pack and many other Quileutes, certainly."

Bella nodded, reminding herself that they were together now. She focused on his gentle grip on her hand. It helped.

"What's happening with my Dad and Sue?" She asked. It was safer to stay in the present—physically and mentally. She didn't want to dwell on the many supernatural dangers by which her life was bordered.

"She's leaving. Leah's taking her home and will stay with her."

Nodding, Bella thought of Sue and the place she'd had in Charlie's life for almost ten years. Then she thought of her father, and the pain in her heart doubled. "There must be something we can say to tell him Sam lied to make trouble. Charlie knows the Quileutes have always had a grudge against your family. Maybe Sue can—"

"She won't go against Sam, Bella. She'd see it as being disloyal to her tribe."

"But—"

"She'll stick to Sam's story until he tells her not to," Edward said. His voice was gentle, though his words were bitter.

"That's just wrong. There's no need—" Bella said, using her arms to push herself up.

"No, there isn't," Edward said softly, his hand on her shoulder exerting just enough force to keep her where she was. She got the message and allowed herself to lay back against the pillow. Edward's voice quieted and his body stilled just before a knock at the door made them both turn.

"Hey," Charlie said, pushing it open, carrying a glass of water and the plate of food Edward had abandoned. "I thought you might need this."

Bella wanted food like she wanted more stomach-turning revelations. She shook her head and Edward gave Charlie a polite, "Thank you," standing and taking the plate. When he sat back down by Bella, he spoke quietly, but still loudly enough that Charlie would hear, "I really do think you should eat something."

But Bella was looking at her father, who had that carefully-practiced expression on his face, the one that he'd worn so often at the hospital—the one that hid an abyss of grief.

She wanted to tell him everything—to scream it at the top of her lungs, to let him understand the utter folly he'd been party to. But, she knew that if she did, he'd only fall further into his despair, thinking she'd lost her grip on reality again.

She wanted him to have the woman he loved, even if she herself had mixed feelings about Sue. He deserved peace and happiness, and not the misery Sam seemed so keen to spread.

Edward's hand stroked hers, reminding her that both men were waiting for a response.

"Yeah, I probably should eat something," Bella mumbled.

Charlie nodded. "You got a minute, Edward?" he asked.

"Of course," Edward said, eyeing Bella as if to ask if she would 'behave' herself and stay on the bed.

She nodded, and Edward slipped outside the door with her father. Their conversation was held at a low murmur, but the small space let the sound travel easily enough.

"Did I hear Sam correctly?" Charlie asked Edward. "Did he really contact you when she was sick?"

The plate of food sat in her lap, untouched. Bella heard Edward blow out a breath . . . the human mannerism he'd just used with her, although she was sure it was just for show with Charlie.

"Yes, he did, but not in the way he made it sound. He phoned my father about a patient he'd treated. The only thing he said about Bella was that she had taken my leaving badly."

A foot scuffed across the floor. Probably Charlie's. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Charlie, I didn't know anything about Bella's illness then. I was away at medical school but Carlisle told me only what was said. And if I had any idea what she was truly going through, I would never have stayed away."

She supposed there was truth in that.

Charlie grunted. One of his multi-purpose sounds. Maybe an acknowledgement.

"Sam Uley doesn't seem to mean me, or my family well," Edward said softly.

"No, he doesn't," Charlie agreed.

"Or you," Edward pushed, gently. He was trying, Bella realized. For her sake as much as Charlie's.

This was met with a more thoughtful "Hmph."

Then, Charlie cleared his throat and mumbled a bit louder, "I'll be downstairs if you need anything." His shuffling footsteps faded down the creaking stairs, as Edward pushed Bella's door open, returning to lie next to her on the bed.

She closed her eyes and rolled toward him, entwining her arm with Edward's. "Thanks for trying out there. This isn't fair."

"No, it isn't," he agreed.

"Isn't there anything else we can do to make Charlie realize Sue's innocent in all this?"

Edward replied by sliding an arm under her, helping her sit up. He pressed the glass of water into her hand, and then held out the plate. It was not-so-subtle blackmail, and she got the message. Answers in exchange for eating something.

She took the water, sipping slowly, but shook her head at the food. The nausea was in full swing, and a pulsing ache made her forehead throb.

"Food will help," he reminded her. "And I will worry less. The same goes for Charlie, Meredith and Josh."

She picked up a strawberry and nibbled at it. Her taste buds found it acceptable, and she tackled more of what was on the plate. The creases in Edward's face lessened with each bite.

"I don't know if we can do much more to help Sue," Edward said. "Because if we do, we risk endangering the peace with Sam. And it is a fragile one at the moment. He hasn't liked that we've been here off and on, and we don't exactly have ready allies to call upon."

Bella's brow furrowed. "What about your cousins, the Denali's?"

Edward looked down again. "Things have been strained on that front."

"Why?"

"I think you remember Laurent?" Edward asked.

She hissed in a breath and shuddered. "Yes."

Edward's eyes narrowed at her response. "Why that reaction?"

She shivered again. Of course. He wouldn't have known. "He came here, and he found me—"

"What?" Edward's grip on her hand briefly tightened until he seemed to realize it and let his own hand became still as stone.

"I went looking for our meadow, and when I was there—"

"He came after you?" If she hadn't known better, she would've sworn Edward had become a block of granite. "He came after you," he said again. Then he moved suddenly to set the plate aside and pull her into his arms, breathing into her hair. "The wolves killed him because he found you."

"Yes," she managed, feeling crushed by his embrace but not wanting to tell him when he was clearly so upset. She could almost feel him vibrating with emotion. She was a little surprised to know he was aware of Laurent's destruction at the hands of the wolves. She knew she hadn't told him. Or had he just figured it out?

Then he loosened his arms slightly. "Why didn't you tell me this when we visited the meadow? You should have said something. I'm so sorry that happened . . . and that I wasn't there before."

Bella interrupted him by laying a hand over his before there was further self-recrimination on his part. "I didn't say anything, Edward, because you were there with us . . . no one else. I felt safe and I felt loved. I didn't want to let anything intrude on that."

With the edge of his hand, Edward traced a crescent moon down her cheek, as if assuring himself of her presence. Then he just nodded in acknowledgement.

As much as she hated breaking this quiet moment, Bella needed him to continue, "But how did you know what happened to him? And what does Laurent have to do with your cousins?"

Edward sighed and stared straight ahead at nothing. "One of our cousins—Irina—formed an attachment to Laurent. When Sam called, it was to tell Carlisle that they had killed him, and why—at least his version of it, which did not include that you . . . "

Bella watched Edward clearly struggle with some fierce emotion for a moment before he shook his head slowly and turned to face her. "When we left before, we told him that Laurent should be treated as a friend—like our cousins—because he'd adopted our lifestyle. Sam said he hadn't. Irina didn't believe Carlisle when he relayed the information, and claimed that Laurent would never go back to hurting humans. She said our family had more faith in a "pack of mutts", as she referred to them, than their own kind. And her family supports her . . . as one would expect."

"I see," Bella said. "So Sam—"

"Is not an ally we can afford to offend further. Even though I'd like to do more than that now that I know the full story." Edward muttered the second part almost to himself.

Bella buried her face in Edward's chest. "Oh, poor Charlie."

"I know. I'm so sorry," Edward said.

They sat quietly together for a few minutes, Bella with her head against Edward's chest while he kept one arm around her. A thought that had plagued Bella found room to surface. "Josh thought I was dead, didn't he?"

She could hear the reluctance in his voice. "Yes," he sighed.

"And Mer?"

He shook his head. "No, she was only worried, and not for very long."

"Okay," Bella breathed out, relieved. "They're fine, though, right now?"

"Yes."

She breathed out a sigh while she tried to identify the niggling idea that there was still something else she needed to say or do, Finally, it came to her.

"Edward?" She tilted her head up just enough to see the bottom of his perfect chin.

"Hmm?" His hand stroked her hair.

"I do."

Silence. He was waiting.

"You asked me something outside." she continued. "And I . . . I was confused and light-headed and I didn't answer you. But now I know what I should have said." She knew she was talking too fast but she had finally realized what she wanted—no, needed—to tell him and it was coming out in a rush. Did he even know what she was talking about?

His hand had stopped moving and still rested gently on her head but he was quiet. His chest was still and she could tell he wasn't breathing. Yes, he knew.

But he needed to hear the words from her. She started again a third time. "I guess I wasn't as sure as I should have been and I'm sorry, but I know now. I should have said yes, Edward. Because, I do trust you."

"Thank you." His words were so quiet, they were more exhale than whisper but she could sense the emotional release behind them. She felt him take in a breath but he said nothing more.

His arms tightened around her shoulders, and he resumed stroking her hair as she leaned against him. She knew several more minutes passed, but time had paused itself. Bella knew she'd given Edward a gift with her words, but the peace she felt here in his arms after her pronouncement made her feel just as blessed.

After a few more minutes of calm, Bella became more aware of all the people and responsibilities waiting for them downstairs. "We can't hide up here forever. I'm fine now."

Edward watched her, still holding her hand. She was bothered that his expression was more calculating than she wanted to see, but it occurred to her that maybe she wasn't being fair. Perhaps this wasn't a vampire thing at all . . . perhaps it was just a doctor thing. Did human doctors gauge their partners' health constantly? Was it Edward's fault that he could assess her body's condition without having to resort to stethoscopes and such?

"We should go downstairs," she said, trying again. "The kids— "

"They're fine." Edward's features relaxed as he said this and Bella made a sudden realization; what she had thought was a calculating expression focused only on her was simply Edward 'listening' to what was happening around them. She hoped he would think the embarrassed flush she felt on her cheeks was pregnancy-related. Of course, he'd been watching out for everyone and not just her.

"Charlie too?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yes. But we can go downstairs if you feel up to it."

Bella nodded. "I do." As he helped her stand, she remembered something else she wanted to ask him. "Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Does Charlie really think my dresses are too short?"

His smile was amused and he gave her a wink but she already knew it was all the response she was going to get. Then he took her hand, and they walked down the stairs together, knowing that any obstacles they faced would at least not be met alone.

A note from my Beta, Eeyorefan12:

When Erin asked me to beta this story, she tasked me with helping to assure plot continuity and honest character development. Toward both those ends, she has chosen to have her Bella and Edward narrate not only the events of their story but their own emotional journeys as well. I think her vision has come through really well, and I hope readers are able to see a true progression in the characters' attitudes and relationships. With that said, this chapter contains a lot more dialogue than most. Erin has made the choice to offer it to you all at once rather than parcel it out, but that does mean a lot of exposition comes in the form of dialogue and inner voice. If you guys are like me, you like to devour new story posts as soon as they hit your inbox. Still, to get the most out of the upcoming chapters, I hope readers took the extra time on this one. Sometimes a series of small realizations and discoveries are just as important as cliffhangers and grand epiphanies—although there will be plenty more of those, too! ;)

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.