Evening, all!

I'm as happy as can be! I actually spoke to my brother this afternoon! The surgeon did wonders and, if all is good, there shouldn't be any long-lasting problems. He'll have to take blood-thinning drugs for the rest of his life, but fingers crossed, he'll be okay.

Phew.

So many of you loved Isabella's strong will. She's got spirit, that's for sure.

Master Edward Cullen

I knew the day after we dined with my cousins that something was wrong.

I could not put my finger on it, but something felt off in my body, and I tried to hide it.

On the morn of my family and Isabella departing, all of them had mentioned that I looked tired, but I brushed off their comments. My attitude was blasé, and I said that I was just tired.

It was the truth.

The day before Isabella was due to go home, Ben had sent an urgent letter to me, and I was needed in work. I had ended up being there from seven that morn until late that night, and I still had work to do.

I bade everyone a goodbye and a safe journey, but I was loathed to not be in Isabella's company any longer.

I knew that she could not stay with me, and I could not return to the country with her at present, but she smiled her beautiful smile and kissed my hand as she talked about me coming home soon and Christmas.

Yes, she had accepted my invitation to come to ours for the festivities, and I could not have been happier.

After they had left, I took myself into my study to read over some papers, and that is when the pains started to set in. My back and head were worse than the rest of my body, and by early evening I took myself to bed and asked not to bed disturbed after I wrote a letter to Isabella.

I woke the following morning after a restless night to more pains and a high temperature, but I willed myself to rise from the bed and write another letter to Isabella. It was not much, but enough to tell her that I was thinking of her and that I hoped her, and Charles was well.

I would dread to think of Isabella falling ill to whatever I had and suffering.

By the following morn I could barely move in bed for the pains and heat radiating from me, and when I saw the rash that had appeared I feared the worst.

I finally relented and let my manservant send for my doctor, but I do not remember him calling.

…

I must have been delirious at some point during my sleep, because I swear I could hear Isabella and feel her touch.

My skin ached and itched, but when she was touching me — in my mind — I felt calm.

I could not explain it, but it was soothing even if it was just my mind playing tricks on me. I knew I had been in and out of sleep, but I thought of nothing, dreamt of nothing, but pleaded for everything.

I could handle the rash. I knew I could, but the pain in my head and back was excruciating. I found it hard to move, but worse to keep still.

My eyes stung, even though they were closed, and it felt like I was swallowing glass.

The only thing that calmed me was the scent of Isabella and her touch — if it really was her.

I did not know how long I was not myself, but when I heard the voices of Mother and Father mixed in with Isabella's I knew that I was not hearing things any longer.

They must have been here.

I knew that Mother would be here if she knew I was ill and Father would be right behind her of course, but what of Isabella?

Was she truly with me?

"Isa-," I wheezed out, and I instantly felt a cool cloth to my body.

"Shh, I am here, calm yourself." I heard her sweet voice drift over me, and I wished I had the energy to open my eyes.

…

"His chest and legs are worse than his face and neck, but we must keep up with trying to dry out the spots so that they scab." Isabella's sweet voice took over me again, but it pained me to hear her sounding so tired.

I felt stronger now, but even though the pain was receding, the fever was not, and it caused me to ache further.

"How long will he be like this, doctor?" I heard my father's voice — it was strong but filled with worry.

"Ask his nurse. She has a better understanding of this than even I do," he replied, and then it was Isabella's sweet laugh that broke through my thoughts.

"Isa-bella," I said thickly. My throat and mouth felt so dry and itchy.

"Hello, sleepyhead. You have had us worried," her soft voice replied right by the side of my face.

"Missed-you," I gasped out quickly fearing my throat would rip.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked, and I nodded in reply.

Not a minute later I felt the rim of a cold glass or cup pressing against my lips, and I drank down the cool water eagerly.

"You need to keep your eyes closed for me. Can you do that, Edward? If you open them, you can cause whatever blisters are there to burst and your eyesight can be compromised." I heard the doctor talk this time and I was loathed to keep them close, but I nodded my head all the same.

"I'll still be here, Edward. I won't leave your side unless they drag me away." Isabella's sweet voice calmed me even more, and I must have drifted off to sleep again.

…

I did not know what day it was, or if it was even day or night, but as I let my eyes open just a touch, I was rewarded with a beautiful sight indeed.

Isabella was asleep; her body resting in the chair, but her head was placed by my hand on the bed, and her hand gripped mine.

I turned my head ever so slowly, because it was still full of pain, and saw that my parents were also asleep in chairs by the small fire.

I let my fingers squeeze Isabella's a small amount to try and wake her up, and I was lucky enough to rouse her easily.

"Good morning, Edward, how are you feeling?" she asked sweetly, even though she looked beyond exhausted.

"I wish I . . . could say that I was feeling . . . well," I whispered. My voice was a stranger to me.

"Another drink?" she asked, and then helped me to sip more water from a glass.

"You have given us all a fright, Edward, and I hope you have no plans to do it again anytime soon," she tried to joke, but I could sense the fear in her.

"I promise that I will not," I whispered.

Soon after, I fell asleep again.

…

"She has been an angel, Edward. A true angel and she has not left your side unless she was forced to," Father said while I was propped up ever so slightly in bed.

I had asked Isabella to leave the room earlier, and I felt horrid, especially after everything she had done for me.

It was now the tenth of December, and I had seen my body for the first time since I became ill.

I was horrified with it all and I did not want Isabella to see me like this, even though rationally, I knew that she already had.

My body was littered with spots — huge ones, that were filled with infection.

I felt sick just to look at them, and I feared that Isabella would hate me for the sight of it all.

"I feel so bad to snap at her the way I did," I replied, my tone sheepish and full of hate for myself at the same time.

"No doubt you do, but do not worry. She will be back soon and will put you in your place, no doubt," Father chuckled and then reached for a glass of water again.

I was sick and tired of water, and that horrible drink that Isabella was forcing me to endure, but everyone agreed that it had helped me heal faster than what the doctor would have given me.

"Is she very mad with me?" I asked with a wince trying to sit up a little more to drink.

"No, not at all, but she is very tired, and of course very worried about you," Father replied, and I had to force myself to stay in the bed and not go looking for her.

"Would you ask her to come and see me?" I asked and was pleased when he agreed.

Ten minutes later I had the covers adjusted about myself properly, and when the knock came on the door, I was quick to call her in.

She walked in looking terribly worn and tired, but the small smile playing on her lips had me smiling also.

"Isabella, I am so sorry, so very sorry indeed. Will you ever forgive me?" I asked with passion while I held my hand out to her.

When I had awoken properly at first, I feared to let her touch me, but she laughed and explained that she was not able to catch the disease because she milked cows.

I was confused, and it took the doctor to explain that living with livestock and such had helped her treat me. Not only that, but because Father and Mother had spent so much time with her at the farm, they only developed a slight fever over the course of my illness and showed no further signs of it.

It was a miracle.

Isabella was my miracle.

"There is nothing to forgive, Edward," she replied taking up my hand in hers.

"That is not the point. I was harsh and I should not have been." I felt so bad.

"No matter. You are healing well, and after about ten days or so the spots will go, and you can come home in time for Christmas." She grinned widely.

Just the thought of being at my home with her, my family and Charles was enough to lighten my heart, but I needed more, more of her and Charles, more happiness. My children needed more, as did the other members of my family.

"I love you, Isabella. I need you to know that. I have spent days in this bed stuck here in my thoughts, and I cannot go another day without telling you," I said in a rush as my cheeks burned, and not because of the fever.

"I know. You have told me, and each time you have said it, you have said it with a stronger conviction. I was so scared when you said it the first time, scared that you were giving up, but the next time was stronger and the time after that stronger still." she whispered as we looked at each other deeply. "And I love you, too, Edward. Although I did not realize what I was feeling was love. It took a strong talking to by your mother to get me to see reason, but I do love you — more than I thought was possible," she replied thickly, and all I wanted to do was kiss her — but I could not.

Not yet.

But . . .

"Isabella, would you be able to find me some paper and a pen, please? I need to send a letter to someone."

Again, I took a few liberties with how easily Edward dealt with Smallpox. Smallpox was not easy to recover from.

Tomorrow Edward gets an amazing letter. You're going to love it!