I told myself I wouldn't rush this and post it before New Year's Eve, and well, it's NYE here now, so *shrug*
As we start the last day of 2020, arguably the most crappy year in recent history, I just want to take a second to thank each and every one of you. We've all got our reasons for why 2020 is the year of the poop emoji. We've all lost a lot this year, but I want to focus for a minute on what I've been grateful for this year.
I went through one of the hardest times in my life in June when my hubs and I had a miscarriage. It was heartbreaking, but it was on those long, awful days when I was stuck at home isolating because of my heart condition—the same one Lucas has in this story—and my husband still had to work twelve-hour shifts, that I was so grateful for all of you. It was your company and your support that got me through. I'd still write these stories even if I never posted them, but having y'all along for the ride makes it so much more rewarding. Your reviews and kind words and memes over in my Facebook group mean far more than you will ever know, particularly in the hard times. Particularly this year.
At the beginning of this year, none of us had any idea what we were in for.
But I'm so glad that I was 'in' this with each and every one of you. 2020 can do one, but I'll be eternally grateful if you all stick around.
Aaand now, enough of the mush. On with the story.
(and you're all totally right. E absolutely jumped the gun, but remember what I said at the beginning—flaws and all.)
Someone Else's Baby
April 7th 2021
"Hang on a second...you called her?"
Swallowing hard, Edward rubs his jaw and nods jerkily, watching Lucas and Sienna chasing Taylor and Madeline, two of the kids his sister-in-law babysits now that her own kids are all teens and need less of her time.
Rosalie sighs heavily, leaning back in her chair. She runs her hand over the head of the baby in her lap—Holly, Edward thinks her name is—and stares at him while a myriad of emotions cross her face. "Do you think that was the best thing to do?" she wonders.
Not even a little.
"God, Rose…" he exhales through his nose, shaking his head as tears burn his eyes. It's not the first time Edward has cried in the last couple of weeks and probably won't be the last, but, fuck, he can't keep doing this. "I don't know what the right thing to do is or was. No, that's not...I know I should have waited for the hospital to handle it, but I just...I was in shock. I can't believe that he's—"
Edward's jaw aches when he snaps it shut, teeth clicking together.
He was about to say 'that he's not mine.'
"He is yours, Edward," Rosalie says firmly, sitting the baby in the playpen beside her before scooting to the edge of her seat so she can squeeze Edward's knee. "Lukey is yours, Edward. This doesn't change that."
"Doesn't it?" he croaks, somehow plastering a smile on his face when Lucas catches up to Taylor and carefully tackles him to the ground before looking over at his dad and aunt to yell that they should get a picture of this. While his son laughs and Taylor giggles his head off on the grass as Sienna licks his face, black tail whipping, another crack appears in Edward's heart. "How could this not change things? I've spent all these years, twelve goddamn years, raising Luke and now...now I find out he might never have been mine to raise."
Rosalie doesn't know what to say to that. Truthfully, neither would Edward, in her position.
They sit in silence on the porch, listening to the trees swaying and creaking in the wind, Lucas playing with Taylor and Madeline until the doorbell rings and Rosalie leaves Edward to go answer it. As she walks away, the baby starts to cry in the pen. When Rosalie doesn't return after a minute or two, the baby getting increasingly upset, he can't bear the sound of her raspy cries any longer.
"It's okay, sweetheart," he breathes, swallowing his grief and confusion to smile at the baby as he scoops her out of the playpen. She stops crying immediately, a gummy smile replacing her sorrowful frown. "Oh, I see how it is," he chuckles, bouncing her a little as he tries to spot his sister-in-law through the window. "You just wanted some attention, huh?"
She babbles, chubby little hand grabbing at Edward's shirt, and he's launched back twelve years into the past.
.
"There's your daddy," Mrs. Angelos laughs, Lucas stretching out of her arms to get to Edward as he rushes through the door.
"Hi, pal. Did you miss me?"
"Ba ba ba!"
Edward chuckles, hugging his ten-month-old son to his chest as Mrs. Angelos beams and gathers Lucas's things. "How was he today?"
"Wonderful," she reassures him, motherly smile firmly in place as she drapes Lucas's diaper bag over Edward's shoulder and pats the baby's back. "He's a very calm baby, easy-going and affectionate. You're doing a beautiful job with him."
Stress slips from Edward's shoulders as he impulsively hugs Mrs. Angelos. He hadn't realized just how much he needed those words, that reassurance.
"Oh!"
"Sorry, I just…" Blowing out a big breath as he releases her, Edward rakes his free hand through his hair and snorts a laugh at Lucas's babbled "Ooh rah roo."
"Is that so, young man?" Mrs. Angelos says, stroking Lucas's soft brown hair.
"I'm so grateful for everything you're doing. I was nervous about leaving him to go back to work, but you've made the transition so easy and comfortable—for both of us. I appreciate it."
Mrs. Angelos blushes as she pats him on the shoulder and reminds him that she loves her job and she adores baby Lucas. "Now, get on out of here. That boy of yours is about ready for dinner, a bath, and then bed, I should imagine. We've had a busy day playing with the puppets."
"Oh, the puppets," Edward laughs, bouncing Lucas as he thanks Mrs. Angelos again before carrying his son out to the car. Once he's buckled in and chewing happily on a teething ring hanging from the car seat handle, Lucas is more than content for the duration of the drive home. He's all smiles when his dad pulls the entire seat out and carries it inside, juggling the bag of groceries he picked up en-route to Mrs. Angelos's house.
After dinner, Edward follows Mrs. Angelos's suggestion and gives his son a warm bubble bath, getting almost as wet as Lucas by the time he carries him back into his nursery wrapped in a fluffy blue towel, damp chocolate brown hair sticking up in all directions.
"You could take it easy on the splashing, you know?" he teases softly as he snaps the poppers on a soft onesie, smiling at the sleepy smile on Lucas's face as he waves his hands in the air and goes cross-eyed trying to follow them both. Shrugging off his t-shirt, Edward switches off the overhead light and pulls the cord on the nightstand lamp instead, bathing the nursery in a dreamy glow as he settles into the glider with Lucas and his last before-bed bottle.
"Ba ba ba," Lucas mumbles until the nipple is between his lips, his dark eyes slipping closed as he sucks contentedly and slowly pats Edward's bare chest, filling his chubby belly while his dad stares down at a face he loves more than any other. Edward can't help searching for those familiar little characteristics he always hoped he'd be able to pass onto a son.
His crooked smile, the emerald green of his eyes, and the straight nose passed down through generations of Cullens.
Lucas doesn't have his red-toned hair or his crooked smile, not yet anyway, but there's time, and Edward is only too happy to be patient.
"I love you, son," Edward whispers. "I can't wait to see who you turn out to be."
.
"Oh, hi, Mr. Cullen!"
Edward is yanked unceremoniously from his memory by a familiar, chirpy voice. Swallowing the emotion trying to claw up and out of his throat, he forces a smile for Lauren Mallory and belatedly realizes that he recognizes this baby from more than just the occasional glances he gets of her from his house across the street.
"This is your baby?"
Lauren smiles, reaching for Holly. "She sure is. How are you? It's been a long time."
On purpose, Edward thinks, edging away when Lauren stretches her free hand toward his bicep.
"I'm good, thank you." Cursing his mother for instilling good manners in him, he casually asks how she is before calling for Lucas and Sienna. Edward makes a mental note to buy his son that new PlayStation game he's been asking for when he lopes over and points out that they still need to go to the grocery store for dinner supplies, cutting short Lauren's lengthy spiel about wanting to get out and socialize more.
"I'm sorry, Lauren," Edward says, trying to temper his grin as he squeezes Lucas's shoulder in thanks. "I've got to get this one home and fed. We'll catch up another time?"
Lauren's bright smile widens as she looks between Edward and Lucas, both edging toward the door. "Absolutely! You know, it's sort of uncanny how opposite you two—"
"Let me just grab Holly's things!" Rosalie interjects, but not quite in time.
Edward's brow is furrowed as he drives Lucas toward the store after dropping Sienna at home. Thoughts of just how different he and Lucas look swirl around his head, and he's left wondering how he could have missed it all these years.
There isn't even a hint of Edward's genes in Lucas—not his copper hair, green eyes, crooked smile, or height.
On the contrary, Lucas has rich brown hair the color of velvety dark chocolate, brown eyes Edward always assumed he'd inherited from Angela, and a perfect smile. While Edward had been forced to wear braces to achieve such a straight grin, Lucas missed out on that particular misery and instead finds himself falling short of most of his classmates' height, a good few inches shorter than many other boys his age.
Until recently, until the day he spent hours at Forks Community Hospital trying to work out how his son could be such an anomaly, he'd never noticed those differences—or even considered the crazy possibility that his son could be…
Not his son at all, but someone else's.
~ oOo ~
"Time for bed, son."
"Da-ad," Lucas groans, tipping his head over the back of the couch in the den to aim upside-down, pleading brown eyes at Edward.
"No, it's a school night. You know the rules."
With only a softly whined "Oh, man," Lucas shuts down his game and scoops up his trash from the table, carrying it past his dad on the way to the kitchen. Edward watches him go from the doorway, stomach churning, the text he received at the grocery store stamped in his mind.
I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you. If it's convenient for you, I'd like to call later. I have questions, but I guess you do too. Please let me know what time works for you. Isabella Swan.
He'd responded after ten minutes to say that any time after eight would be fine, leaving off the explanation that eight o'clock is Lucas's bedtime.
Edward had taken a deep breath as he backspaced that last sentence, wondering if she would read between the lines anyway. After all, she has a twelve-year-old son, too.
A twelve-year-old son who might have inherited the characteristics Edward has unconsciously searched for in Lucas's face since the day he was born.
"Grandma and Grandpa are coming tomorrow, right?"
"Right," Edward murmurs distractedly, eyeing the clock.
Seven fifty-two.
"Are we picking them up from the airport?"
"I am, you'll be at school."
"Aw." Lucas's disappointment is forgotten when Edward reminds him that they're staying for two weeks, so he'll have plenty of time with them before they head back to Chicago, and then it will only be two months until it's their turn to fly out to Illinois for a vacation.
"Come on, off you go."
"Man, why are you in such a rush?"
"Man, why are you stalling?" Edward forces a chuckle, ruffling his son's hair, choking on a breath as he wonders if this woman, if Isabella Swan, has been ruffling red hair all these years. "Bed time."
Once he's sure Lucas is in bed, Edward strides back to the kitchen with confidence he doesn't really feel. His cell sits innocuously on the island, soon joined by a bottle of Heineken and Edward's hand as he anxiously drums the marble with his fingers. Watching condensation slide down the glass before pooling on the counter, Edward gathers his thoughts, bile rising up his throat as he recalls the moment the CEO of Forks Community Hospital looked up at him with horror written all over her face.
"It...it appears there might have been a terrible error."
The startling buzz of his cell dancing over the countertop pulls Edward from his memory before he gets to the part where he stood up so fast the chair legs bent and broke underneath him, Emmett's strong, quick grip the only thing that kept him upright.
Isabella Swan calling flashes on the screen.
Edward swallows, his sister-in-law's words popping back into his head. "Do you think that was the best thing to do?"
Honestly? He has no idea if calling this woman was the right thing to do. No idea if he's going to regret opening this can of twelve-year-old worms.
Except as he accepts the call and his eyes find the picture of him crouching beside Lucas's cake-covered highchair on his first birthday, he knows that he'll never forgive himself if he leaves this stone unturned.
If he doesn't find out whether his newborn baby boy was swapped with another one summer day a little over a decade ago.
"He-hello. Mrs. Swan?"
A few long seconds of nothing passes before Edward hears a soft sigh and a quiet "Get on with it," presumably not meant for his ears.
The woman's obvious nerves soften the edges of his, just a little.
"It's Miss Swan, actually."
"Miss Swan." Edward nods to himself. "My name is Edward—"
"Edward Cullen, I remember." She clears her throat. "I don't think I'll ever forget that call…"
Raking a hand through his hair, Edward concedes that he won't, either. "I'm sorry, I know it was out of the blue and probably wrong of me to contact you that way, but I...I couldn't not once I found out…"
"Found out, what, exactly?"
Edward almost bristles at her tone, then he remembers what he has to say, why he called her four days ago in the first place, and can't deny that he'd be acting much the same way if the situation were the other way around.
"That day, June 19th, 2008, when you had your son and I had mine, they were the only two boys born in Forks Hospital." Blowing out a breath through his nose, Edward drinks a few mouthfuls of beer for liquid courage, not sure he'll make it through the story without it. "At some point while both babies were in the nursery, it's possible they were mixed up by the nurses." His thoughts are fractured as he tries to put together an explanation that won't sound completely ridiculous. "I, uh, only found out about this being a possibility when we got some blood test results back last month. My son…he has a heart condition—"
When Isabella sucks in a big gasp, cutting him off, Edward feels his heart fall to his feet. The swell of doubt quickly swallows the thoughts of how insane this situation would have to be to be real as he licks his lips, his fist so tight on the countertop that his knuckles are white.
"You...you know, don't you?"
Isabella's voice is small and thick with tears when she starts to murmur down the phone, Edward's stomach twisting. "Oh, God. Is it...it's not always genetic, but it can be hereditary in some cases and I thought we'd missed the bullet when Mi—my son didn't have it, but...your son, does he have—"
"Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome," they finish together, and when the last word leaves their lips at the same time, Isabella isn't the only one crying.
For those of you who missed my post in my FB group, I have Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome. I was diagnosed at eighteen after multiple doctors had been telling me for years that I was just paranoid. Bella's experience with it will be modelled on my own, so if you have any questions at all, please feel free to ask them. It's one of those conditions that not many people seem to know a lot about, but being one of the most common causes of Sudden Adult Death Syndrome, it could definitely do with more people being aware.
And again, I just want to say how insanely grateful I am to have this platform and to be able to share these stories with you all. Please renew your memberships and stick around for another year. Hopefully 2021 will be a better one *fingers/toes crossed*
Stay safe xo