I'm sharing a new chapter fairly quickly because the first was more of a tease, though this story isn't promised to be lengthy and some chapters will be shorter than other. I truly appreciate all the kind words and reviews. I am grateful to be back at it!

"Shh, it's okay, baby girl." Jiggling my arms as to soothe my crying daughter.

Her face only scrunched up more and turned a brilliant shade of red. I have fed her, burped her, changed her diaper, and rocked her but to no avail. It has been a month, and it's as if she misses the mother she never got a chance to meet.

She misses the heartbeat she felt for over nine months, the voice she listened to that read her stories. Bella read a nursery rhyme book out loud to her from the very first night she found out she was pregnant. I would cuddled her against me, rub her feet when they were swollen and sore, and feed her spoonful's of pistachio gelato.

I stopped pacing as the idea came to me, carrying my crying baby into the nursery and settling into the rocking chair once more. This time I picked up the book that lay discarded on the nightstand since the last time Bella had read from it.

"Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep and can't tell where to find them-" I spoke quietly, the screams turning into whimpers, little eyes shining with unshed tears, staring up at me with a fierce pout. "Leave them alone, and they'll come home, wagging their tails behind them." Her tears stopped, her little body shivering over the force of her now diminishing anger while my own tears began to fall. "Your mama loves you, little Bo." Kissing her forehead before reading onto the next rhyme.

Her brown eyes closed while I rocked and cried. I watched my daughter sleep, missing her mother more than I felt I could bear. Placing her gently in her crib, I crept to my own dark, lonely room, lying down on the cold bed. I grabbed Bella's pillow to me and breathed in her scent, noticing it was ever so slightly less prominent than it had been that morning, my own taking over. Turning on my back, I stared at the ceiling.

Dawn approached before I knew, filling the room with a new day's light, and creating more pain inside me. Waking to a new day without my wife and the joy she was always able to produce.

Mornings were Bella's favorite as much as they weren't mine. Each new day was open to something brilliant happening. For flowers to bloom and new people to meet, 250 new babies born every minute she would sing-song, forcing me to get out of bed in my groggy state.

Our daughter would not wake to her mother's cheerfulness; instead she would be greeted with my gloomy morning mood. I rubbed at my face, and climbed out of bed, scuffling my feet into the kitchen to start the coffee. I put a bottle in the warmer and walked into the nursery, trying to diminish my already grim outlook on my way, and stared down at the face that was already awake and focused on the mobile above her.

I remember when each woodland critter was created with Bella's painstakingly careful stitches, the sound of victory over the thrill she received when finishing one and showing it to me before attaching it to the wooden frame I had created for her. There were seven altogether- a squirrel, fox, deer, owl, bear, and raccoon with a tree that held leaves of every shade of green in the middle. I flicked one, Bo and I watched as the mobile spun slowly in a circle.

"It's a new day, baby girl." I murmured.

It was also the day we were going to say goodbye. I couldn't put it off any longer: I couldn't ignore the date that came faster than I thought possible. Everyone told me it would get easier with time, yet the last four weeks only grew harder.

Bella didn't want anything extravagant, didn't want to be told goodbye. She wanted to be remembered for who she was, the life she had lived, and the experiences she had. We didn't think it would happen as soon as it did, we always spoke about it with the idea of our children and grandchildren celebrating our life. Instead, it would be me, our daughter, her father, and my mother; and I wasn't exactly feeling celebratory.

I guess we don't always get what we want.

I can't recall a word that was said, her father and my mother both speaking while I silently accepted the urn filled with my wife's ashes in one hand, the other pushing the stroller holding our daughter back and forth to keep her from crying out over the stillness she seemed to despise.

Charlie was particularly quiet, keeping his words short and sweet, seemingly unable to make eye contact with me, or perhaps he was unwilling. He also avoided looking at Bo at all costs. A quick peek, comment on how big she has gotten, and was gone with a nod. He didn't ask to keep Bella's ashes, and I didn't think I would be able to give them up even if he had. I clung to them with a desperation that scared me, as if I was actually holding Bella in my arms.

How could someone so beautiful and caring be reduced to a pile of dust?

My mother lifted Bo out of the stroller, taking comfort in her small body cuddled against her chest. It took all my willpower not to complain and snatch my daughter back.

Share, Edward.

I swear it was as if you were beside me, whispering the words into my ear while watching with me as my mother rocked Bo in her arms and sang a quiet melody, only they could hear.

My mother followed us home, silently picking up the kitchen even though I knew she was itching to tsk at the mess she encountered. Bo fussed for her bottle, and my mother refused to let me take care of it, all but forcing me into bed.

"You have bags under your eyes, and you're pale as a ghost. When was the last time you ate?"

Her voice continued, and I relented to lay down if only to get away from the nagging. Carrying the urn with me, I went into the bedroom and laid down, aching as I listened to Bo fuss, wanting to go to her and make it all better… wanting her life to be perfect, feeling as if I needed to make up for her not having her mother with us.

I smashed my face into Bella's pillow again, once more realizing how little I could smell her, even less than this morning. I sat back up and grabbed the urn, laying them on her pillow. I curled myself around it, throwing the blanket over my head and slept solidly for the first time in over a month.

Much thanks to Fran who made my jumble of words much easier to read for you all!