A/N- I believe reading fiction is a great way to temporarily escape from stress. So, while we're in Bella and Edward's present alternate universe, we're going to pretend 2020 has been completely normal. There will be no mention of how much this year has sucked. You're welcome. ;-)

Chapter 35- Epilogue: End Of The Beginning

November 16, 2020 (Today)- Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan

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I am surrounded by a sea of people. A majority of them are relatively young, eighteen to twenty years old at most. From diverse skin tones to varying body shapes, each person is different in their own special way. Yet, one trait remains common to all. Every single one of them puts off a delicious aroma that would have any vampire's mouth filling with venom.

Of course, I would never do anything to jeopardize their lives. I'm pretty sure feeding from one of your own students' necks is frowned upon.

I lean one hand on the podium while discussing the beginning chapters of the literary masterpiece, Great Expectations. Most of the students pay close attention to what's being said. A few focus their concentration on their smart phones and laptops instead of the lecture, wrongly believing that I won't notice. Unfortunately, English Literature on this campus has acquired the reputation of being an "easy" course. And it is, if you're willing to study and have an attention span greater than that of a house fly. Encouraging frat boys and sorority sisters to at least try to comprehend a Victorian era novel comes as somewhat of a challenge. A good number of them only care about beer kegs, Friday night parties, and uploading a new selfie to Instagram multiple times per day. It would be wonderful if I could help at least one of them step away from the shallow, college partying stereotype. And if they happened to develop a deep appreciation of the classics, it would be like icing on the cake.

Oh well. I can always dream.

I take a quick peek at the clock and flick my eyes back to the people in front of myself. "Looks like that's it for today," I announce. "Next time we'll discuss how the social hierarchy in England affected Dickens' work. Also, please take note I'll be out of town for the next two days. So, if any of you have a question that can't wait until I get back, don't hesitate to email me. OK then. Enjoy the rest of your day."

As the students rise and file out of the room, I drift over to my desk and sit down. There's a large stack of papers waiting for me to peruse. I could do the job in my office, but I decide it's unnecessary. Thanks to my speed reading, it takes only a few seconds for me to look through each student's assignment and grade it appropriately. I'm on my fifth one when I hear approaching footsteps and a pounding heartbeat.

"Professor Cullen?"

At the sound of the name I'm currently going by, I glance up to find a young man standing near my desk. He boasts a wide nose, thick lips, and a set of dark, anxious eyes. Once our gazes cross, the boy's heart flutters faster in his chest.

"Yes?" I say to him.

He shifts his weight from one foot to another. "H-hi, Professor. I'm Jordan. I usually sit in the third row. You know...t-the one near the aisle? Um... Anyway, I have some questions I wanted to ask before you leave. Do you mind?"

I carefully set the paper I had been grading down and clasp my hands together. "Not at all. I have a few minutes free. Ask away."

Jordan visibly relaxes. "Thanks!" he chirps. He then takes it upon himself to sit on the edge of my desk. The enticing scent of his blood quickly fills my nostrils and scorches my throat. In response, I lean back as far away from him as I can without appearing rude. Although my record on feeding from humans may be spotless, it's always best to avoid getting too close to them for safety's sake.

"So, this book we're reading. Uh..." He trails off his thought, brows furrowing together.

"Great Expectations," I supply for him.

His expression brightens back up. "Yeah! That's it. I've read some of it, and it's great so far. But, I'm a little confused. The main character - Pip, right? - he's had a tough life and wants to better himself. I get that. But what's up with that crazy lady? I don't understand her at all. She's completely unrealistic. Nobody wears an old wedding dress for the rest of their life just because they had a boyfriend dump them once. And she's so random. I don't get why she's in the story. It's not like she does much of anything. It's like the guy who wrote the book needed to fill up some space and threw her in for the hell of it."

I smile politely, making sure to keep my intimidating teeth hidden from view. "That's Miss Havisham. She was jilted at the alter, which consequently led her down the path of eccentricity. Yes, her reaction may seem extreme, but not everyone responds well to traumatic events. And I wouldn't exactly call her 'random'. She's actually a very important character."

His eyes open wide, disbelief clearly evident. "For real?"

I nod in confirmation. "Certain aspects of the plot derives from things she set into place. The book wouldn't be the same without her. I'm sure you'll see what I mean once you read the rest of it."

"Huh. I never would have guessed that."

When he lapses into silence for too long, I arch my eyebrow in question. "Was that all you needed?"

A flicker of unease creeps back into his facial features. "No. There's more." He sucks in a deep breath before speaking again. "I w-want you to know that you're a great teacher. You've got this...thing about you that really inspires people. I have classes with a couple of other professors who - half of the time - I have no idea what they're trying to get across. Don't get me wrong. They're brilliant and all that. But, they talk like they're living computers. I would need Google translate to understand them. And there's never any personality to the lecture. It's usually just plain facts and figures to them. I've fallen asleep in Economics more than once because I was bored out of my mind. But in your class, it's different. You cut out all the bullcrap and talk like a normal person. And you're not afraid of explaining what you mean in detail. I've understood everything you've said during class so far. You even tell us trivia about the books and authors. It makes the course so much more interesting. So, thanks for what you're doing. This is officially my favorite class now."

During his speech, I almost forget that I need to blink occasionally. I've only been teaching professionally for a few months, so receiving positive endorsement this soon comes as somewhat of a surprise.

"Oh. Well...I'm honored, Jordan. Thank you very much. It means a lot to me to know that this class has been able to help you in some way."

The nervous strain around his eyes loosens. "You're welcome," he exhales cheerfully. Then, inexplicably, something strange happens. Like a flip of a switch, his friendly vibe vanishes without a trace. A simpering smile which I'm sure he believes to be popular with the ladies slides up his face. "There's something else I think you should know, too," he croons. "Not only are you the best professor on campus, you're also the most gorgeous one I've ever laid eyes on."

Uh-oh. I think I've spotted the beginnings of a pick-up line. Why don't I ever see these things coming sooner?

I sigh at the awkward predicament I've been put into. "Jordan..."

"Actually, you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen period," he goes on obliviously. "I can't stop thinking about you. You're like the whole package. And every time I come to your class, you blow me away a little more. So... I was wondering if we could get together sometime? Like, maybe we can grab a cup of coffee or something? I'd love for you to tell me more about that book."

My head shakes in the negative. "I'm sorry, but no."

His attempt at a seductive grin wavers. "Why not? I'm 18. That means I'm legal. And you're what? 25? 26? That's not much of an age difference."

My mouth purses briefly as I come up with a proper response. "Actually, I'm older than I look," I say eventually. And that's one hundred percent correct. I've been on this earth for 33 years - 22 years as a human, almost 11 as a vampire. Though, lucky me, I'll look like I'm in my early to mid-twenties for all of eternity. No wrinkles or cellulite will ever be in my future.

Jordan shrugs an indifferent shoulder. "It doesn't matter to me how old you are. You look great. We can still go out together. No one at the coffee house will care if you're a cougar."

My eyelids droop from mental exhaustion. "No, Jordan. We can't," I emphasize.

"How come? You got something against dating students?"

"I guess you could say that," I respond dryly. I rest my left elbow on the desk, lift up my hand, and spread my fingers wide apart so he can see each one clearly.

Jordan stares confusedly for several beats. Slowly, the light bulb of realization turns on. Evidently, he has spotted the glittering ring I've worn for the past fourteen years. "You're married?" he spits out.

"Yes." My hand flops back down to the desk.

He goes mute and bows his head. "Damn," he mutters, so low he probably assumes I can't hear. Then, unexpectedly, his face lifts back up with a glimmer of hope. "You sure you're not in one of those open type marriages?"

I give the side-eye, floored by the audacity of the question. "Definitely not."

"Oh. So you're like... monogamous?"

"Very."

His posture goes as limp as a rag doll's. "I should've known, I guess," he moans. "You're kind. Smart. Beautiful. Women like you are always in a relationship. Single guys around here don't stand a chance."

A sliver of sympathy wedges its way into my conscience. "I think you're being slightly pessimistic," I retort, using my best patient voice. "I'm sure there are plenty of single girls on campus willing to give you a chance. You just need to know where to look. For example, I happen to be aware of at least one person who seems interested in you."

His thumb jabs into the area above his heart. "Me?" he blurts. When I nod my head, he blinks rapidly several times. "Well...shit. Who is it?"

My lips curve into a small smile. "Sorry, but I don't think it would be fair to reveal that information without her consent. Although I will confirm it's one of the people who sits nearby you."

"In this class?"

"Um-hmm. I've noticed that she watches you more often than she does me. I'm surprised her grades haven't been affected yet."

Pure excitement alters his tone. "Is it the blonde? The one that always brings a frappuccino to class?"

It is.

I keep that thought to myself but my smile spreads wider. "If you take a good look around the next time we're in class, I'm sure you'll find out the answer for yourself."

Jordan snorts a laugh and stands up. "OK. I think I will. Thanks for talking to me, Professor. I really do appreciate it." He walks several paces away before abruptly stopping. Swiveling back around, a touch of shame haunts his eyes. "Uh, sorry about hitting on you."

I wave his concern away with my hand. "Don't worry about it. As long as it doesn't happen again, I'll forgive you." A smile is his only reply before he leaves the room.

Once he's gone, I go back to grading my students' work. I'm finished in a handful of minutes. I shove the stacks of paper into a small cardboard box, grab my briefcase, and carry them both outside. It's a cloudy day in Sault Ste Marie - perfect weather for a person placed in my unique position. On days when it's clear and sunny, I either have to stay late at work until it's almost completely dark, or cover myself in clothing from head to toe to keep my skin from lighting up like a rainbow. Apart from that, the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is a nice place to live. It offers plenty of beautiful countryside to hunt wild game. Plus, urban conveniences are never too far away. Best of all, none of the residents of the area became suspicious when a band of eight outrageously beautiful immortals decided to move here this past summer. So, I'd say this place is nearly perfect.

As I cross the university's campus, I admire its layout. It features quaint brick buildings surrounded by green, park-like areas. The atmosphere has a peaceful, unassuming air. This place is small in comparison to most other universities in the state. Its student body numbers below 2400. But I say that's an advantage. Students enrolled here have the opportunity to connect with one another on a more personal level. The campus feels more like an idyllic, small town where everyone greets you by name. Big campuses can't offer that kind of hospitality. On days when it isn't raining, students often gather outside in small groups to chat and study underneath the trees. A few of the sportier ones even toss a baseball or frisbee around.

However, today is no ordinary day.

The majority of the girls (and a few of the guys) are staring with mouths flopped open at a masculine figure sitting on a bench. The man wears a lightweight jacket and tan slacks, one leg balanced upon a knee. A pair of wire-frame glasses rests on the tip of his perfectly shaped nose. His messy hair blows in the autumn breeze, the bronze color complimenting the reddish shade of the maple tree he's sitting under. All this man is doing is reading a paperback book, yet a half of the population of the campus has dropped everything they were doing just to watch him in action.

I don't blame them one bit.

I slightly alter my course and head straight towards the man. There's no sense in trying to sneak up on him. I'm sure he's already well aware that I'm close by. He probably even sees me in multiple points of view thanks to all the people milling about around us. That's life with a mind-reader for you. It's very hard to surprise them.

When I'm less than twenty feet away, Edward's eyes meet mine. The color is like apple cider, a spicy yellow-brown. He doesn't make it a habit to meet me at work very often, but our plans for this afternoon are to get on the road as soon as possible. We have a very long trip ahead of us. Hence, his presence on campus today.

"Find a nice book to keep you occupied?" I ask him.

A hint of a smile dances upon Edward's lips. "Yes, it's very good. I happened to overhear someone talking about it earlier, so I decided to pick up a copy down at the campus bookstore. It came highly recommended." He holds up the book's cover.

It's Great Expectations.

I prop the cardboard box on my hip and smirk. Edward must have heard some of my lecture today. "Very funny, but you've already read that book - plus every other Dickens story that's been published. Many times," I point out.

"True, though it's been years since I last read this one. And you spoke so well of it, I thought I'd give it another go." Edward rises with easy grace from the bench and stuffs the paperback inside of his jacket's pocket. "Speaking of people who appear to have a newfound appreciation of literature thanks to you, I'd like to talk about that little 'admirer' of yours," he adds with a touch of sarcasm.

My eyes squint up at him suspiciously. I should have known he would have heard that particular conversation, too. "Why?"

"I think you should know that this Jordan fellow wasn't being completely honest with you today," he grumbles.

"In what way?"

He takes a step forward and relieves me of the burden of carrying the cardboard box, a habit he refuses to part with even though I can now easily lift parked cars with my pinkie finger. Once he tucks it underneath an arm, he frowns. "Remember how the boy posed a question to you regarding the book?"

I nod my head, bewildered where he could be going with this.

Edward's frown deepens further. "Well, he isn't quite as ignorant as he led you to believe. He has read Great Expectations almost as many times as I have."

My eyebrows rocket up to the top of my head. "Are you serious?"

"Completely. Quite the actor, isn't he? He knows that book inside and out. Yet, for some reason, he believed portraying himself as an uncultured moron would weaken your defenses and thereby persuade you into taking him under your wing. His hope was to go from student to lover rather quickly. In fact, he spent the last ten minutes of your lecture crafting that idiotic question just so he would have an excuse to speak with you."

I stand motionless upon receiving the news.

Seconds later, I laugh.

A lot.

Once I've settled down, Edward sends me a strange look. "How can you possibly find what he did funny? He lied to your face."

I grin as we walk, making sure to keep my voice too low for anyone to eavesdrop. "And every single day I lie to this entire university about being human. I'd say that makes us about even, don't you think?"

Edward humphs in retort. "No, it does not. You lie out of necessity. He lies because otherwise his true nature would be revealed to the world at large. That boy has the mind of a degenerate twice his age."

I roll my eyes at the exaggeration. "Oh please. Every single student here is a bundle of raging hormones. Jordan's no different than anybody else. He's just a kid with a harmless, unrequited crush. Besides, I already took care of it. So stop worrying."

"Harmless?" Edward repeats, arching his skeptic brow. "Are you unaware that for the past hour I overheard every sordid thought within his head? Jordan is no innocent lamb. He's a pervert in disguise, Bella. For heaven's sake, that 'harmless' boy viewed you as merely a sexual object during the entirety of your lecture. You were nothing more than a plaything to him. And I can assure you that watching my wife in the starring role of one fetish-filled fantasy after another was beyond disturbing."

My feet come to a halt, alarm bells ringing in my head. I look Edward straight in the eyes. "What fetish?"

His face crumbles into a dark scowl. "Let's just say he appears to be inordinately fascinated by the female urinary tract," he growls.

My nose wrinkles at the discovery. Good thing I squished that infatuation in the bud... I hope. "Yikes."

"Precisely," Edward enunciates through his teeth.

Without another word, we brush the incident aside and resume our leisurely stroll. The humans around us keep their distance, yet it's obvious our presence captivates them. Curious eyes follow our path. A few students I know give timid smiles as we pass. I nod my head in acknowledgement. Although they have gotten accustomed to having me as their professor, seeing two immortals together often triggers worry and discomfort within humans. It's only natural...

"Bella?" Edward calls out once we're halfway across campus.

I glance to the side. His narrowed gaze rests heavily on a certain brick building he should have absolutely no interest in. The Dining Hall.

"Hmm?" I say in question.

"It appears Jordan has decided to eat a late lunch," Edward begins, taking care to keep his facial features devoid of expression. "Before we leave, may I take a moment to slam his face into his mashed potatoes? Not enough to kill, of course. Only maim."

"No."

He heaves out a long-winded sigh. "Pity."

I elbow him in the ribs. "Since I kind of like my job, let's switch to a safer subject besides you assaulting my students. How about you explain why you're wearing eye glasses today. Are you thinking of pulling a Clark Kent while we're out in public? Sorry, but I don't think there are anymore telephone booths available for you to change into your spandex and cape, Superman."

This gets him to smile a little. "I'm far from a super hero. Apart from a few vampire abilities, all I can do is play the piano a little."

I shoot him a silent look of disbelief. Excuse me? Play the piano A LITTLE? He's got to be kidding. The way Edward plays would make Mozart envious. He composes music so soul-wrenching and beautiful, he literally won a Grammy for it. Sure, the composition was published years after he supposedly died, and Charlie had to step up to accept the award in his place. But, still, Edward Masen will forever be known as the man who wrote a piano solo dedicated to his wife minutes before she suffered a horrific accident. A month later, they were both gone. In reality, he wasn't able to finish the song until he was an immortal. It doesn't matter. He was the same man as before...only a little different physically.

That's what he does now. He composes music full time. Of course, he can't use his real name anymore. It wouldn't be advisable under the circumstances. He uses pseudonyms to suit the occasion. To the citizens of Sault Ste Marie, he is Edward Cullen - the independently wealthy and socially shy half-brother of Dr. Carlisle Cullen, and husband to Professor Isabella Cullen. However, even that name could one day bring us unwanted attention if he were to use it professionally. Internationally famous vampires rarely do well within the spotlight of the human world. Just ask Dracula. We prefer to stay under the radar as much as possible in order to protect our identities. That's why Edward goes by several more names whenever he offers new compositions to music publishers and record labels. My personal favorite is Tony Rush, to which the surname is a callback to one of Chicago's oldest streets. He uses that one exclusively for Jazz arrangements.

"Edward, I play the piano a little. Mary Had A Little Lamb is my one and only show stopper. I'd have to say you're slightly more advanced than I am," I counter acerbically. "But never mind that right now. Tell me about the glasses. Why are you wearing them?"

"Just experimenting. Alice got the idea to put me in eye glasses to see how much it would alter my appearance."

I nod as we walk. I'm no stranger to changing my style to keep people from commenting on my young age. While at work, I always wear my hair in a bun and use makeup to my advantage. I never wear any trendy clothes either. For me, it's always conservative cardigan sweaters, slacks, and business suits. "Ah. Now I understand."

"The household consensus was that it raised my possible age by around four years. Esme even said they made me appear more distinguished - though Emmett thought differently. He claimed I looked like a 'square' as he so aptly put it." He adjusts the frames slightly, wiggling them around on his nose. "What do you think?"

I stop and take a good, long look at Edward.

The glasses make you look like a sexy geek god, so much so that I want to take you down to the Computer Science building and test out your hard drive.

I nibble at my lip and suppress my naughty thoughts. It's a good thing he can't hear them, or else I would be permanently humiliated. "They're OK," I answer diplomatically.

"So, you wouldn't be upset if I were to wear them occasionally when we're out together?"

I give a nonchalant shrug of my shoulder. "Nope. I don't mind at all. Wear them whenever you want." Like - I don't know...tonight in bed?

When we reach the car, he folds the glasses up and places them into a shirt pocket. I try not to reveal my disappointment. The car's trunk pops open. Edward makes room for my cardboard box and briefcase by shoving two small suitcases to the side. My forehead lifts in a combination of surprise and confusion. Usually whenever Edward and I go on trips, a certain petite and overly energetic being stuffs half of our wardrobe into multiple suitcases. Bringing a single suitcase per person to the airport is unheard of in the Cullen house. I can come up with only one plausible explanation for this anomaly.

"Edward, did you pack our clothes?" I ask.

He flashes a lopsided smile in response. "No. Alice did it as usual - but with my supervision. It took two separate interventions for her to accept that formal wear would not be needed where we're going. I doubt the alligators I'll be hunting are going to complain that I'm not wearing a black tie and dinner jacket."

I giggle and lean my hip against the bumper. "You're not really going to try feeding from a gator, are you? I thought you were only joking about that."

"This is no joke. I am completely serious."

I blink by reflex, surprised by his answer. "But, Edward. They're nothing but teeth and scales. And they're cold blooded. Why would you want to feed from something like that?"

He squints his eyes for a short time, as though he's thinking of a way to explain himself. "Well... I see your point about alligators not being the most appealing visually, but I believe you're missing the big picture. They are predators. I suspect their blood will smell decent enough. They have to be more interesting than our normal fare. White-tailed deer are fine and dandy when you're starving, though the taste isn't anything to write home about. You should try it, too. A change in diet would be good for us both."

My mouth twists as I deliberate. "Hmm... I'll tell you what. If they smell better than a male moose, I'll give one a try."

Edward shuts the car's trunk and chuckles. "Love, nothing smells worse than a bull moose. And that includes your step brother."

"And I'll be sure to tell Seth you said that the next time we visit Forks," I smile playfully. "He'll be thrilled."

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I drive with a heavy foot towards the nearest major airport. We're in the air by nightfall. Thankfully the flight is uncrowded and largely uneventful. Even the annoyingly helpful flight attendant soon learns to stop hovering over us after we assure her for the dozenth that we aren't in need of any peanuts or pillows. The plane touches down under cover of darkness in a place normally known for its sunny skies and warm weather. We check into an unpretentious hotel with simple rooms. There's a bed, a TV, and a tiny bathroom. It's nothing special but it's fine for our needs. We stash our suitcases in the closet, shower the scent of our long flight down the drain, and try to make ourselves comfortable. Then we wait for morning to arrive.

Edward stretches out on the bed and resumes reading Great Expectations. It's clear that he's taking his time and absorbing every word. I snuggle up beside him and check emails from work. There's a few waiting for me, but my mind soon wanders away from the task. The date on the screen catches my eye and stands out from everything else.

November 16.

On this day eleven years ago, I nearly bled my life away on a residential street in Ithaca, New York. The doctors placed me into a hospital bed, hooked me up to machines to keep my body going, and gently told my family that the possibility of me waking up was not promising.

But a lot can happen in eleven years.

Carlisle's venomous bite brought me new life. I awoke to find Edward and myself changed and forever immortal. It was a miracle to go from the pits of darkness back into the land of the living. Although I was grateful, the Cullens quickly let me know that the first year as a newborn vampire is always the toughest. They were right. It's a shock to your system to go from weak human to almost a god-like creature. Our newly restricted freedom didn't help matters either. Edward and I were banned from visiting towns and cities until we could prove ourselves trustworthy around humans. The forests of Alaska may be beautiful and offers plenty of room to roam, but you get bored when there's nothing much to see except rocks and trees twenty-four hours a day. I was homesick for civilization. I wanted to stroll around a town and sightsee. I wanted to watch normal folks going about doing their errands. I even wanted to devote an entire day for clothes shopping - which is surely a sign of how desperate I was to leave that place.

Learning to control your blood lust isn't as easy as it sounds. All you want to do is soothe the burning of your throat with that sweet, hot liquid. You know instinctively only a mortal's blood could ever truly quench the thirst. Yet, mastering that skill was key to everything I wanted. I had to find a way to be around a human without putting them at risk. So, whenever I smelled their scent, I tried to remember that underneath the delicious aroma and tempting heartbeat was an average, ordinary person. And that person likely didn't want much out of life. A decent job. A place to live. A family to love. Were they any different from me on the inside? I thought not. Who was I to take their life just to satisfy my thirst for a few short hours? I knew if I were to hurt someone, I would never forgive myself. When I told this to Eleazar, he shook his head in wonder and asked Carlisle if he was sure I was only a newborn.

It wasn't so simple for Edward. The lingering scent of a human on an old trail nearly drove him up the wall that first time he took a whiff. But just like every other hardship, we faced it together. He fought against the torturous cravings and won. Months of hard work paid off when he built up the strength to be in a human's presence without losing command of himself. He says hearing their thoughts helps remind him that they aren't just walking blood banks to feed from. It must work because he hasn't even one blemish on his record.

One benefit to living in the wilds of Alaska was that the quiet surroundings were perfect for deep contemplation. I would often find myself sitting on the window sill of the small cabin we occupied, staring at the majestic backdrop surrounding us, and attempt to sort out my life. Going from human to vampire with no prior warning is a lot to take in. The new lifestyle doesn't come cheap. The joy of eating - Gone. The ability to sleep - Gone. Visiting old friends and acquaintances - Gone. In the beginning, I would think back on my mortal life and wonder if things could have gone differently. What if I hadn't been born naturally clumsy? What if I hadn't ended up tripping in front of a moving vehicle on that fateful day? Maybe I would have remained human, lived a long life, and died peacefully in my sleep at a ripe old age. It's possible. But focusing on the what-ifs in life is always a dangerous trap. Even Alice can't predict everything the future holds. Instead, I tried to remain optimistic and avoided the paths of self-pity. Just because I wasn't human anymore didn't mean I couldn't live a full and enriching life.

And I swore that was exactly what I would do.

After more than a year in Alaska, we moved to rural Vermont and the Cullens resumed normalcy. Carlisle found work at a hospital in Burlington. Esme spent her days renovating a Federal style mansion to its former glory. And Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, and Emmett enrolled in high school for the umpteenth time. When Emmett asked what grade I wanted to enter, I laughed in his face. I had better things to do than to spend my days dissecting frogs in Biology again, or pretending to eat disgusting cafeteria food. That stuff was nasty even when I was human.

So, once I felt ready, I returned to college instead.

My college experience wasn't quite the same as it was the first time I went. I enrolled at a local university and became the talk of the campus. Apparently the human students had never seen a pale-faced, animal blood drinking, golden-eyed girl before. It felt strange to be the center of attention, but I forced myself to ignore it. After all, I had too much work to do to worry about what a few college kids were whispering about. One bright side to my new college life was that studying was a breeze thanks to my photographic memory. All it took was one glance through a textbook and I could recall everything I read.

I picked up where I had left off and earned my Master's degree in around a year. The Ph.D. took almost five. Then, taking a page from Carlisle's playbook, I searched for a job. I already knew what I wanted to do career wise. I had discovered it for myself during that long year and a half in Denali. I wanted to teach. My reasoning was simple. Teaching benefits all of humankind - much like the work Carlisle does at the hospital. OK. So maybe it isn't exactly the same as performing a tracheotomy amid the hassle and bustle of an Emergency room. But it's still important.

Then there was my mom.

She became a kindergarten teacher when I was approximately eight years old. It was the perfect career for her. Her silliness and everlasting patience endeared her to the young students. I saw it whenever I visited her class. They raised eager hands when she would ask them questions. They listened in awe as she read from storybooks. They smiled after she praised their hard work. Some of her students had grown to adore her so much that even after they entered high school and beyond, they would return at least once a year to the kindergarten classroom just to visit her. It wasn't a surprise. She had instilled within their young hearts a love for learning that lasted for years to come.

And while I pondered over my future in Alaska, a part of me wondered if I could do the same.

I had my mother's heart-shaped face, her nose, and her chin. I believed it possible that I had also inherited her teaching skills. I knew firsthand how rewarding teaching could be. Back before the accident, I received a taste of it while as the head of my English Lit study group. So I combined my love of literature with my desire of helping others. And almost eleven years after my life was turned upside down, I became the world's only professor who doesn't need to take a breath during a lecture.

The gleaming morning sun rises in the east, its rays creeping inside of our hotel room. Edward and I shelter in place and avoid sparkling in the window. It isn't until the afternoon that layers of thick clouds roll in from the Atlantic and completely block out the sunlight. Fine, watery mist seeps down from above. The rain isn't drenching by any means, but it provides just enough of a reason to keep most humans locked inside of their homes.

It's exactly what we've been waiting for.

We leave the safety of our room and slip back into the rental car. The normal tourist traps of the city are passed by without comment as we head to the suburbs. Several miles later we reach a small community featuring a lovely view of the Saint Johns River. The houses in this town are mostly old family dwellings built during the baby boom era. Each property is attractive and meticulously maintained. A flowerbed here. A perfectly cut front lawn there. The houses are also well spaced apart from one another, offering plenty of privacy. Trees and shrubs take up residence between the dwellings and gives the community the illusion of being set within a tranquil forest.

Edward parks our rental amongst a crowd of cars at a grocery store and we leave on foot. Soon we catch sight of a cute two story house far ahead on a dead end road. The address is exactly what we are looking for. I glance at Edward and wait for a sign. His eyes are slightly squinting, letting me know he's focusing his concentration on the thoughts going on within the people of the neighborhood. After a short time, he meets my gaze. His head moves up and down.

No one has seen us. It's safe to move in closer.

We melt into the nearest forested area and sneak into the backyard of the two story house. Patio furniture sits empty on a painted deck. Outside toys are scattered around a sandbox. A blue children's playhouse sits underneath a giant live oak tree. The tree kind of reminds of the Keebler elves' house, it's gnarled branches hinting at its advanced age. In an eye blink, we race across the lawn and reach the base of the tree. We scurry up the trunk faster than squirrels. It may be autumn, but most of the leaves of this oak are still attached. The tree offers perfect cover. A limb near the very top has enough room for us both to sit comfortably. I ignore it and climb onto Edward's lap instead. He doesn't complain. His arm weaves around my waist and welcomes me in.

Around twenty minutes pass. I hear the sound of a car pulling into the garage. Metal doors squeak open. Three pairs of feet tromp out.

"Oh no, honey! Don't jump into the puddles! You'll ruin your shoes! Go put on your mud boots first if you want to play outside. OK?"

I slam my eyes shut. That voice. It hasn't changed at all since I last heard it eleven years ago.

My mom.

Living without her was difficult in the beginning. I missed her more than I could ever convey. But with Charlie acting as my informer, it helped ease the pain of separation a little. He kept his word and has stayed in touch with his ex-wife all these years. Whenever I call him or sneak into Forks to visit, he tells me the latest news about her. Edward and I travel to Florida at least once a year just to check on her for ourselves. Past times, we kept our distance as we followed Mom around Jacksonville. Getting too close was out of the question. We would watch her doing regular, mundane things while out in public. I've seen her going to the bank, buying postage stamps, shopping with friends, and dining out with Phil numerous times. After hearing from Charlie how hard she took my supposed death, it was nice to see her going about her daily business normally again.

But watching her from far away was disappointing. The distance Edward and I had to maintain to keep us out of her sight also kept me from hearing her voice. Going near her house in Jacksonville proved to be out of the question, too. Her home was located in a trendy neighborhood where the dwellings were crowded together. It was the sort of place where you could open a side window and easily conduct a conversation with your neighbor while they trimmed the hedges. Everywhere you looked, you saw people. It made conducting surveillance there too risky.

All that changed within the past year. One evening Edward and I creeped into Forks for a visit. My dad was kicked back as usual in his leather recliner. Other than to say that we looked good, he kept any comments about our otherworldly appearance to himself - also as usual. His wife Sue sat near him with polite but cautious eyes. Even though she knew we were vampires and lived the "vegetarian" lifestyle, her old school Quileute upbringing continues to keep her from trusting us one hundred percent... at least that's how Seth likes to explain it. After our small talk, Charlie mentioned that Phil's mother had passed away. Edward and I expressed our sadness. Through my foggy memories, I recalled meeting her a couple of times. She was a nice woman. Then Charlie dropped more news. Phil's mother had been the one in charge of caring for two of her grandkids. They had nowhere to go since their father had no interest in raising them and their mother had passed away years before. So it became a surprise to everyone in the extended family when Mom and Phil decided to step in. Within weeks they left the heavily populated center of Jacksonville and moved to the suburbs. The charming, two story house they bought had enough room for themselves, Phil's niece, and his nephew.

The old tree which Edward and I are hiding in provides an excellent view into that very house. It isn't long before we see three figures entering the large living room/kitchen combination. A little blonde girl with swinging braids skips in first. Next comes a slightly younger boy rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Last is my mom. Her face has a couple more laugh lines. Her hair is shorter and not quite as shiny as it was a decade ago. But she's still beautiful. She'll always be that way to me.

Mom pulls her phone from her pocket and checks it. Her eyebrows knit together. "It's 5:45 already? I didn't realize we were at the shoe store for so long... Who's hungry?"

The little girl throws up her hand and shakes it in the air. "I am! I am!"

"Good because I am too," Mom responds. "Do you want to help me get dinner started, Hannah?"

The girl scrunches her face up, almost like she's afraid to hurt Mom's feelings. "Not really. Can I go draw instead?"

Mom smiles. "Sure you can. Go draw something nice and we'll hang it up on the fridge. It'll be a great surprise for Phil once he makes it home."

Hannah's eyes light up and she nods her head. Then she grabs a sheet of paper and crayons from her backpack, runs to a table by the giant window, drops to her knees, and begins coloring like a pint-sized Georgia O'Keeffe.

Meanwhile, Mom opens the fridge and searches the shelves. The little boy shuffles up to her side to watch, the tip of a thumb stuck inside his mouth. "I wanna help," he says quietly.

"OK, Dylan. I could always use a helper around the house... What do you want to make for dinner?"

He only shrugs.

Mom puckers her lips as she thinks. "Hmm... Oh. I know! How about we try making my homemade chili? I haven't made that one in years."

Dylan shakes his head rapidly back and forth, his little gray eyes stretched wide. I know fear when I see it. He can't be more than five years old, but clearly he has tasted one of Renée Dwyer's "homemade" recipes before. Sadly, it isn't an experience you can easily forget - usually because of the stomach cramps which immediately follow.

"Uhh... Can we have that instead?" He points a finger at a food delivery meal kit in the back of the refrigerator, the kind which arrives in the mail and all you have to do is follow the easy directions to prepare it for consumption.

"Smart move, kid," I mutter under my breath.

"All right. We'll make these steak fajitas tonight and save the chili for some other time," Mom agrees. She pulls out the box and places it carefully on the kitchen island. The instructions on how to cook the meal are in her hands as she reads it over.

Edward nuzzles his nose into my neck. Soon his lips are near my ear. "I enjoy hearing what goes on within your mother's head. It's always happy...and thoroughly entertaining."

"I'm not surprised. What is she thinking about right now?"

"She's wondering if she can cut the cooking time in half by doing it all in the microwave."

I can't help but smile. "Ah, yes. Steak fajitas in the microwave - where the meat gets cooked to the consistency of rubber. Delicious." Edward chuckles softly. As his laughter fades away, a touch of concern suddenly dims his golden eyes. I sit up straighter on his lap in order to see him better. "Edward? Are you OK?"

He sucks in a breath and holds it for a moment before answering. "Don't worry," he breathes out. "I'm fine. It's just...I've noticed something strange. The little girl... She's like you."

I glance down at Hannah. She's sitting on the floor coloring and singing a Disney song to herself. "Really? How? She seems more outgoing than I was at her age."

"You misunderstand me. I'm not saying your personalities are similar. It's her thoughts. They're partially hidden from me. I can barely get a read on her."

"Hannah's blocking you?"

He frowns slightly. "I suppose she is in a way, though her ability isn't quite as strong as yours. Where I can't see or hear anything from you, I can at least pick up a stray word here and there within her mind. It's quiet - almost like a whisper - but at least it's there sometimes. But everything else is a mystery as far as I'm concerned. I can't see anything from her point of view."

"Nothing?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. I can't even pick up a vague picture of her surroundings. Her point of view is nothing but black. If she were asleep, I would understand. But this? It's unprecedented. She's wide awake and obviously interacting with her environment. I should see something. Yet being in her mind is the equivalent of listening to a radio station filled with mostly static. Not knowing what may be going on within her thoughts makes me...uneasy."

"Wow," I utter in stunned awe. Then, I gift him with a slow smirk. "Who would have thought a first grader would be smart enough to keep out a great, big, mind-reading vampire like you? She probably just learned how to count beyond twenty last week."

Edward rolls his eyes. "I'm glad you can find amusement in the situation."

"Me too," I grin. He tickles my side in retaliation. "OK! OK! Stop it. I was only teasing," I giggle. His fingers halt their assault. "Anyway, I would have thought you'd love that you can't hear Hannah's thoughts. You've mentioned so many times over the years how much you'd like to take a break from the whole mind-reading thing."

"I know. But, I suppose not having control over who I can and can't hear is what's bothering me the most."

I give his hand a reassuring squeeze and go back to watching Mom and Dylan in the kitchen. The two of them work together as a team to put a meal together. She's in charge of chopping the vegetables. He stops her from getting too spontaneous with the meal. Evidently, she had the bright idea of throwing in some mustard seeds and fennel into the fajitas just to spice things up. I come to one conclusion.

Mom hasn't changed a bit.

It never bothered me that she's a scatterbrain. I think it's part of her charm. I lived with her for the majority of my young life and can say that there was never a dull moment. One second she would be quietly reading. Next, she would jump up from her chair and announce we're going to explore the Grand Canyon. Like I said, never a dull moment. Somehow it felt normal that my adult mother depended upon her child to be the unexciting, responsible member of the household. I was there to remind her to pay the bills, fill the gas tank, and file her IRS tax forms every April. Although she has others to watch out for her now - people like Phil and Dylan - I'll always feel a sense of pride that I was the one that looked out for her until they could take over.

Edward hugs me closer, encouraging me to lay my head on his shoulder. Then he gives a play-by-play of what's going on inside Mom's brain as she attempts to cook. It's like listening to a comedy of errors. A smile stays permanently attached to my face. The scent of sizzling meat seeps out of the kitchen and floats up to us. I'm sure it's delicious to those inside the house, but my nose wrinkles at the unappetizing odor. Mom gently stirs the food around to keep it from sticking to the pan. Dylan climbs onto a stool and watches the meat heat to a golden-brown with much interest.

A ringing blares from Mom's pocket. She sets the spatula down to answer it. "Hello... Oh. Well, that's fine. I'll keep your dinner warm in the oven until you can get home... Sure. Love you, too. Bye." She ends the call and grabs a few plates from a cabinet. "Hannah! Your uncle is running late, so we'll go ahead and eat now."

The little girl jumps up with the energy of a typhoon. She runs across the room and hops on a stool next to her much quieter brother. Mom fills their plates with food. Hannah takes approximately three bites before becoming distracted. "Aunt Renée?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

The little girl points at the giant wall of photographs hanging in the living room. "What are their names?"

"Who?"

Hannah shoves a piece of green bell pepper into her mouth. "The woman in the white princess dress," she mumbles between bites. "And the man standing next to her."

My eyes dart over to look at the wall. Only one photo fits that description. It's the one of Edward and me on our wedding day.

Mom goes as still as a statue, the steak on her fork uneaten. Slowly, she appears to reawaken. Her lungs whoosh out a gust of air. "That was my daughter Bella, honey. And her husband, Edward."

"Oh. I think she's probably the most beautifulest person I've ever seen."

"She was," Mom says in a ghost of a whisper.

Hannah stops eating and stares at Mom, her expression more serious than before. "They went to heaven, didn't they? Like Grandma did."

Mom sucks in her bottom lip and nods. "Yes. That's right."

"Does it make you sad?"

I watch Mom's eyes fill with unshed tears. A heaviness weighs down my chest, crushing me. I can't bear seeing Mom cry. Especially over me. It feels wrong. She's a creature who was born to smile and laugh. I cling to Edward for comfort. He holds me tighter.

In response to Hannah's question, Mom nods her head again but doesn't speak.

"It's OK to be sad," Hannah tells her. "I was real sad too when Grandma told me that she might be going to heaven soon. But she told me something else that made me feel a lot better."

Mom swallows and clears her throat. "She did?"

"Uh-huh. Grandma said that she would miss me when she was gone, and that I'd miss her too. But she said love is like magic. Nothing is more powerful. And as long we love one another with all of our hearts, we'd always be together."

Mom dips her head for a few seconds. When her face lifts up again, there's a tiny smile pulling at her lips. "She's right. Your grandma was a very smart lady."

Hannah guzzles down some apple juice and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "She also said that I better be good after she's gone because she'll still be watching me from up in heaven. I don't wanna get into trouble with her again for being bad. One time I pinched someone at school for teasing me, and Grandma wouldn't let me watch YouTube for a whole week."

This causes Mom to laugh a little.

"Bella and Edward will always watch out for you, too," Hannah remarks, her voice solemn once more. "Grandma said that's what angels do. They protect people."

The amusement in Mom's face vanishes. A drop of salt water leaks from an eye. "I know."

"I drew a picture of them for you. You wanna see?"

Smiling through the pain, Mom wipes the tear away and nods her head. "Yes. I think I would."

The little girl rushes to the table in the living room where she left her artwork. She's back in a flash. Hannah presents the white sheet of paper to my mother as though it's as important as the Mona Lisa. Mom carefully picks it up from those little hands and holds it in front of her face.

Edward's entire body immediately jerks to attention. His fingers claw themselves deep into my hip. "Son of a bitch," his velvet voice whispers.

My face snaps his way. Hearing Edward swear out loud is extremely rare. The Earth circles around the Sun more often than he uses a profanity. I guess it's those old school morals of his keeping him from dropping the f-bomb every five minutes like some people are known to do.

Without another word, he leaps into a standing position, balancing perfectly on the tree limb. He snatches my hand and pulls me up along side of him. "Come on, Bella," he urges quietly. "We've got to go. Now."

He attempts to drag me away, but I stubbornly shake off his hand and glue myself in place. "Why? What's wrong?"

Edward rakes his hand through his hair. Then he aims his finger down below. "Look," he stresses.

I refocus on the people in the kitchen. Dylan continues eating his dinner the same as before. Hannah bounces like a ball as she watches Mom hang her drawing on the door of the refrigerator. Her creation is a stereotypical child's view of the world, specifically of the backyard. There's crayon squiggles for grass, colorful flowers that are nothing more than circles on green stalks, and a tilted square representing the playhouse. However, it's the live oak tree that's the focus of her masterpiece. It stands prominently over everything else in its domain. Thick brown trunk. Bright olive green leaves. And...

I gasp as though someone punched me in the gut. That's no ordinary drawing done by an unobservant child.

She drew two stick figures near the top of the tree.

"Do you like it?" Hannah asks eagerly.

"I love it," Mom replies. "What gave you the idea?"

The little girl huffs in annoyance at Mom's question. "I told you. They're watching out for you just like Grandma said. That's what angels do. They're very pretty now but they don't have any wings yet... They don't have an umbrella either. Since it's sprinkling outside, should I go ask them if they wanna come in and dry off?"

Mom gives the girl a warm smile. "That's very sweet of you, but I'm sure they won't feel the rain at all. Now come eat your dinner. It's getting cold."

Satisfied, Hannah resumes eating. Mom takes another look at the drawing on the fridge, her blue eyes softening. I take a moment to let the image soak in. Until I come back to Florida, this is how I want to remember her. Content. Happy. Smiling.

Then, I take Edward's hand in mine again and we fly.

We sprint from treetop to treetop, successfully escaping the watchful eyes of the little girl. One day in the future, Hannah will probably look back on this day and blame her sighting of those two "angels" on her once overactive imagination. But she was right. Love is magic. It brought me a man who otherwise would have been separated from me by decades of time. It also introduced me to a family of immortals whose secret lifestyle allowed me to avoid death and go on living. Love made me who I am today.

And that's what I'll hold on to as I go back to showing frat boys the subtle joy of reading a Jane Austen novel. Or, when I'm hunting an animal and my wilder instincts temporarily take control. As long as I exist, I will love and watch over my family - no matter if they are human or not. Because the love connecting people doesn't die when a heart stops beating. It continues to grow. Forever.

The End

...for now

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A/N- That's right. You're not hallucinating. It's what no one asked for but you're gonna get it anyway - A Sequel. Bella will be kicking butts and taking names - all while humorous things occasionally take place around her, of course. Although I will not begin working on chapters until I know exactly how I want everything to play out (I want to avoid writing myself into a corner), I can assure you the plot is slowly but surely coming together as inspiration strikes. So, while our Bella and Edward take some time off to relax, I'm going to tease you. Here's the summary of the sequel and a BIG hint of what's in store:

He fell through time, saved my life, and made sacrifices in order to protect me. Now it's time for me to return the favor. A sequel to Forward To The Future and Forwarded To My Future. AU.

When I began writing Forwarded To My Future (Bella's POV), I thought it would become a fun, little companion piece to the EPOV and would take only a few months to finish. Ha! Boy, was I wrong. Somehow it blew up in length and complexity until it hit over two hundred thousand more words than what I had initially anticipated. Oops. Bella had a very chatty mind, lol! Thank you for your patience in waiting for this story's completion (One year and seven months. Phew!). Honestly, I can't believe you stuck it out until the end. And double thanks for reviewing, following, and favoriting. Pat yourself on the back because you rock.

And... Complete! Thanks for reading. :-)