IMPORTANT A/N

I am a 19-year-old Pre-Nursing student, going to school full-time, and working three part-time jobs on the side. I'm sorry that I suck at updating, but education is important, therefore I have to go to college. College is expensive, therefore I have to go to work. Work takes up much of my time, therefore… you get the point. As much as I love writing, more important things hold my attention at the moment. I appreciate the constructive criticism, the positive and negative feedback, ALL reviews, ALL favorites, and ALL follows. Stick with me, please. I have much planned for this story.

Love you all!

Izobella

CHAPTER 3

I stare openly at the Cullen couple as they scan through my file that Faith had so graciously given them. I shift uncomfortably, thinking of all the things these strangers will see on those pieces of paper.

I lean close to Faith's ear, turning away from Esme and Carlisle to whisper softly.

"What... exactly... is on my file?" I question quietly. She pulls away to look at me, her eyes flickering back and forth between my own.

"Only the things you've reported." She mumbles. My body relaxes at this news. The only things that will be on there then are that my father died, my mother committed suicide, and that I had an abusive foster family before I came here.

"You're 17, Isabella?" The soft silk of Mrs. Cullen's voice stuns me for a moment before I nod softly. I see her once again glance down at my stomach and narrow my eyes at her.

"It's not like I asked for it, you know." I snap at Esme, my throat tight with tears. She looks back at me quickly, her head shaking fervently.

"Of course not dear... I was only wondering how you plan to handle another year - possibly five years - of school with a child." The soft honesty in her voice makes me relax a small amount, feeling foolish for my sudden outburst.

"I'm not sure yet," I murmur. "But I know I don't want to give her up. I've been in a foster home before, and I would never wish that on anyone..." I look down to hide my blush, picking at my sore nail beds.

Carlisle hums quietly, his eyes still skimming over my file. The way he looks at the page makes me think he's not even actually reading it; his eyes move much too fast. I look back at Esme to see her staring at the page as well.

"Oh!" I jump at her exclamation. "Your birthday is in two months! I love birthdays!" Her whole face is lit up when she looks up at me again, practically jumping in her seat. Carlisle laughs.

"Calm yourself dear, you're acting like Alice." She smiles sheepishly at him when he leans in to kiss her temple softly.

"Alice...?" I asked timidly, kneading my belly carefully.

"Yes, Alice is our daughter. She's quite... spirited." Mr. Cullen chuckles mischievously at the thought of their child, before looking back up at me and pushing the file back toward Faith. "We have five wonderful children; Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, Jasper, and Edward. And, if you'd like... you can make that six." I stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded that he would want a pregnant 17-year-old as his daughter. A 17-year-old he had no responsibility to claim.

I turn to look at Esme, trying to avoid the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"What was it like? Childbirth, I mean. I've never heard it from someone who actually has children, aside from my mother. But she always over-exaggerated everything; she told me that I about ripped her in two. And I definitely don't want to feel like I'm being ripped in two when I have her. I mean, the epidural helps with that, right? But still, the whole idea of having a football come out of a, like, two-inch hole is pretty disconcerting." I stop speaking when I realize my rambling has taken an inappropriate turn, biting my lip as blush floods my face once again. Carlisle chuckles quietly, his shoulders moving, and Esme smiles fondly at me.

"I wouldn't know; I've never given birth before, sweetie. We adopted all of our children... I can't have children." Her voice catches at the end, and I see her eyes flutter.

Fuck.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know." I apologize profusely, reaching across the table to grab her hand. I pull up short, though, when my stomach presses uncomfortably against the table, and she kicks at my abdomen wildly. "Oh!" I gasp, pressing my hand against her kicks.

"Is she moving?" Esme wonders, staring intently at my hand. I see her fingers twitch on the table, inching toward me. I glare at her hand.

"Yes," I grunt. "She's moving like crazy. She always does."

"And you're only 19 weeks?" Carlisle inquires.

"Almost 20." I mumble, still stroking my belly button. "The doctor said that it's a really good sign that I can feel her moving so much."

"That it is. Fetal movement is usually pretty subtle at this stage of the pregnancy. But her constant kicking is a sign that she's developing remarkably well." My brows furrow at him, and he continues after noticing my confused look. "I'm a doctor at the hospital where I live."

"The best one they have." Esme's face is shining with pride as she stares at her husband.

"How old are you? You look so young; too young to be a doctor." I shake my head at him disbelievingly.

"I'm 37," Carlisle looks at me evenly, his lips twitching upward when my mouth pops open.

"No way in hell. You have to be, like, 25 or something. There's no way you're that old." Mr. Cullen chuckles at me.

"Are you calling me old, Miss Swan?" I stare at him, speechless for a breath, before he puts his hand over his heart and wipes at his eyes dramatically. "I'm wounded."

For a moment, I'm astounded at his humor; I haven't heard a joke, from someone else, since I was admitted. But, for the first time during this meeting, I smile, and I laugh.

And it feels so good.

The laughter starts out as a small giggle, soon turning into a loud chortle, which I try to stifle with my hand. But a snort sneaks its way out of my mouth, making me laugh harder.

After a few attempts to calm down, I finally collect myself, and wipe at my damp eyes.

"I'm so sorry... I just... I haven't laughed in a long time... It felt good." I grimace self-consciously, glancing up at the couple across from me. Mrs. Cullen smiles at me kindly, but says nothing. Carlisle, on the other hand, is staring at me intently. I grow even more timid under his gaze and turn to Faith for a reprieve, but quickly look down at the table when I realize she is staring at me like I've grown a second head. "I'm sorry." I mumble again, returning my attention to my red nail beds, knowing that they must think me completely insane now.

After an awkward quiet, Mr. Cullen clears his throat.

"I think, if you'd like, I should introduce you to our other children? They've been waiting patiently, and I would like you to meet them." His soft voice makes me feel less insecure, but his words bewilder me.

He still wants me?

I am silent for a breath, ordering my thoughts.

Do I want to meet them?

I don't know. I honestly don't.

But I also don't know how much longer I can stay at this damn hospital. Doing what I'm told, when I'm told, and how I'm told. I never get a moment for me, for her.

"I just... Have one question." I speak softly, unsure of myself.

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Cullen, the never-ending delicateness of her voice wrapping around me.

"Why? Why do you want me? I'm 17, I'm pregnant, and I'm probably more fucked up than any of your other children; excuse my French." I add as an afterthought. "And I want a real answer to this. None of that 'we just want to give children homes' crap, because if that was the case, I'm sure you could find a better child than myself. So, honest to God answer; why do you want me?" I look at them calmly, taking in their set posture.

As they mull over my question, I look them over again, noticing now how proper they look. Although their clothing isn't exactly "formal", it surely looks that way on their beautiful bodies. Carlisle's navy blue sweater is bunched up to his elbows, showing off the light smattering of hair on his arms and a thick, silver bracelet on his wrist. I narrow my eyes at it, trying to make out the oblong symbol etched into the metal, but give up when I fail to figure out the emblem.

I look toward Esme, who is looking into her husband's eyes keenly. Her frilly purple blouse clings to her body softly, but modestly. It curls around her collarbone gently, revealing a soft silver locket. After a moment, I recognize the design as the same one engraved in the bracelet on Carlisle's wrist.

Having a better angle to see Esme's locket, I finally am able to make out the shapes carved into the metal. A cat-like creature stands on its hind legs, its tongue flicking at the air around itself. An open palm hangs above the animal's head, and three three-leaf clovers spread out below it.

I return to the present when Mrs. Cullen finally speaks.

"We want to save you. It's as easy as that." My eyes drift from her necklace toward hers, and my eyebrows furrow.

"Save me?" I inquire, crossing my arms over my bulging stomach.

"Yes," Mr. Cullen reaffirms. "Save you... There are so many children out there, who have been through horrible things. And yes, we would love if we could save them all. But, you need saving Isabella, more than most people I know. And you're right here in front of us dear." He grabs Esme's hand and links their fingers on the table. "If we could be involved in your recovery from your disheartened state, then we will take the risks that come along with being a part of that."

I want to scoff at him. I want to yell at him for lying. He must be lying.

They must be lying.

James and Victoria looked just as pleasant when I met them, albeit not as beautiful, and they turned out to be lying scum as well.

But... I would rather be unhappy than homeless.

"I'd like to meet your children." I say decidedly. "And you can call me Bella."