BPOV

My temporary feelings of peace and well-being were officially over. In the top drawer of my dresser was an unread, hand written letter on beautiful, thick creamy stationary. My grandma would have been so impressed, it was classy. Hand written letters were so thoughtful. The script was written in a bold, slanted hand. And I wanted to fling the beautiful, thick creamy letter with the attractive slanted handwriting into the Puget Sound, run away, and never look back.

I pulled it out with a growl to glare at it again. It was from Carlisle.

Staring at this stupid letter was getting me nowhere. Edward had handed it to me a few days ago at the end of a playdate with Owen. Since then it had worn at me like a stubborn splinter. Every time I'd sit down to relax, I'd remember it sitting there. Waiting. But I needed time to prepare myself for what it said. I needed to center myself and remember:

1. I am Owen's mom, and I have his best interest at heart

2. Carlisle is Owen's grandpa. I'm not sure how he feels.

3. I need to stop being such a wimp and open this freakin letter

4. So that I can decide if I hate him even more, or if, even worse,

5. I don't.

I didn't want to have anything to do with Carlisle. How was I supposed to get over the fact that he'd blatantly lied to his son for the past three years? And about something so fundamentally important as his son's own child!

I didn't want Carlisle to have any power over me. And that meant I had to read this letter, for better or worse, just so it wouldn't take up any more of my mental energy. So with a deep breath, I opened it.

"Isabella, (of course he wouldn't just say "Bella"…)

Since first meeting we have been at odds, and this is because of what Esme affectionately calls my "Pig Headed Stubbornness". I prefer to call it "Character". My character has served me well in the past. It has brought me my beloved family, success, education and means. But, as I come more and more to accept my mortality, I'm also realizing that these pillars of accomplishment can also be my stumbling block. I stumbled when I first met you, assuming we were at odds. I saw you as a distraction for Edward, a pretty face that could turn into a lot of heartache. I have always been so protective of my son. He has had so much to overcome. Even his blessings, his intelligence, his drive, his talents, even these have needed to be "dealt with". The excess of these blessings can sometimes be overwhelming. It's like the old adage, "too much of a good thing." He is a very special person, and he needs very special care. I didn't believe you were capable of that care. I stumbled when I found out that you both had been (to my older, more experienced eyes) irresponsible enough to get pregnant. I thought you would pull my son down after all he'd accomplished. I thought he would give up everything he'd worked for to take care of your needs. I stumbled on my pride when I imagined telling my colleagues that the brilliant, groundbreaking discoveries my son was making were on hold so that he could nurse his pregnant girlfriend. I stumbled when I let you drive away, even after you revealed your strength of character against colossal discrimination.

I am in awe of your strength. And, though it's too late for so many things, I want to offer my apologies. I made horrible choices out of fear. I'm so sorry that my cowardice hurt you and your son. You both deserve much better.

Edward has explained to us that you don't wish to have any contact with our family. I respect your feelings and I appreciate you taking the time to read my letter. Please know that I am truly sorry for the way I treated you.

A heart attack is a horrible thing, and I wouldn't wish the pain of it on anyone. But with it has come some blessings. I now know that I don't want to waste my life being "right". I don't want to come in between you and Edward. I never should have involved myself in the first place, I know that. I should have stopped myself before I only assumed the worst. Decisions made out of fear are rarely the right ones. In fear I decided that I couldn't trust you. In fear I decided that you were going to ruin Edward's life. In fact, now I fear that I'm the one who has.

I thank you for the choices you've made. Thank you for the strength you've shown.

I hope, for both our sakes, for Edward's sake, and most importantly for Owen's sake, we can move beyond our broken beginning and find a better end.

With Regards,

Carlisle Cullen"

What would I have done to read these words three years ago? Anything. What did they mean to me now? Honestly? I wasn't sure.

Did reading it even get rid of that sick, anxiety worry that'd been hanging over my head? Slightly. But I knew I'd be spending some fine, fine time obsessing about every phrase of the letter in the next few weeks. Heaven help my dental patients.