Newborn
I must find a quiet moment.
I see the darkness coming in the flickering pictures in Alice's thoughts. I see the plans, attacks and counterattacks, and their constant rearranging in Jasper's head; his military background and experience lead him to advance and retreat mentality, even when he is not conscious of it.
I have been most attuned with the thoughts of these two. Though Carlisle knows the possible extent of the damage, his allegiances prevent him from forming clear scenarios of the threats. Alice and Jasper seem to comprehend the coming danger much more clearly. It is frightening.
Bella shows me her fear through a million nuances, each of which she struggles to hide. I watched her face through Jaspers eyes and felt her fears, horror and concern through Jasper's emotion-flooded mind. This gave me a way to know her more deeply: to feel the shock of the images of death and destruction, the sharp spike of empathy for Jasper's immersion into that world. He expected these feelings, he did not protect her and so told his story. I did not stop him; she needs to know, to understand. Matching her reactions through Jasper's eyes to those small ticks that leave me so curious, I mapped the geography of her heart.
And now, I must turn within to rediscover the path of my heart.
As I watched Bella, Carlisle watched me. His thoughts were of Bella, yes. But my heart breaks to acknowledge his concern for me. Since my return, he considers us as one yet still separate. His question to me was as though spoken: Edward, how do we keep you safe? I let my eyes return the answer without words: I don't know. Bella is all, Bella is everything. I cannot be safe while she stands in harms way.
Carlisle has again beseeched me to look within, reflectively, to find some solution to my own worry. He knows I can protect her, and that I will protect her, but he craves a remedy for my protection as well. She sleeps now, and I watch over her from this chair as I have so many nights.
I am always astonished when my human memories return. "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." Though the text drafts the image of the godhead within each human soul, it oddly applies to these memories as well. Could they be a gift from God? Or am I outside His reach in this undead state?
I could hear my mother and father speaking quietly, in soft whispers meant only for each other. It was as if what they said drew me to them. I crept down the stairs, avoiding the fourth step down that creaked. Peeking around the corner, I could see my mother pull her hand through my father's dark hair as she spoke to him.
"Edward is still a baby, though, and I know he is devastated. Would it hurt him so much to have another pet? Something more durable, perhaps? A dog?" Her face was lined with concern.
"Elizabeth, he's growing. It hurts to lose what you love, through neglect, age or accident, but those things must happen. This is a part of growing," he said, setting the paper down and turning to her. "He needs to understand this, to learn this in full measure. How will he know loss, how will he fear loss if he does not know its sting?" He paused, looking into her eyes. "You needn't worry for him, my darling. He will learn from this loss and know love, by and by." He raised his hand to her brow, gently stroking away the tension she held. "He's a good boy. Give it time."
"Oh, Edward, he's so much like you, love," she said, leaning her cheek towards him. He cupped her face in his hand. "When he cried tonight, my heart broke for him. I want to protect him and keep him safe just as much today as I did on the day he was born."
"Elizabeth, the beauty of your face is eclipsed only by the beauty of your soul."
"Edward," she sighed as he leaned towards her for a kiss. I hid my face.
In a little minute, I peeked through my fingers. They were just looking at each other, and I couldn't look away from them.
"Do you think he'll grow up, fall in love and get married?" She wasn't asking as much as sketching the future she wished to see.
"Yes, love, he will. And if he is very good and very fortunate, he will find a woman as beautiful as his mother to fill his days and his nights." They were now facing each other on the settee, focused on their dreams for their son.
"Edward, am I wrong to protect him so? Am I selfish? He is ours, our baby and I just love him so."
"No, my love, never, never wrong. Your heart is complete, and your love for Edward is true and sound. It makes me love you all the more."
Though I was small, my heart felt swollen with love for her. With my child's face pressed into the banister, I thought, 'I love you, too, Mommy.'
Would they smile to see me now, besotted with love yet immortal, made of stone? Would they love me still? Their dreams for me have become mine, and I, too, dream of the day I am married.
My mother never lost this protectiveness of me; as Carlisle has shown me, her dying wish was for my safety, my deliverance from death. And so I was delivered – forever. I have learned through loss the value of love. Though my view of myself may be through a glass darkly, I see my love so clearly, so flawlessly.
I cannot answer Carlisle's question. I cannot protect myself from love, nor do I desire such protection. I have lived through the coldness of hell without my heart, and I know that only her warmth will soothe me. She is of immeasurable value, a woman so beautiful to fill my days and my nights. She is my treasure. I will pay any price to protect my love.
Should I consider the unthinkable? Shall I protect her as my mother delivered me?