Chapter 4: The Realization

Edward sighed deeply as he retreated down the stairs to the kitchen. After a stressful outing with his mother, a snack was most definitely in order. Without a word, he stepped into the kitchen and racked his mind for something to tide himself over until lunch. He knew that his mother would be home shortly from jacket shopping and lunch would be in order as soon as she arrived home. He was hungry and still felt dizzy and sick, but he seemed not to want to acknowledge it. Finally, he settled on a bit of cheese and some crackers. Once everything was prepared, he sat at the table and began to eat it. Edward frowned as he folded a bit of the cheese, a food he really did not have much of an appetite for. But, at least the crackers would help a bit. He leaned forward a bit. He was trying to sit up straight, but he was tired and weak.

Elizabeth took her time looking at coats for Edward; she knew that some times he was quite picky about what he wore even though he made such a fuss about not looking good for the girls around town. Finally, she settled on a waist length grey coat that was quite stylish. After purchasing his new winter coat, Elizabeth headed home. Walking up the stairs, she stopped suddenly and gripped the railing as she doubled over with her racking cough. After a long moment, she collected herself and continued up the stairs. Reaching out, she twisted the doorknob, opened the door, and called out, "Edward, dear?" Hearing his cough before he could even speak, she turned around to close and lock the door, and then headed towards the kitchen with a package wrapped in brown parchment.

Edward lifted his downturned eyes from his plate just as he began to cough, "I'm in here, mother," he called out, put his food down, and turned around in his chair waiting to embrace her once she entered. Waiting until she was finally in view, he looked over to her curiously, "Is that my new jacket?"

Elizabeth moved across the room slowly, bent over at the waist, and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Yes it is. Here, try it on. I know the weather has been off lately and you need something to keep you warm," she said, handing him the brown package as she straightened back up. Elizabeth smiled as she took a step back and sat down to watch him unwrap the package.

Edward stood up and unwrapped the package slowly, taking time to look it over. He slid it on in one fluid motion and checked the length before smirking and nodding. "I love it. It is a perfect fit. Thank you, mother." He gave her a slight smile, leaned over, and hugged her gently.

Elizabeth embraced her son and let her arms rest against his sides for a moment. "Oh you are welcome, darling." Finally, after a long moment, she let her arms drop back down and then stared down at her hands that lay shaking on the table. When she lifted her head back up, the sadness in her eyes was obvious. "How are you feeling? You seemed unwell today during our outing." She knew her son was slowly dying, as was she, she just had not found the courage yet to tell him.

Edward nodded and shrugged. "I am just tired. I do not think I rested properly last night, but I assure you I feel better now that I have eaten." He slid off the jacket, folded it on his lap, and took his seat across from his mother. "I am sure it is just the summer flu; it will pass just like every other time."

Elizabeth sighed and looked back down at her hands. "Edward, honey, there is something I need to tell you. Something very important and hard for me to say," she said, taking his hands in hers and looking straight into his gorgeous green eyes that were so much like her beloved husband. Tears began to flood hers.

Edward held her hands and offered her a small smile as he felt the anxiety rising, "Mother..." he said, pulling his hands back from hers as he brushed his thumbs along her cheeks clearing them of tears.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and lowered her head. She didn't want to cry, not now. She had to be strong for her son, but she could not help but feel the impending sense of doom. The tears came freely, soaking her cheeks. She placed her hand on top of his, sighed, and looked back up at him. "Edward, my son," she began with a big gulp, and explained, "You are very sick, as am I." She gazed into her son's wondering eyes, seeing that he was trying to understand. "All three of us, you, me, and your father have the Spanish Influenza. Your father isn't expected to survive the week. I just received word before reaching the house," she said, laying her head in her palms and sobbing uncontrollably.

Edward froze in silence and leaned back in his chair as he continued to listen to her when finally it clicked. "Mother, you are no doctor. You cannot diagnose me. Just because Father is sick and in the hospital, it doesn't mean we have it. I feel fine," he sputtered as lied to himself even though it did not come close to making him feel better.

Elizabeth knew he was lying to her, trying to comfort her and make her feel better. "But son, we have the same symptoms your father did before we had to hospitalize him, and I have been to the doctor. He said it was too early to tell for sure, but to watch for signs and worsening symptoms. He has already diagnosed me with pneumonia, and since then I have gotten nose bleeds, and it's hard for me to keep my food down," she tried to explain to him. She knew that the news had hit him pretty hard; she could see it in his eyes. "And I know you have been suffering from a very severe cough and nose bleeds. I have seen the blood on your handkerchiefs," she told him.

Edward grew more and more visibly upset as he sat there trying to take in the news. He pushed himself away from the table and began to pace across the room. To hear he was dying at such a young age was almost too much to bear. Giving his mother an unfathomable look, he shook his head, muttered, "Excuse me," and with that, he walked out of the room and towards the stairs.

Elizabeth lowered her head as the sobs began to overtake her body once more, and she wished she had never told him. She knew that was the right thing to do. He deserved to know; he needed to know. She had never seen her son this upset with something she had said before. She began coughing again, only this time it was a lot worse. She couldn't stop. She stood up, placing her hand on the table to help balance herself. She felt nauseated and reached for the bowl sitting on the kitchen counter. She absolutely hated vomiting.

Edward sat at the top of the stairs, tears falling from his eyes as he listened to his mother; nothing pained him more than to hear her suffer. He held his face and sobbed, not realizing he had another nosebleed.

After Elizabeth finished, she looked down into the bowl, noticing a slight hint of blood resting on one of the sides. She placed her index finger under her nose, checking to see if she had another nosebleed on top of everything, but came to find it was dry. It hit her like a freight train; she must have vomited some blood in the process. This was something she would not tell Edward. She had hurt him enough today and couldn't bear to see him even more upset. She walked to the back door in the kitchen, bowl in hand, and dumped it in the back yard. She cleaned it with some water from the well and dried it with the apron she had been wearing.

Edward used the handkerchief to hold to his nose and sighed. He started coughing violently, stood up, went to his room, and nearly collapsed down on his knees. He finally made it to the edge of his bed and sat there weak and unable to move any further.