Chapter Two – Edward's POV
I smiled at the sight before me. I was sat on one half of the couch with a head on my leg. The head belonged to my youngest child, Lily. She had my bronze hair but that was the only part of me I saw in her. I always insisted that she looked more like Bella then me, but everyone else disagreed with me. She looked so much like her other siblings, but her personality was so much different. Lily was the musical one in our family. She loved to play the piano, and I could tell that soon she would want to start playing other instruments too. Although Esme wouldn't admit it, Lily was defiantly her favourite. Whenever my kids went over there, they would spend practically all day together doing whatever Lily wanted to do. Sometimes they would include my other children, but often it was just to two of them.
My eldest child was my daughter Grace. She was identical to her mother, personality wise, as she would spend most of her time reading or cooking. I remembered the day she was born, because at the time before my Bella went into labour we had been arguing about names. Bella stormed out of the room, waddling as she went but then she slipped. Emmett, my older brother, managed to catch her before she fell to the floor but he never stopped teasing her about it.
"You, little Bells, have absolutely no grace."
And then her water broke and her contractions started. After she was born, I told Bella that I had thought that the reason her water broke was because Emmett had used the word Grace, like fate, and she couldn't help but giggle. After that we had no choice but to name her Grace. And of course Emmett took full credit for it, and then said that we owed him a new pair of shoes.
About 6 months after Grace was born we found out then Bella was pregnant again, but this pregnancy was different than the first. Bella was carrying not one baby, not two babies but three babies. At first we were terrified, but the idea grew on us. If we had been first time parents it probably would have been too much to cope with, but we weren't. We had had Grace for 6 months and we could handle another baby, or babies. We decided against finding out what they were until they were born and we were blessed with three sons. It took us ages to pick out names, but we finally picked out three that we agreed on. Jack, Ethan and Henry. I remember Bella being so happy, despite the countless sleepless nights that we endured with four children under the age of two.
Around two years later we had Lily, and the day after tomorrow would be her 5th birthday. We had planned out an amazing birthday celebration for her, and it started with me waking them up at 6am tomorrow so I made sure that they were asleep quite early. I had yet to tell them that we would be picking up their mother tomorrow, but I knew that if I had then they wouldn't have been able to sleep tonight.
I smiled at my children and kissed Lily on her forehead. I picked her sleeping form up into my arms carefully and carried her into her bedroom. It was decorated sweetly in pink, and the walls were covered in golden butterflies that Bella had spent hours painting on by hand. I tucked her into bed and stroked her bronze hair out of her eyes, before turning out the light and closing the door. I returned downstairs and then picked up my next youngest, Henry. His 7 year old form shifted slightly in my arms as I carried him up to his room, and he began to mutter something about Cornflakes not having legs. I chuckled slightly and then tucked him into his bed. His bedroom was decorated in a dark blue, and had star constellations painted onto the ceiling in silver. Henry loved everything in the colour blue.
I repeated the journey back to the living room, and then picked up Ethan, the next youngest. I repeated the task of carrying him to his room, which was a representation of the forest that we lived near. He loved nature, and he looked forward to whenever we went hiking together through the forest.
I then took Jack to his bedroom, which was sky blue and covered in clouds. It was the complete opposite of Henry's room, just like their personalities. Jack was loud like his Uncle Emmett while Henry was quieter like Bella.
I repeated my trip with Grace and carried her 8 year old sleeping body up to her room, placing her in her on her bed. Her room was a soft peach colour with a black trim, which she had picked out last year when Esme took her out.
Before I got out of the room I heard her whimpering, and I turned around to see her with a distressed look on her face. She was having another nightmare. She had suffered with nightmares since she was a toddler, but she hadn't had one in a while. I softly began to sing 'Complainte de la Butte' that Bella would sing to calm her down.
La lune trop bleme pose un diademe sur tes cheveux roux
La lune trop rousse de gloire eclabousse ton jupon plein d'trous
La lune trop pale caresse l'opale de tes yeux blases
Princesse de la rue soit la bienvenue dans mon coeur brise
The stairways up to la butte
Can make the wreched sigh
While windmill wings of the Moulin
Shelter you and I
Les escaliers de la butte sont durs aux misereux
Les ailes du moulin protegent les amoureux
Petite mandigotte je sens ta menotte qui cherche ma main
Je sens ta poitrine et ta taille fine
J'oublie mon chagrin
Je sens sur tes levres une odeur de fievre de gosse mal nourri
Et sous ta caresse je sens une ivresse qui m'aneantit
The stairways up to la butte
Can make the wreched sigh
While windmill wings of the Moulin
Shelter you and I
Les escaliers de la butte sont durs aux misereux
Les ailes du moulin protegent les amoureux
Et voila qu'elle trotte la lune qui flotte, la princesse aussi
La da da da da da da da da da
Mes reves epanouis
Les escaliers de la butte sont durs aux misereux
Les ailes du moulin protegent les amoureux
Her hazel eyes opened and tears began to fall from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me as tightly as she could.
"What's wrong sweetheart?" I said in a hushed tone.
"I had a nightmare, Daddy" she replied, sobbing quietly.
"Wanna talk about it?" I asked and she nodded in response.
I picked her up and pulled her 8 year old form onto my lap. She clung to the material of my shirt, which was now wet with her tears. My heart was breaking seeing my baby girl cry, and I had to fix it whatever it would take.
"What happened in your dream, baby girl?" I asked, while stroking her hair to calm her down.
"You and Mummy were sitting in a room with Ethan, Lily, Henry and Jack. I walked in and went to give you and Mummy a hug but she asked me who I was. She didn't know. And then I asked you if you knew me, and you didn't. You didn't know me Daddy. You didn't love me." More of her tears spilled onto my shirt, and I lifted her face to look at me. I held her tightly in my arms and kissed her forehead.
"I love you Gracie, never forget that." I replied, trying to be reassuring. "You are Grace Marie Cullen, and I love you. You are a part of this family and we will never forget you. No one gets forgotten from this family."
She gave me a crooked smile, and then kissed my cheek. "I love you Daddy" she muttered, before falling asleep in my arms.
So that was chapter two. I hope you liked it! Please review!
This is the English Translation to the song that Edward sung:
The moon, all too fair, in your russet-red hair sets a sparkling crown
The moon, all too red with glory, is spread on your poor, tattered gown
The moon, all too white, caresses the light in your world-weary eyes
Princess of the street, do allow me to greet you, my broken heart cries
The steps of Montmartre, all uphill, are hardest on the poor
The sails of the mill, like wings, shelter all paramours
I feel, beggar-girl, your fetters, they curl as they seek out my wrists
I feel your young breasts, your thin little waist
I lose my regrets
I taste on your mouth the feverish breath of a half-starving waif
And with your caress I sense drunkenness erasing my life
The steps of Montmartre, all uphill, are hardest on the poor
The sails of the mill, like wings, shelter all paramours
And see how she skips, the moon how she drifts,
The princess in tow
Da da da da da da da da da da
My reveries grow
The steps of Montmartre, all uphill, are hardest on the poor
The sails of the mill, like wings, shelter all paramours