The clouds were playing hide and seek with the sun, letting stray rays filter in at odd moments, illuminating the dusty interior of the book store.

Edward had assured her they would be fine, that Alice had checked—twice—just a bit of unsettled air, and the stratus would be consistent for the rest of the day.

She was enjoying one of those loose rays of warmth on her back, running her fingers over the titles in the classics section, but not finding anything that appealed. She'd lingered over a beautiful new Austen anthology, but the thought of reading a romance made her stomach wobble. She didn't explore the why of it too deeply.

Adventure perhaps? she'd mused, but the anxiety of uncertain outcomes made her midsection feel queasy.

She'd glanced over at the small shelf labelled 'Travel', but turned away from that too. The horror of her last voyage was still too fresh, its consequences hanging over them.

Edward had stayed close by, picking out several titles quickly, not wanting to be more than a few feet from her.

Seeing her quandary, he'd added several selections for her to his own stack.

He watched her take books, one at a time, eyes scanning a few pages, frowning, and returning them to their allotted places. After a while, he noticed she was beginning to have difficulty focusing, eyes straining, face minutely paler than it was before.

"Ready for coffee?" he asked, coming close, but not touching her.

"Can't seem to find anything," she sighed. "Just...I don't know, hard to focus."

"Perfectly normal," he said, "you've been sick. And stressed."

The frown still rode strong in her forehead. "Suppose so," she muttered, but trying to shrug it off, said, "you seem to have done well," lifting her chin to the weight in his arms.

"Cookbooks," he said, "mostly. Esme wanted some new ideas."

Bella almost moaned, fully self-conscious, "I don't need anything elaborate."

Edward chuckled, "don't worry, she knows that. She just wasn't sure how much variety you needed. And she would actually like you to eat."

Here he raised an eyebrow meaningfully. She'd been picking at her food, and he'd actively frowned, seeing how much she'd left untouched at breakfast.

She rolled her eyes, but didn't press the point. She'd had enough discussion of her diet over the last few days.

As they approached the till, Bella cocked her head, watching the clerk scan the barcodes. Not all of them were cookbooks. Several poetry titles slid into the bag, along with a few novels, with authors' names she didn't recognize.

"Poetry," she murmured to him.

"Mm-hmm," he said, picking up the bag, taking her hand.

"Planning on wooing someone?" she asked

He grinned, "just my wife," and bent down and kissed her. The grin widened, hearing the clerk's jaw drop, and his envious thoughts.

Under the safe cover of the clouds, they walked the block to the coffee shop.

Alice had checked this time and space thoroughly too. "Just the server who'll recognize you, Bella. No one else," she'd declared confidently.

Edward made her sit down, murmuring, "well, I could always wait until you faint, and then carry you out of here, but your choice."

She could picture this all too well.

Pride railing against the necessity presented by her jelly-like legs, she sat reluctantly.

"So, what can I get you Mrs. Cullen?" He smiled.

Heaven help her if she didn't blush, glancing about surreptitiously to see if anyone had noticed. "You are having way too much fun with that."

"Tonnes," he agreed, the grin impossibly wider..

"Tea," she said, "please."

He stepped away, still in her line of sight, to order.

Bella watched him, letting her muscles go slack. She'd allowed herself, in the small time since their wedding, to marvel at that very reality. They were married. She got to keep him.

It felt unreal. Impossible. Right until he would turn and smile at her. Or call her Mrs. Cullen.

It gave her shivers, just hearing it. Not that she was confessing that to anyone. Barely herself.

He turned now, and she smiled in anticipation, but he wasn't smiling, his face was set carefully, the neutral expression far too manicured to be safe.

Her face felt cold suddenly, the blood sliding from it.

"What?" She said, mind conjuring a thousand grim images.

He was slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Alice.

"Your father's colleague is on his way here," he said softly. "Alice saw him seeing you. She didn't see anything beyond that. Do you want to go?"

Bella felt like she'd braced for a punch, only to have it miss. Her stomach released its frightened contraction.

"That's all?"

"Yes," Edward said.

"No," she managed, "God no," and looked at him like he was nuts. "I thought...I thought something really horrific was going to happen."

"Sorry," Edward said, trying to stimulate the circulation in her hands, which were as icy as his.

She shook her head. "I'm just on edge."

The cashier had brought over their order, leaving promptly.

Edward nudged the tea, and the scone towards her.

She took the tea, but wasn't quite ready to introduce her stomach to something it could throw back at her.

The bell over the door jungled, and Edward listened to Deputy Mike Littlefoot's largely cheerful thoughts sail into the cafe. They were peppered with concern for his boss, who looked haggard, and, if he didn't know better, hungover. He'd dismissed that suspicion quickly. Charlie would never do that. He had, however, admitted that he was worried about Bella, mumbling something about screwing up, and her moving out. The deputy's own daughter was one, and Charlie had pointed a warning finger at him, "when she tells you something, just make sure you believe her." He'd nodded, wondering what had happened with Bella.

"What can I get you?" the cashier asked him.

"Oh, the regular, thanks," he said, pulling out his wallet.

"You check out the newlyweds over there?" she whispered, grinning, lifting her chin towards Edward and Bella.

Mike made a cursory, and polite glance over his shoulder, noting the prominent ring on Bella's finger.

Bella didn't catch the look, but Edward did, and the speculative thoughts that went with it.

He'd recognized Bella.

Turning back to the cashier, he took his coffee with thanks, trying to understand why Charlie hadn't mentioned his daughter getting married.

Then he put boss' appearance, and comments together with this new knowledge, and felt his heart clench.

She'd run off and gotten married.

Oh man, he thought, thinking of his own daughter, all baby teeth and dimples, just learning to walk. I wonder if she's pregnant or something.

Edward was wondering that too, but nothing was showing on his face. He flipped open one of the books instead.

Unaware of the drama that had played out in front of her, Bella leaned over, looking at the text his eyes scanned. He pushed the book towards her, his own eyes still holding the words in focus:

Within you, your years
are growing;
within me, my years
are prowling….
Love, what does it matter
that time,
The very time that raised two flames,
two waving heads of wheat,
my body and your gentleness,
tomorrow will hold them safe
or mill the grain,
and with those same unseen fingers
erase the identities that separate us,
giving us the final victory
of being one beneath the ground.

"That's beautiful," she said, remarking silently that it was chillingly true, too. Flipping over the cover, and eyeing the title she murmured "Neruda," looking up at him, eyebrows creased.

"Chilean," Edward explained, "he translates well."

"I'll say," she said, opening the text again to the page he'd had open.

Edward could still hear the deputy's thoughts, though they were becoming thinner with the distance. His plan to talk to Charlie was becoming more precise.

Edward swore silently.

He worried that the news would distress her, or worse, provoke further idiocy on Charlie's part.

Without her seeing, he pulled his phone from his pocket, texting Alice with one hand. Better forewarned, at least.

Bella was paling more, though, feeling the still lingering effects of the pneumonia. "Maybe we can get this to go?" she asked, lips turning down a bit at the scone, as if she disapproved of the very premise of it being consumed.

Edward nodded, putting things in the bag, offering her his hand.

As they drove home, stopping at one of the few lights in town, Bella watched as a soft gust of wind rustle the cottonwoods that lined the street, the fluff swirling off them in the breeze's unseen eddies. She followed their patterns, invisible lines lifting them up and around in a dance she couldn't predict.

She felt like one of those bits of fluff, pulled by forces she could barely understand, and over which she had no control.