As a man who had not earned his position, not many of the editors and reporters Jasper managed would respect him merely by his title. As an ex Confederate soldier with an obvious Southern drawl, that lack of respect turned into something bordering on contempt. A great many of the reporters and editors had served on the side of the Union during the war. A great many of them hadn't returned.

Edward would not have blamed the man if he quit on the first day.

"You seem like such an even tempered man, Mr. Cullen," Randall observed, his tone lacking any kind of inflection.

Edward laughed. "I have my moments of temper."

"Yes. I'm wondering just what grievous injury a man caused you to make you throw him to the wolves in this fashion."

Despite himself, Edward smirked. "He intends to marry my sister."

Randall's eyebrows shot skyward. "Ah. That'll about do it," he agreed. "Well done you. It's much more subtle than I could come up with. I knocked my sister's first suitor to the ground with a well placed fist."

"And bloody the carpet?" Edward asked, pretending to be aghast. "I may be the head of my household, but my mother would have my hide." He chuckled. "As it happens, all the respectable candidates didn't want the manager position. You declined my offer, if you'll recall."

"I've no head for business," Randall repeated. "My work is down with the presses, leading my own army."

"As it pleases you, sir." Edward tipped his hat. "But that left me with a problem. Though they may not always agree with me, the men who run my businesses are men I trust."

"I see," Randall said quietly. "You do trust him then."

"I do at that."

The two men were silent for a moment before Edward turned to the editor-in-chief. "Do you still have whiskey hidden in your drawer, Mr. Daley?"

"Always, sir."

"Might I convince you to part with it?" he asked, proffering a bill that would more than cover the cost of a full bottle, and Randall's bottle was not likely to be full.

"Keep your money," Randall said, waving a hand as he walked to his desk. He dug the mostly full bottle out of his drawer and handed it over. "If you're heading to Mr. Whitlock's office, he needs it more than I do anyway."

"I'd expect."

"Oh, Mr. Cullen?"

Edward turned back, raising an eyebrow.

"How does your wife? She must be near to her time."

Trust a newsman to be impolite enough to ask, but Edward did appreciate the candor. "The doctor says any day now, but he has been saying that for going on half a month."

"Ah, yes. Mrs. Daley was much the same way with our first, poor thing. She expected she would be carrying till the end of time. But the lad came when he was good and ready." Randall nodded. "Just the same, they say a spoonful of Castor oil does the trick."

"Forgive me, but if I had just a coin for every remedy I've heard these last weeks..." He clucked his tongue.

"You could put an end to the city's hunger problem?" Randall chuckled. "Well, best of luck to you and your lovely wife."

Edward nodded his thanks before continuing on to Jasper's office.

There, he knocked on the door, standing close enough that the frustrated sigh of the long antagonized man could be heard clearly.

"Enter," Jasper finally called.

The blond man looked wary until he saw who it was. He straightened up in his chair. "Ah. Edward," he said, standing. "Please have a seat."

Edward sat and set the whiskey bottle on the crowded desk in front of them. Jasper looked up, arching an eyebrow.

"Pour," he directed with a wave of his hand.

"What's the occasion?" Jasper asked as he poured.

"Survival of the fittest. You've made it through the week without killing or being killed." He raised his glass. "You may yet be able to handle the toughest challenge of all."

"What's that?" Jasper asked, looking a little pale.

"My sister." He leaned forward. "Don't let her petite form fool you, sir. She's a little hellion."

Jasper's answering grin was soft, genuine. "She'll keep me on my toes, I expect." He looked up, his expression knowing. "More or less than Bella?"

Edward snorted. "Before or after pregnancy?"

"I wasn't there when Maria was pregnant with Peter," Jasper said quietly, his voice wistful.

His admission had a sobering effect. "I'm lucky, I know. I will be there when my son or daughter is ushered into this world." He raised his glass again. "To lasting peace, so that we might never be away from those we love again."

"I'll drink to that," Jasper agreed, taking a long drink.

He looked down at his near empty glass, studying the amber liquid intently for a long moment. "Edward, I want to thank you," he said softly.

"For?"

Jasper scoffed. "Everything. You've treated me like a brother, better than. You took care of my little boy when I couldn't." His shoulders sagged slightly. "And all after I was so needlessly rude to you."

"You-"

"No, you don't have to excuse my actions," Jasper interrupted, not unkindly. "I know well enough I was an ass." He moved the glass back and forth between his hands.

"It was a long time that I didn't know how to be anything but angry. I gave my all. Blood, sweat, tears." He touched the pad of a single finger to the scar on his face, drawing down it. "My pretty face."

Edward couldn't help his chuckle, as Jasper had obviously meant that lightheartedly.

"And for what?" Jasper asked with a sigh. "My mother and wife murdered, my boy left motherless, and my family made poor?" He was silent a moment. "It was more than I could bear, I think.

"Then one day my neighbor came around and offered to buy my property. I was as ticked off as a bull that'd just been castrated." He shook his head. "I was out working the field when I realized I didn't know what I was doing still fighting, still being so angry. I was all alone and struggling, letting another man raise my boy."

"Living in the past when you had a tomorrow to look forward to?" Edward guessed, understanding.

Jasper looked up, his smile sad but true. "Exactly." He poured them both another bit from the bottle of whiskey and raised his glass. "To tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is another day," Edward agreed, clicking their glasses together.

~0~

James Hunter continued to be an annoying fly that buzzed around Edward's head.

Or perhaps a mosquito whose bite was ultimately ineffective for anything else but an irritating itch that begged to be scratched.

Walking home one evening, Edward was caught slightly off guard by a heavy body slamming into his on the sidewalk. He looked up to find James glaring at him, swaying as he stood, obviously drunk.

Very drunk.

The drunken man took a swing at Edward's head which he dodged easily. The forward momentum sent James tumbling to the ground.

He snarled, the sound not unlike an angry dog, as he rolled onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows. "I will destroy you, Edward Cullen. I swear to God, I will see you brought low."

"Silence, drunkard."

Edward looked up as another man, Mr. Banner - James's one time benefactor - came to tower over the fallen man. His hands were fists at his side. "You've no one to blame but yourself for your sorry condition. If you've any pride as a man, you'll get off this street and quit making such an embarrassment of yourself."

James's scowl seemed to deepen, but he didn't speak again.

Banner kicked at James's boot. "Up. Up and get out of here. You are not fit to be in polite company, cad."

By then, a few more men had gathered, standing with their hands in fists at their side. James looked around at them, his mouth pressed into a firm line, and hauled himself to his feet. Before he stumbled off, he pointed at Edward. "This is not over, snake."

Edward took a deep breath when the man was out of sight. "Thank you for your assistance, sir," he murmured politely to Mr. Banner.

Banner looked uncomfortable, but nodded shortly. Adjusting his hat, he walked away without speaking a word to Edward.

Of course, it was no less than Edward expected. While they could not condone James's actions and ostracized him, Edward was not exempt from their ire. More than one person had remarked behind his back that they found his nosiness unappealing to the nature of a gentleman.

Adjusting his own hat, Edward reminded himself he didn't care about their opinions. He had what friends he needed. He had his family.

He continued his walk toward home with his head held high.

~0~

"Damn it all to hell!"

Edward froze, a little too shocked at Bella's outburst to move right away.

She reached out, leaning hard against the wall of their bedroom, biting her lip as though she were trying very hard not to cry. Normally, dropping the two books she'd been carrying would not be cause for a day of mourning, but Bella had been very emotional the last two days or so.

"Here, Ma'am, I'll-"

"No! Leave it!" Bella demanded, all but shrieking at the poor girl. "Just leave it! I'll get it myself!"

That snapped Edward out of his stupor. "It's alright, Mary," he assured as he stepped quickly to Bella's side, picking up the books and slipping his arm around her shoulders. "Why don't you go see if my mother needs any help today."

"Yes, sir," the pale girl said, nodding and vanishing quickly.

Frustrated, Bella let out a long, slow breath, wiping at her eyes. "I am sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Edward rubbed her back with one hand, splaying his hand over her very swollen stomach with the other. "I think we may have discovered the reason. Be easy on yourself, sweetheart. He is near as big as you are."

She just sighed, leaning against him for a moment.

He clucked his tongue, cupping her face in his hands. "Oh, my poor girl. Look at you. It's so miserably hot." He pursed his lips. "Here's what I will do. I'll send the servants home for the weekend. It will be just Mother, Alice, and I. Then we may all rest comfortably without so many layers on. Would that please you, love?"

For a moment, it looked as though she was going to snap at him. Then she sagged and closed her eyes, breathing deep. "But your mother-"

"Mother and Alice will survive without the servants for a day. It's fine."

She twisted her lips, but nodded gratefully. "Will you have Leah make a pitcher of lemonade? With ice?" she asked in a small voice. "She makes it just perfectly. Not too much sugar nor too much sour."

"Of course." He kissed the top of her head. "Come. Let's go downstairs and get you situated out back on the porch. Then I'll send everyone away."

Relatively few minutes later, Edward and Bella sat on the porch outside, enjoying the day.

Well, Edward was enjoying the day a sight more than Bella was. She kept shifting, unable to get comfortable.

"Leave her be," Esme whispered near when Bella had snapped at him for what had to be the fifth time. "There's not a thing in the world you can say that will be right, at the moment. You'll survive being out of your wife's favor. I promise."

Edward frowned. He didn't enjoy the helplessness he felt. There had to be something he could do to make things easier on her.

"There's nothing," Esme assured him again when he ducked in house to fetch her a book she wanted. "I could barely stand to look at your father in the days leading up to your and your siblings births. With you and Alice, I cursed my own stupidity. How could I have let him touch me again when I knew what was in store?"

"Mother!" Edward flushed to hear his mother talk so plainly.

Esme pursed her lips, looking abashed and amused. "My son, I know you don't believe anymore that I found you in a cabbage patch."

Sheepish, Edward rubbed the back of his neck. With a sigh, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around his mother's slight form and laying his head on her shoulder. "I am worried for her," he admitted in a soft voice, speaking his long held fears aloud for the first time. "I keep thinking I would feel better if Father were here. He would know what to do if... if..."

"Shh, dear boy." His mother scratched her fingers through his hair like she had when he was a child and woke from a nightmare, weeping and afraid. "If your father were here, you would still be afraid. As good a doctor as he was, he was always afraid for me. He didn't say it, but I saw it in his eyes."

She kissed his forehead tenderly and cupped his cheeks, bringing his face up to look at her. "It will be fine. Bella is a very strong woman and the baby takes after her." She grinned. "At least, that's what I take from his powerful kicks."

Edward closed his eyes tight, breathing in deep. He felt better when he exhaled. "Thank you, Mother," he murmured, kissing her cheek.

~0~

It was some hours later, toward the late afternoon, when the crash of glass shattering on wooden floorboards woke Edward from a sound sleep.

He stood quickly, his heart racing as he reached for a gun that wasn't there. It took him a moment to orient himself in time.

Home. He was at home on his porch, having fallen asleep with the warmth of the sun on his face.

A stifled cry focused his attention, and he finally saw Bella. She was hunched over as much as her belly allowed, one hand curled around her belly, the other gripping the arm of the chair so hard her knuckles were white with tension.

"Bella?" he asked hoarsely, becoming more alarmed by the second.

Good God. Her coloring was a sickly shade of white that was nearly gray. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat and pinched as in acute pain.

"Mother!" he cried, going to Bella and putting his hand on her shoulder. "Mother! Come quickly! Alice!"

His mother appeared first, took one look at Bella, and immediately sunk to her knees. "The pains are on you, dear?"

Bella's features became slightly more relaxed, but not by much. She just nodded, still beyond speech.

"Just now?" Esme asked.

Bella looked up and it seemed to Edward she looked slightly guilty. Slowly, she shook her head no. "All day," she managed to whisper between clenched teeth.

"All day?" Edward cried. "Why didn't you-"

Esme's glare silenced him.

She turned back to Bella, patting her hand soothingly. "These are different than the contractions you've had the last few days?" Esme confirmed.

Edward squeezed Bella's shoulders. She'd been having sporadic contractions for a few days now, which the doctor had repeatedly explained could not be considered true labor and were perfectly normal.

"They are much, much stronger."

"Much more frequent? And how much time between each pain?"

Bella panted with effort. "They are frequent, but the time and the pain... it all varies. It gets worse, it gets better..." she sucked in a breath. "It gets much, much worse."

Edward saw the way his mother's eyes went wide with worry before she tempered her reaction. It felt as though his heart plummeted to the bottom of his boots. His throat went dry and tight with apprehension.

Esme took a calming breath. "Alice," she began slowly, looking to her daughter who had appeared at the back door. "You must run and fetch Dr. Gerandy. Tell him to hurry."

Wide eyed, Alice nodded and turned quickly to do as her mother bade her.

"Edward, bring her upstairs to your room."

Edward didn't have to be told twice. Carefully but as swiftly as possible, he hooked his arm under Bella's knees, lifting her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his chest as he carried her up the stairs.

"I'm sorry," she murmured breathlessly as he set her down in the center of the bed. "I'm so sorry. I should have said something, but I... The doctor has been here every day this week, and I hate him. By God, I swear if he touches me again..."

"Hush, sweetheart." Edward brushed his fingers over her wet cheeks, wiping away the tears that had spilled over. "That doesn't matter now. Everything will be fine, I promise. Rest a moment, and I will see what Mother needs, all right?"

She nodded, laying back on the pillow looking piqued and tired already.

Though it physically pained him to leave her side, when he got out the door, he sprinted to find his mother. She was in the kitchen, gathering clean towels and what else might be needed for the birth.

"Something is wrong," he accused, his voice frantic now that he was out of Bella's sight. "Tell me."

Esme spared him a look. "Calm down, Edward. It won't help her if you panic." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "She is still carrying the baby high," she said quietly.

"What does that mean?"

"I am no doctor. I'm no midwife."

"Mother," Edward begged with a groan. "Please."

His mother paused in her work. "The baby might not be turned correctly." She looked at him sternly, holding his gaze.

"What does that mean for her? For them?"

"Asking me a thousand questions will do you no good," she said firmly. "The doctor will be here shortly, and he'll know what to do to turn the baby. It will be fine. What you need to do now is take a deep breath, because that poor child is likely scared out of her mind and upstairs all alone."

That had a sobering effect. Edward snapped his mouth shut.

Her expression gentled. "Now if you are ready to be calm and strong, go sit with your wife. The doctor will not allow such impropriety when he arrives, so take advantage of it now. It's likely we have quite a long night ahead."

A/N: Weeee! Here goes. So... I'm thinking I can wrap it up in one chapter and an epilogue. We'll see. TYSM! To dizzygrl28, jfka06, and barburella!

Three things

1) I am participating in a pledge-a-thon. For $5 you can receive a private outtake from me. I'll also be doing a live chat/interview on June 30. It's for a great cause and I'm quite proud to be a part of it. Find out more here: bit . ly/ptblkris

Note, I don't know what I'm doing the outtake for yet so if you have an idea, let me know. For any of my fics.

2) I am also participating in Smut University as a Professor. If you're interested in that read more here: projectteambeta smut-university/

3) If you're a fan of historical fics, A Promise Kept by Cullen312 is quite well written. I should warn you that it takes place on the Titanic and I didn't read the original o/s it came from so I have no idea if our wonderful couple survives. I'm biting my fingers at the prospect.