I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

VI

Bella's POV

I woke up as sunlight streamed into my room. There was too much of it, and it came in from the wrong angle. I had overslept and there was no telling what chaos had descended with my unplanned tardiness. I was already sitting up in my head, bemoaning the fact that I had neglected to braid my hair as was my usual custom and would thus be forced to tame my hair with more force than usual when I realized that my head was throbbing like a bad tooth.

For a moment it puzzled me. My belly did not ache with my monthly cycle, and that was usually the only time my head throbbed. Then I remembered. The ache in my head was what prompted the memory. They were dead. My parents. Gone. I was alone…except for the boys. And Mrs. Kendall. And perhaps, Mr. Masen? No, I must immediately dismiss that notion.

At this moment, there was only one man I should hold dear in my thoughts.

I realized that never again would I be enfolded in my father's embrace, smell that unique combination of peppermint and pipe tobacco that seemed to be the embodiment of Charles Swan. It was difficult to believe that he was gone forever. I had always seen my father as larger than life, bigger than the mundane things of this troubled world.

But in the end, he had been nothing more than fragile flesh and bone, created from Adam's rib like the rest of mankind. I felt the tears threaten at the thought of never hearing his voice again, seeing his familiar handwriting on a letter. Every time I got the post, I was hopeful that there would be something from him. There usually was. Hardly ever from my mother, but as when I was a child, I hardly felt the lack.

Charles Swan made up for all of life's little hurts. Even my marriage had been contracted with my benefit in mind. His anger when we discovered that the Blacks were not as financially solvent as hoped had been because he had wanted a life of ease for me. Mother had been angry at her own dashed hopes, but Father… He had wept at the thought of me struggling as they did. When Jacob and I boarded the train that brought us west, Father had been bitter for me.

"I never thought to lose you to one so far away, Izzy," he whispered. "And all for naught." I wondered at my mother's certain rage now that the truth had been revealed. What my father must have endured I could never know. Still, he was not the type to speak of such things. He sighed, kissing my cheek. "You are my daughter, and I am always your father. You are never alone in this world, Izzy. Never alone." He was the only one I ever allowed to call me Izzy. Everyone else addressed me by my proper Christian name, Isabella. A few knew me well enough to call me Bella. But only Father had called me Izzy. Only Father had promised me that I would never be alone.

But now I was, of course, because Father was dead.

I squared my shoulders and stood up, ignoring the weakness in my knees. Now was not the time to give into weakness. Now I had to be stronger than ever, for my boys. They had hardly known their grandparents; even William Black had been a distant figure to them, bitter and angry much of the time. Jake had protected the boys from his father's ill moods. But the boys had had very limited contact with my parents. I remembered that on their last meeting my mother had scolded the Alex for crushing her skirts. That had stopped Aaron cold, for he had been on his way to give his grandmother a dutiful embrace. She neither noticed nor missed the embrace and the boys had been just as happy to play in my parents' barn and watch the horses in the corral. Like me, they had learned to avoid my mother.

Now I had to tell them that my parents were dead. Would they realize what that meant? How could they?

I would have to make a trip back home, and I would have to take the boys. There was nothing that could cause me to leave them here alone. Perhaps Mr. Masen would consent to journey with me. I knew his family lived somewhere east. He might wish to call upon them. Then again, perhaps not. I had the sense that his relationship with them was strained at best. Either way, I meant to ask him. I wanted him to be with me, and for the first time I allowed myself to admit it.

Edward's POV

I escorted the boys down to break their morning fast, determined that they should not waken their mother. A hushed conference with Mrs. Kendall had reinforced my thought that Mrs. Black should be allowed to sleep as late as her body would allow. Grief and drink would have exhausted her, and she was sure to waken with an aching head. I knew she was not accustomed to drinking spirits heavily and she seemed to have indulged quite generously the night before.

Had she not been drinking due to grief, I might have enjoyed seeing her imbibe. She probably would have loosened that tight bun of hers and perhaps even undone a button or two as the night wore on and the spirits warmed her. I could imagine her with tendrils of silken hair falling about her shoulders, a glimpse of ivory flesh that never saw the kiss of the sun.

Castigating myself for my inappropriate thoughts, I listened for movement upstairs. I had been unable to bring myself to continue with the boys' lesson today, so I had given them an unanticipated and much appreciated day free from educational pursuits. They were currently climbing trees behind the house, carefully watched over by a ranch hand, Jock.

Jock was not particularly intellectually gifted, indeed one had to repeat directions several times before his dim eyes would light in comprehension. But he was fond of Alex and Aaron and would watch over them diligently, not allowing them to fall. Alex would stick to the lower branches in any case, his fear of heights hindering him until Aaron teased him. Then Alex would climb higher in order to prove he did not fear and Jock would rescue him as he had done a dozen times before.

They were good boys, even if a trifle spirited and exasperating when they took it into their heads to pursue mischief. A lifetime of dealing with Emmett and Jasper had prepared me well for my new calling in life.

At last, at almost ten in the morning, I finally heard Mrs. Black stir above stairs. Half an hour later, I heard the sound of her small boots on the stairs.

When she appeared at the foot of the stairs, her face was pale and drawn, but signs of grief were apparently only in the line between her fine, dark brows. "Mr. Masen, are the boys having lessons today?" She appeared only curious, not angry and I drew a sigh of relief.

"No, ma'am, I thought it best to let them have a day of relaxation…all things considered. They are in the orchard. Jock is watching over them at present."

"Yes, perhaps that is best," she agreed. Then she took a breath and clutched at her skirts. "Because of the…situation, I find that I must travel back home to settle my parents' affairs. I anticipate that the trip will take a month at least. Obviously, I cannot leave the boys here, even with servants."

I tried to hide my smile, because I sensed what was coming. And my answer would most definitely be yes. Never would I send Isabella off to face such hardship without accompanying her. I wanted to hold her now, to reassure her that I would never let anything hurt again. I wanted to soothe away that line on her forehead, rub away the ache in her head, and kiss her until she could no longer remember what troubled her.

"Of course," I agreed with a nod of my head.

"Yes, well…" She seemed ill at ease and I wished more than nothing to alleviate her discomfort.

"Perhaps, Mrs. Black, I might make a suggestion?" I assumed a detached air and schooled my expression to careful nonchalance and utmost respect and deference.

"Of course, Mr. Masen." A bow of that graceful dark head and I felt my heart react by speeding up its rhythm.

"Perhaps I could accompany you and the young masters," I said. "I could continue to instruct them, of course, so that they would not fall behind in their studies. " Give her an excuse to accept your invitation. "And there would be the added benefit of having another pair of eyes and hands to care for them." Remind her how rambunctious her sons can be, how difficult it would be to mind them on such a long journey by herself.

She appeared to consider my request for a long moment and then finally nodded, and I drew a breath at long last. "Yes, Mr. Masen, I do believe that you are correct." She paused. "And I thank you."

I nodded, smiling graciously. "It is my pleasure, Mrs. Black."

Her cheeks flushed lightly and she nodded once more. "I shall go to the boys and explain our trip and the reason behind it." Grief flashed in her dark eyes and I wanted to hold her close to me.

I watched her go, appreciating the subtle, graceful sway of her skirts as she walked. As I studied her, I came to a decision. I was done with denying my feelings for her. Once we were away from this place where her husband's ghost lingered, I would, at the right time, reveal my feelings to her. The timing was unfortunate, but the need to confess was burning me up inside.

"I love you, Bella…" I whispered. "Let me love you."

I had had enough of denial. I would no longer embrace my unhappiness. Instead, I would seek the joy I knew I could find with her. My soul reached out to hers, and I would no longer resist it. It was simply meant to be and I was tired of fighting fate.

Life was too short, and happiness uncertain. We must take joy where and when we could find it. I had found it. I meant to claim it.

Bella's POV

I walked away, feeling his eyes follow me. I had seen something new in his gaze this day. Something unyielding but not frightening to me in the least, even as I acknowledged its inevitability. He had the look of a man who has come to a difficult decision, and once the issue is decided, he knows that nothing will stop him from achieving what he sets out to do.

A part of me shivered at that new steely determination I saw in those green eyes. A tiny core of me, perhaps the instinct that God gives women, warned me that his new resolve had to do with me.

I should have been frightened or disgusted.

I should have been many things.

Instead, I feel inside of me only an answering tenacity. My parents are gone, and though that is a pain I will not lightly endure, that tragedy has also brought with it a new sense of freedom. My life is now mine to spend or squander or hoard as I saw fit. In the East, perhaps, my actions would draw more censure. But here, the rules are slightly more relaxed. Pedigrees give way to practicalities, societal niceties must make way for need.

So I let his eyes follow me. It was nothing I could act on yet. I had a distasteful duty ahead of me, and my own guilt at realizing my newfound freedom would not be lightly set aside. Still, I recognized well enough my determination. Life was, as had been proven so recently, uncertain. I had not found joy with Jacob Black, but that did not mean that such happiness was not to be found in the marital bed. I wanted more than this existence, this place of limbo between being alive and dead. I wanted to do more with my short human years than simply be.

I meant to find happiness – and I meant to discover if Edward Masen was the key to my joy.

I had a feeling he was.