The night was more than half gone when Bella stirred again, fluttering open her eyes with a grimace of pain. She looked to the place Jessica had occupied beside her, making a small sound of confusion when she found it empty.
"Jess…" she mumbled, searching.
"It's alright," Father Edward assured her, moving closer into her sight and clasping her hand in his much larger ones. "Jessica has gone to rest."

"Edward?"
"Yes. I'm here. You are not alone." It was odd, to hear his Christian name. Nearly everyone just called him Father, yet he was startled to realize it sounded right, from her. Or nearly right. He quickly smothered the thought.
"Hurts," she whimpered pitifully.

He lifted the cup to her lips, helping her to sip the last of the cold tea. When she had finished, he moved to the kettle, pouring another cup of hot water over willow bark. It wouldn't do much for a pain so great, but the willow tea could help ease her suffering at least a little.

Father Edward stayed by her side, checking her condition often and murmuring prayers while she slipped between short times of wakefulness and restless sleep. As the cold crept further up her legs and her eyes began to shine with the glassy haze of fever it seemed more certain the church yard would gain another wooden cross this winter.

Edward had always felt a sort of peace alongside the dying, a connection to the will of God. Sometimes he thought he could almost glimpse Heaven as the dying transitioned in the final moments when all pain was gone. Dying is messy, but death is peaceful - easy.

He felt no peace at Bella's side. The Father was troubled with an aching sense of unfinished business. A sliver of deep loss cut within him and he was confused. He'd felt grief, yes, and loss for many of the souls who had crossed into God's kingdom, but he'd also felt joy for the end of their suffering and in knowing all the good they had done in life. Surely, having lived good lives and known the love of their God they passed on to sit at His side. How could he not be happy for them, whole and perfect in Heaven?

Bella had lived a good life, a righteous life.

Edward remembered clearly the girl she had been when Carlisle chose to settle in Forks. Edward had been a boy of seventeen, nearly a man by then and making the choice between a life in medicine and following the church. He was fit and strong from long hours of hard work, with a sharp mind honed at Carlisle's side and Esme's impeccable charm. The girls in town reacted as they had everywhere when his family arrived. There were many accidental meetings, coy glances and constant whispered admiration for his emerald green eyes, the untamable riot of his bronze hair, the appeal of a surgeon's son. They drove him near to madness in their pursuit, but he just wasn't interested. No girl had captured his guarded heart.
Father Banner was the town's only leadership in faith. He was an aging man, prone to fits of coughing the worsened with each winter. Prior to the Cullens' arrival in town Father Banner had invested his hopes for the future of their church in a boy called Benjamin, a pleasant and studious boy who was strong in his faith and a good leader to his peers. Maturity had stolen that plan away however: young Benjamin had fallen in love with the daughter of a preacher in the neighboring town of Port Angeles and the pair planned to wed after he completed his schooling. He would be a spiritual leader, but not in Forks, and not for this church. Father Banner pinned his hopes instead to Edward, whose mere presence in church assured the families of every eligible female in town filled the pews on Sunday. Vanity and pride had no place in church, but allure did have its appeal. The good Father's persistence paid off in the end, and Edward's decision was made. He would become a man of God, and submitted to train with the Father. He came to know the people of the church well during his training.

Bella was the only daughter of the town's sheriff, Charlie Swan. Sheriff Swan was a man of few words, but a fine and upright man. He'd kept the town in good working order during his time, and his daughter seemed equally just. Though she had never known a mother, Bella took care of her father and their home as a well raised lady might. She was never prone to indulge in gossip as many of the other girls did. She was in church every week, often with this or that bandaged from some unfortunate encounter. Edward appreciated her quiet ways, found amusement in her long standing quarrel with gravity and came to think of her with a peculiar affection. He'd come to believe it was camaraderie, feeling a kinship for the girl whose mother had died shortly after bringing her into the world, and whose father spent so much time working away from home. Though she had kin, she was as much an orphan as he'd ever been. Perhaps more so, since he'd been blessed with Carlisle and Esme. Esme, ever the mother, had taken it upon herself to befriend Bella as a sort of honorary daughter. The two often had tea together, and worked with the other women in town whenever a family was ill or in need.

When the time came that most young ladies found husbands and started families of their own, Bella had seen her share of suitors. She was a true beauty, with doe-like chocolate eyes and smooth chestnut tresses. She had the sort of quiet beauty that girls never seem to know they possess, and even Edward had been aware though he tried not to think on such things. His heart was pledged to his God and his calling; he would never take a wife.
Bella had sent each suitor away in turn. Michael Newton was the last, at least on his third attempt to win her affection. It was odd, that she'd be spending her final days on this earth beneath his roof when she'd so soundly rejected his proposals. Michael was a kind and forgiving man, and everyone was pleased when he'd finally recovered sense to pursue Jessica instead. The pair was well matched, and luckily he held no awkward grudge to Bella.

There had been gossip in town when she would accept no suitor. It was understood that some girls simply would find no suitable match, being too unpleasant in manner or station to find interest, but for a lovely girl from a sound family to have multiple eligible choices and send all away? It was unheard of. Some said she had a secret love, perhaps a man already unhappily married. Edward did his best to silence these toothed rumors. He saw the truth in her actions. Bella would not conduct herself in such a disgraceful way. She was content to care for her father, and would not settle to marry a man who did not also possess her heart. It was honorable, really, if somewhat ill advised.

The years passed, new children were welcomed, and the little yard of wooden crosses behind the church grew. When Father Banner finally succumbed to the ailment of his lungs, Edward smoothly stepped into his place and led the congregation as he'd been trained.

Not long after, a fire caught at the sheriff's home in town while Bella was out for one of her walks – or rather stumbles – in the woods. Esme had held her, sobbing, while the tinder-dry structure burned to the ground. They placed a cross in the church yard for Sheriff Swan, though he never made it out of the flames and there was nothing to bury. Truly orphaned, without a husband or home, Bella submitted to Esme's mothering as she reeled from the loss. Edward prayed for her strength and safety. Many did, as she sat staring, closed tightly within herself in grief.
With time, Bella's pain became less. She returned to life, though it would never be quite the same. She enlisted the help of several friends to repair a shack she'd discovered in the woods, a tiny rundown cottage, long abandoned. When it was finished she struck out on her own, a nearly scandalous decision for a young woman, and made a living selling herbs and goods gathered from the woods. She seemed content enough, though Edward worried for her on the weeks she did not make the long walk to church for Sunday service. Truly, it was a miracle of God that she survived each day without some major calamity. Sometimes he would bring the good word to her instead, checking in on her wellbeing to sooth the worry. Carlisle, Esme and several of Bella's friends in town also checked in on her, bringing supplies whenever they thought she may accept them. She kept to herself most of the time, but seemed happy enough with her lot in life and usually glad of the visits when they came. Her home didn't have much, but Bella was a gracious hostess and offered freely of what she had.

As the years crept by Carlisle and Esme grew bent with time. They fell within days of one another, to a fever that swept through town like wildfire. Esme was the first to be stricken, simply never rising one late fall morning. Carlisle's grief was a palpable thing, an ocean so deep each breath seemed a struggle. The second day after burying Esme he called Edward to his bedside, where his blue eyes burned with fever. He babbled with delirium through the deep rattle in his chest, things about life, love, God and women that may have begun as wisdom before the fever twisted them into addled nonsense.
In his final moments, his eyes had seemed almost clear.
"Don't lose her, Edward," he'd gasped. "Don't lose her!"

When he reflected on those words, Edward imagined he'd meant Esme, forgetting in his illness that she'd already preceded him to her eternal rest. Or perhaps he'd been remembering any number of patients they'd worked on over the years.

And so Edward had buried his second set of parents, never far apart even in death, and had taken away the joy of knowing their love for one another was so strong. Surely, they were together again in Heaven, watching over him just as his birth parents did. His grief had been deep, but he'd buried it just as deeply and found comfort in tending the needs of the other grieving families, and in helping where he could for the sick who could no longer seek Carlisle's healing hands and wise council. He became a Father to his town and a healer of sorts, honoring the memory of the man who had stepped up to be a father to him.

He'd spent the long years of his life since trying to be the kind of man Carlisle could be proud of, doing his best to guide the people in his care. Their successes were his joys, the inevitable ones who fell to sin his cross to bear. He lived to see the families grow, to welcome each new child to a life of loving God, to share with each of them the good word. Each face was precious to him, as he recognized they were precious to God. Each face had a spark of familiarity, more so as the path of common ground stretched further behind.
Only one person in this time seemed to be more. Each time Bella came through the heavy carved doors of the church, his heart quickened just that little bit, and for a scant moment he was home.
She seldom had a coin for the offering plate, and when she did he'd cleverly divert it away before she could tithe her meager income, even at the risk of her ire. She would find other ways to balance her debts to the church, always covertly leaving behind some secretly cleaned corner, whisking away and then quietly replacing freshly mended linens or sneaking a tray of Edward's favorite mushrooms or wild berries into his office.
It was a steady balance they'd found, and maintained over twenty years.

Yes, Bella Swan had lived a good and righteous life. An unusual one, for certain, but no one could argue she was anything but right with the Lord. Why, then, did the very thought of her going to sit at the Lord's table pain him so?