Chapter Two
She's Really Gone?
JPOV
The waiting game began. I was able to stop the attack from Sam's pack by phasing and showing him the imprint that had
found me. Though the other wolves, Leah and Seth included, were not happy or approving of me tying my life to a half-breed,
there was no denying that now the child and the Cullen coven as well had fallen under Pack protection. There would be no
more fighting. Now, we all waited, and wondered how long before Bella would join the coven as a full-fledged member.
Carlisle and Edward felt certain it would be no more than three days.
Carlisle sutured Bella's stomach inside and out, in a pitiful attempt to hold in her insides. Edward had essentially gutted her
like a hunter with a fresh kill in the field. Alice cleaned her up, brushed her hair and dressed her in something comfortable.
I thought that was a little strange and a lot ironic. Clothes had always been way down the list for Bella as long as she was
comfortable. If she became one of them, would her tastes and the things that made her uniquely 'Bells' fall by the wayside?
We waited.
Three days. Hmph! So they said. 'Oh dear, they were wrong', I thought sarcastically. It's been three weeks! My imprint
on Renesmee has my heart and soul torn into little pieces. I want to be with her, hold her, feed her, and just touch her tiny,
rosy baby cheeks. She reaches out and grips my pinky finger with her delicate little hand. I'm sure she thinks she's squeezing
it as hard as she can. I smile. Undoubtedly, she is. All the while, Bella's body has been lying on the bed in an upstairs room,
perfectly still. I can't describe the conflict that is raging inside me. I swore long ago, in another lifetime, that I would fight any
imprint that wasn't on Bella. This imprint isn't on Bella. But Bella is dead. Does any of that matter now?
I revel in the fulfilling contentment that the imprint and the little girl herself give me. But I worry about her mother. I now
think of her as my imprint's mother. I no longer think of her as 'my Bells'. I can't cope with the notion that I loved her with
every cell in my body, now she is gone, and that the deep, abiding love I held for her has been overshadowed by some cosmic
Tribal ancestry mind fuck. Where's the justice in that? Somebody tell me.
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And I feel as if I'm not being fair to the baby that has my heart twisted into a knot. None of this is her fault. It's hardly her
fault that her mother was delusional and misguided. It's not her fault that her father is a selfish, arrogant, tunnel-visioned
prick of a vampire. It's not her fault that my people's Great Spirit chose her as my eternal soul-mate. And it's definitely not
her fault that I feel like the worst excuse for a human being ever because my heart is broken and in mourning at the same
time that it's binding itself to her tiny little hummingbird heart. What the fuck do I do with this maelstrom of emotions? How
do I justify the polar opposite feelings crashing through my nerve endings like million-watt short circuits?
Bella's body is stone still. Is she a vampire yet? I have no idea but I do know this. Carlisle and Edward were certain that
the transformation would take three days. There's been no twitch for four weeks now. Normal decomposition has taken
over the body. I'm certain if the house didn't smell of 10 tons of cotton candy dipped in bleach, it would smell of rotting
human flesh. Her cheeks and eye sockets are beginning to sink in. Her ribcage juts up almost piercing through the skin
of her torso. The skin itself has begun to sag into the bed linens. It's time.
We all file into the bedroom one at a time. We're paying our last respects. I stand there and stare at what was once my
best friend and the being that I loved above all others in my life. I now have a future with her daughter. My friend has no
future at all. I hardly know my own heart.
I reach out and brush my fingers over Bella's knuckles. She feels as cold as any of the other residents in this house. But
there's no evidence that she's still here. There's no marble hardness to her skin, no sparkle from the sunlight streaming
through the window. Alice said her appearance would regenerate, that she'd be beautiful. She was beautiful before.
Couldn't they see that? She'll never look like that girl again.
The last to enter is Edward. He has been by the bed for virtually the entire four weeks. I think he thought he could bring
her around by sheer force of will. It is obvious that it will be eons before he is able to let go, if ever at all. His eyes have
blackened from lack of feeding. He hasn't hunted since before the disaster in the birthing room. He appears to be slowly
but surely losing his grip on reality. I'm not sure he is aware of what's going on around him now.
Carlisle and Esme both have tried to persuade him to leave her side and at least hunt a little. I can see the worry on all
their faces. It's almost as if none of them ever considered this outcome to be a possibility. How could they have been so
naïve? Now she's nowhere. They don't have her. Charlie doesn't have her. I don't have her. The bastard has stolen her
from everyone who loved her, and destroyed her himself. Foolish doesn't even touch a description of his behavior. He's a
murdering monster, plain and simple. He doesn't deserve to exist. I would end him if I could. I can't.
That tiny baby is so sweet and innocent. She has no idea what's been done to her. She'll never know what a wonderful girl
her mother was. She'll be loved, no doubt about that, but she'll never know a mother's love. That's a different kind of love
from any other. I haven't known that kind of love in way too many years. But at least I had it once upon a time. I wouldn't
take anything for the handful of years I had Mom in my life. She loved with every cell of her being and if she loved you, you
knew it all the way through to your bones. In a way, though, I'm glad she's not here to see the cluster my life has become.
How would I ever explain to my Mom that I lost the love of my life to a vampire and then became the soulmate of her hybrid
daughter? Yeah, not happening.
A week later, we are all in a funeral home together with a huge gathering of Bella's friends, high school mates, Charlie's friends
and co-workers, Renee and her husband, both Wolf Packs and quite a few members of the Quileute Tribe. She had no idea
how many lives she touched, most of them for the better. She had no clue about that either.
I push my Dad's wheelchair up the aisle toward the mahogany casket surrounded by beautiful flower arrangements. He reaches
back and gives my hand a squeeze, thinking that will help me get through this. We stop right beside the coffin. Dad and I look
at the peaceful, it-looks-as-if-she's-sleeping face. Thank God they didn't let Alice load her up with makeup. She almost looks
like she used to. Almost.
My father is ready to return to his pew but my feet are frozen in place.
"I can't," is my strangled whisper.
He turns his head up to look at me. He whispers over his shoulder, "it's okay, son. We all understand." He wheels himself away
in an arc to move aside to allow me better access to her. I stand there for what seems like hours, but is surely only minutes.
The tears don't embarrass me. I don't try to brush them away. They fall like the first, heavy drops of a spring downpour onto
the satin edging of the casket lining. My hands rest on the edge of the opening where the left half of the lid is propped open. I
want to reach out and touch her. I want to stroke my fingers down her soft, pink cheek. I want to rearrange one of her chestnut
curls. But I am afraid. I am afraid if I acknowledge what is resting before me, it will be too real. She really will be gone. Still
clinging to the edge of the casket, I slowly sink to my knees and whisper a choked goodbye to someone who's not even here,
and to my own heart.
She's already gone. So is my heart.
My voice is a raspy whisper.
"Oh. My Bells."
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Eventually, I feel several strong hands grip me by the elbows and begin hauling me to my feet. I can't find it in myself to help
them. It's all I can do to lock my knees and stiffly lurch back to my seat. Just before I reach the rest of my Pack, Charlie is in
front of me. His eyes give away his last month of crazed grief. He reaches his arms as far as he can around my shoulders. His
own are heaving with the sobs of hysteria of a parent who has lost their only child. I can't fathom what that must feel like. I hug
him back as tightly as I dare, trying to convey my depth of sympathy for his sorrow. We have each lost a huge chunk of our heart.
At the graveside service, the Cullens are all present. A light drizzle is falling from the cloud cover that allows them the boon of not
appearing so callous as to not attend the ceremony. A few words are spoken by the preacher father of one of Bella's high school
classmates. As a procession of mourners moves past the casket poised over the hole in the ground, the skies open up. A downpour
worthy of a news headline smashes down on all of us as the casket is lowered into the cold, unforgiving earth. We each toss a white
rose down onto the closed lid as huge raindrops splatter onto the wooden finish.
Everyone 'up there' is crying for the lost soul that was loved, so we know it's okay if we cry too.
And we do.