Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.

Rated M for several reasons.

Chpt 41 Consonance

BPOV

I twitch my hat again, unhappy with the way it's making my lopsided face look, lopsided. I am not a hat person, never have been and never will be. Then I sigh miserably because I'm alone and don't need to put on a brave face for anyone.

Today I am burying my husband of fifty years. My Edward.

And today more than ever I feel the loss of the wasted time, the wasted decade, when neither of us had the balls to say what we really wanted. But not too keenly because we more than made up for it, he and I.

My little old lady reflection smirks back at me wickedly.

But I am still mad at him. What the hell did he think he was doing sticking his arm up the business end of a pregnant mare at his age?

Stupid old man.

Another sigh.

He retired years ago but since we retired to breeding racehorses the temptation was always there. Not that I can complain, I've kept my finger in the publishing pie too. Even become a published author myself, once or twice. I didn't think anyone would be interested in my autobiography but as usual Aro was right. And the fiction just followed, Edward had quite the imagination and I had the time to write it . . . .

What am I going to do without him?

I can feel the panic that I've been subduing this last week bubble back to the surface. We've been together for so long I don't make sense without him, not that I ever really did. He cancelled out the dissonance in my existence, prized me out of the life I was trying to make the best of and enshrined me in the one I should have had all along. The one filled with laughter, love and him. He made me an Edward junkie and now he's taken away my fix. What's to become of me . . . .

I've also been suffering from extreme melodrama ever since it happened. It's not normally my way but I haven't felt this alone in decades and I don't know what to do. And he's not here to ask.

Stupid, stupid, old man!

And stupid fucking hat!

I look like the Queen of England with palsy. A British bank note that's been left out in the rain. Edward hated it when I cut my hair but in my sixties I just couldn't face all the work required to keep it. Besides, despite what the old fashioned ass said, little old ladies of my generation aren't wearing their 'flowing' locks in buns with ornate pins.

There's a knock at the door and Demetri pokes his gleaming bald head round it.

"You ready?" He asks.

"I suppose I'll have to be."

"That's the spirit." He chuckles.

We have no idea how old he actually is but he's sure as shit older than me. He moves a lot slower than he used but still manages to get around and insists on driving, which terrifies me where it used to comfort me. Can't get him to stop though. The grandkids call him Lurch, which I think is rude but he seems to find quite funny.

"Are there any press at the gate?" I ask him checking out my disappointing reflection one last time in the mirror.

"Do bears shit in the woods?"

Damn. We never really managed to shake the spotlight off our family, we just got used to it, but for once I really wish they'd fuck off and leave us in peace.

It takes forever to cross the room to the door, via Edward's Baby Grand, because though I'm blessed by a lack of most old age problems I move like an arthritic crab thanks to the dodgy knees. Which is why I have a stair lift. I can stand fine and walk a reasonable distance (if the God's are willing) but the stairs were getting a bit much. I refused to move out of our bedroom, the room we'd put ourselves into creating, our sanctuary, so Edward put the lift in for me.

It's ridiculous and embarrassing to descend so slowly . . . . the wretch laughs his head off every time he bounds down the stairs ahead of me on his infernally youthful legs. Or laughed his head off, every time as he bounded down the stairs ahead of me, on his infernally youthful legs. Damn . . . . I just can't . . . . He can't be . . . . How the hell did this happen? Edward . . . .

Alice is waiting for me at the bottom, a box of tissues at the ready. She's been such a help this last week, having lost Jasper to a long illness last year. I thought I understood her pain and confusion but, no, I had no idea . . . . Edward and I tried so hard to help her, support her, but our efforts must have been like a band aid on a broken leg . . . .

Alice grips my face in two gnarly strong hands for a moment, dabbing at my tears with a tissue as she stares into my eyes.

I nod and she smiles.

I can do this. I owe it to Edward to do this. I just need to get through this and then . . . .

Demetri hauls me off the chair as Rose emerges from the family room, scowling. Old age has approached Rose very carefully, probably afraid of getting its ass kicked, and she's still a handsome woman, even with the white hair. Which Edward constantly pointed out she hadn't cut . . . .

"What's the matter?" I ask her.

"What's always the fucking matter?" She snarls. "I've lost Em, you'd think in a wheelchair he couldn't give me the slip, but no."

"He's probably out back with the kids."

"He'd better not be, that new hip's only two weeks old!" She huffs, swivelling, carefully, on her heel and stalking out.

Alice and I share an eye roll, and Demetri laughs.

…..

Settled in the car I gaze up at the façade of our house, the much loved backdrop to our lives together.

We searched for it for so long. Me perfectly happy in his barn, him wanting some undefined 'more' for us.

We fell in love as soon as we saw it. He got his horse barns and acres, and I got an office with the world's best view of the horse barns, and Edward working in them. But despite his eagerness it took us years to furnish it all. Books, beds and the kitchen first, the rest was just details, ones we worked out over time. Alice wasn't impressed, no co-ordinated style, but my Mother-in-Law, Esme, understood perfectly. We built a home. Our home. One pillow, one picture, one antique, one knick-knack, one random item at a time.

And then we got a dog, a descendant of Quill, who chewed most of it to destruction. We really should have known better . . . .

But nevertheless our home drew friends and family to us like a lodestone. Creating what the Kentucky locals refer to as 'The Clan'.

Demetri, who set up our rare breeds program when William passed and Moira couldn't face it anymore. His girlfriend, Heidi, who graduated college and moved down to Kentucky to marry him, eventually becoming our Housekeeper slash unofficial head of household. She's the youngest and sprightliest of us, already gone ahead to the church to keep The Clan in order. God knows we need it, we're a rowdy and uncompliant bunch at the best of times, herding cats she calls it.

Alice and Jasper have two girls, Maria and Stefanie. Who have two girls a piece, with a first great grandchild due any day. We're betting she'll be a girl but Alice is still hopeful . . . .

Rose and Em couldn't seem to stop once they started procreating and fetched up with four. Three boys and finally a little princess, the most spoilt young lady on the planet with her mother's ice queen eyes and air of total command. She's a lawyer, of course.

Demetri and Heidi have two boys, both military men with large families of their own.

All a part of this house, this home, in their way.

Edward and I were never blessed with our own children but through tragedy came into a family that's given us nothing but joy over the years. Char and Pete were killed in a car crash when the twins were just three years old and their younger sister barely more than a babe in arms. It was such a sad time but the Cullens and Whitlocks pulled together just like they always do to weave family and love from the pieces.

Peter Andrew Whitlock is now the CEO of Cask. It's a very different company to my day, having slimmed down over the years, but he runs it with a firm fair hand, just the way The Old Man taught me. Petal Antonia Whitlock, known to most as Toni, now runs Alice's design house and a fine job she's making of it too. And our baby, Candice Alyssa Whitlock is one of the foremost racehorse veterinarians in the world, her Daddy is so proud . . . . was so proud . . . .

Oh Edward . . . .

Alice leans over to pat my knee and hand me a tissue as my eyes well up, which gets her a watery smile.

I am saved from an embarrassing crying jag by the arrival of all three of Em's strapping sons who manhandle him deftly, but not particularly gently, into the limo. Rose slides in after, well used to a large family of large men and their general lack of thought for the fragility of the rest of the universe.

"Ouch." Is Em's only comment as we glide away down the drive.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Rose growls, tilting her chin at Alice. "Do you need to go potty? Because you're shit out of luck."

Alice can't bounce like she used to but the intention is always there, she just sort of vibrates in place with excitement these days, its kind of funny and Em and I share a smile.

"Nah she's just excited to be going to a function where she knows we'll all be color co-ordinated for once." Em chuckles.

"God this family is inappropriate." Rose complains as Alice threatens Em with her wrinkly, liver spotted, fist.

And I manage to keep smiling through the shimmering tears because she's absolutely right.

…..

We pull up at the white church surrounded by a flock of black clad 'birds' and paparazzi.

Because Alice has planned this down to the second I know that Edward is already inside and I struggle to comprehend anything else as Peter helps me out of the car.

"Alright Mom?" He asks gently and I nod, patting his arm.

"Mom?" Toni, takes hold of my other arm, tucking it under hers. "You okay?"

Another nod.

"Where's Candice?" I wonder, wanting to see her.

"Edward Junior needed to go potty."

"Ah." That brings a smile. Not just children, or Grandchildren, Great Grandchildren. Who knew? Edward and I have been so blessed, so proud.

"Mom." Peter pleads. "Don't cry. Remember, you said, we're celebrating Dad's life today?"

"Not all of it." Rose drawls, eliciting a laugh from the family. We love, loved, to taunt him about Suaveward. And tell stories about Pa Cullen, the oh so suave original . . . .

Alice hands me another tissue and I dab the tears with it, the damn things get in all the crevices at this age and my foundation is already departing my face for a better life on the tissue.

I concentrate on pulling myself together while Heidi shoos the Clan around me in preparation for entering the church.

They're all here. Old. Young. Descendants. Friends. All our family. We really were blessed. Oh Edward . . . .

And behind them? Colleagues, associates, friends. And plenty of faces I wouldn't recognise if I ran them down in a parking lot somewhere. Plus ça change.

…..

The service is interminable, despite the humour Peter and Toni's husband manage to imbue their speeches with.

And my stomach growls at one point which Rose and Em, of course, find hilarious.

I can't look at the casket, not even the beautiful spray of flowers covering it . . . .

…..

Finally its over.

I'd like to say I was a brave woman when they lowered his casket into the ground. But I wasn't. I lost it. Big time.

And it took an age to persuade the people that love me to leave me alone at the graveside.

…..

It's an inappropriately beautiful day, the sun is shining and all around is verdant and green. A light breeze rustling the trees hemming the church yard.

"You're a stupid old man." I tell his elegant headstone. "And when I see you again I'm going to smack you upside the head."

There's no witty come back, just the sound of birds chirping.

"You promised to sleep hump me every morning for the rest of our lives. You put it in our marriage vows. It was embarrassing enough at the time. And you lied. Because I'm still here and you haven't humped me in a week."

Birds chirp.

"Today has been . . . . strange." I continue. "Sad, but happy in parts. Seeing everyone. Remembering everything. But, when we got married in this church . . . . fuck . . . . it never occurred to me I'd be burying you in it. I know I'm being selfish but I, we, weren't really done were we?"

No answer.

"Alice said she'd come on the cruise with me, you know, because you're a stupid old man and can't."

And because everyone else has a full and happy life and has better things to do than hang out with inconveniently widowed me.

"God Edward, I hate being this pathetic and I'm really fucking mad at you right now!"

The swaying trees are dappling the sun, making my vision swim and the sound rush in my ears. This whole week has been overwhelming . . . .

I'd let myself faint but for one it's never been my style and for two, I'd never get back up with my dodgy knees.

I should probably call Peter but I don't want to. I don't want to leave the peace of this spot. Or re-join the human race.

I want Edward back but no amount of longing is going to make that happen . . . .

Flushed with heat I rip my hat off so my head can breathe.

It's a shame I don't feel like I can as a shadow looms over me.

"Ed-ward?"

It is him, standing before me in the suit I just buried him in.

"What the fuck?"

"I think you're having a stroke." He says calmly.

"It had better be a fatal." I fire back. "You know I can't stand drool."

"I think if you can see me and talk to me we can be pretty certain it's fatal."

"Fabulous, I didn't even get to sample Heidi's lunch."

He laughs, showing his beautiful teeth through his crooked smile.

"What happens now?"

"I've no idea." He says, squinting up at the sun. Then he offers me one of his strong long fingered hands. "Let's find out together."

I reach for it automatically, marvelling at our smooth unblemished skin as our fingers entwine.

"Don't look back." He suggests as we start walking toward the trees.

"I wasn't planning to . . . ."

The End

A/N So here we are, at the end. Although we will be going back a bit before I mark it complete . . . .

I struggled to write this one to be honest. Whether it was because it was all human, or because the most I managed to do to Edward was get him kicked by a horse I don't know. Or maybe it was because RL was tired of being ignored and started playing up?

Anyway, and this will come as no surprise to regular readers, I started this because the idea intrigued me and finished it because you guys were reading it and wanted to know what would happen. And were so nice about it.

You are what made this fun for me. Never doubt it.

I don't know what, if anything, will be next. RL is still acting needy.

But I think, in my downtime, I might go see if I can find some supernatural characters that want to blow shit up with me . . .