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Chapter 19: Matters of Life and Death

Edward's POV

It was almost noon on Monday morning, and Bella was still sleeping. She had skipped school today, and as I refused to leave her side, Alice had gone alone in the Volvo. Esme had knocked a few times, itching to serve Bella's breakfast, but each time I had sent her away. I was getting the sense that if Bella didn't awaken soon, I would be force-fed a stack of Belgian waffles.

However, the senior class saved me by deciding to call Bella as soon as the lunch bell rang. At eleven-forty sharp, Bella's cell phone began beeping and ringing incessantly. She groaned at the clamor and turned her ringer down, ignoring it all.

But when Charlie rang an hour later, she answered, sighing that she'd put it off long enough. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey, kiddo." Relief flooded his voice. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she smirked at me.

"I was about to leave a message. Figured you'd be in class now."

"I would be, normally."

"Oh," Charlie hesitated. "Is there a special schedule today?"

"I wouldn't know, Dad." Bella fiddled with her hair, looking about six years old. "I didn't go today."

From the way she winced, she seemed to expect Charlie's disapproval. But he only asked, "Are you coming home tonight?"

She was tired again. "I don't know."

"Well, I've got some paperwork to finish up," he said. "But I wanted to check on you."

"Thanks, Dad." Her bottom lip was quivering. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Bells. And thank Edw—everybody for taking such good care of you."

"I will. Bye, Dad." I laid her phone on the floor, and she sniffled herself to sleep. She awoke around four o' clock, replied to a few text messages, ate a few bites of Esme's chicken pot pie, and was asleep for the night by nine.

A few minutes after Bella drifted off, Alice came by my room to update me on the day's events.

"It was awful," she said in a small voice. "I've never seen so many sad humans in my entire life. Students staring blankly ahead in class, teachers running late because they were crying in the lounge. The only reason they didn't close the school early was because no one wanted to go home."

I grimaced. "Bella can't go back to that."

"There's a candlelight vigil tomorrow night, so school will be closed. Brittany's mother might make an appearance, but that's still uncertain."

"And the cause of death?"

She noted my tone. "The autopsy will be released tomorrow."

My reaction concerned her, but I shook my head. "I can't. Not yet."

She opened her mouth to say something else but changed her mind, patting my knee before leaving my room. I reached for my stereo's remote control and turned on Bella's lullaby, seeking to comfort my girl as well as myself.

—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—

Tuesday night, we were gathered in the living room watching the evening news. Alice normally briefed us on the major headlines well in advance, but tonight was a notable exception. Bella and I were sitting in the chair closest to the television, her eyes distant but dry. Esme was standing near the fireplace—she found it difficult to sit when she was nervous—and Rosalie, Emmett, and Alice were perched on the sofa. Carlisle was going to the vigil from the hospital, and Jasper was hole up in his literal man-cave in the woods, dissecting Washington's mistakes in the Battle of Germantown. He was to return when the house was empty.

After a brief mention of what stories were to follow, the male newscaster cut to Gail Timmons who was stationed outside of the hospital with the night's top story.

"Thanks, Kurt," Gail began, her stoic face revealing nothing. "Autopsy results for Forks High School senior Brittany Young are in. The report rules out foul play and confirms the absence of drugs or other foreign substances in the eighteen-year-old's system at the time of her death. Beyond that, hospital officials tell me that the family will release no further information and requests that their privacy in this matter be respected."

Bella turned to me while the homely correspondent droned on. "What does that mean?"

I rubbed her arm and kept my voice steady. "It means that's all the information we're going to get."

"But they know how many of us care about Brittany," she sighed. "Why wouldn't they tell us what happened to her?"

Words failed me again, but Esme came to the rescue, bringing her maternal know-how to Bella's other side.

"I just wanted some answers," Bella muttered.

"I know, and I wish you could get them," Esme said as she rocked her gently. "I wish that there was more that I could do."

"You sound just like Edward."

"He's not the only one who loves you." Esme kissed Bella's cheek before releasing her. "Not by a long shot."

"We should get going," Rosalie said as she clicked off the television. "Traffic is heavy heading into Forks, so we'll have to drive at human speed."

Even though I'd watched Emmett give Rosalie her jacket, I hadn't realized they were attending the vigil. "Is it okay if we come too?" she asked.

I couldn't remember the last time Rosalie had spoken to me without irritation, so I would have granted her request for that reason alone. But her tender expression had aroused my full sympathy. "Of course," I said.

"I'm going to wait for Jasper," Alice said. "I don't want him coming back to an empty house."

"Then we'll see you later," Esme said as she led the way to the garage. The five of us piled into my Volvo, and I realized that this was the first time I'd had my mother and my love in my car together. Hopefully the second time would mark a happier occasion.

The drive to the vigil was slow and soundless. Red taillights stretched ominously in front of us for a half-mile, and idle conversation would have been insufferable. Bella looked out the window for most of the ride, turning to me every now and then. Her eyes were unreadable, and I wished for the millionth time that I could hear her mind.

Anticipating the parking lot congestion, I parked three blocks away from the school and walked toward the spot where Carlisle was waiting for us. He took Esme's hand and then answered the question that I couldn't bring myself to ask.

I can't, son, he thought to me. Out of respect for the family, I cannot read the autopsy report.

I nodded imperceptibly, swallowing my irritation with Carlisle's strict moral code. In truth, the contents of that report were the least of my worries.

We pressed toward the flagpole where the candlelit crowd was already swelling. The soft glow of the flickering lights was beautiful against the cloudless sky and served as the perfect backdrop for the mournful music. The string section of The Eighth Notes, the high school music club of which Brittany had been a proud member, was playing Tears in Heaven. My mind remembered the other Eric Clapton song from the Ball, and my heart ached to return to that infatuated innocence of just a few days ago. Bella's hand clenched in mine, and I imagined that she was thinking the same thing.

The stirring melodies distracted somewhat from the persistent sniffling but not nearly enough. Judging by the concentration of salt in the air, every other person here was in tears. Faculty, students, and neighbors were lost in assorted memories, sadness streaming from their eyes. Tyler and Eric stood a few feet in front of me, trying to hide their misery from their parents. I was surprised by the romantic root of Eric's wound, and my pity for his unvoiced affection for Brittany caused me to hold Bella that much closer.

She was standing in front of me with the back of her head on my chest and my arms crossed protectively over her midsection. She was warm—having worn her heavier jacket and scarf—and tearless so far. The other women in my family were also tearless but nevertheless affected: Rosalie shook in Emmett's arms, and Esme's head was cradled against Carlisle's shoulder. I had never seen my family so anguished, and I was crippled by an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. A concluding thought tried to shove itself way forward, and I yanked it back, unready to acknowledge its sneering presence.

I was counting the flickers of candlelight for want of a distraction when one reeling mind elevated itself above the din of the crowd.

I shouldn't have gone for muffins.

I had heard that mind only once before and couldn't place it right away. But even if I hadn't remembered her cheery thoughts as I'd watched her front door when Bella visited there for the first time, the suffocating sorrow gave her away. I couldn't see Mrs. Young, but she was just within my listening range. I closed my eyes and concentrated, hating myself for intruding.

I shouldn't have gone for muffins. I should have been sitting with her or been in the room at the very least. Then maybe I would have been there when it happened. Maybe I could have restarted her heart. Maybe I could have saved her.

Someone was addressing the crowd now… Madeleine of the very shop where Mrs. Young had regrettably gone for muffins. Mrs. Young cursed the pastry matron for not offering same-day delivery and then flogged herself for being so thoughtless.

It is my fault that my daughter is dead not Madeleine's or anyone else's. The doctors said there's no one to blame, that sudden cardiac death can happen to anyone at any time for no reason at all. That Brittany's death had been a tragic accident, but I don't buy that because I know the truth. And the truth is that it's all my fault.

Her mind stumbled over several medical terms that she couldn't pronounce and didn't understand, all of which did nothing but reinforce the debilitating truth of the autopsy report:

Brittany's death was unpreventable and unexplainable.

"Should I go up there?"

Bella's strained voice short-circuited my eavesdropping, and I surveyed my surroundings for a clue to what she was asking. Angela and Jessica were making their way to the flagpole, followed by Ben and Mike. As I reluctantly recalled that Mike was supposed to be dating Lauren now, I realized that Lauren was not here and that Bella was selfless enough to speak in her stead.

"No, Love." I said softly, not wanting to seem controlling. "It's enough that you're here tonight."

She sighed and tucked herself deeper into my immovable chest. I held her tighter, kissing her hair, and returned my attention to Mrs. Young.

She had finished her rant about the autopsy and the futility of modern medicine and had trapped herself in the memory of Saturday afternoon.

In her mind, I saw it all:

She had entered the house through the backdoor, laying the telltale lavender box on the kitchen counter.

She had smiled when she heard the sounds of August Rush coming from the den.

She had artfully arranged three red velvet muffins on the tray with two glasses of milk and some napkins.

She had walked into the living room and found her daughter lying awkwardly on the couch, staring at the ceiling with unblinking eyes and her mouth ajar.

She dropped the tray, its contents shattering and splattering all over the carpet, and ran to her daughter's side.

She tried CPR, pounded on Brittany's chest, slapped her, shook her, screamed at her to get up.

But it was too late.

She was too late.

Her daughter was dead.

I shouldn't have gone for muffins. I shouldn't have gone for muffins. I shouldn't have gone for muffins…

Angela and Jessica were still in front of the microphone, their shared remembrances of Brittany inciting a fresh round of tears in the crowd. Bella covered her mouth and buried her face in my shoulder. As I stroked Bella's trembling back, Mrs. Young's cerebral refrain receded from my hearing as she asked her sister to turn the car around and take her home.

—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—

By the time we made it back to the mansion, it was after ten-thirty. Bella had fallen asleep in the car, overwhelmed by the emotions and embraces of the evening, and I carried her upstairs to bed. I made sure that she was asleep before slipping out of my room.

I couldn't remember the last time my emotional state had brought me to this, but tonight I had no choice. My request had been accepted, and I quickened my steps to the deserted first floor. My gifted sister was too busy reconnecting with her husband to notice my actions, so my secret would remain safe.

I glanced around one last time, and then my fingers reached for the familiar button obscured by the wall sconce. The floor tile disappeared beneath me, and a rush of cold air sucked me downward in a swift, strong motion. One half-second later, I was walking on a concrete floor hidden two stories below the house, the tile in the floor above me sliding seamlessly back into place.

When Alice and Jasper had joined our family, I had been genuinely excited to gain two gifted siblings. But living with three married couples soon took its toll on my sanity. So before we moved again, I had begged Carlisle to build me a private oasis somewhere on every property we acquired thereafter. He'd granted my wish and kept its existence from everyone except Esme, the family architect. She'd designed it with two exits—one leading to the back of my closet and one which let me out a few miles from the house—and helped us test the military-grade soundproofing. My top-secret suite was outfitted with a full bath and closet, another sound system, a long wall of books, and had been my paradise on earth before I discovered heaven with Bella.

Bella.

I walked faster, my mood worsening with every step.

The light was on in the front room, and I was fuming before I even crossed the threshold.

"Sudden cardiac death!"

Carlisle was sitting on a leather bar stool next to the pool table, expecting me and my attitude. "I don't understand."

"Brittany, Carlisle." What the hell did he think I was talking about? "That was her cause of death."

He closed his eyes. I was afraid of something like that. "Edward…."

"Sudden cardiac death! This young, otherwise healthy girl who had gone bungee jumping and mountain climbing and was probably hang-gliding in her spare time died of sudden cardiac death!"

"Son, I…."

"Did you see her body? Are they running anymore tests?" My mind was racing. "They should be checking for latent myocardial diseases and electrophysiological abnormalities, at the very least. She was thin, even for a teenage girl. She might have been suffering with a magnesium deficiency."

"I don't think the family…."

"They need to dig deeper, Carlisle. They need to find out what caused this instead of placating the family with a useless concept like sudden cardiac death. What the hell is that anyway? 'We don't know what killed her, but her heart didn't look quite right, so let's just call it "sudden cardiac death." It doesn't mean anything, but maybe that will be a good enough explanation to keep the family off our backs!'"

"Edward, if you…."

"There has to be something else!" My voice thundered despite the sound-absorbing walls. "There has to be an unknown disease or recessive family gene that killed that girl!"

Carlisle finally completed a sentence. "Why?"

"Because Bella could die too!" The thought I had forced myself to suppress since Saturday night finally flew out of my mouth and took all of my energy with it. "She could die, Carlisle."

I slumped against the nearest wall as my wounded heart spewed out its deepest fear. "It isn't enough that I have to protect her from the perils of the mythical world. Not enough that a paper cut was nearly a death sentence in our house. Because she's human, she can die in any number of interesting ways. She could catch a cold that could become pneumonia or she could catch a virus that will take her life. She could crash, fall, or be the victim of an unfortunate accident. And if all of that wasn't enough, she could die for no reason at all. Her heart could give out because it was tired or bored or because the planets were misaligned. And unless I was beside her the moment it happened, she would die. She would die, Carlisle, and I would be alone once more."

The notion of returning to that bleak existence robbed me of the will to remain upright, and I fell to the floor in a dead heap. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything to diminish the torment in my mind. A torment that I fully deserved.

"I was such a fool," I mumbled. "A fool to think that I could let her die. An even bigger fool not to change her while I had the chance. Had I done that when she asked me, this would be moot because Bella would be a vampire right now." The visions from Alice that I had rejected now taunted me with their seductive appeal. "We would have raced and pounced and hunted together, and I would have discovered the beauty of our life through her perfect eyes. We would have kissed and touched and made love with total abandon, expressing our love as complete immortal equals." I was too far gone to be ashamed of my lust. "Most of all, my angel would be safe from every potential harm.

"But because of my arrogance, because of my foolhardy belief that I knew better, Bella remains vulnerable to the dangers of both worlds. I can't keep her safe as long as she's human, and I know that now. But I can't convince her to become one of us, either. And knowing that she might die before I had the chance to save her is…."

Another wave of despair threatened to drown me, and I pinched the bridge of my nose, nearly leaving two dents in the frozen skin.

My father had been silent for a long time, reciting the alkaline series of the periodic table in Swahili to keep me out of his head. Finally, he joined me on the floor.

"Do you know why I only change dying humans?" he asked.

I sighed, hardly in the humor for a treatise on his goodness. "You'd never convert someone who had another choice."

"A sanitized version of the truth," he scoffed. "The real reason is that it is far easier to hide my selfishness behind pending death."

He took a deep breath. "I did change you in part because you mother begged me to. I also pitied your youth, thinking it a shame that you would die before you'd really lived. But more than anything, I wanted you. I saw your vitality, your beauty, your limitless potential. And I wanted you for myself."

I was dazed, flabbergasted, and Carlisle didn't give me the chance to respond.

"In you, I saw a possibility that I had not contemplated since I left the Volturi. Your mother told me about your intuition, your brilliance and curiosity. And I knew that you would make a glorious vampire. You could be my pupil, my friend and companion in all things. And I took you for that purpose, even though I had no natural right to do it."

He looked at me. "That is why I welcomed you back after your so-called rebellion. Your wilderness experience was my fault entirely, and my guilt multiplied as you refused to place the blame where it belonged. You saw me as an angel of mercy, but I knew better. I knew that I was a black-hearted, selfish thing, and every moment of loneliness you endured poked a tiny hole in my frozen heart.

"Rosalie was to be my atonement," he laughed ruefully. "But that arrangement was doomed from the start. Luckily for her, she soon found Emmett, and he embraced our way of life. I shudder to think what sort of monster he would have become had he not done so."

We both needed a moment to regroup after visions of a red-eyed Emmett invaded our thoughts.

"But when you fell in love with Bella," he continued, "I prepared to change her. Two wrongs to make one right, as it were."

"So why didn't you?" I asked. I was emotionally overloaded, and his confusing confession was of no help. "Why didn't you let the venom spread in Phoenix?"

"Did you not hear anything I said?" Carlisle exclaimed as he leapt to his feet. "Although I don't regret the decision, it was wrong for me to change you for my own satisfaction."

"But that's not what this is!" I was angry again. "You wouldn't have been taking Bella's choice from her—you would have been granting her wish! Bella wanted this life. She wanted to be like us. But I protested too long and scared her too badly, and now she doesn't know what she wants."

"Believe it or not," he replied, "she didn't know then either. Bella's love for you has always been certain, but her desire for this life was uninformed at best. And because I knew that, I would not have changed her had she asked me, even though doing so would have assuaged my considerable guilt. She had not yet counted the cost, and I am relieved that she is doing so now. This period of contemplation will prevent her from experiencing regret when she chooses immortality."

"If," I sighed.

My father gripped my shoulders. "When. You may doubt Bella's need to be with you forever, but I do not."

In spite of my need to hear his reassurances, they fell on deaf ears.

"I told her that I would support whatever decision she made," I said. "How can I burden her with my fears while she's grieving over Brittany's death?"

"Your feelings would not be a burden to her," Carlisle said. "Tell her that you are afraid of losing her and how very much you love her. That will be enough."

I felt the world resting on my stony shoulders, and I was weary of the weight. Carlisle sighed and offered me his hand, as he had done at every crossroads in my life.

"I am afraid that my words have done little to help you." He pulled me to a standing position. "And I am sorry for that. But I told you these things so you would knock me off of the pedestal upon which you have unjustly placed me..."

"Not gonna happen," I muttered.

"And," he ignored me, "I wanted to show you the futility of guilt. My guilt about changing you didn't make your life better. And your guilt for not agreeing to Bella's earlier wishes will not improve your relationship with her now."

I knew he was right, but the prospect of Bella dying still plagued me.

"Son, I know you're scared. I cannot even imagine what it is like to love a woman who is so breakable. But you have proven that your love is stronger than thirst, than threats, than everything that has come against you so far. So you must believe that it is also stronger than the shadow of death."

I contemplated my father's words as I watched Bella sleep that night. Not only his personal reasons for changing me—which were startling in and of themselves—but his assessment of my relationship with Bella.

He was right about the uselessness of guilt, as it had fueled every poor decision I'd made in the past century. And I knew that Bella hated few things as much as she hated secrets, especially those I'd kept "for her own good."

But I refused to impose on Bella's grief to discuss my emotions, no matter how much I might want to. There was so little that I could do for her right now, so few ways that I could help. But I could do this. I could be patient and rational. I could be supportive and calm. I could be the strong one.

For all that she had done for me, I owed her at least that much.

—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—o—

Although Bella had more clothes in my closet than I did, she found it difficult to choose an outfit for her friend's funeral. After several emotional attempts, she finally called Alice who kicked me out of my room. Ten minutes later, Bella emerged in a black and white tunic sweater, dark gray leggings, and black ankle boots. Her loveliness obscured the day's solemnity for the sweetest of moments, and I kissed her cheek before offering my arm.

"Ready?"

"No," she sighed, "but let's go."

The Forks Community Church was a large, white, steepled building near the center of town. The pastor, Rev. David Lewis, was a good man whom Carlisle had met several times as he visited his parishioners in the hospital. I'd never had much use for the man or his devout opinions, but as we neared the church, I hoped that he had some holy words of wisdom this morning.

Two-by-two, the Cullen couples followed Carlisle and Esme into the church with Bella and me bringing up the rear. I wanted to postpone her pain as long as I could, to give her a chance to prepare. But as we reached the casket, even I was unnerved by what I felt.

Brittany was dressed in a pale green dress with her flaxen hair curling around her face. Her hands were crossed atop her abdomen, and a small smile somehow tugged at her mouth. In contrast to what I knew about her death, she looked peaceful, as if she'd simply fallen asleep.

But though this wasn't my first encounter with a corpse, it was the first time that the dead body belonged to a former friend, and the differences were staggering to my keen senses: there was no heartbeat, no subtle flutter, not a single sound coming from the casket. Although I had often wished for quiet in the presence of humans, this brand of silence was eerie in its totality.

While I stared at Brittany, I was startled to notice that her hair was lengthening before my eyes. It was spreading out past her elbows and waving gently in a rich brown shade. Her lips were getting fuller, her skin more pale, and there was a sensual familiarity in the look of her closed eyes. I reset my mind before the cruel distortion could complete itself and remembered that Bella was alive, healthy, and by my side.

She's by my side, and she's fine. She's by my side, and she's fine...

Bella squeezed my hand, unaware of how she had saved me from myself, and I was awestruck by her bravery as she reached into the casket. But when her fingers brushed the back of Brittany's arm, she gasped and looked at me. Her eyes were filled with horrified recognition, and although I still couldn't read her mind, I could practically hear what she was thinking as she gaped at me.

Brittany's skin feels just like yours.

Bella's face crumpled as a muffled cry escaped her, and I shuttled her away from the altar as quickly as I could. But as we took our seats beside my family, I couldn't quell the flare of anger and self-loathing that her disgusted expression had unearthed in me.

Even before she had known what I was, Bella had never rejected my advances. That night at the restaurant in Port Angeles, she had reached for me first. And after we declared ourselves in the meadow, she had always been forward and free in my arms, offering her body and responding with relish wherever I touched her.

Never reluctant, never repulsed.

But now that she had come in direct contact with a frightening approximation of what I really was, I had to face reality: even if she could still love me, Bella might not let me touch her bare skin for a very long time.

I didn't know if I would survive the deprivation.

Bella was sitting next to me, our bodies less than an inch apart. She was dabbing at her eyes with the tissues Esme had slipped her, and the sight broke my heart. I wanted to comfort her, to reassure her that I understood and didn't blame her for her reaction. But I was annoyed at her for belatedly seeing the truth and doubly ashamed of my anger, so I fixed my eyes on the bald head of the mourner in front of me, counting the divots in his bulbous skull.

After a few moments, Bella leaned toward my ear. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said without conviction.

"I don't know what I was thinking, but I hadn't expected her to feel so hard and cold and dead." My mortification deepened with each adjective. "Her skin had always been so soft. And now it feels like nothing, like she's nothing." She lowered her voice as her whisper intensified. "How could you ever have compared yourself to that?"

My head whipped around to hers. "What?"

"You've called yourself 'not human,' 'the living dead,' and other horrible things." Her tears were flowing steadily now, and a few seconds passed before she could finish her thought. "How could you ever see yourself—your loving, wonderful, beautiful self—as a corpse?"

She was losing control of her whisper, and in spite of my shock, I gathered her as closely to me as the sacred venue would allow. Once again, Bella had surprised me, totally floored me, and I was done. As the quiet sobs racked her body, the drastic shift in my feelings overtook me, and I found myself joining her, astounding my family with my public display of emotion.

I had never in my life felt as loved and desired as I had under Bella's chastisement. Her unwavering belief in my goodness and utter refusal to see any evil in me were beyond anything I had ever imagined. No matter how many reasons I gave her to hate me, she somehow saw my heart and loved me anyway. And the more I pondered the miraculous power of the woman beside me, the more I cried, holding myself rigid so as not to shatter the wooden pew.

And Bella's acceptance was that much more significant because she was still human. She could feel that my body was cold, yet she declared it warm. She could feel that my skin was hard, yet she welcomed its caresses. She knew everything about me, knew every deficiency that made me abnormal, yet she chose me as her mate. As I wept in gratitude for her liberating love, I prayed that God would see fit to let me have her for as long as I lived.

"I'm sorry," I whispered after my silent heaving came to a stop.

"It's okay," she said. "Just promise you won't say things like that ever again."

I kissed her hands and held them against my face. "I promise."

As the organist transitioned into Ave Maria, Bella and I returned to the world where the service was beginning. Mrs. Young's sister Bonnie read from Psalms and the gospel of John, and then Madeleine prayed for the continued healing of the family. But it was the Forks High music teacher, Mrs. Bachman, who brought us all back to the brink of tears with her moving rendition of Somewhere over the Rainbow. Before beginning her song, she confided that The Wizard of Oz was one of Brittany's favorite movies, and Mrs. Young's wails had paused the service for one full minute.

After several friends and family members gave remarks and read Brittany's biography from the program, Rev. Lewis came to the podium. By now, Bella was almost out of tissues, and Jasper was reaching his emotional limit.

"I would love to make sense of this tragedy," the pastor said after thanking everyone for their attendance and kind words. "But I cannot. I do not always understand why God allows what He allows, nor would I insult Him by presuming to.

"But I can tell you that God's love is greater than our sorrow, greater than our outrage, greater than our bewilderment. So we can come to Him when we're hurting and know that He cares. In spite of the things we don't understand, we can know that God loves us and He cares about our pain."

He read a few verses from the gospel of Matthew and spoke for some time about Brittany's life and legacy, sharing an anecdote about Brittany's first Sunday morning piano solo two years ago.

"We'd never heard Amazing Grace played quite like that," he chuckled. "And after Brittany's brilliant performance, Sister Milton refused to play that hymn for six months. She had a little problem with pride."

The congregation chuckled for the first time all morning, and I could feel Jasper's relief at the respite.

Rev. Lewis addressed a few more condolences directly to the Young family, Mrs. Young in particular, and then reached his conclusion.

"If I could impart only one thing to you now, it would be this: God has deputized you, all of you, to carry Brittany's memory in your hearts. And I challenge you to live as Brittany would have lived, as she is living in heaven even now. Chase down that dream, take that risk, ask that question that you've been meaning to ask. Because once the curtain falls on your time in the spotlight, there won't be any encores. So treat every moment as the seminal performance of your life. Let us pray."

We rose in unison for the final viewing, and Mrs. Young's composure began its final erosion. Bella was better prepared to see the body this time, and she fondly touched Brittany's cheek as she said her goodbyes. But Rosalie was struggling to control herself, and when Mrs. Young began to cry again, Emmett had to escort his wife outside. Esme followed out of concern for her oldest daughter, and Jasper stepped out to clear his head. Carlisle and Alice remained with Bella and me for the benediction, and the four of us filed out of the sanctuary together.

Bella seemed to recover in the cool, damp air, the rosy color returning to her cheeks. She had wanted to speak to Mrs. Young, but the grieving mother was moaning beside her daughter's closed casket. One of the ushers closed the church doors to give her some privacy, but the sight of her suffering was too sad to ignore. The rest of us would go home to our families and might miss Brittany from time to time. But Mrs. Young's house would forever be missing one person, and that was the inescapable truth of the day.

Bella spotted Angela and Jessica huddled together, and she pressed her hand into mine before making her way to them. I was getting ready to check on Jasper when Alice appeared at my side. She yanked my arm, nearly dislodging it from the socket, and dragged me behind a large shrub on the side of the church.

"What's wrong?" I asked, as her eyes were frantic and scarier than usual. "Is it Jasper? Is he's in danger?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, no. It's Bella."

My apprehension intensified. "What about her?"

"She has made a decision about her future," she said. "A major decision."

A full measure of fear gripped my heart, but impatience spurred me on. "What did you see?" I demanded.

Alice's poker face broke out into a colossal grin. "You're getting engaged!"

Oooooh...what is Alice talking about? Do we hearing wedding bells? Stay tuned!