A lot of exposition here just to give a quick impression of how the rest of the reunion went. Hope it's not too painful to read.

Hope. . .

She's holding his two-year old nephew in her lap, moving a toy plane up and down in simulated flight while the toddler bashes a toy robot against it. She isn't even looking at the game playing out in front of her, but still manages to keep the boy entertained while the adults around him carry on conversations far beyond his years. Every so often she has to adjust Colby on her lap or respond to his little sounds and two-word sentences, and every time she does, she looks up and meets Edward's gaze, smiling shyly.

She's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

While Alice and Jasper regale her with stories of Jasper's latest job, his very large family, and their home in the Texas hill country, Edward sits crossed-legged on the floor across from her. Between them he's set up a puzzle for Toni and Caleb. Toni occasionally stares up at Bella, her little face so like her mother's, but Edward isn't sure what emotion to assign to it. She could be curious, or suspicious, or downright resentful; he wouldn't be able to tell without asking. Same goes for Rosalie, although the way she'd introduced Bella to her daughter gives him hope.

"Toni, this is Bella. She's a very old, very special friend of ours. She went to high school with your Uncle Edward and Aunt Alice."

Bella of course, handled the introduction with enviable grace. It seemed she knew exactly how to talk to a five-year-old girl, something he thought she might have learned as a social worker. He isn't sure, though. There are still years between them that he knows little about.

He hopes that will change now. Now that she's begun to open up, to talk about things he can't remember, things no one else could or would ever tell him, he can't get enough. He wanted those hours on Charlie Swan's couch never to end. In his arms, she'd told him things she'd been leaving out in their previous conversations. Some of what she told him should have been gut-wrenching, but instead, it was cathartic.

So, too, is this time with his brother and sister and their significant others. It's hard—the knowledge that Bella cut them out of her life as a direct result of his actions isn't new, it's just never been this real before. It hurts to see the price they paid play out before his eyes, but no one here is blaming Bella, or him, for the decisions made five years ago. Forgiveness has been granted long ago. The door to the future is wide open.

Soon enough the kids grow too restless for conversation to continue. Bella's been caught up on the basics of their lives, though, and she caught them up on everything she's comfortable sharing with them. No one asks for promises to keep in touch, but it's implied when Bella asks Alice to send pictures of the twins when they arrive.

And then they're gone. And Bella is in his arms once more. And gratitude and relief give way to a quiet tenderness between them that needs no words.