A/N Thank you all so very much for the kind words of condolences many of you sent my way after I announced I was taking a break after my brother passed away a few weeks ago. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
To be honest, I wasn't sure how I was going to move this story forward, because going back to it as if nothing happened just didn't feel right to me. The words weren't coming like they usually do, so this is how I'm working through it. If hurt/comfort/angst isn't your jam, or if you're only here for Renesmee content, you won't be missing anything vital by skipping this chapter. Thanks again for your patience and support. 🙏
Bella
Feeling my phone vibrate, I brushed the garden soil from my fingers on the front of my overalls before I dug it out of my pocket. "Hey Dad, you must've been reading my mind. I was just about to ca–"
Charlie cut me off, "Bells, honey. I've got some news." The grave tone of his voice instantly put me on alert. The last time he sounded like that, Harry Clearwater died.
"What is it, Dad? You're scaring me," I told him, a little hitch in my voice. Who had I lost?
Hearing the upset in my voice, Edward appeared in front of me from where he'd been inside our cottage, tooling around with a new composition on his piano. Concern was written all over his face.
"What is it?" he mouthed.
For a prolonged moment, all I could hear on the other end was Charlie's shallow, ragged breathing.
"It's your mom, baby. She was in a car accident this morning. It was bad. I'm so sorry, she die–" Charlie's voice broke off abruptly, choking on the word.
Edward caught the phone as it slipped through the trembling fingers of my hand. He murmured a few hushed words into the phone to my father, though I couldn't quite concentrate on the words. I stood frozen in place, as still as only a vampire could be.
After he hung up, Edward pocketed my phone and gently pried the now-warped handle of a garden trowel from my hand, and tossed it aside. "Let's get you inside, love," he whispered in a mournful voice. I nodded mutely in agreement.
With one arm wrapped around my waist and one hand cupped around my forearm, Edward urged me gently forward but my feet were blocks of cement, heavy and unmoving. Seeming to understand my sudden paralysis, Edward scooped me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest, and took the first few steps toward our cottage.
From somewhere behind me a short distance away, I heard our daughter's alarmed voice ring out, "Mom?" Edward's steps halted. He turned to face her.
In a low, calm voice, Edward explained, "She'll be alright, Ness. Your mom just received some bad news…and it came as a bit of a shock."
"Is it Grandpa?" she demanded in a panic-stricken voice.
Quick to reassure her, Edward rapidly shook his head. "No, sweetheart. Grandpa's fine. It was her mother, Renée, who passed away. You never met her…So why don't you all clear out for a bit and give your mom some room to breathe, okay?" he suggested in a way that made it clear his words were not up for debate.
Breathe. I don't think I had drawn a breath since my father delivered the news. I don't think I remembered how.
"Oh, Mama," Renesmee whispered in a high, tight voice. "I love you."
Jacob, in wolf form, whimpered sympathetically, and Nahuel uttered what sounded like a prayer in his native tongue. Still gripped by the strange, stunned paralysis, all I could manage was a weak smile at Renesmee with my hand placed over my aching heart. I hoped she knew what I meant. Then they all turned and plodded off toward the main Cullen residence on the other side of the ridge.
Edward carried me inside without further delay, not stopping until we were in our bathroom. Setting me down on the side of the bathtub and kneeling in front of me, he held me close instead of letting me go and murmured into my ear, "I'm…so sorry, love. I can only imagine what you must be feeling right now. Just know that I love you and I'm here for you. Always." That's when he pulled away slightly so that he could look into my downcast eyes.
I love you, too. I told him silently because my brain was the only part of my body that evidently still worked.
"I'm going to draw you a bath, okay?"
I felt my head nod, though I don't remember making the conscious effort to do so.
Edward turned away momentarily to turn on the water faucet on full blast and in no time, steaming hot water began to fill the large clawfoot tub that was, honestly, too large for the size of the bathroom, but I simply refused to live without a tub big enough for two.
Then he quickly and methodically removed my clothing and lowered me into the scalding (to a human) hot water topped with a thick, frothy layer of bubbles. The soothing scents of eucalyptus and spearmint that wafted off the surface of the water tempted my lungs to resume functioning.
I was vaguely aware of Edward's soft, gentle voice filling the small space. "That will be Esme on the phone…I'll be just in the next room if you need me, love."
I allowed myself to breathe. Just to breathe while I sat as still as a statue in the now shoulder-deep water trying to process the information that my mother was dead.
My mother was dead. The words didn't seem to make sense in that order.
I hadn't spoken to her in years. Unlike my father, whose life was just as intertwined with the supernatural, my mother couldn't know about what I was. I'd had to let her go years ago, using my childhood trauma as an excuse for the estrangement. It had killed me to do it, but it wasn't safe for Renée to have access to me, so I did what I had to do to ensure her safety as well as the safety of my stepfather, Phil, and my now five-year-old half-sister, Amelia.
While I soaked in the hot water, I could hear Edward zipping around our bedroom. Packing, by the sound of it. Numbly, I considered the reason why. I would have to go to her funeral. Well, I qualified, I didn't have to. In fact, it would probably be safer for my family if I didn't attend, but I knew that Carlisle would never ask that of me.
Of course, I would go to Jacksonville. And as I heard Edward in the closet, rifling through his modest collection of suits, it came as no small comfort to me that Edward's presence at my side was just as much of a foregone conclusion.
Edward
"How is she, the poor darling?" Esme asked in a choked-up voice.
"In shock, I think," I answered in a hushed, worried voice. "Hey, Mom, Charlie said he'd call back as soon as he knew the details of the funeral arrangements. Not that she needs a babysitter, but could you keep an eye on Nessie while Bella and I are in Florida?"
"Of course! As if you needed to ask!" Esme chided. "Carlisle and I are here for you both, whatever she needs. My heart is just breaking for her and her family. Such a tragedy."
"Thanks, Mom. I should go. I don't want to leave her alone for too long. I'll keep you posted."
"Alright, sweetheart. Please do."
I snapped the phone shut and slipped it back into my pocket, then tossed the armful of clothes I was carrying into the open suitcase on our bed before hurrying back to Bella.
An ice-cold feeling of alarm snaked up my spine when I didn't immediately see her sitting in the tub where I'd left her, or anywhere else in the bathroom for that matter.
"Bella?" I asked as I walked the short distance to the side of the tub, confusion evident in my tone.
The tub was still full, though I couldn't see the water through the thick layer of bubbles that still floated on the surface. Using my hand to swipe some of the bubbles away, I peered into the foamy hole I'd created and jumped when I saw Bella's familiar golden eyes staring back at me unseeingly.
She was laying completely submerged at the bottom of the large tub, staring up at the ceiling, or the bubbles, I suppose, until I'd wiped them away. The sight of her, underwater with eyes wide open, pale & still as a corpse except for her hair that floated weightlessly around her head would certainly give me nightmares if I could still dream.
"Bella!" I called to her, startled to my core. I reached into the now lukewarm water and hooked my hands under her arms and pulled her back up above the surface.
"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" A hard, mirthless laugh forced its way out of my chest as I smoothed back the wet hair that stuck to her face. "I know you don't need to breathe, but can you try? For me?"
"She died thinking I hated her," Bella's voice sounded flat and emotionless. I almost didn't recognize it. That's when her shoulders began to quake with her dry sobs, soundlessly at first, but then high-pitched cries tore from her throat, anguished sounds that she tried to squelch by covering her mouth with her hands. The sight of her in such pain felt like daggers in my own chest. I would've done anything to take it away.
I did the only thing that felt right in that moment. In less than a second I was out of my clothes and joining her in the tub. I gathered her into my arms, murmuring soft reassurances, and let her weep tearlessly into my throat until her cries finally subsided, neither of us giving a single care in the world that the water had gone cold or that my added mass displaced enough bathwater to flood the modest bathroom.
"That's not true. You never once told her that you hated her. Love, you can't blame yourself for needing distance from a narcissistic parent who never made you a priority. But if you need to blame someone, blame me. If you'd never met me, you never would have had to cut ties with her in the first place. It's my fault."
"Nice try, Edward, but this life was my choice. You don't get to take the blame for the ramifications that you warned me about time and time again. I will just have to live with how we left things, which was horribly," Bella lamented sourly.
With Bella's head tucked under my chin, she couldn't see me wince. This was it. The hell I knew I would pay when she would inevitably come to regret–or at least question– the immortal half-life she chose to join me in. Bella's pain washed over me like burning acid.
"I'm so sorry, love," I crooned, barely audibly.
Bella didn't look as if she heard me, though I know she had. "The worst part is knowing that I wouldn't do anything differently even if I could! So not only am I a terrible daughter but I'm also completely unremorseful about it!" she railed, sounding a little hysterical. Then she let out a loud groan. "You married a sociopath, you know that right?"
Turning her in my arms slightly so that I could see her face, "Birds of a feather?" I told her lightly and kissed the tip of her nose. "Sociopathy is a personality disorder in humans. In vampires, it's necessary for survival. In our world, the vampires with a conscience are the ones with a disorder," I mused with a lopsided smile.
Bella snorted with something like amusement. "You really do love me no matter what, don't you?"
Taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I teased "Devil horns and all!" Furrowing my brow and in a more earnest tone, I told, "But seriously, Bella, you can't beat yourself up for however you feel or don't feel as a result of your mother's death. She did that, not you. So put the blame where it belongs. On Renée."
Bella groaned again. "I'm going to have to go to Jacksonville."
"Correction. We are going to Jacksonville."
"Phil must hate me," she muttered anxiously.
"I very much doubt that. But even if he does, I won't let him say anything hurtful to you," I promised.
"I've never even met my sister."
"Lots of people have half-siblings they've never met. Besides, maybe that's for the best," I reasoned with a shrug. "Since you aren't in a position to be able to have a relationship with her. And, love," I cupped my hand on her water-dampened cheek and tenderly stroked the pad of my thumb back and forth across her cheekbone, "there are other ways to care for her without endangering her." Obviously, I meant money, though I didn't want to come across as crass. Amelia would never want for anything, we'd make certain of that.
Bella didn't say anything to that at first, just stared stonily at the cold, filmy, bubble-less water we were both soaking in. Then, in a tiny voice, just barely a whisper, she said, "I hate this."
Squeezing her more snugly to my chest, I breathed into her hair, "Me too, love. Me too."
Three Days Later
Bella
Moments before the start of the ceremony, Edward and I signed the guestbook, and then we took our seats near the back of the church in an attempt not to attract attention to ourselves. Charlie, looking handsome (but tired) in a charcoal-colored suit, slid into the empty space next to me.
"Dad," my voice wobbled as I turned to throw my arms around him. I had to remind myself to be gentle.
"Hiya Bells, how're you holding up, kiddo?" he asked tenderly as he hugged me back. I smiled faintly against his lapel as I felt the comforting, familiar way the wiry whiskers of his mustache caught in the strands of my hair as he kissed the top of my head. He smelled exactly the way he always did, of strong coffee with little hints of aftershave and newsprint.
"Like a trampoline in a tornado," I laughed shakily. "I'm so glad you're here," I told him as I reluctantly pulled away and straightened up in my seat to listen to the opening words of the service.
It was absolutely surreal seeing the large framed photo of my mother placed on a stand among at least half a dozen floral wreaths and other tasteful floral arrangements near the front of the church. I suspected Esme's involvement.
Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" played softly over the loudspeakers as the last few guests filed into the church and took their seats on the pale, polished wooden pews.
In lieu of a casket, what appeared to be a biodegradable urn with a small sapling tree growing out of the top of it. After the funeral, there would be a procession to Phil and Renée's home where they would have a burial ceremony followed by light refreshments. It came as somewhat of a relief that the midday sun made it impossible for us to attend the outdoor portion of the services. The relief was shortlived, though, overshadowed by the accompanying guilt.
Inside the church, a pastor took to the pulpit. As the ceremony commenced, he first offered his condolences to the assembled group of mourners.
"Renée was a beloved daughter, wife, and mother, taken from us too soon…"
In the front row, I saw the back of my stepfather's bowed head. One his arms was wrapped around the slight shoulders of the small body in the pew next to him. My half-sister, Amelia. I had a partial view of her tear-stained face as she clung to Phil's side. Her face was turned toward the back to the church, as if she was waiting for our mother to burst through the doors, laughing uproariously at the looks on all our faces.
"In times like these, it is tempting to question our faith, to angrily ask how God could call away someone so beloved, so cherished, so needed by her family, friends, and her community. The book of Matthew chapter five, verse four tells us, 'Blessed are those who mourn. For they shall be comforted.' 'And he will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away,' Revelations, chapter twenty-one, verse four."
"Let us pray. Friends, in this trying time, I ask you not to be angry with God. Not to question his divine plan, but instead, rejoice! For Sister Renée is now in the hands of our Lord."
Now I've never been much of a religious person (and neither was my mother if you didn't count the brief time she spent dabbling in Scientology), but the pastor's words did the opposite of comfort me. In fact, if there was any blood in my body, it would be boiling. Rejoice? Was this guy serious? I decided that he sounded more like a defense attorney for God. And there was a good reason why everybody loved to hate a defense attorney, just ask my dad.
Edward knowingly squeezed my hand, the one that wasn't balled into a fist at my side.
"Should we go to his funeral next?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, his voice too low for any human to hear. I smiled out of the corner of mine. Dropping my shield, I thought, I haven't decided. I guess it depends on what he says next.
"…At this time, I'd like to ask the ushers to come around with the collection baskets. Every dollar raised goes to reaching more people in our community who now, more than ever, need to hear the word of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ."
Edward and I exchanged incredulous looks. Very discreetly, as if he were merely tugging at the collar of his button-up shirt, Edward made a slashing motion along the front of his throat with the side of his finger. I stifled a snort.
After the donations were collected, friends and family were invited up to the pulpit to share their memories of my mother. Nearly all of the people who spoke were strangers to me, which wasn't surprising because while I had been in my own little bubble building a life with my husband and daughter, she had been here in Jacksonville doing the very same thing.
What was surprising was what was said about her. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was at a funeral for the wrong person. Dedicated? Selfless? Super-mom and leader of Amelia's Girl Scout troupe, who sold more boxes of cookies than anyone in a tri-county area.
One after the other, people stood up to talk about the ways in which my mother bettered their respective lives. The more I heard, the more it felt like I was mourning a stranger. Pillar of the community? Was I taking crazy pills?
Each and every anecdote seemed to fly in the face of my own recollections. The woman I knew was flighty and scatterbrained, and couldn't remember the date of a parent-teacher conference if it was tattooed on her body. The women I knew spent Charlie's child support money on healing crystals and self-help seminars. And didn't even pretend to be sad when I shipped myself off to Washington so she could follow Phil around like a middle-aged groupie.
I had accepted that was just who she was. It was how I coped. It wasn't personal. Certainly, if Renée was capable of being a better mother, she would have been, right? Right?
Behind the pastor, a slideshow of photos flashed before my eyes. Nearly all of the photos had been of the last ten years, of her life with Phil. They were mostly of her being a doting mother to Amelia, family vacations, and their adventures following Phil's baseball team on the road. It was as if everything that had come before didn't matter. As if I didn't matter.
I looked over at Charlie and saw him swallow hard. Swallowing the lump in my own throat, I reached over, took his hand, and gave it a little squeeze. Giving me a watery smile, Charlie squeezed back.
Before the next eulogy could be given, I stood up, muttering, "This was a mistake." Edward stood up too and quickly ushered me out of the church with Charlie right behind us.
Even though the sky still had patches of blue, just then, it opened up, showering us with pouring down rain. And not the misty drizzle we were used to in the Pacific Northwest. These were big, fat raindrops that left me drenched by the time we walked at a brisk human pace to where the rental car was parked on the shady side of the building.
"Get in," I nodded toward the car and held open the passenger side door for him. "Let us drive you to your car," I insisted, using my forearm to shield my face from the pelting rain. Rainwater dripped off the tip of my nose as it poured down my face, neck, and arms in little rivulets.
I could tell he wanted to refuse, thinking it silly to be driven such a short distance, but then the rain started coming down even harder. He quickly conceded by ducking into the front seat. I shut the door after him and scurried into the backseat.
Charlie whipped around in the front seat to face me then, just as drenched as I was. "Bella, honey, I don't want you to let that awful funeral service upset you. You did the right thing by keeping your mom out of this supernatural stuff. Phil may not understand, but I do. And now, wherever your mom is, so does she. That's all that matters."
"Renée can rot for all I care," I snapped as Edward carefully backed the car out of the space, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
"You don't mean—"
"Oh yes, I do!" I fumed. "Did you hear all those people, Dad? They made her out to be some kind of Mom of the Year! Did she suddenly grow a maternal instinct or was I just the..." I momentarily faltered for words before continuing, "the crappy first batch of pancakes that got thrown out?!"
"I wish I could answer that for you, sweetheart, but I got thrown out, too," he smiled sadly.
"Renée can rot," I emphatically reiterated through clenched teeth.
Edward laughed then from behind the wheel. I shot him a quizzical glance.
"I'm sorry, it's what Charlie was thinking. The tree," Edward chuckled despite himself.
Now I was giving my father a questioning look.
"Oh," Charlie laughed once and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I was just thinking that stupid tree urn will probably shrivel up and die. Your mother couldn't even keep a cactus alive."
My shrill bark of laughter filled the small space, surprising even me. And then it was like some floodgate had been broken as I burst into unstoppable, side-splitting laughter; we all were. Laughing so hard that I would have been in tears if my body could still produce them. It was cathartic.
As the paroxysms of laughter finally began to ebb, so did the rain.
"I better make a run for it," Charlie grumbled, seeming to make the same observation. "I gotta be back at the airport by one."
"Ok, Dad. Don't be a stranger, 'kay? Love you."
"Love you more," came back the only reply he ever used. Then he let himself out of our car and into the dark nondescript Chevy that was parked one stall over. "And thanks for the ride."
"Safe travels, Charlie," Edward said in farewell.
"You too, son. Now get on home so you can go keep that granddaughter of mine in line," Charlie replied with a little twinkle in his eye.
Then, as we were making our way toward the parking lot exit, Edward slammed the gear shift into reverse, squealing the tires as he forcefully backed our car into the driver-side door of a BMW with a bumper sticker that read: "PASTOR-because miracle worker isn't an official job title."
I gaped at Edward as he sped away from the now-blaring car alarm.
"Don't look at me like that," he grinned crookedly. "I paid for the extra insurance."