Epilogue

The world was white and frozen, but inside, the home of the coffin maker blazed with warmth and life.

He opened the door to the rich scent of spiced stew and mulled wine, and he quickly shut the door again, trying to block out the cold. At the hearth, his wife sat in her seat, attentively working on her mending.

"Are you done for the day?" she asked, standing and stretching.

The coffin maker was momentarily distracted watching the new swell of her body. She'd told him of the child she carried once they'd been home and after they'd fallen into bed, limbs tangled, bodies sated, hearts beating against another once again. He had never been happier, nor more horrified to think of his wife and his unborn child facing the world as they had to find him.

He thanked God daily that his family had lived to rectify his foolishness.

"I am," he said, blinking to focus himself. "I was rather hoping to spend the rest of the day holding you in our bed."

The coffin maker's wife grinned, setting her mending down.

"I see no reason why not," she agreed, one hand sliding over her stomach. "That is, if you can get close enough with our child in the way."

The coffin maker's heart flipped in his chest. Our child.

He moved in two strides, across the cottage, sweeping his darling into his arms. She let out a squeak of surprise, laughing and kissing him deeply as he carried her to their bed.

"Aren't you hungry?" his beloved asked with a small giggle as she broke their kiss.

"Absolutely famished," he agreed, kissing her lips again before traveling down and pressing a kiss to the swell of her breasts. She let out a light sound, breathy, almost a laugh, as her fingers wove through his hair.

"Supper," she started again.

"I'm not yet famished for food," he corrected her, sliding down her body to press a tender kiss to her stomach. Her eyes flickered down to him, and a smile stretched over her lips.

"Monsieur Laurent thinks it will be a boy," she said, her hand splaying over her belly. His fingers wove through hers as he kissed her stomach once more.

"Our child could be a woodland creature," he said softly. "I care not, so long as they are born healthy and whole."

Bella let out a soft giggle. "You shouldn't taunt the Old Ones that way," she admonished lightly.

He grinned. "I'll leave a bowl of milk for them," he promised. He kissed her belly once more before moving further down her body.

Her winter clothes were too thick, he decided, with far too many layers.

He heard his wife giggle as he struggled to make his way beneath her skirts. When he finally found her soft thighs, he pressed kisses to them, making her muffled giggles turn into moans.

The coffin maker's wife bent her knees, opening her legs wider as her husband's mouth played and explored her flesh. She wished she could see him, but he was lost under piles of wool that, despite her best efforts, were not pooling around her waist well.

It hardly mattered when she felt his tongue on her, hot and slick and knowing.

She let out a cry, her back arching slightly as he feasted on her, bringing her body to a frenzy. She had been prepared for pregnancy well enough, but none of the women she'd spoken to had warned her how much her need for her husband would grow.

She wanted him, always.

He was all too eager to oblige.

The coffin maker drove his wife to the brink of ecstasy, knowing her body so well, he played it as finely as a court musician might play a violin.

He knew when her body had reached a peak, knew when she tipped over into sweet ecstasy, and he continued to lap at her, wanting to taste all of her.

"Edward," she rasped, and he barely heard her through her skirts. Reluctantly, he pulled his head out from under her dress. When he emerged, his hair was on end, and his wife let out a sweet laugh, bringing him up her body to kiss him firmly. "My love, help me out of this dress," she said with a giggle, releasing him.

He happily obliged.

Many grunts and giggles later, both the coffin maker and his wife were free of their clothing, their bodies sliding together in perfect unison. Together, they navigated each other toward pleasure, and when they finally found that bright, shining ecstasy, they fell together, arms wound around each other, hearts beating as one.

…

"Love?"

Bella was exhausted, her body worn out from a rather rigorous night. "Hm?" she asked sleepily.

Edward pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "I must get back to work," he said softly. "I have to finish the box for Monsieur Laurent before dinner tonight."

Bella's eyes popped open, and she smiled. Tonight. They were dining with their friends in celebration of the engagement of Rosalie, Jasper's mother, to her new suitor, one Mr. McCarty. Bella had seen her old friend a handful of times since her adventures with the young apprentice, and she had grown close with the woman once more.

"I have a pie to bake," the coffin maker's wife said, climbing out of bed. "Will you make sure there is wood by the hearth so that…"

"It's done, my love."

Bella smiled at her beloved husband. Tonight would be the first time they were all back together. Monsieur Laurent and his new apprentice, the young Seth, would be joining Jasper and his mother, as well as the young Miss Alice who Jasper had started to court. They were too young to marry yet, but never had the coffin maker's wife seen such a pair in love. Outside of her and her coffin maker, of course.

Tonight would be a joyous night, surrounded by loved ones and friends.

"Have you heard word yet?" Bella asked, turning to her husband. He looked up at her as he continued dressing.

"Yes," he agreed. "Victoria has received the sleeping draught, and knows the plan."

Bella nodded. "Good, and the arrangements in the new village?" she asked.

"Taken care of. The sisters are eagerly awaiting their newest ward," Edward explained.

Bella let out a breath. She'd been furious with him for his secrets he'd kept, but once she'd had time to reflect on it, she'd realized her husband's unexpected venture shouldn't surprise her.

His heart was good and kind and pure, and it made her proud how much he cared for those who needed help.

She went with him now—while she still could—and was a source of comfort to the girls as they were unburied and transported to their new lives. Bella brought them clothes and food, and assured them with wisdom and kindness that their lives were now their own.

As it had always been, it took both the coffin maker and his wife to create the perfect balance.

Bella knew she wouldn't always be able to go with him. Her baby would be born in a few months, and it was too risky to bring an infant on such campaigns. But now that she knew of the scheme, she was able to plan. She designed the coffins to be more efficient and comfortable for the girls, and helped her husband pack supplies to set the girls up.

She would do what she could, from wherever she could.

Edward leaned toward her, pressing a kiss to her mouth once more before leaning lower and pressing a kiss to her stomach.

Bella smiled, her hands coming up to press into her stomach. She pictured her son, gentle-hearted as his father, with the cleverness of his mother. She imagined a child who would grow to live up to his father's legacy, a boy with a heart to help those in need.

In only a few short months, she would have a babe at her breast, her friends gathered around her to welcome this miracle of new life. Her child would be born safe and loved, raised in the tender loving hearts of the coffin maker and his wife.

The End

Thank you, thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart! I know FFN got a little wonky in the middle of posting, but thank you all so much for your support, your dedication, your eagerness, and your love that you left. This little story meant so much to me, and I'm so grateful to be able to share it with you too.

Thank you so much to Mel for her incredible beta work, and Jill, whom this story is dedicated to, and without whom, Edward might not have ever been found.

Thank you.