Good morning, loves! Thank you to Mel and Pamela!

Chapter 10

"How was your day?"

I tilt my head to look up at Edward. We are curled up on our makeshift bed in the barn, and even though it is relatively early, I find I am utterly exhausted.

"I spent the day with Alice," I say, angling my head back down so he cannot see any fear on my face. Alice said nothing about Madre Maria when we returned to the cottage, though I have not been able to shake the urgency of her message.

Edward strokes my back. "I hoped you two would get along," he confesses. I look back up at him. "Alice is kind, but headstrong. She has always been a little too bold, a little too reckless. She could do with a friend who is grounded and calm." His hand gently squeezes around my waist when he speaks, and I flush.

"I am not sure I am the influence you want on her, then," I mutter into his chest. I am a nervous, fluttering sort of person. I am far from grounded or calm.

Edward's fingers brush my long hair away from my back and he hums. "I am not sure you see yourself clearly," he says softly. I do not know what to make of that.

Feeling anxiousness rising in me, I swallow and take a steadying breath. "How was your day?"

Edward smiles a little, and it warms me to see such a carefree look on his face. "Hard labor." He chuckles. "But it was wonderful to spend time with my father and brothers. I have not known Liam as anything but a demanding toddler. He is nearly a man, and it is good to get to know him as such." He pauses then grins. "And Alec." He chuckles. "I have never known him as anything but a baby. He is every mischievous part of both my parents without our oldest brothers to keep him in check." He chuckles. "I do believe he will be the one that sends my father's hair grey."

My heart squeezes for him as I grin.

"Do you think your family will come visit us?" I ask, one of my hands coming up to trace the strong lines of muscle over his stomach.

"I have mentioned it to my father," Edward admits. "I would like for them to be a part of my life again." He pauses, looking down at me. "Our lives," he corrects.

I smile. "I would like that too," I admit. Even though Alice took me on a frankly frightful journey today, I cannot deny my heart would be glad to see Edward's family more.

"I cannot tell you what it means to me that you have embraced them all," he says gently.

"It is easy," I tell him, "When they have all jumped to embrace me first."

A happy smile is on Edward's face, and I tilt my head back down, my fingers catching in the light hair sprinkled over his chest.

"Bella." His voice is quiet, almost hesitant.

"Hm?" I ask, sleepy and warm and content in his arms. He lets out a breath that moves me up and then down against his chest.

"What would you say…"His voice drifts off, and I focus on his face to see he appears a little nervous. "What I mean is…" He pauses again, and his free hand comes up, rubbing through his hair. He tugs lightly on it until it is standing upright. "I want to start a family."

My body goes cold. "A family?" I ask, my heart beat spiking in my chest.

Edward's pine eyes meet mine. "I feel I have waited for you for so long now," he says quietly. "I do not want to wait even longer for children."

I am of two minds about this. On the one hand, I agree with him. I am not in a rush to have children, per se, but I certainly would not mind them.

But on the other hand, I am only now learning how to be comfortable in his arms, and I know what it takes to make a baby.

The thought of doing that, even with Edward, sends cold panic through my body.

"Bella?"

I realize he is staring at me, and I clear my throat. "You want children," I whisper. "As soon as possible?"

Edward shrugs. "Within the year," he says quietly. "Is…" He frowns. "Do you not want this?"

I swallow hard. "I want children," I say quietly.

Edward frowns again, his body shifting from mine so that he lean on an elbow to stare at me. "However?" he prompts.

I sit up, curling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. "I…" How do I tell him? How do I explain the fear and the shame I feel whenever I think of the intimacy that should be between us? How do I tell him how my soul was scarred on our wedding night, and that I have not been able to find a way to heal it yet?

"Talk to me, please," Edward asks, sitting up to face me. He looks frustrated, his hair a wild mess above his head.

My eyes fill with tears. "I am frightened," I admit, my voice as soft as a mouse's squeak.

Edward's thick eyebrows dip in confusion. "Of what?"

You. I cannot bring myself to say it, but I see it on Edward's face when he understands. The color drains from his face, and a look of horror overtakes his features.

"Me," he croaks. "You are frightened of me."

His words drop like boulders between us, crushing me until I am near gasping from the pain of it all. I do not know how to explain my fear, how to describe the gaping wound our wedding night left within me. I do not even know if it is him I fear, or the memory of what was done to us. I do not know anything, and my inability to explain myself makes the pain in me lance deeper and deeper.

Edward climbs to his feet and I look up at him past the tears streaming down my cheeks. "W-where are you going?" I croak.

"I need air," he says, his voice cold, pained, distant. Before I can stop him, he is pulling his tunic on and climbing down the stairs, his boots still sprawled out by our bed.

The moment I hear the barn door open and shut again, I let out an aching wail, sobbing into my knees.

I am a horrible, terrible person for inflicting my wounds upon Edward.

…

Edward does not return to the barn. I hardly sleep, tossing and turning on the blankets, waiting for him to come back to me.

But he does not.

At the first light of dawn, I dress and descend from the loft, intent on finding Edward. I need to speak with him, need him to understand that it is not him that I fear, merely the pain of what has happened between us.

He is not in the barn, and I wonder if he spent the night in the house, perhaps sharing a bed with one of his brothers.

The sun has not fully risen yet, and above me the sky is like a pale purple bruise. The world below is covered in dew, and the scent of it clings the air, filling my lungs.

I am crossing the garden when I spy a long shape stretched out under an apple tree. I pause, realizing it is Edward.

He slept outside?

Heart in my throat, I brace myself before making my way to him.

The grass is soft, and the dewy dampness silences my steps.

I am nearly beside him when he wakes, his eyes widening as he sits up abruptly. I let out a small scream when I see the glint of his knife, pulled from seemingly nowhere, pointed at me.

"Bella," he gasps, winded as if he has just run a great distance. He drops the knife and it clatters into the grass. "Bella, I am sorry." There is a franticness about him, and I realize this must be related to his screams in the middle of the night. I drop to my knees on the soft earth beside him, my hands finding his cheeks as I hold his face.

"You are safe," I whisper because it is the only thing I know to say to help calm him.

The wildness in his eyes begins to fade, and for a terrible moment, I see a hollowness in him that wounds me. Then he blinks, his eyes focusing on me as if he is seeing me for the first time.

"Did you sleep out here all night?" I ask, my voice a whisper.

He swallows thickly. "I did not…" He pauses, his eyes flickering over my face before he looks over my shoulder. "Yes."

His answer pains me, though I expected as much.

My hands brush over his cheeks very softly, and he leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering shut. "I am sorry I have hurt you," I whisper, tears pooling in my eyes. His green orbs shift to meet my gaze. He does not protest, and his silent acknowledgement of the pain I have inflicted on him cuts me deeply.

Edward shifts, pulling his face from my grasp, and I let him go, my hands feeling immediately cold as he moves away from me.

"Edward, I…" I start, but I really do not know what to say. I do not know how to say what I need to, do not even know how to put any of it into words.

"Bella, please," he says, his eyes squeezing shut. "I do not wish to talk about it."

The tears slip over my cheeks as I watch the pain flicker over his face. I want to make it better, but I cannot because I am the problem.

And how do I change myself?

After a few moments, Edward opens his eyes, first looking up at the lightening sky then down to the earth. He reaches a hand up, pushing it through his hair before letting out a long breath.

"I should change," he says, climbing to his feet. "I promised my father I would help him again today."

He cannot even look at me as he strides away, leaving me under the apple tree with tears on my cheeks and a hollow ache in my chest.

…

"That is it, darling. Fine, even strokes."

Esme's voice is a gentle, soothing balm to the pain that is still rattling through me. I have been helping her make pies all morning, and it has been a great distraction for me.

Well, mostly.

Alice comes and goes, her chores taking her all over the farm while I stay with Esme, working on perfecting my crust. Each time I see Alice, she gives me a conspiratorial wink that reminds me of our visit to Madre Maria and the grim portents she gave me. Then my heart stumbles upon the aching sorrow I am holding for Edward, and like a flower in a flood, I find myself wilting, wanting to curl in on myself to somehow guard the tattered remains of my wounded heart.

Thankfully, Esme forces me to focus, and I cannot linger on the pain within me for too long before she is setting another dessert before me.

It is clear looking at Esme's beautiful pastries and then looking at my lumpy ones I have no gift for baking.

Still, she is patient with me as I stumble my way through the work, and I am grateful to her.

I think I would go mad without such a task to focus on.

While we are working, Esme sets the kettle over the fire, pulling down a jar of tightly packed herbs. She spoons some into a cup, and I catch a whiff of it.

"What is that?" I ask, intrigued by the floral scent.

"It is a special blend," she tells me, holding the jar up. "It is to prevent pregnancy. I had hoped at this point I would be going through the change and would not have to worry about such a thing, but alas, it has not yet happened."

My face must show my alarm.

"What is it?" she asks, setting the jar down.

"What change?"

Esme's eyebrows furrow slightly. "Do you not know of the second change for women?" When I shake my head, she takes a seat beside me. "It happens later in life, often when women are nearing fifty, though for some women it happens sooner and some, later," she says with a light shrug. "Our bodies go through another change, sort of like the one when we first began our monthly bleeds, but this time, the change stops them."

My eyes widen in surprise. "You mean it shortens?" I ask.

Esme shakes her head. "No, it stops all together. Well, it does for most women. Some get a lingering bleed for a few months, but yes, it eventually stops. It is at that point we can no longer bear children."

I am shocked by this information. At some point I will be too old to have children?

"Does it hurt?"

Esme shrugs. "I do not know firsthand," she says lightly. "But some women have told me there are mild symptoms. Others have reported far more unpleasantness."

"So, you drink this tea to stop pregnancy?" I ask, eyeing her cup.

She nods. "Yes well, my husband has a voracious appetite," she says winking at me. "You do not have ten children without one, I suppose."

She laughs as I flush, thrilled and embarrassed to be talking about such a thing with her.

"I did not know women could control any of it," I say, shaking my head.

"My dear, we have a great deal of control. The problem is, most women aren't taught how."

I consider this. My monthly bleeds are sometimes painful, but not nearly so bothersome as they were when I was younger. I suppose it is because I have learned to cope with them.

I think about Esme, who apparently has much knowledge in this. Of course she would, given that she has ten children.

My stomach drops when I realize what Esme means by voracious appetite. How has she managed this long to endure the agony of it all? How has it not broken her?

"M-mam," I say slowly, not wanting to ask but more afraid of not knowing. "Can I ask you about…" I pause, my cheeks flushing. "H-how do you manage the pain?"

Esme's eyebrows furrow. "Of childbirth? My dear, after the fifth one, they begin walking out on her own," she says, shaking her head.

I blush. "N-no," I stutter. "Not childbirth…" I let my voice trail off.

Esme's frown deepens. "What is it, my darling?"

It is far too warm in the cottage. I feel as if my cheeks will catch fire if they grow any hotter. "D-does it stop h-hurting? To…" I pause, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "To lie with your husband?"

I am red as a tomato. I can feel it, burning at my cheeks and neck. If I were to strip down, it would likely be to find that my whole body is crimson with my embarrassment.

"What?" Esme asks, her eyes wide. "My darling, it does not hurt me." Her eyes narrow. "Has my son been abusing you?" Her face grows as dark as a thundercloud, and I am quick to correct her.

"N-no!" I nearly shout at her. "No, it is not…" I pause, regretting bringing this up at all.

"Darling, speak to me," Esme pleads, her hand coming over to cover mine. "I promise whatever you say to me shall stay between us."

My eyes fill with tears. Now that I have the opportunity to talk about it, I find the words stuck in my throat. How can I confess my guilt and shame?

Esme must sense my conflict because she reaches forward, soothing a hand over my hair. "An attentive partner will make sure your needs are met," she says gently. "He will be aware of your body, and he will avoid you any pain."

I feel my eyes widen slightly. "It can be done without pain?"

Esme smiles gently. "My darling, it is meant to be pleasure, the very antithesis of pain."

This news is shocking to me. Never once in my life have I heard such a statement.

"Pleasure?" I ask, hardly able to wrap my mind around it.

Esme nods. "So much pleasure your toes curl," she whispers. It triggers a shocked giggle out of me and she grins. "When you and Edward have lain together, has he done anything to help you?"

It is mortifying to be talking to his mother about this, but since I have no one else to turn to, I find I am left with few other options.

"We have only… We only did, once… on our wedding night." I find it extremely difficult to get any of the words out. My eyes are filling with tears at the memory of that night, and I feel the hollowness threaten to swallow me again.

"Wait, you have not been together at all since he returned?"

I look up at Esme's shocked face, shaking my head. I reach up to rub the tears from my eyes.

"I-I cannot," I whisper, ashamed of my admission. "I am too frightened to let him near me."

"You are frightened of Edward?" she asks, surprised.

I cannot hold it back anymore, cannot keep it within me. My confession pours out of me, burning my throat and tongue as it is revealed. "My grandmother was there, with three men I did not know. They stood and watched as Edward climbed up on me. They made him take me, watched as I lay there, aching and confused and terrified. They watched us as we…" My voice catches in my throat. "It was supposed to be private, but they stood there and watched."

Esme's arms surprise me by wrapping around my body and pulling me close to her chest. She smells of the spices we have been baking with, and I sink against her, the sobs I have been suppressing bubbling up out of me. She strokes my hair as I weep, soothing me with her mother's touch.

It is a hug I did not know I needed, but now that I have found it, I fear I will not ever be able to let her go again.

"Oh, my darling," she croons, pressing a kiss to my hair. "Oh, darling."

She lets me weep until I am completely spent, my eyes puffy and burning.

She reaches for her handkerchief, wiping tenderly at my cheeks as I pull back from her.

"I am so sorry this has happened to you," she whispers, tears in her own eyes. "It is a violation to you, to your marriage…" She trails off, shaking her head. "It is not right, what they have done."

I reach up to brush a stray tear from my cheek.

"I want to be able to give myself to Edward," I whisper. "But every time I am close to that, I remember the pain, the humiliation, and confusion. I have not been able to let him in."

Esme strokes my hair, and I see her swipe her own tears away.

"I understand," she murmurs. I look at her in surprise. "Bella, something was done to you that cannot be undone." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "I want you to consider that something was also done to Edward that night. You do not hold this pain alone. This is something shared between you."

I stare at her. I have never thought of it like that. I did not think he could have been as broken as I felt from that night's events.

Could he be harboring similar fear and anxiety?

"It in no way lessens what you have been through," Esme says, tenderly stroking my head. "But I suggest that you consider talking with him about it. It sounds as if you both have wounds that might need mending."

My heart aches to think Edward could be holding any sort of pain as the one I have been clutching in my heart for the last four years. How have we allowed it to drive such a wedge between us?

The pain in me is still raw, still visceral, but I decide sitting there at Esme's table that tonight, I will talk to Edward about it.

Take heart, Little Bird.