Chapter 34: Two Wishes

September 13th, 1987

Volterra, Italy

Edward opened his eyes. He couldn't believe it. The drip had returned. The last time he had heard it was two weeks before Christmas in 1971, when it had all of a sudden stopped. He had attributed the cause to some change or repair in the castle above him, but as he listened now, the same patter on the stone floor outside his cell in eight-second intervals had returned. The sound echoed through the dark, damp dungeon, a rhythmic reminder of the passage of time. He shook his head with a faint smile, finding a strange comfort in the familiar sound, almost like being reunited with a long-lost friend. He knew that, in the grand scheme of things, a drip was the least of his problems. He closed his eyes once again, allowing the rhythmic drip to blend into the background, just another noise as time marched on.

Edward much preferred to spend his time with his eyes shut. There was nothing to see if he opened them. He had memorized every inch of his small jail cell decades ago—the rough texture of the stone walls, the iron bars, the cold, hard floor. No, it was in his daydreams where his life truly unfolded now. Almost sixty years had passed since his imprisonment, and he found his imagination far more stimulating than his real life. And given a vampire's perfect memory, he liked to concoct all sorts of scenarios where he was out in the world, living his life.

He returned to the last night of his freedom, nodding to the doorman as he entered the Four Deuces speakeasy. As he walked in, he took in the room, noticing so much more now than he had that night so long ago. Back then, he had only paid a little attention to the band, listening to them play before heading straight for the poker tables. But now, in this perfect recreation of that night, he stopped and looked around. He had spent so much time in this establishment in the past sixty years that it felt more like a second home.

The smoky haze hanging in the air, the clinking of glasses, the lively chatter of patrons—every detail was meticulously preserved in his mind. He walked through the crowds, but now he had assigned names to everyone. The bartender, Joe, had a warm smile and a penchant for storytelling. The jazz singer on stage, Ruby, had a voice that could melt the coldest heart. The regulars at the bar, each with their unique quirks and tales, had all become familiar faces in his mind's eye.

They all had backstories, intricately woven narratives that Edward had crafted over the decades. Sometimes he engaged with the patrons to see where his fantasy would lead him. He would sit at the bar and strike up a conversation with Joe, who would share the latest gossip and tall tales. He might dance with Sarah, an attractive blonde he hadn't paid any attention to at the time, or he might join in on a heated debate with the regulars, their faces animated with passion and laughter.

He realized there were so many different outcomes to how that night could have played out, and now he could explore each one. Each variation brought new excitement, new possibilities, keeping his mind sharp and his spirit engaged.

Sometimes Edward delved into full-blown horror stories, letting his vampire side run free, draining people left and right as the speakeasy erupted into chaos with men and women screaming and running in every direction. In these dark fantasies, the air would be filled with the metallic scent of blood and the panicked cries of patrons. Occasionally, Al Capone himself would emerge from the back room to see what the commotion was about. Not once had he ever lived after making himself known. The notorious gangster's shock and terror as the life left his eyes always added a little something extra to Edward's macabre daydreams.

When Edward wasn't wreaking havoc among the customers and was in a more inspirational mood, he would take over as the band leader and entertain the crowd with all the musical compositions he had written over the years. The band, under his direction, would play soul-stirring melodies, and the crowd would sway and dance to the rhythm, completely captivated by his songs. The sensation of creating music and being part of the vibrant, lively atmosphere filled him with a sense of purpose and joy, making him long for the day he could experience it outside his fantasies.

On other occasions, when Edward felt more amorous, he tried his hand at romance with the barmaids and the many women of the night who frequented the establishment. This was still new ground for him, as for decades he had denied himself that type of release. But eventually, he had realized that it didn't matter what others might think. If it brought him any sort of joy, it had to be good. He had never been the suave ladies' man type, either in his human or vampire lives, so his attempts at romance probably were not the best. But thankfully, in his fantasies, his affections were always reciprocated.

These were just a few of his tried-and-true favorites. There were always new scenarios he had never thought of before, and as he looked around the speakeasy, he pondered how he would entertain his mind today.

His eyes fell on Janet, or at least that's what he called her. She had been the scantily clad showgirl in charge of running the wheel of chance. That night, he had watched her repeatedly spin the wheel for happy patrons, none of them realizing the game was rigged. At the time, he held no interest in a game like that, but now, he liked to hijack the wheel for his own purposes. Approaching her, he took in her dress. Back then, he had considered it beyond scandalous, but after seeing Heidi's dress—or lack thereof—almost two decades ago, he knew what Janet was wearing was tame in comparison. Janet nodded at him and turned to spin the wheel. It had become a ritual of sorts, a way to decide how his fantasy would unfold.

As the wheel spun, Edward watched the numbers and symbols blur together, anticipation building within him. He knew it was ultimately him deciding everything, but this small act brought an element of randomness and excitement to his otherwise monotonous existence. It was a way to introduce some variance into his daydreams, making them feel more spontaneous and alive. The clatter of the wheel, the flash of Janet's smile, and the suspense of the spin all added layers of immersion that he embraced wholeheartedly.

Edward watched the wheel land on the word 'forest,' and the speakeasy faded into nothingness. In its place, he found himself running free through a dense, ancient forest. The tall trees rose like sentinels around him, their leaves rustling softly in the wind. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy, casting a dappled pattern on the forest floor. He loved running; it had always been a secret joy for him that he had never met any vampire who could outpace him.

As he flew through the forest, his senses heightened. He felt the earth beneath his feet, the cool air rushing past him, and the intoxicating scent of pine and wildflowers. He glanced to his left and smiled as he saw a woman running beside him. Her raven hair streamed behind her like a dark, silken banner, her lithe form effortlessly matching his pace.

They leaped over babbling brooks, the water sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight, and navigated around massive boulders covered in emerald moss. The forest was alive with the sounds of birdsong and the occasional rustle of small animals scurrying away from their path. The woman beside him laughed, a melodious sound that echoed through the trees, filling the air with joy.

Ahead, an imposing mountain loomed, its peak shrouded in mist. Without a word, they both took off, racing toward the summit. The terrain grew steeper, but Edward relished the thrill of the climb. They darted up the rocky incline, their footsteps sure and swift.

Not surprisingly, Edward reached the summit first. He stood atop the mountain, looking out over the breathtaking vista before him. The land stretched out in all directions, a patchwork of greens and blues under the endless sky. The woman joined him moments later, her eyes shining, and together, they stood in silence, taking in the beauty of the world around them.

The sun shone brightly, its warmth a comforting presence on his skin. In this fantasy, everything was perfect. The forest, the mountains, the companionship—it was all he could ever want. Here, atop the world, he felt a profound sense of peace and freedom, and together he and his companion sat down to watch the world as it should be.

Eventually, Edward wanted to change it up, and the endless forests morphed into the scenic view of the city of Chicago. As he and his companion sat on the mountaintop, the cityscape sprawled out before them. As he looked at the city of his birth, he knew this was the Chicago of 1929. The skyline was a mixture of towering buildings and large swaths of homes made of brick, like his own home had been. Was his home even still standing, or had it been swept away with the advancement of time? The architectural grandeur highlighted by the golden hues of the setting sun made the city look almost mystical. He tried to transform the city in his mind to what it might look like now, but he faltered. It was hard for him to accept that the year was now 1987, and he knew that everyone he had known from his time would soon be gone.

But that was not all. The world had changed so much he wondered if he would even recognize Chicago if he saw it today. He tried imagining what it would be like to walk in front of Wrigley Field. Would the diner that Mindy worked at still be on the other side? He doubted it. The real question was whether the baseball field itself would still be there. Did Americans even still follow baseball, or had a new sport become popular and replaced the one he had loved so much? Perhaps a sport that hadn't even been invented during his time of freedom and was completely unknown to him. There was no way for him to know.

He imagined automobiles populating the city, and from his distant vantage point, he saw small objects moving along the streets that looked more like ants from his mountaintop perch. But what would cars look like in the 1980s? The progression of automobiles from his youth had advanced greatly, and by the time he lost his freedom in 1929, they looked nothing like they had when he had been human. Now, almost 60 years later, what would they look like today? Surely, he thought, all cars would be flying by now. After all, a man had walked on the moon nearly two decades ago, and if that was possible, then surely cars should fly, shouldn't they?

The city transformed again, and now he saw small objects flying all over the sky. There was no organization to their movement, and he wondered if there would somehow be streets in the sky to prevent accidents. Wanting to join in on the fun, he visualized himself getting into a sleek silver car with small airplane wings and taking off from the mountain into the sky, heading toward the city. He imagined the exhilaration of soaring above the city, looking down on the bustling streets and landmarks he once knew. The wind rushing past him, the sensation of freedom—it was a thrilling daydream.

Edward smiled as he loved imagining flying cars, picturing them gliding effortlessly through the air, weaving between the tallest buildings and over Lake Michigan. He could almost hear the hum of the engines, the soft whirring of whatever futuristic technology was making all this possible. It was a welcome escape, a blend of nostalgia and imagination that brought him a sense of wonder and delight, even in his confined reality.

Smiling, Edward looked beside him at his beautiful female companion. Her smile mirrored his own, but as he gazed at her, a new desire struck him. The city vanished along with the car, and Edward found himself lying in a lush meadow, the midday sun shining down, causing the millions of diamonds in his skin to gleam. The meadow was a sea of vibrant wildflowers, their colors painting the landscape in a riot of hues. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, mingling with the sweet fragrance of freshly cut grass. Birds chirped in the distance, their songs harmonizing with the gentle rustling of leaves in the soft breeze.

He looked over at the raven-haired woman beside him. Her smile was knowing, most likely clued into what they would soon be doing. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the sunlight and creating a halo-like effect around her. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and anticipation, reflecting the brilliant blue of the sky above. Edward leaned forward and began to trace his fingers on her bare arm, but he paused. Her skin, while beautiful and smooth, was not sparkling like his. He did not like this, wanting to be with someone like him, as the alternatives were too fraught with danger.

And just like that, the woman's skin began to sparkle with a brilliance that pleased him. Her body shimmered in the sunlight, each facet reflecting the light in dazzling patterns. He pulled her towards him, and she happily got on top of him, their bodies fitting together perfectly. They started kissing, their lips meeting with an urgency that spoke of pent-up desire. He wondered if this was how real kissing felt, as he had never kissed a real woman like this before. The hunger, the need—it was almost overpowering.

The woman sat up, her smile lighting up her face. From Edward's vantage point on the ground, her head was directly blocking the sun, creating an otherworldly image as she slowly removed her top. Her curves were a sight to behold, her skin glowing like polished marble. He could not help but want her, every fiber of his being drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She smiled, nodding, and her hands lowered, slowly starting to unbuckle his pants. He watched, spellbound, as she worked her hands, each movement a tantalizing promise. When she finally held his manhood, it felt like it would burst with need from any movement of her fingers.

She smiled with understanding, her touch sending waves of pleasure through him. The meadow around them seemed to blur, the vibrant colors and fragrant scents fading into the background as his focus narrowed to the woman above him. Her touch was electric, each caress igniting a fire within him. The anticipation, the intensity—it was almost too much to bear.

After Edward's fantasies with his vampire lady friend had culminated in a quite satisfying conclusion, he opened his eyes and sat up. The darkness of the cell didn't bother him, but he sighed, wishing that fantasy had been real. The damp, cold walls of the dungeon seemed to close in around him, a stark contrast to the vivid and heated daydream he had just experienced. Looking down at himself, he huffed and began to buckle up his pants.

Once he was decent again, he leaned back against the cold stone wall and couldn't help but wonder for the millionth time how he would ever get out of this prison. His thoughts churned like a relentless tide, crashing against the impossibility of his situation. It all seemed so hopeless. Who could stand up against the might of the Volturi? They had been in power for over three millennia, their reign unchallenged and unbreakable. The idea of their overthrow seemed like the only way for him to gain his freedom, yet it was an almost laughable notion. The Volturi were an immovable force, a dark shadow that had loomed over the vampire world for centuries.

He had stopped praying to God many decades ago, his faith eroded by the relentless passage of time and the crushing weight of his imprisonment. But his mind couldn't help it, and in a moment of desperation, he prayed once more, wishing for someone to come and free him from this eternal nightmare. The words formed silently on his lips, a plea carried away by the darkness. He imagined a savior, someone with the strength and courage to challenge the Volturi, to shatter their iron grip and deliver him from this abyss.

The silence of the cell was absolute, broken only by the distant, echoing drip of water. Edward closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of fragile hope, even though he knew it was futile. The fantasy of rescue was as intangible as the daydreams he conjured to pass the time, yet it offered a glimmer of solace in the unyielding bleakness of his existence.

September 13, 1987

Forks, Washington

6:30AM

As the squad car passed the "Leaving Forks" sign on Highway 101, Charlie hoped he was making the right decision. Renée wasn't due for another two weeks, and she had assured him it would be fine for him to take a day off to go fishing with Billy. He knew this would likely be his last fishing trip—or any form of relaxation—for the foreseeable future once he became a father.

Charlie glanced at Billy, his best friend sitting beside him. At 23, Billy was already the chief of his tribe and a father of two toddlers. Charlie hoped his own son or daughter would grow up to be best friends with Billy's children, just as he and Billy had been when they were young.

Last night, Charlie had called Chief Purdell to ask for the morning and afternoon off. Thankfully, he had gotten the green light, as the Chief, with four kids of his own, knew exactly what kind of upheaval lay ahead for him. The anxieties and pressures of impending fatherhood were already mounting, and Renée hadn't even given birth yet. Every night, Charlie stayed up late, poring over books on how best to raise a baby and be a good parent while Renée slept soundly beside him. Sometimes he would put his hand lightly on her full, protruding belly, hoping to feel his child kick. He always smiled when he felt a gentle nudge. Billy's deep, calming voice pulled him back to the present. "Quick. Without thinking about it, what would you like more—a son or a daughter?"

For the last nine months, Charlie had been consumed with thoughts of his future baby, but the sex of the child had never really mattered to him. "As long as it's healthy, that's all that matters. A little boy would be nice, but then again, so would a little girl." Charlie beamed, envisioning the day he could finally hold his child in his arms.

"Good. That's the right answer and exactly how I felt when Rachel and Rebecca were placed in my arms." Billy smiled, the memory of that day still vivid in his mind. "Now though, I think Sarah and I are going to try again soon and hope for a little boy. I love my daughters more than anything, but having a son who could one day take over the duties of Chief from me would be nice." The responsibilities of his role as Chief felt like a heavy weight on Billy's shoulders, and he held the duties and well-being of his tribe with equal importance to the love he felt for his family.

As the last male descendant in the Black family line, whose heritage could be traced back hundreds of years to the founding of the Quileutes, Billy felt an immense responsibility not to let the lineage end with him. Tragically, his parents had only been able to have him before both perished in a fire when he was quite young. Fortunately, he had been raised by his grandfather Ephraim. Despite being quite old, Ephraim had been a steady presence in his life, raising him and leading the tribe as Chief until he too had passed away five years ago at the dignified age of 98. Billy often wished that Ephraim could have met his great-grandchildren, but it was not to be.

Ephraim had instilled in Billy the importance of being prepared for the possible return of the cold ones. He emphasized that if that day ever came, Billy, or his descendants, would need to lead and protect the Quileute people just as Ephraim had done in his day. When Billy had been old enough to understand the truth, Ephraim, the last spirit warrior, had transformed before his eyes. The transformation had not been easy for him, but he had needed to show his grandson that the legends were real and not mere stories for future generations.

Witnessing his grandfather's transformation into a magnificent wolf had crystallized Billy's understanding of many hidden truths in the world. Ephraim's wolf coat, which had once been as black as their family name, was now streaked with white. Billy knew his grandfather had sacrificed a part of himself to make that final change. The transformation left Ephraim moving slower, and where he had once stood vigorous despite his advanced years, he began to decline shortly afterward.

Billy didn't know if the spirit warrior would rise within him if ever called upon, but he knew the line of pack leaders could not end with him. He needed a son to help defend the tribe from the true horrors of the world.

Glancing at his friend, Billy envied Charlie in many ways. The truth about the monsters that lurked in the night was something that Charlie and his son or daughter would never have to know about or deal with. Humanity had moved on from believing in such things as werewolves and vampires, and for that, Billy was grateful. All the leeches had to do now was stay dead. Knowing that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon, he would have to settle for them staying away from the Quileute tribal lands and their people.

Looking out at the road in front of them, Charlie smiled, seeing they were most likely in store for a beautiful day. For the first time in what felt like ages, it wasn't raining, and, to his amazement, even the sun was making a rare appearance, casting a warm glow on their little corner of the world. He glanced over at Billy, who hadn't spoken in a while, and saw his friend lost in thought, likely daydreaming about his children's futures. Charlie knew he would soon be doing the same for his own son or daughter.

Charlie was content with his career, having served as Deputy for Chief Purdell for three years now, and he hoped to be promoted to Chief when Frank retired. The Chief had already hinted that he planned to hang up his badge when he turned 65, in just three years. Reflecting on his line of work, Charlie wondered whether he would want his own child to follow in his footsteps and join law enforcement. He chuckled to himself, realizing his child hadn't even been born yet. He had plenty of time before he needed to worry about their future career aspirations. That reminded him. "Hey, remind me on our way back that Renée wants me to purchase a typewriter for her."

Billy looked at him with surprise. "And what does Renée need a typewriter for?"

Charlie laughed. "She says she wants to write the great American novel. Apparently, she's already written the whole thing in her head. She tried to tell me a little of the plot. From what I could gather, it's about a young woman who travels the world going on adventures."

Billy shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. "Does Renée even know how to type?"

Charlie smirked, glancing at his friend. "Of course she doesn't."

Billy wouldn't say it aloud to Charlie, but he had always found Renée far too flighty for his taste. She seemed to live with her head perpetually in the clouds, and truthfully, he thought she was too young and immature to become a parent. In many respects, she was still a child herself. For Charlie's sake, and for the well-being of their child, Billy hoped Renée would grow up quickly once she faced the realities and responsibilities of parenthood.

Just then, the police radio crackled to life, interrupting both Charlie's and Billy's thoughts. The voice on the other end was urgent and insistent. "Deputy Swan, come in. Charlie, please tell me you're there."

Charlie quickly unhooked the radio, lifting it to his mouth. "Copy that, Mary. I'm here."

"Thank God, Charlie. You need to get back to Forks ASAP. I just got a call from your wife. Her water broke 10 minutes ago. She's panicked and doesn't know what to do."

Charlie looked at Billy, wide-eyed, and quickly flipped on the sirens. Seeing no traffic in front or behind them, he made an illegal U-turn and pressed on the accelerator as they raced back to Forks. He quickly spoke into the microphone, "We're about an hour away, Mary, but we're on our way back now."

Billy spoke up. "Have Mary call Sarah. She can pick Renée up and take her to the hospital. Relax, Charlie—you have time."

Charlie gave his friend a grateful nod. "Mary, please call Sarah Black and let her know the situation. She'll pick up Renée and take her to the hospital. If you can't reach her, let me know. Also, inform the hospital so they're expecting her. And please call Renée to assure her that everything is being taken care of and that I'm on my way and will meet her at the hospital."

"Will do, Charlie. Congratulations." The police radio clicked off, and Charlie pressed harder on the accelerator. He was not going to miss the birth of his first child.

Charlie and Billy burst through the hospital doors 50 minutes later, their footsteps echoing down the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway. They soon found Sarah in the waiting room, gently rocking a stroller where Rachel and Rebecca were sleeping soundly.

"Sarah, is Renée okay? What's happening?" Charlie asked, his voice tinged with urgency as he rushed up to her.

Sarah stood up and enveloped Charlie in a reassuring hug, hoping to calm his nerves. "Relax, Charlie. Renée is fine. Her contractions are still far apart. It won't be happening anytime soon. You didn't miss it."

Charlie exhaled deeply, trying to steady his racing heart. Relief washed over him, knowing everything was okay. He looked over at Billy, who had been telling him as much the whole ride back, and managed a smile.

"Go on, Charlie. Be with your wife. We'll be here," Billy said, clapping him on the back with a supportive smile. "Come on out when you have good news to report about your little son or daughter."

Charlie nodded, his face breaking into a wider smile. "Thanks, Billy. Thanks, Sarah." He turned and quickly made his way to the maternity ward, his mind racing with anticipation and excitement. As he approached the ward, the faint sounds of hospital activity grew louder, mingling with the beeping of monitors and the murmurs of medical staff.

Suddenly, a piercing scream cut through the air, sending a jolt of fear through Charlie. Oh god, that was Renée. He quickened his pace, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched for his wife. Rounding a corner, he found Renée being inspected by a nurse.

Renée looked distressed, her face flushed but lighting up with a relieved smile when she saw him. "Charlie, you made it," she said breathlessly.

He rushed to her side, taking her hand in his. "Of course I did. I'm here." He squeezed her hand supportively.

"It hurts, Charlie. I had no idea it would be so painful," Renée uttered, shifting uncomfortably in the hospital bed, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and frustration as no position she got in gave her any sort of relief.

Charlie, trying to keep his composure, wiped the sweat off Renée's face and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I know, honey. But it will be over soon, and then we can greet our little baby to the world."

Renée groaned, her hand gripping Charlie's with surprising strength. "Soon? Charlie, it feels like I'm being torn in half!"

The nurse gave Charlie an encouraging nod. "She's doing great. It'll still be a little while, but everything is progressing smoothly."

Charlie nodded, his grip on Renée's hand tightening. "You hear that, honey? You're doing great. Just try to relax, okay?"

Renée rolled her eyes, half-laughing, half-crying. "Relax? Easy for you to say. You're not the one pushing a watermelon out of their..." She looked over at the nurse unhappily, then looked back at Charlie. "I'm never having sex again!"

12 Hours Later

Charlie could still hardly believe it. He was the father of a baby girl. The brief moment he had seen her before she had been whisked away had left him in awe. He smiled at Renée, but she looked utterly exhausted. Charlie could understand how she felt. That had been… intense.

Soon, a nurse came back into the room, holding a little bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket. Charlie's heart pounded in his chest as he watched, transfixed, as the nurse gently placed the bundle into Renée's arms. He looked at Renée, cradling their child. Despite her exhaustion, she looked radiant, her face glowing with a serene beauty that took his breath away.

As Renée's finger nudged the little bundle, Charlie's eyes widened in amazement as he saw a tiny hand reach up and grasp Renée's finger. He could not believe how small and delicate it was, a perfect miniature version of a human hand.

"What do you want to call her?" Charlie asked softly, his voice thick with emotion.

He had no idea what a good name would be for a little girl. He quickly ran through potential names in his head, but they all sounded so ordinary. None of them seemed to capture the uniqueness of the tiny life they had brought into the world. He hoped Renée would have some ideas.

Charlie watched as Renée gazed at their daughter for a moment, her eyes filled with love and contemplation. Finally, she spoke with certainty. "Let's name her Isabella."

Isabella... he repeated the name in his mind, letting it roll over his thoughts. Isabella… Isabella Swan. He smiled, feeling the name resonate deep within him. It was a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. "That's perfect, Renée," he said, his voice filled with pride and joy.

As Charlie looked to Renée, hoping for some reaction, he realized she had fallen asleep, her exhaustion finally taking over. Very gently, he took Isabella from Renée's arms and, for the first time, held his daughter. She looked like she was sleeping too, warm and comfy in her little blanket. Her tiny form fit perfectly in his arms.

As he marveled at her delicate features, Isabella suddenly opened her eyes, revealing a pair of big, curious brown eyes that seemed to be staring right at him. Charlie felt a surge of emotion as he gazed into his daughter's eyes. She yawned, her little mouth opening wide before closing again, and just as quickly, her eyes fluttered shut, and she was fast asleep once more.

Charlie could not believe it. He was holding his daughter. As he cradled her, gently rocking her back and forth, a whirlwind of emotions surged through him. He started imagining what her life would be like, and a vivid tapestry of dreams unfurled before him.

In his mind's eye, he saw Isabella growing up in Forks, her laughter filling their home as she took her first steps, her curiosity blossoming as she explored the world around her. He imagined her first day of school, her tiny hand clutching his as they walked to the classroom, her excitement and nervousness mirrored in his own heart.

As the years passed in his reverie, he saw her transforming from a baby into a young woman. He pictured her in high school, participating in school plays, excelling in her studies, and making lifelong friends. He saw her coming home with stories of her day, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as she shared her dreams and aspirations.

Then, in his daydream, he saw her going off to college, a proud and confident young woman ready to take on the world. He envisioned her walking across the stage on graduation day, her face radiant as she received her diploma. He and Renée would be in the stands, cheering happily.

Charlie's musings went further still, imagining the day he would walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. He could almost feel the weight of her arm linked with his, see the happiness in her eyes, and hear the joyful murmur of the gathered guests. And the cycle would repeat: another man would be holding a baby while Isabella lay in the bed sleeping. He and Renée would be out in the waiting room, ready to hear the good news.

As Isabella's life played out before Charlie's eyes, he prayed she would have a long and happy life and that her beautiful brown eyes would only see joy and peace in the world. Holding her close, he whispered a silent promise to protect and cherish her always, no matter what challenges life might bring.

I hope you enjoyed reading about Charlie's day and the birth of his daughter. In the next chapter, we're going back to Forks to see what sort of reunion Charlie and Bella have. You will probably be very surprised by how it plays out.

Just like Edward hasn't had much to do, it's challenging for a writer to create anything interesting for a character who has been locked up in a small cell for the past sixty years. I did my best. Thankfully, the next flashback in the '90s is much more compelling, in my opinion. That's also the last flashback before we see Edward again in the present. I think everyone is more than ready to see Edward free and finally able to live his life.

Comments are appreciated. I really enjoy reading your feedback. Until next time.