Good Morning, Lovelies!

Thank you ever so much to Mel and Pamela!

XXXII

BELLA

December 21, 1897

Darjeeling, India

Three weeks after my accident, Carlisle finally clears me for travel back to our home in Darjeeling. The mountain is cold and dark, but inside Mrs. Kaur has managed to bring out the bright colors I've come to love in India in full force. She has hung vibrant silk tapestries on every wall, and on Edward's and my bed, she has laid a gorgeous quilt of varying shades of green over hand dyed linens of lovely soft orange.

I'm told that it does not snow in Darjeeling every winter, but it looks like this year will be an exception.

"Some years, the mountain is happy," Mrs. Kaur says, placing plates of warm bread and soups in front of me. "This year, the mountain mourns."

Her words make me feel as if I am to blame for the turn of bad weather we are having, even though I know I can't be.

Still, it's hard not to blame myself. I'm already criticizing myself for every other streak of bad luck we've had since I met Edward.

Things between my husband and I have been difficult. I can sense a distance between us, but neither of us seems to know how to cross it. We are both too lost in our grief.

Though Edward does not push me away, and indeed, neither do I turn from him, our interactions are both laced with the same feelings; we blame me for losing our child.

I have been unable to let go of the ruby since we left Calcutta. It has stayed in my pocket, pinched between my fingers, almost like an icon to pray to.

I have to believe there is a greater reason for everything happening.

Because if there is not, I will be lost to my heartache permanently.

Edward returns to work with Carlisle, and whilst he is away, I spend my days carefully documenting everything that happened in Calcutta in a leather journal Esme gave me. At first, I had intended it to become a sort of therapy, a place for me to vent and process my feelings, but the more I write, the more my mind begins to delve deeper and deeper. Could it be possible that my maman is truly looking for me? If so, how? Are all firstborn children travelers, or are eldest children called upon as well? Could it be that the fate of my legacy has truly died with my child?

There are too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

I make up my mind to talk to Edward about going out to see Aditi again. She was able to guide me once, so why not twice?

Now that my mind has been made on the matter, I feel focused once again, like a blade upon a whetstone.

I know what I must do.

It is agony, waiting for Edward to return home from work, but eventually I hear the telltale sound of hooves upon the road.

Immediately I am on my feet, hurrying as fast as I am able through the house. I arrive in the foyer just as the door opens, revealing Carlisle, Edward, and two people I did not think I would ever see again.

The air rushes out of my lungs when I make eye contact with Alice, and the moment I am in view, she shoves past Edward and runs toward me, throwing her arms around my neck.

She lets out a terrible sob, and immediately my arms come around her.

"I'm so sorry," Alice wails. "I wasn't fast enough. I tried …"

I don't understand her words, though her sorrow is fresh and raw and cuts at my own aching heart.

I rub a hand across her back and shake my head.

"Hush," I breathe. "Alice, please. I'm all right."

I don't know if it's quite the truth, though right now it does not feel like a full lie either.

I am somewhere in between, I suppose.

Over Alice's shoulder I make eye contact with Jasper, who gives me a warm though heart-heavy smile.

I don't know how they both know what I've been through, but they do.

I pull back from Alice, who is busy wiping at her face with an old handkerchief. My eyes cut to my husband, who is watching me somberly.

"What are you both doing here?" I ask, turning back to Alice.

"We had to come," Alice says, hiccuping past her tears. "We—" She cuts herself off, shaking her head as new tears well.

I wrap an arm around her shoulder and carefully guide her into the parlor. I get her settled on one of the bright blue divans before I sink next to her. "Tell me what is going on," I say, taking her hands in my own.

She sniffs once and nods. "I had a sense," she says slowly. "That you were in danger." Her eyes are welling again and she blinks hard. "We tried to get here sooner, to warn you." She hiccups and shakes her head. "We should have been here."

I let out a breath and squeeze her fingers tenderly. "Alice, listen to me," I say, my voice gentle but firm. "The blame for what has happened in no way belongs to you." I swallow hard and take a breath. "It was a terrible accident, but it was not your responsibility to stop it."

Alice shakes her head. "You don't understand," she wails, her face showing her misery. "I knew you were in danger. I… I…" She shakes her head and doubles over, burying her face in my lap. I let go of her fingers to rub her back. Across the room, Jasper moves from his post beside the window and drops to his knees before Alice. He bends his head, his voice too low for me to make out as he whispers in her ear.

To my surprise, Alice turns toward him, lifting her head from my lap, and circles her arms around his neck. He takes her into his arms, in a frankly shocking display of affection.

I catch Edward's eye across the room. He looks as surprised as I feel.

I move off the divan, allowing Jasper to settle in my place and continue holding Alice. I turn toward Edward and make my way slowly across the room to his side.

I hold out my hand, hoping he won't reject my touch.

To my relief, his fingers reach out, meeting mine, and I let out a tight breath as he draws me to his side. I feel his lips land on the top of my head, and I lean softly against his shoulder.

I don't know Alice well, but I never would have assumed she was prone to hysterics. She must genuinely be in pain over our loss.

I don't know what to do to comfort her.

"Jasper, there are spare rooms I can show you to," Edward starts, drawing all of our attention. Jasper nods and gently rises, keeping Alice in his embrace. Edward squeezes my fingers once before letting me go and guiding the pair out of the parlor.

As soon as they are gone, I sit down in a large velvet chair near the fireplace. I let out a long breath, shutting my eyes. What did it mean that Alice had known something was going to happen to me? Were we linked in some way we didn't know?

Not for the first time, I wonder if Alice might be more than she appears. I don't think she is a traveler—she doesn't have the same misplaced energy as someone who has wandered through time—but she very well could be some ancestor of mine who has dormant abilities.

What if she is family?

Is that why we have such a connection? Is that how she keeps knowing when I am in need of her help?

I am so deep in my own thoughts that I don't hear Edward coming until he slides into the chair opposite me.

"How is Alice?"

Edward sighs. "Inconsolable," he says softly. "Jasper thinks it is in part, exhaustion. They've had a long journey."

I nod in understanding. "What do you think it means?" I ask after a moment. "That Alice knew I would be in danger."

Edward lets out a long breath that tells me all that I need to know about his state of mind. He does not wish to speak of it.

Well, too bad. I need to.

"I do not know," he says quietly. "For all we know, Alice is unwell."

I scowl. "I don't think it's that," I argue. "Alice has a sense of things." I pause, considering. "I wonder if she can see the future."

Edward looks angry. "No one can know the future but God," he argues.

"The world is vast, Edward," I chide softly. "We have no idea what is possible. I mean, look at me."

At this, Edward surges to his feet. "I'm going to take a walk," he says, his voice clipped. Before I can even open my mouth, he is gone, leaving me alone in the parlor.

I lean back in the chair, exhausted.

…

Supper is a strained affair. Edward will not look at me, and though Jasper has joined us, we are all aware of Alice's absence from the table. My mind drifts to her often, wondering about her state of mind.

We make polite conversation, during which I find Alice and Jasper have been married during their voyage. It should be happy news, but all I can focus on is the girl upstairs.

Finally, I cannot take it anymore. I excuse myself from the table and set out toward the guest rooms.

Alice is awake and calls for me to enter when I rap gently on her door with the back of my knuckles.

When I open the door, it is to find her curled up on the bed, her knees to her chest, her face turned toward the window.

"Alice?"

She turns to look at me. Her eyes are red and swollen, but she looks far calmer.

"Are you well?" I ask.

Alice lets out a small breath. "I'm sorry, Bella. I don't mean to burden you so." She wipes at her eyes and shakes her head. "I am better than I was."

I sit on the edge of her bed, twisting my body to face her. "I wanted to thank you," I say. "For coming all this way." I reach out, my fingers wrapping around hers. "You came to warn me even though it's cost you dearly." I smile weakly. "You're a good friend."

Alice blinks, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "I had a dream about you," she says softly. "You were somewhere so strange. A world of white stone and glass." She shakes her head. "You were looking for something."

I frown, twisting my body more fully to face her.

"This place I was in," I start. "Was it somewhere familiar?"

Alice shrugs. "You called it London, but it was no London I recognized."

I frown. Could she have seen visions of my past? Was such a thing possible?

"What was I doing in this London?"

Alice shakes her head. "You were looking for someone. I don't know who."

"Was I wearing a blue coat?" I ask, trying to recall the details of the last time I'd traveled to a future London.

Alice nods. "Yes. It was not like any coat I'd seen before," she says, frowning. "And you wore blue trousers." She blinks and shakes her head. "It was strange, but everyone else seemed to wear the same thing."

"Was I near the river?" I ask. When she nods, I know the moment now that she has dreamt about. The last time I was in a future London. I had spent nearly three weeks there, and I managed to make a couple of friends. Friends who ended up going missing quite suddenly. I remembered trying to retrace their steps, but before I could find them, I'd traveled again and woken up in Argentina seventy years later.

I wonder why Alice dreamt about my past.

"Alice," I start. "Do you get the sense, I mean … do you think we are perhaps related, and that's why you get such strong visions about me?"

Alice looks surprised. "I don't know," she says softly. "I don't see how we would be. I haven't any family from France."

I smile thinly. "My family tree is somewhat complicated," I tell her. "I think it might be possible there is some sort of link between us."

Alice shrugs and lets out a long breath. "I do not know," she says quietly. "But whatever it is, I am grateful for it." She reaches out and winds her fingers through mine.

"As am I," I tell her. "As am I."

…

Edward still has not spoken as we prepare for bed. I am feeling lonely and heartsick at the distance between us, but I'm not sure how to close the gap.

I am in bed as Edward climbs in, a long, weary sigh escaping his lips as he settles on the mattress. I feel the need to speak with him, but know that it has been too hard for him.

Perhaps now, in the dark, it'll be easier.

"Edward," I say softly.

I can feel his energy prickle, irritation and wariness rising up in him.

"What is it?"

I swallow hard and twist onto my side to face him. "I'm sorry."

I feel his energy shift, his surprise clearing his growing bitterness. "What?" he asks, turning to look at me in the dark.

"I'm sorry," I say again, tears welling in my eyes. "I shouldn't have run through the city and risked my life and the life of our child. It's my fault, and I'm sorry." My tears are coming faster and faster, and I can feel them splashing down my nose onto the pillow below my head.

"Oh, my darling," Edward says, gently tugging me into his embrace. I let out a sob the moment my head touches against his chest. "No, it was not your fault. It was a terrible accident. I should be the one to apologize," he bemoans. "I have been wretched toward you."

My fingers slide over his waist and up his back, clinging to him.

"C-can you e-ever forgive m-me?" I sob.

"Darling, there is nothing to forgive," he whispers, pressing his lips to my hair. "It is I who should be begging of your forgiveness." he lets out a tight breath. "I have failed you."

I press a kiss to his chest, shaking my head. "No, you haven't," I argue.

Edward hugs me tighter. "I don't know how to move on," he admits. "I don't know how to will my heart to stop grieving."

My eyes screw shut and I press my face against his shoulder. "I know," I admit. "I'm struggling too."

Edward lets out a breath. "What can we do?"

I shake my head. "I think." I suck in a shaky breath. "I think we must take it one day at a time," I tell him. "And remember to not turn on one another."

Edward hums softly and presses another kiss to my hair before leaning back and raising my chin so that our eyes meet in the darkness of our room.

"Bella, my love, I swear that I will never let anything come between us again."

"Me too," I agree. "Nothing is too big for us to overcome, so long as we stay united."

Edward leans down, and though he has kissed me since the accident, it is perhaps the first time that I can feel his genuine love behind the gesture. Tears spill down my cheeks as I cling to him.

Nothing will ever come between us again. I vow it.

My fingers thread through his hair, yanking gently and I can feel his surprise in the tilt of his mouth against mine. Suddenly, I miss my husband with an ache so wide and so deep, I fear I will drown in the feeling before ever being made whole again.

I move my hands to his shoulders, pressing to get him to turn onto his back. Our kiss breaks and he rolls, looking confused and curious.

Before I can overthink it, I crawl on top of him, my legs straddling his hips as I curl over his body, my lips finding his again.

Beneath me, Edward groans, his hands landing on my thighs and carefully wending lazy paths up higher and higher.

My body rubs against his, and I let out a soft hiss from the motion. My wounds are still tender but thankfully sewn shut and scarring over, which means I'll likely not bleed all over him.

A plus, if you ask me.

"Bella, wait," Edward says, breaking our kiss, even as one of his hands slips under my dressing gown. "Darling, are you sure you're ready for this?"

I nod, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Edward, please," I whisper. "I miss you."

I feel his body give in then, feel his surrender as he clasps my hip tighter. "I miss you too," he admits.

We are both wearing so little that it takes almost no time at all for us to both become naked. I slide down his body, taking him into one hand and matching the movements with my tongue. I can see his eyes roll back into his head, and I grin, loving seeing him come undone by my touch.

I lap and suck at him until he is hard against my palm, his body nearly bending off the bed to be buried inside me. I climb up his body again, grinning at him as I plant my knees on the outside of his hips and my hands against his chest. Using my right hand to guide him into me, I sink over him, letting out a long moan of complete and utter satisfaction.

"Hold me," I beg, curling tighter over his chest.

"Always, darling," he breathes, winding his arms around me. Our chests stay pressed together as our hips move, finding a rhythm that works for both of us.

Tears are burning the backs of my eyes, and I lean down, capturing his mouth with my own again.

I am growing fatigued, so tenderly, Edward shifts us around until I am underneath him and he is driving into me, his body meeting me thrust for thrust.

There is sanctity in this act. A holiness that I'm not sure I've ever understood until now. Together, our bodies can create.

Tears well in my eyes when I think about all we've lost, and all that is still yet to come in our lives. Our loss will not be forgotten, it will always be part of us now.

But here, pressed between our hallowed bodies, something new is growing: hope. Hope of another day, another chance. Hope that burns white-hot deep down into the very darkest corners of my soul.

There's always hope.

…

We sleep curled around each other that night, my ear pressed to Edward's chest, listening to his heartbeat. It is a song that beats in me, a melody I want never to forget.

Hope… Love… Faith…

All the tenements that make up who my amazing husband is.

We'll both learn, we'll both grow, and together, we will face whatever comes at us next.

…

I am torn from sleep by a shrill sound of a horn blaring. I groan, rolling over on the bed, searching for a pillow to block out the noise. "Mon cœur, shut the window please," I beg. "The traffic is so loud this morning."

Something is not right about that. My heart and stomach both drop as soon as the words are out of my mouth, my eyes popping open. Underneath me are unfamiliar white linens, and just beyond my head are the unmistakable sounds of a city bustling to life.

No, no, no, no, no!

I spring out of bed, my heart a frantic beat as my eyes sweep the room. Sleek, unidentifiable furniture, muted fabrics, and a dizzying carpet pattern. Am I in a hotel room? How?

I rush to the window and feel my stomach drop, as the sight before me nearly brings me to my knees. Down below is the flashy, bright oasis of Las Vegas.

No!