Note: This little bonus chapter shows Edward's perspective of the events...

Epilogue

Bella was sleeping soundly in my bed. Shafts of moonlight caressed her fair cheeks. I leaned in to brush my lips lightly over her soft, silken skin. Her lungs sounded clearer, and her temperature was only a degree above normal. While every rational part of me knew that she would be fine, the bitter memories continued to gnaw at me. As I lifted my eyes to the night sky, my mind was pulled back to the dense woods where Jasper and I had hunted two days ago.

"Edward?"

Jasper spoke my name for the second time, drawing me from my thoughts. "Sorry," I replied. "I was just remembering how Bella looked in the meadow yesterday morning. The light was pink and gold, and her skin was like rose petals…"

Jasper grinned at me. "I don't know when I've felt you so happy."

Slightly abashed, I chuckled. "Sorry. I'm sounding like a smitten fool."

Jasper clapped a hand over my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. That's what love does to you."

"I never really understood before. I could hear it in your thoughts, but I couldn't truly comprehend it."

He nodded. "I still remember when I realized I felt that way about Alice. I'm glad you've found that now."

I smiled sincerely. "Me too."

His gaze scanned the thick tree line. "So, one more for the road?"

Between the two of us, we had brought down half a dozen elk and a massive mountain lion. "I've had enough," I said dismissively, eager to return to Forks. I could be in Bella's room before she woke... Rather hastily, I added, "But if you want one more go at it, I'll come with you."

With a knowing look in his eye, Jasper said, "No, I'm fine. Let's head back."

The sky was lightening to steel gray as we crossed the Soleduck River. We would be home soon. We conversed amiably as we strode through the woods. The murmur of Esme's thoughts brushed against my mind.

"Weren't Esme and Alice planning to spend last night in Seattle?" I asked.

"Yes. There was some high-end bridal boutique Alice wanted to go to, but it turned out it was closed yesterday. She said they'd go this morning."

"Huh." I listened more intently; bits and pieces of Alice's thoughts flitted through my head. "They must have changed their plans. They're back."

We both increased our pace. Now that he knew she was home, Jasper was eager to see Alice. Within a minute Esme's internal voice became clear to me. After a few moments I realized she was folding laundry, smoothing out the tiny creases in her softest sheets.

I'll change the bed later this morning. Fresh sheets will make her feel better, I hope…

An image of Bella flashed through my mind, but before I could see it clearly, Alice's trill fluttered through Esme's head.

"Jasper and Edward will be back in a few minutes," she said. "He's going to be pretty upset when he finds out."

"Perhaps we should have phoned him after all." I knew instantly that she was referring to me. Esme sounded hesitant, slightly regretful.

I listened more intently, and suddenly I perceived Carlisle. I blinked in surprise; he was supposed to be at the hospital, working a night shift to cover for Dr. Gerandy, who had been out with the flu.

"What's wrong, Edward?" Jasper asked me, easily picking up on my growing anxiety.

"I don't know," I replied abruptly. "Something's going on…"

When I saw my open bedroom door through Carlisle's eyes, I realized that he was standing in the upstairs hallway. His gaze was focused on the windows, but his hearing was attuned to the raspy breathing coming from the bed. His acute ears were still picking up the slight bubbling sound of rales, but the rumblings of rhonchi had lessened since she arrived…

"Something's wrong with Bella," I told Jasper abruptly, my voice tight and harsh. Without another word, I began to run.

Alice was telling Esme that I would be back sooner than expected, but I ignored their conversation. My focus was solely on Carlisle now. He was wondering about Bella's level of discomfort—about her fever, about her pain.

My feet flew over the forest floor and scattered gravel from our driveway in their wake. The front door swung open a millisecond before I reached it. Alice darted outside to press her hands gently against my chest.

"She's going to be all right, Edward," she said firmly. Then she flitted past me to intercept Jasper.

Esme held out her hand to me. I took it automatically as I stepped inside. "Bella," I began. "What happened? What's wrong with her?"

Yet even as I asked, the pieces began falling into place: the light flush I had noticed, coloring her beautiful cheeks; the numerous times she had seemed to choke on sips of water; the heat of her skin as she slept.

Carlisle appeared before me, clearly seeing the distress written across my face. "She's fine, son," he said, his voice even and calm.

"But she's ill," I rejoined. Recalling his thoughts as he listened to her breathing, I asked, "Bronchitis?"

"Pneumonia," he correctly gently then continued quickly before I could express my distress. "But she's already responding to the azithromycin; her fever is down to 101.3, and her lungs are slightly clearer. She's resting comfortably. I anticipate that she will make a full, uncomplicated recovery."

However, his recent memories belied his unruffled demeanor.

He was in his study when he heard Bella's truck rumble up the drive. He hurried outside to see her pulling herself up from the ground. He rushed to her and asked her what was wrong, but he could already hear that her lungs were congested and see that she was feverish. She had hit her head, too; a raw scrape, already beginning to swell, marred her brow, and he worried about concussion. She was disoriented—slightly dazed as he carried her inside and placed her upon the couch.

Bella coughed deeply and painfully. He felt the heat of her skin as he held her gently, soothing her with his touch and words. He pressed his hand over her forehead to check her fever. He knew it was high but needed to obtain an accurate reading. He might need to place her in a tepid bath; if only Esme or Alice were home to assist…

He retrieved his bag quickly then returned to her side to ask how long she had been sick. He was quite surprised to hear Bella's raspy response; it had started before the camping trip, and she had hidden it in the most purposeful way. For an instant his irritation sparked at her carelessness, but his thoughts quickly shifted back to a more professional nature.

Despite her fever, she was chilled from the rain. He removed her damp sweater and tucked a blanket around her, then he listened very carefully to her lungs. He could clearly hear the rales and rhonchi and knew immediately that she had pneumonia. He was certain that if she had rested properly, her flu would have resolved without this complication.

As he took her temperature, he was struck by how small and frail she looked. He had to check his own emotions as he read the thermometer; her temperature was 103.1 degrees. Any higher and he would definitely begin external cooling… He wouldn't risk additional complications. My own human face, haggard and sunken in near-death, flashed through his mind.

Bella was watching him, trying to read his expression, but her eyes were glazed with fever. She sank back against the pillows, obviously exhausted. When she told Carlisle which medications she had taken, he was surprised at first that there had been no adverse interactions. He would need to give her a reminder about the dangers of mixing medications— but perhaps that wouldn't be necessary, given that she would likely be changed soon…

Her skin was soft and warm beneath his fingertips as he assessed her lymph nodes. He didn't like the slight enlargement he found in the posterior nodes, and he had to suppress a frown. There was no need to upset her further by causing her concern. Was there any involvement in the throat? Her full lips, now pale and dry, opened as he directed the beam of light to her tonsils. He was glad that there were no signs of strep. But his worry resurfaced as he watched her pupils respond to his penlight. He checked three times, finally relieved that she had suffered no concussion. His sensitive fingertips probed the swelling on her forehead. It could have been so much worse—

"Edward." Carlisle's voice tugged me from my immersion in his memories.

As I saw how she had looked to him and witnessed his assessment of each symptom, my fingers had curled into tight, steely fists.

He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I was worried initially," he confirmed, "but if I'd had serious concerns I would have taken her to the hospital immediately."

I nodded somewhat mechanically. Of course I realized that was true. But the fact remained that Bella was very ill, and it was my fault. How could I have ignored her symptoms for an entire night? I groaned in frustration and remorse.

"I should have known," I said. "All the evidence was there, but I chose not to pay attention. I kept her outside, in the cold, for hours, and I made her walk all the way out there and back. I should have insisted on carrying her—"

"She tried very hard to keep it from you," he said. "She wanted to go on the trip very badly."

"But I should have known!" I nearly shouted the words again, grinding a fist against my thigh. "I have two medical degrees! And…" My voice broke. "I love her."

"Sometimes we're the least observant with those we care for the most deeply," he said. "We don't want to believe that they're ill; we want to see them happy and well. Our ability to be objective is clouded by our love for them."

I shook my head. "And now she's sick because of it. And not just sick; she's got pneumonia. A simple case of flu… she would have recovered in a day or two if I hadn't been so damned blind!"

It was difficult to get a handle on my anger; emotions were surging inside me, overflowing now. "Why didn't you call me?" I demanded irately. "You should have told me the minute she got here!"

"She asked me not to," Carlisle replied, his tone maddeningly reasonable.

"Why? Why would she do that? She knows I'd want to take care of her—"

He interjected gently, "She also knows that you'd feel precisely as you do right now. Edward, she wanted to spare you that."

I swallowed and inhaled slowly. Her scent was discernible even down here. I breathed it in, and a subtle calm began to wash over me. How did I deserve this wonderful, beautiful, compassionate girl?

"I need to see her," I said.

"Of course," Carlisle agreed softly. "She's been sleeping for about forty-five minutes, and I imagine she won't wake for at least an hour or two."

We climbed the stairs swiftly yet silently. The door to my room remained ajar, and I slipped inside noiselessly. Bella lay among the pillows, so tiny in the huge bed. In the gray dawn light, her skin appeared ashen. Frantic for a moment, I glanced at Carlisle.

In a voice too low for mortal ears to detect, he said, "She's in no danger. I've been monitoring her very closely; I checked on her only a few minutes ago."

"She's so pale." I listened to the gentle beating of her heart, slightly comforted by its steady rhythm. But I could also hear the disturbing rasp in her lungs. Still stricken, I turned to Carlisle again.

"She is doing better," he assured me.

I forced myself to recall how her breathing had sounded to him the previous day, comparing it with what I heard now. Yes, there was an improvement, but she was far from well.

"She may need IV antibiotics," I said. "The azithromycin may not be strong enough—"

"Edward," Carlisle interposed, "it's working well. She just needs time. This is not a severe case of pneumonia. We caught it early, and it's already resolving."

"But I should have—"

"Son, you cannot go back and change what has happened. Wallowing in remorse will do Bella no good. What she needs from you now is your presence and the comfort that only you can give her."

My father knew me very well indeed. I had no retort to his words; I knew that he was right. While he could not assuage my guilt completely, I understood that allowing myself to be overcome by it served no practical purpose.

"Go to her," he said gently.

My feet moved soundlessly over the floor, carrying me to the bedside. I studied Bella's face for a few moments. There was a small crease between her eyebrows, and I worried that she was uncomfortable. Carefully I brushed a few strands of hair away from her forehead. Bella gave a tiny sigh, turning her face into my palm. Her eyes remained closed, however, and her breathing did not change; she was still asleep.

"I'm here, love," I whispered, easing my body down so that I could lie beside her.

Propped up on one elbow, I ran my fingertips very lightly over her brow. The little line faded, and her features relaxed completely. I barely heard the slight click of the door as Carlisle closed it behind himself. I suppose he knew that Bella was in good hands now. From this moment on, I would not let her out of my sight.

Bella was stirring, shifting a little in my arms. I kissed her temple, and she opened her eyes.

"Edward?" she croaked. "What's the matter?"

I realized I was still scowling at my memories. I calmed my expression quickly and replied, "Nothing, love. Everything's fine. It's still very early, though. Go back to sleep."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

I nodded. "I'm fine."

She yawned, her eyelids lowering. "Mmm. Me too… as long as you're here with me."

"Sleep, Bella," I said softly and began to hum her lullaby.

She snuggled into me, her hair brushing over my arm. "Love you," she murmured.

"I love you, too," I replied, then I continued the lullaby.

All recriminations slipped away as my Bella, my love, the woman who would soon be my wife, slept peacefully in my arms.

"From this day forward," I whispered.

The past would always remain in my memory, but I looked to the future with absolute joy.

Fin