Claiming Victory Chapter 1 - BPOV Scene

-BPOV-

I felt a chill all the way into my bones, despite the hot sun in the sky. It was November, it was over 35 degrees, and yet I didn't feel any warmth from above. The only source of comfort I had was Edward's hand in mine.

I stared at the little stone cherub that marked Emmy's grave. I remembered having to pick it out; the rows of choices, multiple macabre markers... all of them utterly useless; all of them meaningless to me in the midst of my grief. Except the little angel. When I saw it, I knew it was the one. I refused to look at another headstone after I found him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Edward whispered.

I wasn't sure whether the words were meant for our son or me, so I just nodded to acknowledge that I had heard them. I didn't think Edward was crazy if he was talking to Emmy - after all, I had been uttering silent pleas, wishes and apologies for the past hour. I didn't want my baby to think we were leaving him. I wanted to make sure that he knew we would hold him in our hearts forever.

I rested my hands in my pocket before closing it around the three objects that I had brought for the specific purpose of leaving with Emmanuel. I wanted reassurance that whatever else happened, a part of us would be with him in Brisbane.

I took a deep breath, drawing what comfort I could from the dry air and knelt at the graveside.

"This is from Mummy," I said quietly. I placed a ring onto the ground. It was junk - meaningless to almost anyone that walked by - but it was the first present Edward had ever brought me. The night after our first kiss in the meadow, he had gone to the shop for his Mum and had seen the 20c machines out the front. He decided he wanted to get me a purple ring, because he knew it was my favourite colour. In the end, he'd spent five dollars and pulled countless hi-bounce balls from the machine before he finally managed to get what he'd wanted. He got down on one knee the next morning and presented it to me. I had laughed at him, not knowing the effort he'd gone to in order to get it - nor the trouble he got in when he arrived home without the milk his Mum had given him money for. Despite the fact that it was near valueless monetarily, it was priceless to me. I had kept it near me at all times, even after Edward had left and it was too painful to look at because of the memories.

Wrapped around the ring was one of Phoebe's hospital bracelets. During her early months, we had amassed a few of them. But the one that was lying tangled with the piece of me was the one she wore into her first life-saving surgery. The surgery that had only been possible because of his sacrifice.

The final item I pulled from my pocket was the heaviest. The part of Edward. I wondered if he would resent my choice of objects to represent him because racing was the reason he hadn't been there for our son. But regardless of that fact, I knew how much he loved it - how much it meant to him. I also knew, even though he'd never said it, that if Emmanuel were still with us, Edward would have shown him all about engines. He would have taught him to respect cars. It would have become a shared passion.

I rested the little matchbox replica of Edward's V8 in front of the other items, and gave a silent plea that our little family would be spared any additional heartache.

We'd born so much already.