Author's note- I always wondered what Emily would be like as a mom.
Disclaimer- All recognizable characters, plots, locations, etc are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
I stare down into those tender orbs that came from me and bite gently at the tiny fingertips that sweep across my chin. The two-year-old coos in my arms, giggling as I blow softly into her ear. Her hands smoothly sail over the scars that run down my face. She warmly presses her small pucker to the silver ribbon that runs to my lip. Saylor.
Her twin's hair flutters in the moist wind that swims close to the ground. "Skittle!" She claims, pointing to the concrete below her hand. I crane my neck and grin, nodding. A bright orange oval has balanced itself into stillness, its color reminding me of an Easter egg in a hunt. The nimble body plucks it from the ground and wraps it in her palm, running wobbly towards me. "Here, Say." It doesn't quite sound like here though since her 'r's' sound like 'y's'. Bailey.
My only son sits beside me, pensive. He resembles me to a tee physically and Sam everywhere else, brain, expressions, and all. His hand is around a stick that is creating holes in the grass. His hair is wound in dark curls that scurry across his head. He looks up at me and blinks, reflections of me in his own eyes making me smile. Harry.
"I love you, mom," the four-year-old boy says, staring up at me.
"I love you, too," I remind him, brushing his too-long hair up above his eyebrows.
"Why do people get married?" He asks. Saylor and Bailey pause and look to him.
"Because they love each other very much," I answer smoothly.
"So I marry you, mom?" He continues, his toddler grammar making my mouth form a delighted smile. I laugh, Bailey joins, overjoyed by the sight of amusement in another.
"I don't think Daddy would like that," I say humouredly. Saylor sticks a flat hand against her tight smile to tease a giggle around.
"I guess I could share," he consents, shrugging and standing carefully up from the porch step. My heart melts at the sight of him and I remember every word, each wispy memory taking residence in my now maternal mind.
Harry, Bailey, and Saylor. My reasons. My treasures.
"My babies," I murmur possessively, not noticing the huge shadow now covering me.
"Our babies," Sam corrects with a chuckle, pressing an affectionate smile against my lips. I kiss him back.