A/N This story was inspired by Guarding Edward by katmom, a wonderful author...You should check it out if you already haven't..it's a great story! I also want to thank Kathie (katmom) for looking this over and making it look pretty as well as helping me with the ending....
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all the characters..its a shame she won't lend out Edward....
Elizabeth's Dance
Edward's fingers caressed the piano keys like they were the most precious thing to him. Blank sheets of paper sat in front of him and I could tell that he was composing a new piece by the way his right hand was holding his pencil. Every few seconds he would tap the eraser against his bottom lip. I knew better than to disturb him while he was trying to figure out the notes so I quietly walked to the kitchen to start dinner.
Forty-five minutes later the meatloaf and noodles were ready to be served. I found Edward right where I had left him and softly knocked on the wall beside me. He looked up and smiled.
"Dinners ready," I simply stated.
"Alright Mom, I'll be there in a minute."
"So how was your day, Edward?" I asked my son once he sat down.
"It was good," he answered.
Edward was uncharacteristically quiet while we ate. He didn't have much to say usually but he always joined in on dinner conversations. After he answered my question he didn't say anything else.
The next day Edward went straight to his piano upon getting home from school. I was surprised that he didn't greet me right when he stepped through the door, which was his daily ritual. A couple hours later he found me in my office looking over some designs for the hospital's charity ball I was participating in. I put the designs aside so I could give him my full attention.
He looked down at his feet as he spoke, like he was ashamed of something. "Pardon me for not saying hi to you earlier Mom."
"Edward, I understand you were distracted. I appreciate you saying that though."
He looked up and smiled. "During the ride home a few notes came to me and I wanted to write them down before I could forget."
"I'm sure it'll be as lovely as your other songs." Motherly pride flowed through my body as I spoke.
His cheeks crimsoned. "You have to say that because you're my mom."
"I may be your mom but I also know a great song when I hear it," I told him, knowing that he couldn't refute that. We both shared the same tastes in music. Before he could say anything I asked, "Are you writing a song for anyone in particular?"
"No," he answered. The quickness of his reply told me that he wasn't being truthful.
I raised my eyebrow. "Edward?"
"I can't tell you," he said quietly. It was so unlike him to evade my question and I wondered if he was writing it for someone special but embarrassed to admit it. I decided to not press him.
Over the next few days I heard him working out the melodies on the piano. As I listened to them I found that they were soothing and almost reserved. Almost a week after he began composing the new song Edward walked in after school and found me in the kitchen.
"Good afternoon Mom."
I turned and smiled at him. "Good afternoon, Edward, are you hungry? I could make you something…"
He shook his head. "I want to show you something."
"Okay," I replied as I followed him to the piano.
He motioned for me to sit in a cream colored chair that I had recently purchased while he sat at the piano. I sat and watched as he flexed his fingers readying them to play. It only took moments before soft music filled the room. I could feel strength, compassion and love in the notes as he played. Tears formed in my eyes as I realized that the emotions conveyed in each note were reminiscent of my own character traits.
Once he finished playing, Edward turned to look at me. "Are you okay?" he asked when he noticed me wiping a tear from my eyes.
"That was beautiful Edward!"
He grinned. "It's called Elizabeth's Dance."
I gasped as realization dawned on me. "Is it..?"
"Yes, I wrote the song for you."
I stood and in a few short strides stood in front of Edward. He stood as well and I wrapped my arms around him.
"Mom can't breathe," Edward whispered after a few minutes.
I loosened my grip on him. "Sorry."
He flashed his crooked grin. "So I take it that you like." Humor laced his voice.
"I loved it!"
He chuckled. "I figured. I'm glad that you do. I was afraid that you might hate it."
I placed my hand on his arm and he looked at me. "Why would you think that I wouldn't like it?"
Before he could answer his father walked into the room. "I thought I heard some music," he said with a smile.
"Edward wrote a new song," I told him.
"Care to play it for your mom and me?" His eyes twinkled as he asked our son. I raised my eyebrow knowing that he was up to something. His eyes usually twinkled when he was going to surprise me.
Edward nodded and repositioned himself on the piano bench. Edward Senior took my hand in his. "Care to dance, my lady?"
I giggled. "Certainly, sir."
I put my left hand on his shoulder and gave him my right to hold. His other arm slipped around my waist as we waltzed gracefully around the room. I noticed Edward watching us with a contented expression upon his face as he was playing. I felt very content myself. I was dancing with my beloved husband, to music written and played by my wonderful son. Life really doesn't get much better than this.