THE EPILOGUE

Red died in the Summer.

She was gray and weathered, and just as beautiful as the day I met her. She'd lived a long life, passing even that of Old Mrs. Altera, at the age of one-hundred and two. Respectively, I was one-hundred and seven myself. I'd been waiting I think, for her to pass. I wouldn't be leaving her behind.

I could feel in my bones though, that my time had come. I had no intentions in living in a world without my Red. No, from the day she'd gone, I'd been quietly preparing myself to follow.

"Do you want me to put this in with the other journals?" Ana asked, with eyes just like her Grandmother, my Red. In her hand, she held a red book, an old leather journal. I hadn't seen it in over eighty years.

Ana, otherwise known as Anabel, was the lone child of our lone child's child's child. My great-great-great-granddaughter. She herself was heavy with a child of her own. A daughter.

The Uley line, once hearty with men, had been stricken with girls when Bella Swan came along. None of whom carried Red's penchant for waiting to have a baby. No, our family made them young, and we loved every single one.

Our daughter Lana had married young, much to her mothers quiet worry. Her husband was a good man, but it didn't hurt that he was Paul's son either. But they were eighteen, though not by much, and there was very little we could do for it. I was fairly sure Red would have never agreed to their young union if he were anybody else. But their marriage bonded our family not only to Paul's, but to Jacobs as well. Not that we'd ever been anything other than family before.

Lana and her husband had brought us Charlie, sometimes known as Charlotte, only a year after they married. She would be their only child, though we all knew they wished for more. But cancer took their chance at any more babies. The news broke the heart of our whole family, as did the quiet whispers of half-blood, and hoquat taint. It hurt to see my daughter spurned for already devastating circumstance. Our tribe had never been anything but welcoming of Red, but with new generation came new prejudice.

Before Red, a mixed marriage was rare, it seemed that as chief, I'd set a trend. More pale-faces were brought into our small tribe. It worried some, that we would lose the sanctity of our blood. But, without new blood, we'd lose that anyway. I said as much, when I stood before my people, more ashamed then I had ever been. Before then, I had never had reason to shame my tribe as I did then, but I spoke out on my behalf of my hoquat wife, and our half-blooded daughter.

It was trying times for all, but we moved on. The tribe grew stronger for their mistakes, and did better to be more accepting. Lana died young, taken by her cancer at only forty-seven. Charlie grew up, and like her mother, fell in love with a man of the Tribe. Like her grandmother, she steadfastly refused to marry him. Red has supported her whole heartedly, even when she showed up crying and pregnant and barely twenty. The father had stood by her, even to this day. They never married.

Her baby, a beautiful little girl named Samantha, much to my pleasure, grew up and reminded me of Red every single day. She fell in love young, and hard, and her heart broke more times than I cared to count. But then one day, she found her soul mate in the grand son of our very own Leah Clearwater. That was the year the wolves came back. Samantha was the first imprint. She was also the second female wolf in our history. Leah adored her like nothing else.

They waited until the vampire threat was clear, but only just. Samantha had barely turned twenty-three when the fourth generation of Uley (Uley-Clearwater, if you must), was brought into the world, pink and squalling. They called her Anabel, though Sammy never told me if it was after her great aunt or her great grandmother. It didn't matter. Anabel was our newest baby.

But a baby she was no more. She was due any day now, a fact that broke my heart. Red had tried her hardest to hold on for that baby, our fifth generation girl. And if it weren't for her parting words, I think I'd have followed her sooner. But she'd stolen a promise from me, that I'd kiss our newest girl before I left. And so I would.

"You should sit," I said, patting the spot of couch beside me. Boxes were shoved in every which corner, half-filled with a lifetime of things collected. Anabel was moving in, at the vehement behest of Red. I was fairly sure it was her dying wish, actually. "You shouldn't be on your feet all day. Can't be good for the baby."

Anabel was the chief of our tribe, the second female, after her mother, who had stepped up when I'd stepped down. The Council had voted unanimously for her hand, shortly after she'd phased. It seemed that if the Gods deemed her worthy, who were they to say otherwise? The tribe had been hesitant, but she'd proven to be a skilled Chief. I had never been more proud of her.

Ana didn't sit. "Actually, I'm hoping I can kick-start labor. I think it's about time little Charlie made her grand entrance."

I smiled. "You know, you're grandmother was named after her grandfather." She did know, we'd told her time and again, but it was an old man's prerogative to repeat himself.

She smiled, indulgent and loving. "Where did you want this book, grandpa? Shall I put it with the other journals?"

Ah, the red journal. That book had once been the bane of my existence. I smiled. "Hand that over, would you?"

She did, before turning back to her packing. I traced my fingers down the old, soft leather. I didn't need to open it; I knew the words, verbatim. But, they'd stopped mattering a very long time ago. With a sigh, I leaned forward to set it in the book-box, when a slip of paper fell from it's pages.

It was notebook paper, crisp but faded. The crease where it was folded threatened to tear when I peeled it open. The untidy, looping scrawl was as familiar to me as the the back of my hand.

Dear Sam,

I don't know if you'll ever read this. I just wanted you to know that I knew. That I've always known. I knew you were it for me, that you were mine and I was yours, from the moment I looked Edward Cullen in the face and felt thankful that he'd broken my heart. You never said, so neither did I. But I've always known.

As I write this, our granddaughter is pacing our halls, griping while you fret and count her contractions. I told you once that you were so perfect it disgusted me. You never changed. You were always so perfect. I told Charlie that I didn't care what she called her daughter; I refused to call her anything other than Samantha. You deserve that.

I love you. I love everything about you. I'm not mad you never told me, because it never mattered. Had you told me then, when we were new and I was so angry...well, let's just say I understand why you didn't.

I don't know if you'll ever read this. Part of me hopes that you don't, and that we'll continue on, living as we have. Part of me hopes that you do, so you can know that I knew I was your world. I know you worried sometimes. Idiot.

Charlies water just broke. Our grand-baby is coming, Sam. A grand-baby, can you even imagine? Our baby is having a baby. God, when did I get so old? I don't know when it happened, but I'm glad it happened with you by my side.

Love always,

Red.

As much as I would have liked to take a moment to dwell on it, I didn't get the chance. Anabel appeared before me, with wide brown eyes. "Uh, grandpa? My water broke."

"What?" I was up in a very slow instant, my old bones not what they use to be. Sure, I was surprisingly hale for well over one-hundred, but I wasn't exactly doing sprints. "Grab your jacket, and call Quil. I'll call your mother." Anabel had found her love in Quil the fifth. It would seemed my pack couldn't keep their boys away from my girls.

That evening, I sat in a hospital chair holding my great-great-great-great-grandaughter. A sixth-generation Uley (Uley-Altera, if you must). She was as they all were; pink and squalling. It broke my heart that Red wasn't here.

But the soft worn sheet of paper folded carefully in pocket told me she was. I held that little baby, Nora Altera, and kissed her softly, once for me and once for Red.

The following morning, I died. A month to the day had passed since Red had left me. Too long, in my book, to exist without her. I died that night, knowing that behind me, I left a legacy of strong, beautiful women, and a history of both heartache and smiles. The life I had built and lived with Red was a beautiful one, one I could only look back on and smile.

I died smiling.

END

AKWNOLEDGEMENTS:

I'd like to thank MsEerieChastain for her never-failing BJ's. Beta-jobs, as it were.

And MissusMonster for staying up until ungodly hours in the morning to run through plot ides.

I'd like to thank you guys, for sticking with me, even when you wanted to kill me.

I'd like to thank BrainQuotes Dot Com for supplying me with all my quotes.

I'd like to thank Mist over at Tricky Raven - if it hadn't been for her posting this at her site, it might have been lost on here forever.

I'd like to thank everyone who stuck it out when I didn't post forever.