Brothers and Sisters
Renee left Charlie heartbroken and with a baby he didn't know how to look after. He knows he's not fit to be a single parent so he lets the Blacks raise Bella as their 4th child. An odd feeling eventually surfaces and Jacob and Bella can't hide their growing attraction. But one small fact prevents them from acting on anything of their feelings. Everyone around them considers them to be brother and sister, even though they are not related. They must choose between what feels right and what society tells them is.
Chapter 1:
The Father
Never shall anyone be able to understand the extent of a father's love for his daughter ~
The father looks down at his daughter bundled up in bed. Her face is a tempered pink, draped with shadows from the comforters that are pulled up to her chin to ward off the monsters that always seem to lurk deep under her bed. He loves her dearly, but he can't go on like this anymore.
Tenderly, he walks forward. Each step is deliberately calculated. He wants to turn back, but the shallow ache in his chest urges him forward. It seems to take ages to get to her bedside from the doorway. The room isn't large, but when the walls seem to be suffocating you, even a short journey might as well be ten-mile hike.
Eventually, he stands next to her side and stares down at her gentle face. Her innocence is like a light bulb in her sleep; shinning. He doesn't want to let her go. He doesn't want to give her up. But he loves her, and the best thing for her right now, is to be with someone else more capable then him. The pain from the failure just might kill him.
He bends and extracts her, blanket and all, from her bed. 'It'll be easier this way', they told him; however, disturbing her while she sleeps seems to be on a whole 'nother level of cruelty.
But what does he know.
She stirs in her sleep and mumbles something that sounds like 'daddy'. The father can't be sure, her still baby like mumble is hard to decipher, especially for him. Renee could always do it though.
Ever so gently, he leaves the room with her in his arms. It just might be the last time he ever gets to see her, let alone hold her. The tough realization is hard for him to swallow. His wobbly knees feel like led as he treks down the hallway past the packed boxes lining the walls, and out into the empty street in front of his house. He doesn't even bother to lock the door behind him, there's nothing more that he can lose.
The baby's bags are already packed in the trunk of the car. He had tricked her earlier in the day into packing her favorite things for a "trip," he had said. Her gleeful face as she merrily stuffed her most prized possessions into her suitcase: even old broken crayons that she calls her friends, and her quiet babbles about all of the puppies she would see on the car ride (she loves puppies), had been the most painful thing he had ever witnessed. His own happy smiles as he helped her were only there to mask the sorrow that lurked deep inside of him.
When he buckles her in she awakes. Sleep pulls her eyelids close, but she fights with them to keep them open. Eventually her chubby fingers simply hold her eyelids open instead, and she glances around in wonder. The father cracks a smile, but quickly it drifts over the side of his face and a grimace is pulled in instead.
"Dada…" The little girl mumbles, while rubbing at her eyes with her curled fists. She gives up on holding her eyes open and is instead letting her instincts kick in. She simply talks with them closed. At only three she is surprisingly intelligent, though her slurred speech holds her back a little, "Werebe goin'?"
He told her they would leave the next morning. She knows morning is bright and not dark like the present sky.
She looks around in wonder, her wispy brown eyebrows scrunching together as she takes in her environment. She reaches out a drifting finger and captures the little pink bear nesting beside her car seat. The bear cuddles into the crook of her legs, while she hugs the bundle of fabric close to her; she's afraid of darkness. A night-light has always been in her room, and right now the car is dark.
The father flicks the overhead light on to make her more comfortable. Instantly, she visibly relaxes, and he speaks softly to fit with the quiet atmosphere, "On the trip remember?"
She settles further back into her car seat, until most of her legs dangle over. Her brown eyes click close, and he presumes her to be asleep. He pulls away from the curb and begins to drive to the Black's house without another word of explanation. What she doesn't know won't hurt her.
The 25-minute drive down Fork's highway is lonely. The radio is on mute, and not even a single car is on the road. It's hardly ever busy in Forks, and certainly not at three AM. Nearly half way through the journey, he looks into the rear view mirror to check on her, and sees his beautiful daughter's wide, innocent eyes stare into his, "Dada…" She begins, "Yous crin."
It takes him a few moments for him to extract the intention out of her words, but when he looks into the rearview mirror, at his reflection, it becomes clear. Frantically, he wipes the salty tears that he hadn't noticed slip from his eyes with the back of his fist. He doesn't know how to respond, so he looks over his shoulder, into her wide brown eyes staring back at him. "I love you Bella." It's all he can say to her right now that could possibly explain why he is crying. She's too young to understand the hardships he's gone through in the past month. He hopes she will always remember that he loves her. Even when it seems like it can't possibly be true.
"Iwovewooto!" She replies instantly, a sleepy smile dancing on her little lips. After a few silent moments, almost as a reassurance to herself, she mumbles. "I wove me dada." Her eyes drift to the side, out the window, and zone in on a point in the distance. Again sleep pulls her eyelids closed, and her little head, covered in unruly brown curls, bobs with the slight bump of the highway.
He returns his focus to the road. It's all he can do to avoid a break down.
"Are you sure Charlie?" Sarah mumbles with a quick glance around before ushering him and the sleeping girl in his arms into their small house. He's holding her awkwardly; with one of her arms tucked into his shirt, but she doesn't dare tell him to adjust her. Instead she offers to take her, but with a shake of his head he declines.
She smoothes her hands down her nightgown instead, over her ballooning belly.
4 children. She doesn't know how she can manage, but after Charlie came to her after his most recent breakdown, she knows she has to at least try. It will be tough, but Charlie has promised to supply monthly checks in the mail to cover at least most of her expenses. It's unnecessary when he's so needy, but certainly a kind gesture that she knows she must accept.
Charlie buries his face into the blanket wrapped around the girl in his arms, "I-I…" He begins, but bails out. He tries again after a deep clear of his phlegm coated voice. Sarah knows he must have been crying on the way over, "I'm not what's best for her. She deserves someone capable."
She lays her palm on her friend's shoulder. He seems to sink under the slight weight, so she removes it. Instead she rests it on the side of his face; onto the stubbly surface of his cheek that suggests he hasn't been bothering to take care of himself. She knows the depression he's slipped into is deep, and it will take time to pull him from it again.
"You're not a bad father." She mumbles sincerely. Sarah believes it wholeheartedly, even though he's made his mistakes: he's left her behind in stores, forgotten to feed her for sometimes as long as 24 hours, left her in the car, at home, at her own house for days at a time. The depression from the nasty split has destroyed him, and she can't help but mourn for the loss of her old friend. The old Charlie would never do something like this. He swore that he wouldn't let this happen to him. He swore he was capable. He swore he was strong enough. He is a police officer after all, but unrequited love is much harder to deal with than a disfigured body here and there. She hates the bitch for hurting him this badly.
"You're not a bad father." She repeats. Any put downs at this moment would be dreadful for him. Sarah knows a lot of things, including how fragile his confidence is. "When you feel like you're ready to come back, come back. Whatever the hour. When you think you can manage to be a father again, come back. We won't turn you away. Never Charlie" She looks at him sternly. Her beady black eyes hover on his downcast brown ones. She has never been more serious in her life.
He's ashamed of himself. It's the most selfish thing he has ever done, but he really does love her. And he knows that his daughter Bella needs someone that can look after and raise her properly. Someone that isn't as feeble as himself.
"Please…" He whispers. By the sound of his voice, it appears that stubborn tears are hidden just below the surface. Sarah knows the minute he leaves he's going to cry again. Bella and him were nearly inseparable when Renee was still around, but as soon as she left the thread tying them together snapped. Though he still feels the pull of her whenever he realizes the consequences of his careless actions. At this moment it's straining so hard, he feels as though he's having a heart attack, "Just look after her." He manages to blurt out.
Sarah knows, that he knows she will. He needs to hear to believe it. He needs to know that what he's doing is really the right thing, "Of course Charlie. I'll raise her like my own daughter. She won't know the difference I promise."
She turns away from the father and his daughter to give them privacy, and also to wheel her suitcase into the room that she prepared for her. It's the baby's nursery painted in a mellow green. Bella's favorite color is green, and she has yet to find out the sex of the baby. Bella and her baby will have to share a room for a while, so it's perfect.
When she walks back into the foyer of the house, Charlie's sniffles and silent sobs pull on the strings of her heart. She can't imagine giving up one of her daughters. She manages to control her emotions before facing him, "Charlie?" She asks. Her fingers outstretch to hand him a tissue that is perched in her caramel fingers. She knows he needs it.
He takes it wordlessly and wipes the tears snaking down his cheeks, "All of her papers are in her bag. The adoption ones too," He mumbles without so much as glancing in her direction. In one fluid motion he lifts the girl out of his arms, his eyes lingering on her little face for a few seconds before dropping her into Sarah's and practically running out the door. He doesn't look back and Sarah doesn't blame him. A quick break is always the cleanest.