Author's Note: I write Harry Potter. That, I believe, is where my strength lies. I decided to start reading Twilight very recently, and I obviously loved it. :) I won't voice my complaints about Meyer's grammar here… It would be completely annoying. I'm obsessive. Okay, so this is my first Twilight story. I'm assuming you figured that out already. I want to let you know now that it's very…different than most of what I've seen on here. I haven't seen any other story that begins when Bella is only four years old. The first part of the chapter (before Renée comes home) may be a little odd, but please give it a chance. Anyway, I am going to be busy this summer. I won't lie. I have a whole bunch of Harry Potter stories that are on hold right now because I'm working on doing well on finals and Regents exams. Also, I'm working on my own novel. I will also be away for most of July, but that's what a laptop is good for, right? Lastly, my own laptop has a virus, so I'm stuck using my mom's one that I believe she got from work until it's finally back in its rightful place. It makes it difficult to update, especially since I'm in the center of a lot of loud things. (Brooothers) I will do my best to update this as quickly as possible. So, if you want to give my story a try, I'll stop this annoying note. Please review. Enjoy. :)

"How about a sun?" Lena Lafontaine asked her granddaughter wearily.

It had been quite an exhausting day, which wasn't entirely surprising when one watched over Bella Swan. Bella was a difficult girl to keep track of. If Lena decided to pour herself a glass of juice, she would turn around to find Bella at the front door, trying to escape.

In fact, in the amount of time it took Lena to blink, Bella could run off to put herself in a dangerous situation.

Which she did.

All the time.

Lena was ecstatic when Bella decided she wanted to go to the color room. Legend had it the color room was the safest room in the death trap Renée called a house. Lena would be able to watch Bella carefully without having to get up, and Bella would quietly color. Well…according to Renée anyway. The room had only been finished for about a week, so Lena had never been in it.

She was surprised, to say the least—the very least.

Bella smiled beatifically up at her grandmother after she had thrown open the door.

"Isn't it pretty?"

Lena was speechless. "I…"

This was how Renée got her kicks? She defiled her walls? She enjoyed making people sick when they entered the room? It looked as if Bella had somehow managed to steal her mother's precious paint cans and empty them by splattering the floor and walls.

Bella looked at Lena, perplexed by her response. Obviously, she was supposed to like the room. She was supposed to think it was, as Bella said, pretty.

Lena gave her beloved granddaughter a fake smile. She barely tried to make it convincing; Bella was incredibly gullible.

Through gritted teeth, she muttered, "It's very nice."

She was surprised she managed to get to get that much of a compliment out of her mouth.

Lena loved her daughter very much, but she didn't care much for her taste.

"Come on," said Bella, pulling her grandmother over to the dark wooden table in the center of the capacious room.

"Sit," she ordered.

Lena did as she was told.

Bella sat down in the little blue chair across from Lena's little orange one. She grabbed a folder from the end of the table and pulled out a piece of blank paper from it.

Lena asked Bella if she was supposed to be opening the folder, but Bella showed her the back of it. It read BELLA in bright green letters.

"It's mine," she explained.

That was when the trouble started.

Lena had been perfectly content with the idea of watching her granddaughter safely color, so she was surprised when she found herself worrying about the pictures she drew.

"Okay," said Bella. "Sun. Sun. Sun. Suuuun," she sang as she drew.

Lena closed her eyes, trying to erase the other pictures that Bella had drawn from her memory. She had always deemed the process of analyzing pictures ridiculous, but she could not deny that there was a strange pattern to Bella's drawings.

The first picture was of Renée. At first, that seemed perfectly normal. Kids liked to draw their parents. Lena only became disturbed when she realized that Renée was on fire. Bella was no artist, but it was very easy to understand what the orange and yellow flames were representing.

When Lena asked her about it, Bella shrugged. "Mommy likes hot."

Lena said that, yes, Renée did like the heat, but she probably didn't want to be burned to death.

Bella shrugged again, not looking up from her paper. "It's a pickcha, Gamma."

The rest were just as bad: Renée's friends getting sick, Lena bleeding, Lena's pet rabbit under the ground, and a man that seemed to be running off the page. After the answer she had gotten to her question about the fire, Lena hadn't asked what the others meant or who the man was. She simply suggested that Bella draw happier pictures.

"Done!"

Lena opened her eyes and suppressed a groan. Though it was against her better judgment, Lena just couldn't resist asking questions.

"Bella, why is the sun running away?"

Lena had been a pre-school teacher when she was younger, so she had seen enough pictures to know that when there were a bunch of arrows and footsteps (even if the object in question did not have feet), it meant the object was running away.

Bella gave me an exasperated look and rolled her eyes. "Gamma, the sun has been up there a long time."

"Yes…" Lena said slowly.

"It got bored."

"The sun doesn't get bored."

Bella raised an eyebrow. "Ask him."

Lena decided to just give up.

Coloring seemed to calm Bella down completely. She sat down in her chair, perfectly content, focusing only on the paper she was using for her art.

Just when Lena began to relax and drink her tea, Bella stopped coloring. She set her red crayon down carefully.

"Gamma?" she said softly.

"Yes?" Lena asked warily. Bella looked nervous.

"What time is it?"

"Six."

Bella now looked close to tears. "Mommy…5:30."

Lena reached out to touch Bella's hand, shocked. "Honey, she'll be home soon."

Bella shook her head. "Where is she?

"Bella—"

"No!" she shrieked.

Lena had never heard her granddaughter raise her voice; she was always so quiet and sweet.

"I—I." Bella closed her eyes, taking deep breaths.

Lena thanked God forty times in her head when she heard the front door open and close. Bella jumped up and ran out of the room to greet her mother. Lena followed at a much slower pace. She was not looking forward to the talk she would have to have with Renée.

Renée was taking her off her high heels by the door when Lena and Bella got to her. Renée smiled, lifting her daughter up into her arms. Bella buried her face into her neck.

"Thanks so much, Mom," said Renée. "Did she have dinner?"

Lena shook her head slowly.

"Let's go whip something up, Bella," she said, already pushing open the curtain to the kitchen. "Do you want to stay for dinner, Mom?"

Lena solemnly followed the sound of Renée's voice.

"No," said Bella, giggling. "She don't wanna."

"Bella's not a fan of my experiments," Renée explained.

Lena ignored their comments. Trying to be as gentle as possible, she said, "May I have a word with you in the other room?"

Renée knew it was a rhetorical question. She was supposed to agree to talk with her. Still, she mulled it over in her head, anticipating an argument. Lena gave her a stern look.

"Fine," she said. She grabbed a juice box from the refrigerator and placed it in front of Bella. "We'll be back in a minute, honey."

Bella nodded, concentrating on popping her straw out of its wrapper.

Lena did not wait a mere second before she launched her attack. "What is wrong with you?"

"Umm…" Renée cocked her head to one side. "I can't sing. I'm not sure if that's the particular problem you were looking for, but it's—"

"Be serious," Lena demanded. "Are you aware that you have no food at the moment?"

"I have food."

"You have pancake mix, macaroni and cheese, juice boxes, and peanut butter," said Lena incredulously. "And…you're both allergic to peanut butter. Why is that here?"

"I am going to go shopping," said Renée, ignoring the question.

"Do you see the pictures your daughter draws? She is obviously disturbed."

"Excuse me?"

Lena rubbed her temples. "That came out wrong. Let's…sit down." She gestured toward the couch.

Renée followed her mother to the couch, sighing.

Lena took a minute to observe her. Her brown curly hair was perfect, as usual, but that was about the only positive thing to be said about her appearance. There were dark circles under her eyes, likely brought on by sleep deprivation. She looked weak, skinny, and insecure.

It was almost impossible to see the beautiful woman underneath all of that.

Lena put her hand on Renée's shoulder, trying to be patient. "I just…you know how I feel. I don't think she is happy, Renée."

Renée scowled darkly, crossing her arms over her chest. "You've discovered this by looking at her pictures?"

"You're the one who said that art is an expression of unspoken feelings," said Lena, hoping Renée would see reason.

"Yes," said Renée, struggling to keep herself from shouting. "I want her to be able to express herself."

"But, in these pictures—"

"I'm on fire. I know. Are you afraid that means she's going to throw some gasoline over my head and light a match?"

"That's not funny," said Lena, not pleased with the indifference Renée was displaying.

Renée stood up. "I will not tell her she cannot draw what she wants to draw."

Lena opened her mouth to make a suggestion, but she stopped when she realized Renée was crying. She raised her eyebrows in alarm and got up to hug Renée to her chest.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" Lena asked gently.

"It's all my fault," Renée choked out between sobs.

"The pictures? Oh, it's not—"

"Mother, would you forget about the damn pictures? I'm talking about the Brian thing."

Lena stiffened. She rubbed Renée's back, refusing to reply until the crying stopped. Eventually, the tears stopped, but the tremors continued.

"She is terrified of abandonment," said Lena, speaking gently, trying not to further upset Renée.

"What, are you a therapist now?" Renée asked viciously.

"She needs help."

"No," said Renée stubbornly, pulling away from Lena.

"You need to fix yourself," Lena continued.

"I'm fine."

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even have this house!"

The immediate change in the air was visible in Renée's beautiful blue eyes. She was no longer distressed and full of regret; she was furious. She stormed into the kitchen, rolling her eyes when she went through the curtain. The curtain that she had put up to make the house even more unique was now preventing her from doing what she really wanted to do: slam a damn door.

Renée knew her mother was right behind her, eager to continue their discussion. She tried her best to ignore that.

Bella smiled up at them. It was clear to her—an innocent four-year-old—that, even though she heard some of the conversation, she was not supposed to repeat anything.

"Okay, let's see the purple tongue!" said Renée.

Bella gladly stuck her tongue out.

"Hmm…" said Renée, pondering. "I'd give it an eight. Keep working on it."

Bella nodded, delighted. "'Nother!"

Lena arched a confused eyebrow as she watched Renée hand Bella another grape juice box. Renée didn't look at her. She stared at the tabletop. "We try to beat each other. Later, after a few more juice boxes, we'll look in the mirror to see who has the more purple tongue."

"That's ridiculous," said Lena.

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

Renée sat down next to Bella, smiling weakly. "As soon as gamma leaves, we'll make some pancakes."

"Crazy panpakes?" Bella asked.

Renée nodded, running her fingers through Bella's thick hair.

Lena watched the two of them from the doorway—also known as the curtainway—with mixed feelings. She was so glad that Renée and Bella had such a good relationship, and she knew that Renée cared very much about the little girl. However, Lena was not always so happy with the decisions she made. The house was a death trap! Bella was covered in band-aids and bruises. Lena was afraid that if people got curious, they would try to take Bella away. If anyone asked, Lena would certainly say that Renée was a wonderful mother, but…

Well, Lena wasn't always so sure that was true.

Renée had never gone to college. Her dream had always been art. As long as she had the supplies for that, she was satisfied. What would she ever need college before? Her husband went to college. She had a home with him. She had money with him.

Unfortunately, while the home and the money were both still there, Renée was not.

Lena had never been able to pry the reasons for her departure out of her. Renée got up one day, took Bella, left almost all of her stuff behind, and no one, not even Lena, heard from her for three days. Lena had no idea where she had stayed. After she had gotten the call, she told all of Renée's friends where she had gone.

But when she called Charlie, he said he didn't want to know. He asked if she was safe, and Lena told him that she was. He said that was all he needed to know.

"If you tell me where she is, I won't be able to resist the urge to run after her. If she didn't tell me where she was going, she obviously doesn't want me to follow."

And that was it. The end of Charlie and Renée. Lena was fine with that. If they didn't want to be with each other—or if Renée didn't want to be with him—they shouldn't have to be. Only two things bothered Lena.

One: They were still married, even if only technically.

Two: Bella had not seen her father since Renée moved out.

She could not support Bella easily without a college degree. Lena moved to Phoenix to be with her and help. After all, what was keeping her in Forks? Her husband was dead, and her daughter was too many miles away. Lena was quite wealthy. She figured she would find a nice home for the three of them to live in. She didn't realize that was against her daughter's wishes.

Renée wanted to feel independent. Lena respected that. Was it wrong to feel grateful for the money one inherited after many deaths in the family? That was what got them in such a good position.

Art was certainly not enough to keep the roof over their heads. Lena chipped in, and Renée worked as a secretary in a High School. It wasn't her dream job, but she was taking some college classes to help her get somewhere. Lena wished Renée's had been blessed with something other than a talent for art.

"I'd like to continue our conversation in the other room," said Lena.

Renée finally looked at her. "Why? You don't want Bella to hear your insults?"

Lena sighed. "I don't want to insult you."

Renée rolled her eyes. Clearly, the comment about the house had cut her deeply. "Well, if you do it by accident, it's dangerous to talk to you."

"Renée," Lena said warningly.

"We'll talk right here, mother."

If that was the way she wanted it, that was the way she would get it. "You need to deal with Charlie."

"Ow!"

Renée's fingers were still running through Bella's hair when Lena shocked her. She dropped her hands to her lap, forgetting about the knots. She ripped her fingers through the tangles in her hair.

"I'm sorry, Bella," said Renée, staring anxiously at Lena. "What do you mean I have to 'deal' with him?"

Lena glanced at Bella. She was holding onto the ends of her hair tearfully.

"I would really like to discuss this somewhere else."

Renée did not look like she was going to move.

Lena sighed. "Renée, I don't want to be harsh, but you have to hear this. You need to grow up. Stop avoiding your problems. Talk to him."

"No," said Renée immediately.

"Renée-"

"I am so grateful that you watch Bella for me. I love you. I do not deserve you," said Renée. "I will do anything else you may ask, but I will not do this."

Lena, who had been so hesitant to talk in front of Bella, seemed to have forgotten Bella was even there.

"I am not asking you to move back there. I am not asking you to give up anything. Just go talk to him. End this."

"It's over," said Renée. "Just because I am not with him—"

"Who?" said Bella.

She was ignored.

"What if you want to get remarried someday? Technically, you are still married."

Renée snorted. "I am not getting married again."

"Who?" Bella repeated, louder this time.

"Bella needs to know her own father!" said Lena.

Renée's eyes were burning with a passionate anger. "She has me," she whispered murderously. "Don't tell me what else she needs."

"Who?" Bella asked again, slamming her fists on the table.

Renée finally looked at her. "No one important," she said. She turned to Lena. "I will walk you to the door now. Bella will want her pancakes soon."

"Crazy panpakes!" Bella reminded her.

"Of course," said Renée, giving her a half smile.

Neither one of them spoke a word until they arrived at the front door. Renée looked at her expectantly.

Lena smiled sadly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I did not want that conversation to happen the way it did," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Renée shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

"However, I did mean what I said. You need to close this Charlie situation. Rekindle the old flame…end it. I don't care. Just do something to give the both of you some closure."

Renée's anger had faded. She sighed hopelessly. "I can't see him again."

Lena did not remove her hand from Renée's shoulder.

"Think of your father," she said. "Think of how much he meant to you. What would your life have been like if he never existed?"

Renée said nothing.

"Give your daughter the chance to be the daddy's girl you were if she…wants to be."

"I can't see him again," she repeated.

"Do this for Bella. Please, Renée," Lena begged.

Renée's voice was barely above a whisper. "No matter what his reaction is, it will hurt me. If he welcomes me with open arms, it will hurt me." She was starting to tear up again, but she was desperately fighting the urge to cry. "If he tells me to get out of his face, it will hurt me. If he forgives me, it will hurt me. If he doesn't forgive me…"

"Renée," Lena said softly.

"I know I deserve it, but…"

"Just remember how much you hurt him. You can't avoid this forever. It is not fair to him at all."

Renée bit her lip.

"I know you will do the right thing," said Lena. "Same time tomorrow?"

Renée nodded silently, opening the door for her mother. Lena stepped out without another word.

Renée closed the door slowly behind her, slid down to the floor, held her head in her hands, and cried. She tried to be as quiet as possible about it, but Bella still came to her.

Renée looked up at her daughter pathetically, not bothering to try to come up with a lie. Bella rushed over to her mother's side, resting her head on her shoulder.

"What?" Bella asked, furrowing her brows.

"It's okay, baby," she said.

"No. Well, I…I understand that, but I can't come back at…yes. Yes, my plane has already arrived."

Bella held onto her mother's hand, patiently waiting for her to be done with her phone call.

Renée put the phone to her shoulder and whispered, "Can you see if there's another quarter in my purse?"

Bella took the purse out of her mother's suitcase.

"I know, but I am on a payphone. I am not home. I—yes, you did tell me that. I don't believe that's any of your business."

Bella reached up to hand her mother a quarter she had found. Renée took it from her, mouthing thank you.

"I informed her. That doesn't mean I have to inform the world," said Renée, rolling her eyes. "Washington! Look, I don't feel like wasting another quarter, and this call will end soon. If you desperately need to call me—for a legitimate reason—call the number that I left with Mary."

"Yes. Of course. Bye."

Renee' sighed before she picked up the phone again.

"Mom? Hi. I'm not going to need you to come over next week... I'm in Washington. Yes. I know. No, he--he doesn't know."

Bella could hear her grandmother shout, "YOU DIDNT CALL HIM?"

"No. I--yes. Yes, I have a plan!"

"What IS IT?"

"Well," said Renee', looking uncomfortable. "I'm going to go to his house, and then I'll take it from there."

Bella could no longer hear shouting.

"Yes, Mom. Yes. I need to go now. Bye."

Renée hung up the phone, grabbed the handle of her suitcase, and then offered her other hand to Bella. Bella grabbed it tightly.

"Take your suitcase."

Bella did as she was told.

When Renée stepped out onto the sidewalk, she felt her stomach lurch. Washington. She was in Washington.

"Are we going to walk to Force?" Bella asked, looking curiously up at Renée.

"Forks," said Renée absentmindedly. "No."

"How—"

"This is an airport. Shouldn't there be more taxis around?"

Bella assumed she was talking to her. "Umm…"

"Of course not. I forgot I'm visiting Hell. Silly me."

Bella groaned.

When the first taxi arrived, Renée rushed to the door, shoving people out of her way. After the luggage was in, she ran back for her daughter. She was not going to make her stay in Washington any longer than it absolutely had to be.

"The line is still there."

Bella had given up on trying to understand her mother's babbling.

Renée was staring at the garage door with a mixture of happiness, sadness, and anger in her eyes.

"I did it when I lived here," she explained. "I wanted to paint the garage half purple and half yellow. Charlie thought I was absolutely insane, and he wanted it to stay grey. While I was painting the purple, I said to myself, 'Wouldn't it be great if I painted lines of yellow across the purple, instead?'"

Bella looked down at her shoes, finding them more interesting than she found the story.

"He hated it. He always joked around, saying that he would repaint it one day when I was out shopping or something," she said, laughing. "But…it's still there."

"So?"

Renée sighed. "So, he's an idiot. He should have torn down the whole garage the moment he'd realized I had left him."

"Oh," said Bella, her eyes widening.

Renée took a deep breath. "On the count of three," she said to herself. "One, two, three!"

She reached her finger out to ring the doorbell, but she pulled it back.

"I can't," she said. "You do it."

Bella was willing to do anything to get out of the cold weather, so she walked over to the doorbell. Just as she was about to push the button, Renée pulled her hand away.

"Do you hear that? He's talking."

Bella shivered. "Mommy!"

Renée didn't seem to notice the cold air around them. "Is someone in there with him? Does he have a girlfriend or something?"

Bella had a pretty good feeling that they weren't going inside for a while.

"No," she said thoughtfully. "He's on the phone."

Renée closed her eyes. "Push it, Bells."

The door opened quickly, almost as if the man of the house had been expecting company. He was, indeed, on the phone.

It took him a moment to realize who was standing there on his doorstep. Once his eyes widened in realization, the phone fell to the floor.

Author's Note: If you read until the end, thank you. Please review. :) I've got some tricks up my sleeve for this story, so I hope some people want to keep reading.