Chapter 4

Bella pulled into the drive behind the police cruiser at Charlie's house. It was still the same; Charlie wasn't one for unnecessary change. But then neither am I. she mused, so, why the sudden urge to de-clutter?

Bella made her way to the door at a quick, walking, human pace. She analysed, as she approached, what she could hear; the bubble of the coffee pot, the rustle of a news paper as the pages were turned and the tinny voice of a radio talk show. Braced herself against the burning rake of thirst down her throat as she identified the scents to go with the sounds; the hot, pungent coffee, the print of the newspaper and the scent she both dreaded and cherished the most, Charlie. Setting aside the thirst, she studied his aroma, she could still smell the fresh, clear, water of his favorite lake on him as if it permeated his being. Somehow it reminded her of how Jacob had once smelled to her human nose (her friendship with him was another aspect of her human life she had faught to remember), although Jake's earthy, musky odour now turned her stomach because it was so much stronger to her heightened senses.

Bella knew that she wouldn't hurt her father, knew it in the core of her marble bones, but that didn't make the thirst any less of an issue. Nor was the threat to his life any less real. If, through some action on her part, he guessed right about what she had become, what the rest of the Cullens had been all along, his life was over, the Volturi would see to that. With this in mind, Carlisle and Edward had covered up her short pregnancy with a mystery illness and the resulting changes, always being cold to the touch and very pale, were attributed to Reynaud's disease. Bella knocked lightly on the door and concentrated on being as much like the "pre-illness" Bella as she could, although the one aspect of this she had the most difficulty with was the acknowledged clumsiness which had disappeared with the warmth.

"Door's open." Charlie called out.

"Hey Dad" Bella entered the small kitchen and made a bee line for the coffee pot "mind if I have one before we start?" she poured a cup & wrapped her hands around it.

"Since when do you drink coffee?" Charlie asked without looking up from the article that had captured his attention.

"Since it helps keep my hands warm" it was an honest answer, yet Charlie would take it as a reference to the Reynaud's.

"Knock yourself out. I'll be done with the paper in a minute."

Bella sat opposite her father cupping the coffee, waiting for him to finish reading and listening to the radio debate. This one was "Do supernatural beings exist?" she laughed quietly to herself as she listened to some of the points people were phoning in with. Knowing that he and Emmett would get a kick out of it, she sent a text to Jacob (Nessie's birthday present to him when he had turned 18 was a phone) with the FM number and subject, Emmett text back "This is hilarious! Thx for the tip-off".

"Well? You ready?" Charlie asked as he folded his paper and stood.

"Sure." Bella got up too and headed toward the stairs, remembering to make noise and shuffle a little. She heard Charlie pause to swallow the last of his coffee then follow her.

At the top of the stairs in front of the linen closet which was situated between Charlie's room and the bathroom, the pull down ladder leading to the attic had already been extended. A wealth of information assaulted Bella's nostrils; she paused, trying to identify all the smells; the wooden timbers of the roof frame, the fibre of the insulation, dust, moth balls, paper, cardboard, plastic, fabric… Why did Charlie have silk in the attic?

"I'll go up and get the light on for you." Charlie had mistaken the pause for apprehension of the darkened space of a room Bella had never before set foot in, the old Bella would need to see so she wouldn't fall. She reminded herself, dutifully waiting at the foot of the ladder for her father to turn the light on, and climbed the ladder.

Her head crested the lip of the trap-door and Bella gasped at what she saw. On one side of the attic were the various decorations that Charlie used every year to celebrate assorted annual events, from July 4th to Christmas, along with various items that were no longer used, but which had value none the less. On the other side were stacks of carefully labeled boxes and trunks, a clothes rail had white suit bags hanging from it to protect the contents from dust and moths, and paintings likewise covered against the dust and general grime of being in storage. There was more here than she would ever have imagined.

"So…" Charlie had noticed her astonished intake of breath. "This stuff at the front is yours, and mine from when I was growing up. Then we'll work back, ok?"

Charlie and Bella had spent the rest of the morning reminiscing about the holidays Bella had spent in forks and laughing about Charlie's early fashion choices. Around noon Bella made lunch for Charlie and clung to another hot cup of coffee whilst he ate. Then, when they went back up to the attic, there was a new sense of sober anticipation coming off of Charlie in waves.

They resumed their seats on a pair of travelling trunks and Charlie reached for the closest box marked Marie Swan. Perhaps the apprehension Charlie was displaying was because they were about to go through things that had once belonged to his mother, Bella surmised. Charlie lifted the lid and handed the box to Bella.

"You get your love of books from your Grams." Charlie reached into his back pocket and took out a large piece of paper folded like a road map. "She wrote quite a bit too. Those are her journals and diaries. There are sketches, poems, short stories, that sort of thing. She was never published but it's all there." He looked down and turned the paper over in his hands without opening it making Bella curious as to what it contained. He didn't look up as he continued talking "Her favorite stories to tell me at bed time were about a pale prince who came here from far away, centuries ago and loved the mountains and lakes so much that he tied his blood line to this land. He was forced to leave when his over-lord threatened his people if he didn't come back and fight for him. He took his bride with him and didn't come back. His name was Eala, Celtic for 'Swan'." Charlie straightened "I'm pretty sure my mom wrote it all down in there," he waved toward the box "it's pretty detailed. I was never really interested in any of it, you lived too far away when she was around to tell you the stories, and you were too young when she died. I've just sort of, let it slide." Charlie shrugged "I'm sorry for that."

"Thanks Dad. I'll take it home and read them with Nessie," Bella looked more closely at her father's awkward fidgeting. "What's that in your hand?" He looked at her with a furrowed brow but didn't say anything. "There's more to the stories than bed-time tales, isn't there dad?" Charlie nodded, "How much more?"

Charlie got up and clicked on a torch "Generations more." He said as he directed the beam back into the shadows beyond the stacks they were currently looking at. Bella stood and gawped at the three additional rows of boxes stacked five high. "the trunks we're sitting on came over with the first settlers who came after Robert Gray in the 1700s"

"Wow! I had no idea we had such an old family!" Bella sat down on the trunk again and remembered to breath again. "This is Awesome, Dad! It's going to make the rest of the histories much easier..." she trailed off. she didn't understand, Charlie hadn't relaxed as she had expected.

I just realised that there was a huge section missing from this chapter. now added. enjoy. :)