Chapter 7: Home
I realize that things just got a lot more serious, and I hesitantly walk back into the trees to change out of sight from my dad. Why didn't he tell me this was a possibility? How did he know to call Sam? Is he Quileute? OMGOSH. IS HE A WOLF TOO?
I jog out to my dad, but keep my distance. Sam and Jared are phasing back as well, while Paul is staying in wolf form close by in case I wolf out on my dad. I asked Paul to do it. I know he won't hesitate to attack me if it looks like I might hurt Charlie.
"Hi, Dad. It's really good to see you," I say to him, trying hard as fuck to keep from running to him and making him wrap me in one of his big bear hugs. I almost whimper—he looks like home.
"You look good, Bella," he replies. I look down at myself and then back at my dad. No wonder it had felt like I was going through an extremely intensified growth spurt! I'm as tall as my dad now, probably around 5' 11", my arms and legs are muscly, and my shoulders look like a linebackers'… greatttttt I'm practically a man!
"Yeah," I snort and say dryly, "Just one of the guys."
Paul's wolf huffs next to me sounding amused. He's probably thinking something insulting about my manliness in his head. Hell, I don't blame him. I must look a fright.
"You're going to make a great wolf," he says gravely. "Your skills manifesting this early is impressive, even for you. How are your reflexes? And your sight? We should have you in a sparring match soon to see what you can—"
"Woah, Dad! I get that having your dau—me turn into a wolf is cool and all but I have some questions. And I need answers."
He blinks and focuses his eyes on my face, finally registering my slightly panicked expression. I'm not sure that his attention is really an improvement because the softness in his eyes makes my heart squeeze. "Right, of course. What do you want to know?"
I look away from my dad at, well at anything other than him. I look at the back of Jake's rusty shed that's really a pile of scrap metal waiting to fall over. I look at the neighbor's house a little ways off and imagine what kind of broken family lives there, too. Maybe the dad drinks because he's unemployed. Maybe the mom's too busy for her kids and is never home. Maybe the kids are too wrapped up in their own drama to realize that they have no prospects and will get stuck here until they die. Hell, maybe they know it, and that's why they get up to so much shit.
Stop being so cynical, Bella. Even if they do have problems like everyone else, they're probably great people. Interesting people. Normal is overrated.
I look behind me until I see Paul's wolf eyes flash in the shade of the trees. I take a few steps back toward him, just in case and sense Sam and Jared just behind me on either side. Deep breaths. I can do this.
"Are you my biological father?" His eyes flick up to mine, and I stare him down. He takes a maddeningly long time to answer.
"No," he whispers.
"And Renée?"
"No"
Th—there, there just don't don't seem to be words. In my head.
I think I'm supposed to be mad, right? Or shocked? Maybe that's it. Maybe I'm in shock and haven't processed it yet. I mean my dad just told me he's not my dad and my mom's not my mom, aren't I supposed to be having some identity crisis? But you already knew, that little niggling in the back of my soul tells me. And I think it's right. If I really believed that Charlie was my dad, I wouldn't have been so worried about it the whole time. Only Quileutes turn into wolves, and even if there are other wolves, I doubt they would be able to connect with our pack mind.
"If I'm Quileute, then who are my parents?" The guys seem to perk up at that. What, did they skip genetics day in biology or something? We could be related.
"That's the thing, Bells. We, uh don't know." Seeing the look on my face, he huffs and must be realizing that this is the moment he explains the last 17 years of my life, well 17 and 9 months.
"You were found by a hiker in the woods and taken to the Sheriff's Office." I hear Sam's intake of breath off to my left, but I'm too focused to pay much mind. "I was the young deputy assigned to take care of you while they figured out what happened to your parents and what to do with you. None of us wanted to have to put you into foster care, so we bent the rules a little. You were such an exceptional child, you had every one of the guys at the station wrapped around your tiny little finger." He smiles at me in that way only an adult that has seen you your entire life can do.
"The investigation dragged on and we never found anything that could indicate who your parents were. From your location we initially thought it could be someone Quileute, but no one had gone missing. Tribal law and customs are pretty strict about community and heritage, so we didn't think it was likely they would have let anyone leave a 3 year old out—"
"3? I thought Renée supposedly had be when she was 18… Deputy! You didn't become a deputy right out of high school. It took a few years. But, I thought Renée left Forks after a year or something. Why don't I remember living here?" I choke out.
"Renée and I were… separated, I guess, when we found you. She had been traveling around for a year or two, never really settling in one place, you know how she is. Apparently she was in Forks to say hi to some of her girlfriends and get me to sign the divorce papers. I answered the door carrying a little girl, and she got the idea to start over.
"We ended up formally adopting you. I thought it was our second chance, that she would stay this time to have a family. You were magnetic, Bella. No one could resist you.
"But it didn't work out the way I planned. Renée got too restless, and not even painting the cabinets yellow could keep her here this time." His breathing falters, and he looks so broken. "I should have fought harder for you, and I'm sorry for that. You have no idea how sorry I am. I was such a mess when she told me she was leaving that I believed it. I believed I couldn't raise you myself, so I let her take away the best thing in my life. My Bella," he whispers and gently lifts my chin up. I don't notice him approach me or I would have backed off. This is too dangerous, I try to tell myself, You could kill him. I look up at my dad through my watery lashes and memorize that strong face, those bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern, that brawny mustache itching to twitch. I love that face. I could never kill him.
"Daddy," I whine.
"My beautiful little girl," he coos, wiping my tears and bringing me into one of his famous bear hugs. Home.
AN: So what do you think? Who are Bella's parents? What happened to them? How did no one on the res recognize the 3 year old girl?
