10. Forerunner

The trouble with living a lie is that in order to successfully convince others, one must first convince oneself. Eventually, it becomes impossible to remember what is fact and what is fiction.

Part of me wanted to believe Edward's stories, to believe everything he'd said was true. He seemed so genuine in his delivery, but it was all an act, paid for in full, discount excepted. Even the disappearance of the store and his family could have been a fabrication, part of the experience I was meant to enjoy.

And yet I couldn't help but feel there were elements of truth in some of the things he had told me. If only I could see past the vampiric embellishments to find them.

Lost in thought, I got to my feet and walked out of the cave into the open. The clouds were drawing in. It would rain soon. I scanned the coastline, studying the shapes of the rocks and the small island that appeared to be floating in the sea.

"I know this beach," I said. "My dad lives near here."

"Would you like to go and visit him?" Edward asked, coming out to join me, his fingers deftly refastening all but the top two buttons of his shirt.

I hadn't seen or spoken to my father in several weeks. He didn't use the phone anymore, not even on my birthday. I hesitated, weighing up the pros and cons of introducing my dad to my vampire escort. That could take some explaining.

"He might not be in," I said, hedging.

Edward shrugged and buttoned up his coat. "Then I'll run you back home. It's not a problem, Bella."

He bent his knees and I climbed onto his back, once again wrapping myself around him and tucking in my cloak. I pressed my nose into his neck. He smelled wonderful for being outside, or maybe it was down to his earlier exertions. Either way, it was very appealing.

"Do you know the way to Forks from here?" I asked.

His lips brushed against my forehead when he answered. "I do. You can close your eyes."

A few minutes later, he set me down at the edge of the forest on the south side of town. We walked the rest of the way, neither of us wanting to draw any undue attention to ourselves by piggybacking through the streets in broad daylight, although pedestrians weren't exactly a day to day occurrence either.

When we arrived at my father's house, we stood out front for a few minutes while I inspected the state of it.

The roof was still in good order but the paintwork on the clapboards and window frames was beginning to look shabby and flakey. I should have seen about fixing that over the summer when the weather was better, but I hadn't.

The front yard was so untidy and overgrown, I dreaded to think what the backyard might be like.

As we walked up the empty driveway, I reached into Edward's coat pocket for my keys, flipping them around the ring until I was holding the correct ones at the ready. We climbed the steps and I unlocked the door.

The house was cold and musty inside as if it hadn't been heated or aired since my last visit. There was a faint glimmer of flickering light coming from the living room and when I turned the corner, there was my dad sitting in his recliner, watching a game.

Something about him was off. He looked somehow less there than usual.

"Hello, Dad," I said.

"Bella?" He shifted in his seat. "About time you came to visit your old man. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me."

"Yeah, I know. I've left it too long again."

"Who's this?" he asked, pushing himself up out of the chair.

Edward stepped forward and offered his right hand for my father to shake. "My name is Edward Cullen, sir," he said, but my dad did not reciprocate.

"Edward," I said, "this is my dad, Chief Swan."

"Charlie," my dad said, frowning at me. "I'm not the Chief anymore, Bells. Haven't been for a long time."

My dad turned back to Edward and looked him up and down. He might not have been the Chief of Police anymore, but old habits were seemingly hard to break.

"Does she know?" he asked.

"She does," Edward replied, casting a brief glance at me, "but she won't accept it."

"Do you like baseball, Edward?"

"Yes, sir."

"Make yourself comfortable then."

Edward took off his coat and draped it over the back of the couch. They both sat down and turned their attention to the television.

"I'm going to get a coffee and something to eat," I said. "Do you want anything, Dad?"

"I'd love a beer," he said.

"You can't have one. You know that. Edward?"

"No, thank you, Bella."

I unfastened my cloak and hung it on a hook in the hall. On my way into the kitchen, I turned the dial on the thermostat up several degrees. I peered into the food cabinet. There wasn't much in it aside from a can of tomato soup, some peanut butter and a jar of instant coffee, which I set on the counter.

I put the kettle on the stove to boil and walked over to the refrigerator. That was empty bar a few bottles of water, half a stick of butter and a bottle of maple syrup.

The freezer was well stocked by comparison. I pulled out the top drawer, took out one of my homemade breakfast burritos and put it on a plate in the microwave to reheat it.

While I sat at the kitchen table eating my breakfast, I could hear my dad and Edward moaning and groaning at the television. Then they fell silent. After a few minutes, my dad must have asked a question because I could hear what I assumed was Edward's response.

"If she'll let me," he said, and then a moment later, "To answer that would risk something that I'm not prepared to lose, Charlie."

"That's good enough for me," my dad said and then their attention must have been taken up by the game again.

I was washing my plate and mug at the sink when Edward came into the kitchen, wearing his coat and holding his boots. He had an odd expression on his face.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"I'll just be outside," he said, leaving the room. I heard the key turning in the lock on the back door and then the door shutting behind him.

Frowning, I fetched my cloak from the hall and walked into the living room. "Everything okay, Dad?" I asked.

"Fine, Bella," he said, but he didn't take his eyes off the television screen.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said. "I'm just going outside to see what's up with Edward."

"No problem, Bells."

Edward was sitting on the back steps, looking out across the yard toward the forest. It had started to drizzle so I pulled my cloak around me and sat down, putting my hand on his arm.

"You must know," he said, looking at me.

"Know what?"

"About your father."

"What about my father?"

He stood up and took my hand. "Let's take a little walk, shall we?"

He led me across the grass and into the forest, the former so overgrown it merged almost seamlessly into the latter. Once we were beyond the tree line, he crouched down in front of me.

"Hop on," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"Not very far."

He only ran a short distance, but I didn't like where he stopped one bit. Once he'd set me down on the short grass, I clenched my fists and glared up at him.

"Why have you brought me here?" I asked, my throat tightening.

He took a gentle hold of my upper arm and guided me through the stones. I just about managed to put one foot in front of the other, even though my feet felt like lead weights.

When we finally came to a halt, I looked anywhere and everywhere but at the gravestone in front of us.

Edward moved to stand behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders. "Look at it, Bella."

Reading the words that were neatly carved into the upright, grey stone made me wish I hadn't eaten any breakfast. All I wanted to do was vomit.

"Come on, Bella," he murmured, his mouth right by my ear. "Read out the second date for me."

"16 September, 2005," I whispered. "But this isn't real. He's still here and has been all along. How else could he have pointed a gun at Mike's crotch for leaving a used condom on the floor of my truck?"

"He did?" Edward sounded impressed. "I'm beginning to understand why he felt the need to stick around."

The light drizzle was slowly turning into rain. I pulled my hood up over my head and held the fronts of my cloak together.

With his hands still on my shoulders, Edward steered me over to a wooden bench at the side of the cemetery, still within sight of the gravestone. I sat down on the wet seat and he squatted in front of me, resting his hands on my knees, waiting for me to make eye contact before he spoke again.

"The man I just met is a ghost, Bella. Your father died seven years ago."

I shook my head and blinked a few times, refusing to look at him. He moved to sit beside me, but I stood up and paced back and forth in front of the bench, not caring that my cloak was flapping open, leaving me more exposed to the rain.

I didn't recognise my own voice when I started talking. How I wished it wasn't me.

"He was almost solid for the first year," I said. "I could feel him when he hugged me then, but he's faded over time. Strange really. It's as if the less I need him, the fainter he becomes.

"I knew." I laughed wryly. "Of course, I knew. I was the one who found him dead in his bed when he should have been at the station already, drinking his morning coffee. I was there at the wake and I was here for the burial, but I didn't want to accept it. I couldn't. I'd only just got him back in my life and he'd gone."

Edward stood up and tried to wrap his arms around me, but I turned my back on him, my hood falling down as I did so, and walked away.

"I was still in high school when it happened. I'd just turned eighteen so I didn't need a legal guardian. He'd left me the house in his will. He'd left me everything. He'd been prepared for such an eventuality – expected it even.

"People offered to stay with me in the house or for me to stay with them, but I wanted to be alone. When everyone had gone and I'd locked the door, I went to bed and cried for I don't know how long.

"Then one evening, I came downstairs and walked into the lounge, and there he was, sitting in his recliner watching the ballgame."

My face was wet with the rain. I wiped a finger under each eye and turned back around. Edward hadn't moved. He was still standing with his arms out ready for me, his wet hair flattened to his head. I focussed on his amber eyes as the first tear rolled down my cheek.

"I didn't tell anyone. To all intents and purposes, I was living alone, finishing high school. People started to comment on how well I was doing, but I also heard their whispers. It was only a matter of time before reality would knock me back down again. No one could handle a bereavement the way I was handling it.

"But I carried on as usual and my dad supported me through it all, just as any dad would. He told me what to do when the faucet wouldn't stop dripping. He told me how and when to change the oil on my truck. He congratulated me on my acceptance to university and sat with me while I filled out the paperwork for financial support."

"No one else knew?" Edward asked.

"No," I said, taking a step toward him.

"But when your father pointed his gun at Mike…"

"I saw him. Mike didn't." I shook my head. "I wouldn't admit it to anyone. I couldn't."

"Not even Angela? From what you've told me, she would have understood."

I took another step forward. "She was the last person I could tell."

"And he's still here."

"Yes."

"Waiting around for you to come and visit him."

"Yes." Tears were streaming down my face. "I have to come to him. He can't leave Forks, and he can't pick up the phone anymore."

"Why aren't you living here with him?"

I let out a sob. "He told me I had to live a normal life and that included leaving home. But my life isn't normal, is it?"

He frowned. "I don't understand, Bella. If you've known what your father is all this time, why have you denied the existence of creatures like me?"

"Because to accept that the supernatural exists would mean having to accept he's dead, Edward, and I can't. I won't. I don't want him to go."

He pulled me into his arms and held me tight against his chest. "Oh, Bella. You are putting yourself and your father through hell."

A Big Thank You to SarcasticBimbo for featuring this story on her blog, Smut Sluts and Angst Whores.