Chapter 25: Second Time Around
Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight.
Jacob and Bella were back on track. All was right in their little world. But, meanwhile, in Forks, Charlie was in emotional turmoil over a letter he received from his ex wife, Renee. He sat at the kitchen table reading the words repeatedly. And each time, it took a hammer to his heart. Why was she doing this to him? He was just recovering from the night they spent together—the night of Bella's wedding.
After devouring its contents for the tenth time, he refolded it, placing it back in its scented envelope. She just had to add a spray of perfume, enough to wreak havoc with his senses. He pushed the chair away from the table, and leaned back, his head looking straight up at the ceiling. What the hell was he going to do? Better yet, what should he do?
Visiting with Charlie every week or so became a tradition with Bella. She would return to her childhood home, or Charlie would come out to La Push. Recently, though, it seemed like Bella was doing all the visiting. If she didn't know any better, she would think Charlie was purposely avoiding having to enter their house. Something was bothering him. He was unusually quiet too.
Charlie seemed restless the day Bella went to visit him. He kept pacing. Bella finally asked him what the matter was. "Dad, is something bothering you?"
Sitting down, he looked her in the eye. "Yes—I guess it's pretty obvious, huh." The silence hung in the air until he spoke again. "It's your mother."
Bella sat upright on the couch. "She's not sick, is she?"
Charlie sprang off the Lazy Boy and began his journey around the room for the second time, stopping in front of the buffet. He pulled Renee's letter out of a drawer and handed it to Bella.
She read the contents silently, her eyebrows knit in concentration. Flabbergasted, she dropped the letter onto her lap, and exclaimed, "Mom wants you back? She and Phil are getting divorced?"
"You read it. There it is in black and white." Charlie sighed, and returned to his Lazy Boy. He leaned forward and locked eyes with Bella. "The night of your wedding, she got really drunk, and told me that Phil had been cheating on her. She was emotionally needy and asked me to stay the night, so I did. I couldn't leave her alone that way. Don't look at me like that, kiddo. Nothing happened except that she said she never stopped loving me. She was the old Renee that night—the Renee that I fell in love with, that I'm still in love with. When she walked away to board that plane the next day, I nearly ran after her. I felt like I was a young fool again; those old feelings pricking at my heart."
He dropped his head, looking down at the floor.
Bella was stunned. "What are you going to do?"
Charlie shook his head. "I've thought about this for weeks now, and I'm no closer to a decision now than when I first received this letter. Well, you saw what she wrote. She's going to be more responsible, more empathetic, less critical.
"I haven't answered her yet. I'd take her back in a second, if I was sure she would keep her word, but I'm so afraid of getting my heart ripped apart again. I'm getting old, Bells, I don't know if I could survive that."
"Holy cow, I don't know what to say."
Getting up, he walked over to Bella. Charlie took the letter from her, and placed it back in its envelope. It's okay, sweetheart, this is a lot to digest. I probably shouldn't have dumped it on you. I'm sorry."
Bella stood, and hugged Charlie. "No, Dad, I'm glad you shared it with me. I just wish I could help you somehow."
Charlie drew back to look at his daughter. "You have helped, just by being here."
A thought crept into Bella's mind. "Hey, I was thinking; is there some reason why you stopped coming to the house?"
Running his hand through his hair, Charlie stuttered, "Uh . . . I guess that night keeps replaying in my mind, and that makes it hard being in your home. I can almost imagine her lying on the bed in your spare bedroom. It hurts."
Bella walked toward the kitchen. "C'mon, Dad, I'm making you a pot of coffee."
The conversation overflowed into Bella's home. Jacob let out a low whistle when she told him about the letter.
"Damn, I feel his pain. I don't mind admitting I've been in that position more than once, because of a certain girl who shall remain nameless."
He winked at Bella. She responded by cuffing him on the arm, pushing him into the seat cushion.
Jacob pulled her close to his side. "Hey—what was that for? I'm just being honest."
"But this is my mother, Jake. You know how she is. I don't want to see my dad getting hurt again."
His warm brown eyes softened in concern, his hand combing through her hair. "Your dad's been alone for a long time. Do you want him to be alone for the rest of his life?"
"Well, no, of course not, but I don't trust her. Suppose she goes back on her word."
Those melted chocolate pools gazed back at him, as he answered. "Let's say she doesn't go back on her word. Don't you think she should get a second chance?
"Love is a gamble, honey. You have to be willing to take the risk. I took you back even after you ripped my heart to shreds and look how we turned out. I'm happy, you're happy—doesn't Charlie deserve the same?"
Tears started to well in her eyes. Jacob kissed her cheek. "It'll be okay—maybe the second time around will be good for them both."
"That's not what I'm crying about," she sniffed.
Why was she getting all teary-eyed? He was thoroughly confused as usual. Women should have a user manual issued with each one. "What is it then? I'm listening."
"It's just . . . I feel . . . well, guilty about being this happy, when there are many people around me that are miserable. Why me? Why should I be so lucky?"
"Hey, hotstuff, luck had nothing to do with it. I had to break every bone in my body for you to finally come around to my way of thinking. Look, if it makes you feel any better, you can make me a whole lot happier right this minute." His onyx orbs took on a playful look as they drifted toward the bedroom door. At the same time his famous grin broke over his face. "You wanna?" he growled huskily.
"Anything to make you happy," she replied.
Two weeks later, on a Sunday, Charlie was at the door. He waved another letter in front of Bella's face.
Billy was seated at the kitchen table talking to Jacob. He called out to Charlie. "Hey, old man, it's about time you darkened my son's doorway. I've been here every Sunday, and where have you been?"
Charlie plopped down at the table beside him. "It's a long story."
With his eyes crinkling with mirth, Billy snorted. "Get up, Jacob. Do you have enough firewood outside? Looks like we'll be needing a bonfire."
Pointing a finger in Billy's direction, Charlie countered with, "Hold on, Black, I could never be as long-winded as you are. You forget—I've been to a couple of bonfires—and the flames were down to embers before your jaw quit flapping."
Jacob put up his hand. "Will you two old women stop with the jibes. I wanna hear the news."
Bella put a plate of sugarless brownies on the table, along with some dessert plates, and glasses of milk. She sat down—alert—her face shining brightly in anticipation. "Yeah, let's hear it, Dad."
He grabbed a brownie, and between bites, turned to Bella. "Your mother is moving back to Forks," he said.
Billy dropped his brownie on the plate, mid-bite. He caught Jacob's eye. "I think we're going to need that fire wood, son." This time, there was no humor in his voice.
Silence reigned for a few seconds, then, all at once the room erupted into chaos.
That night, after Jacob took Billy home, and Charlie left, the couple was getting ready for bed. Bella commented, "I hope my dad knows what he's doing."
Jacob held her close and kissing her forehead, replied, "Jeez, Bells, just be glad for them. Charlie's got another shot at love. He's a big boy, he can handle it. Damn, I hope to hell he can handle it.