"I'm a good enough person to forgive you, but I'm not stupid enough to trust you again." – Unknown
She only returned to Forks the next morning, deciding that she couldn't miss the second day either, just in time to change her clothes and get to school on time. She knew she would either have to face her father or move before she broke herself but she would figure that out depending on what he did.
The school day passed too quickly for Isabella's likening and, to her surprise, none of her father's new family had confronted her - she wondered if her father had told them not to or if the little girl had seen something because Isabella was sure the short black haired girl could see some form of the future. After getting home, Isabella decided that she should go for food unless she wanted to raise suspicion so she grabbed her purse and began to walk - she was acting only fifteen.
However, when she got to the main food shop in the village, she saw a flash of caramel hair that was identical to the new Mrs Cullen's, and spun out of the shop.
'Isabella!' the woman called from right behind her. 'Please.'
Isabella tried to get away but her father's new wife grabbed her hand, she struggled slightly but the look in her step-mother's eyes made her stop and just glare at her slightly. She would have glared harder if she didn't seem so nice and motherly and desperate for her to stay.
'Please, dear, just come talk to your father,' the woman pleaded with her. 'He loves you.'
The final phrase caught in Isabella's throat. Love was something she hadn't heard in a long time in relation to her.
'Good for him,' Isabella whispered sounding slightly hoarse and the woman blanched slightly, obviously she wasn't expecting an attitude,' but I don't want to talk.'
She made another attempt to pull her hand free but to avail.
'Then just listen, please, dear,' her step-mother paused slightly. 'It's been two days and I know you're in shock and you're probably hurt but I can't stand seeing Carlisle like this.'
Isabella's gaze, which had been floating over her step-mothers head (she must have been only about two inches taller - the same height as Jane, Isabella cringed internally at the thought), jumped to her face in concern before she put a cold mask one.
'Like what?' Isabella replied in a fake scathing voice. 'I'm sure Papa's fine.'
She inwardly scolded herself as the "Papa" slipped out and her step-mother picked up on that.
'So he's still "Papa"?' she pointed out before using it against Isabella. 'Isn't that reason enough to just hear him out, he's hurting, sweetie, and only you can change that. Look, I know I don't you and you don't know me and you probably don't like me very much, and that's fine… I don't what you've been through, Isabella, I don't know your life and nor does your father so I can understand if you're finding it hard to trust us, to trust him again but you'll never know what might happen if don't at least try. I have heard that man talk about you, and the light in his eyes, the softness in his face, the smile on his lips, the fatherly tone of his voice when he does, that's not something you should give up easily because that man adores you more than anything in the world.'
'Really?' Isabella asked, her bad mask slipping to be replaced with the fear, hope and lack of belief she was feeling.
'I would never lie to my husband's little girl,' the woman smiled squeezing her hand and Isabella noticed dimples that reminded her of Hayley and found herself melting slightly at the sight of the motherly woman her father had married.
'Fine,' she said, feeling a spark of happiness go through her as her step-mothers face broke into a beaming smile. 'I'll listen to my father'
'He's not home at the moment,' her step-mother said as they walked into a beautiful white house, 'but he shouldn't be long, he should finish his shift at the hospital within half an hour.'
'Right,' Isabella said awkwardly, though inside she was relishing at the fact she had something more in common with her father besides his love of the written word and looks. 'This is a beautiful house.'
'Thank you, dear,' Isabella noticed her step-mother was very affectionate to her already and was particularly fond of the word "dear", though Isabella found it vaguely nice since she hadn't heard a term of endearment for years. 'I restored it just before moved in, I tried to soundproof the rooms as much possible but it doesn't really work.'
Isabella snorted, not needing to ask why having seen the model-like blonde and bear-like brunette in the lunch hall.
'Have you lived here long?' she found herself asking without really thinking about it, talking to her step-mother seemed so easy and natural.
'No, we moved her August last year,' she was told and Isabella smiled.
'I feel bad,' Isabella suddenly said, 'you know my name but I don't know yours.'
'It's Esme.'
'It's nice to meet you, Esme,' Isabella smiled, as natural as it was with her step-mother she didn't want to refer to her like that out loud, that would insinuate she trusted her and would be staying around for a while, neither of which Isabella knew to be a hundred percent either way.
Carlisle knew who his wife was talking to before he entered the house, could hear her voice (soft and appropriately belle-like, with a clear posh English accent) and smell her scent (roses with a hit of chocolate, which he found odd) but seeing her sitting on the couch with all the grace of a 17th century woman talking to Esme her English politeness still caused him to pause in shock: first because she was actually there, second because she was so beautiful and grown up and third because she just seemed to fit in perfectly, completing the scene he had wanted to see for so long – her and Esme sat together, chatting and laughing the day away.
Hi, Papa,' Isabella said turning to face the man she had run away from and standing up carefully at the same time as Esme, who flittered to the stairs.
''I'm going to go finish those blueprints,' she said as a way of an excuse to leave the father and daughter alone together.
'Blueprints?' Isabella asked, she hadn't realised that Esme did that for a living rather than just the house their family was going to live in.
'Esme restores old houses,' her father told her and her eyes darted back to him as an uncomfortable silence fell.
They both tried to rectify the situation at the same time, knowing that they would never have had uncomfortable silence in the old days.
'So…'
'Listen…'
They both smiled before Isabella spoke feeling already that this was a disaster, 'I promised Esme I'd listen, though I don't know why, so what do you want?'
Isabella was beginning to wonder why she had promised her step-mother that she would listen to her father because it wasn't turning out too well. Obviously, her way of phrasing her question wasn't the best she could have done.
'What do I want? What do I want?' he repeated incredulously as though she should already know that though his voice was as soft as always. 'Isa, I want my daughter back, I want to talk to her and I want to get know her again because this is honestly agonisingly painful. You are my daughter, Isa, and I need to know you, I need you here.'
Isabella stared at him for a few minutes, debating when and whether she was going to run, before shrugging, 'well, I am here so…'
'But you're thinking of running, I can see it in your eyes,' he said staring straight at her, though she found his golden eyes less penetrating than the clear blue they had been when they were human and the effect was slightly lessoned since she was surprised her could tell that. 'Please, sweetheart, just let me in, I'm not going to leave you again, you can trust me.' (Isabella bit her lip and knew that her face had scrunched up towards tears) 'Please, darling.'
Isabella stared at him: her mind calculating, her eyes beginning to well up with venom, her frame becoming increasingly stiller and her face flittering through hundreds of emotions that she couldn't identify and doubted he could.
'Okay,' Isabella whispered softly, her voice barely above a breath of wind.
'Okay?' her father asked both shocked and trying to reinforce what she had just said no doubt because she sounded so unsure of her decision. He had understood a lot of the emotions that went across her face, more than she would have expected him to, and he was sure she was going to run. She probably wasn't aware that her eyes were screaming that she wanted to be anywhere but there
'Okay,' Isabella nodded, giving him a real smile for the first time and speaking with more confidence. His lips twitched slightly as he smiled back at her.
Neither of them moved and after glancing around for a while in the silence, Isabella sighed. This was what she had wished for so often when she was human so why couldn't she just be happy he was there? Trying to lock away her fears in a little box, she took a small step towards him but then stopped suddenly. Footsteps echoed again and, before she knew it, her father was in front of her wrapping her arms tightly around her smaller frame. She came up to about his lip line so she ducked her head into his shoulder, the fatherly embrace so familiar that it was an automatic reaction for her, and wrapped her arms tightly around him.
'I love you,' he whispered in her ear, bracing himself for her reply.
'I love you more,' he heard her quiet voice and it took all his strength not to collapse or sigh with relief that that was her answer still.
'I love you most,' he replied, knowing that was exactly what she expected him to do and in return he received a giggle.
'I like Esme,' Isabella told him hours later when Esme had ushered everyone out the house, 'she's really nice, sort of woman I'd imagine you would marry – you know, if you hadn't been married to Ma.'
Her father chuckled, 'I think she likes you as well.'