Before (Charlie)
Charlie doesn't like neckties. But it's Rebecca's wedding day, so he'll wear one.
He smooths down his trousers (he's not going to put on his jacket yet, he's got to be there three hours early to help set up and the last thing he needs is to rip or stain his only suit), makes sure his hair isn't standing up too egregiously, and calls, "Ready, Bella?"
There's no answer.
He frowns, then crosses the hall from his bedroom to hers. He knocks on her closed door. "Bella?"
Nothing.
Seventeen years of raising a girl has taught Charlie to be very, very careful about simply barging in to a room without invitation. There's always a danger of seeing something he's not meant to see and those moments are scarring. So he just barely cracks the door open and peers around the corner, prepared to beat a hasty retreat if necessary.
It's okay. Bella is fully clothed in her black dress, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hair up and her head down. She doesn't move as he enters. "Hey, Dad."
"We've gotta get going, kiddo." She's got that Something Wrong look written all over her, and normally he'd try to figure it out, but there's not time. "You've got all that bridesmaid stuff to do and if I don't put those chairs in place Sue'll have my hide."
She shakes her head. Just barely. "I... I don't think..."
He looks down at Bella's hands; she's twisting something between her fingers. A little metal spring. "What's that?"
"Daddy, I can't go," she says in a rush. Now she meets his eyes, and her pale skin is tinged blue from her shallow breaths which are rapidly degenerating into hyperventilation. "I can't go, I can't, I can't do it..."
There's a lot of things Charlie has done wrong as a father, and one of them was to not teach his child how to be brave when she's afraid. He wanted her to be happy and realized later than most that sometimes you have to push a kid through some pain to get them to where they need to be.
But Charlie Swan learns from his mistakes.
"Isabella," he says, "go get in the car. Now."
She shakes her head again, but he holds her gaze levelly.
Bella looks down. And she puts the spring away in her nightstand drawer. "Okay," she whispers.
Charlie pulls his handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to her. She dabs at the corners of her eyes, and when she returns it he's stunned to see the cotton hasn't turned black. "What on earth are you wearing?"
"No Run Mascara." She smiles - a small one, but a smile nonetheless. "Rebecca says it's the really fancy stuff."
"Well, that was a good idea." Charlie watches as Bella slides on her heels and checks her hair in the mirror, and in an instant he's absurdly close to needing the handkerchief himself. She looks so grown-up it makes his chest hurt. He's positive she was in a bassinet ten minutes ago.
Bella takes a few very deep breaths, bites her bottom lip, and then nods nervously. "Okay. Let's... let's go."
Charlie resolves that if this is how he feels when she's a bridesmaid, then she is absolutely never allowed to be a bride.