A/N: I don't own this, we all know who does. If I did, Rpattz would be sitting in bed with me while my hubs is outside cleaning the back yard. :) We'd have to steal away any spare moments possible. Hubs can kind of hinder the "quiet time" if you know what I mean... :D
This is unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes belong to me. After all those reviews for last chapter, I'm still in a review reading daze. I love it... :D
This is for my wifey, Mrs. Robward. I wonder what her favorite flavor of ice cream is? That's something a wifey should know off hand, right? I'm slacking...
Thanks to Luxure & EdwardsBloodType for prereading this. Wonder on their ice cream choices, too. Interesting. And mnp968...you know. :)
**disclaimer **
This story is a bit taboo. And it sounds like everyone is pretty well divided on who Leah should be MORE upset with, though most of you think she SHOULD be upset. I like that. :)
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… Chapter Fifty Three - All Right … Bella …
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The drive back to Alice's house is quiet, I follow you.
I wonder if Leah meant what she said, if she really does want me.
If there's a chance she could someday forgive me.
I don't deserve it, but I'll take it. I want it. If she offers, I'll never turn her down.
Now that I've seen her, seen my old house, I want my family back. I know Leah is angry, and her brother Seth is angry too. Becca told me in her last letter. They are both away at school, Becca 23 now, and Seth 20. I'm sure he looks like his father. He always did.
My younger two, Kim and Alex, still live with their dad. I wonder if they were there today, if they saw me. They're old enough to remember me, but they don't hate me. Hate what I did.
Becca told me. Kim is 16, Alex 14. I could file for custody of them, petition the court. I should ask you about that, about helping me. Maybe a judge would take me seriously now.
Alice apologizes over and over to us, but nothing is her fault. She didn't do anything wrong. Claire knows something happened, but you distract her thoughts with mention of the hotel swimming pool.
We're in the car and on our way in no time.
"My dad wants us to come over tonight, he wants to talk to us. He wants to meet Claire."
I ask about your mom, if she'll be there. I know she hates me. I don't want a scene in front of Claire.
My only hope is that Claire's middle name, Elizabeth, will calm her anger. It was her mother's name, you told me.
You tell me she won't be home, not until tomorrow. I breathe a little easier. For now.
Tomorrow is another day.
Claire is bouncing around in her seat. The pool did nothing to wear down her excitement. Lap after lap she swam, still bursting with energy.
I'm sure the fact you told her she was meeting her grandfather has nothing to do with it.
She's never had one before. Mrs. Cope has been her substitute grandmother, but no grandfather. I think she'll like him.
I want to speak to him. Alone. Ask questions, find out why. He risked a lot for me, and I have no idea why.
I put aside my thoughts about Leah, the afternoon. It's out of my control, and I can only handle one problem at a time. I'll think about it later, tomorrow. Like Scarlett O'Hara did.
Lot of good that did her.
The house is big, just as I remember. It's not the biggest in the neighborhood, but it's nearly twice the size of the house I grew up in. Larger than the house I raised my children in. My one bedroom apartment could fit in the living room.
It's large. Spacious. Warmer than I remember.
Your mother must have painted, redecorated, changed things. Maybe that's what she did in her spare time, while she missed you and dreamt up girls for you to marry.
I whisper at Claire to not touch anything. Just my luck, she'll break the ten thousand dollar vase your mother imported from Italy a month ago, or something along those lines.
I need as many things as possible to go right for me tonight. I have enough to live up to.
"Edward," you father says, gesturing for you to enter the house. His eyes move to me, his expression remaining the same. I'm sure it's hard for him to do that, not give any emotion when he wants to so badly.
I move, step inside, then his eyes move down.
His breath catches in his throat.
"Oh my..."
"Dad, this is Claire. My daughter," you say, stepping between them, holding out your hand to Claire. "Claire, this is your grandpa."
"Hello," she says, her voice sweet as honey, her hair and skin smelling strongly of chlorine.
The smile on your father's lips tells me everything I need to know.
He loves her. Already.
He might have sacrificed a lot to protect you, but I can see that he was doing it for her, too.
What I don't expect are his next words.
"Bella, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you alone, for not letting Edward be with you. I'm sorry for not insisting on giving you money. I'm sorry for so many things, but mostly I'm sorry we missed out on so much of your life, of Claire's life."
He's sincere, I want so badly to believe him. I want the fairy tale, the prodigal son returning to open arms, the happy and joyous reunion.
I want it all, so I smile. Grateful for what he's given me and Claire so far. Your smile is assuring, helpful. I relax a bit, let my guard down.
Finally, after nearly eight years, I can let my walls down, trust someone else.
I can try to, anyway.
With your hand on the small of my back, Claire's hand held tight by your father, we walk deeper into the house.
I know at least this much will be all right for us.
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A/N: Carlisle's a good man. He's trying.
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