A/N for 2019-12-01: I seem to be one of those people who likes telling themselves that life will somehow become less busy. So far, this hasn't worked out, which means for now you should expect a chapter every two weeks.
As always, I owe many thanks to my remarkable (and dedicated!) beta, Eeyorefan12.
- Erin
"How're you doing Dad?" Bella asked, her teeth worrying her lower lip.
"Oh, you know. Fine." His voice sounded staticky through the receiver.
She sighed quietly.
"Sucks when that's the answer, eh?" Charlie chuckled into the phone.
Bella rolled her eyes. "Point taken. How are you doing though?"
His voice dropped a few notes. "I'm as okay as you could expect, honey."
Not fine.
He'd refused to hear any talk of him and Sue reconciling. She'd tried nudging from all the angles she could think of, but every attempt was met with his characteristically steely resistance.
Sue hadn't been much help either. She'd come to the phone when Bella had called her, but it had been a painful extraction of the barest responses—most of them monosyllabic, and all of them miserable. She was loyal to the tribe to a fault.
"Can I convince you to come for dinner?" Bella tried.
"No thanks, honey. I wouldn't be good company, and I'd prefer the kids didn't see me that way."
She twisted the hem of her shirt with her fingers. This sucked. This really sucked. She couldn't tell him the truth about what Sue had known, and now she felt just as guilty, hoarding what she knew, protecting secrets that weren't hers to tell.
Those secrets had left a mess—one with which they were all now dealing.
Cursing Sam silently, Bella said, "Okay, fine, but I'm bringing you lunch tomorrow. Bye." Then she hung up before Charlie could say no. She'd called him daily since the night of the party, but he'd mostly kept to himself, politely refusing her invitations and overtures. The kids had only seen him a few times since that night, once for Josh's small birthday party, and a few times when Bella was in town at the local playground.
Edward eyed her as she put the phone back on the charger. He said nothing but his concerned expression spoke volumes.
"No, I'm not sure it's wise, but I need to go see him and at least have lunch with him." It came out as a sullen grumble.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't," Edward said. He set his book down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his lap with his hands folded. It was a practiced posture she knew well, one that he used to make himself look calm and unthreatening to people. One that he didn't usually think was necessary to use with her.
Bella winced a little with the realization. "No, you aren't." She sighed. "Sorry. I'm—"
"Worried." His lips curved slightly into a sympathetic smile. "I know."
They were both quiet then as she stood in the middle of the living room, feeling unsettled. Bella felt herself holding onto her right arm with her left, mimicking the posture she'd acquired after breaking her hand. Edward had mentioned once that it was one of her 'tells' when she was thinking or, more likely, worrying. As if he didn't read her well enough already.
"It's only been a few weeks, Bella. It will take him some time." Edward's voice was as gentle as the suggestion.
"I know," she said, the syllables more clipped than she meant them to be.
In the past, she'd shouldered her own difficulties, accepting help when it had to be accepted, doing what needed to be done. That had been fine. But watching her father struggle for the sake of her well-being—that was an open sore. It was harder to justify his suffering now, and she'd pushed at all the reasons Edward had given, searching for a crack in his rock solid logic, desperately seeking a way to relieve Charlie of the burden the wolves and the Cullens' secret put upon him.
The hollow in Edward's cheek deepened as he flexed his jaw, clearly working up to something.
There was a very good chance the next words out of his mouth would be something like take a deep breath, relax, or God help her, maybe go lay down.
She gripped her arm tighter.
It just wasn't . . . fair.
Huffing out a breath, she sat down, trying to draw a deeper breath back into herself. The tightness at her visibly-pregnant abdomen was just beginning to constrain her natural movements. She let out the lungful of air purposefully, and then tried to take another, deeper breath, although her agitation kept her perched on the edge of the sofa.
Edward shook his head slightly.
Bella put her feet up on the coffee table.
After she'd agreed to let Edward and Carlisle run some tests, they'd come back with a murky but concerning diagnosis of preeclampsia. Well, Edward had been concerned and more certain of the diagnosis, while Carlisle seemed less so on both fronts. She was inclined to take her prospective father-in-law's diagnosis over her fiance's, knowing full well it wasn't just his years of additional experience that swayed her in Carlisle's direction.
Even so, both had agreed that rest and regular but mild exercise were the the most important treatments, and that any kind of stress should be avoided. She'd made the most unflattering of snorted laughs when Carlisle had mentioned the latter part, but Edward's pinched features had made her regret it immediately.
"Please," he'd said. "This is important."
She'd reluctantly agreed with them, and wished her patience for the treatment would grow to be commensurate with the need. She was careful with her diet, drank lots of water, and took the magnesium pills Carlisle had suggested.
"There are worse things than having to put up your feet and read a book, or relax with me," Edward had said.
True.
But, after several very industrious years working full time while taking care of her own children, it was difficult to slow down. Even after these few weeks of 'practise', her muscles still flinched in readiness everytime Mer or Josh asked for something.
Esme seemed to understand Bella's need for industry and had suggested the idea of making a baby quilt.
"Quilting?" Bella had asked in a strangled voice, thinking of her clumsy fingers and general physical ineptitude. It had been at least ten years since her last half-hearted attempt.
"Yes, quilting," Esme had said. "You need a project. And I know that look," she'd added, watching Bella's eyebrows rise.
She had then patiently walked Bella through the design process, helping her select colours and a pattern, teaching her the steps and technique required.
As much as she'd disdained the very notion of anything so crafty, Bella found the work therapeutic. Her simple design morphed over the days, sometimes balled up and discarded in the waste-bin, other times resurrected.
The little quilt had more form now, and as Bella pulled her box of supplies towards her, she shifted her position on the couch and extended her legs in Edward's direction.
Edward put her feet up onto his knees, smiling.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head.
She flicked her gaze up to meet his, worried now. "What?"
He sighed a little. "You relax when you do this."
Oh. "I suppose so."
"No, I mean your whole body relaxes. I can hear it."
She allowed a small smirk to curl up from the corner of her mouth. "You seem surprised by that."
"Not really," he said, rubbing her feet. "But I'm glad you have something that keeps you from getting snippy with me."
She decided that she deserved that one. "I have to live up to at least a few of the pregnancy stereotypes." Then she paused, saying more genuinely, "Sorry, I really have been crabby."
Edward tilted his head and smiled. "I love you. Even when you're crabby."
She blew him a kiss and then worked for a bit. Edward worked too, making her toes tingle.
"How do you plan to deal with your disappointment tomorrow?" he finally asked.
She paused, hand halfway through pinning one piece to another. For a half-second, she contemplated challenging his notion, but the defensiveness withered before reaching her tongue. "I love him, Edward. I can't leave him to suffer through this alone, knowing I could so easily resolve it for him."
"You can't, Bella." His reminder was gentle but she could hear the regret in his tone.
"I know."
She fingered the patch of blue fabric. The silver stars were slightly raised, and she traced them with the tip of her fingernail.
"So what are you hoping for?" Edward asked. It felt like his thumbs were tracing the same shape she was—touching the points of a five-point star—up, down, diagonal, side, diagonal. She kept moving her finger over the pattern, musing over the pretty hopes people liked to pin on such things.
Then she gave words to the unhappy truth. "I'm not going to make anything better, but I can at least sit with him, so he isn't alone in his misery. He did that for me."
Edward's hand froze in place as the room fell silent, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. After a short time, his fingers resumed their movements. "I'm glad he did," he said quietly.
"Me too" she agreed, realizing for the first time how little pain the memory brought her now. Turning her attention back to the fabric, she thought of Charlie, hoping that time and space would give him back peace with Sue, as it had for her and Edward.
- 0 -
Edward drove Bella to the police station, handing her a beautifully-prepared lunch of Esme's making once they were out of the car. "I will not be far," he said at the door, giving her a peck on the cheek.
She accepted this, smirking a little. "Aren't you on your best behaviour."
"Just in public," he murmured, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers a bit less chastely. "Later, not so much.," he whispered in her ear.
"Good," she said, hooking a finger into his belt loop. "Hold you to that."
"Mmm," He pulled back and brushed her cheek with his hand. "Call me when you're ready to go."
Bella watched him walk away, thinking very unchaste things, glad he hadn't reminded her about anything pregnancy-related. He was getting better at that balance—being with her instead of managing her.
Charlie had obviously seen her, and was standing up, coming to the front when she arrived. "Hey you," he said, wrapping her in a hug.
"Hey yourself," she mumbled into his shirt. It smelled slightly musty, like it had sat in the washer too long before being dried.
It probably had, she thought, wondering when the last time it'd been since he'd been in charge of his own laundry.
"You really didn't have to make lunch," he said, eyeing the basket.
"Don't worry, I didn't," she said, catching herself before she mentioned Esme's name. "Edward did. You can thank him later."
"Hmm," Charlie said, the sound politely ambivalent. He'd made such an effort with Edward when they arrived, but the shine had faded a little with his ousting of Sue. Of course, a lot of things had slipped for Charlie since then—his heart, for starters.
"Mind if we head outside to eat?" he asked. "I've been cooped up in here all morning."
"Sure," Bella said, eyeing the weather outside. Cloudy, but not threatening rain.
"We'll just be outside, Mary," Charlie called to the receptionist. "Sorry," he said turning back to Bella, "Mark's home sick today, so if there's a call—"
"I got it, Dad," she said, smiling. This was nothing new, his dedication to his work.
They wandered just a short ways away to a small green space and a bench.
"Thank you for coming," he said, taking a bite of the sandwich. "My God, that's amazing. What's in this?" He peered at the filling.
"I'm not sure you want to know," Bella said, having watched Esme roast several different kinds of vegetables—eggplant included, which Charlie claimed to loathe.
"Why?" Charlie asked suspiciously.
"It's all healthy stuff," she answered innocently, knowing Esme had just as many concerns about Charlie's vegetable-deficient diet as she did.
Charlie shrugged and took another bite. "How're the kids doing?" he asked.
"Good. Edward's been working really hard with Josh. He's actually starting to use two words together a lot of the time."
"Really?" Charlie asked, his voice holding more energy than she'd heard in a long time.
"Really," she said, smiling widely. "It's exciting." That was an understatement. It was transformative.
"That's good," Charlie said, his voice sliding back into its regular greyness.
Charlie's next question surprised her. "You told your mom about you and Edward yet?" Charlie asked, tipping his cup of juice back.
Charlie never asked about Renee. Ever.
"Um, no," she said quietly, trying to trace his concern back to its source.
Setting the glass down on the bench, Charlie eyed her, something like uncertainty in his eyes. "She should really know. It's important not to keep things from people you love."
Of course.
"I should. It's just—Mom, you know."
"I know," Charlie said, scuffing a bit of dry grass off the bench's cement apron. "Still."
Still. Yes. "I will. We just don't talk a lot. She's . . . busy."
"She's busy," Charlie muttered under his breath, snorting.
How Charlie held onto any kind of expectation with Renee, after all that he'd seen from her over the years, Bella wasn't sure. It had felt unnaturally easy to let the ties she had with her mother dissolve after her own children had arrived. Renee loved her, or so she said, but it hadn't—and still didn't translate into the kind of practical care-taking Bella expected from someone who made that kind of profession.
Bella considered the topic of Renee dropped when Charlie began eating again. She decided it was time to make her own push.
"And you and Sue?"
"There really isn't a me and Sue anymore, Bella."
She took another bite of food, giving herself time. "And Leah and Seth? Camille? Their baby?"
Charlie looked away. She'd touched a nerve.
"Of course I care about them," he said.. "I care about Sue, too. But you can't just—" His hands became still, wrapped around the remains of his sandwich. "You can't hold something back like that about someone's child. It's . . . too much."
A little sigh escaped Bella. There was no logical counterargument to this. There was no emotional one either. There was only forgiveness, and he didn't have it to offer.
"Chief?" A voice called.
Charlie turned, and Bella recognized Mary, the station receptionist, a little ways away. She was out of breath, her pink cheeks showing she'd hurried. "Phone call for you. It's Seth."
"Comin'," Charlie said, frowning. He looked apologetically at Bella.
"Go," she said, shaking her head. "I'll get this."
After packing up the basket, she followed her father back to the station, moving slowly and carefully. She wasn't so pregnant yet that her ligaments had completely loosened, but she wasn't taking any careless risks either.
By the time she got there, Charlie had the phone nudged up between his shoulder and ear, making notes in a case-book.
"And you're sure she wouldn't have stopped anywhere else?"
Seth's voice was loud enough that Bella could hear it across the room: "No. She wouldn't."
Charlie nodded, "'Kay." He rubbed his face with his hand. "I'll go have a look. I can't do anything officially until—" He paused, listening, and so did Bella, not catching words this time. "I'll call as soon as I know anything. I'm sure she's fine, just—" he shrugged, lifting his hand, listening again, but there was the pull of guilt in his features.
"What's wrong?" Bella asked as he hung up the phone. There was a sensation of her insides liquefying, as nasty premonitions began to take shape in her mind.
"Sue was on her way here to see me this morning. She was due home to take care of Marcella almost two hours ago. She hasn't called, and she isn't answering her phone. Seth's been up and down the road already looking for her, and no one they've contacted has heard from her." His lips twisted.
Bella's insides had turned to ice. If Sue was missing, and Seth was asking for help—she didn't finish the thought. She couldn't.
"Sorry honey, I'm going to have to cut this short."
"Of course," Bella murmured. She had her phone out, pretending to message Edward, knowing he'd already have heard everything—and that he'd be summoning help. Charlie hadn't even left yet when Edward pulled into the parking lot. "Something urgent came up?" he said to Charlie as he walked up to greet Bella on the steps.
"Probably nothing, but Sue hasn't shown up at home," Charlie said. There was that shrug again. He really did seem to think it was nothing.
He waved at them both as he hopped into his cruiser.
It was not nothing.
Edward's glance at Bella confirmed this.
She swallowed, sucking in a breath, forcing herself not to cry. Please, not Sue. Please, not Sue—
"Bella?" Edward asked.
She shook her head, waiting for Charlie to pull away.
"Is it something more?" she finally asked him.
"We don't know yet. I've asked Carlisle to call Sam."
Yes, calling Sam. This seemed like a good idea. "Okay." She nodded, following the tug of his hand, his other around the basket she'd forgotten. She watched the leftovers loosely jiggle as she followed him to the car, feeling as uncentered as the remnants of her latest meal. Watching the half-sandwich, the glasses, and the bottle clink and clunk together, she imagined them as the community around her—half-eaten, disordered, and unfinished. Jacob gone. Matt gone. Grant gone. Maybe Sue . . . gone.
- 0 -
"Bella?" Edward's voice made her look over at him. His hand was on the steering wheel. They were moving.
"Yeah?"
"Maybe lie back a bit?" he asked softly.
She let her head fall onto the cushion behind her and lowered the seatback a tiny bit. The world whipped by. She closed her eyes, but it only made things worse—Sue's face, and then all the faces of the people who'd gone missing before her swam up to greet Bella. She flicked her eyelids open, staring ahead, watching the driveway curl and twist until the greenery peeled away to reveal the house.
"Jasper and I will go, if Sam will let us," Edward murmured. "We'll have the best chance of tracking."
"Right," she mumbled, absentmindedly watching Edward carry the basket inside.
"Mama! Man!" Josh squeaked, bouncing towards them. "Mama, drawing!" he said excitedly. "Man!" He pointed to the living room, where many pieces of paper had been taped together to form a long line, this scribbled over with the determined marks of a two-year old. "Train!" Josh explained, pointing. "Train!"
"Yes, train," Bella agreed, looking at it. She could only think of train-wrecks and the catastrophic connotation the word conveyed.
Carlisle had appeared with Josh, his silent and sombre presence confirming Bella's first fears: the wolves hadn't found Sue, and now they wanted the Cullens' help.
"Jasper and I will be back soon," Edward said, "We'll do what we can."
Bella nodded bleakly, squeezing and releasing Edward's fingers as Josh trapped her own. "Mama draw," Josh uttered. A warm marker was pressed into her hand. "Mama draw!"
"I'll draw," she intoned, following him into the living room.
They drew lines together and wheels, adding spokes and colours, boxes and whorls, all at Josh's specific pointed instruction and excited chatter. When he tired of the activity almost an hour later, it was because Emmett had appeared, suggesting Josh might enjoy a ride in the jeep.
For once, Emmett made no jokes, eyeing Bella and the couch, flicking his gaze between the two. His meaning was unmistakable. She didn't need a doctor to tell her she should probably lie down.
Feet propped up, she waited, feeling like an animal anticipating its own slaughter.
She woke with a violent startle at Edward's touch.
"It's just me," he said softly, sliding his arm behind her back to help her sit up.
"Did you find her?" Bella blurted out, not even thinking to lower her voice. The distant sounds of Josh and Mer's voices made her flinch a little. She needed to be more careful.
Edward sat down beside her, one hand still at her back, the other taking hers in a gentle grip. "Yes, we did. I'm sorry."
Oh.
Oh.
She made the same sound aloud, she was sure, before closing her eyes, turning herself into Edward's chest.
"How?" she whispered.
"Charlie thinks it was an animal attack," Edward whispered back.
Her throat closed up, only letting her croak out, "I need to go see him—"
"He radioed the coroner, Bella, but he's turned off his phone. There's no way to reach him right now."
She sobbed into his chest, Edward holding her, still murmuring. "Jasper stayed, making sure he's safe until his team arrives. There are wolves close too."
"But he's alone, as far as he knows?" she asked.
"Yes, with her," Edward answered.
She didn't need to ask how he was doing. She could imagine that well enough, as well as how they must've laid a trail to lead Charlie to her. She nodded, wiping at her face with the back of her trembling hand. "What happened?"
"The wolves gave chase to what they believed were two nomads this morning. They thought they'd run them off, but when Sue didn't show up, Seth and then the pack went looking again. After they found Sue's car, Sam told Seth to phone Charlie, to avoid raising suspicions."
Bella closed her eyes again. It was true. It would make Charlie suspicious, but poor Seth—he would've known by smell alone what had happened to his mother. And to pull Charlie into it just seemed cruel. It was his job, she reminded herself, but still.
"There was a third vampire. Its scent was in the car. We think it must've taken her and then . . . returned the body." The last words were reluctantly released.
"She's dead." She'd understood him well enough, but the words needed to be spoken aloud.
"Yes."
His body shifted minutely, and Bella followed his gaze to see Carlisle standing at the edge of the living room. She'd become slightly more accustomed to the silent exchanges that seemed to dominate so much of Edward and Carlisle's communication, but this one fairly vibrated between them.
The children's voices were distant enough that Bella knew it was safe to speak. "Please just speak aloud. I need to hear what's going on."
Carlisle said nothing, looking to Edward.
"Sam wants to meet," Edward said, avoiding her eyes.
"Why?" Her suspicions sharpened, watching him. His lips pressed together, and she turned her gaze toward Carlisle, repeating her question. "Why?"
It was Edward who finally answered. "We found her on our side of the treaty line. He blames us for not keeping up our end of the bargain."
"That's ridiculous, he—"
"It is our responsibility to guard against our kind here in our territory. The wolves can't do that in ours, and we can't in theirs. Those are the rules, and we failed."
"So he wants a chance to yell at you?" Bella asked, her own indignation rising.
"I don't know, but we're obliged to go when summoned."
"Then I'll go with you," Bella said, pushing herself forward in her seat.
"No," Edward said, a hand on her shoulder. "It's not safe."
"It's not safe?" she huffed out. "Since when has it been safe? They aren't going to attack me."
Edward's hand stayed on her shoulder exerting just enough pressure to keep her from standing. The muscles in his face were taut. "Whose interests is Sam protecting, Bella?"
"The tribe's," she offered without hesitation.
"Exactly," Edward said. "And what is the greatest threat they face right now?"
She squinted at him, trying to see where these questions were leading. "Vampires."
"And what do those vampires want, as far as we can tell?" His gaze was unwavering as he waited for her to finish assembling the puzzle.
Oh.
"Me."
Edward nodded.
"You think he'd—"
"No, I don't, but I don't want to give an angry, desperate and intemperate creature an opportunity to solve his problems with your life."
She closed her eyes. He was right. She didn't like it, but it would be foolish for her to create such an opportunity. "Okay. But Charlie—"
"Charlie is safe, and we will keep Charlie safe," Edward said.
Charlie's already broken heart was very likely coming undone again. Bella didn't follow the natural line of her logic to the source because her name was at the end of it, and her life was becoming a very expensive accumulation of other ones spent for her safety.
Oh Charlie, she thought. I'm so sorry.
Fresh tears slipped out despite her futile attempt to blink them away. "You should go then," she said, pressing a hand to her abdomen, reminding herself of the main reason why she tethered herself to living. She thought of the email that was still saved in her phone, and how easy it would be to snip that cord and spare anyone else an untimely or painful death at Victoria's hands. She tried to shake off the thought but it remained stubbornly in place.
"I love you," Edward whispered into her hair, moving his hands from constraint to embrace.
"I love you too," she whispered back, guilt tearing at her heart.
What was love, when it cost so much, and was paid for in blood?
DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.