10

Carlisle stood completely still for a moment before he rushed down the steps, only stopping when Bella screamed and put her hands up. She knew he would never hurt her, or she hoped he wouldn't. Eight years was a long time, after all. His eyes softened as he brought his hand up, rubbing the back of his neck, almost making her smile. Her father did that all the time when he wasn't sure what to say.

"What the hell is going on? Where have you been? We thought you were dead."

"I know," she said, trying to keep her voice calm and even. "I, um, it's a long story."

"We thought you were dead," he said again, his voice wavering. "They told us you were dead."

"I'm sorry," she wept, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm sorry, Carlisle. I'm so fucking sorry."

"I don't—" Carlisle pressed his lips together as the screen door pushed open and Renee Swan stepped outside, drying her hands on a dishtowel. "Mom, go back inside."

Bella brought her hands to her mouth as she tried to stifle her sob. Renee Swan was standing in front of her, her mother, her fucking mother was standing right there. With light brown hair and the brightest blue eyes Bella has ever seen, Renee Swan was a thin woman with kind features. She looked at Bella, her eyes widening. It took everything she had not to throw herself in her mother's embrace, beg her forgiveness, and beg for her to still love her. She and Renee had always been close. Memories of her sitting in the middle of her bed while Renee brushed through her hair, them gossiping on the porch swing, baking pies for Christmas flooded her mind and she cried out once more.

"Carlisle, who is it?" Renee asked.

"Go back inside, Mom," Carlisle said again, but Renee shook her head. "Mom, please."

"You're . . You're Isabella?" she whimpered, stumbling down the front stairs. Her eyes widened, wrinkles crinkled around the edges. "Isabella, is . . . is it really you?"

"Yeah, mom, it's me," she cried, tightening her arms around herself.

A dark grey pickup whipped into the circular driveway behind and Bella looked over, barely able to stifle her gasp when she saw her father sitting behind the wheel. Charlie Swan, a tall man with dark brown hair that was graying at the edges, dark eyes, and a bushy mustache, threw the driver's side door open and scrambled out. His eyes were locked on hers. She may have been close to her mother, but she had always been a Daddy's girl. Most of her childhood had been spent fishing, hiking through the woods, catching fireflies. He never treated her like a girl.

He opened his mouth once, twice, three times before he said, "Isabella?"

Bella opened her mouth to reply, but "Mommy," the piercing cry of Bella's five year old daughter rang through the air. Moments later, Edward was carrying her around the front of the car, shifting the little girl into Bella's arms. Alice and Jasper joined them as they stood there, waiting for someone to say something, do something, anything.

"Mommy, who's that?" Charlie whispered, pointing to her grandfather.

Tears flooded Bella's eyes and her lips trembled as she tightened her hold on her daughter and murmured, "That's my daddy."

"Mommy?" her father asked, his eyes shifting from Bella to the little girl in her arms. "She's your daughter?"

Bella hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Charlotte Renee, or Charlie as I call her. Your granddaughter."