Song Inspiration:
Fathers and Daughters by Boyce Avenue
I Won't Let You Go by James Morrison
Chapter 4:
EPOV
Bella's like a newborn foal. Attempting to stand on legs that won't cooperate as she ambles toward me.
"You're here, you're here, you're here," she repeatedly mumbles as she throws herself at me.
I step forward and catch her in my arms, and we both fall to the floor together, a mess of arms and legs and whimpered cries. Hers and mine.
I hold her as tightly as I can, moving her until she's straddling my lap, and I have her wrapped securely in my arms. Her legs are wound tightly around me. We're enveloped together; two becoming one.
"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here," I whisper into her neck as I rock us steadily and continue to reassure her.
Her body is shaking, her cries muffled against my chest as the sadness pours from her. Her tears soak my shirt, and I'm wet with her sorrow.
She's heartbroken, and my heart is breaking with her and for her.
I have no idea how long it is before her sobs slowly start to subside; I've lost track of time. It could be minutes; it could be much, much longer.
Eventually, they become hiccups, and she takes a few deep shuddering breaths, before looking at me. "You're … really here," she stutters, still catching her breath.
"I am. I'm here for you, Birdy."
Her face is red, her eyes swollen, her lips are raw where she's been gnawing at them; she's all snotty, and there are tears still slowly rolling down her cheeks, but she's beautiful. So achingly beautiful.
I grab a corner of my shirt, pull it up, and wipe her face with it.
She gives me a tired, half-hearted smile. I bath in it.
She looks into my eyes, and we just hold each other's gaze.
"I'm so sorry, Birdy. So sorry," I tell her, my own voice catching and unsteady.
She leans forward, and we sit with our foreheads touching.
"How did you find out?" she whispers.
"Emmett called me. Leah rang and asked him to inform the family."
I feel her nod, and she sighs heavily.
With a broken voice, she tells me how her dad and his friend Billy had gone fishing—just a normal Sunday activity for the two of them. Billy said that Charlie had been quiet most of the day, but that's not unusual in itself. He did start to worry when Charlie admitted he felt a bit off and suggested that maybe they call it a day. He was feeling a bit nauseous and starting to feel lightheaded.
As they were getting all their gear together, Charlie had stumbled and slumped forward, falling to the ground.
"A heart attack, the doctors told us." She shrugs and confirms what I had been thinking. It correlates with the details Dad had already passed along to me.
"Billy called 911 immediately, but he was already gone by the time the paramedics got there. He didn't suffer, at all, thankfully," she says, her voice softening at the end. "He fell unconscious and just didn't wake up." She starts to cry softly again, and I just rub her arms and let her tears flow.
We're pulled from our own bubble when there's a knock at the door. I look up, and Sue has poked her head in.
"Hey, you two, just wanted to let you know dinner's ready. I know you probably don't feel like eating much, Bella, but we have enough down there to feed an army, and I can't get through it all on my own," she tells us with a half-hearted smile.
Bella nods, and I assure Sue we'll be down shortly.
"This is so fucked up, you know. Sue has already buried one husband, and now she has to do it all again. Leah and Seth have already buried a father, and now they have to do it all again too." Her voice hitches. "I'm so lost in my own misery I forget that sometimes," she admits to me.
I have no sage words for her, so I just nod, then pull her up into my arms and give her a tight hug. I feel that's all I can offer right now, some comfort within my arms.
We slowly make our way down the stairs, hand in hand. Just as we hit the landing, the front door flies open, banging against the wall behind, and Seth comes bounding through.
His shoulders sag with relief. "Cullen, you're here."
It's a repeat performance. I hold him, and we sway by the open front door, much like I'd done earlier with his mother.
"Come on, everyone, let's eat," Sue calls from the kitchen.
We settle around the family table. Sue and Seth on one side. Birdy and I on the other, still holding hands. The Chief's chair is left empty. There's food and drink, laughter and tears. Stories are shared, and the mood is actually light and, in many ways, uplifting. We celebrate a man we all knew and loved. A husband. A father. A mentor. A friend.
Seth confirms the details for tomorrow. There will be a service held at the small local church. Even though Charlie didn't practice, he had firm beliefs and was good friends with Pastor Weber, the father of Bella's long-time friend, Angela. Later in the day, the immediate family and invited friends will travel to the reservation where a traditional tribal blessing will be bestowed on the man many Quileute claimed as one of their own.
"You staying tonight?" Seth asks me quietly.
I shrug as I hadn't even thought that far ahead, to be honest.
I stay.
I hold my friend in my arms, in her room, just as I had so many years before. We talk in whispered voices just as we did way back then. She weeps softly, off and on, and we nap in between.
Eventually, sleep claims her, and as I lie there, I think about the intervening years. About the phone calls that came less and less, the daily text messages that became random text messages. About the promised catch ups that went by the wayside as we got too busy with our adult lives to make them a priority. To make each other a priority.
I think about the women I've been with in all that time. Always casual, never becoming serious. Usually tall and fair-haired, nothing like her, never like her.
The realisation that was a deliberate choice slaps me in the face. I hadn't thought about it before. Because it's always been her. This girl who has become a woman. I have always loved her. Just her. The feeling overwhelms me, and the warmth from it flows through me. I love her.
She stirs and starts to mumble in her sleep. I smile; she's always been a bit of a sleep talker.
"Edward …" She says my name, and it tugs at my heart.
"Edward … don't leave me," she pleads.
"I've got you, Birdy. I'm not going anywhere," I whisper back.
I was looking for a sign before that phone call from Emmett, looking for direction in my life, looking for the void to be filled. I'm sure this is it. This is where I am meant to be.
I know now isn't the time for the discussions we will have to have. Does she feel the same? Could she feel the same? But I know what I want, and I can only hope she will want it too.
I want to hold her in my arms forever and not let go. I want to be the one to comfort her whenever she needs it. I want to be the one to share in her grief … and her joy because I know that it will come. I want to love her forever. I want her to be mine. My Birdy.
~oo000oo~
The next day is long and exhausting. I'm by her side the whole time, supporting her, giving her my strength. My family arrives and supports us both, us all.
Sue is an absolute rock, and she steadies us all when needed and guides us through a day that she has already experienced once before. It's so unfair, but as she told us last night, life rarely is.
I sit in the front row with her family, my own family right behind us.
Again stories are told, and there's more laughter and tears. It's a celebration of the life of a man who has come to mean so much to this small community. A man who has looked after these people for many years, a man who has kept them safe.
Little Emily goes to sit by the casket at one stage and pats at it gently. There's not a dry eye in the whole church when her little voice can be heard softly singing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,"—a song Charlie would often croon to her as she sat cuddled on his knee.
My girl stands up in front proudly to talk about her father, and she does a wonderful job, in a strong confident voice, until it all gets too much for her. I wonder if I should go and stand by her side. I'm pleading with her to look my way. I go to stand, but there's a firm hand on my shoulder.
"I've got her," Emmett says confidently.
He walks to the lectern and wraps her in his arms before introducing himself to the mourners as her big brother from another mother. It lightens the mood and allows her time to take a few deep breaths and go on. I've never been more thankful for my brother in all my life, or prouder of them both.
At the end of the service, Pastor Weber informs everyone that there are refreshments offered at the church hall next door. We stay as long as is considered polite before heading back to Charlie's where we all change into more casual and warmer clothes and head to the reservation.
~oo000oo~
It's early evening—twilight—when we arrive. A large bonfire is fully ablaze on the beach, the blue flames dancing high into the air, large driftwood logs have been pulled closer for extra seating.
As Charlie was not Quileute, this isn't a formal ceremony, although the members of the tribal council are all present—here to say farewell to one they regarded so highly. Instead, a blessing is bestowed, and a friend is farewelled in a fitting manner.
Afterward, I'm standing by the bonfire when I realize we're all here together again, much as we had been in the photo I was holding in my hand the day I got the news.
Emmett, Alice, Leah, Seth, Birdy, and me. The six of us, side by side again. Our friendships may have wavered at times, but it never diminished. It was strong, it was tight, it was forever too.
I turn my head and look at my girl. She may be hurting, but she's smiling at something Emmett says, and I know that in time, and with love, her heart will slowly mend … thread by thread.
Mom calls out, "Look this way, Edward," and snap—another time, another memory caught forever.
And as we stand here, side by side, I hope that maybe we've caught a glimpse of our future too.
