Part II: Forgiven

A week passed, but I hardly noticed. I only went to work because I had to, although the guys at the station – who only knew the rough details – were very considerate and constantly pressed me to just take the time off, an offer to which I always declined. Being alone at home watching for the phone was torture enough in the hours I had done it after work; there was no way I could spend an entire day that way.

Bella's first days at the hospital were uneventful, as I learned from Carlisle. Loyal to his word, he kept me up-to-date with the tiniest change in her condition, calling me twice, sometimes even three times a day. Her wounds were healing well, he said, and it was only a question of her body being strong enough to take her off the painkillers.

I should have felt better after each phone call, but I didn't. It made me feel all helpless. I was here, keeping my life routine, while my only daughter was fighting her life in a far away hospital. Well, maybe that was a dramatic way to put it, but the part about her being away was true. It was like the feeling I used to get whenever she left Forks after spending summertime with me, this emptiness that refused to be filled. Only now, after she was here for more than just a summer, the emptiness grew fiercer. I think what made it even worse was the way I had convinced myself she was here to stay. I guessed I had never truly realized how lonely I was up here, until she was gone.

On Friday I finally listened to the guys at work and did what I had not done in years – I found someone to cover for me, and started the weekend early. I wasn't in a state to do my job properly anyway, out of focus, out of balance, sleep-deprived. When Billy Black invited me to spend the weekend in La Push, I refused, saying I wasn't feeling well. I knew better than telling him about Bella's… accident. I knew how he felt about the Cullens even before my daughter had started dating with one of them, and I didn't know how patiently I would handle Billy's accusations, and he was sure to make them. So when he asked about Bella, I just briefly mentioned she was spending the weekend with her mom in Arizona.

The day passed in a haze. By dusk I was so tired; I knew it meant I would probably get some sleep tonight. Finally, I thought. All this worry was doing me no good.

I passed by Bella's room on my way downstairs. It was just like she left it a week ago. The bed was hastily made, and her CD player rested against the pillows, now deserted. There was a pile of books on the floor by her bed, some more on her bedside and about a dozen more on the shelf by the desk. There were text books, notebooks and CDs scattered all over her tiny desk. A smile sneaked unto my lips in spite of my otherwise gloomy mood. I was so happy she made herself at home, even in a room so small. It looked comfortable.

I really, really hate Forks!

Or maybe I saw what I wanted to see again. Maybe I was fooling myself. She wouldn't have tried to escape the first chance she had if she liked it here. She wouldn't have been as impulsive as her mother at the time. She would have given me – us – a fair chance.

Downstairs, the phone was ringing. Slowly, I shut the door to her room behind me, and made my way downstairs in contemplative silence. "Hello?" I said absentmindedly.

"Charlie?"

I became alert in an instant. "Renée? What's up? How's Bella?"

"She's good, Charlie, she's really good!" she gushed. I could hear the smile in her voice. I collapsed on the armchair in relief. "She's been awake for a few hours now, and she's refusing the painkillers, the silly girl, I think we'll have to force them on her. She's still in pain, but you know her, trying to be the hero…"

I didn't hear the rest of her excited babble. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. My baby was okay.

"Still there, Charlie?"

I blinked. "Yeah – sorry – that's great news, Renée. Tell her – " I swallowed the lump that formed down my throat with difficulty. "Tell her I miss her."

"Well, actually, Charlie, she really wants to talk to you."

"She does?" I asked, caught off-guard.

On the other end, Renée laughed softly. I closed my eyes, shutting out each old emotion that surfaced at the sound. "She's been asking about you since she opened her eyes, of course she does."

To say I was surprised to hear it didn't even begin to cover how I felt.

"There's a doctor round just now so I can't put her on the phone, but she'll call you back in a few minutes, okay?"

Those were probably the longest few minutes in my life.

The next time the phone rang, I took my time answering it. My hand was on the receiver, ready to pick it up, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was relieved she was well enough to talk, but I wasn't sure I could face whatever she had to tell me. What else was left to say? She made it all quite clear a week ago. She had made her choice.

And then I realized how childishly I was behaving, and I quickly picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Dad?"

The lump down my throat was back, thicker than before. I slowly let out a huge breath I didn't even know I was holding. "Hi, Bells."

"Are you okay?"

For a moment I sat there dumbfounded, unsure whether I was supposed to laugh or cry at her question. She was hospitalized, she had been sedated for a week, and she was asking me if I was okay. But then again, if I was honest… "I've been better."

I thought I heard her sigh, but I wasn't sure. "I bet," she said quietly. She hesitated, but when she next spoke, it was with earnest. "Listen, dad, I wanted to… apologize. Not just for worrying you for the last week, but for leaving like I did… and saying those things to you… I didn't mean half of it."

"So you did mean some?" I asked tersely. I couldn't help it.

"Not the parts that hurt you." There was a pause, as if she was letting it sink in. "I want to go back… if you'll have me."

"I thought you didn't want to make any more roots in this stupid, boring town." I felt bad quoting her words back to her, but I needed to be certain. I needed to know she wasn't asking me to take her back just to make me feel better.

"Could we just… pretend I've never said all those things to you?"

"I honestly don't know if I can do that, Bella." The memory was painful, extremely so. I knew I should focus on the positive side of things. She was alive and fairly well, and she was speaking to me, pleading my forgiveness. I could try and make an effort. "But I can promise to try."

"That's good enough for me." There was a smile in her voice now, but she sounded weary. I wondered if I should send her off to bed, but the selfish part of me wanted to hold on to the sound of her voice for a little longer.

And then I remembered something, and my momentarily bliss was disrupted. "What about Edward Cullen?"

She didn't miss a beat. "What about him?"

"Is he the reason you're so thrilled to come back?" I was amazed at how resentful my tone was. I felt ridiculous – jealous that a 17-year-old boy held more interest to her in this godforsaken town than her own father.

She hesitated, but then replied quietly, "He's part of it."

I wanted to know more, but I knew I wouldn't like what she had to tell me, so I kept quiet. There would be more than enough time to discuss it all, when she was back home.

And once I thought that, I knew I wouldn't be able to give her another answer. Of course I wanted her back, more than anything. "You will never, ever, do that to me again."

She laughed softly. "I promise."

"In that case, welcome home, kid."

"Thanks, dad." I could hear her yawn at the other end.

"You'd better get some rest now, Bells. I'll call back soon."

"Okay." She faltered, but then added hesitantly, "I love you, dad."

And in spite of my anger, my pain, my panic, my heart melted. "I love you too, baby. Sleep well."

I knew that after a week of torturous insomnia, I would be sleeping well tonight, too.

If you made it till here, thanks for reading. Reviews are still lovely :)