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CHAPTER 4

BPOV

I had a small dinner with Sue about an hour later after Charlie had fallen asleep. We discussed everything from when I had left for college to yesterday, and it made me sick the way she described his health slowly declining.

When I had left, he had been ok. The leukemia cells had been dormant, and when Sue moved in, she promised she would let me know if anything happened. She said he had been fine, working and meeting his friends out in the reservation for fishing and baseball games, until his health suddenly got worse three years after I left, when I was twenty-one, surprisingly a long time for someone who had been diagnosed when I was fifteen. He had been fighting it for a while, able to go through chemotherapy and send it into remission. But a few months ago, it came back, and he couldn't afford any more medical treatment. So he had spent his time in bed, gradually getting worse until he could no longer move.

No longer able to cry, I stared at Sue. "Why haven't you been doing anything?"

She sighed, and reached across the table for my hand. I yanked it back.

"Bella, I've tried. I have tried paying for it, but Charlie won't let me. He keeps telling me that I'm crazy and to just let him be."

"But he's sick, Sue!" I cried, jumping from the table. "How hard have you been trying to fight him?"

She looked at me for a minute. "Bella, do you think that if he were healthy, he would allow me pay for anything? What makes you think that just because he's sick and in a bed means he's not fighting just as hard, or that I can still disregard his wishes?"

I sat down, ashamed. "You're right," I said sadly. "But he can't just lay there, in pain, while he's..." I choked. "Dying."

Sue smiled sadly. "He won't let me help. He came close to catapulting out of the bed the other day, in his frail state, when I told him I was going to check him into a hospital. We battle constantly, on a daily basis, over this. I don't want to sit there while he deteriorates, but he won't let me do anything about it."

I folded my arms and placed my head in my hands. "Why didn't you call me?" I asked, my voice muffled. "I would have come back."

She sighed again. "He wouldn't let me call you either. In fact, he went so far as to threaten me with arrest for resisting an officer. He said your education was important and that I shouldn't bother you. The one time I was able to call, yourdorm supervisor said you were out. I told him to have you call me back, but you never did."

I never had any messages at the dorms. I never went to pick up messages.

"I'm sorry, Sue," I sighed. "If I had gotten the message I would have come."

She shook her head. "It's no problem, Bella. He's in pain, but he's happier than I've ever seen him. It's quite remarkable, actually. He can be crotchety, but I think he's happy."

I picked at my salad. "Do you think that my being here will help?"

She smiled kindly at me. "I think it will, Bella. He's missed you."

We talked for another hour, remembering Charlie when he was in better health, laughing at all of his bumbling mistakes and mishaps. I was in slightly better spirits when the clock in the living room sang.

I climbed the stairs to say good-bye, and when I gently pushed the door open again for the second time that day, I found Charlie asleep. His breathing was slow and shallow but steady, and he looked so peaceful I felt tears gather in my eyes again. I walked over toward him and bent over next to the bed.

"I'll be back in the morning, Dad," I whispered, and brushed my lips lightly against his forehead. When I pulled away, I saw a slight smile on his face, and but couldn't bring myself to grin back at him. I ran my fingers lightly over his cheek, and then, without looking back at him, turned walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.

I was crying again when I was in the car, but I wasn't even sure why; I wasn't feeling anything. I was numb. I felt like I had emptied my body of tears, but they continued to flow, blurring my vision and distracting me as I constantly reached up to brush the tears away. I drove one-handed and slower than usual, ignoring the honks behind me.

I drove without knowing where I was going.

An hour and a half-tank of gas later, I arrived at a park that hadn't been there when I was last in Forks. It was a small, man-made area of grass, surrounded by trees and benches and a large stone and iron gate. As I walked up to the entrance, I saw a small piece of paper taped to one of the pillars, I assumed serving as a plaque until a real one could be made.

My face flushed when I saw what it read.

Charlie Swan Memorial Park
April 14, 1959 -
Beloved father, friend and fellow officer
"Let not the darkness of fear and sorrow block the light of courage."

I ripped the paper from the pillar, went back to the car and grabbed a marker from the flove compartment. Laying the paper flat on the car hood, I scribbled hastily, He's not dead yet, bent the tape around, and stuck it back to the pillar. Furious, I yanked back the gate and walked onto the grass.

My anger melted away at the breathtaking beauty that met my eyes.

The grass was lush and green, the trees freshly planted and well groomed. Small iron plaques were placed at the foot of every one, and I bent over to every tree I passed, reading the names inscribed.

Dedicated in loving memory by Sue, Seth and Lea Clearwater.

Given in endless gratitude by Billy Black.

The Cheney Family.

Dedicated by the Weber Family.

Forever grateful, Forks High School.

We'll always remember you, Forks Police Department.

Dedicated by the Mallory's. We'll never forget you.

A small, man-made lake was at the center of the garden, and as I sat down on the bench, I saw two small swans swimming behind a fountain spurting water in the middle of it. I watched them, breathless, as they swam around, casually avoiding me.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there, the swans swimming round and round, the sky darkening until there was nothing but endless blackness. Lights flickered on, and, no longer able to stand the gloom, I stood, stretching my aching legs, and moved back to the car. Driving in silence, I thought of nothing, paying only slight attention to the things that were whizzing past me as I sped unconsciously back to the Cullen's house.

I pulled into the Cullen driveway, barely noticing the strange car in the driveway next to Rose's car. I didn't know anyone who drove a silver Volvo, but didn't pause to think about it as I assumed it was a friend of Emmett's or Carlisle's or Esme's.

I parked the car and got out, fixing my hair a little and brushing the excess wetness away from underneath my eyes. I walked up the walkway, and gently pushed the door open.

The house smelled of freshly baked bread, pot roast, and buttery vegetables, my favorite meal of Esme's cooking. I placed Alice's keys in the jar on the foyer table, and heard the soft buzz of laughter and conversation coming from the living room. I took a deep breath, but instead of heading into the living room to join the conversation, slowly and quitely made my way up the stairs again.

I slept fitfully and lightly in the bathtub, tossing and turning, bumping my head on the tile every few minutes. I dreamt of everything and nothing at all. Bright colors again flashed across my vision, and I could only pick out a few things at a time.

Only this time, the nightmare wasn't of Edward.

Now, it was Charlie.

Suddenly, a sequence of images formed together to make a horrifying scene. His body, frail and weak, was running, but he was going nowhere as he tripped on the floor. Ahead of him, I could see a small, skinny, brown-haired girl sprinting ahead of him, not turning around. He called out to her, but she didn't turn. She was getting farther and farther ahead, and the sounds of his calls were getting softer and softer.

"Please... come back... don't leave me... here... like this..."

I woke to the sounds of my screams echoing off the tile.

I finally climbed out of the tub when I could see the sky lightening outside from the window. My neck was stiff, though not as painful, but my face was a more hurtful sight. Bags, as purple as a bruise and as large as Rosalie had said stood out from under my eyes. My face was thin and pale, the roots of my hair sweaty from my sleep.

Fitfully, I yanked a brush through my hair and pulled it into another, cleaner ponytail and straightened my shirt. I brushed my teeth, and after rummaging through the drawers around the sink found a compact of blush. I brushed it over my face, hoping to hide the bags. It worked, to an extent, and even gave my face a little more color.

As I exited the bathroom, I was drawn again to the staircase at the end og the hall. It still held that mysterious desertedness, drawing me to it like it had yesterday. After looking left and right, I proceeded toward it. However, I had gotten to about the same place I had yesterday, my foot placed on the first stair when I heard a clanging of pots downstairs. Confused--because Esme didn't start cooking until nine, and it was barely seven--I made my way toward the stairs.

I made my way down as lightly as I could. I made an attempt to be silent as I made my way through the house toward the kitchen where the clanging was getting louder. I grinned as I imagined Carlisle complaining about the order of the things in the refrigerator, or Emmetttrying to find a cookie sheet to back biscuits on.

The smile slipped off of my face and my breath hitched in my throat.

His bronze hair was shorter than it used to be, and couldn't be considered a mop anymore, though it was still as unruly as ever. He didn't slouch; instead his posture was near ramrod straight as he knelt in front of the refrigerator, his back facing me. He looked taller, even from his crouched position, and I could make out from where I was standing the gray band of his boxers sticking out from the top of his black pajama pants.

He stood up with a blue carton of eggs, but didn't notice me as he turned around and began to rummage in the drawers beneath the stove. "What the hell?" he murmured, and I could imagine what he was looking at. The stacks of pans, lined up by steel or copper and size. I almost chuckled.

That chuckle turned into a gasp as he stood up.

After wandering to his pale chest and chilseled abs, my eyes came up to meet his shocking green eyes. "Holy shit," he breathed, and the pan clattered from him hands onto the floor. My heart been trying to pound out of my chest, but was now frozen solid. My hands trembled and I clasped them together to stop the shaking.

He was infinitely more beautiful than he had been in high school. Any trace of adolescence had left his features--his jaw was more pronounced, his nose and cheekbones chiseled and sharp. His brilliant emerald eyes shone through a bush of black eyelashes, and his perfect pale skin was flawless, not a blemish on it, as it stretched across his face.

As shocked as I was to see him, he looked twice as disturbed. His eyes clouded over, and his brow furrowed.

"Bella," he whispered.

I couldn't bring myself to say anything to him in that moment. All of the hurt and pain I had felt because of him over the past ten years came rushing over me in a wave, and I barely had the strength left to keep my head above water. I had to get out of there.

I turned and ran.

I wasn't sure where I was going. All I was aware of were my feet pounding on the wooden flooring, and then on the cement of the pathway, and then the grass of the lawn, and then the concrete of the road. I begged God and gravity to forget about my clumsiness and to keep me from falling as I tried to make my getaway. I was running faster and faster, the tight jeans I was wearing not hindering me in the slightest.

I didn't feel the rocks digging into the soles of my feet.

I didn't feel the bitter cold nipping at my nose and turning the tears in my eyes to ice.

All I could feel was the thudding of my heart as I ran farther and farther away from the one thing that could tear my life apart.

EPOV

I wasn't expecting to see her. And seeing her there in exactly what she used to wear as a teenager--jeans and a t-shirt--had been, well, a little more than a pleasant surprise.

I had not been able to get her out of my head since I left a little under ten years ago. I had boarded the plane the last night I had seen her barely able to get my thoughts straight, but I had known that I had screwed up by not calling her to let her know what had happened. It had broken my heart, leaving her like that, but I had to do it.

There was someone else who needed my help, and if that meant sacrificing my happiness, then dammit, that had to happen.

She had changed, and definitely for the better. She had kept her hair, not cutting it any shorter than it had been when we were teenagers--the gorgeous brown waves falling gracefully down her back. Her skin was still beautifully pale, and I was surprised to see that she had ditched the black eye makeup she had worn as a teenager. It was sexy then, but would have been scary now. Her figure had filled out, and the sight of it made my body painfully aware of just how much I had missed her--emotionally and physically. She was still lean and thin, but her breasts and seemed to fill out almost doubly and her hips now curved into a graceful sway into long, shapely legs.

I wanted to go after her. I was slipping on a t-shirt when I felt a strong hand clasp on my shoulder. "Let her go," he said.

"Emmett, I can't--"

He shook his head. "Let her go."

"No, you don't understand, I--"

Again, he shook his head. "She's having a rough time right now. Just let her be."

I shrugged out of his grip. "Emmett, that's... that's Bella. That's my Bella. I can't just let her--"

Emmett sighed and ruffled his short hair. "Edward, it's been a long time--"

I made a move toward the door and he sent me a look of pure death. "Don't. You may be hot-shot doctor now, making more money than me, a lowly physical trainer, but I can still kick your ass to the point where your pretty money won't be able to fix it. Now listen."

I ran my fingers through my hair. "I can't let her get away..."

"You don't have a choice. Because you won't be going after her. She's been through hell over the past few years, and the last thing she needs is for you to make it worse."

"Emmett, what are you--"

"Edward," Rosalie said from the top of the stairs. As usual, not changing from when she was seventeen, she had every hair in place and her clothes were creasless in their prefection. I glanced at her, waiting for her to make her announcement as well. "Do what Emmett says."

I gaped at her. "Just because you're fucking my brother--"

"Watch it," he growled.

"--doesn't mean you have to take his side."

She giggled. "You sound like you're five," she said, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the islan. "And I'm not taking sides. I'm not saying give up on her entirely. Just give her time to get the rest of her life in order before you come in and fuck it up again."

"What are you talking about?"

She glanced at Emmett and then looked at me. "Just, please. Listen to me, just this once."

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair again. "I don't understand--"

"Just listen and--"

"Stop interupting me!" I cried. "What's the problem? You both seemed to be fine with us when we were kids. We practically jumped each other's bones in front of your faces and you didn't care. What's the change?"

"Edward," Rosalie said in a strangled voice. "It's been ten years."

"So?"

"That's a long time," Emmett added brilliantly.

"Yeah, I know, thanks Einstein."

"She's... changed, Edward."

"What do you mean?"

Emmett sighed, but Rosalie suddenly spoke up, her blue eyes suddenly cold as stones and slate gray in the morning light. In a hard voice, she said, "She doesn't love you anymore."

BPOV

The only disappointing thing was, I wanted him to tear up my life and put it back together again, making all the pieces fit correctly.

But he didn't come after me.

Of course.

He didn't love me anymore.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know Rose was being harsh, but it'll all play out in a little bit. And this chapter may be a little confusing, but let me know if it's overly that way. I had to get a few things out in the open. Also, I'm not 100% sure on all the facts of leukemia here... I got most of them from WebMD, but if there is anyone reading this who disagrees with anything I've mentioned, please PLEASE let me know. I don't want to be wrong and offend anyone who's experienced, so PLEASE tell me.

Also, I'm not one to beg, but please review my story. I love getting feedback, and criticism is always welcome. I will try my best to get back to everyone who has reviewed, whether I'm answering a question or just thanking you. I really do want to know what you think. Thanks for reading!