Chapter Twelve
Charlie didn't comment on the limousine I all but ran away from. He didn't say a word about the army of shopping bags he helped me shuttle up to my bedroom. He didn't bat an eyelash at the shiny new iPhone I slammed onto my desk like it had wronged me personally in some way. But when I asked him if we could go out to dinner since I didn't feel like cooking... well, he smiled. It was kind of nice, actually.
One quick car ride and a cracked vinyl booth later, I found myself seated across the table from my father at the Forks Diner, a place I had absolutely no memory of but, for some reason, everyone seemed to remember me.
I was brought a cheeseburger and fries... which I did not order. Apparently, they used to be my favorite. The waitress was so proud of herself, I didn't have the heart to send it back.
"How often did we used to come here?" I asked through a mouthful of greasy burger.
"All the time," Charlie answered, cutting up his steak. "Your mother didn't like to cook."
"Yeah... still doesn't," I muttered, reaching for my water. I guess there was more bitterness in my tone than I realized because Charlie slowly placed his utensils on his plate and looked up at me, his face concerned.
"About that, Bella... we never really talked about-"
"We don't need to," I rushed, cutting him off, gulping down half my glass.
"I think we do."
"Really. It's not necessary. No use living in the past."
"Isabella, I am your father and if I say we're going to talk about it then, damn it, we're going to talk about it," he said firmly, laying his hands flat against the worn formica of the table.
I ate a french fry in response.
"Now, I know you were mad at me all those years... hell, you're probably still mad at me... but I didn't want you to go, Bella bear. And I sure didn't want your mom to leave-"
"Sure," I mumbled, rolling my eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. I was agreeing with you. Continue."
Charlie took a bite of his steak. Then another. He added some butter to his baked potato. He took a sip of his coffee. I fidgeted.
"I'm not sure what's going on here," Charlie finally said to me, looking me dead in the eye. "I don't know what to say to you. Things have been going so well, I thought. But I know you're still mad at me, Isabella, even if you don't say so. I mean, it's been so long-"
"I'm not mad at you. I don't know why you keep saying that," I defended, leaning towards him over the table, fully cognizant of the fact that we were in a very crowded restaurant in a very small town.
"All those cards, Isabella. And the letters. And the birthday gifts. You never called me once," he said quietly, his eyes focused on the plate in front of him.
Cards? Letters? Gifts? What the hell?
"Charlie, I don't understand," I began, noticing his grimace when I forgot to call him 'dad.' "What cards? What are you talking about?
"I know it wasn't enough," he all but whispered, rubbing his hand over his face. "I just didn't know what else to do. She said you didn't want me to visit, and it was the best I could-"
"Wait. What?" I said too loudly, catching the attention of a handful of diners at the counter. "What do you mean 'she?' Who is 'she?'"
"Renee," he told me. "Your mother."
I stared at him, hard. I swear I felt my heart break in two.
"She told you I-"
"Didn't want me to visit," he finished for me, nodding. "She explained everything to me, Bells. You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings. I understood."
All I could do was blink at him. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I felt like the life had been sucked out of me.
"Isabella, are you alright?" Charlie asked, reaching across the table towards me. I sat back in my seat reflexively. He flinched.
I had nothing to say. I wouldn't know how to say it if I did. I thought about my mother. I wondered what else she had kept from me. What else she had done to me. I felt sick.
"I need some air," I said suddenly, already beginning to slide out of the booth.
I didn't wait for him to respond. I walked as quickly as I could towards the door, swallowing reflexively, willing the panic back.
I stumbled into the parking lot, running blindly towards a lone picnic table in a field towards the back. Hot, angry tears fought their way from my eyes. My stomach churned. I couldn't breathe.
I dropped to my knees and retched, emptying my stomach onto the grass over and over until I tasted nothing but bile and the salt from my tears. I let go of everything and sobbed with abandon, dragging myself away from the mess I had made on the ground and beating my fists against the damp earth until they were raw and sore and bleeding. I heard a voice call my name in the distance. And then everything went black.
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I woke up to a cool hand on my forehead. A hand that felt strangely familiar, yet foreign at the same time. My mouth was dry and stale and my eyes felt like they had been glued shut.
"Isabella? Can you hear me?" a steady voice asked.
"Bella, honey? Bella bear, please wake up. Why isn't she waking up?" That was Charlie. He sounded frantic.
"She's coming around, Chief. Isabella, can you hear me?"
I groaned and rolled my head to the other side. It was the best I could do.
"There, see? Isabella, I'd like you to open your eyes for me. Alright? Come on, now. Open your eyes." The voice was melodic and comforting. It reminded me of Edward. So did the hand, as a matter of fact.
With effort, I managed to open my eyes, blinking at the harsh light from the lamp on the end table. The man with the cool hands noticed my discomfort and left my side to switch it off. Charlie immediately took his place.
"God, Bella bear, I was so worried," he cried, wrapping his arms around me and yanking me towards his chest. I tried to remember the last time I had heard my father sound so worried. Granted, we didn't have a long history, but I doubted it had ever happened before. But he was hugging me, now, in a hug that he had instigated. It felt nice. I moved to reciprocate, but winced when I moved my hands. That hurt.
"You have some minor lacerations on your knuckles," the man with the cool hands told me, stepping back into my line of sight and making me lose my concentration for a moment. He was astonishing to look at. All icy blonde hair and movie star features. "There's some swelling and there'll be some bruising as well. It looks like you gave something quite a beating."
"Yeah," I agreed weakly, moving back from Charlie, trying to get my bearings. I glanced around. Oh. This was the living room. I was on the couch. That made sense. "Could I get some water, please?"
"Of course, Bells," Charlie replied, jumping up and hurrying into the kitchen.
"I'm Carlisle Cullen," the man with the cool hands offered, stepping closer still and speaking quietly. "We've met before, but I don't think you'll remember."
"The accident," I murmured, watching as he squatted back down next to the couch so I didn't have to strain to look at him.
"That's right. I wish we could have met under more pleasant circumstances." He gave me a small smile. It was entirely too charming.
"I appreciate everything you've done for me," I said by way of response. He smiled wider, placing a hand on my cheek.
"I appreciate everything you've done for my family," was his enigmatic reply. He pushed some hair off my face in a fatherly gesture, tucking it behind my ear.
"Here's your water," Charlie called, walking back into the room and handing me the glass. He stacked some pillows behind me and helped me sit up before taking a seat next to me on the arm of the sofa.
"Thank you so much, Dr. Cullen, for coming over so quickly. I just didn't know what to do and going to the hospital didn't seem right-"
"Please, Chief. I was glad to. And how many times have I asked you to call me Carlisle?"
"Probably just as many times as I've asked you to call me Charlie," was my father's reply. I could hear the smile in his voice. I was glad.
"Well then, Charlie, just make sure Isabella here gets a good night's sleep and some ice on those knuckles and she'll be back to it in no time," Carlisle said, clapping a hand on my shoulder before moving towards the door.
"Let me see you out," Charlie offered, but Carlisle shook his head.
"I know the way, Charlie. You feel better, Isabella," Carlisle said, sending me a smile and what I believe was a wink.
"Thank you, Dr. Cullen," I called as he left, waiting until the door was closed firmly behind him before looking up at Charlie. "I'm sorry, dad."
Charlie said nothing for a long moment, and then pulled me into a hug again.
"Let's just get you upstairs, kid."
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I can't remember the last time I was tucked into bed. I have no memories of my mother ever doing it once we left. But Charlie...
We took the stairs slowly, with Charlie murmuring his encouragement the whole way. He had me wait in the bathroom as he went up into my room and, with my permission, retrieved some pajamas. He stood patiently outside the bathroom door as I changed and washed my face and brushed my teeth, grimacing at the sensitivity of my hands and the sore heaviness of my tear-swollen eyelids. He helped me patiently into my room, pulling back the covers and settling me in bed. He fluffed the pillows behind my head and brought the comforter up to my chin, smoothing it carefully on either side of me so there were no wrinkles. He brought the rocking chair in the corner closer to the bed before lowering himself into it and speaking quietly.
"When you were a little girl, you were afraid of the dark. Did you know that?" he asked me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
I shook my head.
"You were terrified. We tried everything. We bought you nightlights, we left your door open, we even started leaving the lights on in your room. Nothing worked, though, and every night it was a fight to get you into that bed, to get you to fall asleep. It was so hard..." he drifted off, shaking his head.
"So what happened?" I asked, curious. I remembered none of this.
"One morning, and I'll never forget this, you came down to breakfast and looked me right in the eye and said 'Daddy, I'm not gonna be scared anymore.' And, just like that," Charlie laughed, smiling, remembering, "just like that it was over. You weren't afraid of the dark anymore. You decided to fix it, and you did. It was the strangest thing."
"Sounds like," I said, smiling along with him. It was nice hearing about the past.
"You were... you are... just such an amazing person, Isabella. You made your mind up to do something, and you had the strength of character to see it through. My 3-year-old little girl told me that she didn't want to be afraid of the dark... and so she got over it. It was astounding."
"I wish I could remember," I told him quietly, tilting my head to the side. "It's all such a blur up until... well, up until we left."
"Yeah," he murmured, propping his chin on his hands and looking at me thoughtfully.
"Dad, I'm sorry about today."
The silence stretched out forever between us until he responded.
"What happened, Isabella? I thought you would wait by the car or something and then I go looking for you and I find you in that field... I was so scared. I don't think I've ever been that scared."
"I'm sorry," I repeated, feeling as though I would never be able to say it enough. "It's just... some of those things you told me... they took me by surprise."
"Like what?" he asked.
"Like you wanting to see me, for a start. Like you sending me things. You trying to contact me."
The room was dim, but Charlie visibly paled, his lips flattening into a hard line.
"She didn't tell you?" he asked after an age, his eyes searching my face.
"She didn't tell me anything," I said turning on my side to fully face him. "I'm so sorry, dad."
His posture tensed and his eyes hardened, glinting in a way I'd never seen before. My father was furious. And not at me.
"No. I'm sorry, Isabella. I should have fought harder for you." He stood up and placed a hand on my cheek, smiling sadly at me. "I should have never stopped fighting. Goodnight, Bella bear. I love you."
My father gave me a soft kiss on the forehead and tousled my hair before turning and walking out the door, closing it softly behind him. With a soft sigh and an easy smile, I drifted off to sleep, contented and comfortable for the first time that day.
A/N: I know this was on the short side compared to the last few chapters, but I felt it needed to stand alone. Thanks to IssaBissa for coaxing me through my writer's block, and thanks to the HUGE amount of reviewers who've helped get my count up over the past week. I can't thank everyone enough for their support. I know it's been rather angsty lately, but I promise the fun is coming. :)
As always... PLEASE REVIEW! :)