"You might be looking for reasons but there are no reasons."

― Nina LaCour, Hold Still

30

The vodka didn't do us any favors. I think it was a combination of that, the news the prick had indeed finally destroyed our mother, and the shifting stages of shock that we were experiencing. We had a period where we were just stunned into silence before some sort of reality changed and Alice became slightly hysterical. I grabbed onto her as tight as I could trying to settle her, without being conscious of the fact that I was convulsing with sobs myself. From what I was told the next morning, Charlie and Jasper made a futile attempt to do what they could to calm us, while Emmett drove Edward to pick up some sedatives from the hospital.

I woke up with the strangest sensation, which I don't think could be blamed on the drugs. Something akin to Groundhog Day, when you were sure you were done with feeling so hideous, only to have some cruel fate deal you the same shitty hand once again. Edward's arms were wrapped firmly around me, the only reassurance that some things in the world were still as they should be. I looked around to see I was in my bed at Emmett's and could hear people shifting around in the house.

"What time is it?" I said croakily.

"Midday. I think Alice just woke up as well." He kissed my head tenderly.

"You knocked us out?"

"Sorry, gorgeous. It was the only way you'd be able to rest."

"It's okay. I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

"I'm not. I'm here for the good and the bad. And there'll be more good, I promise."

It was far too light a word, but this situation was truly bizarre. Surreal in the most unimaginable way. This didn't seem like my life I was waking up in.

"What a bloody mess."

Edward didn't reply to that.

We used Charlie's as a base for funeral planning and the beginnings of the other hideous tasks required after a sudden death. Alice and I were expecting to learn a lot more about our mother in the coming weeks and months as we tidied up her affairs. She didn't have any other family to assist. Charlie had already called the funeral planner, and I was grateful to him for helping out when he didn't really owe her anything. I knew he did what he did in those days for us and for the memory of the time when he loved the woman who gave him his three girls.

I spent a little more of the daytime at Charlie's after Renee died. Emmett was doing well, and he didn't need his repair hampered by my plunge back into sorrow. Edward went wherever I went. When I didn't want him to leave me at night Em realized my hesitation and told him he should stay.

The day before Renee's small funeral service, Edward was in Charlie's kitchen making coffee while I sat quietly with my dad in the lounge. Flowers had arrived for me from Edward's close colleagues at the hospital, and Angela had dropped off a whole lot of baking for the wake. We were doing what we did amidst dealing with the comings and goings and decision-makings: sitting hopelessly wondering what the hell to do. Charlie didn't ever talk much about his feelings. He had a very obvious look about him when he was proud or happy, and/or holding back proud or happy tears. I never wanted to see the sad, defeated version of my father again. I needed so very much for him to continue his life at peace and content once more. I was so very much him, and in turn I also derived so much of my own contentment from his. It didn't seem fair that just because a man was a father, he had to hold himself together and resume his "before" characteristics to a greater degree than those of us who were merely children.

Charlie had his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands when I looked up at the sound of his voice next to me.

"There's this part of me that feels like I must have failed you as a father somewhere along the line. I was gifted these three beautiful, talented girls. Nothing could have been more perfect than my family. It took me by surprise when things started unraveling thanks to your mother's influence. But you three proved me right in my faith in your abilities to stick together and carry on. I thought you were untouchable. Maybe I should have protected you more than I did. I don't know how it would have helped. But a father feels like he should be able to stop a drunk driver, bubble-wrap a pregnant daughter, keep the mother of his children alive…"

"Daddy, stop. You couldn't have done anything about those things. I wish the same, and I couldn't have done anything either. Look at me," I said, turning his cheek to me. "You've been a wonderful father. That's a gross understatement; we never wanted for anything, and we couldn't have asked for anyone better than the man you are. Rose, Alice, and I felt loved. Truly loved, and unquestionably treasured. There is no greater blessing for a little girl than to have that connection with her daddy. So stop questioning yourself. Alice and I are still here, and we're going to be okay. We can't have you trying to change on us now. You're the one true thing in our lives."

"I hope so. I hope you know all that. I know what happened with Renee was hard on you, and I didn't want my resentment of her to affect you girls, but it was tough. This just wasn't how it was supposed to be."

I sighed and let him draw me into a hug.

"In the past five months, I've learned that some things will be how they're supposed to be, and they'll be great. And some things won't, and you have to take what you can from that and try to not let it kill you."

"When did you get so wise?" He smiled and kissed the top of my head.

"From being surrounded by wise people."