Usual disclaimer applies.
March, 2012
~58~
"I know why Mom left."
Dad looks surprised by this, like he was expecting something much, much different.
Don't worry Dad, it's all connected.
And so I explain. About finding the safe deposit key. About forging a death certificate. Dad's face begins to turn red as I describe that one. When I get to the part about the photos, Dad leaps up off his chair, causing it to fall loudly to the floor.
"Where are they?" he growls.
"It's really—"
"BELLA!"
"It's okay! Let me explain, please!"
He is breathing wildly, his face bright red. It would be comical if the situation wasn't so grave. He picks up his chair and sits down, hard, all the while still looking at me.
"Esme Cullen got them taken, to push Mom out of town. I know this because Emmett McCarty bought meat from the butcher shop across the street from where they were taken at the same time and date. I had thought it was on Carlisle's orders, and I confronted him."
"Where?"
"What?"
"Where, Bella? Where did you confront him? Don't tell me you went to his house when you thought he took those photos. Tell me you're not that stupid!"
Ouch.
I feel like I've been slapped. Hard.
Yeah, I know he is angry, but he took that too far. And I don't have to say anything. With a slight raise of my eyebrows, Dad begins to look somewhat ashamed. He ducks his head down, breaking eye-contact, and then gives me a slight nod to continue.
Taking a deep breath, trying to be the bigger person, I do.
"I confronted Carlisle during the Cullen's spring party, you know, when there were hundreds of people there." I don't mention that we had words in the privacy of Carlisle's office.
"And he had no idea, but he questioned Esme about it later, so I know it was her. And while I was there, I also found a picture of Mom in his office… a recent picture."
Dad's face pales. No matter how much evidence he has, how much proof, each additional piece is still bound to hurt him, to twist the knife in further.
My anger towards him for the name-calling begins to ebb.
"And then, Dad…" I sniff, my swollen eyes watering again, "Edward told me today that… that his mother told him we were brother and sister!"
"Oh, Honey…" He presses his hand to his mouth and his eyes crinkle at the corners with concern. He looks at me with compassion, with understanding.
And it feels amazing to have someone share the grief with me, the pain that has made me sick to my stomach since speaking with Edward this afternoon. It feels so good to let him know, to let him comfort me.
And he does.
With his arm wrapped around my shoulder, my head leaning against his chest, we watch my favourite movie, The Blues Brothers. A bowl of popcorn rests on his lap, and glasses of soda sit on the coffee table.
And everything else that needs to be said, like how he found out about Mom's affair, and everything that needs to be done, like telling Edward that we're not related, can wait until tomorrow.
Because tonight, all I want to do is spend some time with my dad.
A/N: Anyone catch the quote from Breaking Dawn? ;)