Six

I awake with a troubled start, muddy images of my dream still clouding my mind, confusing me of what's real and what's not.

Am I in Forks?

Is Renee back to life?

Why is Charlie doing aerobics?

As I look around the still unfamiliar room, I come back to myself, realizing where I am, why I'm here and seeing no doofus cop in yellow spandex

"Be-e-ella-a-a, ooooh be-e-ella! Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey! Time for school."

Groaning at my fathers voice singing to me through my door, I collapse face first back onto my bed.

Monday. School. Torture. Ugh.

Wait . . .

Eggs and bakey?

My head shoots up and I shout, "You better not have touched that stove, Charles Lucas Swan!"

There's a creak from outside my closed door sounding like Pops shifting his weight atop the old floor boards — but then that's it — silence.

"Dad!"

"Humpf! Geez Bella, give me a little credit, I know what I'm —"

Charlie's cut off by the blaring of the smoke alarm downstairs.

"Ah, shit," he cries running down the stairs.

My first instinct is to jump out of bed and check the damage, maybe help him put the fire out if there is one, but the thought of having the chance to instead burn alive and not have to go to school, in a police cruiser at that, sounds too good to pass up.

DAF

The food didn't catch on fire, just started to smoke a bit, to only slight disappointment from me.

Now that I'm a little more awake I can see the flaw of my burning alive plan. First off I'm pretty sure it would hurt and second of all I'd miss Game of Thrones.

Not acceptable.

"I'm sorry about your breakfast, kiddo, I just wanted you to have a good start to your day before shipping you off to a new school." Charlie says gruffly, trying to scrape the burnt eggs from the pan into the trash. After making little headway he just growls and let's the whole pan fall into the garbage.

I giggle at his put out expression and raise my glass of OJ his way in salute. "Don't worry, Pops, you did. But from now on I think it's best I do the cooking."

He looks up from his lost skillet and grins at me, his good humor back, nodding enthusiastically. Poor guy probably only gets a home cooked meal when Sues around, and by his face I'm guessing that's not as much as he'd like.

"Do we have time to pick something up at The Diner?" I ask.

"Uh, yeah, I think so — here," Charlie tosses me some keys, "I'll follow."

Umm . . .

Instead of looking at the keys I stare at him confusedly.

"What? Am I taking the cruiser for a joy ride and you're running behind it or something?"

Pops rolls his eyes and tells me to just look at the keys already.

I do and I don't know whats up with me today but I'm left still confused for what felt like minutes until I realize these aren't the keys to the cruiser.

My head snaps up, jolting the middle of my shoulders a bit — but I ignore the twinge of discomfort, and see Pops leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, the spatula still in his grasp, and a very self satisfied look on his face.

"Oh my god, what did you do?" I accuse, excitement filling my eyes and a smile commanding my lips.

"I don't know — you just have to go see." He answers with a wink, jerking his head towards our front yard.

I don't need to be told twice.

Running with a giggle, I tear the front door open, ignoring the abusive cold, to see the hottest truck ever, parked in our driveway.

A classic beauty. A timeless creation. A fucking badass hot rod.

I have no idea what the make or model is, all I know it's black and shiny and mine.

"It's a 1970 Chevrolet, completely restored." Charlie, breaking the silence reminds me I've been staring at the beautiful piece of art for a while now.

Turning back to my dad with wide eyes and an agape expression, I try to force words out of my mouth but just end up sputtering random syllables.

Charlie chuckles and grabs my shoulders. "Breathe, Bells."

Rolling my eyes, I finally find words.

"Dad, this must have cost a fortune, how did you — why —"

Seeing I've lost my words again he lets me off the hook and answers my unfinished question.

"Not to bring down the moment or anything," he starts off, sounding shy, "but when your mother left and took you with her, moving so damn far away and so often, I knew I probably wouldn't be able to see you too much or watch you grow up. I knew I'd miss the small, hell and the big things — everything really, so I started saving up, so I can at least do one thing a father is supposed to for his kid and get you your first car. I was gonna wait until your 18th birthday and drive it out to you, but seein' as you're here and need a ride, I don't see why you don't deserve it a bit early." He winks.

Tears are threatening to fall from my eyes by the time Pops is done talking but I will them away.

Unsuccessfully.

They leak out as I wrap my arms around his bulky but fit waist.

"Pops, I can't believe you did this for me. A car is one thing, you coulda just got me a simple used, starter car for cheap, dad— this is a classic, it musta cost —"

"Not as much as you'd think, actually." Charlie Intercedes with a proud smile.

I look up at him, unbelieving.

"The truck belonged to my friend down at the reservation Billy Black, you remember him? You used to be good friends with his twin girls Rebecca and Rachel? Would have mud pie wars with his son Jacob?"

Realization trickled through me.

"Oh yeah, I remember him, he was the one that was in the terrible car crash, right?"

Charlie looks away, thinking deeply. "Oh, yeah, I forgot — Renee hadn't taken you yet by the time Billy had his accident."

I nod, clutching my keys to my chest.

Now that I'm reminded of Billy Black and his family, I suddenly remember a lot of what happened, quite clearly.

I remember hearing Pops on the phone late one night — God . . . That's always how it starts, isn't it? A late night phone call that never seems to wake the whole family, just the person the news is for. Then the grief of your loved one receiving the terrible news is what wakes you, I don't know why, but somehow it always does.

In hindsight, I guess that was my first real clue my mother didn't care about my father. I had awoken, passed by their cracked bedroom door to see her fast asleep.

When I reached downstairs, I was shocked by what I saw.

My strong, fun loving father was sitting in his old, beat up recliner in the living room, folded in on himself and weeping silently but harshly.

I didn't say anything, I just pushed at his shoulders until he was sitting back in his chair, climbed up onto his lap — as I did when he read me the funny pages every night, and held on for dear life — him doing the same.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but after a while I fell asleep, only waking slightly when Pops put me back into my bed and again when I heard his cruiser pull out of our gravel drive way.

Life was tense for the next week, all I was told was Billy had survived a car crash, but just barely, his legs from the knees down paralyzed forever. But his wife, Sarah, hadn't made it.

I can't for the life of me remember Sarah. I'm sure I knew her, but I can't remember what she looked or sounded like.

I do remember bits and pieces of her funeral, though, all of La Push, an Indian reservation was in attendance and most of Forks.

I have no idea what most of it meant, the rituals The Quileute tribe had practiced that day, but the sacred beauty of it would have been apparent to even a blind man.

The air had been saturated with a thousand emotions and sounds that, individually, beat by beat — motion by motion, you've heard your whole life, but when the Quileutes had put them together, it sounded as if they had just been discovered. Even then as a child, I had appreciated the perfect balance of familiar alienness.

Brought out of my freshly dug up memory, I smile softly back at my father.

"So the truck belonged to Billy? Why in the world would he give up such a beaut?" I ask.

Pops snorts.

"Psh, it wasn't a beaut a year ago. It was a rusted death trap, just collecting spider webs in their shed. Billy had finally gotten tired of it takin' up space and was gonna have Jacob sell it for parts, so I asked to buy it off of him, but the damn fool wouldn't sell it to me in the condition it was in, said he be cheatin' me. But then Jacob, a mechanical prodigy by the way, said if I could pay for the parts, he'd restore it and then I could buy it off Billy."

"Well seein' as I was planin' on buyin' and restoring it anyways we all agreed and everyone walked away happy. Billy got to sell me a nice lookin' and fully working truck, Jacob got to indulge his passion and I get to gift my little girl with a special truck, and not some cheap hunk a junk that would only last you a few years. This baby will last the distance, guaranteed — They don't make 'em like this anymore. And the cherry on top — I only paid half of what I had saved up."

Pops ends his story with a proud smile, clearly pleased with himself at how he finessed the situation.

"You're a genius, Pops!" The guy just gave me a truck, a beautiful classic, that would make any hot rod enthusiast green — no harm in throwin' the man a bone.

We grab our things and lock up; Pops shows me all the basics I'll need to know for now and told me he'll let it slide that I don't have a Washington state drivers license yet and can drive anyways.

"I know — I know you have your license, but it's for Arizona not Washington, so just don't get pulled over, at least until we can get you to the DMV."

I agree chuckling and caressing the soft black leather wheel.

"You know how to drive a stick, right?" Charlie asks, leaning on folded arms in the open window.

I give him a startled look.

"Uhhh . . ."

He curses, obviously not expecting me to be the one to ruin his epic plan.

"Aaahhh —" I call out, "I'm just messing with you, old man, I can drive a stick."

Charlie ruffles my hair and I swat his hand away quickly.

"Hey! Watch it, you'll smush my curls."

Charlie chuckles walking to his cruiser and shouts over the freezing wind he'll follow me to The Diner.

I start up my new truck, the loud engine coming to life music to my ears.

I know school will be tough, but this amazing gift has definitely given me a new confidence. I feel like I can take the whole world on in my badass classic.

Let's hope this feeling lasts.

AN: Thank you to all the people that have faved and followed my story and especially to all that leave reviews, please keep 'em coming and I'll update as soon as I can.