A/N: Hey all. Wow, so single dad Edward is a very popular genre then. All things will be revealed, but one person in the reviews guessed why Frowning Daddy slammed the door on Bella's face in chapter one. No one's guessed why he didn't write an address and phone number on Addie's birthday invite yet, though ;)
I hope you enjoy. This one isn't beta'd either. I'm giving Kim the time she needs, but thanks to StarryEyedWriter for pre-reading.
Footprints in the Sand
Chapter 3
"I am Charlie Swan's daughter. I am Charlie Swan's daughter. I am Charlie Swan's daughter," I mutter my latest mantra as I walk along the small pathway that cuts through flawless lawn flanked by sharply right-angled hedging to the porch of the blue Craftsman.
Normally, it's not something I have to remind myself of, but a mile out from the ridiculously posh neighborhood of Denny-Blaine I had what Alice would only describe as a crisis, and came very close to bailing. And then again, when I turned onto his street and drove past various prestige cars. And then again when I found the right address, looked up and saw the crystal-peaked ocean as the backdrop to his story-book, perfectly-put-together home.
Charlie, after all, had a side-eye that could stop a cougar in its tracks; something I never quite mastered. I'm hoping it's something I inherit with age, because I sure as hell could use it right about now.
Pink, helium-filled balloons are tied to the mailbox that gently tumble in the sea breeze, as well as three more taped to the front door. There's laughter on the other side of it; of children and adults alike. I knock, too timidly, reminding myself of my genealogy, and talk myself out of breaking into hives.
Much like the previous week in front of the Dutch Colonial, footsteps in tune with my increasingly panicked heart echo across the floor before the door is pulled open wide.
Frowning Daddy stands in the entrance, a white, long-sleeved polo and jeans replacing his three-piece suit. His hair is just as neat, and the collar of his shirt is popped.
He's definitely gay.
"Erm..." he mumbles looking awkward and uncomfortable more than anything, but not before, again, something starts in his face, and he almost appeared to do a double take at the pitiful sight of me before him. "May I help you?" he asks, his voice practically failing, until I notice those incredibly sharp green eyes of his fix to my hospital I.D that I'd thrown over my neck haphazardly earlier in a mad scramble to free my hands and find my keys.
I open my mouth, but all sound is lost on me. I contemplate throwing Addie's present at him and making a run for it back down his obscenely perfect lawn, but I don't, because just as he rises his eyes back to mine, my father's DNA decides to take charge.
"Hello, I'm Bella-from-next-door-to-grandma's-house," I say with just the right amount of indignant sarcasm without appearing petty and unhinged. "Thank you for the invite," I continue on, mildly satisfied as his expression pales and becomes almost appalled, "but I have to work today, so I thought I'd drop Addie's present off beforehand."
"Y-you're Bella?" he asks in a stammer as a notable tinge of blood floods his neck. My eyes zero in on it, distracted, because that was not what I expected him to say.
He clears his throat softly—whether to rid himself of his own awkwardness I'm not altogether sure, but as my eyes snap back to his I arch a confused, questioning brow. "You handed me my mail not long ago. Didn't you read the name on the front?"
"No." He clears his throat a second time, a little rougher, as a perfectly sculpted arm raises to run a hand over his shoulder to the back of his neck. His eyes break from mine back to my I.D badge. He frowns. Deeply, as if the sight of a hospital employee's identification is somehow troubling.
I shake my head, forcing back the snort I can feel forming at the back of my throat. "Okay, well, please tell Addie I hope she has a nice birthday," I add, holding out the Moana-wrapped gift, and just as he reaches for it, Addie herself comes bolting into the foyer toward me.
"Bella!" she shrieks wrapping both arms around my leg in a sugar-frenzied hug. "Hi!—Daddy, this is Bella!" she introduces him to me as if I were Moana of Motunui before turning to him and tugging on his popped-collared polo.
He smiles down her in an amused, tender kind of way, his eyes all but lighting up in their depths. His smile is just as obscenely handsome as the rest of him, I note, and for a fleeting moment I'm almost jarred by it; by the open affection he obviously harbors for her. Until his eyes again meet mine, that is.
"Hello, Bella," he meets my gaze squarely, and he humors his daughter almost as equally as his voice is patronizing.
He doesn't introduce himself in turn like a normal-functioning human being.
"Hello," I respond coolly, shifting my attention back to Addie before I knee him in the Cullen family jewels. My smile quickly forms in response to hers. "Well, Miss. Addie, happy birthday, and I hope you have a great day."
I hand her my present, and she takes it with an even brighter smile.
"Thanks, Bella—I will," she replies, her voice high and chirpy. "See you at Grandma's house."
"You sure will."
"You're a nurse," Frowning Daddy states just as I'm about to escape.
"Yes," I answer. "Labor and Delivery."
He pales and immediately grimaces. He actually grimaces as though I told him I breed tarantulas for a living, and no longer able to hold in my reaction to him, I scoff openly—albeit to myself.
He arches an immediate brow, but ignoring him I turn back to Addie and force the smile back to my lips.
"Bye, Addie."
"Bye, Bella." She holds her hand out to me, and after high-fiving her, I turn—without meeting the compromising glare of Daddy Jerkoff—and walk back toward my car.
"Asshole," I mutter, yanking open my car door just as I catch the sound of the door to the blue craftsman shut unceremoniously behind me. "Good-looking asshole."
. . .
By the time I arrive at the hospital and change into my scrubs in the locker room I'm still fuming, but in my line of work I don't have time to dwell on it. After grabbing several pens and my report sheet, I meet with the nurse whose patients I'm receiving and get updated. Three mothers per shift; three babies.
The patient in delivery room two is a first time mom, six centimeters dilated, her waters gone, and waiting on her epidural. Patient in delivery eleven has gestational diabetes, is allergic to penicillin, and is on her second VBAC – vaginal birth after a C-section. Patient in room twenty-one is having her second child, is at four centimeters with an intact amniotic sac, and prone to low blood pressure.
I'm beginning to suspect Frowning Daddy is a bad omen, because today is not a good day. Ad infinitum. Like most days on Labor and Delivery we're under-staffed. Several OBGYNs due to deliver their patients are called away on emergencies, one anesthesiologists is off sick, and I'm forced to kick out one overbearing mother-in law and a belligerent ex-partner, as well as dragging out a near-fainting teenage sibling.
One blowhard OBGYN talks to me as though I'm garbage, and makes me come infinitely close to tears, as well as want to slap him in the face with my clipboard. The jerk-face took his merry-ass time coming, and the baby was born before he arrived—as though it were somehow my fault. I caught the squirming nine-pounder, but apparently being unable to stop a woman in the worst pain she'll ever experience from pushing her rather large baby out warranted a harsh chew out.
Two of my three moms go natural, which only makes child birth that much more intense. One threatens to tear my hair out if I don't stop counting at her, and I'm fairly certain by the tenor of her screams I've lost a good percentage of my hearing.
After a cervical check, I inadvertently break my second patient's water, and get it up my nose. I'm vomited over when my patient with low blood pressure reaches transition, and thanks to the screamer who stood up post birth—after I told her explicitly not to thirty-seven times—and consequently fainted, I have to fill out an unnecessary incident report.
I don't get time to eat, drink, or pee—I barely had time to change my puked-over scrubs—and with four hours still left on my shift I'm exhausted.
After baby three is born, checked, charted, and latched, I'm given a fifteen minute break. It's just past eight P.M and I need coffee and at least a chocolate chip cookie.
I head to the cafeteria on the ground floor, because at this rate the mere idea of instant coffee makes me homicidal. I'm running, or at least I'm trying to anyway, but not only am I desperate for a decent cup of coffee, I also want the time to drink it without scalding my throat.
I take the stairs—it's faster—and approach the internal entrance to the E.R that parallels the cafeteria. This is when I slow my pace, only to round a corner and pull up short so hastily I almost trip over my own feet.
Roughly ten feet away, pacing back and forth manically, with all ten rigid fingers dragging through decidedly ungroomed hair, is Frowning Daddy. He looks up the instant I almost fall flat on my ass in an effort to double back, and like a deer caught in headlights, I freeze.
He's looks a wreck. Those clear, too-beautiful eyes of his are wide with anxiety, and he's very clearly so on edge his skin is practically crawling.
"H-hey," he stutters awkwardly, flashing me a barely put-together smile. "Bella?" he adds as though he's forgotten my name already.
"From next door to grandma's house," I finish, but my tone is unwittingly sarcasm-free because this man is very clearly overwrought.
A fleeting, somewhat sheepish, grin appears on his lips, before it quickly falls. "Addie b-broke her arm. I think. She's in..." without elaborating he raises his chin toward the E.R and once again tears his long fingers over his scalp.
"Oh..." My voice turns high and I whip my head toward the entrance.
"Can... you see how she is?" he suddenly appeals to me, his expression completely imploring. In fact, he's staring at me with so much pain reflecting in his eyes, I immediately falter.
I nod, and offer him a tense but reassuring smile. "Sure. Give me a moment."
Turning away from the cafeteria, I immediately head down the corridor and push through the double entry doors into emergency. It's jam-packed and busy like it always is with various doctors, nurses and interns scurrying back and forth between patients.
"Jay," I blurt, grabbing the arm of Jasper's white coat just as he's walking swiftly past.
"Bella—are you lost?" he teases me.
I return his grin automatically, and explain away my presence in the department that's not mine. "A little girl was brought in. Blonde, five years old... Her nervous parent is waiting outside."
Though, why he's outside and not inside with his child is anyone's guess.
He nods, his expression immediately sparking with resignation. "Adalyn?" I nod in return, rather impressed that he can recall her name. "She's just around the corner," he motions by jerking his thumb behind him. "I'll talk later, okay?" He's busy; probably more so than I am.
Following Jay's vague directions, I head deeper into the E.R, until I catch the sound of Addie's voice above the commotion. She's crying, high pitched and in obvious pain.
"Bella!" she sobs, the instant I locate the bed she's in, before holding an arm out to me. The other is bandaged crudely in a sling around her neck.
Esme it sitting on a chair beside her, looking almost as concerned as her son in the foyer beyond.
"What happened, sweetheart?" I ask, sitting on the edge of her bed and pulling her gingerly into my arms.
"I fell off the jumping castle," she cries as big fat tears roll endlessly down her face, even as she attempts to clumsily wipe them dry.
"Oh no..." I say in a soothing voice, as Esme speaks up, sounding more than a little frustrated.
"We've been here for three hours—we're waiting for her to have an x-ray. Bella, would you be a dear and see what's taking so long?"
"Sure, I can do that," I oblige her, and squeezing Addie's uninjured hand I pull myself to my feet. "I'll be back in a moment, okay, sweetie?"
She only nods, her large eyes looking almost as traumatized as her father's, and my heart all but breaks for her.
"Jay." I once again track down Jasper as he's stitching up the eyebrow of a very drunk teenager. "Adalyn Cullen—what's happening with her?"
"Radiology's busy," he relays simply, his attention not deviating from the open wound before him. "Shouldn't be too long."
"Hey, gorgeous. I'd rather be seen by you," the boy slurs, turning his blood-shot gaze to me.
I only scoff before again meeting Jasper's temperate blue eyes as he glances up. He throws me a bemused grin. "Sorry, Bella, it's all I can give you. It's pretty busy here tonight."
"Yeah, I can see that. I have to get back upstairs. I'll see you later."
There's nothing I can really provide Mrs. Cullen with aside from a prolonged stay, and semi-empty assurances. The ER is hectic at the best of times, but even more so on Friday and Saturday nights. A broken bone does not take priority, even when the owner of said broken bone is the sweetest child in existence.
"Would you like me to get you a coffee?" I offer her in consolation.
"Thank you." She smiles patiently looking as exhausted as I feel.
By the time I've handed Esme the steaming, Styrofoam cup and am pulling myself gently from an increasingly upset and sobbing Addie, my break is long over. There'll be no half-way decent coffee for me tonight, and more than likely another chew-out, and I still haven't delivered the good news to Frowning Daddy.
He only sighs and tsks to himself before whipping his back to me as though I were the cause of it. His body language is once again is oozing with arrogant indifference; a part from those tense fingers continuing to sift through his striking-colored hair. They scream get-me-the-fuck-away-from-her.
"Thank you," he says in a stiff voice a moment later without bothering to turn back to me, and considering I gave up my break to be sent on errands by him, he has some damn nerve.
"No problem whatsoever," I reply, as each syllable that passes my lips bleeds with sarcasm. "Asshole," I add in a whisper for my own benefit, before I turn and head back to Labor and Delivery, sans coffee.
My next two shifts pass in the same manner, and by the time I've finished Monday night, I stumble home, barely coherent, or even awake, and drop into bed fully clothed.
I sleep almost twelve hours straight and at midday, I drag my ass out of bed, pull on my well-worn Nike sneakers and set out for the next four days' worth of recovery and ADHD therapy.
Addie's waiting for me on my final leg home, a bright pink cast covering her arm from her thumb to her elbow.
"Hi, Bella!" she greets me, holding out her cast to me proudly as I slow to a walk. "I broke my arm."
"So you did," I say, unable to hold back my grin.
"And look, Daddy, and Grandma and Uncle Emmett all signed it." She angles it for me to better see, and as I stare at the three names in black marker, my mouth practically falls open. Unlike her grandmother and uncle who'd signed themselves as "Grandma and Uncle E" her father's signature was simply E.C.
What kind of sterile, jerkoff of a father signs their daughter's cast E.C?
"That's... great, Addie," I acknowledge, fighting back my snort, "but I hope it didn't ruin your birthday."
"Not really. I got lots of presents, but..."
"Not a puppy?" I finish for her, because judging by her obvious disappointment it's not hard to guess.
"No, but I like the puppy you gave me!" she quickly adds.
"You did?—I'm glad. Did you like the movie?"
"Yes, but Daddy won't watch it with me." She scrunches up her nose and pouts.
"Won't he?" I ask frowning, as my opinion of her asshole daddy continues to plummet.
"No." She shakes his head. "He's a big baby sometimes."
"Doesn't he like puppies?" I ask for reasons unknown, because it's not as if I want to know anything more about him.
"He doesn't like babies," she answers candidly, and I immediate pause.
"Babies?" I echo blankly, before shaking it from my thoughts. I don't care what that jerkoff likes or dislikes. It's none of my business.
"Do you want to watch it with me now?" she suddenly asks, and when I glance over at her, her large, bright eyes are so pleading and hopeful that only a monster could turn her down.
"Erm..." On the other hand, I really don't want to inconvenience her grandmother, or be in the same space her asshole of a son often is.
"Please?" Her voice softens, and I'm nodding my head, relenting before I can open my mouth to articulate it.
"Okay."
"Yay!"
"Addie—" I begin.
"Grandma!" she shouts, whipping her head toward the Dutch Colonial. "GRAAAAANDMA!"
"What is it, darling?" Mrs. Cullen asks a moment later, after opening the front door and tugging her cardigan across her chest. "Hello, Bella, dear," she addresses me with a warm smile.
"Hello, Mrs. Cullen."
"Please call me—"
"Bella said she can watch Lady and the Tramp with me, Grandma!" Addie announces cheerfully, effective cutting her off.
"Erm, now, darling?" Esme puts to her granddaughter sounding less than enthusiastic.
"It's fine, really..." I attempt to placate her from feeling obligated into inviting me and my sweaty ass in her pristine home, when Addie suddenly unlatches the gate and tugs me into the yard.
"It's fine. Come on in, Bella. I have your mail, inside," she says with a sigh and holds out her arm in invitation.
Off Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's informal dining room is a family area with a large flat screen TV hidden inside a French provincial armoire-style cabinet. After opening both doors and sliding them back, Mrs. Cullen slots the DVD in the player, and ushers me to sit on her plush, very white couch, while she returns to the kitchen to make tea.
Addie jumps energetically beside me and thrusts a black marker in my hand. "Can you write on my cast too, Bella?"
"Sure," I agree, pulling off the top. "Whereabouts?"
"Hmm... here." Perhaps a little too predictably, she points out the section beside her father's initials, and groaning beneath my breath, I oblige her.
I print my name just higher than Frowning Daddy's stern-looking E.C, but Addie appears pleased nonetheless.
"Addie, darling, no bothering Bella too much," Esme announces her arrival, carrying two cups of tea in their saucers. One she holds out to me. "I added your sugar, Bella. I hope you don't mind."
"That's fine," I assure her, reaching out to accept it and taking a quick whiff of myself discreetly as I do. I went easy on my run today, and together with the arctic wind, I didn't break into too much of a sweat. Enough for Mrs. Cullen to deodorize her upholstery after I leave, at least.
After passing Addie a chocolate milk in a cup with a straw, Mrs. Cullen sit's herself politely beside me, and hits play on the remote control. It's openly clear it's the last thing she wants to do.
The movie starts, and Addie soon gives us both a running commentary. "Oh a puppy! I want a puppy like that!" and, "Oh she's having a baby—no wonder why Daddy doesn't like this movie." That one made Mrs. Cullen sit a little straighter in her seat and softly clear her throat, but completely oblivious to her, Addie continues, "Oh, a horse! Do you like horses, Bella?"
"I do," I answer.
"Then, I like horses, too. I've never been on a horse, but Daddy said he'll take me one day."
"Addie, hush and watch the movie," Mrs. Cullen scolds her.
"Okay, grandma," she whispers, only to begin again not two minutes later. "I don't like those cats. Why do they talk funny, Bella?"
"They're Siamese cats."
"What are Simonese cats?" she asks innocently.
"Um... they have blue eyes," is the best answer I can give her.
"My mommy had blue eyes," she adds without skipping a beat.
"Oh..." I reply, noting the had as opposed to has, as well as Mrs. Cullen again tensing behind her teacup.
"Addie, honestly," she says, clearly becoming exasperated.
"But she did." Addie turns her large eyes to her and blinks as though her grandmother's reaction is confusing her.
"I know, but hush. You're going to miss the movie."
Addie nods, and is quiet for no more than three minutes this time when she, again, continues, "Why does he call her pidge, Bella?"
"Um, it's like a nickname," I answer, unsure myself.
"What's his name?"
"The Tramp?" I glance toward Mrs. Cullen; she only shakes her head subtly in answer. She has no idea, either.
"That's a funny name," Addie says to herself. "I like this movie. Do you like it, Bella?"
"I like it."
"Do you like Moana more?"
"Addie!" Mrs. Cullen bursts, her tone edging with impatience for the first time. "One more word and I'm turning it off."
"Bella?" Addie whispers to me sixty-seconds later.
"Yes?" I whisper back, attempting to keep my expression neutral for the benefit of Mrs. Cullen who's beginning to massage her forehead with perfectly manicured fingernails.
"Grandma doesn't like me talking when a movie's on. Do you mind?"
"I don't mind," I reply, placing my index finger to my lips.
Addie giggles and mirrors me.
"Oh, puppies!" She can't control her enthusiasm, or volume of her voice, by the end of the movie. "I like puppies!—do you like puppies, Bella?"
"Of course I like puppies," I answer.
"Grandma is allergic," she reminds me of what she's already disclosed.
"I am," Esme says curtly and with a heavy sigh.
"Oh, look the baby is big now!" Addie points out. "He has blue eyes, too—my mommy had blue eyes."
"Addie!" Mrs. Cullen's tone is stern now, and in response Addie clamps her hand over her mouth.
"Sorry, Grandma," she speaks behind her palm, and this time I completely fail at preventing my grin from spreading wide, but Addie is just too adorable.
"What's funny, Bella?" she asks, removing her hand and tilting her head, just as something catches her eye and she whips it behind her. I follow her gaze and just as my heart splutters to a horrifying pit stop, Addie sucks in her breath and exclaims, "DADDY!"
A/N: Thanks for reading. See you next week, or maybe sooner.