Ten: Son-in-law
After a quick round of hugs, Bella, Alice, and I head back to the main house to call Renée from the landline. Rey naturally wants to come with us, but resists asking because she understands that having to lie to Grandma Renée is hard for Mommy, so she enthusiastically seconds Rosalie that they'll spend this time making something pretty for her. I'm impressed by her maturity, but even more impressed by the degree of separation between her feelings and the thoughts she is sharing—only the merest hint of disappointment bleeds into them.
As we run through the trees, Alice looks ahead to find the conversation between Bella and Renée. Bella can't tell her that we'll visit when she knows we won't, so the only effective lie Alice has seen us going with is that we're moving to Rio (though Bella isn't exactly happy with that either). And Bella's subdued description of Dartmouth today will lead Renée herself to suggest we quit college and go traveling.
"Good or bad?" Bella asks the moment Alice looks her way.
Alice grins. "Good. Moan about the weather and your classmates getting on your nerves, and Renée will suggest taking some time out to do more traveling." Bella sighs without looking remotely reassured, so Alice adds, "She's happy as long as she knows you're happy."
"And," I say, injecting as much cheer into my voice as I can muster, "she'll love getting photos—"
"Without us in them," Bella mutters.
"That's nothing new," Alice teases.
"Esme sent her a ton of wedding photos," I say, realizing Bella probably isn't aware of that—and she does seem surprised, and a little hopeful. "All carefully focused on you and your human family and friends, with the rest of us artfully out of focus or only partly in frame."
She smiles, then actually chuckles. "I forgot about the wedding photos—well, I forgot Renée would have them; I remember us taking them. I'm surprised there aren't any up in the main house."
"They're tucked away in Esme and Carlisle's closet—ready to go wherever you want them."
She frowns. "I understand that for the cottage, but not the main house—that's theirs."
Alice and I share a chuckle. "If you weren't an exceptional newborn," I say, enjoying the dismissive eye roll Bella gives in response, "there'd be no telling how you might've reacted to them."
"I was still human when we got home," she points out, mildly exasperated.
"And Esme didn't want to bombard you with images of your perfection—" that earns me an eye roll and a snort—"when you might've been feeling less than comfortable."
"That's really the reason?"
I shrug. "She knew you weren't exactly a fan of photos, and it's not as though they need a photo in front of them to see it."
She starts to smile again, but it turns into a frown as the river comes into view.
The three of us naturally pause outside the house, and a moment of wordless communication passes between the two women. Alice wants to stay—as both moral and 'technical' support—but she understands that Bella would rather we be alone, so she gives her the briefest of hugs and then dashes back to the others.
Bella stares off in the direction of the river while I unlock the door, then marches straight to the phone and dials Renée's number.
Renée answers after two and a half rings. "Hello?" she says hopefully.
"Hey, Mom," Bella 'growls' into the phone, matching her mother's cadence and managing to make her voice ever so slightly huskier at the low volume.
"Bella!" she gushes. "Happy birthday, honey!"
"Thanks, Mom."
"I hope you're enjoying the day."
"I had a class this morning," she says, the tremor in her voice from the lie further masking the change in tone, "and there's another one coming up, but Edward's making sure it's not just a normal day—breakfast in bed, the works."
Renée laughs, no doubt fully aware that Bella would much rather pretend it were a normal day. "Good! Are you liking your classes? How's Hanover?"
"It's pretty."
Renée waits a moment (as do I), but when her reticent daughter doesn't elaborate, she stifles a sigh. "I know it's only been a month since the wedding, but it feels like forever since we last spoke."
"Yeah, it does. I'm sorry."
"Oh, sweetie, don't be sorry. Did you see the photo of the photo I'll send you once you tell me your address?"
"Yeah, it's great," Bella enthuses, clearly welcoming a topic that doesn't require her to lie. "You and Phil look like real viticulturists. The course sounds like it was fun."
"Yes, it was brilliant—and a real eye-opener. I had no idea America has native grapes." But she isn't distracted, asking for our address in the next breath.
"Our mail isn't easy to get to," Bella hedges. "But the email—"
"Bella, you know that's not the same! And I want to talk with you, too. I miss our conversations."
"I do, too," Bella murmurs.
"Oh, sweetie—I know life must be so exciting right now, with so many big changes happening all at once. I just want to feel like I'm still a part of it."
"You'll always be part of me," Bella replies, her tone almost fierce with conviction.
I have no doubt Renée noticed the subtle rephrasing; I wish I could hear what she's thinking. "I know, honey. I love you so much," she murmurs emotionally.
"Love you, too, Mom."
Renée hums happily. "So, how are you enjoying your classes?"
Bella takes a preparatory breath. "They're interesting," she says halfheartedly, "but our classmates are a bit irritating, and I obviously don't 'get' what's fun these days. I'd rather spend time with Edward on our own, like it was on the island."
"Oh, yes, Esme told me all about it, and I loved your email about swimming with dolphins and sea turtles—it sounds like paradise!"
"It is," Bella agrees, her tone instantly warm and settled. "I miss it so much. We'll definitely go back there."
"You know, you could always take some time out from studying and do a bit more traveling."
"I can't just quit college," Bella mumbles guiltily.
"Yes, you can—if you're not happy there, don't stay because you're worried about wasting the money. You need to do what's right for you. Maybe see how you feel after another week or two, but if you're still not settling in, it's not wrong to look for something else, and it's not quitting. I'm sure Carlisle and Esme will be supportive—I know Esme thinks Edward could do with a little more life experience."
I have to smother my amusement.
"Thanks, Mom," Bella murmurs gratefully, touched by her mother's generous counsel (though I can see the smile tugging at the side of her mouth, too). "You're right. Edward let me choose Dartmouth, so maybe there's somewhere he'd like to go; he got a kick out of speaking Portuguese with the locals in Rio."
Renée laughs. "I heard he started learning it all on his own when they first started going there."
"Yeah, he loves languages; they come naturally to him. He's been reading poetry to me in Portuguese most nights."
"Sounds very romantic."
"It is. It makes me feel like we're back on the island."
"Maybe I should ask Phil if he'd like me to read him some French poetry," Renée enthuses, getting into the spirit of it. "The book I'm reading at the moment is all about spices, and it's fascinating—all about the histories of usage and trade, alongside the health benefits—so I've read him a few passages from that, but reading in another language would be something different. Oh, we could read The Count of Monte Cristo—I haven't read that in French since I was in college!"
"Great idea, Mom. What's that spice book?" she asks, cleverly instigating a long story about turmeric, another 'power' spice.
After several minutes of simply oohing and aahing, Bella says, "I'll look for some up here," getting in before Renée can offer to send us some, and then she regretfully ends the call by saying she has to get ready for class.
"That went well," I offer, but she just sighs and dials Charlie's number.
If I weren't focused on her much poorer effort to mask the change in her voice, I'd laugh at how surprised he sounds that Bella has called. They exchange quick birthday salutations and thanks, and then Charlie asks, "How's Hanover?"
She tenses, clearly struggling to give the response she'd given Renée, before saying, "Let me tell you about our honeymoon first—the island is so beautiful. We explored every inch of it, from the beach to the very center of the jungle, and the water was incredible—so warm and crystal clear."
He chuckles. "Esme said you wouldn't want to leave."
"I could live there forever," she agrees with a genuine smile.
"So, how does Hanover compare?"
She frowns, sucks in a breath, and then blurts, "I don't know. We're in Forks."
"Forks?" he repeats, too bemused to be shocked yet. "Why?"
"It's complicated."
He doesn't answer for a moment; then he says, "Can I come over?"
We both turn into statues at the thought of Charlie coming here right now. Bella stares at me, her eyes wide with fear and some other emotion… longing? Is she hoping I'll support or reject his request?
"I'm here for you," I murmur, wanting to express my confidence in her, whatever she decides.
"Yes," she says into the phone.
I barely register Charlie's hurried, "Seeya soon," as he ends the call.
Once I've worked through the automatic shock, I find myself smiling—helped in no small part by Rey's reaction when Alice announces that her grandpa is coming to visit. Bella will be so much happier if her father can remain in her life—and be in Rey's life—and although his scent will physically hurt, the way she describes the burn implies she'll experience less pain than any other days-old newborn would.
Bella is surprised by my smile. "You don't think it's a bad idea?"
"His scent won't be easy to endure—it will physically hurt—but I think you're at least as good at suppressing the burn as Carlisle was at your age."
She smiles, and then bites her lip. "So, what now?"
"Everyone's already on the way. Rey can't wait to meet Grandpa Charlie."
The reminder brings back her smile—for all of two seconds before she's back to biting her lip. I share as much as Alice told the others, that Charlie will be pleased to see her but grumpy with Carlisle and me, and although I'm able to confirm less than half a minute later that Alice sees her coping satisfactorily, her nerves are still present when our family (and Jacob) arrives.
Rey leaps into her mother's arms and presses both hands to her face, sharing her excited thoughts and confidence in her mother's ability to resist the temptation of Grandpa's blood. Bella cuddles her tightly, her eyes on Alice.
Alice repeats the key points from her vision of Charlie's arrival: "You'll do great, and Charlie will be happy to see you."
Another moment of wordless communication passes between them; Alice interprets Bella's look as probing her for any 'alternative' possibilities she may have witnessed and returns it with an earnest look of her own (because she hasn't seen any bad outcomes), which Bella accepts. Their relationship is like it was, but more; is it only my ability to 'read' Bella that has diminished?
Then Esme takes charge of coaching Bella on the little human mannerisms she'll need to adopt around Charlie. After watching her blink to understand how slow that movement needs to be, Bella tries it herself—except she aborts the motion halfway through, opening her eyes at what no doubt feels like a more normal speed but would be disturbing for a human.
"Almost!" Esme enthuses.
Bella nods seriously and tries again. This time, she moves her eyelids steadily, at the right speed.
"Perfect!"
She chuckles. "Feels weird."
"You'll get used to it."
She nods, blinks once more, then fixes her eyes on me. "I don't think I've closed my eyes since my 'conversion'," she says with a chuckle. "All those times you watched me blink—how boring!"
"Boring?" I object. "When I had the chance to gaze upon you freely?"
She chuckles again even as she rolls her eyes, before returning to her practice.
When she starts working on how to look like she's taking a breath without actually drawing in any air, Rosalie jumps in with a warning. "Rapid movements will look as wrong as no movement."
"And I look wrong enough already," she mutters, as she steps up her practice by combining blinking and breathing.
"Not as 'wrong' as we thought you would," I say, taking the opportunity to describe the small changes between Alice's vision and her realized vampiric form. As anticipated, she loves my theory that she'll be permanently stronger than I am.
Once she has mastered the tricks—made easier by Rey and Seth (and Jacob) having already helped her learn what 'human speed' is—I turn my attention to Rey. Thanks to her physical maturity (her body is already equivalent to an average 15-month-old's, but she is slimmer, which makes her look older, and everything about her is so mature—her eyes, her expressions, the way she holds herself—that she could even pass for a two-going-on-three-year-old), she will only need to change one thing about how she acts…
When I tell her that she can't share her thoughts with Charlie, her immediate response is a rebellious, Why not?
"It would be scary for him. Remember, he doesn't know that sharing thoughts is possible, and we can't tell him about our gifts without telling him we're vampires—and we're not allowed to do that."
She isn't happy about it, but she accepts the most important part of my reasoning: she doesn't want to scare him.
"Do you want to try not sharing your thoughts with the others?"
She considers it for a moment, utterly sure of her capacity to do so, then simply narrows the focus of her 'thought-broadcast' until I'm the only one still hearing anything. There is a very slight difference in her thoughts; they are no less clear or present in my mind, but they 'feel' different. Their 'texture' is softer somehow, though that explanation doesn't clarify it much for the others when I try to describe it.
She concentrates for another few seconds, then eases off without ending the block on her thoughts. She imagines there's a switch that is currently 'off', and when she flicks it to 'on', the others can suddenly hear her again. Being privy to Rey's effortless expansion of her skills, it feels as though her gift is limitless. Maybe she could even learn to share her thoughts without direct contact…
Naturally, everyone is full of praise for our little prodigy. Carlisle is slightly distracted by wondering if I could turn off my telepathy. But thanks to Eleazar, I know I've tapped into the full extent of my gift; refining what I consciously hear and extending my range are the only aspects I can work on.
While Alice shows Bella the assortment of colored contact lenses she has amassed for her, a much bigger thought hits me: maybe Bella's gift has a 'switch', too, and I can't hear her because it's currently set to 'off'… So, could she turn it back on? But I temper the fresh hope before I do something rash. Eleazar will be here in 23 days. I can wait that long.
Bella's confidence wanes with each lens she tries on. None of them remotely approximates her original eye color right now, so deciding which shade to use isn't easy.
Hoping to help her feel more prepared, I offer a key piece of advice. "If you need something to focus on, focus on our breathing; try not to focus on his heartbeat."
Her eyes widen and then her gaze darts to Jacob and back. Aware of her struggles, I am even more conscious of his loud heart as it thuds wetly through the seconds.
She takes a deep breath, grimacing faintly, perhaps at the sensation of increased thirst, then nods. "If I start thinking about Charlie's heartbeat—" her eyes flit across Jacob's pulsing jugular vein, then back to my face—"I'll know to leave."
"If you can't distract yourself from thinking about it," I suggest, amending the plan slightly. Jasper thinks it'll be too late by then, but I'm confident she'll be able to leave if she has to; the way she manages her thirst at all times, whether hunting or in the midst of the wolves' loud hearts and Rey's speeding pulse, is ample proof.
"Was that what you did?" she asks.
"What I did?"
"You knew you had to leave when you couldn't stop thinking about my heartbeat?"
The idea is so comical that I would laugh if it weren't also a damning reminder of my inexcusable recklessness. "There were many times I should have left," I admit. Rey is a little taken aback by my solemnity, so I return to our previous topic without elaborating. "The practice you've already had ignoring the wolves' hearts will help."
Bella smiles, comforted, but Jasper privately dismisses the point—Charlie's scent will change everything. Not for the first time, he thinks about how good Bella's father smells; although his scent is nothing to his daughter's, Jasper knows from Alice that it is above averagely appealing.
We reposition the couch and are opening a few windows to direct the main airflow of the room across Bella from outside when the cruiser turns onto our driveway. Bella takes a deep breath, then surrenders our daughter to her grandmother. Alice, Jasper, and Jacob follow Esme and a grumbly Rey into the kitchen, while Carlisle goes to open the door.
Charlie jogs up to the front door, keen to see his daughter, and yet his nerves are on high alert—so much so that he tenses when he sees Carlisle. But he shakes it off quickly, nods to him, and strides inside. The moment he sees Bella, he freezes, experiencing a prickle of unease as he processes the unfamiliar, intangible sensation of danger generated by her altered features.
The fact that she is sitting stiffly on the couch rather than jumping up to greet him no doubt makes the moment feel even more wrong. He wants to go to her, but hesitates. Bella sees and reacts to his unease with visible guilt—and Charlie finds his compassionate daughter in this frightening creature who suddenly looks so much like one of us. His deep love for her drowns out the shock, and he manages a half-smile before taking a quick breath and then marching over to the nearest armchair, which is positioned side-on to the couch.
Once he is seated comfortably (a process that perhaps takes longer than it really should), he says, his voice only slightly strained as he tries to sound causal, "So, what happened to Hanover?"
To help Bella conserve the precious, untainted air in her lungs as long as possible, I claim the question, offering up a story about our flight being delayed a day, so we decided to stay on the island even longer and delay our college start. Charlie experiences a burst of anger towards me and his frown deepens with every word, so I cut the story short with a quip about swimming with sea turtles being irresistible. It doesn't help. When his pulse starts to increase with his temper, Jasper uses his gift to calm things down—except, in his diligence, he is a little too efficient. Charlie feels the sudden wave of calm and tenses, though his natural level-headedness helps him shrug it off quickly.
"Good thing I didn't tell anyone about Dartmouth," he quips, a strong sense of suspicion adding to his irritation with me—perhaps because Sue had counselled him to keep it under wraps for the time being, and that must seem prophetic in light of our unexpected return to Forks. "What's going on?" he asks Bella point-blank.
She gives him a rueful smile. "It's a long story, Dad," she murmurs, tensing when his eyes widen all over again in response to her new voice; the effort she'd made to hide the change wasn't nearly enough to roughen it, even for Charlie's ears. She gives a soft 'cough', which only emphasizes the differences. "There's someone we'd like you to meet first."
Rey knows that's her cue and tries to pull free of Esme's hold, but Esme tightens her arms around her and whispers to her to be mindful before stepping slowly into the room, trying to limit the effect of her motion on the air around Charlie, while making just enough noise to catch his attention. (Jacob goes to follow, no thought for Bella or Charlie, but Rosalie and Emmett bar the way and he grudgingly stays behind.)
The moment Charlie's gaze shifts from Esme to the alert little girl in her arms, who is beaming at him like he's her most favorite person in the whole world, he feels an overpowering surge of emotion that engulfs me like I've been doused in a million gallons of beautiful, sun-drenched water. The wonder, the love, the sheer joy he feels make it difficult not to react, but focusing on Bella—and the pain of her thirst (which Jasper's thirst evokes all too easily)—helps me contain myself.
After that initial moment, the shock begins to rise in him once more, and I assume he has noticed the mix of my and Bella's features in this little girl—even before she blurts out, "Grandpa!"
But his undiminished rapture helps him work through the shock, and he can't not respond to her. When she holds out her hands for him, he lifts her out of Esme's arms and sits her on his knee.
Bella smiles as she watches her father and our daughter gaze at each other in wonder. As she takes a quick little breath, I marvel at the poised creature by my side. She must be struggling with the urge to quench the flames scorching her throat—though I feel no accompanying thirst, thinking about her struggle and experiencing Rey's enjoyment of Charlie's pleasant scent are making me more aware of it than ever—yet, somehow, she is enduring his presence as if she were years old.
"Dad," she murmurs, "meet Renesmee."
Rey wants to talk to him in her unique way, but I don't have to remind her why she can't; so, for only the second time in her life, she has something she considers worth saying aloud. "Your name is Charlie," she declares happily. "My middle name is Carlie. C-a-r from Grandpa Carlisle's name and l-i-e from yours—but it's really your name without the h. My first name is Grandma Renée's and Grandma Esme's names put together."
Amusingly, Charlie is the only one not excited by the long speech. He is certainly impressed, but she must look old enough to be capable of such speeches, so it doesn't register as another extraordinary feature—yet.
"They're very pretty names," he murmurs, moved that she is named after him. And then the timing issue seems to sink in as he starts trying to make sense of the mounting evidence that his granddaughter is sitting in his lap.
"She's my niece," I say, stepping in before the confusion overwhelms him, but that just makes him glare at me. "That's the official line," I dare to clarify, but my father-in-law is not appeased (and neither is my family).
"She's special," Bella murmurs, and his eyes fix on hers, demanding answers. "I'm sorry we can't explain," she adds guiltily.
And just like that, the nebulous anxiety that many things aren't adding up is replaced by the same drive to confront injustice that his daughter so often feels. "Why can't you?"
"It's complicated," she mumbles.
His face puckers up as he tries to work through the frustration and disappointment at being shut out. "You can tell me anything, Bells. I'll always be here for you."
"I know, Dad," she murmurs. "I would if I could."
He doesn't know what to say to that, so father and daughter stare at each other for a moment, both pleading with the other—one to open up and the other to let it go. Bella is the first to look away.
"She's got your curls," she says, redirecting his attention, and his emotions shift again, calming as he welcomes the familial bond between himself and the little girl on his lap.
Rey pulls on a clump of her curls then lets go, giggling as they bounce back into place, and he laughs with her—sending a suddenly concentrated dose of warm, mouthwatering air in our direction.
Bella freezes beside me, her thirst a powerful force in Jasper's mind. Her wild eyes are fixed on Charlie's neck, but I see no sign that her awareness of her predicament is slipping—and then she confirms that she is fully in control by leaping over the back of the couch and diving through the open window.
It is almost impossible not to follow—the need to be with her and my anguish at her distress tear at my heart—but I know she'd want me to stay. So I lock my body in place and hold my expression neutral. I'm beyond grateful when Alice goes after her, promising to do her best to remain within range of my telepathy.
When Charlie looks over, following Renesmee's concerned gaze, I am alone on the couch. He starts, but the shock quickly turns to anger. (This time, Jasper wisely doesn't intervene; without Alice, he needs to remain focused on settling his own thirst.)
"What have you done to her?" Charlie demands.
The direct question fills me with the sudden urge to tell him the truth (because it wouldn't surprise me if he came to terms with our monstrous condition almost as easily as his daughter did). But it is not solely his ability to cope that I must take into account. "She just needed some fresh air," I say, giving him as much truth as possible.
Rey understands why her mother left, so she tries to help by drawing her grandpa's attention to the unicorn brooch she made with Rosalie this morning. He is surprised by her acceptance of Bella's impossibly swift departure—and suspicious. But he conceals those emotions from Rey and engages in her story, asking if all unicorns have blue manes.
Rey giggles, shakes her head, and then reels off a list of the different colors that are possible, based on the unicorn's choice of diet—copper-eaters have blue manes, iron-eaters red, gold-eaters gold, and so on. Charlie feels a little burst of surprise with each new element she names, but it gets smaller each time.
Meanwhile, Alice has convinced Bella to stop running; she catches up as Bella crumples elegantly to the ground, grabbing fistfuls of moss and dirt as if to anchor herself in place, and taking gasping breaths that make her whole body shudder. Watching her trying to cry in her new, tearless form wrenches my heart, my mind, my whole being apart—but I rest my hands in my lap, cradling my wedding ring, and focus on the room, on remaining on the couch, on breathing and blinking, and hide my turmoil beneath an ordinary smile. It helps that this is exactly what she needs from me right now—to manage things with Charlie.
"I'm a monster!" she rages. "My dad—my own dad!"
"You didn't hurt him," Alice asserts.
"Didn't I?" she challenges. "How can Edward possibly explain?"
"Charlie can handle it."
"He shouldn't have to." Then she groans. "Of course Edward left! How could he bear it? I was so selfish!"
Alice can't imagine any reason strong enough to justify my abandonment sans hindsight; but, sympathetic to Bella's distress, she simply kneels down and wraps her arms around her.
Inside, Rey pauses for comment after listing five metals, one halogen, and two non-metals, going into more and more detail about the various (real-world-accurate) color tones they effect.
"So," Charlie says, "if they want different-colored hair, they just eat something else?"
"Yes," Rey confirms happily, thinking of her vampire family's golden eyes that are such a stark contrast to her mother's violent red.
"What's your favorite food?" he asks, eager to know more about her.
The way her eyes immediately gravitate to a point on his neck catches him completely by surprise. Every little hair on his body stands on end as a rush of unease washes over him. His pulse responds, too, and Rey realizes that he is upset.
Before she is tempted to try reassuring him with a shot of love straight from her heart, I speak up to distract them both. "I'm making pizza for lunch."
Rey immediately scrunches up her nose in an unmistakable gesture of distaste, and Charlie's heart reacts once more. But, this time, he recovers quickly. His emotions calm rapidly, and he easily manages a smile for his granddaughter. If only I could know what he's thinking… but I have no idea how or why he has so readily dismissed the moment of instinctive fear. (It's not as if he could understand it!)
"You don't like pizza?" he asks conversationally.
Rey shakes her head. "It's boring."
"I like pizza," he remarks; "maybe that's because I'm boring."
She giggles and shakes her head again. "You're funny, Grandpa."
He smiles, enjoying her laughter, or the 'compliment'—or both—but his composure slips a little when he glances my way. Something has definitely changed, but even Jasper can't tease out the subtle emotions hidden beneath the familiar anger directed at me and the powerful love for his granddaughter.
Hoping to give everyone a break, Esme suggests we play a game. Rey immediately proposes Scrabble, and Charlie seems to appreciate the idea of such an ordinary pastime. He agrees to play as a team with Rey, and I excuse myself by saying I'll make the pizza bases now. His mood palpably rises as I vacate the room, much to Jasper's amusement.
He's as 'intransigent' as Bella, he teases, thinking of a pertinent word we didn't use in Bella's word portrait, even as he pulls me into a hug—to "shield" me from my father-in-law's disapproval. Is Bella okay?
I nod, though my ongoing anguish implies otherwise. "She's working through the distress," I murmur, willing it to be true when she is still shaking with anger and grief.
Jasper presumes she's taken the opportunity to hunt, so I shake my head. He doesn't understand why she wouldn't hunt now, but he's sure that Alice will look after her—which leaves me in his charge. I shake my head again when he considers bolstering my mood, and then wriggle out of his arms so I can start on the pizza dough.
Satisfied by my steadily settling emotions, he returns to his spot by the door with the others (Rosalie and Jacob grudgingly move aside to let him back in, but they're both pleased to be farther from each other), where he can watch Rey without being seen by Charlie.
When the dough is ready, I think about sneaking out to see Bella; Charlie won't miss me for at least twenty minutes… Alice catches a vague vision of telling Bella that I'm on my way now and discourages me. Give her more time, she counsels; adding, You wouldn't be able to go home like nothing's happened, and Charlie would be suspicious when you walked back into the living room in different clothes.
So I take a deep breath and then start making another, much larger batch of dough—for cinnamon rolls.
By the time I go back into the living room, Rey and Charlie are arguing for the legality of "doubledecker". Charlie barely acknowledges me, but Rey wants me to champion their side, so I ask what they're discussing. She knows I'm well aware of it, so she rather impatiently restates her case; it's utterly adorable.
When I call out her specious argument (which amounts to the fact that all hyphenated compound words 'close' eventually), she gives an indignant huff that makes us all laugh.
"I concede," Esme speaks up, getting in first so that I can be the 'bad guy'. "You convinced me."
Rey beams at her, and then, after Carlisle agrees, she celebrates with Charlie.
While they finish off the game, I give my family the choice of what they'd like on their pizzas. Charlie picks every meat option I offer, liking the sound of an early lunch, and is actually open to being impressed when the aroma of pizza reaches his nose.
I made the bases different sizes, so Charlie's pizza is bigger than the two Carlisle, Esme, and I share. Rey stoutly refuses to try any. Charlie shoots me a loaded glance, clearly thinking of how frequently I turn down food, so I joke that Bella often skips lunch, too, and then share another story from Isle Esme.
Rey watches us eat in curious silence for a few minutes—it's the first time she has seen her vampire family eat, and she assumes we dislike solid food as much as she believes she would—before getting bored, so I suggest that she tell Charlie about her xylophone. That gets her excited, and she rushes out of the room to get it (a little too quickly, but luckily Charlie is distracted by the pizza).
When Esme jumps up, calling after her to say wait for her, I try to avoid an uncomfortable silence by asking how things are going in Forks.
Charlie interrupts gruffly; "Everyone's still insisting Bella's pregnant."
"We heard about that," I say, trying to keep it light and not get backed into a corner.
Of course, Charlie doesn't let it go. "Was she?" he says pointedly, asking exactly the right question.
When I hesitate, his censure beats at me, making it a struggle to think through the consequences of any answer. "No," I murmur, clinging to the flimsy technicality that makes the answer true (and bolstered by Carlisle's accord).
Charlie's feelings shift through anger, disbelief, confusion, shock, and pain. I'm not surprised when he doesn't say anything; I just wish I knew how to reassure him.
And then he scrutinizes my face more carefully than he has for a long time, his emotions fluctuating from predominantly negative to predominantly positive (I assume when he's thinking about Rey). Finally, he asks, "Does Renée know about Renesmee?"
I shake my head, confirming his growing dread. "Bella hopes we can tell her something in the future, but for now, it would be too difficult to explain."
He grimaces, but then nods. Alongside his deepening sorrow, I feel in him a flicker of the fear he'd felt at Bella's changed appearance, which I assume is him realizing that Renée would feel that same fear and not be able to get past it. He clears his throat quietly. "She thinks you're at Dartmouth?"
"Yes."
As he processes that, he feels a sudden flash of pride and determination. He stares hard at me. "Don't ever leave me out."
I give a vague nod, then change the subject before he can wrangle any sort of promise. "No one in Forks knows about Renesmee yet, but we'll introduce her as my niece if we do go into town—the daughter of my half-sister from my father's first marriage. Carlisle and Esme are fostering her temporarily; that's all anyone need know."
"No one in Forks," he repeats disdainfully, and I'm surprised he didn't interrupt me; it's more than a little unnerving to think that he in any way grasps the importance of the phony explanation.
"Seth and a few others—"
"Sue?"
"Seth might've told her," I concede, feigning ignorance, "but if she did know, she respected Bella's right to tell you herself."
He harrumphs at that, but does settle into a more understanding frame of mind—which lasts all of two seconds before he's glaring at me again. "Do you think Bella will be back any time soon?"
I have to shake my head. "I'm sorry," I add, and his glare deepens—my apology confirms that all this is my fault.
I don't know what else to say, so I say nothing. I'm even more surprised when he goes back to eating without giving voice to his frustration. While Carlisle spins a story of Rey's interest in the xylophone beginning when she and I were playing the piano together, Charlie's emotions fluctuate wildly. He's trying to decide something—perhaps whether to confront me now or to accept the lack of explanation we're offering—but it seems he has already found an explanation for Bella's altered features and Rey's paradoxical existence. If only I could know what it is!
When Rey and Esme return, though, the indecision is replaced by resolve. For now, at least, he seems to have accepted my stonewalling.