The Dead of Night

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter 24: The Visitor

"Dad," I called over my shoulder towards the living room where Charlie was glued to the television. "Dinner's almost ready!"

"Be there in a minute, Bells," he responded, sounding more far away than ever before.

If I was being honest with myself, I was happy that my dad was somewhat back to normal. After seeing him stress out over whatever was happening south of town, it was refreshing to see him kick back and enjoy the holidays.

My stomach knotted up as I glanced outside, suddenly suspicious, and I shut the curtains with a quick tug. After my talk with Avarice, Lazarus, and Eric, I no longer felt one hundred percent safe in my own home. Apparently, the cloaker—who was sent to find the McRae family—had been lurking around my home as well as the McRaes'. The thought of my father, being here alone, made me uneasy and fearful.

Charlie appeared in the kitchen doorway, grinning from ear to ear, and shook me from my worries, putting me back in the Thanksgiving spirit. I had gotten up very early—seven a.m. to be precise—and began cooking the extravagant feast. Normally, I wouldn't have gone all out for only two people, but Charlie had mentioned Billy, Jacob, and the Clearwaters might stop by later on, so I whipped up something for more than two.

"That smells great!" Charlie inhaled deeply, as he took a seat at the table, and eyed the potatoes and green beans hungrily. As I set down the chicken in front of him, he smiled, almost apologetically. "Bella, I want to say sorry for a few things."

"What do you have to be sorry for, dad?" I laughed a bit, wondering what my dad could think he was guilty of now. That was another area where Charlie and I were alike—we both took the weight of the world on our shoulders. "I thought we're supposed to be thankful today."

"Well, these past few weeks," he replied, setting down his fork and lowering his eyes, "I've been putting my job ahead of you, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay, dad," I insisted and took a seat across from him. "I'm fine, really."

Charlie's face didn't relax and he didn't look up at me, so, in a sympathetic gesture, I reached out and touched his hand. My dad's fingers tightened around mine and I could've sworn I saw him smile a bit. We stayed like this for a few seconds before the awkwardness set in, and we separated.

"Now," I said, feeling a strange streak of energy course through me, "how about we cut this poor bird?"

"Allow me!" Charlie grasped the carving knife and cut the gigantic chicken.

The next half an hour was spent in silence, as we ate and enjoyed the fruit of my all day cooking spree. The roasted chicken was, thankfully, perfection. Charlie's continuous groans of praise made me giggle internally, and I softly chided him that he should save some for the others.

Then again, I had returned to the store the day earlier and purchased another chicken for our guests, so he could have all he wanted. I had just jumped up to grab one of the pies I had made when a quick knock came from the front door. Charlie hopped up, telling me that Billy said they might be late, and disappeared around the corner. Smiling softly and looking forward to seeing Jacob again, I put down the knife and waited to hear Billy's laughter. However, what I ended up hearing made my skin crawl.