"𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞"
"𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞"
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Things weren't supposed to be hard, Heather and Edward knew where their future lay. But a shadow from the past begins t...
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My body buzzes with an odd conflict of emotions as I drive to the Rez. It feels wrong coming here, still knowing I'm marked as the Vampire Chick as Paul once called me. But I'm eager to know more about my father, to find some solace in my new family. I worry how they'll take the news, I don't expect them to accept me with open arms. Hell, I haven't even accepted it easily.
I park my car in front of the Clearwater's house, on the porch Seth is messing around with an old punching bag, listening to the advice of Jeremiah Clearwater. My throat tightens, wondering how he would approach me over the subject, or if he'd ignore me.
"Heather!" Seth lights up when I get out of the car, dropping the boxing gloves. Jeremiah— my father has a sympathetic look on his face as I approach the house, as unsure about all of this as I am. "This is my uncle, Jeremiah Clearwater, he just got here from California!"
"Oh, yeah I served him at the Carver Cafe the other day," I say, wishing this wasn't so awkward for either of us.
The screen door of the house opens, and Sue steps out with a tray of food in her hand, she offers me a greeting before turning back to Seth. "Take these down to the bonfire, don't eat any of it."
"Yes ma'am." Seth takes the tray, moving as quickly as he can without dropping the food past me and to the road. A silence lingers around us as we wait for him to be far enough away that he can't hear us. My father shifts his weight from one cowboy boot to another, unsure of where to begin.
"I'll leave you two to talk," Sue tells us, before going back into the house to cook. I continue to stand frozen, hands in my jeans pockets as he sits back down in the metal folding chair.
"I apologize about our first meeting. If I had known, I wouldn't have just appeared like I did." Finally, he breaks the suffocating silence, looking up at me, his eyes squinting against the afternoon sun.
"You couldn't have known." I shrug, wondering if this is how every person first greets their absent father. I wish I had some guidance on the matter at hand, but I didn't. "But, how long have you known? About me?"
"This visit, this isn't the first time we've met. You were about eight, sitting in the back of your grandfather's truck cab as he and Harry traded fishing gear. When we went our separate ways, Harry confirmed my suspicions." He says with a sigh, disappointed in himself. "I'd just become sober, I wasn't in the right mind or place to become a father. And you seemed so happy, it was clear your mother had done a fine job raising you that I didn't want to come and mess it up. Didn't feel I had the right to."
Hesitantly, I sit down in the lawn chair next to him, rubbing my hands on my jeans. It was hard to listen to all of it, to compare his story to my mother's, and think about what could've been. Images flood my mind of him being in my life, attending my track meets, teaching me how to drive, and realistically, he would've fought tooth and nail to keep me away from Edward. And I wonder if Edward had known about my bloodline if he would be even interested in me. His prejudices blinded him.
