Midday Clouds - The Charlie Swan Story

Chapter 1 (Twilight 1/11)

"What year is it?" she asked. Damn.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine -- it's only a few years old, really."

"When did he buy it?" Double damn.

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties - or late fifties, at the earliest," I confessed. It really was a solid vehicle, and I'd helped with the engine work along with Billy and his son Jacob to get it all ready for Bella. I knew it was a little too old for her liking, but I hoped she'd come around once she saw it.

"Ch- Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic..."

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

She sat there, silently considering. I held my breath as we made our way west. I was terrified that this might have been another complete blunder on my part as a father.

"How cheap is cheap?" she asked, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." I looked over to see her expression, and I think I caught a hint of a smile. I'd take it.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." There's no way she could ever know just how damn bad I meant those words.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it," she said as we drove our way back to my hometown, the first time making this trip with her in three years. Her acceptance of the truck, and, in some way, of moving in with her old man permanently, was near enough to make me get a little emotional again, so all I said back was "well, now, you're welcome."

We drove in silence for a while longer, and I made some comment about the rain, knowing how she hated it and all, and before I knew it we fell into one of those silences so deep that I wouldn't have been able to drive out of it with a 4x4. Keeping a conversation going with a 17-year-old girl is tough, but I told myself that I'd try my damnedest at any chance I could to get to truly know this young woman that my daughter had become. 

I pulled up at the old house -- a sturdy, two-bedroom we'd bought back when Renee and I were still a "we" and Isabella was just a little peanut. I probably should have moved into something smaller given that, every now and then, the memories of Renee smiling beside me in bed, or cooking pancakes in the little kitchen, or catching some rare sunshine on the front lawn would claw its way out of the deepest part of my memory and strike me with that old sadness. But I held onto the place after all these years in the hopes that this very situation might happen; My baby girl coming back come.

Her truck was sitting in the driveway, freshly washed, so I parked on the street. I hoped like hell she would be okay with the bit of rust on the fender and the faded red paint.

"Wow, dad, I love it! Thanks!" She said when she saw it. I breathed out a sigh of relief. She really seemed to mean it.

"I'm glad you like it," was all I could choke out.

I helped Bells get her stuff upstairs (she really didn't bring all that much, and a part of me was worried if it could even be true that she had actually moved here), and we hauled her few belongings into the room. I made sure to keep it just as she'd left it three years ago, with the light blue walls, peaked ceiling, and yellow curtains -- all decor decisions that Renee had made 17 years ago, and which Bells had never asked to change, likely because she was never really here long enough to concern herself with doing so. Maybe she'd want to make some changes now, though. Hell, she could paint it purple for all I cared, so long as it made her happy. If only I could give her an in-suite bathroom, but there was nothing that could be done about that without a complete renovation that I knew I couldn't afford.

I didn't really know what to do once all her stuff was moved into the room, and I figured she might want some space after such a long trip, so I left her to get unpacked and settled. Against my fatherly instincts I closed the door behind me when I left. I'd read that teenagers tend to appreciate it when parents do that kind of thing.

I was going to do whatever I possibly could to make this move a good thing for Bells. Lingering for a moment outside her bedroom door, I allowed myself a smile; it was good to finally have her back here again in this old house, and this little town, after all this time.

My Bella was home. 

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