The first week of having Bella back home went both better and worse than expected.
We had dinner just the same most nights, with her cooking, me insisting on cleaning, and a few surface level conversations about how school was going and all that. I managed to convince her to watch a movie with me one night, rather than retreating straight to her bedroom, but she seemed a little more preoccupied with her phone than anything. Well, that was to be expected; she wasn't a little girl anymore, and though we'd had some good times back when she was younger, I doubted she'd want to go fishing or camping or even hang out all that much with her old man now that she was 17.
She seemed to have made some friends, though, which was good. That Newton boy and Jessica Stanley -- though I can't say I'm too fond of her mother, the gossip that she is -- so it made sense that she didn't have too much free time to hang around. It didn't help that I had to work that weekend, what with Jim being sick with the flu, but it seems that Bells got along fine alone in the house, just as I had all these years. Maybe there was more of myself in her that I'd thought.
Monday brought an unwelcome surprise. Waking up bright and early at 6 am, I could see from the blinding white light through the window that it had snowed overnight. Now, usually I'd give myself about half an hour before hauling my creaking bones out of bed, but I knew that heavy rain the night before a snowfall made for icy roads out here in Forks.
I put the chains on my cruiser easy enough, though the second set I'd gotten from Billy seemed like they hadn't been used in a decade. It made sense; the tires on Bella's truck were deep cut, and would've been able to handle the snow-covered roads of La Push with ease; the icy streets of Forks were another matter, though, so I oiled the chains up as well as I could before wrestling them onto Bella's tires. She must've slept right through the struggle, because when I came back inside she wasn't downstairs yet. I figured she'd notice the new addition to her tires once she stepped outside, and headed off to work.
Even with the chains on her truck, I still worried about how Bells would handle the short drive between the house and the school. She'd lived in Phoenix for her entire driving life, so I doubted she had much (if any) experience in driving on snow and ice. Every slippery patch I drove over on my way to the station was just another reminder of the danger that awaited her.... But worrying just means you suffer twice, so I tried my best not to dwell on it.
It wasn't even an hour after sitting down at my desk that an 1140 (vehicular incident) was called in, and Janet, our 911 operator, looked across the room at me with a grave expression.
--
"What do you mean she was in a car accident!?"
I'd talked with Renee over the phone more this year than I ever had since the divorce was finalized, given that we had to get everything in order for Bella to move, but the last time I'd heard such emotion in her voice was way back when she was still here in Forks.
"Well, now, Renee, she's all right -- just a bit of a concussion, apparently."
"A concussion?!"
"Well, we don't know for sure yet; seems she fell and bumped her head or something." I had the sirens blasting as I drove through the usually quiet streets of Forks, escorting the ambulance that held my daughter. The initial 911 call wasn't much to go off of -- some kid had driven a van into Bella's truck in the school's parking lot, but she was already out of her car and the truck just missed her. She must've fallen while getting out of the way, though, and when I saw her in that parking lot, on that stretcher, I'd never felt a fear so bad in my life. Once I got closer to her she seemed more embarrassed than hurt, though, so we'd loaded her into the ambulance and took off for the hospital, which was really more of a small medical centre. I figured I should call Renee on the drive over.
"We're taking her to the hospital now, but she's looking alright -- I saw her myself not two minutes ago. I'll get her to call you as soon as possible."
"Charles, if this is because of that damn truck you got her-"
"It wasn't because of the stinkin' truck, Ren!" Bells must've told her about my gift sometime over the past week. I hoped she hadn't told her how old it was, or its complete lack of airbags.
"She was standing out in the parking lot when some other kid hit some black ice. Everyone is okay; it's nothing to worry about." We drove through a series of red lights with what little traffic there was around me stopped upon seeing the red-blue lights of the cruiser and the ambulance, worry for my daughter's safety completely overshadowing any concern I had for my own.
"It's been less than two weeks and already she's in the hospital... I don't know, Charlie, maybe I should come back to Phoenix..."
"Don't you do this Renee," I said, nearly echoing word for word what I'd pleaded all those years ago. "Don't you take her away from me again. I got this. We can make this work. I promise. Bells is going to be okay here, and safe, and I won't let anything happen to her. I'm the damn Chief of Police, for chrissake -- she's safer here than she would be anywhere else."
Silence. I thought for a moment that Renee had hung up, until I finally heard a long, drawn out sigh on the other end of the line.
"Fine. Just make sure she calls me immediately, Charlie. I mean it. She's only 17, and I know she feels like she can do everything herself now, but she still needs guidance. She still needs a mo- ...a parent looking out for her."
"I'm doing that, Ren. I promise you. I'm doing that. She'll call you soon." I hung up the phone just as I'd finally pulled up at the hospital, the ambulance parking in its designated spot outside the ER doors.
They were carting her and another student into the building, and I caught sight of one of Dr. Cullen's kids walking alongside the stretchers before the doctor himself appeared in front of me. His golden gaze stopped me dead in my tracks.
"Charlie, it's good to see you," Carlisle said, calm as ever.
"Bella, she's been hurt, doc, they've got her right there-" I tried to step around Dr. Cullen to go to my daughter, but a gentle, yet firm, hand pressed against my chest, stopping me where I stood.
"I understand you're worried, Charlie, but the best thing you can do for your daughter right now is to calm down -- we don't want to scare her, or anyone else, by seeing you like this."
Bella had been rolled into the hospital, so I turned my eyes to Carlisle's. There was concern there, and even a hint of knowing pity. The glass door of the hospital stood behind him, and in its reflection I could faintly see just how disheveled, frantic, and teary-eyed I really looked. It wasn't a way I'd often seen myself, at least not in these later years, and it sure as hell wasn't how the people of Forks had ever seen their chief of police.
"I'll go look after Bella, Charlie. You just take a moment to collect yourself, and I'll bring her out to the waiting room as soon as the tests are done, okay? I've already heard that she is looking healthy -- barely a scratch on her head."
Something about the way Carlisle talked, his eyes never leaving mine, his gloved hand having moved from my chest to my shoulder, put me at ease and, frantic though I was to see Bella, I found myself agreeing with him.
Sitting in the waiting room, I practiced a bit of meditation to cool myself off. It was a little trick I'd picked up over the past year -- I'd thought it was a kind of dumb at first, but Billy said that it had helped him sleep a lot better since his accident, and I wasn't one to balk at anything Billy Black thought might help the health. More often than not the Quileute knew what the hell they were talking about. Besides, they looked a helluva lot healthier than most of the folks here in Forks -- even with someone like Carlisle working at the hospital.
Closing my eyes and taking deep breaths, I freed my mind of all thought and just allowed myself to feel the emotions knocking around my head. Worry for my daughter, concern for her safety, and that ever present dread that she might move back to Phoenix; that this whole, failed move would sit in my memory like nothing more than a bad dream. Damn it Charlie, get a grip. She's okay. She's going to be okay.
Looking up, I noticed that a number of other students had arrived in the waiting room -- all with anxious, nervous looks on their faces. I recognized Mike Newton and Jessica Stanley, though when our eyes met they looked away, startled, before I could even offer a smile. Well, I'd hopefully have plenty of time to get into the good graces of Bella's new friends. I'd need to remember to tell Bella to invite them over for dinner sometime.
It only took a few minutes for Bella to walk out those double doors, but it felt like forever. When her little, brown-haired head finally made its way out, I could see the other students moving to get up out of my peripheral vision. Not so damn fast -- I bolted up out of my chair and was at Bella's side in half a second.
"There's nothing wrong with me," she said, and I breathed another sigh of relief.
"What did the doctor say?"
"Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home. Let's go."
I could see that her friends were all converging in on us, and I didn't want poor Bells to be overwhelmed after such a mess, so I put my arm protectively around her and led her to the exit. She waved at her friends, but seemed just as eager to leave as quickly as possible.
We both hopped into the cruiser. Bells kept her eyes out the passenger-side window as we drove, and I wasn't sure if she was asleep or still just a little sore from the accident. Even though I wanted, badly, to tell her just how happy I was that she was okay, and how worried I'd been, I realized that this was another boundaries situation, so we made the drive in silence.
When we pulled up to the little white house the intrusive thought of Renee entered my mind as it always does arriving home, and it reminded me of the phone call I'd had with her not 20 minutes earlier.
"Uh... You'll need to call Renee," I confessed.
"You told mom!" she said, the calm of the car ride turned quickly to anger.
"Sorry," was all I could mumble out as she slammed the cruiser door harder than usual. Once we were inside she pulled out her cell, and though I tried to drown it out with an old Seahawks game, I couldn't help but hear parts of the conversation echoing through the house.
"...No, mom, I'm fine. It's okay, the doctor said I'm okay, I don't even have a concussion. No, I'm serious, I'm fine. I'm fine! What? Mom you know I can't come home -- you're not even there! I swear I'm fine, It's okay..."
I turned the game up louder than necessary, and concentrated all my attention on the football players. Hearing Bells refer to the empty house in Phoenix as "home" hurt like hell, but I was just happy that she was alright.
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