#beith chapter 1

“Bella!” He hoped she would respond to her name, to her father. He clutched her face in his hands for a moment, “Bella, honey, are you alright?”

“Charlie?” His heart bottomed out to his heels in relief. She was alive. He brushed a leaf or two away from her face. She was alive . . . but she didn’t look it. Her face was the palest he’d ever seen it. Her eyes were so hollow he got lost trying to find their life. She was shaking at a violent pace, vibrating in Sam’s arms. It gutted him.

“I’m right here baby.” Charlie had to choke back his emotions, his daughter needed him. He gestured to Sam to transfer her to his arms and he obliged. Charlie faltered for a brief moment, the last time he held her she was only a child, and then began a determined march toward his house. Anger fueled him with ferocious energy. Whoever had done this to his baby girl wouldn’t be alive for much longer.

“He’s gone,” a faint whisper through chattered teeth. Charlie looked down at his shell of a daughter as her fist clutched the front of his chief's jacket. He had a good idea which he she was referring to.

“We’re almost home now, honey.” He had no idea if his words or his voice were reaching her, her expression remained unchanged. Sam had opened the front door for them and Charlie carried her to the couch to lay her down, ignoring her feeble protests. He stopped at the hallway pantry to retrieve two quilts and piled them on top of her after removing her soaked jacket. He couldn’t bare to look at her like that. She hadn’t closed her eyes again but they might as well have been; they bored into the wall, not seeing anything. Her fingers clutched the quilt tentatively, as if her whole body might break into a million pieces if she exert too much force.

He turned to Sam who had followed them in, trying to scrub the image of his broken daughter from his brain, and cleared his thick throat. “Thank you, Sam.” His voice burned with sincerity as he clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Let’s send everyone home,” they both headed out the door. Charlie turned one more time and wished he hadn’t. Bella hadn’t moved, but it seemed with each passing minute her face got paler and the consciousness behind her eyes dimmed just a bit more. He shut the door behind him but the image was one he would not be able to shake for a long time.

 Outside, half the town and then some had gathered. Anyone out searching for Bella had gotten word of her return and was now gathered in a small crowd in his driveway. The rain ricocheted off hoods of jackets as they all looked to him, anxious for word of his daughter’s wellbeing. He was suddenly choked up with emotion for this small and lovely town he had lived in and protected for most of his life. Everyone in front of him was there out of genuine care and concern for him and his family. He braced himself with resolve and cleared his throat once more.

“Bella is alright. I can’t thank all of you enough for what you did for me and my family here tonight.” Charlie realized he couldn’t say much more than that, Bella’s condition was still in question. He glanced at the crowd as Sam took his place next to Harry Clearwater and the La Push group. With a nod from Sam, most of them rolled out. A few Forks locals followed suit, thinning out the caravan of cars parked in front of his house. Many stayed to speak with him personally, offering their help and support. He tried as best he could to keep his face on right, but he felt a headache brew as he scrunched his brow to keep his eyes dry.

He stood in front of Harry Clearwater, the last of the search party remaining and one of his closest friends. If it hadn’t been for Harry putting out the call and bringing the La Push boys up, they might not have found Bella tonight. Charlie shuddered thinking about what could have happened were that the case, remembering all the calls he’d gotten over the summer about animal sightings in the woods. Harry took his hand and pulled him in for a gruff hug. “She's going to be okay, Charlie.” Harry pat him on the back and let him go. Charlie thanked him once more before trooping up the wet porch steps to face what was left of his daughter. He hunched his shoulders against the memories of where he’d last seen a face like hers—staring back at him in the mirror all those years ago.

 Inside, the doctor was finishing his once-over of Bella who sat passively on the couch, unchanging except in position. Charlie winced before screwing up his face in the best smile he could manage as he cautiously lowered his weight on the couch next to her, scared if he disturbed her that she'd crumble to pieces. He placed a hand gently on her back before turning expectantly to the doctor.

“She's not hurt.” He heard what the doctor meant in his eyes. She’s not hurt, physically. He rose and followed the doctor to the entryway.

“Charlie, I haven’t seen a case of shock this bad in…well I haven’t. I have to be honest, I think you’re in for a long couple of days here.” He adjusted the prescription pad under his arm. “I’m writing her a prescription just in case. You don’t have to fill it, but if you find she needs it…it’s here.” He handed Charlie the folded slip. He took it, feeling numb.

“Is it true? Did they leave?” Charlie had heard the rumors churning from the crowd outside. The doctor grimaced.

“Dr. Cullen asked us not to say anything. The offer was very sudden; they had to chose immediately. Carlisle didn’t want to make a production out of leaving.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” Charlie spat the words, feeling his fists clench at his sides. He reminded himself that Dr. Gerandy was only the messenger and took a deep breath through his nose. The doctor gave him a sympathetic look.

“Yes, well, in this situation, some warning might have been called for.” He looked back toward the living room remorsefully. Charlie did not follow his stare, he didn’t want to see what he knew would be there.

One more thank you to punctuate the endless night from hell and his house and driveway were finally empty. There was nothing left out there but black rain, pounding against the windows as if to get to Bella, knowing she needed something to drown in. He started back toward the living room, not wanting to think about who else was empty. He passed by Bella, happy to see at least that her eyes were closed. Her breathing seemed even, she appeared to be asleep and for that he was glad. He knew from experience, even though he would never verbalize the vulnerability, that the pain dulled in sleep. He brushed her drying hair from her forehead. In sleep, her face almost looked normal. Almost. He could see a line where her brow furrowed, even in her sleep. He traipsed toward the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing the familiar number.

“Hey, Billy, it’s Charlie—sorry I’m calling so—" he looked down at his watch and blinked incredulously, “—early.”

“Not at all Charlie, is Bella alright?” His voice was strained with worry. Billy loved Bella in many ways like his own daughters.

“No, she’s fine. She’s sleeping—”

“I’m so glad she’s okay Charlie, we were all so worried. You’ll let us know if you need anything okay?”

“Thanks, but that’s not why I called.” Charlie sighed. It seemed like ten years ago but it was only early evening, when the search was just beginning, that Mrs. Stanley had called him. That’s when he first heard the news. “I got a call from Mrs. Stanley, and she says that from her second-story window she can see fires out on the sea cliffs, but I didn’t really…” He didn’t really have time to do his job this evening. Nor the mental capacity. Charlie was a broken man all afternoon, not knowing if Bella was alive or dead. Some fires out in La Push were the least of his worries.

Billy chuckled, “Ah, that was our boys. They got a little over excited over the news. Cullens are gone. They’re celebrating.” His inflection grouped himself in with ‘the boys'. Charlie bristled. How could his friend be so cavalier about the loss of the best doctor in town, and the loss of his daughter’s sanity, apparently.

“Oh,” Charlie hadn’t gotten a hold of his knee-jerk anger yet, his irritation slipped into his voice. “And why are they doing that?”

“Oh, you know teenage kids. They’ll use any excuse to start a fire.” His voice let on there was more he wasn’t telling.

“Uhuh,” Charlie waited for Billy to say what he wasn’t saying.

“You know the Cullens aren’t much liked here.”

“Really?” Charlie made no illusion to hide the sarcasm in his voice now. Billy backtracked and sputtered out an apology on the boys' behalf but Charlie cut him off. He wasn’t in the mood for his friend’s patronizing act tonight. “Well don’t apologize to me, I’m surprised they got them lit at all in this weather.” They hemmed and hawed for another minute, Charlie thanked him again and hung up. He dredged back into the living room, grumbling only slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded wrong—hollow. Nevertheless, she was saying something. He rushed to her side.

“I’m sorry I woke you, honey.” He crouched down next to her head.

“Is something burning?” Her nose scrunched up in confusion.

“It’s nothing. Just some bonfires out on the cliffs.” He clenched his fist again. That anyone could be glad the Cullens were gone was a mystery to him.

“Bonfires?” Her voice waned in curiosity, he almost couldn’t bare this more than her not speaking at all.

“Some of the kids from the reservation being rowdy.” He frowned.

“Why?”

He looked to the floor, delaying his answer. “They’re celebrating the news.” His voice betrayed his anger. He saw the pieces connect in her head, she winced as she did.

“Because the Cullens left,” her voice was barely a whisper now. “They don’t like the Cullens in La Push—I’d forgotten about that.”

His anger flashed behind his eyes. “It’s ridiculous,” although it was only an hour before that he had sworn death on at least one of the Cullens. He looked at her, her hand clutching at her chest, eyes vacant. He did this to her.

“Bella?” He did his best to control his tone of voice. She reluctantly met his gaze. “He left you alone in the woods?”

Pain flashed in her eyes for a brief moment. “How did you know where to find me?” She asked incredulously, sitting up. She was seeming more alert by the minute, though the light wasn’t returning to her eyes.

Charlie reached into his pocket, “Your note.” He unfolded it, the paper creased where he held it in his clenched fist, checking it every five minutes to make sure it was still there. Charlie had found the note on the kitchen table when he got home from work that evening. He didn’t think too much of it at first. But after an hour, his every thought revolved around that one sentence note.

“When you didn’t come back, I called the Cullens, and no one answered,” his voice was gruff, getting lost in his remembered panic. “Then I called the hospital, and Dr. Gerandy told me that Carlisle was gone.” He didn’t add on that he sent a cruiser to the Cullens' place to make sure.

“Where did they go?”

“Didn't Edward tell you?” Her eyes flashed in pain again before she could conceal it. His burned with rage. The boy left his daughter in the woods, broke her completely, without even telling her where or why they were going.

“Carlisle took a job with a big hospital in Los Angeles. I guess they threw a lot of money at him.” He frowned. Dr. Cullen didn’t seem the type to be in it for the money. He gritted his teeth and refocused. “I want to know if Edward left you alone out there in the middle of the woods.” He practically spat the name.

She winced, shaking her head. “It was my fault. He left me right on the trail, in sight of the house… but I tried to follow him.”

His anger burned but he kept an even tone. “I’m sorry he did that to you—” before he could get the words out, she was shaking her head again, with her hands over her ears.

“I can’t talk about this anymore, Dad. I want to go to my room.”

He reached out to her, trying to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she scrambled off the couch and upstairs in a rush. With a sigh, he rose and lurched to the kitchen phone again, calling out of work—it was nearly the time he’d be heading out the door. His feet were heavy on the stairs, and he barely kicked his shoes off before falling into bed.