𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞 / 𝐈𝐈𝐈.

10.

the offspring

My hands shake as I tie the apron around my waist, struggling with the small knots and smoothing it down as I step into the dining room, pluck up one of the notepads, and stick it into my apron. I'm stuck in a painful loop thinking about how I left Edward, the look of betrayal in his eyes. It haunts me as I work refilling salt and pepper shakers, wiping down the tables, and refilling pitchers as Cora attends to the only table we have filled.

"It's that damn new Chinese restaurant," Cora complains to me. "These people act like they've never had Chinese food in their lives, and they forget how great we are."

"Well, people like to try new exciting things, Cora. And it's only 4:30, the dinner crowd will arrive soon." I say, but my words come out like a bitter complaint.

"Uh oh, I know that tone. What's happened this time?" She asks, placing a hand on her hip.

"Nothing's happened." I blatantly lie as the bell rings and a stranger steps in, which saves me from Cora's interrogation. I grab a menu and try not to sulk over to the booth the man has occupied, plastering my fake service industry smile across my face. "Hi, welcome to Carver Cafe. What can I get you started on to drink?"

Working in a small diner in a small town, I've come to familiarize myself with almost every person who walks through the door. Even if I don't know their names, I know their faces and usually, their orders. But this man is a stranger, with tan olive skin, a sharp strong nose, and blue eyes, his face was familiar but I'm certain if he'd been here before, I would've remembered. He looks so different than the normal crowd of old lumber workers, middle-aged gossiping mothers, and the high schoolers who frequent the diner,

"Water and a cup of coffee, please." He asks, blinking slowly like he's trying to place if he knows me too.

"Alright, I'll go get that for you."

I walk away and watch him shake his head in confusion. Quickly, I prepare his beverages before bringing them back to the table and carefully setting the hot coffee down. "So what brings you to Forks, or are you just passing by?"

"I used to live in the area, I'm back visiting family and old friends." He tells me, still looking over the small menu. "Would you recommend the cod platter?"

"The cod platter is a very popular choice, it's my favorite actually." I tell him, "And welcome back to Forks."

"Then I'll get that with the tomato soup for my side. Thank you," He pauses, reading my name tag, "Heather."

"Of course." I finish writing down his order before pinning it for Jerry the cook to see. Before returning to refilling salt and pepper shakers. Wednesday afternoons are always painfully slow, a few customers here, and a to-go order placed by my mother there. It's as much of a waste of time as watching the vampires and werewolves train, except here, I'm getting paid.

When I bring over the stranger's food, I fight the temptation to ask him more questions, to know who he is. If our paths had ever crossed, but I bite my tongue and return to the counter the recount bills in the cash register, again.

The door swings open, the bell ringing as the man asks for his bill, I ignore the person not saying a greeting as I know the rhythmic tapping of clogs against the tile. My mother stands at the counter, the ever-present bags under her eyes as she waits.

"Sorry," I mutter to her as I move back to the counter, turning and grabbing the to-go containers and putting the order together.

"Rough day?" She asks with a humorless laugh.

"Long." I sigh, throwing the salt and pepper packets into the plastic bag, though I know she won't use them and they'll end up in a drawer in our kitchen.

"Tell me about it—" She stops her sentence, and I turn to find out why. The man stands at the counter staring at her with the bill in his hand, and I watch as my mother struggles to swallow. "Jeremiah."

"Cam, it's been what, almost two decades since I saw you last?" His words irk me as my gaze goes from him back to Mom. "You look well, I see you finished nursing school."

"I did, yeah." She clutches her wallet tightly, the tapping of her clog becoming erratic. "You must be here because of your brother's passing."

"Yeah, I couldn't make it to the funeral. So I came to see Sue and the kids." He nods, I freeze registering the name of my friend's mother and trying to fit in the pieces. Harry had a brother?

"It was a good service, Billy and Charlie made sure of it." I feel like I'm being left out of the biggest inside joke of all time. Like I'm missing an important piece to a jigsaw puzzle. Silence befalls the two, they just stare at each other for a while.

"Uh, Mom, your total is 24.56." I awkwardly break the silence. Wordlessly, she passes me her debit card.

"Your daughter, I knew she looked familiar, she's the spitting image of you." Almost, I think to myself. But my mother and I didn't have the same eye color or nose, my lips were fuller than hers.

"Yes, my daughter." She forced out.

I look up from the register and smile at Jeremiah Clearwater before it hits me like a pound of ice against my skull. In front of me is someone with the same pair of eyes, the same color, they even shine like mine do under the lights. In front of me is not a stranger I've never met, but the father I've never known.

"Hi," I say again as put the debit card back on the counter for Mom to grab.

"Hi." He smiles the same smile I have.

Quickly, my mother snatches up her card and the bag of takeout before anything else can be said. Before I can open my mother and ask her to tell me the truth. Jeremiah, no my father, sighs and pulls out his wallet, putting a fifty dollar bill down.

"Keep the change, Heather. Enjoy your evening." He waits until Mom's car is pulled out of the diner's parking lot before heading to the door to leave.

"You too," I call out before he steps outside into twilight. The blood in my veins turns to ice and I struggle to move. My entire life I've wanted to meet him, my father, and now he's here, in Forks. How many times had he come to the Rez to visit the Clearwaters and I'd just barely missed him? How many times had I gone to their house, oblivious to the knowledge that they were my family?

Without thinking, I hurry outside and into the parking lot but he's already gone, the taillight of his motorcycle still barely in my view.

"Hey, Heather." Jessica Stanley and Mike Newton stand in the parking lot, here on a date since they're currently back together.

"Hi." I force out, turning my gaze up to the orange and blue painted sky, blinking back hot, fresh tears.