Midday Clouds - The Charlie Swan Story

Chapter 40 (New Moon 29/30)

"Harry Clearwater was a good man. He was a great man. Hell, he was literally the best man at my wedding. And at Billy's. And just in general. You'd never find someone quite like him. He was quick with a smile. He had a laugh so deep that you could feel it in your own belly. Above all he was kind. And generous. And always there for those in his life while adamantly refusing any sort of generosity in return. He was a giver, that Harry. Some of my favourite memories of are of him casting a line out at the river. Years ago now, him, Billy, and I were out fishing. The rule was, if anyone ever got a fish on, whoever was closest to the net would grab it while the man with the rod reeled the fish on in. Well, after what seemed like hours without a single bite, fate would have it that all three of us would feel the ol' familiar tug on the other end of the line within seconds of each other. We were all hollering at each other 'get the net! Get the net!' too preoccupied to realize that the others were asking for the same thing. Well, me and Billy were too preoccupied, that is. Harry, being Harry, saw the pickle the lot of us were in, and in classic Harry fashion he tossed his rod down into the river, dove for the fishing net, and came over to help first me, then Billy, pull in our trout. I tell you, he was so happy for us that we didn't even realize that he'd lost his rod, let alone abandoned it for us. 'There are plenty of rods in the sea' he told us afterwards with a laugh. We pitched in to buy him a new one. That was Harry. Now I know I do, and I'm sure the whole lot of you do too, have about a million more stories that boil down to the same thing. Harry Clearwater was a good, good man. And this world is all the darker for his passing. I just hope we can be there for each other, like he has always been there for us, and grab each other's nets when we need it. Thank you."

I was still drying my eyes during the reception when Sue, Leah, and Seth came by, their paper plates filled with half-eaten bits of the regular funeral fare. I straightened up a bit, trying my best not to look too disheveled in the old suit. The last time I'd worn it was at me and Renee's wedding, and the time before that... it was at a school dance a whole lifetime ago. Yet here we were again.

"That was beautiful, Charlie," Sue said. Her kids nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, well, he made it pretty easy to say some nice words up there."

"That's all too true," she agreed. "We were just wondering if Bella was around? We figured she would be here with you. Is she alright? With everything that's been going on? I'm sure it hasn't been the easiest year to move back to Forks, with... everything."

I could tell that Sue was beating around something of a bush, leaving some things unsaid, but I was honestly too emotionally and physically exhausted to do anything more than give her the bare and honest truth.

"No, Bells didn't come. She had a, well, a visitor come by the other day and has been playing host for the weekend, so I didn't bug her about coming. She sends her condolences, though, of course."

Bella hadn't actually said so in so many words, but I could tell that she would have if she hadn't have been so wound up about Alice's visit. And that she woulda been here to support her old man. Leah and Seth, upon hearing that Bella wasn't around, headed off to chat with some friends, leaving just Sue and I in the corner of the crowded room.

"We miss her, Charlie. We had such a good time all together at Billy's," Sue said, getting a bit teary-eyed at the memory of the last time Harry was surrounded by friends and family, seemingly without a care in the world. "It obviously won't be the same but... We would love to have you and Bella come by. Any time. We could all use some extra company right now."

"We'd love to, Sue."

"How's tomorrow? Goodness knows we'll all just be sad saps all day. Might as well grieve together."

"Well Bella's friend might still be around so I can't speak for her, but I'll be sure to swing on by after checking in at work and bring a pizza or something."

"Thanks, Charlie. That would be great."

We said our goodbyes – we both had plenty more people to either give or accept condolences from – and to say that the crying dried me through would be an understatement. As nice as it was to see Harry's community brought together in his memory, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I was relieved to collapse into the driver seat of my cruiser, close the door, and have a solitary moment alone to squeeze out those last few tears.

Then my phone decided to ring.

Well, buzz, more like, given that I'd muted it during the funeral, and I was hoping that it wouldn't be a number that I'd recognize – if it was the station, I'd have to pick up, if it was Bella, I'd pick up, if it was the hospital, I'd definitely be picking up – but it was a number I'd only recently committed to memory: Smith's.

"Yeah?" Was all I asked upon flipping the phone open.

"Officer Swan, there's been a development. No, no need to come into the station, I know that you're... preoccupied today. My sincerest condolences. If it were not urgent I would not be interrupting you, I expecting to leave a message, in fact, but you must be made aware that myself and my team have... relocated. We will be in touch when warranted."

"What kind of development are you talking about?" I managed to ask through gritted teeth. Smith was the last person I wanted to talk to. I'll admit – I held something of a grudge against him for Harry's death, with all the traipsing through the woods he had us doing. But the hard thing was, if I was really going to blame Smith for that, I also had to blame myself.

"Unfortunately I am not at liberty to discuss that over the phone at the moment. But as I said, we will be in touch."

"Now wai-" but the buzz of an empty line cut me short. Good riddance, I thought. The hell with Smith, and his cronies, and whatever the hell was going on in those woods. I'd look after my own, and my town, and the Clearwaters and the Blacks and my Bella and leave whatever was happening outside my jurisdiction to its own damn end.

There was nothing left to do but start the car and drive on home, to perhaps find some comfort in the company of my daughter after the loss of my best friend. After the most stressful weekend I'd known in 17 years. But, unfortunately, she simply wasn't home.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, scrawled in an obviously different hand than the last one I'd found all those months ago, was another note:

"Dad,

I'm with Alice. Edward's in trouble. You can ground me when I get back. I know it's a bad time. So sorry.

Love you so much.

Bella."