Midday Clouds - The Charlie Swan Story

Chapter 55 (Eclipse 14)

I could hear the sounds of shouting as I walked up to Billy's front door. I'd usually stroll right in, having been through that particular threshold hundreds, if not thousands of times dating back to when we were just kids. But this time I stopped for a moment. I knew my eyes were still a bit red from the conversation with Ren. I knew I'd have to field the same, tired question of where Bella was, and meet the disappointment that always came with the canned response that she just couldn't make it. I didn't know if I was going to get into the details of her being on a cross-continent trip with Edward Cullen. I tried to avoid any mention of him, on the rez or off of it. I took a breath, gathered myself, and walked into the crowded room.

"Charlie!!!" Roughly half of the group shouted as I entered. The other half had their eyes glued to the playoff game on the television screen, but a few of them raised a limp hand in greeting. Billy, to his credit, turned his chair vaguely in my direction, gave me a wink, and gestured to a few coolers that had been piled up in the adjacent kitchen. I smiled back at him and helped myself to a Rainier.

"Got a spot for ya right here," a voice called through the hubbub. Sue had evidently squished her two kids further down on one of the sofas to make space for me at the end. I hesitantly perched myself on the arm of the couch, half standing, half squatting, but I saw Sue roll her eyes as she grabbed me by the arm, dragging me down beside her. "Oh come on now, I'm not going to bite."

"She might, actually," Seth joked from the other end of the couch. "She nearly bit my arm off last Saturday."

"Well you shouldn't have been poking around my cobbler," Sue chastised him before turning to me. We were squished up right against each other, the sides of our thighs touching, her face closer than I'd seen it in decades. There were lines around her eyes, the kind my mom used to call "smile marks," and I was stunned to notice that her hazel eyes hadn't lost an iota of their shine. I was suddenly self-conscious about just how aged my own face likely looked from this close up.

"So Charlie," she asked, patting a knee with the palm of her hand. I felt my ears going red, wondering if this looked as inappropriate as it felt, but everyone around us was either chatting animatedly with one another or focused on the game. "Who are you cheering for?"

"Oh, well, I don't know," I stuttered out. "I suppose the Oilers. I know they're not American, but I've always been one to root for the underdog."

"You and me both, Charlie," she said, taking her hand off my leg and returning her attention to the game. It gave me a brief reprieve to take stock of the crowd, noting that just about half the rez had piled themselves into Billy's living room. The entire Uley family was taking up the other couch, with Sam sitting on the ground in front of his parents, Josh and Allie. The two older Uley's smiled at me when they noticed my gaze, and I saw that Sam kept not-so-subtily glancing over at Leah, who was on the other side of Sue.

A few older guys who I knew from the river were crowded around the back of the room, evidently already a few beers deep, and I caught Jake's eye as he reentered the room, drying his hands on his cargo shorts. I saw a moment of hope bloom on his face, but it quickly faded once he finished his scan of the Bella-free room. He grabbed a beer from a cooler and sidled up beside his dad, handing it over. A pang of heartache struck me, then, to see such a casual offer of familial love. I was equal parts heartened to be included in this community, here in this moment, and devastated to mourn the alternative reality where not just Bella, but Renee, were here with me as well. Instead it was Edward Cullen who would be spending quality time with the two of them this evening, likely refusing to eat a family dinner that I'd kill to have just one more time. And here was Sue, and Leah, and Seth, still holding it together in the absence of the larger-than-life presence of Harry. The Uley's, who'd just lost the matriarch of their family, grandma Nel, a few months back. Every single person here – hell, every single person, period – had lost someone along the way, and would lose more before the end. But for now, we were here together to watch some Canadians chase around a little rubber disk. And that was enough.

I was jolted from my reverie by a soft, but swift, elbow in the side. "Here," she whispered, handing me a tissue from one of those travel packs. I hadn't even noticed, but my eyes had evidently begun to water again.

"Thanks," I whispered back, glad that the attention was so raptly focused on the TV. "I don't know what... well. Thanks."

"It's okay, really," Sue said quietly. I could tell she was smiling. "There's a reason I carry these around everywhere I go."

It wasn't funny, but I let out a half laugh, half sob anyway. A few eyes glanced over, but if the lack of control I had over my emotions in that moment was obvious, it wasn't being met with confusion or ridicule – it was met with knowing understanding. A few nods here and there, a soft smile from Jake. Everyone here was still in the process of mourning Harry. The scars were still wounds. But we were healing together.

Sue put an arm through mine, as we sat on that couch, surrounded by her family, her people, her kids, and while my gut reaction was to pull away, I didn't. It was okay. And nice. And necessary. And everyone there in that room understood that all we have in the face of loss, grief, and tragedy is each other. I'd been so worried about how the closeness that Sue and I had fostered in the weeks after Harry's death would look, that I'd robbed myself of the understanding that it wasn't just the two of us pulling closer to one another, but everyone. It was a natural, human response; to fill the void that was left behind with the love that surrounded it – like an ocean fills a submerged bucket.

I'd found a safe refuge against the storm of chaos that life inevitably had in store, a harbour against a tumultuous tide. I'd been welcomed into the fold of a group that was there for one another, with bonds as strong as a wolfpack, and there was no judgement to be dealt out, no eyebrows raised about impropriety or accusations of "too soon."

This was how people got through the hardships of life. Not as I'd been trying to do it for so long, head to the howling wind, alone, one tired foot after another – but together, as a people, with their people. Steadfast. Pushing and pulling one another, carrying and being carried in turn.

I felt eternally grateful, and lucky, to have this community around me. I resolved to let any sleeping dogs lie with Billy, to try to be there whenever I could for Sue, Leah, and Sam, and to spend more time out here in La Push. I wanted so, so badly to extend this community to Bella. I knew she would be welcomed with open arms, and I also knew that if there was anyone who needed the comfort and support of a group like this one, it was her.

But there was just so much wrapped up in all that, with the Cullens, and Jake, and Bella's own feelings about where she stood in all of it. I knew, sadly, that there really wasn't much I could do to sway her one way or the other, and it was both a devastating and freeing revelation. She would find herself here if that was the path she chose, and we would keep it wide open for her.

But for now, I leaned back into the comfortable cushions of the well-worn couch and focused on the game. Sue returned with a beer in each hand, and as I accepted one with a smile, I put my arm around her shoulder. She settled in, leaning her head against my chest. I could feel her smile through my one collared shirt.

And everything was okay.