Without knocking, I step into my father’s office.
“Knocking Edward,” My father sighed, not looking up from the paperwork that sat on his desk.
“I told you I was coming,” I defended.
“Apparently manners are a commodity,” He snickered, “And yes, you did, however knocking is still the polite thing to do.”
“So is saying thank you,” I spoke unconsciously, thinking about what Bella had said earlier on the way to the store.
“What?” My father asked with a confused, questioning look.
“Nothing,” I replied, shaking my head once I’d realized what I’d said.
“Hmm,” My father said regarding me curiously, “So… what is it you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Isabella,” I say, once again, unconsciously before catching myself, “Isabella’s father, I mean.”
In response to Isabella’s name, my father looks curious, but his face turns to stone the second I bring up her father. “I don’t know why you have this recent interest in Charles Swan and his children but as I have told you before, it is not relevant.”
“You also said, ‘at this time’,” I argue, “And I say that it is now.”
“What do you mean Edward?” My father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, a habit I’d inherited from him.
“While we were still in Forks this morning,” I started; pausing only momentarily to make sure he was paying attention, “Isabella had a nightmare, that’s why she was awake so early…”
“The point Edward?” he asked, cutting me off, giving off a slight hint of frustration.
“The point father,” I say slowly, “Is that while she was having the nightmare, she said a name, one I’m sure you’re quite familiar with.”
“What name?” He asked, truly curious.
“She said Didyme.” I answered simply.
If I hadn’t already been curious, then my father’s reaction would have definitely been enough to make me really curious. I’d never seen him react in such a way. His eyes shot to mine and his jaw tensed. All my life he’d always been so good at covering his emotions, but now, I could see that he was just as thrown as I was.
“How can that be?” He seemed to ask himself as he stood from his desk and began pacing back and forth behind it, “She remembered me, but how could she possibly remember that?”
“Wait,” I said trying to get his attention. “What do you mean, she remembered you, have you met her before?”
“Edward,” my father warned.
“No,” I argued, “Ever since Lehane stepped into this house, there have been one too many things that just aren’t adding up, and I want answers… now.”
“Remember who you’re speaking to Edward.” My father said in a deadly calm voice.
I release a hard breath, my annoyance rising. “I haven’t forgotten, but I need answers.”
My father shook his head in response.
“Give me something,” I asked, trying to reign in my anger. “Anything… I want to know. How can you expect me to do this job when you’re keeping shit from me, obviously something important?”
My father placed his hands down on the table and stayed silent for a few minutes before turning to me. “Edward… you need to understand that what I choose to tell you does not leave this room, and whatever I do not tell you, does not concern you. Are we clear?”
“Yes.” I answer slowly.
My father sighed, pushing away from the desk, and then straightened his tie as he sat back down in his chair. “You asked me before why I hired Peter, and I told you that I did because I knew his father.”
“Yes,” I replied to his statement.
“That is the truth,” He affirmed. “Charles Swan was, in many ways, a friend who has done more for this family than you will ever know. I owe him my life, and you owe him yours.”
“What do you mean,” I had never been more confused in my entire life, and I wasn’t enjoying it. “Wasn’t he just some small town police chief?”
“Not always,” Was my father’s, simple reply.
I wanted to question him further on that, and I would, but first I needed him to tell me something else, and I had this strange feeling that the two were connected. “Why would Isabella know about Didyme?”
My father shook his head slightly, “It must be a memory from before she can even remember having it. Bella is an incredibly observant young woman, apparently even as a child.”
I couldn’t argue against the observant part. “Same question?”
“It’s all a very complicated history Edward.” He breathed.
“History always is,” I laughed humorously, “Hell, look at ours.”
My father looked me dead in the eye, and said, “Our history and Bella’s are a lot closer than you think.”
I watch my father with careful, questioning eyes. “What do you mean?”
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