This story is in Bella POV but there may be some Edward POV as the story progresses.

It will not always be sad either. There will be ups and downs and all arounds including eventual lemony goodness.

Chapters will be of various lengths.

I do not own Twilight or any of its characters.

Thank you for reading. (PS - I have not abandoned my other fics. They will still be updated and finished. I just needed to get this idea out or I'd keep procrastinating over it)

It's a Sad and Beautiful World

Sometimes I get so sad,
Sometimes you just make me mad

from It's a Sad and Beautiful World, by Sparklehorse

That should be it.

The packed shelves and narrow aisles provided a claustrophobic feeling of comfort and safety, like a child in a womb. It filled me with a fleeting sense of control to stroll up and down each one, taking a careful amount of time reading the ingredients on products I had no intention of buying.

Anything to pass the time.

The vibration of my cell phone jerked me out of my fog. I flipped it open and held it to my ear without checking the caller ID.

"Hullo?"

"Honey? It's mom. Where are you?" She sounded panicked.

"I'm at the drug store picking up some last minute things," I mumbled, dropping my basket on the check-out counter.

"Oh," she let out an audible sigh of relief. "Are you coming back?"

"Huh? Of course I'm coming back. Why wouldn't I come back?"

"Oh. I don't know. Phil and I...we thought...well, we were worried that you might..."

"That I might what? Run away?" Just come out and say it, I muttered to myself. It's what you're all thinking.

"Nevermind, as long as you're alright."

"I'm fine."

"I've ironed your dress and put out your shoes. Everything is ready."

"Thanks." I handed my debit card to the cashier.

"I love you, sweetie. We'll get through this. Don't you worry about a thing. Mommy's here."

"I know, mom. Thanks. I love you too," I said sincerely, taking my bag off the counter and walking through the sliding doors to the parking lot. It was sunny and warm and I pulled my sunglasses from the top of my head. I'm never without sunglasses. Phoenix sun is merciless.

"Your father's plane landed about an hour ago," she continued to ramble on.

"Uh huh." I stuck my key in the ignition and started the truck. The AC was busted so I rolled the windows all the way down in a desperate attempt to get some circulation going. I was already sweating from being outside for all of twenty seconds.

"He came over to see you, but you were gone. That's when I got worried. He's over at Bill-" she stopped abruptly and I switched on the radio. I knew what she was about to say anyway. "-at the house with Harry and Leah Clearwater."

I forced the truck into reverse and slammed on the gas. "I'll be home in fifteen minutes."

The driveway leading to my house was packed with cars when I pulled up moments later. Some I recognized, some I didn't. The dread that had been hanging over my head since 5am this morning was threatening to suffocate me and I took another loop around the block to give myself a few extra minutes alone before I had to face them.

Before I opened the car door I took a deep breath and checked my reflection in the rear view mirror. No make-up, pale skin, dark eyes with tired circles underneath, long shiny brown hair pulled away from my face in a disheveled ponytail. Pretty standard Bella Swan chic.

I grabbed my bags out of the passenger seat, jumped out of the truck, and headed up the driveway. The sound of my flip-flops echoed through the yard and I wish I'd worn a skirt instead of shorts.

I've lived in this two-story stucco house with my mother since I was fifteen - after she and my father divorced and we moved to Phoenix, Arizona from Forks, Washington.

Renee was always impetuous, like a fire-cracker live on earth, with the wiry red hair and filthy mouth to prove it. It's amazing she lasted in rainy, gray Forks for as long as she did. It's even more amazing that she and Charlie got married in the first place. (They swore I was a "surprise", not a "mistake"). Don't get me wrong, my dad is one handsome devil, but I could never figure out exactly what they saw in each other. They never fought or yelled or made me feel uncomfortable when they were in a room together. Maybe that was because they were rarely together. My dad is the Chief of Police and spends most of his time on duty, or fishing, or watching "the game". Renee is what you would call a "people person". And in Forks, well, there's not that many people. Her interests did not lie in swapping stories and recipes with the other homeroom mothers. She preferred wine-tastings and roller coasters, and eventually she had enough of being stuck. There was no argument, no begging. I wasn't consulted or asked where I wanted to go. My things were packed and waiting for me when I came home from my second day of freshman year at Forks High.

"It's better this way, sweetie. You'll see. A new beginning. A fresh start for us both."

I wasn't aware that I needed a fresh start but there was no point in having a tantrum or making a fuss. Once Renee had her mind set on something, there was nothing that could sway her decision.

"You'll see your father all the time."

Um, ok. I guess How would be a dumb question...

"Don't judge me, Isabella. You don't know what it's like. You're so young. You still have time to get it right. Learn from this and don't make the same mistakes as me," she warned as the taxi took us away through town for the last time together. What does a fifteen year old girl say to something like that? Was I the mistake? Or was it the life she led with my father? Or all her decisions that got her to the point that forced her to flee? Why didn't she just leave me behind? Was it guilt or some phony sense of responsibility? I didn't ask then and haven't since. I never wanted to know the answer.

She met Phil soon after we arrived and settled in and she started going out with her new "friends" while I was home studying. And three years ago she and my new step-dad moved to Jacksonville. By then I had a full time job and a degree and a serious boyfriend, so out of obligation and to have one less thing to worry about, she put the house in my name. Phil was a minor league baseball player about to go pro and money would soon be the least of their worries.

Renee was waiting for me on the front porch and she wrapped me in her arms as soon as I reached the top of the steps.

"Hi baby," she whispered into my hair. She smelled nice. Like lavender and summer rain.

"Your dress is pretty," I said, putting my head on her shoulder. We rocked in place and she smoothed her hand down my back in that soothing motherly way that could bring an inmate to tears.

"Everyone's waiting inside. Go upstairs and get ready. We'll ride in the car with your father."

I nodded obediently and trotted up the stairs to the second floor before anyone noticed me.

Renee had my clothes laid out on the bed in the spare room, which is where I'd been sleeping for the past few days. She and Phil were staying at a fancy hotel in town. It was too weird for them to sleep in the house with me, and I suppose I could understand why. It was too weird for me to stay here after what happened, but what choice did I have?

I dropped the plastic bag from the pharmacy on the bed and quickly threw the one-piece cotton dress over my head. I pulled my arms through the long sleeves and straightened it down my body. It hugged my curves demurely and fell just below my knees.

That's an appropriate length, I assumed.

I slipped on my favorite sterling silver bracelet with the large aquamarine jewel in the center. A twenty-first birthday present from Jake. It clung perfectly to my wrist and I admired it's beauty in the light.

That should be allowed, right? I thought to myself. No harm in a tiny splash of color.

I slid my feet into dainty ballet flats and took a quick look at myself in the full length mirror for the last minute decision on what to do with my hair.

Up? Too casual.

Down? Too formal.

Half up, half down with a headband? That should do it.

No make-up, just a brush of light pink gloss over my lips. I silently thanked God, if he existed, for my naturally long lashes and blemish-free skin. I grabbed my small clutch purse and stopped at the foot of the stairs. The hum of muted voices came from the first floor. I wondered if Renee was serving those small sandwiches she liked to make for every occasion. Or did that part come later? I'd never done anything like this before. I didn't know the steps or the etiquette or what was expected of me.

I just wanted it to be all over so I could take a pill and crawl back into bed.

My father approached me, tentatively at first, his shoulders relaxing when he saw that I wasn't going to fall apart or fly into hysterics.

His eyes were red and puffy. He'd been crying too. The only other time I had ever seen my father cry was through the window of the cab as it pulled away from our house in Forks, leaving him alone on the porch waving goodbye to his only child and soon-to-be ex-wife.

"Hey, Bells," he said in a low voice. He took his hands from the pockets of his only pair of dress slacks and reached for me.

"Hi, dad," I answered with a stiff upper lip. He pulled me into an awkward hug and I immediately melted. There's a wounded comfort to be found in my father's arms. He smelled like Canoe after-shave and that manly pomade crap he uses in his hair and mustache.

"You look beautiful," he whispered in my ear, and it was those words that brought the first tears of the day to my eyes. I hugged him tight and nuzzled my face into his chest.

"You look really handsome, too, dad," I whimpered. "I'm so sorry about...about..." My throat constricted and the sentence stuck in my throat like glue.

We stood in the middle of the living room with people all around swaying to our own gentle rhythm until a voice finally said softly, "Charlie, Bella, it's time."

I held Charlie's hand as the procession walked across the lush green grass of the Greenwood Memory Lawn Cemetery, through the rows of monuments and memorials, towards our destination.

"You're doing great, kiddo," he said low enough for only me to hear. I squeezed his hand and kept my eyes straight ahead. There wasn't a cloud in the clear blue sky and the heat had yet to become oppressive even when dressed in black from head to toe. There was a light wind that took the hair from the back of my neck and lifted it, allowing a cool breeze to dry the sheen of sweat forming across my skin.

Our group stopped and surrounded the tombstones that rested side by side along with their bodies and that's when reality hit me like a sledgehammer to my temple.

This was really happening.

Jacob Black

February 11, 1983 – April 15, 2010

William "Billy" Black

January 17, 1948 – April 15, 2010

Without warning and to the shock of those around me, I fell to my knees and traced my fingers over the engravings. The stone was emotionless and unyielding, the exact opposite of my heart, which was full and boiling over. My palms to the warm ground, I braced the weight of my body on my shaking arms and wept in a way that I hadn't done since I first got the call that there had been an accident.

He's not coming back.

It was a fact that I knew to be true but I hadn't let myself believe it until that moment. I still expected the front door to open and Jake to appear with a case of beer in one hand and a pizza in the other and he'd kiss me on the cheek like he always did and we'd sit on the couch and eat and drink and laugh.

My chest ached with the force of my gut-wrenching sobs. I gasped for air in giant panting breaths and whimpered unintelligible sentence fragments. Someone rubbed my back and pulled my hair off my face. Hands were trying to pry my fingers out of the dirt that covered the freshly dug graves.

"Easy now, Bella love. Take a deep breath."

It was Leah Clearwater's voice in my ear. She meant well but she was only making it worse. I pushed her away with my shoulder and dug my fingers in deeper.

"Mrs. Black?" came the patient voice of the officiant who would be performing the service. "Would you like some water?"

I looked up into his serene face and opened my mouth. What was intended to be a rational sentence, instead came out like a shriek from a mental patient.

"That's my husband under there!" I screamed. "Whyyyy? Someone tell me why!"

It was a question with an unacceptable answer.

There was an accident.

"Come on, let's get you inside." Leah tried to pull me up but I wouldn't budge. "She shouldn't be out here like this, Embry," I heard her say to Jake's cousin. "It's too soon."

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Someone strong started lifting me up against my will and I screamed for them to put me down. I kicked and fought and thrashed and when I was finally on my feet I quieted down as quickly as I had begun. Behavior of this sort was completely out of character for me and I knew I was scaring those around me who were as equally distraught as I was.

They were all just standing there, staring at me. Charlie. Renee and Phil. Jared, Paul, and Embry Call. Sam Uley. Emily Young. Harry and Leah Clearwater. What were they holding in their eyes for me? Next to their own anguish was a separate pain in the shape of young love too new to ever know fruition.

Husband.

Father-in-law.

Friends.

Gone.

"I'm sorry everyone, I'm so sorry," I repeated robotically, unable to make eye contact with anyone. I smoothed my hands down the front of my dress and picked at the clumps of grass and dirt under my nails. I tasted dirt in my mouth. There were scrapes on my knees and my legs were trembling. "I'm sorry I ruined this."

"It's ok, Bella," Sam said. "You didn't ruin anything."

"You don't have to be strong today, sweetie," said my mom at my side.

"Come on, Bells. I'll take you inside. You can sit this part out. You've been through enough."

"No!" I yelled wildly and my father recoiled. I took a deep breath and stuck out my chin. "I'm fine. I want to stay."

Once everyone felt confident that the scene was over, the graveside service began and I stood numb; embarrassed by my outburst in the dirt. The caskets had been lowered in a gesture of sensitivity before we arrived. Jake and Billy were Quileute Native Americans. Jake attended the Quileute Tribal School in LaPush, Washington – a coincidence that made us instant friends the moment we met - and since neither of them had a burial plan, the decision was made to honor their lives and lay them to rest in a cemetery open to all faiths and cultures. There was no wake or church service. No spectacle. No forced religion. Just quiet remembrance and mourning for Billy and Jacob Black, aged sixty-two and twenty-seven.

"Mrs. Black? You wanted to say a few words?" the officiant asked politely. I hadn't realized he finished.

"I, uh, yes, yes, thank you."

I switched places with the nice man in the nice suit and stood at the makeshift podium set up in front of the headstones. I reached into my purse and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Unable to look out at the small crowd, I furrowed my brow and concentrated on the words on the page.

"This, um, this is a poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye, and I think for those who knew Jake that it fits his personality perfectly. He was such a happy person and he loved us all so much. I know he wouldn't want to see us fall apart. He would want us to go on, to remember him fondly, to laugh at the memories, even as we stand over his grave."

I brushed the tears away and smiled.

"He and Billy were the same in that way."

I cleared my throat and unfolded the paper.

I won't mess this up, Jake. I promise. I'm going to get it right...for you.

"Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
(Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!)"

My voice broke as I spoke over the whimpered cries coming from my audience. When I had finished, I placed the folded page back in my purse, stepped off the podium and retook my spot in between my parents. My mouth was dry and I tasted the stale taste of vomit at the back of my throat.

Paul stood and spoke next. He kept it light – sweet anecdotes and charming stories about growing up and going to school with Jake and the mischievous antics they would get up to. Then Harry Clearwater spoke candidly about Billy and their falling out ten years ago – over what he didn't say – but he expressed his relief and gratitude that they made up before he was taken from us. It was a moving tribute to one of his closest friends and my father and Harry hugged after he was done.

The officiant said a few last words and we placed flowers on the headstones before saying our final goodbyes. I lingered at the graves while everyone loaded into the cars. Birds flittered overhead and made pleasant chirping noises.

"We have to head back to the house for brunch, Jakey. Renee made those small sandwiches that you like, and tomorrow I'll make sure to take the truck in for servicing. Don't worry. I won't forget. I'll take care of everything. You said the tires were good... so... I won't-" Choke built in my throat and each word threatened to strangle me.

I turned to Billy's stone and made it short and sweet, just like he was.

"Bye, Billy Manilli," I swallowed thickly. "Take care of my Jake up there, just like you always did down here. ...I love you both and I'll miss you."

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