I do not own Twilight characters. They are Stephenie Meyer's creation and I do not intend any copyright infringement.

A/N: A little fluff to show that Bella's life isn't all bad. A Stephenie says, Jacob is her sunlight.

Chapter Two: The Calm After The Storm

June

I woke up obnoxiously early this morning. I guess that what you get for crashing at 8:00 at night. I know just what I need after yesterday's ugliness. I need beauty and purity. I need Jacob Black and my lake, who are coincidentally both equally beautiful and pure. I flip on the TV in the kitchen as I eat a toasted blueberry bagel with butter. Weather forecast calls for mostly sunny skies today with a slight chance of late evening showers. Summer in the OP does have one advantage I'll concede. The daily downpour of rain that happens Autumn, Winter, and Spring slows to a trickle and we actually see the sun once in a blue moon. That settles it. I am going hiking. I pick up my cell phone, figuring Jake is awake.

"Hey, Jake, up for some outdoorsiness?"

"Yeah, sure, Bella. When ya gonna pick me up?"

"I can be there in about thirty minutes. I'm making coffee; you want me to bring some?"

"What you drink doesn't really qualify as coffee." he teases.

"Yeah, yeah , yeah. Bye, Jake"

"Bye, Bella."

How dare he insult the deliciousness that is a Bellacino. We have a saying around here--When it rains, we pour. We start drinking coffee when we are practically still in diapers. Therefore, I am girl who takes her caffeine very seriously. I grab the pot of French Roast that brewed while I was eating and pour it into the blender. Next comes milk, cream, lots of sugar, chocolate syrup, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ice cubes. I mix it and transfer it into my favorite giant metallic purple thermos. Wanting the hike to be as long as possible, I start grabbing provisions. I dump some Multi-grain Cheerios, peanuts, pretzels, and raisins in a bowl. I grab a six pack of water bottles, two apples, and two bananas from the pantry and throw it all in my backpack with a few granola bars. I jot a note to my parents telling them where I'll be and run out the door.

As I walk to the driveway, I just have to smile. There is my sweet Sherman, the new love of my life. Sherman is my grandfather's ancient giant Chevy truck. He isn't fast or cool or pretty, but I love him. His red paint is faded, scratched, and dented. I named him Sherman because Grandpa was in a Sherman tank battalion in the Korean War and this truck is a tank compared to everyone else at school's vehicle. My grandfather drove this truck and nothing else every day that I knew him. He died right before Easter and I miss him so much. My grandmother handed me the keys at his funeral. She knew I loved the truck and hoped I'd get over my aversion to driving. I hate lying to Grandma, I love to drive. I just refused my mother's offer on my sixteenth birthday to buy me some ridiculously expensive shiny new car for what it was. It was a bribe to keep my mouth shut, an expression of her guilt. So I made up the fear of driving excuse and everyone was placated. Rose had her candy apple red BMW, Alice had her sunny yellow Porsche, and I had a pair of Nike sneakers until that funeral. I told Mom that Sherman makes me feel safe because he is so big and that it makes me less sad that Grandpa is dead because I'm connected to something he loved, which is true. Besides the truck is mine whereas Rosie's and Alice's cars technically belong to my parents and could be yanked away on one of their whims even after they are eighteen. I get in, throw my bag on the passenger seat and head for LaPush.

I drive the short trip from Forks to the tiny Indian reservation on the coast sipping from my thermos. Jake is my best friend in the whole world. His dad, Billy Black, is a good friend of my father. I have known him his whole life. There is a framed picture in their small living room of a four year old me holding a squirming two year old Jake in my lap. We have nothing in common. I am a clumsy oaf; he is obnoxiously graceful. I am an unbearable know-it-all; he could care less about school. He is brave and reckless; I 'm timid and cautious. He's a carefree lighthearted soul; I am serious and burdened. He's a Freshman; I'm a Junior. Jake's already over six feet tall and growing every time I see him; I'm stuck at 5'6". He has beautiful copper skin; I'm pale as a ghost and dotted with moles, a lovely genetic gift from my mother along with big narrow feet. He openly expresses every thought and emotion; I'm closed and secretive. He's a boy; I'm a girl. Despite all the differences, we couldn't get along better or have more fun together. We have always been close, but we got much closer two years ago when his mom died of pancreatic cancer. He needed a friend so much and I got the added benefit of getting to spend my every waking moment out of the house. Jake is waiting outside his tiny home with his own backpack when I pull up and hop out excitedly.

"Hey, Sunshine, good morning!" I chirp in his ear as he scoops me up in a giant bear hug and lifts me off the ground.

"Hey there, Dark Cloud, you ready to go trip over your own feet all day while I laugh at you?"

"Ha ha very funny, Jake. Get in the truck, we're going to Crescent Lake."

Jake climbs in the passenger door and gives me a worried look when he notices what is playing on my stereo. "Classical music again? Classical music…classical music and Lake Crescent? Bella what's up, seriously?"

"What, what is wrong with classical music?"

"Nothing is wrong with it. I mean its more boring than algebra homework, but nothing I guess is wrong…with the music."

"Then what is wrong with Lake Crescent?"

"Bella, nothing is wrong with them. It's you. Something is wrong with you. When you start playing that opera crap I know you're going to brood and be pissy all damn day. When you mope and sulk we go to Lake Crescent. Now, put the two together and I know something is really wrong. Come on, Bell, talk to me."

"Nothing is wrong, Jake, I'm fine." I say, annoyed by his freaky powers of observation.

"Sometimes you show up here with this look on your face like you want to curl up in ball and just quit."

"Jake, I said I'm fine."

"I know enough about girls to know that I'm fine doesn't mean I'm fine. I do have big sisters remember."

"Fine, Jacob Black Master of All Womanly Secrets, I'm not fine but I don't want to talk about it, okay! I just want to hike and goof off with you."

"Alright. I won't bug you about it. But Bella,"

"Yeah, Jake."

"You can tell me anything."

"I can't tell you this. And I promise, no moping."

"What about brooding?"

"I promise." I roll my eyes. He can be such a pest.

"Sulking?" he asks with a big stupid grin on his face.

"I hate you, you know that don't you. I loathe everything about you." I smile grudgingly.

"No you don't. What about that general all-day pissiness?"

"Shut up or I'm kicking you out and going by myself."

When we arrive at my lake, my face lights up in huge grin. I feel like a huge weight has lifted off my chest. If my family's house is Hell, then Lake Crescent is my own personal Heaven. The highway winds through thick trees on both side until the forest suddenly opens up to the most astonishing views. On the right, towering slate gray, almost black cliffs lurk two feet from the side of the lane. Huge cables and nets are stretched against the rock to prevent boulders from falling on the cars below. Streams of water cascade down the cliff face and cross the road to run into the mammoth lake. On the left, the sun is streaming down and hitting the massive lake's surface making it sparkle. Puffy white clouds drift lazily through the valley. The water is hundreds of feet deep and crystal clear. Every detail of the lake bed is visible. The deep center of the lake is the color of a perfect royal blue sapphire. Surrounding the lake are pine forests partially obscured by a wispy fog that stretch up as far as they can before admitting defeat at a crisp tree line. Above the line, the Olympic Mountains rise rocky and snowy peaked. This is my favorite place on Earth. I park Sherman and we head for the trails.

"Bell, you gun." Jake hands me his Dad's spare nine millimeter Glock pistol as we approach the trailhead. I check to make sure it is loaded and that the safety is on a put it in the outer pouch on my backpack. He keeps the fifty caliber revolver for himself. I know how to shoot. Dad taught me a long time ago. Growing up in such a remote wilderness area, firearms are just a part of life to the population of Forks. Most of the kids in the area have their own guns and hunt on a regular basis. Charlie Swan probably wisely never bought his daughters weapons. The man isn't a complete idiot. So, I always have to borrow one from Jake. I wasn't here to hunt, but it was smart to hike armed in these woods. There are very dangerous predators in the area; black bears, grizzlies, mountain lions, wolves. Add to that, elk and moose could be very aggressive, causing life-threatening damage if they attack.

Aside from the danger lurking around every corner, when I'm out here in nature, I feel calm and connected to the world in a way that I never do in the rest of my life. I am surrounded by green, the color of life. It soothes me. There is no horror show, only soft mud, and fluffy ferns. No harsh words and bulging arms coiled to strike, only rough mossy trunks and the whisper of wind through needles far above my head. I feel a sense or constancy. The trees of this forest are hundreds of years old, the mountains millions older still. It is the same sense that people get when they go stargazing. It's a sense that you and your problems aren't even a drop in the universe's bucket. You would think feeling so inferior would be depressing, but it's not somehow. It's reassuring. As my grandmother likes to say, this too in time shall pass. Time, there is just an overwhelming sense of time to this place. It makes my relatively short term issues seem like less of a big deal. Being here, physically exhausting and spiritually renewing myself, is the only thing that heals my broken soul.

After hiking for hours, we finally made it back to the lakeside. We take a much need break lying on our backs together in the bed of my truck. Jake has his arm around me under my neck and is playing with my long brown ponytail. I have my hand resting palm up on his chest, rubbing it slowly with my knuckle. I don't know why I am so comfortable being so intimate with Jake when I am so debilitating shy around any guy I'm interested in romantically. It's just so easy and natural with us to hold hands or snuggle, and we have and never and will never be a couple. I'm sure we would look like the picture of post-coital bliss to anyone who wandered by and didn't listen in to out conversation. If they did eavesdrop, they would be corrected of that errant notion.

"I swear to God, Swan, you are the biggest spaz on the planet!"

"I am not."

"Oh you so are and you know it!"

"Shut up! I am sure there are way bigger klutzes somewhere out there."

"Bella, my dear," he grabs the hand on his chest with his free hand and holds it to emphasize the point, "I hate to tell you this, but that isn't possible. No one currently alive, maybe that lived ever is more of a complete and utter goofus than you are."

"That isn't true." I yank my hand away to show I'm offended and end up smacking my self in the chin with it. He snorts and rolls his eyes in an unattractive 'I told you so' way.

"Really, Bell, really, you're gonna argue about that. Okay fine. What happened to cause that scrape on your forehead today?"

"I walked into a branch." I pout.

"The same branch you saw me, who is way taller than you, successfully duck under?"

"Yes, that's the one." I grin.

"The one I said 'Bellbell watch out for this branch' right before you dumbly plowed right into it?"

"You are such an ass, Jake. And that doesn't prove anything. Anyone can walk into one branch."

"You stubbed your toe like eight times!"

"So."

"How many bandaids are you now wearing that you weren't wearing this morning?"

"Three, what's your point?" I smirk. He just smiles at me and gives my shoulder a squeeze.

"You even somehow managed to dislocated your thumb tying your boot laces for God's sakes!"

"It does that all the time. It popped right back in the socket. That doesn't count as an injury for today. You're cheating."

"Bella, you freak, that isn't normal. Your hand isn't supposed to just willy-nilly disassemble itself." he chuckles to himself.

"I think I chipped a bone off the socket when I crashed my bike into that brick pillar in front of the library a few years ago."

"You hit what!" he asks incredulously, childish giggles bursting out of his mouth. "You never told me about that one."

"Why do I tell you anything when all you ever do is laugh at me! Besides, that pillar jumped right out in front of me." I end up joining him with my own fit of laughter.

"I swear, Bella, they should just glue a crash helmet onto your cute little head."

"That's gonna seem really funny to me as I'm driving home after ditching your ass here."

I tease. "Come on, let's grab some dinner in Forks and go home. I'm exhausted."