Chapter 4

(Bella's POV)

April gave way to May and the days continued to pass. The restaurant got steadily busier and the stash of money in my coffee can grew reassuringly thick. I no longer panicked at the thought that I lacked the means to leave this place if I had to.

Even after paying my rent and utilities, along with food, I had extra money for the first time in years. Not a lot, but enough to make me feel light and free. On Friday morning, I stopped at Esme's, a thrift shop that specialized in secondhand clothes. It took most of the morning to sift through all the clothing, but in the end, I bought two pairs of shoes, a couple of pairs of pants, shorts, three stylish T-shirts, and a few blouses, most of which were name brands of one sort or another and looked almost new. It amazed me to think that some women had so many nice clothes that they could donate what would probably cost a small fortune in a department store.

Rose was hanging a wind chime when I got home. Since that first meeting, they hadn't talked much. Rose's job, whatever it was, seemed to keep her busy and I was working as many shifts as I could. At night, I'd notice that Rose's lights were on, but it was too late for her to drop by, and Rose hadn't been there the previous weekend.

"Long time, no talk," Rose said with a wave. She tapped the wind chime, making it ding before crossing the yard.

I reached the porch and put the bags down. "Where've you been?"

Rose shrugged. "You know how it goes. Late nights, early mornings, going here and there. Half the time, I feel like I'm being pulled in every direction." She motioned to the rockers. "You mind? I need a break. I've been cleaning all morning and I just hung that thing. I like the sound, you know."

"Go ahead," I said.

Rose sat and rolled her shoulders, working out the kinks. "You've been getting some sun," she commented. "Did you go to the beach?"

"No," I said. I scooted one of the bags aside to make room for my foot. "I picked up some extra dayshifts the past couple of weeks and I worked outside on the deck."

"Sun, water… what else is there? Working at Newton's must be like being on vacation."

I laughed. "Not quite. But how about you?"

"No sun, no fun for me these days." She nodded toward the bags. "I wanted to drop by and mooch a cup of coffee this morning, but you were already gone."

"I went shopping."

"I can tell. Did you find anything you liked?"

"I think so," I confessed.

"Well, don't just sit there, show me what you bought."

"Are you sure?"

Rose laughed. "I live in a cottage at the end of a gravel road in the middle of nowhere and I've been washing cabinets all morning. What else do I have to excite me?"

I pulled out a pair of jeans and handed them over. Rose held them up, turning them from front to back.

"Wow!" she said. "You must have found these at Esme's. I love that place."

"How did you know I went to Esme's?"

"Because it's not like any of the stores around here sell things this nice. This came from someone's closet. A rich woman's closet. A lot of the stuff is practically new." Lowering the jeans, Rose ran her finger over the stitching on the pockets.

"These are great. I love the designs!" She peeked toward the bag.

"What else did you get?"

I handed over the items one by one, listening as Rose raved about every piece. When the bag was empty, Rose sighed. "Okay, it's official. I'm jealous. And let me guess, there's nothing like any of this left in the store, is there?"

I shrugged, feeling suddenly sheepish. "Sorry," I said. "I was there for a while."

"Well, good for you. These are treasures."

I nodded toward Rose's house. "How's it coming over there?" I asked. "Have you started painting?"

"Not yet."

"Too busy at work?"

Rose made a face. "The truth is, after I got the unpacking done and I cleaned the place from top to bottom, I sort of ran out of energy. It's a good thing you're my friend, since that means I can still come over here where it's bright and cheery."

"You're welcome anytime."

"Thanks. I appreciate that. But evil Mr. Clearwater is going to deliver some cans of paint tomorrow. Which also explains why I'm here. I'm dreading the very idea of spending my entire weekend covered in splatter."

"It's not so bad. It goes fast."

"Do you see these hands?" Rose said, holding them up. "These were made for caressing handsome men and meant to be adorned with pretty nails and diamond rings. They're not made for paint rollers and paint splatter and that kind of manual labor."

I giggled. "Do you want me to come over and help?"

"Absolutely not. I'm an expert in procrastination, but the last thing I want you to think is that I'm incompetent, too. Because I'm actually pretty good at what I do."

A flock of starlings broke from the trees, moving in an almost musical rhythm. The motion of the rockers was making the porch creak slightly.

"What do you do?" I asked.

"I'm a counselor of sorts."

"For the high school?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm a grief counselor."

"Oh," I said. I paused. "I'm not sure what that is."

Rose shrugged. "I visit with people and try to help them. Usually, it's because someone close to them has died."

She paused, and when she went on, her voice was softer. "People react in a lot of different ways and it's up to me to figure out how to help them accept what happened—and I hate that word, by the way, since I've yet to meet anyone who wants to accept it—but that's pretty much what I'm supposed to do. Because in the end, and no matter how hard it is, acceptance helps people move on with the rest of their lives. But sometimes…"

She trailed off. In the silence, she scratched at a piece of flaking paint on the rocker. "Sometimes, when I'm with someone, other issues come up. That's what I've been dealing with lately. Because sometimes people need help in other ways, too."

"That sounds rewarding."

"It is. Even if it has challenges." She turned toward me. "But what about you?"

"You know I work at Newton's."

"But you haven't told me anything else about yourself."

"There's not much to tell," I protested, hoping to deflect the line of questioning.

"Of course there is. Everyone has a story." She paused. "For instance, what really brought you to Crescent?"

"I already told you," I said. "I wanted to start over."

Rose seemed to stare right through me as she studied the answer. "Okay," she finally said, her tone light.

"You're right. It's not my business."

"That's not what I said…"

"Yes, you did. You just said it in a nice way. And I respect your answer because you're right; it isn't my business. But just so you know, when you say you wanted to start over, the counselor in me wonders why you felt the need to start over. And more important, what you left behind."

I felt my shoulders tense. Sensing my discomfort, Rose went on.

"How about this?" she asked gently. "Forget I even asked the question. Just know that if you ever want to talk, I'm here, okay? I'm good at listening especially with friends. And believe it or not, sometimes talking helps."

"What if I can't talk about it?" I said in an involuntary whisper.

"Then how about this? Ignore the fact that I'm a counselor. We're just friends, and friends can talk about anything. Like where you were born or something that made you happy as a kid."

"Why is that important?"

"It isn't. And that's the point. You don't have to say anything at all that you don't want to say."

I absorbed her words before squinting at Rose. "You're very good at your job, aren't you?"

"I try," Rose conceded.

I laced my fingers together in my lap. "All right. I was born in Forks," I said.

Rose leaned back in my rocking chair. "I've never been there. Is it nice?"

"It's one of those old towns," I said, "you know the kind. A town filled with good, hard working people who are just trying to make a better life for themselves. And it was pretty, too, especially in the fall, when the leaves began to change. I used to think there was no place more beautiful in the world." I lowered my eyes, half lost in memories. "I used to have a friend, and together we'd lay pennies on the rocks near the river banks.

After the waves formed, we'd scramble around trying to find them, and when we did, we'd always marvel at how any trace of engraving would be completely gone. Sometimes the pennies were still hot. I remember almost burning my fingers one time. When I think back on my childhood, it's mostly about small pleasures like that."

I shrugged, but Rose remained silent, willing me to go on.

"Anyway, that's where I went to school. All the way through. I ended up graduating from high school there, but by then, I don't know… I guess I was tired of… all of it, you know? Small-town life, where every weekend was the same. The same people going to the same parties, the same boys drinking beer in the beds of their pickup trucks. I wanted something more, but college didn't work out and, long story short, I ended up in Seattle. I worked there for a while, moved around a bit, and now, years later, here I am."

"In another small town where everything stays the same."

I shook my head. "It's different here. It makes me feel…"

When I hesitated, Rose finished the thought for me.

"Safe?"

When my startled gaze met hers, Rose seemed bemused. "It's not that hard to figure out. Like you said, you're starting over and what better place to start over than a place like this? Where nothing ever happens?" She paused. "Well, that's not quite true. I heard there was a little excitement a couple weeks back. When you dropped by the store?"

"You heard about that?"

"It's a small town. It's impossible not to hear about it. What happened?"

"It was scary. One minute, I was talking to Edward, and when I saw what was happening on the monitor, I guess he noticed my expression because in the next instant, he was racing past me. He moved through that store like lightning, and then Lilly saw the monitor and started to panic. I scooped her up and followed her dad. By the time I got out there, Edward was already out of the water with Noah. I'm just glad he was okay."

"Me, too." Rose nodded. "What do you think of Lilly? Isn't she just the sweetest thing?"

"She calls me Miss Bella."

"I love that little girl," Rose said, drawing her knees up to her chest. "But it doesn't surprise me that the two of you get along. Or that she reached for you when she was scared."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because she's a perceptive little thing. She knows you've got a good heart."

I made a skeptical face. "Maybe she was just scared about her brother, and when her dad took off I was the only one there."

"Don't sell yourself short. Like I said, she's perceptive." Rose pressed on. "How was Edward? Afterward, I mean?"

"He was still shaken up, but other than that, he seemed all right."

"Have you talked to him much since then?"

I gave a noncommittal shrug. "Not too much. He's always nice when I come into the store, and he stocks what I need, but that's about it."

"He's good about things like that," Rose said with assurance.

"You sound like you know him pretty well."

Rose rocked a little in her chair. "I think I do."

I waited for more, but Rose was silent.

"You want to talk about it?" I inquired innocently. "Because talking sometimes helps, especially with a friend."

Rose's eyes sparkled. "You know, I always suspected you were a lot craftier than you let on. Throwing my own words back at me. You should be ashamed."

I smiled but said nothing, just as Rose had done with me. And, surprising me, it worked.

"I'm not sure how much I should say," Rose added. "But I can tell you this: he's a good man. He's the kind of man you can count on to do the right thing. You can see that in how much he loves his kids."

I brought my lips together for a moment. "Did you two ever see each other?"

Rose seemed to choose her words carefully. "Yes, but maybe not in the way you're thinking. And just so we're clear: it was a long time ago and everyone has moved on."

I wasn't sure what to make of her answer but didn't want to press it. "What's his story, by the way? I take it he's divorced, right?"

"You should ask him."

"Me? Why would I want to ask him?"

"Because you asked me," Rose said, arching an eyebrow.

"Which means, of course, that you're interested in him."

"I'm not interested in him."

"Then why would you be wondering about him?"

I scowled. "For a friend, you're kind of manipulative."

Rose shrugged. "I just tell people what they already know, but are afraid to admit to themselves."

I thought about that. "Just so we're clear, I'm officially taking back my offer to help you paint your house."

"You already said you'd do it."

"I know, but I'm taking back the offer."

Rose laughed. "Okay," she said. "Hey, what are you doing tonight?"

"I have to go to work in a little while. Actually, I should probably start getting ready."

"How about tomorrow night? Are you working?"

"No. I have the weekend off."

"Then how about I bring over a bottle of wine? I'm sure I'm going to need it, and I really don't want to be inhaling the paint fumes any longer than I have to. Would that be okay?"

"Actually, that sounds like fun."

"Good." Rose unfolded herself from the chair and stood. "It's a date."