Last time on P & C's…

(Ness PoV)

I see it all in slow motion: Jacob screaming a horse, broken cry; his hands pulling at his hair as he collapses on the grass several feet from where four Paramedics are kneeling around the man. Billy's shirt is cut open, his hands splayed out lifelessly either side like a man on a cross. A tube is down his throat, tied on with creamy bias the same color as his waxen, sickly skin as they squeeze oxygen into his lungs. His eyes have remained hauntingly open but void and absent of any consciousness. There are wires running up, attached to two large flesh colored rectangles stuck to his chest, there is a medic rhythmically pressing two linked heals of hands into his sternum. The shrill whoop of the defibrillator winding up as it charges cuts the air. Someone calls "stand clear" as the beeping machine delivers his body a shock. His limbs jerk unnaturally before landing limp and lifeless again by his side.

The lurching flicks a switch in me, my legs finding the fuel to move, and I run to Jacob. I fall hard on to my knees as I skid to his side. My arms fling around him from the side, holding him tight and willing him to hold together.

"Dad," he cries as the paramedic starts compressing on his chest again. Looking up and meeting our eye, I recognize him, he's the one who was at the house back in February, unlike that time, his eyes don't reassure and hearten; tonight he has a bleak, doomed look in his eye.

"Billy."


I'm going to put a disclaimer right here before you guys read this chapter. For the record it's really hard to find out about specific Quileute burial customs using just online resources. So I decided to take little snippets of other tribes I researched and have mashed it all together. I hope no one finds it disrespectful and or is affronted. I give my upmost respect to the Quileute Nation and for that matter, to all communities around the globe. For anyone who's lost a love one, how we celebrate their life is a personal one, no one way is right.


-Thank you Leslie, for editing this chapter for me. It's been a tough week for you. I hope you're a little happier after finding yourself in this chap. You're a great educator, and mentor.

-Love the house S. Loved the letters more!


Chapter 52 – One Last Supper

(Jake PoV)

"Eat this," she says shoving a plate of cornbread under my nose and putting glass of orange juice on my bedside table.

"I don't want to," I say. I sound like a petulant eight year old, I guess that's because I feel like I'm right back to that same day when I was eight years old, only it was dad making me eat back then. He's not here to do that today.

"I don't care, it's gunna be long day Jacob, you've got to eat something."

"Fine," I say taking the plate and taking a bite of the bread. It's Aunty Sues. I know, because she always adds bacon to hers.

He's been gone for five days and the freezer is full of lasagna and casserole again. I'm sick of fucking lasagna. Becca and Solomon got in on Thursday, Soli eats more than me, so at least it's going to good use.

The body was released from the county coroner yesterday, and in about half an hour the entire reservation and half of Forks will be converging on the Community Center; the center my dad lobbied to build back in the day.

I don't want to go.

"Here," she says, lowering down on to her hands and knees at my bare feet, moving my good shoes closer and unrolling my black socks. "We don't want to be late, you've got to finish getting dressed." She's quiet and I can tell she's walking on egg shells around me, waiting for me to psych-out on her. I'm not gunna. I'm sad as shit, but it's not depression. Dr. Carmen's has me calling him every morning. I've not bothered today. I'd say I'll need the chat after, more than I do now.

"Don't Ness, I can put my own shoes on," I say tenderly as my finger reaches out and tucks a stray curl behind her ear.

"Okay," she says unraveling and standing gracefully to her feet. She's dressed in a plain black wrap around dress, her messy hair piled recklessly up on top of her head. She looks up at me, her eyes are puffy and tired — like mine. With a sigh she sits down on the bed next to me. The mattress sinks in as she leans her shoulder against me. My arm winds around her automatically, both of us holding each other together.

The house is quiet, I can hear the twins talking in the bathroom as they get dressed. There must be someone else here too, I can hear the soft clinking of dishes in the sink as someone does my chores for me. Inside the shelter of my bedroom, there's nothing but the sound of our breathing, Nessie's occasional sniffle, and the nothingness of his ghost.

"I don't want to go," I say after a few minutes of silence.

"You don't have to Jake. No one's going to make you. I'd like to go, but… but I won't if you're not going to." I can feel her eyes on me, I just stare at the AP Biology and Math text books piled up on my desk. All the AP exams were done and dusted the week before last, before we flew out to New York. At least I don't have to worry about studying for a few months. "I think your sisters would like you to go. And to be honest sweetheart," her warm tiny fingers cupping the side of my cheek, "I think you'd regret not going in years to come."

A single tear escapes my eye, and I let if fall off my cheek onto the same black pants I was wearing this time one week ago at the wedding. What a difference a week can make.

I suck in a sharp breath, filling my chest and using it to inflate my otherwise deflated and withered insides. "I know, I know, I'm gunna go. I just don't want to, you know? It's like it's gunna be real now. Not some kind of mix up or one big joke he's played on me."

She makes a sobbing squeak as she buries her face into my chest, her little hands gripping around my ribs hard. "I know. I know," her voice is muffled by my shirt, "I don't want it to be real either." Both of my arms hold her, my face pressing into the grounding sent of her hair as she cries.

It gives me strength to know she trusts me—or more so, she trusts my sanity enough to show me her own grief.

When she's done sluicing her tears, she sits back, wiping her eyes on the corner of my motorbike pillow case. "Okay," she announces, nodding to herself and setting a steadying breath through pursed lips. "That's me done for now. I'm here now, for you." Each phrase a shaking breath, she's determined to be strong for me. I'm determined to be strong for her. We'll be each other's strength.


The community center is buzzing when we walk in. Only Tribal members could go to the burial ceremony, but Aunty Sue organized it with the elders so that Ness and Charlie could go too. I wouldn't have accepted anything less.

Everyone from school is here, as well as some Hoh elders, and lots of Makah, even some town folk from Forks that I only know by sight have come to pay their respects. My father's influence was far reaching.

There is a huge potluck of food spread out around a half dozen tables. I see Mrs. Cullen's cinnamon buns stacked high in a basket. I take one of those as I dodge the crowd, pulling Ness along with me as I head for a quiet corner. There're no chairs left, so I just sit on the polished floor against the wall, pulling Ness into my lap. I kind of just want to hide away. I don't want to do any small talk crap, I'm over everyone expressing their sympathy. I get it, they feel bad for me and my sisters. I don't want to talk to anyone today though.

Quil and Embry find us though, and they sit sentry either side of us. They don't talk. They're just playing defense for their QB.

My plan for solitude in a dark corner fails. Before long Jarred and Kim are down on the floor with us, Seth coming over with Leah and Sam too.

Lee-lee picked Rachel up from the airport and the three of them drove up from Seattle on Tuesday. She's been really good this week. "Love you J," she whispers, leaning in and kissing the top of my head before going to sit down next to her brother. They're all hurting, they're all reliving their own losses too.


After a while of just hiding behind Nessie's curls, eating my cinnamon bun and ignoring everyone around me like a hermit, I lift my eyes, scanning the room to see who's come to the lamenting circus. Wow, Mr. Banner is here, so too is Mrs. Fuller and Miss Richie, they're talking to some of my friends from school. Paul Lahote and his dad, Roy, are over by the food. I can see Nessie's mom and dad, they flew in yesterday. Marie waves at me and I give her a comfortable, informal single hand lift. She doesn't make to come over, they don't need to talk to me today; they came over to see me and Ness at the house yesterday.

You can tell they've been around entire communities who have been affected by death and tragedy, their words of condolence and commiseration weren't as bemused and awkward as some others. There were no dirty coffee cups left, no lasagna for the freezer after their visit, just open arms and support. Marie is going to help my sisters and I sort through the minefield of dad's absent Will in a few days, when the dust settles, literally. I'm touched that they came all the way from the Middle East for me. They were actually the very people I needed. Nessie's parents. If she's my tribal mate, then they're my parents too.

I keep scanning the room, it's mostly tribe stuffing their guts; small clusters of people talking quietly. Oh… I see just over Carlisle's shoulder, Bella, she's talking to Aunty Sue. Bella… is here. I didn't know she was coming. As one of my oldest friends, and nothing more, I'm overwhelmed that she's cut off her honeymoon to come home. This means more to me than I'd realized. I guess dad was a big part of her life once, kind of how her father was—and still is— to me. I watch as Rachel comes up to her, and they hug. I forget how close they were when we were little. Rach is crying, and I feel like a perv watching her open grief but for some reason it helps me hold my shit together.

Then suddenly she's releasing Bella, turning and flinging herself in to Paul Lahote's arms.

What. The. Fuck?

He's holding her without restraint, like a man who has held this woman—my sister—before today. Suddenly, I'm very interested in mingling with the crowd.

"Jake?" Ness asks as I scoot her off my lap and stand up.

"Hang on Ness," I don't look down at her, only to the fucker who's holding my sister like he's fucked her. That fucker and me just can't get off this love-hate roundabout.

In six quick strides I'm over to them, pulling Rachel off his chest, my hands balled up to his collar. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I hiss, my words quiet and cold. "Off limits Paul. Off Limits."

"Whoa Jake, chill man. Let's just talk outside," he says, looking over to Rachel who is standing dead still at our sides, halfway between us. Not taking his side, or mine. Typical.

"Don't fucking look at her!" I ground out through clenched teeth, and his is eyes flick back to mine. They're not angry, they're not scared, they're not even smug. Paul fucking Lahote looks at me with amenability and kindness, and it damn well takes the wind right out of my sails. I let go of his collar with a shove and a flick of fingers. Rachel steps over to him, her hand smoothing over his chest, whispering something that has him nodding in reply.

"Jake!" Ness is next to me now, holding my hand as a symbol of solidarity and I'm guessing to also keep my right hook captive. "What are you doing?"

I look around to see most of the crowd watching the almost altercation. "Can we go outside for a minute?" Rachel asks, nodding with her chin to the side door held half ajar with a chair.

"This should be good," I say sullenly, pulling Ness outside with me, my sister and her eighteen year old lover in tow.

When we get around the corner of the brick building I spin on my heels. "What the hell Paul? You're supposed to be my friend. Not FUCKING my sister!"

"Jake!" Rachel shouts.

"Jesus, Black, it's not like that. Fucking calm down, okay?"

"Then what the fuck is it like Lahote?"

Rachel steps up between us, her hands on my shoulders shaking me until I lock eyes with her. Her eyes are the same as dads. "Firstly Jacob, I want to wallop your ass for being such an asshole at dad's wake. His freakin' wake Jacob! Couldn't you wait until we got home to get into this shit?" she doesn't wait for an answer just blowing through with her diatribe. "And secondly, it's none of your freakin' business who I am or who I am not, involved with."

"Bullshit it's not my business."

"No, it's not. Yeah, sure, you have a vested interest in my wellbeing Jacob, but when you pull shit this this, is it no wonder I didn't want to tell you?"

"But come on Rach?" I say stepping back and tilting my head in disbelief, "Paul? He's a man-whoring, womanizing, player Rach, don't you know anything?"

My sister steps up to me, a hard pointed finger into my face, "It's you who don't know anything Jake," her eyes blazing and angry, defensive against the labels.

Paul comes up to her, a soft hand around her waist a whispered hush into her ear, "Come on babe, it's okay. It's nothing I don't deserve."

"No baby," she says back to him. Their intimacy and trust is apparent. I feel the floor being tugged out from underneath me. "Jacob, whatever you think of this man," she starts, a gentle hand brushing down his arm, from his shoulder to his hand before they link fingers, "is mistaken and just down right wrong.

" He's been so supportive over this last few months. He held me up when dad was having that heart attack over Christmas; he kept me in the loop when you were sick, and he's been amazing this last week. I couldn't have been here today, talking to people and keeping my shit together if I didn't have Paul."

I realize that, that's how I feel about Ness, and everything she is to me. She loves him like I love her.

Then, as if on cue, her little arms wraps around my middle and she tucks her head under my arm as I hold her to me. My mini pillar of strength.

"How long?" I ask after a moment to gather my thoughts. How long have they been sneaking around? Did dad know? I bet Rebecca knows.

Paul straightens, unlinking with her hand, instead wrapping his arm around her, a light brown hand curling over her hip. It's intimate and gently possessing. "Two years Jacob."

"What?!" We were only juniors then!

"It's been on an off for two years, over summers and spring breaks and shit, but there's no off times anymore," says Paul, his conviction apparent.

Rachel catches my eye again and in that moment, I know that dad knew. "Remember how I worked at the Coffee shop in the summers I came home?" I nod. Enough said, I know Paul works there, too. "And then this Christmas it changed Jake. We love each other."

"That's why you were coming home? Not for me or Dad, but for him?" we can all hear the hurt and resentment in my voice.

"No," she cries, shocked and injured by my statement. "Paul's going to Boise State to study law enforcement in the fall, he won't even be here. I was coming home to be with our father, to make the most of what little time I had left. I never realized what little time, we had Jakey. And I was coming home, you turd, to give my little brother the chance to take the world on with both hands," two fists rising up in front of her to illustrate. "To give him the wings he needs so that he can soar."

She shifts out from Paul arms and steps into mine. My big, littler than me sister wrapping arms around my chest. "When Ness phoned and told me about the scholarship I knew, straight away, what I had to do. There was no way I was letting you get out of that one by pulling the; 'my dad's disabled' card."

I look over to Ness to see a guilty, lopsided grin on her face as it colors a deep pink. "You called Rachel?" I ask her, a little bit of irritation in my tone. But Ness knows it's more show than anything else. I love her too much to get hooked up on things that are done and dusted. I've leant that much this year.

"Only to give her an update on your dad after he had that angina scare. I was worried about you, and yes, it might have come up in conversation."

I just sigh, giving my sister a deeper hug. I don't care about any of it really. Rach and Lahote just threw me. I'm pretty sure anger is one of the stages of grieving and Paul's arm around my sister was a pretty good trigger.

"Don't be mad at Ness, Jake. Dad told me about it, too. I couldn't make a decision if I didn't have all information though, right? Not that any of this matters anymore," she adds quietly, her nose pressing into my shoulder, a shudder of grief rolling through her.

No. None of it matters anymore.

"Oh Rach," I whisper, holding one out of the only two family members I have left. "It's just us now, they're both gone."

The side door to the community center opens and Bec and Solomon step out. Both of them look over to the scene we must be setting before them. Then next thing I know, Rebecca has her arms wrapping around Rachel and me in an orphan embrace. And the three of us stand in our huddle, silent tears shared between us. Holding each other up. No matter the distance, no matter the arguments, we're still family. We will always be family, the difference now, is that…. now… now we're orphans.



It's been a long ass day. I think I have been condoled and hugged by every single person in that building. So finally, after cleaning up the hall, and with each of us a bag full of leftovers in hand, we walk back to the house. Ness and me hand in hand, Soli and Bec behind us. Rachel is going to stay at Paul's tonight. I kind of wish Rebecca would stay somewhere else too. I just want to be alone with Ness in my grief.

The house is quiet when we get in, the ghost of both my parents now haunting the walls. We're all too exhausted to bother with dinner. I have no appetite anyway. So after Soli makes himself a protein shake, and the rest of us have a restorative coffee, we all plop down on the couch in time for the six o'clock news.

Dad's empty recliner is sitting hauntingly vacant in the corner. I understand now why my sisters found the house so hard to be in after Mom died, there are so many reminders everywhere. Just random little things; his reading glasses on the coffee table, his basket of medications in the counter, his washing mixed in with mine in the drier. He's gone… he's really gone.

It's barely nine when I stand up, "I'm going to bed," I say to everyone and Ness goes to get up too. I wave her off, giving her hand a warm squeeze. "You don't have to Ness, keep watching the movie." There is only so much Julia Roberts I can tolerate tonight.

She just looks at me with soft eyes, a slight shake of her head, she's not gunna leave me alone with my grief. I don't put up any sort of fight, I'm glad she staying by my side. "It's fine. I've seen this movie a hundred times," she smiles.

So with a quick good night to my sister and her bottomless pit, eating-machine, surfer-dude husband, we make our way down the hall.


"Let's have a shower," she says, briefly taking my hand as we enter my room. She bends to pick up some of the clothes lying on the bed and across my chair. "It'll make us feel better, wash away some of the sorrow."

Ness grabs the night clothes that she'd tucked under our pillows this morning and I follow her back down the hall to the bathroom. I pause for a moment, Dad's bedroom door is half ajar and I quietly latch it shut. With the door closed, I can pretend he wasn't watching TV with us tonight because he'd just already gone to bed. And it's not because he's dead.

But he is; we buried him today.

He's lying next to my mom.

The sound of the water being turned on draws my eyes from the closed door. Ness is leaning into the shower, testing the water. She's pulling her hair out of its top notch, letting the messy curls fall over her shoulders. I step into the tiled room, dad's shower chair is sitting in the corner; it's been moved out of the way, waiting for permanent relocation. His toothbrush is still in the cup next to the sink, his comb and a hair elastic on the counter too. I think I might start to clean out his stuff tomorrow. Not his bedroom, just the things in the rest of the house. It's too hard to be reminded every time I turn around.

Ness catches my eyes in the mirror. She's standing behind me, undoing the wraparound tie on her dress. She looked really pretty today, even when she's not ever trying to she's still the most beautiful girl in a room. "Come on baby, help me wash this mess," she says lifting up and dropping a clump of twisted curls.

I turn around, meeting her eyes in the flesh, my hand finding the edge of her dress where it sits on her hips. "I love you. Thank you for being so good today," I say, pulling her against my chest, breathing in that cherry and cinnamon scent that is my Ness. "Funerals suck," my voice is muffled by her curls, and by the tears struggling to escape.

We just stand holding one another, the steam filling up the small tiled room as the hot water blasts in the corner. It a weird feeling, this mixture of contentment and happiness overshadowing my grief and sadness. Instead of being happy with Ness in my arms and then plummeting when I remember Dad's gone, I'm sad about Dad being gone and then I remember Ness is in my arms and I'm lifted. She lifts me up.

I undress, slipping into the heat. The steady drum of the water is relaxing on my skin. I stand, with eyes closed, just letting the constant rhythm of the water melt some of the tension away. Ness joins me, winding under me, sharing the soothing spray. Her little arms curl around my back as we stand, embraced under the water.

Today is Saturday, tomorrow will be mostly about cleaning up, entertaining more visitors, wrapping our heads around the reality that life goes on. Then it's going to be Monday and school will be back. We have three more weeks of school before graduation. I want to go to school on Monday. I need the normalcy of those school halls, of the guys just being dicks, of Ness and me riding in my car, just hanging out at lunch. I need to not be surrounded by his death.

I hold Nessie a little tighter, her boobs squishing like soft balls of marshmallow against my ribs. Even after all this time, I still can't get over how tiny she is, how easily I wrap my arms around her little body. Her beautiful little body. Her hands are splayed across my back, her little fingers tickling up and down my spine. Just one of my hands cover most of her back, the other covers most of her ass. I open my eyes and watch my hands as they move over her skin, creamy and soft, curving in and out with a feminine swell.

I reach to get the soap and I can see hanging on the caddy, a pine green bottle of Dad's shower gel. It's the only one on the shelf, so I grab it, squirt some in my hand and lather her body up. But that smell, it's the same as his cologne. Why did I use it? I make a garbled broken kind of cry, turning the spray and hurriedly turning Ness to rinse the scented foam off her. It's too much.

"What's wrong?" she asks, a gently hand cupping over my jaw. "Jake, talk to me,"

"It's just the smell, its' too much."

I want to fight the tears. I have none left, but more so, I'm sick of it. I'm sick of crying. I'm sick of feeling the pain. I sick of being reminded. I want to feel happy again.

Ness just nods, she understands. She always just understands me. "Help me," she says quietly, reaching up to her shampoo and lathering up her hair. A new smell takes over the steamy cubicle. I love it so much, it takes me back to memories of secretly watching her, longing for her from the side lines, converting her body from afar. That smell… it's that rich, earthy, ambry, musk of her shampoo. That smell makes everything okay. And it also switches on that lustful switch in me.

I pull her backward, pressing her back against my chest, her arms are up, her fingers tangled around her scalp as she washes. I look over her shoulder, down her front where thin white bubbled lines of soap slowly meander down her skin. I watch as they slowly travel over the wave of her collar bone, splitting and traveling between her breasts and over one, pooling at the peak of her rise and slowly dripping over the tip of her nipples. Holy shit, that's a beautiful sight.

The Big Chief is enjoying the soap too, we shift so that her head is under the spray and the suds run down her back and over her ass, soaping up The Chief where he's pressed hard against her spine as well.

I feel the loss of contact as she reaches for the conditioner. "Help me," she says again over her shoulder, ignoring the errection that sprung up between us, intent on getting her hair detangled and conditioned.

She holds out the tall bottle, waiting for me to hold out my hand, so I do, a big dollop of the thick creamy stuff in my palm. Her hair has grown a lot in the last few months. It's wet and heavy like this reaching down to her lower back. Starting from the tips, I begin to methodically rub the treatment into her locks.

When I'm done, she turns, sliding her body against mine. Standing on one leg, she wraps the other a little around mine. Her hands, slippery form the conditioner, rub over my chest, massaging my shoulders and neck before winding around my back and drawing a long firm stroke down my spine until her little hands circle my butt. She aches her back, pressing her stomach in to my hard on as she look up at me. I'm trapped by the hazelnut eyes look up at me, sunbursts of gold lining the brown, like the beautiful inner light of her soul is just waiting to explode out for the world to see.

I see it.

"What can I get for you Jake? How can I help you?"

"You Ness. You're all I need."

"Well then, I'm here. Take whatever you need."

She lifts up on to tippy toes, reaching up as I dip down, our lips meeting in the middle. I feel something inside of me shift, that part of my soul that's been missing her closeness and sensuality this week, it shifts to the front to get its nourishment. We've not been apart for more than a few minutes these last few days. Ness has been my support and the creator of the very air I breathe, but we've not been together since the drive home from Seattle. It's good to be home again.

There is a long craving to our kisses. Like we're both savoring the feel of each other lips, her softness molding against mine. Pliable and warm, like a succulent piece of fruit, juicy and sweet. They're cherry lips.

My hands are exploring her plains; breasts and nipples tight and puckering under gently pinching fingers. My fingers slide with the water, down her petite yet strong back, until they wrap around her round little tight ass, compact and firm, but still soft and silky under my hands.

Her hands are mirroring mine, kneading and exploring, getting her fill of the gun show wrapped around her. Then her hands move to my front, circling thumbs flick of my nipples, it feels so good with the slippery conditioner. Then her fingers move further down, the tips of her nails lightly scratching over my abs, and down further. My dick is pointing straight up between us, her hands find it easily, gripping firmly and setting in to slow leisurely stroke while our mouths still keep working in sync.

With the wet water rippling down the small of her back and over her ass, my fingers follow the stream, curving over and between her cheeks, testing the lower edges of her slick. She's so wet already. A finger circles the elongated slit, the fringes are soft and defined as she tilts her pelvis and lifts her leg up in a silent plea for more. I reach around her, curling fingers up, one inside her as the other travels up her front, sliding between her outer lips until her little nub is underneath the pad of my finger. I circle it, flicking it back and forth and am rewarded by a harder grip on my hard and straining dick, a needy moan into my mouth, followed by a hot little tongue playing with mine.

My god she's sexy.

Her hand speeds up, a much faster incessant beat along my length. She pulls back to access all of me, but I can't reach her easily like this, and my finger slides out of her warmth. Doesn't matter though, she breaks off out kiss, watching me with heated eyes only inches from mine. Her hands leave my dick and wrap around my neck as she plants one foot steadily on the tiled floor and slowly raises one leg. Up it goes, at first her knee is bent, somewhere near her shoulder, and then she goes and straightens it so that she is doing the splits standing up. I'm suddenly reminded of the August page of my special calendar.

Spectacular.

"Lift me up" she whispers, her arms still draped around my neck, her lips only just brushing mine as we share breath. I lift her, my hands finding purchase on her incredible ass, hoisting her up until we're eye level, other things are more level now too. The tip of my dick dragging over her tummy and then slipping under her in a sharp flick as I lift her higher.

"I love you," she whispers, the sound of the water pelting over us the only other sound in the tiny room. She's leaning her forearms on my shoulders to help keep her up and then she bends her knee, holding it over my shoulder and just letting her other foot dangle beneath.

Suspended on my frame I have her at my will, and my will is wanting to fill her up. With a little maneuvering, the head of my dick lines up with her slick that is stretched tight in this split position she's in. In a long smooth motion I'm inside her tight, wet heat. Both of us let out a groan of relief— it's been too many days. Our lips meeting once again, working together, open and closed, tongues circling as my hips start thrusting. In and out. My fucking god she's tight like this. My lips trace down her throat, sucking and biting at the soft skin of her neck, a bright, needy love bite emerging on her skin with my intensity.

Today had been one of the worst days of my entire life. This entire week has been shit, tense and angry, shattered and withdrawn; all of it meaning that when the dam wall burst, it's a deluge. With an abandoned rhythm I start, hammering and pushing, hard and fast and deep, so, so deep. It builds and builds, higher and higher, more and more, until the dam wall finally explodes in to a heated, geyser of arrival.

All of my grief; all of my sorrow; all of the constant worry about his health these last few years; my guilt over the relief that the worry was now gone; my sisters and their chosen men; all the reminders of him in this house; the fact that he didn't have a will and I don't know where the hell I'm going to live until I move for college; the kids that will be staring with pitied eyes at me at school on Monday; and last but not least, all of the consuming, heart breaking, overwhelming love I feel for this little woman around me; it is rolled into the one giant, momentous release.

With Ness still hanging on to my shoulders, her knee still hooked over, I hold her close to me as my thrusts slow. My penis is still deep inside her as I hold her body to mine—a lean, toned thigh sandwiched between us as I catch my breath. I place a few soft quick kisses over the angry red bite on her neck. I've never done that before. It must have hurt. The water is still cascading down our bodies, hot and steamy as she pulls her head back a little, soft eyes gazing at me, full of love and… I suppose… devotion.

Then it hits me… that was the most selfish sex of my life. No coming together of souls, it was just me taking what I wanted. Maybe it was Ness giving me what I needed. Nessie's always looking after me. I kind of like it.

"I love you," she says, lifting herself up off my still hard dick and flicking her leg around so that she can stand. I lower her down, both hands on her hips.

"Love you too. Sorry that was so fast."

"It doesn't matter baby, sometimes we just need the physical release to give our emotions some breathing space. I don't need the Earth to move to know you are my world."

God she's amazing. I'll pay her back tenfold later on.

I take her face with both hands, savoring the smooth softness of her cheek before leaning down and placing a gently kiss on her lips. It's slow and building, hopefully full of the love and utter dedication I feel for this little woman.

We don't say any more. I help Ness wash the conditioner out of her hair, my fingers combing down her dark locks. When she tilts her head back like this, her hair fans against her ass, it's sexy as hell. Sometimes I wish she'd never cut her hair with me that day, I'd love to have seen what her body looked like with hair falling down, longer that her hips. I suppose it probably would just get in the road when we'd be going for it, but I bet it would be sexy as shit to start off with, to see if fall over her ass as she undresses.


We fall into bed, Nessie's little body tucked up into mine, her head resting on my shoulder, her little hands bunched up under her chin holding tight to my t-shirt. There is no noise in the TV room, Rebecca and Solomon must have gone to bed too. I hear Renesmee's breathing change as she falls asleep, a soft little sigh that transitions into regular, deep, slumbering breaths. But sleep cannot find me. I fight the urge to toss and turn, not wanting to wake her. After at least a good hour, I slip my arm out from under her, laying her on my motorbike pillowcase and tucking her in like a child.

She stirs, lifting her head up, "Jake?"

"Sssh, go back to sleep," I whisper, brushing a gentle hand over her forehead. She's so beautiful.

I don't get an answer, she's back asleep in seconds.

Quietly, I find my jeans hanging on the hook of my wardrobe door, stepping into them as I shuffle through the house. It's been bothering me all day, and I can't go to sleep until I rectify it. I grab the flashlight and an old plastic bag from the kitchen drawer and make my way around the house, filling the bag up with all the things that come to mind.

It's raining, so I throw my anorak on, along with my boots, shove my phone in my pocket, and slip out the front door.


The tribal cemetery is a few miles from my house, north of the township on the western bank of the Quillayute River. It's not that far to walk, but it's pretty messy on the muddy tracks that lead towards the tributary. Once I leave the main street, I head through the well-worn path. All the grass along the bank of the tributary has been stomped down by everyone who came earlier. It's been raining most of the day and the ground is slippery and sticky. With my flashlight I trudge up the embankment, looking over the little field where the bones of most of my ancestors lie in a mix of traditional and Christian effigies. There's a fresh mound a few yards away, the loamy smell of the freshly disturbed earth hits my senses as I get closer.

I hunker down against the rain, pulling my hood up higher over my head and wedging the torch in the sticky soil. There isn't a tombstone up yet, but I know where I am. The wave of goose bumps that erupts on my tacky skin under the damp anorak is proof enough.

It is the tradition of my people to bury the dead with things for them to take with them to the afterlife. Offerings like clothing, mats, foods and in the old times, weapons. Dad got all the bells and whistles. It was touching to see all the things his friends and family added to his coffin. We wrapped him in mom and dad's wedding blanket, so they could have it together. There were little baskets filled with fresh food, some fishing hooks, even a little carved canoe paddle. Everyone goes all native at these things. Like dad is gunna want to canoe around the clouds of heaven— or wherever he is. Just ask Charlie, he loved going out on the river with the V hull with the eighteen horse power outboard, not an old-style paddle in sight.

I'm gunna make sure he actually has the things he likes.

"Hey old man. You stretching your legs up there? Getting used to being fit and healthy and on your own two feet again?" I say to the pile of dirt. I hope, wherever he is, he's a least able to walk.

"How's all the salmon everyone put in there? I brought you this to wash it down with," I say, rummaging through the loaded shopping bag, pulling out the last Rainer I found stashed in the back of the fridge. "And some desert," I squish the little plastic covered package of chocolate Moon Pie into the dirt next to the can of beer.

I brought a few more things: his reading glasses, his subscription copy of Sports Illustrated that came this week, a hair tie in case he loses the leather tie my sisters braided into his long hair, and his tooth brush. Dad was always a stickler for oral hygiene.

"One last supper" I say, pulling a can of warm soda and another packet of the marshmallow sandwich out of the plastic bag and tearing it open. "Cheers dad," I say, holding out the pie, saluting and cracking the can of drink as I sit my ass down in the wet mud a share a meal with my father for the last time.

We chat, well… I chat, and I hope he listens—where ever he is. I've promised I'm going to look after the girls for him, and Ness. I tell him about all the things I saw in Cambridge last week. About the dorms I'm booked into, about the classes I want to take at MIT. I promise him I'm not gunna fall into the fog again, at least I'm gunna try my hardest and if I feel it creeping I promise dad I'm gunna let Dr. C know right away. I let him in on few of my secrets. He also now knows what I want to do to certain parts of Nessie's body when I get back home.

I'm stiff and sore when I finally decide to say goodbye. It's cold in the mud, but I'm not cold inside. I feel warmed after coming here. I don't know why I never did this with Mom. Her grave is just to the left of dad's. Hers has a tombstone though. And heaps of fresh flowers on her plot. I stand stepping sideways to Mom. "Sorry I didn't bring you anything Mommy. Next time, I promise."

I notice that my hands are dirty as I wipe some stray tears off my cheeks. It's the dirt of my people's lands.

A wind sweeps up from across the river carrying a cold chill that creeps across my spine just as a melody of wolves howl up behind the forest. I wasn't spooked coming here, but now I am… just a little.

So with a little goodbye, I blow a kiss to my mom and give a half assed, slack fingered salute to Dad before I head back to the river bank. I wash my hands and my face, feeling the restorative chill of the flowing water. The life blood of the land.

I think I'll come visit them more often. I feel re-connected. And mollified now.



The clock on my bedside table reads 3:56am in large red numerals as I slip in the door, quietly latching it. "Jake?" comes a little sleepy voice from under the covers. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry Ness, I just had to do something." I slip my damp and muddy jeans off, dumping them by the bed, my wet t-shirt following before I crawl under the quilt. She's lying on her stomach, on my side of the bed, her crazy ringlets of hair flying out in every direction. My hand slides up her sleep shorts, over the rise of her bottom until they find the little strip of skin were her shirt has started to ride up.

"Oh god, you're freezing!" she quietly squeals with a sleepy sigh.

"You're warm," I say with a husky need in my voice. My cool lips pressing the soft scoop of skin peaking between her throat and the now dry mass of curls falling around her shoulders. My lips press softly over the red mark I left on her skin in my frenzied need hours ago. "I love you," I whisper, my eyes are leaking again and I sniffle it all back.

She turns over, facing me, our eyes meeting in the darkness of the night. "You okay?"

I nod, a small smile gracing my lips. "Yep," my voice is not much more that a whispered croak. I really am okay though… or at least… I will be. My hand slides under her shirt, warm nipples contracting from my rain-cooled fingers. I kiss up her throat, a small trail of love over her face until our lips meet briefly. Her hands have wound through my drizzle wet hair, holding me captive in her honey love. I lean over her, one hand massaging and teasing her breast, the other braced by her shoulder, just hovering over her body, our lips only a breath apart.

"Let me make love to you."

"Jake."