A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.
Chapter 3 – Wild Beauty
Edward
"Dad! Dad! Wake up!"
I awoke to Tristan bouncing on my bed, his copper strands rebounding along with his small frame and waking me from a dream I couldn't recall. But it had been a good one. For a couple of seconds, I watched him furtively, sleepy annoyance giving way to the sort of early morning, overwhelming gratitude that hits you first thing, with the dawn of a new day, and before all other thoughts can intrude.
"Thanks, Kate," I whispered aloud.
Unfortunately, the whisper was loud enough to alert my son to my state of consciousness. He caught my eye, and I squeezed both shut, attempting to play possum with a three-year-old willing to wake the dead.
"No, Dad! Up, Dad! We's on vacation!"
Groaning, I turned on my stomach and hugged my pillow, still vainly hoping my three-year-old boy would take the hint.
"We are on vacation, buddy."
"That's why I say up, Dad!"
When I felt his fingers prying my eyes open, I accepted the inevitable start of the day with a hoarse chuckle muffled by soft goose down.
OOOOO
The night before, Tristan and I arrived at our summer retreat physically and mentally drained after a full day of coast-to-coast travel. Cutting the engine, I'd sat there for a moment, listening to the heaviness of the encroaching silence, to cicadas and grasshoppers and god knew what else, beings either nonexistent in New York City or drowned out by ambulances, sirens, and a living city. I finally knew what it meant when people said the silence was deafening.
And it was creepy as fuck. So, I decided to retrieve my duffel, the unresponsive sack of potatoes that was my knocked-out son in the back seat, and the smashed-up bag of chicken nuggets. The rest would wait 'til morning. Warily, I made my way up the short driveway.
Yeah, I was sure – for the most part – that I'd been wrong in my momentary bout of fear regarding the Forks Police Chief's villainy, but I was in a new place, clear across the country, with my young son in tow amidst scenery that reminded me of the horror flicks of my teenaged years. What's more, I was still struggling to shake off the remnants of disconcertment that had hit me while in the town's pub.
Part of the disconcertment was born of exhaustion, I knew that much, but the initial confusion was brought on by my encounter with a drunk woman and her baffling eyes. There was just…something about her eyes. They'd unnerved me, left my already-worn-out brain in shambles as if I were the one who'd over-imbibed, as if despite having my momentary fears proven wrong, I'd missed something. Exactly what that something was, I had no clue, but that didn't lessen the sensation.
Attempting to set aside all thoughts of those eyes, I punched in the key code Sue provided and dropped the duffel and the damn bag of nuggets. But I kept my son safely draped over one shoulder as I switched on every light we passed, searching for boogeymen in hidden corners, or conversely, for drunk women with eyes as brilliant as the star-filled night.
That's when a burst of color caught my eye. In the center of the kitchen counter, a vase with a fresh arrangement of flowers sat like a garden in an oasis. A piece of paper, neatly folded, laid propped against it. With Tristan snoring quietly against my neck, I made my way to the note, vaguely entertaining thoughts of the possible, nefarious demands within. What I found was the total opposite:
Edward, welcome to Forks, Washington, USA!
Knowing you'd be arriving late with a little boy in tow and from across the country no less, I hope you don't mind that my daughters and I took the liberty of tidying up a bit this morning and making up the beds with fresh sheets. While in good condition, as we discussed, the home has been empty for almost a year. You'll also find a few basics in the fridge for your morning breakfast.
Edward, Forks has the distinction of being the rainiest town in the Continental U.S.! This may at first sound like a dubious distinction for a summer spot, but all that rain helps our surroundings grow lush and more verdant than can ever be captured in pictures. The colors, like much of what you'll find in Forks, can't be reproduced. And though we may not have palm trees, we have firs, spruces, hemlocks, and pines that grow almost to the heavens! We have majestic mountains as their backdrop and scenic hiking trails by which to drink it all in. Our beaches in La Push may not boast ivory sand and turquoise waters, but the bluffs overlooking the Pacific will take your breath away, and the waves are some of the most powerful in the region! Whether surfing or simply watching them break against the shoreline, they're both a thrilling and humbling experience.
I could go on, but I hope you'll soon discover and enjoy it all on your own. As a town, we're still learning how to be a tourist spot, and I hope that you won't regret not having a tan to show for it by the time this summer is over. Enjoy your time with us, Edward! My family and I are excited to have you both in Forks!
"Aw, damn," I breathed once I finished reading. "Could I be more of an idiot?"
For the first time since walking in, I took true inventory of my open-floor-plan surroundings – pristinely painted walls, classic and clean furnishings, everything appearing comfortable and immaculate. And here I'd still half-feared that Tristan and I were walking into some lawless, sinister-character-infused wild west, looking for hidden dangers just because of one questionable encounter with a bewildering woman in a pub.
"I need some goddamn sleep," I muttered to myself.
OOOOO
With Trist wide awake by dawn, we brought in the luggage I'd left in the truck overnight. Outside, in the glowing daylight and without insane, exhaustion-induced fears regarding hidden murderers running rampant, the house was exactly as pictured in the emails and texts from Sue. The white exterior siding was clean and well-maintained, and the blue front door, blue shutters, and a small porch with a rocking chair were nice touches.
"I guess we can sit out here and play the banjo, huh?" I smiled.
"What, Dad?" Tristan called out as he hefted a toy bag into the house.
"Nothing, Trist," I chuckled. "Just Dad being a goof."
"What's a goof?
After bathing twenty-four hours' worth of grime off of Tristan and myself, we dressed quickly because Tristan was eager to explore every nook and cranny of our summer home. He streaked from room to room, shrieking in delight as I followed him around, enthused by his enthusiasm. Of course, it was the novelty of novelty; the difference from what he was accustomed to made everything as exciting to him as a flight to the moon.
All the while, I took notes. There were supplies we'd need and adjustments and minor repairs to be made to make the place completely safe and livable for the summer for us. For example, the kitchen table had a loose leg that needed tightening; the ivory-cushioned chaise in front of the fireplace was a romantic touch – but unnecessary for me and a three-year-old; even downright dangerous. I'd have to see if there was a storage area where I could tuck it into before it ended up with sticky handprints as well. The kitchen needed everything from pots and pans to utensils. And the living room's sliding glass doors, which opened up temptingly onto a deck with a fire pit, while facing a wooded back yard that no three-year-old could resist exploring in the middle of the night, while his dad slept, would need child locks.
All in all, there was nothing to do nor to purchase that couldn't be accomplished in a day or two. While the house wasn't large, it was more than enough for my son and me. All of it brought to mind a phrase the chief had uttered yesterday:
"Everything I need and nothing I don't need," I breathed to myself.
"Dad, look! So big, many trees!" Tristan said, gazing past the sliding glass doors.
"It's like you've got Central Park all to yourself, huh, bud?" I said while simultaneously opening the fridge. Sue and her daughters had provided a nice breakfast selection, all right, one which magnified my already immense sense of guilt regarding my previous evening's thoughts. Making a mental note to find a way to show my appreciation, I began pulling out ingredients.
"Dad, can we play outside?"
"First, let's have breakfast. Then we've got to unpack and put everything away. Then we have to stop by town and pick up supplies for the house and for your camp-"
"Dad, play first, please! We's on vacation!"
I looked over at my son, whose eyes were on the verdant landscape, his palms pressed against the glass doors as if he ached to touch the early morning mist clinging to the lawn. A grayish-blue backdrop of sky hinted at a bright sunrise – the type I'd been warned was rare around here.
"Dad?"
Once in a while, I had to remind myself that just because I was almost thirty, and the dad, didn't mean that three-year-old logic couldn't sometimes trump mine.
"How about we eat our breakfast out on the deck, and we leave the unpacking for later, the supply pickup for later…and we head to the beach after breakfast?"
Tristan's eyes rounded and sparkled. "Yay, Dad! Yay!"
OOOOO
Forty-five minutes later, with breakfast done and the dishwasher loaded, I buckled Tristan into his car seat. He kicked up his legs in anticipation, his water shoes stubbing the back seat.
"Watch the back seat with those, Tristan," I warned. "Don't forget this isn't really our truck."
"But I like this truck, Dad."
"I like it too, Trist."
"I like it more than the boomer."
"I don't know that I'd go that far, buddy."
"It's so big. Can we keep it after vacation?"
"I don't think that would make the Chief happy," I chuckled, "or his goddaughter, for that matter, who may decide at some point that she does want the truck after all."
"Why she don't want the truck, Dad?"
"I have no clue, bud-"
Someone tapped my shoulder. When I spun around, I found a woman behind me, offering me a bright smile. She was tall and probably about my mom's age if not a bit younger. With black hair, black eyes, and attractive, indigenous features, I recognized her instantly.
"Edward?"
"Sue?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry if I startled you," she chuckled sheepishly.
"Not at all, Sue. It's great to finally meet you in person," I smiled, stretching out a hand.
"You as well, Edward, especially after Charlie's glowing praise of you and your little boy last evening. Boy, he came home ready to adopt man and child, and trust me when I say Charlie has a shortlist of people he'd adopt." She added the last part out of one corner of her mouth, making me laugh heartily.
"I'll take that as a compliment. Tristan and I were very respectfully impressed by the Chief as well." Except for when I imagined him as a kidnapper. "You and he have already helped my son and me get this vacation started on the right foot."
"Aw, well, I'm delighted to hear that," she said, appearing genuinely pleased. "As I tell Charlie, it's always good to put some positive vibes out into the world. Eventually, they come back to you in some form, even if indirectly." She peeked around me then, almost as if she'd held off as long as she could. "And this must be your little boy."
In a good mood from a great night's rest and the promise of beach time, Tristan waved a friendly hand in Sue's direction. "Hi!"
Sue's voice changed, rose a few octaves the way Tristan's grandmothers' voices tended to go all sing-songy when they spoke to him. She placed her palms over her heart.
"Oh, my goodness, you're adorable!"
"He has his moments," I smirked, ruffling my son's hair. "Tristan, please introduce yourself to Miss Sue."
"Good morning, Miss Sue! I Tristan Cullen! I going to the beach with my Dad!"
Sue's eyes shifted to me momentarily, wide-eyed and full of awe as if Tristan had just recited the Constitution.
"He's so intelligent!" Then to Tristan, "To the beach, Tristan? Well, I'm pleased to know you're both already taking advantage of our beautiful spots."
"No time like the present. We had breakfast out on the deck," I said.
"And the sun played hide-and-seek over the trees, and I chased it but couldn't catch it!"
Tristan shrugged at his bit of three-year-old logic, but Sue looked about ready to suggest his enrollment in the Mensa Society. She pressed her palms to her chest all the harder, as if willing the organ not to explode from cuteness overload.
"You chased the sun?" She looked at me. "That's so bright." Back to Tristan, "Well, I'm sure a sweet little boy like you will definitely catch that sun someday!"
"Yay!" Tristan threw two tiny fists into the air, and Sue almost cried.
I chuckled. "He won't quit chasing it and thereby making me chase him all around, that's for sure. It was good to see this morning that we'll have plenty of room for that this summer."
"Enjoy it while it lasts, Edward," Sue said earnestly to me now, "and I don't just mean all the room for running around this summer. This phase doesn't last half as long as it seems to in the moment. I remember my daughter at that age, and even my goddaughter one summer before- well…anyway." A chuckle quickly camouflaged that pensive moment. "The point is yes, the rare, bright sunrises around here are gorgeous. My goddaughter loves to watch them too, and she left for the beach early this morning to do so. Now my daughter, however, doesn't find the sunrise worth losing sleep over." She rolled her eyes. "Teenagers; that's a phase I wouldn't mind rushing along a bit."
I laughed. "I'm in no rush to find out about that phase."
"Don't be," Sue smirked. "Well, I won't hold you up. I just wanted to stop by and personally welcome you to town."
"Thank you, Sue. We're looking forward to our time here."
"I'm glad. Also, if you don't have plans for this evening, I wanted to invite you and Tristan to a small barbecue we're having this afternoon, just for a few friends, new and old." She turned her motherly smile on Tristan. "And there will be a couple of other little kids there around your age, Tristan; Charlie mentioned you were eager for new friends."
"Yay! New friends!"
"Oh, my goodness!" Again, Sue pressed a hand to her heart.
I snorted. "Looks like Tristan and I would love to come. Thank you."
OOOOO
"Dad, can we get those? Aunt Allie gives me those when we's hiding in the kitchen in Grandma Liz's house!"
"Aunt Alice gives you what when you're what…?" I asked somewhat distractedly as Tristan and I wandered the market's cereal aisle later that day.
Tristan's energetic need for release had been satisfied, for the time being, with a chilly morning walk along the shoreline at First Beach, in the reservation town of La Push. Thanks to Sue's note and forewarning, I'd thought to bring hoodies for Trist and me, just in case. It appeared, though, that some of the tourists here hadn't received the memo – literally. Women in two-pieces and guys in tees and board shorts shivered atop their flimsy towels, conversely chasing runaway beach umbrellas down the shore. I hid furtive chuckles in between my own shivers, fully aware that would've been my son and me had it not been for Sue. Meanwhile, my son's three-year-old drive appeared to keep him nice and toasty. And never mind any thoughts of a dip in the water. The only people I saw braving the dark Pacific were surfers in wet suits, riding or waiting to ride the admittedly tempting waves.
There was a woman…she sat on the frigid sand, somewhere to the right of our spot and a bit of a stretch away, though I couldn't properly gauge the distance, and I didn't want to turn and risk getting caught looking. But it was her enthusiastic cheers for the surfers that made me aware of her. Her voice carried in the breeze, and more than that, there was something about it – a strength, a fervor, an animated passion as if she were Life itself, an incarnate representation of the vitality every one of us should strive for regardless of what the universe threw at us.
"Go, Ty, Go! Yeah! Woo-hoo! Ride them waves, dude! Teach that curl who's boss!"
Sue was right about something else; gazing at those waves coming in was both thrilling and humbling. But the woman's voice…it added to the wild beauty of the scenery, so much so that it was a struggle to extract myself from the beach to run our necessary errands. I'd received no warning about that.
But I'd managed to extract us, and as my son and I walked off the beach, I caught a glimpse of colors on the sand to my left – cool turquoise and warm brown.
So now, the afternoon found us supply hunting in the town's main street. We'd visited the hardware store, the outfitters, and moved on to Forks Main Supermarket.
"Oatmeal, check. Bran flakes, check," I said as we perused the cereals, checking off the items on my phone list. "Where are the grains, though?"
Starting at the produce aisle by the entrance, we worked our way up and down each one, finding the commonplace offerings in fruits, vegetables, proteins, and packaged products. Unfortunately, the market lacked anything uncommon. Since Tristan's infancy, I'd offered him various choices in foods, clothing, toys, etc. I wanted my son to grow up open to options, including options that wouldn't always be the one front-and-center and at eye level, the ones 'everyone' opted for.
Unfortunately, if this market was any indicator, it appeared we'd have to forego lessons on variety this summer in favor of lessons on creativity with what one had on hand. At least the market provided those shopping carts with toddler-sized race cars attached. Once I wiped one down and attached Tristan's cloth cover, my son was well-entertained while I tossed in item after item.
"Dad! Dad, those! Those!"
I stopped the cart short and followed the trajectory of Tristan's pointed finger. When I got a look at what he'd been going on about, I cursed under my breath.
"Alice, I'm going to fucking kill you."
Unaware of my thoughts, Tristan turned away from his miniature plastic steering wheel and held his small hands up to his face.
"Aunt Allie gives me those, and I go uhm! uhm! uhm!" he said, illustrating how to jam something into your mouth, Cookie-Monster-style. "They's got yummy strawberry jelly and sprinkles, and when I eat them, my tummy sings so happy!"
Despite my annoyance, I burst out laughing.
"Pop-tarts, huh?" I smirked once my amusement subsided. "So, that's what your aunt feeds you when I'm not looking."
"Poptots!" Tristan repeated. "Yeah, Poptots! Can we get Poptots?"
"Nope. Sorry, buddy, no Pop-tarts." I restarted the cart, rolling it briskly away from the potential meltdown. "Trist, the reason your tummy sings when you eat those is because Pop-tarts are packed with sugars and all sorts of stuff nobody needs. It's called a Sugar Rush."
"I want a Shugrush," Tristan replied. "Makes me happy."
"I know, buddy. But we can't always have what we want, and what makes us happy isn't always what's good for us."
Tristan's minuscule shoulders deflated. He turned back to his steering wheel sluggishly.
"Not fair."
"I know, but…hey, how about this snack mix?" I suggested with more enthusiasm than the healthy snack mix I held up triumphantly likely warranted. "You like these when we're back home."
"But I not home. I on summer vacation," Trist replied forlornly and without even a glance at the box.
That three-year-old logic, though.
After a few seconds of deliberation, I placed the snack mix back on the shelf. Then I rolled us and the shopping cart backward.
"Trist, put your car on reverse," I said, grinning as I watched my son pretend to shift gears.
"Beep! Beep! Beep!" he said, laying an arm over the backrest as he saw me doing when I reversed. "Poptots!" he exclaimed happily as I reached for the box and tossed it into the cart.
If the entire universe could run on three-year-old, straightforward logic lacking all the pretenses and caveats we pick up as we grew older, then the world would be a much simpler place.
"Yeah, yeah," I smirked. "Poptots."
OOOOO
With Tristan strapped safely into his car seat and entertained with a new interactive book I'd purchased him, I loaded the groceries into the already packed truck bed and propped the phone against one of the packages. Then, I Facetimed my nineteen-year-old sister. She soon popped onto the screen with a broad grin, her purple hair waving in the breeze created by her brisk stride while the city's skyscrapers and loud noises framed her.
"I'm running late to class!"
"What else is new? I know about the Pop-tarts."
"Ooh!" She pretend-cringed, her stride losing none of its briskness, grin still in place. "The little monster ratted me out!"
"He's three," I smirked. "How long did you expect your secret to last?"
"Not long," she shrugged carelessly, obviously unfazed. "Hey, there are worse things in life than a little excess sugar, Ed."
"'Little' and 'excess' are oxymorons, Al."
"You're an oxymoron."
I shook my head. "Please, please make sure you get to class and pay attention this time."
She chuckled. "I'm joking! How's vacay so far? How's that little town you're in – Spatula?"
"It's Forks, and it's…pretty great so far. I've met a couple of cool people, and one who…well…"
"One who what?" Alice quirked a purple brow. "Don't tell me you've already got someone pretending to adore Tristan just to get inside your pants?"
"Will you shut up?" I hissed, checking in on Tristan and exhaling in relief when I saw he was deep into his book, pressing buttons left and right.
"Sorry!" Alice chortled impishly. "Did he hear me?"
"No."
"Good. So, do you?"
I rolled my eyes. "No. This particular woman called me 'City Boy' like she was saying 'Fuck you, Asshole.'" I mouthed the last three words, and Alice burst out laughing so hard even some hardened New York City passersby glanced backward at her. "Matter of fact, she did call me an asshole. So, I suppose, in a way, she called me an asshole twice." I leaned against the truck bed, smiling as Alice laughed and laughed. "But…I may have deserved at least one of those 'assholes.' Though she was drunk."
Alice stopped walking. "I love her already, and does she have a sister?"
"Stop," I snorted.
"Seriously, Edward, you've been there for less than twenty-four hours. What the hell goes on in Ladle, and can I come visit when my summer classes are over?"
"It's Forks," I repeated. "And never mind. It wasn't a big deal."
Alice resumed her stride. "I don't know how you've abstained for so long, big bro, and with so many individuals anxious to help you all the time. I would've exploded already. And with a toddler to care for to boot? The stress alone would've had me lowering my lofty standards to someone who simply walked upright."
I almost told her that this particular woman almost didn't walk upright. But she'd had these eyes…
"All right, you're giving me way more info than I wanted when I called to ask about Pop-tarts."
Alice burst out laughing. "It's true, though!"
"And it's not about lofty standards."
"Then what's it about?"
I slammed a heavy grocery bag onto the truck bed with a bit more force than I'd meant to.
"It's about that toddler you just mentioned. My stress can't be my main concern, and anyway, who's the one who once told me I needed to grow a radar?"
Now, her pace slowed, and her voice took on a softer tone. "That was a while ago, Edward. And you still need that radar, but maybe tune it down to a lower setting?"
"I'm good with its current setting."
Alice raised that brow again. "All right." But her tone indicated that it wasn't all right and that she'd circle back at some point to this latest subject of hers.
Despite the eleven years that separated us, my sister and I were pretty close. Fifteen years old when her nephew was born and sixteen when Kate got sick, Alice had risen to the occasion, for lack of better phrasing. She'd become a caregiver, almost like a big sister to Tristan – and a shoulder for me, her much older brother, to lean on and depend on. Most of the time, we behaved more like siblings of much more equal age than ones with over a decade's gap. And at least half of that time, she swore she was older and wiser.
So, as we caught up, I told her about yesterday's travel and Tristan's exhausted meltdown when we realized I'd left behind Blanket. She told me about the classes she was attending over the summer, between her regular term at NYU, where she was rushing to now.
"I can't believe you forgot Blanket," Alice snorted. "Chelsea must've really given you a guilt trip over that one."
"Shh," I instructed again, once more ensuring Tristan's distraction. "She did, but at least she texted me this morning to let me know she mailed it out – then she guilt-tripped me some more."
Alice's pierced nostrils flared. "Edward, you know if she hadn't sent it out, I would've stopped by your place as soon as I got a chance and sent Blanket out. You allow Chelsea to get away with way too much."
"She lost her daughter."
"And you lost your wife. Losing someone doesn't give anyone a free pass to be an asshole for the rest of their lives. One of these days, you're going to have to set her straight and remind her that she may be Tristan's grandmother, but she's no longer your mother-in-law."
"Oh, wise little sister," I grinned, "how would I get by with my day-to-day without your sage witticisms?"
She shot me her middle finger, purple fingernail and all.
"Nice. Fix that chip, though."
"Eff you," she snorted.
"Seriously, Al, Chelsea and I don't exactly see eye to eye, but she loves her grandson."
"Yeah, I know," Al muttered. "The problem is, Chelsea thinks the way to show that love is by swearing she knows what's best; even more than that, by swearing that what she deems best is what Kate would've wanted, thereby trying to manipulate and run your life."
"Yeah, well…" With the groceries loaded and everything secured onto the truck bed, I picked up my phone and shut the tailgate. Then I brought up a subject I'd never brought up with anyone. "Kate said something right before…something I've been thinking about…more and more lately."
"What did she say, Edward?"
I considered telling Alice for a moment, but then, I flipped the camera's view so that Al saw the truck instead of me.
"What do you think?"
My sister knew me well enough to accept the change of subject – for now.
"Holy crap! I'm definitely coming up there just to drive that thing!"
"Say hi to the monster in the back," I grinned, walking to the back seat so that aunt and nephew could greet each other.
"Aunt Allie!"
"Monster! You're in a Monster Truck!"
Shrieks on both sides followed, along with a series of 'I miss yous' and 'I love yous that seemed endless.
"Al, the sun's setting, a new day nears, and Trist and I have places to go and people to see," I joked. "Don't you have somewhere to-"
Something peripheral caught my eye.
It was a vehicle, a dark jeep leaving the parking lot, one of its turning signals blinking as the car waited its turn. But that wasn't what caught my eye. There was something turquoise on the back of the jeep – the exact shade of bright turquoise I'd seen on the beach – a surfboard secured next to a black and longer surfboard, both growing smaller as the jeep drove away.
OOOOO
"So, Edward, what do you do for a living?"
"I'm a lawyer."
"Oh! That's wonderful."
"Thanks." There was a beat of silence - well, relative silence. We were at a backyard barbecue. "And…you work with Sue, correct?"
"Yes! At the realty agency. Well, we're trying to add tourism to it now, too," Gianna giggled. She was an attractive and pleasant woman. "Someone wrote an anonymous article a couple of years ago in the Seattle Times about small, unknown towns and their untouched beauty, and from one day to the next!" She threw up her hands and giggled again.
I nodded. "I read that article. It's how I ended up here."
"Well, thank God for that article – and all the tourists it's brought so far!"
Someone wrapped a huge arm around my shoulder. "Gianna, do you mind if I borrow Ed here for a sec? He was asking something about sippy cups, and I wanna show him Esme's to see if those are the ones he meant."
"Oh! No. No problem. We'll…talk some more later."
"Sure," I said. "It was great meeting you, Gianna."
"You too, Edward!"
Emmett's shoulders shook with repressed mirth as he walked us away.
"Tell me if I interrupted something I should'na interrupted, but it didn't seem that way to me."
I shook my head. "You didn't interrupt anything you shouldn't have interrupted. She's cool, but…that's not what this summer's about."
"Yeah, I didn't think so, man."
Emmett McCarty was a friendly guy with a booming voice. He'd introduced himself as soon as Tristan and I stepped into Sue and the Chief's back yard. He was also huge and brawny, had at least three inches of height and twenty pounds of muscle on me, and only a fucking idiot would ever cross him. Which made him a perfect police deputy.
His wife was Rosalie McCarty, who ran the summer camp program in town, which Tristan would begin attending in a couple of days. They had a five-year-old daughter, Esme; a cute little girl with her mother's long, blond hair and her father's ebony skin. She and Tristan, along with another little boy, Quil, two years old, had been running and toddling around the backyard – within my view, of course – since we'd arrived.
Sue and the Chief had been extremely grateful for the trays of wings I'd brought over – which I'd prepped while Tristan napped and in between unpacking and a few repairs and such. The wings were a small gesture, nowhere near enough to express my gratitude for all they'd done so far, but I'd keep my eyes open for more opportunities. I had all summer.
The Chief and Emmett introduced me around, then ran along to perform hosting duties. Every few, Sue would appear to check on me, ask if I was doing well, if there was anything I needed. They were as great in the role of hosts as I was becoming accustomed to from them in every role.
However, both appeared a bit distracted this evening, not that I knew them well enough to be sure. But that's how it seemed to me. The Chief's gaze kept wandering to the sliding back doors, or conversely, toward the converted garage further back. Whenever someone arrived, his eyes narrowed as if waiting for a specific person. Meanwhile, Sue's gaze followed her husband, narrowed as well.
I'd been introduced to Mike and Jessica, a couple in their early thirties who owned Newton's Outfitters. Eric and Harry, another couple about my age, who were Quil's dads. Mr. and Mrs. Molina, an older couple in about their sixties, were Diego's parents. Diego had yet to arrive, so I wasn't sure who he was. Then there was Gianna, Sue's business partner in the Realty slash Tourism agency. She was in about her mid-thirties and was recently divorced from Jared.
And there were a few who still hadn't arrived.
They were all as…startlingly nice and friendly as I was beginning to expect and actually become comfortable with; not an easy feat for a born-and-bred New Yorker. We were having a great time enjoying burgers, wings, beers, and such while the sun set in the back yard, and Charlie and Sue lit torchlights around the perimeter that fascinated the kids.
"So, you're a lawyer back in New York City?" Emmett now inquired.
"Yeah."
"What kind if you don't mind me asking?"
"Not at all. I started in IP – intellectual property, but now I handle Corporate Law." When he asked, and I told him what company I worked for, Emmett whistled through his teeth.
"So that's why you get the long summer vacation?"
I chuckled. "This is the first time I take one this long. After my wife passed, I worked every moment that I wasn't with my son, so…I built up some goodwill. And I'll be working a bit this summer, though remotely. I may have to fly into San Francisco once for a meeting," I frowned. "We'll see. My mother-in-law- ex-mother-in-law," I corrected, "has offered to fly in to watch Tristan if that's the case."
"I'm sorry about your wife," Emmett said, his voice less boisterous than I'd heard it since I met him. "The Chief did mention it."
"Thanks, but…I think I'm getting to a good place now."
"Good," he grinned genuinely. "A good friend of ours here in town suffered a big loss as well. She was a bit of a…well, a mess when she arrived in town. But time heals, at least most wounds. And those that don't heal, you learn to manage – even if your way of managing them doesn't appeal to everyone."
"Yeah," I snorted. "I know what you mean."
"But Corporate Law!" he grinned, changing the subject, a change I was grateful for. "Hey, maybe you might be able to give some advice to Sue and Gianna regarding their business plans?"
"I'd be more than happy to," I said, wondering if that would be a way to show my gratitude.
"Rosie and I spent our honeymoon in New York City, didn't we, babe? Babe?" Emmett boomed. The man had a way of changing subjects that made me chuckle internally.
"What? Yeah, yeah," his wife replied distractedly from the other side of the yard, trying to hold a conversation with her own friends.
"It's really different from Forks," Emmett grinned.
"Super different."
"You see that sun that just set? Don't get used to it."
"Yeah, I've been told. My son and I went to the beach today. Much different experience from back on the East Coast."
Emmett's laughter rang out and reverberated against the trees. "Yeah, I can imagine. But you're enjoying it, aren't ya?"
"I am," I smiled, taking another measured swig of beer. I read the label and was pleasantly surprised to see it was a local brand.
"You like that beer, don't ya?" Emmett chuckled. "I can tell. Go ahead, finish your bottle. There's plenty more where that came from."
"I wish I could, but I've got to keep an eye on my son," I shrugged. "Hey, Trist, don't touch that telescope, buddy!"
"Oh, don't worry about that too much," Emmett said, waving a hand. "We all watch out for one another 'round these parts."
"I appreciate it, but-"
"Take that woman who just walked in. That's my sister, Emily," Emmett grinned. "She runs the pub."
"Ahh, the pub. I ran into the pub yesterday for some chicken nuggets."
"Best damn chicken nuggets in the area. They were great, weren't they? It's our mom's recipe."
The nuggets in question had ended as a smashed-up mess at the bottom of the clean garbage bin. But I didn't tell him that because that might lead to questions of why.
"Oh, yeah, they were amazing."
"'Course they were. But as I said, she runs the pub, and she makes sure that if anyone, you know, pushes back one too many, they get a cab home – on the house."
"Does she?" I recalled the previous evening's incident and wondered what happened with that game plan then.
"Look, there's Leah now – the Chief's daughter! And Diego! Leah, Diego, Emily, come here!"
The two young women and the man approached – Emily smiling, yet the other young woman, Leah, appeared just as distracted as her parents.
"Em, Leah, Diego, this is Edward. He's the guy who's renting the old Uley house for the summer. Ed, this is my sister, Emily, her boyfriend, Diego, and the Chief's daughter, Leah."
"So you're Edward! I remember you from last night!"
"Good to meet you, Emily," I chuckled. And while I was nowhere near one too many, I'd had enough beer so that what would've normally been discomfort at her obvious recognition was minimized to amusement. "It wasn't my finest moment, I swear."
"Yeah. Yeah, Ed mentioned he ran in for nuggets," Emmett said, misconstruing our conversation. Emily, however, was ready to clarify it for him.
"No, Emmett. He's actually the guy who caught-"
"Emmett, where's my Dad?" the younger girl, Leah, interrupted.
"I think he's inside, waiting for-"
Leah sucked her teeth. "Why can't he just leave her alone? She's a grown-ass woman, not a child!" With a huff, Leah stalked toward the house, only briskly stopping to look over her shoulder.
"Oh, and Edward Cullen, Esquire, Attorney-at-Law, good to meet you."
OOOOO
A few minutes later, Tristan ran over, looking disheveled and sweaty, his cheeks ruddy, and his eyes sparkling brightly, contrasting with the dusk around us.
Also, he was cupping his groin with one hand and his backside with the other.
"Potty, potty, potty!"
"Uh-oh! I know that look! You've got about thirty seconds before detonation! Go straight when you walk through the sliding doors and make the first left!"
"Thanks, Emmett." I was already cutting through the crowd with Tristan swung over my shoulder. When we found the bathroom easily, I thanked all my lucky stars. I was even more grateful that there was no line outside or anyone already inside.
"All right, bud, let's get you-"
"I a big boy, Dad. I go potty by myself."
By then, Tristan was out of diapers for about a year, but I'd been attempting to get him to the next toilet milestone – that of going by himself – for a couple of months. However, I'd hoped to get there while at our apartment back home, or even our vacation home, since potential disasters were definitely within the realm of possibility.
Unfortunately, I knew if I displayed any doubt in his ability to do this solo, I'd pay for it in the form of his refusal to try again for a while.
"Uh, sure. All right, Tristan, but try not to miss the toilet. What do you need to do, number one or number two?"
"I don't know," he shrugged, pushing the door.
"All right, if you do miss the toilet a bit, we'll clean up, buddy. No worries. But remember, aim for the middle," I said through the small crack of space still remaining. "And don't forget to wash your hands," I hissed as the door shut in my face. "Dad's gonna wait right out here, buddy."
I leaned against the door frame and prayed for number one.
Leah suddenly rushed past me on her way to the backyard. She was obviously furious and didn't even spare me a glance. Something about her reminded me of Alice.
"…know my limits."
The female voice carried from somewhere around the corner from the bathroom.
"Do you, Bells? Because you're constantly pushing them," another voice – the Chief's – replied, "which is what makes me sometimes wonder, what makes me worry that one of these days, you'll push them too far."
"Godpop, I know what I can handle and what I can't." The female voice, which was…strangely familiar, spoke firmly, with a note of exasperation.
"Last night could've ended badly."
"How?" she chuckled. "You and I have very different definitions of what a night ending badly entails. A bit of dizziness, perhaps some swaying here and there, even a fall, aren't my definition."
"Bells, you can't make a joke out of this."
"Why not?"
When the Chief made no reply, she sighed. "Godpop, if I don't make jokes out of it, I'm going to end up just a little bit pissed off at you." Despite her words, I could hear affection in her tone.
"At me? I'm the one who's just a little bit upset after what you pulled last night – not even calling anyone. And today-"
"I didn't need anyone yesterday, and Tyler was with me today because I wanted him with me, not because I needed him with me. I don't need to be rescued. The last time someone tried to rescue me-"
"Bella-"
"I'm going outside."
"Bella, are you sure you're up for it?"
I heard footsteps approaching, ready to pass me on their way to the backyard. Before I could figure out how to extract myself from the awkward situation, the door behind me opened, and I stumbled backward noisily, almost falling on my ass.
"Dad, I all done! And I cleaned up all by myself. I a big boy!"
Squeezing my eyes shut, I grimaced then smiled before reopening my eyes. My son stood before me, grinning proudly at his most recent accomplishment. In my periphery stood two other individuals, perfectly still, their surprise palpable.
"Good job, Tristan," I said, then with a furtive breath, I turned.
My gaze chose, on its own, to land on her first, on the woman - Bells, Bella, Onyx-eyed Drunk – whatever she went by around these parts; though I was pretty sure it wasn't Lumberella. She was, however, wearing shorts, a tank top, and a flannel shirt, so still earning that nickname though her feet were bare. Her long, dark hair hung in heavy, damp waves around her face, and the scent of soap wafted all around her. She was like those waves crashing against the shoreline earlier...a wild sort of beauty.
And though my eyes found hers instantly, her eyes weren't on me. They were on Tristan. And when I looked at my son, I saw she'd caught his eye as well. He offered her a toothy grin that in and of itself nothing out of the ordinary; Tristan was naturally friendly. It was the way he gazed at her as if he'd known her all along.
"I went potty all by myself," he told her, as if he expected her, as an old friend, to know exactly what this meant.
And the thing was, the woman…Bella knelt slowly, taking in my son through those dark eyes that had haunted me since last evening, grinning as if she did know what he meant.
"That's such a special job, going to the bathroom all on your own. I know how special it is to do things on your own. But do you know what that means when you got potty by yourself?"
Tristan shook his head vigorously, transfixed, eager to know.
"It means that when you're ready, school will be ready for you too."
"Big kid school? Like my new friend, Esme, goes to?" Tristan asked, and I vaguely realized what had finally tempted my son to go to the bathroom by himself.
"Yes," the woman smiled. "Like Esme goes to."
"Yay!" Tristan cheered, and the woman chuckled.
"I'm Bella Dwyer. And if it's okay with your dad," she qualified without looking at me, "would you like to share your name with me?"
Tristan looked up sharply, his foot bouncing. As soon as I nodded, he blurted the words.
"I'm Tristan Cullen!"
Bella reached out a hand, and Tristan shook it vehemently.
"It's great to meet you, Tristan Cullen."
She stood…and swayed.
Instinctively, I reached out to steady her, wrapping my hands around her waist and beating the Chief to it.
"Bells-"
"I'm fine."
Finally, she met my gaze, those drunken eyes so deceivingly clear and…bright. Mesmerizing. When I released her, my hands remained imprinted with the heat of her.
"Thanks, City Boy," she grinned, and for a moment that felt a lot longer, as she kept me locked in her unsteady gaze, I felt as intoxicated as she obviously was.
Charlie cleared his throat, and I blinked.
"Edward, this is my goddaughter, Bella. Bella, this is-"
"Edward Cullen, Esquire, Attorney-at-Law." She tilted her head sideways. "We've met."
"When?" Charlie asked.
"A couple of times already, it would seem." Even as she answered him, she kept her gaze on me.
"Good to meet you, Bella," I said slowly, haltingly; again as if I were the one inebriated.
"Come outside and play with Esme, Quil, and me!" Tristan said, surprising me all the more when he reached up and tugged Bella's hand.
"Trist-"
"I'd love to come outside and play with you guys! I was just on my way out there."
As she took a step, she swayed again, slightly this time, almost imperceptibly if one wasn't looking out for it. And apparently, both Charlie and I were now looking out for it. Charlie tensed, but this time, he made no move to help. When I made the mistake of reaching out, Bella shot me with a look that made me pull back fast.
A look that completely melted away when she smiled down at Tristan once more.
"Ready, Tristan?"
Then, with Tristan holding her hand, leading her, they made their way toward the backyard.
And…with my heart racing for a thousand and one reasons, some I couldn't even fathom, I followed.
A/N: Thoughts?
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