A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!

Yes, it's been longer than I'd like since the last update. But it's been a crazy few weeks. Unfortunately, it's no longer summer, even though this was supposed to be a "summer" story. But you know what? Let's see if we can keep summer alive for a bit. ;)

This chapter is shorter than what I've typically been posting for this story, and it doesn't include a teaser I posted on my Facebook page a couple of weeks back. But I wanted to post at least a little something. Hopefully, the rest will post in the next couple of days.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.

Chapter 8 – Monarch Butterfly

Edward

Hey, Edward.

I hope all is going well for you and your son so far this summer up in the northwest. I received the draft MOA. It looks great, and I wanted to thank you for working on that even though you're on vacation.

Unfortunately, it does seem as if we're going to have to meet with those clients in San Francisco later this summer, and they've requested your presence by name. I apologize if this will interfere with your well-earned time off for a day or two, but-

Having gotten the gist of the email, I closed it, meaning to close out of my mail altogether, but then I spotted an email from a name that made my eyes grow wide.

Dear parents and guardians of our Forks Summer Camp participants:

On behalf of our entire staff, I'm thrilled to welcome you and your children to another summer camp season!

For those who don't know me, my name is Bella Dwyer, and I'll be the head counselor for our Pee-Wee Program, along with Leah Swan as my assistant counselor. This will be Leah's and my third year with this fantastic program developed by Rosalie McCarty, our children's incredible summer recreation leader.

Although I grew up in Arizona and later moved to San Francisco, I'm a Forks native, and I can attest that having experienced all types of summers, despite a bit of rain and a whole lot of mist, nothing compares to a Forks summer. From our white-capped, majestic Olympic Mountains which frame our lives, to the crystalline rivers which dictate much of our leisure and trade, to rocky beaches, lush forests, and wildlife that feed both our imaginations as well as our bodies, the unique ecosystem in our community begs to be ventured. This summer at camp, we'll be exploring and learning about that environment in creative ways that'll hopefully awaken the natural curiosity of our youngest minds while keeping them safe within the generous boundaries of our recreation center.

I look forward to leading our youngest campers through new and exciting adventures of the northwestern variety, creating what I hope are lovely memories, and building on those early learning blocks that'll forever connect them to our shared world and our rich environment. What's more, throughout these next few weeks, your children will have the opportunity to connect and reconnect with both new and neighborhood friends, and who knows? The relationships we all discover this summer may be those friendships that last a lifetime.

In preparation for our first day of camp tomorrow, I wanted to inform you of several important summer program details and, as a quick reminder, reiterate some which were included in the email you all received from Rosalie when you first signed up your children for camp…

OOOOO

Hey, Bella. Thanks for all the great information in the camp email you sent out this afternoon. You have a way of describing Forks that reminds me of an article I read a few months back. Tristan went to bed extremely excited for the morning.

Hey, Edward. I'm so glad to hear that! I'm excited for the morning too.

I hope you don't mind my reaching out to the cell # you provided in the email?

Of course not. That's why I provided it. Is everything okay? Do you have a last-minute question about camp?

Honestly?

Of course, honestly.

Then, no. No questions – not about camp, at least. I just wanted to say hi. Probably not what you included your cell # in that email for, huh?

Honestly?

Of course, honestly.

A bit devious…but I was going to give you my number tomorrow anyway had you not noted it in that email, so.

And I was going to ask you for your number tomorrow had you not sent it in that email. Even more honestly, I wanted to ask you for it today, but you seemed anxious to get to your hike.

LOL. Complicated problem resolved. And now I have your # too.

Then that worked out amazingly. Also, I promise I'm not a deviant despite the devious way I got your #.

Trust me; I know you're no deviant.

Oh, you're familiar with the deviant type, are you?

Hello? Bella? Sorry, I was joking.

I know your son is too adorable to have been fathered by a deviant.

Ahh. Believe me, I'm thanking my lucky stars lately for my son's adorableness. Helps out with a foot-in-mouth syndrome I seem to have developed recently. So, how was your hike this afternoon?

It was great. It infused me with tons of inspiration for tomorrow.

Oh yeah? Well, I love hearing that. Maybe tomorrow we can make more concrete plans for the week?

Maybe. Concrete plans and I don't always go hand in hand. And now I've got to get to bed, Edward. If all goes well, I'm going to have a dozen 3 to 5 year olds to keep busy in the morning. I'll see you and Tristan at drop-off tomorrow, okay?

Okay. Bella, I apologize if I said something wrong. I guess I'm…out of practice. And there I go tagging a defense onto my apology.

You said nothing wrong, Edward (not this time ), which makes your defense perfectly justified. Honestly, again? I'm just out of practice myself. Have a good night, City Boy. And a sweet night to your adorable son.

Lol. Have a good night, too, Lumberella (and I mean that with all possible, positive connotations ). Sleep well.

With a somewhat confused and dissatisfied sigh, I set the cell phone down on my nightstand and stared up at the ceiling for a bit.

OOOOO

"Is we there yet, Dad?"

The Forks Community Recreation Center was outside of town, but according to the truck's navigation, it would be a fifteen-minute drive, easily accomplished via the few blocks that comprised Forks' version of the main thoroughfare.

"Trist, buddy, we just turned the corner off our block," I smiled.

"So, is we there?"

"No. Not yet."

Tristan sucked his teeth. Sparing a glance through the rearview mirror, I grinned at his eager, toothy reflection. He wore a backward baseball cap that morning – the cap was part of the suggested camp-day gear. With no mess of copper hair falling over his forehead nor veiling his eyes, and with his slight frame vibrating in the car seat, it wasn't hard to read his excitement.

"Is we there now, Dad?"

"Trist, it's been thirty seconds since you last asked."

"So, is we there?"

I chuckled, once again inwardly asking myself who was the bigger smart-ass between us.

"No," I smirked through the rearview. "Not yet."

With another sound of dissatisfaction, he glanced down at the bright red camp tee-shirt he wore underneath his zippered hoodie, pulling on the shirt's hem and mouthing the words. He wasn't reading them, though he'd made me read them aloud enough times that he'd memorized them.

"Is we there now, Dad?"

"Trist, I promise I'll let you know when we're close."

He groaned.

The backpack beside him contained the essentials specified in the camp email sent yesterday afternoon to camp parents from a particular brunette camp counselor. Spare camp shirt, snacks, reusable water container, raincoat or hoodie, hat, towel, sunscreen, and insect repellant were neatly packed. This same camp counselor had emailed again this morning, attaching a copy of the day's itinerary and gently reminding us not to overpack our kids. After all, the Pee Wees were the youngest of the campers, ranging from three to five. As such, their program only ran from eight a.m. through noon.

As I drank my morning coffee, I'd found myself re-reading the morning email, like a spy on a covert mission searching for hidden clues, for messages meant only for me or something to explain what I'd said wrong last night while we texted back and forth.

Of course, there were no hidden messages, just a lingering sensation that I'd tripped us up somewhere, though, by the end, we appeared to have resumed our mutually fascinated stride.

Therefore, the sliver of apprehension tightening my stomach that morning wasn't related to the camp counselor, rather to my camper. Despite Tristan's current state of enthusiastic anticipation, I wondered whether he genuinely understood the logistics of what his first day of summer camp would entail. Back home, I was fortunate enough to work a flexible schedule. That schedule meant that, while Tristan wasn't a stranger to spending a few hours without me on office days, those days were usually spent in Chelsea's care or my mom's care. Neither would be the case this morning.

Again, I glanced through the rearview. "Tristan, buddy, you understand that Dad isn't going to remain at camp with you, right? You'll be there with other children around your age and with your counselors, but not with me."

"Is we there yet?" he moaned.

I sighed. "No, we're not."

He deflated against his car seat. "Taking so long!"

"Buddy, we've been in the truck for five minutes," I snorted. "Tristan, you understand what I'm saying, right? I'm not going to be at camp with you today. I'll drop you off then pick you up-"

"Bella be there?"

There it was – the source of his eagerness, of both our eagerness that morning, if I had to be honest. And yeah, I did have to be honest.

"Yeah, buddy," I smiled. "Yeah. Bella will be there."

"She stays with me?" For a moment, his eagerness took on a note of apprehension.

"Yeah, Trist. She's your counselor. She'll stay with you and with the other kids your age. As will Leah. You remember Bella's god-sister, Leah, right?"

"Uh-huh." A broad grin spread across my son's face. "Is we there yet?"

"No, buddy," I chuckled. Dad's as eager as you, but… "No, we're not there yet."

OOOOO

Thanks to Tristan's imitation of a scratching deejay, by the time we arrived at the rec center, where the day camp program was being held for the next few weeks of summer, I felt as if I'd aged fifteen years rather than fifteen minutes. On the other hand, Tristan bounced in his car seat while I lined up behind the other vehicles slowly making their way through the rec's main entrance.

"Dad, are we-"

"Yes, Trist, yes." I took a deep breath, releasing it through narrowed lips. "Yeah, we're here."

"Yay!"

As I pulled into the gravelly parking lot marked 'Park Here for Summer Camp Drop-Off,' the truck's console flashed with a call from Alice. I sent her to voicemail for the moment. Shifting into park, I sat back and swept my gaze over the area, already feeling the magic Bella described in her email the previous afternoon. The landscape was somewhat similar to a forestry Central Park on a misty day, though instead of silver skyscrapers, this park boasted the majestic Olympic Mountains as its backdrop. My eyes settled on a cluster of white-pole tents, each with a color-coded sign before it. In front of each tent stood a couple of individuals – an adult and a teenager – wearing their group's color tee shirt. My eyes zoomed in on the red group, specifically on the woman surrounded by a handful of children around Tristan's age.

"Look, Dad! There! There! Bella!" my son needlessly pointed out.

She wore one of her flannel shirts over a red tee shirt that matched my son's tee shirt, a pair of denim shorts, and her combat boots. And I smiled to myself at the look I'd disparaged with an off-hand comment just a week earlier…and now regarded with what was no menial amount of admiration.

Because Bella looked radiant, she exuded more than mere excitement, but animated energy, a vibrant buoyancy barely contained by a smile so ebullient that it lit up the gray morning even from across the parking lot.

She was joy for life personified.

She was also in the process of greeting each parent, then crouching to meet each child's eyes. Leah stood a few feet behind her, calling each child to her once they were properly checked in by Bella and leading them in a song-and-dance game. Amusingly, Leah's typical teenage blasé attitude appeared dispelled – or at least pocketed – for the morning, replaced by what seemed to be genuine enthusiasm as well.

As we joined the check-in line, I did as Bella and crouched to Tristan's level, adjusting his backpack over his small shoulders.

"Dad, I go to Bella!"

"We've got to wait on the drop-off line, Trist."

"But Dad! She right there!" He flourished an arm wildly in her direction, in case I'd missed her, as if her light wasn't just as much a beacon to me as it was to him. "Why can't I go?"

"I know how you feel, buddy," I breathed, struggling to keep him from wrenching free and running headlong. "Now, Tristan. Tristan, hold on, hold on."

"What, Dad?"

"Remember everything we spoke about, Tristan. I'll be back to pick you up in just a few short hours," I said reassuringly.

"Uh-huh!" He peeked over my shoulder, jumping to see past it. "Bella! Bella!"

When the line inched forward, I stood and gripped my son's hand while he squirmed like an eel.

"And please remain with your counselors at all times, buddy. Don't wander off."

"I won't!" he snapped, making me swallow back a bout of laughter.

We made our way closer.

"Bree, can you believe how long this line is?"

"Jane, it feels like it gets longer every year. It's these damn out-of-towners."

A pair of women behind me sounded impatient.

"Blame the anonymous writer of that article from a couple of years ago," the first woman muttered. She then dropped her voice before continuing. Unfortunately, she didn't drop it enough. "Though check out the ass on this guy in front of me."

"Mm-mm. The line's totally worth it for a peek at that ass," the other woman replied.

Sighing, I returned my attention to Tristan. "You okay, buddy?"

"When's gonna be our turn, Dad?"

"Soon. Hey, Trist, another thing; if you have to go to the bathroom, let Bella or Leah know, all right? Tristan, do you hear me?"

"Uh-huh!"

Thankfully, the women behind me switched topics.

"It's a long line, but Bella's great with the kids, Jane."

"She really is, Bree, and it gets the kids out of our hair."

They cracked up.

"Crazy what happened to her, though, isn't it?"

"It totally is. But did you see the pictures of the guy in the papers?" asked the woman who'd no one ever taught to whisper. "The poor girl's lucky to be alive!"

My brow furrowed. And though I instantly felt more than a twinge of self-disgust for now angling my ear to hear when just seconds earlier, I'd attempted to tune them out, angle my ear I did.

"Oh, my God, Jane. I read that she got slammed against the-"

"Bella! Bella! Bella!"

Tristan bolted, and with that, my attention defaulted to my son, who was already mid-air, launching himself into Bella's arms as she crouched on the ground.

"Tristan!" I barked, simultaneously sprinting forward.

Bella swayed backward, but just as she had the other day on that surfboard, she managed to maintain her balance, gripping her tablet in one hand while holding Tristan with the other so that he wouldn't lose his balance – all while laughing with her entire being.

"Sweet pea, you made it! Good morning!"

"Tristan, you can't do that," I reprimanded. "You could've knocked her-"

"It's fine," Bella said softly, and the honesty in her gaze as she flashed her eyes up to me, the pure exhilaration in them, stopped me from peeling him off of her. "It's fine," she repeated with a sigh. "It's a good day. It's all good."

"It really is," I murmured, momentarily transfixed by the sight before me.

After a few seconds, Bella set Tristan on his feet and pulled back with a smile.

"Good morning, Bella, I here!"

"I see," she chuckled. "I've been waiting for you."

"You have?" Tristan asked. The awe in his tone and honored reverence in his gaze was as if his queen had been waiting to knight him.

"Of course I have! We're going to have so much fun today, and I don't want you to miss a second of it."

"Yay!" Tristan jumped up and down.

When I reached out a hand to help Bella to her feet, her fingers slid warmly between my mine, generating a bolt of heat that rushed up my spine and spread through my scalp. She bounced onto her worn combat boots, and this time, when our eyes met, they held. My mind swam with a million different thoughts, and all of them related to her.

"Morning, Edward," she smiled.

"Morning, Bella, hey…hi," I replied, feeling more like an awkward, tongue-tied, monosyllabic teenager than like a grown man who made his living preparing legal documents. It was only when she carefully pulled her hand out of mine, her fingertips grazing the entire length of my fingers and sending more of that sparking heat through me, that I realized I was still gripping her hand.

I cleared my throat. "Sorry about that- with Tristan. He's just been…eager to see you." We both have.

"So have I." Our gazes held for a moment longer before she pulled her dark eyes away from me and back to my son. "Tristan, we've got everything set up for a great day – games on the field, hikes around the park, and adventures galore! Are you ready?"

"Yay! Yeah, I ready!"

Bella chuckled and ruffled his hair much the way I tended to do. "Good. Now, guess what Leah's doing?"

"What?" he asked, his awe only growing.

"She's teaching everyone the coolest butterfly songs while we wait for the entire group to be together so that we can go exploring for monarch butterflies. Do you know what monarch butterflies are?"

"Uh-uh." Tristan shook his head, eyes wide.

"Well, we're going to learn all about them today. We're going to sing songs to monarch butterflies, and then we'll make our own monarch butterfly hats before we finally go exploring for monarch butterflies here in our very own rec!"

"What we do if we find them?" Tristan wondered.

"That's a surprise," she grinned, tapping his nose.

"Oh, boy!" Tristan exclaimed.

"Tristan, come meet the group and sing with us, kiddo!" Leah waved him over.

"Tristan, we're all butterflies! Look!" Little Esme flapped her arms like wings, and Tristan took off running to join her.

"Trist, I'll pick you up later, buddy!" I called after him. And receiving not so much as a glance backward, I snorted and shook my head. "Talk about being completely and categorically unimpressed by my impending departure."

"Aww, don't take it personally. It seems he and Esme have developed an instant bond."

"An instant bond, huh?" I breathed. Then…finally…I allowed my eyes to stray back to Bella and take her in the way they'd been eager to do since yesterday afternoon when she'd left for her hike with Leah. In turn, her gaze panned away from the flapping and singing youngsters to meet mine.

"And to think I was worried that I was going to have to wrench myself out of his vice grip – or stay here with him for the rest of the morning, at the very least."

She offered me a wry grin. "Instead, he gave you a figurative, 'Dad, don't let the door hit you on your way out.' All in all, I think his reaction was the better result for all involved, so."

"Probably," I nodded. "Though I've got no doubt his ease has more to do with you than with little Esme, despite their instant bond."

The flush in her cheeks contrasted mesmerizingly with our pewter and evergreen surroundings. For a moment, those cheeks were all I saw as she took a step closer to me, and my heart sped up. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper – words meant only for me.

"Well, I hope you know that even on days when I may not be at the top of my game, I'll always make sure he's safe and sound."

"Bella…I do know that; although, I'll admit I was kind of looking forward to Tristan's bout of separation anxiety as an excuse to hang around for the morning – solely for the butterfly lessons, of course."

Bella chuckled heartily. "Oh, of course. The butterflies – fascinating stuff, isn't it?"

"You have no idea." I leaned in closer so that I could whisper to her the way she'd whispered to me. "I promise that if you tell me what you're going to do once you catch them, I won't ruin the surprise for the kids."

Bella threw back her head, and her laughter rang out like soft wind chimes in the breeze, the warmth of her breath tickling my neck. Her eyes sparkled.

"Well, thanks for keeping the surprise, but firstly, we're not hunting butterflies; we're exploring the rec in search of them."

"Ahh," I raised my brows. "Exploring versus hunting - has a different connotation, doesn't it?"

"A vastly different one. As an attorney, you should know the wording is everything."

"And timing. Wording and timing are everything."

"You mean like when an exhausted attorney walks into a pub and shoves a woman before calling her Lumberella?" She quirked a teasing brow.

I shot her a mock scowl. "Sounds like a bad joke, but what I mean is…Bella, what I mean is-"

"Ahem!"

Bella's dark eyes grew wide. She blinked successively, then flashed those eyes over my shoulder. I followed suit, turning to look.

The two women at the head of the line – the gossiping women – stood with their hands on their hips.

"Go ahead, Bella, honey, take your time. We none of us are in any sort of rush."

"Oh! Hey, Bree and Jane! Sorry. Mr. Cullen's here for the summer, and I was just giving him a quick intro to the program."

"Mm-hmm," the woman at the head of the line smirked.

Bella turned back to me, and we both pulled back, only now aware of how close to one another we'd wandered during our talk. She tapped her tablet to life.

"So, Edward- uhm, Mr. Cullen, did you receive this morning's itinerary?"

"Yeah," I replied, chuckling under my breath then clearing my throat. "Yes, Miss Dwyer, I did. It was fascinating," I breathed. "I'm telling you, those butterflies…"

"Ass," she said between her teeth, grinning at her screen. "All right, good, Mr. Cullen." Then she went through a quick run-down of information. "Now, you'll only have to check Tristan in on this line for the first week, just until we've our routines down and we know exactly which child belongs with each parent. Just confirm for me if this information all seems correct."

I peeked at the tablet with all my contact information and with Tristan's information, taking advantage so that I could move closer to her again.

"Yes, Miss Dwyer. Hey, Bella." She looked up at me. "All's good. It's great."

"Thank you. In that case…we'll see you at noon then, Edward."

Again, she met my eyes, offering me a soft smile that was just enough consolation. After all, now I'd have to wait until the afternoon to speak to her again…and to hopefully make those not-so-easily-made concrete plans.

"See you then, Bella."

As I strode away, the two women at the front of the line took me in through raised brows.

"Guess what, Bree? I'm not feeling quite so sorry for Bella anymore."

"Neither am I, girl. Neither am I."

A/N: Thoughts?

So, Monarch Butterflies. They're pretty fascinating as well as gorgeous. Here in Manalapan, NJ, we grow milkweed (as I've read they do in Washington State, as well), a pretty plant that attracts them so that they can lay eggs before they fly south to Mexico for the winter. As their migration pattern is frightfully endangered, whenever we can, we tag them (with minuscule, numbered tags that are carefully placed on their wings) so that if they're found thousands of miles away, we can track their pattern and know how they're faring. Apparently, western monarchs breed in Washington state before flying to California for the winter. However, I've just learned that only a handful of western monarchs were spotted in Washington State in 2019 and 2020, and absolutely NONE so far this year. Heartbreaking.

If anyone happens to want more info on the western monarch, you can visit westernmonarchadvocates dot com.

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