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Chapter Nineteen: Routine
After that fateful day, everything seemed to fall into place for Sam and I. Billy purchased the house using my inheritance, as requested, and the deed would be transferred to Sam and I when we were old enough. While the house was fit to live in, Sam and I spent the next year renovating it. We'd save and scrimp for weeks before spending school breaks painting, flooring, adjusting, and decorating the house to our taste. The Tribal Elders helped, along with their families.
Along with the house changing, Sue helped us, desperate to do everything she could for us. She'd spend hours every weekend she could spare from working at the local diner to teach Sam and I how to cook. When we had lived with Mrs Uley, we only cooked cheap and basic food. With our new home, she taught us every family and Tribal recipe she knew, which I faithfully noted in a thick notebook. So while Sam worked evenings after school, and I worked any spare hours I could at Newton's Olympic Outfitters in Forks, when I was home I baked endlessly, never would our cupboards be empty again.
Once the house was finished, and Sam and I finally settled into a routine together, he and Leah Clearwater began to date, after months of flirtation. They fell deeply in love with one another, often to be found on Sam's days off on our couch, curled around one another, or taking a drive to Port Angeles for dinner and a movie, once Sam could drive and managed to save for a motorcycle. Their relationship reminded me that love wasn't always broken, and one day I would find someone worth loving too.
Sam and I were finally happy. Living our cosy life, this wasn't always easy, but was comfortable for us. The Tribe watched over us as we happily sustained ourselves and finally found our happily ever after. For once, we could be free and responsible for our own lives, something we both relished with joy.
"I should be back for half six." I told Sam as we walked out of the Res school, Leah's hand entwining the inseparable pair on his other side, "I put a slow cooking casserole in the oven if you get back early, if you could check on it on your way to work?" Sam split his time between the local building traders and being a freelancing mechanic, offering fairer prices for repairs than Fork's mechanic, tonight he was to help fix the porch at Jared Cameron's house.
"Sure, don't be too late; I don't like you out too late after dark." Sam nodded at me sternly.
"It's January Sam; it's pretty much always going dark when I come home now." I rolled my eyes, "See you later. Bye Leah." I called as I hurried to get to the bus stop. The buses between La Push and Forks were few and far between and I couldn't afford to miss this bus, especially with the snow already causing buses to be cancelled frequently.
Though Sam had initially protested me going all the way to Forks to work, he couldn't deny that we needed more income and La Push didn't have any available jobs for me, and so he had relented eventually, meaning I took the bus to Forks to work for Mrs Newton at Newton's Olympic Outfitters several days a week for as many hours as I could persuade her to give me. The journey to work was long and not cheap, but we managed for the sake of the wage Mrs Newton gave me, which was slightly higher than usual due to her respect for my late father.
Though Forks was no longer my home, nor did I make a habit of visit previous to my job, many of the inhabitants remembered my dad and recognised me despite the years of development on my part. It meant many of them would speak to me as an old friend, telling me odd stories of the old Police Chief's heroic tales, and I treasured the memories they shared with me as it meant I still had a connection to my dad. Through their respect, I often found I'd get slight discounts or extras whenever I had to venture into Forks for something La Push didn't stock, which was very rare, and I'd protest their generosity in vein.
Today was no different as I climbed onto the bus and sat behind an elderly woman, who had smiled as I passed. As the bus began to move, trundling along through the icy and snowy streets, the woman turned and looked at me with a creased brow. I turned to smile hesitantly and fought the blush that always seemed to haunt my face for no other reason but to highlight how painfully shy I could be at times.
"Isabella Swan?" She asked uncertainly and I nodded once, unsure who she was, "Ah, Isabella, of course it's you, I'd recognise your father's eyes anywhere."
"Thank you." I replied quietly.
"Ah, I remember when your father came to the aid of my husband, Gerald. The daft old thing had skid his car into our hedge, in weather just like this." She laughed reminiscently and I joined her at the thought of such a situation, "Your father, being Police Chief, came to his rescue. Oh, you should have seen the two of them moving that car. Both were pushing and laughing over fishing jokes, saying how boats were much easier."
"That sounds like dad." I smiled thinking of his love of fishing, and how fish hooks infested every nook and cranny at our old house in Forks.
"It took them a full thirty minutes to shift the car onto the road again, only after realising neither had thought to take the breaks. Of course, your father had presumed they were off, only Gerald would be silly enough to forget to make sure they were off. You should have seen their faces when it dawned on them, they had me in stitches!" The woman carried on laughing as we reached Forks and walked off the bus, thanking the driver in turn.
"It was nice to meet you." I told her with a smile as we parted ways and she waved as we both hurried in our separate directions. After her story, I was left dwelling on my own memories of my father as I trekked through the treacherous pavements to work.