Author's Note: Thank you to the great folks at A Different Forest for mentioning this story. I appreciate the supportive words and the new readers. Also, thank you to The Lemonade Stand for sending readers my way as well. I'll try not to let you down. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. I answer them when I'm able, but, honestly, I have to pretty severely neglect my four kids and full-time job just to get chapters written. I do read them all and get a little dose of happiness off of each one. How great are you guys? So great.

She'd never had problems sleeping before David, but the past year had made Bella an expert in insomnia. She'd learned that the problem has many different shapes, that every sleepless night is not the same. There were the fearful, tortuous nights, when worries and flashbacks tormented her for hours. There were the exhausted nights, when her body screamed for sleep and her mind refused to switch off. Then there were the quieter nights, when she would neither sleep nor suffer. She'd learned, through trial and error, not to fight back against those nights. The thing to do when she was simply sleepless was to get a book or a movie or a project and just go with it until the wakefulness passed.

So, after she drove home from the Cullens', she tried only briefly to sleep before she got back out of bed. She wrapped her robe around her and went downstairs to occupy herself until sleep decided to find her again.

In the living room, her choices of activities were limited. She hadn't had Charlie's cable reconnected; she wouldn't be here long enough for it to be worth it. He had some movies, but they were mostly old westerns and terrible action flicks from the nineties. Definitely not what she was in the mood for tonight. She'd packed books along with her when she'd driven to Forks, but her mind was too scattered tonight to read. She finally went over to a long credenza on one side of the room. On the top was Charlie's old record player; inside the credenza was his record collection.

Bella pulled out a stack of albums and started to shuffle through them. She remembered some of them well – Joni Mitchell, George Harrison, the Ramones, a few others. Most of them were unknown to her, though; Charlie hadn't played them much since she was a little kid. She took one out, blew the dust off of it, and set it on the turntable to play. Neil Young started singing about a fine-looking woman floating across a diner floor. Bella sat on the worn carpet, her back leaning against the couch, and closed her eyes, listening, trying to imagine what her dad had thought and felt when he'd listened to the song.

As she relaxed, her thoughts gradually wandered away from Charlie and to the Cullens. They had been so kind tonight. She could still feel it inside her, that satisfied warmth that came with human company and contact that had been much too long absent. And it had been so easy with them. Being with people was almost never easy for her these days. The last year had changed her; sometimes she didn't even see herself anymore as the same species as all the normal people in the world, the ones who laughed and planned and argued with each other so effortlessly. Grief had made her something other than human. But that hadn't seemed to be a problem for the Cullens; somehow, she still fit in there.

And Edward… She felt a strange disorientation as she thought of him. She'd forgotten since high school how very beautiful he was, and how strange. His reaction to her, to her tears… Bella had grown to know how uncomfortable grief could make some people. She'd noticed when people avoided her at Charlie's funeral, and when friends had stopped calling after David died. But it seemed different with Edward. He hadn't avoided eye contact, or been excessively polite, or any of the other things she'd come to associate with others' need to distance themselves from her sadness. No, Edward hadn't seemed to be distancing himself at all. For that one moment, it felt as though he really wanted to know about the pain behind her eyes, or that he already knew, and it was hurting him, too. But then, of course, that moment had ended, and he'd gone.

However strange his behavior, the song he'd played had been beautiful, and well worth the awkwardness that came after. She wondered how he'd known. It seemed so unlikely that he was just coincidentally playing her deceased father's favorite song on the one night that she was over there. But maybe. Who knows? Maybe Charlie was still around in some sense and pulled some strings.

"Did you just want to hear your song again, dad?" Bella said to the empty room. She sighed heavily and pulled an old crocheted afghan off the back of the couch, wrapping herself in it against the chill.

She listened through the album, then put another one on, and then another. She didn't realize that she'd dozed off until the sound of the needle coming to the end of the record woke her. She glanced at the clock; it was just after two.

"Might as well make a try for it," she said, yawning. She turned off the stereo and headed upstairs and back to bed. Without much more difficulty, she slept.

Bella could tell as soon as she woke that it was late in the morning. The sky outside her window was overcast but diffusely bright. She reached for her cell phone on her bedside table and saw that it was past ten. She stretched, and as she came more awake, she realized what had woken her – the sound of a lawnmower. Definitely not usual for Washington in October.

She pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and went downstairs. When she opened the front door, she was greeted by the unlikely sight of Edward Cullen mowing her lawn. He wore blue jeans and a black t-shirt. She thought that he must be freezing; it couldn't be more than forty-five degrees out. When he saw her watching, he gave her a little nod before turning his attention back to his work. Bella stayed where she was, but he gave no indication that he was stopping anytime soon. After a few minutes, she went back into the house.

At a loss for what else to do, Bella started making breakfast. She brewed coffee strong enough for even Charlie to approve of and scrambled some eggs, throwing in a few extra ones in case Edward wanted to eat. She was buttering toast when there was a soft knock on the door. She opened it.

"I'm finished with the lawn," Edward said. His eyes met hers, then darted away. "The yard still needs trimming, but your trimmer is out of string. I'll have to come by later to finish that."

"You'll have to…" she started to repeat, then shook her head. She stuck out her hand. "Edward, hi, I'm Isabella Swan."

Edward stared down at her hand. He didn't seem to be breathing. After a moment, he took it. His eyes met hers and stayed there as his fingers closed over hers. Rather than shaking her hand, he just held it for a long moment, then let go.

"It's very good to meet you, Isabella," he said.

She cleared her throat and broke away from his gaze.

"Please come in, Edward," she said, stepping back from the door. Edward followed her into the kitchen. She observed that he moved with both perfect grace and perfect uncertainty. He didn't sit down.

"Now," Bella said. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but why are you mowing my lawn?"

He shifted, ran a hand through his hair.

Lovely hair, she thought. Not brown, not red. Bronze?

He made her wish for poetry.

"I needed to apologize for my behavior last night," Edward said. "The song… was a bad idea. And then you were upset, and I was very rude. Sometimes I don't know what to do around – I am sorry."

She pursed her lips a little, amused.

"So you mowed my lawn?"

"When I got here, I saw that it needed it. I don't mind yard work."

She turned away from him, took out two mugs, and started pouring coffee.

"Cream? Sugar?" she asked.

"No, thank you," he said.

She brought the steaming cups over to the table, and motioned for him to sit down. She slid a mug in front of him. He wrapped his hands around it, but made no move to drink.

"Edward, I do appreciate your help with the yard. As far as the rest of it, you don't need to apologize. I'm not always good with people, either. It was an awkward situation, and not your fault," she said. "And you really don't need to make it up to me. Last night, that song… That wasn't a mistake. It was an amazing gift. I'm actually glad you came by so that I could thank you for it."

"It didn't upset you?" Edward asked. "Alice said that you would like it, but then I saw you crying…"

"I cry a lot, Edward. I mostly don't mind it. You shouldn't either."

He thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said. "I won't."

Something new occurred to Bella.

"How did Alice know about the song?"

Edward hesitated.

"I think someone mentioned it at Charlie's service," he said at last.

Bella nodded. It certainly was possible, although she doubted that Charlie had done much singing around the police station. But Sue had probably known; maybe she'd said something.

Edward pushed away the cup of coffee, untouched.

"Bella," he said. "I want you to know… My family considered Charlie a friend. We would like to count you a friend as well."

"Thank you," she said. "Of course; I would like that."

"No," Edward said, shaking his head. "I'm not just saying this, the way people say these things. I'm not making polite conversation, some meaningless token offer. We would like to spend time with you and give you help when you need it. We would like to know you better." He hesitated and glanced away. "We would like you to know us as well. This is not an offer we make lightly."

"Oh," Bella said. "Well that's something different then, isn't it?" She lifted her coffee and drank, considering it. Considering him, all of them. Polite lies and meaningless assurances didn't seem to be allowed with the Cullens. That rare directness, taboo almost everywhere else she went in the world, held a potent appeal to her. Nonetheless, she barely knew them, least of all Edward.

"In that case, Edward, how about we wait and see? I'd… like to have friends again. But I don't… We'll see."

He nodded. "Of course."

And then, with the lightest, most careful touch, he reached out and took her hand again.

Edward declined breakfast. Seeming to have done what he came to do and said what he came to say, he left. Bella watched him get into his silver sedan and drive away. She wondered at the pulling in her chest she felt as he traveled away from her.

She was eating cold eggs and toast a few minutes later when her phone buzzed. It was Billy.

"Hello?" she answered.

"Good morning, Bella."

"Good morning, Billy. What's up?"

"I was able to speak with the council last night. They agreed that you need to know more."

"So, tell me," she said. "What do I need to know?"

"Not now, not on the phone," he said. "Can you come out to La Push tonight? To Sue's?"

Bella felt a moment of disquiet and dismissed it. However she felt about Billy and the others on the reservation right now, she knew she didn't need to fear them.

"Yes, I can do that," she said. "When?"

"Six? Sue's going to cook."

"Okay, then. I'll see you at six."

Bella hung up, frowning. Another family dinner with another family she'd never belong to.

She pulled out her notepad with a sigh, deciding that she'd use the hours between now and then to clean as much of Charlie's house as she could manage. She jotted down the tasks: Finish dusting, Sweep and mop floors, Vacuum rugs, Wash windows. That should be more than enough to occupy her for one afternoon.

Before she started cleaning, she put on another of Charlie's records – The Allman Brothers, Eat A Peach. The music felt both new and familiar to her. She turned it up loud so she could hear it throughout the house as she worked.

She hadn't expected to finish before she needed to stop and leave for La Push, but once she got started, the work went quickly. By five o' clock, the floors and windows were clean, and the place smelled of furniture polish and faint bleach instead of mildew and cigarettes. If she really tried to, she could still smell just a hint of Charlie's old smoking habit, but nonetheless, it was a lot better. A coat of new paint and having the rugs steam-cleaned would likely take care of that remnant.

That remnant of him, her mind whispered. She shook it off.

After a quick shower, Bella toweled off her hair and dressed in warm layers: jeans, thermal shirt, hooded sweatshirt, thick socks, sneakers. She drove toward La Push and tried not to think about the meeting she was headed toward.

Sue's house was a sturdy old log home, two stories tall, with a split-log fence surrounding the yard. Harry had built it with his own hands three decades ago, before he and Sue were married. He'd done good work; the place was still solid and lovely.

Sue opened the door and ushered Bella inside.

"Come on in, hon. I'm just getting the rolls out of the oven," she said.

Bella inhaled the familiar smell of Sue's homemade bread, feeling both a surge of hunger and a pang of memory in response. Sue was Billy's half sister; Bella and Jacob had spent a lot of holidays and Sunday afternoons over here, sharing meals, playing games, telling stories. Family stuff.

She took a seat at the kitchen table, watching while Sue pulled a pan of rolls from the oven.

"How have you been?" Bella asked.

"Good, good," Sue said. "Busy, you know, with work, and the kids here. And missing your dad, of course. And you."

Bella didn't want to respond to the remark, but found herself saying, "You could have called."

Sue looked at her sadly.

"I wasn't sure if that would be okay with you," she said. "After Jacob… I just didn't want to make things worse."

"I don't think you could have made things worse," Bella said. She wanted to be angry, but couldn't seem to manage it. That part of her was just too weary, too played out. "You can always call me." She paused, then decided to go on. "I mean, we both loved my dad. I'd like to have someone to remember him with."

Sue looked at her in surprise.

"I wondered if you knew about that," she said. "Charlie wanted to keep it quiet, but I always told him you were too smart for that."

"I had a feeling for a while," Bella said, smiling. "And, in his will, Charlie left you some things. I knew for sure after that. You should come by the house and get them when you can."

"Thanks," Sue said. "I will." A tear escaped down her cheek. She brushed it away and turned back to the stove.

There was a knock at the door a few minutes later. It was Billy, with Sam Uley. Bella took a deep breath as they came into the room. Her feelings toward them, Sam in particular, weren't as soft as they were for Sue.

"Hello, Bella," Billy said. Sam just gave a tight smile and nodded at her. Bella nodded back.

Dinner was a subdued affair. Conversation was polite, mostly involving the non-Jacob goings on at La Push, and Bella's work, little though there was of it. The food was delicious, though. A day of cleaning had left Bella famished.

When they were finished, she helped Sue with the dishes while the men went outside to build a fire.

"This is pretty serious stuff, huh?" Bella said quietly to Sue as they headed outside to join Sam and Billy.

"Yeah," Sue said. "But don't worry. Everything's going to be fine."

The night was clear and cold, filled with the smells of pine and earth. They sat down on the large logs that served as seating around Sue's fire pit. Bella had sat here hundreds of times before, with Jacob, with other kids from the reservation or the school. With Charlie. She remembered her dad's arm around her shoulders, a blanket wrapped around them against the chill, the leather smell of his coat. A sad contentment settled in as she pulled her own coat more tightly around her.

When they were all seated, Billy started to speak.

"For hundreds of years, Quileute children have played the same game, that of the warrior who becomes a wolf to save his tribe from monsters. Even Jacob and his friends did this when they were little."

Bella nodded; she remembered. Jacob the wolf warrior had saved Bella the princess many times in their childhood games.

Billy continued.

"This game came from one of our people's legends. It's the story of a time, many centuries ago, when strangers came into our village. The Quileute have always welcomed travelers, and prepared to do the same for these ones, but these creatures did not come as friends."

Billy's face was grim. "They killed dozens of people, tore out their throats and fed on their blood. They murdered old men, women, children and babies, as well as warriors of the tribe. They had no honor; showed no mercy. They were too strong for us to fight; too fast. Our weapons would not hurt them. They were not human. We didn't know what they were, or how to stop them. We could only wait until they had fed their fill and decided to leave.

"When they had finally gone, what was left of the tribe came together to bury the dead and to mourn. There was not a family among us who had not lost someone. Some families had been wiped out entirely.

"That night, the surviving Quileute elders met together. They prayed to the protective spirits of the tribe for a way to defend ourselves against this evil. And the spirits answered our prayers. They gave the strongest warriors the power to become the wolf, and they gave this wolf the power to defeat the blood-drinkers in battle.

"When the terrible creatures returned the next moon, intending to murder and destroy once again, the wolf warriors fought them and defeated them. They tore them apart and burned their bodies. While the village still mourned those who had already died at the hands of the monsters, they now had hope that the tribe would yet survive, kept safe by the wolf warriors the spirits had given us.

"The legend continues that, to this day, when the blood-drinkers threaten our tribe, our warriors will become the wolf, that they may defeat the monsters and protect our people."

The story chilled Bella, even though she had already heard parts of it from Jacob over the years.

"I don't understand, Billy," she said. "That wolf I saw – Is it some kind of… mascot for the tribe? Because of the legend?"

Billy sighed, shook his head, and gave Sam a meaningful look. Sam made a short, high-pitched bark. The sound echoed in the night air around them.

A moment later, there was a rustling in the trees. A huge wolf emerged – the same rust-colored wolf Bella had seen at David's monument. She grabbed Sue's arm, and jerked back.

"Don't be afraid, Bella," Billy said. He turned to the wolf and addressed it. "Go ahead," he said.

Bella stayed stone still as the wolf moved closer. Terror surged within her, but there was wonder, too. No one else was afraid of the wolf. Could it really be tame? It was beautiful, in any case. The photographs and few sad specimens Bella had seen in zoos didn't compare to this enormous, vibrant creature. She couldn't take her eyes off of it.

It didn't stop until it was just outside the fire circle. The air around the wolf seemed to vibrate in the firelight; a jagged, jerky version of the air over hot pavement on a summer's day. There was the hint of a sound, like a great wind, but sucking in rather than blowing out. And then, an instant later –

Bella gasped, trying to hold onto the log as her whole body went weak, unable to process what she was seeing.

"Jacob?"