Oh the answer well
Who would have guessed
Could be something as simple as this,
Something as simple as this?

-Jake Bugg

Chapter 9

The next morning Paul wasn't at the house and I am ashamed to admit the disappointment I felt from his absence. In such a short period of time the routine that we had formed had become stable and for some reason waking up without him being right there felt wrong.

Pushing that feeling aside, I went about my morning constitutions. Throughout my preparations a tight knot of nervousness began to develop in my abdomen. Meeting new people, espically a potential boss, had put me on edge my entire life. It wasn't that I didn't know how to act around strangers, if anything I had perfected how to blend in and appear calm and put together. Rather I found myself dreading the effort that went into achieving those things, the energy I had to put forth to appear the right way, it was exhausting. The past two weeks I had been spoiled with the fact that Diana knew the truth and thus I didn't have to put up a front with her. Then there was Paul, the odd tentative friendship that we had formed made unable to pretend around him. He put my nerves at ease and didn't think it was odd if I wasn't all smiles and talkative around him. Thinking about how I was going to have to build my carefully sculpted walls back up to put up the correct appearance had me already tired of the day before it had even started.

In the car heading to downtown Diana noticed the sunken look on my face and read it as nerves, "No need to be nervous dear, Mr. Peterson is going to adore you."

I nodded my head and gave her a small smile of encouragement but that didn't really change the way I felt.

We arrived at Diana's at eight but I wasn't going over to the print shop till nine. Originally I had planned on hanging out in the diner, but when I stepped out of the car my face was assulted with a cool, salty breeze. My eyes shut without thinking and I sucked in a deep breath, as the air traveled up to my senses I felt the ball in my stomach relax ever so slightly.

"Emma," Diana said, standing halfway in the door already, "you coming?"

I looked back and forth between her and the beach, a short 50 meters away. "I think I'm going to take a quick walk on the beach," I told her before quickly adding, "if that's okay?"

"Of course."

I relaxed a bit more and for the first time today had a real smile grace my face. I quickly turned and started walking towards the sound of the ocean.

"Just don't lose track of time," Diana called after me, "his building is the second to last on on that side of the street! Big green door! You can't miss it!"

I waved over my shoulder so that she knew I had heard her, but my mind was completely focused on the ocean now. The more close I drew the less tense I became, I could feel the tension leaving my body with every step I took. When I rounded the corner of the last building and the view was now completely unhinged the tight ball that had been built up in me all morning dissipated complete.

Walking to the spot where the concrete of the sidewalk budded up to the sand I hesitated before quickly reaching down and ridding myself of my socks and shoes. Now barefoot, I look my first step onto the beach, the cold sand sliding between my toes. It was what I was beginning to figure out is a normal day in La Push, overcast with the threat of it going to rain any minute. There was not a cold bite to the air yet, but rather a chill that you could feel make it's down you spine when the breeze was pushed in by the waves of the ocean.

My gaze lingered on the expansive ocean laid before me and subconsciously my feet made my way to the edge, when my toes were hit with the chilling white foam I was taken back to the first time I had been here.

The deeper waves were like a light house, beaconing me to join them.

Life is so different now than it had been then and while still transfixed by the deep water stretching out to the horizon, I didn't feel the compulsion to go to it. I didn't feel the urgent need that I had felt on that day to run to it, submerge and lose myself in it. When the foam came up to my toes again I found myself taking a few steps back.

I took off the rain coat I had on and laid it down on the sand before lowering myself on top of it, sitting now a few feet from the swell of the ocean. I could watch this forever, I thought to myself.

I had only been sitting there for a minute or two when I heard someone clear their voice from behind me. Whipping my head around I tensed, but relaxed again when I saw it was Paul.

"Mom said you'd be down here," he explain running a hand through his hair, "I thought I'd come down and wish you luck." I grew red when I thought about how long he could have been watching me, wondering what he was thinking about when he saw me at here again.

He stood there shifting back a forth on his feet, he almost looked nervous. Why would he be nervous around me? I realized I had yet to say anything and quickly said, "Do you want to join me?" I slid over to the edge of my jacket a gestured to the space next to me, realizing there really wasn't very much space.

Paul didn't seem to mind, "Sure," he said as he sat down next to me. The space was in fact small, it took all I could on my part not to be touching and even then every so often our arms would graze each other. What confused me was with each touch I didn't feel a shock or jolt, rather I felt more relaxed. I could feel the warmth of him radiating out towards me, unwinding the tension in my limbs one by one. Until this moment I hadn't even realized I was cold, but each time I would pull away I felt the loss and longing for his warmth. Eventually I just gave up the battle and rested on Paul, connected from shoulder to elbow.

We sat in silence looking out for a long time, something about this exact situation felt familiar to me. Maybe familiar wasn't a good descriptor, rather it felt as if I could sit here like this, with Paul by my side forever. The thought sent chills up my arms. I got the feeling of being watched, turning I saw it was Paul staring at me.

When I caught him, rather than looking away he held my gaze and ask curiously, "Why'd you go in there?" He was thinking of that day too.

I averted my gaze back out to the sea, my first instinct was to lie but for some reason I couldn't find it within myself to lie to Paul. There was no way I could tell him the truth so instead I opted to counter with the first question that came to my mind, "Why did you come in after me?"

I froze, why would you ask that? I wanted to take back the words as soon as they had left my mouth, but now they were said and into the space between us. It was question that had legitimately been in the back of my mind for months, more so now that I had met Paul. Going into the water that day was stupid, even more so when you planned on dragging someone else out, no matter how good of a swimmer you are. It would have been a potentially lethal task. It puzzled me that Paul, who had a loving mother and a group up of close friends whom seemed to care deeply about him would risk it all for, from his perspective, an apparent suicidal girl.

Paul seemed just as taken back by hearing my words as I had been speaking them, his brows drew together in deep thought. He had every right to ask me his question and I had no right to question his motives, I was about to take back my question when he started to speak.

"I don't think I even realized that I was going after you until I was at the edge of the water," he stared at the ground as he spoke, unable to look into my eyes. "I remember noticing you as soon as you walked onto the beach and being shocked when I saw you tearing through the waves." He took a long pause here, turning his head and looking at me hard, in his eyes I could see a battle taking place, like we was struggling with something inside of him.

"Then I saw your head go under and not resurface..." I could hear a pain in his voice, almost like even talking about distressed him.

Finally he sighed, "I couldn't let you die, so I went in after you," he finished lamely, as if he was leaving a big portion of the story out.

I tried to process what he had just told me, this unexplainable pull that I felt to Paul was apparently felt on both sides. He was in as much of a trance as I had been that day, I almost wanted to ask if he thought about me as much as I thought about him these past months, but I silenced myself. Of course he didn't, I was just some stupid girl to him. I had to let him know somehow that he was a large part in saving me, not just from the water that day but also from Tim.

"I know I thanked you already but..." I stopped trying to figure out the words to say. "I didn't want to die..." that much I knew for sure and could tell him honestly, but I wanted to tell him so much more. This connection that I shared with Paul was incomprehensible, it was pushing me to just explain the truth to him. Lying to him, even if it was for my own good, caused an uncomfortable feeling in my chest.

"I was just going through some stuff..." I started but could not finish. Self preservation won out this time and I grounded myself, knowing that I would be safer if no one besides Diana knew the full truth. "One day... I might be able to tell you the full story, but for now just know that every day since then I am grateful that you saved me." It was the truth, what occurred that day had reinvigorated my fight and I would never be able to repay the gift that Paul had unknowingly given to me.

My statement seemed to have pleased Paul, for a small smile graced his face. "Whenever you're ready, I will always be here," he reached over a gave my hand a little squeeze. I surprised myself when I didn't shy away from the contact, choosing instead to let my hand remain laced in his grip. I felt a tingle in the pit of my stomach that I had never felt before and instead of responding smiled back at him, decidedly not over thinking our contact.

We sat like that for quiet a bit longer, letting the information that had just be exchanged wash over our brains, neither one of us feeling the need to communicate. Eventually I noticed the time and that I needed to head over to Mr. Petersons. Paul hauled me up, brushed off my jacket for me, and then balanced me as a wiped the sand from my feet and put my shoes back on. Then together we walked over to the print shop, hand in hand.

Paul led me to a small storefront with big glass windows that were tinted completely black and a tall forrest green door nestled between them, on which was the name Peterson's Print and Photography. I dropped Paul's hand and reached for the metal door handle which had rusted from exposure to the rain and salt water spray from the beach, before I pulled the handle to go inside I hesitated.

"Don't be nervous," Paul said from behind me, "just be yourself and theres no way he wouldn't like you."

I flushed at his statement, "Thanks."

With a deep breath I went into the shop. Entering I immediately was greeted with a the jingle of a bell that was attached onto the hinge of the door, a few seconds latter followed a voice shouting "Be there is a second!" from the back of the building. I took in my surroundings; the word I would use to describe the place was unique.

The furniture in the waiting area was all antique but not a single piece matched; there was one high backed chair with a faded pink and purple paisley pattern on the cushions, a saloon styled chair with deep emerald seat cover, and a bright blue velvet loveseat. A little further in the room was a what looked to be once a bar, now utilized as what I would assume is the welcome desk, for there was a bell with a little sign that said 'Ring for Service" and modern computer that looked out of place in this setting. Behind the desk was a large wall with a floral wallpaper print like you would see in a Victorian era house, there was a board hanging on the wall displaying pricing for prints.

I would never in a million years believe this place was a print shop; that is of course until you looked at the walls. Adorning them from ceiling to floor where the most beautiful shots of scenic canvases. There was a shot of a desert at sunset, one of a trail of ants carrying leaves tens times their size in a lush rain forrest, even one of a large fishing boat floating along side a massive glacier. There had to be at least forty canvas prints adorning all the walls, below each photo were cards with the location and date of each photo along with the credited photographer, Oliver Peterson. Every single photograph taken by the same person.

A particular image caught me eye, it was of a beach and water that I adored. Underneath it simply read:

La Push, Washington
June 24, 2008
Oliver Peterson

I couldn't drag my eyes away, it had been taken on a sunny day, at that golden hour when the light make everything look better. It had captured every detail perfectly and just looking at it made me be able to smell the salty air.

It was as I was entranced by the photo that I heard someone clear their throat from behind me, I quickly turned embarrassed to have been caught so off guard. There stood an old and weathered man, he would have been short no matter what but his curved spine hunched him over and he stood at least a half foot shorter than my 5'10". His once solid black hair had turned completely grey with time, he wore thick, squared spectacles over his eyes that seemed to large for his face. His face was adorned with wrinkles that told a story of laughter and love. He was dressed in a three piece suit with a matching bow tie to complete the ensemble.

"You recognize it?" he asked me, referring to the picture in front of me.

"Yes," I nodded back at him, "its beautiful. It captures it perfectly, did you take it?"

He laughed as if I had just told him the funniest joke, smiling from ear to ear he explained "No, no, no, I just print the pictures." He walked over to me and pulled a worm leathered wallet from out of his pocket, from it he produced a picture of a younger man with a camera covering half of his face. "My son, Oliver, is the one who takes all the pictures," he said proudly but with a tone of sadness. "Been all over the world, this one. Doesn't make it back home very often but always make sure to send photos of his adventures back to his old man." My heart broke a little for the obviously lonely man before me. He seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts and thrust his hand out towards me causing me to jump back a bit a the sudden movement, "Names Albert Peterson, but you can call me Al."

I grasped his hand in return, "Emma Johnson, nice to meet you."

Recognition ran through the wrinkled lines on his face, "Diana told me about you! Said you use to do freelance photography but decided to relocate to our little piece of heaven up here and that you'd be perfect for the job."

I blushed at his description of what Diana must have told him, "I promise I am a hard worker and I can pick up new things quickly, I have excellent customer service-"

He cut me off, "You know how to use that thing?" He asked pointing to the computer sitting on the welcome desk.

"Yes"

"Great! You're hired!" He turned on his heel and started walking to the back, I followed him spluttering about an interview and experience.

He waved off my concerns and started explaining, "Nonsense, everything these days is done digitally and I guess my brain has learned about everything it could because I just can't seem to pick it up." We had moved behind the Victorian wall where I could see all the parts and process for printing pictures of all sizes, "The printing part, that''s easy and I have done it my whole life, but dealing with converting files and processing .jpgs sent through that Facebook, thats what I need help with. Plus, even though I know I don't look it," he said to me with a wink, "I am not as young as I use to be and I could use another set of hands back here as well."

His jovial aura made it hard not to smile and feel welcomed by the old man, he seemed to tell it like it is and not bullshit you in anyway.

We entered into a back office that was probably once used as a storage closest due to its small nature. He slid behind the desk that took up the majority of the space and gestured for me to sit across from in the only other chair, another antique, in the room, "Now I've known Diana for a long time and I trust her judgement, if she is willing to vouch for you than you have to be alright. Now do you want the job, because its yours."

I did not hesitate to accept his offer, we went about talking the logistics of me working there; how much I would be paid, when I could start, the hours I would work. He was very generous, saying he hadn't had anyone working for him since his son left almost a decade ago and that it was going to be a lot of work to get use to his work style and help organize the current mess he had of a digital media presence. I was going to work 8 to 5 Monday thru Friday with a scheduled lunch in there at some point and was going to get paid every two weeks. We set my starting date for the very next day, after which we shook hands and I left to go over to Dianas. I felt on a high, Al was everything I could have wanted in a boss. He was so strong willed and while I do think he needed help, I believe more than anything just wanted someone to talk to. I was more than willing to be his ear to listen to, any nerves I had going today were completely washed away. I had a job, a place to stay and with a person who knew my secret, and an actual friend who I felt safe and comfortable around. For the first time in a long time I felt like everything would be alright.

Author's Note

If you want an idea of what I picture when thinking of Al, think the old man from Up, just a little peppier. Thank you all so much for reading and sticking with me, I honestly wouldn't be here without y'all. I am doing my best and every favorite/follow/review I get drives me to keep going. I have the next chapter halfway written out just trying to tweak a few things here and there. Be updating soon!

K.