Chapter 10

Time passes, especially when one finds hope. Life got easier, waking up each morning in a room that by the day became more and more my own; clothes organized in the closet, a hairbrush on the dresser, a new toothbrush on the bathroom sink. Helping Diana cook breakfast, usually just the two of us, but on occasion Paul would be there as well, and then washing the dishes after. Our morning routine of taking turns in the bathroom before heading into downtown for work, always parking in the same small space in front of the diner. There we would go our separate ways, Diana would open up shop and I would head straight to the beach.

It remains my favorite part of the day. Oddly enough the beach is not a popular spot at seven in the morning and thus I get the pleasure of watching the morning fishing boats scoot across the horizon all to myself. Observing the ever present swarm of birds that follow the vessels through the water, from this distance I cannot make out any of the crew members manning the ship, occasionally a dark dot would move across a deck but that might have been my imagination.

Everything was foreign to me this small town, the people and the job- the freedom; but there was something about this beach and this water that seemed so familiar. Like it was an old friend, welcoming me as I was.

Not that I felt unwelcome here in La Push. If anything I felt more at home here in La Push than anywhere else I have been.

After my morning shore time I walk to work, without fail Paul is always there to walk me the short distance from the sand to the big green door. It seemed natural that he be there to walk me, he was there the first day and I was not surprised to see him there, waiting for me, everyday after. Though, unlike the first time we do not hold hands in the short walk. Instead we talk quietly about my job or his job or Diana, easy topics- nothing deep like when we had talked on the beach. Neither one of us bringing up our first meeting again. Then Paul would bid me farewell, assuring me that he would see me later- at dinner, and I would go to work.

Work is... soothing. Well, more accurately Al is soothing.

I am not sure if it was the fact that before coming to La Push I had not worked a job in a long time or the fact that I just enjoyed the feeling of being useful, but working at the print shop made me feel like I had a purpose. The self worth that had slowly been sucked out of me was beginning to return from working at Al's.

On the first day it became apparent that Al was in more need of help that I had originally assumed. His email had been sporadically checked, but reply's never sent out, his voicemail was full and in need of a weed through. It would seem that the only business that Al was able to keep up with on his own were the face-to-face interactions with customers who came into the store. My first two days of work were spent almost entirely organizing and responding to the businesses correspondence. One might not think that there would be enough business to keep a small town printing company in La Push, Washington afloat, but they would be sorely mistaken. Along with the several same day walk-ins, Al would get professional prints commissioned on a daily basis from all over Washington State.

I also discovered that Al was a pack-rat when it came to prints, hidden away in a back storage closet were boxes and boxes of prints. Some were of pictures from people that had them developed but for one reason or another never came to claim. Stacks of family vacation photos and school graduations, family memories immortalized in print but never picked up. The majority of the boxes and clutter were large canvas prints like the ones adorning the walls up front. There were a handful that were not taken by Oliver, some were from other local artiest that must use Al as their personal developer. Most of the prints were Oliver's though, when Al told me that his son traveled he was not lying, it seemed to me like every corner of the Earth had been photographed by this man. Al, being the proud father that he was, printed every picture Oliver sent back to him.

With Al's permission I had begun to studiously organize everything creating several piles; to keep, to sell, and to trash. Somehow the to keep pile kept growing while the sell and trash piles got smaller, Al had a problem letting go.

"Art this beautiful is meant to be shared," I would argue with Al, "hidden away back here, it goes to waste."

"Yes, but what if they don't take care of it- don't appreciate it," he would counter. He knew everything about each piece, it made it near impossible to get him to agree to let me put them up on the website for sale.

Our compromise came in the form of an art show. Though it took some convincing Al agreed once I had gone through all the pros and cons with him. It would give the shop a chance to lighten our storage load while also giving Al the chance to meet and interact with all the potential buyer, his one stipulation is that he could have final veto if he didn't think the buyer would take good enough care of the pieces.

So, after getting the store organized enough to function that became my primary time consumer. I would still answer phone calls and emails, but planning our show was what monopolized most of my time at the shop. It was still three months away but time seemed to be moving faster now, almost like

After work I would head back over to Diana's, we would load back up into her car and drive home together. Paul would come over shortly after we got back and help make dinner with Diana and I, after which he would hang around for a while before leaving right before I went to sleep. From an outsiders perspective life would seem boring and mundane, repetitive in the worst of ways. For me though, this was more than I could have ever asked for.

"Emma, why don't you take the rest of the day off," Al suggested with a twinkle in his eye and an almost mischievous tone to his voice.

It was my fifth Friday working at the print shop and I had spent the majority of the day making phone calls to differing catering companies trying to find someone who wasn't going to charge rm and a leg to cater the art show. I had thus far come up short in all things catering and was busy scouring the internet for more options while Al showed two tourist some of the more local photographs.

"I really need to figure this out," I said. Frustration had settled in today, I still felt lucky to have this job and didn't want to let Al down. In the past month I had begun to come alive again, as if this fog that I was living my life had been lifted and I did not want to jeopardize that in anyway. Everything still felt fragile and new, like any moment the bottom could fall out and I would find myself cast out and alone, or worse with him.

Shaking that thought from my mind, I unsuccessfully tried to block out what the tourist were saying while continuing my search.

"Yeah, we made the hike up the big loop and saw massive wolf tracks," said the skinny dark haired girl with a strong southern accent to Al.

"Rumor is we have a large wolf pack in the are," Al responded to the eagerly. "A couple years back there were a few deaths they thought might be related but no one has actually seen the wolves and lived to tell the tale. It's been a while since we've had much activity from the besides the occasional track here..."

Trying again I tuned out what Al was saying and got back to the task at hand. That futile effort lasted only another 10 minutes before I gave in, turning off the computer and packing up my small bag of belongings.

"I'm taking off Al, you sure you don't need me to take care of anything else?"

Al practically pushed me out the door, "Go enjoy your Friday night, have fun and don't worry about me Emma."

Quickly pulling my hood up to protect myself from the rain I made a mad dash for the dinner. I was still adjusting to the near constant rainfall in La Push, Washington. As I ran raindrops feel into my eyes, blurring my vision slightly. Fifty meters away, the door to Diana's opened and a tall figure in a dark jacket and baseball cap ran outside.

I froze.

Him.

A tightness formed in my chest and I was just about to turn around and run when the man's head lifted, his eyes met mine for a second and then immediately ducked back down. Hurriedly to avoid the on-slaughter of rain the man made his way to his car, got in it and drove away.

False alarm.

Still frozen I took deep breathes, it wasn't him. In fact, upon seeing his face it was obvious that they did not even entertain the same general features. But in that moment, that split second, I felt that feeling again.

Not even caring about the rain I made my way to the beach, I pulled my hood down in order to feel the raindrops hit my naked face. I chest was still tight and, while I understood that my breathing was erratic and labored, I could not pull myself together enough to control it.

In my six weeks free I slowly had been putting feelings and thoughts and memories of him away, neatly leaving them in a box in the back of my mind and decidedly not taking that lid off. The only times that I even ventured a thought above the man was in my nightmares, in the thoughts I couldn't control.

My nightmares were not a normal persons nightmares, there were no monsters going bump in the night. They weren't even about getting beat, in fact there was rarely in violence involved at all. Rather my nightmares were waking up in the morning in his house or walking through the grocery store only to turn and see him walking next to me; it was the ghost feeling of a possessive hand on my wrist or the glint in his eyes when I messed up in public. My dreams revolved around the threat of the act more so than the act itself. I would not thrash in my sleep or scream out in panic, rather I would abruptly go from unconsciousness to wake and feel like there was no air in my lungs.

I sunk into the sand close enough to the water that the suds licked at my feet, I was soaked to the bone from the rain by now, what did it matter if the water reached me.

The box that I had built up in my mind was spilling out and all I could do was take each memory as it came. They were just memories, thoughts of a past time, but they drove a hole through my mind. Numbing me to everything around me. I did not feel cold. I did not feel wet. I did not feel pain.

I simply felt numb.

How long would these stick with me? Would it be five years? Ten? Would twenty years from now I still be checking every face in crowd to make sure the one face I feared was not there. Was I permanently damaged goods?

I pulled my knees up to my chest, locking my arms tightly around my legs, physically holding myself together.

Time passes, even when it seems impossible. I don't know how long I sat there, the rain made it nearly impossible to tell the time based on the sun, but eventually the bleak grey that was the sky began to turn a darker shade of grey and the rain lifted.

I grew to miss the soothing sound of the rain hitting the ocean and sand around me, the quiet made me able to organize my thoughts. Without the rain I began to feel the chill start to seem into my bones. One by one I put my thoughts, memories, and feelings back in their box, breathing came easy again and my vision was able to stay clear.

It was over.

Just in time, I suddenly became aware of a pair of eyes on me though I made no indication of my knowledge of their presence. Faintly, I heard the soft sound of feet walking on sand and then a warm body sit down next to me. How is he always so hot?

"You gave my mom a nervous breakdown."

"I'll talk to her." I never wanted to scare Diane, hindsight I probably should have checked in. Not that I think I could have made a rational decision in the moment.

"You're cold," he stated plainly at me.

I shrugged back aware of the gooseflesh that covered my body.

He scooted closer to me and let me absorb some of the heat that radiated off his body, I leaned against his shoulder.

"Wanna talk about it?"

I thought about that for a minute. Let the question hang in the air between us, would it hurt to give a little back to this man who gave me so much? Paul was always patient with me, he didn't push me too far. He did not seem to care if we talked for hours or sat in companionable silence. He was open without requiring me to give anything back in return.

"Do you think things happen for a reason," I questioned him. "Do you think there is some grand plan that was put in place eons ago that controls every single action that takes place to lead us to this particular moment?"

Paul thought for a second, "No."

It was a simple answer, and exactly what I needed to hear.

"Me either," I said, standing up and trying to brush the stuck on sand off me. I looked like a drowned cat, my hair clinging to the cheeks of my face in what had to be an unflattering appearance.

I heard Paul stand up next to me, finally looking at him I realized he was just as soaked through as I was. I blushed realizing he must of been out in the rain a while looking for me.

"How long did it take you to find me," I asked apologetically as we walked back up the beach.

He laughed loudly, "All of two seconds."

My eyes shot to his questioningly.

"Emma, this was the first place I checked," he explain. "I don't know what it is about this beach but you seem happier here, come rain or shine if I can't find you this is where I will come first."

I got redder during his explanation.

"Once I found you I went ahead and told mom to go home," he continued on. "You seemed to be working through something so I let you have your space, once the rained stopped I could literally see the tension leaving your shoulders. Plus it was starting to get cold and mom would kill me if I let you get sick."

I laughed at that as Paul led me towards his truck, a realization dawned on me, "I am going to get your seat soaking wet!" I felt mortified and began apologizing.

Paul quickly brushed of my sorry and helped me into the passenger side seat.

As Paul closed the door and made his way around the truck I thought about our interaction. Paul had been patient with me, let me have my time and space. He was careful not to initiate contact with me, rather gave me the option and let me decide. I thought of how warm and safe I felt when ever he was around and that Paul never pushed me too hard. As Paul got in and started the truck the terrifying realization hit me.

I have a crush on Paul Lahote.