CHAPTER 2

"That'll be fifty-four-twenty, thanks," the far-too bubbly girls asks. I hand her fifty-five and donate my change to the charity tub.

"Thanks," I reply without meaning. I stopped thanking them long ago for doing their jobs, but they were getting ruder to me and giving me filthy looks, so I started thanking them shortly thereafter to avoid the conflict. Just because I can't understand why I have to thank people for doing their jobs, doesn't mean I like confrontation, so I conformed to what society expects, and I leave with my produce. It's enough to last me a week, so at least I won't have to come back until then.

I throw my purchased goods on the passenger seat of my truck, beside my newly-acquired books from Port Angeles, and I head home for the week.

I lock my car, retrieve my mail, then lock my front door behind me. I make quick work of putting everything away, then as is my routine, I sit in dad's favourite recliner and read my mail. It is only one letter today, and it is junk that wants me to purchase tickets to win a house. I sit it on the coffee table, right beside the letter that has been screaming at me for a week.

I pick it up, and re-read it for the seventeenth time… not that I need to. I have read it that much that I have memorised it. I replay my conversation with Rosalie, once again and much like before, my turmoil of emotion plays with my resolve. I'm not one to reach out, or socialise for that matter, I'm not one for doing much, really. Maybe Rosalie has a point… but so do I. I try to tell myself 'what could it hurt?' But it could hurt a lot… he is a criminal with my address. I take three fast, deep breaths and walk over to my desk and retrieve paper and a pen. With a shaky hand, I take a leap. Not of faith… just a leap.

02/27/2016

Jasper,

What did you do, and are you guilty?

-Isabella

I stare at it for minutes, hours… I don't know, but it looks rude. Surely it is more of a response than he expected though… surely. I just dread the response, if the reply is rape or murder, then I'd have to move for certain, I can't exactly take a criminals word for their innocence.

I fold it up in perfectly measured thirds, then tuck it nicely in the matching envelope and write his forwarding details on the front and affix the stamp.

The phone rings in the kitchen, so I rush to it before I miss it.

"Hello?" I pant lightly, unused to any form of exertion.

"Hi sister, are we back on speaking terms yet?" Rosalie asks, a bitchy tone present.

"I suppose we will see if your gross negligence results in me being left for dead in a shallow grave, won't we?"

She huffs, "for god sake Bella, you exaggerate. I didn't give your details to a murderer or anything, Emmett says Jasper is a good guy, and I believe him."

I sigh, "Rose… my idea of a good guy is someone not in jail. You know, not criminals."

"I'm not asking you to marry the guy Bells, just write to him, he needs support and someone to talk to, just like you do. You won't talk to me and you have no friends, you should be talking to someone too, it will do you good."

"I'm just really uncomfortable about this…."

"You're uncomfortable about everything Bella, but if it gets to be too much, just pull the pin. He'll understand."

"You don't even know him," I point out.

"No, but Emmett does, and I trust his judgement."

Yeah, well I don't, but I keep that to myself, I'm sick of arguing about everything with her. "So how have you been?"

"Good, I got a business loan, so I'm allowed to open my own business now, I just need to decide where, but I'm really thinking about setting up in Port. I will be back home with you, and there is only old Nick's mechanical running in the area, so there will be plenty of business for me."

"I'd really like that Rose, perhaps you could just buy old Nick out, I hear he's retiring soon anyway and then you wouldn't have to fit out a new workshop, the hard yards are done for you."

"Is he? That will work in perfectly, and I really like the set up he has going there, I think I'll come down for a visit this weekend Bella, my room still how it was?"

"As if I'd ever mess with your room Rose, God only knows what I'll find."

She barks out a laugh, "well I've got to go, but I'll see you friday night."

"Would you like me to cook you dinner?" I ask.

"Umm… no thanks, I don't know what time I'll be in."

"Okay then, see you friday night or saturday morning if you're too late."

I hang up the receiver, then walk out the front and place the letter in my mail box and flick up the red flag thingy.