Coming Home Chapter 3

And now, what you've all been waiting for! The first part of this chapter took me forever—it was really hard to transition from NY to La Push! But once Claire hit WA, the story just wrote itself! I like this chapter a lot, and I really hope you do too! Read, enjoy, and review! Thanks!

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The weeks after Claire's sudden epiphany passed in a whirlwind of chaotic upheaval. She and Adam had continued their epic discussion for hours, plotting out the best course of action. Now that she recognized that inner longing for what it was, she knew she needed to do something about it—and soon.

She held no foolish notions that her feelings would be reciprocated; no, she was fully prepared for the sweet and apologetic rejection. She could practically see Quil's face forming the words, forehead creased with worry about her hurt feelings. It did not matter though, because something inside of her had woken up, and she could practically feel La Push calling her back.

Adam had decided to use Claire's departure as an excuse to throw the towel in on his airline career as well. He confessed that he had been thinking about it for awhile but had been too complacent or too scared to leave New York City.

Claire had not thought her own plan through extensively, for her focus was solely on getting back to La Push. Her very sizeable savings account, thanks in large part to her clairvoyant stockbroker, gave her a great deal of flexibility. She could quit her airline job, which she had no qualms about doing, and figure things out from there. She could live quite comfortably off her savings (especially considering the low cost of living in La Push) for some time, and she would cross the employment bridge when she came to it.

So the two of them had settled on the brilliant plan of traveling to Washington together. Adam was oddly excited about seeing the Reservation and Claire's childhood home. She wondered if the promise of large, muscular, gorgeous men had any bearing on his enthusiasm or if it were simply a serendipitous windfall. Understood, and left pointedly unspoken, was that he wanted to be there for her if she needed him to help pick up the pieces of her probably-soon-to-be broken heart.

Turning in her resignation had been surreal. It was amazing how things had changed so drastically in such a short time. Suddenly this job, which had always represented freedom and possibility, had become confining, keeping her away from where she wanted to be. It took a month to finish the trips she had been assigned prior to turning in her letter of resignation. Her final flight from Amsterdam to New York (she thought it fatefully circular that Amsterdam had been her first international flight all those years ago and now was also her last) had been bittersweet.

She felt a slight pang as the last straggling passenger exited the aircraft, but when Quil's face flashed through her mind, she could not help but grin. She nearly dislocated her shoulder in her haste to extricate her suitcase from its stowage. She had loved her job—would not trade all the experiences and memories for the world, but she felt completely at peace with her decision. That chapter of her life, though a great one, was finished. Bidding adieu to the friendly skies was surprisingly easy.

Having lived mainly out of suitcases for years, neither Claire nor Adam had stockpiled many belongings, and years of traveling the globe had made them experts on packing light. They had joked for years that anything they could ever need would easily fit in the very well-traveled and scuffed black roll-aboard suitcases that they used for work. Intent on starting over, they agreed each to take only their trusty roll-aboard bags. Everything else they had accumulated over the years was simply donated or tossed.

Adam, with a stroke of brilliant luck, had sold his apartment to an up and coming New York City lawyer who had sat in Adam's Business Class section on a flight back from Munich. The quite possibly too cheerful for his own good lawyer had happily drawn up papers within 24 hours of seeing the place, saving an extremely grateful Adam a monumental amount of hassle and giving him a great deal on the place to boot.

And suddenly they were leaving. Claire watched Adam lock the door to the apartment, and a shiver ran through her as she realized that all she had was now contained in the beat up black suitcase by her side. She wore a periwinkle wrap dress under her black trench coat, which she snugged a bit tighter in the cool air. Her years in the industry had taught her the intrinsic value in both looking and acting nice while traveling. A well-dressed, polite person was always treated much better than an un-showered person in ratty pajamas. Plus, she wanted to look as pretty as possible when she arrived in La Push, as if that might tip the scales in her favor; she thought the dusky blue complemented her russet skin and deep brown eyes.

They hailed a cab to take them to the airport, something both of them had done countless times. It was strange to think that this was the final step of that particular dance.

Neither of them had actually had to purchase a plane ticket in years. They had turned in their airline IDs after their last trip, so the amazing privilege of flying for free was no longer theirs. The process of checking in and clearing security was far more cumbersome now that they were normal revenue passengers, and Claire found herself a bit nostalgic for the special employee lane where one never got stuck behind a family lugging three children, three carseats, a stroller the size of an SUV, and fourteen bags.

Their flight was direct from New York to Seattle, and Claire spent most of it gazing out the window, lost in thought. They gained three hours with the time change, so it was only midmorning when they loaded their bags with practiced ease into the trunk of the rental car and started the long drive to the coast of the Olympic peninsula, the same roads that Claire had traversed so often during her college years.

Driving the familiar roads soothed Claire's anxiety, and, despite the nervous twitching of her stomach, she felt more serene and peaceful than she had in years. This was where she needed to be.

It was not until she passed the first few houses of La Push that she realized she had no idea where to go. Her parents' house had been uninhabited for the last five years and was probably falling into shambles from lack of care. She momentarily cursed herself for not having taken the time to hire a caretaker before her departure all those years ago. The thought of her childhood home slowly decaying from leaks, damp rot, and mold caused her eyes to fill, but she blinked the tears away before they fell.

Without conscious thought, she found herself turning onto the lane to Sam and Emily Uley's home. She had not spoken with her aunt or uncle in years, but she knew they would be glad to see her regardless. She had never met anyone sweeter or more forgiving than her Aunt Emily. A slight swirling of guilt joined the nervous butterflies in her stomach. These people had loved her and she had completely abandoned them. Emily had been devastated about losing her sister, but Claire—her closest family—had run off, afraid of her own demons back in La Push, and had never even bothered to check in with Emily, see how she was holding up. She had been young and stupid, to be sure, but the guilt continued to tap at her soul at a steady largo tempo.

Well, nothing could be done about that now. She put the car into park at the base of the Uley's driveway, noticing the extra cars already parked there. Claire took a long, deep breath before looking over at Adam, who had been graciously silent for most of the trip, letting Claire mull over her own tempestuous thoughts.

"Ready to meet my crazy family and all their friends? Looks like a party. Just forewarning you, some of them might not like me too much anymore for leaving. I'm not entirely sure what kind of reception we'll be getting here, and they are a little weird about outsiders at first—so don't take it personally, ok?" The words spilled out quickly, betraying her nerves, and Adam just smiled encouragingly at her.

"Bring it on. Let's do this." With another deep, calming breath, Claire shoved the car door open and stepped out into the muddy gravel, adjusting her weight so that her black heels did not sink completely into the soggy ground. She smoothed her blue dress and grabbed her jacket from the backseat.

They could hear faint laughter from inside the house as they approached. Adam gave her hand a gentle squeeze when she hesitated outside the door. She had never knocked here before—usually she had just walked right in, but that somehow seemed rude, considering how long it had been. She weakly smiled back at him and then purposefully raised her hand and knocked.

It sounded like someone said, "What the heck? Who knocks here?" but the sounds were muffled. Suddenly the door swung open and she was face to face with her aunt. Emily just stared at her for three long heartbeats before the unscarred half of her mouth lifted into a beautiful smile, and she dragged Claire unceremoniously over the threshold into the crowded house, Adam tentatively stepping in after them.

The mass of familiar faces fell into complete silence as they stared at her in shock. The butterflies in her stomach felt like they were now powered by jet engines.

Embry was the first to move, rushing toward her, wrapping her in a gasp-inducing bear hug, and muttering what sounded like "thank God." With a light kiss on the top of her head, he dashed off out the door and toward the woods behind Sam and Emily's house with barely human speed, quickly disappearing into the dark interior.

His abrupt departure seemed to snap everyone else out of their stone stupor, and she was bombarded with hugs. Sam and Jared had just been getting ready to start the grill outside, so the crowd seemed to flow that way.

Emily, who had flitted about readying a picnic table full of food and batting away impatient werewolves with smacks from a wooden spoon that she wielded with deadly accuracy, had come over six separate times to hug Claire, gushing about how grown up and womanly she had become.

Needing little prodding from Claire, Emily was pointing out the new additions, Seth's wife and new baby and the shrieking twin toddlers running amok, whom she identified as Leah's. Leah had finally, after many years of effort, managed to stop phasing long enough to get pregnant. The rambunctious duo seemed to have inherited their mother's feisty demeanor. Their father, a tall, lean, red-headed man, was the picture of serenity—calm, cool, collected, and utterly at ease amidst the chaos. He seemed a perfect complement to Leah's fire.

Emily was still talking, something about Jared's oldest son's growth spurt and tell-tale fever, when the back of Claire's neck tingled. She turned abruptly away from her aunt, whose voice trailed off, just in time to see the most beautifully familiar face emerge from the forest.

Her eyes met Quil's and the rest of the world simply stopped. Everything but Quil ceased to exist and she was aware of absolutely nothing else. She did not notice the entire crowd, including Leah's terror-like three year olds, fall silent. She did not notice the hesitancy in Quil's stance, unsure as to his reception. Neither was she aware of his gaunt face, the dark circles under his eyes, or the fact that he looked like he had just spent a week in a cave.

In that moment she could do nothing but meet his eyes. Claire could not say how long they stood there, she statue like in the middle of Uley's yard, he standing at the edge of the forest, some thirty feet away. The trivial aspects of time and space mattered not—nothing existed outside of the two of them.

The blood thrummed through her veins, making her feel more alive than she had in years. She continued to stare at him. It was a second, it was hours, it was several heart pounding days. The moment seemed to span a perfect eternity.

Suddenly it was over and she was flying. She had already closed half the distance before she realized she was running. She was barely aware of kicking her shoes off in impatience when the heels starting sinking into the mud. Her bare feet were pounding over the sodden earth faster than she ever thought they could move, and she was flinging herself through the air.

She crashed into his chest, and he stumbled back several steps as he caught her. Her arms locked around his neck, and he held her tightly to him, her muddy feet dangling a foot above the ground, and her face burying itself in the curve between his chin and collarbone. Neither spoke, and for another endless moment they simply clung to each other, their silence saying more than any words.

When Quil finally loosened his hold and began to lower her back to earth, Claire did not know how long they had been standing there. A rushing wave of tingling rightness radiated through her from her slowly flipping belly out to the very tips of her fingers and toes, making them prickle hotly.

Her knees felt uncharacteristically wobbly as she once again made contact with the ground, finally broadening her senses enough to take in her surroundings. She heard the faint murmur of whispered conversations behind her and felt the muck from the ground where she stood ooze between her now filthy toes, the cold mud contrasting sharply with the bright flashing heat coursing through her.

Quil's voice brought her back fully. "You're back." He murmured, his voice huskier than usual, as if out of use.

She took in the sunken eyes and more prominent cheekbones. He looked sick, as if he had not slept in days. She brushed her fingertips gently over the dark bruise like shadows beneath his eyes.

"You look like hell, Quil. What happened to you?"

An emotion she could not identify flashed through his eyes before he closed them and ducked his head. He leaned down, touching his forehead to hers and breathed in deeply, as if trying to re-identify himself with her scent. They stayed like that for several heartbeats before he pulled back and looked at her. He smiled, but it looked off—like his lips and cheeks were not sure how to form the expression anymore.

Claire frowned briefly. "Oh, Quil." She cocked her head to the side, looking at him closely, as if she could read all his troubles with a glance, but this new broken looking Quil puzzled her. She slipped her hand into his large warm one as she had done so many times before, and they started walking back toward the party—the crowd humming with whispers and heavy glances.

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More to come soon! Hope you enjoyed this! I would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks!