A/N - As always, I don't own jack shit. Many thanks to my wonderful beta August Shaffer. Also, special thanks to pre-readers feebes86 and Mist. Thanks to all for the favs, follows, and reviews. They are better than Dr. Pepper!

Chapter 4: Distractions

'I need some distraction,
Oh, beautiful release.
Memories seep from my veins.'

Angel - Sarah McLachlan

There, in the cold foyer of my grandmother's empty house, I did what I had not allowed myself to do in well over a year, I cried.

I sat there on the floor with my head resting on my knees, arms encircling them, for at least thirty minutes. It was best just to get the entire crying jag over with, so that I could actually do something constructive with the rest of my day. Slowly rising to my feet, I breathed in deeply and walked to the entrance of the living room.

On my succinct glance of the room last night, I had noticed that there were no pictures or evidence of me to be found. When Gran lived here, she had pictures of me everywhere. Group pictures with me at Jake's house with him, Quil, and Embry. One of Papa Swan with me asleep in his arms, sitting for the first time in the rocking chair he made for me. Christmas' of when Charlie or I were little, shredded wrapping paper surrounding us as we beamed at the camera holding our gifts. Another of me in the kitchen by a batch of cookies I had made totally by myself, my proud grin surrounding an oatmeal raisin cookie. There had even been some gifts I had given to Gran displayed with her various knickknacks that I had crafted for her. You know, like the ceramic mug or ashtray that is so hideous that only a mother's or, in this case, a grandmother's love would entice them to display the monstrosity.

All of these reminders of my existence were absent. It wasn't enough that I lived so far away. No, Charlie had to eradicate me from the living room as well. Perhaps the reflection from the pictures was interfering with his view of Sports Center or whatever shit he watched on TV.

I guess I should have figured Charlie hadn't told anybody anything. All the times I had visited, I had stayed with Gran; Charlie coming over for meals and interacting with me as an uncle would with an annoying niece. The one time I visited after her death I had spent the majority of my time in La Push.

So, none of this really surprised me deep down. I had long thought that my parents felt I was a load that would have best been swallowed. It mattered little; as long as he stayed out of my way, I would stay out of his.

When I entered the kitchen, I immediately noticed some cash on the fridge. Walking closer I saw a note on the dry erase board that stated the money was for groceries and for me to have a nice day. I just rolled my eyes and checked on the progress of the defrosting freezer. Deciding now was the best time to go to the store, I threw a ball cap to hide the state of my hair and walked out into the damp air.

Getting in the truck, I decided I would go to the Thriftway. It was the closest, at a quarter of a mile away and Gran had always shopped there, so unless they completely changed their layout I could be in and out in a jiffy. It took a few times but eventually I remembered how to get the truck started. Wincing at the cacophony elicited by the gears when I shifted the monster into reverse, I slowly started backing out.

Only to lurch to a stop not two seconds later.

Two more false starts had me questioning if is was worth the trouble, and I was dangerously close to just saying 'fuck it'. But I had to get cleaning supplies today, come hell or high water. I couldn't deal with the mess any longer! It was close enough I could walk there, but I could just see me walking back in a downpour with paper sacks; my eco-friendly shopping bags were stupidly being shipped here. Half the town would not survive the fallout of that situation.

On the sixth fucking time, I finally made it to the road. Cringing as I ground the gears once again, I began to move forward. I was high and dry until I got to stop sign at South Forks Ave. I had to wait a good five minutes for traffic to clear. When my opening appeared to safely turn left, I pulled out.

Or attempted to, because I released the mother fucking clutch too quick. Again! Another two tries later had me full out raging, and I was damn close to stomping out the floor board and just Fred Flintstoning it back. Looking in the mirror, I saw a strange purplish-red tone to my usual light complexion. That cannot be healthy. I took deep. calming breaths to help myself relax, not wanting to be involved in any road rage incidents. I began to panic when I noticed someone coming up behind me on the road, but the driving Gods gave me a reprieve and I was able to successfully pull onto the avenue with my next attempt.

The smile from my victory was wiped quickly off as I pulled into the Thriftway not fifteen seconds later, because I was going to have to do another goddamn left-hand turn to get home. Fuck my life!

The three-minute drive that took twenty minutes had rattled my nerves something fierce, so I was in no mood to be here. So, I decided that I was on the Chuck Norris Plan: get in and get out. So, I grabbed a cart and started weaving in and out of the aisles like a crazy person, only slowing for the elderly and small children. I collected, purchased, and loaded my groceries in just under forty minutes, a personal best, and I was now sitting at the road again trying to make another left-hand turn.

Ten minutes later, I pulled into the driveway again with a horrible headache, praising the inventor of the automatic transmission as the smartest damn man to ever walk the earth. Unloading what I could on the table, I put the rest of the groceries in a cooler I had found in the pantry with some ice while I got the fridge cleaned. But first things first. My nerves demanded that I drink a Dr. Pepper, and I decided that I damn well deserved some Ben & Jerry's for my toils so far this morning. After chasing some pills down with some Dr. P, I planned my method of attack while I indulged in creamy goodness. Blessed are the lactose intolerant; their loss is my (weight) gain.

I worked efficiently and methodically through the kitchen, cleaning every nook and cranny. I scrubbed the floors and countertops and took near psychotic glee with every ant I got to kill. I moved next to the pantry, storing some of my purchases of the day in there where I could.

At a quarter past two, I decided to call it a day and it was time to take a quick shower. After washing the chemical smell off my skin the best I could, I dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a Hard Rock shirt and quickly did a French braid, being careful not to leave any gaps. I put minimal makeup on: eyeliner, mascara, and some strawberry chap stick.

Looking forward to the evening with all the anticipation of a root canal, I made my way downstairs with a sweater in hand.

I heard the sound of an engine idling outside shortly thereafter and then the sound of a car door closing. I hurried to scribe a note on the fridge to the parental unit that only read 'Rez'.

"Hello, Jake," I greeted as his hand was rising to knock on the door. He looked surprised I didn't use Jacob instead.

"Hi," he replied, clearly apprehensive after his reception earlier in the morning. I sighed.

"Hey, I'm sorry for acting like such a bitch earlier." I said, tilting my head back so he could see the sincerity behind the words in my eyes. "I'm not a morning person. It wasn't my intention to take it out on you." A lie of course as I had been very upset with him and the rest of our mutual friends and family only a few hours prior. But the realization of my father's silence on certain matters, quelled my ire. But he didn't need to know all that and lying had become something of a necessity over the past few years. Of course, this was one instance where I would agree that the apple did not fall far from either tree, I had learned from the best.

"No worries. Glad you've woken up.' He gave me the same impish smirk he shared with Quil V. I nodded my head, and started to turn to go to the truck, but a scorching hand halted my movement. Before I could fathom what was happening, I was wrapped in an iron cage in one of Jake's bear hugs. The heat was unreal and if I didn't know better I would swear I was standing in the Phoenix sun. After a moment, he returned my feet to the ground. Giving me one last squeeze, and what sounded like a sniff, he stepped away from me, the heat of his embrace being replaced by the warmth of his smile shining down on me.

"What have you been doing today?" he asked.

"Cleaning the kitchen. I should have just lit a match and been done with it. Good Lord, it was disgusting. What? Do I still smell?" I embarrassedly questioned as I noticed his nostrils flare.

"Nah, its not bad. You just smell a little off." He replied as we made our way to the truck.

~B of L~

"Do you want to fucking drive?" I growled. I was exasperated with Jake's fidgeting, bitching, and butt-clenching for the last twenty minutes.

"I want you to learn how to drive! Preferably, without you killing me or trashing the transmission," he chided as he sat in the passenger seat. He had an arm resting on the door with the window rolled down, a white-knuckled grip on the mirror outside his window, and the other arm was slung over the back of the seat with his fingers digging into the worn leather. His reactions to my driving were funny for the first five minutes, but now they just plain outright insulting. Ass!

"Hello! We're moving aren't we? I'm doing fine." And I was, exponentially better than my little adventure this morning. If I didn't think it would backfire on me, I would give him something to complain about, but I didn't want the deluge of women driver insults that would be hurled at me until the end of time if I did. Anyway, I didn't think my stomach could handle that again. "Stop your bitching! Now, what have you been doing besides steroids lately?"

Jake really didn't look his age at all, looking closer to three years older than me instead of two years younger. Although there was a still a bit of youthful softness, his features were quite chiseled now. I wasn't blind to the fact that he barely had enough leg room in the rather large cab of my truck. And cousin or not, I could see the six-pack he was donning under his black tee-shirt that was so tight at the biceps that it could double as a duel tourniquet. If he wasn't as close to a brother as I would ever have, I would be drooling at the sight of him.

Thirty minutes later and several homicide attempts according to Jake, we pulled to the house and saw his grandfather waiting for us on the porch swing.

Quil Ateara III was an opposing man, even at the tender age of seventy. He was probably around six foot tall in his youth, but now he was hunched over a bit, clutching a cane that had Billy Black made him years ago. His dark-grey hair was woven into two neat braids on either side of head. His aged face was tempered with a smile of the young at heart. And although he had the misfortune of burying the love of his life and two children, he still had a twinkle in his dark eyes that I could see even from a distance. He really hadn't changed at all.

I got out of the truck and walked around toward the house. Rounding the front bumper, I found Jake on his hands and knees, mock kissing the ground exclaiming, "I'm alive! I'm alive!"

Narrowing my eyes at the not-so-little fucker, I made my way again towards the house. However, just as I reached him, I pushed his butt that was in the air hard with my foot. His mouth went right into the earth, still open from mumbling his snark, rewarding him with a mouthful of mud. He shot up to his feet sputtering, spitting, and cussing me. "What the fuck, Bella?"

I raised a hand to my cheek, feigning thoughtful consideration of his comment. "Hmmm, I don't know," I sarcastically replied.

I looked up to see Old Quil was now standing by the railing, full-out laughing at his moronic grandson. "Jacob, what on earth is your problem?"

"I hope you have something for him to eat; it seems he has resorted to eating mud in his hunger crazed dementia," I laughed. I heard what could only be described as a low growl from behind me, and I hissed in reply. His eyes got wide at that, but I just continued laughing at him and made my way toward the house again.

"Oh course you know, this means war," I heard Jake snarl at me. I just turned my head and smirked at him, acknowledging his declaration.

"Now, now son. You know you shouldn't dish it out if you can't eat it." I could distinctly hear Jake behind me mumbling something about he wasn't throwing any mud. I just snorted another laugh as I climbed the steps. Walking over to the elderly patriarch, I gave him a quick hug and escorted him back to the swing he was occupying before.

"How are you? You're looking well," I politely inquired.

"Can't complain. Knee is acting up but other than that, I'm fine. I must say my dear, you are lovely. Helen would be so proud if she could see you now. "

I didn't say anything, knowing my voice might crack. I just gave him what I hoped was not a wet smile.

"Well, I'm glad to see you. I have something for you." He whistled sharply and a short time later the screen door to the house started to open. A large Siberian Husky pup, probably around six months old, loped over to us and sat down on his haunches in front of the swing with his dripping tongue lolling to the side. He was almost the spitting image of Jack, one of the dogs Gran had before she died.

His coat was a blend of different shades of grey, white, and charcoal except for his face and paws that were snow-white. His eyes were a brilliant blue, and he was absolutely gorgeous.

"This here is Jax. He is a grandson of your grandparents' dogs, Jack and Jasmine. Helen always wanted you to have one of their pups. Since you are living here now, there is no reason for you not to have one. He is the best of the last litter; I trained him myself."

I choked out, "I can't take him Quil; it is too much. He is your dog, you should keep him."

"I'm too old to play like he needs. I'm sure you will want to rediscover the area and he will keep you out of trouble." Jake snorted at that, but Old Quil continued, "Promise to bring him here every week, maybe along with a pie or two, and we will call it even."

I nodded my head and reached over and gave him a tight hug. I whispered a thank you in his ear as I felt a few tears run down my cheeks. Cut this shit out now, Swan! Old Quil patted my back and kissed my forehead tenderly. I pulled away, my cheeks painted from embarrassment, and replied "Fine, but you lose one pie for making me cry."

He just chuckled and spoke to the waiting canine, "Jax, this is Isabella." As his hand gestured to me, Jax lifted one of his over-sized paws to me to shake. I couldn't help to giggle at how adorable he was. "She is your new master. If anyone gives her trouble, you take care of it. Okay, boy?" I wiggled my eyebrows at Jake as a dare, but he didn't seem to be concerned in the slightest.

"Hi, Jax. We are going to get along just great as long as you stay out of my kitchen." Old Quil laughed heartily at that. Gran had always had a sixth sense if the dogs were eyeing something to steal in the kitchen. She would be hunched over her latest quilt listening to some old record when all of a sudden she would say 'No' forcefully. Not two seconds later a dog would come in, looking thoroughly chastised, and lay down at her feet.

"You need someone to watch after you while your father is at work. He is well-respected but it only takes one person." I didn't comment on that but I'm sure he saw my doubt.

I always remember a dog at Papa and Gran's house. But after Papa passed away, Gran had said she felt safer with the dogs there. Not that she really needed to worry with Charlie being a cop and her being meaner than a rattlesnake. She said that an intruder might underestimate what she could do if they were insane enough to break in, but most people will error on the side of caution when a dog is involved. Nine times out of ten if a thief is presented with two houses, one with a dog and one without, they will go to the one without unless they knew for certain what is in the house with the dog and feel it is worth the risk of getting bit. I remember several times when Jack and Jasmine had had a litter of puppies, Gran tried and tried to get me to take one back with me at the end of the summer but I steadfastly declined. Renee barely could feed me, let alone a massive dog. It would have been cruel to bring another mouth to feed into that environment.

"So, I hope you don't have plans for dinner," Quil commented to me, drawing my attention back to him.

"No, Jake mentioned my helping cook."

"Jake!" his grandfather admonished.

"It's okay. You know I love to cook," I laughed.

"Well, actually we are having a bonfire tonight." Ambushed! You better watch yourself Black, I thought. Old Quil continued, "Perhaps you can take a look in the kitchen and see what you can whip up. We can always send Jake, here, down to the store if you need anything."

Jake could tell I was pissed about his omission and was chuckling while I passed by him to go inside the house.

"Laugh it up fuzzball. I foresee some Super Lax in your future," I threatened, ending his mirth abruptly. To my utter delight, Jax growled at him as he followed behind me.

"Good dog," I chuckled.

Once inside, I was relieved to find the home was neat and tidy, the result of Old Quil's daughter-in-law, Joy, no doubt. Joy Ateara was an amiable, sweet-tempered woman with the burden of raising a son without a father. The boy, rambunctious as boys tended to be, was lucky enough to have the guidance of his eldest namesake after his father's tragic passing.

After a quick perusal of the kitchen, I determined I would make some cookies and a large pasta salad. Sending a grumbling Jake to fetch a few items, I quickly made short work of my tasks while I caught up with Old Quil. Jax was lying down obediently outside the entrance to the kitchen with his head resting on his large paws, his eyes moving from Old Quil to me as we spoke to one another. Yep, Jax and I were going to get along just fine. I was deftly dodging questions left and right about my absence the last few years, and while Old Quil didn't press the issue, I could tell by the concern on his face that he knew there I was keeping things close to the chest.

After many heated accusations and vehement denials between Jake and me, Old Quil closed the door on the passenger side of my truck to go to First Beach with me; Jax happily riding in the bed. Jake was convinced I was going to put the old man's back out with all the lurching stops. Ten minutes later, we arrived and Old Quil assured me that I did just fine. I could tell it was a bold-faced lie as the trip had taken double the time it should have, but I figured he didn't want to jeopardize anymore future pies. Wise man.

Making our way to the bonfire, my eyes widened as we drew near.

Good God! What the hell is in the water here?

A/N So this was mostly a filler chapter, hope you don't mind. But next chapter she will meet the pack, including Paul. Thanks for reading!

Some great stories to check out:

American Wolf in Forks by feebes86 - Jake/Bella

A Marriage of Convenience by August Shaffer - Jake/Bella

A Forest Fire by Bedelia - Jasper/Bella

Life's Always Turning by lilytimes - Paul/Bella

Gods & Wolves by bmitw (MrsEphriamBlack) - Ephriam/Bella

An Unobservable Entity by Mortissues - Jasper/Bella