(A/n)-"What is this?" you must be asking yourselves. "An actual update? With words and plot and characters?" Yes, yes indeed it is. I have numerous excuses for my update fail. First my house got hit by lightning and took out the ethernet port on my desk top. Then I bought two new laptops and the internet wasn't working right in either of them. Then I finally got that sorted...but I was busy having a nervous breakdown over the fact that I was being told that I was 5 credits short for graduation in January. Then that got worked out but I got sick. Then this semester decided it would kick my ass with like 6 different 6-8 page research papers.

The moral of the story is...life sucks sometimes...and I'm sorry. Thank you for waiting so patiently. If the next chapter isn't up in a timely fashion I give you permission to form an angry mob and come after me.

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly.
I'll do what it takes till I touch the sky.
Make a wish, take a chance,
Make a change, and break away.

~Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway

Chapter 15-Puzzle Pieces

In any other town a steady drizzle of moisture falling from the sky would mean resigning oneself to indoor activities like board games and movies. On a rainy day in Phoenix I would still be in my pajamas, curled up in bed with a good book or lounging on the couch watching reruns of Friends. Rain in Forks, however, was so constant and natural an occurrence that if the occupants of the little town were to hide in their homes at its appearance, nothing would ever get done. Armed with ponchos, rain boots and other various forms of watery protection, people could be found walking along the beaches at La Push, hiking in the woods…or in my case…sitting on a dock fishing.

Charlie Swan didn't miss his weekly fishing trips for anything. I could picture him calmly casting out his fishing line in the middle of a hurricane. When I'd agreed to come along with him, the weather forecast had detailed an overcast sky with a slight chance for showers in the late afternoon. Yet here I was at ten o'clock in the morning with a light but fervent sprinkling of water running down the strands of my hair and sliding onto my face to form droplets that raced each other to the tip of my nose and edge of my chin.

I desperately watched the bobbers dip up and down in the water, praying that if one of us could get one good bite, Charlie would be appeased and I could get out of the wet caress of Mother Nature.

"So…dad…just out of curiosity, exactly how long do we wait until we decide that the fish are MIA and call it a day?"

"I like to give it at least an hour," he answered conversationally, seemingly oblivious to the water clinging to his mustache and tracing its way through the lines around his mouth.

Though I attempted to stifle the whine of protest that bubbled up in my throat, Charlie heard it and gave a chuckle. "Patience has never been one of your strong suits, Bells."

"To be honest, dad, I don't think I have any strong suits these days," I admitted, giving the fishing rod a little tug.

"That's nonsense. You're smart Bells, and you've always been real good at listening and observing the situations around you. You've got plenty of strengths." My father's voice had taken on that undertone of hesitation which always occurred when he was trying to compliment or advise me. It was sort of sweet to see his normally gruff and controlled exterior crack ever so slightly and show his nerves.

"I think I'm just feeling like a loser because I don't know what I want to do with my life. What good is a person with no sense of purpose?"

There was silence for a few minutes as Charlie carefully chewed over his response. "Well I'm just an old man Bella, but here's what I think. Purpose is a relative term. You know how many people make a living but don't feel like they've found their purpose? I don't think it's something you just wake up with one day. Purpose is a sort of process…like putting together a puzzle. You just need to find some pieces that you think fit you, and start putting them together. If after a while you don't like the picture that's forming…you get rid of those pieces and try some other ones."

The rain had slowed and thinned down to a misty state that clung to my father's face and showed his age in a way that made him look solemn and wise. It occurred to me that I should have taken the time to ask him for advice when I was younger. Instead I'd spent the majority of my youth selling him short. I suddenly felt very bad about the mental picture I'd formed in my head of Charlie Swan.

"I love you Dad," I said softly, scooting closer to him along the faded wood of the dock and leaning my head on his shoulder. He tilted his head down and placed a gentle kiss on the top of my head before returning focus to his fishing rod, which had teased him with some movement but had turned out to be a false alarm.

I finally got used to the silence, found a little comfort in watching the water ripple and move like it was a living organism in itself. When Charlie suddenly spoke again, I jumped a little, surprised back to reality.

"So Bells, found any new puzzle pieces lately that you've forgotten to tell your old man about?"

My brow furrowed in confusion. "No, I don't think so."

Charlie turned and gave me a knowing smirk, an expression I had never before seen on his face. "You sure about that? Haven't made any new friends lately?"

Heat started to creep up my cheeks as I began to get an inkling of what my father was talking about. "I never took you for a gossip monger, Sheriff."

"Ain't gossip if it's true sweetie. So you're seeing that trainer at the gym…Edward, I think his name is?"

At this point I was wishing that not only would a fish take a nip at my line, but that it would pull me down into the water with it so that I could avoid this conversation.

"We've been on a few dates…if you must know," I replied reluctantly.

He nodded his head slowly, and I was hoping that would be the end of the discussion. Which was a silly hope because honestly…what father would leave a conversation at that?

"So when do I get to meet him?"

I blanched and nearly dropped my fishing rod into the lake. "Geeze Dad, um…I don't know. You're the Sheriff, don't you already know everyone?"

"There's a difference in the way you know someone in your town, and the way you know someone whose dating your daughter," was his gruff response.

"Ugh…okay fine, I get the hint. Just…give me some time to get used to the fact that I'm in a situation where I have to introduce anyone to you."

Charlie finally seemed temporarily placated, and he dropped the subject for the rest of the morning. We didn't catch a single fish, and I cursed the water dwelling creatures as we left.

Something hitch-hiked a ride home inside my brain. A tiny question mark that was hiding below the surface just far enough that I knew it was there, but couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about. It left me feeling irritated and on edge for the rest of the day, distracted by the knowledge that sooner or later that question was going to make itself known, and I was going to have to think about how I was going to answer it.

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That moment occurred the next morning, when I was awoken at seven by the far too chipper sound of my mother's ringtone on my phone. With eyes firmly shut, I groped around the bedside table untill my fingers locked around the buzzing phone.

"Mmmhmmm?" I greeted in a customary "why the hell did you just wake me up?" fashion.

"Well good morning sleepy head. I was just thinking of you because I'm currently making your favorite breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes and cinnamon rolls."

My "unhappy to be awake" mind was not impressed with this information. "Well, you enjoy your tasty breakfast, mom."

Of course Renee didn't get the hint that I wasn't in the mood for a conversation at the moment. "I found a new recipe online for this chocolate cinnamon bread pudding. We have to try it when you get home! Speaking of which…do you have an idea of when you'll be coming home? The house is so quiet without you."

The real reason for the early morning wakeup call became apparent. I groaned and weighed the chances of me getting out of having this conversation. They seemed slim, so I decided I might as well just get it over with.

"Um…actually I've been thinking. See…I'm doing really good here mom. I've been going to the gym, and eating better…feeling better, really. I feel like I need to stay and ride this out."

"Oh."

It doesn't matter how old you are; when a parent drops a one-liner like "Oh", your stomach attempts to evacuate the premises because it knows hell is about to break loose.

"It's just I've got a nice pace going here and I don't want to risk breaking it."

My mother's voice took on that tone of doom. The one where the words themselves sound simpering sweet and harmless but there are little jagged undertones of hurt feelings that only you'll catch onto. "And coming home would interrupt your progress, because there aren't any gyms here…or grocery stores where you can buy fruits and vegetables?"

I bit my lip, feeling like I was a six year old in trouble, not a grown adult perfectly capable of making my own choices. "I know, but I'm worried that if I stopped what I'm doing here long enough to come home, I'd fall right back into my old habits and fail to pick things up in Phoenix. I'm not talking about staying forever….just….just until I really get my head together."

In the silence on the other end I could picture Renee, her head sadly tilted against the phone, one hand in her lap doing its nervous fluttering dance over the fabric of the couch. "I just don't understand why you can't just come home. You must be running low on cash, are you going to make poor Rose pay for everything?"

"Actually, I have a job interview this weekend for a family in need of a daytime nanny for their kids four days a week."

"So that's it…you just pick up and leave home and move across the country?"

"Aw mom, please don't make it sound like I plotted to do this just to upset you. I came here to make sure Dad was okay…it turned into something more than that. I feel like this is where I need to be right now."

My mother chose that moment to begin a heartbroken sniffle on the other end of the line. I winced and immediately felt like there were a million signs saying "Worlds crappiest daughter" pointing at me.

"Geez, mom, don't cry."

"This is about that boy isn't it! Your father texted me and said you'd met some boy over there."

I blinked in surprise at her sudden exclamation. "First of all…since when does Dad have a phone and actually know about things like texting? Secondly…when did you two decide to start gossiping about me behind my back instead of talking to me?"

"We are your parents…it's our job to talk about you. Does that mean it's true? Do you have a boyfriend? Why would you tell your father before me?"

I let my face fall down into my palm and contemplated screaming into my pillow. "I didn't tell Dad. I wasn't trying to tell anyone yet. Yes I met someone…we've been on a few dates, but I don't know what we are quite yet and I wasn't going to say anything until that changed."

"So you're staying in Forks for this boy then. This isn't about getting healthy at all."

The accusation in her tone made me angry. It was too early in the morning to be defending myself against my mother's third degree. "Can't it be about both, mom? I like a guy…and for the first time in my life that guy seems to really like me back. Yes that's incentive for me to want to stay. But there's more to it than that. I can't quite put it into words for you, and I'm sorry about that, but I am a grown woman. This is the decision I've made, and you don't have to like it, but you're going to have to accept it."

"Well fine then…excuse me for being a concerned parent. I'll just leave you to your super mature adult business then. Forgive me for interrupting."

Before I had a chance to try and respond, to bite down on my annoyance and try and reword my feelings in a less confrontational way, my mother did something she had never done to me before. She hung up the phone, leaving me feeling like a big pile of crap while the beep notifying me of the ended call echoed in my ear. I snapped my cell phone shut and threw it to the bottom of my bed in frustration. My mother had never snapped at me in such a way before, and I was not fond of the metaphorical black cloud it left floating over my head.

In that cloud…was the question that had been eluding me yesterday. How much of my presence here in Forks was about Edward? How much of it should be about Edward?

It was a question I couldn't even begin to answer. So I did with it what I did best with questions like that. I buried it in the furthest regions of my mind and endeavored to pretend it didn't exist.

They say that if something is out of sight then it's out of mind. Maybe if I pretended it was out of my mind, it would stay out of sight as well.

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"Roooooooooosalieeeeeeeeeeee!"

It would occur to me at a later date that perhaps Rose would not be exceedingly excited to be awoken at eight in the morning on a Sunday. She may, in fact, be even less ecstatic to be awoken by her roommate running into her room with shrill screams, while wearing only a pair of jeans and a bra. But in the moment, it seemed completely necessary.

Her blond hair fell into her eyes, which were regarding me with a semi-conscious rage as she propped herself up in her bed and regarded my half naked prancing form.

"Whatthehell?" she mumbled tiredly.

I was not moved by her weariness. No, I was a mass of excitement and would surely explode if I did not share my joy with Rosalie right this very second. "Rose! Do you see these jeans? Do you?"

She looked at me like I had six heads for a moment, and then cast a quick glance downwards. "Yes. I swear to god if you don't have a moderately relative point to make I am going to smack you silly with my pillow."

The smile stretching across my face was so big that it was almost hard to create discernable speech. "These are jeans I bought three months ago, and they were so snug I could just barely get them zippered. But you made me buy them, remember, because I'd been wearing nothing but gray and black full of holes sweatpants for weeks."

"No I don't remember. But that's probably because my brain is too busy being pissed that you woke it up at this godforsaken hour of the morning."

My cheerful mode was not deterred. "Rose! I can now take these jeans off without unbuttoning them! Watch!"

Completely oblivious to the fact that I was being absurd on numerous levels, I proceeded to shimmy my jeans off and proudly display them to Rose. For a moment she was so still that I wondered if she'd fallen back asleep with her eyes open. Then she blinked, took a breath, and gave me a smile. "While I understand your enthusiasm here Bella, and do share it to a certain extent, I must request that in the future you repress your need to strip in front of me at the buttcrack of dawn. I'm going back to sleep now. I'm sure I'll have much more excitement to give you after two more hours of sleep and a cup of coffee."

"Buzz kill," I muttered, waltzing out of the room with my jeans slung over my shoulder. I should have had more sympathy for her; after all it was rather strange that I was up this early, I could thank Renee for that. In order to ignore the residual emotions of my phone conversation with her, I'd eaten an early breakfast instead of wasting my time with the futile attempt of trying to go back to sleep. Unless we're talking like 1am and I've woken up because I need to pee, I don't fall back asleep once I'm awake. After breakfast I'd taken on the lengthy task of trying to figure out what I was going to wear.

Edward had sweet talked me into agreeing to a late morning hike, and I had no clue as to what kind of attire I should be shooting for. Obviously one didn't wear miniskirts and high heels for outings amid the bushes and treacherous roots. At the same time I didn't like to wear the clothes I wore to the gym when I was with Edward in outside-of-the-gym settings. Then the only mental pictures he'd ever have of me would be in sweatpants and printed tees and he'd probably start to think that I didn't have any other types of clothing. Also he was coming to get me at ten, at which point the weatherman had said it was going to be chilly, but at the same time the minute I exert more energy that it takes to walk from, let's say, the couch to the kitchen, I start sweating like a pig. This is not an exaggeration. I swear I put out more sweat in five minutes of a brisk walk on the treadmill than a marathon runner does after an hour.

Eventually I ended up opting to wear my "triumph jeans" as I had dubbed them, a red tank top, and a loose fitting, lightweight blue sweater jacket. Rose awoke a mere 20 minutes before Edward arrived, but in a much better mood, congratulating me warmly on my apparent weight loss and loose jeans. We made small talk as she drank her coffee until I heard a beep from outside and nearly knocked my chair over in my excitement.

Walking down the front steps to the car should not make me feel nervous butterflies beating against the insides of my stomach. But I can feel Edward's eyes on me, and that always fills me with a cocktail of giddiness and self consciousness. After opening the car door, I'm so mesmerized by how handsome he looks that it takes me a moment to remember that I need to get into the car. His green sweater makes every bronze and copper highlight in his hair seem ten times more vibrant than usual and the smile on his face is like pure adrenaline being fed into my veins.

Yep…one on one time with that smile is so worth all the tree roots I'm going to trip over.

"How are you this morning?" he asked, the words caressing my skin like sunlight.

"Really good," I answered, a proud smile pouring across my face. "These jeans I'm wearing right now used to be really snug…and now I can take them off without un-zippering them."

As the words left my mouth, I realized that such information took on a different undertone when I was talking to Edward and not Rosalie.

Note to self…don't talk about removing clothing…in any context…in front of Edward.

The hot blush spread across my face and I looked away as the car started backing out of the driveway. "I just meant that…um…loose jeans means I lost inches and I'm just excited."

"You should be excited. Its proof of how hard you've been working, and how much progress you've made. I'm really proud of you, Bella."

My heart was now doing a cancan of joy on top of my lungs. I felt like I was on top of the world. Nothing could bring me down.

Except tree roots.

Thirty minutes later those were bringing me down at a pretty steady rate.

Edward was baffled by my extreme show of klutziness. He would see a possible root of doom…point it out to me…and then somehow I'd still end up getting tripped by it. It was like I was magnetically drawn to any path that would lead to a head-first close encounter with the ground. I'm pretty sure he was starting to think about carrying me, for fear that I'd have a concussion by the time we were done our hike.

I wouldn't have let him carry me though…even if I'd had a concussion. I'm not sure he could have carried me if he wanted. Even if he'd been physically capable, I wouldn't have wanted him to touch me because I was in 'pouring lakes of sweat' mode.

By the time he decided it would be wise for us to take a break, I was huffing and puffing like freight train, sweating from parts of my body I didn't know I could sweat from, and my hair was matted to my skin in unappealing disarray.

I was bringing sexy back…all the way back to the caveman era.

We sat down on a couple rocks nestled between two giant red cedar trees. I took greedy swigs from the water bottle Edward had given me at the beginning of our hike. He sipped quietly from his own bottle, observing me with curious eyes.

"What?" I asked, wondering if I had a piece of grass or something in my hair from one of my falls.

"I'm just admiring you," he replied with the crooked grin that washed over me with the power of hurricane winds.

"Right…I'm half dead and swimming in sweat. I can see what's there to admire."

"I happen to be admiring your perseverance. You've fallen half a dozen times, you look exhausted, and yet you haven't complained once. Actually…I don't think you've ever complained about anything I've asked you to do…in the gym or outside of it."

I snorted and shook my head. "Yeah well you're gonna have to start letting me know whether these requests are coming from Edward my trainer, or Edward my boyfriend."

Oh holy god of brain/mouth filters, why have you forsaken me?

I had not meant to say the "B" word. I imagine that no one wants to be the first person that utters one of those titles that takes the relationship to another level. No one wants to sit there wanting to punch themselves in the face because they're terrified the other person doesn't want to go to that place of social labels and expectations.

"Well in this case I'd say my motives were a little bit of both. It's good to take the healthy routine out of the gym sometimes. It's also appealing to take your girlfriend on a hike in the woods where there aren't a whole lot of other people around and you could easily steal a kiss or two if she was so inclined."

It was like Edward had a mind-reading ability. He always seemed to sense when I was feeling anxious or self conscious, and he would respond with words that made me feel like a super-model, or made me too distracted by my wildly beating heart to acknowledge any fears or doubts. Even though I was sweaty and disgusting, when Edward's lips fervently danced across my own, I felt beautiful. The trees around us were green and lovely, but the only green that mattered was his eyes and the look in them right before he'd kiss me. Birds chirped beautiful choruses and a nearby brook babbled soothingly, but the only sounds that mattered came from the duet of our staggered breathing as he held me close and kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world. Fingers tangled in his hair, I breathed him in, soaked him up like he was the sun.

I found myself thinking about the comment my father had made about puzzle pieces. Edward was that piece you found halfway through your puzzle-completing process. That piece that makes the picture finally start to make sense in your eyes, that piece that allows all of the other pieces to find their places easier.

Maybe my mother had been right too. Perhaps my elongated stay in Forks was more about him than about myself. Then again, maybe it was because I was finding my new self with him, through him.

Either way, I wasn't complaining.