Author's Note : Please bare with me on this one. It was difficult to get through, but necessary.

Chapter 22 - Catherine

Bella's Point Of View

The autumn air was crisp as I exhaled slowly and watched the rivulets of my warm breath escape my lips in a foggy mist.

I was at our special place. The short path behind his house was easy to find, now that he laid rocks out for me to follow.

Just another example of how he always thought about me.

"Izzy!"

I jerked my head in the direction of the voice. He sprinted through the tree line with a basket in one hand, and a blanket in the other.

"Finally!" I yelled as I stood up from my spot on the muddy ground.

"It's not my fault!" He said as he dropped the blanket at my feet, and placed the basket on top of it. "Mom made me bring my clothes down to the washer. She said I couldn't leave until I did."

"Was she mad about the t shirt?" I asked as I reached down and pulled the blanket out from under the basket, causing the basket to tip over and spill onto the ground.

"No." He snatched the blanket from my hands and moved to spread it over the dirt. "She said that it was fine as long as you're okay. How is your knee, anyways?" He asked as he pointed to the bandage.

"I had to get three stitches!" I said, as I reached down to pull at the sides of the tape. "Want to see?"

He moved closer to my knee to inspect it a little more closely. "That's awesome, Izzy!" He said, as he reached out to poke around the edge. "I haven't even had stitches yet!"

I smiled. "I know. Finally beat you at something!" Slapping his hand away I pushed the tape back down against my skin, to cover it back up.

"It's not fair! I should've climbed that tree to get the kite out myself." He said, as he turned and started picking the forgotten food off of the ground.

"I said it was okay." I glanced at the tree. The bright streamers still swaying in the breeze left no doubt that my climb was unsuccessful.

"Mom couldn't get the blood out."

"You didn't have to use it!"

"I wasn't going to just let you bleed, Izzy!"

I felt bad that his favorite Super Man shirt was destroyed after he took it off and placed it on my injured knee. He tried to stop the bleeding.

"Thank you for carrying me home."

He stopped dusting the dirt off of the wrapped sandwiches, and looked at me.

"Anything for you, Izzy."

I smiled and sat down next to him on his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles blanket.

"You're sitting on Michelangelo's head!"

Laughing, I shifted to the right a little bit so I wasn't sitting on any of their heads.

"What are we having, today?" I asked, as I picked up a bagged sandwich and flipped it around.

He snatched it out of my hands and handed me the one he had.

"Peanut butter and apple butter. Your favorite." He said as he opened his and took a big bite out of it.

"What's that one?" I asked as I pointed to the one he was devouring.

" Ham and mustard."

"Ewww. Gross." I said as I opened my sandwich and took a small bite.

"Mom even cut the crusts off. Just how you like it." He said pointing towards my circle shaped sandwich.

He always remembered to tell his mom how I liked my sandwiches.

I smiled.

It got quiet as we both finished our lunch.

Every Saturday we'd do this.

It was our special time.

When I was finished, he took the empty baggy and the used napkin from my hands and threw them back into the basket.

After pushing the basket off of the blanket, he laid down and stretched his arms and legs out.

"You cold?" He asked, as he patted the spot next to him.

"A little bit." I moved to lay down next to him.

I laid my head softly on his shoulder, and tucked my hands against my chest. Shivering slightly, he sighed.

Grabbing the edge of the blanket that we weren't laying on, he flipped it up and over us. Our own little cocoon.

Like a thousand times before, we were content to just… be.

"I know what I want for my birthday now, Izzy." Paul said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

I turned my head to look up at him.

"Yea?"

He tipped his chin to look into my eyes. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

I sat up from my position and stared at him. "What do I have to do?"

"I don't know." He said as he sat up next to me. "You get to pick the TV shows we watch for now on."

"Really?" I asked excitedly. I was so tired of watching Power Rangers.

"Yep." He said, popping the p. "But, you can't watch My Little Pony."

"What else?"

He reached over to the weeds sitting next to him, and picked a long piece of straw.

"You have to make me sandwiches."

"I hate the smell of mustard!" I cried.

"Fine." He huffed as he put the end of the straw in his mouth. "Can you get me cups of Kool-Aid?"

That didn't sound so bad. "I can do that."

"You can't cut me off if you get mad at me."

"Cut you off? From what?" I asked, confused. What was he talking about.

"I don't know. It's what mom says to dad when he makes her really mad." He threw the straw to the ground. "I don't think she lets him have snack."

"Oh that's so mean!"

"I know!" He said, as he laid back down. "I know you won't do that though. You always share your snack with me."

I laughed and laid back down next to him. "That's because there's always two in the nutty buddy package."

"So will you, Izzy?" He asked again as he played with my hair. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Sure, Paulie."

Gasping I sat straight up and pushed the sweat drenched hair from my forehead.

My breathing was erratic.

Labored.

My racing heart refused to slow.

A light knock, had my head snapping to the slowly opening door.

"Bella, are you up?" Mom asked as she peaked her head around the narrow opening.

"Yea." I said, as took a deep breath and threw myself back down into the bed. "I'm up."

"Are you feeling okay?" She pushed the door open fully and quickly walked over to my bed.

"Just a lot on my mind." I said, still reeling from my dream.

She studied me for a moment before she sat gently on the edge of the bed. "You know…" She started as she reached over to pat my arm. "You've been working so hard lately. Maybe you should take a few days off. I think you need a break."

"Mom, I'm fine." I said, as I pulled my arm out from under hers, and sat back up.

"I wasn't asking, Isabella." She stood and walked back towards the door. "Take a few days, clear your head. Figure out whatever it is you need to figure out. I'll be at the diner if you need me."

Nodding my acceptance, she turned and walked back out of the room and down the quiet hallway.

I sat in silence for a while, staring at absolutely nothing. I honestly didn't want the time off of work. It provided a nice distraction against my own mind.

The clock on my nightstand read nine thirty. Angela and Kenda were both at work, so I couldn't hang out with either of them.

I couldn't lie and say that I was a little upset at the both of them, anyways. Our 'girls night out' solidified the fact that things were changing.

I made my feelings, glaringly, obvious at the bonfire this past weekend. After my run it with Paul, I returned to the beach, and stomped right up to their tents.

When I ripped Kenda's tent open, and startled both her and Embry, I told them that I was going home.

I was the fifth wheel now.

I didn't like it.

But what could I do?

When Kenda jumped up and ran to find Angela, I took the time to grab my bag that I had left by the fire.

Swinging it over my shoulder, I walked towards the two girls that were walking briskly towards me.

Angela didn't want me to leave. After I explained my disappointment about how I thought this was a girls night, they didn't push anymore.

I walked home.

The three of us went out to dinner last night. A real 'girls night out', and they apologized for inviting everyone without asking me first.

I accepted it. Of course I would. They were still my best friends.

They both promised that it wouldn't happen again in the future.

I believe them.

Pushing the soaking wet sheet from my legs, I swung around and stood up. I needed a shower. ASAP.

The house was quiet. Dad was on another overnight fishing trip with Billy. They weren't expected back until sometime tomorrow. Mom had left for work ten minutes ago.

I couldn't sit around the house all day and wallow. I refused to put myself through that emotional turmoil.

I remembered what I did in Jacksonville when memories became to much for me to handle.

Run.

I needed to run.

Stretching, I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a pair of jogging shorts and a tank top.

Slamming the drawer shut, I took my clothes into the bathroom, and jumped into the shower.

Ten minutes later, I was dressed and lacing my tennis shoes at the kitchen table.

Forgetting about breakfast, I grabbed my mp3 player and cell phone, before heading out the door.

My feet pounded the gravel and my heart raced erratically. The sweat pouring from me, started shortly after I decided to let my tension out on the battered ground.

It's been a long time since I've thought about doing this. I was out of shape.

Turning my music up louder, I ignored the burn in my limbs, and pushed myself harder. The physical pain from overworked, long forgotten muscles, was welcoming.

I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I only stopped when my body physically demanded it.

When I couldn't push myself any further.

Bending in half, I grabbed my knees and focused on slowing down my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

"Are you okay?"

I straightened my body and turned. Irritated at myself for not recognizing my surroundings, I walked up the short walkway.

"Yea." I said, as I took another deep breath and climbed the stairs. "I pushed myself a little harder than I normally would."

She opened the door and stepped to the side. "Come in, I'll get you something to drink."

"I don't..."

"Paul's not here right now. Patrol." She said as she lifted an eyebrow.

I didn't answer as I walked past her and into the small kitchen.

"Water?" She asked as she pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit.

"Please."

She walked over to the refrigerator, and pulled a bottle of water out. Returning, she set it down in front of me and then walked to the other side of the table. Pulling out a chair for herself, she sat down.

I opened the bottle and swallowed down half of the cold liquid. Deciding to leave it open, I placed it back on the table.

"You're not okay, are you?" Paul's mom said, as she studied me intently.

Mrs. Lahote, Catherine, was always very intuitive.

"No." I said as I picked at the plastic wrapper on the bottle. "No, not really."

She reached her hand across the table, and rested it over mine.

"You can talk about it."

"I just..." I started as I reached up and pushed my damp hair back, "I don't know where it all went wrong. I don't know what happened.

"Oh, I see." She said as she pulled her hand back. "Give me a second."

She stood from her chair and walked out of the room. She was only gone for a minute, but in that minute I questioned myself on why I was sitting here in the first place.

Of all of the places to go!

She slid back into the chair, a small smile lifting at the corners of her lips.

"I think this is yours." She said as she placed a white garbage bag on the table in front of us.

"Mine?"

She hummed her yes and pushed it towards me.

My hand trembled as I reached to open it.

When the contents were finally visible, I gasped and my lip began to tremble.

In the darkened depths of the old warn bag was a kite. The kite from my dream.

My kite.

I wasn't ready for this.

Slamming the bag shut, I pushed it away.

"I'm sorry." She said as she pulled the bag from the table and set it in the chair beside her.

"No, no. It's okay."

I glanced at the bag in the chair. Confused on... so many things.

"He brought it home a few days after you lost it in that damn tree." She laughed as she shook her head.

"What?" I snapped my eyes to hers.

"He said he was going to give it to you on your wedding day."

"Cathy..."

"Childish antics, I must admit." She said, cutting me off. "He thought you'd love him forever if he recused that damned kite from Sycamore."

I laughed at the old name that we had called that tree when we were children.

When times were simpler.

My laughter died out as soon as I remembered the years after. The heartache.

"I don't know what I did wrong." I said, as my eyes welled.

"Now you hush!" Cathy said as she pulled a tissue out of the box on the table and handed it to me. "Nothing was your fault."

She stood up and walked to the coffee pot. She poured herself a cup, and then put the required amount of cream and sugar in it.

"I wish I could turn back time, sometimes." She said as she peered out of the kitchen window, into the woods. "We were all in such a bad place after Jordan died."

My heart shattered at the mention of Mr. Lahote. I remembered it like it was yesterday.

We were so excited. Mr Lahote had a game that night. It wasn't professional ball, or anything like that. The team consisted of other mechanics that worked in his garage.

The game was in Port Angeles, and he told Paul that if he was good, and cleaned up the backyard, we could go with him.

Paul and I worked together quickly to rake all of the fallen leaves and debris from the yard. The bags we filled lined the house in a neat row.

We laughed and high-fived as we climbed into the back of the old beaten down SUV.

I can't remember what happened at the game. I know we had fun.

I think we did.

On the drive home, Paul and I were bored in the backseat. A one hour trip in the back of a car on a rainy, dark night felt like it took forever to a couple of nine year old's.

We played the slap game. The one where someone put there hands out, palms up and the opponent placed their hands on top. You had to move them quick. If the top of your hand got hit, you lost and then had to switch.

A game of speed.

We became increasingly loud. Paul was terrible at the game. He was never quite quick enough.

Mr. Lahote turned his head to ask us to quiet down. That fraction of a second, changed everyone's world.

He didn't see the deer that jumped into the road as he was too focused on quieting us.

When the impact happened, the truck swerved on the slick road and crashed head on, into a tree.

The taring sound of mental was so loud it was almost deafening.

But, then it was quiet.

Too quiet.

I remember being so scared that I couldn't move. I remember Paul grabbing me, and holding me tightly to his chest.

His whispered, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay," was the only thing I could remember before everything went black.

We managed to escape the accident with a few minor cuts and bruises.

Paul and I, that is.

But everything changed.

Everything.

"Maybe I should leave." I said, as I wiped the tears from my eyes.

Cathy turned to look at me and smiled sadly. "I'd like you to stay for a little while longer if you can."

I nodded softly, as she grabbed her cup and walked back to her chair.

"We've all done things that we're not proud of Izzy." She said as she twisted the cup in her hands.

I couldn't find it in me to care that she called me Izzy.

"I wish that I had stepped in, when he changed."

Sighing, I leaned back into my chair and dropped my eyes to my lap.

"You can't change the past."

"No." She said, as she narrowed her eyes in thought. "But...when I think back to everything that happened after..." she paused and rubbed her brow before laughing. "God, I wish I did more."

"This isn't your fault." I rushed, as I reached across the table to grab her hand. "None of this!"

She glanced at me for a minute. Her lips opened and closed a few times.

I could tell what she said next was either going to be hard for her... or me.

"You should talk to him."

I chuckled humorlessly as I sat back in my chair. "I think that ship's sailed, Cathy."

"I don't think so." She said as she stood and walked over to the coat rack by the door.

She reached into the pocket of one of Paul's jackets and then pulled her hand out, her fist wrapped tightly around whatever she had.

Her steps were light as she traveled the short distance back to me. She didn't sit. She grabbed my hand and placed her closed fist into mine.

She pulled her hand back, leaving the small trinket resting on my opened palm.

"How did...?"

"He's carried that for years, Bella." She said as she took a couple of steps back and leaned against the refrigerator. "I would know. I do his laundry."

"But..." I inhaled sharply as I looked at the small object again.

"It's not too late."

I balled my hand into a fist, and pressed it against my chest.

The sharp ringing of my phone, distracted me from the thoughts swirling in my head.

Leaning to the side I grabbed my phone from my pocket and answered without looking at the display.

"Hello?"

"Bella, Its Uncle Phil."

"Hi." I said quietly as I stood from my chair and moved towards the door.

I lifted my finger to Cathy, letting her know I'd only be a second.

"Everything's ready for later today."

"Really?" I asked, a little excited at the idea of getting all of this heavy shit off of my head.

"Yea. You still want to do this?"

I glanced at Catherine for a second before answering. "Yea. It's still a go."

"Alright then, it'll be there when you get there."

"Thanks Uncle Phil."

I closed my phone and slipped it back into my pocket.

"It's time, huh?" Cathy smirked.

"Yea." I said, a little unsure of myself.

"Well." She clapped her hands and stood up. "What do you need from me?"

"Can I borrow the car?"

"Of course."