fifty-eight
(Jacob)
The world seems quick to move on once they close the book on the last six months of their lives. The best, and worst, and downright weirdest six months of their lives, so fraught at times that Jacob considers it an honest-to-God miracle they've all made it through the other side without any lasting damage.
All who matter, anyway.
He has no idea how long it will be until Charlie calls with the news that Bella has perished in a plane crash, or fallen off a cliff, or succumbed to a tropical disease; he cannot even hazard a guess as to how long turning into a bloodsucker takes, despite all their tribe's knowledge and the pack's first-hand experience. He knows how to kill them, sure. He knows how to disassemble their marble bodies like he does a broken engine; he knows how to build a makeshift funeral pyre in the middle of the Olympic forest without it turning into a wildfire, knows how to collect the ashes so they can be presented to the council as tradition dictates. But he's never had cause to learn how it actually works, becoming one of them.
And he doesn't think he wants to. Doesn't want to imagine how many hours, days or weeks it will take for Bella's brown eyes to turn to crimson. It'll be hard enough looking into Charlie's eyes when the time comes.
It'll happen sooner or later, Jacob is sure, but for now, that part of their life is over. In the meantime, he's happier not talking about it—not even thinking about it, if he can help such things—and he knows the sentiment is wholeheartedly shared across the pack, all of whom are practically champing at the bit for things to get back to normal.
As normal as things can be for them, anyway.
Jacob is personally of the belief that the idea of normal is long gone, but for the sake of his imprint, and his family, he is willing to try. But of course, the moment he decides this, it comes as no great surprise that it is Leah who takes the reins right out of his hands and steps up to lead the effort.
Three days after the wedding, she walks into the garage where he is spending the afternoon hunched over his father's Ford Tempo. Rachel has taken to running it around the reservation ever since she came home, so Jacob has been unable to follow through on his plans to sell it and make a little cash, but his sister is absolutely clueless when it comes to maintenance; she doesn't even know how to refill screen wash, let alone how to check the tyres. Naturally, this means that unbeknownst to her, Paul has bullied Jacob into making sure that she's not driving a death trap.
(Jacob hasn't shared that particular piece of information with Rachel. Despite common misconception, he's not completely stupid.)
"Thought I'd find you here," Leah says over the noise of the stereo. He can hear the smile in her voice as she comes to stand beside him, dropping her bag at their feet. "You're going to make the Rabbit jealous, spending all this time in here with this—thing."
"Nah, she knows she's my one and only," he teases back. He glances sidelong at her, smiling, before focusing back on the rusty bolt he's trying to unscrew with his bare hands. It's taking all of his concentration to be careful. "And don't call the Tempo a thing. You might hurt her feelings."
"Your one and only, huh?" Leah pushes his shoulder, trying and failing to hide her amusement. "What about my feelings?"
"Didn't know you had any," he remarks, barking a laugh when she gasps so loudly that it sounds more like a shriek. And, before she can pretend to stomp back out of the garage with false outrage, he grabs her with greasy hands and pulls her close, preventing her escape.
She scrunches her nose at him but doesn't pull away. "You're dirty. And mean."
He kisses a path along her forehead and down her cheek, smiling against her warm skin when she loops her arms around his neck.
"Fight dirty, too," she complains as he starts working his way to her lips, but it's only half-hearted; she accepts his affection without further complaint, allowing him to kiss her until a new song begins and she pulls away.
"Can I tempt you away from your side chick?" she asks, gazing at him with a look that makes him burn all over.
"Tempting." He kisses her again, a light press of his lips against hers that lingers before he sets her back down on her feet. "But no can do, I'm afraid. If I get this done, Paul has promised to limit himself to one snide remark a day. For a month. I couldn't refuse."
Leah pouts a little as they separate. "I could think of a better offer."
It's difficult to ignore the heat building in his stomach, and it's only because of the self-control he's been practising these past few weeks—since they sealed the imprint—that he's able to manage it. He'd never be able to let her out of bed, otherwise.
"I'm sure you could," he says, smiling as he pulls his hands away from her and forces himself to turn back to the Tempo. "And I'll probably take you up on it, too, once I've got this water pump out."
She brightens at this. "How long will that take?"
He laughs again. "Tell me about your morning, and we'll see. Did you get all your errands done with Rachel?" he asks, curious. Not enough to find out exactly what she gets up to during 'girl time' (he's made that mistake once before and ended up learning more about Kim's preferred type of contraception than he cares to know), but enough to know why she had to be out of the house before he woke up.
"Yeah, sorta," she replies.
The answer is evasive enough that he asks, "Sorta?"
Leah leans against the Tempo and peers into it, almost as if she's contemplating her next words. Given the way she is staring into the depths of the engine, she might even be building herself up to share her professional opinion on the state of the water pump he's trying to replace.
Unlikely. The thought is almost as laughable as Rachel changing a flat tyre.
She's definitely building up to something, though. Jacob knows her better than he knows himself, better than anyone else, and yet it doesn't take an idiot to know that she has been distracted recently—not quite distant, but certainly preoccupied with whatever it is that's been consuming her thoughts—and he suspects he's about to find out why.
It's just going to take her a minute, that's all. But he's prepared to wait.
Patience is something he's had to practise almost daily since imprinting, and he's become quite proficient at it, he thinks. He also has the advantage of knowing Leah since childhood, meaning he learned at a very young age that she cannot be pushed into doing something before she's ready—not unless the world is prepared to risk life and limb, anyway—and so he hasn't pressed her to share. His girl works at her own pace, nobody else's. Not even his.
Finally, she asks, "If I tell you something, and it shocks you, will you break anything important?"
"I could probably fix it," he muses, trying to pretend as though her question hasn't prompted a hundred emotions to course through him within the space of a single heartbeat. "How bad are we talking?"
"Not bad, not exactly," Leah says slowly. "More surprising, maybe."
"Surprising in that I'm going to jump for joy, or we're going to fight about it?" he asks evenly, not taking his eyes off what he's doing.
"Just . . . surprising."
"Okay," he says. He brushes his hands together and stands to his full height, straightening his shoulders and meeting her eyes with a serious look. "Hit me."
"I want to go to college."
"College," he repeats. "That's it?"
"Well—yeah." She frowns. "What else?"
He laughs, a sound so strained that he almost chokes on it, and he has to reach out for her again just to stop himself from keeling over on the spot. He pulls her tight against his chest. "Fuck, honey, don't do that to me!"
"You're not mad?" she asks, voice muffled against his shirt.
"Mad? No. Shit, I thought you were going to tell me you were—I don't know, pregnant or something, or you were leaving me and I was going to have to . . . Wait." He leans back, carefully searching her flushed face. "Are you leaving?"
"No! No! I've been looking at Peninsula—"
(Jacob almost pukes in relief. Peninsula is spread over a few locations, one of them being in Forks which is only a stone's throw away. He's not sure how they would have managed if she'd told him she was planning to follow Rachel to Washington State University, or that she wanted to go to a college on the opposite side of the country.
He would have managed just fine, of course. It would be a very simple choice to follow Leah wherever she decided to go, even if that meant moving to New York so she could attend somewhere like Cornell—which, as far as he's concerned, is as much as she deserves. However they, being the pack—namely Quil and Embry, and possibly even Paul—would surely cease to function.
That being said, Jacob is very, very glad he doesn't have to move to New York.)
"—and I've got it all figured out," Leah begins to hurriedly explain, barely taking a breath. "I took a tour around the Forks campus this morning. They said as long as I register before the first day of the quarter that I can start in the fall with everyone else, and that's not until the third week in September, or something, so I've got plenty of time, I won't have to wait for acceptance or anything—I just—I know I've been dragging my feet about it, and I wanted to talk you to about it, I did, but I've been feeling so—"
He cuts her off, pulling her in close again. "Breathe, honey."
A shudder ripples through her shoulders. "I feel like an idiot," she mumbles. "I've wasted so much time."
"Don't," he tells her. It sounds dangerously close to an Order— not that it would affect her. "If this is what you really want, then I'm all for it. This is good, honey. You're not pregnant, or moving to New York, and—"
"New York?"
"I don't think I could stand the smell," he says plainly.
She sinks against him, her arms circling his waist and holding on tight. "You're so weird."
"I know," he says agreeably.
"Now I just need a job," she sighs. "I hate being an adult."
"Rather you than me, honey," he says, stroking her head. "Hey. Do you think they offer courses for mechanics, like me?"
"Yeah, they do. I checked," she says, and she begins to tell him all about the hour she spent pretending that she was interested in Peninsula's technical education program whilst an advisor gave her a tour around a workshop.
"Look," she says excitedly, slipping out of his hold so she can reach down for her bag, "I even picked you up a brochure. They have this really cool program for high school students that allows juniors and seniors to start taking college courses for free."
He blinks.
"I know we haven't talked much about you going back to school," she continues, turning uncharacteristically hesitant, "and I don't want you to feel like I'm being pushy, or anything, and I know I'm not one to talk, but—I mean, at the expense of sounding like your sister, I think it's a really good idea, Jake." She flips through the pages, pointing at particular sections of interest. "Here, look. It says you can earn credits for high school and college at the same time, and the best part is that you can do it all at Peninsula. Or, if you want, you can still go to high school part-time, you'd just do the rest at college. You could even graduate a little early. The whole pack could."
Jacob is pretty certain he doesn't speak for a full minute, maybe even two. He feels Leah turning more apprehensive by the second, but he takes his time reading the words on the pages before him, scarcely believing that he might just be able to do this. He's been dreading returning to school and going through the motions again: sitting quietly in a classroom when he knows exactly what's lurking in the forest, going on field trips and expecting danger at every turn; writing papers, doing homework, sitting exams . . . No wonder Seth put up such a fuss when Leah made him go back to school.
"What do you think?" Leah asks.
It all sounds too good to be true, and yet . . .
"Less high school?" he asks. "And I can graduate early?"
She nods enthusiastically, biting her lip, her excitement barely contained.
"Then . . . yeah," he says. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."
At this, Jacob feels a palpable wave of relief roll through her, through him, and he realises that she has likely been nervously expecting him to dismiss this idea straight out of the gate. No doubt she has been stewing over how to best approach it for the better part of the afternoon.
"Really?" she asks. "You're not mad?"
"No. Madly in love with you, maybe," he says, grinning broadly when she rolls her eyes at his cheesiness. But she doesn't pretend to gag, and that's a win in his book. "This is amazing. You're amazing."
"I know," she says, fanning herself. "I'm brilliant. Sensational, really. I honestly don't know how you all put up with me."
"It's a tough gig," he agrees with a nod, "but I guess someone's got to do it."
If there's a better way to end his afternoon than being chased through the garage by his imprint, wielding a rolled-up brochure as her weapon of choice, he'd find it hard to believe.
Everything seems to fall into place for Leah very easily after that.
By the end of the week, after talking with her mom, she seems to have her heart set on working at the Health Clinic—not as a registered nurse like Sue, but rather in an administrative role she can fill part-time whilst she attends classes at Peninsula and figures out exactly what career she wants to pursue. Her mom has already passed on the details of a few job openings that look promising, which has likely helped cement her decision, and she is going to interview for all of them.
Soon after that—only five days, in fact—the clinic has a new receptionist, and Peninsula College has a new student. Never let it be said that Leah Clearwater is a time-waster; she is focused, determined, moving so quickly that sometimes even Jacob struggles to keep up.
On the very last day of August, Leah swipes the keys to the Rabbit and leaves the Rez early for an appointment—a college advisor in Port Angeles, she says—and doesn't return until long after the sun has set. She walks through the door with a bright smile, her purse empty and her arms laden with brochures, a collection of fresh application forms and a stack of brand new textbooks that look so expensive Jacob doesn't dare touch them.
She talks a mile a minute, telling him all about her day, excited in a way that he doesn't think he's seen since before Harry died; she can hardly sit still whilst she meticulously plots out her schedule in her new planner and makes colourful copies to stick on the Clearwaters' and Blacks' fridges. The way Jacob watches her work would probably be embarrassing, if he was a normal person, but he finds he can do little else. She just looks so damn happy.
Leah pauses in her ramblings and looks up from her planner. "Are you listening?"
"Lost me somewhere around tuition payment plans," he admits honestly. "But it sounded important, and I didn't want to interrupt."
She rolls her eyes at him and begins making yet another copy of her schedule—this time for Embry, who without a doubt will be positively forlorn once he realises his best friend's free time has suddenly become so limited (as if Jacob is not already feeling the same way). Then, she tells him that to her surprise and her delight, she has discovered Peninsula College offers Indigenous language classes: the introductory course to the language of the Quileute-speaking tribes runs through fall and winter, whilst the intermediate course begins immediately after Christmas break and runs until the end of spring. Needless to say, she has signed up for both.
It goes without saying that Jacob is happy that she is happy, because he will never deny his imprint joy wherever she might be able to find it, but he is confused too. "You speak better Quileute than I do."
"It's five credits per course," she explains, her tone of voice suggesting that he's missed the entire point. (There is every chance that he has.) "And they're online evening classes, which is even better. It'll be a total breeze, Jake. Don't worry."
That's not what he's worried about.
It seems she has signed up for every class available to her—schedule permitting, of course, now that she is gainfully employed: the fall semester will see her attending a selection of classes to keep her plenty busy, including an Introduction to American Indian Studies and Introduction to Indigenous Humanities. (Jacob doesn't pretend to understand the reasons behind it, just as he doesn't understand why she needs to take classes for a language she already knows, and he suspects he wouldn't understand even if he asked. His father, however, reacts to the news rather differently; Billy wheels around the Rez with a smile on his face and a gleam in his eye, no doubt because he is suddenly making plans to appoint a second woman on the council.)
Embry is the first to openly voice his concerns. He stands in the middle of the living room, staring at her schedule with wide eyes, his jaw practically touching the carpet. "When are you going to have time to sleep? Eat?"
When are you going to have time to hang out with me? is what he really means, of course, but not even Jacob has the heart to call his poor brother out on it.
"I have every Sunday off," Leah says, pointedly tapping her finger on the paper in his hands.
Embry's shoulders drop, just a fraction, but he nods and wrangles his expression into something that doesn't show just how crest-fallen he truly is.
With anyone else, it might have worked. Anyone but Leah.
"Aw, Em, come on," she pleads, hanging off his arm. "We're still going to see each other all the time."
"Not all the time. I'm going to be so bored without anyone to talk to."
"What are Quil and I? Chopped liver?" Jacob mutters from the couch, feeling rather indignant about the whole thing. "I saved your life—" (he swears he can feel all twelve of his healed ribs throbbing in solidarity against his chest) "—but you're out here acting as if she's your only friend."
"What can I say? I like her more than I like you," his brother replies with an easy shrug. He carefully slides Leah's schedule into his pocket, handling it as if he would an extremely fragile artefact. (Jacob wouldn't be surprised if the scrap piece of paper is laminated and framed by the end of the week.) "At least she picks me first when we play ball."
"God, imagine being picked last," Jacob remarks sarcastically. "The shame of it. I think I'd rather let a vampire crush me, wouldn't you, Leah?"
She perches on the arm of the loveseat and leans against him, laughing, and she doesn't stop even when he pulls her down onto his lap. He winds his arms around her waist and pulls her close, her back to his chest, satisfied when she leans her weight into him and tips her head back against his shoulder.
"I only pick him first because nobody else will," she says sweetly, tilting her head just enough to kiss the underside of his jaw. "I don't want him to grow up with a complex."
"Too late for that," Jacob grumbles into her hair, only temporarily mollified, and she laughs again.
"I'm still here, guys." Embry waves a hand at them.
"Why?" Jacob mutters, ignoring the jab to his ribs that he receives from Leah.
Embry ignores him and sighs, utterly pained by his lot in life. "Man, this is the worst day ever. I can't believe it." Another dramatic, exaggerated sigh as he sinks into Billy's armchair. "I suppose I'll have to make do with you," he says to Jacob.
"Charming," Jacob remarks. "Well, you better make the most of it, because I'm not going to have much free time soon."
"What? Why?!"
"I'm going back to school next week," he tells Embry.
The shock on Embry's face is nothing compared to the shock that had been on Billy's when he heard that his son is willingly returning to school. He had practically crowed from the rooftops about Leah, sure, but he had damn near keeled over when he heard the rest of their plans.
"Why would you do that yourself?" Embry gasps, horrified.
Jacob shrugs. He knows that he could continue running with the pack until Thanksgiving if he wanted, if not longer—his father will always place duty and tradition over education—but if the Cullens really are going to be leaving soon, patrols are surely going to lighten up. He's going to have a lot of free time on his hands.
Maybe more, if Sam finally allows him to leave the pack and quit phasing for good.
"You can join me, if you want," he says to his brother. "I've already spoken to Quil. He's game, if you are."
"I think it's a really good idea," Leah chips in as she gently traces light, idle patterns into his forearm, relaxing him like nothing else.
"Fine," Embry agrees, because he thinks that she hung the moon and holds all the secrets of the universe. If she says it's a good idea then it must be. "I'm in. But I want all your old flashcards, and you have to promise to be my study partner."
"Already called dibs," says Jacob.
"Deal," Leah says at the same time. "But you've got to tell Rachel about this, both of you, and let her think it's your own idea. We'll never hear the end of it if she thinks she's actually had an influence on us."
"Bad influence, you mean," Embry mutters. "I can't believe I'm going back to school." He pulls a face. "I'm going to have to be all—normal again."
"You're going to have to wear a shirt," Leah adds.
"Shoes," Jacob says, pointedly looking at his brother's bare feet.
Embry looks disgusted. "You know what? I've changed my mind."
Jacob laughs. Over the last few months, he has often wondered what it'd be like to have a normal, uneventful life. Even without Leah's tempting offer of graduating early and going to college with her, it wouldn't have taken him long to finally decide it was about time he found out.
He's ready.