Author's Note: Big thanks to DollyBigMomma for beta-ing this chapter! Fun fact, she was my first review on this story :) so it's very special to have her helping me out!


- Chapter 18: Down the Hatch -

April, 1931

Three weeks. Twenty-three days, actually, though it might as well have been a moment—that gash in my chest had made no move to heal.

I held the ragged edges together as best I could as I passed through this strange half-life, achingly familiar in some ways, and completely alien in others. I woke in a small bed each morning not unlike the one at Culwoode Hall. I spent my mornings helping Emily Uley tutor a few neighbor children in her small parlor, much as I'd done with Nessie. In the afternoons, I helped some of the adult tribe members who wanted to fill in some of the gaps in their education, or I occasionally worked with Jacob on applications for teachers' colleges.

Though the rhythm of my days was similar, the experience of living through them was entirely different.

I was constantly surrounded, by the Pack, the Uleys, the children, the elders of the tribe. This world of theirs was boisterous, an ever-changing collision of community members. The family ties were tangled but strong, and I envied the way they all teased and bickered, even as I desperately missed the quiet evenings in Edward's study, just the two of us and Nessie.

I didn't fit in here. My hosts embraced me as one of their own, but I'd never felt more alone.

"Bella?"

I looked up from the carrots I was chopping at Emily's soft call from the other side of the kitchen. She was stirring a veritable vat of elk stew that I knew from experience would last about three minutes once the Pack showed up for dinner.

"I'm ready for those vegetables if you're about done?"

I nodded as I swept the last of the carrot rounds into a bowl that already held onions, juniper berries, and the bulbs of a pretty blue flower that Emily called quamash root.

Keeping one eye on me, Emily shook some cattail flower into the massive pot, then held out her hand for my bowl. I watched without interest as she mixed the vegetables into the stew.

"Thank you," she said, smiling warmly at me.

I smiled back, though it felt like a mechanical gesture, and turned to the oven to check on the cornbread.

"That'll need a few more minutes," Emily said.

A glance over my shoulder showed that she was leaning against the counter just behind me, arms crossed as she considered me.

I turned to the deep sink, avoiding her eye. "If you'll hand me the cutting board, I'll start the dishes."

"Bella."

Here it comes, I thought grimly. I could hear the gentle concern in her voice. I ignored her and turned on the tap—cold, as the Uleys had no hot running water—to fill the deep enamel basin.

"Where are your soap flakes?" I asked, already bending down to check under the sink.

With a sigh, Emily nudged me lightly with a hip to make space beside me. "Left side," she said. "Gloves, too. I'll heat up some water."

She was pouring the kettle-heated water into the half-full basin when a lone howl sounded from outside. Her beautiful face lit up at the sound, which was soon joined by a chorus of overlapping cries.

"Brace yourself," Emily said to me with a wink, and then the kitchen door burst open, revealing a crowd of half-naked behemoths.

The pack was all talking over each other as they filled the room, a constant stream of banter and side conversation.

"Lordy, what smells so good?"

"It's elk stew, idiot, can't you tell—"

"...never gonna happen, she's way too good for you."

"Hey, I got moves…"

"...that dumb leech—"

"Shut up, Quil!"

Sam appeared between the gaps to find Emily's side, pulling her into his side to kiss her temple. She smiled up at him, and I felt my heart twinge.

"Good patrol?" she asked lightly.

"No trouble," he replied, rubbing her arm. "Caught a scent over by—" his eyes flicked to me almost imperceptibly, "—the river, but looks like it was just one passing through."

My heartbeat quickened. Could it have been one of the Cullens coming to check on me? But no, surely the Pack would recognize their scents.

"Well, stew's almost done," Emily said, turning back to the sink. "Just needs to simmer a bit longer."

"Jared, Seth!" Sam barked. "Dishes. The rest of you, out!"

- o - o - o -

Dinner with the Pack was a raucous affair, as per usual. Sam and Emily's house had no room big enough for all of us to eat together, so they had set up a long line of tables and chairs in a rickety barn out back. The structure was normally drafty, but the heat radiating off the wolf-shifters served as well as any furnace. We all gathered together for a meal a few times a week, minus whoever was on patrol.

I sat between Jacob and the newest member of the Pack, Seth Clearwater. Seth was by far the youngest shifter—he had turned at just fourteen, though he now looked much older than that. Jacob had told me that the change brought on sudden growth in the wolves' human form, but I was still shocked by how much bigger Seth had gotten since I met him two weeks ago.

"Is it just me, or have you grown another inch since breakfast?" I asked him as he shoved spoonful after spoonful of stew into his mouth.

Seth shrugged, grinning around his spoon.

"Did you ever think you mighta shrunk?" Jacob teased from my other side with a nudge of his elbow to my ribs.

I did my best to look down my nose at him—a difficult proposition, given he had more than a foot of height on me. "I'd be more inclined to entertain the idea were he not so obviously gaining on you, Black," I said with exaggerated frostiness. "At this rate, a few more weeks and you'll be looking up at him."

The table erupted in laughter and jeers, as the Pack giddily jumped on the opportunity to taunt one of their own. Jacob looked gobsmacked for a moment, staring at me, before his face crinkled into a good-natured grin. I scrunched my nose at him and smiled back.

"Nice to see you a bit more cheerful," he said quietly to me, the general ruckus offering some small bit of privacy.

I shrugged half-heartedly, feeling my smile fade slightly. "I'm trying," I said softly.

"I get it," he assured me, reaching across the table for another slab of cornbread to dip into his stew. "You miss him."

My heart clenched in my chest—I had been studiously avoiding the topic of Edward since my arrival, despite Emily's gentle prodding. Jacob hadn't brought him up since the day he showed up at Culwoode.

"Yes," I said simply, looking down at my half-full bowl.

Jacob reached over to pat the back of my hand awkwardly, his massive palm hot and dry.

"You can talk to me about it, you know," he said, trying to sound casual. "I won't judge. Even if you are that way for a blood sucker."

I smiled at him, feeling a great rush of affection for my friend. "Thank you, Jacob," I said softly. "I'll bear it in mind."

He blushed slightly and ducked his head, shoveling another bite of bread into his mouth. "Anytime," he mumbled around the lump of half-chewed food, making me laugh.

"Say, vamp girl," Paul called from across the table, "you comin' to Port Angeles with us tonight?"

Caught slightly off guard, my eyes flickered from Jacob to Paul and down the line of shifters at the long table. "I…for what?"

Beside me, Jacob was fighting a grin. "I was just getting to asking her," he said, throwing a small chunk of cornbread at his packmate playfully.

At the head of the table, Sam tensed, his lips a hard line of disapproval. "I'm still not convinced this is a good idea," he said, crossing his arms.

"Aw, c'mon," Paul said, shoving Sam. "She's been locked up in that creepy castle for months. Let the girl have a little fun!"

My eyes narrowed at Paul, who was decidedly not my favorite among the wolves, but I let the comment slide. Instead, I looked up at Jacob. "What's in Port Angeles?"

"A juice joint!" Paul answered.

My eyebrows raised involuntarily as I looked at Jacob for confirmation. He gave me that lupine grin that I knew meant mischief. "And more importantly, the hottest jazz scene around."

I laughed. "Stiff competition, is there?"

He rolled his eyes. "All right, it's not the Apple," he admitted. "But they get some cats who can really blow."

"Forget the band, it's the dolls I'm after," Quil cut in. "Imagine if we rolled up in that sweet Cadillac—we'd be swimming in—"

"Quil," Sam said warningly. "Don't forget, you're on patrol tonight."

Quil made a face, slumping back in his chair. "Yeah, yeah."

"So, whaddaya say?" Jacob asked me eagerly. "You up for it?"

I glanced at Sam out of the corner of my eye. He was watching me intensely, lips twisted in disapproval, but he didn't speak up.

"You should go," Emily spoke up from the other end of the table. "It'd be good for you to get out and cut loose."

I felt a small pang in my chest—I knew what she was implying. Of everyone in that old barn, she had the closest view of my melancholy day in and day out.

I forced a smile at her. "Oh, all right," I said, feigning lightness. "Sounds fun."

- o - o - o -

In the end, it was Jacob, Paul, Jared, Embry, Leah Clearwater, and me who piled into the Cadillac.

"This is ridiculous," Leah complained as she folded her long limbs into the middle of the back seat. "We should just take a second motorcar."

"No way," Jared said firmly, squeezing in beside her. "I'm not driving my ol' tin can when we can ride in the V-16."

Leah scoffed, rolling her eyes, but didn't complain further.

For my part, I was pinned between Jacob and Embry in the front bench, the former making delighted humming noises as he gripped the steering wheel.

"Everybody comfy?" Jacob asked, grinning as he surveyed the cramped occupants.

"Just drive, idiot," Paul gritted out. "The sooner we get there, the sooner I can get Leah's bony elbow out of my side. Ouch!"

Leah smiled serenely, as though she hadn't just jabbed said elbow harder into her neighbor's ribs.

A sudden knock on the passenger side window made me jump, but it was just Sam. Embry rolled down the glass to let the Alpha say whatever it was he needed to say.

"I won't lecture you all," he began, making Paul and Jared groan, "but you all need to be careful."

"We will," Jacob promised.

"Nobody gets too bent," Sam said firmly. "At least two of you totally sober all night. Just in case."

"Me and Leah already agreed," Jacob said.

Sam nodded, but his eyes were narrow as he surveyed us all. His gaze wandered to me, and he gave me a hard look.

"You," he said. "You stick with Jacob all night. The only time you're allowed out of his sight is to go to the pisser, and then you take Leah. Got it?"

I nodded meekly. I had no intentions of getting myself into trouble.

"All right." Sam stepped back from the door, seeming at least somewhat mollified. "Don't get arrested."

The boys all sniggered, and I caught Jacob sneaking a glance at Leah in the rearview mirror.

"That was not my fault!" she protested, and the muffled snorts became full-blown laughter that filled the motorcar as we set off into the night.

From the outside, The Sawdust Club was little more than a rusty metal door in the middle of a long brick wall in an alley off Front Street, near the water.

We had left the motorcar by the port—no flashy arrival after all, despite Quil's daydreams—and walked the short distance. The wolves, naturally, hadn't minded, but I wasn't sure how my coiffure was faring. I'd already had a hard time replicating the intricately pinned faux-bob Alice had done for me weeks before. I hoped there was decent lighting in the ladies' room.

The six of us huddled around the door, Jacob in front. There was no sign, no indication that this was anything other than a back exit from the building.

"Are we sure this is it?" I whispered to Leah, who glared and put a finger to her lips.

The door had a mail slot in the middle, and Jacob fumbled with his wallet to extract a faded playing card —- jack of hearts, I noticed, with a mark on the back that I couldn't make out. Jacob slid it through the slot.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the door cracked open with a soft thunk. No squeal of hinges here, despite the obvious age.

Jacob grinned and pushed his face to the gap eagerly.

"Six, for the good of the order," he muttered into the opening, and then the door swung wide to admit us.

I'd been holding my breath without realizing it, but it rushed out of my lungs in a disappointed puff when I saw what was inside.

A tidy little workshop, with a carpenter bench on one side and a large pegboard holding various tools and hardware on the other. A little old man sat on a stool at the bench, one eye absurdly magnified by the odd, single-lens spectacles strapped to his head. I glanced down at the project on the table; he was hand-carving an intricate rose design on a long piece of wood that looked rather like a mantlepiece.

"Go on," he rasped, jerking his head toward the wall with the pegboard, but his focus was already back on the rich wood under his callused fingers.

When I tore my gaze away from the carving, Jacob was sliding the pegboard across the wall, revealing yet another industrial-looking door.

"Oh, that's genius," I murmured, making the old man grunt—in amusement or annoyance, I couldn't tell.

When Jacob pulled open the complicated latch, a wave of sound rolled up the stairs that were revealed. Layered chatter, and over the top, a lively tune on a piano.

"Perfect, the combo hasn't started yet," Jacob said excitedly.

"Yeah, yeah," Paul grumbled, pushing past. "I'm ready for a drink."

And with that, we descended into a whole new world.

- o - o - o -

"Come on, Bella, just one dance!"

I could only laugh at the disheveled mountain of a man kneeling in front of me, his black hair wild and cheeks flushed with exhilaration, as he clasped his hands in the universal sign of supplication.

"I told you, I can't dance," I protested. "Go steal Leah back."

Leah and Jacob, it turned out, were some of the best Lindy Hop dancers I'd ever seen. They'd been whirling around the floor since the main headline band had begun their set. But when the band had taken a short break, a shy-looking man had approached Leah to ask if she could teach him some new steps. And now that the band was back on, Jacob was begging me to take her place.

"Aw, I'm not gonna ruin her good time," Jacob said, shooting a glance at her. She was actually cracking smiles with her new partner—not a common occurrence for the normally snippy, introverted young woman. "Just suck down that cocktail and let me do the work!"

He was grabbing my hands now, pulling insistently, and I felt something inside my chest relent.

"If I die, tell Sam it was all Jacob's fault," I said to Jared and Embry, who had been keeping me company in our cozy little booth. Jacob whooped as his packmates laughed, and then I was being whirled onto the floor.

He spent all of a minute trying to teach me the basic steps, none of which I could ever hope to follow, and then he said, "You know what, never mind. Just do whatever you want with your feet and let me handle the rest!"

And then we were off, Jacob smooth and commanding, while I just did my best to bounce my feet around in time to the music. But it was hard to focus on what I was doing wrong when he was spinning and flinging me all over the place. It was the first time in ages that I could just let myself go. The two very strong gin rickeys I'd finished only added to the sudden buoyant feeling in my limbs.

"Not so bad, right?" Jacob called as he broke away and pulled me back in time with the playful bassline.

"I hate you." But I was grinning as I said it, and Jacob laughed.

"One more song and then I'll take pity on you," he promised. But one song turned into two, then three. Until finally, I felt I was about to burst.

"Jacob," I whined, "I really need to powder my nose."

"Nobody cares if your nose is shiny!" he said as he whirled me through a complicated turn.

"She means the toilet, you idiot," Leah said from behind him, reaching an arm out to smack his head as she passed with her partner.

"Oh! Why didn't you just say that?"

I rolled my eyes, but let him dance me over to the corner where the restrooms were tucked away.

"Oh, damn," he said, turning his head back to the floor. "I should've grabbed Leah to go with you."

I made a rather uncouth snorting noise. "Leave her alone," I said. "I'll be just fine by myself."

I ducked down the narrow hallway and into the ladies', which was empty. I did my business quickly and stepped up to the chipped sink after. I couldn't help looking at myself in the mirror as I washed and dried my hands. I looked flushed and bright, and far happier than I had at any point since I'd left Culwoode.

Emily was right—I did need to get out more. I knew in my bones that Edward would come back for me, and when he did, I didn't want him to find me sad and sallow.

I was just about to attempt to fix the pins that had come loose at the back of my hair when the faint, sharp sound of a whistle outside made me pause.

Muffled shouts, stomping feet, the sharp blare of a mis-played trumpet, and then the music cut off.

"Run! It's a raid!"

Oh, hell.

I couldn't stay in the bathroom; the police would surely think to look here. I had to move, and quickly.

I cracked the bathroom door and glanced down the hall. I could glimpse the mass of bodies in the main cavernous room, but nobody had come this way just yet.

"Bella!"

It was Jacob's voice, calling for me.

"Jacob!" I shouted back. I ran down the hall toward his voice in the bar room, skidding to a stop at the threshold. I spotted him easily, as he was head and shoulders above the crowd, but I couldn't get to him; three policemen had cut us off from each other, and they were grabbing anyone in reach.

"Go back!" he shouted at me, waving toward the restrooms. "There's stairs by the men's—find us outside!"

I nodded, and then I was buffeted back by a stream of semi-drunk revelers who'd clearly taken heed of Jacob's shouted warning.

With one last look at him over my shoulder, I ran down the hall. He'd be fine, I was sure. There was another door behind the bar that led to a tunnel to the port. Paul had shown it to me when we'd first arrived. Surely, they would all get out through that exit.

"Oi!" a copper shouted from the entrance to the hall, catching sight of the group fleeing.

I pushed myself faster, dodging a couple that looked unsteady on their feet. Sure enough, there was a very steep wooden staircase around the corner by the door to the men's room. I took them two at a time, trying to keep ahead of the rather large man I could hear thundering up behind me.

I popped out in the back storage room of a general store. Thankfully, the room had large windows that let in light from the streetlamps, so I could just barely see well enough not to trip over anything. I whirled around, looking for the exit—aha! An open door, where clearly others had escaped just ahead of me.

Shouts echoed up the staircase; the man who'd been behind me was clearly being apprehended. I sprinted toward the open door and out into the street, my mind only on putting as much distance as possible between myself and that building.

The door emptied into an alley with a dead end, so I took off in the other direction and kept going, turning whenever I heard shouting or police whistles.

I let myself slow when the sounds had faded into the distance. I wasn't exactly sure where I was, but I knew if I could find the water, it'd be easy to follow the shore to where we'd parked the motorcar. That seemed as good a spot as any to find Jacob and the rest of the pack.

I leaned against the wall of a building to catch my breath and get my bearings. As my own heartbeat quieted in my ears, I started to be able to hear the faint sound of waves. I followed it, turning down a quiet street of little clapboard houses. Yes, I was fairly certain that was the dark water of the bay a few blocks over.

I walked slowly, keeping my ears open for any more commotion, but I saw no one as I got down to the street that ran along the water. And yes, there were the lights of the harbor; our motorcar would be just past that.

A cold wind blew off the water, making me shiver; I hoped one of them had managed to grab my coat somehow, but I supposed we could go back and get it another time if they hadn't. At least I had my purse.

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hold in whatever little warmth I had. Something rippled across my skin, and my muscles tensed; it was as though the chill had set off my internal detector and made me feel as though I was being watched.

To my right, something splashed in the water—a fish, maybe? Or a seal? Nervously, I craned my neck to peer down the rocky bank, but I could see nothing but shadows.

I picked up my pace, starting to feel worried. I hoped Jacob, Leah, and the others weren't looking for me by the Sawdust Club.

Another disturbance in the waves. My heart was pounding again. I didn't want to look, but I couldn't stop myself—

Pain. A sickening thunk as something hit the back of my skull. Red, then blinding white across my vision, and finally, black, as I sunk down into nothing.

Somewhere distant, I thought I could hear an achingly familiar voice wreathed in rage and panic roaring my name.


Author's Note: Not sure who Bella's hearing but I KNOW I can hear the faint sounds of some of you cursing my name…;P

Thanks for all the kind wishes after my last mini-chapter! I will say that luckily, most of the stuff that's taking up my time in RL is good stuff. :) So no need to worry about me. Unless one of you decides to kill me for that cliffhanger, I mean.

Footnotes:

That way for… was slang for being in love with someone in the 20s-30s.

Sidenote on Paul calling Bella vamp girl: "vamp" in this era meant an aggressive flirt or a seducer of men. So, this one has a bit of a double meaning lol.

A juice joint is a speakeasy.

The Apple means New York City, as in the Big Apple.

"Cats who can really blow" would mean "guys who can really play."

Dolls are beautiful women.

Bent means drunk.

Downtown Port Angeles was heavily re-graded in the early 1900s due to flooding issues, which created a ton of underground rooms/buildings/tunnels. I don't know if anyone set up speakeasies down there during Prohibition, but it seems plausible. :)

Overall, my portrayal of a small-town speakeasy is probably not hyper-realistic. I don't know that there were many jazz combos of any caliber playing regular gigs in the Olympic Peninsula. This is probably more like what a Seattle or San Francisco-size city would have. But whatever, I just like the idea of a jazz-obsessed, swing dancing Jacob, and this suits my plot needs!

The Lindy Hop was a dance with origins in Harlem in the late 20s. The name was probably inspired by Charles Lindbergh's first trans-Atlantic flight (as in "Lindy hopped the Atlantic"). 1931 might be a bit too early for it to be big in small-town Washington, as I don't think it gained massive popularity until the mid-to-late 30s, but oh well.