Chapter 10: Settling In

Unfortunately, my racing thoughts made falling asleep impossible until the middle of the night, so my waking up was accompanied by a pounding on the door and Mr. White letting me know that it was time to "rise and shine."

In many ways it was a good sign that I slept well once asleep and woke up without fear or confusion. In fact, it had surprised me in how easily I had become comfortable in this new life. Already the thought of having to say goodbye to the Whites brought a tear.

Mr. White waking me resulted in guilt sitting heavy in my stomach. I had promised to do better, to be a help, and to pull my own weight. Not keeping a promise was a big deal for me, and I was berating myself as I got ready. By the time I was dressed and downstairs Mrs. White was in the process of getting the boys back upstairs in order to have them brush their teeth.

"Sorry," I told her as we passed. "I'll try to do better at getting up on time."

She grunted, but said nothing. I didn't know how to take her response.

At the table Mr. White was finishing up his food. Given our conversation yesterday morning, I wasn't surprised to find oatmeal in a bowl. However, it didn't taste like regular oatmeal. Clearly, Mrs. White had put something unfamiliar to me in it, but I could not discern what it might be. The meal was warm and comforting, just what was needed in February. Even though I tried to hurry in order to be on time, Mr. White was demanding we leave and I took my bowl with me into the cruiser.

"You need to do better," he told me at the curb for school.

"Yes, sir," I agreed.

The guilt of the morning had come back even stronger. Nevertheless, I was unwilling to confide in him what was interfering with my ability to keep my promise.

During my morning classes I was more settled, knew most everyone's names, and was on task with the work. It was a huge relief. Simultaneously, the material was so familiar and easy that there was no challenge to it, making terrible at distracting me from my musings. Nevertheless, I worked at keeping my thoughts on my surroundings to keep feeling overwhelmed at bay. I was used to being independent and successful at most things if it didn't relate to body movement. In this body, coordination wasn't a problem, but I was letting others down, not to mention my abysmal understanding of Quillayute.

The hardest part of lunch was my inability to keep my eyes from wandering to my former table. My heart said to look away, as doing so was painful, but my eyes simply would not listen. At each glance I was hit with the reality of my situation. Worse still, she behaved in a manner that was appalling to me. It was clear that she was into Mike and successfully flirting with him. How I would explain such a turn about once we were switched back was beyond me. Each time my mind circled to that thought, the next was what if we couldn't switch back? My mind was filled with the horror that my body might get a first kiss without me, to Mike no less, which made the nightmare possibilities of what she could be doing to my body worse. I became nauseated at these thoughts. Yet, continued to watch, pondering, trying to get myself to focus elsewhere, only to fail and the circle start again.

Attempting to distract myself from my observations along with my guilt about my broken promises primarily consisted of thoughts regarding who out of Jamerica's life would one, speak Quillayute, and two, be willing to tutor me without them getting suspicious. Oddly enough, what diverted me the most was every couple minutes or so there was a sense that someone was looking at me. Each time it seemed to be coming from Edward's direction. I decided to not think much about it. Whatever was going on with Edward was one too many things for me to consider.

All of what made up lunchtime made each second of the afternoon classes an eternity. The sensation was even worse in Quillayete. Despite the tutoring I had received the night before from Mrs. White in order to complete the worksheet, nothing coherent exited my mouth during the class activities. Just when I thought the day was at an all time low, the teacher assumed that I was being purposefully obstinate and so publically chastised me. Thank God this body didn't produce a blush, otherwise I would have looked like a tomato. The only sliver of hope for passing the class I had managed to come up with was that maybe when the Whites went to the rez I could tag along and get more help.

Right after the last bell for the day a girl, Rosa, I believed, came out of the class next to me about the same time. If my memory served, she had been in at least three of my classes for the day.

Out of the blue, she asked, "Are you okay?"

Startled, without thought I blurted out, "No, but I will be."

She walked alongside me whispering, "I lost my grandmother a few years ago. It was really hard. And Mandy's been a first class bitch."

I shrugged not sure what to say.

"If you ever want to come over, eat ice cream, and forget your woes," she offered shyly.

"That's real nice," I told her earnestly. "Thanks. I should check in with my mom first."

"How about next Friday?" she offered.

"I'll let you know on Monday?" I suggested.

She smiled. It lit up her face and for a moment the heaviness she wore was gone. "Sure."

Walking out of the building together, I told her lowly, "Thanks. I know Mandy has made me a social pariah."

She chuckled good naturally. "Well, until your grandmother died you've always been kind to me, and it's not like you haven't been to my house before." She smiled widely again before adding, "Although, we were like ten at the time."

Smiling back at her, as if I were remembering the same moment, I confirmed, "It has been a while."

"Bye Jamerica," she offered to me as she walked to her car.

I wish she could drive me home, and thought about asking, but by the time my brain had formed the request she was in her car.

"Bye," was my lame reply, since I wasn't absolutely confident of her name, even though she couldn't hear me.

Taking steps towards the White's home, it dawned on me that me acting lame and being socially awkward hadn't ended with a body swap. That was beyond annoying!

For the first time since this whole thing started I had lied. Even though it was necessary for the circumstances, it bothered me. Somehow while settling into my new reality I had begun to see Jamerica's life and history as mine, but the truth was that I was an interloper. It dawned on me that although unintentionally, since that first day, I had been lying to everyone. A lie of omission is still a lie. This statement circled my thoughts as I walked home. By the time I unlocked the front door my thoughts were even more snarled than they had been all day. I didn't want to keep lying to these kind people, but I also didn't want to be sent to a get a psychological evaluation. I didn't know what to do. Either way I was betraying my values, and thus myself.

Oddly, the whole time walking home I had the sense of being watched. It wasn't foreboding, so much, as strange, as it seemed to me like it was an angel watching over me. Angel or not, entering the house and closing the door was a sweet relief. I had enough strange things in my life to add anymore. Devastation arose when the feeling of the angel watching me returned upon me entering my bedroom. I just couldn't take the possibility of a guardian angel after everything else. My world was too strange and hard already to add some supernatural element to it.

Please leave me alone, I mentally pleaded, and poof just like that, as if my imaginary stalker could hear my plea, the sense disappeared. The only reasonable conclusion was that Forks was bad for my mental health. First it had been body snatching, and then imaginary stalkers. With at least half of the impossible no longer present, I settled down to do my homework. Quillayute and English, as there was an essay, were the only subjects left to finish when Mrs. White came home with the boys.

Putting away my books, I went downstairs and spent time with them, while she made dinner. We were sitting down to eat at the table when Mrs. White mentioned, "I talked to Sue and we're going to the rez tomorrow, so we can do your hair on Sunday."

"Thank you," I told her, wanting to stay on her good side.

She eyed me sidewise, but said nothing.

Dinner was another amazing rice and beans dish with bits of things I didn't recognise. There was something about the way she cooked that allowed there to almost be a tangible flavour of love. Mr. White came home later than usual and informed us that he got caught "stuck on a call" whatever that meant. Charlie had never explained when he got late and Renée's stories never made sense. His words were unusual for me, but gave me a warm tingling feeling in my belly.

"I wasn't too late for stories?" he asked, sitting at the table, while Mrs. White, who had gone to the stove, returned with a dish full of food.

"You're good," Mrs. White answered, "we were about to set up."

"Should I do the dishes?" I wondered, wanting to be helpful.

She looked at me like she was suspicious, which then morphed into a puzzlement, like she didn't recognise me. "Nah, baby girl."

Then she exchanged a heated look with Mr. White before she manoeuvred the boys into the living room and Mr. White grabbed his bowl of dinner while telling me, "Well, come on."

As if shocked with static, I jumped from my seat and followed him a bit nervous.

"Great-papa and the bear," Dameion requested at his top volume over and over in a loop.

"The Spirit Wolves and the Strange Cold Ones," Martin requested also at top volume and with the same woodpecker repetition.

Smiling at them, as they were precious in their enthusiasm, I placed myself on a two-person sofa, clearly well used, that was against the wall and faced Mr. White. He had one boy on each side of him, while Mrs. White had placed herself in one of the recliners. Their downstairs was designed very similarly to Charlie's house, except a larger kitchen, where they also placed their dinning table, and a slightly smaller living room, by the looks of it. The glaring difference was that their room had no TV. Instead of a sofa and two comfy chairs facing the wall where the television hung, they had a three-seater, two comfy chairs, and the two-seater in a circle with an oval weaved rug on the floor. The rug looked handmade and Native, of which tribe I wasn't sure. It was easily ten feet long and four feet wide with a look about it that it was a labour of love.

The connection of items to history and meaning was one of the things I used to adore about being at Billy's house when I was a little girl. I had very few memories of my visits there, but there were a few snippets of Mrs. Black telling me the history of a few items. It had created a longing within me to have such a meaningful life, probably since Renée had no meaning to the items she owned other than it "called to me." Once more I found myself envious of Jamerica and what she had in her life.

Mr. White looked over at Mrs. White and mouthed "both?"

She nodded and smiled before looking over at me with a calculating gaze for a few seconds.

For a few seconds more, I waited for her to change her mind, but then she schooled her features into a neutral expression, saying nothing more.

Despite her silence, her eyes looked like she was concerned about me hearing these stories. It reminded me of how the tribal elders' features had appeared when I was visiting and tribal legends were mentioned. Certainly as I had grown older, they had limited my exposure to the tribe's myths.

Mr. White's tone was stern and serious when with a slow articulation told the boys, "Spirit Wolves and the Strange Cold Ones first."

Both boys celebrated, so they must have known his words meant that they were both getting their wish.

His voice grew deeper, as he began. It was easy to get lost in the world he created. He would pause and alter the pitch of his voice to create an engaging, yet scary tale. He was a masterful story-teller.

"Long ago the tribe was blessed with Protectors. These Spirit Warriors took the shape of a wolf, but they were no natural wolves. These Protectors of the Quileute Nation had canines as long as a foot and were stronger than any diamond. No creature could defeat them. They were men of the tribe who had wives and children. Other Nations knew of the power of the Quileute Protectors. Some nations moved away, believing the Protectors caused evil to darken their doors, while others stayed close and formed strong trading relationships with the Quileute Nation. To pale faces they appeared as no different than any other Quileute. To the evil ones, to the Cold Ones, the Protectors were someone to be feared. The Cold Ones have few natural enemies, and they survive on the lives of humans, so without the Protectors, the people of the Quileute Nation would have been as weak as a mouse to a hawk. For generations upon generations the Protectors passed down their duties from father to first born son.

"Then one day Protector Black came across a group of individuals that looked and smelled like Cold Ones. However, they were unlike any creature the Protectors had previously encountered. First, they were dressed like the pale skin pioneers, including shoes, rather than being covered in rags. Second, they had eyes the colour of a first morning pee. And last, they did not behave in a recognizable manner. Unlike all previous Cold Ones that had reacted instinctually by either fighting the Protectors or running from them, they stood as if statues with the leader having his arms up, as if requesting peace. Not willing to risk the Great Spirit's ire by misusing the power given to each Protector and destroying a creature that wasn't a Cold One, Protector Black risked himself by returning to his human form and asking them their business. It became immediately clear that these strangers spoke the pale skin's language and did not know the mother tongue. He made it clear to the creatures that they were to remain as they were if they truly intended peace. Even more strangely, they obeyed him.

"Believing he had done the right thing, he returned to his wolf form, and communicated with the village that there was potential danger, requesting for his eldest daughter to be sent. With great courage and faith in the Protectors his daughter made her way to the stand-off. Asking Protector Black how she might be of service, he indicated his need for a translator. Promising to do her best, since she was not yet fluent in the pale face's language, she turned to the strange creatures' leader. 'Why do you trespass onto the land of the Quileute Nation?'

His answer confused everyone.

'We were hunting in the woods and did not know we had entered your lands.'

Protector Black spoke with his daughter translating, 'What manner of creature are you that you would not recognise the borders of the lands in which we patrol?'

Protector Black's daughter returned the creature's words, 'We do not follow the dietary habits of our kind. We consume animals. Your smell intrigued us and concerned us, but we did not know to take it as a warning. We apologise for our ignorance.'

'You are a Cold One that does not hunt humans?' Protector Black questioned, unsure what to do with such an answer.

'We believe humans to be God's creatures and thus in need of protection. I work in the town's clinic as a doctor. My wife volunteers with the charities in the town providing food and clothing for the less fortunate. My daughter helps woman at risk of dying by their husband's hands with the help of her husband and my son.'

Protector Black considered these words. Every Protector since the beginning had said that Cold Ones were liars, with smooth tongues, and were sneakier than any fox. Yet, this creature's words seemed truthful and his manner earnest.

'Stay,' he commanded the group. 'I must ask the Great Spirit for wisdom.'

'Take as long as you need,' was the reply.

Telling his daughter to return in two sun rises, he left the other two wolves guarding the group and went enough into the trees to hide his petitions from the eyes of the strange creatures. After his prayers were cast, he returned to watch the group. Previous Cold Ones that he had ended with his fellow Protectors entered his mind and he compared those creatures with the ones in front of him. On the second morning his daughter returned. Accompanying her in the sky was an eagle, so Protector Black told the creatures, 'The Great Spirit tells me that you speak truthfully. According to your ways and laws, we shall make a treaty. You are forbidden on our lands. If one of you crosses the boundary, you all shall perish.'

'Agreed,' the leader stated.

'If one human dies, even if it is not a Quileute, on our ancestral lands from a Cold One, you forfeit your lives.'

'What if another of our kind comes without our permission and stands against us? Will you condemn us for the actions of our common enemy?' the group's leader enquired.

Protector Black thought a while before asking, 'How would you prove your innocence?'

'If our eyes turn red, then we have consumed a human,' he answered.

Black nodded. 'If one human dies, even if not a Quileute, on our ancestral lands and one of you have red eyes, you all forfeit your lives.'

'Agreed,' the leader answered. After silence he said, 'We would like to have an area where we can hunt without concern of encountering your kind.'

After much negotiations, an agreement was made. As a result, Protector Black was hailed as one of the bravest and wisest Protectors for taking care to ask the Great Spirit and to not pass judgement automatically. With him, his daughter, Shines Brightly, is honoured for her courage and knowledge that aided Protector Black."

"Now mine, now mine," Dameion cried out.

"Quiet now," Mrs. White told the boys.

Mr. White smiled at his son's jubilance and winked before speaking once more.

"Jeremiah White was born a slave who after the Northern Agressors won the Civil War wanted to start fresh, so walked as far West as he could go. Where he stopped walking he felt content and wished to rest. After arriving to the area, he sought out those that already lived on that land and after learning enough of their language to petition them, got permission to build a house in the forest. The locals warned him of the animals who were accustomed to being the rulers of the forest, including bears, lions, and wolves. Over time Jeremiah made himself the tools for building a home out of materials he found and eventually built himself a one room cabin. It wasn't much, but it was his. Then, one day a black bear decided that Jeremiah's food was meant to be his. Unfortunately, Jeremiah's front door wasn't meant to keep out a large black bear. The door buckled and the black bear came into the home. Jeremiah faced the bear and began chanting in the language of his mother. He had been sold away from her plantation too young to fully understand what the words meant. He only knew that the tune had soothed him many times as a child when he had been upset.

"The bear stopped his charge and looked at Jeremiah puzzled. The bear was so big that when the bear landed on his four paws he was eye to eye with Jeremiah. Jeremiah kept chanting and then began swaying side to side. Eventually, the bear began moving slightly side to side. Then, unsure if the words matched his intention, he prayed that the bear would leave peacefully. After a long time, the bear huffed as if disappointed and then left, backing out the way he had come in. When he told his friend from the Pomo Nation of the encounter, his friend gave him a Pomo name: Bear Charmer. From then on he was known as Bear Charmer.

When the first White settlers came to the area, they assumed that he was Pomo, since he had learned the language, had a Pomo name, and had taken a Pomo wife. Over time, his ability to translate between English and Pomo brought him notoriety and he was asked every so often to assist in negotiations between the settlers and the Pomo. Eventually these White settlers named the town they were creating San Francisco.

When Jeremiah came to be an old man the bear returned, but kept his distance, staying to the trees. The bear warned him that the White man would cover the space with tall buildings, roads, and cull the trees.

"He told the elders of the Pomo Nation the bear's warnings, and spoke to his wife about it. Despite their age, they decided to travel north and persuaded all of their children except one to go with them. Eventually they found the peninsula in which our family now dwells and began building another home. The home was barely started when a Black bear approached him. He chanted his mother's tongue and hoped to convey that he was fleeing from the White man and wished to live in peace. When the bear left he told his wife, Standing Tree, the bear's message: no space was safe from the White man, but here their children could flourish. So, to keep the promise of peace Jeremiah made to that bear, we never kill bears, and are careful in the amount of fish we take home, to ensure that the bears have enough to eat also."

This second story he had told like a lullaby and by the end the two boys were asleep.

There was a long silence like neither parent wanted to disturb the peace.

Eventually, rising, I wished them a whispered, "Good night," and headed upstairs.

Laying in bed, repeating the stories in my mind, I found that the stories had made me sad, the second especially, as I remembered Charlie and how he had more fish than he could ever eat. They both reminded me of how much of our lives were out of our control. As I fell asleep the stories swirled in my mind and my dreams turned Edward into a Cold One.