S.M. owns everything but the original characters I have included.

Chapter One

For 83 years old, Gail Lovett was extremely mobile.

When I had envisioned an 83-year-old widow living in the middle of nowhere, I was picturing someone much more... confined. Someone who couldn't handle living alone. That clearly wasn't the case with Gail. Most women her age were crippled with arthritis or had to sit on a lift in order to go upstairs. But I wouldn't be surprised if Gail could climb up one of the trees next to her house and jump through her upstairs window as an alternative.

Needless to say, I don't understand why her daughter insisted I come down here to be her "caretaker", as she called it. Neither did Gail.

Her daughter, Joanne, was quite insistent that her mother was, as she put it, "Extremely frail and heading towards her last days." I was surprised to find out that Gail was very welcoming to the idea of me staying there, even though when I first contacted her she insisted that she was as healthy and vibrant as she was in her teens.

"Good oh golly that daughter of mine," she told me when I met her over the phone, "always thinkin' I'm made of glass just because I'm old and alone."

When I was offered the job, I was expecting just that. An old and lonely woman who needed some company, and some help walking down her front porch. However, when I first got to her house I was met with a lively woman, who most definitely did not look 83, gardening in her front yard. When she saw me, she leaped up from her knees (faster than I ever could) and threw me in for the tightest hug of my life. I immediately loved her.

Gail stood at a very short height of 5'2. She had long, silver hair that I was sure would reach her knees if she didn't have it in a braid. She was dressed in very vibrant colors, wearing a pink short-sleeved dress with yellow polka dots over a light blue turtle neck. She also wore bright orange knee-high socks, black leather rain boots, and a plain straw sun hat, despite the lack of sun. She was a beam of brightness in the seemingly endless amount of mossy green that practically encompassed the entire town.

"Hello hello hello!" she practically screamed as she ran up to me, "Why, you must be that sweet ole' Jen my daughter sent me!"

I smiled even though she got my name wrong, she was too adorable for me to be annoyed.

"Gwen, actually." I corrected.

"What?" she asked with her hand cupped around her ear.

"Gwen."I repeated in a louder tone.

"Ah I see. Gwen! Sorry hun, as much as I try to keep myself young, some of the more biological aspects of aging can't be kept at bay, hearing included. Plus, my wrinkles are here to prove it."

She then used her hand to gesture to the tiny wrinkles surrounding her face. Even though they were there, they weren't prominent enough to make me think she was a day over 65. When I told her this, she laughed it off and said something along the lines of "Well, I'm glad my daughter sent you here after all!"

"Gail and Gwen." she pondered, "G and G. It's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it does." G and G. How sentimental.

"Well let's not stand out here with the mosquitoes! Let's go inside, I'll show you around. Give you the grand tour."

Gail's home was fairly small, but it was comfortable. From the outside it looked like an old cottage. On the inside, it gave off the feel of an old antique shop, with every wall and every aspect of the house covered in pictures and artifacts. I walked around the house in constant fear that I would break something, yet Gail would practically bounce off the walls. Every time I would walk through the front door, I would find something new to look at, and Gail always had a story behind each piece.

We passed the living room, which only had a television, a chair, and a loveseat. The rest of the room was taken over by all sorts of antiques. I was surprised that there was so much to look at. Walking through her living room the first time, three things caught my attention: a life size statue of a baby bear in a circus uniform, bouncing on a ball; a movie poster of a film that looked to be foreign, Indian; and a piano that looked to be, at least, fifty years old. I wondered if she would let me play it. I could use a hobby, something to distract me from the current situation I was in.

She then showed me the kitchen, which was more like a kitchenette. It was in the same space as the living room. If you were watching the television and wanted a glass of tea, it took less than ten steps to reach the fridge. Of course, everything in the kitchen looked to be old. The cabinets were a pale brown, but only looked that way due to the fading of the color over the years. The oven didn't even look useable, like something that would have a "Do Not Touch" sign in a museum. The fridge, however, looked fairly new. The old one must have broken. All in all, it was very different from my kitchen back in the city.

I probably should've mentioned to Joanne that I could barely figure out how to work the kitchen appliances back in Seattle… and that I didn't really know how to cook. I wasn't sure how I was going to operate a century-old oven.

She led me down the hallway which was covered in all sorts of portraits, photos, and paintings. The first door was my bathroom, which was extremely clean. Like she had scrubbed it down in preparation for my arrival.

"This is your private bathroom." She said, "Well, not completely private. Of course, my own bathroom is connected to my room on the other side of the house, but if we were to have any guests, they would use this bathroom."

I smiled at her, I appreciated her attempt to make me feel entitled to my own space. We continued to walk down the hall into the next room: my bedroom.

"Here it is!", she said. "Your room! Hasn't been slept in since my Jo-Jo was in college."

It was a small room with only a twin bed in one corner, a desk in the other, and a window facing the backyard. The wooden floor panels creaked with every step and unlike the rest of the house, the walls were completely bare. Like a blank canvas.

"I know it's not what you're used to," she continued, "Jo-Jo told me you came from big money in the city- but it's all yours! Leave it messy, I won't care. I won't snoop. Decorate it however you want! You could even paint it to give it some color."

"No, it's perfect. Trust me. Just my size." I gave her a gentle smile and went to go put down my single, tiny suitcase.

"Alrighty then. I'll leave you to unpack. I'm gonna go pick up the mess I made in the front yard, I'll be back in a jiffy."

She made her exit. I could hear her tiny, but quick footsteps make their way down the hall and back out to the front yard.

When I was in the clear, I practically flopped down onto the mattress. Face first. I took a deep breath in. Clean sheets. They smelt like lavender.

I turned over, looked up at the ceiling, and let out a huge sigh. I was finally here. The bus drive down from Seattle only took four hours, and the cheapest ticket I could afford meant that the bus was leaving at 5 am. What I learned from that experience was that people waiting at a Greyhound station at 4 am were the strangest kind of people. Among those at the stop with me was a man who was preparing ramen noodles in what looked to be a fish bowl, a man in a neon yellow morph suit, and a girl dressed in a Princess Peach costume. Normally, I would assume she was leaving a costume party. However, it was in the middle of June. On a Wednesday.

One woman that caught my attention was full-on sobbing on the bench next to me. She carried no sense of embarrassment. She didn't attempt to disguise her tears, not caring who stared. Those who cry in public like that have done it so many times that they have become used to the shame. I felt sorry for her, but I also felt connected to her. Did she come from a similar situation as me? Or was she crying over something simpler, a man. I suddenly felt the need to reach out to this stranger, to let her know that we would both find peace, even if it felt years away. But I didn't want to give this woman sentiments I couldn't find myself to believe in.

On top of the four-hour bus ride, the cab from Port Angeles to La Push was another hour, and the fare was not cheap. Apparently, people don't come down here often, from what the driver told me. I even had to give him directions from my phone at one point. After that, the walk from Gail's driveway, from the path through the woods, to her front door took me nearly fifteen minutes. I was beginning to think that I had gotten lost.

By the time I had arrived, it was about noon. It was nice to finally lay down on an actual bed, especially one with clean sheets, in a room that I could call my own. I was beginning to grow accustomed to the feeling of sleeping next to strangers every night. The emotions running through me were so overwhelming that I grabbed the pillow from under my ear, put it over my face, and began to silently weep.

"Calm down. This is your home now. "I thought to myself, "La Push is your home."

With that, I got up from the bed, walked over to the window, and looked outside.

Flowers. Dozens and dozens of different kinds of flowers.

"Better than my old view of the city."

So much better.

Shortly after my episode, I heard Gail come back into the house and down the hall. I quickly wiped away my tears and tried to make it look like I was almost done unpacking- which didn't take much effort considering I had only two shirts, three pairs of underwear and a single pair of jeans.

She knocked on the frame of my door, "All settled?" she asked.

"Just about!" I gave her a smile to make it appear as if I was okay, but something in her eyes told me that she knew I wasn't.

"Alright dear, when you're ready I thought that you could drive me down to the post office, then we can grab a bite to eat. You hungry?"

I didn't realize how hungry I was until she mentioned it. My stomach nearly leapt out of my abdomen at the thought of food.

"Yeah. Actually, yeah I really am."

"Well of course you are! Skinny ole' thing you are. I'll be in the living room watching my soaps, come get me when you're ready."

She walked down the hall into the living room. I turned to put my clothes into the dresser. I felt like I had to open it with extreme caution. It too was very old, like everything else in this house.

As I walked down the hall, I began to look closely at the pictures that were hanging there. Some of them were landscapes, one appeared to be a picture of the house as it was being built, but most were of a young Gail Lovett. She had curly, red hair that went all the way down to her lower back. She was short and thin. She was always smiling. Not very different from the Gail that was watching old reruns of The Young and the Restless in the next room over.

What was different, however, was that the majority of the pictures featured a young, handsome, tan, and very muscly man. He had hair almost as long as Gail's, and just like her he was always smiling. One picture in particular made me smile, myself. It was a picture of the man holding an infant baby in his arms, lifting it high into the air.

"This must be Gail's late husband." I thought, "Joanne's father."

"So, I see you've found my Hall of Fame!" said Gail from down the hall.

I shook with surprise, I felt like I was invading her personal space, like I got caught reading someone's diary.

She walked over to me and gazed at the picture I was looking at, the one with the man holding a baby Joanne.

"Ah," she said, "I see you've come across my late husband, Johnny."

"Yeah," I said softly, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"I would say don't be, but I would be a hypocrite. I think about that man every single day of my existence."

She ran her fingertips across the picture of Johnny's face, "My-oh-my he was such a handsome man. And look at baby Joanne, at her chubby cheeks. This was the day we finally got to meet her."

I was confused. The baby in the picture had to be at least six months old.

"What do you mean, meet her?" I asked.

"Oh, you didn't know? My baby girl was adopted!"

"Oh. No. I didn't know that." Joanne looked so much like Gail, she had red curly hair, dark eyes, and wasn't exactly a tall person. Just one of those things, I suppose.

"Yes, ma'am. We were so blessed to be gifted a girl as bright and kind as my Jo-Jo."

"Yeah, I agree with you. You raised a wonderful woman."

And boy, did she. Joanne was, single-handedly, the most important person I have ever met in my life.

"Of course, we tried to do it the natural way, more often than we should if you know what I mean." She waggled her eyebrows at me, as if the innuendo wasn't enough. I chuckled at her spryness.

"However," she continued, "it seemed that I just couldn't get pregnant. No buns in my oven. In fact, my oven was fried."

She walked more down the hall and began to point out more pictures of Joanne. Joanne in diapers. Joanne's yearbook photos. There was one of which that looked like Joanne on the first day of school, with a backpack twice her size strapped on her back.

"Johnny said that it didn't matter." She continued, "Said that we didn't have to worry about doing it the old-fashioned way. That we could adopt. Took a while, but we finally got a bouncing baby girl." She ran her fingers over another picture of Johnny's face, the last one on the wall. It was then that I noticed the pictures were hung in chronological order.

"How did he... um." I struggled with my words, I didn't want to be insensitive. "How did he…"

"How did he die?" she finished my question for me.

I nodded.

"A very, very tragic death. Bear attack. Johnny loved going out into the woods with his friends to hunt, one day he got too close." She rested her hands on a necklace she had around her neck. Two rings on a chain, I noticed. Her wedding rings.

I've never met anyone who looked at a picture with so much love and so much pain at the same time. They must have had something special. The kind of love that most people search for, but never find. I was jealous.

"Joanne was only fourteen when he died." She continued, "We were together for thirty-two years."

"And you never remarried?" I asked, completely shocked. Twenty-seven years was a long time to be alone in a place like La Push.

"Nope. Never even considered it. Johnny was the only man for me."

With that final sentiment, she turned to me and placed her hand on my shoulder, "You ready to go see the rest of the reservation?"

"Um, yeah. Let's go."

"Don't get too excited, now." She chuckled at my lack of enthusiasm and tossed me something. Despite my usual clumsiness, I caught it. A pair of keys.

"Those are the keys to my truck." she continued, "You're gonna drive. Even though I can drive just as well as I could when I bought the damned thing, I figure you should actually do what you were sent here to do."

With that, we began our long walk down the trail to her truck.

As much as I missed the city, I couldn't deny the beauty of this place. There was so much to look at. Of course, there as a lot to look at in Seattle as well, but the view mainly consisted of homeless people, hipster teenagers, and abandoned Starbucks cups on the sidewalk. In La Push, everything was green. The trees, the grass, the moss. So much moss. It was like someone took a green blanket and placed it over the entirety of the reservation. But I loved it, it gave off some sort of calming effect. When something wasn't green, the color was only intensified. The purple wildflowers in Gail's backyard appeared brighter, the blue paneling of her house was brighter. My favorite, however, was the red rose bush in her front yard. The red mixed with the green made it feel like Christmas.

We finally arrived at Gail's truck. I offered to help her into the passenger side, since it was pretty high up. She refused, of course, and climbed in the truck with no problem at all. I climbed in the other side, buckled up, put the key in the ignition, and started it up. Only it didn't start. I tried two more times. Nothing. I looked over to Gail and gave her a look that said, "Help me out here?" She rolled her eyes, leaned over, and turned the key. It immediately roared to life.

I stared at the wheel in shock. I didn't look at her, but I'm almost positive that she was hiding a laugh. I looked behind me to back out of the driveway, but I was distracted by how much black, dense smoke was coming out of the exhaust.

"Jesus, this tank must be taking a chunk out of the environment. Wonder how much gas it takes."

I backed out of the driveway and started driving down the road. While giving me directions, she would point out anything she deemed important.

"Oh!" she pointed at a small building, "That's one of the only shops on the reservation. They have the cutest little couple runnin' that place."

"Oh!" she pointed at a large tree. "That's one of my favorite spots in the area, it also marks a short cut to the beach."

"Oh!" she pointed at a house on my right, "That's the Clearwater's house! Sue Clearwater is a dear friend of mine, she has the most darling children."

After a series of twists and turns, we had finally made it to the post office, which was on the complete opposite of the small town. Although Gail had a lot to point out on the drive over, there really wasn't a lot to look at, besides the natural beauty, in the grand scheme of things. La Push was certainly a town of few and far in between.

We hopped out of the truck. As we walked up to the front door, another couple emerged.

"Well, I'll be!" shouted Gail, "If it isn't a couple of the Clearwaters!"

The women smiled and struck up a conversation with Gail, I stayed behind and waited to be introduced.

The older woman that Gail was currently talking to must've been Sue Clearwater. Much like Gail, she too had long hair that went to her knees. It was a beautiful dark brown, with hints of silver strands that defined her age. I would say that she was in her mid-to-late fifties, but her physical appearance could've caused me to believe that she was in her forties. Especially when she smiled. Laughter really must keep you young. The younger woman who was staring off into space must've been her daughter. Funny, I figured that the Clearwater children were younger, like in their teens. This woman must've been in her mid-twenties.

Gail suddenly turned her head towards me, "Gwen! What are you standin' over there for? Come socialize!" Jesus did that remind me of my mother.

I reluctantly walked over to the small group. "Hi." I muttered. I was never one for socialization.

"Ugh, this one is tough to crack. This is Gwen, the young lady my daughter so graciously sent to take care of me in my dying days." She rolled her eyes at this, clearly being sarcastic. "Gwen, this is Sue and Leah Clearwater! Dear friends of mine."

They both took me in, as if they were analyzing my every movement. Surely, they weren't used to people moving into La Push rather than moving out. The fact that Gail had a new "roommate" must've been a shock to them.

"Gwen. That's such a pretty name!" said Sue. I smiled in return.

Leah gave me a tight-lipped smile, as if she were uncomfortable with my presence.

"Miss Gwen here just arrived from the big city this morning!" said Gail.

"So, you're from Seattle, then?" asked Sue.

"Yeah, I was born there."

"Born and raised, huh? I'm sure La Push is pretty different compared to what you're used to, then."

That was an understatement. "Just a tad." I laughed at the irony, so did she.

"Well, welcome to the neighborhood!"

I liked Sue. She was a gentle soul. Very motherly.

"Say, Leah." interrupted Gail, "How is Emily doing? That baby pop out yet?"

Leah gave another tight-lipped smile in a guise to be friendly. Something in her demeanor told me she didn't like this "Emily" girl.

"Um, yeah!" She responded, "Yeah, she's due any day now."

While Gail bubbled up at the mention of a due date and started a side conversation with Sue, I studied Leah. She was a very beautiful woman, with dark hair like her mother's. In fact, she looked just like Sue. Her eyes told me she was angry at this woman, Emily. But, the way she spoke about the pregnancy made her appear sad. Which led me to believe that she was experiencing an emotion I knew all too well; She didn't dislike this woman, she was envious of her.

Suddenly, she turned her head and made eye contact with me. I quickly turned my head and acted like I was listening to the conversation. I joined as they started discussing the topic of baby names. I could still feel Leah's eyes on me. Jesus, she must think I'm a freak.

After Gail mentioned something about making a bouquet for Emily, they said their goodbyes. I watched as they hopped in their truck. Even after all this time, Leah still kept her eyes locked on me. Like she thought of me as an outsider, which I suppose I was. I dragged my eyes away from hers and followed Gail inside. There goes my first opportunity of making a friend here.

After we were done with her business at the post office, she directed me to a diner down the street. As we ate our lunch, I was once again met with curious stares from the La Push community; all wondering and whispering about the newcomer. I was shocked that she paid, even after I offered to split the check.

"No offense, hun." she said in response, "But with what money?"

I couldn't be offended, because she was right. I spent my last few dollars on the bus ride over here.

With that, we hopped back in the truck and headed back to the house.

Later that evening, as she was heading to bed, Gail stopped by my room. "Tomorrow," she said, "we head over to my flower shop. I'll teach you the ropes."

I gave her a smile and a quick nod, which she returned back to me. After she left, I walked over to the window and gazed at the moon. I wondered what the sobbing woman at the bus station was doing, if she had reached her final destination. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of howling coming from the woods.

"A lone wolf." I thought, "Just like me."

I once again looked up at the sky and gazed at the stars. I remember feeling so small in that moment, like my life was so insignificant compared to the rest of the happenings in the universe.

Little did I know that the next couple of weeks would be the most important of my life.

This is my first fic... ever.. so feel free to leave a review so I can know how to improve my writing! Aiming for a slow build. I'm pretty much writing this so I can improve my writing skills, but I'm also writing this so I can practice commitment. That being said, I'm going to try to update this about every two weeks. (whether this gets any attention or not.) Anyways, let me know!