Swan Goin' Wolf

Regrouping

I took a seat at the table the let my hand run over the paper with a pencil. I drew hard lines about the shape of an almond and filled in the space with softer lines. I was brought out was may imagination by the timer of the oven. Once I had the peppers and burgers ready I put them in the microwave to keep warm and returned to sketch. I looked down to find a pair of soft kind eyes staring back at me from the paper. There was something oddly familiar about these eyes, but I couldn't place them. I pulled out my oil pastels and let my mind fill in the color. I stopped when I heard tires on the drive and get up to get our dinner on the table.

"Dinner's ready!" I called as I heard the door shut and the keys hit the bowl in the entry. Dad's boots could as they wanted to the coat where he hung his jacket and gun belt and kicked off his boots. He walked into the kitchen and kissed my head as I placed our plate down on the table. He washed his hands before taking a seat. I grabbed up my sketch book and set it on the counter before joining him at the table.

"How was your day?" I asked as we started eating. We weren't big talkers, but we could keep up causal conversation.

"Slow. Mrs. Henderburg was stirring up trouble again with her son-in-law and the Seattle department sent down paperwork." He grumbled and I smirked. The plus to living in a small town was having very little crime which made police work a boring task. It was rare that something big happened.

"So how was your day, Sunny?" Dad asked and I sighed resting my head on my hand.

"Work at the library was quiet. The first semester projects are finished. I spent most of the day at my desk reading and drawing. After work I went down to the beach. I saw Paul and Jared while I was there." I said and this seemed to peak dad's interest.

"What happened?" Dad asked and took another bite of his burger.

"They ignored me like usual." I said with a shrug. Dad mumbled and shook his head.

"I'm going to have with those boys." Dad said and I shook my head.

"No, dad. I can take care of my own problems. You 'talking' to them won't change their minds about who they want to send their time with, it will only push them farther away." I said and dad reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. We finished our meals in silence. When we were done I stood and took our plates to wash. As I started to wash the plates I heard dad stand, presumably to go into the living room to watch whatever game was on TV.

"Who is this?" Dad asked and I turned to see him looking at my sketch book. The book was opened to the page I had drawn the eyes on.

"I don't know. I let my mind drift and I drew that. They look familiar though, I can't pinpoint exactly who it is." I said and dad nodded as he studied the picture. I always wondered why you never went into something that had to do with art. You so good at it. I didn't know there was that much detail in an eye." Dad said with a shake of his head and smirked at me. I rolled my eyes at him and took the book from him. He held his arms up in fake surrender and started out of the room.

"Just saying." He said before he disappeared into the living room. After a couple seconds I heard the TV turn on and looked back down at the picture. The eyes were only half colored, the identity of the eyes remaining a mystery to me as I continue to stare at the sketch. I sighed and close the book, setting it on the counter before getting back to the dishes.

Once the dishes were done I joined dad in the living room and finished watching the game with him. I actually had little interest in sports, but growing up in a house that was frequented by sport fanatics on an almost daily basis made you at least tolerate sports. Don't get me wrong, unlike my dear father and sister, I have some coordination. Dad was okay, he could walk across a flat surface without stumbling too often, but Bella was a completely different story. In a space completely devoid of anything to trip over on a completely flat surface she would trip over her own two feet.

I had actually been a pretty good volleyball player when I was in middle and high school. That was until I was pushed down the front steps of the high school and broke my left wrist, hand and forearm. The breaks had required surgery to fix them with plates and screws in my forearm. Luckily I regained 85 percent motion in my wrist and was able to do things with my left hand, I just could no longer play sports and had to be careful of what I did. When I had come back to school Paul, Jared and Rachel had been really helpful. They carried my things from class to class and helped me caught up the work I had missed from being out.

That is what I hated the most about Paul and Jared current abandonment. I still loved them like the brothers they had become and I had few memories that didn't involve them in some way or another. When the game was finally over I said good-night to dad and made my way upstairs with my sketch book. When I had brushed my teeth and got into my comfy pajamas I settled into the window seat and set to finishing the pair of eyes I had sketched earlier, hoping that the added details would give me a better chance of recognizing their owner.

I most have been so focused on the picture that I didn't realize how tired I was and fell sleep there in the window seat. As I drifted I started to dream. I could hear the ocean crashing against the rocky shore as I came from the trees onto the sand of first beach. I relaxed into the feeling on the sand and began to walk closer to the water's edge. As I got closer I heard a rustling from the forest. I turned and studied the tree line for a second, finding nothing to cause me any alarm and focused back on the crashing waves as they hit the cliff bottom and slashed backward into the dark gray water.

"It's not safe to be here alone." A deep voice said behind me. The startled me, causing me to spin around to see how had snuck up behind me without making a sound. When I spun around I came face to face with the very eyes from my sketch, but instead of being the soft emotion from my picture they were hard and serious. As I stumbled backward I made out more of the face. I was standing before Sam Uley as he glared down at me with those beautiful hard eyes.

"What the hell?" I gasped as I sprung forward from my sleep, my sketch book falling from my lap and crashing to floor of my room. I never would have guessed those eyes to be those of Sam Uley's. Why was my mind suddenly focusing on Sam? What had happened today when I looked at him at the beach? I didn't know what was happening, but for now I was going to let everything play itself out. Maybe after sleeping a little more things would start to make sense.