Pick a Pic Challenge
Banner #: 5
Genre: Romance/Hurt Comfort
Rating/Disclaimer: M for Language, I don't own twilight that belongs to SM
Summary (255 character limit): She's returning home at the insistence of her father, but echoes of her mother are constantly there reminding her why she left, of her pain, her loss of her mother.
With a deep sigh I step outside into the rain. It's a welcoming to Forks I guess; it's always raining here. It's one reason why I left, besides the fact I got into Washington State; I hate the rain. But the main reason why I left was because I couldn't take the memories of my mother everywhere. Her death hit me and my sister hard, and as soon as we could, we just had to get out. My sister, Rebecca, found love in Hawaii and now lives there with her husband and two little children. How I envy my twin sometimes.
And then there is Jacob, my baby brother, who I'm ashamed to say was left there to look after our father. I just couldn't sit there day in and day out, looking at him in a wheelchair. I blamed him for the death of my mother, as bad as it was. If he hadn't insisted going out, she would still be here with us, with me. How come he got to survive and not my mother? I know he isn't really to the blame, no. It was raining and late at night; a drunk driver didn't see the car and crashed into the side, killing Mom instantly.
No, Rachel, you won't go there… I scold myself angrily as I hail a cab. The inside of the cab gives me little warmth, causing me to pull my jacket around me tighter.
"Where to, miss?" the driver asks, looking through the mirror.
"The Chief's house in La Push," I tell him with a sigh while I turn to stare out the window. The man is clearly from the community, as he had the familiar features of Quileutes.
I watch as the scenery blurs together as we move quickly to La Push. It's a mass of green and brown, the only colors you see on the way to La Push - my home until I can leave once more. How my father expects me to be happy here is beyond me. He had called me the day after I graduated, begging me to come home for a while and spend time with him and Jacob, even if it was just for a short while.
I tried to make up an excuse, but as I opened my mouth to tell him I agreed, it shocked me to the core. As I thought about it though, it felt right to return home for a little bit, like I needed to be there. It was frightening and exciting all at the same time; I didn't know what to do or how to handle it.
"We're here," the driver states, knocking me from my memories. I thank him and hand him the money while getting out of the warm cab and into the chilly ocean air. He pulls my bags out and places them at my feet before driving away. Everything is still the same, yet completely different. The little red house where I grew up now has a sense of emptiness.
"Rachel, my little girl, come here!" my mother called from the old garden beds next to the stairs. It was a rare sunny day, and she was dressed in a beautiful blue summer dress that showed her baby bump, her hands slightly dirty from tending to her gardens.
The familiar worried expression was on her face as I ran into her arms crying.
"What is it, dear girl?" she asked me softly while kissing my forehead.
"Bec-ca push-ed me," I hiccupped out while holding out my angry red palms.
"Oh baby girl, let me kiss them and make them better," she said while softly kissing my hands and then tickling me causing me to giggle and squeal.
"I wuv you mommy," I said softly as I cuddled into her chest carefully. "You too baby" I said with a smile, kissing her stomach.
"We love you too baby girl."
Suddenly the scene morphs away, and I'm staring at the red house, so familiar but strange in the rain. A man now stands in the doorway with a slight frown as he takes me in. This can't be Dad. No, its not. The closer I get, the more I see Mom's cheekbones and round eyes.
"Jake?" I whisper, astonished as I take in my baby brother. He Isn't a baby anymore, nor the little kid I had seen crying begging me not to go. He's tall, just barely fitting in the door and defined. My baby brother isn't a boy anymore – he's a man.
"Rachel?" he whispers, stumbling forward and into my arms. His body heat is through the roof, and I pull back, placing my hand on his forehead.
"Jeeze Jake, are you sick? I can roast an egg on your forehead!" I exclaim, causing him to chuckle.
"I'm fine, Rachel. I can't believe you're here. Dad said you would come, but I didn't believe him," he tells me, and a pang of guilt strikes my heart.
"Well I'm here now. Where's Dad?" I ask him as we enter the house.
"Rachel?" my dad asks me as he wheels himself out of the kitchen. He was older now than what I remembered, but an air of grief still clings to him. He looks tired, very tired.
"Hi Dad," I say, straining to keep it pleasant and not clipped.
The dark lounge morphs into a scene I know so well. The house was quite except for mine and Rebecca's giggles.
"Mommy! Mommy home!" Becca squealed as I ran after her giggling.
"Shhh little ones, your baby brother is sleeping" she whispered softly while sitting on the lounge. Her eyes were glowing with love and adoration as she looked down at the little bundle in her arms.
"Can we see, momma?" I asked her, tugging softly on her sleeve. She looked down at the both of us and shifted the bundle in her arms so we could see the baby.
His eyes were dark and looking around, his little mouth shaped in an O as he gurgles before laughing. He was so tiny, so adorable, and I could only think of all the ways I could dress him up.
"What's baby name?" Becca asked curiously as she gently touched our baby brother's hand.
"Jacob… Jacob Ephraim Black. Jake, these are your big sisters, Rebecca and Rachel," she cood causing Jake to giggle.
"Hi, Jakey," I giggled while tickling his little foot as it escaped from the blanket.
I blink back the tears and turn my head away from the lounge to see Dad staring at me with knowing eyes and Jacob with a confused frown. I shake my head and smiled at Jake softly before sighing and facing my father and what's to come.
"Am I in my old room?" I ask him, even though I know I am as Jake probably took the larger room next to mine.
"Yeah, sorry Rachel, it's a bit cramped in there," he tells me. I give him a nod to confirm I heard him and walk to the small bedroom. It was a lot smaller now than I remember.
With a sigh I carefully sit on the bed. The walls are a pastel blue from when Jake was a baby, slightly chipped from age and things being scraped against it. The dresser that Bec and I shared now rests in the corner surrounded by boxes. Behind the door, almost gone from recognition are three little hand prints and two big ones with our names.
"Rachel, Rebecca, come help Mommy and Daddy," Daddy called with a laugh from the next room. I giggled as I dropped my toys and rushed toward where they were, Becca at my side.
"Daddy!" I squealed as he lifted me up and twirled me around laughing.
"Do you two angels want to help Mommy and Daddy paint Jacob's room?" he asked while kneeling so he was our height.
I nod my head instantly, excited that I could paint on the walls and not get in trouble. Becca answered, stating my thoughts.
We painted all day, even Jake when he was awake, but he got help from Momma as he was still so very tiny. When we finally finished, Daddy, Becca and I were mostly covered in blue paint.
"Do you want to put your hand on the wall?" Momma asked with a smile, pointing to the white door.
I nodded happily and placed my wet blue hand on the door followed by Becca, Daddy, Momma, and then Jake.
"Now Jake will always know we love him."
"Rach?" I rub my eyes and look at Jake who stands in the doorway with a sad look.
"Yeah?" I ask softly.
"Dinner is here, we got pizza!" my brother chuckles excitedly.
With a smirk and a shake of my head I follow. Sitting at the kitchen table again was something that I was both looking forward to and dreading. The kitchen holds many memories of my mother, cooking, helping me with homework, singing while she nursed Jake, and family flour fights.
My eyes cut to Dad, filled with the familiar emotion of loneliness and the pain from all the memories.
"Yeah Dad?" I ask softly as I sit awkwardly at the table.
"You okay kid?" he asks.
My head nods instantly, lying to him.
"Billy! Billy! Come look at what your daughters have done!" Momma squealed as she laughed.
Flour was throughout the kitchen, eggs smooshed everywhere, and there Becca and I sat in the mess, mushing it all together and giggling. Egg, flour, and all baking goods for cake were in our hair and on our clothes.
"Smile baby girls," Daddy said as he took our photo.
"They sure are your daughters," Mommy giggled before picking me up and taking me for a bath, Daddy following with Becca.
But in reality I was not okay, no. I was surrounded by the echoes of my mother.