Summary
In 1918, Carlisle decided that Edward's life was too precious to condemn him to a life of a vampire and tries harder to save him. He did, what are the consequences when an old man meets Bella nearly 90 years later?

Two months after I arrived in Forks, I found myself taking a walk around in my neighborhood, I had not seen or met any of my neighbors and I wanted to find out about the people in my area. today, was the day my life had been changed. I was walking down two streets away from where I lived, looking at the houses and greeting people if they were outside. At the end of a dead-end street, I paused, taking in the scenery I saw before me. I was trying hard to get used to the emerald green backdrop that was Washington and not like Arizona. Then I heard it, a music floating into my ears and took me a moment that it was coming from the last house on the street on my right.

Turning to the house, I saw a small, cozy-looking house, with smoke coming out of the chimney. I walked closer to hear the music better, and I felt sad and guilty for intruding. The notes sounded as though the person playing was in so much pain and filled with anger. I came closer and the music grew louder and I realized that the music was not played on a CD or a computer, but an actual person playing it on the piano.

Struck with awe, I also heard a hint of fear within the music notes among the pain and anger; I found myself still coming closer, as though I was drawn in by the music alone. At the door, I found myself leaning against the door and without warning, I fell in, pushing the door open with a loud crash. Wincing on the ground, I heard the piano stop, then scuffling sounds, making way to the foyer. I closed my eyes, afraid of who I was about to meet.

"What are you doing?" a man demanded, and I looked.

All I thought was, 'Wow, he's old.'

He wore a thin sweater that hung over his frail frame, with dark blue sweatpants. He used a cane to hobble closer, waiting for my answer with a scowl on his face.

"S-sorry, I... er," I stammered, wondering how to explain myself and decided to tell the truth. "I was drawn in by your music, I'm sorry, sir. I was leaning against the door and I didn't realize it was already open," I babbled and stopped myself from talking any further. "I—I'm sorry."

"Well, go away then, I don't like it when people invite themselves over just because of my music!" he said angrily, turning around to go back where he was. "Please shut the door on your way out."

"I'm really sorry sir, it's just that... well, the music was so sad and angry... and I thought there was some fear in there too."

The man stopped walking, staying there for a moment. I wondered what he was thinking and I bit my bottom lip nervously. The old man slowly turned and faced me, studying me carefully. I picked myself off the ground, embarrassed, I held my hands together behind my back, looking like a kid caught red-handed with a cookie out of a jar.

"You heard some fear in my music?" he queried.

I blinked at the question and nodded carefully, wondering where this was going, "I did, sir. It pained me."

"No one has been able to detect the... fear as you say, in that song," he said quietly. "Come, please close the door and come."

Feeling even more nervous, I closed the door and followed him, wondering what he was going to led me to a room with a fire going in a fireplace. He gestured me to a seat on the couch and I seated myself as he sat in the recliner near the fire. I saw the wooden piano across from me, and it looked antiqued.

"What's your name?" he asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Isabella Swan, I go by Bella," I replied automatically. "Can I ask for yours?"

"My name is Edward, Edward Masen," he replied gruffly, studying me carefully. "You are the town's chief's daughter, are you not?"

"I am, sir."

"And yet, here you are, breaking into houses," he said with an eyebrow raised. I flustered, looking only at my hands.

"I'm sorry, sir," I apologized again. He harrumphed and sat back into his seat, his eyes never off me.

"Where did you come from? Why did you come here to Forks?"

"From Phoenix, and... I wanted my mom to be happy with her husband in Florida so I told her I would come here instead of holding her back at home," I replied, wondering about this man and his questions.

"You left so you could make your mother happy?" he asked, frowning. I nodded in affirmative. "That's not like teenagers today."

I scoffed at the comment, "I practically raised my mom, she's such a child, I had to grow up."

"Hmm," he muttered and sighed, then looked away, appearing to be in thought.

"So, do you have family?" I asked, striking up a conversation.

"No," he shook his head, "never married. I should have when I had the chance."

I looked at him, and saw bitterness on his face and felt sorry for Edward.

"Please go get me a cup of water for me?" he asked, looking back at me.

"Sure, where are the cups?" I asked, standing up.

"On the right side of the sink in the cabinet; thank you miss," was the answer as I made way to the kitchen. I returned a moment later with a glass of tap water and handed it to him then reseated myself.

"Thank you, I barely have energy to walk these days," he said with a weary sigh and then drank his water. After he had his fill, he set the cup down on the end table to his left. "I have been around for over a century, and my energy is slowly leaving me now. Sometimes I wonder if there's any purpose in life, and I still do."

Then he looked surprised, looking at me, "I am sorry for babbling like an old man. Tell me more about yourself."

I could only stare at him, and all I could do was cry a little inside at his words, but I tried to keep it off my face. The fact that he found no purpose in life was really sad, and depressing. I felt a sense of loss at his words.

"There's really not much for me to say about myself, I'm not that interesting," I said, shaking my head, trying to shake off the emotions.

"You think little of yourself, apparently," he said with a frown, "don't be like that. Do you dabble in music?"

I shook my head in answer, "I only listen to them. Classical mostly."

"Really," he muttered, nodding, "That would make sense. You understood my song, not like other people."

"What's it called?" I asked, cocking my head to the right.

"Seventeenth Year," he said with a wry smile. "Quite the story behind it. Want to hear it?"

Disclaimer: A blanket disclaimer for all future chapters, I do not own the Twilight Series, Mrs. Meyer does. This is written for entertainment purposes only.

I have been playing around with the idea that if Carlisle did not change Edward and fought harder to keep him alive, how would the future fair? I thought, and thought, and could not think of a good plot line to write. Until a friend of mine talked (criticized more like) about Twilight series and I was suddenly inspired. I have the beginning, middle and end all written out (few paragraphs each actually, just a scene each). All I have to do is fill other scenes in! So, yes, vampires still exist in this world, just that Edward never turned. Carlisle and others will still show up in this story as vampires—if I so choose to.

On alternate chapters, it will be Bella's POV, then Edward's, then back to Bella, and so on. Unless, of course, I state otherwise. Feedback is most certainly welcomed!