As busy as it always was at Forks Memorial Hospital, Carlisle Cullen took pride in his work, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Anytime a coworker would complain about having to take a night shift, he would courteously jump in and send him home. He was caring and truly helpful to all his patients; in fact, he was the only doctor who was ever recommended to people that lived in the greater world beyond Forks, Washington.
His identity had never been revealed to anyone, not that the need to say anything had ever presented itself. Carlisle would never put someone in danger, for surely the Volturi would pay a visit to Forks if he'd told someone. No, Carlisle loved both his family and his life too much to even give it a second thought.
Once he had learned to control his blood thirst, he'd been determined to see that nothing, and no one, ever tempted him to reveal himself for the monster he'd worked hundreds of years to suppress. That was one of the attributes to living in a small town; hardly anyone came in, and hardly anyone ever left. It gave him the necessary time to adjust to everyone, and their specific scents, so that any time he came across a slightly difficult situation, he could handle it. Carlisle had always believed that he was too compassionate to ever bring harm to one person. His wife Esme only aided to this by counseling him every day about what trials he'd had to face; when one is working amidst so many bodies of delicious blood, it is hard to deny the teasing appeal. Carlisle would return home from work early in the mornings, when all but Esme would be "asleep", and talk with his wife. She would console him, and tell him that it was of his own will that he was resisting the siren's call, and that he was strong.
"After all, if Edward had been able to do it for Bella, you can too," she'd remind him.
He'd always disagree, saying, "But I have had…centuries to perfect my self-control, and Edward accomplished it being about half my age!"
Esme would always look at him with doe-like, golden eyes, smile softly, and say, "Edward wasn't you, Carlisle."
Carlisle would return to work later in the afternoon, completely at ease, and constantly thinking that he could do it. He could control himself, and accomplish his goals of becoming immune to human blood. Every day he would gracefully walk to his office, pass by his receptionist, and notice how much fainter her scent was, how much dimmer the sound of her pulsing blood was. She would always raise a delicately slender eyebrow at his blissful mood and ask, "How can one man always look so pleased with himself?" Of course, he would "accidentally" walk too fast and disappear into his office before he'd be trapped, and have to answer her.
One day, on September 12, he recalled that the next day was Bella's birthday. Not that it particularly mattered to her anymore than had she been human instead of dead and cold, like him. Still, he would purchase her something…a necklace, maybe, or a book. Yes, he liked the idea of a book, and he was sure Bella would as well. As vast and complete as the Cullen family library was, Bella somehow had managed to divulge each book's secrets, and had lately been complaining how there was nothing to read.
He smiled to himself and told Jennifer that he would be leaving early, as it was his daughter-in-law's birthday tomorrow, and he had to get her gift. She herself was buried in a book, and waved her hand to shoo him away. He chuckled and swiftly walked to the car and drove to Seattle at human speed. Carlisle pondered how much he enjoyed driving, for some reason, without the death-defying rapidity of a vampire. Unlike his fellow vampires, he had conformed to the human way of life, and acting just like everyone else made it easier to blend in without suspicion. Of course, the only person ever to see through the Cullens' façade was Bella, and that had actually panned out quite nicely, all things considered.
The little bookshop sitting on the corner near Rob's Deli was still accepting customers when Carlisle drove up. As he browsed the titles, he would shake his head if a possible gift was too childish, or just not for Bella. Finally he found a book tucked away into a corner that was covered in dust with the binding almost coming completely off. The title was smudged beyond legibility. It was perfect for Bella.
Once Carlisle paid for it he drove down to the flower shop and bought a bouquet of roses for Esme, as was customary every second Thursday of the month. The shopkeeper, upon his arrival, had darted behind the counter when she'd noticed him. When she reappeared, her eyes seemed darker and her cheeks pinker. Her lips were plump and blood red. Carlisle chuckled at the woman's efforts to attract him; but she had no way of knowing he had a wife.
"Why hello, sir," she greeted in a sultry voice, "what can I do for you tonight?"
"I would like to buy a bouquet of roses for my wife," he said simply.
Her lips pulled down into a frown as her eyes lost all dancing sparkle. "Oh, well, I'll go cut you some," she grumbled.
Carlisle chuckled. "Thank you."
As the woman was in the back of the store, he stared out at the cars passing by in the twilight. Carlisle took notice that most of them were a good deal nicer than some vehicles in Forks. He'd been just thinking about how Bella's old truck would have been a capital example when he heard the screech of tires followed by a sickening thump.