1911 - Wisconsin

Esme Platt was practically dragged into the local doctor's office, and if her leg didn't hurt so bad she would have fought and clawed at her mother for more or less pulling her by the ear.

"I don't think I need to go in there," Esme said with an argumentative ring to her voice. "Can't I just let it rest for a few days at home?"

"If I wasn't so caring of my daughter I would say yes," Mrs. Platt angrily gruffed back, "And believe me it's just as embaressing for me to be bringing you here looking like that." She referred to the dirty, ripped clothing that Esme was still wearing upon her fall from a tree.

She limped up the stairs under the arm of her mother with a scowl and got slightly more angry at how quickly her mother's tone switched when she began chatting with the receptionist.

"Hello." Mrs. Platt introduced herself in a cheery tone, and explained the circumstances. "My careless teenage daughter here was swinging from trees, and it appears as though she has a significant injury to the lower part of her right leg."

The woman behind the desk smiled. "We'll get her in immediately to be seen. Luckily it's been a slow day here, so you should be able to get right in to see the doctor."

"Thank you," she responded politely, then looked back at Esme disapprovingly as the woman left the room momentarily. "We'll discuss your punishment later," she whispered, "But I hope you enjoy the color of your walls because you won't be leaving your bedroom for the rest of the evening."

Esme didn't want to respond, but decided to make some peace with her mother in hopes that maybe her mother would go light on her punishment. "Yes ma'am."

The two of them stood without saying anything for a few minutes until the receptionist returned. "Right this way."

Mrs. Platt helped Esme into one of the empty rooms in the back before making her way back out of the room to discuss things further with the woman out front, closing the door behind her.

Esme sat on the edge of the table and dangled her good leg back and forth as she waited, slightly impatiently. Her eyes drifted out the window, sad to see the sun beginning to call it a night. On the other hand, she knew it would be less time to spend alone in her room.

Just outside the room, she heard the doctor's voice speaking with his co-worker and Esme sighed, wanting to get the rest of the day over with as quickly as possible.

The solid, white door clicked open and Esme slowly switched her gaze from the darkening world outside to the man walking into the room. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and all of a sudden, perhaps for the first time ever, she wished she wasn't wearing her dirty, torn clothes. Butterflies began to make their home in the pit of her stomach and she had to consciously tell herself not to let her mouth drop open.

"Esme Platt," the man said with a wide smile, "I'm Dr. Cullen."

"Hi," she said, surprised by the sound of her own voice.

"So, I've gotten the version from your mother," he told her, still smiling as he sat down in front of where she was sitting. "Why don't you tell me what happened. Esme, is it?"

She nodded, "Yes. Uh, um, I fell out of a tree."

Dr. Cullen's smile grew wider, as he immediately admired her spirit. "Is that the whole story?" His hands made their way to the swollen, bruised section of her leg gently. "Let me know if I'm hurting you at all."

Esme's first thought was how cold his hands were. She then realized that she wanted to extend the moment for as long as possible, but she wasn't totally sure why. She felt a wave of wonderful anxiousness cross through her body and run her spine. She winced once, as he finally pushed on the area that hurt the most, and he immediately removed his hands from her leg.

Damn, she thought to herself, wishing she hadn't shown any pain.

Carlisle looked at her, and she thought he was going to continue his discussion of her leg's condition. "So," he began, "The whole story?"

Esme couldn't help but grin, and felt her cheeks grow flush as she knew she was blushing. No one had ever cared much about what she had to say, or the way she spent her time after school; not even her own parents.

"I suppose I'm not like most girls," she said with a shy shrug, "I enjoy being outside, and climbing trees and doing things that I'm not suppose to do, I guess."

Dr. Cullen smiled at her and nodded.

"I suppose you're going to tell me what they all do," Esme said, "Stay indoors. Act like a lady. Leave the mischief for the boys."

He laughed, and Esme, again, felt like she had been struck by Cupid's arrow. His laugh is so beautiful, and carefree and fun.

"Esme," he said quietly, "If there were more young ladies like yourself, maybe those stereotypes and gender barriers would finally be broken."

"What do you mean?" she asked, smiling wide.

"Do what makes you happy, and stay who you are." His eyes burned into hers as he spoke the words. When he finally broke the eye contact, he laughed again, "Just don't go around saying that I'm giving such advice or I might not have a job soon."

Esme could tell he was kidding, but a part of her felt a little pain from the thought of him actually losing his job. She didn't want that to happen, and the strength of that feeling suddenly made her feel almost confused.

Why do I care so much? she wondered. Maybe because he seems like a wonderful man.

"I'm going to continue examining your leg," he told her, continuing to look, what she felt like, was into the depths of her soul. "On a first impression I'd say it's broken. And I know it'll be difficult for you to stay indoors and off it for awhile, but if that ends up being the diagnosis, I'm going to have to ask you to do that."

Esme felt like she couldn't say no to him. She couldn't bring herself to. "Okay." She nodded and soaked in their next fifteen minutes together, which at the end seemed like just fifteen seconds.

They talked, and laughed and he completely took her mind off the pain. He was funny, and caring and handsome. Esme felt completely taken back by her conversation with him. There was one thing he did that captivated her more than anything; he listened. And not just on the surface, just nodding and smiling like everyone else she'd ever met. He commented back and gave his opinions and seemed interested and engaged. Their eyes rarely left each other's, aside from when he was examining her leg.

When Esme's mother returned to their company, and Dr. Cullen gave his analysis, she felt a wave of disappointment. She didn't want to leave the small examination room. She wanted to stay in that small doctor's office forever and talk to him.

"Thank you Dr. Cullen," Mrs. Platt said, shaking his hand. She, too, looked surprised by how cold his skin was, but she didn't say anything. "What do you say Esme?" Her voice turned harder when addressing her daughter.

Esme looked at the man in the eye. "Thank you very much Dr. Cullen."

"You're quite welcome." He smiled, then nodded again to her mother before Esme hobbled out of the of the building on crutches. She kept looking over her shoulder as she went, dreading the moment that the door closed and he disappeared from her sight. Even her mother's degrading lecture didn't get her down. All she could think of was the man who had bandaged her broken leg.

Dr. Cullen, she thought. Another sigh left her mouth and she realized she was smiling, drawing a confused expression from her mother.

"Are you even listened?" Mrs. Platt asked.

"Huh?" Esme asked, realizing she was standing with the door open.

"In the car."

"Oh." Esme sat down and her mother took the crutches from her to place in the back seat. As the car pulled away, she sat wondering in her daydreams if she would ever see Dr. Cullen again.