Disclaimer: Edward, Carlisle, Bella, Alice, and the rest of the gang are creations of the lovely Stephenie Meyer, but I do love them as if they were my own. Obviously, I do not own Twilight, but if I did, I would so finish Midnight Sun!
A/N: Hey guys, this is Clairabella and this is one of my first fanfics, so be kind. If you read please, pretty please, review! It will make my day (and encourage faster updates)! If there are any typos, I apologize in advance (No beta). I plan to keep this story mainly Edward POV, but I will probably do a little in Carlisle's point of view, and maybe Elizabeth's, and perhaps since my story encompasses Edward's life from age seventeen to that fateful day in Forks, maybe Rosalie's, or other characters'. I guess we'll see. I'd also like to say that I originally was going to make the first chapter his birthday, but upon further research found that he was born in June. So… it is now Thanksgiving. Enjoy… (And I swear, not every chapter will have this long of an author's note.) Without further ado, I present to you…ba ba ba bum… A Life Cut Short!
Edward's Point of View
That morning, I awoke with a start. Today was the day, Thanksgiving. The annual ball downtown at the Gold Dome. After a quick internal struggle debating whether or not to get up now, I collapsed back into the bed. No need to begin right now. Might as well soak up the last few minutes of sleep, before being bribed once again to attend the ball.
About ten minutes later, my mother's high voice then drifted upstairs, and so I pried myself out of the bed. I ran to my third story window to stare at downtown Chicago. It was lovely this time of year, the streets dusted with the season's first light snow. Chicago's tail-end of November.
I dressed quickly. A dark green sweater with black slacks, shoes, and a belt. Then I jogged down the stairs of our townhouse to give my mother a quick peck on the cheek. Before I was able to do this though, she shouted "Happy Thanksgiving, Edward!" at the top of her lungs. In the kitchen, Mother had a hot breakfast of pancakes made. By no exaggeration, it smelled like ambrosia. I grabbed a plate and served myself.
Mother ran to me at the table and wrapped me in a warm embrace. This was just one of the many things I adored about Elizabeth Mason. Her smell, warm and sweet, as a rose, smothered me in love.
I laughed. "Thank you so much!" She messed with my already messy reddish-brown hair. I loved in her eyes, same color as my own there and saw a love as strong as any. I took a bite of the spongy pancake and found a kind of nirvana there. My mother was a natural cook.
"These are delectable! Mother, sit down and enjoy them with me," I encouraged.
"Oh, no," she replied. "I must go do the dishes." And with that, she made her way to the kitchen sink.
It was the weekend and a holiday at that, and so our maid was off, so she went to the kitchen. I got up, walked right past her, and began washing them myself, with the crooked smile I knew she loved plastered across my features. She walked up to where I was by the sink and hugged me again from the back, her forehead only reaching to the middle of my neck.
"Goodness, Edward, how tall are you now, anyway?" she asked.
"Six-two," I replied with a heavy smirk. At that precise moment my father strolled in the front door, he himself beaming with roses in hand.
"Edward!" my mother exclaimed, and we both ran to greet Edward senior.
"You weren't supposed to be home until tomorrow," she pretended to chide.
"I know," he replied, smile still on his face. His face read of some kind of mischief. "I wanted to surprise you both. Happy Thanksgiving to all!" He embraced the both of us and we began to walk toward the kitchen, until my mother's slight body jumped right in our path.
My mother decided to continue her little charade. "You really should have telegraphed us, notified us in some way! There simply isn't enough food, and Lord knows I was scared to death! It could have been a stranger coming through the door!" she continued to scold, her smile starting to take root around her forced frown.
My father looked at her lovingly and handed her the flowers.
She took them and strutted past us into the kitchen, still pouting. My father snuck up behind her and picked her up into his arms, and began tickling her. She squirmed away, and he chased her down the hall, finally catching her to lift her and tickle her again.
"Put me down!" she squealed in between cohorts of laughter. "Edward, tell your father to stop!" she giggled. "I must put these flowers in some water!" she tried. He finally put her down and she was smiling up a storm, her face alighted like a teenage girl's. My parents were very much in love, and it was very evident.
We finally all made it to the kitchen, all of us smiling like buffoons, and my mother put the roses in an elegant vase. I glanced at my father from across the table. We looked very similar. In fact, in another 20 years, I figured that I would probably look just like him. Broad shoulders, tall and wiry, reddish-brown hair. The only difference was the eyes. Where his were a hazel, mistakably golden, mine were a bright emerald green, a trait inherited from my mother.
I finished the dishes, and we all sat down as a family to finish eating the pancakes my father smothering his in syrup, and my mother and I preferring a blueberry sauce. We talked about high school, the upcoming Christmas, and then I could read my parents face. We were definitely moving on to a different subject, and they acted slightly nervous, yet in my mother's eyes I could see excitement.
My father looked me straight in the eyes and at that exact moment I knew something unpleasant was about to follow. My guess? Marriage.
"Edward," he began. "You are seventeen."
"So I am," I replied.
"You are a man," he continued. "And with becoming a man comes the need for a woman. You need to start looking for someone that you want to spend the rest of your life with. Tonight, there is a dance, as you know, downtown at the Gold Dome. We were hoping we could introduce you to a couple of really special women." Yep, marriage.
Find a wife? The prospect excited me, but really, I had found no interest in anyone around here. None were my type. Would I find the woman of my dreams tonight? Would she love me back? What would I say? Would she share my ideals and dreams for the future? Would she be a good mother to my children?
And then, a thought hit me like a fast train, except with no telltale whistles before. The war in Europe was going on. In about six months, I could be drafted. And here's the thing, the war was a chance to make something of myself, to see the world. A chance at glory, I suppose. However, I could imagine without much difficulty what my mother would say about my wishes to join the military. But, if I was drafted, I had a much greater chance to be on the front line. What would she say to that?
My thoughts were then interrupted by my father, who produced a quick cough, bringing me out of my reverie. I excused myself for the comfort of the piano, a way to disconnect with life and think clearly.
World War I. People dying. The prospect of dying never claimed entrance to my thoughts. I found later that when you were alive, and usually without your conscious awareness of it, you feel as if you are invincible, not prone to any ill happenings. And, until something happens, you are. At a strong seventeen, blessed in many ways with a whole life in front of me, I possessed this sort of cockiness.
I moved over the black and white keys, my fingers coaxing them to produce sound. The piano was my true haven. I was in some outer region of myself, some higher level of my being, yet immersed in the core of my very self. That's how it felt. I hoped to someday go to college on some piano scholarship, but it was just a pipe dream really. I exhaled as I finished my piece, a kind of serenity resting with me.
A/N Well, there you have it, Chapter One. I do hope I captured the essence, if you will, of Edward. Anyway, if you read please review, whether it be criticism, acclaim, disdain, whatever, I can take it and would like it mucho much (in the southern U.S. we like to mix our languages. ) You all can expect an update later this week, probably Monday or Tuesday. I'm going hiking in the mountains this weekend, so I can write while in the car! Oh and yeah, expect better chapters, the real drama comes when, well you know when! And it will come up in the next few chapters.