Dear readers,
first of all: Thank you very much for clicking on this story. As you could read in the summary this one-shot, propably soon to be a two-shot (if you call that a one-shot with two chapters (?)), will give you a peak inside a moment of Carlisle's and Esme's early relationship. After a month of constantly over-reading this story, I am finally taking the step to publish it out here. As you might have guessed by now english is not my native language and I never felt comfortable enough to write in english - though I do love the way the words are connecting with each other in such a lovely, yet sharp and classy way. Obviously I borrowed the characters from Stephenie Meyer and I think that's all I'm going to say to you for now. (Otherwise I might ruin my chances of you reading further)
The one-shot will be rated T - because I don't think that some of the emotions and thoughts (and later actions) are entirely childproof, but please feel free to correct me, if I rated it wrong. I will upload the second part in a few days and hope to read a few comments until then.
I hope you enjoy reading! :)
AN: I'm so sorry! I totally forgot to give you some information ahead. In this first part Carlisle and Esme are going to start a conversation about Esme's current book: "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte. They will discuss a little bit of the content and for those of you who never read it, here is a really short summary:
Jane Eyre is about a young woman who becomes the governess of a little girl. Her new employer, who (kind of) adopted the little girl, is instantly fascinated by her. Jane falls in love with Mr. Rochester (the employer) and after a few difficulties they even decide to marry. But at their wedding day she discovers he already has a wife (who has gone mad and lives locked up in the house for no one to see) and leaves him. After a total breakdown she meets new people who help her back on her feet again. One of them is St. John Rivers, turning out to be her cousin. He asks for her hand in marriage later on, which Jane refuses, because she doesn't feel anything but sisterly love towards him and St. John's reasons to marry her don't please her understanding of marriage and love. Jane still longs for Mr. Rochester secretivly and after inheriting a lot of money from her uncle's death she decides to look for Rochester again. In her absence Mr. Rochester has suffered a terrible faith. His mad wife burned the house down and jumped to death and Rochester lost a hand and his eyesight. When she finds him, he is miserable and alone. Both declare their love for one another, marry and live a happily ever after.
A proposal
It was a sunny afternoon in late autumn. Carlisle had returned from the hospital earlier than expected and we had decided to light a fire in the old fireplace in the living room as it got dark outside. He went out to get some wood, while I got a few blankets and candles from upstairs. Not that they were necessary, but Carlisle enjoyed candles very much and I loved the cozy atmosphere of woolen blankets on my skin. It reminded me of Christmas and feeling at home. I smiled as I thought of how Edward would tease me now again for my behavior. While Carlisle supported my every wish of making this house a home, Edward didn't see anything important in it. He would always go on about the fact that we would have to move every few years anyway. But today was different. I could fully give in to my need of feeling at home, because Edward had left this morning. He had been a bit grumpy the last few days, because squirrels and rabbits didn't satisfy his appetite and had announced yesterday that he had plans to travel to the Denali family, which Carlisle and him were befriended with. On the way there he hoped to find a few bears in the deeper woods and was convinced that more animals could be found up north. Although I didn't like the thought of him leaving it was somehow relieving that he would be gone for a week. His character was lovely and interesting, but he could annoy me sometimes. He always had to have the last word at everything and I could sense how he loved to rub his experience as a vampire in my face. Most of the time I just let him, because his ego enjoyed the power he had over me, but there were times I wanted to scream at him for telling Carlisle things that were going on in my head. Besides that Edward and I soon had developed a deep friendship. We could communicate on a different level than we could with Carlisle, in Edwards's case I assumed it was because I was born in his time and not a few hundred years before. Concerning me it was slightly different. Of course Edward already knew that. Ever since I met Carlisle I felt strange in his presence, like everything in my body fluttered to the tips of my fingers. I would talk differently with him than with everyone I ever talked to. Every other feeling I had towards him I couldn't quite explain. I longed for him being in the same room with me as I wanted him out of the house. My knees were always trembling around him and my thoughts weren't clear. But over all he filled me with a deep inner ease and I never wanted to let go of that ease ever again, for I had never before felt better.
The noise of the opening backdoor cut off my traveling thoughts and I turned my head to the entering blond-haired man. "I think it is going to snow soon." He said as he carried firewood to the fireplace. I immediately followed him and took of his coat, while he brushed a leaf of his chocolate brown pants. "You think?" My voice was a bit too high and I couldn't hide my joy over that information. I loved snow very much and it would make my festive mood overflowing. He looked at me suddenly and grinned a boyish grin, which I never saw before on his face, though it really suited him and made me grin back in an instant. "Yes, actually I think it will start within the next hour. The sky is very clouded, you can barely catch a glimpse of sunlight." As soon as the grin appeared on his face it was gone again and replaced by a soft smile, that I knew of every look he gave me. He looked around the room. "You lit candles." He noted delighted. "Thank you very much, Esme. They make everything so homely and a bit… holy." I smiled a bit at his choice of words, they were so very him. "It's fine. I like the atmosphere too." I responded and left the room to hang his coat in the cabinet in the hall. Then I made my way upstairs to my room to gather my current book. As I left again to join Carlisle in the living room I couldn't help but take a look at my reflection in the mirror. It had grown to be a habit of mine when Carlisle was around. I went through my big caramel curls with my fingers a bit and decided to put on a slightly reddish lipstick for a change. Usually I didn't use make up, because it kept reminding me of my human past, where my husband used to bring my face in contact with his fists every time he wasn't pleased with me. I owned a light skin-colored cream that time, which I used practically daily to cover up my blue, red and lilac bruises. He forbid lipstick, Mascara and every other product to paint my face, so I never had the chance to try as a human woman, although I wanted to someday. My sister used to own a palette of powdery pigments to put on her eyes that her mother-in-law gave her for her first wedding anniversary. The pigments were stored in a little green casket which was embroidered with golden and silver lines, that clicked when was opened. Inside it had colors from light peach to dark green. I used to include the colors into my rare drawn paintings, because they fascinated me highly, but I could never reach the effect they made when worn on my sisters eyes.
A few days ago while drawing I had thought about this very casket and Edward must have caught me in the act, because Carlisle later that day knocked at my door with a small box in his hands. Inside – to my surprise – I found a small collection of three different lipsticks, a black tube called 'Mascara' which turned out to help the eyelashes appear fuller and darker, a few red and peachy powders for the cheeks and last but not least a gorgeous dark-blue casket with an engraved "E", which contained pigments similar to those my sister owned years before. I was thrilled with joy, but didn't touch the new things until just now. Partly because I somehow felt uncomfortable and had no idea how to use all the products, partly because the memories that returned to me with the thoughtful gift were just too painful. Today I felt different. I didn't know whether it was to show Carlisle my appreciation of his present or to look a bit better for him, but I longed to try something new and the slightly reddish lipstick-color fitted perfectly to my festive and light mood. Without another glance I grabbed my book again and flew down the stairs in a very non-human pace. Carlisle had made himself comfortable in the big armchair next to the now crackling fire and held the newspaper in his snow-white palms. He had crossed one leg over the other while he turned the pages noiselessly. I sat down on the sofa that stood in the opposite direction and opened my book. We spent about half an hour with quiet reading, when he leaned forward in his chair to put the newspaper on a table standing nearby. During his movement the small golden cross slipped out of his beige sweater and hung from his neck. Instinctively I cleared my throat, but he didn't seem to notice the cross out of place. Instead he looked at me questioningly and started to talk after I didn't make a noise. "What are you currently reading?" Irritated by his hoarse tone I didn't get what he was talking about until he grinned a bit and pointed to the book in my lap. It was turned to the back and you couldn't see the cover. "Ehm.. 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Bronte." I responded. "Ah! Jane Eyre. A very interesting story." His eyes glowed and he seemed talkative. "Yes, you read it?" I was overly interested in his opinion on one of my all-time favorite books. "Quite a few times, actually. The way of using words and the story told were always a little fascinating to me – I still cannot say whether I discovered the deeper meaning in this book, but I must confess I did like to read about Jane's development. Somehow I think I can relate to her character." With that he touched the golden cross that still hung from his neck and closed his fingers around it absentminded. I knew what he was referring to in an instant. A little while ago he had opened up to me about his life as a human. While he was a very spiritual man and carried his faith in God with him for everyone to see, he shut his own past away somewhere for just himself. Grown up half-orphaned and being tortured by the one parent left I could easily see parallels between him and Jane, he must have felt a wave of torture and relieve both at the same time when he first finished the book. Of course the deep faith Jane had in God and her plain lifestyle and material needs had to be appealing to Carlisle. Silently I wondered whether a Jane Eyre was a perfect fit for him, but I shook that thought off to not get too sad.
Sensing that I had drifted off to my own thoughts again Carlisle made another move to start a conversation. Usually he would take my silence negatively and leave me alone, but today it was different. Although I wasn't scared of him his unnatural behavior confused me quite a lot and I didn't know how to react. He asked me about the chapter I was reading. Being confused I just started to tell him about the chapter plot. "St John is taking Jane for a walk and they talk for a while until he… proposes to her." Carlisle's brows went up a little, but returned very soon to the place they were before. It felt weird to talk about a man proposing to a woman in front of him, although it was one of the most natural things to happen to two people of a different gender sooner or later. Without giving the feeling time to spread itself through my body I hastily continued, hoping Carlisle hadn't noticed. "They have a fight because of the reason he proposed to her and part to each have a few moments alone. St John wanted to marry her because he needed a companion in India and in front of God, because he needed an equal to please Him." My voice went a bit sharp at my last sentence. I never really understood how a man as devoted to his religion and the people around him could see marriage in such a pragmatic kind of way. "That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" Carlisle said. He looked serious as I stared at him a bit surprised. "No actually not. St John does not seem as if he understood the true meaning of marriage." "What else is the true meaning of marriage than the union of a man and a woman in front of God – and besides what better value could this union have than behaving after His will and devoting both their lives to those who need them?" Infuriated by his bold and mindless statement I sat up straight. I couldn't believe he was saying something like this. "Would you argue that Jane's point of view is wrong then?" I nearly fired back. "Not entirely of course. But I do think that she still depends way too much on her former almost-husband Rochester. She claims her faith to God is most important to her, but jumps every time Rochester's name is mentioned by her own mind. She is betraying herself a bit, because she in the end listens to her own needs and crawls back to him." His voice was so clear, yet so emotionless I was silent and shocked for a few seconds. He really saw marriage the same way St John did. "She doesn't crawl back to him." I stated. "She looks out for him, to see if he's well. When she meets him again – him blind and with only one of his hands left, by the way, she agrees to marry him because she is overwhelmed with love for this man!" He looked annoyed now. "Really? Don't you think she finally marries him, because they are now equal? Because his tragic faith got him to be the man she always wanted? Because she can be his savior and not the other way around? She mentions it herself. She feels better about the man he has become and therefore marries Rochester." "That's not true!" I was really enraged. Never before had I spoken to Carlisle in that way, never before had he raised his voice. It was terrible and slightly wonderful to fight with him and I wouldn't dare to let him win. "She talks a hundred times more of the deep love she feels for him, the affection and the appreciation to his character. It is nothing like that with St John. He is her cousin for God's sake! Of course she cares for him a lot, but they don't share a longing for each other! Neither him nor her." His expression grew a bit darker than before and he ran his right hand through his blond locks. "So marriage is about physical love then?" Now I stood up and almost stomped my foot to the ground. He twisted the words in my mouth just as he wanted them to be. Although I was highly ashamed of the current topic, I wouldn't back down. So I said what I thought right at this moment. "Not entirely. But in my opinion physical love and equal love between two people is the only reason for marriage. I dare say, that if Jane and St John were bound together by the same sort of connection that binds Jane and Mr. Rochester, they would have been way more productive as a couple for the people they would have been helping on their way and even in the eyes of God."
He looked up to me and I could see his features soften. Why, I didn't know. Our previous conversation showed we had a huge disagreement in a very elementary matter. I was suddenly sad and sank back on the sofa, while he still looked at me with dark eyes. He hadn't hunted for at least a week and he probably wouldn't while I was with him. I couldn't keep my eyes on him anymore and instead fixated the golden cross still hanging from his neck. It was small and simple, though suited him perfectly. His gaze flickered lightly over my face and seemed to get to a hold on my lipstick-red lips. A wave of joy fluttered through me, but was soon again replaced by the sadness I felt before. How very much I longed for this man and how very clear he made just moments ago, that longing for someone physically was not in his interest nearly ripped me apart. I dreamed daydreams about him touching my hands or cupping my cheek with his palm or sharing a soft kiss with me. Realizing that some of them could never happen was horrible. I loved him, I was sure of it and I thought he loved me too. He loved everything and everyone and I couldn't imagine a person with a bigger heart. But even if we would marry I could never be loved by him entirely different - let alone more than any of his patients or Edward. It just seemed impossible to me to be in a relationship where we shared a deep friendship, but no love. I wanted so much more.
So much for part one. I really hope you liked it! :)