Currently updating and revising this story before I continue. I am also combining chapters to make it less wordy and scattered. I hope you enjoy the new version of this!
Darling if You Love Me
Chapter One: A for Abomination
or
Of Putting a Vampire's Problems in Perspective,
Debates, Promises and Smiles
The rumors were that the filth and disease could frighten a man to death. Carlisle Cullen didn't believe it when he was told to by shaken nurses and doctors but his mouth fell open in surprise when he entered the crowded hospital. Dozens of men, women and children were lined up on cots, shaking from an imagined chill and struggling to breathe. He had never seen anything like this in all his years of living and it was almost too much for him.
It was 1945, two days after the end of World War II. Dr. Cullen, one of the most respected doctors of his time, regardless of his youth, was sent into Germany to care for the few survivors of one of the many death camps they had been freed from. Most were incurable. The typhus that had raged through this very room had been snuffed out over the course of a day, with as many doctors and nurses as possible helping to disinfect and treat the prisoners. Even after the hours of hard work his colleagues had been through, it was not enough to save everyone. It was his turn to inform the family of the death.
He wondered how he could face the people who had been through more pain and suffering than he could understand and tell them that their loved one was gone. It put his problems in perspective but he had no time to dwell on such things, he was needed. A quivering nurse who looked almost frightened of the lucky prisoners scrambled over to him in a frenzied state. She looked as though she'd seen a ghost.
"Oh goodness, Dr. Cullen, there's another case! We've quarantined her in the back room but it will spread like wildfire if it gets out! I can barely stand I'm so tired, all of us are. She needs treatment... would you?" She asked and he intended to give her a reassuring smile. What crossed over his lips was a sad frown and she nodded, bustling away to who-knows-where
The pale man immediately set off for the room the nurse mentioned, not bothering to put on gloves or a face-mask. He opened the door marked as the quarantine zone. Once inside, he was confronted with a devastating sight.
A woman that couldn't have been older than thirty sat slightly upright on a cot, blankets drawn up to her hips. A faint smile was on her face as she cradled a bundle to her chest. Her shaved head had barely begun to grow dark hair again and she looked up at the stranger with sunken eyes. Her face was flushed with fever and large patches of her bone-thin body were coated in a red, raw rash. Exhausted relief settled into her eyes as she saw him, her dark eyes glassy from sickness.
"Who are you?" She asked in a language that Carlisle didn't fully understand. He was conversational in German, but this woman's accent was awful, as if she'd learned the dialect on her own.
"I can't understand you, but I am a doctor, and I am here to help." He replied and the woman shook her head. Carlisle wondered what she was thinking as she looked down to the bundle again. In that moment, he found himself wishing for Edward's gift of telepathy.
"I am beyond help, doctor." That he did understand. She looked again to the bundle cradled against her chest and he took a step closer, wondering what she was holding.
He was surprised when a small, pale face peeked out of the rags, clear of any fever but as angular and starved as its mother.
"We can treat you, your life can be spared." Carlisle pressed and still the woman shook her head.
"I have been waiting for this moment for five years, doctor. I have clinged to life with everything I had left to give for her sake, and now, it is my time." Her voice was slurred slightly, making it difficult for him to hear, but her meaning was there.
"You speak of death as if it has a bright side." Carlisle said quickly, knowing that his time to change her mind was numbered. It was not often that he engaged in philosophical debates with dying women, but her nonchalant tone sparked something that prompted him to reply how he did.
"There is, doctor, it's just harder to see." Her statement almost angered the usually collected Carlisle, although he wasn't sure of the reason.
She has a child to care for! He thought to himself as he considered taking her from her mother. She was contagious and if the infant was not infected already, she soon would be.
"But what of your child, what will become of her?" He asked, knowing that it was pointless to do so. But still, he couldn't rid himself of the curiosity. He wanted to know what she had planned.
She grew silent and looked down to her lap. He had wanted nothing more than for her to say she would be well looked after. He was right, but he did not want to be. A frown spread on his face as she remained mute, not looking at him or her baby.
When she did look back up to him, she appeared to have been struck by a brilliant idea.
"You take her. Keep her safe." He said nothing as she nodded like it was the best idea she'd ever had. "Yes, angel, doctor, whatever you are! Protect her for me, let me die in peace, I beg of you!" Her voice rose in pitch as she struggled to sit up, jarring her child in a mad rush to stand.
Carlisle, fearing for the baby girl and took the remaining few steps left to reach the woman. He took the child from her, who had begun to cry at hearing the octave that her mother had reached.
The woman sunk back on the bed, a smile on her face as she closed her eyes, her breathing slow and heavy as she slipped into a coma, her thin chest barley moving. Carlisle looked down at the screaming baby in his arms and then to the mother, knowing that she was beyond help now.
Her child quieted down and watched her mother intently from the doctor's arms as her breathing slowed all the more, with Carlisle's freezing hands chilling her to the bone. He covered her eyes as the slight rise and fall of her mother's chest stopped and she grew silent. As if on command the baby girl's dark eyes filled with tears as she loudly mourned the unseen death. Carlisle stood after a moment of staring at the corpse, his body still and as unmoving as the woman's.
He was jerked from the heavy silence by the sound of footsteps, scared-stiff nurses in gas masks burst through the door not a second later to inspect the patient. Their glove-clad hands flew to their covered mouths in shock at the body, and at Dr. Cullen, who sat in a chair, cradling a baby without any protective gear on.
He stood, telling the nurses that the woman was dead when he entered, reassuring them that the disease cannot spread from a corpse as he exited to room, claiming to take the child to the tiny maternity ward where the few babies who had lived were put.
His footsteps rang out in the hallways as he approached the door where the children were kept, knowing deep down that he would never see the baby girl again if he gave her to the nurses on the other side of the wall. He stopped when his hand brushed the door knob and looked down at the baby, who had begun to shiver the slightest bit from his natural chill.
Her wailing had ceased when the nurses entered the quarantined zone and had remained quiet in his trek to the maternity ward, her eyes fixed on him like he was the most interesting thing in the world.
He felt a shift in his heart as he looked at her. Cheeks hollow from malnutrition and her sunken eyes still staring at him as though he were a curio in an antique store. He exhaled loudly and turned away from the ward, hastily exiting the gray hospital. Carlisle never looked back.
He reached the house where he and the family that he had accumulated were staying rather quickly. His hands shook as he opened the door, stepping into the foyer.
Entering the living room, an overwhelming sense of panic erupted in his chest when Esme and Rosalie looked up at him.
Rosalie.
What have I done? He asked himself. It had been twelve years since Rosalie was turned, and in those that time, she had never tasted human blood. He knew she craved it, and he had brought it to her on a silver platter.
"Carlisle, what's wrong?" His wife asked, rising from her seat on the couch to move closer to him. Rosalie locked eyes with him. Her gaze shifted to the bundle in his arms and she gasped.
"Why is that here?" She demanded. Esme, shocked by her tone, followed her adopted daughters line of sight until they rested on the baby's form. She sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back.
"What happened?" Esme asked again, jarring her husband from his own doubts. His throat was suddenly dry as he opened his mouth, wondering if it was possible to flee his home and return to the maternity ward as fast as he could without hurting the baby.
"Her mother died. I-it was typhus, she was delirious. She gave her to me." He said quietly as Esme's eyes widened. "I tried taking her to the maternity ward. In fact I was almost there. But something stopped me, something told me to take her home to you, to Rosalie." It was true, the thought of Rosalie taking this child as her own did cross his mind. The vampire was bitter about her inability to have her own.
"Let me see her." Rosalie said after a moment of dull silence. Carlisle crossed the room in a stride, hesitating to place the child in his daughter's arms. "I won't hurt her, Carlisle, I promise." The blonde-haired woman said quietly as he finally lowered her into the woman's grasp.
She pulled away the dark fabric that hid the girl from the world, her mouth falling open at the sight of her. Yet another stab of guilt hit Carlisle in the stomach as he realized the dream of her raising this child was futile. Rosalie was as vain as they came, and this baby looked like a dirty skeleton, she would never want her.
You're a fool. He said to himself as Rosalie tried to form words.
"Don't let your narcissism blind you, Rosalie. She is not beautiful, but she is a baby." Carlisle told her. His daughter raised a hand, shushing him. Her eyes never left the child as she spoke to her father in a voice he had never heard her use before. It sounded confident, like she'd never been surer of something in her life and afterlife.
"No Carlisle, you're wrong. She's absolutely perfect."
Emmett opened the oak door to his family's dull, practical house with a sigh. His brother, Edward closed behind him as they trod into the dimly-lit foyer.
It had been quite the day at the lumber mill, as the work was hard and the hours were long. The pay, however, was wonderful, as the amount of able men to do the labor was lacking. Temporary homes had to be built for the survivors of the Holocaust, but there were so few to help.
He was surprised when Esme was there to greet him, as Rosalie was usually the one to do so. His adopted mother often sat in the parlor, busying herself with her delicate embroidery.
This was not the case that dreary day, however. A smile was on her lips so strangely bright it was suspicious. She looked happy, ecstatic almost, which was strange. Since the atrocities were revealed, the beautiful woman had lapsed into an almost unshakable sadness.
"Welcome home, Emmet," she began, her smile brightening as he furrowed his brow, He wondered what was going on. "Edward. Did you have a good day at work?" She asked to his adopted brother, who had observed how odd she seemed to be.
"We had a fine day." He replied, his tone cautious.
"Want to tell me why you're acting as if something bad has happened?" Emmett, ever blunt, did not want to play such a bizarre game any longer. The smile fell from his mother's face. It was quickly replaced by a genuine smile, seconds later as the sound of a gurgling infant was heard.
"Actually, nothing bad has happened. on the contrary, something rather amazing too place this afternoon." This made Emmett curious. He didn't think Carlisle would snap and change a baby just to satisfy his ailing wife's needs, but she so desperately wanted a baby of her own.
He could tolerate Rosalie's pigheadedness. He could tolerate her shallow center and help her become more compassionate, but he had no idea that she could drive Carlisle that far.
Rage filled him and he pushed past Esme as gently as he could, rounding the corner to the living room. His mouth open is shock.
Sitting in his favorite chair was his wife, holding a living, breathing, human baby wrapped in a white blanket.
Lifting her golden head, she smiled at him before looking down at the child again who was laughing as her blonde hair tickled her cheeks.
"Could someone tell me what's going on?" Emmett asked in a voice unlike his own and Rosalie's laugh filled the room. The door to the kitchen swung open and Carlisle entered, holding a bottle of milk at eye-level.
"This should be warm enough, Rose. I can't imagine it would need to be heated any more." Carlisle told her as he handed her the bottle. She lifted it and brought it to the child's mouth, who began to drink like she never had food before.
Carlisle turned and looked to Emmett who was still in shock. Unlike his wife, the smell of her blood fogged his senses. How she exercised such control, he did not know. Taking a breath, he followed Carlisle from the sitting room into the parlor across the hall. Edward was already sitting opposite on Esme. His mouth set in a thin line.
Their father told them what happened during their absence with surprising haste. He spared them no details, but the dark look on Edward's face seemed only to worsen the more he said.
"Take her back, Carlisle." Edward said in a dangerous voice. The doctor exhaled.
"I can't do that. I made a promise-" Edward cut him off, making the doctor a bit angry.
"To a dying woman with typhus, Carlisle!" Edward exclaimed and Dr. Cullen sighed.
"A promise is not trivial. You know that better than anybody in this room." He stated and his first son's mouth snapped shut.
"Is she happy?" Emmet asked. He found he didn't care about the ethics, only that the child was not frightened. Esme nodded. "Are both of them happy?" At this, Carlisle nodded, making Emmett nod to himself. "Then we keep her." His decision was final and Edward looked as though he couldn't believe it. The technically younger man stood up, masked fury in his eyes as he turned and left the house. The door slammed behind him.
Emmett stood as his 'parents' did, looking to Esme who seemed disappointed.
"He'll come around." She reassured him, who nodded and walked back into the living room.
Rosalie hadn't moved from her place on the chair, although it was obvious that she'd heard the argument.
There was a part of her that thirsted for the baby that she held in her arm's blood, but the feeling of peace and happiness that came over her when she had carefully given her a bath and found a new blanket for her heavily outweighed her hunger. It was as if she'd finally gotten what she'd wanted for as long as she could remember. It was wonderful.
Emmett didn't know just what to think of the little girl. He felt a strange sort of attachment to her right away, and the elation that it brought to his wife. He supposed loved her so quickly because she did. He approached, kneeling down beside Rosalie and getting a closer look.
The infant girl was terribly thin. Rosalie had to try hard to keep from accidentally harming her, she was so light. A dull fuzz of dark hair had begun to grow on her head, and her eyes stared at everything like I was the most fascinating thing in the world. She couldn't have been any younger than six months, and the neglect she had been through was clear.
Malnutrition was obvious, and given her mother's previous whereabouts, it was hardly her fault. Carlisle had been sent to the small grocery store on the corner, returning with a bottle of milk as they had no food in the house. A saucepan was used to heat it and the baby drank it perhaps too quickly. She was on her third bottle when Emmett came home and the glass container with a little stopper now sat on the small table beside Rosalie.
"We shouldn't give her anymore." Carlisle told them when he re-entered the room, a faint smile in his eyes when he saw the newest members of his family kneeling over the child. They looked like new parents who had just come home from the hospital. It would've been much nicer if the hunger was not present in Emmett eyes. "It will make her sick." He explained to Rosalie who nodded.
"We should try to get her to sleep. Emmett, could you hold her, I'm getting stiff." Rosalie asked her husband, turning her head to the side, a pleading look on her face. Emmett gave her a curt nod and she gently thrust the baby into his arms and stood up. He took her place, except he sat in the natural way, pulling the lever so the recliner tipped back.
He was rewarded with the sound of laughter, high and pure, from the baby's mouth. He smiled in spite of himself. If he had been breathing, it would have hitched when she stopped laughing, lookinghim right in the eye. Her little face lit up in a smile of pure joy as she reached a thin, pale hand from beneath her blanket and fastened it onto one of the gold buttons on his white work shirt, still dotted here and there with sawdust.
Emmett exhaled when her eyes shut and her breathing evened out. The beating of her little heart was loud in his ears and it followed a steady rhythm as she fell into unconsciousness. He felt a little piece of him melt when her hand stayed right where it was.
He turned to his wife, who was sitting on the settee close by, her hands folded in her lap as she watched the two interact.
"What's her name, Rose?" He asked her and she shrugged.
"I have no idea, we were waiting for you, we want you to pick." She told him and a feeling of pride swelled in the buff man's chest as he looked down to the baby girl again.
"Caroline maybe… no, she's special, she needs a special name…" He trailed off as his thoughts drifted to the far-off land of human memories that grew vaguer with each passing day.
A name stuck out to him, a name of special importance, but person who bore that name had faded from his mind. As he came back to the present time, he tried to remember who she was, but he couldn't recall.
"Devorah." He announced after a long pause and Rosalie looked up from the patterns in the rug. "Her name is Devorah Rose Cullen." He said, looking at his wife who nodded again.
"Then it's settled." Esme said, walking over to the sleeping child with Carlisle following her.
"Welcome Devorah, to our family." The doctor told her.
That night, Edward came home after hours of trying to hunt down something suitable. There were no forests nearby, and he had almost made it to Berlin before he found a bear to drain. He felt better when he smelled the baby girl's blood, more in control, but he still wanted Carlisle to take her back. Their lifestyle would frighten her, he knew it, and he couldn't get attached only to have her run screaming.
All thoughts of convincing his adopted father to take her to the maternity ward faded when he went into the living room. Nobody saw him at first. Everyone seemed focused on the little girl held in Esme's lap while Emmett explained things to her.
"That's your grandma Esme, Dev." He told her, making the baby giggle and try to reach for the woman's beautiful caramel curls. She looked to Carlisle who winked at her, making her scream with excitement.
"And that's grandpa Carlisle." Rosalie said, making her clap her little hands together. Esme gave her back to Rosalie, who held the baby girl tightly as if she would vanish if she let her go again.
"And that's your mother, little Devorah." Emmett said, looking to his wife like she was his everything.
"And this… this is your father." Rosalie leaned over and gave him a peck on the lips, making the infant squeal.
"You'll meet your uncle Edward later, when he calms down. You'll like him a lot, Dev, he's a good guy." Emmett said reassuringly as Rosalie looked up, her eyes widening.
"Or she could meet him now." She said in a surprised voice. She thought he would be gone a lot longer than he had been but now it was time to for her newly-found adopted daughter to meet the last member of the family.
"Edward, come meet your niece." Carlisle said in a gentle tone, nobody but Edward hearing the commanding undertones in his voice.
He shuffled forward, stiffening as Emmett placed the baby girl in his arms. It felt unnatural to him to have something so small and fragile just given to him, without any hesitation. He had only been blood-sober for fourteen years, putting him on par with his 'siblings'.
Edward looked down to the little girl and was a bit taken aback to see that she was watching him intently. She appeared to be studying him, judging him instead of the other way around.
"What's her name?" He asked, turning to Rosalie.
"Devorah Rose Cullen." She replied and he nodded, as if approving it.
I'm glad you like it, uncle Edward. A voice in his brain spoke clearly, as if it was said out loud. His eyes scanned the room, looking for who said that, but nobody else took notice of this. He looked down to Dev who was still focused on him.
"What did you say?" He asked and a smile broke out on her face.
Not a thing. Was the response and he was sure it was from her.
A disbelieving smile crossed his face as he gave her back to Rosalie, who hugged her to her chest like she was a new doll. Amidst the thoughts of love from the other four members of his family, one stuck out to Edward the most.
I love you, mother.