Still the One

by Blueroan

100 years of wedded bliss and still going strong. Carlisle and Esme are about to embark on a second honeymoon, but first they have something to say to each other. Cannon. Carlisle and Esme

Note:I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!

Note#2: I do not own or have rights to the songs 'You're Still the One' or 'Forever and For Always' !

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Dedication:

To my beloved Michael; Husband, lover, best friend, and true Lifemate of twenty one wonderful years . . . Happy anniversary honey and yes, You're Still the One!

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Still the One

The first time I saw you, I saw love and the first time you touched me, I felt love. And after all this time you're still the one I love.

Shania Twain

Esme:

I looked at the array of clothing spread across my bed and sighed. I hated packing for trips which was precisely why I had waited until the last possible minute to do it. Ordinarily, Alice would have packed for me, but she and the rest of the kids left last night for an extended hunting trip. Before leaving however, they through a small . . . ok, a huge party for Carlisle and I. My stomach suddenly turned a complete flip as I thought about that party and my upcoming travels. Today marked exactly one full century of wedded bliss between Carlisle and I.

My beloved though a second honeymoon was in order, and so he surprised me last night with airline tickets, we were going to my island for two weeks. Even now the sting of unsheadable tears forced me to close my eyes and take several cleansing breaths. I couldn't be more contented with my life; in a word, I was blessed.

If I was going to be packed in time for my mate and I to make our flight, I needed to get a move on. To distract myself from overly emotional thoughts, I turned on the stereo. Hip hop blasted from the Hi-definition speakers and I quickly changed stations. Eventually I found one playing a mixture of Pop, Oldies, and Country. I settled on this and went back to my work.

Two hours later I had my packing finished and I was zipping up my suitcase. I was rather pleased with myself; Alice would have insisted on two large steamer trunks full of clothes and 'essentials'. I managed to get everything of importance into one checked bag, and it was under the weight limit to boot.

I looked over at the clock on the bedside table as I began putting a few things in my carry-on bag; the clock read 1pm. Carlisle wouldn't be home until five thirty; the thought of him pulling up in his Mercedes suddenly made me as giddy as a school girl. I couldn't wait to see his smiling face, to hear him whisper 'hello my love' in that butter melting voice of his, and to have him wrap his powerful arms around me in the most tender of embraces.

Though I knew I couldn't blush, I felt the ghostly sting of it on my face and a contented purr rumbled in my throat. I had plenty of time, so I sat down on the side of the bed. As I did, my eyes cast on one of the few photographs of Carlisle and I together. Edward took it shortly after we were married and I liked the composition very much. For most of the past century, it had resided in a silver frame on the nightstand beside our bed. I picked it up and gazed intently into the black and white image.

How long I sat there, I couldn't say, but my focus was drawn back to reality by the melodic strains coming from the stereo:

You're still the one I run to

The one that I belong to

You're still the one I want for life.

You're still the one.

You're still the one that I love

The only one I dream of

You're still the one I kiss good-night.

The song continued on and I was mesmerized by how concisely and beautifully the young woman expressed everything that I felt about Carlisle. By the time the song ended and the announcer came back on the air to prattle about some nonsense or other, I was sobbing shamelessly.

When I managed to pull myself together, I hopped on the computer and scoured the web. Long ago my kids thought me how to look for music on Playlist and You Tube. Without much effort, I found the music video of the touching ballad I'd just heard; You're Still the One, by Shania Twain. I cried again as I watched it. It stirred all the emotions that a hundred years worth of struggles, triumphs, heartache, and joy that life with 'The One' could possibly entail. I wouldn't trade a single moment of my eternity thus far with Carlisle for anything in the universe.

When I stopped sniffling, I opened my email account and clicked on compose. I knew he would be home soon and that I could share this with my mate then, but I couldn't wait that long. I was literally bursting at the seams with emotion and I had to share it; I had to share this song with Carlisle . . . the one that I belong to.

After writing a brief note, I cut and pasted the web link to the You Tube video into the window. I paused for a moment to push aside the swelling tide of emotion that threatened to overpower me again and hit the send button. Because I knew he would likely be busy in the ER, I also sent him a brief text message concerning the email; I wanted to be sure that he received it.

I put my computer to sleep and went back to packing, but as I walked back towards the bed I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes were pitch black and the sight made me suddenly aware of the painful burning in my throat. A quick hunt was definitely in order, and with that in mind I headed out into the forest that surrounded our home.

Carlisle:

In your arms I can still feel the way you want me when you hold me. I can still hear the words you whispered when you told me; I can stay right here forever in your arms.

Shania Twain

The clock above the nurse's station read one thirty in the afternoon. I sighed as I completed the paperwork on the forty year-old woman with a migraine that I was about to discharge. Treat and release was the best possible outcome for a human coming into the ER. I smiled as I signed off on her chart and handed it to nurse Fernandez.

"I hear your going on vacation," she commented politely. "Enjoy your trip Dr. Cullen."

"Thank you Maria," I replied with a smile.

I looked at the clock again, only twelve minutes had elapsed. This was turning out to be the longest shift of my inhuman career. I couldn't wait to get home and collect Esme; she was at home packing for our two week vacation/second honeymoon on her island. The look on her face when I kissed her and presented the airline tickets to her last night would be a source of pleasure for me until time ended.

"Go over the discharge instructions with Mrs. Williams," I went on as Maria paid close attention. "Make sure to impress upon her the importance of following up with her primary care doctor. This is the third attack like this that she's had in six weeks; a referral to a neurologist is definitely in order."

"Yes Doctor," she responded demurely as she took the chart from me and disappeared towards the bay where Mrs. Williams waited.

I was about to plunge headlong into the next case when my cell phone began to vibrate in my pocket. I fished the device out and glanced at the small backlit screen; I had a new text message from Esme. A renewed smile curled my lips as I retrieved the message;

Hi love,

Check your email ASAP, and don't call me until you read it . . . no need to get upset, everything is fine, I just have a little surprise for you.

See you when you get home,

Esme

I scanned the ER; Dr. Sanders was on duty with me, and things were slow at the moment. No one would notice if I slipped into my office briefly, after all wasn't I entitled to my 'human moments' just like everyone else. I indicated to the charge nurse that I was stepping out momentarily.

As I entered the secluded confines of my office, I couldn't help but wonder what Esme's surprise was about. She seldom called me or texted me at work unless there was some emergency at home; not that I would mind hearing her enchanting voice more often during my long days. I suppose that's why she included the remark about everything being fine.

I booted up my computer and then logged into my email account. Esme's message was at the top of the list of new messages; 'Thinking of you' was typed on the subject line. A sudden surge of desire made every cell in my body tingle; my wonderful wife was thinking about me in the middle of the day on a Thursday . . . AND she took the time to send me an email about it. A low sultry growl rumbled deep in my throat. Esme was such a temptress without even realizing it.

I couldn't help chuckling as my imagination conjured up the image of her delicate fingers ghosting over the keyboard as she composed her message. Curiosity got the better of me and I couldn't wait to read her note any longer; I clicked on it and waited for the file to open.

Hi love,

I've spent the morning packing for our trip; I still can't believe we're really going on this trip. Thank you . . . it's the best surprise ever!

You know how, sometimes, I have a hard time expressing verbally how I feel. You're so much better at expressing yourself that than I am; you make it look impossibly easy.

Well, anyhow, I had the radio on while I was working and this song came on that says everything I feel in the most poetic way imaginable. So listen to the song (I included a link to in on You Tube) and pretend it's me singing it to you . . . because these are the words that are written on my heart.

Love you forever,

Esme

I was deeply touched to know that she was looking forward to or vacation and that I had been a fixture in her mind all morning. I was acutely aware of my mate's feelings for me in spite of her awkwardness with regards to expressing them. Of course we professed our affection for one another frequently with those three little words; I love you. One could say that we were life mates and, in the vampire world, that was expression enough, but I knew exactly what Esme meant in her email. What she failed to realize was that, while she might find it difficult to write Shakespearian style sonnets for me the way I wrote them for her, her love for me was written in every little thing that she did for me and it was personified by her very presence in my life.

I turned my attention back to the email; I was more than a little curious about this song my wife was so impressed with, so I clicked on the link. When the web page opened, You're Still the One was the title of the music video. I pressed play to watch it. By the time the music fade and the computer screen went black, an ache of longing burned like a bond fire deep in my chest. I wanted nothing better at that moment that to drop everything and rush home and take Esme in my arms, kiss her tenderly, and show her just how much I loved her.

When I had control of my emotions and could breath properly again, I decided that her beautiful declaration of love couldn't go unanswered. The young artist who preformed Esme's love song, Miss Shania Twain, also happened to be the author of a number of other romantic ballads. One in particular was a huge favorite of mine. I had it on my iPod and on a CD in my Mercedes. Every time I listed to that track I thought of my amazing mate . . . it reminded me of just how lucky I was to have her in my life. I had never shared this ballad with my beloved before, but today I would.

I minimized my email account and typed in the title of the song I wanted into the You Tube search window. Once I had the wed link, I composed my reply to my wife and pasted the link at the end of the message. The last thing I did before leaving my office was to text message my mate.

Esme:

I became aware of the world around me once more as my blood lust faded and the carcass of the deer I drained fell to the ground. I felt better now, my thirst was slackened and my emotions were more settled. After locating a suitable burial spot, I disposed of the deer's remains. As I started back towards the house, I felt my phone vibrate in the pocket of my jeans.

When I pulled the phone from my pocket, the screen indicated that I had a new text message from Carlisle. A mixture of panic and excitement surged through me. Was he angry that I'd disturbed him at work with my frivolity? It really was silly of me to text and email him like that; he was a physician after all with lives to save and he didn't need my foolishness distracting him.

I steeled my nerves and with trepidation, I opened the text message;

Beloved,

Got your email . . . words cannot express how deeply touched I was by it. To that end, I've sent you a little something as well. Check your email and I'll see you this afternoon.

Carlisle

My fear evaporated like a morning fog to be replaced by the heady rush of euphoria. He wasn't angry and he sent me something in reply. I raced home as fast as my immortal legs could carry me. Once inside the house, I bounded up the stairs and settled myself in front of my computer. My fingers were a blur as they flew across the key board excruciating the strokes that would log me into my email account. When my in box popped up, Carlisle's message was at the top of the list; Re: Thinking of you, was in the subject line. I clicked on it and found myself feeling impatient because it took all of three seconds for the message to open.

My Beloved,

Never before in the history of God's good earth, had there ever been a man more utterly blessed and highly favored that me. You, my beloved, are the manifestation of that unbelievable blessing and the well spring of His undeserved favor. I cannot imagine what my existence would be like without the light of your presence to illuminate it. The fact that you chose to be my mate, for all eternity and beyond, is an unending testimony to your love for me and I am forever humbled by it.

I also have a special song that makes me think of you . . . it reminds me of just how blessed I am to have you for my mate. I'm sorry that I never shared it with you before, but today that oversight will be rectified.

I'll see you this afternoon, my love.

Yours Forever,

Carlisle

Below his signature was a web link; I paused a moment as I considered clicking it. I couldn't fathom what sort of song might remind Carlisle of me. Although he did listen to contemporary music from time to time, his musical taste tended to run towards all things classical. Perhaps the piece was a grand symphony by Mozart or an operatic work. Suddenly I felt embarrassed that I'd sent him a sappy love song to express my feelings when his song would, undoubtedly, be something intellectual.

I sighed, swallowed hard, and clicked on the link. I was completely taken aback by what I found on the other end of the link; Forever and for Always was the title of the You Tube video and it was by the same artist as You're Still the One. I clicked play and my sobbing started with the very first verse. By the time the chorus played through the first time I was balling.

'Cause I'm keeping you

Forever and for always.

We will be together all of our days.

Wanna wake up ever

Morning to your sweet face - always.

I don't know how many times I clicked 'replay' to listen to Carlisle's song over again or how long I sat there sobbing tearlessly. It was the most touching gesture to date in a whole century worth of touching gestures. At some point my predatory ears registered the sound of a car pulling up in the yard; the rumble of the engine was unmistakable . . . it was Carlisle's Mercedes.

I heard the front door open and close and then his butter melting voice called my name softly from the bottom of the stairs. I had been sobbing for who knows how long, and I was a hot mess . . . I couldn't let him see me like this. I was going to bolt for our bathroom and turn on the shower; that would give me time to pull myself together. Before I could make it that far, however, he was in our room . . . standing there in the doorway looking deeply concerned.

His warm honey gold eyes radiated the undying love that he felt for me; Forever and for Always. Memories of our century of life together dance like the shimmering light of the Aurora Borealis in my mind. What could I have done in my human life to garner heaven's favor in such a way as to deserve this man? I couldn't stand it any longer; I closed the distance between us and collapsed into his waiting arms.

"I was wondering when you would come to me?" he whispered happily into my hair.

At first I couldn't manage an answer, but when I felt my voice was steady again I whispered, "You're still the one, Carlisle," into the folds of his pale blue oxford.

He chuckled lightly and then answered, "Forever and for always, my beloved." Then he kissed the crown of my head and pulled me more tightly into his embrace.

AN: Yes, this was written in honor of mine and Michael's 21st wedding anniversary, which we celebrated this past Thursday . . . still together, still going strong!

I got the idea for the story on the way to campus for class. You're Still the One happened to play on the radio and I had to stop and pull into a gas station parking lot in order to get my act together. While I was walking to class the whole story of Esme and Carlisle 100th anniversary flooded my mind. Unfortunately, with my current school schedule I wasn't able to start on it until late that evening and I finished it this morning.

Hope you enjoyed it!