Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or it's characters!!!
Esme's little Gremlin
Ordinarily the girls did our 'grocery shopping' for me, but today they were busy with other things so I went myself. It wasn't the first time that I'd driven into Forks or Port Angles to go to market; after all I tried to look and act the part of the typical suburban minivan mom. And with a half-human granddaughter in the family now the forays to the market held more purpose than simply an attempt to keep up appearances, these days Nessie was there to actually eat the goods I bought.
The store was packed, but then again it was a Saturday. The swirling air currents within the massive building carried with them the rotting smell that clung to human food stuffs and of course, the scent of humans. The latter was an ocean that ebbed and flowed around me, but I paid it little heed. While my control would never match that of my husband, I was well in control under most normal public situations.
Three hours after leaving the house to go to the store, I was snaking my way up the winding drive that lead to our secluded home. As I pulled into the yard, I heard a strange yowling sound that seemed to be coming from behind the dashboard. I was by no means the expert on cars that Rose was, but I was certain that my Chrysler minivan was not supposed to make such noises. I parked the van near my husband's black Mercedes and began searching for the source of the unusual sound.
By the time I heard the front door of the house open and close, I had the hood up and I was poking around the engine. The yowling was piteous now, tugging at the strings of my long silent heart.
"Esme, what are you doing," Carlisle asked cheerfully as he joined me in the yard.
"Don't you hear it?" I inquired in reply.
We both stood silent for a moment and, as if on cue, a mournful yowl echoed from somewhere under the hood of my van.
"Good heavens," my husband muttered, I noticed surprise in his golden eyes. Quick as a wink, the sleeves of his oxford shirt were rolled up above his elbows and he was searching my van with intent.
I stepped back, preferring to defer to Carlisle as he combed my vehicle for the source of the heartbreaking sound. Soon I heard him chuckle softly as he began to coo in his soothing 'calm the nervous patient' voice.
"Well now," he muttered, still buried under the hood, "Aren't you in a lovely fix, little one."
A yowl answered him.
"Yes, of course," he soothed, "I imagine you're not very happy about things at the moment, but if you'll cooperate, I think I can help you."
"What is it," I asked anxiously, "what have you found?"
"You have a little gremlin in your engine my dear," he teased. After a few more moments of cajoling and the application of a several firm but gentle tugs, Carlisle emerged holding a tiny dark grey fur ball.
I didn't immediately register the identity of the small frightened creature that my husband handed to me. It was warm in my icy hands, and I could feel the frantic pounding of its tiny heart through its heaving sides. When I looked down into my hands; frightened blue-grey eyes looked back up at me. My mind finally kicked in gear and I realized I was holding a mewing grey tabby kitten. It couldn't have been more than five weeks old.
How long I stood there just staring at the helpless little one, I couldn't say. But when I looked up at Carlisle, he had closed the hood of the van and was busily washing the grease from his hands and arms. I couldn't fathom how the tiny fur ball had gotten into my engine or where it might have come from. There were no cats near our home, not even feral ones.
"Carlisle, how do you suppose . . . I mean where do you think . . ." I couldn't make myself finish the question. Instead my mind plotted for me a hundred different scenarios where by the little one in my hands could have died under the hood of my car. Simple heat exhaustion, getting caught in the fan belt, benign jostled when I hit a bump in the road and falling out the bottom all haunted me in succession.
"You went the market today, didn't you?" Carlisle asked as he returned to my side thus pulling me from my morbid thoughts.
I answered with a mute nod.
"Shopping malls, parking lots, dumpsters behind restaurants, even the hospital where I work, are just some of the locations where humans discard their unwanted pets." Sensing my need for comfort, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "My best guess is that this little waif's mother gave birth to him somewhere near the market. He likely crawled into your warm engine while you were shopping."
The kitten mewed, drawing my attention back to him. He had crawled up onto my soft cotton blouse and somehow I instinctively knew he was seeking warmth and milk. Something would have to be done for him if he was to survive.
"One of the nurses I work with is a volunteer with the local animal rescue," Carlisle sighed as if reading my thoughts. He fished his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. "Let me give her a call."
"Wait," I insisted frantically. Snippets of old memories from my former life played through my mind. My father's farm was vivid in my mind's eye; there were always cats in the barn and every spring they had kittens. I loved kittens, I remembered fondly, and spent whatever spare time I could manage playing with them . . . I even read books to them.
"Can't I keep it, Carlisle . . . please?" I knew I sounded like a silly little school girl, but I couldn't help it.
My husband gave me a doubtful look, his kind honey gold eyes filled with sadness. "Esme, I don't think that would be a wise idea. You know that animals instinctively dislike us," he paused and then added, "you tried having a cat before, remember."
"But that was different," I insisted. "Pumpkin Seed was fully grown when we found him in the ditch with the broken leg. Even though we took care of him while he healed, he never really trusted us. Gremlin is still a baby, if he grows up with us then he won't mind at all that we're, well . . . vampires."
"Gremlin," Carlisle asked as his right eyebrow shot up. "You've already given him a name?"
"No, the name was your idea," I protested.
"Is that so?" Carlisle's English accent was making a rare, unscripted, appearance letting me know he was upset.
I nodded, "You said that I had a little gremlin in my engine."
A look of extreme exasperation clouded my husband's features as he regarded me. "And tell me, just how are you going to feel when Emmett or one of the others decides, one beautiful sunny day, that Gremlin would make a tasty snack to tide them over until evening when they can hunt properly." He crossed his arms and glared at me. "I can hear your frantic phone call even now."
"Oh, yeah of little faith," I spat back. "The children have excellent control these days, and besides the taste and smell of domestic animals is almost as unappealing as . . . well, human food. I ask you, when was the last time anyone of us simply salivated at the sight of a Shitz Zu or a Siamese?"
He remained silent for several seconds as he continued to glare at me. I knew he was thinking of a new line of argument. I braced myself when I heard him inhale deeply.
"What do you propose to do with him when we eventually have to move?"
"The same thing that the humans do, of course," I replied in a very matter-of- fact tone, "we'll take Gremlin with us."
"Esme, that's impractical."
"No one complains of impracticality when you drag your dusty old library from one end of the country to the other, or Edward's piano, or Alice's Hollywood movie set sized wardrobe." I reached to stroke Gremlin's tiny back as I spoke; he'd managed to crawl up to my shoulder and was now nuzzling in my hair. "For heaven's sake, he's only a little cat, Carlisle."
My husband went silent again and for more than a minute I thought he might simply insist that 'no' was his final answer. I cringed at the thought of openly defying him as I had been raised in a time when a husband's word was law. Gremlin licked my earlobe, and I knew in that moment that I would argue Carlisle to blue infinity in order to keep the little fur ball.
Instead embarking on a new line of reasonable debate or simply issuing his final word, he shook his head and laughed. Amusement mixed with resignation danced in the depths of his warm golden eyes. I was surprised when he reached over and very gently petted Gremlin.
"I can see that this discussion is going nowhere." He sighed between chuckles. "Never let it be said that I am a man who does not know when to concede defeat . . . or that I am one who does so ungraciously." Then he bent forward and kissed my forehead before adding, "You may keep your little cat, my dear, with my full and unreserved blessing."
AN: This short little fic was inspired by something that happened to me yesterday. I found a kitten in the engine of my van when I stopped to get lunch. She's ok, I took her to my vet and they are going to place her in a home.