Author's Note: First of all, no copyright infringement intended. With a few exceptions, all of these characters are the property of Stephanie Meyer. The world is hers, too. Secondly, this was previously published under another account of mine, but this is the new, edited, (hopefully) better version. Enjoy, and then review!
Emmett, 1950
I watched from the doorway as Esme brushed out Rosalie's golden curls and then tied them up high with a silken ribbon. Alice, so new to our family yet already such a common part I couldn't imagine not knowing her and Jasper, was pulling out wrinkles in the white satin with swift fingers. She draped and redraped the lacy veil about Rosalie's shoulders, and then set to rearranging the white roses in Rosalie's bouquet, though they looked perfect already to me…which meant more now that I was a vampire than it would have when I was human.
Rosalie was examining herself in a mirror (not an uncommon practice for her) when she glimpsed me. She fought back her smile, and then turned to glare at me, interrupting Esme, who was busy settling the coronet of white roses over Rosalie's veil.
"It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding," she scolded, voice icy, but golden eyes smoldering into mine. I just wanted to take her into my arms, kiss her, hold her…but Alice was laughing. She had seen what I was about to do. "You don't want to do that yet," she said lightly, eyes dancing to Esme's. Esme only shook her head, still trying to fix Rosalie's veil.
"I do, actually," I said, with a good-humored laugh. Alice rolled her eyes. Rosalie grinned briefly before returning to looking stern.
Then I answered Rosalie. "Perhaps it is bad luck," I said, taking in all of Rosalie several times over, "but what is it everyone says? You must make your own luck?"
She glared, and quick as a flash the door was shut in my face. I chuckled to myself; she could be so difficult.
Glancing into the sanctuary, I saw all the pews were filled. People didn't come so much for Rosalie and me as they did for Carlisle, the miracle doctor. Everyone was in their best. Near the back a pretty woman in her early thirties comforted a crying toddler. I couldn't tell if she was beautiful; my thoughts of beautiful could only consist of snow white skin, wide eyes that changed from gold to black and back again, golden curls that looked like the finest sunshine...The woman sat next to a gray haired man, although he didn't look that much older than her. I didn't know why I noticed her; I normally paid little to no attention to humans if they didn't smell…mouthwatering.
Vicious, I know, and if it were Edward who had these thoughts he would hate himself for a long time; it was the same way with Esme. Not that Esme had killed more than ten or twenty humans in her life. . . .And, of all of us (besides Carlisle, because he's never killed anyone), she feels the most guilt over human lives she's taken. But that was just Esme. And Edward could hear his victims' frightened thoughts, so naturally he felt monstrous.
I knew Jasper only cared about humans if he could see himself going over to them, putting his mouth to their skin, as if to kiss, but actually to bite…so I wasn't the only one. Rosalie, of course, never drank from humans; she clung far too tightly to her own humanity for that. Alice was remarkably good at abstaining, but then, she could see the impact killing that one person would have. So I didn't feel like a brute…or a monster, as Edward frequently called us.
It still didn't explain why I felt so drawn to the woman with the round green eyes and the glossy brown curls. Something flashed through my mind momentarily; those wide eyes were gleaming from a young face; slender, soft arms were twined about my neck….
The woman was staring at me, eyes shocked, disbelieving, and yet hopeful at the same time. "Emmett?" She whispered. "Emmett McCarty?"
