Massachusetts 1887
Carlisle sat motionless on the edge of a fallen tree. One foot was steadily pressed against a lower branch while the other was planted on the grass—his shoe half hidden by the fallen leaves. Autumn had come, and the small wood in which he dwelled was covered in hues of orange and gold.
Autumn was her favorite season. She loved the smell of freshly baked pumpkin pie and the sound of children laughing as they rolled in the leaves and tossed them in the air with joy and innocence. She was innocent. Everything about her from her big brown doe eyes to her sweet, cunning smile. She was a governess, so she took rules seriously, but Carlisle knew she was mischievous beneath her—by the book—exterior.
Carlisle recalled the first time he met the young governess. She brought one of the children she was tending to, to his office. The young girl tripped and fell after chasing one of the village boys with a frog. Carlisle laughed when she first told him how the child twisted her ankle. The governess immediately scolded him, but then offered him a wink away from the prying eyes of the little girl.
He watched her now, holding the hand of the very same child, listening to the little girl rattle on about her favorite book. She listened attentively, nodding and humming in response. "I am exceedingly overjoyed that you took such interest in reading." She told the child, then her lips pressed firmly together, and her eyes flickered with what Carlisle could only consider worry. "However, I am concerned about your studies. You should remember, reading for pleasure can only proceed after your homework is complete." Carlisle smiled as the little girl's face twisted into a scowl, her eyes closing tightly in disgust.
She met his gaze then, her brown eyes glimmering with adoration as she took in the genuine smile he offered her. She was lovely, and he was positive about that. But there was more to her than her curved lips and large expressive eyes. She was witty, clever, and too smart for her own good. Any man would be lucky to take her hand in marriage. He would be fortunate to take her hand in marriage. He knew it was not possible. There was no way he was going to even consider changing her or telling her what he was. He would let her live, and he would let her die. It was natural, and there was no sense in meddling with nature. There was something disharmonizing about immortality, and he would not burden her with the grief that came with it.
He couldn't deny his want for her, of course. He enjoyed watching her with the child of her employer and the other village children. She was quite fond of children, and he often wondered if she wanted any of her own. Judging by the affection and attentiveness she gave them, he was sure she did. That was something he could not give her, and something she could not have if he were to change her. It was unfair, that was certain, but it was reality and reality had a way of being malevolent at times.
It was winter when he finally broke her heart. He knew she was growing fond of him, and he knew he was in love with her, but it was time for him to move on. He knew he could not stay long, no matter how fond he grew of the town and the people. It was his curse, but that was okay. Carlisle was doing something good; he was helping people, and that brought him happiness no matter how much pain came with leaving people behind. Especially her. She was daring in that moment, and broke all the rules, throwing propriety out of the window.
"I love you, Carlisle." She confessed. His name sounded extraordinary coming from her lips. She always referred to him as Dr. Cullen. Carlisle felt a gasp escape his lips, his honey colored eyes widening. He did not expect her to confess her love for him, and he wished she had not. It only made leaving so much harder. "Please, don't." He murmured, watching the shine from her brown eyes fade. She swallowed, letting her gaze fall to the newly fallen snow. "Why?" She dared to ask, lifting her chin. Her eyes were squinted with determination, and her lips were partially opened, waiting for his response.
"Because I can't." He told her, taking a step back. He watched as she lifted her hand to tuck a loose strand of brown hair from her face. Her eyes looked dark from beneath her hat. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold air, and her body was lightly trembling. He wasn't sure if it was nerves, or just the falling snow hitting her body—probably both. "I'm leaving, I'm heading west in the morning." Her lips twisted into a frown, her eyes gazing over him; giving him a once over. "Just like that?" She whispered, her voice breaking.
He let out a needless sigh, his eyes quickly taking her in. He wanted to remember her—every line of her face, every smile, every quirk. "Yes, I usually do not stay in one place too long—" She didn't let him finish. she just took a long step back. Her shoulders were squared and her nose and chin in the air. It was just like her. She was proud and she would not let herself fall apart over this. "If that is the case, then I bid you farewell, Dr. Cullen." She bowed her head to him, turned on her heel, and walked away. He watched her leave; her back turned to him. That was the last time he ever saw her alive.
He returned years later, and the only memory left of her was carved in stone, and covered in the fallen orange and gold of autumn.