"What do you think would have happened if you'd never met Carlisle when you were younger?"
Esme hadn't heard me enter and startled beside the fireplace.
Carlisle probably wouldn't have saved her if he hadn't known her in the past, and she would have been spared this damning existence. Her human life might have been different, too. "Do you wish you'd never met him?"
Wish I'd never met him? Why would... Her thoughts fell silent as her newborn, blood-red eyes focused on a button on my shirt. "No," she said quietly. "I don't."
I felt a flash of vague annoyance. As difficult as it sometimes was to endure every person's innermost thoughts, I'd become accustomed to that insight when I wanted it. No one had ever tried to hide from me before, but Esme was constantly redirecting her thoughts. I found it to be... frustrating.
She swiftly reached for a match. "I'm sorry. I didn't know when you would be home." It's only quarter past. I didn't think he'd move at full speed within the city. Just a few more minutes, and I would have been ready for him.
"It's fine, Esme." I was surprised when I realized what she was doing. "You laid a fire." We kept the furnace going, of course, but Carlisle and I rarely thought to light a cozy fire in the parlor.
She mistook my surprise for disapproval. "I'm sorry." I didn't mean to waste the wood. I didn't know it wasn't allowed.
Wasn't allowed? "Don't be sorry. You can build a fire anytime you wish."
"Oh." She dropped her eyes. I wish I knew what he was expecting. There's no meal to put on and I don't know any vampire etiquette or...
She didn't want me to respond directly to her thoughts, but she was a-whirl with fear. I couldn't just ignore her terror when there was no need for it. "Esme... are you well?"
I've been turned into a vampire and then left... She paused, remembering I could overhear her, and forced herself to focus on the fire.
"You were left all alone." I gently prompted.
She finished her thought. ...in this empty house. "Yes."
"I am sorry about that, Esme. Carlisle is, too. Neither of us – "
"I don't want to be any trouble." There was panic in her pleading eyes. I don't want to be sent away, or...
I felt a flash of compassion for her and pulled up a chair for her by the fire. "Come here, Esme." She sat down and I pulled the other chair up to face her. "I know what you think about Carlisle. And I've seen the flashes of memory; I know what Charles did."
Esme looked down, ducking my gaze.
"You can't hide from me, Esme," I said kindly. "You're going to give us both a headache if you try."
She smiled wanly. I wouldn't want to do that.
She'd suffered through so many things, not the least of which was Carlisle damning her, but still she was oriented around making Carlisle and me happy. I wished she realized that she deserved some happiness, too. "Please. Tell me. Ask me. Anything."
Her mouth opened twice as she tried to say the words. Everything has been guarded for so long.
The walls she'd built were strong. They had to be. I'd seen why, during the drive here. "You lied – you had to – to everyone."
Esme saw the understanding behind my words and nodded slowly. I hid my heart from Charles, and my baby, too, when he came back from the War. I hid from my family and lied to my neighbors and lied to get my job and... Her breath came in heart-wrenching gasps. And then I couldn't hide anymore. Death found me and took my baby. Walked right into my house and stole his last, ragged breath and my boy – my baby boy – went limp and blue and cold. He died in my arms. And I couldn't hide any more. It hurt, Edward. Her shoulders shook and she doubled over, her arms reflexively protecting her womb. More than you can ever know. It hurt so badly. It was like my entire soul was skinned and I couldn't hide a thing. I could FEEL everything, every heartache and bruise and bitter word, that I'd hidden from so long. Again her thoughts abruptly ceased. She took a shuddering breath and slowly let it out, her arms relaxing. That's why I jumped. I couldn't hide or lie any longer. I was empty. There was nothing left to live for.
I scarce know what to think, now. She breathed a silent, bitter laugh and lifted her eyes to mine. Because after all that, I looked up from the flames of damnation and saw... him. I've loved Carlisle from the moment I looked into his eyes when I was a sixteen-year-old girl, and I've had to hide that for so long. And now I'm... something... in his house and I'm afraid of having to hide all over again.
The image of her in a housekeeper's attire flashed through her mind, and I repressed a smile. "Carlisle doesn't think of you as a servant, Esme."
"Then what am I to him?" she begged.
I almost said it. Almost. It was on the tip of my tongue: his soul-mate. But Carlisle himself fought that truth for all he was worth. Every minute from the cabin where she'd undergone her change to Ashland, Carlisle couldn't take his eyes off her. It was rather distracting as I drove, and it took some effort to stay out of his head. Until now, I'd never felt the need. And all that time, it was like a mantra in his mind, Miss Platt, not Esme. Trying to not pressure her, the selfless fool.
"If you want Carlisle's opinion, you'll have to ask him, but let me assure you, you're neither servant nor guest in this house. To me..."
A mother. Blinking, she dropped her eyes again. Forgive me, Edward. That just slipped out. You're older than I and have no need for a mother. And I wouldn't presume to replace your mother even if Carlisle... She stilled her thoughts, forcing her mind to go blank.
"You're doing it again," I chided softly, frustrated by her truncated thoughts. "You were going to say, even if Carlisle and you..."
"Were together." She breathed the word almost reverently, her head still bowed. "Even if," by a miracle, "Carlisle wanted me, that place in your heart is not mine."
But she wanted it to be. She needed it to be.
I had no doubt that she and Carlisle would one day overcome the awkwardness between them. It wasn't my place to meddle – this was something that needed to be worked out between them – but it was an inevitability. Carlisle was as a father to me; it was only natural that Esme would be as a mother.
It would be natural if we were human, anyway. The natural thing among vampires would be for me to strike out on my own, but that didn't bear contemplation.
It wasn't simply her familial position, though, that would make her my mother after a fashion. I knew from Carlisle's memories that, when our kind loved, they loved completely, without reservation. When I realized the depth of Esme's feelings for Carlisle, I had expected all her affections to center around him and that she would view me as an interloper. But Esme loved me, too. From the moment she laid eyes on me – probably from the moment Carlisle told her I was his son – she had thought of me as her son. It was a pleasant surprise that I also fell within the circle of her love. She did her best to hide her maternal instincts from me, but they slipped through. She was genuinely curious about my likes and dislikes, and her desire to please me had nothing to do with Carlisle. She valued me for me.
It had been years – a lifetime – since I had felt a mother's affection. I couldn't resist such a profound love so freely given. I had no desire to.
I've offended him. He's not answering.
I took her hands in mine, and she lifted her eyes. "Esme, your baby needed you in ways that I won't. That place in your heart is not mine and never can be. I don't want you to be disappointed by that."
She flinched.
"But Carlisle has adopted me as his son." I winked. "It would be supremely unfair if I left you out in the cold."
Her angelic smile was marred by her demon eyes, but if ever there were a match for Carlisle, it would be Esme. "I cannot be bound to you by blood," I added, "but you and I... we're bound by heartstrings."