Chapter Three: Cursed Thoughts
Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1927
Carlisle
Edward stayed in the dark depths of his room for the entirety of that night, he made very little noise, and had it not been from the quiet breathing, and the constant honey-lilac-and-sun scent in the house, I may have thought he was gone. Esme and I spent a great deal of the night in our own room, just quietly talking, and holding each other beneath the sheets. With Edward in the house, we didn't like to be too affectionate with one another, and besides, it wasn't always needed. But the shrill phone pierced the still morning at quarter-to-three, and the voice on the other line requested my presence earlier than usual at the hospital. Esme just smiled and shooed me away to another day at the hospital.
It turned out there'd not been any emergency, and as the clock chimed six I recapped the mostly ordinary, and unremarkable morning at Cambridge Hospital, filled with nothing but paper signing, form filling, pleasant speaking, heels clicking, pretend coffee drinking, and not a great deal of patient healing. I'd mended a few broken limbs and things of such, but for the three hours I'd been present, nothing remarkable happened. I'd not come to any conclusions why I'd been called in early, so I gave up trying to discern why the shrilling phone had interrupted a lovely morning spent with my wife in the sea of white, crinkled sheets.
I was standing at the nurse's station, flicking through some discharge papers I had to sort out for an elderly man who'd had a fall, when a gentle tap on my shoulder interrupted me. I turned around slowly with a pleasant smile plastered on my face, to be greeted by an elderly nurse I knew to be the head of staff's assistant.
"Excuse me, Doctor Cullen?" She wondered in her timid voice, "Doctor Richardson would like a word with you in his office."
"Of course Mary," I nodded, quickly adding my signature to the bottom of the form, and giving them to the appropriate nurse, "I'll make my way there now."
The staff changeover caused the narrow corridors to bustle with workers arriving and others going home, while I attempted to sail down them without bumping into too many warm blooded bodies. It was not an easy mission, but I managed to avoid collisions as I made my way across the large hospital to the staff offices.
Cambridge Hospital was a large medical facility, filled with doctors and students. I wondered, as I turned the last corner to Doctor Richardson's office if perhaps the reason I was being called in for a meeting was to ask if I would happily take on medical students. I couldn't be sure what the meeting was for, but it would be logical, as the university also employed me as a teacher. But I did, after all, have other hopes…
After three prompt taps on a large oak door, I was welcomed inside to learn my fate. Doctor Richardson's office was one of those clichéd places with walls filled with accolades, which I'd only been in once before. On that occasion he'd informed me that his wife made frequent visits to the hospital for the sole purpose of ensuring his achievements still adorned the walls. It was slightly ironic, and rather funny that he, of all people, should have an office like that, for he was one of the most modest men I'd ever met. In his late sixties, with fluffy white hair and circular spectacles, Doctor Richardson galloped around his desk and sat down in his usual jittery manner. He stood no taller than five foot six, and had a habit of pushing his spectacles back up his nose even when they hadn't slid down the bridge yet, which he proceeded to do before straightening the papers atop his desk and fixing me with an ecstatic smile.
"Doctor Cullen!" He announced grandly, "Oh, Doctor Cullen, we are so pleased to have you here, have I mentioned that before? I know when you first arrived we weren't able to offer you the appropriate position in the surgical department, but I have good news!" I grinned at his excitement as well as his news, "There's been an opening! Assuming that you still want to work as you were trained to, the position is yours, young chap! The hours are a little more complicated than you have now – we work on a 'two 'day shifts' then one 'night shift' rotation', so every week your days would be different, but you do get one day/night off a week. You'd also be on call twenty-four seven, does it still entice you, young chap?"
I eagerly agreed, and he jumped up with excitement gesturing for me to follow him out the door and down to meet the team I'd be working with.
"You'll start today, if you don't mind. You'll be on the same rotation as our Head of Trauma, he'll be the surgeon on the team, we always start our newcomers off as Emergency Physicians to see how you go before we open positions up for the Trauma Surgeons, but you'll be second in command on the team," Doctor Richardson chatted happily away as we made our way through the familiar warren of corridors and stairwells, to a staff room near the ER.
He continued to babble as he opened the door by leaning on it with his side; his hands were occupied by his animated conversation that I was barely paying attention to. Inside the room sat a group of five people – three men dressed in the familiar suits and white coats, and two women in nurses' uniforms – whom all looked up as we entered.
"Ah, perfect!" Richardson exclaimed, "Everyone is here. Doctor Murphy, will you come and meet your new recruit?"
The man furthest from the door, on the other side of the room, standing beside what looked to be a coffee maker, smiled kindly as he was addressed.
"You must be Doctor Cullen!" The man with perfectly combed black hair and small grey eyes, murmured as he approached. When he came to a stop in front of us he held out his hand, "Great to meet you Cullen, welcome to the team."
"Thank you," I smiled shaking his hand, dreading the usual surprise at the cold fingers, but his hands weren't much warmer than mine, so it never came.
"Chilly today, isn't it?" He remarked once our hands had dropped.
"Indeed, it is," I nodded, rubbing my cold hands together for effect.
"Well, I'll leave you lot to it," Richardson said in his chirpy manner, "I expect great things from you all!"
There were a few quiet chuckles from the people in the room, who sat in pairs a way apart, as Richardson left the staff room. As soon as the Head of Staff had vacated the room, the accommodating smile on Murphy's face dropped to an unfriendly scowl. He looked me over once, with pursed lips, narrow eyes and evident distaste, before turning his back on me and announcing to the room, "You can all introduce yourselves."
All though the sudden shift in mood of the Head of Trauma Surgery made me feel like I was most unwelcome on the team, the eager introductions of the rest of the members had quite the opposite effect.
The other four occupants of the room all quickly rose and made their way toward me. The first person to me, and eldest member of the team extended his hand out to shake, "Doug Pewter, anaesthetist." His thin lips spread into a smile as I shook his hand. His grey eyes, hidden beneath bushy eyebrows, had an ash tinge to them, just like his well-groomed ash-brown hair.
I grinned back and told him I was happy to meet him too, before turning to the next member of the team.
The man had a large, square chin, with a long nose, and over-sized ears. Round spectacles magnified his friendly hazel eyes, as he grinned at me with an outstretched hand, "Mark Diggins, oxygen technician"
A solid old women with slight corkscrew curls came bumbling up to me next, "Mary Sutherland, Head Trauma Nurse," she introduced herself in a deep, serious voice, but her smile was sweet as her heart beat revealed her internal swooning.
"It's very nice to meet you," I smiled, gently squeezing her hand.
"And this is Louise Jane, assisting nurse," Mary gestured to the tiny, young nurse behind her, looking up at me with wide, stunned brown eyes. I smiled and nodded her way, about to greet her also, but Murphy interrupted.
"All right, pull yourselves together. We have work to do," his voice rung with authority, all though by the looks on my colleagues faces I wasn't sure if the authority was borne out of respect, or fear.
The tiny nurse Louise jumped at Murphy's loud voice, causing her white hat to fall to the floor. When she bent to pick it up, her brown hair came out of its clips and began to tumble down her face.
Mary sighed, as she quickly jumped over to help Louise pin her hair back up. She looked around cautiously, the older woman looked relieved when she saw Murphy facing the other way, but her expression turned apologetic when she spied me watching.
"Awfully sorry, she's absolutely useless when it comes to the finer art of grooming, but she's the best nurse you'll ever come across, doctor."
I smiled warmly at the two, and shook my head, "Never mind me. Years ago, my wife was much the same, her hair was always tumbling out – mind you, she liked to climb trees."
There was a beat of silence before the two women burst into giggles, and finished fixing Louise's hair while the men conversed about the weekend's activities.
"How long have you been married, doctor? If you don't mind me asking," Mary's voice was curious.
"Quite a while," I smiled; it was best not to go into specifics.
Mary nodded, but I could see that Louise was still curious, so, to dissuade both their attention, and their interest, I added, "We met when she was sixteen."
That ought to let them make their own minds up, besides, I'd learned a long time ago that people tended to warm up quicker when I shared something personal, usually I lied, but not this time.
The doors to the left slammed open before they could make their reply, and an emergency worker with a flushed face and hands covered with blood came bursting in, "We have a patient whose been involved in a motor car accident, severe blood loss and back injuries." My throat burned a little in response to the smell and the thought, but it was easily dismissible.
The room was filled with nodding heads as we all sprung to action. We quickly made our way from the staff room down to the theatre, where we prepped before entering.
I was donning my apron and gloves when a nervous looking, skinny boy stumbled into the room.
"Doctor… Doctor Murphy!" The boy stuttered.
"What?" Murphy spat as he struggled sliding his fingers into his gloves.
The boy who had bright red hair and a face filled with freckles, stood there wringing his hands with anxiety as I tied my face mask up at the back of my head, "Trevor's left the morgue!"
"What are you on about?" Murphy yelled as he continued to struggle donning his gloves over his trembling hands.
"Trevor has left the morgue!" The boy exclaimed, "It's unattended, the casualties from the crash are all piling up, and we've run out of tables, so they have to be put on the floor. We need to do autopsies on the other bodies to clear up spaces, but Trevor is gone. No one is doing autopsies, sir! Sir! Sir! There are bodies all over the floor!"
"Quit panicking!" Murphy yelled as he began to grow irritated at both the boy and his gloves, his small grey eyes soon fell on me, "New guy, you go."
It took me a fraction of a second to realize that he was actually saying. The happiness drained from my face as the rest of the team disappeared through the doors and into the operating theatre.
"Well, go!" Murphy exclaimed to me as he finally slotted his fingers into the gloves, and fitting his apron over his head, "And go quickly!"
I nodded numbly, just as he turned his back and followed our colleagues into the theatre while tying his mask up at the back, "Yes, sir."
The door swung as he dashed through it, leaving the prep room empty aside from the trembling boy and I. Disappointment tugged at my heart as I stared at the swinging door, only to be interrupted by the redhead.
"Um, sir?" He asked with fright.
I snapped out of my disappointed haze, and turned back around to face the boy, "Yes?"
I hadn't noticed before just how young he was, perhaps even younger than Edward. He stood a few feet away shaking in his boots. "The morgue?"
"Of course," I nodded, quickly untying my mask, and tugging it off, "Will you show me the way?" I discarded all of my PPE, knowing I'd have to get fresh garments from the morgue just as the boy took a big deep breath and nodded, "Sure, I will."
He led me down the warren of corridors, and stairs until we reached the cold, and equally chilling morgue. There were no windows in the autopsy suites or corridors, so the only light was supplied by flicking electrics swinging from the ceiling.
"The medical examiner," I murmured as we headed to the first room, "Why did he leave?"
"Too many bodies," the boy replied nervously, "And he's squeamish at the best of times."
Wow, a squeamish coroner, and I thought I'd seen everything.
"I didn't catch your name," I pointed out, hinting for him to introduce himself.
"Oh, I'm Jeffery."
"Well, Jeffery, it's nice to meet you. I'm Doctor Cullen," I held my hand out for him to shake, but he eyed it dubiously before his worried eyes flicked back up to my face.
He wrung his hands together and shook his head, "No," he whined, "I don't like handshakes."
I withdrew my offer with a smile, "That's okay," I murmured, "I don't either, really."
He led me into the large square room where bodies filled the silver tables, and were laid haphazardly over the floor, "Was it a large crash?" I wondered, surveying the damage.
"Yes, sir," the boy nodded, "There were two separate motor car accidents. This one involved a public bus and a large tractor. No survivors on the bus. There was another on the other side of town. Two streetcars in a head-on collision. I think you have one of the drivers in the surgery upstairs."
I nodded my understanding, as I scanned the room for empty tables. I spotted a storage area in the back right-hand corner, and carefully navigated my way to it. It was dark, with no lights, but it was jammed pack with tables to place the bodies on.
"Jeffrey!" I called out, "Will you please come and help pulling these tables out?"
I heard his feet scurry over toward the back room, and he appeared in the doorway, still looking quite flushed. Of all the blood in the room – the spilled liquid on the floor, the stationary liquid in the veins – his, hidden behind just a few thin layers of skin was by far the most appetising, but still the desire to drink did not come.
"You could leave them on the ground, sir. It'd save time," Jeffrey pointed out as I began to wheel the metal tables into the large room.
"Would you like to think one day when you die, you body will just be left on the floor like it meant nothing at all?" I wondered, systematically ordering them so there would be enough room for everyone.
"'Spose not." He murmured, catching on to my pattern quickly enough.
"Respect for the dead is one of the most important things."
"Why?" His tone was incredulous, "They don't even know what you're doing."
"Perhaps that's the exact reason why," I shrugged, disappearing back into the smaller room for another table.
Soon we'd filled the room with enough places for the victims of the crash to lie, and after we'd donned our protective gear we placed the bodies where they need to be, and Jeffery led me to one of the older bodies that needed to be autopsied.
"Do you like Doctor Murphy?" Jeffery wondered timidly as I prepped the station.
I shrugged sifting through the utensils laid out before me, "He seems agreeable, but I've only just met him."
"Oh," Jeffery breathed, playing with a pen on the clipboard he held, "He calls me an imbecile. I looked it up in the dictionary. It's not very nice."
I flicked him a glance, his eyes were downcast, and his lips were set in a slight frown, I felt sorry for the poor boy, he seemed to have a gentle heart. "You're right," I murmured, "It's not. He shouldn't call you that. Can you please pass me the scalpel, Jeffery?" I pointed to the utensil that lay on the table near him. He grabbed it quickly, and as he handed it to me, he gave me the most curious look.
"Trevor doesn't call me Jeffery," he stated simply as I nodded in thanks, and clicked a new, clean tip to the handle.
"What does he call you?" I wondered, pulling the sheet back to expose the chest of the old man who lay between us.
"Boy."
I took a deep breath and smiled up at him, "Well, your mother gave you a name for a reason Jeffery, and so I will use it. You don't mind, do you?"
He shook his head, "No. I don't mind."
"Then, Jeffery, will you take notes on what I'm saying as I perform the autopsy?"
Jeffery grinned, "That's what I'm here for."
I gave him a curt nod, and then turned back to my work. As I made my first incision in the chest, a familiar world of bright red organs and sour scented liquid presented itself to me. The body had been dead for a while now, I could tell that as soon as I walked in the room, the cold blood was not appetising in any way, in fact it was slightly off-putting. There was an innate reaction to such a smell that I could never quite shake, however – disappointment. One less perfectly good meal for a willing vampire. Sometimes it seemed as though my mind and body worked on two very different frequencies.
As I navigated my way through the all-familiar maze with my scalpel, I thought about Edward's hopes to join me in my medical endeavours. I had expected it, of course, in fact, I'd even go so far to say that I'd encouraged it at points, but I never dreamed he'd feel so ready, so young. I knew my own struggles to resist the blood even after I was nearly a century old, at under a decade; I'd no idea how he'd fare. I'd scolded myself time and time again for not seeing it coming, after all, he'd always tried to convince me that Esme was ready to test her control well before she really was. The amount of risks we took with her as a newborn was now astounding to me in hindsight. We were lucky she didn't slaughter then entire state!
"The visceral pleura is in tact, no signs of trauma." I murmured before I sliced through the thin membrane, and navigated my way into the lungs.
I understood why Edward wanted to enter into the medical profession, all though for me, at first it was not just the idea that I could be helping people that enticed me, for I had found a deep passion in the sciences, Edward had always been drawn by the glory of things. The war for example, as a human his dream was to be a soldier, to fight for his country with honour.
"No trauma to the lungs," I noted as I continued on to the heart.
Esme always commented on Edward's bright heart, needing to help, while I always lingered on the misguided nature of it. All though they were their own people, and they were not my responsibility, I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit responsible for the lives they lived – if not for me, they'd not be there to make decisions.
But a question nagged at the back of my mind, where would Edward's choices lead?
"Acute myocardial infarction," I murmured upon closer inspection of the heart, before moving on to examine the remaining visceral organs in case of any trauma.
I liked to think that Edward would remain bothered by my insistence that he not study medicine yet, and let that be a drive for him to determine to succeed, to prove to me that his control was good enough to manage the blood, and resist the temptation that the liquid offered, but the more intelligent – logic based, not love based – side of my brain warned me of an opposite effect. I fear our travels around the world, which brought us in to contact with numerous covens and nomads who live in a more 'traditional way' could have impacted on Edward in the opposite way that which they'd once impacted me. It rattled me that both Esme and Edward could understand the way they lived so, of course, I too could understand, but I did not empathise with them quite the way that Esme and Edward seemed to. Although Esme chatted happily afterward about how much more rewarding our life was, Edward's silence on the topic did not go unnoticed by me. In fact, it perturbed me more than I'd like to admit. I tried not to linger on the topic – I tried not to worry – so he wouldn't hear my internal fretting, but I was still learning how to halt my emotions for his well being. It was not an easy practice. With every coven we met, I saw Edward's curiosity grow; through his gift, he was offered more information than any of us as to the reasoning of those whom we met. I could do nothing but hope that my own reasoning impacted him with more strength than theirs could ever behold. Doubt, however, liked to creep in and linger around my mind.
There was no more damage to any of the internal organs, so I finished up the autopsy automatically, chatting to Jeffery without thinking hard about what to say, and moved on to the next body. There was swelling at many of the joints that interested me, so before my y-incision, I gently cut open the knee where a thin turbid yellow liquid overflowed.
"Jaundice," I murmured, "The increased amount of liquid in the joints is congruent with the slight yellow hue to the skin."
The scratching of Jeffery's pen on the paper as he took down my notes was the loudest sound in the room as I moved back up to the chest to begin the examination.
The faces of the vampires whom we met on our travels swirled around in my mind with the curious light to Edward's eye, as the one haunting question came back again – Where would Edward's choices lead? The longer I pondered it, the further I saw him walk away.
Nothing but those haunting worried thoughts filled my head as I found the cause of death for nearly ten bodies in that morgue before the ME came marching back in and announced he was ready to resume his work.
All though I didn't expect it, the 'Thank you' that he didn't give would have been nice.
I thanked Jeffery as I left, but I didn't offer him a handshake – I hoped he'd like that.
I wandered back up stairs feeling glum and wondering if my colleagues were finished with their surgery. I didn't even know what time it was. Deciding to go back to the staff room I first met them in; I quickened my pace in hopes to forgo missing out on another procedure.
The staffroom was nearly empty when I entered; the familiar black haired Doctor Murphy standing by the coffee machine was the only occupant, aside from the gentle scent of whiskey, that is. He turned around with a slight jump when I entered the room, but his surprised eyes soon reduced in size, settling on an ugly sneer.
"Oh, Cullen." He muttered before turning back to the coffee he was making, "How was the morgue?"
"Uneventful," I replied honestly, "All though we got through a few autopsies. How was the surgery?"
Murphy let out a cold laugh, "We lost him. We were… understaffed."
"The morgue could have waited," I pointed out, walking over to the bench where he was making coffee, "I could have stayed to operate."
He turned to me quickly; his eyes were wide with incredulity, "Are you remarking harshly upon my management of my team?"
"No," I shook my head, "You must do as you see fit, I'm only saying, in future –"
"You'd better watch it," he interrupted, "There won't be a future if you continue on the way you are. Don't drink that," he slapped away my hand that was reaching for the cold coffee pot, "It's mine."
I fervently hoped he didn't notice the stone-like nature of my skin when he'd stricken it, I tried my best to imitate the effect his contact would have had on a human.
The door to the staffroom opened loudly, slamming against the wall then, to reveal a most disgruntled looking Doctor Richardson, "Doctor Cullen," he said darkly, "What on Earth were you doing in the morgue this afternoon?"
If I'd not had such quick reflexes, I'd have been momentarily stunned, "There was a crisis," I replied simply, I'd always found it best not to blame others for silly orders they'd given, as unfair as that may seem.
"That's not your job," he grumbled.
"Of course not," I nodded, "It won't happen again. I seem to have been misinformed on what to do. I'll make sure I know my role better from now one."
He pursed his lips, still most unhappy, but allowed me a nod, before turning round and slamming the door behind him. He was two extremes, that man.
I looked to Murphy with a raised eyebrow, and he sneered back, "Lets get this straight, I don't like you, I never will like you, and I am not here to like you. Don't get in my way and you won't have any issues, however, should you decide that you will, in fact, proceed to impede in my path I will not hesitate to destroy your feeble little career. Do you understand me?"
"Of course," I murmured quietly in a smooth voice, not at all intimidated by the human.
"Good." He took a swig of his coffee in the same fashion that one would take a swig of whiskey and my suspicions of alcohol seemed confirmed. He sighed, "My career here matters more than yours, newbie."
A knock on the door had us turning away from each other once more, as he called back an exasperated, "Yes?"
A flustered looking young nurse, with bright red cheeks and a flustered heartbeat appeared in the staffroom doorway. The wind blew in and carried with it a familiar honey-lilac-and-sun scent, what was Edward doing here at the hospital? Worry twisted my intestines.
"Uh, Doctor Cullen?" The nurse asked uncertainly in a high-pitched voice, "There's someone here to see you. A, uh, Mr. Masen."
Her red cheeks depend, and a wistful smile spread across her face, as I'm certain she pictured Edward standing in the corridor behind her.
I nodded, and hurried from the door, eager to get away from the whiskey in the coffee pot. "Thank you," I murmured to her when I came closer, but she was too flustered to make a reply.
Edward lingered on the other side of the corridor, holding his breath while glowering darkly at the staffroom door with deep black eyes. I had mixed feelings about the colour – good, because they weren't red, but also not good, because he'd just hunted the night before.
I wandered over to Edward, with soft footsteps following behind me.
"Thank you nurse," I said to the small woman in polite dismissal "You may go."
She gave me a small curtsey before leaving, something Edward would have once chuckled at. We watched her as she tripped and stumbled her way down the hall, but my mixed emotions did not let me feel any pity toward the poor woman, I couldn't even crack a smile at the humour of the situation. I was merely hovering between delight at Edward's visit, and being worried by it.
I turned back to my son, catching his black eyes with my own, "Edward, why are your eyes so dark," I wondered worriedly, "You hunted just yesterday."
"I have problems," he grumbled, his face was set in anger as he continued to glare toward the staffroom.
My eyes darted at the closed door behind us, and the empty corridor around us, "I'd invite you to my office, but I've yet to get one of those." I flicked him a grin that he didn't return, but he did take his eyes away from the door.
"Congratulations on your promotion, Esme will be delighted." His voice was softer as he applauded me, but I continued to worry over why he was here.
"I came to tell you I'd be going far to hunt tonight," he spoke in reply to my thoughts, "Obviously the nearby game isn't doing me any wonders, I think I need a mountain lion or two."
I nodded, shifting my weight in the most human of ways, as he adjusted his hat. "Perhaps that's a good idea." I murmured, wondering why our usual hunting habits weren't doing him any favours, "I could take a few days off, we could all go together."
"No, I'd rather go alone." His voice grew detached, "Esme's worry is getting on my nerves. No matter how many times I tell her there's nothing she can do, she doesn't stop thinking about it."
My brow furrowed with confusion, "You know it's only because she cares deeply for you."
"Mmm." He grumbled, "Sometimes I wish she wouldn't so much."
"Why-ever would you say that?" I asked in surprised.
"Because then I wouldn't hurt her so much," he breathed quickly, "I don't like your boss." His glowering eyes turned back to the staffroom door, and I figured he wanted to drop the subject.
"Murphy?" I wondered in clarification, surely he couldn't mean Richardson.
"Yes." He nodded, not taking his eyes off the door.
I sighed, and ran my hand through my hair, "Truthfully, nor do I."
"There's whiskey in his coffee." Edward's voice was emotionless, but I could see anger burning in his dark eyes, frankly it was frightening. "Thats why he won't let you heat the coffee pot."
"I thought I could smell it."
"And he's harassed half the women in this hospital." He let out a small growl, "He doesn't like you either."
I wasn't surprised, "Why not?"
"He's scared for his job."
I cocked my head to the side, "How so?"
"Because he went for the position at Harvard… and you got it. He fears you're a better surgeon than him. So it would seem, his fears are not misplaced."
I sighed, "It's unfortunate when one must let his prejudice affect his work. It's not something new however, I'm sure I'll get through."
A quiet and low growl rumbled in Edward's chest, "His thoughts are insufferable. As time passes I'm beginning to find it much harder to ignore the putrid things some people think. Best to remove myself, I think."
I nodded, but just as Edward moved to leave, I caught his arm, Edward I thought, "I know you do not hasten to hear it, but if ever you would like to discuss why your thirst is bothering you so lately, you know I am more than willing."
He nodded, and shook my hand away from his arm, "I do know, and I don't want to. My burdens are not yours to bear. Thank you, none-the-less. It just goes to show though," his voice was even more low and dark as he paused to stare straight into my soul with his tortured dark eyes, "You were right, I'm not ready to be a doctor."
I shook my head. "Soon, Edward. Soon you will be," I tried to reassure him, but my efforts were futile. He merely shrugged and began to walk away.
"Whatever you say," his mutter echoed in my head as he disappeared down the hall.
I stood in the hall a moment longer, before re-entering the staffroom where Murphy remained sneering.
"Where are the other members of the team?" I wondered.
"Off at lunch," he grumbled, taking another swig of his coffee, "Good thing it's lunch time, I don't like being interrupted by personal visitors."
I didn't reply, I just nodded, and proceeded to the kettle when I made a cup of tea that would only go cold in my hands and eventually be tipped down the sink, as my thoughts drifted back to Edward. He'd been so high and happy once we'd come back from our travels, feeling perhaps he could do anything. It only made the disappointment worse when I stood there and told him I didn't think he was ready to face open wounds – the higher the hopes, the higher the fall, I suppose. I just hoped he didn't ever take that to mean that I was in any way disappointed in him, the truth was, I'd never been more proud.
Shortly after the team arrived back from their lunch breaks we got called to another emergency in the operating room. This time I was allowed to participate, so the rest of my shift passed quickly.
Mary pulled me aside afterward and congratulated me on the success, "Don't pay any mind to Murphy, he's a right old drat. You keep saving lives, boy – you're good at it. And if Murphy ever pulls another stunt like he did this morning, don't you worry, he'll have to face me, and I've got friends in very high places," she flicked me a wink and with a grin she left the room.
I was flattered by the human woman, but I was emotionally worn from the events of the morning, so I didn't want to stay around and chat. I disappeared without much of a goodbye; the picture of my wife waiting for me at home had me speeding down the road just moments later.
She was, after all, the silver lining of my bad days. I arrived home quickly, and as I parked the car in the garage, I could hear her sanding the floors on one of the upper levels. The sound brought a smile to my face, so I hurried over the lawn, through the trees and up the front porch, quickly opening the door and wandering inside.
"Bad day?" She called out from upstairs, as I placed my medical bag down on the floor by the door with a quiet thud, listening to her sanding stop, and her footsteps make their way toward the stairs.
"How did you know?" I wondered as I waited by the door.
"You always drag your feet when you're upset," she grinned quietly to herself as she appeared at the top of the stairs. What a sight she was for my eyes that had seen nothing but blood and death for hours on end.
She had her hair all messy again, it was easy to tell from her dusty dress that she'd been sanding all day, but the light powder and the slight dusting of dirt made her so much more beautiful to me. She was a hardworking woman that wife of mine.
I didn't reply to her observation, too taken with the beautiful sight to formulate a coherent response, but she descended the stairs with a knowing smile, and reached up to comb her fingers through my hair when she reached me.
Her voice was soft when she next spoke, just like the tender smile she gazed up at me with, "Would you like to talk about it?"
My worries seemed a little lighter with her gentle touch, and I sighed, "The head of the Trauma team is a little trying."
Her eyes lit up with beautiful delight, "So you got promoted. Darling, well done!"
I managed a smile at her endearment and praise, but admitted honestly, "A part of me wished that I hadn't."
Her head tilted to the side slightly as she eyed my with curiosity, "He must be quite the handful," her lips curved upwards though, "It will get better. I don't know how anyone could be unfriendly to such a lovely person as you."
I grinned and leaned down for a quick kiss, caressing her soft cheek in my hand, "Often I believe you think too highly of me," I breathed into her skin.
A quiet purr rumbled in her chest and she seemed unable to decide between eying me warily or smiling impishly so the result was an interesting mix of them both, "All though I'll not deny I'm biased, I tend to disagree," her little hand pried mine off her face, and tangled our fingers together, "Let's relocate to the fire – the sky looks stormy. I think we'll get a good one tonight."
I nodded and let her lead me through the archway to the left and into the long, narrow dark hallway, "Have you decided what to do with this room yet."
She sighed in annoyance, and I could see the corner of a grimace tugging at her lips, "No." Her reply came out in a huff.
I chuckled quietly to myself, "I'm sure you'll think of something. Did Edward tell you he was coming to see me today?"
She glanced at me with surprise on her face and shook her head as we reached the end of the hall and the arch to the great room, "No, he didn't. I haven't seen him since early this morning. He went out not long after you; he mumbled something about wanting something in town. I thought I'd managed to get through to him yesterday," her gentle face was long with disappointment.
"Well, he's talking to me again," I pointed out as we approached the burning hearth, "So that is an improvement."
She shrugged, "I guess so. Still…" she sighed.
I sat on the ground, and guided her down with me, settling her between my legs as I leaned up against the sofa. I placed my chin on her shoulder and she sighed back into me.
"It will get better." I placed a kiss on the end of her clavicle, "He just wanted to tell me that he was going for a hunt tonight, further away, hopefully for better game."
"But he just hunted yesterday," she pointed out, playing with the fingers of my hand that rested on her waist, "Why is he hunting again?"
I sighed, "That is a question that I've no answer for. He seems to be struggling, which is understandable – we don't just struggle in the newborn year; I know I struggled greatly for my whole first century. We are essentially denying ourselves our most innate desires, refusing our nature; it's not something that should ever be assumed to be easy."
"Do you think he's going to slip?" She wondered quietly, twiddling my fingers with worry.
"Well, he's hunting a great deal, so it doesn't seem he wants to. He's taking precautions and minimizing risks," I murmured, "It's the best thing to do, and a very mature decision. I'm proud of him for that."
"You should tell him that," she said firmly, "You should tell him that you're proud of him. He looks up to you so much, those words could change his world."
I nodded, "I will." I assured her while not entirely being sure how I could work that into a conversation with him.
"Good," she sighed, "I do wish he'd share what is going on in that precious head of his."
I stroked her light brown hair away from her face, and placed a kiss to her temple, "We'll figure it out, Esme. I know we will," I promised.
She nodded, and turned around to face me. I could tell by the slight frown adorning her pink lips that she didn't fully believe me, "Do you think we did the right thing, taking him to Europe?"
I lost myself in the worry of her golden orbs for a moment, "I ask myself that all the time. I think he may have done something rash if we'd stayed."
"Charles," she breathed, "We can't let him think those things again."
"I'm afraid that's out of our control, my love," I pointed out, "He thinks what he thinks."
"Then we should give him a reason not to think like that," her voice was fierce with determination.
"I'm not sure who would like that more, you or I, but I'm at a loss for things to say. Whenever I've been in any place remotely similar to his, my faith has always brought me back, but his faith is not quite as strong, I fear."
"We'll think of something," she breathed, turning back around and leaning up against me. "We have to." Her voice was strongly resolute as I tightened my hold, and fixed my lips back against her shoulder, hoping fervently that she was right.
Time passed quickly as the howling wind coaxed wayward branches into thrashing our house, and rain pelted down in sheets.
Edward arrived home in the morning, as I realised I'd been laying for ours on end with Esme on the floor in a daze of worried thoughts. His footsteps snapped me out of it, and we two straightened up before he entered. I helped Esme smooth out her hair, which was tied with a silk headscarf, not a ripped curtain this time. The reds and oranges of the Indian silk brought out the orange in her hair, and I couldn't resist the urge to place a tender kiss upon her cheek when she looked up at me with those bright doe eyes.
When Edward came in, I expected him to head up the stairs to his room, but he wandered into the study instead, and called out, "Hello."
Esme beamed, and quickly tugged me into my study where Edward stood waiting for us. I grinned upon seeing that his eyes were once again, a warm butterscotch gold, just like mine and Esme's.
Edward offered both Esme and I a timid smile. "I'm sorry for being so insufferable as of late, I know I've not been fair to either of you," he sighed, "But, to make it up to you, I come with good news," he looked to Esme with a grin, and held up a small letter for her to see, "You have mail from Ashland."
Esme nearly jumped in delight as she bounded forward, and wrapped Edward's neck in a tight hug, "Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed before placing a sweet kiss on his cheek, and grabbing the letter from his hand.
She eagerly moved to read it with excited, greedy eyes, as Edward turned to me, "You have mail too."
I chuckled, "Thank you, but I'm not hugging you for it, it's probably more bills."
Edward even managed a laugh as he handed me the pile of letters addressed to the head of the house.
We both turned to watch Esme as she opened the letter she'd been waiting months for. Her eyes shone with excitement, and her little pink tongue peeped out from between her lips as it always did when she was consumed by eagerness. When she managed to get the envelope open with great care, she beamed at the paper before she began reading, and I watched with an adoring smile as I relished in the happiness of it all, but it proved to be short lived. For her gaze didn't make it passed the first line; the smile faded from her lips as the light drained from her eyes and in the very next moment, Edward let out a strangled "No."
Esme stood completely still with shock as the small little letter fell from her grasp and floated to the floor, and my own happiness turned into worry and dread that twisted my stomach.
"Esme?" I wondered quietly flashing to her side, reaching out for her.
She didn't reply, so Edward did instead.
"Elsie's dead," his voice was lifeless as he too, stood still.
The dread filling my stomach intensified and spread throughout by entire body as I wrapped my arms around Esme, and pulled her to me. Her head buried into my chest as I gazed at the letter lying on the floor over her shoulder.
The words written were not in Elsie's hand, but rather, they were scrawled in a very messy version of her husband's once tidy writing.
Dearest Anna,
It is with deepest regret, and terrible heartache that I must inform you of my wife's passing. Not three weeks before Christmas she was attacked on the street by a predator lurking in a dark alleyway. I should have informed you earlier, to give you notice of her funeral, but I have been so taken with grief I am ashamed to admit to you, that is was not something that crossed my mind in the days…
I was distracted from reading by a loud smash and growl from the other end of the room. Edward was near the back wall, pulling the bookshelves from where they stood and casting them on the ground, causing the books to fly around the room. I turned around, sheltering Esme from my flying prized possessions, as Edward moved on to the other furnishings, snapping the couch in two, ripping apart the armchair, punching a hole in the wall, smashing the windows and letting the pouring rain come inside, all the while growling and roaring about 'filthy monsters' who 'had no right to live.'
Esme remained frozen during Edward's tirade, which only stopped when he paused to stare me in the eyes, almost in challenge, but I offered up nothing to him in aid. My mind was only filled with the image of him in a fury with wild hair and manic eyes. He let out another growl, a menacing rumbling right from his chest, before storming for the doorway, opening the big oak door and flinging it back so it hit in the wall. The screws in the hinges popped out as it continued to swing, and Edward disappeared into the darkness of the wild storm. The haunting image of him looking at me, begging me to say something to make it better, to make it all better, remained in my mind as I listened to the door swing, and his footsteps fade into the sound of the rain.
Finally, I'd run out of things to tell him in hopes to placate him… and quite frankly I think he'd run out of reasons to listen. So I held my wife in the study, and just watched as the teetering door finally fell off its hinges.
A.N. First, thank you for your reviews! They're always much appreciated. Secondly, forgive the liberties I've taken with the medical details in this chapter, it was giving me a headache. Oh, how I do not love the scarce amount of available information regarding what healthcare was like in the 1920s.
So now we've got the start of Esme's problems at school, and Carlisle's problems at work, along with their problems with Edward (which Edward will explain more of when we get inside his head, don't worry). So now the fun can really begin!
I'd love to say that I've never come across anyone like Doctor Murphy in my time, but alas, as a lot of fields are, medicine and science can be very cut-throat - or maybe I've just had bad luck? ;)
Apologies for the long wait, this one didn't want to be written! Also, if you haven't read Faith & Love - Esme was known in the town of Ashland as 'Anna' so no one would know she was the young teacher who jumped off a cliff.