Chapter Three: The Invitation

Around ten o'clock the next morning, two nurses walked into my room; one with my daily tray of breakfast, the other with a wooden—I squinted my eyes to catch a better glimpse of it—a wooden paint easel? Oh my goodness it was! The nurse set it down beside my bed and asked to see my painting materials. She had the canvas, paints, and paintbrushes set up before I had even touched my breakfast.

"Thank you," I murmured kindly to both of them, but they ignored me and left the room without a word. I was too excited to care about their rude attitudes.

I finished my breakfast in a hurry, how I yearned to paint again. The only times I found I could paint was: when both my parents were gone on my father's business trips. That way they couldn't forbid me from painting ever again and then demolish all my paintings and materials, like they had the first time.

I carefully set the tray on the small table next to me and got to painting. I picked up an old pencil beside me on the table. What should I paint? I asked myself. What should I paint? The oak tree and the hills in the distance, I answered my question. For Carlisle, I could paint it for Carlisle. Thinking of Carlisle, where is he? He usually comes in about nine, but maybe he was busy today.

It was an awfully beautiful day today; the sunlight was beaming in on my painting, making it look majestic and perfect. I promised myself that I would have the painting done by the end of the day, so I got to work. I began sketching my picture lightly, not erasing anything. I had memorized the view of the oak tree and the valley from my house window as I gazed out from my lessons, day after day. Visualizing the picture in my head, I closed my eyes and let the pencil and my mind go to work.

I had used up thirty minutes more of the morning once I had completed my sketch. I was impressed with my draft I must say, but there was still much more to be done. That's why I didn't hesitate, and I picked up the paintbrush as soon as I had examined my drawing for any flaws. I dipped the larger paintbrush lightly into the glass of water and I got to work.

How free I felt as the paintbrush worked it's magic across the canvas—how wonderful it made me feel, how happy I felt inside. The strokes that I had been brushing horizontally across the canvas had soon turned into an image, a vision, an illustration: the oak tree view.

Lunch came and went and I was still painting, but there was still no Carlisle. He must have been taking a sick day today. Even though I craved his company, it was fortunate, in a way that he hadn't come in yet. I wanted my painting to be a surprise, but if he made an appearance and saw my painting, well then, that was okay—I hadn't talked to anyone today anyways and I missed him.

"Uh excuse me, miss?" I asked as a nurse walked by my room.

"Yes?"

"Doctor Cullen's not here today and my leg hurts awfully bad. I was wondering if you could please get me some ice so the pain wouldn't be as throbbing?" I asked politely, remembering not to use his first name in public.

"Yes, I'll get it to you as soon as I can," She replied quickly and darted out of the room before I could say thank you. I gladly went back to my painting again and the day continued on…

Around late afternoon I had finished my painting to the best of my inexperienced ability and it didn't look bad. I washed and dried the paintbrushes till they were as clean as new and screwed the caps back on the paint bottles, attempting to give the nurses as little cleaning up as possible—there are only so many things a person with a broken leg can do, and I had to help out as much as I could. While waiting for my painting to dry and Carlisle (hopefully), I picked up my sketchbook and began doodling on that till supper.

The nurse had done the same as this morning, given me the tray and left without a word. Maybe she had a long and hard day, I convinced myself and that was the result of her impolite behavior.

I ate my dinner in silence, giving up on any hope that Carlisle would be coming in today. I missed his company very much, but knew I had to get use to it eventually. I had only four more days left in this hospital, and then off I would go back home to finish up my schooling and find myself a suitor.

Knock. Knock.

"Come in." Carlisle came into view. My face immediately brightened up.

"Hello, Carlisle," I greeted him. He wasn't dressed in his regular doctor apparel, but normal, everyday clothes: pants, a nice shirt, tie, and business shoes. He looked even more handsome, different.

"Hello, Esme." He walked up to my bedside. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for most of the day, how was yours?" I wanted to say that it was pretty good, other than the fact that most compassionate person in my life was missing, but other than that I kept busy. But I kept my answer simple, or tried to at least.

"It was a pretty good day, I missed talking to you though." Oh Esme! I hadn't meant for that to come out. I had a feeling that he was somewhat embarrassed, but was just really good at hiding it. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

"I missed our conversations too, Esme," He agreed. I was relieved. "How's your leg by the way?"

"Um, honestly, it hurts something fierce." I felt weak saying that.

"Really?" He eyed me. "Didn't one of the nurses come and check on you?"

"Well two did today, but only for my meals, and the other came in once to set up my easel," I answered.

"But they didn't get you anything?" Carlisle seemed to be stuck on that issue.

"Well, no."

"Why didn't you ask?" It was more of a worried question, than an annoyed one.

"I did." I replied uncertainly.

"And they didn't get you anything?"

"Well, no, but they were probably busy, Carlisle, and had a long day, which would explain why they didn't speak to me today either," I blurted out. Oh why can't I control my mouth? 'Think before you say things, Esme' my mother had told me over and over again. Why couldn't I remember that?

"That's not acceptable at all," Carlisle's blonde eyebrows pointed faintly downward. "They should have paid better attention." He mumbled under his breath.

"That's all right, I understand," I guaranteed him. "I lived." I spoke like it was no big deal that the nurses had completely abandoned me all day.

"Are you sure?" He asked me intently his eyes pierced mine and I focused in on them.

"Yes, just as long as you aren't gone all day again," I laughed easily. He could sound so meaningful, making sure that everything was okay with me. It made me happy, that someone cared that much.

My laugh seemed to lighten his mood and his lips turned upward into a breathtaking smile and I couldn't help, but have my face be stained with red momentarily. How easy it was for him to make me blush unintentionally.

"Would you like some ice for your leg?" He inquired.

"Yes please." He left the room and was back so soon after with a bag of ice. He carefully set it on my leg.

"Thank you," I said quietly. He just smiled and looked around the room. He must have noticed my painting on the other side of the bed.

"Is that?" His eyes lit up and it made my heart go wild.

"Yes," I smiled at him. "I was working on it today." Carlisle walked over to it in awe.

"I painted it for you," I said softly. He turned back to look at me; his eyes are now confused and, I'm sorry to say, somewhat unhappy. My shy smile curves downward.

"Oh Esme, I couldn't take this away from you. You've worked so hard on it, it's a part of you…" His sentence slowly faded.

"But in a couple days I'll have to leave and I might not ever see you again. I would like you to have a part of me, something to remember me by," I spoke sadly, but genuinely. "You said once that you would love it if I would paint it for you one day, so I did. Did I miss something?" Concern flooded my voice. Had I gone too far? Maybe he didn't want to remember me at all? Maybe I had been totally mislead? I couldn't have been though. Or maybe I looked at the signs differently? Oh, how much I wanted him to remember me. How much I wanted him to have a part of me, since he couldn't have all of me with him.

He sat down on my bed beside me; he looked hurt and I regretted having that conversation immediately. His eyes looked into mine and I could feel them burn, burn with a feeling I never knew existed.

"Carlisle?" I asked lightly. "Are you all right? Did I say something wrong?" I forced myself to speak the dreaded questions. My leg was numb now and it still hurt, but I didn't care. All I cared about at the moment was the man sitting in front of me, and I would never stop caring. He broke our staring contest first.

"No, no Esme you could never do anything wrong. Just—." I could feel him struggle for words as he looked away from me. "No one's ever done that for me before." A brave smile swept his features and then disappeared almost instantly.

"Well I certainly hope not," I mimicked playfully, but he did not smile like I thought he would. The smile faded from my face then.

"Please, take it. I wouldn't have worked on it all day as hard as I did, and then not give it to you."

His hand was set down on the bed and I felt the electric current again—the need to reach forward and touch it. To comfort him and help him to understand how much he meant to me, how kind he had been to me, words that I couldn't say aloud, but could only express through a single touch.

I felt my hand slowly reach out to his, and he didn't flinch, but kept his hand still. I could feel the intensity of his eyes on me as I placed my hand on his. It felt like marble, stone-hard marble that was so unbelievably smooth. My eyes met his and were locked in his gaze for what seemed like hours.

Knock. Knock.

He suddenly pulled his hand out from mine.

"Excuse me, Dr. Cullen?" A nurse asked sweetly.

"Yes?" He stood up and walked to her.

"Um," she seemed dazzled by his presence, "Dr. Jeanie sent me to see what your plans were for tomorrow. He would like to know if you were taking the night shift tomorrow or the day shift?"

"The day shift," he answered.

"Oh. All right. Thank you." The nurse sounded surprised and she quickly left.

Carlisle turned his attention back to me.

"Esme?"

"Yes?"

He still stood at the end of my bed, hands in his pant pockets.

"I know that your parents are gone for a couple more days and tomorrow just happens to be the Fourth of July, so I was wondering if you would like to go with me to see the fireworks? I mean, I don't want you to be stuck in this dreary room all night tomorrow and the fresh air and walk would be good for your leg…" His words trailed off again.

"I would love too," I spoke delicately. "Thank you so much for asking me. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"My pleasure. Would 8 o' clock be an okay time tomorrow?"

"Yes of course. I'm not going anywhere," I teased. He through me a quick smile and started leaving the room.

"Well, goodnight Esme."

"Goodnight Carlisle," I yawned. I hadn't realized how tired I was. He flicked off the lamp beside me and turned off the larger light hanging above me. Then he closed the door silently behind him.

I laid down on the flat pillow exhausted, setting the previous moment with Carlisle aside, hoping to not think of it tonight in the hopes of getting a good night's sleep. Hopefully the stranger wouldn't come into my room again and wake me. I pulled the covers closer to me and closed my eyes, eager for the day with Carlisle ahead.