CHAPTER IV: Past, Present, and Future

(Esme's POV)

The stakes of hope's game are high. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose.

I'd lived with Helen and Wade for nearly six months—laughing, dodging the occasional alarm that my clandestine whereabouts would be leaked, and simply enjoying life. I had come to believe hope was a blessing and my life had been opened to a new chapter. Charles had looked for me, probably pressured by his drunken friends, but he sought me only as a possession, not with concern and love. His searches were half-hearted and empty; I simply no longer existed. I didn't trust most of my friends with knowledge of my location because I knew they'd petition me back to the arms of my demon. They didn't see Charles in the same light, seeing only his public face. Very few of my friends, like Grace, had ever seen Charles lose control. The entire town could blather to the wind for all I cared and uphold Charles' loss—holding him in his time of sorrow. I was hidden now, and I was safe. Hope had cast a veil of secrecy around me and I was thankful for its help.

It was near time to bring my little light into this world and, although I felt the need to move on and go further north at some point for both work and added safety, I decided to remain with Helen and her family until after my baby was born. I enjoyed playing with their children and had managed to burn through every book in their house—yearning for more. Reading the adventures of others and dreaming was like drug to me; but not one to alleviate pain, rather bolster happiness. There were also a great many books on decorating and homemaking lying about, which piqued my interest. I began to dabble on paper, making designs and experimenting with silly sketched ideas. Building and design was work held for men, of course, but I still liked tinkering with the shapes and results.

Helen agreed to go into town—near Milwaukee—and bring back some new written adventures for me to devour. I suppose I was like a kid again; wanting to touch and experience new things, dreaming anew. I hadn't been allowed to dream in the vile grip of Charles, so I was blazing with new passions for my new life. My choice to stay in place at the secluded, nature cloaked house was wise, however, as I went into labor a week earlier than anticipated.

Helen, who had taken the children with her, was still out looking for my adventures in print and Wade was working—a carpenter by trade. I felt the first twinge of what was about to happen as I got up from a rest on the creaky porch rocker. It was more like an echoing pain, starting fast and intense but gradually lessening. I took in deep gulps of fresh, damp air and slowly sat back down. I knew this day would come; I was ready to hold my little light and turn the page on yet another chapter. I knew I could do this and I continued to deeply breathe, steadily rocking the chair—swaying with its motion. My hands eventually grew stiff and my knuckles reddened at the pressure I was applying to the old rocker, hoping someone would return soon.

As the sun began disappearing behind the glade, I found I was rocking a bit faster to the rhythm of each new pain. My thoughts drifted in and out of different memories—some good, some bad. It seemed I was internally trying to refocus myself, perhaps escape. Memories of the demon, of course, surfaced. Seeing his rage and accusation in my mind only served to heighten my pain. How did I marry something so evil? Why didn't I see his true nature?

I'd dreamed like a fairy tale princess about my perfect husband before meeting Charles; I even thought I'd met him once as young girl. Soon thoughts of the glistening, blond hair of what looked like a Greek statue, made me smile. It wasn't so much his appearance—although handsome wasn't in a league with his exquisiteness; it was his touch, his smell, his feel, his grace, his disposition, and so much more spooled into one being. My heart heaved a sigh at the memory and I let it take me back in time, away from the demon reflection, away from my pain, to a place where I was a simple, dreaming young girl with a crush on the man trying to heal her.

It was late fall and I could hear them talking in the corridor through the cracked open door. "Doctor, this next patient is Esme Platt. He parents brought her to St. Cecil this morning, a day after she took a nasty fall from climbing a tree with her cousin. She's complaining of symptoms which indicate a broken leg; however, there is a great deal of swelling present. She doesn't appear to have any other injuries based on the parental report. In concern, should we set her up with the new x-ray instrument which arrived last week? The Edwards project allows us to test it on varying age groups and not just military personnel."

Silence prevailed for a moment and then I heard it, a voice so angelic it made me tingle. "Yes, Agnes, go ahead and authorize an x-ray with this one. It can't hurt anything; she's so young. If it shows a good view of the break, providing there is one, all the better for an ideal set and complete recovery with no residual or permanent disability."

Dazed and wordless, I was still tingling when he, oh dear Adonis—did I say that to myself—stepped through the exam room door. I'd read a lot of mythology and the doctor was straight from the pages of ancient history. If his voice was angelic, his smell was heavenly. I felt light headed and he immediately looked both concerned and sympathetically tolerant.

"Good afternoon Miss Platt, I'm Dr. Cullen," he said with a simple nod and warm smile. "I understand you fell from a tree. Can you tell me about it? What were you doing and any details relative to your fall?" He kept staring at me, waiting for me to speak.

"I, uh, I, it's E-E-Esme." I foolishly kept looking at the floor, like the young child I was, only stealing a glance when I thought he wasn't looking.

He tittered, "Okay, Miss Esme Platt, Can you tell me about your fall? Is it only your leg? Did you do any other damage or hit your head?" He was even more amused when I again didn't respond. I couldn't respond. I didn't know how to move my lips, and surely no sound would come out.

Finally, "It's Esme, just Esme." Again, soft, lilting laughter. Would he please not do that to me! I was falling apart and making a fool of myself.

"Esme," he placed his hand gently on my arm. Sweet fire and ice! His touch was cold, but not painful; it was more like a delicious flare and made me wish, although I didn't understand why, for him to keep his hand in place. "Why don't you tell me about what happened while I work? I need to examine your leg. I want you to tell me, being truthful, how and where it hurts. If it's broken I need to know the direction of the break so I may correctly stabilize the bone. Now, you fell out of a tree?"

"Yes," I suddenly found my voice, although it betrayed my age—a child. "I was daring my cousin to climb higher with me to see a nest. Apparently the tree limb wasn't as strong as I'd thought and it gave way. It fell hard, and I fell with it. Luckily, my cousin hadn't made it up as far as I had and she quickly ran back to the farm to get my father. When he first took me home, he thought it was only a bad sprain, but it continued to swell." I stopped to take a breath, and the heavenly scent hit me again—like warm, inviting leather. "My mother insisted we come here when she saw the swelling and the pain was getting worse. Our neighbors drove an hour so I could see you," I hastily added. Why did I just say that? Again, he seemed amused.

"I see," he whispered while examining my leg. He twisted my leg just a little to the side and my world started to spin—not in a good way. I nearly jumped from the exam table. "My apologies Esme; I didn't mean to cause you more pain. I'm nearly certain, even without an x-ray, the leg is broken. The significant swelling is a concern, but considering the area of the injury—closer to your knee where there are many soft tissues—swelling can be more intense." He checked to make sure I really hadn't hit my head and had a concussion before he spoke again. "It seems that it's just your leg today. I'm going to speak with your parents and the nurse will be back in a moment to see to you safely to your x-ray."

I just bobbled my head and swallowed hard, both in resignation to my pain and so I didn't say something silly and dim. If I'd ever dreamed of a man I would someday marry, he was personified in front of me. I was in love before I'd even set eyes on him. My thoughts were giddy and those of a silly, youthful girl, but I couldn't place all my chagrin on my youth. I was truly wishing to be swept away by him and into the lovely arms of destiny, although I didn't know why.

An hour passed, and with the x-ray complete, I was laying on the exam bed waiting for my strikingly beautiful and unique doctor to return. I heard the old wooden door creak and a moment later my face lit with happiness as I took in his lovely face. "Miss," he started then stopped himself looking quizzically at me, but also with something more. "Esme." The word was more like music; no, a symphony. "You're x-ray confirms a break, but it is a clean break. We can easily set and brace it. Of course, you won't be climbing any trees for weeks to come, but you will make a full recovery just in time for spring."

I caught his eyes with mine and we just looked at each other for several moments. "Esme?" he questioned. "Did you hear me?" I nodded, but I was more interested in watching his every move, thinking of how his voice sounded so peaceful. My father had a lovely voice, and I compared the memory of his voice to the doctor who stood in the room with me. There was definitely a likeness, but Dr. Cullen's—I'd remembered his name!—held a depth so much more than my age could allow me to understand.

"I'll call the nurse back in to give you some morphine and then we'll see to that leg young lady. Rest easy for a few moments." It was with those words he left the room again, but not my heart. I later realized he'd touched not only my heart but also my soul. His memory, even though I was but a child, would make me compare every other man in my life to him, consciously or not.

It was only after the medication had taken effect that he returned. I was groggy and feeling light, but I could still feel the iciness of his touch as he set and braced my leg. My parents took me home soon after and I never again saw my mythological doctor but for in my dreams.

Darkness had descended in full curtain while I was reliving the sweet memory. A tense burst of pain, as well as a voice—familiar but foggy—called my name and curbed my wish to drift back into my musing spirit. The voice was asking me something, 'okay … hear me.' It was distant at first and I struggled to concentrate on its location. I felt arms cradling me and the soft swish of air as I was moved about to a new location. God no, Charles had found me! No, I argued within myself, the arms were too kind, too gentle. Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place and I clawed at reality with yet another hot flame of pain fracturing my world.

The first vivid image I had was Helen kneeling beside me, looking very worried but also happy. Happy? I was in my room—Helen's home with her family. The pieces of my bleary puzzle began to fasten and I shuddered through another intense pain. The pain! What was happening? Oh my God, my baby, my little light; I realized where the pain was anchored. It was all I could do to breathe and maintain my finger-hold on self-possession.

"Esme? Esme I'm here. You're in labor. This is it, the baby is almost here. We don't have time to get a doctor, but you're doing just fine. It'll be over soon. Try to breathe. Do you understand; can you hear me?" I could only nod my head in response to her raised key voice.

I could hear her talking to someone near the doorway and realized it must be Wade. He sounded nervous and uptight. Apparently Helen was giving him instructions and I laughed inside myself at the thought of his reaction to all of this. Men, after all, weren't the best midwives unless the subject consumed hay or pranced in a corral—fidgety and pacing about this would be to say the least about Wade.

Helen was whirling about me and about the room in a frenzy of activity, making preparations for the delivery of my little light. It was almost surreal. I'd paced into my own world when this began to elude the pain and I'd rather liked it there; now I wasn't granting my full attention to anything one thing. Another jolt of fiery pain edged me closer to amending my illusory state of mind.

Helen was streaming nippy orders and poking me to get my attention. "Esme, listen. Listen! Concentrate Esme. Push, push. Good, again. Again." I clutched the bedding as if it would tear itself free and run screaming from the room. "Again, Esme. Push." I could do this; I couldn't do this. I was losing feeling and growing numb. "Again Esme, with everything you have left."

"One more big one Esme," she barked me to alertness. "Okay, easy. Slow, slow, another push, small, one more." I had no idea how much time had elapsed, but I collapsed back on the welcoming pillows and closed my eyes with a heavy sigh of breath. The pain had ceased. My ears were then charmed for the first time by a sound so beautiful it echoed in my soul. The sound came from nowhere and everywhere; it was a part of me.

Some minutes later Helen came to the edge of the bed carrying small moving bundle of white. "Esme Anne," she broadly smiled, "I'd like you to meet the miracle you just brought into this world, your son." She leaned down and nestled the bundle in my arms, warm and snug. Blue eyes looked up at me and I was from that moment forever rooted to his world. My son, my little light in this world; my hope and my reality. I, again, silently thanked hope for its grace.

A/N: Chapter V finds Esme with a small dilemma—she's not chosen a name for her new little light. Hope will continue to further goad Esme into happiness, before it is soon taken and tossed into nothingness in Chapter VI.