Hours later, after the last rays of sunlight had given way to the twinkling of the stars above, we were ensconced on an oversized sofa on the boat's deck, a cashmere blanket draped over our legs. Carlisle was curled next to me with a book in one hand. I held his other tightly in mine as I looked over the ocean, content just to be in the moment.

A beam of moonlight fell across our joined hands, throwing soft prisms dancing across the deck. It was beautiful but shocking at the same time. I was thrown back into reality with a gasp. "Carlisle!"

"What?" he asked, tensing beside me, his book dropping with a thud. He sat up and pushed me behind him in one swift action. "What's wrong?" he demanded, his voice hard.

"This!" I replied in a shout, grabbing his hand again and thrusting our hands into the light. "What if someone saw? Earlier, in the sun, what if someone noticed?" I cried, voice trembling with fear. "What if someone saw from a plane or a passing ship? Carlisle, what have we done?"

I felt him relax and he laid back against the cushions, pulling me against his chest. "You're just worrying about this now?" he chuckled.

"I was distracted earlier," I responded, confused by his lack of reaction. I turned slightly to look up at him. I couldn't understand why he was so unconcerned. "What if someone saw?" I repeated. "You know the danger…." I whispered, vague images of black cloaked men grabbing us, separating us, ran through my mind and I shivered. Carlisle himself had told me what could happen if someone knew our secret, if we were not careful, if we were not constantly vigilant.

"We're fine," he assured, gently coaxing me to lay my head against his shoulder while pulling the blanket up from where it had pooled by my feet.

Still confused, I watched his face as he tucked the blanket around me. "How can you be sure?" I pushed, still worried. "Alice didn't say anything, but she's not infallible…you know if someone changes their mind…and there's no way for her to contact us…."

"Esme," he sighed frustratedly, interrupting my worries. "Love, do you think I would have recklessly risked your safety?"

In response to his question, I raised my head so quickly that the top of my head bashed against his chin, causing a thunderous boom to echo across the water. "No, no of course not! But Carlisle…"

"No buts," he said firmly, his eyes locked on mine. "No one saw anything, love" he drawled. I raised an eyebrow and he continued, "The island is protected."

"What do you mean…protected?"

"Apparently, when Alice first saw our owning," he paused when I cleared my throat, "your owning," he paused again and shook his head when I laughed, "this island, Edward found out, naturally. He…was not too excited by the thought. I believe his words were 'dangerous, reckless, foolish, and stupid.' He wouldn't let Alice explain that it was safe, he was too convinced we would be risking our lives by going."

I sighed. That was our Edward, overly dramatic and stubborn as a mule.

"The only way she could placate him was to have Jasper and that lawyer of his check it out before I completed the purchase. According to Jasper, the island is far enough removed from the shipping channels that there is no way anyone on the closest passing ship could even spot it," he explained.

I released a breath I hadn't known I was holding and began to relax when I realized that he only mentioned ships. "What about planes?" I pressed.

"Restricted airspace. I didn't ask how Jasper managed it, and quite frankly I don't want to know," he noted with a small disapproving frown. "He did not give me all the details, but from what he told me, no pilot would even think of flying above this place."

While processing all he said, I stared out at the ocean. He turned my head slightly so that I was again looking at him, "Esme, your safety is my highest concern. You have nothing to worry about. I would never have brought you here if I wasn't 100 percent convinced that it was safe," he said tenderly, his hands framing my face. "You are my life."

I smiled and raised my hands to rest on top of his. "And you are mine." He kissed me, softly and reverently, then dropped his hands, wrapping his arms around my torso while I nestled my head under his chin. "I'm sorry for doubting you. I should know better by now. But you know I worry about you as much as you worry about me."

He laughed softly and brushed his lips against the crown of my head. Once again, I took his hand in mine, running my thumb across his wedding band. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer thanking God for sending me Carlisle. I contemplated how lucky I was to have Carlisle, how much he had given me, and how much I loved him.

Like a movie, our life together played out in my mind:

The pain had been instantaneous. It radiated through my leg and with each jostle, each bump, each rut in the road, it was like I was being struck by lighting, flayed alive, shot, stabbed. My mother looked at me with tears in her eyes and shook her head, 'I warned you, Esme. I warned you that proper young ladies do not climb trees.' My father grunted and muttered under his breath. I did not need to hear him this time. I knew what he was saying because he had said it before: he would never find a man willing to take me; no decent man would want me; no man in his right mind would be willing to shackle himself to an idiot girl like me.

Somewhere along the road I must have passed out due to the pain. When I opened my eyes, there was an angel before me. His face was close to mine, his golden eyes the color of the hay bales left to bake in the sun at the end of summer. If I stared long enough, I bet I could have seen right to his soul.

He was talking to me. Or at least I thought he was. His lips were moving. His beautiful, perfect lips. I mused, it wasn't right for angels to have lips like that. I tried to focus on what he was saying, but I was too dazed. He smelled good. He smelled really good.

The angel smiled at me and I closed my eyes and sighed. Clearly I had died. My father was wrong, I wasn't a wicked girl, for surely I couldn't be in Hell...

Or maybe I was! I screamed and sat up quickly as my angel, who had the coldest hands I had ever known, tugged on my leg. I heard a pop and then there was black.

When I woke up, the angel was gone. But his face was indelibly burned into my brain. In the future, I would remember my angel when things were dark, when I dared not cry for fear that Charles would hit me again, when I chose the dress with the longest sleeves or the highest collars. How I wished my angel would come back and I would take his cold hand and he'd take me away. My angel was my hope when there was none.

Fire. I was ablaze. I was burning from within while the flames licked at me from above, from below.

I wanted to die. Maybe I was dead. That was it...I was in Hell. I had sinned against God in so many ways. I failed to honor my father and mother. I had coveted another, not my husband. I had committed adultery in my heart, thinking of another instead of Charles. I had disobeyed my husband, I had left my husband. I had killed my son.

This was my punishment. To burn for eternity. To never see my son again. To never see my angel again. An eternity of heat and of suffering.

I screamed as a shock ran through my body. I felt my back arch, my body lift and then fall. Voices, I heard voices. Through a fog of pain, I struggled to focus on the voices. There were two, one angry, and one deep, soft, lilting and...familiar. I fought to remember where I had heard it before but there was too much heat, the throbbing too strong.

I screamed again and it was quiet. I wanted the voices- the voice- to come back. I moaned, unable to speak, to beg them to return, to help me, to save me from the flames.

Something cool was laid against my cheek and I pressed closer, seeking relief from the heat. I forced my eyes open but was unable to focus through the sea of red. Someone was there but I could only see a vague blob in front of me.

The cool something left and I groaned in protest. I heard a faint scraping noise and a quiet laugh devoid of mirth and the cool something was back on my forehead.

Another shock went through me and I inhaled sharply through my nose as my body shook. The sweet but spicy smell of cloves, of cinnamon, of licorice, of tobacco and of leather surrounded me. This too was familiar and soothing.

The fire still burned, the flames still lapped. But as long as the voice whispered in my ear, the cool something pressed against my face, and the scent enveloped me, I knew I was not dead, I knew I was not in Hell, I knew I would survive this, I knew I would live.

He knew I had been kissed before. I had after all been married. And while it had been far from a happy marriage or a good marriage, it had been a marriage and had produced a child. I was not inexperienced and I knew that he knew that.

I'd have been a fool to think that he, in his hundreds of years upon this Earth, had never been with a woman. Had never been tempted. Had never given in. The knowledge still burned. Still ate at me. I hated those nameless, faceless woman.

But in this moment, as his lips brushed against mine, once, twice, tentatively, softly, cautiously, all that mattered was now. I pulled him closer and he grew bolder, his lips sliding over mine with more pressure, more heat, more...passion.

He was sweet. The small part of my brain that was still functioning struggled to describe his taste so that I could describe it in the future. Cotton candy and chocolate and caramel and...heaven.

He broke away after a few moments, dropping his head and pressing his nose against my collar bone, his breath warm against my skin. My cheek rested against his hair and I inhaled deeply, his scent filling me, surrounding me, comforting and energizing at the same time.

Our pasts were forgotten. He had possessed me, claimed me, and marked me as his. This was my now. This- he- was my future.

I stood across the room from him, my hands anxiously clutching and releasing the white silk peignoir I had purchased especially for tonight and which had been delivered only this morning, in the nick of time. It seemed like I had waited years for this moment. He had saved me only a few months prior but, part of me admitted, I had wanted this since I first set eyes on him nearly ten years before.

I waited for him to come to me. Carlisle, my husband, my love, stood across the room, his hands in his pockets, jacket long gone and tie hanging undone around his neck. He was looking at the floor and wordlessly I begged him to look at me, to cross the room and take me in his arms. He looked relaxed but I knew him better. He seemed...unsure and I wondered which one of us was more nervous. I laughed softly and he raised his eyes to mine. He shifted and stood up straighter but failed to come even one step closer.

His eyes burned a molten gold and the flames from the fireplace were reflected in his gaze. The shadows danced across his face, his features being more defined in the firelight. My eyes were drawn to his mouth, his perfect cupid's bow lips and I closed my eyes as I imagined the feel of them against mine. I knew he wanted me, I knew without a doubt that he was as impatient for this night as I was. He was the consummate gentleman and had insisted we wait, that we do this right, that we be married before we shared a bed. Much to his delight, I had pressed for a quick wedding. And now, we were married.

I took a deep, steadying breath and held my hand out to him. We would wait no longer.

In the future, I would not remember what we argued over. Something trivial, inconsequential. But I was still a newborn and he had spent the last 72 hours at the hospital surrounded by the temptation of human blood. We were pulled tight, ready to snap.

All I could remember was that I flinched. Dim human memories rearing their ugly head from out of no where. A face, a feeling, an instinct to get away from the fist, protect the face.

My eyes sprung open at the anguished moan and I quickly came to my senses. That was another life, a former life. My husband- my Carlisle- had slumped to the ground, his face slack, pain in his eyes, a pain that I had caused him. Paralyzed, I watched him drop his head to his hands, a whispered mantra of "I'm sorry, please forgive me, I'm sorry, so sorry, please forgive me," the only sound in the room.

I wanted to run, to flee this room, flee from the hurt I had inflicted on this man who had done nothing but love me, cherish me, adore me. I fell to my knees, the guilt overwhelming me, crushing me. I crawled across the floor until I reached him, wrapping my arms around him. I embraced him, rocking him, words of apology flowing from my lips.

He had trusted me with his heart. He had trusted me with his soul.

I could give him nothing less in return. I would never shy away from him again. I would simply trust.

My cold dead heart was broken, shattered into a million pieces with just two, little words: I'm leaving.

I had held it together until he was out the door, knowing that I couldn't force him to stay, that I shouldn't force him to stay. He had to do what was right for him whether I approved or not.

But once the door shut behind him, once I knew he was far enough away not to hear my grief, I collapsed to the floor in agony and a piteous, keening wail broke free.

My son was gone.

Again.

The first time I had lost a son who I had known mostly in dreams. Now, I was losing the son of my reality. One I had housed in my body, the other only in my heart, still as it was. I had cradled one in my arms for only a few hours, whereas the other I had touched, hugged, kissed as often as he'd let me. One I had birthed, one I was given. One shared my blood, one shared my name only. It mattered not. They were both my sons.

And now they were both gone.

But unlike the last time, I was not alone. I still had Carlisle, whose arms were wrapped tightly around me. I shook him with the force of my sobs but he did not run from my tears, he only tightened his embrace, rocking me gently. I clung to him, as my sobs turned to tremors and my tremors to a gentle shake.

When I was cried out, he took my face in his hands, placing a soft, tender kiss on my lips before tucking my head under his chin, squeezing me to him.

He'll return, he promised me. He'll come back to us, he assured me.

With those words, with that vow, I had a glimmer of hope. Edward would return to us, return to me.

Because Carlisle never lied to me, I had hope. We would be whole again. We would be a family again.

Emmett had suggested a picnic. It was barely 50 degrees outside, there was still a trace of snow on the ground and the sky was an icy shade of grey. Perfect picnic weather he said.

Edward had told Rosalie that she sure knew how to pick them: big, strong and dumber than an ox.

Rosalie, naturally, had not taken kindly to that and got upset with Edward. Emmett, just as naturally, had not taken kindly to Rosalie being upset and jumped on Edward.

After breaking them apart and cleaning up the wreckage- I hadn't really cared for that vase at all and it was time we bought a new coffee table- it was time to get ready to go. Edward may have been my first "born" but he had to learn that he couldn't always get his way. So, we were going on a picnic.

Edward and I left Rosalie and Emmett in the car outside the hospital as Emmett wasn't strong enough yet to withstand the smell of blood so prevalent in its halls. We had hoped Carlisle was free to join us. As luck would have it, he had just finished a surgery and the head nurse advised us he'd be in his office in a few minutes. While we walked down the corridors, I noticed Edward was laughing quietly.

It always pleased me to see Edward laughing, but I was not pleased when I learned why he was laughing.

He did not want to tell me. I had to ask him three times before he would say. Reluctantly, he shared the thoughts running through the minds of the women around us: it was nice that Dr. Cullen's sister and brother came to visit him; it was a shame that the handsome doctor spent so much time locked in his office by himself; and he must be too shy to join them in the hospital cafeteria. With a sad smile, he shared the worst of it. He refused to describe exactly what he had seen in their minds but the fact of the matter was that they wanted my husband. Who they didn't even know was my husband. They didn't even know he was married.

The creature within me roared and I wanted to tear out the throats of the women who dared look at my husband in that way. Edward stared at me, a look of horror on his face as he saw in my head what I was thinking. He lunged towards me, but I skitted out of his grasp. I heard him calling for me as I walked out of the hospital as fast as I could without attracting unwanted attention.

They didn't know he was married. They obviously hadn't been in his office where I knew he kept a photograph from our wedding day in a frame that Edward had given him for Christmas the year we were married. We had only moved to this town a few weeks prior and I had been busy getting the house set up, but still, how could they not know.

There was only one solution.

I marched into the small jewelry store that was located a few streets away from the hospital, the bell tinkling as the door shut behind me. An older woman peered at me from behind the counter and I tried to make myself look as nonthreatening as possible.

I explained that I needed to buy a men's wedding band and asked if she had any in stock, as I needed it right away. She assumed I was a war bride, come to find a ring for my sweetheart before he shipped out, overseas, so that he would have something to remember me by. I didn't correct her, for what was I to say? That in a fit of possessiveness I wanted a ring to mark my vampire husband as mine? That I wanted the world to know that he was taken?

That it was this or in a fit of jealousy commit mass murder?

She placed a tray of rings on the glass counter in front of me. I wanted to buy one of them, but when I looked at them I was torn. I had thought I wanted something, anything, tangible and that I would march back to the hospital, grab my husband's hand and jam it onto his finger, letting those women know that he was mine and put a stop to their thoughts of him.

But looking at the rings, plain, gold, cigar-style bands, I couldn't. They were mass produced, ready to be placed on the hand of any one of the thousands of boys soon to be sent to War, to die. They were perfectly lovely...but they weren't special.

And my Carlisle was very special.

I smiled sadly at the clerk and shook my head before turning to exit the store dejectedly. She called out to me, stopping me and asking me to wait a moment. There was one more, she said, one that she hadn't shown me because it wasn't in the case. Would I give her a moment to look for it?

I returned to the counter and watched while she looked through the drawers and cabinets. She explained that the ring was purchased by the prior owners and for some reason it just never sold. Maybe it was what I was looking for, she said. Finally, with an exclamation of delight she stood up, holding the ring in her hands.

She gave me the ring with a grin and told me to take my time, as it was an important decision after all. The ring was platinum and therefore made before the War began. By the looks of it, it was hand made. Small, intricate knots encircled the band, reminding me of an ancient book Carlisle kept in his study. As I twisted the ring, the engraving caught the light ever so slightly, making it appear that it sparkled.

The clerk had been watching me all the while and asked if I thought it would fit my sweetheart. I looked up quickly and abashedly told her that I hadn't even thought about that.

With a wink, she told me that in her experience, brides were usually pretty good at guessing the right size and she walked away to help another customer who had entered the store while I was examining the ring. I slipped it onto my finger to gauge the size and spun it around a few more times. After a few minutes, the clerk returned and questioned me again. Raising my eyes to her, I smiled and told her that I'd take it.

On the way back to the hospital, I held the ring in my hands, running my finger across the delicate carving. It went round and round in a never ending circle. An eternal circle with no beginning and no end. Just like my love for him.

"Darling? Esme? Are you all right love?"

With a jolt, I realized that Carlisle had been speaking to me. I opened my eyes to see him peering down at me anxiously. "Esme?" he repeated and I realized he was using his 'doctor' voice. "Esme, can you hear me?"

I nodded and reached up, running my fingertips along this side of his face and then looping my arms around his neck. "I love you."

"I love you too, darling," he declared, his arms coming to wrap around my waist. "You left me for a bit there. What were you thinking of?"

"I'll never leave you," I pledged before answering his question. "I was thinking about you. About how wonderful you are. About how much I love you," I said softly, my voice shaking with emotion. "About how much you mean to me. A hundred years, no, a thousand years will not be enough to thank you for all that you've given me."

"All this because I've given you an island?" he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"No," I responded shaking my head. My eyes burned and I knew that if I were human tears would be running down my face. "Oh, Carlisle, you've given me so much more. You've given me everything. You've given me hope, you've given me life, you've given me a family…." I had to stop and take a deep, steadying breath before continuing. "You've given me trust and taught me to trust in return. You've given me freedom to be me. You've given me a sense of safety and security, something I never had before. You've given me your love. You've given me you," I smiled at him lovingly, stretching up to kiss him.

Just before our lips met, I whispered, "And you've given me an island."

The End.

A/N: First I want to thank ever for sticking with me. Second, to those of you who took the time to review, thank you so very, very much. Those of you who also write will understand how much it means to know that people enjoy what you post. Third, this chapter was a little….different. I was sick for two days while plotting it and I guess I watched too many soap operas where people are constantly have flashbacks, ya know? I hope you like it. Please let me know.