Hey lovelies. First off, I'm so sorry this took so long! This fic is still going, but unfortunately, real life has this annoying quirk of getting in the way. In the meantime I have secured a new job- you want to guess where? Yes, obviously. I'll be a bookseller. What a joke! Anyways, here's a really long chapter to make up for my absence, not beta'd yet since I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow and I wanted this out and posted before. Things are starting to get serious! I hope you enjoy it, and as always, I'm super happy about all likes, comments, and whatnot :) Also, Happy Birthday to the orinigal Haley 3 xx Dionne
The next day Carlisle found himself hurrying down the corridor past several nurses who tried to engage him in conversation. He cast a glance at his watch. 11:42. He needed to hurry. Hastily he closed the door of his office behind himself and opened up his browser. Within a few seconds, he found the number he was looking for and dialed. After a moment, a familiar voice answered.
"Hello, this is The Literary Pharmacy. You are talking to Claire- how can I help you?"
"Hello Claire, this is Carlisle."
For a second she didn't respond, and he wondered what she was thinking. When she responded her voice sounded equally amused and surprised. "I assume you're calling to apologize for your rude behavior yesterday afternoon?"
He smiled and leaned against his desk. "I do not have the slightest inkling of what you might be talking about."
Claire snorted. "Still rude, I see. What else do you want then?" she asked, cutting to the chase faster than usual, her tone curious.
"I just remembered that I wanted to order a book basket, but I forgot about it earlier." He had been standing at the end of a patients bed, updating the data on their medical chart when he noticed the date and let out a mild curse under his breath. Originally he had planned not to come in until he had finished reading Leaves of Grass- he didn't want to crowd her with excessive visits- but then, after he had left the Pharmacy yesterday, he had realized that Claire would be perfect in helping him around Bella's No-Gifts-Policy.
After Emmett, Alice, Jasper and Rose had given her a slightly enhanced replica of her old Chevy for her first birthday as a vampire, Bella had allotted the rule that she wouldn't take any gifts that cost more than fifty dollars and needed any form of power to work. Her adamant refusal of gifts made him smile; his newest daughter had changed with immortality, like all of them had, but neither the prospect of an endless parade of birthdays nor a fairly decent amount of money had changed her aversion to presents. They had slowly relented and given up, and while Edward still tried his best by buying her books or jewelry, none of them had exactly been successful in finding a perfect gift for her.
Now however, Carlisle had realized, he was friends with a talented bookseller that specialized in finding just the right book. Maybe with Claire he stood a chance of finally finding the right fit.
Unfortunately this revelation had eluded him until tuesday evening, so he had come in yesterday- only to promptly forget about his plans, because Claire had managed to distract him with her quick wit and stories.
"You see," he continued, "it is my daughter-in-law's birthday tomorrow, and she is a little peculiar when it comes to gifts." He briefly explained the situation, and went on to describe Bella's tastes in books. "So, would it be possible to get a book-basket with maybe three or four books until tomorrow? I know it is a little short- notice, and I understand if it won't work."
"That won't be a problem, I can have it ready in an hour. So, she likes Jane Austen and Wuthering Heights, you say?" Claire asked, her tone somewhat strange.
"Yes, is that a problem?"
"No, of course not. I just wouldn't have pegged Alice as the Wuthering Heights type, that's all."
"Alice?" he asked, confused for a second, before he realized his mistake.
Claire sounded equally uncertain. "Yes? I assumed you meant her with daughter-in-law? Or did you mean Rosalie? I mean, technically neither of them are, but… "She let the sentence hang in the air, apparently unsure of what to say.
"Uh, yes, I meant Alice. Of course she's not technically my daughter-in-law, but sometimes… sometimes I call her that. It's an inside-joke, of sorts." He grimaced at his awkward attempt of salvaging the situation. What was happening to him? Didn't he used to be good at keeping up the charade? It had always been him that had reinforced the necessity of their cover stories, and suddenly he was the one who kept messing up.
The awkwardness between them was palpable over the line, but before one of them could make up their mind of what to say, the shops' doorbell could be heard. Claire cursed slightly, much to Carlisle's surprise, and muttered: "Oh, sorry, could you hold on a sec?"
"Of course," he replied, and then cloth rustled and all sounds became muffled as Claire supposedly pressed the phone against her shoulder. Although everything was muted, Carlisle could still hear the male voice that greeted Claire enthusiastically.
"Hey Alex," Claire answered, and although he couldn't hear her clearly, Carlisle thought that she sounded somewhat tentative. "What are you doing here? Aren't Emily and Kat home by now?"
"My mother came down to help me out a little for a couple of days."
"Oh, that's lovely. Tell her I said hi." Claire said warmly, but her voice still sounded slightly off to Carlisle's ears.
The man- Alex, he corrected himself- hesitated, before he slowly said: "Why don't you tell her hi yourself? Come over later and say hi to her and the girls. And then maybe I could take you out to dinner afterwards?" There was a small, awkward silence as Claire didn't answer. He could feel her agitation over the line, and suddenly he felt uncomfortable too. He stood up straight from where he had leaned against his desk and started pacing. When Claire didn't seem to reply, Alex added: " You know, as a thank-you sort of thing? I never really got around to thank you for what you did for the girls… and for me", he added, the last bit loaded with implications. Carlisle didn't understand why, but it annoyed him immensely- couldn't he tell that Claire was uncomfortable?
"I….Uh, thank you Alex. But I can't," Claire replied, and then added hastily: "And you don't need to thank me anyways, I was only glad I could help."
There was a brief silence as neither of them said anything. Then Alex said: "Listen, I didn't just want to take you to dinner to say thank you. There was something I wanted to tell you."
Claire's only reply was a breathless "Oh?" that made Carlisle wish he could see her face.
"Please, come to dinner with me?"
Claire seemed to think it over, and Carlisle stopped pacing. Then she let out a small sigh.
"I'm sorry Alex. I can't."
"Why not, Claire?" he demanded. The way he said her name implied an intimacy that took Carlisle unawares. His tone clearly stated that he knew her reason was personal, rather than a simple obligations that could not be postponed. It suggested he'd said her name this way many times before, and it made Carlisle wonder how close they were. But if they were, couldn't he tell that he was clearly making her uncomfortable? Carlisle could hear the rustling of her clothes, as she shifted, apparently uneasy. He couldn't see her face, but he could easily imagine it: Her brow furrowed, her shoulders slightly hunched, one hand clutching the phone, the other with her thumb hooked into the back pocket of her jeans.
"I just can't," she replied quietly, and in his mind he could see her drawn in her lower lip.
Yet maybe he was simply imagining things, because the man kept pestering her anyways. "That's not a reason."
She had given her answer. Why can't he let it go? He felt an irritated knot in his stomach. Carlisle disliked people who gave such little disregard to other people's feelings, especially when they were as good and kind as Claire. She deserved better. Someone who respects her decisions.
Apparently Claire thought so too.
"Actually, it is, Alex. I can't. I'm flattered, and I thank you for asking me, but I can't." Alex started to protest, but Claire interrupted him. The line rustled once again, and suddenly her voice was clear again. "I'm sorry, Alex," she sounded sincere, but firm. "And now, if you'll excuse me? I have a customer waiting on the line that I need to attend to. Give my love to the girls and your mom, will you?"
Alex mumbled a defeated reply, and Carlisle heard the bell, followed by a weary sigh of Claire. He couldn't help but admire the way she had handled herself- she'd been kind, but hadn't budged to accommodate him. Carlisle had had his fair share of dealings with impolite people, but even he had found something about the man immensely irritating.
"Hey. Sorry about the interruption..." Claire said and shook him from his musings. Tension he hadn't been aware of dissipated from his shoulders.
"That's alright", he replied and tried to put his smile into his tone in order to make her feel more comfortable. " You were talking about options?" he prompted when she didn't go on.
"Oh, right. Yes." There was a short, awkward silence, then Claire took a deep breath and clapped her hands together. A short ruffling disrupted the connection, and then Claire's voice was a tiny bit louder. In his mind he saw her, phone pinned between cheek and shoulder, as she rolled up her sleeves and went to a bookshelf. She named some titles for him and gave some short recommendations.
"Oh, and there's always Far From The Madding Crowd, which is getting popular right now, as well as Death Comes To Pemberly, which is set about a decade after Pride and Prejudice. I can also recommend Longbourn by Jo Baker, it's Pride and Prejudice retold by the servants of Longbourn, where the heroine lives. Apart from that, A Sicilian Romance is really great, it's from Ann Radcliffe, an author some of Jane Austen's heroine's read in her books. It's a little gothic… well, you know: Lovers are separated! Secrets are revealed! Houses are haunted… or are they?" She laughed, and he chuckled as he imagined her theatrical expressions.
"That all sounds perfect- I'm afraid I'm of no big help though, so I'll leave it to you if you don't mind."
Claire agreed, and they quickly went over the details. They agreed that he'd pick it up in the afternoon.
"Alright. See you later, Doc", Claire quipped and ended the call. Carlisle hang up and looked out of his window, a slight unease still lingering in his stomach. He hoped the man would take the hint and stop pestering her.
He left his office and went back to work, but for the whole afternoon his thoughts went back to the conversation he'd overheard. Now, in hindsight, he realized that he had intruded her privacy and that he shouldn't have listened in, but then he hadn't even thought about it. He had heard her unease and had felt strangely protective, and he had been curious as well, if he was honest with himself.
Yet something kept nagging at him, and he couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was.
Claire ended the phone call and sagged against her desk as she put the phone down. Wearily, she ran a hand over her face and shot a cautious look towards the door- if Alex decided to return, she'd simply pretend her phone call wasn't over yet.
In her mind she could already hear Lou complaining, but except for a very thin layer of guilt, she could find no regret in herself for turning Alex down. Lou would argue that the lurch in her stomach when he'd asked her could've signaled something good, but Claire trusted her intuition, and she had been dreading this for several weeks now.
It wasn't like she hadn't thought about it. He was nice enough, and smart, a good father, he liked books reasonably enough. Good looking, too- not in the inhumanly stupid way Carlisle was of course, she thought wryly, but normal. A solid man.
And somewhat dull, if she was honest. She felt bad for it, but she wanted more than just enough. Lou and Haley- hell, even Alfred- blamed her books for it, and Claire was inclined to agree with them. Obviously her expectations were unrealistic, but what was she supposed to do? I can hardly force myself to feel something I don't.
And to her, Alex had always been just Alex. She didn't think about him when he wasn't there, she never wondered whether or not he might like a book- of course, she had her recommendations for him, since that was her job- but she never wanted to divulge her favourites, to try and push her luck and broaden his horizons a little, just to see if she could.
Yet she couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. She was worried that she might've led him on, with the way she had cared for the girls, but then again he knew perfectly well that Claire had always cared for others. He had helped her take care of the Fosters, he knew she read to Mrs. Mulligan, knew of Alfred. But maybe he had disregarded this evidence, and thought it had been different for them. Maybe he had just wished it to be true because it would make everything so much easier for the girls.
In a way Claire hoped that this was all it was- a lonely father, wanting a mother for his daughters. That would mean his feelings weren't too involved, that he'd get over her rejection easily, and also that he was resourceful and hopeful enough to create a new life for his family. He'd just have to accept that she wasn't going to be the woman he could start this new life with.
A new customer shook her from her thoughts, and she set to work. After she'd convinced the woman to trade the dietary guide she had sought to buy could be perfectly substituted with a travel journal of a french chef who traveled the world by herself, Claire sent her on her way over to Donna's. Then she grabbed the stack of books she had collected while she'd talked to Carlisle.
While she grabbed what she needed and set to prepare the book basket, her thoughts returned to Carlisle and Alice. The more she kept thinking about it, the more she felt like he'd been lying to her.
She was certain that the basket was not for Alice, but who else could he have meant? Again, she couldn't make sense of any of it, and everytime she resolved to stop mulling over all the little mysteries that seemed to resolve around Carlisle, another one seemed to pop up that rekindled her curiosity.
She wondered why he'd felt the need to lie to her- it didn't seem like it was in his nature to lie easily, especially not about something so trivial. While she arranged the last bits and bobs in the basket, she resolved herself to some light investigation once Carlisle would come over to pick up the basket.
The clock on the wall struck four o'clock exactly as Carlisle pointed randomly at one of the at least two dozen variants of cupcakes that were displayed before him.
"If I might make a suggestion? Claire loves the caramel peanut ones best."
Carlisle shot the woman a curious look over the counter. She chuckled and nodded towards the door, her bright red, permed curls bouncing with the motion.
"My eyes are still working. I haven't seen you around here before- believe me, I would have noticed," she took him in pointedly, and a dozen laugh lines crinkled around her eyes which held a mischievous glint that reminded him of Claire. "And every time you buy something, you head over there, and every time you leave without it." Carlisle opened his mouth, but the woman shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no need to explain. It's none of my business anyhow, even if I can't help being a bit nosy now and then," she said and winked. "I wouldn't even have said anything, but I could hardly let you bring a mocha chocolate chip over there, or Claire would've stoned both of us."
Carlisle chuckled. "Well, then I thank you for interfering. Do you have any other suggestions?"
The woman smiled kindly. "Claire's afternoon pick-me-up, coming right up." He watched her as she grabbed a cupcake, a banana and prepared a coffee. There was the same air of kindness about her that radiated from Claire. It didn't surprise him that the two of them had struck up a deal, and apparently a friendship as well. Carlisle estimated her to be in her mid-fifties, but Claire had already established that she didn't care about age differences. The woman stuck a hand on her slightly plump hip and set the paper bag on the counter.
"There you go dear. Say hi to Claire for me, will you?"
"Of course," he replied as he handed her the money," and thank you."
"Oh it's no matter," she waved him off as he left the shop. The door had already closed behind him as he heard her mutter to herself: "My, my Claire. Hopefully you don't let this one get away, dear."
His chest constricted for a fraction of a second at the implication. Was this the impression he made? That in a way, he was trying to woo her? Did Claire think so too? Surely, this could not be the impression she had of him. The thought seemed ridiculous and slightly outrageous to him- not the thought the he might be interested in her, but the thought that a cupcake would be deemed a sufficient form of courtship. Of course the times had changed, but surely nobody would mistake such a friendly gesture as an attempt to romance her. With the things she did for strangers alone, with the way she cared, Claire deserved so much more- the thought that anybody would expect a cupcake as enough to earn her affection seemed so ridiculous to him that it had not even crossed his mind.
He stopped right in front of the door, hand on the knob, worry pooling in his belly. Worry, that his visits made Claire uncomfortable because she might think he was harboring an unwelcome interest in her, even if his rational mind told him that there had been no evidence that this was the case. In fact, sometimes he had even thought she might be flirting a little, but he reasoned that she was simply teasing him. He had witnessed her talking to several other people in the same way, even though she kept mentioning his beauty- which obviously meant little.
Carlisle had never been vain, and had always been largely indifferent to his supernatural beauty. Sometimes it was bothersome, since it drew so much attention, but then again he was aware of how much easier it sometimes made their lives, even if he resented having to exploit it. But now he wished that he'd remained plain, normal, so he could gauge her true reaction to him, aside from his looks.
Not that he believed that she would care much about such trivialities, on the contrary, he distinctly felt that his supernatural beauty was something that kept her at bay. He briefly ran through their conversations in his head, tried to find a clue of what she thought. He didn't want to lead her on and make the impression they were headed for something that could not happen.
Before he could make sense of his confusion, a movement behind the door caught his attention, and the door opened in front of him. Claire stood in the doorway, hair in a disheveled bun, eyebrows raised questioningly. "I know this door is pretty, but you've been staring at it for a solid three minutes, and I was getting a little worried to be honest."
He chuckled lightly. "I'm sorry. I was lost in thought, it seems."
Carlisle made to move, but Claire raised her hand and narrowed her eyes. "Hold up, stop right there. I haven't forgotten yesterday, so tell me: Who seeks entrance, Carrot Carlisle or Cupcake Cullen?" She stared at him suspiciously, but the left corner of her mouth wobbled slightly.
He lifted the bag and the coffee in front of him and lowered his head slightly. "My sincerest apologies. I behaved horribly and I regret it immensely."
She grinned brightly and took the bags from him. "Apology accepted," she mumbled as she took a sip from the coffee, quickly followed by a muttered expletive as she promptly burned her mouth. Amused he watched her hoping from foot to foot to distract herself from the pain, and stepped past her inside the shop as she made way for him. Inside, two customers were sat at the tables, four more were idly browsing the shelves. Emily's spot on the couch was vacant, and he remembered the conversation he had overheard earlier.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched Claire lightly shoving a customers shoulder as they were both laughing about something. He compared the way she acted with the man to the way she interacted with him, and found no big difference. With Alex, on the other hand, her discomfort had been plainly evident, and Carlisle was relieved that she didn't seem to feel this way around him. Evidently she thought of him just the same as any other customer. Which is a good thing, he reminded himself.
And then a new thought entered his mind as he watched Claire put her hand on the man's arm. What if he had it all wrong? What if none of this had ever crossed her mind? What if the reason that she had turned down Alex because there was already somebody else in her life? Did he really expect her to be attracted to him, because he was outwardly beautiful?
He ran through the information he had on her, and to his surprise he realized that it wasn't all that much. He knew that she and her parents were estranged, but not why, knew of her uncle and Alfred, knew that she had friends, and some of her views and favorite books. But apart from that, he realized with a start, she was still somewhat of a stranger to him. Which seemed strange to him, since he felt like he already knew her quite well.
Claire left the man to his own devices and headed towards him with a smile, and he realized why the thought hadn't ever crossed his mind: because she already seemed complete and content on her own. He couldn't imagine that she would need anybody else, and he couldn't know if she wanted anyone next to her.
"Okay, so either you made a scarily accurate guess about my usual order" Claire said as she fished the cupcake and the banana from the paper bag, "or someone has been talking to Donna."
"She says hello," he answered with a lopsided smile. Claire looked away hastily and turned towards the counter.
"So," she began after she cleared her throat," the basket is ready. I stuck with A Sicilian Romance because I really love it, and oriented the others around it theme-wise. Nothing edible in there, like we agreed, and I added a handmade lemon soap like a protagonist uses in one of the books, some dried lavender and other things that reflect certain aspects of the books." Claire explained in a slightly breathless voice as she hoisted the basket on top of the counter. Carlisle shot her a brief look and wondered if she was okay, but she didn't look any different than usual, except for the slightest flush of color on her cheeks. Did she find me talking to Donna intrusive?
Claire still looked at the basket and talked about the books and trinkets she had chosen, all arranged tastefully in a straw-filled wicker basket.
"It looks wonderful. Thank you, I really appreciate it."
She waved his thanks away. "Oh, my pleasure. It's my job, after all." As he reached for his wallet, a customer that was sat behind him inhaled sharply.
"Oh, no fucking way!"
Claire laughed at his outraged exclamation and nodded towards the outraged man as she grabbed a book from the counter. "Sorry, I'll be right with you."
Carlisle turned around and watched Claire hold out the book just as the man shut his closed and slammed it on the table with slightly more force than was strictly necessary. He cast her a surprised look as she waved the in front of him. "Here, it's the next one. Don't worry, it gets better," she added with a wink. The man complained about cliffhangers as he reached for his wallet, but Claire waved him off and told him he could pay her later. With a slight pat on his shoulder she returned to Carlisle at the counter.
"Always prepared, I see," he mused with a smile, and Claire shrugged it off.
"I have to look out for my patients, don't I?"
"Is he one then?"
"Kind of. The bored type- a banker," she explained with a wry grin. Then she looked expectantly at him, as if she was unsure of what he wanted to do now, a slight insecurity about her that he had rarely experienced with her. It gripped him too; and he felt out of sorts, unsure whether he ought to take his leave or stay. He wasn't sure if the latter was welcome. He didn't want to crowd her.
His musings were suddenly cut short as bright sunlight flooded the store. Instinctively he took a step back towards the shadows, even though the light had simply hit his trousers and shoes. Claire's eyes followed his movement sharply, and the back of his neck tingled with alarm, worried that she might have noticed it. The crease between her eyebrows promised nothing good, he decided. Hurriedly he tried to smooth the moment over by walking deeper into the shop, away from the windows and towards the library section. He pointed towards the shelves.
"I was considering to make use of your library, if you don't mind."
"Of course, that's what it's there for." She smiled at him, but the crease didn't vanish.
He walked over to the shelves as if he had meant to do it in the first place, casting a glance back in between. Claire was back behind the counter, talking to one of the customers, shooting the occasional glance into his direction. Behind her, the sun shone through the windows. Now he would have to stay longer, and a small part in him that he didn't wish to examine closer was relieved at the excuse.
As he browsed the shelves, he briefly considered calling home, but the others wouldn't be worried. He trailed his hands along the books until his eyes fell on Narnia. With a small smile, he pulled it from the shelf and opened it randomly. The pages were illustrated, and worn with use.
"The red ribbon is Emily's, if you want to live, you'll better take care not to lose her place," Claire said from the counter where she'd been watching him with a smile.
"Thanks for the warning," he called back as he traced the frayed red ribbon that hung between the pages. He wanted to put the book back, but then he remembered that he was supposed to branch out on his reading now. So he turned around and walked to the couch that Emily usually occupied. As he wanted to sit down his eyes fell on one of the pillows and he burst out laughing. In bold letters it read "I LIKE BIG BOOKS AND I CANNOT LIE".
Carlisle settled onto the couch and opened Narnia at the first page. The first couple of pages flew by quickly, and he found that he enjoyed the book more than he had anticipated. After all, it was mostly an excuse to stay a little longer and to avoid exposure to the sunlight. Howver, his attention was ripped from Lucy's conversation with Mr. Tumnus as the shops' doorbell announced a new customer.
He watched Claire greet the newly arrived man with a hug. He was tall, dark skinned and had a friendly smile to him, and Carlisle dimly recalled having seen him somewhere around the hospital now and then. He and Claire chatted amiably while they walked to the counter, and Carlisle decided that he had done enough eavesdropping for one day. He returned his attention firmly to his book, but his excellent hearing got the better of him anyways as Claire said: "Sure, can you come and pick me up tomorrow at around 4pm? Kelsey will be here by then."
The man blushed slightly and mumbled a confirmation while he avoided her eyes, and Claire broadly grinned up at him. Carlisle shifted in his seat. Was this the reason she'd turned down Alex?
He studied the man briefly. He seemed to be thirty years old, Carlisle estimated, and in good shape. Handsome enough, with a kind smile, and Claire seemed relaxed around him, which he supposed was a good sign. But the whole interaction left Carlisle uneasy nonetheless. The man agreed and Claire stretched her arms up to hug him goodbye. She almost vanished in his large arms. A few seconds later, he was gone.
Claire turned around suddenly and met his eyes. She tilted her head questioningly and gave him a small smile, but she didn't walk over to him. Instead she made her rounds through the shop, talking to lingering customers, and Carlisle averted his eyes to the book. But despite his best efforts, he couldn't concentrate on the pages any longer. Instead he watched her over the top of his book as she interacted with her customers.
It was evident she knew all of them to some extent, and Carlisle watched her drift from customer to customer, handing out books and making jokes here and there, asking questions in a low voice. Her presence filled the shop, but he noticed that she took care not to crowd anyone, always sensing whether her presence was wanted or not.
He admired the way she handled herself around her customers, and it was plain to see that she was wonderful at what she did. It gave him joy to see how appreciated she was by her customers- nearly all of them sought her out immediately after entering the shop, and she quickly found what they needed. A woman carrying flowers entered the shop to thank Claire for a suggestion she had made, and the two women gushed about the book for solid ten minutes. Again he couldn't help but notice how evident her passion for her work was, and it wistfully reminded him of himself in those first decades after he had mastered his thirst and earned his skill as a doctor.
But then, as the medical field changed and hospitals grew in size, and the regulations became much more strict, he had had to reign his enthusiasm in. His apparent youth had gradually become more and more of a problem, and he had found that a professional dignity helped his act more than youthful enthusiasm.
Yet Claire seemed to have no use for dignity. She had already hinted that her youth was sometimes a source of conflict when it came to her job, but it seemed like she did not care much whether people thought her too young to help people with their problems. The thought that someone might consider her unfit to give any substantial advice seemed ridiculous to Carlisle, but maybe her maturity and wisdom weren't as apparent to others as they were to him. He had lived for so long, maybe it had become easier for him to recognize such talent more easily.
As he watched her, he couldn't help but think of his family. As much as he considered all of them his children, he knew that he was not their father by far- which was why he tried not to impose on their personal lives apart from his duties as a coven leader. He had already made an enormous decision for most of them, and he knew that, while they all believed in their way of living, he was their main reason for following it so closely. After all they had had to content with on his account, he felt it would be improper to meddle in their affairs more than necessary, and by all accounts, they were adults in their own right. After all, now all of them were married, and except for Edward and Alice, all of them had had fathers of their own. He knew that the only one who truly considered him as his father was Edward. And yet, despite all of it, in his heart they were his children nonetheless, and he could not help but worry.
He had been the one who had implemented the teenager cover story at first, back when it would have been impossible for them to work properly. And then, Rose had wanted to stick with it, simply because it bought them more time in one place. They had talked it over everytime they moved, and he had tried to ensure that they knew that they did not need to live with him, that they might make of their lives what they wanted- but they stayed with him, and they stayed teenagers in the public eye. And Carlisle felt horrible for it, even as he tried to hide it. After all, was it not his fault, since he changed them so young? Of course he realized that he had had little choice, except to let them die. Edward and himself had discussed this a hundred times, but still he worried that he might have damaged them in some way.
Over the years, all of them had dabbled in several careers, but none of it had stuck, even when anonymous work became so much easier with the rise of the internet. He worried that they were lacking something, had wondered if they were too young to find their path. Then he had tried to make his piece with it, reminding himself how long it had taken him to find his passion. Physically, he was not much older than them, but it had taken him around fifty years to find his path, and then a century more to master his thirst properly.
Only once he tried addressing it. None of them were concerned about the issue, and Emmett made a joke about how Carlisle – and Edward, who had been attending medical school once more at the time- had enough time to become famous physicians, since they weren't busy with other things, at which he had winked at Rose. Carlisle had laughed, but sometimes he wondered if there was a truth to it. Was he the one who needed to change, in the end?
But now that he watched Claire, who was so young and yet so fulfilled by her work, he felt once more hope that it was possible for his children to find purpose beyond their daily charades. After all, hadn't he also feared that Edward would remain alone because he had changed him too young? No, maybe there was hope after all.
For the good part of an hour, the sun hung bright in the sky, apparently content to remain out in the open. Carlisle remained in the shadows in the back of the store, content to just sit idle. It was something he had not done in a while- usually he was always busying himself with work or the additional paperwork that his family's forged identities necessitated. There was always something to do, and Carlisle liked it that way, because it kept the monotony that almost four centuries of living tended to bring at bay.
But now, for once, he enjoyed having nowhere to go and nothing to do, except sit here and read a book and to listen to other people's chitchat. For once, life was easy- and with a start he realized how stressful the last years had been.
While he certainly was happy that Bella had joined their family, there was no denying that her and Edward's relationship had brought quite the upheaval. Only now, after they had been married for over two years and that Bella was slowly leaving her newborn phase behind her and they recovered from certain unfortunate happenings and their consequent recent move, did things slowly return to normal.
Slowly the shop became emptier and the mood shifted subtly as the sunlight began to lose strength. A quick glance on his watch told him he'd been there for almost one and a half hours, and the shop would be closing soon. He hoped he would find a shadowy path by then, otherwise he would have to resort to some risky escape using his speed.
A shadow fell over him as Claire leaned against the table closest to him. She'd been checking up on him now and then, but mostly left him to his own devices as she had her shop to run. Now she gave him a smile and nodded towards his book.
"How are we holding up here?"
"I think Edmund is close to an epiphany."
"What, that's were you are? After all that fastidious reading I'd have assumed you would already be aboard the Dawn Treader," Claire said with a grin, and Carlisle chuckled to mask his slight self-consciousness.
"I know, it's quite silly for a grown man to read a children's book."
Claire's eyes went round with surprise and she shook her head fervently. "Oh no, that is not what I meant at all. I was simply saying that I'm happy to see you read something. It's not silly at all; in fact, it shows that you have good taste."
She asked him a few questions about the book and soon they were in deep conversation about Edmund, his journey, and the value of second chances, which in turn led her to inquire about his becoming an adoptive father. Carlisle was wary of her questions since they always turned out slightly dangerous, but she was sitting across from him, and her questions were gentle, so he decided to be as genuine as he could. He told her the official story they went by, and it was apparent she had already heard it before. She didn't mention his recent confession about his guilt, but she asked whether or not they regretted moving and how it was living with four teenagers.
"Eventful, certainly," he chuckled. "Sometimes the bickering doesn't stop for days."
Claire studied him and smiled slightly. " You don't regret taking them on then?"
"No, not for one second."
"I'm glad for you." She wrapped her hand around her neck and regarded him with a tilted head and narrowed eyes. "How old are you? If you don't mind me asking."
He shifted a little uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes as he told her the age he was officially going by as of now: "Thirty-two."
Claire's eyebrows shot up and she laughed. "Really? I mean, it figures, considering your job and all, but you don't look it." He didn't answer, but to his relief she had already moved on. "So, that would mean you were what? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine when you adopted them?"
"Twenty-eight, yes."
"That's a lot of responsibility for someone so young."
He smiled as he put the book on the table next to the couch. "Almost like moving to the other end of the earth to take care of a stranger at the age of 21."
She laughed a little at that, and dropped the subject then, sensing that he wouldn't expose more on the matter. Instead she grabbed Narnia from the table, secured the red ribbon and carried it over to the shelf. As she slid it into place, she asked, voice a little too casual: "So, I hope that Alice will like the basket. I'm still a little- "
Her inquiry got cut short by the buzzing of the shops phone, and Claire hurried over to it with an apology and a frown towards the clock. Carlisle glanced outside as she muttered her greeting. The sun was almost gone by now. He considered the angle of the sun and which route to take to his car when his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp intake of breath behind him. Claire's heart stuttered twice and then sped up, and he turned to see her, eyes big, one hand grabbing the edge of the desk, the other clutching the phone, knuckles white.
In a flash he stood and hurried over to her, as she choked out: "Is he going to be alright?!"
He listened intently as the voice on the phone replied: "We can't tell anything yet, I'm afraid. His leg is fractured, that much is certain, but the scans will tell whether or not there is any internal bleeding- we're suspecting his spleen might be ruptured- we're expecting…," the voice droned on and Claire, who had gone pale as a sheet shook her head as if she was in a daze.
"Yes, but what does that mean?!" She asked, voice getting more and more frantic. The caller told her to wait, and Claire shot him a panicked look, her face pale as a sheet. Ignoring all forms of proper conduct, he rounded the counter and stood next to her.
"What's wrong? Claire?"
She swallowed audibly and covered her phone with her hand. "It's Uncle Q. Apparently some part of the ceiling collapsed and crashed down on him- he's got a broken leg and is in the hospital, but they can't tell... I don't know what's happening. And there's nobody else, and I'm half a world away and-" she rambled in a whisper, eyes wide and scared, and he grabbed her arm to calm her down.
"Claire, he's in medical care, that's all that matters. If they took the time to call you, it's probably not as bad. I know you're scared, but blaming yourself and panicking doesn't help anyone right now."
Claire's lips pressed together, but she nodded. "I know, it's just- Hello? Yes, I'm listening!" She started pacing while she listened to the brief report the doctor gave her over the line. From what Carlisle could hear surgery would be necessary, but there were good chances that her uncle would recover. Unless, which the doctor informed her himself now, they had missed any cerebral hemorrhages, which was always a risk with such accidents. Halfway through, Claire got frustrated and tried to shove the phone in his hands, telling the man on the phone that there was a doctor standing next to her who could make more use out of this information, but Carlisle shook his head.
"I'm not a relative, he's not allowed to tell me anything," he whispered, just as the man told her the same thing. With a frustrated groan she simply started repeating loudly what the man told her, looking at him with a hard look on her face. Patiently he waited while she told him what he'd already heard- a part of him wanted to cut her off and tell her it was of no use, but he recognized how she felt. Right now, telling him and getting his assessment of the situation was the only thing she could do, the only thing that made her feel useful, so he listened intently to her report and nodded his understanding. After she was done, she reached under the counter and threw a key at him, before pointing to the door. With a nod he did as she bid and locked the shop while she ended the call.
As he turned back towards her, she stemmed her fists into her sides. "So, the truth, and no coddling, please," she said, chin drawn up and some unshed tears in her eyes. "Is he going to die?"
He shook his head slowly and walked back to her. "I don't know, Claire. From what the doctor has told you, I would assume there is a good chance he will make a full recovery, but there could always be a hemorrhage they can't see yet. The only thing we can do about that is to wait and see what comes up. His spleen does seem to be ruptured, but even that doesn't always necessitate surgery. But they sounded perfectly capable- I am sure he gets the best treatment that is possible."
She closed her eyes then, took a deep breath and nodded. When she opened them again, the panic was gone, but her heartbeat was still accelerated. With another deep breath she ran her hands over her face and tangled them in her hair. "Okay, I need to book the next flight possible, and then call Kelsey and call the insurance and-," she started, but stopped herself and reached for a pen and a notepad instead. He watched silently as the list grew longer and heard as her heartbeat picked up again as the panic came back.
"Do you want some help?" he offered, expecting her to turn him down. It was certainly a personal matter, and he wasn't sure if she was comfortable enough with him to involve him, or if she felt that this was something she had to shoulder by herself. Obviously she had already involved him to some extend, but that had more to do with his occupation than her trust in his person.
But again, she surprised him. Her shoulders sagged as she sighed, and her voice was tiny as she said: "Yes, please." His silent heart constricted at the sight of her vulnerability, and her pain hit him in a way he had not anticipated. Wordlessly he reached for his phone and searched for the right number.
"Go call Kelsey and take care of the personal things, I will secure a flight for you. Drink something, too, preferably with sugar in it," he ordered in his best doctor voice, and she complied without complaint. Only when he gave his credit information a couple of minutes later did she protest, but he raised a hand and waved her complaints away. She stopped hissing, but shot him a glare anyhow, and despite the seriousness of the situation he couldn't help but smile a little over her annoyed look. He ended the call and intercepted her protest. "I know, I didn't need to, but it was easier this way. You can pay me back later, now stop worrying, please," he told her, and she sighed once.
"Okay. Thank you. It wasn't necessary, but thank you."
He nodded. "Your flight goes tomorrow morning at quarter past six, it's the earliest they had. How will you get there? I'm sure I can arrange something..." he mused. He could trade shifts or have one of the others drive her there…
"Thank you, but it's really not necessary, I'll just get a cab."
"Oh, of course. Let me take care of that, you continue with your calls." He waved at the list she had made, and they both picked up their phones again. Twenty minutes later they had worked off the list and Claire had dutifully eaten her banana by his order. He studied her as she shut down her computer. She seemed calmer now that the worst was taken care of and she was practically on her way; her pulse was normal, her face looked less pale and she was less frenzied, even if she still seemed shaken.
As she hoisted his book basket on the counter, her eyes fell on the flowers she had gotten earlier, and she plucked them from the vase. " Here, take these with you and give them to Alice from me, will you? They'll be withered anyways by the time I get back." She wrapped them in some tissues and laid them next to the basket, and as he reached for his wallet she shook her head.
"No, really, just take it. You already paid for my flight, and I already locked up, it's easier this way."
He wanted to protest, but he reminded himself that she hadn't put up a fight earlier, so he decided to abide by her wishes. Carlisle studied her tired face with concern. "Is there anything else I can do?"
"No, you've already done too much. Don't worry, Haley's coming over right now and she'll help me pack. I don't really know how long I'll have to stay and help him."
Only then did he realize that this meant she could be gone several weeks, and he'd have nowhere to disappear to. Which reminded him of an unresolved issue, and he reached inside his jacket's pocket.
"Here, I'm not completely done, but it might be something to keep you occupied. This way, maybe you won't worry incessantly," he tried to tease, but his stomach felt slightly hollow as he handed her his copy of Leaves of Grass.
Claire laughed and pocketed the book. "I always worry incessantly. But yes, this might keep me well occupied."
He bowed a little as she stepped out from behind the counter, and said:" Always happy to be of service."
"You were." She said, a small, wobbly smile on her lips, and then she was suddenly closer to him than he was used to, and within a heartbeat her arms wrapped around his torso. Her forehead pressed into his shoulder as she hugged him tightly. "Thank you Carlisle." Her voice was barely above a whisper, muffled by his jacket, and his heart felt like it ought to have stopped, were it still beating.
It only lasted a couple of seconds, but his body went rigid with surprise. He barely managed to wrap his arms halfway around her by instinct, before she stepped back, her hands sliding down his arms to grab his icy hands. She didn't flinch at their coolness, instead she squeezed them firmly as she looked up at him. "Really, I wouldn't have known what to do. I'm glad you were there. " He felt himself nod, incapable of forming a coherent phrase, occupied with the way her hair framed her face, her scent a potent cloud around them. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, her lip a little red where she'd constantly bitten it over the last hour. Carlisle realized that he was staring, and told himself to step away and acknowledge her words, but he couldn't find it in himself to look away. Instead, his hands squeezed back, and they stared at each other, a fraction longer than was normal.
"Claire, I'm here!"
They both jumped apart slightly as someone knocked at the door outside, and Claire seemed to avoid his eyes as she unlocked the door. A pretty woman with straight dark hair and large brown eyes stood outside. Her eyebrows were raised questioningly as she threw a pointed look at Claire, before she looked at Carlisle.
"Sorry, I thought you were alone."
"I was just locking up, and Carlisle was there when I got the call. He's a doctor, so I pestered him with questions." Claire explained. It was true enough, but her voice seemed too casual, and the woman didn't look entirely convinced. Then Claire shook her head slightly and waved her hand between them. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm being rude. Haley, this is Doctor Carlisle Cullen, Carlisle, this is my friend Haley."
They exchanged greetings, and Claire gave her keys to Haley. "I'll be there in a sec- I'll just lock up."
Haley looked like she wanted to say something, but Claire threw her a pointed look and with a shrug she grabbed the keys and walked of to their right, were she disappeared behind a door he hadn't noticed before.
Claire turned back to him and rubbed her arm awkwardly. He didn't know what to say, so he turned and retrieved the basket and the flowers before he stepped outside so she could lock up behind them.
Outside it was already twilight, so he walked the few steps to her door next to her in silence. They stopped in front of it, and Claire thanked him again for his help.
"It was my pleasure. I, too, like to help," he said with a smile and Claire laughed. Then an idea crossed his mind and he reached into his pocket to retrieve a piece of paper and a pen. He had business cards somewhere, but they felt too impersonal for a situation like this. "Here is my number- if you want to get a second opinion on your uncles progress, you can call me. And… if you simply want someone to talk to, as well."
Claire smiled and pocketed the number with a nod. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."
He didn't want to leave her alone, but he sensed that it was time to go, and she was taken care of for now. So he nodded briefly and reached out to squeeze her shoulder, relieved when she didn't draw back. "So, I guess I'll leave you to it then. I hope your uncle recovers fast, and that everything will go over as smoothly as possible."
"Yes, me too. I'll keep you posted on what's happening, and I'll see that I'll comb through leaves of Grass so I can give you a diagnosis as soon as I get back. And say hi to Alice for me, and wish her all the best tomorrow, will you?"
"Certainly. Well… have a good flight, then. Goodbye Claire."
She patted his arm and nodded. "Goodbye, Carlisle."
With that she stepped back and vanished behind the door, her voice still hanging in the air as he turned to leave, thoughts racing in his mind.
He hoped she'd be alright, and prayed she wouldn't need to suffer another loss. The scared look on her face had cut him deep, how tiny her voice had sounded, how she'd cast aside all pride and asked for his help. No, more than that, she'd relied on him, and he realized that it felt good that she had counted on him, hadn't thought that he was too much of a stranger to ask for help. A tiny part of his brain also registered the fact that Alex had made no appearance on her list. His shoulder still tingled were her head had rested, and his jacket still smelled like her arms. How long had it been since someone had hugged him, apart from his family? And how different it had been, soft and warm and alive. He wondered what she would think of his notes on Leaves of Grass, he worried that he might give away too much, that her sharp mind would see too much. Worried what might happen if she did, and for once not because of the consequences for his family.
Wondered why his name sounded different when she said it, wondered why it mattered in the first place.
Purple and pink lines blurred in the sky and the faint buzz of an airplane made him look up. He wondered how long she'd be gone.
