Disclaimer: Still not SM. Still do not own anything twilight-related. Still in love with this story.
AN: I think you folks should take your socks off in advance this time... I know many of you wanted this chapter to be written and begged for it, and so, without further ado, I give you - Chapter 7!
For three days, we concentrated solely on our grief. We spent hours in front of the fire in the study, merely hugging each other for solace. We cried together, we spoke a lot of our memories and Esmé shared many of hers with me. From them, emerged the characters of her parents, one memory at a time. Esmé spoke of hard working, honest and kind people, generous with all they had. She had many memories of religious ceremonies and holidays with them, from which I gathered they were God-fearing and pious. The world, indeed, has lost two good souls that day.
It seems the Lord was crying with us, for the heavens rained without pause. Little by little, I could see Esmé's restlessness increasing into a bout of cabin fever. I would never suggest a car ride with her and running in the rain was completely out of the question, so I attempted to entertain her by reading to her, until eventually she grew intrigued enough to read books on her own. Thus, we spent the next week in my study, days on end, our nights filled with passionate love-making, arguing about a book or reading together, me sitting on the sofa and Esmé laying on it, her head in my lap and her legs on the armrest, a book in her lap and a book in my hands. I was enjoying and taking great pride in Esmé's keen intelligence. She would read a book, debate its subject with me, when she always tried to defend the book and its writer and I used my great knowledge and perfect vampiric recall to attack it. She took a great liking to philosophy and religious books. She also developed a very endearing habit of arguing aloud with the book she was reading. I would attempt to counter-argue, and even offer books to help her, but she seemed to dislike me interfering with her reading.
On the morning of the sixteenth day after we were married, Esmé woke up with a look I had never before seen on her face. She was disoriented, mumbling about a dream she had, about a man repeatedly patting her stomach, gently but consistently. And then, she got up quickly, running for the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. The sounds of retching could be heard clearly enough even to a human. She was retching and moaning for about two minutes. I almost broke the door in my haste to be with her after the first few seconds. I held her hair away from her face and applied a cold wash cloth that I hurriedly got from the sink to her forehead. When it was over, she leaned back on my chest, mumbling her apologies. She then claimed to be very hungry. I made her some breakfast, fried scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, with tea to wash it down. She finished it all in such a hurry, that I was worried she was not eating enough. "I am fine, Carlisle. It just took a lot out of me, this illness. I probably have an upset stomach. It will pass." She said, slightly agitated with my constant questioning. I relented.
We went to the study, where she immediately grabbed the book she started reading the day before and settled in my lap to read. She only read for a few minutes before she was running again. I followed her to the bathroom again. She was retching violently again. I felt so hopeless, praying to God to spare her this illness, holding her hair out of her way and applying the cool washcloth to her forehead. Again, she insisted she was fine. Another day passed like that. She was ill at least twice more that day and more than 5 times on the following day. I became so worried, that I ordered her to remain in bed, on a diet of clear fluids. On the afternoon of the third day of illness, I was in bed next to my Esmé, my head on her chest, finding the constant beating of her heart relaxing. I was looking towards her stomach, which drew my stare by gurgling loudly. I was about to go bring her more soup and tea, but then, I was shocked into absolute stillness. It moved. Her stomach moved. It was a tiny up and down motion, all but invisible to any but a vampire, and very fast, too, so fast I might have missed it, were it not for the gurgling that drew my stare. The next movement, however, was impossible to miss. Esmé's hand flew to her stomach.
My good God! How is this possible? Was this really what I thought it to be? Or was it just the illness and the gases produced by her stomach? I was stunned and still. It was Esmé who broke the brief silence with her question.
"Carlisle, it has been seventeen days since the wedding, has it not?" she asked.
"Yes." I managed to whisper. She was quiet for a while, and I knew her thoughts well. She was counting her cycle.
"How late is it, Esmé?" I asked, knowing her period was late even before she started counting, a kind of weird sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. She looked at me, confused. "Four days. But I have never been a day late. How is this even possible? You said vampire males cannot sire children."
"Lay down. Let me examine you. Let us not jump to any haste conclusions." I said, anxious, my mind working hard, trying to recall anything similar to this. I touched her stomach. The lower part of it was slightly swollen and slightly colder than the rest of her. Dear God, help us. What have I done? What have I created in my selfish need for her? Good god, how will she carry an immortal child? Would it be as the ones of old? Was it something completely new? Should I terminate this pregnancy now, before this unknown monster grows any larger? Will it hurt her? Can she survive this pregnancy? My head swam with questions. As I was touching and palpating her stomach, I felt movement again. I put my head to her stomach and listened. Esmé's heartbeat was slightly faster than normal, clear evidence of her stress. But, as I listened carefully, I heard another heartbeat. A much faster one, like the wings of a hummingbird. I felt the colder area, and it was as hard as a rock, as hard as my skin. Its temperature was closer to mine, as well. This was a total shock. She has vampire skin inside her? But the fetus has a heartbeat! Oh, what have I done? What shall I now do? But Esmé was waiting for me to answer her questions. What am I going to tell her? The absolute truth, of course. We must discuss this.
"Esmé, you are indeed with child. I hear the fetus' heartbeat. It is normal, but for a much older fetus. You appear to be on your third month of pregnancy." I informed her.
"I cannot be. I have never known a man before you, Carlisle. You know that well." She said, offended and confused.
"I know, my love, I know. But this pregnancy seems to be progressing faster than a normal one. Another issue is the consistency of the womb itself. Your stomach is colder there, and much harder than should be. I believe that is because the womb has grown vampire skin around the fetus." I explained.
"What does this mean, Carlisle? What is in store for me? And for the baby?" she asked, her hands covering her stomach protectively. I watched her change before my eyes, from my teen wife, a child in many senses, to a woman, an expecting mother, protecting her unborn child. She is pregnant. My good God, she is pregnant. My mind kept repeating those words.
"It means this fetus is an unknown, Esmé. I have never, in all my years, heard anything to rival this. I thought to this day I was incapable of producing offspring. I cannot guarantee your safety, or that of the fetus. Esmé, I do not want to lose you. I think it wise not to risk your life for this. I offer my medical services in aborting this pregnancy, immediately. I will not live without you." I told her honestly. I could not even fathom a world without my wonderful Esmé in it. She looked to be considering my offer to save her life. Then, she spoke.
"I will not kill this miracle God has granted us. I thought being a mother to be something I would never experience. Now I have this chance, I want to bring this miracle to the world. I want this baby. It is you and I. It is a proof of the love we share." She said. I grew angry. She is risking her own life! "I will not sit idly and watch you die, my love! I cannot!" I yelled. She was taken aback by the forte of my statement, but only said, "I understand this baby is an unknown, and that we must be careful, but we shall take this pregnancy one day at a time, one minute at a time if need be, and consider the risks as they weigh against this miraculous gain." I grew somber, considering her offer. There will come a time when an abortion will no longer be feasible. What, then, would I do?
"If it comes down to choosing between you and this fetus, I will not hesitate in terminating this pregnancy, Esmé." I assured her.
"I know, my love. I will not let myself perish, if I can help it. But I shall not let you kill your unborn child without due cause." She said this, staring deep into my eyes. Unborn child. Those words struck a chord within me. One I knew existed, but kept hidden, as it is never to be relieved. I had now a chance at fatherhood. I could picture little girl in a frilly white dress and ribbons in her caramel locks smiling at me, holding Esmé's hand. Oh, to have tears now, to weep for the joy in this vision. The sheer impossibility of it was staggering, but my mind kept repeating Esmé's words "Your unborn child", and it was not impossible any longer. It now seemed within my grasp. But to reach out and take this dream would be a horrible risk to my mate, my only reason for existing. My wife. My Esmé.
Suddenly, I could take this pain no more. I knelt down beside the bed and cried, "Salva nos, Pater Noster!"1
Esmé laid her hand upon my head as it was bowed and said, "He will, you will see, my only love."
I said the Lord's Prayer again and again, Esmé praying with me. I begged of God to spare her. To keep her safe and alive and in my arms. Even as she slept, I prayed still. I only stopped my prayers as morning dawned. And then it occurred to me – I prayed at Esmé's side all night. I was used to praying all night, but kneeling before something very different. I smiled at the drastic changes my world has undergone. I would not have it any other way.
With a prayer of thanks in my head, reverberating against my soul, I made Esmé's breakfast.
As rosy as that revelation at first seemed to me, Esmé seemed to be deteriorating in her condition by the hour. She paled, her face and body thinning, dark circles starting to form under her eyes as she slept. She slept for a long time. Fourteen hours of pure torture. When she finally awoke, she vomited again. She then claimed to be hungry, but refused breakfast. "What would you like?" I asked her. She seemed lost in her thoughts until I said her name. She then looked at me and said, "A nice raw steak." She never eats her meat raw, I thought to myself. The fetus is influencing her appetite. That means it needs something raw steak has that a well-cooked one lacks. It was as if a light bulb turned on inside my head. Blood. She craved blood. How can this fetus be anything good if it craved blood from the start of its life?
"Esmé, I believe it is not the meat you crave." I said. She looked puzzled for a moment, and then, the same light shone in her eyes.
"Blood?" she asked, not at all as horrified as I was by this craving.
"I believe so." I answered.
"Well, I guess I could try. For the baby's sake." She said, acquiescing.
"That is not what worries me, my love. It is the very fact that you crave it. A vampire craves blood. Not a human. That may mean something about the nature of the fetus." I said, trying to lead her gently to the conclusion that this monster must be destroyed.
"The baby has a heartbeat. You do not." She said, reminding me the fetus was not all like me. And she was right. I needed only to put my head on her abdomen to hear it. Soon, I will not need even that.
"Very well, then. We shall try. One minute at a time, as you said." I relented. I did not enjoy the thought of what I must now make her do. The monstrosity of the situation was weighing down hard on me. I quickly ran from the house, at my top speed, carrying a large glass decanter. Once I was far enough into the forest, I crumbled to the ground and wept. I was so frightened. I could keep Esmé from seeing my worry, but I had to let all my pain and worry out. I must have cried for over an hour, thinking of the pain my Esmé was to go through, her deteriorating physical condition, and now, this craving for blood. I wanted to abort this pregnancy, it was not normal, nor could it ever be, with me as the sire. If she only accepted my offer for termination, Esmé would have quickly regained her health. But, of course, she would not. I was coming to an understanding of my own, little by little. If Esmé indeed had this fetus, other than the constant observation to see it does not develop into a monster, I would not only be its sire. If it turned out to be relatively normal, I would be a father. A very deep ache within my soul pulsed at this word. As I have never thought it possible to be a father, I never actually considered the pain of the loss of said possibility. Now it was more real, I realized I longed to be a father more than anything, but I would not risk Esmé's life for this selfish want. Eventually, I straightened up. I had duties and I would attend to my wife's needs. I took the jug, running to the forest, searching for something that smelled as close to human as possible. I was lucky enough to find a bear nearby, a male, thank God. I made haste with its blood, taking it to Esmé.
I brought the decanter into the kitchen, searching for something she could drink from that would hide the contents. She needed not be horrified by what she was drinking. I came across a large ceramic mug and took it, filling it with the bear's blood and covering it with a black cloth, leaving a hole for a white tube I fashioned from the plastic vinyl cover of some wiring I found. I took the mug up to Esmé and offered it to her, advising her not to think about the contents, just take a small drag of fluid from the mug. Esmé took the mug gingerly, and took a small, tentative drag out of the straw. She swallowed, looking slightly worried.
"You do not have to drink this if it is that hard for you, Esmé. I am sure I could try intravenously." I said as I saw her face. She assured me she did not find it hard, but rather liked the flavor, a fact she found slightly odd and slightly disturbing. She continued drinking from the tube and as she did, I could immediately see a difference in her physiognomy. Her color was restored, her eyes shining brighter, her pulse, which has weakened considerably, now accelerated back to its normal level and she seemed more her. I told her about these changes and she said she was, indeed, feeling much better and stronger, as well, her nausea gone altogether and she felt hungry. I asked what she would like to eat, but she insisted on a refilling of her mug. "I do not think I could stomach anything else at the moment, my love." She said. I sat with her and waited for any nausea or vomiting, but there was none. Reluctantly, I filled her cup again, but she only sipped from it every once in a while, like you would from a glass of water after already having sated your thirst.
It was a beautiful, sunny day and I decided to take Esmé's mind off her current situation by taking her to the drawing room. "Come," I said, "I have a surprise for you."
"What is it, Carlisle?" she asked, excited.
"You will soon see for yourself." I answered, dragging her up the stairs. She walked beside me, a smile on her face, partly from excitement and partly, I was sure, because of my behavior. I was looking at her as I led the way. She was not thinning anymore, but gained a little weight. Her cheeks had the rosy tone I grew to love so much and her stomach protruded a centimeter more than yesterday. The change was staggering. She looked a healthy, pregnant woman now, glowing with inner radiance. We arrived at the door to the drawing room and I swept her up for a very long and passionate kiss. Then, I held the handle and said, "Welcome, Esmé, to your drawing room," holding the door open for her to walk through. A tiny "oh" escaped her lips as she walked in. She walked around the room, looking at everything with wide eyes. I had replaced the roses there thrice, already, and these new ones welcomed her with beautifully large, crimson blooms. She touched the petals gently, bending slightly to smell them. A sigh of contentment broke her lips as she walked to the easel, smiling hugely. The room was full of light, the wonderful view of the yard, the lake and the forest clearly visible in the walls of windows. The blank canvas seemed to call to her, for she then started mixing colors, getting the paints ready. Suddenly, she frowned.
"What is it, Esmé? Is the equipment lacking? I could buy whatever else you require." I said hastily.
"No, it is not that. Just… look at what I am wearing. I cannot paint in this dress! I would ruin it!" she said, frustrated. I smiled, relief and understanding washing over me. I ran to our walk-in closet and pulled an old shirt of mine and a ragged skirt of Esmé's. I took it up to her, but stopped on the stairs. I checked the skirt again. With Esmé's protruding stomach, clothes are going to become a problem. This skirt will still fit her, but she was going to need maternity clothes very soon. How would we go about purchasing them? Esmé was still early enough on in her pregnancy to escape notice under the right clothes. That would rapidly change, apparently.
And that thought stopped me, again. She was growing by a centimeter a day? That meant a week's growth per day! With the very safe assumption that she conceived on our wedding night, that put her half way through the pregnancy, at four and a half months, or 18 weeks of pregnancy, though it has been merely 19 days since we were married. Clothing was going to become an issue in about 6 more days. How could we possibly hide this abnormally fast pregnancy when she was growing so rapidly and will need larger clothes every 4 days soon? And the birth would be in only 22 more days, if we went by the 40-week model here. We were not ready for this. I was not ready. I must prepare for any and all circumstances. I started making a list in my head as I brought the clothes to Esmé. I shan't worry her with such thoughts now, but we must discuss this, and soon.
As Esmé painted, I lectured about vampire nature, about our laws and history. I wanted her to be most knowledgeable and prepared for this existence, should she still choose it, or scare her away from it, change her mind. She asked questions as well, and I took great pride in the questions, for they showed a very deep understanding – not only of what I spoke of, but what I avoided, as well. She was a very smart young woman. She seemed mesmerized by my descriptions of the immortal children, of the horror they struck into the heart of every vampire and of the punishment they and those who created them were given.
"They left very deep scars in their wake, did they not?" she said, broodingly. I nodded solemnly, thinking of the Denali women.
"Will our child be the same?" she then asked. I grew somber. She must have the truth here, painful as it may be.
"I do not know, Esmé. The child, if it is to be born, may well prove to be as untamable as those immortal children. If it does, it must be destroyed before it harms anyone. Before the volturi learn of it. We must be ready for this possibility, although I very much doubt it will happen. The fetal heartbeat is a good indication the child may well be, at least in part, normal. We must hope you survive this pregnancy and see what the child grows to become." I said, as I added baby bottles to my mental list. I very much doubted that a fetus feeding on blood in-uterus will need anything but blood when delivered. The heartbeat, however, gave the impression of a true hybrid. Perhaps the heartbeat meant the child will be able to consume both human foods and blood.
"I cannot wait to see our child." she said, excitedly. "I hope the child looks like you, Carlisle. What a beautiful child it will be." She added. I felt slightly wistful as I asked her, "Would you rather a son or a daughter?"
"I would welcome either. I care not for such things, but for the child's health and wellbeing." She answered. I watched her face to gauge the truth, but it seems she was in truth completely. How marvelous. She asked me what I preferred, and I thought on the subject much, finally deciding it mattered not, so long as my Esmé was well and healthy to be with me and to be a mother for our child. I grinned broadly as I told her I cared not. I knew it to be the absolute truth.
Oh, to be able to sleep now on this sofa, as Esmé painted joyfully. To dream of our child would be so wonderful. I tried to picture the child, but could only picture a younger Esmé. I wanted to see this child, to know her, to love her as I do her older self. I have never known the love of a child in this world and I now ached for it. I sent a silent prayer for the wellbeing of both the fetus and its mother.
Esmé painted for hours on end, pausing only to sit and rest for a while at my insistence, and to take another mug of blood, although she claimed not to need it. "I am not hungry, love. I am fine. Really." She said. But then, all of a sudden, her words held no interest for me. I heard two thrumming, hummingbird heartbeats. Two fetal heartbeats. She was to have twins. The human girl was carrying vampire hybrid twins. I fell to my knees beside her and she hugged me to her, yelling my name and demanding to know what the matter was.
"Twins, Esmé. You are carrying twins!" I said weakly. She was so shocked, she staggered a bit. I held onto her tightly, to keep her in place.
"You can hear two heartbeats." It was not a question, but a statement full of wonder.
"I can." I confirmed to her.
"This changes my assumptions on the age of the pregnancy. I thought you were already 18 days with child, for the growth seemed to correspond with 18 weeks of a singleton's pregnancy. Since you carry twins, I would say it is for 12 weeks of pregnancy only, which means merely 12 days thus far. The details of that night came to my mind, and to hers, too it seems, for she only said "Oh," blushing slightly. I quickly did the necessary adjustments to the list in my head, multiplying all necessary items by two, and worrying about where to get even larger clothes at a faster rate. I decided on shopping for all clothes on the morrow. I would simply run to a different city, now. One where I was not known, and neither was Esmé. I would purchase all necessary items there, as well. Baby clothes, bottles, blankets, cribs, toys, paints for the room, something appropriate for both boys and girls. The list lengthened, but I did not mind it in the least. I felt frightened and excited, worried and joyful, and the contrast between such emotions was draining. "I know," I said gently, suddenly very tired. I shut my eyes, but sleep would not come. It never did, in all my years of existence, no matter how much I wished and prayed for it.
Esmé resumed her painting, humming to herself now. After ten minutes, she called, "Carlisle, come!" I raced to her. She took my hand in hers, putting in on her stomach. I felt movements. I heard the heartbeats thrum and for a moment, I pretended I was as human as her, feeling my babies kick for the first time. I was filled with joy at the slight nudges I felt. For one moment, I believed all would be well. And then I remembered what I was and a feeling of dread washed over me. Hybrid twins. At the equivalent of 12 weeks of gestation, to feel the nudges meant the fetuses were very powerful. When they grow larger, what will their movements do to her? With that realization, I was truly frightened.
Trying to distract myself, I offered Esmé a walk in the yard with me. "Soon enough, you shan't be able to go out of the house. You may want to take advantage of your time now, to absorb as much of the outside as you can." I told her.
"And why not?" she asked.
"Because in another week or two, such exercise may be too much for your body to bear. You might go into early labor. You are to be on bed rest in 12 days. Until then, you may walk outside to your heart's content." I told her, ever the doctor, but now, her frightened husband, as well.
We walked to the lake, sitting on the bench. She was looking at the lake and its surroundings with a fond smile. I took her hand in mine. "I love you, Esmé. I love you more than anything else on this world, put together."
She smiled at me, caressing my face. I leaned into her hand as she answered, "I love you, my miraculous angel of a husband. I am truly blessed to have you in my life."
We stayed at the lake for a while before she requested to go to the greenhouse. As we walked, she hummed an ancient song that I knew well. I sang it for her.
"The Sunnes cours, we may well kenne,
Ariseth Est and goth down west.
The rivers into the sea they renne,
And it is never the more almest.
Windes rosheth here and henne,
In snow and rain is non arrest.
Whon this woll, stunte who, wot or whenne,
But only God on grounde grest?
The Erthe in oon is ever prest,
Now bedropped now all drye.
But uche gome glit forth as a gest,
This world fareth as a fantasye."2
"Those are beautiful lyrics. I have always liked them." I said, broodingly.
"They sound beautiful, though I cannot presume to understand more than half of them." She confessed.
"I would have been surprised if you did understand them. That was Middle English. A very ancient language. Even to me. But I have heard it sung in Volterra before. I have studied many languages, but those that transitioned the ancient Latin and German into the English we now speak are the most captivating ones." I said.
"Perhaps one day you shall teach them to me." She said, hopeful.
"I may do just that, my only love." I answered, smiling.
We arrived at the greenhouse and I settled to watch her as she worked to groom the life around her as the lives within her.
I cannot recall ever feeling such peace as I did now, with Esmé beside me. I was extremely grateful to God for every second I spent with her and could only pray that I be granted an eternity with her.
We spent the night making love and with Esmé asleep in my arms, I spent the rest of it listening to the three heartbeats in bed next to me.
The morning came, I made sure Esmé was well, brought her another mug of the bear's blood, and then told her I was leaving to buy some necessities. "I shall be back well before dark." I promised. "I want you to try and rest as much as possible. I fear leaving you alone in this time of uncertainty and I would like to put my mind at ease, knowing you are safe when I am gone." I begged. She agreed, though not without the sweetest pout forming on her lips for the knowledge she must remain indoors today. I offered her the option of painting some more and that seemed to make her happy.
I took the car this time, as I would have a lot to carry. I went to a city about 2 hours' drive away. I bought all the necessary items for the babies, bottles, cribs, carriers and blankets and as many baby clothes as I could find. I bought some diapers, though I knew not if those would be necessary. I even found a very beautiful shade of teal for the room, as well as a beautiful ancient rocking chair. I then went to the maternity section and bought quite a lot of clothes that were made, I was told, to fit an expectant mother of triplets. Those should fit our need well. I then went to a local medical supplier and bought all necessary from that end. I would need blood, too, but I knew not how to get it or where from. I could only pray Esmé would not need it. If need be, I could always turn her. I wished to God it would not come to that.
I could not have asked for more from this trip. I made my way home, satisfied in my purchases. I arrived home two hours later, a mere nine hours after I left. I could hear Esmé humming away in the drawing room and I smiled, taking the medical equipment into the study, then running back to the car, vampire speed, retrieving the babies' equipment and storing it into an empty room not far from our bedroom. The maternity clothes I hid in that room, as well, not wanting Esmé to feel insulted by their sheer size before I had a chance to explain myself and their presence to her.
I ran up to the drawing room, sweeping Esmé into my arms and kissing her soundly, murmuring, "I missed you so much!" into her ears. She giggled and said, "I missed you too, my love. You were gone for so long!" she reprimanded me. And I well deserved it, but it had to be done. It could not be helped. "I am sorry, my love, but I would like to discuss some of my purchases with you and then, if you are amenable, I will show you what I bought." I said cautiously.
I told her about the huge clothes, stating I did not, in any way mean it as an insult, merely wishing for her expertise in narrowing the garments to the correct size. She was relieved, for some odd reason, by my reassurance, and said she did not want to take the clothes in too much. She knew her stomach would grow to a fairly sizable one and did not wish to keep fixing them according to her changing size. "I shall wear a belt if need be, Carlisle. You have done well, my love."
But all that reassurance did not make me as happy as when she squealed at the sight of all the baby care equipment I bought. I made sure everything was either in white or in some acceptable shade for both boys and girls. Esmé was ecstatic, making various cooing noises at the clothes, cribs and other purchases. She more than loved the color I chose for the wall, as well. The maternity clothes, however, were a different matter. She ducked her head, but not before I saw tears streaming down her face at the sight of them.
"It is only temporary, my love. You will not grow as much, I have already told you that. I know it looks huge, but you will not. I promise, my love." I said, hugging her tightly but gently to me. She cried for quite a while. So long, I almost burnt those accursed clothes. If it were not for her assurance that she was "fine", I would have burnt them already.
Curse the world for making women wish to be thin.
1. Save us, Our Father. Latin.
2. Mediaeval Baebes, "Mirabils"
AN: I think I will go hide under the bed or something... I am not insecure about this chapter... I am not insecure about this chapter... I am not insecure about this chapter... Maybe if I keep telling myself that, it'll help...
As usual, at least 5 reviews to get the next chapter...
See you soon?
