Chapter 7: The Calm
October 1932
Edward
The brisk Rochester air swept gently across my face, swirling the fallen yellow and brown leaves at my feet as I walked home. The scents that accompanied the crunch my light footsteps made as I forced myself to move at a human pace across the lawn outside the school layered in a harmony of information. Mulch, late fall chrysanthemums, and soot. Pencil lead, chewing gum, and illicit tobacco smoke. And of course the rich aroma of so many pulses of humans scattered across the grounds. In spite of my thorough preparation with Carlisle this weekend, our time in the wilds of the north with no humans to tempt had irritatingly weakened my ability to control my ever-present thirst. My throat burned in response and I quickly redirected my thoughts. That was no longer my life. I had a much better thing in my life. And these children were absolutely not worth the monster I would become. As always I centered on my father, his endless compassion. His pride at my restraint last year was not something I deserved. Shaking off these thoughts as they filled my head, I longed to sprint through the woods, away from these temptations.
On instinct I scanned the thoughts of those around me, seeing if anyone was noticing my solitary movement into what was generally considered to be fairly thick woodlands.
I cannot believe I missed the broadcast because Ma wanted to hear 'Our Gal Sunday'. Yanks and Cubs in the World Series. Gehrig and Ruth!
I'm dying for a snipe. Wonder if Johnny has one I could bum.
Extra algebra problems already? If I have to listen to that dame for 6 more months I may go whacky.
It seemed I was in the clear. I slipped into the welcoming thick underbrush and allowed myself to run full out, pushing the monotony of school and array of temptations behind me in favor of eagerness.
Of course school was always tedious. Every day I heard the lessons that I had heard in my previous school experience in the time before my departure from Carlisle and Esme, with only minor updates. In my English class, Mr. Warner repeated the same endless troupes about Dickens that I had doubtless heard even in my first life but referenced none of the exciting literature coming out of France by the fled Americans like Fitzgerald or Hemingway that ignited my mind and led to long conversations with Esme about the changing nature of humans. In Sciences, Mr. Brown droned on about cells but refused to acknowledge the innovations in anticoagulants that Carlisle hoped would improve surgical results. My Historical Studies teacher endlessly repeated the rote facts of the First and Second Boer Wars, but no one spoke of this upstart in Germany that had come second to Hindenburg in the German presidential elections. I knew Carlisle at least was concerned about his ability to raise significant crowds in his Berlin rallies and worried that he may cause quite a hubbub if the text of his loathsome book, My Struggle, or Mein Kampf in German, were taken literally. Carlisle and I endlessly debated this Hitler's vehement support of racial purity, a course we could only see lead to unnecessary violence and the potential exposure of our kind.
Too soon I arrived at the back entrance to our current beautiful house. I shook off my frustrations, expecting to see Esme rounding the corner for her daily greeting at my return. Her compassion and loving nature would forever evoke a twinge of guilt at my past behavior, but I knew better than to show it and allow her to dive into a new round of worries about her wayward son. It was truly the curse of my kind never to forget, especially when I saw in her thoughts the constant joy of my presence that brought to mind the pain I had caused in leaving. The undercurrent of motherly concern at my wellbeing shamed me.
To my surprise no Esme appeared. Opening my mind to the clutter of hundreds of layered voices, I instantly identified the tenor of her thoughts, currently consumed with the blueprint in front of her in the small, well-lit room that had become her studio. Her full and total concentration was consumed with the angles of a load-bearing wall and analyzing how its line could flow seamlessly into the gabled roof. She was working on building out the portfolio that would be the final step to completing her architecture degree. Carlisle had greatly anticipated the soon event by purchasing a collapsing house in Kentucky that she could remake to her heart's delight. Smiling at her absorption, I left her to her work and picked up the latest medical issue and a number of new books in German that had been delivered by the postman.
As I completed the final one, Carlisle's mental anticipation made itself known in my thoughts. He parked the car, stepping out with great eagerness as he anticipated the completeness that came with our small family. For the thousandth time I wondered how I could deserve such a steadfast father. I turned the radio to a German broadcast routed from New York City that provided insight on the news of the day to welcome him home.
Wie gets es? He inquired silently.
"Fine," I answered. "Nothing new, or at least nothing reported." He nodded once, concerned about the suffering he had heard happening in Germany that had grown since the Great War. He shook off his thoughts as put down his case.
And where is your mother? He inquired. It was unusual for her to not be by my side in the twilight of the day.
I glanced off toward the stair.
Ah, of course. The portfolio. He smiled, reveling in the feeling of family around him. How about a game of Chess? His smile grew as he thought about the most recent contest which had been the closest he had come to success. My father was becoming better at hiding his thoughts during the game, and so considered it a challenge of concentration as well as strategy.
"Of course," I replied eagerly.
How was school? He asked, thinking through my subjects as an attempt to subsume the strategy of which I had already caught a glimpse.
"As tedious as always," I sighed. "It would be a long sight easier if teachers had any motivation to advance their curriculum beyond the state board approved drivel."
Now Edward, he thought gently. Remember to give them the benefit of your good opinion as their minds are on other troubles. Many of them are in significant financial difficulties. His thoughts followed a new idea, donating money to the school to support the teacher's fund.
"It could work," I replied skeptically, smiling a little. "Though their thoughts pre-dispose me to consider them negligent at heart."
He smiled back at this response. Perhaps. It may be best served to ensure the money goes to a more creative cause, perhaps the war widows' fund? I quickly saw that he would likely follow both courses. Carlisle was the most generous man I knew. In addition to dedicating his life to saving others, his endless kindness directed his funds as well. Knowing the financial difficulties of the hospital, he took only the minimum required paycheck and utilized the savings he had accrued over his centuries of life to support the neediest.
"Take care," I cautioned jokingly. "Would you want Esme and me to end up on the streets in poverty?"
With the mention of her name, I caught Esme finally perk up, attention directed to Carlisle and me, for the first time aware that there were others sharing the house. With a glance at the clock, she immediately became alarmed at her lack of awareness which then turned to chagrin at having left me alone all afternoon. She moved quickly down the stairs, an apology ready on her lips.
"No need," I pre-empted her wordless concern. "I was able to occupy myself tolerably well and my father has been attempting to control his strategy." I glanced back at him. "Though I'm fairly certain it will be checkmate in 10 moves."
Carlisle's brief annoyance disappeared as he looked up at his wife. Smiling, he rose and stretched out his arms to her.
"And how goes the portfolio, my love?" He enclosed her, filled with peace.
She relaxed into his embrace. "Slowly but surely" she replied hesitantly. She struggled with her frustration in her mind, turning over the right words while Carlisle waited patiently.
The words suddenly came tumbling out of her mouth. "It is just so…so…irritating that it is taking me so long to complete the portfolio!" she cried, breaking away from Carlisle to pace. "I knew that they were expected totally unique designs, but despite evolving several designs in my head, I can't seem to find the right lines to make the different structures work. And to make matters worse, Professor Hilliar looked at my early drafts and said that he felt they were derivative, copying the neoclassical style! Now, I grant that the lines of my design were more classically oriented while he believes in the superiority of the Bauhaus style given his constant praise of German modernism, but…"
"Peace, my love!" Carlise interrupted, grabbing her in her nearest pass to him. Her shoulders slumped dejectedly. "You cannot put so much pressure on yourself for perfection." He guided her to the sofa where she curled into his side. "You know your designs will be finished as anticipated by December and, in addition to being spectacular, they will earn you the degree you've long awaited. It is not for this man to decide what you view as beauty." He smiled down at her. "Especially since I believe that the portfolio designs, as well as their creator, are the most beautiful of all." She smiled faintly back at him, uncertainty in her face as she absorbed his love.
I cleared my throat, seeing the movement of their thoughts to a more private direction. "In addition, Hilliar has never had a creative idea in his life," I contributed. "His frustration with your designs seems solely because he has been unable to solicit enthusiasm from the city in the construction of the library building. They recently chose the firm Gorden and Kaelber in favor of his Germanic design and he has been seething about it ever since."
Esme looked at me in astonishment. "How could you know such a thing?" she queried quietly.
"His thoughts were practically screaming about the perceived unfairness when I last picked you up from your consultation with him," I replied hesitantly, aware how Esme disliked me using what she perceived as my gift for gain or unfair knowledge.
She looked at me sternly, but her thoughts seemed a little more settled. There was an edge of…was that smugness? Certainly she was comforted with this new perspective.
A bit of schadenfreude. Carlisle recognized the change on her face and smiled slightly at me as he interpreted. A new German word to expand your vocabulary.
I smirked back as I recognized the prevailing sentiment behind this obscure German word.
"Now, my love," Carlisle responded, changing his thought pattern. "Since evidently my chess game is doomed, what shall we do together?"
Esme bit her lip thoughtfully. "Well I had actually hoped to compose a letter to Carmen to accompany the newest fashion magazine I acquired as well as one to Irina to respond to her critique of the new Art Deco architecture fad…but then I became sidetracked with my work," she replied, torn between annoyance with herself at her day's activities, her pleasure in communicating with our new friends, and a desire to spend time with her family.
"Ah," Carlisle said with understanding. He was so glad that she had found female companionship in our friends from far away. A sea of words flowed between Esme and the Denali females, discussing everything under the sun. While he had written to Eleazar once regarding some fine points of European history before Carlisle's change, Esme wrote letters at least weekly to all four women and delighted in the responses. Carlisle was turning over the idea of moving our trip to see the four up from next summer, recognizing how happy Esme became at the prospect of broadening her acquaintance to include these new friends.
Our months in the wilds of the north had been a time of such freedom. There was freedom not only from temptation but also from the choking obligations of society. I had forgotten the joy of running without obstruction, without the need to behave human, for hours through the long day and limited dusk that was the northern summer. The wilds beckoned with sounds, smells and a seemingly unlimited supply of rich game, including wolves and bears. I was even introduced to polar bears, a wonder I had heard of but never beheld, that proved to have a rich, fishy flavor from its seal and penguin diet.
But even more than the exploration of a human-free wild was the revelation of our new friends. Rather than having to uncomfortably avoid the veiled interest of young ladies or to control my rage at the injustices that occurred throughout the city, abusive husbands, cheating landlords, and desperation seeping into everyone's thoughts, I could have intelligent dialogue. Through thoughts and words I learned about the rich history of the sisters, and picked up Russian and a few other Eastern dialects.
Eleazar was a font of knowledge when it came to the workings of the world of our kind, providing an interesting game of 'fact or myth' as they related to the tales that reached humans about our existence. I was surprised to know that many of the old poems, including one of the originals by Goethe, were based on immortals that Eleazar had observed and, in some cases, saw punished by the Volturi for how they exposed our world to humans. I was surprised to learn that this gentle, intellectual man had once been part of the world's immortal policing force, but his total belief in right and wrong reflected his belief in the power of their work. He and Carlisle shared stories of their times with Aro, Caius, and Marcus. Though many years had passed between the times they spent in Volterra, their perceptions were surprisingly aligned, both in how they viewed the traditional diet of our kind and the importance of leaving that life behind. Eleazar and Carmen were so filled with empathy for humans that they could not imagine going back to the life they had lived before meeting the sisters some three centuries ago.
And there were other unexpected benefits that came from this peaceful time, such as the learning of a new skill. Eleazar had been discussing the different members of the Volturi guard and their unique abilities, when he thought of Felix, an unusual member of the guard in his lack of spectacular gifts. Carlisle had wondered why he had been granted a permanent position, given the challenge of organizing such a large group of immortals.
"Perhaps I should alter my statement," Eleazar had pronounced, smiling slightly. "He may not be able to harm through his mind like little Jane, but he is the most effective fighter and tactician I have ever seen. His fighting skills are unmatched." Eleazar's smile broadened as a new thought occurred to him. "In fact, he taught me to fight when I first arrived."
The thought instantly grabbed me. Eleazar's memories of fighting with Felix, losing time and time again to the movements of such an unassuming man with such great strength seemed like a perfect opportunity. Carlisle had always been so reluctant to teach us to fight, emphasizing the presence of a diplomatic solution in every conflict. And indeed, he had never himself learned to fight, able to live peacefully with the others he had encountered. However, an opportunity to learn from such a master did not often come around.
"Would you teach me to fight?" I asked quietly from across the room, glancing at Carlisle and grimacing at Esme's immediate horror-filled reaction. The room turned quiet and tense as it tested this new bond. Could we trust them to not do us harm? Could they trust us to not be taking advantage? He turned to Carlisle, allowing him the option of refusal as the leader of our family.
"Carlisle you know it's important that I learn, that we be prepared should any unfriendly nomads come to our area," I implored. "I know you hope it would never come to that, but how can it hurt to be prepared."
He considered my words, thinking through every option carefully before giving Eleazar a slow nod. "Of course, if that's what Edward wants," he replied carefully.
"Edward…" Esme broke in, worried by such a turn.
"Don't worry, mother," I smiled widely back at her, betraying a bit of my eagerness. "I'll be careful." I sprinted out the door before she could say anything else, Eleazar chuckling as he followed me out.
Had I been human, the next few days would have left me covered in bruises and in pain from broken bones. I was slammed to the ground time and time again, not only by Eleazar but also by the sisters, who joined in the fun soon after. They had had many occasions to defend themselves and were experts at identifying and exploiting the weaknesses in their attackers. I shuddered behind some of the stories I heard, but appreciated their guidance, even though it left me flat on my back. Irina especially was an expert at changing her approach mid-attack, barely giving me time to react. And, of course, I had to be particularly careful of Kate's offensive weapon, which she employed at a low level when she felt I was taking too much advantage of my own gift. It took a week until I finally could understand their thought patterns enough that I could sense their method of attach and provide them with a real contest.
Carlisle and Esme even took their turns in learning, albeit more calmly and even then, only in defense. Even when instructed to attack, Esme always apologized, feeling terrible if she was able to land one offensive move. Carlisle was more willing to attack, seeming to become almost as young as me as he eagerly attempted to move quickly enough to overcome his opponent.
Esme's continued weighing of her options pulled me back to the present.
"Esme, why don't you write your letters," I said, turning a broad smile to Carlisle. "I think I'd like to hone my sparring skills a bit."
He smiled widely back at me, before quickly composing his features as he turned to his wife. In spite of his calm, almost penitent expression, the eagerness in his eyes betrayed him.
"Hm," Esme replied, her stern expression softening as she looked between Carlisle and me, amused by what she saw. Boys will be boys. She sighed as we stood up hesitantly.
"Fine, enjoy yourselves. And don't completely destroy the woods!" She called after us as we fled through the back door into the night.
Fighting practice sessions became routine in our small household. I found it a wonderful way to relieve the boredom and frustration from spending days cooped up in school, and Carlisle treasured the time alone with me even as much as he enjoyed finding ways to try to control his thoughts and find an edge on attacking me. We were even occasionally able to drag Esme out, pulling her away from her all-consuming portfolio to take a turn at honing her skills. While hunting one weekend, we had found an isolated peak in Canada, sheltered from much of civilization, which provided a perfect setting for our matches. We had to take care with the force at which we hit each other, as the resounding booms of our bodies crashing together had caused a rural newspaper to comment on the unusually high occurrence of rockslides in the mountains.
Still, as fall turned to winter and flurries of snow became a regular occurrence, our available time was impeded as invitations flooded in to festive parties for the elite of Rochester society. Though we declined all but a few, our presence in society and offering of the season's wishes were required given Carlisle's prominent place as a member of the hospital community. For my part, it seemed only to emphasize the deepening of troubles for those less fortunate.
At first I thought it was the social requirements of Carlisle and Esme that necessitated me controlling the flames in my throat and, even worse, dressing in formal attire that seemed overly delicate and decorative. Why an event would require men to wear white silk gloves was beyond my not inconsiderable comprehension. However, when Esme informed me that I was to attend this year's Christmas charity ball, along with two other events in the New Year, I suspected a different underlying cause.
"These are events that require your presence, Edward," Esme replied briskly to my inquiry. I was confused at the urgency underlying her thoughts.
"Why should I be required to attend these now?" I asked in irritation. "It did not seem an important matter previously."
"We were able to make allowances for you last year, and even this summer" Esme explained hesitantly, sad to see me so out of sorts. "But a young man of stature, who has come of age and, despite our most valiant attempts to remain out of the public eye, has been noted by the young ladies of the town, is expected to make an appearance." She continued briskly. "Some of the ladies have already suggested to me that you are not in society enough. It could cause challenges for us if you were to avoid social circumstances entirely. We cannot afford additional scrutiny." She finished with compassion, empathizing with my dislike of the situation. I knew it was challenging for her also to be required to interact with the society ladies, but she bore it well as the price she expected to pay for our family.
"Can I not feign illness?" I replied weakly, irritated that such subterfuge was necessary.
"Unfortunately not, my dear," Esme turned, brushing my cheek softly with her hand. "You have sadly been noted in excellent health from the reports of the young ladies with whom you attend school." She smiled at my frown of annoyance. "The best I can do is helping you to avoid the coming out parties in the New Year. There are quite a few, including the highly anticipated ball of the Hale girl. For those you would be required to dance with the lady of the evening, as well as the other ladies of the season." She hid a broad smile behind her hand. "I have already told Lillian Hale that we will be visiting relations in a long scheduled trip. Thankfully there is enough excitement about the event that your absence will be little noticed."
"Well I thank you for that," I replied, shuddering slightly at the thought of dancing in front of so many expectant matchmakers.
It seemed that my absence at the events of Rochester's elite made little difference. Even for the public balls that Esme had marked out, it took all my deftness to avoid the snares laid by young women. Some despaired of my lack of initiative and brought me refreshments, which I politely turned down. A bold few even asked me to dance or, in one case, sought a private audience. I do not believe she would have enjoyed it quite so much if I did happen to take her up on her offer. I heard their interest and their desires, but they all sounded and looked the same to me. None offered any allure that could capture my interest.
All my presence at these affairs did was to heighten the frustration which seemed to grow rather than diminish with time. I was not and would never be a part of this society. I knew that had I been human I would undoubtedly solicit the hands of these young ladies in dances, perhaps courting a few, and singling one out to whom I would devote my brief life. But that was not a life for which I was destined. I was sentenced to an unchanging eternity.
And though they endeavored to minimize it for my sake, the complete contentment in the eyes of my mother and father made eternity truly seem endless. Even when they did not look at one another, they were satisfied. They found wholeness in each other.
And I, in turn, played the model son. I sparred with Carlisle and discussed literature with Esme. I threw myself into learning new languages, reading new books, and discovering new music. Distracting myself with Portuguese and Hindi, Hemingway and Fitzgerald, and Jazz and Gershwin. I had never composed more prolifically, a pastime in which Esme delighted, though all my pieces seemed to turn melancholy at the end and finish in unresolved notes.
And still, I could hear the worry in Carlisle's thoughts. He saw the times when I slipped and gave in to my frustration. He feared I had been too young when changed and may not be able to find love. And worst, he feared that I would leave again. Though he deftly hid is concern, even in his thoughts, his fears raised similar questions in me.
Constantly I wondered, would I ever be satisfied?
Hello readers! It has been a long time! I actually just unearthed this story and so I figured it was time for me to jump back in. More to come, though no promises on timeline Enjoy!
