A/N: Stephanie owns Twilight – I like to help fill in the gaps of Esme's life.

Long Author's note…

I will apologize for the length of time since my last update. I have made some job changes over the last few weeks and it's taken some getting used to on my part.

My sister, who is addicted to this series as I am, told me to be honest with you guys, so here's the other part. ANY down time that I have had, I have been completely and intensely submersed into other stories that I am reading. DON'T HATE ME…I was a fan first and foremost. :-)

I really enjoyed writing in Carlisle's POV and since they are so entwined, I will definitely have to get him to talk to me more! Especially later on.

Now let's get to Charles. This section may be a little difficult to read…it was a little difficult for me to write.

A huge "thank you" to those that have been adding me and this story to your favorites.

Chapter 7 – A Temporary Angel

"Yes, Charles. My answer is yes. I will be your wife."

The months flew by as my mother and I prepared for my wedding. I can't believe I am getting married. So many of my friends have already made this decision and although I knew this was the next logical step in our relationship, something inside of me wasn't prepared to be tied down to this man.

What do I mean by that?

Charles is wonderful. He really is…a wonderful man. I've already said that, right?

I'm just nervous…that's it…pre-wedding jitters.

As I now looked down the aisle of the church, with my father's arm intertwined with mine, I wondered where did the time go? It seemed just like yesterday Charles asked me to marry him.

Am I doing this too quick? Is he the right man for me? I just wish it were…him. My golden-eyed angel.

I shake the thoughts from my head as the church piano started playing the music for me and my father to march into.

My eyes met Charles for the first time since yesterday. He is a sight to behold. He is very handsome in his fitted black suit. Nothing too fancy, but just enough so his long and lean build could be seen. There was no denying that Charles is attractive and I have amazing feelings for him. He could be so sweet sometimes …

*****

The wedding goes as smooth as we've planned. My mother is an excellent planner and for a brief moment, I think if I will have the chance to do this for my children. Will I be overbearing? I smirk to myself as I push that thought aside. I will never be overbearing to my children. I will hug my children, repetitively. I think back to all the missed hugs and kisses from my mother and vow here and now to never be like her. I want my children to know how much I love them. I never want them to wonder, even for a moment, at the depths of my love for them.

I will be their guardian angel…I'll just be missing the golden eyes.

"Hey beautiful. What are you thinking about?" Charles is twirling me around dancing. His words break into my thoughts.

"Actually, I was thinking of how much I am going to love being your wife and a mother to your children." Okay, a half truth to my new husband. I knew I could be a good mother…I am hoping that being a good wife comes as natural and easy.

"My, my. Already planning to make me a father, Esme? Are you sure you want children, already?"

"Charles, I've always wanted children. Are you saying we should wait?"

"My dear, I'll give you whatever you want. For now, I just want to dance with my beautiful wife."

At this, Charles twirled me around and then grasped me tightly again. Yes. He would make a fine husband.

*****

The first few months of our marriage was a storybook romance. Charles was very attentive and cared for all my needs. He even showed some jealous tendencies when we would go out on the town and I would catch some looks from other gentlemen.

Charles is a passionate man. I knew this. I just didn't know the depths of Charles's passion.

I clearly remember the night that things completely changed…and not for the better.

We were going out to eat at a local restaurant. As we walked into the main area, Charles waved at a couple and dropped my elbow to go speak to them. Wanting to get our drinks ordered, I made it to the table before Charles. When I reached our table, I was about to pull out my own chair when a man that was sitting at the next table, jumped up and pulled it out for me.

I smiled briefly at him. "Thank you…."

He smiles with true sincerity and says, "Bill. Bill Cline…and the pleasure is all mine. Enjoy your evening."

I blush slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Cline. My name is Esme Pla...uh…I mean Esme Evenson." I stuttered and blushed again. "Nice to meet you and I hope you enjoy your evening as well."

Mr. Cline nodded and smiled at me again. I settled in my seat as he returned to his table, full of his friends.

With that, I straighten my dress and looked for Charles to let him know that I had settled on a table. As I made eye contact with him, he grimaced and nodded to me. He smiled back down at the couple and shook the man's hand and slowly made it over to our table to sit.

When the attendant came to take our drink and meal order, Charles ordered for us both, barking at the poor girl the whole time. When she didn't answer his questions quickly enough, he actually slammed his fist down on the table and shouted at her more.

I felt her embarrassment.

Once our order was collected, the poor girl nodded and apologized while scurrying off to the kitchen. We sat in awkward silence for a few minutes.

"Charles, was that completely necessary? To scare the poor child so?" I asked.

He said nothing, just glancing over his shoulder as Mr. Cline's table full of friends roared with laughter.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked laying my hand on his forearm and hoping to find out why he was suddenly in a foul mood.

His eyes glared to my hand and then cut up to my face. His eyes were thin slits on his face.

"Esme…do you enjoy mocking me?"

I took a deep breath and then replied, "What do you mean Charles?"

"Don't play games with me. Do you actually enjoy making me look bad?"

"I'm sorry Charles, but I honestly don't know…" I stammered.

He cut me off with a low growl. "Don't. Play. Games. Esme. You know exactly what you're doing. Why else would you let a perfect stranger sit you for dinner?"

Oh…that?

"Charles, I honestly didn't think it would offend you. You were in conversation and I wanted to sit down and give you time to talk to your friends."

"Friends that you didn't even wait to meet. You simply passed me by and came over here to flirt with some random stranger. Do I mean that little to you? Or do you enjoy hurting me? I saw you talking and smiling with him."

I leaned my head to the side and stare at my husband, trying to envision what he saw…to see his point of view. Hmmm. I came up with nothing that would warrant his behavior.

But really? Is it that important that I meet another set of your pompous friends? Fake smiles and fake laughter…

I straighten up, took another deep breath as I looked him in the eyes. "Charles, forgive me, dear. I had no idea that 'me meeting another set of your friends' was that important to you. Next time, I promise I will introduce myself before seating myself. And besides, I was not flirting. I simply thanked Mr. Cline for pulling out my chair."

Another growl. That can't be good.

"Mr. Cline? So you know him now? You're friends now? Will he start calling on you as well? Is this what you plan to do while I work all day? Entertain gentlemen callers?"

I sighed and shook my head.

Please…not here…not now.

He continued, "And Esme…dear…you will not speak to my friends until I introduce you. If and when I want to introduce you, that is." He grabs my hand which I had pulled back in front of me as it was sitting on top of the table. He squeezes it…hard.

Panic sets in…he's never hurt me before. I have to let him know. Surely he doesn't realize he's hurting me.

"Charles, you're hurting my hand." I whisper so I don't bring attention to us.

"Esme, you are forgetting that you are mine. Mine to do with as I please. You belong to me."

What?! I belong to him? I remember getting married…not adopted.

"Charles, please let go. You're hurting me." I say, attempting to drop my voice lower so he knows I am serious.

At this point, Mr. Cline obviously hears our conversation and steps up to our table. "Excuse me. Mrs. Evenson, are you okay over here?" He looks me straight in the eyes.

Holding back my unexpected tears, I notice the shade of Mr. Cline's eyes. They are the lightest shade of brown and even though they aren't golden, I instantly think of Carlisle and miss him more than I could've imagined. I am somewhat comforted by the thoughts that my golden-eyed angel has sent another angel to watch over me, when he couldn't be here for me personally.

Charles scoffs at the man and breaks me from my reverie. He is just short of shouting back to Mr. Cline. "Sir, I thank you not to speak to wife directly and to distance yourself from affairs that do not concern you."

My rescuer takes his eyes slowly from mine to find the glare of Charles and says, "Sir, I was speaking to the lady. I can see that YOU are fine. I do notice that you are cutting the circulation off at her wrist and must ask that you let her go before you harm her." Mr. Cline's voice rang with authority and finality as he added, "if you do not let your grip loosen, I shall remove you from her presence at once."

A couple of things happen simultaneously.

One, Charles stands so fast that he knocks his chair down in the process. He also lets go of my hand which I am relived. As the blood starts flowing back into circulation, I cry out and wince with a small amount of pain. This small act is noticed by both men.

Second, the table full of gentlemen that had been sitting with Mr. Cline all stand and get in between the potential struggle.

My immediate thoughts are about my latest angel of mercy and his welfare.

I can't let Mr. Cline get hurt. But where did that come from? Why wasn't I concerned about Charles?

I quickly process this out in my head.

Charles knows how to take care of himself. I'm not so sure about Mr. Cline's abilities to protect himself…that's all. Concern for someone that was concerned about me…yeah, that's all.

I step up and put my arms at length between Charles and Mr. Cline effectively separating them.

I look up, apologetically at Mr. Cline and speak softly. "Please, sir. We're fine, I promise. Thank you."

Mr. Cline, who had been glaring at Charles, softens as he looks down to me and lowers his arms. His eyebrows arch and he whispers, "Are you sure, Esme? Are you sure you're fine?"

I fell Charles stiffen at the question and the use of my first name. He grabs my elbow…he answers for me.

"Mr. Cline, we are fine. Again, I must request that you mind your own business, sir. We are of no concern to you."

I lower my head, too ashamed of my husband's actions. I don't want to see the pity that is certain to be in Mr. Cline's eyes.

Yes, very close to my angel's color, but not quite. Thank you, Carlisle, for sending him to watch over me.

Charles whirls us around as the waitress appears with our order. Apparent confusion on her face.

"We're leaving." Charles simply states as we walk away from my rescuer and out the door.

I really don't know what I was expecting. This was the first time that Charles has reacted out this way, and as we step out to the street, Charles looks around to see if anyone is around us. The street is empty and almost eerie.

For a second, I am not sure what has happened. I remember seeing his hand lift but then I was on the ground and dazed, confused even, as how I ended up there. I position my hands and arms to lift myself up and caught a glimpse of Charles' shoes. My eyes travel from his shoes, up his leg and torso to his face.

He is smiling and my stomach knots further.

He hit me? He knocked me down to the ground? AND he is smiling?

Silent tears rolled down my cheek as he squats down and grabs my shoulder roughly. He leans into my ear. "Let that be a lesson, dear Esme." He squeezes hard and pulls me to a standing position. My throat closes as I try to swallow the fear that has risen inside me.

"Never embarrass me again, do I make myself clear?" he seethes. "Never question me, either." I meekly nod at him, unsure of what to say or what else to even think at this point.

He doesn't offer to help brush the dirt from my clothes, but turns to get into our carriage. He adds gravely, "You acted as nothing more than a cheap whore tonight, Esme. Cheap and common. I am so disappointed in you."

I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will NOT cry!

Charles doesn't offer to help me into the carriage, so I sorely climb up beside him and ride still and silent all the way home.

I have made a mistake. A huge mistake marrying this man…this demon. He is no angel…he is no Carlisle.

*****

Charles got worse over the next few weeks. I can't get a handle on his temper. I have no idea what sets him off. It could be a look or a word. Even a smell.

His dinner not to his liking? I get a slap across the face.

His clothes not laid out perfectly? I get shoved against the wall and then hit over and over with his belt.

I am lost and at my wits end with what to do or even how to cope. I even break down and try to talk to my mother one afternoon only to be reminded that I should be the dutiful wife and try harder.

She had said, "You have to know how to please your husband, Esme. Obviously, you are doing something wrong. You must try harder."

Obviously? Like this is my fault that I am not performing up to Charles' standards so a fist to the face is perfectly normal and should even be expected?

I shake my head at my mother. I am a good person. Even if I don't get the perfect crease ironed in his pants, there is no reason that I should suffer from his hands like this.

A newlywed of a few months…and I hate my husband. I hate my life.

That talk with my mother was a few days ago. Nothing has changed in my perspective and I let out a long sigh. I have thrown myself across the tiny bed. It's early April and I've been doing some spring cleaning and I'm exhausted from double checking all the household duties. I don't want to start tonight off wrong.

What will I cook for Charles tonight? Something simple so it can be mistake free. I am a coward now.

I hear the door open and close loudly. Automatically my stomach clinches inward with one thought: He's home.

I quickly jump up, straighten the bed and walk toward the front entry. Charles is standing there with all eyes wide pacing back and forth when without warning he darts past me to our bedroom. I hear him scuffling around – moving things.

"Charles? Is everything okay? What's wrong?" I asked timidly, not wanting to bring on the beatings prematurely. He doesn't say anything to me. He quickly brushes by me again heading back into the dining room and starts pulling papers from the desk that I am not allowed to touch…

"These are my papers, Esme" SMACK. "This is my business!" SLAP "Don't touch this desk again, do you hear me?"

I am now terrified as he starts slinging the drawers to the desk all over the table and shuffling through papers. I know this mood and I hope he doesn't turn his aggression toward me. With his every move, I flinch more and pull back into the corner of the room to escape his line of vision.

"We're at war Esme! Can you comprehend that? The United States has declared war…President Wilson says that we have joined the war against Germany."

What? The United States at war?

"What does this mean for us, Charles?" my voice is quiet as I hope my question doesn't set him off against me.

He surprises me by stopping and taking a deep breath. "I'm not sure. All I know is that I have to report to the train depot in Columbus by 10pm tonight. I got the telegram this morning. I…" he stutters, " I have to go, Esme. They are shipping me overseas."

My heart slams into the pit of my stomach. A sinking, crushing feeling washes over me. Then my guilt follows.

I am not sad to hear that Charles is being sent to fight. I am actually happy to hear that he is leaving and I don't have to fear his mood swings and wrath. I can only hope that he leaves quietly without a reminder of his fury and when or if he comes back that he will be a changed man.

He grabs a handful of papers and runs back to our bedroom to finish packing his suitcase.

Numbness envelopes me as I look at the mess he made with the papers. Do I clean them up? It's a mess…but he told me never to touch them. I remember the last kick to my stomach very vividly. But he hates a mess.

What do I do? Maybe if I do this fast enough, he will not think about me touching the papers and just be glad the mess is not here.

I quickly start cleaning up.

I hate that I have to reason with myself over the simplest things. To touch the papers and be beaten or to leave the mess and be beaten. I hate my life.

By the time I have it all cleaned up and put back in order, Charles steps from our bedroom with a suitcase in each hand. He stops and places them on the floor by the front door and turns to me.

As he approaches me, I flinch from his close proximity. I flinch again at his touch on my elbows. He drops his hands and takes a deep breath. I feel his long sigh against my face.

"Esme, I'm…sorry." I stare at him dumbfounded. "For what it's worth, I never meant for it to go this far. I never wanted to hurt you. I just can't always control my feelings."

He sounds so repentant that for a fleeting moment, I recognize the man that I married and cared for…

He reaches out and for the first time in months, I don't flinch - I let him caress my cheek. He leans down and places a quick and chaste kiss on my lips.

"I love you, Esme. Please look out for our things and I'll return to you as soon as I can."

I nod without answering and watch him walk out the door.

He's gone.

Will he come back? I'm not sure.

Do I want him to come back? Again, I'm not sure.

Do I want him to die?

My mind goes blank.

For now, he's gone and I know that I'm safe from him. A small but confident smile slowly breaks across my face.

I have so many things to do before he comes back…IF he even makes it back.

Esme, old girl, welcome home. Time to get in gear and prepare!

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews and for adding me to your favorites. The next chapter will be happier and happier is easier for me to write than sad, emo, and depressing. Hopefully it won't take a full week to crank out the next chapter!

NOTE: Spousal abuse is a serious subject and shouldn't be taken lightly. If you or someone you know is experiencing this, please seek help. You don't have to live in fear. If you are afraid for your safety or have been beaten by your partner - Dial 911 or call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-787-3224.