A/N: Brace yourselves for a Christmas chapter. It's not exactly the right season for posting a chapter set in the cold and snow, but here goes. Please review and let me know what you think of the Christmas gifts.

Chapter Ten

"Happy Christmas, Esme," said Carlisle, smiling at her as they stood by the large pine tree taking up a whole corner of the parlor.

"Merry Christmas," she corrected him gently as she placed the last ornament on the tree.

"It looks nice, Esme," I told her.

Looking at the happiness in her eyes, and the indulgent, contented look on Carlisle's face, I couldn't begrudge her request to have a real Christmas, even thought it meant traveling back and forth to the city to purchase things she deemed necessary.

So much for winter holidays. Had I still been human I would've been exhausted by now. The farmhouse was filled to the brim with garlands, wreathes, and hand sewn decorations. It took us two days of trekking around the forest to find the 'perfect' tree. Now the tree stood, dripping with ornaments, in the corner of the parlor.

"Yes, it does. I couldn't have done it without you either. Thank you, both of you, for helping."

"It was my pleasure," Calisle smiled at her.

She smiled back, and their thoughts became embarrassingly sentimental.

"Let's open presents."

As I'd hoped, my suggestion distracted Esme, though Carlisle was still mentally comparing the way the firelight glistened off her hair to the way it glistened on the tinsel hanging from the tree.

"Oh yes, let's!"

Quick as a flash, Esme darted to her knees and reached under the tree to pull out a box with a large red bow on it.

"Here Edward, this one is for you. I hope you like it," she said shyly, handing it over.

I sat on the ottoman. I knew what it was, of course. While Esme was careful to knit it while I was away at school, she couldn't keep from thinking about it and her gift to Carlisle. I pretended to be surprised anyhow when I removed the top of the box and pulled out the chocolate brown wool sweater and matching cap.

"It's wonderful, Esme. Thank you. I'll wear it often."

"I'm so glad you like it," she smiled. "I thought the color would look good on you. I don't think I would have attempted something like this back when I was human. I was always dropping stitches when I tried to knit before."

Holding the sweater up to my chest, I smoothed it across my torso. She'd knitted a sort of entwined cable pattern into the center of it.

"It looks complicated," I said. "Thank you for taking so much trouble over me."

She rose and came over to kiss me gently on the cheek.

"It's no trouble at all. I like doing things for you, and Carlisle."

The sincerity in her words and thoughts left me feeling awkward. I placed the knitted cap on my head.

"I like the hat, too."

She tugged it straight, and frowned a bit.

"It seems a shame to cover your beautiful hair, though."

I caught Carlisle's silent guffaw at the word 'beautiful' and made a face at him.

"What is it?" Esme asked, looking from me to Carlisle and back again.

"I'd prefer the term handsome," I told her gently.

Her hand flew to cover her mouth.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking."

Carlisle came up from behind her and put his arm around her shoulders, begging me silently to fix the situation.

"It's fine, Esme. I love the sweater and the cap. And I'd just as soon cover my hair. One of the kitchen maids compared me to a copper pot the last day of the term."

"A copper pot?" echoed Esme.

I sighed.

"It was the last lunch of the term, and she thought quite clearly that my hair reminded her of the copper pot she'd just finished polishing the night before."

Esme giggled. I let it pass, but glared at Carlisle.

"Don't laugh," I warned. "If you'd been there she probably would've compared your hair to a honey pot."

That merely served to make Esme laugh harder, as I'd intended.

'Thank you, Edward,' Carlisle thought at me.

"Where's my gift?" he asked out loud.

"Oh, here it is," Esme answered, moving with vampiric speed to retrieve it and place it in his hands.

It was a scarf and glove set made of cashmere. She'd asked me to pick up the fine yarn in the city, just as she'd asked Carlisle to go and buy the brown wool for my gift on a different day.

"It's beautiful," Carlisle told her.

'And so are you,' he thought silently as he gazed at her.

"My turn," I jumped in before his thoughts could venture further.

"Carlisle, this one is for you," I said, thrusting it at him.

It was a leather Gladstone style doctor's bag, with the initials CC engraved on a pewter oblong set onto the leather by the handles.

"Your old bag is falling apart," I informed him. "When you start practicing medicine again, you'll need a new one."

A slew of memories went through Carlisle's mind, of patients, other doctors, and hospital rooms. He missed being a doctor.

"Thank you, Edward. Your gift is most thoughtful."

I shrugged.

Esme was beginning to feel guilty, blaming herself for taking Carlisle away from a profession he loved. She didn't show any of this on her face, but I knew Carlisle would sense it if I allowed her thoughts to continue on in that vein. He was finely attuned to her moods.

I reached into my pocket and drew out a small box and handed it to Esme.

Her eyes widened. Because she kept the farmhouse scrupulously clean, she knew where Carlisle had hidden his gifts, and where I'd kept his doctor's bag under my bed. She didn't, however, know about this box, for I'd kept it with me after I took her gift out of the locked strongbox I kept near my desk up in my bedroom. Carlisle gave it to me so that I'd have a safe place to store the deed to my family home back in Chicago.

"This belonged to my mother," I told her. "You've taken such good care of me and Carlisle, I think she'd have wanted you to have it."

"Edward, I can't take anything that was your mother's. You should keep family heirlooms, and I'm…"

"Family," I interrupted her. "As far as I'm concerned, you are my family now."

I was hoping to make up for my bad attitude when Carlisle first brought Esme home. I didn't think she'd heard our arguments through the agony of her transformation, but I remembered every hurtful, accusatory word I'd said, and I was ashamed of them.

Esme looked up from the box in her hand and fixed her eyes on mine.

'I love you, Edward,' she thought at me intently. 'If my son had lived, I wish he'd grown into the sort of young man you are. This gift means more to me than you'll ever know.'

"Then I accept," she said out loud. "Now let's see what it is that I've been making such a fuss about."

She sat down on the ottoman I'd vacated, and pulled the bow off the box, opening it carefully.

Inside was a small gold cross with a tiny diamond at the center. She lifted it out by its thin chain and held it up.

"Oh Edward, it's beautiful. I'll treasure it always."

Carlisle met my gaze over Esme's head. He remembered taking me back to my family's home in Chicago, going through the house in search of keepsakes to take away with me when we moved. I'd kept my mother's rings, an old cameo that had belonged to her grandmother, a string of pearls with matching earrings, and the cross on a chain. He knew it was important to me because it had been important to her.

'I'm proud of you, son,' he thought at me.

I ducked my head in acknowledgement. It wasn't, after all, as if I would ever wear the cross. It was far too feminine in design.

"Will you put it on me?" she asked.

"Of course."

Careful not to break the delicate mechanism, I unlatched it to get the chain around Esme's neck, then refastened it as she pulled her hair aside.

She caught my hand as I pulled away and twisted to look up at me.

"Thank you," she said feelingly.

I nodded.

"You're up next, Carlisle," I told him. Esme's gratitude was making me uncomfortable.

He knew what I was up to, but was willing to distract Esme for me.

"Then I suppose I'd better find your present," he answered.

It was under the tree, and he hauled it out, passing it over to me. I knew it was music, he'd let that much slip in his thoughts, but not precisely what kind.

The papers in the box smelled old. I tore off the wrappings and opened the lid to find a sheaf of yellowing sheet music. Scanning quickly, my eye immediately caught the scrawled ink across the top.

"That's not…"

"It is," answered Carlisle with a broad grin.

"How did you?"

"I still have some friends in Europe," he reminded me.

Curious, Esme moved closer to gaze at the papers which were of such interest to me and Carlisle.

"What is it?"

I shifted the box so the writing at the top was upright.

"It's in German," I told her. I recognized the distinctive signature right away.

"It's a note from Beethoven to a friend. It basically says this is one of the first copies off the presses, and he hopes he enjoys it," Carlisle translated.

"Beethoven? The Beethoven?"

"Yes."

"I don't know how you got your hands on this, but thank you, Carlisle."

"I thought you'd like it."

He turned his attention to Esme.

"And now for you."

He pulled out a square box from under the tree and handed it to her.

She debated telling him that he shouldn't have, but realized it would sound churlish so she contented herself with a smile and took it from him.

As she opened it, she gasped. Folded into a neat square inside the box was a silk scarf in gold, brown, and the exact same caramel shade of her hair. Nestled in the middle of the scarf was a pin. I'd helped Carlisle pick it out, so I already knew that it was a butterfly brooch in the art nouveau style with elongated antennae and wings interspersed with bits of amber.

"A butterfly, oh it's perfect, Carlisle."

She drew it out of the box and offered it on her palm for me to see.

I pretended I hadn't seen it before and gazed admiringly upon it.

"Do you really like it?" he asked.

The way the man had dithered over choosing a gift, worrying over how Esme would react, you'd think he'd been a diplomat tasked with finding the perfect item to present to Queen Victoria when she became old and fussy.

Actually, if Carlisle had wrapped up a clod of dirt and presented it to Esme she would have loved it, because it came from him.

"Of course I do. I like both the scarf and the butterfly."

She closed the pin carefully in her hand, and threw her arms around Carlisle's neck in an embrace.

"Thank you, for everything."

Carlisle didn't have to be a mind reader like me to realize Esme was thanking him for her new life as well as the gift. The symbolism of the butterfly wasn't lost on her.

His arms came around her back and he returned the hug gingerly, as if he were afraid it wasn't real.

Eventually, Esme pulled away as I pretended to be engrossed in my new sheet music.

She was embarrassed by her display. I could have told her that the embrace was worth more to Carlisle than all the scarves and gloves in America, but that was for him to say, not me.

"Edward, will you play for us?" she asked, nodding at the music in my hands.

"Gladly," I answered and spent the rest of the evening playing for them.

School resumed, and life went on. Everyone seemed intent on catching up with each other and sharing stories of their holidays as if they'd been gone a month rather than the two week interval allowed by the school calendar. Even students from other countries seemed to have found friends to spend Christmas with.

"I got a new bat, and a mitt, and …"

Ned's list of Christmas gifts was cut short as the girls appeared with their lunch trays and sat down at the table inside. It was too cold for the humans to eat outside, so they were congregating in the dining hall.

"Hello, Edward."

Clara smiled shyly as she sat between Dorothy and I. Harriet settled on the other side of the table with Gordon and Steven.

"Clara."

Gordon reached for the saltshaker and nearly overturned the glass of water on my tray. I barely managed to slow my hand to human speed as I grabbed it.

"Whoa Edward, you're fast."

Ned stared admiringly at my hand, clasping the glass and imagined me running around the bases as he, Ned, hit a home run. He started scheming to get me on the baseball team.

"What else did you get for Christmas?" I asked.

Luckily for me, Ned was easily distracted.

"Besides the batt and the mitt? She's a beauty by the way. Nice leather, and as soon as I get it seasoned it's gonna be great. I also got new pajamas, and my aunt Bessie knitted me some socks, and…"

I tuned him out and listened to the thoughts of the others. Steven was thinking of his own pile of gifts, happily realizing he'd received more than Ned. Gordon was jealous. He hadn't received the shotgun he'd had his heart set on. His mother and sisters had overruled his father and he ended up with clothing and books. The only thing he'd gotten that he'd really wanted was a gramophone record, but he could only play it at home since he didn't have a gramophone player at school.

Dorothy was thinking wistfully of her increased stash of romance novels under her bed, while Clara was wondering if she'd be able to wear her Christmas dress with the roses at the hip and bosom for the next snowflake ball, or if it would be out of fashion by next year. Harriet was simply disgusted by the avarice in Ned's tone.

"Hey, everyone, did you hear what happened?"

Peter of policeman uncle fame ran up to the table. He tripped about a foot away and had to throw up his hands and steady himself on the table's edge.

Giggles came from a nearby table as the twins, Sara and Mary, saw Peter's near-fall.

Peter straightened up and ignored them, addressing his words to Gordon.

"Jedidiah's been shot. We're safe again."

Shock registered on everyone's faces and thoughts.

"What happened?"

Ned wanted details, the gorier the better. He also wanted Peter's attention on him and off of Gordon.

Peter glanced at him impatiently, but stubbornly continued to address Gordon.

"The day after Christmas they found him trying to jump on a boxcar. The local sheriff recognized him and got him right before he got on."

"Are they sure it was him?"

Steven was skeptical, thinking how easy it would be to mistake one bum for another.

Peter waved a hand impatiently.

"His lawyer identified the body. It was him alright."

"Did the train roll over him?"

A crease appeared between Peter's eyes as he contemplated the sheer imbecility of Ned's question. If the man had been crushed he would hardly have been identifiable.

"Uh, no."

Sean passed behind Peter, carrying his tray of food. He'd heard about Jedidiah's fate earlier, and guessed that Peter was spreading the word. His thoughts were sad, hoping for mercy for the man's soul. It was a curious reaction to the fate of an accused murderer.

He saw Sara and Mary motioning to him to join them and gave a decidedly unpriestly curse in his mind. He'd hoped to eat with Julius, but couldn't pretend he hadn't seen the twins' invitation and resigned himself to their more exuberant company.

"Ew, Ned," Clara groaned

"That's really unseemly," said Dorothy primly.

Unseemly was her new favorite word. She'd read it in one of her romance novels and was determined to use it at every opportunity.

"If the train rolled over him, they wouldn't have been able to identify him," Steven explained patiently.

"Oh yeah, right," Ned muttered.

He appeared chastened to the others, but I knew he was merely thinking of ways he could manage to jump into a moving boxcar without killing himself. I had to concentrate on keeping my expression neutral when he came up with the idea of tying a rope to a tree branch and swinging inside the open boxcar door like Tarzan from the Edgar Rice Burroughs stories.

"Thank you, Peter," said Harriet, craning her neck to look up at him. "It's good to know that we don't have to be wary anymore."

Peter stepped back, surprised that she was speaking to him. He'd thought Harriet was too clever to bother with someone like him.

"Oh, you wouldn't have to worry anyhow. My uncle is a policeman. He'll protect the town."

His pride in his family was clear in his voice and expression.

Harriet gave a small smile, while thinking acidly what a pity it was his uncle hadn't managed to protect two women from getting killed.

All I could think of was how easy it would be for another murder to occur now that everyone had a false sense of security. My unease didn't leave me in the weeks that followed.

Winter passed. Snow turned to slush and then rain. Ned and his group of misfits began eating outside again as green buds appeared on the barren branches of the trees. I was able to rid myself of lunch by throwing it to the increasing population of rabbits and gophers.

With new life, came death in a most unexpected way.