Author's Note: Okay, big Author's Note this time. First off, as always, many thanks to Runs-with-vampires, Ame Warashi, Deliriously Withdrawn, NellieGURL, your vennela, erised-i, miss.dramatikkkk, azvamplover, SockShopping, XboredX16, Alia DeBel, and RosaLeeMullins for reviewing! A stolen cherry pie goes to each of you, except for miss.dramatikkkk, who, as per her request, gets an apple pie. :-)
Okay, so I did some miscalculating in the last chapter. It's rather miniscule, but it's driving me crazy nevertheless. During the wedding reception, I had written that Woodrow Wilson had only recently been reelected and that the Lusitania had sunk the year before the wedding. I calculated my months incorrectly. The Lusitania sank two years before the wedding took place, it had been over a year since Wilson had been reelected, and the Americans have been at war for four months. ::blushes:: Sorry about that. If anyone's interested, I went back and edited the chapter to fix that little... sweetheart.
Okay, so onto a more important issue than editing quirks: as I'm sure you're all aware, Eclipse comes out the day after tomorrow (!!!!!). Actually, by the time I finish posting this, it will be coming out tomorrow! Anyway, Mrs. Meyer has in several cases mentioned that we are going to be learning more about Rosalie and Jasper in Eclipse. And, while I didn't hear her say anything about Esme one way or the other, it's entirely possible that we will find out more about her past, as well. Now, I already have several scenes planned out in my head for the future of this story, some of which I've grown quite attached to (I can't wait for this one scene between Carlisle and - nevermind), but if necessary I will forfeit these scenes for the sake of remaining canon. However, I have decided not to change anything from Chapters 1-11, with the minor exception of names of characters. What I'm getting at is, if there is some big revelation about Esme in Eclipse (and I'm not talking about a "huge, earth-shattering Lily Evans revelation where we find out that - gasp! - her love saved Harry" kind of revelation) that takes place somewhere between ages 16 and 22, my story will turn into an AU. If this happens, I hope you all will continue to read and enjoy the now ever-so-slightly AU story. :-)
Disclaimer: Twilight, New Moon, Esme Evenson, and Charles Evenson all belong to Stephenie Meyer, whom I should very much like to hug. Mrs. Malcolm and Mrs. Platt belong to me. :-)
Okay, okay, enough chatter! On with the chapter!
11. Boiling Water
I nibbled my lip as I nervously carried a full pot of water from the sink to the stove. I held it with both hands, and tried to hold it away from my body so I wouldn't slosh the water down my front.
It was two weeks after our wedding, and I was attempting to make supper. I couldn't understand where all of my culinary skills had gone. I had used to be quite adept at cooking, having watched my mother since I was a little girl, but lately I had felt very self-conscious about my cooking. Charles liked his meals just so, and I erred so easily.
I let out my breath as I lifted the pot onto the burner.
The door burst open. I jumped violently, spilling what felt like half of the water down my dress.
Charles entered, and he looked unhappy. I turned to greet him but he swept past me without a word. I heard him enter his study, and presently he returned to the kitchen, clutching several official-looking papers.
"How many times must you change your will? I mean, honestly, it isn't going to matter to you much longer, is it?" I heard him growl.
He walked to our table and pulled out a chair, sitting down in it forcefully.
I tip-toed over to him, trying not to make too much noise. He was scribbling something on one of the papers when I leaned over him, kissing his dark hair lightly. He started and looked up. I watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled.
"What's for supper?"
"It's a bit nippy out. I decided for a nice stew and some biscuits."
"Hadn't you better be seeing to that, then?" he asked, looking back at his papers.
I nodded and silently went back over to continue with preparing. I had to refill the water for the vegetables, and this time I was successful.
Charles worked at the table while I cut up the carrots and potatoes, waiting for the water to boil. He worked quickly. By the time the water was starting to boil and I was working on the onions, he arranged his papers and shoved them into his briefcase.
He joined me at the counter, watching me work. I already knew that this was a sign that he was hungry, so I turned and offered him a piece of carrot, smiling at him.
He ignored the carrot, and his eyes instead skimmed down my front. I followed his gaze and saw that my dress was still quite wet and clingy from the water. As I started to blush he looked up and our eyes met. He leaned towards me and pressed his lips firmly against mine. One of his hands went to my waist, and one held my head close to his.
Charles always became rough after a few moments, and I sought to brace myself against the countertop. Instead, I dipped my hand into the boiling water, scalding my hand. I cried out and jerked my arm wildly out of the way, upsetting the pot. We both leapt out of the way, but we still got splashed with the steaming water as it splashed out.
Charles clutched at his right arm, yelling in pain.
"Dammit, Esme!" I saw a brief flash of his good arm swiping through the air. The next thing I knew I was on the floor, and there was a sharp throbbing on the left side of my head. I felt my legs being kicked aside as Charles hastily left the room, and I leaned my head down and pressed it against the cool floorboards.
I struggled to sit up. My entire left side hurt. The water had spilt all down my left side, and the aching in my head had gotten worse when I sat up. It took me awhile to piece together the last few moments – Charles' words, the sound his arm had made when it made contact with the side of my face, the distant, echoing sound of my cry, the feeling of my body hitting the floor – in order to comprehend why my head was hurting.
In a daze, I pulled myself to my feet. My vision was slightly blurry, and I had to shake my head before I could see properly. When my eyes cleared, I looked at the puddle of water on the ground next to the pot, and I felt a sob wrack my body. I buried my face in my hands and cried, leaning against the counter for support that came a little too late. I clutched at my arm while the tears flowed, but the pain had hardly anything to do with it. Slowly, the flow stopped, and when I wiped away the last of my tears, I felt very shaky. Uncertain of what to do, but dimly aware that I had to do something, I grabbed a towel and began mopping up the water, which had now cooled. I picked up the pot with shaky hands and filled it for the third time.
Charles didn't return to the kitchen until supper was nearly finished. His hand was slightly red, but was mercifully free from blisters. His hair was neat and moist, as though he had combed it back with water.
I couldn't find the courage to look into his eyes.
I sensed that he was right behind me, but I resolutely stayed where I was, stirring the thickening stew. I felt his arms wind around me and he rested his head on my shoulder. I tensed, and my hands began to shake once more. Terrified that I would spill again, I stopped stirring.
He pressed his lips against my ear.
"You know I love you, don't you?"
I couldn't speak.
His arms tightened slightly. "Don't you?"
My breath hitched, but I couldn't seem to force any words out. Swiftly, he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face him. I could see lightning in his eyes.
"I love you, Esme. You know that, right?" Somehow, his words seemed less a loving expression than a threat. I forced myself to nod.
He relaxed his hands and smiled slightly. I didn't move as he tipped his head and pressed a kiss to my neck.
He sighed. He played with a lock of my hair as he said, "Writing wills is such a drab business. I just finished finalizing Mrs. Malcolm's will. I swear, that daffy woman changed her mind over her inheritance so many times that God, himself, must be getting dizzy. Perhaps she believed that she couldn't die if her will wasn't finished." He chuckled. He pulled his face out of my hair to examine my expression. Evidently, he was dissatisfied with what he found there, because his countenance darkened and he pulled away, turning his back to me.
"Maybe she just wants to make sure that the things she loves don't… fall into the wrong hands," I whispered hoarsely.
Charles whirled around to face me. His black eyes were filled with an icy fire. "Yes, well, it's too late for that, now, isn't it?" He scowled and went to sit at the table. I turned back to the stove until I could compose myself.
When I cleared the dishes away after supper, Charles once again came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. I couldn't help it, but I cringed as he kissed his way up my neck and along my jawbone. When he could reach no further, he turned me in his arms. Looking into his hungry eyes I had a wild urge to scream. As he leaned towards me, I felt hysterically frightened, and with a cry, I pushed him away with all of my force. He staggered backwards and looked at me in disbelief. He reached for me again, and I heard myself speak.
"Please, Charles. I must get these things cleared away." My voice sounded weak and shaky.
We both knew that it was a feeble excuse, but Charles didn't push the subject. He raised his head and regarded me imperiously.
"Fine," he said curtly. He turned on his heel and went to stroll out of the room.
"Oh," he said at the doorway. He turned to me and I saw a cruel smirk playing around his mouth.
"By the way, your mother stopped by the office this morning. Margaret's mother is dead." Charles turned and left, snapping the door shut behind him.
Author's Note: Well? Did you like it? Just think: by the next time I update, we'll have Twilight Three! I really hope you all will keep reading even if the book sheds some light on the Esme-subject. :-)
