Chapter Eleven
In the middle of spring semester, Saint Anselm's Academy hosted their annual Parents' Day. Classes were dismissed and the campus was open to the families of the students for tours, a special address by the headmaster and headmistress, a tea out on the athletic field by the library, and a formal dinner to round out the festivities.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to, you know," I told Carlisle the evening before what I considered a colossal waste of time.
I knew he worried about being away from Esme for very long. His eyes strayed to her as we spoke in the parlor. She noticed and responded immediately.
"No, please you must go," she told him, shifting in her chair.
Esme was practicing her human mannerisms, forcing her self to shift her weight, to sigh and breathe in a natural fashion.
She turned her head to address me, which gave Carlisle an opportunity to admire the way her hair looked in the light from the fire in the hearth. Sometimes he purposely built the unnecessary fires just for that reason.
"Edward, tell him he must go. You know I'd go along with him if I could."
Her expression was pleading. It was tearing Carlisle apart.
"Of course I know that," I reassured her. "It's just that with neither of us here, things could…go wrong."
Her mind shot right back to the scene on the mountain where she'd killed the trapper, regaling both of us with a visual memory of her feasting on the man's blood. Venom pooled in my mouth and I swallowed it back impatiently.
"Not that it will go wrong," I hastened to add.
Carlisle stepped closer, concerned about the look of guilt flashing across Esme's face.
"I trust you completely, Esme, but…"
"But I'm a newborn still," she interrupted softly. "I'm a danger to us all."
"No more than Edward was in his first few years, and look at him now."
His eyes were on Esme, but his thoughts were on me. The pride and love in them was embarrassing.
"Let's not, please," I protested, trying to interject some humor into our conversation.
Carlisle ignored my rather lame attempt to divert the topic, while Esme gave me a sad smile.
Then she let out a breath in a sharp sigh and raised her eyes to Carlisle's face.
"I won't have you miss Parents' Day because of me. I'll spend the day down in the storm cellar if I have to. Having earth around me should muffle the smell of any humans who might pass by. You can roll a boulder over the doors to keep me in. I want you to go and support Edward, really I do."
Esme's unusual stubbornness was beginning to sway Carlisle.
"I really don't mind missing Parents' Day," I said.
"Nonsense," Esme contradicted briskly. "I won't hear of either of you missing Parents' Day. It's an important part of school."
Carlisle and I exchanged a look. Clearly Esme had her mind made up.
"As you wish," he conceded. "But I'll only go for a few hours, for the address and the tea. I don't think Edward will mind missing the dinner?"
I shuddered theatrically.
"Definitely not. Even if I were still human, the thought of school food wouldn't be appealing. I pity the parents."
That earned me a genuine smile from Esme.
"Very well. We'll have our own dinner when you come home."
"Are you sure you don't want to hunt tonight?" Carlisle asked.
She shook her head.
"No, I'll wait until tomorrow when we can all go together and you can tell me all about Parents' Day. This evening I'd much rather stay in and hear Edward play. Didn't Miss Wentworth send home some more Rimsky Korsakov?"
I groaned in mock horror.
"Overwrought Russian music it is," I said, and moved to the piano.
o-o-o
"And these are the stables," said Mary and Sara in unison as they squired their bemused parents and little brother past us on the lawn.
Carlisle and I were standing as far away from the tea tents as possible, watching the human families with amusement.
The headmaster and headmistress's address had been suitably boring and tedious. Mr. and Mrs. Clarence used phrases like "in loco parentis" and other Latin and Greek terms that sailed right above many of the attending families' heads. It was difficult not to laugh at the analogy of the school as one big happy family. Of course not everyone was a mind reader who knew of the rivalry between the teachers, the quarrels amongst the students, and the petty jealousies and angers that seethed on a daily basis.
Ned went running past, so focused on meeting up with his big sister at the library that he didn't even see me or Carlisle.
I saw Sean standing with his mother, a widow in black with a tired look on her face and a plate of sandwiches in her hand. He was trying to convince her to eat them, but all she wanted to do was sit down and weep because her husband wasn't with her.
Someone was crying softly. It was Harriet. She was hiding in the loft above the stables, letting the hay muffle the sound. Her parents didn't show up. They just sent a telegram with their regrets, but no real explanation.
Carlisle heard it too.
"Is the child in pain?" he asked me, his eyes on the tiny window at the apex of the stables' roof.
I shook my head.
"Not unless you count a broken heart," I told him. "Her parents didn't come today."
"Ah."
His eyes darkened with sympathy.
"Should we…?" he began to suggest going to her.
"No, Louisa will take care of it."
I nodded to the dark haired dynamo, striding through the crowd to look for Harriet. I saw in her thoughts that she knew where the girl was likely hiding and I decided to leave her to the rescue mission. She was also determined to hunt down Julius from French class as his father hadn't shown up either. Louisa took it upon herself to find and corral those abandoned by their families to keep them from brooding.
"Carlisle," I said with utter sincerity. "Have I thanked you yet for coming today?"
He took a closer look at Louisa, marching into the stables and beginning to call Harriet's name, and grimaced.
"That's quite alright, son. The pleasure is all mine."
We shared a look of perfect understanding and laughed.
"Well, I suppose I should give you the grand tour."
I nodded towards the knots of parents and children beginning to drift away from the tea tent, depleted now of most of its sandwiches, aspics, fruits, and crackers and cheeses. They didn't smell any more appetizing on the humans' breath than they did on the serving trays.
Leading the way past the tennis courts, I saw Julius ducking around the corner of the girls' dormitory to lurk in one of the recessed doorways looking out on the side garden. He was hiding from Louisa. I didn't blame him. Her father, a general in the army, stood linked arm in arm with a delicate looking blonde woman. Louisa got her facial features from her mother, but her coal black hair was all from her father.
"When is Louisa coming back?" the woman asked her husband timidly.
The general narrowed his eyes and stared at the corner of the girls' dormitory where Carlisle and I had emerged.
"When she's located her targets, she'll meet us here."
In his mind was a floor plan of the school. He guessed, correctly, that the most logical place for Louisa to come back was the corner of the girls' dormitory. He caught sight of us, sized us up, and dismissed us as just another father and son, not a threat. If he only knew.
"Friends, dear. Didn't she say she was bringing her friends to come and meet us?" his wife corrected gently.
"Humph," the general replied.
"I do hope she finds them soon," the lady fretted. "I don't like the thought of anyone being alone on a day like today."
"Never fear," he patted her hand where it lay on his forearm. "We've trained her well. She'll be back soon."
Then we were past them and the words and thoughts of other parents also traversing the graveled path washed over me.
'It's so beautiful here.'
'Reminds me of that palace in France I saw.'
'I can't believe we're paying this much in tuition, but it's worth it.'
'Ah school days. Youth is wasted on the young.'
'What on earth does Lizzie have to complain about? This school is wonderful. Her letters don't do it justice at all.'
'When can I get out of here? There's a train in half an hour. If I say goodbye now I'll just make it to the station in time.'
'Octavius? Where did that child get off to?' He'll be the death of me, the way he wanders.'
We pushed past the knot of parents bottlenecked by the fountain and emerged on the other side of it.
A laugh, unmistakably Clara's, came from above. I glanced up to see movement in the open window on the third floor.
"Whoops!"
A tiny figure all in pink with a big bow in its flaxen locks went flying downward. There was no respiration or heartbeat, and it was too small to be a child so I didn't bother to catch it, instead letting it splash into the fountain.
"Good decision, son," Carlisle whispered.
He'd seen me tense up in preparation in case it had been Clara falling out the window rather than her doll. To catch either one I'd have had to use vampiric speed, and with all the parents and students around, that wouldn't have been smart.
Some of the parents were exclaiming and pointing to doll floating in the large stone basin. They'd all realized it was a toy and not a baby and were laughing at their initial reactions.
A moment later Clara came running out of the dorm's side door, breathless from hurrying down the stairs. She barked her knees climbing on the lip of the basin and leaned over to grab hold of her doll's skirt.
"Got it!" she muttered triumphantly.
Slithering back off the fountain, she held the doll by its foot and shook the excess water off it, the way you'd shake water off a sodden umbrella.
"Hey," Miriam exclaimed as some of the water from the doll shook off onto her.
'My shirt! I just got it for Christmas.'
She looked down at the discolored spots where the fountain water had sprayed across her white blouse.
"Sorry, Miriam," Clara backed away, catching sight of the angry look on Miriam's face. "I uh, have to get back to my parents. I'll see you later."
She turned and ran for the door, dropping her doll on the gravel and dashing back to pick it up again before disappearing into the dorm.
Miriam looked after her in disgust.
'I can't believe I'm in the same grade as that…that…child," she thought derisively.
Her vitriolic tone of thought surprised me. Miriam's thought were usually very logical and even keeled. The absence of her parents must be affecting her.
I looked over at Carlisle.
He was contemplating the spectacle with a good deal of amusement, while mentally going through the proper procedures for treating broken bones from a fall. Even though it was just a doll, his medical mind was constantly reviewing what to do in case of crisis. It was one of many qualities I admired about him.
Ned came careening around the corner of the girls' dormitory, mitt in hand. He'd run the back way by the stables to his room in the boys' dormitory in the rear. When he saw the knot of students and parents at the fountain, he skidded to a halt, throwing up gravel, then ran the long way around the back of the fountain to stop before a couple and their adult daughter.
"Mom, dad, sis. Here it is!"
He held his baseball mitt aloft.
"I caught a fly ball with it last week. It's great."
He really meant 'I'm great' and like a puppy dog throwing a dead rat down at his masters' feet, he was waiting for approval from his family.
Ned's father was a stocky, robust man with lots of thick blonde hair barely contained by the hat he'd jammed down on it.
"Good job, m'boy. Good job," he told Ned.
"That's wonderful, sweetheart," said his mother, distractedly.
She was also blonde, but more of a pale platinum shade than the exuberant yellow of her husband's hair. Where he was red faced and hearty looking, she was pale with grey blue eyes that looked worried.
"So what have you done this week?" asked his sister, unimpressed by Ned's past glories.
She was taller than her father. I couldn't see her hair, for she was wearing one of those closefitting hats that covered all of the back of her head and most of her forehead. Its tiny brim did nothing to conceal the piercing blue eyes she shared with her brother and father.
"More than you, I'm sure," Ned shot back.
"I," his sister informed him coldly, "have a job, which is more than I can say for you."
"Children," their mother said warningly, with the air of one who'd had to break up fights many times before.
"Listen to your mother," their father said absently, his eyes on a father and son standing quietly near the far end of the building.
'Something's wrong over there,' he thought. 'I'll have to ask Ned about those two later, away from the girls.'
Curious, I allowed my eyes to drift over to the two he was thinking about.
With a shock, I realized it was Hartley Saunders and the man who had to be his father. The thoughts and noise of the other humans near me had drowned out the two standing farther away.
Hartley bore a strong resemblance to his father. Their hair, eye color, noses and chins were the same. Mr. Saunders was a good bit taller than his son, but they bore the same grim expressions on their faces.
They stood about a foot or so apart, but the way they held themselves made it seem like they were further away from each other. It was as if the tension inside them caused them to shrink in upon themselves. While other people stood in relaxed poses, bumping elbows or shoulders without the least bit of concern, Hartley and Mr. Saunders kept their arms stiffly at their sides, guarding against unintentional physical contact.
I strained to hear their thoughts, and wasn't surprised to find similarities there as well. They were both wishing the day would end soon. Hartley was wondering why his father bothered to show up since it was obvious he just wanted to forget Hartley existed. He wished his father would go home to his new wife and baby. Mr. Saunders was wondering why he'd bothered to come since Hartley obviously didn't want him there and still blamed him for his mother's death.
"Edward?"
I wrenched my thoughts away from the Saunders' family tragedy at Carlisle's voice.
"Yes?"
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I told him.
The concern in his eyes and uncertainty in his thoughts told me that he didn't believe it, but he let it go.
"We'll talk about it at home?" he suggested as a family strolled by.
"At home, yes."
Majorie Van Houten and her entourage rounded the corner of the girls' dormitory. Somehow she'd cast herself in the role of tour guide and was leading not only her own parents, but the parents of her entourage of sycophants as well.
She caught sight of me and began moving closer, her plans to greet me and engage myself and Carlisle in conversation so as to show off her social skills solidifying with each step.
"In fact, let's leave now," I said, grabbing Carlisle's arm and tugging as I began walking quickly towards the trees hiding the wall surrounding the school grounds.
"But isn't the front gate that way?" asked my adopted father.
"We'll jump the fence," I told him shortly.
He glanced over his shoulder, but followed obediently. I saw in his mind's eye the thwarted expression on Marjorie Van Houten's face and I caught the flash of humor and understanding in his thoughts.
'She's just a girl, Edward,' he thought at me. 'Not a dragon.'
I spoke quickly and quietly under my breath.
"In a fight between Marjorie and a dragon, I'd place my money on the girl and not the dragon."
He laughed and followed me into the trees. We found a secluded spot, leapt the fence and decided to run home rather than take the train.
Carlisle was anxious to get back to Esme, and I'd had quite enough of human company for a while. Sometimes the constant bombardment of thoughts became tiresome. Not that I could be tired any more, I was just sick of dealing with the interior dramas as well as the ones spoken out loud.
Later that night when we were running back to the farm house after our hunt, I found myself looking forward to telling Esme about Parents' Day, and filling Carlisle in on the things he hadn't heard in the humans' thoughts. As we gained the porch of the farmhouse, slowing to file through the doorway, it struck me. I was home.
o-o-o
The night passed all too quickly, full as it was of conversation and laughter. I caught the early train to school, and trudged through the town to Saint Anselm Academy's gates. The moment I passed through them I knew something was wrong.
There were voices coming from outside the girls' dorm. No one was loitering around the front of the school as usual. With increasing trepidation, I hurried at human speed down the center drive, jogging away from the front door of the main building to round the edge of the girls' dormitory.
Boys and girls clad in their distinctive burgundy jackets and white shirts surrounded the fountain. Several girls were crying quietly as others looked on in shock. The boys stared down at the stone basin grimly, or averted their faces.
As I came closer I could smell it, the faint aroma of decay. There was no blood scent, thankfully, but something was dead, and hadn't been dead for very long.
"Who is it? Does anyone know?"
"Why? Why would she do something like that?"
"It's suicide, it has to be. She must've jumped from the top of the dormitory."
"Oh God, it's so horrible."
"Someone's got to tell a teacher. Why hasn't anyone called a teacher yet?"
The question, repeated with a note of rising hysteria from a brown haired girl clutching the hand of a friend, silenced the others for a moment, but I could still hear their thoughts.
'I thought someone else went to fetch Mr. Clarence.'
'A teacher? Who is she fooling? No one wants to go tell a teacher someone's dead. Besides, what's a teacher going to do?'
'I think I'm going to be sick.'
'I've never seen a dead body before.'
'Who is she? I can't see her face. If someone would just move her hair or turn her over…'
'She got what she deserved.'
I stopped short at the edge of the crowd of humans.
She got what she deserved? Who'd thought that? I started scanning the faces of the humans. There were more of them than I'd first thought. As I'd drawn near to the fountain, so had several others from the opposite direction.
Impatient now, I pushed through the crowd and wound up in the first row of spectators.
The body lay face down in the broad stone basin of the fountain. It was female, going by the girlish white nightgown stuck to its back and legs. The arms were tucked under the body and the darkish hair was spread out in the water. No, not dark, red. It only appeared to be dark because it was sodden. I saw the smattering of freckles on her ankle before I caught her unique scent and I knew.
It was Clara lying dead in the fountain.
