Chapter Eleven: The Smile of a Gentleman (Part 2)

Ashland, Wisconsin, May 1921

Esme

The Fourth Smile: The Twelfth Day

April 28th 1921

I was standing with my back pressed gently against the wall at the end of the hall, near Edward's bedroom gazing at a painting that hung there. It was the only painting in the house, aside from one that Carlisle particularly favoured in his study.

This oil on canvas painting was of a rainy day in a place for which I had no name. The artist neglected to leave any mention of a title to the rather beautiful piece. My heart throbbed painfully at the thought of such abandonment. Every painting, in my humbly yet honest opinion, deserved equally beautiful words to have as a name.

I heard quiet footsteps downstairs, signalling the end of Carlisle and Edward's half conversation that I paid no mind to, on the basis that should my opinion or ears be required, they would ask for my presence in the little sitting room I was slowly getting used to.

In my previous life, the sitting room was always Charles' room. I scarcely ever entered unless it was requested, and other than that only ever to clean, but even then I did so rather cautiously. It was a silly fear to harbour, I understood that, but my stomach always curled upon entering any sitting room, no matter whom it was occupied by.

I had been making an effort lately, not to lose myself in my thoughts, and dedicate more of the expanse of my vampire brain to being aware of my surroundings. After all, what was the use of daydreaming, when all your daydreams were present in real life?

One of those said daydreams was walking up the stairs to find me then, leaving Edward behind in the little sitting room. Edward had not gone into town that day, he hadn't had a class to attend, so he was spending his time with his beloved piano, and his beloved father, although he was somewhat reluctant to admit the depth of love he felt for the latter, but he couldn't hide it from me, no matter quite how hard he tried.

I was looking Carlisle's way when he rounded the corner. He grinned.

"You heard me coming this time?"

I let out a laugh and looked away bashfully, "I'm getting better everyday."

"You really are," he murmured tenderly.

I let my eyes rest back upon the painting I had been staring at, but a corner of my mind was very aware of his actions. I never wanted to miss a single thing that Carlisle did.

He leaned up against the wall beside me, and moved his tender eyes from my face to the painting that held a fraction of my attention.

"You like it?" He murmured.

I cocked my head to the side, hoping I could think up an intelligent reply, but all I came out with was "Yes."

"Me too," he murmured.

It was one of the most beautiful moments I had ever found myself being in, leaning up against that wall with him, Edward's slow and delicate music complimenting that rain that fell upon the roof, as we gazed upon a painting of a lonely man waking down a foreign street.

"But in the very same moment, I don't like it at all."

He turned to me, I noticed out the corner of my eye, and gave me a questioning glance, "You don't?"

I shook my head; "It makes me sad, but happy at the very same time."

"Why?"

"Because he's alone in the cold in a big city."

He looked back to the painting, and reconsidered it for a moment, "He is. I suppose it makes me a little sombre too. What about it makes you happy at the same time?"

I smiled a small smile, "The thought that he mightn't always be alone. There is hope for the future. We only see the back of his head here, we don't know what his facial expression is like, he could be happy. He could be smiling at the thought of going home to his family, or he could be happy for a few moments of solitude with the rain in a city he loves. What makes me happy is the possibilities, there are so very many. It is has been an aim of mine to always seek out hope in the most hopeless of times. I suppose through that I can better see outside the box now."

Carlisle gazed at me with an expression that almost resembled awe, it looked so strange in his eyes, for I was sure that was the expression I always looked at him with.

"Do you like art?" He murmured softly.

I nodded, "I think so."

He grinned, "Have you ever investigated the spare room?" He nodded to the door nearby.

I shook my head.

He laughed, "I'm almost surprised, I thought your curiosity would bring you into every room in the house."

I shrugged, "I only venture into those that Edward showed me into."

Carlisle nodded in understanding; "You are welcome in every single room of the house."

I looked away from him bashfully, "Thank you."

He grinned, "Now I guess I have something to show you."

He held out his hand, which I took eagerly, and then he smiled widely and led me to the closed door to our left.

He stopped at the door and turned around to share his grin with me once again, and his eyes never left my face as he gently turned the door handle with his free hand, and welcomed me into his own little private museum.

When we made it to the center of the little room, I let go of his hand to twirl around the room in a dazed state of wonder, letting my eyes drown in the many, many paintings that lined the walls. Oh, how it was so breathtakingly beautiful, every single scene that adorned those walls. I could have spent hours upon hours in that little room taking in every single inch of every single painting, and I would, because I had the time.

"Oh, Carlisle, it's wonderful." I whispered breathlessly.

He grinned in wonder as he watched me turn around on the spot in the middle of the room, Edward's music still playing gently in the background.

"I thought you might like it, I have found over the years that I'm partial to a good painting, so I've become a little bit of a collector."

"You have the most beautiful collection, they're all so lovely, and different, but they compliment each other in the room, it's beautiful."

That was when my eyes fell upon the curtains, hanging in the small windows. They were an offensive shade of red.

He noticed my sudden halt in wonder.

"What is it?" He murmured.

"The curtains," I spoke flatly, "They're beautifully hideous."

So on the twelfth day, it was the fourth time, Carlisle gave me that smile.

"You're more than welcome to use them as hair ribbons, little apple."

The Fifth Smile: The Fifteenth Day

May 1st 1921

The boys and I went out hunting on the fifteenth day of my new life, we only went out the back of the house, as we always did, and we were only on the lookout for deer, as we always were. They promised me that one of these days when Carlisle had more than one day off, we'd drive up to Canada and try to find some carnivores, which – I was told – tasted better.

I looked forward to that day immensely. Not for the hunt, but for the opportunity to see a new place. There were so many places I had read about in Carlisle's books, which sounded awe-inspiring and captivating, and I wanted so very much with all of my heart to see them, to feel them, to love them. I mentioned this to Carlisle one time, and his face broke into what was almost a loving smile, before he promised that someday we could see them all. We had eternity after all.

I always seemed to drink less than both Carlisle and Edward, so I had finished hunting before them, leaving me more time to stand and marvel at how well they did it.

They were both very elegant hunters, lethal, but utterly beautiful, all the same. I hoped that one day I would hunt as they did, without spilling such a mess upon my clothes. Thankfully I was getting more of a handle on my strength by then, and rarely ever ripped my clothes when I washed them. I never wore Carlisle's shirt when I went hunting, I was saving that for when I wasn't quite so messy. I didn't want to ruin it; I wouldn't get another one again.

I sighed as they drained their kill, and began to bury it. Then, in a bout of mischief, I decided to climb a tree.

I let out a giggle as I jumped onto one of the low branches, then another as I climbed higher.

I heard the two men below laughing along with my giggles, and it was a beautiful moment.

"Miss Platt?" Carlisle called after a short time, "I hate to spoil your fun, but we'd really best be off now."

I jumped down to the lowest branches (I was still disguised by leaves), and wrapped my legs around the wood. Then, hanging from my legs I dangled down from my branch near where he was standing.

He looked surprised to see me in such a way, so I gave him my best goofy smile, "Good morning, Sir Isaac."

I got the fifth one of those smiles on that, the fifteenth, day.

"Good morning, little apple. Be careful, you might fall."

I shrugged, "That's what I'm supposed to do, remember?"

He laughed with such fondness, as he shook his beautiful head.

The Sixth Smile: The Nineteenth Day

May 5th 1921

I was waltzing around my bedroom to one of Edward's soft melodies, my nose buried in the newest book I had found in my cold little fingers, when I heard Carlisle's car driving along the driveway. It had grown to become one of the noises that I treasured the very most, in my new life, for Carlisle had grown to become the very best friend that I had ever been blessed with. He was perfect in every way, as far as I was concerned. He listened attentively, only offered advice when it was wanted, he talked when I didn't feel like doing so, and he knew when silence would fit the scene better than words ever could. I accredited that to his nearing three hundred years of living, surely by now he could read people as easy as though they themselves were ink on paper.

I heard the car stop, and the door open, Carlisle got out, and shut the door, then he opened another. He lifted something that was rather heavy, and he then shut the door once more. I listened as he shut the door of the outhouse they used as a garage, and made his way across the lawn to the house.

I always wanted to be downstairs to greet him when he got home from a long day of work, but that was a wife's job, and I was just his friend, I didn't want to overstep my boundaries in such a way.

So I kept waltzing around the room, my curtain hair ribbon dancing with me, and my nose in between the pages of the book in my hands.

I heard Edward's reply greeting to Carlisle's unspoken one, and then the doctor's soft feet upon the staircase. I stopped my waltzing, wondering if he was coming to see me, and gazed expectantly at the open doorway.

His hair was damp and messy from the wind and slight rain outside, but he looked as beautiful as he always did.

"Good morning," he murmured.

I smiled, lost in his golden irises I had dreamed about so often as a human, "Good morning. How was your shift?"

He grinned, "Much the same as it always is."

I laughed, "No young tree climbers?"

He sighed, "Unfortunately not, but at least I have you to come home to."

I grinned widely, "You do."

He laughed, "I bought you home some new books from the library."

Ah, so that what the heavy thing he removed from the car as I was listening.

My eyes dropped from his golden irises to the pile of books in his hands, and my mouth dropped, "Carlisle! What are you trying to do to me? You're bloating me with books!"

He laughed freely and passionately, which made me think he was so very glad to be home, and that was my most favourite time he had given me that smile, the sixth time, because he laughed all the while.

"I'm not entirely sure quite how to respond to that."

I grinned and let out a little giggle, "Nor am I."

So he gave me the books and left, all while still smiling that smile.

The Seventh Smile: The Twenty-Second Day

May 8th 1921

We three were in the outhouse they used as a garage. It was filled with broken things and odd bails of hay. It somehow reminded me of the barn I used to play in as a child. Not that I was allowed to play in it, exactly, but what my parents didn't know, wouldn't hurt them.

Carlisle and Edward were standing over the car's engine, speaking in a tongue that didn't register in my brain as any language I knew, but Edward had assured me was actually a type of English called, 'Car Speak.' I wasn't fully aware that cars could speak.

Edward had laughed at that thought.

I had no interest whatsoever in what was underneath the hood of that car, so instead, I explored the spacious room, wondering what all of the broken things were.

I was wearing a light pink dress Carlisle had surprised me with, to match my pink hair ribbon. It fell to just beneath my knees, the shortest dress I owned, and it was very girly, but it was my favourite. So all in all, I was feeling very young and adventurous.

It was in the corner of the room when I had first heard them, their little scurrying noises and soft little breath. I was fully aware that any form of animal would never come to our little house, because they knew to fear the scent they smelled, as it was a telltale sign of the apex predator. However, I knew that my senses were not deceiving me.

So I climbed my way into the high beams that lay exposed in the ceiling, and I walked along them as balancing beams. I heard Carlisle's soft laughter, so I shot him a grin, and then moved down so I was sitting on my knees. Sure as anything I had ever seen, half-hidden in a stack of hay, was a little family of five mice.

I heard Edward let out an incredulous laugh as my little heart soared. I turned around to see the boys, Edward shaking his head, wearing a smile, and pinching the bridge of his nose, and Carlisle looking at him baffled.

He looked up to me, and I grinned, beckoning him over to join me.

He put down the dirty cloth he held in his oil stained hands, and then climbed up to join me on the beams. He wore a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, and a brown waistcoat that matched his brown trousers, with a black wristwatch on his left arm. His blonde hair was dishevelled, making him look even more handsome than usual.

He climbed over to where I was, and I made room for him to perch beside me on the beam so he could see. We were so very close. I pointed down to the little family of mice that nestled in the hay.

He laughed quietly in incredulity when his eyes fell upon the lovely little scene.

"Perhaps they have an impaired sense of smell and fear?" I whispered as low as I could. "If not that, then I think their brains are broken."

He turned to look at me then, and he favoured me with that smile, which was even more beautiful up so close.

That left the eighth smile, which happened that day. My someday.

"Okay, Esme, you agree with Carlisle, or should I say, father, but why?" Edward challenged as we sat by the firelight, debate not yet forgotten by the lawyer's son.

I sighed, "Why continue the war? It ended in 1918, did it not? When Germany signed the armistice? So why should we carry it on, last to join and last to leave? What exactly are we fighting for now that our soldiers are home? What good do these lingering thoughts of glory and justice do to us? Who are we fighting, Edward, and what for?"

"We're fighting for a free world, a world that is peaceful."

"So we bring about that world in the very opposite way? When a war begins, when does a war really end? Once it is done we are left in that very mindset, so we bring the war home with us, and what good does that do?"

"We need to make the opponents realize that they will not achieve their intended goal by the means they seek to do it by."

"And why is that? Because we will beat them at every single turn, by doing what they intended us to do? The aim of a war is to win, yes? But what constitutes winning? Is the loser only he who relents? A war will always end that way, with bloodshed and lives lost. Have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps that is the very thing those who began the war wanted to achieve? So we retaliate, and we ruin ourselves, we may appear strong and formidable, but at the end of the day when we arrive home, we are so broken, so very broken, we can not shake it off of our shoulders, and those who began the fighting in the first place have achieved their goal. To wound us in a way we didn't understand, because war was seen with glory and valour, but it should not be so, because no one dines fine in the trenches, and no one dies fine in the battle field."

"So we pull out now and wait for the next round, that's what you propose?" He shook his head.

"Yes. We recuperate. We gather our spirits and we raise them high, we remember those we loved and lost, then God forbid there be a next time, but if there is, next time we walk into it strong, as a united front, and perhaps it doesn't last as long, perhaps there is finality to it, and perhaps we win again, because we took time out to breathe and to live, and to be okay again."

Edward looked up at me, in a curious little way, and Carlisle sat back down in his seat by my side.

Edward's eyes flicked to him for a moment, "Of course, you know, I agree completely," Carlisle murmured.

Edward groaned, and his head fell in his hands.

I cocked my head to the side, wondering what had him upset.

"For the rest of eternity," his voice was muffled by his palms, "This is how it's going to be, you two will always side with each other and win."

I looked to Carlisle who looked to me, and for the second time that one day, on my someday, he gave me that smile.

All the while, he leaned closer to me, and murmured ever so softly, but in a voice so filled with glee, "For the first time ever, he just admitted that someone else won."

So I gave him back my very own version of that smile.